Previously...

VoiceOver: Previously on no brand Wrestling.

The crowd went insane! This could be it! Showtime went toward the turnbuckle, only hesitating a moment. As he got to the top, he heard a dire sound.

It was Proteus' girlfriend Gabriela Healy being dragged off into the crowd by Son of Malta!

Showtime was torn. He looked down at Proteus, stone cold unconscious. He could either go after his best friend's girl, or he could finalize his chance at the World Title Match. What a choice -- if he pinned Proteus now, he could never forgive himself, and if he went after Gabriela, he would be giving up a guaranteed win. That moment of hesitation cost him.

Switch-Press DDT!

Out of nowhere, Proteus sent Showtime careening headfirst to the mat! He covered!

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!

"Here is your winner and number one contender for the World Championship... Proteus!"

Proteus, still dazed, could barely believe his eyes as his arm was raised. Most surprisingly, Gabriela returned to the ring, having been released by Son of Malta, who then escaped into the crowd. You could see the expression on Proteus' face as Gabriela explained the situation, going from glory to great wrath as he had to be restrained from going off against Malta.

Showtime, slowly, came to, and was made aware of what happened. A brief exchange was had, outlining the situation, as Showtime explained that he was distracted just for a moment, but the dialogue completely drowned out by the roar of the crowd. The two tag partners embraced in the ring with a hug, while from the stage, world Champion Ali Amore stood waiting and watching.

VoiceOver: The Number One Contender was finally decided after a showcase of talent by two friends. Coming at Ghosts we will see D-T member Proteus challenging the no brand Wrestling World Champion, Ali Amore. That is if the champion makes it to Ghosts.

Ali gazed up at Sylar, got to his feet and gestured with his right hand, his middle three fingers, that he felt this match should have been over and the title still within his possession. That wasn’t the case and Sylar was the cause. Why was he siding with Son of Malta? Was it a conspiracy to unseat the Colombian? He didn’t care about the official’s agenda, but wanted to wear the world championship tomorrow and asked him why. Sylar shrugged his shoulders and claimed he didn’t know what the young man meant, he was objective and unbiased, the doubts were all in his head. Ali, hands on hips, was poised to deck the referee judging by his body language, but he never got the opportunity…

LOW BLOW!

From a grounded position, Son of Malta’s paw punched the promising prospect in the groin keeling him over, almost sending him into Sylar, who flipped the kid off and unloaded with a…

SECOND LOW BLOW!

As you may have guessed, Ali’s legion of female followers all had their hearts broken while Amore, still only a young man in his early twenties, must have been wondering whether he’d get to know any of those coy fans intimately shall we say. Carrying on his name wasn’t looking too rosy…

But that became the least of his worries.

A smiling Sylar shook hands with Son of Malta and then pointed towards the wounded champion. SOM, who knew he answered to anyone, let alone Sylar, did as he was told and picked the helpless babyface up, putting Ali’s head between his legs.

Two seconds later…

DOUBLE UNDERHOOK SUPLEX!

Voiceover: What started out as a championship match between Son of Malta and Ali Amore soon revealed something more sinister. NewBorn talent Sylar, the special referee for the Main Event, had made a pact with the Maltatian devil for reasons unknown. Thankfully Amore's Mentor was also there, despite what little help he provided in this instance.

The boos suddenly turned to cheers as Sylar, smiling like a Cheshire cat, noticed Ali’s mentor, Keegan, heading down the aisle, mostly to cheers, with a worried yet determined expression etched on his face. As he approached the apron, Sylar, who had been waving him in, winding him up, took exit left, leaving only Special K and Son of Malta in the squared circle together.

It was too late. There was no turning back now. The Englishman walked straight up to his fellow European, their chests coming together, and looked down at his tormentor, who remained unmoved. Keegan, who could look after himself, removed the navy blue t-shirt he had arrived in and tossed it to one side, knuckled up like Ken Shamrock and was ready to let rip at Son of Malta. Unfortunately, the crowd’s cheers turned to jeers but Keegan, wrapped up in the heat of battle, hadn’t noticed until someone had turned him round…



RaVage had crashed the party and it was certainly a victory for the villains tonight. Both teacher and student, Keegan and Ali Amore, were unconscious. Special K hadn’t even gone over, didn’t have the opportunity, to tend to his finest protégé. EMTs were on their way, at long last, with a stretcher to escort Amore out of the building.

Voiceover: With the champion taken out with three vicious double underhook suplexes one has to wonder what condition Ali Amore will be in tonight, and how that outcome will affect the upcoming Ghosts Payperview.

The video package replays the three underhook suplexes in slowmotion and the lightning kick from Ravage before fading out on the downed bodies of the two men.

Voiceover: With those questions in need of answering, I am Trent McKnight welcoming you to no brand Wrestling's Fifty-Ninth edition of Full Effect.

I Could be The Guy
feat. Proteus

The crowd popped as "Draw the Line" by Aerosmith hit. A moment passed before Proteus emerged from the back, dressed in a high-collared grey David Byrne suit. He was followed by the demurely-dressed Gabriela Healy. He walked, chin-up, to the ring, nodding in nervous acknowledgement as the fans cheered their support. He held the ropes open for his girl before stepping in and calling for a microphone for himself. He tried to shake off some nervousness before speaking.

"I'm, uh, I'm not really accustomed to this. Being the center of attention, I mean, not, like, speaking in general. I've been speaking the English language pretty consistently for over a decade now. I know the words, I just... I've never had to use them this way."

He paused, and a supportive wave of cheers washed over him.

"I'm not known for this. Somewhere along the line, I got pegged as a sidekick. A helper. An assistant. A supporting character in the world of champions. And I'm good at it, too. I can't believe that, at the next nbW Pay Per View, Ghosts, I will be wrestling, not for the Tag Team championships, but for the greater glory of the Championship of the world!

"I'm a fighter. You know this. Everyone in this arena, who has followed D-T since we arrived in this company, knows this. In that ring, I show no mercy, not to my opponents, not even to my lifelong friends like Showtime. Someone I've fought beside for too many years to count, when I saw the chance, I took him out. And why? Because I don't respect him? Because I want to hurt him? No, none of that's true.

"It's because if I hadn't, he would never have respected me. If I had not done everything in my power to beat Showtime, then when we got backstage he wouldn't have said a word to me. He would've walked out and D-T would be over. If he sensed hesitation or weakness, he would've done the same to me. But he knows, he knows I'm a fighter. And brothers and sisters, if you're not fighting for the world heavyweight championship, you shouldn't be fighting at all.

Some say I am emerging from the shadow of Showtime. That's only half-true. I wasn't in Showtime's shadow... I am Showtime's shadow. I have been with him, step by step, helping him every inch of the way to attain the greatness we all know is in him. And somehow it never occurred to me that I could be the guy. I could be the one who wins championships and headlines pay per views. I could be the one on the t-shirts, I could be the one whose name they chant."

A brief, understated "Pro-tee-us!" chant began.

"It is only now that I am realizing my destiny in this company. To seek the glory that I know is mine. Showtime knows it. I know it. And at Ghosts... Ali Amore will know it. Tonight, we are teammates against those who would stop us -- RaVage, WAR, and Son of Malta. But at Ghosts, he will know I am that guy."

"Draw the Line" played again as the two made their way back up the ramp and fans cheered. Once at the stage, Showtime stepped out from behind the curtain. A halting moment passed between them until Showtime gave Proteus a pat on the shoulder... not a warm gesture, and there was a detached glare in his eyes, but they walked backstage together with supportive cheers.

From Wrestler to... Referee?
feat. Thaddeus Boyle nd Michael O'Dell

The cameras faded into the office of Thaddeus Boyle whom was already in the middle of a conversation with his son, Gyle.

“Listen, I understand how you want to help out. I do appreciate the offer last time, but you saw what happened.”

Gyle let out a sigh, “I know. What Sylar did was out of hand and he has been reprimanded for it. However the other kids are still exceeding my expectations for the NewBorn and are eager to assist again tonight. I know you put the call into William Arthur Reagan only to find him being in your big Sixman Main Event tonight. So why not use the NewBorn?”

“I can not put my talent at that risk son. Thank them for their offer, but I will figure something else out for tonight’s officiating duties. You howevershould probably get ready for your match with Khan.”

Again Gyle sighed as he stood and left the room. No more than two moments passed when the door once more was opened.

“You asked to see me?” spoke the man as he took a seat where Gyle was just moments ago.

“Yes Michael. Or is it okay if I call you Mike? No doubt you are aware of our financial situation and the whole strike that is on-going.”

“Mike is fine. And yes. If you need any help-“

“That is why I called you here Mike. I need you to act as the acting official tonight. Our negotiations are still going, but neither side will budge on their terms, so I am afraid this leaves us with little option.”

