Previously...

Previously on no brand Wrestling…

The new promoter Thaddeus Boyle learned just how tough it is to deal with upbeat and ego boosted Superstars. In order to gain his acquired staff’s respect he would have to provide punishment to the likes of J. Leslie Voss for what happened to one of the ring officials on FE54. However Referee Olsen Parks was taken out of commission by the likes of Khan. Adding yet another name to the list.

Thaddeus unveiled his new creation, the Vault and proceeded to show nbW’s first aired matchup of Dawson James and Tony Fields. Tag Team Myth and Legend wanted a championship match and were granted a match against the World Champion and his mentor Keegan. The champion managed to pull off the win in a tremendous match.

Spike Saunders requested a match with Voss and instead found himself getting a Main Event finale with the first World’s Champion, Uncensored. Gyle Boyle, formerly known as The Messiah Gyle, unveiled to nbW and the viewers his NewBorn; a group of upcoming talent hoping to make the big leagues. Simon Starks met a astonishing return by Zed, and fail victim to the Zelly Drop like so many before him.

Dynasty Tag Team Champions the Dream Warriors faced off against D-T’s close friends the Super Squad, and the match was over in mere moments showing why they were the champions.

J. Leslie Voss introduced himself into the Main Event as a guest commentator to add Ratings to the show. With some outside help by JLV, Saunders got the Verbal Assault and future hall-of-famer Uncensored earned yet another victory in his ever growing impressive history.

Tonight, nbW continues its’ new web stream trend with a uncensored, unedited, exciting web cast.

Sam Wright
Versus
Girrad King

Gyle Boyle stepped out on the stage with a group of stars behind him.

“Good evening fans. Before you stand the future icons of no brand Wrestling. These people will help launch the nbW ahead of the rest, and present you with the absolute best in entertainment. Tonight you will get to witness four of these individuals as they demonstrate their abilities in the ring against one another.”

Gyle pointed to the largest in the group and another off to the side. “Please join me in welcoming Girrad King and Sam Wright to the ring to kick tonight’s show off.”

The two headed down to the ring, with Gyle following behind them, while the rest stood at the entrance. Girrad and Sam entered the ring, shook hands as a show of respect and as the bell went off they immediately tied up in the ring.

“Looks like they have decided to go with a test of strength to start things off. Both men are completely fresh tonight, so this could go either way.” As Gyle spoke at ringside, Girrad won the test and shoved Sam backwards, which he then swung a giant arm at him. “As you can clearly see Girrad is massive for his age standing at a impressive Six foot Seven. Coming to no brand from Australia, this guy has been known to wrestle crocs in his training sessions.”

Sam ducked a second arm, hooked his body around and swept over with a floating DDT.

“Sam however is no slouch at Five foot Four coming from Sweden. This kid can move and has even been nicknamed Sam ‘Bullet’ Wright by his close friends. When you have a giant and a cruiserweight, the obvious answer would be the smaller person losing.”

King sits himself back up and rolls through to spear Sam down to the ground where he immediately mounts him with a round of punches. The referee request that he backs off, which he does. This is after all just a showcasing and meant to introduce themselves to the fans.

Sam pulls himself up and smirks at Girrad before dashing to the ropes and flying off with a dropkick aimed at the temple. Girrad barely avoids it but Sam hits the breaks on landing and shoots a swift kick to the back of the big man’s skull.

“Ouch. That had to hurt.” Gyle lets out a follow up groan as Sam knees the larger man in the gut and follows up with a second kick to the temple via enziguri.. “Sam is truly a Bullet, just check out those shots.”

One too many it seemed as Girrad caught a third kick, and lifted Sam up in the air before slamming him down to the mat. Without releasing the arm he pulled Sam into his grasps and belly to belly suplexed him way over his head to the opposite side of the ring.

“What air! Girrad literally just tossed him out of his boots. Cat reflexes of Sam let him land safely, but is this the start of the end?”

Sam shot a glance at Gyle and then back up to Sylar with the rest of the group. He regained his heading and rushed across the ring, sliding behind the giant’s legs and stopped in his tracks. Reaching up he grabbed the back of his opponents head and lashed forward, bringing him down to the mat with him with a reverse face plant.

He went for the cover but at the second slap of the mat Girrad launched Sam up in the air and well off from his body.

“Vivacious move by Sam, but looks like it was not enough to take his opponent down tonight.”

Girrad walked up to Sam and caught a kick aimed at his head, and swept him off of his feet so he was laying across his arms reminiscent of the World’s Strongest Slam. Sam however slipped himself free, rounded his body and hooked the neck with his legs for a Frankensteiner!

But Girrad halted the momentum and got him in his arms again, charged across the ring into the corner, and twisted 180 degrees to slam Sam Wright down on the mat. Shoulders on the ground the referee counted the pinfall and held his arm up in the air as the victor.

“Excellent showing by these two men tonight. Sam came close, but the bigger, better man won tonight.” Gyle waited for Sam to slide out of the ring and stood next to the two. “Ladies and Gents, thank you for your time. You will be seeing more of Sam Wright and Girrad King soon.”

With that stated the three headed up the ramp and met the rest of the group before they all disappeared behind the curtain.

Winner by pinfall, Girrad King!

Hungry and Angry

The crowd sat in anticipation until at least the arena-wide silence was broken by the familiar opening chord of Aerosmith's Draw the Line. The place erupted in cheers as former nbW Dynasty Champs Showtime and Proteus determinedly made their way to the ring without much light-heartedness.

"D-T looks to have some serious business in mind tonight," Marc Gordon commented.

"Those fools?" scoffed Terry Renton, "Psh. They think everything's a joke, that's why they lost to the Dream Warriors two weeks ago. It's nice to see them get taken down a few pegs."

Showtime and Proteus stepped in the ring. Showtime grabbed a microphone, Proteus leaned against the turnbuckle quietly.

"For three years," Showtime began, "D-T has represented the pinnacle of tag team wrestling talent. It's something every nbW fan knows, something every opponent has feared. We arrived here in 2006, we made our mark, and we never let up. We've taken on all challengers, we came out on top, and we always gave you a great show."

The crowd began to cheer. A grassroots chant of "Thank you D-T!" began, but didn't pick up much momentum.

"And two weeks ago, you witnessed something you've never seen before. Yes, yes there have been bumps along the road, for Proteus and myself. We've had some setbacks but until now, when our backs were against the wall we took care of ourselves and defended those championships with honor. But when we stepped into the ring with our nemeses the Dream Warriors, you nbW fans saw a rare sight. You saw us lose, beyond question, to a better team. I can admit it."

The crowd began to boo. They did not seem to care for the idea that DW was the "better team."

"But if you know D-T, if you know anything about your former nbW Dynasty Tag Champions, you know this... we do not go quietly." Cheers mount. "We do not lick our wounds and run home crying, and we do not fade away gracefully." Louder pop. "Dark Ninja was right about one thing. We haven't had to face a threat like him in a very long time, but now he's in trouble. He's in a place he doesn't want to be and he's in serious trouble. Because the last thing he wants is to face an angry, hungry D-T, a team with nothing to lose, two former champions who are eager to seek revenge on their enemies! Ninja, you're not facing a pair of trained otters here, you're about to step into the tiger pit!"

As the crowd began to cheer loudly, Dream Warriors by Dokken blared through the arena and the cheers turned to loud, angry boos as the new Champions emerged from the back, belts around waste. Ninja of course had a microphone, an ostentatious, diamond-encrusted one. Bling. Dark Ninja made rude gestures at the crowd while Psycho ate what appeared to be a meatball sub.

"La la la, I can't hear you," Ninja said. "I can't hear you over the shiny gold belt I've got. Showtime, I'm amazed you even decided to come back to this building. I know how embarrassing it is for you anytime you lose, and you lost big. And coming back is pretty much just asking to lose again and again until I make you retire because I've exposed you for the loser you really are."

"Ninja, I've been here for three years," Showtime replied, "These are my people. They've seen me at my worst and they know it only inspires me to be at my best."

"OH MY GOD SHOWTIME SHUT UP," Ninja replied, "You live in a fucking fantasy world, you know that?"

"I was here long before you were, Ninja, and I'll be here long after."

"That's where you're wrong," Ninja answered back, "My being here signals the beginning of the end for you, Showtime. I've already started you on a downward spiral into darkness and misery that you will never escape. It fucking kills you inside that you can never ever ever beat me, and you fucking know it! Nothing you can say or do will change that."

"Time will tell, Ninja. But every match is a learning process for the both of us. And that brings us to tonight. You're doing everything you can to keep me from calling in D-T's rematch clause. You've got us stalled in litigation, which is a pretty shitty tactic. Letting lawyers fight it out when we could be fighting it out right here." The crowd cheered. "We'll get our rematch, Ninja, sooner or later."

