Full Effect 53

The scene faded away from the nbW logo to a ring surrounded by security. The security detail even lined up the outer portion of the entrance aisle. “Headstrong” played over the PA speakers as the curtains were parted and a group of superstars emerged, while between them stood the newly crowed World Champion. Torment led way down to the ring, as The Executioner and Gyle took the tail end.

Xander Napoli was helped into the ring and handed a microphone by his loyal following.

“I expected such a pathetic welcome from you all. It is the holiday season, and your spirit is where? Hopeless, all of you.”

Directed towards the fans, they roared with boo’s and chants for High Flyer.

“I don’t think you all understand that situation here. You’re looking at the World Champion. Flyer? He’s gone. Tossed out like the garbage he is. I told you, and I told him; his days were numbered. He was never meant to be our champion. I had groomed the best selection possible out of Shawn Jessica Hart, but he failed me. O’Dell failed. Even Torment failed. But you know that old saying? If you can’t get something done, do it yourself. And I did. Loud and clear.”

More boo’s, but this time with profanity tossed in.

“Your feeble minds have yet to grasp this concept, have they? You see, I am the champion. THE. There is no one greater than me. There is nobody that can stand against me. Know why? Come on guess? Forget it, you people are worse than my pet pit-bull. You see, I run this place. And I hold the gold. Put those together, and what do you get?”

Napoli smiled towards the camera and pointed to the gold around his waist.

“Untouchable Champion.”

Chants for Flyer, Saunders, Potright, and others excelled in the arena.

“Flyer is out of the picture. Even if he did have the guts to show up tonight, he'd be tossed back out by my security. Saunders and Potright, they don’t have what it takes, and will soon be out as well. As for those tag team champions of yours, D-T have yet to fully receive my wrath. It’s about time they understand who is boss around here. Ain’t that right Torment?”

Torment nodded and spoke into the microphone. “The time is nigh…”

“Yes, yes indeed. My regime will be absolute.”

Napoli and his regime left the ring among the booing and rude chants directed at them. They didn't care. Why would they, they were top of the food chain.

A huge black limo arrived to the arena, and five bodyguards came out. They were followed by William Arthur Reagan who was accompanied by two very hot girls. They entered together to the arena where they headed straight to their private lounge. William and the girls looked like they have been drinking in the limo because they all look visibly shaken.

The screen went black. A white caption faded up:

"This segment was taped earlier today."

As the scene faded up to see Showtime driving a rented Honda Acura, on a grey December afternoon, his voice was heard in a Film Noir-like narration. "There was no doubt left in my mind. The clues they were leaving were none too subtle. And if it was true, the very future of the nbW could be in jeopardy. I thought I'd seen the last of the Dream Warriors years ago. But for all I know they've been lying in wait, plotting to make my existence a living hell. They'd already destroyed our van and heckled our matches... they were up a couple points on the scorecard. But the game was far from over. Right now, I needed answers. And that meant paying a visit to one person I'd hoped never to have to see again."

The car pulled into the driveway of a messy-looking suburban home. Snow was left in patches on the lawn and driveway, covering piles of dry brown fallen leaves. The paint on the garage was faded and chipping. Showtime stepped out of the car, dressed in a long brown trenchcoat over a pair of slacks and a white collared shirt and tie, as well as his trademark mask. He walked up to the porch and rang the bell.

The voice-over continued, "This was the kind of scenario that makes a guy want a drink. Put his nerves at ease somehow. This wasn't going to be fun."

A woman opened the door. Her long red hair was light brown at the roots, and unkempt. She wore a loose blouse revealing her cleavage, but she was not as fit as she once was. Her face wore an unimpressed, blank look.

"Well, look who it is," she said.

"Hello Gina," Showtime grumbled. "Or is it Styxx? How've you been keeping yourself?"

"It hasn't been Styxx in a long time. What exactly do you think you're doing here?" she asked curtly.

"Can't a guy pay a call on his ex-wife, unannounced in the middle of the week?" Showtime asked.

"In my experience, these meetings don't usually end well," she paused, and sneered. "But since you came all the way here, you might as well come in. Take your shoes off though, I just vacuumed last week."

"She never was one for housework," The voiceover continued as Showtime entered and removed his shoes. Gina went into the kitchen.

"Want something to drink?"

"Got any bourbon?" Showtime called back.

"Afraid not, braids. I could make you an Irish coffee if you'd like."

"Whatever," Showtime shrugged, sitting on the couch.

"I hadn't seen my ex-wife Gina Faraday since early 2006, but we'd been divorced long before that. For 50, she'd look great - but she was only 31. What had happened? The last time I saw her, she was gorgeous. Still in modeling shape. Still a valet... for him."

"How long has it been?" Gina asked as she sat down with two coffees, apparently unable to hear the narration.

"Almost three years," Showtime said. "The Global Tournament of Champions."

"That's right..." a wicked smile crossed her face, "When you fought Dark Ninja... and lost."

Showtime bit his lip, "I made a good effort. He was the better man... on that night."

"I still think it was so sweet, the way you two boys always fought over me," she laughed and sipped.

"We didn't... 'fight over you...'" Showtime gritted his teeth, "We fought because he was an asshole. And he just happened to be dating you, and frankly, I couldn't have been happier about that. He always thought dating you would get to me, but it just made me feel better than him."

"Gee, Jon," Gina sneered, "You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted."

"Save it," Showtime put down his mug, "You gave up the right to be offended when you ran around with ever guy you could find, especially him."

