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[Jeffrey drags his bags along into the shopping mall "Neonopolis". He seems to be in deep thinking and prepared. He continues his walk until he runs into an employee.]
Jeffrey Watts- Sir. Can I have some help? [The employee turns around.] Employee- Certainly. What can I do for you? Jeffrey Watts- I wrestle for Silver State Battleground. I was wondering where my locker room was and where we will be wrestling. [The employee looks curiously around the mall and looks back to Jeffrey.] Employee- Ugh... I am not reeaal sure. Oh, yeah. Thomas Bloodgood, right? Jeffrey- Yes. Employee- Oh. Thomas wanted to meet with the wrestlers about that. They were going over all of that earlier this morning, so you might want to stop by and ask about that. [Jeffrey smiles.] Jeffrey Watts- Thanks [Jeffrey continues on his way, noticing the rather dead business that was unlike Four Queens.] Voice- Jeffrey! Over here... [Jeffrey stops and turns around. A lady is walking up to him with mic in hand.] Voice- Can I get a word with you? Jeffrey Watts- Sure thing. Voice- Bare with me. I am new to this reporting thing, so if I ask something stupid, just overlook it. Ok? [Jeffrey smiles.] Jeffrey Watts- Don't worry about that. What were you wanting to ask? [The reporter looks relieved. She probably just finished speaking with Frank Dylan James or Jane, maybe?] Alex Tiesto- I was just wondering what your thoughts are on this Battle Royal coming up. The participants all seemed to be geared up and ready. Jeffrey Watts- Yes. Everyone is geared up and ready. From Cory Reznor, Jane, Blue Collar PA to B. Marquis. They all have the gifts and credentials to be in this. Everyone deserves a second chance in more than one way. Now, some take it a little more serious than others, and that is fine... But I am definitely ready as well. I fought for my life in training for three months. It was like something I never felt in my life. Being twisted up in Boston Crab's, STF's and stiff forearms. It was something I had to endure just to be able to make it on a card. I went through that pain because I really wanted to excel. I wanted to find out what I really could do... And I believe it paid off. Alex Tiesto- Right... Also, you have the work-a-holic in Blue Collar PA. Any words for him? Jeffrey Watts- Absolutely. [Jeffrey thought about it for a bit. He turns his sight from the reporter and to the camera.] Jeffrey Watts- Blue. I have nothing bad to say about you, but I also want you to realize that I will come to our match with a distinct purpose. I want to prove to you what I can do and showcase my skills to the fans. I won't gloat about it and I won't strategically go out there to stiff you or bury you... But, I won't be out there to lay down, either. I just hope everything will be good after the bell and there will be no hard feelings. May the best one win. [Jeffrey nods his head with approval that his speech went as planned. The reporter smiles and wishes him good luck. Deep down inside, he knew he needed it.]
LIVE FROM THE NEONOPOLIS... [The Neonopolis cleared the area between the former location of Jillians', a scaled down Dave and Busters that always hosted terrible concerts and served mediocre food and a wall to the theater. There a ring was set up, chairs surrounded the ring with a guard rail and rows of bleachers were stacked around that and some from the balcony walk way.] [This was a theater in the round, to the fullest degree. Fans were everywhere, there wasn't even a stage, just a curtain for the wrestler to part through to make their grand entrance. On the completely opposite side was a walkway separating the neonopolis from the public parking garage. Only reason I mention it is because Thomas Bloodgood asked for the top of the parking garage but since the garage was owned by the city, extra permits would have to be obtained.] [The extreme metal played and the show kicked off with a few sparklers from the turnbuckle. The smoke cleared fairly fast as the horseshoe design of the building allowed the wind to pick up and carry out fairly fast.] ------------------------------ Fifth Person Second Chance Rumble [The opening over the top rope elimination rumble consisted of twelve wrestlers: B. Marquis, Blue Collar PA, Chance Fantana, Chris Marks, Cory Reznor, De'Anton Maybon, Jane Katze, Jeffery Watts, Larry Gowan, El Hijo Del Augila, Phoenix and former WC:C and HRW wrestler, Joe Drago.] [They all started in the ring at the same time and in the first five minutes three wrestlers were eliminated. Larry Gowan was the first to be eliminated by Cory Reznor at 1:30 second after