“When I offered to help out, I meant in terms of taking place on the lineup tonight. I’m not sure how you think I have the expertise needed to officiate in the ring.”

Thaddeus smiled and rose from his chair. “I would not have chosen you for this if I did not believe you had the knowledge to make it happen. The others here may not remember when you were a champion outside of no brand, but I do. I remember when that young kid was climbing the ladder of success down in that promotion to the north called WWR. I remember how you donned the hockey mask as the Executioner and showcased talent not-yet seen in the world of professional wrestling.”

“That was when I was younger. I’m not-“

“Tell me this. When you were handed the championship after your hard fought match, with the blood dripping from your forehead, how did you feel? Was that not the pinnacle of your career at that moment? Like the world stopped around you and everything was fair in the world?”

O’Dell sat back and answered, “I suppose. But-“

“That was your moment Mike. Here in no brand we are all about creating moments like that. But in order to do so we need our talent, our employees, and even our fans to give it their all. Do you not want to be the one in the ring handing over the championship to the next rising talent like yourself once was? Being able to see that look in their eyes as the world stops around them? Would that not make you proud to be there for that very moment? Would-“

This time O’Dell was the one to stand and stop Thaddeus from continuing. “Stop. Okay. I get it. You’re right. I was proud at that time, and would be nonetheless proud to hand the torch to one of equal deserving nature. ‘suppose here is no defining reason why I can not take up the duties tonight. Okay then I’ll do it. I’ll be your referee for tonight.”

Boyle extended his arm to O’dell who clasped it and shook proudly before turning and leaving the office.

“Great man. Believe greater opportunities await him.” Spoke Thaddeus as he took a seat and piled back into his paper work. One problem solved. Numerous others remained.

Nearing the light
feat. Torment and Gyle Boyle

Just down the hall from the office of Thaddeus Boyle, his son Gyle was in mid-stride towards the NewBorn's office-room. His steps however were halted as the masked monster known only as Torment stood in his path.

Gyle flexed a pec at the night creature before peering into his mask. "Should I even ask what you-" his words were immediately cut off as two hands gripped him around the throat.

Torments gaze was transfixed on Gyle, his eyes glowing as if he was looking into the very soul of the man whose life was now in his hands. One slight adjustment in strength and he would drop dead then and there.

The monster stood there in silence his grip never waning.

To any on-looker it would be quite the awkward-filled moment.

"Your Father."

Torment had slowly spoke beneath his mask before he released Gyle back to the floor and watched as the former all-star athlete toppled from the asphyxiation. Torment continued on towards his impending destination, where ever that might be. Moments later Gyle regained his consciousness and replayed those words in his head; Your Father. The very same that were going to linger the days to come. Your Father

Gyle Boyle
Versus
Khan

“Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is set for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first…” Brent Williams announced.

‘’Messiah’ from Dead Celebrity Status played as the gold-haired prodigy and self-proclaimed messiah walked out to the ring.

“Standing at six foot five, hailing from Greenwhich, Connecticut... He is the man behind the NewBorn, Gyyyyyle Boooooooooooyle!”

Gyle stood center ring stretching his arms and in dire wait for his opponent.

“And his opponent, standing at six feet one, from Mongolia… He is the Beast of the East, Mongolia’s Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!

Some oriental music from Mongolia played to prelude his storming through the curtain and charge down to the ring.

Gyle immediately got up into his face and the two had a war of words while referee Michael O’Dell took charge. The bell was rung and Gyle launched himself at Khan to quickly take him off his feet with a running knee lift.

Khan looked up at Gyle who was more than fueled to fight. He snarled and stepped back to his two feet. Gyle leapt at Khan once more but this time he was ready and grabbed the approaching knee and used his own momentum against him tossing Gyle back over to the side. Khan walked over to Gyle and pulled him up by his hair taunting him while O’Dell told him to let go.

Gyle whipped himself forward into the midsection of Khan and led him backwards into the turnbuckle. Once there he mounted the second buckle and brought down a series of left and right fists that the fans enjoyed counting with him. Not quite satisfied he dropped back to his feet and pulled Khan’s straps open to deliver a hard open palm chop to the chest.

‘WOO!’ yelled out the fans in response.

Gyle grabbed Khan around the waist and delivered a belly to belly suplex.

‘GYLE!’
‘GYLE’
‘GYLE’

The chants were loud and proud as Boyle took to the ropes and came back with a knee drop into his chest. O’Dell dropped down to the mat for the cover.

ONE!
TWO!

… No Three it seemed as Khan threw his shoulder up off the mat and pushed him off of him. He rolled back over onto his hands and feet intending to get back in standing shape but the Messiah had other plans and quickly hopped on his backside clutching his arms and around his neck.

The infamous Crucifixiation was held on tight and Khan could only barely move his own body.

‘Check him!’ yelled out Gyle as Michael got closer and grabbed his arm to lift it in the air and let it drop…

Once…

Twice…

Just as the arm begun to fall Khan pushed forth his energy and pounded the air to show he was still alive and kicking. Gyle however was irate and clutched in tighter and tighter but the damage was done. Khan slowly stood back upright and stumbled backwards into the corner where Gyle was smashed spine first.

Khan reached his two arms up and behind to grab him by the head then pulled him forward to slam him back down on the mat. This time Khan locked in his own sleeper hold, but gyle had anticipated it and slipped out of his arms hightailing it to the other side of the ring.

He rebounded off the ropes and came back with a flying forearm, which staggered the beast of the East, but did not knock him down. A second was attempted and followed with a shoulder tackle. Khan simply snarled it off with self-praise at his physique.

Gyle was caught on a fourth attempt and twirled around for a spinning backbreaker. Khan followed with two rapid elbows to the sternum and a brutal headbut to the chest before belly to belly suplexing him over his head and across the ring.

The beast covered for a quick two count while Gyle managed to survive another three seconds. When Khan dropped an elbow to the shoulder Gyle rolled out of the way and captured his foe’s left ankle. He wrenched it so the beast toppled to the floor, and then yanked it every which way to Sunday he could.

Effective as a submission hold, Khan had crawled about and stretched his arms to the bottom rope forcing O’Dell to abide and issue the order to Gyle to release.

Release he did. And with that release he rushed forward and dropped a knee to the back of Khans head. Returning to pick him up to his feet, he we met with a stiff uppercut and a brutal chop to the chest sending him clear out of the ring. The fall was devastating as he landed upon his head and crooked sideways on impact.

Michael O’dell had little choice and started the ten count as Khan rolled out of the ring himself.

“One”

“Two” Khan roared to the fans boos as he stood at the apron watching Gyle’s unmoving body

“Three”

“Four” Khan lifted Gyle up on his shoulder and rammed him into the barricade.

“Five”

“Six” Hooking his arms he headbutted Gyle in succession without thought of release.

“Seven”

“Eight”

Darkness enveloped the arena while O’Dell’s call of “Nine” could still be heard, just not seen. "The time is Nigh" laughed the voice of the monster Torment before the light returned .The fans sat in shock as O’Dell then broke the count and slid down to his knees.

One!

Two!

Three!

Michael called for the bell and reached down to pull Gyle’s arm up In victory. There was no action in return. Realizing that Gyle was unconscious he called out for help and waited as the trainers came out and checked out his condition. They rolled Khan out from under him and took careful care on his person as the nbW Tron replayed the darkened finish. Gyle was the victor, even if he would never know.

Winner by Pinfall, Gyle Boyle!

Fans bring the Weapons
feat. J. Leslie Voss

Backstage at Full Effect, standing before a No Brand Wrestling backdrop, with a title belt draped over his right shoulder, clutched by his right hand, was the Religious Rasslin' Experience...

J. Leslie Voss.

The title belt shimmered in the camera's lights, with a black electrical tape crucifix on it's front, representing it's name change previously from the Modernizer of the Microphone. He adjusted the belt, so it was more comfortable, before he cleared his throat, ready to address his adoring loathing fans.

"NoBody's Watching..." he grinned his Cheshire shit eating grin as the fans boomed their loathe "...at Ghosts I'm going to make some... er... Ghosts that is. I'll make a ghost. Fuck it. You know what I mean... SPARKY SAUNDERS..."

Immediately the fans grew into a roused chorus.

"SPIKE!" "SPIKE!" "SPIKE!"

"Spike. Whatever. I wish you fucking idiots would stop correcting me. I don't come into your homes and tell you how to pick yer asshole and eat it. I don't expect you to come into my place of fucking employment and correct me. GOT IT?"

Voss smiled unpleasantly at the camera.

"Where was I? Oh right...