"Sooner or later," Ninja laughed, "We'll see, chum. And by chum, I mean douche."

"But until then, we've still got a job to do, and that job is to wrestle for these people." More cheers from the audience. "Believe it or not, this is bigger than you and me, it goes out to all of them. So until Proteus and I get what is rightfully ours - and we will, sooner than later - we'll be glad to prove ourselves, time and again, facing you in a variety of scenarios. That brings us to tonight's main event. D-T, and three highly skilled partners, against DW and theirs. A five on five tag team extravaganza for these people here!" Giant pop again.

"There you go pandering to these disgusting masses again, Showtime," Ninja sneered, "We'll see what happens when you five tremble in fear at the incredible army I have amassed!"

With that, Dream Warriors hit again and the champions went back to the locker room.

The Challenger is here

After a short commercial spot, nbW’s resident interviewer, Trent McKnight, was the first face fans could see.

“He came back on Memorial Day and removed Torment from the top. Finally, for the first time, minus Keegan, face-to-face, I’m going to talk to your world champion. Give it up for Mister Ali Amore!”

Dean Martin’s classic theme, ‘That’s Amore’ was custom-made for nbW’s newly-crowned champion as the good-looking promotion pin-up emerged from the back with the title tossed over his shoulder, sporting a red suit jacket barely covering his bronze chest and most physique, and blue tights with a yellow trim, as always illustrating his Colombian roots, displaying his homeland’s flag, and more importantly suggesting that he could be ready to go here tonight too.

Eventually, after a warm greeting from those on hand, he gracefully wipes his blue boots on the apron and performed a simple yet eye-catching, crowd popping somersault over the top rope, a la Naseem Hamed.

With a trademark million-dollar smile and an expression of embarrassment following a string of wolf whistles, Amore shook hands with Trent McKnight and rubbed his face tenderly, possibly worrying about disappointing the fans in an exclusive interview with Trent McKnight, who patiently allowed the warm reception to die down before beginning.

“Ali, I know we spoke last time out but Keegan took your television time as usual and we didn’t have the opportunity to speak. Fortunately, he isn’t here tonight.”

Amore moved to defend his mentor: “He’s a protector, you know. He’s very crazy but he’s like a father to me so no problem.”

Trent sarcastically cut in: “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Anyway, you’re world champion. It’s two matches since your return. Two wins. One in singles, where you amazingly won the world title, and the other in tag team competition the last time we were on air. How does it feel?”

The Colombian gave a wry smile and stepped forward: “It feels great. I’ve traveled around the world, worked in many different countries but nbW and its fans are the best for me.”

Cue cheap crowd pop. Hey, leave it out. Ali was such a gentleman that he probably meant it, bless him.

“That’s why,” he smiled, motioning that their response to his compliment indeed supported his sentiment. They had a good rapport.

Trent was poised to deliver another question but suddenly, another voice on a microphone spoiled this spot: “Well, isn’t this sweet?”

A face was put to the familiar voice as Mark Mercury, one half of the talented team, Myth and Legend, clad in matching purple t-shirt and tights decided that we wouldn’t get an exclusive, Ali-only interview after all…

“Ali, the champ is here. Wonder where that came from? Maybe nineteen seventy-four in Zaire? Or even with Samoa Joe in two thousand and four? Either way, it’s WAAY out of date.”

Trent was able to speak this time: “Mark, if you wouldn’t mind, we’re…”

“We’re what McKnight? Having a tea party for an immigrant who walked straight back into the States off a banana boat and with a fluke, somehow, managed to win the world title?”

As you can imagine, Ali was highly annoyed at this and grabbed the microphone off Trent, apologizing as he did so but Mercury held up a hand of his own and asked for more time: “Let me finish. What you did on Memorial Day, I’m sick of hearing it was a victory for nbW. You’re not an American. You’re not even North American. You’re barely South American. I don’t know what you are.”

Boos ensued as a frustrated fighting champion looked round at the crowd and silently approved of their ‘Asshole!’ chants, ringing in his hears. The Myth and Legend member, unfazed, resumed his rant and finally got to the point.

“You’re our champion. Yes, you’re two out of two. But, you didn’t beat me last week. You beat Mane Miaate, a great man and my tag team partner, but not me. You didn’t pin Mark Mercury. For this reason and to right a wrong for Mane, who isn’t here as well as your drunken buddy Keegan, why don’t we do it right this time? No partners, one-on-one, your worthless title on the line.”

Trent was puzzled but Ali didn’t hesitate: “Okay. I have no problem with that. See you here later.”

We had ourselves an impromptu world title match.

That doesn’t happen very often.

World Heavyweight Championship Match (Now with Entrance Videos)
Mark Mercury
Versus
Ali Amore

‘Paradise City’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses is a world-famous song. It’s also associated with Mark Mercury, challenging tonight for the World title. The tag team specialist was going it alone, and was just one match away from fulfilling a dream. He appeared to be supremely confident, strutting out with purple tights and a yellow trim, and an immaculate black leather jacket to match. He certainly looked like a champion. Could he wrestle like one?

However, Dean Martin’s ‘That’s Amore’ was also well-known and even more closely associated with Ali Amore, for obvious reasons, who looked fabulous with the World championship belt wrapped around his waist, it almost looked too big for him. As he approached the apron, he raised it with one arm for a cheap pop and then dropped it for a moment to execute an excellent Somersault over the top rope. After the way Mercury spoke to him earlier, Ali was ready to wage war. The referee gave him a few more seconds to prepare and then sounded the bell as both men glared at the other. They came to the centre for a predictable stare down while the official explained the instructions they knew only too well. With that formality completed, the bell sounded to officially declare Ali’s first title defence underway.

The champion and challenger decided to kick things off with a good, old-fashioned tie-up. Predictably, the stronger Mercury backed the Bogotá-born flyer into the corner and while the official called for a clean break, which Ali adhered to, Mark definitely did not and went to the breadbasket with two hard right hands and then went to the head with another couple of shots.

Keen to pick up and set the pace, even if he was facing arguably the fastest athlete on the roster, Mercury guided his opponent away from the corner a matter of yards and whipped him to the opposite set of ropes. He looked to use Amore’s momentum against to negotiate a hiptoss but the youngster was too smart and still too strong to fall for that and blocked it. When Mark failed to take the titleholder over again, he extended a thumb to the eye but even that wasn’t enough to ensure the third attempt was successful as Ali once again blocked, grabbed a handful of hair and drove Mark face-first into the mat.

Although Mercury returned to a vertical base instantaneously, he was clearly dizzy and Ali added to that headache as he grabbed his challenger’s hair once again and rammed ‘Myth’s’ head into the turnbuckles a total of ten times as the crowd gladly counted along. After his mini ordeal concluded, Mercury elected to copy the Nature Boy and perform a Flair flop, which extracted a fairly decent pop from the nbW public.

Ali was all business. He backed Mercury back into the corner and while it was documented earlier that Amore was inferior to the tag team specialist in the strength stakes, the Colombian could trade punches with anyone in the company and that meant he returned three punches of his own, the pretender to his throne couldn’t stand was sprawled out on the canvas, where the South American starlet gave him a few kicks to the back for good measure, nothing major though, and then after hauling Mercury up, he decided to mount him and embark another series of ‘sing along with the champ’ as they counted his punches too…

They were cut off at seven though as a frustrated and tired Mark managed to rebuff Amore’s advances and pushed the 23-year-old off. Ali fell to the ground, but quicker than a hiccup to quote JR, was sprinting towards Mercury with intent, only to be denied again as Mercury, at the last second, raised an elbow that connected flush with the titleholder’s throat.

He staggered for a second, and then dropped to one knee. It was clear that the shot had hurt the babyface, who was tending to his throat, and while he was on one knee, Mark expertly exploited the opportunity by literally kicking Amore while he was down via the temple.

As Ali lay on the canvas almost motionless, Mercury decided to borrow a page from the Bogotá prodigy’s playbook by splashing the South American in the middle of the ring for the first fall of the match thus far…

1
2.

Of course, the Colombian kicked out but it wasn’t with authority and the technically-sound Mercury, while we were still in the early going and either men had barely broken sweat, opted to slap on a chinlock. While he had looked to dictate the pace from the get-go, it isn’t the soundest strategy when facing someone blessed with the speed of Mister Amore and maybe Mark had realised this.

Mercury told the crowd to ‘shut up’ as they tried to encourage Amore, who was clearly in distress, executed excellently by Mercury, and trying to get back to his feet. Amore, as mentioned, was well-known for his athleticism and speed but in this position, it was really irrelevant. The slower and more deliberate Mercury was calling the shots if this turned out to be a technical affair, a mat clinic if you will.