Gowan caught an accidental punch from his tag team partner in the tournament. Following that El Hijo Del Aguila De Oro and Chris Marks were both eliminated by a double massive clothesline from Phoenix at 4:28. Both Chris and Hijo fought to the back, building some heat to their double debut match later on in the evening.] [Following this action was contained to a few slams and the standard gang up on one person but not get anywhere tactics to buy time. And that time was bought for a surprise entrant, none other than Warlord II: Cobra and his cult gathering.] [Warlord Cobra went to town on the weaker of opponents, targeting B. Marquis in the corner and choking him with the tape that Cobra had bound his wrists with. After a moment of blatantly cheap tactics, B. Marquis was toppled over the top rope and Cobra basked in his greatness.] [Drago had Fantana reeling and with help from Jane the two sent the ladies man into the steel barricade. In true fashion after being eliminated, Chance pulled down the bottom rope causing Maybon to eliminate himself as he bounced into the ropes. ] [At ten minutes in seven wrestlers were still in the ring. Phoenix had attempted to help Cobra in his domination of the ring but soon he became too much hassle and Cobra allowed his assistant to fall victim of the Drago technical assault.] [As they continued to wrestle, Cory Reznor gave a sneak peak of his intentions for the Violent Suicide Tournament by retrieving a bag of thumb tacks from under the apron. However this plan backfire and long time rival, Jeffery Watts avoided the tacks and met elimination from Jane Katze. Reznor fell chest first into the tacks and continued the match, even going as far as to trade chest shots with Cobra. The Warlord quickly took control using a cheap tactic and muscled Reznor up and down back into the tacks.] [Joe attempted to intervene and take control of the action but out of no where the former heavyweight champion blinded him with the poison mist, allowing Blue Collar PA to make a quick elimination via super a kick.] [18 minutes in, there were four left. Cobra, Jane, Blue Collar PA and Cory Reznor. Cobra began taking it to Jane but as he did so both Blue Collar PA and Reznor came from behind and dumped the Warlord with a double hammerlock suplex. Cobra's few Serpentists jumped onto the apron however the security in Vegas was quicker to act the previous times. Regardless the distraction wasn't enough as Reznor hit a desperation kick to the back of Cobra's skull and PA sent him flying over the top rope and in the mingle of security and Serpentists.] [The fall only formally eliminated Cobra, as the match continued on the Warlord grabbed Cory by the leg and brawled with him out the Neonopolis. Cameras were unable to catch up for the action.] [With Jane and Blue Collar PA being the "final" two, the formal match began. Jane was quick to go for the pentagram choke but PA had her scouted and would not fall victim of the submission. Failing at the choke she went for the old stand by of the Golden Gate Guillotine, but even that would hold on the working class hero.] [The mat game went to the stand up but PA quickly neutralized the MMA stuff and went straight for the wrestling with Jane,] [After a total of 26 minutes and change, the match ended with Blue Collar PA pinning Jane after a tornado DDT.] Winner via Tornado DDT: Blue Collar PA [Jane left pissed while Blue Collar PA and the crowd began to have a dance party.] ------------------------------ [Cobra is backstage in front of a SSB banner. He stands there confident and proud, his arms crossed, his masked head tilted slightly upwards. Still in his wrestling attire, Cobra slowly pulls his head down to the camera and starts to speak.] "Cobra: Tonight was a night for second chances. Tonight was a night for those that were not good enough to steal and pilfer from integrity, from the order of things. Tonight was a night for the sins and evil to overtake those that had rightfully earned their honor. Tonight was a night that just was not supposed to happen." "And that is where the mighty Jormungand comes in. The one and true god is all knowing, all seeing. He has seen the sinners and he has made it clear that they shall not succeed in their quest of what is not theirs. Those that did try and steal what did not belong to them, have been taken care of." "Envy, greed, lust. Three sins that have consumed the roster of the SSB. Three sins that are ever present in the world today, consuming our society and poisoning humanity. It will be because of these three sins that the end of civilization and the human race as we know it may be soon upon