"SPIKE SAUNDERS IS A DEAD FUCKING GIANT!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"At Ghosts I'm gonna spread his innards all over the arena like jam on toast. I'm gonna have his fucking guts for garters. I didn't just get handed this title..." BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "...I earnt it. I earnt it by entertaining you sheet stains week after week after week after week... and if you don't understand where I'm going with that I'll get some crayons and draw you a picture of some caustic fucking soda in a bucket for you to stick your overgrown, mother-and-father-is-cousins head into and stop you from pissing in my gene pool once and for all.

"I got this belt because I'm the Human Ratings Riot. I am the only reason you ever watch this show. I'm the man... you love... to hate!"

He straightened his back and adjusted his belt again, smirking at the camera as he did.

"This Championship... this Religious Rasslin' Championship... is MY Championship. And Spike... you're gunna have to prise it from my cold, dead fucking hands to get this sonofabitch round your Jenny Craig for Men poster boy waist. I promise... that at Ghosts... I will be the Champion and I will do it... however... I can!"

The boos in the arena almost drowned out the audio for anyone trying to listen in there, and their negativity projected throughout the halls backstage.

"See... ThadASS Boyle thought he was so smart for booking me into this match before I could justify the end and the means. I mean... who makes rash business decisions without putting in place a proper strategic team and analyze the pros and cons of this nature. Way up the risks. I'm the kind of man who makes smart business decisions. I'm the kind of man who thinks things through before he puts something into place. The kind of man who weighs up the benefits..."

Voss petered off, staring into space as he thought about the business justifications running through his mind. The fans subdued as they thought about the tidbit of genius Voss sprouted to them.

"With ThadASS Boyle we have come to agreement. He wants this match. I want my belt. He wants the buy-rate. I AM the buy-rate. So I have... what we call in the business... a little sway. And here's my sway... or as they call it in the film industry, Spike, you fucking idiot, a TWIST!

"At Ghosts... you and I are to duel for this Championship belt in a No Rules encounter. The rules are... there are no rules. Just you. Me. And two sets of knuckles."

RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

The fans burst into cheer hearing the stipulations for the match.

"So you might want to quit draggin' 'em on the ground so their nice and fresh for when I kick your motherfucken ass from pillar-to-post, Jurassic Park."

Aaaaaaand... BOO!

"Oh... and there's just one more thing. Something all of you fans might get a little kick out of. Something that you might get a little woozy over. Something that might get your undergarments just a little sticky... coz you see... "fans"..." Voss did the finger quote thing "...YOU - BRING - THE - WEAPONS!"

And with that announcement, to a monstrous chorus of roaring glory and cheers, J. Leslie Voss adjusted his championship belt on his shoulder once more and spun on his heels, heading out of shot and leaving you at home excited about the prospect of a Fans Bring the Weapons No Rules contest.

You're excited.

I can tell.

Soon to be World Champion
feat. Sam Potright

The cameras returned to the otherside of the arena where Trent McKnight stood in his pressed suit with microphone in hand.

"Quite the night so far. How about the win last week by Proteus over his brethren? Excellent showcasing of talent by the teammates of D-T. Our World Champion will have his hands full at Ghosts, and if he manages to make it through Proteus, a former tag team champion, then this man next to me would like to officially make his challenge to the champion. If you would Mr. Potright."

The camera zoomed out a bit to show Sam Potright standing to his left. "Thank you Trent. After Ghosts is finished I will be going out to that ring and congratulating either Ali Amore for his successful defense or Proteus for his dreams coming true. Either way, the then-champion will accept my challenge for Full Effect 60; where I will finally become-"

CLANK.
Static.

The cameras were knocked over and focused at the ceiling as McKnight can be heard yelling for assistance.

"Somebody get some help. The blood is pouring out of Sam's skull!"

Falling Up
feat. Dream Warriors

Dark Ninja was not happy. He sat in a corner of the dressing room, his nbW Dynasty Tag Championship belt draped over his shoulder, running his temples. Psycho stood next to him.

"It doesn't make sense," said the little Ninja, "It's like, here in nbW, you get rewarded for failing. The guys in D-T lost to me, and we have their betls to prove it. They're failures. They should feel humiliated."

Ninja stood and began to walk the halls, brushing off various backstage workers as he passed. "But are they? Do they get forceibly removed from the company in disgrace like Nixon? Are they marched into the town square and tarred and feathered and pantsed? Fuck no! Instead, some idiot jerkoff upstaris thinks Hey, these two LOSERS who are NOT the tag team champions deserve promotions, let's let them get a shot at the world title! WTF, bro! They're the biggest fuck-ups in historyu and they always have been. Every company where Showtime moves into main event status goes bankrupts. Nobody wants to see them!" You could hear the boos of an arenaful of fans disagree with this statement as Dark Ninja made his way toward the entrance ramp.

"And the most offensive part is? The wrong guy won. Showtime is a douche, but I respect him on some level as a douche that makes me look good. Proteus, Proteus is a nobody. He's a peon. He's a sidekick or worse, an apprentice. He's like the Brian Dunkelman of tag team wrestling. Not important, and totally forgettable."

Psycho asked, "Was he the first drummer for the Beatles?"

By this point, the Dynasty Tag Champions were in the ring. "That's why I like you, Psycho," Ninja said, "You're not a thinker. You wouldn't betray me by trying to go after the title I want, the title I deserve."

Psycho agreed, "Not unless it was World's Greatest Grandma. Then it's ON, bitchezz!"

"Look at this man, folks," Ninja boasted, "He's huge, he's awesome, he's a force of nature that can't be controlled. I have no idea what he's going to say or do next. He's chaos in a giant green and black human form. He's Psycho, and he's the only dude who deserves to hold these titles with me. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know what I want him to do. I want to point him at our opponents, those chronic failers known as SuperSquad, and give them an experience they'll never forget. So get out here, you two, one or both of you are going to face Psycho right here, right now. If you've got the bawls."

A moment passed, a tense moment in which the likelihood that SuperSquad would dare stand up to these brash bullies looked low. But suddenly, Holding Out for a Hero hit, and the challengers defiantly made their way down the aisle. It was on.

Psycho
Versus
Emo Kevin

"Well, it looks like we've got ourselves an impromptu showdown, a preview of things to come on pay per view," remarked Marc Gordon. The diminutive Emo Kevin stood face-to-chest with the massice greenhaired Psycho.

"An ill protent of things to come, Gordo," scoffed Renton.

"Been brushing up your vicab skills, Rents?"

"Indubitably, old chum."

You could barely call it a lock,up, it was practically a chokehold. Psycho, mountain of a man, used all his mass to push Emo Kevin to the fringes, to utterly dominate him. On his side, Kevin had tenacity, and a willingness to risk it off. He bean to throw kicks. He kicked and kicked and when Psycho appeared, unbelievably, stunned, he ran theropes and launched himself for a flying headscissors. but halfway through, it became apparent Psycho was far from stunned, as he caught his foe and shrugged him off with a fireman's carry slam. The body hit the mat with a thud. Psycho covered.

ONE



TWO



No, not quite, but the damage was done. Psycho pulled up his foe by the emo-slice. Kevin struggled, but it was no good. Psycho executed a PSYCHO BOMB.

ONE






TWO






THREE!


That was all she wrote. As Psycho and Dark Ninja celebrated in the ring, they did not notice as El Avestruz flew in over the top rope and, with an impressive flying split-legged dropkick, knocked both champions out of the ring.

"Woah! It looks like El Avestruz has been taking some flying lessons!" Marc expressed shock.

"He may have gotten in a sneak attack, but it's pretty clear he'll need some better tactics to overcome the raw power and ability of the champions." The scene cut away with the SuperSquad standing tall in the middle of the ring and the champion Dream Warriors on the outside, baffled, as "Holding Out for a Hero" played, despite Emo Kevi's loss.

Winner by Pinfall, Psycho!

Challenge Accepted FTW!
feat. For The Win

Hey kids, you did it all yourselves,
You'll never change the world,
So what you think about that

The arena stirred as 'Hey Kids' by Jet took stage. Yes it was originally 'Nintendo Song' but due to copyright infringements and lack of legal contract nbW forced them to change the song.

Hey kids, you'll never change the world at all
Hey kids, you'll never change the world at all
Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo

"HOLD IT!" the ego-nematic duo stood at the gateway to wrestler heaven. "Cut our music. I hate this crap! Cut it Quickly!" Noid stroke his red hair and pointed towards the sound dudes. "Come on already." And the music died. "Thank you. Now contrary to belief, We are not Superman."

Giggles from the crowd.

"Right, there are a few flaws here. See Noid and myself, we will not wear those skimpy blue tights. Red cape, maybe. Classic haircut? Maaaaaybe. But as much as WE would love to fly, we can not. Heat Beams? Nope. Freeze Breath? Nadda."

