The feed started off opening on the newly filled room of one greek. Thaddeus Prometheus sat behind his desk addressing an assortment of employees as they had been discussing various issues surrounding the nbW.

“That’s the plan, boys.” Thaddeus pointed to the large calendar hanging on his wall where a red circle was on one of the dates. “In time, we’ll move forward to that point.” He stood up and walked around his chair to a large empty glass aquarium. “That is all. Get back to work.”

The group cleared out of the office while Thaddeus reached into a white box next to him and withdrew a rat. He slid open the top of the aquarium and lowered the mouse inside dropping it into the confines before closing it once more.

“Sir.” In rushed a disturbed Jonothan Munroe. “Can I have a word?”

Thaddeus slowly refastened the lid and turned to face Munroe. “Yes?”

“We need to discuss what happened last week, with Voss.”

“We will,” Thaddeus took a seat once more and pulled off a document from his desk “later that is. Right now I need to know how he is doing.”

“As you well saw, Jerry got his face clocked by that steelchair. This wasn’t even during the match even! Sir,” Munroe approached the desk “these incidents were around during Napoli’s leadership. I have been trying to convince the other ring officials that this type of thing won’t go by unpunished.” He took a moment for a response but continued. “What Voss did should be proof enough that something needs done. Our safety is not the best around here.”

Thaddeus let out a deep sigh before answering. “I understand fully, Jonothan. Believe me, I will see to this. I have already decided to keep him out of action with Saunders tonight. I have something of a grandeur in motion for him tonight.”

Munroe, despite not getting a clear answer, headed out of the room. Thaddeus then pivoted his chair to view his aquarium and smiled just as a large python slid into view and snatched the rat.

Alyx Norwood
Versus
KHAN

The Mongolian war drums sounded as the Beast from the East charged out to the ring. His opponent already stood in the opposite corner, waiting patiently to get the victory. Alyx Norwood wasted no time in attacking Khan just after the bell rung. He shot forward with a few kicks and hard lefts, but the Beast swatted him to the side.

Khan roared out and drove his shoulders into the chest of Norwood. Hooking the waist he brought him up and slammed him back down with a vicious bearhug slam. Khan set his foot on Norwood’s chest as Referee Olsen Parks did the only thing he could, and counted the pinfall.

One…

Two…

Three!

The bell rung and Khan was declared the winner. However as the referee held his arm in the air, Khan’s sight was on the masked monster Torment standing at the entrance way.

The two became motionless while the referee checked on Alyx’s condition. Unfortunately with Torment out of his reach Khan went for the closest object, which happened to be Olsen. He grabbed him by the shoulder and twisted him to face him.

BOOM!

The back of his hand whipped across the face of the referee, but soon that was the least of his problems. Khan ducked him between his thighs and hoisted him in the air before dropping him with a devastating flapjack.

Khan knelt over the body of Olsen Parks, grabbing him by his hair and forcing him to face Torment as if to show him what he has planned. Torment gave no thought to the matter and simply turned his back and headed backstage where he had come from.

Winner by Pinfall, Khan!

Oppurtunity Knocks

Sheepishly, they entered. Mane Miaate and Mark Mercury looked like lambs to the slaughter, though that obviously wasn’t the case, and their expressions made Thaddeus feel at ease. He looked like he was going to have fun getting to know the talented tandem.

Mercury began: “Sir, we’re here…”

Prometheus smiled again: “Thaddeus will suffice, thank you.”

Mark cleared his throat and restarted: “Yes, sorry sir, I mean Thaddeus. Well…”

“Yes?”

Miaate nudged Mercury, who scowled at him. Instead, Mane took the lead despite Mercury’s insistence of being the mouthpiece: “We’re here because we feel we’re the best team in this company and we want a title shot.”

“Is that right?”

Mane nodded: “I think so. Tell him Mark.”

Mercury went along with Miaate’s remark and mumbled: “Yes, he’s right Thaddeus.”

Prometheus looked down at his desk and then back at the duo and with outstretched hands and a smile bigger than the Grand Canyon: “Sure, why not?”

Mark was stunned: “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

The pair did a high-five and realised that it wasn’t really appropriate in this situation and tried to conceal their joy at securing what they wanted without too much effort in all honesty.

However…

“Yes, you’ll get a title shot on the provision you can get past your qualifier.”

“Qualifier? What qualifier?” Mercury was worried at Thaddeus’ tone.

“Yes, you’ve got to beat a champion to get to champions. But not any old champion. The World Champion, Ali Amore.”

In the background, you could hear the fans cheer at the utterance of the newly-crowned champion’s name.

“Along with his good friend and tag team partner, Keegan.”

Mercury looked at Miaate. Miaate looked back at Mercury.

“Good luck gentlemen,” Prometheus proclaimed as the cameras left Myth and Legend considering whether or not they wanted what they’d wished for.

I'll be Waiting.

The camera cut to Marc Gordon and Terry Renton. "Ladies and gentlemen, a little later we'll see the new nbW tag team champions in action in their first title defense, but first, some comments recorded with them after their victory over D-T."

The scene faded up backstage where the NEW NBW Dynasty Champions stood, belts slung over their shoulders, mere moments after winning them. Dark Ninja looked to the camera - a look of pure cockyness on his face. Well if you could see his face beneath his mask, anyway.

The camera focussed on him. "Showtime I told you I told you this would happen. I told you that I am your kryptonite. I am the one man that you will never one-up. I am your own personal glass ceiling. I first took your wife and now Showtime I've taken your belt. You talked about what it takes to be a champion. How you and your little cockknocker sidekick had these belts for two years. Well that was two years with no talents and losers. And two years without me on your case. Because If I'm around Showtime you can bet that you will end up on your back."

Dark Ninja slapped Psycho's chest.

"And Psycho you did your job perfectly."

Psycho blinked blankly. "Tuna fish in porcupine underpants!"

"That's right D-T were easy to beat. D-T were pathetic; my mom could have beaten those bitches. Consider this your pearl harbour. Showtime's over Johnny. Your dreams have ended and now the nightmare has begun. Because now DW is in your house with your belts. And Psycho is going to raid your fucking fridge."

Psycho added, "Pickles?"

Dark Ninja continued, "You can have all the fucking pickles you want because we are the best damn motherfucking tag team in the world. And Showtime I'm asking you. I'm begging - ask for a rematch. Invoke that rematch clause. you know you want to. Because I want to prove that this wasn't a fluke. This wasnt just a bad night. This reality this was the day Showtime finally realized that I am his better."

Psycho asked, "Tony Danza?"

The little one kept going, "Showtime one last thing I want you to know that I do respect you. I think you are one of the best damn athletes in this business. I think that put against almost any one in any locker room you will have match of the night and win. But me? I'm not one of the best; I AM THE BEST. That's the difference. There's the level everyone else is on, and the level I'm on. And that is a level you can't touch, Showtime. So go ahead sign that rematch contract. I'll be waiting... Get that camera the fuck away from me I'm going to get laid."

As the two stormed off, alarms sounded and the old arena was engulfed in the flame of a riot. The scene faded out.

Opening the Vault

Once more we’re shown the office of Thaddeus Boyle. “Evening folks. I asked the crew to give me a moments time to explain to you what you are about to see, in order to prevent any confusion to you.

As you are well aware, no brand has quite the history already established in the books. We have hundreds of matches stored in the Vault gathering dust until a DVD release deal is set in motion.”

Thaddeus stopped a moment as he thought of the possibilities for DVD deals.

“Therefore each no brand Wrestling webcast we will be airing one of the best matches from the vault.

Tonight, what you are about to see is the definition of how we came to be and where we are today. As this is the first stream in a new territory, it is only right to air the first match of nbW’s televised history.

Please enjoy.”

The feed faded away from his office.

Dawson James
Versus
Tony Fields

From the Vault
Infamy, December 18th 2004

Marc Gordon “Welcome everyone watching from around the world! this is...nbW!”

Terrence Renton “I've been waiting here long enough; it's about time this show has gone underway. I feel like I’ve been caught in a timewarp or something”

Marc Gordon “I think it's time for the very first match of the evening. I don't really know much about these next two wrestlers’ but I have already been hearing things backstage and these two are not the best of friend's if you know what I mean”

Terrence Renton “That doesn't surprise me, on one side you have a tall handsome practically perfect human specimen and.. *laughs* on the other well you have someone who may be creeping too close to the closet if you ask me!”