us." "These sins must be stopped. They must be washed out of the WWA. Jormungand has made his judgment and only one man can follow through. Only one man has the ability to rid these sins from the WWA. Only one man is free from the politics and confines that consumes the WWA." "I am your Warlord and I do whatever I want. I live beyond the rules. I live beyond the restraints that the WWA has in place. I am bigger than that. I am bigger than any single entity here in the WWA. Brooks, Jackson, Blasier, Saunders, all of them. I am more powerful, more influential than all of them. I am the WWA right now." "There is only one man that can control the WWA so completely. With such fear and dominance. As you all look upon me now, you look upon him. You look upon your king. You look upon your god." "You look upon your Warlord! " ------------------------------
The Right Hand Man vs. Whaat? [The trained Zombie technician guided him into the ring where he grabbed a microphone.] The Zombie: "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS" [He lowered the microphone and licked his lips.] The Zombie: "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS" [The Zombie looked towards the entrance and raised his tattered and mangled arm up.] The Zombie: "BRAAAAAAAAAAA--" ["Orgasm Addict" by the Buzzcocks blares and out dashes Fappity, fixing his pants and trying to balance the title on his shoulder. He hits the ring and lays in the left punches before rocking The Zombie with a disgustingly wicked right punch.] [The Zombie is floored but as Fappity goes for the Iron Claw the Zombie snaps out of his daze and goes to infect the SUCK champion!] [Fappity narrowly escapes the bite and rocks the Zombie with a stiff karate kick. With the Zombie doubled over, Fappity does what Bruce Campbell or Ving Rhames would never dare do to. He opens up the top of his trunks and sticks the Zombie's head inside his trunks. If the smell or proximity of Fappity's smegma didn't knock out the Zombie the sit out pile driver definitely did.] Winner via The Richard Cheese Driver: Fappity ------------------------------ [The curtains parted, without a note of music. Boston Bancroft was here. And as Fappitywas heading up, into the back, the big black man came walking out from the back. He was still in his windbreaker, a black, purple and blue Gore-tex, and bluejeans. And as Fappity was about to go through the curtains, Boston was walking by, giving a nasty look to the SUCK something-or-other.] [And so, Fappity had one natural response, to a situation like this. That gross, festering claw of a hand, encrusted with all sorts of... nastiness, pressed palmfirst to Boston's face! The Path to Glory winner stumbled back, hands wiping at his eyes as Fappity went running for the curtains, a victory cry given as Fappity fled!] [Boston snarled, and stomped after Fappity, heading back through the curtains. A loud crash was heard, over the general murmur of the fans and chants of "YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!", and Boston came back out. He headed by the fans, ignoring those closest to him and slid into the ring. A mike was taken, once it was offered, and Boston walked to the center of the ring.] "In case it wasn't clear... "We employees of the Silver State Battlefield love and cherish our customers." [Boston smiled ingratiatingly. But... He had been railing against these very people since the fed opened!] "We value each and every one of you stinking, lazy, bloated, vice-soaked, putrid, uneducated, immoral degenerate slimy sons of pig farmers!" [Boston's voice had turned mean towards the end, more pointed, and each word spat like Boston hated even pronouncing something talking about these people.] "So... Thank you for coming to our show, and paying your hard-earned money to see people such as... me. Boston Bancroft. The only person in the final match for the Campeonato De La Raza Championship Four-Way that really matters." "I'm the only real wrestler in it. We got... A crazy redneck! So cranked up on meth, pot and beer, that he can't feel when he gets dropped on his head and cuts his lift shorter by another year! "We got... A dumb pothead gangsta who is stepping up to the big boys, not knowing that he's still wearing velcro shoes. "We got... A firefighter. He's Superboy, honestly. Shiny, squeaky clean. A family man. Loves his wifey very much, always salutes the American flag before marching into battle with evildoers. "And we got the poor son of a bitch who managed to win against ten, twelve, twenty other dudes and line this poor bastard up to get another beating." [Boston glanced down, thinking for a