Noid posed in the customary Superman stance. "Super Hearing? Sadly No. And X-Ray Vision?" He peered the front rows female fans. "I so WISH. But alas, nope."

"So as you can see we are not Superman. Men. Whatever the plural for two Supermans would be. So explain to me this." He pulled a paper from his back pocket. "What I hold here is a Hand-written note in crayon or food, one can never tell the difference it seems. It is from the so-called Myth and Legends of no Brand Wrestling." The paper was held in the air for all to see by Spark."There are some things wrong in this world and really their requests are a bit too much to contend with. Okay so first off they want to be considered the number one contenders. Short problem, other teams lie before them."

'D-T!'

Clap Clap

'D-T'

Clap Clap

'D-T'

Noid clapped with them. "Exactly. D-T. Showtime and Proteus. The true champions around here. Now Sparky and myself would be proud if you all thought we were worthy but-hey we know. We are not. We are New. That is fine. Still we are here and we are here to entertain you. So along with that unequalized statement by MaL, or M to the Exponent of Four. They also ask-and I quote, "Wa wll bete u supachumps n the rung 2knight and b dclard tha numbr1 cuntendrs-" Noid stopped. "Okay let me stop there. Can we even say Cunt on the air?"

The blue-haired wonder shrugged.

"Right we are broadcasting on the web. Suppose it is okay. Well then to not bore you of the rest and save myself the annoyance of trying to read this poorly done scribble-We Accept"

Cheers across the arena.

"So step up Myth and Legend. So we can knock you down."

"Everything we do is-"

"For The Win" spoken in unison.

They held their microphones in the air and gave a wide smile while walking back to the heavens.

Religious Rasslin' Championship
J. Leslie Voss
Versus
Matt Haddon

Denis Leary's 'I'm an Asshole' proceeded the arrival of the Religious Rasslin' Champion. The Ratings Riot soaked in the jeers and massive heat directed his way. His reaction was dulled when Matt Haddon made his appearance. The match would start off with a tie-up, in which Voss showed his physical prowess and whipped Haddon into the corner where he proceeded to give him a series of punches to the temple. "Your a has-been Spike. Always will be!"

His shouts continued as the punches landed until a top rope bulldog followed suit, with Haddon slipping free and pushing Voss to the mat. Haddon went for a fist-drop but Voss rolled out of the ring and over to the time keeper. Retrieving the Religious Rasslin' championship. Once back in the ring the referee ordered him to relinquish the title or be disqualified. A brutal shot from the belt to Matt Haddon's face allowed just that.

With the sound of the bell ringing Voss drove it down a second and third time. 'Spike-it-up' geared to life as the seven foot three giant stormed down to the ring to meet JLV head on. Voss clutched the title in both arms and through forward at the big man. Saunders however dodged to the side, and reached his arm out to clutch Voss by the throat. He lifted him in the air and laid his other hand's finger against his chest. "When you wake up, remember that Ghosts is just around the corner and I will ensure you relinquish the curse you have brought upon the Keystone championship." He drove him down to the mat with force with a tremendous Choke Slam.

His arms raised in the air as the fans cheered. With all their hope on his victory at Ghosts, he was going out strong this night.

Or not...
feat. Spike Saunders and J. Leslie Voss

With Voss still laid out in the ring Saunders enjoyed some up close and personal time with his loyal fans and followers as he went up the entrance aisle. His arms raised to the sky as he passed through the entrance curtain.

The cheers of 'Saunders. Saunders. Saunders' continued until silence took hold of the crowd as the curtain once more parted, with force as the colossus tumbled through with a chair wrapped across his forehead. Voss was still in the ring, now sitting on his knees holding the belt to his chest. A smile creeping over his face as he spoted his nemesis out cold.

From the Vault
Domination PPV, May 5th 2005
Straightjacket Match for Keystone Championship
Rey Campbell
Versus
Lunatic

For the past several weeks, beginning during an installment of Infamy that featured a 10-man battle royal, the nbW stars The Lunatic and Rey Campbell have been a raging war over a piece of Campbell’s ring gear, named “Paddy” on the part of Lunatic. However, given the mental state the loony one is in, no one can really be sure what exactly his motives have been this entire time.

Nevertheless, Rey Campbell has grown seriously tired of Lunatic’s antics. Thus, in their final battle Campbell went to Alex Styles giving him the idea to possibly have Lunatic’s mental state be completely reevaluated should he lose. The loser of this match, whether it be Rey or whether it be Lunatic, shall be sent to an insane asylum indefinitely.

While the winner will not only get bragging rights and ultimately complete ownership of the elbow pad, but he will also be the holder of the Keystone Championship. So much is on the line in this one match. It doesn’t even need to be exaggerated, stressed, or drawn out.

This will be nbW’s first ever Straightjacket Match. A straightjacket shall be suspended above the ring. The first man to make his opponent completely entrapped by the jacket shall be deemed the winner. Immediately, local Philadelphia asylum staff shall escort the loser from the building.

With all of that, the crowd sat with patience as they awaited the upcoming high profile bout which was scheduled in their programs and was highly publicized. Their excitement grew as finally, there was a drop of hope released into their atmosphere. Finally, “Role Model” by Eminem began to play throughout the arena.

Immediately, the fans erupted. They jumped out of their seats in hopes to get a better glance of this immensely fan-friendly superstar. Soon after, he pushed through the curtains from the backstage. He had a smile from ear to ear as he held up a poster board which read, “Free Mr. Paddy.” Briefly, he put the sign down so he could he wave at his adoring public.

He raised the sign above his head once more as he made his way down the aisle. He was heading to the ring. Unlike his earlier bout tonight, there was an actual point to him in his mind. He was going down to the ring. As soon as he came to the ringside area, he stopped.

He looked up at the straightjacket that was suspended above the ring. For no apparent reason at all, he busted out in completely uncontrollable laughter. He dropped his sign as he put his hands on his abs and bent over slightly. He fell on the floor. He just could not control himself. Then again, when can the loony one control himself?

This wouldn’t be his first straightjacket match. He’s been in plenty of them in his career throughout the independent circle. His last was at SHOWrestling’s final pay-per-view, Escape. Like most all of his matches, he’s lost every single one of these types of matches that he has been involved with.

“Role Model” stopped and in its place was “Hey Ma” by Cam’Ron. Rey Campbell pushed through the curtains much like Lunatic had earlier. Unlike Loony, Campbell rushed towards the ring. He had had enough of Lunatic’s shenanigans. He was running towards the ring furiously.

Campbell took advantage of his opponent already on his back on the concrete. Campbell stomped on Lunatic’s face. The Lunatic hadn’t even seen it coming. His eyes were still closed from the laughter.

“What the fuck, dude?!” Lunatic screamed as he opened his eyes furiously. He practically jumped off of his back and stared Rey in the eyes. “Can’t you see that I’m laughing here, bitch?!” Loony’s high-pitched voice could be heard throughout the entire arena, especially when he was screaming right in the face of Campbell.

Filled with anger and fire, Lunatic pushed Rey Campbell with all of his might. Campbell fell onto his back as the shove caught him off guard. However, Lunatic quickly turned to a fan, who wore Lunatic’s official nbW T-shirt, “Paddy Saver,” in the front row. Quickly, Lunatic grabbed a hand of popcorn from this fan. He took a few bites before he turned around.

Little did he know, Campbell had already stood up. Campbell was about to explode, ferociously. Lunatic extended his hand of munchy goodness to Campbell. “You want some?” Lunatic asked calmly as if nothing beyond that point happened. Out of nowhere…

DYNASTY KICK!

Lunatic crashed onto the concrete floor. He didn’t even know what had hit him. All that he knew was that all he could see what utter blackness and that he had lost his handful of the salty, butter (and fat) filled popcorn. He was out, cold. However, this match was not about pinfalls, submissions, countouts, or even disqualifications. This match was solely about putting your opponent in a straightjacket and sending him to the proverbial nuthouse. That was exactly what Rey had intended to do.

He picked Lunatic up and rolled him under the bottom rope. Rey slid under the same rope as well. Finally, the bell officially rang. This match was then officially started. The “white shirts” as they used to be often referred as made their way from the backstage area. The stopped at ringside forming a human barrier between the ringside area and the entry aisle. Quickly, Rey stood up to his feet and turned to the right. He was indeed heading for the straightjacket.

Meanwhile, Lunatic was starting to come to. Rey didn’t notice, nor did he care. He wanted this worthless battle to be over with as soon as possible to ensure himself that the loon would no longer bother him again, potentially ever again.