Marc Gordon “Enough of that! Let’s have Brent Williams introduce them before things get out of hand with you're ridiculous comments and accusations”

Brent William “Introducing, a man who hails from Wilmington, North Carolina and currently resides in Omaha, Nebraska... he stands in at 5'11" and weighs approximately 220 Lbs. ladies and gentlemen HERE IS Dawson James!”

“Glass Dance” by the Faint can be heard surging through the arena speakers as the fans eagerly await the first glimpse of an nbW wrestler, as Dawson James steps through the curtains he is met with a positive response as he calmly stops at the top of the corridor with his hands places firmly on his hips just examining the crowd and with a brief smile he continues to walk towards ringside as announcer wastes no time introducing his opponent. ~

Brent William “Next, is someone who some might know as ruthless and cutthroat as anyone in professional sports. He is known to have knocked many out of careers by just one foul maneuver or one dismal glance at his property... I introduce to you all a man who resides in the town where the blues were born St Louis, Missouri he also stands at 6'2" and currently weighs in at 227 Lbs. please WELCOME "The Real Deal" Tony Fields!”

“Walk” can be heard pumping loud and frequently through the entire arena as Tony Fields with his wife Anne along side him stand at the centre of what most people would call the wrestling universe. After ignoring the audience he promptly makes his way towards the ringside circle as he steps through leaving his wife outside to observe he gives his opponent Dawson James a cold stare as the referee assigned to this match calls for the bell.

Marc Gordon “The match is just about to start as the bell sounds and both wrestler's circle the ring not paying any attention to their surroundings as they squarely look each other in the eyes but once they've taken a few steps Tony Fields suddenly stops which leaves Dawson James standing in motion wondering what his opponent might be trying to do, syke him out maybe?!”

Terrence Renton “I think Tony just wants to extend his hand in favour of a friendly handshake with Dawson, what's wrong with that?”

Marc Gordon “There's plenty wrong with that.. how can you trust someone as devious as Tony Fields? The guy is a creep. ..and what do you know! Fields has asked Dawson to shake his hand as a sign of respect, give me a break. Dawson takes a step closer to Fields and as he motions to crowd for a response he gets blind sided by a closed fist! What a cheap shot! This is getting out of control!!”

Terrence Renton “Are you kidding me!? it was only a punch, get a hold of yourself MG.. you're scaring me”

Marc Gordon “Anyways, Tony Fields continues to punch Dawson all the way to the corner turnbuckle as he begins to chop away at the practically lifeless Dawson James who can't even defend himself! this isn't right, someone call 911! goddamnit..”

Terrence Renton “Are you okay Marc? seriously you're going to be commentating alone if you keep this up, I'am not going to watch you make a complete fool out of me”

Marc Gordon “You know what, you son of a bitch get out! I don't need you here anyways.. as far as commentating is concerned I'am the whole god damn show you little punk now leave before I call security!”

Terrence stands up as he is completely disgusting with Marc's comments and out of a fit of rage he pushes Gordon to the floor and jumps on him connecting with rights and lefts! two fights going on at once and the televised audience has no idea what's going on! after a few hectic seconds security guards rush to the commentator's area and remove both commentator's from their no longer respective areas as they motion for the ring announce Brent Williams to finish the match ~

Brent Williams “Sorry to everyone who is watching our program, we've been having some technical problems and I assure you all that they will be settled briefly! I'll be here to fill in the blanks and right any wrongs”

The referee finally steps in between both wrestler's and goes to check Dawson to see if he is still able to wrestle after taking such a vicious pounding at the hands of Tony Fields who now is standing at the opposite end of the ring trying to get the crowd booing as loudly as they can. Dawson stumbles to his feet and looks directly at Tony Field's who is shocked to his that James is standing as it just goes to prove that he has the heart of a champion and the praise of the fans surrounding him. This ignites Dawson as he slowly walks to Fields while practically dragging his right leg he motions a punch and misses as Tony runs and connects with a staggering clothesline that sends James thrashing to the mat in pain.

But this doesn't stop Dawson from getting up yet again! This is astounding like a miracle from the book of revelations! Dawson James looks more determined than ever as he raises his hands up and down trying to get the crowd on his side as the begin to chant his name which doesn't sit too well with Tony Fields as he tries to cover his ears from the screams and taunts of the fans who are relentless in their efforts! Dawson charges Tony and connects with a spinning elbow to the chest of Fields sending both men down to the canvas as they lay down next to each other both men try to use each other to get themselves up which works but than Dawson quickly grabs Field's head and drops to his knees with a jawbreaker!!

Tony is covering his mouth as he appears to be bleeding.. James picks himself up and when turns around to the outside of the ring he notices a pretty gal looking up at him almost in awe it was Tony Field's wife, Anne. Dawson walks toward the ropes and looks over at her as he tries to ask her something a sneaky Field's grabs him by the tights and rolls him up as the referee suddenly counts...~

1....

2....

3

*DING!..DING!..*

Brent Williams “This match is over! the winner is Tony Field's with a mislead win..”

Tony Field jumps up quickly, climbs the turnbuckle celebrating while Dawson gets back to his feet, still checking out Anne, Field's wife...Tony notices this and doesn't like it one bit! like a stalking predator he quietly rolls out of the ring and grabs an empty chair and slides back under the bottom rope and swings the steel chair violently smashing James in the skull causing blood to splatter everywhere but that didn't stop Field from swinging downward's flattening the top of Dawson's head with yet another chair shot that seamlessly appears to have knocked Dawson James unconscious...

Tony than to places the chair on the wrestling mat beside Dawson's body and lifts him up only to drop him right back down on the chair with a DDT!..shortly afterwards the paramedics rush to Dawson's aid as Tony reluctantly steps back as he leaves the ring he screams “Stay away from her!! she's mine!” ~

Brent Williams “I can't believe what just happened, truly awful but the show must go on, please stay tuned as we plan to bring more action from the nbW!”

Winner by Pinfall, Tony Fields!

It's Nice to see you too... Not

Backstage, Trent McKnight was waiting for the cameras to begin rolling as he stood next to an old on-screen foe in Keegan, who was always an awkward interviewee, and Ali Amore, who was one of the easiest people to speak to in the industry because he was still, even at this point in his career, so quiet.

Finally, Trent got the nod and snapped into character with aplomb like a true professional: “I’m standing here with Keegan and new World Champion, Ali Amore. Congratulations Ali. You recorded a wonderful win over Torment on Memorial Day. How did it feel?”

“Very good. It was the best moment of my life Trent,” Ali stated sincerely.

Predictably, Keegan imposed himself on the interview like a protective and pushy parent: “Trent, it’s great to be back. I’ve missed verbally handing your arse to you. Honestly, it’s great to see you,” he said firmly placing his hand on the journalist’s shoulder.

Trent tried to remove the European’s paw but to no avail: “I wish I could say the same thing.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Keegan tried to playfully suggest but Trent wasn’t in the mood to be prodded ad pushed around and the Englishman finally got the hint.

McKnight resumed: “You heard earlier that you’ll be facing Myth and Legend…”

Once again, deliberately to show Trent who called the shots in this sequence, the Briton butted in: “Aye, we’re facing Myth and Legend tonight. Ten for observation. Funny thing is I tick both boxes in more ways than one but let’s not take a turn down that avenue.”

Relieved, Trent muttered ‘good’ before proceeding with his next question: “Surely, Myth and Legend, a recognised tag team, have the edge over you tonight.”

That in itself almost sent Special K over the edge: “Are you kidding me? We’re an unbelievable unit. We have strength and speed, age and experience, endurance, ability, agility and technique. Plus, two handsome men to top it all off.”

McKnight rolled his eyes: “People say you’re only back because you’ve got so many noughts at the end of your bank balance. Unfortunately, they’re after a minus sign. Is it true you’re back for money?”

Keegan chuckled: “I’m not here for money and neither is Ali. Money is aplenty in my bank account, don’t worry about that. We’re here for the love of the business, not for business.

“We’re here to compete in an organisation we hold dear to our hearts, grab it by the horns and steer it in the right direction.”