moment. He glanced up, a look of recognition appearing on his face.] "Oh, and of course... The only true wrestler alive and working the Vegas area... He's handsome, he's virile, and he's a shoo-in to splatter these poor freaks all over the canvas and get himself a shiny new belt buckle." [A deep chuckle came from Boston's belly, head thrown back as he laughed.] "But would you believe that Rumble? I mean, how shocking that..." [A pause.] "Uh... Whatshisface." "Yeah, that person. How shocking that they won! But, I'm still gonna boot your teeth down your throat." "So tonight, the Bancroft Path to Glory is going through the Neonopolis. I'm gonna make my next step right here. In... about 23 minutes." "Give or take however long that blue masked loser is gonna dance for." [Boston tossed his mike down, letting it burst and crackle with static as it hit the floor. He hopped out of the ring, and dropped to the floor. Staying carefully away from the outstretched hands of the fans, Boston headed straight to the curtain. He had stretching, changing and getting ready to do, and he wasn't getting paid by the minute.] [And Fappity was gonna pay.] ------------------------------
Good Cop/Good Cop ["Just one thing" began playing and Jeffery Watts came out from the back, ready to redeem himself for the rumble and keep the singles streak going strong.] [For the second time in the night, Blue Collar PA came out from the back. He was show some slight fatigue from the rumble but not enough to keep him from dancing with the fans as he made his way to the ring, this night would be one hell of a calorie burner.] [The two locked up, Watts hooked in the hammerlock but PA quickly ducked down and reversed the hold into one of his own. Blue Collar sent him off into the ropes and proceeded to shoulder block the rookie down to the ground. PA bounced into the ropes and went for the dancing elbow drop but met canvas. Jeffery bounced up and dropped the canvas a met the canvas with an elbow of his own. PA did the same once more before both men got back to the ground to meet in a respectable stalemate which the crowd cheered for] [Watts re-opened the exchange with a stiff chop, PA replied back and followed it up with a forced Irish Whip. Jeffery bounced back and was sent over with a deep arm drag into standing arm bar. Watts twisted his way out and fireman carried the working class hero over allow for a stiff kick to the spin and a snap suplex quickly afterwards.] [The pin fall only awarded him a two count and Watts muscled PA into the corner wearing him down with open hand slaps and kicks. The referee warned him about excessive hostility which for once made an effect. Jeffery lifted Blue Collar onto the turnbuckle top and followed him up for a superplex, but PA laid in the rib shots and front suplexed him back into the ring. PA took a breather on the top rope before readying himself for a big leap.] [He sprung off the top rope with a massive crossbody block but Watts catched him and fell backwards allowing for an awkward reversal.] [However the attempt only got him a two count again.] [Both men returned to their feet and Watts took control of his tired opponent, laying in the open hand slaps and chops. Blue Collar PA fell into the ropes allowing Jeffery to power him into the ropes with a violent whip and capitalizing with his high angled running powerslam. Watts almost went for the pin but instead he pounded the tip of his elbow and called for "The Energy Depletion" his rarely seen finisher.] [Watts scaled the turnbuckle and leaped off but PA was way ahead of him and lifted the leg up colliding right to the jaw of Jeffery. With the Rookie Sensation dazed and confused, PA loaded him up on his shoulders and spiked him down with a rotating stunner.] [It was just enough for the three count.] Winner via Rotating Stunner: Blue Collar PA [With two victories under his belt, Blue Collar PA climbed the turnbuckle and did a little dance for the crowd. He was getting tired but everything else was telling him to continue to be amped.] [It finally dawned on Watts that his undefeated streak had been broken however the good hearted rookie offered his hand for the Dancoholic.] [Blue Collar denied the handshake.] [However, he did offer his hand to do the robot with him.] [And the two did.] ------------------------------ [Chris "The Filth" Marks and El Hijo Del Aguila De Oro were in the ring together, the referee was about to call for the bell when everyone's favorite wigger and country boy came out from the back. And they looked in no mood to watch a match] [They were ready for the main event, right fucking now. And you can bet, no Silver State Battleground employee or hired security guard was going to tell Frank Dylan James otherwise.] [So they hit the ring, C-Loc brutalizing the Luchador and FDJ taking it to "The Filth". There were slams, there were drops, there were spills and C-Loc picked Dylan up and used him to take out both men from the outside. To say the least both of these men were done for the night.] [C-Loc grabbed the microphone and Frank let out a big ol' "HOO-AHH!" which the crowd chanted back to him.] C-Loc: "Mic Check. 