Campbell ascended the corner. As he reached up to grab the jacket, Lunatic popped up out of nowhere and drove his forearm into the small of the back of Rey Campbell. Campbell fell forward as a result of the sudden attack.

Lunatic climbed up to the second rope. He wrapped his arms around Campbell’s waist. It looked as if he were going for a super backdrop suplex. Indeed, that was his intentions. He lifted Campbell off of the corner. However, Campbell over powered the weaker of the two combatants.

Campbell pushed off of the top turnbuckle and turned 180 degrees. He drove Lunatic’s face into the canvas with a beautiful looking super bulldog. Once again, Lunatic was surely out of the picture. Lunatic was completely unconscious once again.

Campbell knew that he had to take advantage of the situation. He took a brief moment to catch his breath. His last maneuver, though it was very effective, it cost him a great deal of energy.

As he paused, this bought Lunatic some extra time to recuperate as well. However, Rey didn’t go after the jacket this time. He turned his attention completely on his fallen opponent. The more damage the better, right?

Campbell bent down to pick up Lunatic. He grabbed him by his wrist and pulled his carcass off of the ring. However, Lunatic had all the time he needed to recover. Lunatic stood there and didn’t move, nor did Campbell for that matter. Lunatic smiled widely for no apparent reason.

The pimpin’ prince was just fed up with it all. He took a swing at The Loon. Lunatic fell to the canvas. Although, he stood right back up onto his feet. Campbell grabbed Lunatic’s arms and Irish whipped him into the ropes.

Whatever Campbell was planning, it fell through as the whip had been reversed. Lunatic sent Campbell into the ropes. Campbell bounced back. Lunatic gave him a beautiful standing dropkick. Campbell went down hard, not very hard, but hard nonetheless.

Lunatic put his body on top of Campbell’s and hooked his leg.

One..

Two..

Three..

Lunatic beat his own right hand against the mat. He counted the unofficial pin quickly. He stood up and held his hands above his head as if he won the match. In his mind, he did win the match. But, whatever goes through Lunatic’s mind really doesn’t matter all that much, logically.

As Lunatic was doing his victory dance, Campbell rolled to the outside. However, no attention was really put onto Campbell. Lunatic walked to the corner opposite of that which held the jacket. He held his hands to an enormous reaction from the fans. He inhaled and exhaled deeply as if he had just won the competition of a lifetime.

He, more than anyone, should know that he hadn’t won this match yet. However, logic can be thrown completely out the window when it comes to this competitor. Lunatic jumped off of the second rope and turned around before he landed in the ring.

Once he had, Campbell drove the top of a steal chair right into his mid-section. Lunatic bent over in pain. Campbell smacked the chair on the back of Lunatics head. Right away, Lunatic collapsed face first. Campbell wasn’t finished, however. He swung the chair downward. It collided with the back of Lunatic’s head once more.

The Brooklyn native raised the chair above his head with his right hand. His left hand followed as well. He smiled and nodded at his actions. He was very pleased with himself. One final time, he drove the chair down onto Lunatic’s head. Since he felt as if the damage was enough, Campbell dropped the chair on the outside.

The fans booed Campbell out of the building. He smirked at the masses and told them all where they could stick it. He was garnishing some major heat for the repeated, unnecessary chair shots.

He looked at the straightjacket. He even walked towards it. He smirked and shook his head. He pushed his hand towards it as a way to say, “Fagettabotit.” He wasn’t going to end the match yet. Undoubtedly, he would be more than able to if he really wanted. However, he didn’t.

He wanted to inflict even more punishment to the pointless thorn in his side that has cost him many matches and given him more stress than anyone in his position really needs. How would he do this? He’d do this by exiting the ring once again.

He searched under the ring. Quickly he pulled out a table. This was the exact way he won the title and the first match he had with Lunatic. He used a table. Most likely, history was to repeat itself.

Rey set the table up on the outside, grinning towards the fans. But just as he turned around to face the ring, his face came in full contact with Lunatic’s chest, having just launched himself over the ropes with a suicide plancha. Rey’s body found itself being driven into the table. But it did not break; the impact was sound, just not tough enough.

Lunatic stared at Rey in disbelief, as he rolled him around on top of the table, as if making cookies on a cookie sheet. Lunatic gave a war cry and hopped back up onto the ring apron. He took one moment to yell to his fans.

“For PADDY!”

And he leaped off of the second rope, executing a sloppy moonsault, still hitting its mark, driving both himself and Campbell’s body crashing through the table. Lunatic was up to his feet shortly after, and parading around the wreckage. Shouting to the fans how he had won.

It wasn’t a table match though…

Lunatic stood there, realizing that he hadn’t won yet. His eyes turning back towards the ring, looking at the straight jacket high above. His mind was clear; he knew what he had to do. As Rey slowly begin to stir, Lunatic had slid a chair into the ring, and then he proceeded to set another table up just below the jacket. Nobody said he was smart.

But Lunatic tried anyway. Rolling back into the ring, he jumped off of the chair reaching his arms out for the straight jacket, barely even getting it. Meanwhile Rey was rising to his feet, and looking in astonishment at Lunatic, as the man attempted to get the jacket down. Noticing the opportunity, Campbell rushed into the ring and drove a diving lariat into the back of Lunatic’s spine.

With his hands around the waist, Rey pulled Lunatic back causing the man to crash down into the matt with the back of his head. Looking down at the loony one, Rey slid his elbow pad off, commonly known as Paddy, and tossed it down into the center of the ring. He dropped his elbow down into Lunatic’s body once, twice, and then a third time.

Rey looked back at the straight jacket, and decided against it. He wasn’t done with Lunatic yet. Campbell pulled Lunatic up to his knees, and set his head between his legs. Hoisting him up, Rey drove Lunatic back down to the mat with a power bomb…

No Wait…

Loony-Factor!

Out of nowhere, Lunatic was able to pull off his finishing maneuver. The two men lay motionless in the center of the ring. If there was a ref controlling the match, it would be long over. Neither man stirred for well over half a minute.

“Paddy!”

Lunatic’s eyes were open and starring at the elbow pad lying in the center of the ring. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his pants.

“Paddy Come Home!”

Pulling himself back up, Lunatic crawled over to the corner, his eyes high. The Straight jacket was just a few feet from his grasps; all he had to do was climb up there and grab it. And that he did. Lunatic climbed up the corner and reached his hands around the chain holding the straight jacket suspended.

As if a sudden burst of wind had knocked him off of his perch, Lunatic found himself swinging back and forth on the chain, unsure as to what to do next. He didn’t have to think about it. Rey climbed up the turnbuckle and faced Lunatic, staring in disbelief at the man swinging back and forth like a school girl. Rey hooked Lunatics legs around his neck and released Lunatic downward into yet another Power bomb, this time executed with out a hitch.

Lunatic crashed through he table below, that he so thoughtfully set up earlier. Smiling to himself, Rey grabbed the jacket and released it from the clasps. Dropping down off of the turnbuckle, Rey held the jacket in his had signaling the end. He rolled under the ropes and walked over to the carnage of Lunatic.

Sliding the jacket around his body, and making sure to fasten the straps, Rey looked at the ref, who signaled for the bell.

Rey Campbell had won the match, and he remained the Keystone Champion. He smiled as the ‘white shirts’ hauled Lunatic out of the table scraps and pulled him back up the entrance aisle, headed straight for the Asylum.

He had won, and Lunatic would no longer bother him. The referee brought him his title, and Rey rolled back into the ring and raised his arms in victory. He knelt down in the center of the ring to pick up his elbow pad, but it wasn’t there. Staring around the ring, Rey realized what had happened. Somehow. Someway. Lunatic had once again stolen the elbow pad from him. He slammed his fist down to the ring and rolled back out, walking up the entrance ramp.

He indeed was the winner. But he had lost his elbow pad, again.

Winner and Still Keystone Champion, Rey Campbell!

Suck it up
feat. Sam Potright and Spike Saunders

Having been recipient of the brutal attack earlier, Sam Potright laid across the nurse-bed being stitched-up. His groans were much expected as the needle pierced through and then exited with the stitches.

"Suck it up man. You've taken worse hits from guys like High Flyer and Capitol Punishment."

The camera panned to the right where the giant of nbW sat back recuperating from his earlier attack. Notably the chair that was wrapped along his skull was now laying on the ground next to him, the dent in the seat clearly of his own skull.

"I don't know why Voss would have you attacked like he did with me, but this has to come to a stop. I assure you Sam. Get healed up man, you need to be in shape if you are going to challenge the champ, right?" Saunders grinned and stood from his seat before leaving the room as the practitioner went back to work on Potright.

Creede Bros
Versus
Zatch and Nemo

‘“YEAH!