Just as Trent was going to conclude his questions, typically, he was cut off once more: “And another thing. Ali’s the man here. Does he have what it takes? Right he has. He’s an artist, a young lad with bags of ability, unlimited, and has what it takes to lead this company back into the light and I’m behind him all the way. THAT’S WHY we’re here.”

Introducing your Main Event

The arena fell to silence as the fans waited for the next exciting moment. And just as expected the strings of ‘Spike-It-UP!’ exploded over the loud speakers in the arena, announcing the arrival of the colossus of nbW, Spike Saunders. He pushed his way through the curtain and glared through his shades as he took no time in getting down to the ring and inside.

“I’m going to just cut to the chase. Voss, get your ass our here and let’s settle this.” Spike rubbed his shoulder and stretched his neck, obviously still feeling the attack from the 54th edition of Full Effect. “Come on Voss.”

He smiled as the curtain was pushed open, but the smile turned to a look of disappointment as the greek Thaddeus Boyle stood at the entrance aisle with a mic in hand.

“Spike, I do apologize but tonight I have requested that Voss not accept the match or confront you tonight of suffer the penalties; as you see I have something Bigger in store.”

Thaddeus took in the booes, nobody could be perfect afterall.

“You can boo, but I promise you that our Main Event tonight will be Ten Times better without having it ruined by Voss’s presence after last time.” He took a walk across the stage towards the left side. “I understand fully that you want to wrestle tonight, and I am glad to see that initiate Spike. You see, that is why I have put you in the Main Event tonight.” He slowly walked over to the right side. “I worked hard to pull this off, and trust me it was not easy to get a hold of him. You should know him quite well Saunders, he is the first ever World Heavyweight Champion of nbW…”

‘Kill. Fuck. Die.’ By WASP played over the speakers as the fans started to cheer at the arrival of the former champion.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Uncensored!” announced Thaddeus as he came to stand next to him. “Tonight’s main event will be one to kick off our new non-televised venture, with Spike Saunders Versus Uncensored. You really won’t want to miss it!”

Thaddeus slowly walked to the back while Uncensored and Spike stared back and forth at one another. The two had quite the history in the ring, and they knew that tonight would be another notch to their respected careers. It had been awhile since the two last fought; and one has to wonder who would get the better hand.

And tonight would reveal that answer as Uncensored and Spike nodded towards each other in a show of respect before Uncensored disappeared past the curtain himself.

Ali Amore and Keegan
Versus
Myth and Legend

Cameras returned to the ring as the highly-talented tag team of Mane Miaate and Mark Mercury, better known as Myth and Legend, headed down to the ring. This was their reward for daring to ask new man in charge, Thaddeus Prometheus, for a title shot. Sure, they were going to get a champion, but it was Ali Amore, the newly-crowned World champion, and it was a non-title match. Plus, he had Keegan by his side.

Speaking of which…

‘Lake of Fire’ by Lordz of Brooklyn kicked in and the English emerged, primed, prepared and appropriately dressed to do battle this week, swapping his fashionable pair of jeans for a good old-fashioned pair of black shorts and matching boots. Known for his arrogance and showboating, there was none of that tonight, as his new entrance theme was cut off by Dean Martin’s ‘That’s Amore’ and looking like at least a million dollars, his Colombian cousin (not really) came out to a magnificent reception, decked out in all light blue tights with ‘ALI’ embroidered in red letters down the right leg and, more impressively, the World championship belt around his waist. They were gleaming.

There was no time-wasting as they walked down the ramp. Keegan took the traditional route of stepping between the ropes and psyching himself up by rotating his head and neck muscles while Amore performed his usual Somersault over the top rope, landing on his feet perfectly in the process. 10 from the judges.

DING!

The referee quickly checked the competitors’ footwear for chicanery. Everyone in the ring looked in great condition. Myth and Legend, a terrific tag team, looked focused even if this had been bestowed upon them, almost as a punishment for their audacity, while Keegan smiled, repeatedly chewing his gum and ready to kick someone’s rear end. Amore removed his newly-acquired wealth and most valued possession, the strap he took from Torment on Memorial Day, and gracefully handed it to the official.

Miaate slapped Mercury on the back as he left the squared circle. Keegan and Ali had a short conversation about who would start things off and while a tad disappointed, the Superstar of Bogota succumbed to Special K’s legendary persuasive powers and found himself outside on the apron. The Englishman’s unwavering confidence and charisma was apparent, especially as he walked up to Mark Mercury.

A brief staredown ensued before the two of them silently negotiated to kick things off properly with a good, old-fashioned tie-up. Keegan quickly assumed the advantage with a Headlock. It didn’t go all of his own way though as Mercury jockeyed for position and was able to push the powerhouse into the opposing set of ropes and duck down. The Geordie Genius jumped over him, surprised and grateful to meet the uncharacteristically naive Mercury put his head down, anticipating a Backbody Drop. He almost mocked the tag team specialist with a cock of the head before burying a trademark left boot into the arm and wind said limb up with an Arm Wringer.

He used his superior body weight, somewhere around 270lbs these days, shoulder-first into Mark’s left arm and then utilised a second Arm Wringer, wrenching down three times to leave Mercury vertical and trying to reduce the European’s leverage. To no avail though, the wily veteran took a few backward steps with Mercury in tow and tagged in his tag team partner and trainee, Mr. Amore.

Nothing the Colombian ever does is simple and the spectators on hand popped as he elevated himself over the top rope and exploded with a Savage-like Axe Handle on his opposite number’s left shoulder. Ali, clearly watching from the outside and not bored, continued his mentor’s smart work and wound Mark’s arm up furthermore with his own Arm Wringer but Mercury, who was able to match power with Keegan in the opening exchange, could certainly do the same to Colombian and backed him up into the ropes and then whipped him into the opposing set, near the corner of where the inactive Miaate stood, but Amore effortlessly ducked a sluggish Clothesline attempt and took Mark over with an Arm Drag. Frustrated, Mercury went back only to get a second dose and then again for a third consecutive Arm Drag, which ended up with Mercury on the floor, slapping the mat several times in frustration as Amore cinched in a nice Armbar. Maybe Ali could do the simple things too. On this evidence, he was doing them very well indeed while also highlighting his superior speed beating a not too shabby Myth and Legend member in the sprint stakes on not one, not two but three occasions.

Mercury soon made his way up to a vertical base, however, and backed the Bogota-born star into the corner via his hair and made a tag. Keegan complained to the official about the hair-pulling but he decided to let it slide and Miaate slowed the South American starlet down with a few rib-ticklers. Not messing around, Mane whipped Amore into the set of opposite turnbuckles but nobody in this match could match Ali for speed, ad he moved out of the way at the last moment, and then straddled Miaate as the crowd happily counted along while he threw bombs…

ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN!

Under the guidance of the Geordie Genius, Ali repaid the hair-pulling by dragging Mane into their corner, much safer territory and rammed the Myth and Legend member’s head into Keegan’s outstretched size 14, who tagged in. He measured Mane with a right hand, make that two right hands, and then let him have it with four hard left boots to the midsection which put Miaate down in the corner and then nearly knocked him out with a very stiff kick to the head, which provoked a collective ‘OOH’ from the crowd. Keegan was composed and concentrated though, probably more than at any point in his career, and rammed his shoulder into Mane’s stomach a further three times. Ali returned to the ring.

Amore warmed up the audience and his opposition’s chest with three lethal Knife Edge Chops, drawing the customary Ric Flair tributes in the process that are so commonplace, and then turned his back on Mane. You might think that’s a bad idea, and normally it is, but Ali was preparing a sprinter’s run up and it paid off as he launched himself into Miaate with a Stinger Splash that would have made Steve Borden envious.

TAG!

Keegan was back in the fray and wasted no time in showing his handiwork with a flurry of fists that introduced themselves to the vulnerable Mane’s ribcage, each one seemingly thrown with more venom and force than the previous effort, and then gave them some respite but still showing Miaate no remorse or regard as he nailed him with four bone-crunching Knees. Mane must have felt like puking.