Ali got up to one knee and almost looked like he was hulking up, roared on and encouraged by the audience, searching for a second wind, and he managed to put some money in the bank by burying one elbow, then another, and a third into Mark’s ribcage but just as he was about to break free like Freddie Mercury also wanted to, the Myth and Legend member pulled him back by his hair and reinforced his aggressiveness with a wicked rabbit punch, which had Ali checked the back of his head to see if he was bleeding, but he had other things to worry about as Mark spun him around, only to floor him with a high Lariat…

1…
2…

Not close, but telling. Ali was on the ropes, not literally though, as Mercury went back to the chinlock. A few boos, maybe out of boredom too, prompted the cocky and conceited contender to tell the crowd, very audibly, to ‘shut up.’ He put the squeeze on the precocious prospect even more, informing Amore he was a ‘loser’ as he did so as the official needlessly asked the Superstar of Bogotá if he wanted to give up. While he wasn’t in the finest predicament at this particular time, there was a lot of fight in Muhammad’s namesake yet.

Mark suddenly broke the Chinlock, but maintained his grip on Amore’s hair and drove a succession, six in total, of knees to the upper and lower back of the 4th Emergency Service, who keeled over at the end of it all, holding his spine while Mercury pointed at him in disdain, outstretched his hands, a la Bret Hart, and asked the audience what they thought of their representative now: “He’s not so good now, is he? Is this what you like? He’s a loser, just like you.”

Amore hadn’t lost yet, though admittedly, if this was being judged on points like a boxing bout, he’d be behind on points. Thankfully for him then, that it didn’t count for anything.

Mercury, buoyed by his good handiwork so far, pushed Amore over with a gentle kick which made the champion look pathetic in this instance, as Mark chuckled to himself. He then put one foot on top of the Colombian’s chest and ordered the official to count. He got a one count for his trouble. Amore was too proud and good to go down that way.

Mark, of course, knew this and wasn’t bothered at all that Ali had managed to escape that pinning position with utter contempt and sheer ease. He was supposed to.

The challenger once again taunted the titleholder with a gentle boot to the back of the head and it looked like Amore was, in fact, exhausted. Maybe he had met his match; maybe the marks on the net who had said it was too early for him to be champion were right after all. This was his first title defence and he was struggling to say the least.

‘Myth’ dropped a hard elbow to the back of Amore’s cranium and then rolled him over so he could do exactly the same across Ali’s throat, who was left gasping for air and coughing worryingly, but Mercury showed no remorse as he held Amore down…

1
2.

Following the fighting champion’s kick-out, Mark put on a blatant chokehold, which the starlet fought against, which more or less translated to struggling, and broke it on the verge of disqualification as the man in the middle counted to five. Deciding to push the boundaries, the tag team specialist repeated the trick and once again let go on the brink of losing this match via DQ. That would’ve been disastrous, especially when he was in complete control and three seconds away from realising his dream of being a World champion.

Mercury poured on further punishment by dropping a couple of stern knees to the throat as Ali virtually turned another colour, his brown complexion resembling blue, but Mark could care less as he dragged, with utter disregard, the prone prospect to the apron and lined him up, while Mercury stood on top, evil intentions running through his mind, his focus clearly on the Colombian’s breathing apparatus.

Another elbow to the throat! Ali was still lying on the apron, but desperately trying to get oxygen pumping into his limp body. It was at this point that Mark went for the jugular. He was fixed to put all of his body weight behind a Legdrop that would surely endanger Ali’s chance of walking out of here with the strap…

If he hadn’t missed.

Somehow, the South American starlet summoned the strength, call it instinct or the presence of mind, whatever you want, and Mark was rolling around on the floor in agony, clutching his left leg and knee too. The official began to count both men but after taking a beating, it was Ali who got to his feet first and he stood on the apron, patiently awaiting for the dominant challenger, who was clearly limping as he barely managed to stand up, not that it was the case for too long…

Ali came up with a risky dropkick of his own, setting off from the apron and accurately targeting Mercury’s vulnerable limb. It was an excellent decision, especially at what could be the business phase of this championship encounter.

He had a lease of life, much-needed and newly-discovered impetus, and decided to take his built-up annoyance and frustration on the sole reason of it by viciously whipping Mercury into the steel ring steps, knee-first, and surprisingly, the steps didn’t budge but I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark needed knee surgery afterwards, given the impact of the collision.

Understandably, Ali felt no sentiment towards Mercury, not now, and he couldn’t afford to as his strap was at stake so he kicked Mark four times, all with a bulls eye on that left knee, each seemingly stiffer than the previous thump, as Mercury yelled out in agony. What goes around, comes around, I guess.

Mercury, who has been compared to the legendary Bret Hart on several hundred occasions in the past, was in for the shock of his life as Ali rolled the technician into the ring, measuring him with a right hand to ensure he was lying down, susceptible to what Ali had in mind next, none other than a tribute to the Hitman…

FIGURE-FOUR ROUND THE STEEL POST!

Oh, the fans lapped it up. What an insult, maybe the ultimate slap in the face, more so than the punch just delivered. Mercury, a marvellous strategist, a purist in so many senses of the world, a Bret Hart impersonator as others would call him, was being tortured by a high-flyer, someone who specialised in aerial assault, with a move created by Calgary’s own. Like Mercury before him, Ali was forced to relinquish the hold at four, but the damaged had been done as Mark tried to slither away from the corner but could barely do so, like a greedy snake that had eaten a whole bird, unable to move and grounded.

Ali was back on the apron, which had proved to be half-decent territory for him tonight, and steadied himself to repeat his entrance, only this more time with real intent, as he executed a somersault over the top rope, landing across Mark’s throat intention with a picture-perfect legdrop…

1
2

Amazingly, that was Ali’s opening pinfall attempt of the evening. Hopefully, for him, it wouldn’t be the last and he set about ensuring a successful defence, backing this evening’s adversary into the corner and wanging away at him with seven or eight, impossible to know which one given the sensational speed of the South American starlet, solid right hands to the ribcage, preparing the Myth and Legend member for a frogsplash, which put Mane Miaate away in their doubles offering on the last Full Effect, and also handed Amore the title in the first place as he capitalised on Keegan’s stunning Spear to see off the monstrous Torment.

Suddenly, Mercury swivelled Ali around but the normally intelligent individual once he had Ali backed up, did hit him with a savage chop first of all, only to throw away his opportunity by ramming his own damaged knee into Ali’s midsection. Sharply, Amore recovered as Mark stood in front of him, vulnerable and begging to be hit, and while the Bogotá native is sometimes perceived to be naïve, he wasn’t here, as he ruthlessly took Mercury’s knee out from underneath him to the biggest cheer by far and away of the contest up until this point. It’s incredible, given the skills of both men, the vast repertoires, that a basic kick to the knee should garner a massive pop. Or was it a testament to them?

Irrelevant anyway, particularly as Ali served to give them even more to cheer about as he kicked Mercury straight in the face and then, without going to the outside, leaned back and elevated himself up onto the second rope. There’s been much talk about why fewer people utilise this tactic in the modern era, Ali is as guilty of it as anyone, but he obviously felt it was appropriate here and he proved so when he nailed, circa Randy Savage, Mark with an axe handle smash across the bridge of the nose…

1
2
3?!

No. Nearest fall of the contest, though. Ali was buzzing and after absorbing the most punishment in proceedings, he was brimming with confidence and all of the momentum was with the top guy in the company, the marketable pin-up, cemented by the fact that the girls screamed after the near-fall. No, it wasn’t for Mercury.

Ali set Mark up for an Irish Whip, which he completed successfully, and as Amore had followed Mercury as soon as he released the hold, he came off the perpendicular ropes, and scored with a superb bulldog…

1
2
3?

No!

Ali ripped off Mercury’s earlier move, not beating around the proverbial bush, as he bounced off the ropes and connected with Mark’s midsection with a spectacular Splash, not assisted by the turnbuckles in any way, yet the elevation was amazing…

1
2…

And the close-call was hot. The shy yet exciting in-ring performer was rapidly building momentum, making a mockery of Mercury’s earlier assault, showing no ill effects of the unquestionable agony he had endured, yet he had responded in the face of adversity and was looking to win it. At this stage, it looked like he could be the only winner, yet we weren’t thinking that a few minutes ago. That’s wrestling for you.

A little deflated maybe following Mark’s kick-outs, Ali threw him back in the corner and drove his head into the ribcage five times and then really let, and I literally mean let, Mercury have it with a sensational combination of six punches peppered around various points of the midsection, pectoral muscles and ribcage, stomach, you name it, Mark got hit there as Ali, aptly-named you see, showed off his absolutely extraordinary handspeed and then, to put the gloss on, whacked his challenger with a knife edge chop, which extracted another Ric Flair tribute, not from the tag team specialist this time but from the fans.

However, as Ali was reaching down to help ‘Myth’ up, Mark went back to the well for a second thumb to the eye. He then effortlessly lifted the champion into a bodyslam position, poised to plant him, but the Superstar of Bogota sneaked out of the back door and even more sneakily…

RABBIT PUNCH!