Yeah

All I've ever wanted was destiny to be fulfilled
It is in my hands, I must not fail, I must not fail

Even through the darkest days
This fire burns always
This fire burns always”

“The Fire Burns” from KillSwitch Engage preludes the arrival of the brothers of chaos and disorder. Ace stepped out first followed by his brother Spade Creede as the two showcased their fit physiques to the crowd who were fired up from the already turning events of the night. Spade withdrew a microphone from the back of his trunks to speak while slowly making their way to the ring.

“So. We lost huh.” Spade’s scowl on his face said it all. “To two new rookies who do not belong in the ring, let alone OUR ring. Yet they consider their two-win streak a sign of contendership? Now unless we missed a meeting, which to be honest, would be rather difficult in it of itself considering the delays we have in getting those put together. I would have to say no.”

Spade slid under the bottom rope and Ace followed him by stepping onto the apron and slipping between the second and third ropes. “Yet they still have the gall to sign themselves up as contenders in the back. Requesting the opportunity from Thaddeus Boyle. And yet people wonder why, why do we come off as ass’s so much. Well we will tell you why. It is all because of-”

Ace took the microphone from his brother and held it to the lips. Took a deep breath. “YOU!” His word echoed throughout the arena as the fans booed in disgust. “Week in and week out we have to listen to you boo us, and cheer guys like D-T. We have to sit on the benches while guys like the Dream Warriors get title shots on their first appearances into the company. Oh sure they worked the developmental territory for awhile before being called up. Sure they showcased tremendous talent. Sure they exceeded expectations once the titles were won. Sure-”

The unmistakable oriental beats of “Ready” by Folder 5 played through the arena masking over Ace Creedes on-going rant. Which of course also meant the arrival of the two ninjas of the nbW tag circuit, Zatch and Nemo. The two exploded with energy from the open curtains and delivered that same energy back to the fans as the two took to opposite sides of the stage and danced along with the music.

They re-converged at the center and focused at the ring before flipping forward-

WHAM. WHAM.

WHAM. WHAM.

Just as Zatch floated his head downward a brutal swing of a chair send him face first into the entrance ramp then a brutal follow-up from a second chair slammed into his backside. That same chair continued momentum as the attacker swung it into the now mid-air-flipping Nemo and crashed her down to the ramp as well.

With his face covered in white pain that seemed to chip away with his every movement, the attacker wailed at them both a few more times before focusing his sights on the ring where the Creede Brothers remained.

“Awesome job, Ace. I had no idea you had this planned out.” Spade nudged his brother’s shoulder.

“This is what happens when people do not listen. This is what happens to those that think they are better than us.” Ace grinned and then begun to frown, “slight problem. My plan involved backstage. And on second look that psychotic man wielding those chairs … Not my selection.”

“Wait. Then who is-” Spade and Ace looked at one another and then back to the man on the ramp. “Oh shi-” The attacker, whose ghastly appearance may be startling to some, looked down at the damage he had just created at the entry ramp. His head was cowered towards the two fallen ninja. Slowly, he turned his head towards the ring. He had a smile from ear-to-ear. The Creede Brothers both dived through the ropes and took the first exit they could through the barricades, shoving away pesky fans and security to get the hell out of dodge.

Thankfully for them they managed to get free just in the nick of time.

Match Ruled No Contest

Where's your Smile?
feat. The Attacker

As the Creede Brothers were promptly exiting, this man with his face painted like a demented clown stalked his way to the ring. His greasy black hair was reflecting the bright lights in the arena. During his entire journey to the squared circle, his smile was ever apparent.

He smiled when he took each step onto the steel stairs. He smiled as he ducked under the top rope to enter the ring from the apron. He smiled as he walked towards the ring announcer. His smile was shining as bright as it could be, given his somewhat yellowed teeth, while he grabbed a hold of the microphone while it was still in the ring announcer’s hand.

Somehow, his smile grew when he shoved the member of the staff to the mat. Now, it was quite apparent that his smiles had evolved into full-fledged laughter as the fans booed his actions towards the ring announcer.

Slowly, he lifted his arm. Apparently, it was now time for him to speak. At first all that he said was the impeccable amount of laughter exiting his lungs. Then, an even louder chorus of boos.

A bit stunned, the man loosened his smile as he looked at the not-so adoring public.

“C’mon, guys,” he said, “where’s your smile?” To the long-time nbW die hard fan, his voice was somewhat familiar. Maybe, the pitch had been lowered to a great degree. However, it was still somewhat familiar. Instead of smiles, there were some more boos.

“Tough crowd,” he said, returning to his initial expression. “You morons always were a tough crowd. Back in the day, before I realized who should be smiling out of this relationship of ours, it’d take everything I had just to get you to crack a smirk.”

No one seemed to be able to connect any dots. “Jesus Christ,” the clown said a bit under his breath, “a match from the nbW vault, and you idiots still don’t realize who I am? It should speak VOLUMES to the kind of society we consider to be ‘normal’ today.”

As to be expected, the rather cheap heel heat brought upon some more boos from the crowd.

“C’mon d00dz~!” He said in the familiar, child-like, high-pitched voice. “Put up a smile.” Whatever resemblance of the past that was shown had been erased after the second sentence. Whatever the case may be, it should be duly noted that the man in the ring was none other than Lunatic.

“You see,” he began talking some more, “that was always the problem in this little relationship of ours. I never should have cared about your smiles. I should have always been focusing on mine. I’m the one in here, putting my life on the line week-in, week-out. Why should I have EVER cared what you thought of me? Why should I have EVER wanted your cheers, your smiles, your laughter?”

He paused before screaming, “WHO’S SMILING NOW?!” His was as wide as the very first time he stepped into an nbW ring when he battled Uncensored on the fifth edition of nbW’s “Infamy!” (the show that would later be renamed, “Full Effect.” Perhaps, his smile had grown sometime within those five years between then and now. Perhaps, it was now ever wider.

“Sam Potright. Spike Saunders. Zatch. Nemo. They’re only the beginning,” Lunatic declared. “If my demands aren’t met, then things are only going to get worse.” Lunatic pondered for a moment. “Heh,” he scoffed. “Silly me, I forgot to mention what my demands are.” He smacked his forehead with is opened, free palm.

“I’m so forgetful these days,” he said while being a tag bit sarcastic. “I forgot that you people actually don’t matter. Heh.” Following the scoff, there was a tremendous amount of boos and jeers from the crowd. Not to mention his tanned teeth.

“All that matters is that I have personally placed my demands on Thaddeus Boyle ’s desk.” Lunatic said, “And if I don’t get what I want by Ghosts, nbW can expect many, many, many more smiles.”

“Babylon’s Burning” by W.A.S.P. began to play in the arena. Lunatic walked right back up the aisle and headed towards the locker room.

All For The Win
feat. For The Win and Myth and Legend

Hey kids, you did it all yourselves,
You'll never change the world,
So what you think about that

Hey kids, you'll never change the world at all
Hey kids, you'll never change the world at all
Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo

'Hey Kids' from Jet once more streamed its’ way over the arena sound system as the red and blue haired duo exploded from the backstage in a sprint to the ring.

“Lightening our moods back up, Here they are Terry. No brand Wrestling’s newest acquisitions, following a stunning debut last week.” Marc Gordon announced.

“A double one at that. Still, they are no Dream Warriors.” Remarked Renton as Chris Noid rose a microphone to his lips.

“Did you guys see that last week? Were we not amazing? First we go through the two ninja’s Ayane and Ryu Hyabusa from Ninja Gaiden, and then had to face the group of Luigi and the Princess.”

Noid turned to Spark, “Guyden? You sure it is not Gayden?”

“Well the fan consensus has always been to call it Guy, as it stars a guy and some large breasted women, so could not really be considered Gay at that point.”

“Hmm. Alright, good enough for me! Silly Japanese names.”

“They should have all known better than to challenge us. We may not be the current Tag Team Champions, but we do hold many-a titles of our own as the numberone-starstudded-awesome-dualist-extreme-powerhouse-handsom-“ Spark handed the microphone to the other.

“highflying-excellence-cunning-daring-exciting. They lined up-“

“And we Knocked them down. If the Dream Warriors are done playing cowboys and Indians with D-T, then it is time they see their new challengers. Same to Myth and Legend if they misheard our acceptance earlier. Bring it. We are no push-overs.”

“And that is because everything we do is For The-“

Take me down to the paradise city
Where the grass is green
And the girls are pretty
Take me home
Oh, won't you please take me home

As ‘Paradise City’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses rolled through, The Myth and the Legend stepped out and stood at the top of the ramp with a set of microphones of their own.

“Win? Really?” spoke Mark Mercury. “So you beat the Japanese Floridian and his dike, and then those crybaby brothers. Whoopiedoo. And that automatically makes you the number one contenders?”