But the Briton was unforgiving and sent Miaate into the turnbuckle, hard mind, and followed him up with a Clothesline, hurting himself in the process and shaking his arm in the process upon impact, desperately trying to get the blood circulating again, which he did, but the 10-second delay allowed Mane to regain his bearings and he suckered Special K into showing his hand with another Lariat attempt, sidestepping the onrushing Englishman with ease, and scrambling across to the adjacent corner to tag in Mercury, who by now was fully fresh.

Finally, Myth and Legend had an opening to launch some offence and Mercury did just that by displaying impressive power and scooping up Special K, all 270 pounds of him, and planting him in the centre of the squared circle and bouncing off the ropes near Mane to score with a Flying Elbow.

1…

Okay, that was an insult and nobody expected him to pin the Newcastle native but at least they were no longer under the cosh.

While the referee counted to five, Mane went back to the well as he tagged in Mercury. Mark held the Height of Humanity in a backbreaker position and this time, from the second turnbuckle, Mane landed with another Flying Elbow while Mercury completed the pinning predicament…

1
2

Progress had been made and Keegan was trying to clear his throat. The official eventually forced Mane out, who took his time, and this presented Mercury with a great chance to choke Keegan even more without the referee realising. As he turned around, he began to start a count but Mark broke well before five. After separation, he whipped Keegan into the ropes and tagged Mane in as he did so, and as the Briton bounced back off, Mercury caught him with a simple shin kick which keeled him over and Mane struck with a superb Ace Cutter…

1
2
Kickout!

Special K sat straight up but he was still reeling and desperately attempting to get energy back into the lungs but Mane’s kicks to the upper back made such a simple task so much more difficult and it got harder still as he leathered Keegan with four crosses, two from either side, and then expertly slapped on a chinlock.

To rub it in, he told the Yardstick to give up and also ragged him around sideways like some cheap porn star, occasionally pulling the hair for effect and receiving a warning from the referee every time he did so but, quite frankly, he couldn’t give a shit.

Encouraged by spectators, who hadn’t fallen asleep, especially with the Champion drumming up interest by thumping his right boot repeatedly on the ring apron, Special K summoned up the energy to regain his footing, constantly waving his index finger around in rebellion before rattling Miaate with three notable elbows to the abdomen. Just as he was about to put distance between himself and the aggressor, Mane pulled him back via the hair as the Englishman was about to embark on a sprint and cinched in a Sleeper real tight.

The experienced fighter was fading. Ali leaned over the top rope as far as he could but the European’s index finger stopped wagging and fatigue set in. Mane’s positioning and application of the energy-reducing hold was impeccable and the Briton’s bungalow lights were dimming by the second as he gradually fell to the floor, both feet permanently parked on the canvas, carrying in excess of an addition two-hundred plus pounds in the form of Mane Miaate, a skilled strategist well-versed in the art of technical wrestling.

Keegan, a well-travelled wrestler, was asleep. The official opted to see if he could try and revive him by raising his hand. It wasn’t bias but merely part of the rules. If his hand fell three times, he and Ali would succumb to Myth and Legend.

ONE.

That fell heavily too, I may add.

TWO.

Could it be over?

THREE.

Fuck off. How many times do you see it fall for a third time, particularly in a tag match? Part of the script man.

Sure enough, Special K found an amazing inner strength when threatened with the prospect of his hand going down like Divine Brown thrice and virtually Hulked Up, except the rights to the head didn’t have the same impact and after his second shot landed, Miaate merely hurled him with a smooth Back Suplex…

One…

Two…

Getting nearer on the Newcastle native. After kicking out, Keegan inched towards the corner to find Ali but Mane cut him off with ease and also clocked the Colombian with a sly right hand while he was at it, which prompted the desired reaction from the naïve newly-crowned kingpin, and while the gullible referee formed a barrier between the Superstar of Bogota and the Geordie Genius, Myth and Legend used their brief window of non-timed double-teaming to tremendous effect with a collective Suplex on Special K and Miaate scaled the second rope, all the while Ali tried to tell the ignorant official about the injustice that was going on in the adjacent corner if he’d bother to turn around at this precise second, and Mane showed his technical proficiency by reverting his focus back to the former tA talent with a lovely Legdrop across the throat.

Predictably, the man in the shirt turned around as Mercury tagged in, though he hadn’t really, merely slapping his own hand to officially become the legal man. Why do wrestlers do that when it’s straightforward enough to make a tag? It’s so dastardly and devilish, that’s why, and Myth and Legend knew every trick in the book because they studied it at school.

Anyway, Mercury was in an interesting position that Amore was accustomed to – balanced on the top strand. More worryingly and ironically, Mark executed a spot the South American starlet was all too familiar with…

Frogsplash.

Fucking right, and a good one at that.

1…

2…

The nearest near-fall of the match thus far.

While all of the air had left the Briton’s body, Mark Mercury elected to show John Cena just how you execute a credible STF and it wasn’t even his signature move, his kiss of death if you will. However, judging by the Geordie’s reaction, you’d think it was.

“GIVE UP!” Mercury implored.

“FUCK OFF!” Keegan retorted.

It was through gritted teeth though, and he was hurting. It was evident for everyone to see and the official asked every few seconds if he wanted to give it up but Keegan had never given up. While the record books may have recorded one or two submission losses, they were through stoppage or knockout beforehand. He hadn’t muttered the magic words in the past and had absolutely no intention of doing so right here, right now to Mark Mercury, one half of Myth and Legend.

All he had to do was reach the promised land – the bottom rope.

He made a start, slithering there like a snail beginning at the bottom of the garden path. Notwithstanding, and Keegan certainly wasn’t, not yet at least, he started to slowly but surely use his sheer willpower and desire to fight in a bid to reach the elusive rope. Amore employed the aforementioned foot-thumping and the spectators played their part in trying to applaud the Englishman back to dry land if you like.

The more they clapped, the more they fed him, the stronger he became and the speedier those last few steps, vital, happened as he finally put a paw on the bottom rope, much to the relief of everyone.

Except Mercury didn’t let go of the hold until the official told him to stop and then administered a four count before Mark relinquished his grip. From there, he taunted the new titleholder, frustrated and helpless at this time. Ali again reacted and was again thwarted by the ref. That enabled Mercury to illegally choke Keegan, still underneath the bottom rope, by putting his foot on the grounded competitor’s windpipe for several seconds and suddenly releasing just as the official stopped his conversation with the Colombian, who came to the conclusion that he was more use to Special K if he stayed outside and awaited that all-important tag. In the meantime, the intended damage was done.

Mercury tagged in Miaate, legitimately this time, and Mane had a spring in his step as he kicked Keegan a couple of times and then aided him to his feet prior to firing him hard into the turnbuckle and catching him with a Reverse Elbow. Rather than showboat, Mane also struck with four Knife Edge Chops but Keegan retaliated with one of his own. Fatigued, K was easy to pin back into the corner at this stage and that’s what Mane did but the big-mouthed bastard equalised with a right hand. Miaate then missed with a punch of his own and almost received whiplash from Keegan’s hellacious hits rocking his head back and forth but he soon cut him off with a how-low-can-you-go thumb to the eye.

With the veteran in place, he tried a Suplex but found no joy. His second attempt was equally fruitless. A third…

BAM!

That was the sound of Keegan reversing the move.

Myth and Legend had cut the ring in half, sound strategy in any era against any opponents, but the strongest man in this match had powerfully responded in the face of adversity and egged on by onlookers, he tried to make his way over to an eager and enthusiastic, even excessively so, Amore. However, Miiate was on Keegan’s case, under strict instructions and audible orders from his other half not to allow the European to tag in his South American counterpart by any means necessary.

Anxious, Mane managed to catch up with the foreign star somewhere around halfway, clutching to his big boot like a drowning man to a buoy in the sea, but he neglected to look up and discovered to his cost that he had hold of his opponent’s left leg, you know, the strong one in this case…

Which connected, full-force, with his forehead and decisively divided the duo.

The race was on again.

Mercury screamed at Mane, who was suffering. Nevertheless, Miaate understood his cohort’s anxiety and quickly decided to block out the pain to try and inflict more of the same stuff on Special K. In a nutshell, that was the key to this contest. If they could keep him in the battlefield a little longer, victory could be theirs. If a fresh, clean-cut Colombian was allowed to escape, there could be hell to pay.

Meanwhile, Keegan was close. All he had to do was crawl mere millimetres. Could he? More importantly, did he?

Well…

TAG.