1-2-Good." "Listen up, when me and Frank Dylan James signed up for this tournament or some shit, our contracts it stipulates that we should be recievin' some tag team titles right now." "Like right -- motherfuckin' -- now." [The crowd erupted into cheers, they wanted to see some violence. Right motherfucking now.] "But we got one problem. No tag team wants to fight us." "They're scurred" [Frank shook his head and spat off ring side, nothing like a little chew to get you into the mood for the main event ass kicking. Or ass kicking in general.] "But nah, that's not going to happen. Because Frank 'n I, we're makin' a demand." "Bloodgood, I know you're back their mackin' on some ghettobooty or being a playa hater, so why don't you do something the fans want." "Rassle N' Flow." "Mojave Tag Team Champions" [Frank grabs the microphone for a second.] FDJ: "Fuck that. Mojave Tag Team Champions of the World" [C-Loc snatched the microphone back and looked to the ramp.] C-Loc: "Give us our fuckin' titles or we're going to beat down to Marks and Iron Hijo Guy some more." [Right as the two went for the ropes but right as they did the SSB theme started playing and out walked the brainchild and owner of the federation. Thomas Bloodgood looked down the small aisle with two titles on either shoulder. He looked down the way at the two men and shrugged.] [As he walked down the aisle and into the ring he spoke.] Thomas Bloodgood: "C-Loc. Frank. I don't know what contracts you're talking about but to be honest, I don't pay attention to the small print. That's why I have lawyers, that's why I have staff members who do these things for me. Obviously --" [He stepped inside the ring look at the two wrestlers.] "Obviously, something fell through the cracks." "So with out further ado, The Mojave Tag Team Championship." [He handed over the titles complete with desert landscape and cactuses were a flag or an eagle would be.] [And with that, Bloodgood raised their arms into the air, crowning the tag team champions: Rassle N' Flow.] ------------------------------ The camera feed switches to the backstage area, namely the room that's been designated as the World Heavyweight Champion's locker room. Jackson sits alone in the near darkness, illuminated only by the emergency lighting as he finishes taping his wrists. His face is in shadows, obscuring his expression as he looks down at the floor, breathing heavily. He reaches into the bag at his feet, pulling out the golden title belt, staring at his warped reflection in the hammered gold for a long moment. With a sigh, he sets the belt aside, and reaches into the bag again, pulling out a creased Polaroid picture that's faded with age. It isn't hard to guess the identity of the dark haired woman in the photo, judging by the tension that radiates from him. His arm trembles as he holds the photo with a death grip, but still he simply stares down at it, saying nothing, just breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Jackson: Justin Brooks… His voice is soft, yet strong enough to carry, the emotions all too evident in the careful enunciation of the words. Jackson: I'm sorry. He bows his head, crushing the photograph in his fist with a sharp exhalation. Silence reigns again, filled with nothing but the sound of his breathing, and the soft sound of air rushing through the vents overhead. He brings a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, continuing down his face to rub the stubble on his chin. Jackson: You've opened my eyes… prevented me from making what would have been yet another in a lost list of mistakes. I damn near came into that ring filled with ego. I almost had myself convinced you would already be beaten before you get there tonight. It's no secret that Boston Bancroft has plans to eat you, and those other jokes alive. I forgot my place. I forgot who you were: Justin "Double Crown" Brooks- the odds on favorite to win, here in Las Vegas, no less. It would be ironic if I bought into that lame hype. I don't. Frankly I think we're both above that garbage. This isn't about any of that hero shit. It's about two guys in their prime. Arguably