“You do not even deserve to be out in that ring rambling about. You have not yet deserved that place in this place.” Mane Miaate fumed with anger. “We should be the next challengers to the Dream Warriors. We have proven our abilities in and out of the ring time and time again. We deserve that shot at the coveted gold.”

The audience exploded in laughter as all attention returned to the ring where Noid and his partner Spark were rolling around in the ring clutching at their guts with laughter.

“HEY,” screamed Mercury, “pay the damn attention.”

“Ah—so---sorry.” Spoke Spark as he held back his will to continue. “It just seems, you struck our funny bones, see.”

“What the hell is so funny about us deserving the shots?” Mercury looked at Miaate as the two both realized asking that question was unneeded.

“Well, you see. We just find it down right hilarious, that is all. We may not have been in the nbW at the time, but remember quite well watching as the World Champion Ali Amore flew through the air with that Frogsplash on your homeboy Miaate there, to beat you two.”

“In what was stated as a Qualifier by Thadman. You lost. Therefore your point is rather moot. Perhaps it would serve you better to go cry with the Creedes? Write them a nice note like you did us and maybe go play house?” Noid and Spark waived buh-bye to the two while they grew in anger.

“Actions over words then.” spoke Ace.

STATIC

The microphone was tossed to the side as the two rushed towards the ring for what would serve as For The Win’s third match in no brand Wrestling.

Ding Ding

Myth and Legend
Versus
For The Win

Immediately as Mark and Mane stepped into the ring they were assaulted with a double fist from both individuals. A rounding series of jabs and a uppercut to knock them off their balance caused the team to crash to the mat.

“Terry, I had a moment to speak with our new tag team after their double wins last week, and I gotta say- interesting personalities.”

“You don’t say. Could it be due to their hair color? Or maybe the names?” Renton remarked sarcastically.

“It is that, yes. But I learned that despite their appearances, both members of For The Win have PHD’s from-“

Renton interrupted. “Sure I have one too. Cost a pretty penny but it was mailed straight to me in six weeks.”

“Harvard actually. They were also top in their class, including the Wrestling team.”

Now while those two bicker about school attention should focus back to the ring where Spark has Miaate in a neck vice. Well did before Miaate propelled him up and over his body. That is one smart individual and he seems to show it quite well.

Lifting Spark up to his feet he connects with a backhand to the chest and followed with a side suplex and a series of followup chops. This was not boding well as Sparks health bar was slowly being diminished. Mane curled an arm around his neck and walked him to his partner for the tag. Mane held Spark in the corner as Mark jumped on the top rope and kicked off with a double knee to Sparks face. He followed suit with a backflip from the second rope for the pin.

It wasn’t more than a one count by acting-referee Michael O’Dell. Go figure that Miaate would once more get in the ring and assault Spark. The referee however had to execute his orders and force Mane back to his corner. The ever so intelligent Noid stole the chance for a tag as Spark made the diving hot tag to the corner.

“There it is Mark”.

Noid rocketed across the ring, dodged around Mercury and went with a spinning heel kick to Miaate outside the ropes to send him flying. Mercury yanked the young lad by the hair and spun him about face to face only to get kneeled in the gonads.

“That was uncalled for. Why is O’Dell allowing this to continue?”

Well duh ,but O’Dell is a tad busy with Miaate’s screams of pain outside. Seems he landed awkwardly on his elbow. This allowed Noid an opportune chance you see. With his partner back in their corner he sent Mercury that direction into a nice placed boot on the top rope. Face meet smack… er boot sorry.. He then grabbed him and tossed him a second time, only lower to the second rope where a knee was outplaced.

A final spin met Mercury’s neck to the toe of Sparks boot. Noid hopped on the top buckle and curled into a ball as he sprung upwards in the air for an outstanding rolling senton. At the end of the roll his arms snaked around the legs of Mercury and stretched him upwards for a vertical versioned Texas Cloverleaf. Worth seeing if you have the chance.

By this point O’Dell was paying attention once more, probably having heard from the back that his job was not to check the safety of Miaate while the match is going. I really do not know, I only narrate.

"A bit of a mistake there by O'Dell not paying attention to Miaate's safety. He could be seriously -" spoke Mark before haunting in mid sentence. "Fans I have just gotten word that Mr. Boyle has signed the return of a Big name from nbW's past as a special guest for Ghosts. This should be great Terry."

What I do know is that the submission was released due to the closeness to the ropes. Not quite the smart ring awareness that you would expect from these Harvard graduates is it? Yeah I thought so too. But then my mind was changed.

Noid waited while Mercury stood to his feet, went for a spinning heel kick, but Mercury caught his leg, just as Noid planned. Enziguiri!

He dropped down to cover the fallen soldier for only a two count while his partner Miaate watched on as he leaned under the bottom rope from the apron. Noid saw this and rushed the side of the ring only to have ol’ smartypants Miaate, the myth I believe, dodge to the side and with a little extra force, Noid hit the outside floor rather hard.

Mercury recovered in the ring and sprinted across the ring and jumped, clearing the ropes barely as his outstretched body sailed through the night sky. Kind of like a pigeon ready to unload his droppings on the unaware masses below him. The king of the sky.

And the king dropped all of his droppings with a double knee impacting to the chest of Noid. O’Dell leaned across the rope and begun his ten count, but Miaate and Mercury were not in the mood for a countout victory. Instead they lifted Noid back up and rolled him into the ring. As the two stepped in the ring they tagged once again and Miaate drove a hard elbow and boot to Noid’s body. He then bounded off the ropes and jumped with leg extended for the legdrop of doooooooooooom!

Noid ROLLED out of the way and like a rolling ball he reached his corner and tagged in his partner.

“These two are extremely agile and athletic.”

“But they are really no match for the Myth and Legend. Their just being played. Just like we-” this time it was Renton that paused mid-sentence. "Well Mark, it seems the name from nbW's past is not coming alone. He has a special announcement planned for us all at Ghosts. All I can say is I hope Jason Kain returns to show our champion what it truly takes to be the champion."

"That is rather un-called for Terry. Amore is a great champion, and I for one am glad we have him rather than another legacy of Mr. Fairness Kain. But whoever it is, they will have a tough time getting over the spotlight that these young kids currently possess." remarked Gordon.

Played. Odd way to put it. Considering, well. Pay attention to the ring. Spark is in full control thanks to an offsided double lariat to the duo on his part. Miaate found himself grappled and propelled in the air over their head with a nice german suplex, which was followed by two repeated versions.

To his feet again Miaate sped across the ring with a tackle in mind, and he connected. But the wilycayote Spark stood his ground and wrapped his legs around the ribs as the two collided to the mat. O’Dell recognized it as a submission and remained close to check for any result of submitting, like a good referee.

Let me describe this situation for you, in case your eyes are untrained to the awesomeness that is For The Win. On the left side of the ring, opposite corner to Myth and Legend’s own, Spark laid on his back with his legs wrapped around the sides of Miaate, while his arms wrenched the neck from behind. Miaate’s own arms were fading towards the side as his circulation was being cut. To the other side of the ring Noid was –

Hmm? Odd, Noid is not there anymore.

“Where did Noid go? He was just standing there a moment ago. His partner has this in the bag and now he bailed? Some mascot to the fans!” cried Renton.

Oh there he is. Noid had snuck away from the ring and over the barricade, all the way around to the opposite side where he stood on the barricade wall. Mercury turned to spot him but it was a tad late.

SPLASH! Whiplash. Dash and Dash!

To explain that would be the sound of Mercury and Noid’s body connecting flesh against flesh, with Noid grabbing Mercury by the head with a falling reverse bulldog to the arena floor. And the dash was simply that, as he slid back into the ring and sprinted across to his legal corner.

Back in the center Miaate broke the submission hold with some brute elbows to the ribs of Spark. But Spark kept it locked on despite Miaate standing once again. Noid spotted his partner in trouble and scaled the corner only to have O’Dell yell at him to return to his position leaving Spark in bad condition.

Syke.

Spark released the hold and his hands double cupped the testicles of Miaate who was gingerly moving at this point begging for mercy.

“That is unsportsmanlike. Why would you even want to touch-“

“The claw is in place Marc. One joust and his childless future begins.”

Noid once more drew attention, but this time as he shot up the two finger salute of the ‘V’ symbol.

“Finish Him!” cried out Noid in a quite familiar toned voice.

Spark released the grip and shot two palms into Miaates chest, two knees rose to the chin, and his hands then grabbed the back of his head to force him down so the two collided to the ground with a double knee facebreaker.

“That should do it Terry. Spark says he calls that the Last Guy.” Gordon was quick to inform.