The nbW faithful loved the justice of it all as Mercury wobbled, his legs had turned to jelly, and to top it all off, Ali’s quick train of thought, a demonstration of the precocious prospect’s progress…

CHOP BLOCK!

Here’s a quick mathematical equation for you:

A battered equilibrium + an inability to stand + sore ribs =

One thing only.

To the delight of his fans, Ali, who I’m sure hadn’t flown as much as he’d have wanted to throughout this battle, was perched on the top rope, ready to leap off…

FROGSPLASH!!!

You bet. It was academic from here on in wasn’t it?

The fans certainly thought so, as they counted along.

ONE

TWO

THREE!

He’d done it. It wasn’t plain sailing, not by any means. Mark Mercury had proven himself to be adept in singles competition too, but when all was said and done, Ali just had enough in the tank.

It had been an excellent examination. Unfortunately for Ali…

There would be a lot harder to come.

Winner by Pinfall, Ali Amore!

Hardships of being in Charge

“Sir, this is NOT the type of punishment we are looking for.” Jonothan Munroe stood at the doorway to Thaddeus Boyle’s office.

“Jon, what better punishment then to booked Voss into a match that he A, does not want to be in; and B, facing the one person that wants to demolish him.” Thaddeus sat back in his chair and looked at the documents on his table and the computer. “Look, I respect my employees and wish for their safety, but that does not mean I will let them walk over myself and the management staff.”

Jonothan sighed. “Mr. Boyle. Take this from somebody that has been with this company since the beginning, through three separate bosses running the show. Take it from when I tell you that this will not go over well with the staff. You HAVE to provide the forceful hand to stop this violence.”

He turned and headed towards the door.

“I understand Jon. I do. If Saunders does not drill some common sense into him tonight, then I will provide the iron fist.”

Thaddeus looked on wondering if he heard everything he said, since he was no longer standing there. But in his place was someone else.

“Iron Fist you say? Awesome, I loved that guy.”

“You and me both kid.” Thaddeus smiled and kicked back in his chair. “What did you say your name was?”

“Justin, sir. I am a apprentice cameraman here in nbW. I was just coming by to thank you for the raise sir. It really helped with my bills.” He bowed in thanks.

“Think nothing of it Justin. You just happened to show up at the right time. Speaking of which,” he swung the computer monitor around for Justin to see. “What do you think?”

Justin walked up to it and glanced it over briefly. “Is this our website?”

“Yes it is son. Just came up from the other department. Since we are re-branding our image, The Company thought it best to re-brand and re-image everything so it is more fan oriented then before.” He smiled and swung the monitor back around. “Besides, blue is my favorite color.”

Justin nodded his head, “Looks great sir. Thank you for you time and the raise, you will not regret it. I need to get back to work now. Thanks again sir!” he nervously and anxiously rushed out of the room leaving Thaddeus alone once more.

“Good kid. Shy, but good.”

From the Vault
Event: reVolution PPV Janurary 16th, 2005
East Coast Street Fight
Frost
Versus
Jason Kain

Sweet Dreams. By Marilyn Manson

Out stepped Frost from behind the black curtain, as he made his way towards the ring. The fans made it very clear that Frost was a hated man in the nbW. As the fans boo, fought with Frosts music, which played loudly over the PA system.

Thought it didn’t bother him one bit, he just kept on walking towards the ring, as if he was the only one in the arena at the moment. He came to a stop outside the ring, and just gazed at the ring, before he used the ropes to pull himself up on to the apron.

He stepped threw the middle ropes, and then proceeded over to the far corner of the ring, and just leaned on the turnbuckle and waited for Kain.

Start Something. By Lost Prophets

The quick change of music came fast, as did the reaction from the fans.

The moment Kain stepped out from behind the curtains, an explosion of cheers erupted threw out the arena. This was Good Vs Evil, the Hero vs. the Villain, and tonight Kain had taken on the role of the Hero. He never focus on the fans, as he made his way out and down to the ring, his eyes stayed locked on his opponent, that stood 20 feet away from him.

Kain approached the ring, as Frost moved away from the corner, to meet his opponent half way. Kain didn’t waste anytime to get into the ring, as he ran up the steel steps and entered into the ring.
Both men stood inches away from each other, as they just glared at one and another.

The referee for tonight’s match, read each men the rules of the match, as Frost turned his head and looked at the referee.
“There are no rules.”

This is what Kain wanted, he wanted rating, and Frost was going to give him a hell, and make a Hugh rating.

With that said, the referee looked over towards the announcer table, and signaled for the bell.

It had begun,
Frost didn’t move, he just looked at Kain, Kain wasn’t a big man, well compared to Frost that is. Kain had a big mouth, and liked to use it a lot it seemed, but tonight Frost was going to make sure of that, that these were going to be the last spoken words of Jason Kain.

Kain went for a full out attack on Frost, but Frost was more ready then ever, as he got out of the way, and grabbed the back of Kain head, and put it between his arms, and slammed him hard into the mats with a reverse DDT.

Kain hadn’t expected that, as he rolled out of harms way, and got to one knee holding the back of his head. He just shot a smirk back at Frost, as he got up on his two feet. Frost and Kain started to pace around each other, before both diving into a grapple, except Frost kept the upper hand as he grabbed a hold of Kain’s arm and brought him down with a arm drag.

Frost released Kain’s arm upon impact, as he got to his feet, before Kain could and came down hard with a knee to the chest of Kain.

A mouthful of spit shot right out of kain’s mouth, landing inches away from his head, as Frost kept his knee on the chest of Kain, as he grabbed a handful of Kain’s hair, and then proceed to hit him straight in the face with closed Fist. The Referee didn’t really no what to do, as Frost had stated earlier in the match that there were no rules.

But Frost wasn’t trying to finish kain yet, oh no, he was just trying to wear him down, so it would just be an easier slaughter, but I don’t think it was going to be that easy.

Frost finally let go of kain, as he got back up letting kain feel his face for a few seconds, before pull him up onto his feet.

Frost picked up Kain, and just held him in a hanging suplex, kind of showing off his strength, to Kain and the fans that watched on.
It almost seemed like ten minutes Frost had held Kain up in the air, before finally jumping back, and slamming Kain hard into the mats.
Kain had better pick it up a notch now, or this match was going to be in favor to him.

Frost grabbed Kain once again and brought him to his feet, and nailed him a few times in the gut with his knee, before picking him up and putting him in the Flap Jack position and slammed him chest first into the mats.

Kain grabbed his chest, and rolled over onto his back, as Frost exited the ring…..

And this is where the fun had begun.

Frost reached under the ring, and pulled out a table, and a barbwire bat, probably the one that Mr. Styles had met so dearly last week.

Frost set the table up so the edges were on the edge of the ring, and the edge of the guard rail, as he grabbed the baseball bat and started to get into the ring, except Kain came at full force and slide hitting Frost right in the chest with a baseball slide sending him flying backwards into the guard rail.

Frost dropped the bat, as he grabbed his back, as Kain pulled himself out of the ring by the bottom rope, as Frost started getting back to his feet, Kain however grabbed the arm of Frost and whipped him into the steel steps, as Frost shoulder connected first.

You could see that Frost had landed awkwardly, as the pain on his face, looked as if his shoulder just had been dislocated.

Kain made his way over to Frost, as he kicked him hard in the gut, almost tripping as he lost his balance from kicking so hard. Kain reach out to gain balance, as he held onto the apron, as he picked Frost back up and then power slammed him into the mats that covered the floor.

Kain wasted no time getting back to his feet, as he walked over and pushed the ring side announcer out of his char, and grabbed it, and folded it up, as he walked back towards Frost.

CRACK

The chair slammed hard into the back of Frost.

CRACK

Kain hit him once more in the back as Frost collapsed to the ground, holding his back in pain. Kain grabbed Frost by the hair and pulled him up, and then put his head in-between his right arm and fell back slamming Frost head right into the chair with a DDT.

The Crowd was on there feet, as Kain called for the ref, and went for the cover…

..1...

…

..2

..NO! Frost lift up his shoulder breaking the count, as Kain mumbled the words fuck, and got to his feet.

He delivered a few kicks to the stomach of Frost before getting back into the ring, and climbing up to the top rope.

The crowd knew what was next as the cheered on Jason Kain, Kain awaited for Frost to get to his feet, as he took a bit of time to do so.
Right when Frost had gotten to his feet, Kain leaped off the top rope with a body press slamming right into Frost. Both men landed hard on the mats, as they both took a few moments to catch there breathe, before Jason Kain got back to his feet.

Frost got up more slowly then Kain did, as Kain grabbed him by the head, and put it in between his legs, and pulled him up and hit a piledriver.

Frost head just missed the edge of the chair.