That’s a yes, then.

Ali went nuts. He nailed Miaate with lefts and as Mercury came in to make a save, he received exactly the same treatment. Miaate stood up only to be knocked back down with a right and again his partner was subjected to the same punishment. Thereafter, Amore hit them with identical dropkicks. He then scooped Miaate up and planted him with a bodyslam. Mercury also ran straight into the same situation and Ali bodyslammed him on top of Miaate!

As Mercury tried to stop the little rascal in his tracks, he was beaten once more to the punch as Ali came up from the blindside and wasted him with a beautiful Bulldog! As Miaate lay seemingly out of it on the canvas, Ali wowed the crowd with a picture-perfect Springboard Moonsault and made a subsequent cover…

1…
2…

Mercury dived to push Amore off at the last second and save his other half. However, Keegan re-entered the proceedings and tossed Mercury outside over the top rope and down onto the concrete floor. I.e.: The hard way.

With Miaate still struggling, Keegan and Ali combined perfectly to pour yet further punishment on his midsection as Special K bench-pressed the Superstar of Bogota with alarming ease and dropped him from a height so he made a massive splash all over Mane’s stomach…

1…
2…
3?

Near fall.

Mercury was just coming through the ropes when Ali spotted him and alerted the Englishman, who caught him with an Axe Handle and brought him back inside with a Snap Mare. Ali, approaching from the rear, used the ropes (surprise, surprise) to give him great momentum and score with a jaw-dropping dropkick to the back of the head and Keegan followed up from the front with a straight-up, fuck off, crunching and cracking kick to the bridge of the nose and he made the cover…

Only he wasn’t the legal man.

Out of frustration, he noticed Mane was also stirring in spite of the metaphorical kitchen sink they’d thrown at him in recent moments and aided him to a vertical base, only to send him on a last-minute trip south with a Russian Legsweep and instructed Ali to head north, which he did with no hesitation and steadied himself.

FLYING ELBOW!

Miaate’s heart was torn…

ONE…

TWO…

He kicked out!

At that moment, Mercury jumped onto the Geordie Genius’ back and attached himself like a nit jumping from one person’s mop to another. Keegan fought it for a few seconds and soon it was him in control. He put Mercury, who overpowered him in the opening exchange, in his place regarding the power stakes and held him up on his shoulders. Ali darted across to the diagonally-opposite corner and for the umpteenth time, climbed to the top, ready to land another brutal blow…

Simultaneously, Special K dropped him off his shoulders as Ali came off the top rope with a majestic…

MISSILE DROPKICK!

ONE…

TWO…

THREE?!

No fucking way, said Mark Mercury.

Credit to Myth and Legend. There wasn’t a weak link in the team. Throughout the match, Keegan and Ali had deployed specific strategies to depict weaknesses and dismantle them. In the last few minutes, they’d plain as day kicked the shit out of them yet here we were, still awaiting for an outcome either way, as a result of their admirable resilience and resistance.

Obviously, the official had lost control of the contest given the double-teaming teacher and student were doing but it had to wait another moment as Miaate ran past Keegan and straight into Ali with a flying forearm, which was enough to force the Colombian down to one knee momentarily, but he had a surprise waiting for him when he turned around…

SPEAR!

He had to fear the spear, alright. The former Fighting Zone franchise flattened, and I mean ran over him, in emphatic fashion. Holding his hands up like a heel, knowing his business was done, the Newcastle native returned to his corner, trying to avoid admonishment from the man in the middle, who scowled slightly but let the Height of Humanity off the hook in all honestly. Anyway, in a split second, the South American starlet elevated himself into the air and spun around, standing once again on the top turnbuckle and poised to polish Mane off with the tremendous one-two that saw Torment off on Memorial Day…

FROGSPLASH BABY!

This time, it had to be three…

ONE
TWO
THREE!

And, it was.

Keegan returned to the squared circle and hugged his protégé, lifting him up off his feet in a bearhug fashion, and then putting him back down on the same spot, which allowed the referee to raise both of their arms in the air to a warm applause for the audience!

It had been a great fortnight for Keegan and Ali, particularly the latter. During their first show back, Ali took the title away from Torment. Tonight, they’d used exactly the same lethal injection to see of the highly-rated Myth and Legend, who despite being dominated on the face of it, demonstrated glimpses of their terrific understanding and psychology while perhaps shocking some supporters with their toughness and refuse-to-lose attitude.

In the end, it’s testament to Torment’s tormentors that they were able to put such a proficient pair down for the three count. As Keegan insinuated in his interview earlier, maybe he and Ali were an unbelievable unit.

No doubt, that theory would be tested again in the near future.

For now, their momentum continued.

They were riding a huge wave.

Winners by Pinfall, Ali and Keegan!

Casualty of War

“AGGGGGGGGGGH!”

The twisting and active body on the stretcher told the story as he shook about in pain. Thaddeus Boyle stood next to the Ambulance door looking up at his employee. “How is he?”

Seemed pretty pointless of a question to ask as Olsen withered in suffering.

“We’re not sure the extent of his injuries at this moment; however we can confirm that he has two broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. There may be further damage, we will not know until he is fully examined.”

Thaddeus shook his head and sighed. “This is not going to go over well…” he turned and headed back to his office. The show still had to go on.

The NewBorn

The cameras shifted backstage to a conference room with the door held ajar. Inside stood a group of talent not before seen on no brand’s broadcasts, except for the one standing before them, Gyle Boyle.

“Tonight no brand Wrestling took a step on a new path, one in which we no longer deal with the Network demands and requests.” He ran his hand through the golden strands of his hair. “And you lot are the newborn.” He chuckled.

“With all due respect,” stated one of the young individuals, “should you not be in the ring yourself?”

As Gyle went to respond another individual spoke up. “You are after all the son of Mr. Thaddeus Boyle, are you not?”

“Folks,” Gyle stepped up to the two trouble makers. “I assure you, I am more than qualified to direct this new formation. I would appreciate it if you left the bloodlines apart from the facts here, fella’s.”

A silence engulfed the rest as the previous two looked at each other and then back to Gyle before nodding their heads in agreement.

“Wonderful. Now that that is settled. You lot are here to bring new life to this brand.” Gyle walked up to a dry erase board behind him with writing on it. “The Company has decided that we need to create new icons. You are all far from green, and chosen as the best from the various developmental territories that were searched out. You are going to be molded into the next legendary icons in no brand’s history. I will make it so. You will be the next Kain’s, Uncensored’s, Frost’s, Dwyer’s, and Reagan’s.”

Gyle removed the cover off the left half of the board to reveal a list of names, paired together.

“Over the next few weeks or months if that is what it takes; we are going to find out which of you are exactly what we are looking for, by pairing you in competition with one another.” He noticed the two wanting to speak out again but beat them to the punch. “For those of you with a peanut brain, let me explain this for you. Sylar,” he pointed to the red haired individual, “you will compete against Obia Salaman.” Another figure behind the two shook his head in disgust or shame, who knows. “And Sam, you will face Girrad over there.” He pointed to the tallest of the group.

“And the rest of you in similar competition. I expect that you will all perform to your utmost ability. Now dismissed.” Gyle turned and headed out of the room while the ‘newborn’ talked amongst themselves.

Tonight their new careers and livelihoods would begin

Simon Starks
Versus
Zed

Crackling thunder filled the arena as some tempo played. A large dark man appeared at the entrance, posed with his left arm up in the air and right arm down below, forming a human-letter Z. He looked at his opponent, Simon Starks, in the ring and pointed towards him.

The Annihilator stood ready to fight in the ring as his opponent wasted no time in starting the attack..

Ding
Ding
Ding

Zed ran forward and hit Simon with a fury of punches, which he followed up with a swift spinning kick to the backside of Starks's head.

1…

2…

Shoulder Up!

Starks shook himself free and stood back to his feet. He ducked Zed's attempted clothesline, and caught him on the rebound from the ropes with a Samoan drop.

1…

2…

Kick out!

Zed knocked his head and smiled at his opponent. He extended his arm for a handshake with Starks, which he did get. However it was fruitless and he was yanked into Zed’s arms and thrown backwards into the corner post. He proceeded up the ropes and gave his signal of a 'Z' as he wrote it in the air before leaping off with both knee's extended down on Simon's body.