“Sure it is not called Codebre-“

One

Two

And yes Three.

Another match in the bag. Another team knocked down.

All For the Win.

Winners by Pinfall, For The Win!

Simple as That
feat. Showtime

Showtime was lacing up his boots, he was approached by nbW Interviewer and instigator Trent McKnight. "Showtime, last week your longtime tag partner Proteus defeated you in a singles match to determine contendership for the World Title at Ghosts."

"Yeah, we all know that, Trent. Thanks for getting to the party late."

"Is there any bad blood between the two of you? Professional jealousy? A grudge of any kind?"

Showtime paused, then answered thoughtfully, "No. I have never wanted anything from Proteus except to excel, and he always has. Until last week, that never came into conflict with my own success, but now the two have collided. Do I think I could beat Proteus another time, on another day?" He smiled, "I wouldn't still be wrestling if I didn't think it were possible. But I know how good Proteus is. And soon you all will too."

"Some would say he's an unlikely challenger; an underdog. Do you think he has a chance of beating Ali Amore for the world championship?"

"If he can beat me, he can beat anybody."

"And if he wins? Will D-T ever be the same?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"One last question," McKnight asked, "About tonight. With all the issues beneath the surface, do you think you, Proteus and Ali Amore will be able to function as a team tonight?"

Showtime stood and tightened his gloves. "We're wrestlers. Three of the best in the company. What we do is go out and defeat opponents. Tonight we're teammates. We'll fight as teammates. Simple as that."

With that, Showtime brushed McKnight off and went toward the ring.

"Well I don't know about you guys," McKnight told the camera, "But I sensed some tension."

Pay Per View Advertisement

Main Event
D-T and Ali Amore
Versus
Son of Malta, RaVage and William Arthur Reagan

Three of the most celebrated athletes in nbW -- the World Champion Ali Amore and D-T -- faced down three of their gravest threats.

The threat posed by RaVage was real. He was a brawler to be sure, and a worthy former champion. He started in against RaVage, a throwdown that the fans were clamoring to see. Heavy strikes were traded. Both men were well-matched. Amore did a great job reversing several of RaVage's maneuvers, revealing perhaps a trace of ring rust since the former champion's heyday. Amore got the upper hand with a great-looking vertical suplex. Breathless, he tagged in Showtime.

Showtime, taking advantage of the situation, executed a great somersault legdrop on the former champ. He gave a quick cover, but hardly a count was reached. You can't put away someone of RaVage's caliber that quickly. He bid RaVage eto rise to his feet, and launched a running flipping clothesline attack, staggering him. After some more quick stings, Showtime went for a neckbreaker, but was reversed.

"Showtime was getting great results with the quick attacks, but it was a mistake far below his level of game to engage RaVage directly," Gordon observed.

Now at RaVage's mercy, Showtime was ragdolled around the ring with powerslams and big boots. He was bumping like nobody's business. RaVage tagged out to Son of Malta, givign a sneer of contempt to the current champion as he stpped out onto the apron.

Malta continued the assault, forbidding Showtime from mounting a counterstrike of any kind. Malta was like a brick wall, unmoving, and irrevocable. Showtime, lean and thin, was heaved over Malta's shoulders, and hung up in the tree of woe. Malta gave a choke with his boot until a count of 5. He tagged out to his mentor, WAR. The two managed to double-team the former tag champion for a few moments until WAR tagged back in to Malta. Malta covered, but only got a two count. Proteus and Ali were trying to raise audience support for Showtime. Showtime battled his way to his feet and dove back to the corner and tagged back out... to Amore.

While Ali traded strikes with Malta, a little side-discussion appeatred to brew between the dazed Showtime and the as-yet-unused Proteus. Ali turned to see his partners having a frendly bickering match, which distracted him from a high angle german suplex, executed by Malta. Amore's shoulders to the mat got a thick two count, but he shook it off and kicked out. Malta tagged out to WAR, who locked in a solid boston crab submission.

"It's notable, the caliber of opponents here -- arguably the greatest tag team in nbW history with its current world champion, versus two former champinos and a likely future champ!" remarked Gordon.

"I'm stunned more attention isn't being paid to WAR himself," replied Renton, "Making a one-time-only appearance out of retirement to support his protege, Son of Malta!"

As Amore cried out in agony, Proteus rushed in to break the hold. The referee sent him back to his corner. As WAR got his bearings, he prepared to resume the hold, when he was met with a massive takedown by Ali Amore! He covered, but got only two and a half. Both men dazed, Amore managed to get over to the corner and tag in Proteus.

The fresh man proved energetic as all hell. WAR could barely keep up with the speed and intensity of Proteus. He whipped the legendary former champion into the corner and tossed him like a barrel with a monkey flip. Proteus had a peculiar sense of physics, always able to use his lack of size to his advantage. WAR stood again, and a jump kick sent him back into the corner. Proteus wet in for the follow-up, but WAR keenly managed to overpower Proteus' attack and tag out to Son of Malta.

Malta went to capitalize on Proteus' attack, but he didn't count on his momentum being used against him. Proteu swent to drop an elbow on Malta, but Malta was standing. Proteus spun around almost into a short-arm clothesline, but ducked and reversed int othe Switch-Press DDT!

ONE...



TWO...



WAR and RaVage went to break the pin, but Showtime and Ali Amore made the interception!



THREE!


"Here are your winners, Showtime, Ali Amore, and Proteus!"

The three victors stood tall. Tonight they were together, but before much longer, Proteus' ability would be turned against Ali's championship power. There was no telling, especially after he made the save tonight, who would come out on top between these two.

Winners by Pinfall, Proteus, Showtime, and Ali Amore !

Changes to be made
feat Thaddeus Boyle and co.

The fans cheering continued for Proteus as the camera returned backstage to the office of Thaddeus Boyle. Sitting behind his large oak desk he was faced with three men known well for their work in no brand Wrestling’s history.

Leonard Antioch – the man behind the scenes helping keep the show running from moment to moment.

Jake Summers – the head trainer.

Trent McKnight – nbW Reporter and Head Interviewer.

“Gentlemen I thank you for coming. I wish I could say that what the fans witnessed out there just now with Proteus getting the win is a sign of things to come. Unfortunately it is not. The Company has decided some changes are needed.”

“Changes? Like what?” Jake was the first to throw out the question.

“First let me assure you that you three will still have your jobs, do not worry. As for the Changes. Well-“ he opened the top right door of his desk and pulled out a stack of papers and spread them out on the desk top. “As you can see by these documents, at the Ghosts Pay Per View we will finally have an end to the referee strike. Additionally after Ghosts we will be forced to cut expenses by ending our traveling schedule and center once more in the Epic arena.”

“Didn’t that burn down under Napoli’s regime?” questioned Antioch.

“The Epic II. Modeled after its predecessor. We will be filming from there from now on. But we will speak more on that at the next employee meetings. I wish that was all there was, but it is not.” He paused and put the papers back in his desk. “The Company has decided to have a closer look on things around here. They will be sending someone to keep tabs on our operations. I am informing you three of this before the rest as assurance that you will help keep things running smoothly.”

“Sure boss.” Spoke Trent, and a nod of heads showed agreement from the other two. “We’re with you all the way.”

“Good. Wish I could tell you who they are sending, or who to look out for, but the decision has been cast to keep the identity a secret, even from myself.” He scooted the chair back and stood. “I thank you for your time gentlemen.” They stood and walked out of the room in silence.

A moment passed before Trent McKnight stood at the doorway once more. “Boss, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are they really sending a babysitter and feel we need to be sat? I can understand their reluctance after the entire referee strike and what Napoli did to the company’s financial standings, but seriously—a babysitter?”

Thaddeus walked around his desk and sat on the edge. “To be frank, I do not follow that believe. But, this is just a silk screen to hide their true intentions.”

“True intentions?”

“A Watch Dog.” Boyle turned and took a seat once more which Trent took as meaning to leave the office. More questions were waiting but they would have to wait until Ghosts as the stream hit its final second to display the nbW credits and logo.

Credits:

Show Segments:

Fans bring the Weapons
Voss

I could be the guy, Falling Up, Simple as That
Scott

Previously, From Wrestler to Referee, Nearing the Light, Soon to be World Champion, Or not, Suck it up, Changes to be Made
Spike

Challenge Accepted FTW, All For The Win
Jake

Where's your Smile?
Ryan

Matches:

Psycho vs Emo Kevin
M.E.: DT and Ali Amore vs Son of Malta, Ravage and WAR
Scott

Myth and Legend Vs For the Win
Jake

Gyle vs Khan
JLV vs Matt Haddon
Creede Bros vs Zatch and Nemo
Spike

FtV: Rey Cambell vs Lunatic
Ryan/Rey

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