The crowd was going nuts, as Kain had taken full advantage of the match at this point, as Kain started to Drag Frost over to the table he had set up earlier. He started to pick him up, but only got his eyes gouge by Frost. Kain stumbled back holding his eyes, as Frost took a few moments to catch his breath before Kain stumbled right into his arms, only to get thrown with a belly to belly suplex.

Frost walked over and dragged him over to the table, as he picked him up and power bombed Kain right threw the wooden table, as pecies went everywhere.

Frost stumbled backwards, and then leaned up against the guard rail, as he trying to gain back some strength.

He had enough time though as it didn’t look like Kain would be going anywhere, anytime soon.

The crowd didn’t really no what to expect at the moment anymore, as they just started up a chant to hopefully inspire there Hero to get back up on his feet, and take down the villain.

“KAIN!”

“KAIN!”

“KAIN!”


However there attempts had failed, as Kain didn’t move a muscle. As Frost dropped down and went and made a cover.

..

1.…

…

..2...

…

NO! KICKOUT!

The crowd quickly erupted with cheers once again, and started up another Kain chant to try and inspire him once more.

“KAIN!”

“KAIN!”

“KAIN!”

But it was no use, as Frost grabbed a piece of wire and started to strangle Kain with it. Kain tried to fight back, and take the pressure of his neck, except Frost had to good of gripe on the wire. Frost finally let go, once Kain had stopped fighting, as He decide to try and make another cover.

…1..

…

..2...

. ..

….Kain kicked out once again, as Frost looked at the referee and spat right in his face. The referee got up onto his feet, as so did Frost, but just as he wiped the spit from his eyes, all he seen was a big boot coming right at him, as Frost smoked him with…

The Frost Bite.

The referee just dropped, as Frost turned back around, except Kain wasn’t there.

Frost looked around him, but there was no Kain around. He head around the side of the ring, as Kain lunged at him.

CRACK.

The TV monitor slammed right into the head of Frost, quickly opening him up, as the blood just started flowing. The crowd just started cheering, as Frost dropped to the mats, but so did Jason Kain. They both sat there, Frost knocked out cold from the last move, and Kain trying to catch his breath.

Kain looked around, at the fans cheering him on, as the feeling of so many looking up to you as if you were there god, brought a smile to his face, until one fan caught his attention, as he looked back, but the fan had disappeared.

Was it who you though it was, were it Trev Echo?

Kain shook his head, and brought his focus back to the match, as he got back up onto his feet. He grabbed a handful of Frost hair, and brought him to his feet.

He grabbed Frost and slammed him head first into the announcer table, before throwing him onto it. Kain went back and got into the ring, and climbed up onto the top turnbuckle.

The crowd’s reaction was priceless, as there cheers gave Kain quite a boost, as he leaped off to the top rope, but this time he wasn’t as lucky…

…Frost rolled off the table, as Kain slammed right threw the announcer table, hitting the concrete hard. The ringside announcers checked on Kain, as both men lay on the outside of the ring.

Both men stayed down for a few minutes before Frost finally made a move and crawled towards his barbwire bat. He sat up and looked at Kain who hadn’t moved yet and looked like he didn’t plan too.

Frost just sat there staring at the direction that Kain laid, as finally he seen Kain move his arms, as he looked down at his Barbwire Bat.

Nobody was going to stop this from happening, he had already dealt with the Problem before the match, and by Problem he means Veronica Mason.

Kain slowly got to his feet, as did Frost.

Kain head was spinning a mile a second, as it looked like it did, as it hit hard off the concrete when he landed.

Frost charged and slammed the Barbwire Bat forward.

CRACK!

The baseball bat exploded upon Impact, as Kain dropped again, as bloody just starting flowing from Kains Head.

Frost dropped the remains part of the bat, and covered Kain, but Frost realized that he had taken the referee out earlier in the match. Frost made the count himself, but it didn’t even count..

1...

..2..

..3...

…”FOR FUCK SAKES!”

Frost got up and walked over to the referee, who hadn’t moved from that spot, as he kicked him a few times, except the referee never woke up. Frost walked back over to Kain, and picked him up and tossed him into the ring, as he grabbed a chair and threw it into the ring too.

Frost got into the ring, as he seen Kain had started to crawl, as Frost went for him.

CRACK

Kain turned around and with what energy he had; he nailed Frost as hard as he could with the chair. Frost just collapsed beside him, as Kain released the chair.

Both men laid there, with barely any energy left in them, as they’re bodies had been threw so much during the match.

Kain stood up and looked down at Frost.

The blood rushed down the side of Jason Kains cheek, as just beneath him laid an out cold Frost. The referee also laid on the outside, knocked out. However Kain hadn’t notice that the referee was down, and not in the ring as he dropped down to make the cover.

Kain waited to hear the count, as the fans started to make a count, but there count didn’t really mean anything…

..1!

…

..2!

..

…3!

..

Kain should have had it won there, but as I said the fans count meant nothing.

Kain raised his head and looked around the ring, to see what the hell the referee was doing, but there was no referee in the ring. He got back up onto his feet, as the crowd started to scream, which quickly caught the attention of Jason Kain, as he spun around to see Troy Adams making a dash for the ring.

Kain quickly grabbed the chair, which had his head imprinted in it from earlier in the match, when Frost had slammed it down hard into the forehead of Kain. Adams slide under the bottom rope, however his attempt to make a save was a fail.

CRACK

Adams fell back into the ropes, and stumbled threw the middle rope to the outside. Kain though didn’t notice, who had stepped in the ring behind him, as a hard forearm slammed right into the back of his head. Kain fell to his knees, and dropped the steel chair, as Dunkirk grabbed him by his hair, and pulled him up, except Kain was ready, and stopped his attacker when he hit…

Electric Slide.

Dunkirk dropped as Kain pushed him back out of the ring, as Kain noticed the screams from the fans again, and spun around to see Taynell Cooley entering the ring, Kain reached down and picked up the chair, and charged at Cooley, but just as Cooley took one step, the chair caught him right in the back of the head, sending him to the outside of the ring.

Kain looked around the outside of the ring, to make sure there was no others coming until he seen Frost in the corner trying to use the ropes to pull himself up, and Jack Owyns standing there awaiting for Frost to stand up, to receive his fate.

Kain walked up beside Owyns, as he looked at Frost.

The tables had turned on Frost, and Frost just snarled at both Kain and Owyns as he got up to his feet and awaited the end…

The Encore!!!

The crowd couldn’t believe it; Owyns quickly turned and caught Jason Kain with the encore. Owyns got back up and looked at Frost, as he just spat at the ground in front of Frost, and then turned and left the ring.

But,
Before he left he grabbed the ref and threw him into the ring. Frost glared out and at Owyns, before dropping down to make the cover.
The ref crawled over to them and started to make the count.

..

…1...

…

..2...

…..

..

…3...
That was it, the sound of the bell confirmed it as Frost had won the match, and beaten Jason Kain.

The crowd made sure they showed that they weren’t happy with the outcome, as garbage flew into the ring. Frost looked down at Kain as he picked him up, and leaned him against the turnbuckle. Kain was a bloody mess, as Frost charged once more, and connected with…

The Frost Bite.

Kain was done, as Frost raised his arms in triumphant, as the crowd couldn’t believe it. Frost slowly knelt down beside Kain as he mumbles the words….

“Our World, somewhere you would have never belonged.”

Frost made his way from the ring, as the referee crawled over and checked on Jason Kain.

"Sweet Dreams," by Marilyn Manson erupted over the Pa System, as Frost walked with his back to the entrance, as he just smirked at Jason Kain who still hadn’t move from the last spot Frost left him.

Once Frost had left the ring area, and head back into the back of the arena. Kain finally moved and slung his arm over the bottom rope, and just stared up at the entrance.

Frost may have beaten him here tonight, but Kain would get his rematch, and Owyns he had made a mistake, and Kain would make sure that he paid the conquences for it.

Winner by Pinfall, Frost!

A rock between TWO hard places

“I-“ Trent McKnight stood with a microphone in hand as the camera started to zoom out from him. “hope this goes well.” Next to him on either side was the beast Khan and the monster Torment.

“Gentlemen, thank you for joining me tonight. As you know Mr. Boyle has requested that the two of you settle down and put aside your differences or settle it in the ring.” He looked to the left at Torment and to the right at Khan, suddenly remembering his days in College when he had a choice between Mass Media degree and the ITT School he was interested in. Perhaps a better decision would have been made back then.

“Torment, if I can ask, why are you so infuriated with Khan here?” he pointed the mic over to Torment, who stood in complete silence. “Uh, huh… okay. Then Khan, why are you trying to destroy Torment, when you two have never met before your debut?” He pointed the mic at Khan, who seemed to be salivating but no words were released.