She smiled, "Who says you're not jealous? But seriously Jon, what do you want? I'm having the girls over for Mah Jongg in twenty minutes."

"Gina, I think he's back. I think he's out to get me. And while I don't have a problem with that in and of itself... I just wanted to know if you had any idea of his recent whereabouts."

Gina snorted with laughter. "You're kidding, right? Sheesh. I have no idea. The bastard left me years ago. After he beat you at GTOC, he was basically done with me. He left me for some mongoloid skank and I haven't seen him since."

"Why would he do that?" Showtime asked. It was a half-serious question.

"You know as well as I do, Jon. That man is freaking obsessed with you. You were all he ever talked about. How great it would be to beat you once and for all, to have the final battle. Do you know how pissed off he was when you won the UEW title and never had to defend it against him? He was always looking for that one ultimate victory against you. And then he got it, and just... he just lost interest. In me, in wrestling, the whole lifestyle."

"I see," Showtime said, a half-smile across his face.

"I don't know what he's up to these days or if he's really out to get you. My guess is that he's really gone off the deep end, and since he was always totally unstable, that's saying a lot," she continued. "You know how dangerous he is." She leaned in close, and brushed a hand across the cheek of Showtime's mask.
"Jon..." she whispered, "...Whatever drove us apart in the first place?"

"Gina..." Showtime whispered back, "...it was probably because you're a horrible person. And you completely deserve an ego case like Dark Ninja."

Standing, Showtime went back over to the door. As he put his shoes back on, he saw a little boy standing on the staircase with a stuffed gorilla in his hands.

"Mommy, who's that?"

"That's just your uncle," Gina called back, "Uncle Jon."

"Oh, okay," the kid said. And then he spat in Showtime's general direction.

Showtime smirked. His voice narrated, "The kid was maybe three years old, tops. I knew who the father was. He was just like him."

Showtime headed back out to the car, fishing in his pockets for the keys. Standing in the doorway, Gina called out, evilly, "Don't be a stranger!"

Showtime narrated, "I drove off without saying anything. It hurt to see Gina so down on her luck, no matter how much I hated the bitch and what she'd done to me. Ninja had built her up, unleashed her wild side, made her an S&M Gear, leather chap modelling goth sex kitten, and here she was, a disheveled middle aged single mom in the suburbs. Obsession can be a dangerous thing. And now I know I must face my most dangerous enemy yet."

As Showtime's rental car drove off, the scene faded out.

"If there was ever a time for me, it’s now."

A voice drifted over the loud speaker.

"I won’t be denied my glory."

A hint of a southern Texas accent can be heard. The crowd, in a confused frenzy, begin to grow restless.

"I’m the greatest thing to happen to professional wrestling since, well..ever."

The buzz from the crowd really begins to pick up. Who could it be? Did nbW just sign a top superstar in the wrestling world? Did Xander Napoli really come through?

"Better than any cow fucker you’ll find in any other federation."

The lights flash and a name lights up the nbWtron.

"I am Matt Bowen."

The already confused crowd can be seen shaking there heads as the camera pans out. Many of them are asking the same question you are..

WHO THE FUCK IS MATT BOWEN?

The team of Mark Mercury and Mane Miaate already stood in the ring awaiting their opponents for the night. A mixture or oriental and techno music played over the speakers as the two ninja’s emerged at the entrance. They quickly sprint towards the ring, and simultaneously flipped onto the ring apron and over the ropes, to an astonished crowd.

“Those two sure know how to make an entrance.” Commented Gordon.

“Just desperate for the attention. You don’t see the Myth and the Legend doing that, do you?” remarked Renton.

With the sound of the bell, Mark Mercury rushed over to Zatch and Nemo as they decided who would start the match; he clotheslined Zatch from behind. The referee ushered Nemo to the legal corner.

Mercury yanked back on Zatch’s neck and dropped him with a quick neckbreaker from behind. Mark dragged Zatch to the ropes and layed him across the second rope as he choked him.

“Mercury had better be careful here. If he gets disqualified, chances of Myth and Legend getting a tag team championship shot will go down the drain.”

“Gordon, trust in the Napoli.” Gloated Renton.

As the referee reached a four count, Mercury released the hold and yanked Zatch back up to his feet. He locked his head under his armpit for the DDT, but Zatch wiggled himself free, and countered with a Russian leg sweep. He quickly dived to his corner and tagged in the ninja Nemo.

Nemo flipped over the ropes and dropped Mark to the mat with a dropkick, and followed suit by sprinting across the ring and kicking Mane off of the apron with a spinning heel kick. Nemo walked back over to the recovering Mercury, and lifted him to his feet. They locked up in a collar elbow tieup.

“This is the moment where the balance can shift either direction.” Gordon informed the viewers.

Nemo gained the ground and wrapped his arms around the waist of Mercury, belly to belly suplexing him to the mat. Zatch quickly leaped up onto the corner and jumped off with a flying moonsault right across Mercury’s body. Nemo went for the cover while Zatch dashed to the otherside in order to hold off Mane.

One..

Two..

Shoulder up!

Nemo stood up and looked down at Mercury and leapt up with a Senton splash, but Mercury rolled his knees up.

“Ouch. That hard to hurt!” remarked Gordon.

“Playing possum always pays off Marc.”

Mercury got back to his feet and delivered two rapid hard kicks to the back of Nemo’s head. He then dragged Nemo over to his corner and tagged in Miaate. The two captured Nemo’s legs in their arms and whipped them to the outsides, in which they followed through with a double boot to the groin.