Zelly Drop!

1…

2…

3!

Zed stood to his feet and posed to the fans. Tonight was the start of his triumphant return.

Winner via Pinfall, Zed!

Right Place, Right Time

Thaddeus Boyle sat back in his chair as he watched his newest acquisition quickly rising back up to the status it once had. The status before the dark plague that was Xander Napoli infected it. He knew the cure, and tonight was the first injection.

“Barb,” Thaddeus spoke into the com on his desk after pressing one of the buttons. “Can you get Trent McKnight please? I would like to speak to him about his position with the company.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Boyle.” Spoke his receptionist/assistant Barbra from the other end. Thaddeus had begun to browse across the nbW website, checking out the older events and previous superstars. He had an idea in mind that would require some assistance.

It was at that moment that the door flung open. “McKnight, good to see…” Thaddeus stopped as he stared at the young man standing in the doorway looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “What can I help you with?”

He looked behind him and started to back peddle out of the office. “It’s okay. What is your name kid?” spoke Thaddeus, trying to reassure the nervous young man. “Open door policy and all that. It is alright I assure you.”

“Justin-” stated the young man. “That is my name sir. I'm an apprentice Cameraman” He leaned against the doorway, his eyes looking directly at the floor.

“Justin. You look nervous tonight.”

“Y-yes.” He stumbled, “bi…i….ig night,” And then stammered.

“Yes, it is. Well Justin. Tonight is your lucky night. I was about to offer up a raise to another employee in the company, but you know what; its yours.”

“W…hat?” spoke the kid shocked.

Thaddeus flips open the book and quickly fills out the form before handing the check over to him. “There you go.”

He could only nod his head, bow, shake his boss’s hand, bow again, and shake his hand yet some more… “You can go now Justin.” Jumbled out of his dazed status, he nodded and quickly rushed out of the door but not before meeting Trent McKnight chest to chest.

“Careful.” Spoke Trent, “you really gotta watch where you’re running.”

He understood fully and rushed off towards his true destination before he chose the wrong room. The Bathroom.

Dream Warriors
Versus
Super Squad

We're the Dream Warriors!
Maybe tonight you'll be gone!

Dokken blared through the arena as Dark Ninja and Psycho, the Dream Warriors appeared on the entrance ramp to thundering boos. Dark Ninja walked, head held high, followed by the massive Psycho, gold belts slung over shoulders.

Marc Gordon commented, "Coming off a remarkable victory over the long-reigning nbW Tag Champions, Dark Ninja and Psycho have certainly made an impact in this company. They have dethroned the team many would consider to be the flagship champions of the nbW."

"And I love them for it, Gordo. I yearned for a team that could shut those punks up."

"You don't think the Dream Warriors are somewhat punkish themselves?"

"Well sure, G-Slice, but... they're the good kind of punk!"

"This match is scheduled for one fall and is for the nbW Dynasty Tag Championships. Introducing first, at a combined weight of 515 lbs, the team of Dark Ninja and Psycho, your No Brand Wrestling Dynasty champions, the Dream Warriors!"

Gordon continued, "Well it's a matter of record that DW has a decade-long history of rivalry with D-T, and it appears they have truly gotten the upper hand. I may not care for their attitude, but it is impressive to watch them bring this rivalry to nbW's rings."

As they stepped into the ring, Dark Ninja grabbed a microphone and waited a long while for the boos to subside.

Ninja declared, "You people make me want to throw up all inside my mask. And I love this mask. It's important to me. I have absolutely nothing but hatred for all of you, and until you realize that DW is the past, present, and future of tag team wrestling, you idiots will truly never be free!"

More boos.

"Gee," wondered Gordon, "I won't what part of that they didn't like?"

"D-T took the coward's way out and opted not to face me tonight, but the tema I've decided to face deserves a shot. No wait - they deserve to be shot, in the face. But losing to me will be almost as quick."

Gordon added, "Notice how he never says 'Us?' Like he's the only person in DW? What a selfish bastard, and Psycho doesn't even seem to care."

"Holding out for a Hero" by Bonnie Tyler began to play as El Avestruz and Emo Kevin marched stoically to the ring, determined to make an impression.

"Their opponents - at a total combined weight of 371 pounds, Emo Kevin and El Avestruz del Relampago -- The Super Squad!"

The bell rang and El Avestruz squared off against Dark Ninja. Ninja teased a lock up for a few moments, before taking El Avestruz down with a drop toe hold and trapping him in a surfboard.

"Dark Ninja gaining the early advantage, unsurprisingly," Renton declared.

Ninja released the hold and stood El Avestruz up. Avestruz took a swing but missed, and was met with a series of kicks to the face. Stunned, he walked right into - a DIRECTOR'S CUT!

Dark Ninja covered. One!



Two!





THREE!


The bell rang. "Here are your winners and still champions, Dark Ninja and Psycho, the Dream Warriors!"

"That's why they're champions, Gordo," Renton said. "They get the job done."

"And now," Dark Ninja said, grabbing his microphone again, "Because I still haven't seen D-T around, and I barely broke a sweat and we've got all this time to fill, I decided to entertain you all my way, by reading from the great American classic, The Great Gatsby, by Fitzgerald Scott Fitzgerald."

"Shades of the late great Andy Kaufman!" Renton marked out.

Dark Ninja produced a paperback edition of the novel fromt the timekeeper's table, set up a folding chair over El Avestruz's fallen body, and began reading. "In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. 'Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve --'"

Suddenly a familiar theme song hit.

Checkmate honey! Beat you at your own damn game!

The place became unglued as Showtime and Proteus ran down to the ring and began a brawl, but DW both hightailed it as soon as they could.

With Showtime and Proteus in the ring with El Avestruz and Emo Kevin, Dark Ninja and Psycho were halfway up the ramp. Ninja pointed to his head, indicating how much smarter he thought himself to be than Showtime.

Showtime grabbed Ninja's microphone and spoke. "The only thing I've ever wanted is to give these people the entertainment they deserve." The fans cheered. "Next week, we've signed a match, but it's not a rematch. Not yet, Ninja. You don't get rid of us that easily. Next time, Tem D-T and team DW will be facing off in a five-on-five elimination battle!"

The place roared with cheers.

"Choose your partners well, Ninja. We're going to give them something they'll never forget."

Under his mask, Ninja sneered at Showtime as he headed backstage and Showtime stood in the ring a while to enjoy the fans' reactions.

Winners by pinfall, Dream Warriors!

The Human Ratings Riot

A! S-S! H-O! L-E!

everybody now…

A! S-S! H-O! L-E!

The nbW fans drew within their pathetic little hearts for the heat of all heat as the self-proclaimed Religious Rasslin’ Experience came out from the back and stood on the stage. Armed with a microphone in hand, J. Leslie Voss slowly swaggered out like King Dick, armed and ready to barrage the fans with his words.

“Cut my god damn music!”

And they did. Yet the fans rained their hate on the Human Ratings Riot, which didn’t seem to bother him one iota.

“If you’d kindly shut the place your daddy warms his testicles and allow me to speak we can get on with the entertaining portion of this evening’s programming!”

The fans were only incited to boo more profusely. They all took deep breaths and boo’ed with all their might in the hope to drown him out.

“SHADDAP!” Voss roared into the microphone. “SHADDAP! SHADDAP! SHAAAAAAADDAP!”

The arena BOOMED from the negativity, and Voss seemed to be lapping up the attention. He pawed the air as if to say to Hell with it and with a shrug of his shoulders he proceeded to talk over the top of them.

“I’ve got some important barn burning to get on with, so ‘scuse me for rudely talking over you. I’m sure what you’ve got to say is REEEEEEEALLY important and all… but the Nielsen Ratings Spike is talking. SO PAY A-FUCKING-TENTION!”

Voss popped the collar of his polo shirt and smirked the smirk of the smarmiest SOB proRasslin ever did see.

“Last week, at the Relaunch of noBody’s Watching…” (BOO~!) “…one enormous ass-pimple decided he’d come out and make my retinas vomit right down the front of my face. This anus burrowing wombat thought he was big and scary and monstrous and tough. Thought he could scare me. Thought that he was so big and scary that the Big… Bad… VossMan would run and hide like High Flyer with a title belt…”

Voss enjoyed the reaction that raised from the fans. nbW had grown to love the Lunatic and it was an easy hot-button. What could he say? He couldn’t refuse defaming their false idols. False to him anyways.