“I see… This,” the two simultaneously looked at one another. “may have been a terrible idea. Maybe-“

His attention turned towards Alyx Norwood leaning against a crutch, bandaged and with a neck brace. “You freaks are all alike. Always after the little guys. Ya know what, screw you.” He took his crutch and swung it at Khan, missed and glazed Trent who quickly scuttled on his ass in retreat.

Khan’s massive hand reached out and engulfed Alyx’s face, while Torment’s own hand went for the throat. He was lifted up in the air as Torment and Khan’s eyes were locked on one another. Soon oblivious to the kicking… and then no longer kicking legs of Alyx Norwood.

In the background Trent McKnight was on his cell and had called for some assistance, which soon arrived in the form of security and the massive seven foot three giant. Spike Saunders’s hands gripped the two’s wrists, and pulled them from Alyx, letting him fall to the ground.

Security carried Alyx towards the EMTs while Saunders released their wrists from his hands. But he simply stood there looking down at the two. Two against One. Good odds for them. But behind Saunders stood a mass of security. Sure easy enough to plow through one at a time, but their numbers were larger… For now.

Torment turned and walked away while Khan’s attention drifted to Saunders.

“Go ahead. I will be glad to put you down.” Khan seemingly smiled, or perhaps his mouth was filled with his own saliva, either way he turned and walked off having no reason to remain. Saunders started discussing the encounter with Trent as the cameras faded out.

Strategy Session

"We need to talk." Showtime's voice was grave as he sat in the locker room (the face one) with his partner.

"Oh God," Proteus gasped, "You're not.. pregnant, are you?"

"No, Proteus, I've told you. Genitals don't work that way. This is about the 5-man tag for tonight."

"Ah yes, that. I'm all ears, big guy."

"Well, you see, I'm a little concerned," Showtime sighed, "I mean, I don't want to seem like I don't trust you or anything, but... are you sure about this? Some of the choices you've insisted upon are... dubious at best."

"How so?"

"You know what I mean, Proteus. You know who I'm talking about."

Proteus rubbed his temples. "I suppose I do. Showtime, we've been tag partners for how long now?"

"Ten years."

"And it's been a very interesting decade, hasn't it? We've been through a lot. Wacky adventures, tough opponents. Alternate realities. We've made a lot of fans happy, and we've seen and done a lot, haven't we?"

"You can say that again."

"We've made a lot of fans happy, and we've--"

"Proteus, what's your point?"

"My point is that I've always wanted to give something back to the wrestling community. I've always wanted to train a great talent and hae that person succeed far beyond our wildest dreams, and be known for that as much as anything we've ever done ourselves. Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's not wrong. You just might be a little overzealous."

"But listen. Ten years ago, we started teaming together. Nine years ago I started training young wrestlers and a nondescript, even meek young man came into my dojo, and do you remember what I told him, after teaching him everything I knew? And you taught him everything you knew, therefore giving him the combined knowledge of this entire team, but in one person? After he became my star pupil"

"You told him to get a mask and let his personality out."

"Yeah, Showtime. Exactly. I'll never forgive myself for the role I played in creating Dark Ninja. That brash little dickhead. It's a classic Obi-Wan/Vader scenario. It isn't enough to defeat him myself. I need to atone by proving that I've created warriors that surpass him in every way."

"I understand what you're saying, believe me, I do," Showtime sighed, "But are you sure these are the right guys for the job?"

The camera panned over to find The SuperSquad playing that game where you have to slap your friend's hands before he moves them.

"They're really not very good, Proteus," Showtime sighed, "I'm worried they might never be, and right now they are just not up to it."

"You underestimate them," Proteus said, "They've just never been motivated. I see greatness in those two, and right now they have a monster of their own to slay. They're beginning to understand. Trust me. This will all work out."

"I hope so," Showtime said, standing. "For all our sakes."

The former tag champions walked away as the SuperSquad watched. El Avestruz turned to Emo Kevin and said, "I think Showtime might be right about us."

"Don't worry about it my friend," Kevin replied, "I've got a very special monster-killing strategy."

Obia Salamon
Versus
Sylar

The attention returned to the entrance where Gyle once more stood with his group behind him. The young red head already known as Sylar, made his way to the ring while being followed by his opponent Obia Salamon. The two slid into the ring, and as with the previous match they shook hands before the bell finally rung.

“Obia, from Africa, is a even six foot, while his opponent Sylar from Canada stands at five foot eight. Both men are known more for their strength and stamina, rather then their speed.”

Obia took Sylar up with a Vertical Suplex, but Sylars own weight enabled him to come back down and reverse it in his favor. Sylar then followed up with a swift uppercut. He then kicked the back of Obia’s shins, to drop him to his knees.

Sylar stepped up on Salamon’s knee and executed a well placed kick to the temple, and followed through using a rising knee to the face.

“Sylar’s well known for his Mai Tai fighting style. It seems Obia was not expecting this from the Canadian. After all when you think Canada, you think Submissionist or Technician. We all make that mistake at some time.”

Gyle’s comment raises a brief Bret Hart chant in response.

In the ring Sam rides a third knee to the face, only this time taking Obia down to the mat with the force. He then jumps in the air and comes down with two knees in the chest. Calling over the referee he gets the count, but at two Obia kicks out.

Sam whips Salamon’s head off of the mat and anchors his legs around with a vicing leg lock. He continues to squeeze until the referee starts the customary arm dropping. The first falls. The second falls. But the third reacts just in the nick of time. Sylar releases the lock with a back heel to his face.

Salamon rolls out of the way of an elbow and stands face to face with Sylar. Ducks a kick and takes him down. Obia lifts him back to his feet, but Sylar back jumps and rushes at the corner, leaping up to the top and coming off with a twisting senton press.

“Ouch! Obia ducked that, but Referee Chuck Radford was not so lucky. This can not fare well.”

Obia grabs Sylar and hooks his arms and hits a tiger slam. He looks for the pin but the referee is non-moving still. Salamon released the pin and walks over to the referee to try and revive him. Meanwhile Sylar sits back up and cleaves him in the back of his two shins.

“Chopping the tree, Sam has the chance to end it here.” States Gyle as Sylar grapples Obia’s head within his arms. Then slams the head down face first into the mat. Sylar spots the referee still out of it so he slides out of the ring right past Gyle who puts a hand on the mic to ask him what he is doing.

Sylar pushes ring announcer Brett Williams out of his chair and folds it up.

“Folks, this really is not the type of match we wish to present to you. But, it is legal when the referee is out of contention.”

Sylar slides into the ring with the chair and raises it above his head before bringing it down across Obia’s spine. This goes on a few times before he tires and lays the chair down, sliding Obia’s arm into it.

“Okay enough. Sylar, this match is over.” Gyle steps up onto the apron while Sylar stands on the second rope ready to jump. And jump he does.

STATIC

Gyle makes a heroic dive into the ring and takes the blunt of the legs on himself, protecting Obia Salamon. He turns his head and looks over at Sylar whom is already heading up the ramp.

Gyle helps Obia pull the chair off and stands him up raising his arm in the air. “The winner by Disqualification and,” he looks at Sylar with a disappointing look, “unsportsmanlike conduct, Obia Salamon.”

The fans cheer as Gyle keeps his arm raised and the rest of the NewBorn head backstage. Gyle lends his shoulder to Obia as the two exit the ring and make their way up the ramp to the backstage area.

Winner by Disqualification, Obia Salamon!

A Word from Xolotl

The scene faded to a prerecorded message from Dane Xolotl, who stood standing next to his monstrous charge, Kaliban.

"Greetings, subhuman viewers of nbW. My name is Dane Xolotl. I am a business man, and my current business is wrestling. I won't be wasting your time, because where I come from, time is money, although to you plebians time is Cheetos. But Cheetos cost money so it's essentially the same thing. Let it be known that I hold nothing but the graest contempt for everyone viewing this program or reading a transcript of it. On the previous edition, a paramecium by the name of "Emo" Kevin had a physical altercation with me that resulted in severe liquid interaction with my $7000 suit vis a vis the beverage I had been holding at the time. I have since requested restitution from Mr. Kevin for both the suit and the drink, to no avail, and now find it within my best interests to send a message to him and his common ilk by destroying him and everyone he holds dear - ie his woebegone tag team partner El Avestruz del Relampago - in order to reinforce the idea in all of your pathetic, malfunctioning skulls that Xolotl is not a name to be trifled with. Tonight you will see the destruction not only of the SuperSquad, but of their pathetic mentors in D-T, and the giant Spike Saunders. This I vow as a man of profits. My guarantee is my bond. I have spoken, good day."

The camera fixed on the angry glare of Kaliban, then promptly faded.

Next Week

Live on Full Effect, World Heavyweight Champion Ali Amore will defend his Championship against his largest challenger to date.

Will he be able to successfully retain his championship, or will his challenger overtake him in the ring and be crowed the new Champion?