Miaate dropped down to the mat and applied the figure four leg lock on Nemo, but he didn’t give consideration to the ring presence. A rookie mistake. Nemo reached out at the ropes and was able to get the submission hold released by the referee’s order.

“Nemo knows the ring like the back of the mask.”

Miaate pulled Nemo into the corner and ran at him with a raised knee to the gut. He followed this with another kick to the gut before sending him running to the opposite turnbuckle. This time he charged at the ninja with a tackle in mind, but Nemo leapt up in the air, doing the splits in midair allowing him to balance on the top rope as Miaate hit the hard steel post.

Nemo grabbed Miaate and rolled over him with a sunset flip in mind, but as the shoulders were hitting the ground Mercury clobbered Nemo from behind. This caused Zatch to run over and attack Mercury, sending him over the ropes. Rollins then grasped the top rope and vaulted across into the body of Mark Mercury.

Nemo shrugged off Miaate’s strikes and caught an intended boot to his face, which he pulled up with him as he stood to his feet again. Nemo swept Miaate’s leg out from under him, and then dropped both legs across Mane’s chest. Nemo swiftly rolled the legs over across Mane’s shoulders.

One…

Two…

Three!

The bell run to sound the match was over, but while the referee held up Nemo’s arm in victory, he was unaware to his partners condition outside. Zatch dangled lifeless in the grip of two massive hands.

“Oh no. This is not good Terry.”

“I might have to agree with you there. Zatch is bluer than that fat girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”

Zatch was tossed away from the man, just as Nemo vaulted his body over the ropes into the hulking behemoth. He was caught and slammed to the ground. The man roared as he laid a foot across the chest of Nemo, and grinned at the unconscious body of Zatch Rollins. The Six foot seven Mongolian warrior, Khan, roared loudly, even causing the poor announcers to back away.

Mercury was at the ring working on rolling Miaate out before they too were demolished, as they wanted nothing to do with that ‘thing’.

The lights dimmed. A solitary figure stood in the centre of the ring holding a house mic. He was a smallish, thin man, with short-cropped hair and a well-tailored suit. Young, kind of scrawny, but very serious-looking. All eyes were on him. The arena hushed. He spoke in a brash yet punkish manner.

"If I might please have a minute of your time. If all those in the audience would kindly cease all text messaging, and divest yourselves from all iPods and Playstation Portables. I have a very important business matter to discuss."

He cleared his throat and continued. "My name is Dane Xolotl." He repeated, "Xolotl. It's spelled exactly as it's pronounced. I am not a professional wrestling manager. I am not a promoter. I am not a booker. I am a venture capitalist, and recently a potentially very lucrative proposition fell into my hands. That is why I have come tonight, to forewarn the No Brand Wrestling audience of what is to come. In one week, I will present to you my contribution to this industry. You will come to know him well as a monster who will destroy everything in his path. Some say he is the result of a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong. Some say he is the last survivor of a long-forgotten tribe of warriors, destroyed by his own hand. Some say he is a demon given human flesh to wreak havoc on the mortal realm. All I know is that to me, he represents the greatest earning opportunity since Ray Kroc began producing subpar assembly-line hamburgers on a national scale.

"This company has been home to the most skilled performers to grace the ring... WAR... RaVage... Max Hopper... Sam Potright... and your once and former world champion High Flyer. All of them will soon know the destruction wrought by this man. And he will appear before you to determine his first victim on the very next edition of nbW's Full Effect program."

He paused. The crowd jeered, uncertain what Xolotl was saying.

"His name is Kaliban. And he will take no prisoners."

With that, Dane Xolotl left the ring and headed backstage as the crowd continued to boo this enigmatic man.

The scene fades in on a local coffee house. There we see nbW's resident lovebirds - Dynasty Tag Champ Proteus and fetching young makeup gal Gabriella Healy, enjoying a warm beverage in the snowy weather.

"The weird thing is," Gabby laughed, "I don't really like Gremlins, but I love Gremlins 2! Isn't that weird?"

"That is weird!" Proteus laughed. He was enjoying this charming conversation. "It was so nice of nbW to give us the evening off to enjoy this date."

"Absolutely. And the cameras they sent along aren't intrusive at all!" Gabby agreed.

"That's for sure."

They continued to sip their cafe mochas, or whatever such drinks they had, as the cameras refocussed their attention to the background. There, huddled around a different table, enjoying their hot chocolates, sit two other familiar figures... Emo Kevin and El Avestruz del Relampago, together known as the SuperSquad.

"Why do we have to be here, again?" Kevin moped.

"Look, it's become obvious that someone has been targeting D-T. A very dark presence from their past that you weren't around for. But anyway. You never know where trouble might arise. So when I noticed Proteus planned on taking Gabby out for the evening, something told me this would be the perfect chance for someone to sneak attack him!"

"You want to sneak attack Proteus??" Kevin asked with incredulity.

"No, fool! I mean to protect him from the potential sneak attack that will almost surely occur here at the coffee house!"

"Does he know about this?" Kevin asked.

"Of course not. That's why we're in disguise."

"I'm not in disguise," Kevin noted. "And neither are you."

"Of course I am!"

"You're wearing your mask."

"Exactly, how would he recognize me?" El Avestruz said.

"Because you always wear your mask? I mean, if you wanted to avoid detection, wouldn't it make sense to remove the mask?"

"And break tradition? Are you insane?" El Avesturz swiped at Kevin's head, but missed.

"You almost got me that time. Anyway, it doesn't look like anyone's coming to attack Proteus. Do you think maybe we should go look after Showtime?"