“…that inane tea-bag lovin’ haemorrhoid was the one and only Spork!”

“SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” chanted the fans.

Voss nodded and twirled his finger around like he were saying “whoop-de-fucken-doo”.

“Spike. Right. Whatever. It’s not like anybody’ll remember that sheet stain anyways. Am I right? Or am I right? I think you’ll find it is matter of fucken fact. Spike saunters in… see what I did there? It’s a word joke. You cretins wouldn’t understand due to the fact you’ve barely mastered grunting let alone something as privileged as the Queen’s damn English.” BOO³ “So Spike saunters in…” (raises eyebrows Groucho Marx-style) “…and stands behind me. What a plan. What a razz. What a ploy. This guy is pure genius right? He fucking STANDS there!”

Voss points to the centre of the ring where Spike stood last week amidst a hailstorm of boos.

“He stands there! ZOMG! Right there. Right-fucking-there! I didn’t know what to do.” (Voss put the back of his hand to his forehead melodramatically pretending to feint) “He had his feet planted. He had a vertical base. I near shat my pants due to the standing. I mean PUH-LEASE! Can you get anymore bad ass than standing? I wouldn’t expect you knuckle draggers to understand what it’s like to stand up straight… since you’re all throw backs to the fucking BOG people.”

Did I say the fans can boo? Hear fans boo. Boo fans, boo. Can you hear them boo?

“I mean, I know Spike had all the attributes of a vertical fucking moustache… but I didn’t realise he was such a pussy. I mean, come on. If this guy were anymore of a pussy he’s have labia for eyelids. If this guy were anymore of a pussy he’d have a piercing in the middle of his forehead and a string hanging out his mouth. Maybe a little bit of a Bolognese grin, right?”

He ran a finger around his mouth to give people the general region he was expecting the sauce stain. This time, the women were a little more vocal as Voss verbally berated the woman’s birth and wee-wee receptacle.

“Spike Saunders is nothing more than an over-sized va-jay-jay and he stinks like your mama’s does. And don’t deny it coz last I heard… when you went down on her you thought she came sulphur.” (and boo) “So I, J. Leslie Voss, did what any manly man would do. What any quality wrestler would do. What any three year-old could do. I TAUGHT Saunders a wrestling lesson. I showed him what it’s like when dove’s cry. I gave him a Religious… Rasslin’… Experience!”

Standing in the centre of the ring, Voss made the sign of the cross, grabbed his crotch and then kissed his fingers like someone might a rosary.

“That’s right. I religified his nonchalant pee-hole lickin’ ass from here…” (Voss pointed at one corner and moved his pointer to the other side) “…to here. I pinned him with a 1 and a 2 and a 3. I put my hand upon his forehead and screamed ‘BE GAWN FOUL DEMONS-SAH!’ and give him a pure, unadulterated Religious fucking Rasslin’ Experience.”

Voss nodded in the centre of the ring, one hand on his hip and the other clutching tightly to that microphone while the fans wished Saunders would come down and kick his ass all over again.

“And that pussy just did his best impression of a three-dollar hooker with a twenty-dollar bill. Laid… on… his BACK!” (Voss ran his free hand in a straight line suggesting the flatness) “He got laid out by the Epitome of Entertainment with a Religious Rasslin’ Experience God himself would store in his spank bank. And as a complete and utter disregard to ME, and the general wrestling public…” (Voss added as a side-note) “…he doesn’t quit. He DOESN’T tear his contract up. He CLEARLY fails to UN-DER-STAND that he is a complete and utter abomination and not only that… he makes the Great Khali look pretty!”

Voss poked his fingers in his mouth and pretended to vomit.

“Not only THAT… but he accepts a match tonight and is going to disgrace the airwaves with his presence.” (Boo said the fans – Voss nodded) “I know! So as a public service. As an AIDE to those viewing at home AAAAAND here in attendance, because I know you hate to miss out on these things… I, J. Leslie Voss, will sit down there with these two undignified scantily brained pigeon twats right here…” (Voss pointed to the announce table) “…and I will do my GOSH darndest to make this abysmal attempt at a wrestling match entertaining. Coz I’m…. your fucking… GOOOOOOD!”

And with that, J. Leslie Voss tossed the microphone to a ring techy and rolled beneath the bottom ropes, heading to the announce table and putting on the cans, ready to give wrestling commentary a ratings boost.

Regrets

Backstage, Emo Kevin had El Avestruz's arm slung over his shoulder, helping him back to the dressing room. "Sorry I didn't help you, but I didn't see the sense in both of us being knocked senseless..."

They turned a corner and bumped into Dane Xolotl and his primeval warrior, Kaliban. The sudden collission caused Xolotl to spill his Earl Grey tea on his suit.

"You'll regret this, young man. Oh, most certainly."

Kaliban stared Kevin down as his manager led him away. Kevin sighed to himself, "Why me?"

Spike Saunders
Versus
Uncensored

The stage was set earlier in the evening when the night’s main event was put into place. In a sense, this would be a rematch from nearly four years ago. Tonight, the No Brand Wrestling audience was going to witness the foul mouthed S.O.B. himself, Uncensored square off against the colossal dragon, Spike Saunders.

“Spike-It-UP,” the remix of the Kiss classic roared through the arena’s stereo system. Fans jumped to their feet with cheers in anticipation for the arrival of one of their most beloved combatants. Spike Saunders pushed through the curtain only to have J. Leslie Voss throw out an insult whilst into the commentator’s headset. Saunders slowly stalked towards the ring. He kept his eyes on the man that had defeated him at Full Effect 54. This remained even upon his entry inside the squared circle.

Spike walked over to his designated corner. He took off his sunglasses and handed them off to a hand at ringside. That was the only moment when his vision went somewhere besides staring at the religious ‘rasslin experience.

As “Spike-It-UP” dimmed down, Saunders knew that he had to erase his mind of the VossMan and concentrate on his opponent who was certainly going to make his presence known in just a matter of mere moments.

“Kill. Fuck. Die.” by W.A.S.P. took the place of the Kiss remake. Fans were equally as excited to see Uncensored make his way into the arena as they were when Spike made his entry. Uncensored came exploding out of the backstage, giving the crowd as much energy as he could give them. He rushed down the ramp, jumped and slid his way into the ring.

The official of the bout kept Uncensored away from Spike Saunders. This only lasted a few moments or so.

Suddenly, there was no music playing. There was no show-boating. There were no precautions. For both of these men, it was all about this match. Here and now.

The bell rang.

Even with the great distance separating them, Spike Saunders and Uncensored glared into each other’s eyes. Although they had faced one another several times in the past, including in a one-on-one atmosphere, tonight was different. Everything about this night had a certain estranged, fun-house mirror reflection of the people and circumstances that once were those four years ago.

As the two inched closer to one another, J. Leslie Voss reiterated that he really didn’t care about this match or the two men involved in it. All that he knew was he conquered the mighty Goliath on the last installment of Full Effect and whatever happens in this match would pale in comparison to the feat he had accomplished.

On paper, this should be an easy win for Spike Saunders. Uncensored definitely had a size deficit in front of him, giving up nearly two feet and a hundred pounds to The Dragon. But there are some things to consider: Uncensored was able to practically defeat him in the past, although that particular bout, which was more or less a bloodbath, has gone down in the record books as a “no contest.” That was a different day during different circumstances with people in a different frame of mind. It was a completely different nbW. One other thing that may play to Uncensored’s advantage, Saunders did take quite a beating on Full Effect 54. Certainly, his body is still paying a physical price.

Uncensored threw a wild punch that connected with Spike’s jaw. This had no affect on Spike Saunders, nothing much more than a flinch followed by a smirk on Saunders’ face. Uncensored responded with a smirk of his own. That was proceeded by the one-finger salute shown right in front of Spike’s eyes.

This angered Saunders. He threw his arms out, trying to grab a hold of the foul mouthed S.O.B. Uncensored used his speed over the big man to his advantage by side-stepping the grapple. So much, he found himself behind Saunders, where he delivered three right hand shots to Spike’s kidneys, a spot that was greatly affected on the last nbW broadcast.