Only one way to find out, and that is to tune into the stream when Ali Amore defends against Spike Saunders, on Full Effect 57.

THE MAINEVENT (now with Entrance Videos)
D-T
SuperSquad
and Spike Saunders
Versus
Dream Warriors
Son of Malta
Kaliban
and J. Leslie Voss

The crowd hushed as the lights dimmed. The opening chord of Aerosmith's "Draw the Line" struck up, and the place exploded. The bell rang.

Brent Williams announced, as the wrestlers walked to the ring, "This match is tonight's main event, and is an elimination-style ten-man tag team contest! Introducing first, the team of Showtime, Proteus, El Avestruz, Emo Kevin, and Spike Saunders!"

SuperSquad waved excitedly to the crowd while D-T took a more reserved, focus approach, and Spike exuded the cool, calm exterior of a man who knew what he was doing. Each of the men approaching the ring would be fighting for something different, but all against common enemies.

The five men stood in the ring, discussing strategies and offering encouragement, at least, one assumes.

Marc Gordon commentated, "Tonight, a highly anticipated contest pitting ten of nbW's top performers against each other! We will see JLV in the ring against one another. We will see D-T and DW. And we will see Kaliban mixing it up with the Super-Squad."

"Not only that," Renton interjected, "We could see DW battling the SuperSquad, Kaliban going toe to toe with Spike, Proteus trying to take down the Son of Malta! It's a ten-man contest, Gordo, you never know what's going to go down!"

"True enough, Terry. This will be chaos at its finest."

Dream Warriors by Dokken cued up as the cheers for the first team morphed into boos for the second. Brent Williams announced "Their opponents, accompanied to the ring by Dane Xolotl, the team of Son of Malta, J. Leslie Voss, Kaliban, and the nbW Dynasty Tag Champions, the Dream Warriors!"

"DW have a cult following here in nbW, Gordo," Renton proclaimed.

"You can say that again," Gordon replied, "Everyone who sees them wrestle wants to kill themselves!" Ba-dum-ching!

"That's not funny, Marc. Suicide isn't funny."

"I'm sorry, Terry."

"Haha! Just messing with you! You're an idiot, Marc. That's what I like about you. Don't ever change."

Four men from each team congregated around the corners of the ring. The bell rang to signify the beginning of the match, and Dark Ninja stood face to face with Spike Saunders.

"Dark Ninja, standing under 6 feet tall, commands the respect of a team of giants and behemoths," Gordon observed.

"I think Kaliban may in fact be a Sasquatch, but that's only speculation," replied Renton. "Meanwhile, Spike towers over his entire team! He looks like a kindergarten teacher!"

"Hey now, Showtime isn't that small."

"He is when next to Spike."

Wordlessly, a man approached down the aisle. After only a brief moment, the nbW fans recognized it as nbW vet William Arthur Reagan. He took a place at ringside and sat.

"A strange appearance from WAR," Gordon noted, "Perhaps one of the wrestlers in this match is his protege."

Ninja and Spike circled each other. Spike took a few swipes at the small ninja, but they were dodged with relative ease.

"What Ninja lacks in size and strength, he makes up with in speed, skill, and pure attitude," Gordon commented.

Ninja caught one of Spike's punches and attempted to wrestle him to the ground with an arm bar, but failed due to the sheer laws of physics. Spike pretty much shrugged him off and sent him flying across the ring with a standing lariat.

Ninja landed in his home corner and tagged in his tar team partner, Psycho.

"There's a reason Ninja keeps that weirdo around and it's not the conversation," Renton said, "Rumor has it he fried his brains emulating that 'this is your brain on drugs' commercial back in the 90's. Of course, I just started that rumor right now, so it is of questionable veracity."

Spike locked up with Psycho, who responded with a kick to the gun and a knee to the face. His opponent stunned, Psycho whipped Spike against the ropes and went for a clothesline but was ducked and met with a big boot on the rebound. Spike went to drop an elbow, but Psycho dodged and got to his feet. He began a relatively safe strategy of pummeling Spike into the corner. Psycho tagged out to Son of Malta.

Son of Malta continued to lay blows on Spike, but Spike managed to reverse the momentum and powerslam the Son of Malta. He locked in a surfboard stretch. Malta refused to submit and before long, Spike was obliged to release. Malta attempted to regain the upper hand, but Spike countered with a series of snap suplexes. He got two in, but the third was reversed. Malta tagged out to Dark Ninja.

"The DW team is using a good strategy of rotating members repeatedly" Gordon said.

"That's because they're not dumb," Renton replied, "You can tell they're not dumb because they're not teaming with D-T and the SuperSquad."

Ninja came off the top rope with a guillotine legdrop. He covered.


ONE...



No, not even close to putting Spike away. Spike kicked out with authority, sending Ninja halfway across the ring. He charged into the corner after Ninja, but the tag champion ducked and rolled behind Spike, hitting a dropkick from behind, sending Spike to the canvas. He tagged back out to Son of Malta who continued to work on spike, stomping him and attempting to lock in a leglock, but Spike fought his way out, sending Son of Malta to the mat with a Russian legsweep.

Spike tagged out to Showtime, who climbed the top rope and waited for Son of Malta to stagger to his feet. Showtime launched himself with a high cross body...

ONE...


TW-- no, almost snuck one in.

"Still looking for that first elimination," Gordon commented.

Showtime backed off and waited for Malta to regain a vertical base. He approached with a spinning heel kick, but Malta ducked and hit a German suplex, pinning the shoulders...

ONE.



TWO...

Proteus came in for the rescue. As Malta tussled with him, Ninja reached in and swiped at Showtime. The two nearly had a physical altercation, but the ref broke it up. Malta approached Showtime from behind, but Showtime threw a wild elbow and hit a step-up enzuigiri. He tagged back out for Spike.

Spike came in the ring and avoided a charging attack from Malta, reversing it int...

SPIKED!

He covered...


ONE...







TWO...





THREE!

"Son of Malta has been eliminated!"

Malta rolled out of the ring and bitterly walked back toward the dressing room. Kaliban entered the ring and stood face to face with Spike, whose height remained impressive by comparison. Spike stepped back to deliver a jab, but Kaliban, with surprising quickness caught it and took Spike down with a judo move.

"Kaliban showing heretofore unseen ring prowess!" remarked Gordon.

"Don't be so surprised, Renton. just because he doesn't speak our language doesn't mean he's retarded, you xenophobe."

"Where's he from again?"

"Who cares, he's huge!"

Kaliban managed to swing Spike around in a giant swing, hurtling him toward his corner. Seizing the opportunity, Emo Kevin tagged in before anybody could stop him, he was toe to toe with Kaliban.

"Oh this should be good," chortled Renton.

Kaliban swiped furiously at his smaller foe, but Kevin dodged and weaved for several moments.

"Hit him, you coward! This ain't Dancing with the Stars!" encouraged Renton.

Kaliban finally got a hold of Kevin and whipped him against the ropes. Kevin, however, performed a baseball slide and escaped the ring. Kaliban was about to chase after him, when Kevin grabbed a chair and slid it in while El Avestruz distracted the referee.

"What is this?" Renton gasped.

"It appears to be the Monster-Slaying technique!"

SMACK!

Showing gusto, moxie and spunk (although we'll have to clean the spunk out of the ring canvas immediately,) Emo Kevin cracked the monstrous Kaliban right across the face with a chair! And in front of the referee!

"Emo Kevin has been eliminated by disqualification!"

And while all this commotion was going down, El Avestruz sprung into action, climbing the top rope and executing his shooting star press, covering Kaliban---

ONE...







TWO...








THREE!


"Kaliban has been eliminated!"

"Unbelievable, team D-T has run a sacrifice play, and is now one member up on team DW!" Gordon remarked.

"Well, don't get too carried away with your excitement, Gords," Renton cautioned, "We have yet to see JL Voss in action, and Dark Ninja was just getting warmed up."

Psycho stepped into the ring. El Avestruz stood his ground, and Psycho proceeded to toss him around like a ragdoll, culminating in a massive PSYCHOBOMB!

ONE...






TWO...




THREE!

"Well, so much for the one-man advantage." laughed Renton.

El Avestruz walked sorely back up the ramp as the remaining members of team D-T briefly discussed who was to enter the ring at this point. Proteus seemed eager to give it a go, but Spike stepped in. He and Psycho stood face to face for a moment before trading blows. Psycho got Spike in a front facelock and went for a DDT, but Spike spun him around and hit a northern lights suplex! He covered...

ONE...






TWO...



No, it would take more than that to put this man away. Psycho sat up. Spike indicated the corner. He wanted Voss.

Psycho, dissatisfied with his lack of advantage, tagged JLV in.

Voss stepped into the ring. He and Spike circled one another intently, as the fans began to get rowdy, eager to see an ultimate physical contest between the two. With steel in his eyes, JLV used the best strategy he could muster.