"Of course not," El Avestruz reasoned, "He'll be fine, he's at the arena surrounded by wrestlers. It's here, at the coffee shop, that we have to worry... I can't see any wrestlers anywhere, so you never know when one might attack. That's why we need to stay here and drink more hot chocolate."

"Are you sure?" Kevin wondered, "Because this kinda feels like a man-date."

"It's not a man date!" El Avestruz snapped back.

"You're dressed up really nice."

"It's not a man-date!"

"I paid for your soy mocha frappuccino."

"That's because I left my wallet at the arena!" Avestruz protested, "And dude, stop looking at me like that."

"I can't help it. It's my new eye-liner. It smears."

"Whatever," grumbled El Avestruz.

"Also, shouldn't we go prepare for the match with the Creedes we have coming up tonight?" Kevin mentioned.

"No, we have to - hey, where'd they go?"

El Avestruz looked around to find that Proteus and Gabby had gone.

"Okay, whatever. Let's go prepare for our match."

The lights in the arena started to dim and ‘Lose Yourself’ by Eminem started playing. The booing in the arena was deafening. William Arthur Reagan came out accompanied by his five bodyguards and the two hot girls. William Arthur Reagan had returned to his original theme after using Infinity 2008 the last time round. They arrive slowly to the ring and WAR asks for a mic.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, last time out you say my return to no brand Wrestling. And I promised that I will help no brand Wrestling to get the respect that it once had. The respect it had when I was the champion, when I was the cornerstone of the federation.

A lot of things happened during my absence. Things that I don’t have control on. But these will all change. My new protégé has been training really hard. In him I see a younger version of myself. I see that inexperienced yet amazing talent that I was when I had that alteration with Hogan, which ultimately lost me my job in WCW.

But it won’t happen here. In WCW I was alone, I didn’t have a mentor to take care of me and I made stupid mistakes. But here, I am his mentor. I will guide him like he is my own son. And ultimately he will achieve what I achieved.’

A ‘who the fuck is he?’ chant started echoing in the arena, and WAR just smiled.

‘You want to know who is he? You are anxious to see who is the new legend----ary no brand Wrestling superstar. But the time is not right. Tonight he is not here but when he will be you will surprise and feel a sense of pride, because you will be the witness of something special!’

With that WAR threw the mic down and made his way slowly out to the back, whilst everyone was booing and screaming abuse at him.

Lunatic was walking around somewhere outside. Although orange soda still stained a decent majority of his body, he was obviously in new apparel. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweatpants. Both were multi-colored, though they weren’t tie-dyed. Once again, he had some unknown device in his hand.

“Alright, d00dz.” He opened up. “Tonight, we’re outsiding of that one arenas where there was lotsa stuff. This place is said to have loads of Max Hooped activity. You got the night visible goggles on, dude?” Lunatic explained and asked the cameraman.

“You just gave me some cheap, cardboard 3D glasses that you found somewhere, man.” A voice said, it was obviously the cameraman responding.

“NO D00D~!” Loony screamed. “We ARE NOT gonna be makings some running aways and all that.” Lunatic was obviously angry at the camera man. “WE ARE NOT RUNNING FROM YOU~!” Lunatic yelled out at the apparent ghost.

He looked into the camera. “Tonight, we’re going to try something a bit more differnter. Tonight, we’re gonna get this d00d really pissed. We’re gonna try provocationalismtics. Uh huh huh, this’ll be cool.” Finally, they started walking farther. It didn’t last too long, though.

Lunatic looked back at the camera man. “Here, you take the evepees.” He extended his hand “Gimme the electronic digitalization effeter. “

“Look, this thing is just some crayon box, dude. The thing your holding is some tape player that was made in the 80’s” The camera man said.

“God damneded it, Kevin.” Lunatic said. “We’re not gonna back down. We’re not going to be intimate by this… thing. ” They exchanged devices. Lunatic stared down back into the dark nothingness around them. His eyes were lowered. “We’re not afeared of you~!”

“You wanna bring your hell here to the living, Hopper?” Lunatic asked the ghost. “Is it because you could never hug the lesberosexual, Miss Cadenced?” He paused. “You sure you wanna fight a man? You wanna make Torment come and get these people? Fine. DO IT TO ME!@” He paused. “Uh huh huh. You should have heard what I just said.”

From there, he unexplainably started narrating. “It was at this very moment when we caught this chilleded evepees, saying, ‘D00d, Loony, you’re SOOOOOOO right.’”

The narrating stopped. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, ghost man of Max Hooped. I challenge you to a burry yourself aliving match at THE PAYZ PER YOU!”

The audience sat in anticipation. Without pyro, music or fanfare of any kind, Showtime marched to the ring, stomping somewhat angrily, clutching a microphone in his right hand. He was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and his mask, not for a match.

"Well, we have one half of our nbW Dynasty Tag Champions on his way to the ring, Rents," Marc Gordon observed, "And it appears he's got something on his mind."

Showtime stepped into the ring, to the cheers of fans eager to hear him speak.