Immediately, Spike’s back was arched. Uncensored wrapped his arm around the neck of the mountain in front of him. With Spike’s weakened lower back, Uncensored dropped his weight, slamming the both of them against the canvas with a reverse DDT.

Straight away, Uncensored mounted on top of Spike Saunders and hooked a leg in a lateral press.

ONE!

That was all the San Diego native was able to get out of the cover. Spike kicked out so powerfully, Uncensored’s body lifted from the mat. There was no other thought in Uncensored’s mind. He wanted to win this bout.

Thusly, he grabbed a handful of Spike’s hair and started driving fists into his face. The referee had to separate the wrestlers once more, since Uncensored clearly hadn’t bothered to follow the standard rules of the outing. Uncensored put up his arms to show his submission to the official.

At that point, Spike had found himself slightly slouched while leaning against the corner’s turnbuckles. Uncensored went right back on the offensive. Only, he received a boot to the midsection for his troubles. Saunders shot back with a thunderous right hand that floored Uncensored. However, the first nbW World Heavyweight Champion was able to make it to his feet rather quickly.

When Uncensored reached his feet, his positioning saw him bent forward. Spike used that opportunity to deliver a DDT. Uncensored seemed to be in a rather peculiar situation being laid flat on his back. Spike opted not to attempt to end the bout, however.

Instead, as he rose to his feet, he brought Uncensored up with him. Wanting to keep himself in the driver’s seat, Spike wrapped his arm around Uncensored’s head once more. Only his own head was nestled under the arm of his opponent as well. Spike lifted Uncensored off of the mat with resounding speed, only for both of their bodies to crash against the floor below once more.

The ring shook after their collision from the snap suplex. This time, Spike quickly followed through with a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

Uncensored was able to get a shoulder up as soon as the referee’s hand slapped the canvas a second time. Once more, the dragon brought the both of them up to a vertical basis. Still keeping his eyes on being victorious, he whipped Uncensored into the ropes.

Uncensored came bouncing off of them and headed closer towards Spike. Saunders shot out his arms, lifting Uncensored off of the mat yet again. Spike turned his entire body around quickly, looking for a powerslam. However, Uncensored was able to slide his way out of the maneuver. He grabbed a hold of Spike’s arm.

Yet again, the both of them fell to the ground. Spike receiving the brunt of the blow having landed on his face. Uncensored held on with the armbar for a few moments before switching up his game and applying a crippler crossface.

Spike screamed in agony as most would when this submission hold is applied on them. However, with his free hand, Spike attempted to do the impossible. He pushed the both of them off of the canvas. Spike stood to his feet in an enormous show of strength with Uncensored still applying the crossface as best as he could from that position. Because of this, Spike was unable to keep his balance. He stumbled backward until his back hit the ropes.

It wasn’t long after that that Spike’s back was arched once more. Both of them were on a collision course with the stiff padding around the ringside area. That they did. Uncensored seemed to get the worse of it having both of their weight landing solely on his right shoulder, which has caused some problems for him in the past.

Uncensored cried out, immediately grabbing his shoulder, showing the signs of a possible reinjury. The official exited the ring and briefly checked on Spike before focusing on Uncensored, who had rolled away from his opponent a great amount. Uncensored was still minorly rocking back and forth from the pain. But everything was presumably okay as the referee returned to the ring to start the pointless 10 count.

Both men stood to their feet at precisely the same time. Uncensored was the first of the two to make a move. He charged towards Spike Saunders. This attempt to gain some offense only failed miserably as Spike’s boot was driven into his face. The big boot didn’t quite connect as per usual, however, even though it was obviously just as effective. Instead of falling down backwards, Uncensored’s face sort of slid off of Spike’s foot, causing his body to fall forwards and towards the side. From there, Uncensored’s face smashed against the ring’s apron.

Spike rolled Uncensored into the ring before sliding into the squared circle himself. Again, Spike opted for the lateral press.

ONE!

TWO!

Uncensored place his foot on the bottom rope, breaking up the pin.

A bit frustrated, but keeping his cool, Spike stood up and brought Uncensored with him. Just enough time had passed to allow Uncensored to shake out the cobwebs of his mind. He drove his fist into Spike’s abdomen five times to create some distance. Uncensored ran towards the closest corner and leaped to the top rope as quick as he could.

He sprung off of the top rope and turned his body around with his body wide open. Although both of their torsos slapped each other, Uncensored’s cross body was also countered. Spike, smiling a little cockier than one might anticipate, held Uncensored in his arms in a powerslam position. This position soon evolved. Spike lifted Uncensored even higher, thinking, maybe, press slam. With Uncensored high above his head, Spike told the audience that is was over. It was apparent he had one thing in mind…

SPIKED!

Or…

Not.

As Uncensored’s body was twisting in mid air, he maneuvered himself enough to wrap his legs around Spike’s head. Twisting his body even more, Uncensored performed a headscissors. In a fashion not too dissimilar to a Rey Mysterio opponent, instead of falling, Spike found himself in the corner Uncensored had just leaped from before the attempted cross body block.

Uncensored followed up by running at Spike again. This time, he performed what could easily be described as an inverted spear in the corner. With Spike’s injured back, having Uncensored’s shoulder being driven into it, that was enough to bring the dragon down to the mat.

With all of his strength, Uncensored pulled Spike away from the corner a considerable distance. From there, he walked closer towards that set of turnbuckles. Uncensored ascended to the top of the three ropes. He looked down at Spike before flying off for the second time.

As he was heading closer and closer to the fallen Saunders, Uncensored crunched in his body before spreading himself open once more. The frog splash found its mark and Uncensored stayed in the position, looking for the win.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE! NOOOOO!

Spike kicked out.

Uncensored showed a bit of frustration much like Spike had after Uncensored broke up the last pin. Without shouting or letting his temper get the best of him, Uncensored argued with the referee. But the official reassured the foul mouthed S.O.B. that the cover only received a count of two.

Uncensored walked back into the corner. He waited for Spike to stir before attempting to move forward and progress the match along farther. It was only a matter of moment, but once more, Uncensored found himself on the top turnbuckle. However, his back remained facing Spike. Saunders stood up to his feet and saw Uncensored’s body falling towards him.

The moonsault attempt also failed. Spike kept Uncensored in his grasp. Much like before, Spike switched up the way he held onto the foul mouthed S.O.B. The press slam position was well into effect yet again. Spike had the same intentions as beforehand as well. Only this time…

SPIKED!

It connected. Spike Saunders didn’t think. All that he knew was he had to try and finish the match.

ONE!

TWO!

…

What?

Spike stood up, having noticed that J. Leslie Voss had left his post at the commentator’s booth and was getting closer to the ring. Spike pointed at him. In true David and Goliath fashion, Voss threw a rock at Saunders. The stone hit Spike’s forehead. This enraged Spike enough to exit the ring and chase the VossMan around ringside.

The both of them circled around the ring several times before Voss slid into the ring. Spike followed. Whatever Spike had wanted to do to Leslie Voss, it was all erased. In fact, the only thing on his mind was pure, black nothingness.

As he ran towards Leslie Voss, Spike suddenly found his face driven into Uncensored’s boot. The foul mouthed S.O.B. had performed the…

VERBAL ASSAULT!

After Spike’s body hit the mat, Uncensored fell on top of him. He still didn’t exactly know where he was either. The superkick was definitely a last-ditch effort on the part of the first nbW World Heavyweight Champion.

The referee did his job.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The VossMan was already walking backwards, heading back up the aisle as he watched the final moments of the bout. He had a proud, smug smile on his face as “Kill. Fuck. Die.” by W.A.S.P. began playing for the second time tonight. The fans certainly didn’t appreciate what had transpired. But there wasn’t really anyone to blame, other than JLV, of course.

Uncensored truly couldn’t be held responsible for what had happened. All he knew was Spike was running somewhat in his direction. He was pretty much on autopilot at that point. Later on, if he were to review the tape, he would be just as ashamed and as angry as any member of the crowd.

The ring announce informed everyone that Uncensored was the official winner of the match. Although, it certainly didn’t appear that way.

And it certainly wasn’t going to feel that way in his own mind whenever he comes to.

Winner by Pinfall, Uncensored!