He stepped out of the ring... and began to walk backstage

As the referee began to count, "ONE... TWO..." Spike chased after him, catching up and attempting to drag him back to the ring, but each time he would make physical contact his foe would escape again, and so the chase was on.

"JLV and Spike have been eliminated via countout!"

"And so it has come to this," said Gordon, "Down to two combatants on either side, we effectively have a rematch of our tag team championship match from only a few weeks ago. Lifelong enemies, face to face, one one side will come out victorious."

Ninja commanded Psycho to enter the ring. Proteus hopped in to face him. Proteus began to throw wild kicks and fists, which Psycho backed off from, trying to swat them away. finally, he grabbed Proteus, slung him over his shoulder, and cornered him. He began heavy shoulder thrusts, but Proteus leapt over his opponent and turned him over with a sunset flip..

ONE...





TWO...




No, no, far too weak an attempt to cover the massive Psycho. Psycho pulled Proteus up and military-pressed him, but Proteus wriggled free and took Psycho down with an armdrag, attempting to lock in an ankle lock. Psycho kicked Proteus away. Proteus spring back with a low dropkick and a flipping legdrop. He covered again.


ONE...






TWO...



Again, no. Psycho kicked out strongly. Proteus charged again, but Psycho caught him in a back body drop, then began to drop his knees on the fallen Proteus. He lifted him up only to press slam him upside down into the turnbuckles, hanging him in the tree of woe. He tagged out to Dark Ninja, who came in just long enough to double team with foot-choking to the upside-down Proteus, and then tag back out to Psycho, who took Proteus over with a neckbreaker and covered.

ONE...






TWO...




NO, Proteus still had enough energy to kick out. He managed to get to his hands and knees but Psycho kicked him repeatedly in the ribs, over to the edge of the mat, under the ropes. Proteus managed to get to his feet on the apron, shouldering Psycho in the gut through the ropes, then slingshotting with a dropkick. He covered...


ONE...






TWO...




No, Psycho kicked out. Psycho stood and threw a back kick, which Proteus caught and used to sweep Psycho to the floor. He tagged out to Showtime, who sprung off the ropes with an Asai moonsault. He covered...

ONE...




TWO...



Still no, But Psycho was still showing signs of slowing down. Showtime tagged back out to Proteus as Psycho stood just in time for Proteus to spring off Showtime's back with a FLYING SHINING WIZARD!

Proteus waited to pick his spot as the dazed Psycho was just in the proper position to fall prey to...


Switch-Press DDT!

Proteus covered!

ONE...



Dark Ninja rushed in to break the cover...



TWO... Showtime cut him off with a spinning back forearm!





THREE!


"Psycho has been eliminated!"

Dark Ninja stood enraged and hit a spinning kick on Showtime, sending him to the outside. He swung a kick at Proteus, who ducked and responded with a high kick of his own, also ducked while Dark Ninja countered with a drop toe hold into an STF.

Proteus was stuck in the middle of the ring in agonizing pain. The referee checked in on hi, but he refused to give in. Dark Ninja wrenched his neck and back, but Proteus, despite crying out in agony, would not allow his hand to hit the mat.

Finally, Showtime burst in to break the submission. However, as the referee was ushering him back to his corner, Dark Ninja took advantage and kicked Proteus square in the groin!

Proteus fell to the mat. Ninja covered.

ONE...





TWO...



No, Proteus had the will of a warrior, and kicked out!

Ninja stomped in frustration. Proteus stood, wearily. Dark Ninja began to shove him and call him names. Proteus charged with a takedown attempt, but Ninja was ready on the defensive and reversed it into a flapjack, dropping Proteus on his face, then smashing his face into the mat repeatedly for a good measure.

"Good lord," cried out Gordon, "I don't care what you call that tactic, it's just bad sportsmanship."

"Welcome to the 21st century, Gordo!" cheered Renton, "anything it takes to win!"

The crowd booed vociferously as Ninja let Proteus up, only for the entire crowd to see his face was now covered in blood. Frustrated and exhausted, Proteus began to get extremely sloppy in his offensive maneuvers, only to fall prey to a DIRECTOR'S CUT!

ONE...








TWO...








Psycho held Showtime's leg to prevent him from coming to the rescue!






THREE!

"Proteus has been eliminated!"

Proteus rolled exhaustedly out of the ring while officials escorted both him and Psycho to the backstage area. Dark ninja sat up on his knees as Showtime stepped through the ropes. The volume of the crowd began to increase. Dark Ninja breathed hard and stood. He took a moment to adjust his mask. Showtime affected a fighting stance. Ninja backed off to his corner. Showtime hung back, wary of Ninja's possum play. Finally, he charged in. Ninja jumped over his foe, but Showtime, who had expected that maneuver, was ready with a back heel kick, sending Ninja down to the mat fast and hard.

He scrambled to get back to his feet. He called for a test of strength. Showtime obliged. Ninja sandbagged and took Showtime over with a monkey flip. Showtime landed on his feet and wrangled Ninja into a bow and arrow submission, which he managed to avoid by breaking contact and heading back to the turnbuckle. Showtime stood. The crowd cheered.

Showtime held up his arms and the fans cheered with approval. He gestured and, barely audible, said, "These are my people, Ninja."

Dark Ninja made a belt motion with his hands, and then did a dance routine, which the crowd booed.

"we may not know much about Ninja's background," Gordon said, "But I can tell from his dancing he's all white."

"That's offensive, Gordo," Renton objected, "But true nonetheless."

Back to the action, Showtime and Ninja locked up. Showtime threw Ninja with an armbar, Ninja threw a drop kick, which Showtime ducked, getting into good position for a Tiger Suplex. He didn't keep thecover, but did a reverse somersault into a full mount and just started punching the crap out of Dark Ninja. The referee broke it at five.

"It's not pretty, but it's effective."

"It's not legal, either," pouted Renton.

Showtime stood and held Ninja for a powerbomb, but Ninja reversed it into a DDT. Angrily, he began to stomp Showtime maniacally, screaming nonsensical racial epithets against the Vietnamese people who had served his dinner earlier that night. He covered.

ONE...



No, not quite.

He lifted Showtime up and set him up for the Director's Cut-- but Showtime reversed it into a forward Russian Legsweep!

Showtime hopped to the top rope and came off with a moonsault -- but Ninja rolled out of the way!

Ninja grabbed Showtime's legs for a Boston Crab, but Showtime lured him in for a small package!

ONE..





TWO...


No, of course not.

Both men stood back up. The fans were practically spontaneously combusting with suspense and excitement.

Dark Ninja extended his arm for the "Hey look behind you!" tactic, but Showtime grabbed the arm and whipped Ninja against the ropes. On the rebound, Ninja leapfrogged Showtime, and managed to escape to the outside to miss Showtime's attempt at a Standing Ovation superkick on the next pass.

Ninja slingshot over the top rope, but Showtime caught him with a high dropkick, sending him back outside. Showtime followed up with a flipping suicide dive! The ref counted...

ONE..


TWO...

Both men were down.


THREE...


FOUR...


Showtime staggered to his feet, but had to lean against the ringpost for balance.

FIVE...



Dark Ninja was up.





SIX...



From behind, Dark Ninja smashed Showtime's face into the ringpost, leaving him on the floor!


SEVEN...





Dark Ninja appeared ready to revel in his victory, but saw Showtime stirring again.




EIGHT...




Ninja, impatient, stepped out of the ring and rolled Showtime back in.

As he followed Showtime back into the ring, he was met with a STANDING OVATION!


ONE...







TWO...






THREE!



"Here is your winner, from team D-T, Showtime!"

Draw the Line played as Showtime reveled in his victory, somewhat exhaustedly. After a minute or two, Dark Ninja had grabbed a microphone. The music halted.

"Okay... okay. Listen. Even a clock that's broken and doesn't run gets laid twice a day," he said, apparently too concussed to properly mix metaphors, "So I gotta hand it to you. You saw a good opportunity here. After I'd already fought four other guys," he exaggerated, "You came in and swept up broken little old me. But you know what? Fuck you. Okay man? Because this still doesn't mean you get a shot at your tag titles. No way. But I'm a guy who always digs revenge, as you know, so I'm giving you a chance to earn something from me, while I get a chance to screw you over once again. This might be your last shot, so listen up. Next week. You and me. Singles match. We settle this. You don't get to hide behind your partner anymore, you face me one on one like you're too afraid to do. I'll give you 20 minutes of my time and if you can pin me by the end, you get a shot at my belts. Sound fair? Tough shit, it's your only offer. What do you say?"

Showtime grabbed the mic, and said, "Sounds good to me. See you next week."

The music cued back up. "There you have it folks! A 20-minute time limit match for number one contendership of the Dynasty Tag Titles! This is Marc Gordon signing off for nbW!"

Winners by Pinfall, Team D-T!

 

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