"I want you to listen up, you son of a bitch," he said breathlessly. "I know you're around here somewhere. I know you're intending to come to nbW to fight me. And you know what? I have zero problem with that." Cheers from the crowd. "You know why? Because I'm better than you. And I don't just mean as a wrestler, I mean I am a better person than you, and I will gladly fight you, any time, anyplace, to prove that. Yes, you beat me, once, years ago. But here's the thing: I'm the man around here. I am - Proteus and I are - the longest reigning champions around, and I'm a fighter. You know this. I'm a showman, an entertainer, a crowd-pleaser, but between these turnbuckles, in this place, in front of these people, I am all business and that's why they cheer me. Dark Ninja, you know how much better than you I am, and it eats you up inside. You crave the approval I get because you have deluded yourself into thinking you deserve what I have fought tooth and nail to earn and maintain - not just the nbW Dynasty Tag Championship - but my reputation. So I'm calling you out, Ninja. I will fight you right here, right now, if you're here. But if you want, you can keep playing your games. You can keep up the childish scare tactics all you want, because I am not afraid. And I am not impressed. So what's it gonna be, Ninja? Are you gonna fight me? Or are you gonna play games?"

The lights went out. The screen lit up with an image of the nbW backstage, the locker room area. It flickered a moment until switching to a close-up on a face with two white, blank eyes.

An ominous guitar chord was heard. The lyrics to the theme song, "Dream Warriors" by Dokken:

We're the Dream Warriors!
Don't wanna dream no more!
Dream warriors!
Maybe tonight you'll be gone!

The music cut off abruptly. The lights faded back up, the imagine on the screen vanished.

"Well, I think we've got an answer from the enigmatic Dark Ninja..." Gordon surmised.

"Fine," huffed Showtime. He left the ring and stomped backstage.

As he passed into the backstage area, he passed by the SuperSquad, by now in their wrestling gear, on their way to their match. He seemed notably aggravated.

"Maybe we shouldn't get involved," muttered Emo Kevin.

"The Fire Burns" by Killswitch Engage played as the Creede Bros. made their way to the ring, blanketed by the jeers of the crowd.

"This match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, at a combined weight of 392 Lbs, Ace and Spade, the Creede Brothers!"

They got in the ring and started to play to the crowd. The pumping synth of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For a Hero" began to play as their opponents appeared at the entrance.

"And their opponents... El Avestruz del Relampago and Emo Kevin... the Super Squad!"

The crowd tentatively appeared the two young grapplers as they made their way down, slapping hands as much as they could. "nbW's perrennial underdogs here to take action against the head-turning Creede Brothers," noted Marc Gordon.

"It's hard to like an underdog, Gordo," Rents asserted. "He's always up to no good."

"What are you talking about, Terry?" Gordon asked, "El Avestruz and Emo Kevin are two very good-hearted, if somewhat misguided young talents."

"They need to get their heads on straight and really start cuttin' throats if they wanna make it in nbW's tag division. Be a bit less like D-T, a bit more like the Dream Warriors."

"We haven't even seen the Dream Warriors yet!" Gordon noted.

"Yes, but they've already managed to impress me by making Showtime look like such an idiot!"

The bell rang. El Avestruz and Ace began exchaning lock-ups and jockeying for position.

"Ace, the smaller, lighter Creede, is very similar in style to El Avestruz. Let's see if his skill can prevail."

Ace overtook El Avestruz quickly with an armdrag. El Avestruz recovered and went for a dropkick, which Ace dodged. Ace tossed El Avestruz with a belly-to-belly suplex, then hit the crouched-over Avestruz with a low dropkick, sending his head into the turnbuckle. Ace rushed in with a running low knee, then covered...

ONE...

Avestruz got a foot on the rope.

Ace tagged in his brother, and the two double-suplexed Avestruz. The bigger Creede began to dominate his foe by keeping him in the corner with elbow strikes. The referee requested a break. Spade obliged, only to rush in with a shoulderblock. Avestruz was dazed, but stumbled forward into a short-arm clothesline. Spade covered...

ONE...

El Avestruz got the shoulder up. Spade lifted him up and held him on his shoulder, trapping him in a make-shift torture rack. El Avestruz reached out for a tag but was far too far.

"El AVestruz doesn't know where he is!" Renton cheered, adding, "Well he doesn't usually but now he's even more out of it!"

Spade twisted El Avestruz into position and dropped him in a a makeshift neckbreaker. The crowd gave a loud "OOHH." He tagged in his brother, who came off the topwith a spectacular legdrop!

ONE...

TWO...

"No, the Creedes still can't put El Avestruz away," Gordon commented.

"You know this guy was trained by Proteus?" Renton said.

"For a brief period in the late 90's, yes."

"And this is the best he can do. Psssh."

El Avestruz was wriggling toward his corner but was held by the ankles by both Creedes as the ref counted Spade to get back into his corner. Spade and Ace slingshot El AVestruz into the turnbuckle, and Spade returned to the ring apron as Ace stomped around El Avestruz' body. El Avestruz rolled toward the ropes and clung for dear life.

"I don't understand why a guy like El Avestruz becomes a pro wrestler, if he doesn't even wanna stand up in the ring!"

Ace pulled El Avestruz by the legs away from the rope... dropping him with a loud "THUD!" when he hit the mat. Ace springboarded off the rope and landed a moonsault!

ONE...

TWO...

No, El Avestruz kicked out! Ace's face showed some frustration. He tagged his brother back in. Spade lifted El Avestruz to his feet threw him with a T-Bone suplex. He began to pin his arms back for a modified surfboard when Emo Kevin ran into to break it. Moments after stomping the hold and freeing his partner, Kevin was tackled by Ace. He tossed the taller Creede out over the top and returned to his corner as Spade whipped El Avestruz.

Rebounding off the rope, El Avestruz went up for a cross body, but was caught - and tossed effortlessly with a fallaway slam! Spade covered...

ONE...

TWO...

No! El Avestruz still wouldn't go down!

"Gotta love that 'never-say-die' attitude, Rents!" Gordon cheered.

"I don't 'gotta' love anything, you fascist!" Renton retorted.

Spade pounded the mat in frustration. He lifted Avestruz up by the mask and set him up for a powerbomb. However, as he had him up on the shoulders, he began to walk around the ring, showing off his muscularity.

Slap!

Unbeknownst to Spade, Emo Kevin tagged himself in! The fresh SuperSquadder leapt into the fray, wrapping Spoade up in a small package as El Avestruz dove over the ropes at the still-dazed Ace!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

It was hard to see who was more shocked by the win - The SuperSquad or the Creedes, but but were clearly taken aback. The crowd roared with approval.

"That an upset!" Gordon cried out.

"I'll say..." Renton added, "It's very upsetting."

As Bonnie Tyler played, The SuperSquad celebrated in the aisles while the Creedes turned red with embarrassment and frustration. They had been caught off guard, and paid dearly.

Winners by pinfall, The SuperSquad!

Plans to Slay a Giant

“High Flyer’s no where to be seen boss.” Spoke Gyle as he and The Executioner stood within the office of Xander Napoli.

“Good. Now just to take care of that seven foot three pain in my ass.”

“Napoli, leave that to me.”

“OH? When you failed to beat Flyer?”

“That was different. I know Saunders. If I pull the right strings, he’ll play straight into our hands.”

“Very well. Just keep him out of my sight and away from MY championship.”

“Sir.” Agreed The Executioner as he and Gyle headed out of the room.

Back to the Date...

It's late. Proteus and Gabriella Healy are walking along a beach, dressed in warm coats, clinging to each others' arms.

"I guess in the final analysis, while I am pro-romance, I consider myself heavily anti-vampire. I'm still somewhat ambivalent on the issue of teenagers," Proteus said.

"Okay fine, it's okay that we didn't see Twilight," Gabriella sighed, "I just wish we'd seen something instead of just hanging out in the lobby all night."

"Oh come on, now," Proteus laughed, "You got an excellent workout at the DDR machine in the arcade, and I was able to test my defensive weaponry acumen, thus preparing myself adequately for a full-scale invasion."

"Proteus, sweetie," Gaby laughed, "That was a Space Invaders game."

"Oh they're coming," Proteus said sternly, "And when they arrive, I'll be prepared, thanks to the good people at Taito. But for now, the primary threat are the Dream Warriors - or DW, as they're known."

"Who... are they?" Gaby asked; a valid question.

"Dangerous voices from the past," Proteus said solemnly, "Dark Ninja was once an associate of ours, back in the olden days. We felt we had a lot to teach him..."

"What, he was a student? Like El Avestruz?"

"Not exactly..." Proteus clairifed, "More like an apprentice, an ally. But he was drawn to the darkness within himself, consumed by it. He hated Showtime. Hated how popular he was, how talented he was. But these feelings grew in secret. For a time, we were teammates."

"He was one of Los Canadiens?"

"No, that came later. This was a different, far more complicated story. Eventually he became so obsessed with Showtime overshadowing him that he just... snapped. I don't know what set him off, but since then, he devoted his every professional move to de-throning Showtime in competition. They've only fought once, and Ninja won that. I thought we'd seen the last of him."

"You can beat him though... right?"

Proteus paused. "...Difficult to tell. Always in motion, is the future. Ninja does not live by the same code of ethics that I do, or that Showtime does, or that any rational person does. It is important not to underestimate someone like that. He can and does do anything he can to win. And I haven't even told you about his partner... but none of that is important here, now."

"It isn't?"

"No, Gabriella. All this craziness has given me pause to think. It's a dangerous road I walk, and perhaps it would be safer if I do it alone. But a man does not know why he is fighting has no true reason to. Gaby, I can't bear the thought of you being out of my sight while I'm in that ring, long enough for something unthinkable to happen. Gabriella Healy, will you do me the honour of accepting my proposal..."

"Oh, Proteus!" Gaby swooned somewhat as Proteus got down on bended knee.

"...to be D-T's official manager? That way, you can be at ringside and I won't have to worry about you!"

"Oh, Proteus, I will! I will!"

Proteus stood and they embraced.

"Oh Gaby, you've made me the happiest man on this beach!"

The Protege

A promo was played. It started with a picturesque photo of Valletta followed by the National Stadium at Ta’ Qali and a photo of the old city, Mdina. This was followed by photos from the 8th March election day when the PN won the election.

Finally the camera zoomed to a place in Malta where a young guy was training really hard. He was wearing all black with the Maltese cross on his back. And behind him was his learner, his teacher. He looked to be a well built man in his 40’s with a blonde goatee. But the camera didn’t focus enough to see his identity.

Suddenly it faded to black.

Spike Saunders
Versus
Matt Bowen

"Spike-It-UP" hit’s the speakers and the crowd erupts out of there seats as giant Spike Saunders emerges from the back and begins his strut towards the ring. With one arm raised in the air and the other slapping hands along the aisle, Saunders looks calm and collected. He steps onto the apron and over the top rope as he shoots a glare at an also calm and collected, given the circumstances, "The Future" Matt Bowen. The size differential between the two is pretty outstanding. Bowen, who is no slouch at six foot, four inches, is an entire foot shorter then the Colossus.

As Spike’s entrance music dies down, Double S slowly paces back and forth in his corner of the ring, turning his back for seconds at a time. Just as Spike takes another pace, he’s greeted in the back of the knee with Bowen’s boot.

Ding!

The bell sounds and Bowen’s strategy has already become obvious..chop down Saunders. That’s easier said then done as The Future catches a mouthful of Spike elbow. Matt stumbles back, checking his lip for blood. Saunders is right behind him, stalking Bowen all the way to his corner. Once Double S reaches Matt, a flurry of right and left jabs ensue,. Bowen tries to cover up, but to no avail. Spike continues the assault with jabs, uppercuts, and one nasty throat punch which sends The Future to the mat for good. Saunders drags him to the middle of the ring and places a foot on top of him.

1...

Matt gets his shoulder off the canvas early much to the surprise of the crowd and Saunders. Nonetheless, Spike picks up Bowen and shoves him into the ropes. Matt ricochets off the ropes and into the waiting hand of Colossus who has that hand wrapped around Matt’s throat. The crowd is begging Saunders to slam Bowen. Saunders obliges and readjusts his gripping on The Future’s neck, hoists him up in the air..

BOINK!

Bowen poked the big man in the left eye. Spike drops to his knee thus sending Matt tumbling to the ground. Spike, checking his eye, remains grounded for the time being. Meanwhile, The Future is back to his feet and begins his own flurry of jabs, this time to the back of Spike’s head. Bowen has Spike dazed as he goes back to the right knee of Saunders. Matt slams a few boots to the back of Spike’s knee, sending the big guy down face first while Bowen continues working it, dropping a few elbows onto Saunders knee.

The Future grabs a leg and flips Spike over onto his back. Bowen grabs a leg and twists around it..

FIGURE FOUR!

Matt leans back and cinches down tight on the leg lock. Saunders face has gone from calm and collected to a state of panic. Here he is stuck in a figure four by a guy no one’s even heard of. He quickly gathers himself and picks his back up off the canvas, desperately trying to inch towards the ropes. The crowd is going absolutely wild trying to will Spike to the ropes, so the hold would be broken and there favorite star could be back on his feet. With one heave..

BREAK!

Spike had done it. Too bad for Bowen that Saunders is seven foot, four inches. The ref steps in and grabs both wrestlers legs and untangles them. Spike pulls himself up on the ropes as The Future hops to his feet, the two close in on each other. Before Saunders can get turned around Matt goes right back to where he left out, working on that knee. He repeatedly kicks the back of Spike’s knee, each time making it more and more difficult for Saunders to even walk. Bowen tries one more kick to the back of the leg, but his rudely met with an uppercut.

BAM!

It sends Bowen flying through the air. Saunders gets to his feet while Matt lays on the mat, face in hands. Spike struts over to his opponent, picks him up, and gives him a quick kick to the gut. Saunders slams Bowen into the turnbuckle and lifts him up onto the top rope. Da Dragon climbs to the second rope, hooks Matt’s head, and falls back.

FUUUUCUUK..

Bowen grabs his head and neck in pain, rolling around the ring. Spike gets a huge pop as he points to crowd and raises his hand to the sky. He then takes a few steps and lays his leather boot to The Future’s head a few times before scooping him up and delivers a picture perfect body slam in the middle of the ring. He lays his size twenty foot down across Bowen’s throat and steps down on it leaving The Future gasping for air.

1...

2...

Just before the ref gets to 3, Spike pulls his foot off Bowen’s throat. Saunders picks up Bowen and slams him back against the turnbuckle. Da Dragon takes a few steps back and then delivers a full forced elbow to Matt’s sternum which leaves Bowen slouched down in the corner. Spike takes a few more steps back and with a running start.

WHACK!

Spike’s knee to Bowen’s face which leaves the nbW newcomer motionless on the ground for a few seconds. Before long though, Saunders is right back on top of The Future, picking him up and slinging him into the ropes. Bowen comes back at Spike.

BIIIIIG BOOT TO THE FACE.

Bowen hit’s the canvas again. Spike drops an elbow and goes for the pin.

1...

2...

Thr..

Bowen kicks out much to the disbelief of Spike. Da Dragon gets to his feet and picks up Bowen with him. Hooks his arm around his head, grabs The Future’s tights, and lifts him up. But before Saunders can get him all the way up in the air, Matt slides down Spikes back and runs him straight into the turnbuckle. The momentum from the turnbuckle smash sends both men backwards. Bowen with just enough momentum to roll up Spike.

1...

2...

Kick out!

Bowen is thrown across the ring from the kick out and stumbles back almost out of the ring, but manages to clinch onto one of the ropes. Spike is already to his feet by the time Bowen has gathered himself. Both wrestlers meet at the middle of the ring where the two trade punches. Is it any surprise that Spike comes out on top?

WOOOOSH!

With one fell swoop The Future hit’s the mat like a ton of bricks. Bowen’s head bounces off the canvas as his body goes limp.

The ref races over to The Future’s limp body.

"No! Not again!"

Saunders screams as he races over to check out his nbW brother.

BOWEN ISN’T HURT! HE ROLLS UP SPIKE WITH A HANDFUL OF TIGHTS!

1...

2...

3!

Winner by pinfall, Matt Bowen!

The Offer placed on the table

Matt exited the ring and was oblivious to the attack on his opponent behind him. Back in the ring, Gyle had nailed Spike with a lead pipe causing him to collapse back to the mat.

“Another loss, eh Spike?” spoke The Executioner as he walked down the entrance. Matt Bowen walked right past him curious to if he should head back to the ring or not.

“Another loss. Another win for someone else. This is your story Spike.”

Executioner approached the ring and took the stairs to step inside. Spike Saunders is sitting on the ground recollecting his bearings when Gyle approached from behind and locked on his Crucifixation submission hold.

“Spike, Spike, Spike. Your getting old. Too old for this. That kid played possum and you let him win. What’s the matter? What happen to Da Dragon. What happen to Total Materialization?”

The Executioner nodded his head and Gyle bored back on his modified camel clutch.

“You should just give in and join us. Join Napoli’s regime. Let it be like the old days. Before I hid myself behind this mask again.” The Executioner unstrapped his skull hockey like mask and slid it up so his face is in view. “Remember the old days? Remember Millennium Meltdown? STARS? We were unstoppable back then, and we could easily do such now. Think about it.”

He pulled the mask off of his head and held it in one hand while the mic is in the other.

“This mask is a symbol. Do you remember your mask? Do any of these so called fans of yours remember it? The infamous Silver Prince? No, of course not. That day we both tossed aside our masked persona’s, was the day the fans turned on us. But at the same time it was when we truly dominated.”

He nods at Gyle whom stretched back harder before slamming him down to the mat.

“Sleep on this Saunders. Recall the greatness we had. Join us and let the world remember Spike Saunders and Michael O’Dell once more.”

O’Dell stepped out of the ring followed by Gyle, but as they approached the entrance curtain again O’Dell turned back and looked at the ring. Spike’s eyes were open and staring right at him.

“Oh, and Spike. If you decide not to join up with us --I will reveal to the world your deep dark secret. They may love you as the giant Spike Saunders. But, would they; if they knew? The truth? Could they still love you, when everything about you is a lie? Would they still or would they loathe you?”

O’Dell laughed as the two disappeared from sight. Spike’s eyes lit up as he struggled to his feet amongst the murmuring of the crowd.

Face to Face (Mask to Mask)

Showtime was stomping around angrily in the backstage area. He was far from amused by the antics of his would-be tormentor and arch-nemesis, Dark Ninja. Everyone stood by as he traipsed through, muttering to himself. Clearly, the head games were having some effect on the champion.

As he walked, he came to a door - the very locker room door that had been displayed on the nbWTron. He stood and stared at it. He placed his hand on the doorknob. He stood and stared at it, contemplating his life and everything that had brought him to this moment. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Darkness.

He flicked on a light. A chair sat in the middle of the room, facing the opposite direction. Showtime cleared his throat. "Ahem."

The chair swiveled around to reveal none other than... Dark Ninja.

Ninja was wearing his black mask - more of a ski-mask than a luchador's - with its odd yellow protrusions. He was wearing nothing else but a towel around his waist. He held in his hand a glass of brandy. With his cold, beady eyes, he stared deep into Showtime.

"Hello, old pal." he smirked under his mask.

"Dark fucking Ninja," Showtime growled, "Why aren't you wearing pants?"

"It's a locker room, duh," Ninja said. "How've you been, buddy? Long time no see."

"Oh you know, keeping busy..." Showtime said, standing firm. "What brings you to Pennsylvania?"

"You know, it's the damnedest thing," Ninja held the glass up to his mouth and pretended to sip, "Back in 2006, as you'll recall, I beat your ass in the GTOC tournament. Best moment of my career. I won that tournament."

"Actually, Red Leaf won that tournament, and you came in second." Showtime corrected him.

"RETARDS DON'T COUNT!" Ninja screeched. "Ahem. So after I beat you and won the tournament something was bugging me. At first I thought it was some disease I picked up from your ex-wife, but it turns out she was clean. So I dumped her ass and traveled the world in search of the true secret of my own awesomeness. And when I got back, you know what I saw? The same stupid ass-face I beat walking around on TV with a gold belt that should be mine!"

Showtime shook his head. "You won't take this belt from me, Ninja."

"BULLSHIT!" Ninja screamed, throwing the brandy glass against a locker, shattering it and spilling liquor everywhere. He regained composeure and continued, calmly, "I beat you. I took the GTOC championship from your fingers just like I took your girl. Now, I have to finish the job. I am going to take that championship. I am going to take your career. I am going to destroy you, and I am going to take your soul. I need to end this, Showtime! There can be only one!"

Showtime paused for a moment before asking, "Only one what?"

Dark Ninja stood and adjusted his towel, "The answer to your first question... is shaddap."

With that, an unseen force toppled a set of lockers onto Showtime, and proceeded to beat him down. Blood trickled from Showtime as Dark Ninja and Psycho - a giant of a man with green hair, white facepaint, and a handlebar moustache

The big man took a hold of Showtime’s head palming it like a baseketball and slamming Showtime into the wall with a vicious “thunk” sound. The beastlike Psycho then lifted Showtime into the air and slammed him to the ground with a move like a choke slam but still palming Showtimes skull.

Dark Ninja paced watching Showtime slowly struggle to his feet. The fighting champion never one to give up never one the let his fans down. Never one to tell a lie to hurt you Showtime rises slowly in defiance.

“To quote the motion picture and video game classic Mortal Combat…Finish him”

Psycho picked up Showtime over his shoulders like a torture rack or burning hammer and then drove him to the ground with a piledriver. Showtime's head cracked against the ground viciously blood streaming down his face, poring through his mask.

Ninja sneered, "You don’t get it Showtime I surpassed you long ago. And my being here means I’ve already beaten you and that title is as good as mine. I can see it all on the movie screen in my mind... as a director!"

Dark Ninja and Psycho - the Dream Warriors - stood over the fallen Showtime, laughing at their handiwork while he bled heavily, lying helpless on the tiled floor. As the scene started to fade out, Psycho asked, "I like the way he bled it reminded me of cherry pie... Can we have some pie?"

The credits faded into view with the nbW logo.