both damned good at what they do between those ropes. Maybe you're better. Maybe I am. I'm not a betting man, Brooks. I don't wager on long shot odds. I bet on what I know. Tonight, I'm outclassed. He sighs, bowing his head for a moment. Jackson: Do not mistake this for respect, Brooks. You've done nothing in my eyes to earn that. Don't think for a moment that this means we're cool. I still hate you; in fact, you've given me ample reason to. I just hope you're ready for this. This is personal. I didn't want to make it like that, but shit happens. He lets his head fall again, saying nothing more. The door opens, light pouring in from the hallway as Mark Bishop pokes his head in the room. Mark Bishop: Brad? You ready? Jackson snorts in derision, and rolls his eyes towards the camera. Jackson: Yeah. Ready. Whatever. Mark Bishop: I'm sure they wouldn't think any less of you if you just went home. Jackson: Yeah, I'm sure Brooks would love that. I don't retreat. I take the shit life throws at me, and I get back up. I survive, Mark. I'm going out there, regardless of what's happened. I'm going to go out there, and do what I do best. Tonight I'm not doing it for my own reasons… I'm doing it for her. Jackson stands, settling the heavy belt over his shoulder as he walks towards the door. He hesitates in the doorway, and then smooths out the mangled photo still clenched in his fist. He slips this in the back pocket of his jeans, and nods. His reply is brief, the words sounding oddly strained as he tries to rein in his emotions, forcing a smile. Jackson: I'm ready now. ------------------------------
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly [Fantana and Jane were already in the ring, the two idly glanced at one another. Jane eyeing her opponent, looking for weakness in his physique and Fantana eyeing her womanly parts. A staffer from the back came up to the ring and informed the referee that De'Anton Maybon was not going to be in this match, so the bell sounded.] [Not missing a beat Chance exploded out of the ring and kicked Jane into the turnbuckle. He wasn't kidding when he said no fucking pillow talk. Fantana unloaded with stiff chops and soft slaps to the chest. He took the female over with a snapmare and locked in the headlock, whispering sweet nothings into her available ear.] [Jane grinned but the grin was that of her next move, an unexpected high kick stretching well over her head and right into the face of Fantana.] [From there it was nothing short than a one sided fight. Fantana could not get back into the groove of things and Jane went to town with submissions, suplexs showing off her technical wrestling ability and harsh judo throws that make the Gracies' turn their head in pain.] [In a return to style, Jane finished the match with her new deadly pentagram choke, leaving Reno's Favorite Son in a world of hurt that no chain smoking and aerobics by pool side could cure.] Winner via Pentagram Choke: Jane Katze ------------------------------ [Boston was heading for the ring, striding confidently through the neon-lit street. It was closed to pedestrian parking, and Boston was heading for the ring, after the brief stretches and warmup he had been doing. He was decked out in a t-shirt showing off his bronze bust, made after he won the Path to Glory, he had a dented and battered old baseball bat over his shoulder, and his spandex pants looked shiny, and either new or cleaned. Stopping off just behind the sheeted-off "backstage" area, Boston headed to his duffel bag, so guarded by an SSB security guard, and reached inside, pulling out a black armband.] [Boston headed for the little area just before the entrance, and tugged his black armband on, the name "BEA" emblazoned across it in big block white letters. He got it situated just in time to look up, and come face-to-face with former WWA World Heavyweight Champion, the leader of the Serpentalist church... The masked man, Cobra.] Cobra: Good luck tonight. [Boston continues his stare, no emotions or reaction can be seen. After a moment, the big guy gave Cobra one of those playa's nods. Hands went to his hips, as he locked eyes with the former champ.] Cobra: Look. I'm going to be paying attention to your match very closely, with vested interest. [Boston again continues his stare with no response or reaction.] Cobra: As you probably know, I am your Warlord. And with it, comes great power and responsibility. With it, comes the privilege of picking my own team for Summer Games. [Boston turns his head slightly, looking Cobra in the eyes. Eyebrow arched, a more inquisitive look appearing on the man's face.] Cobra: As I proved earlier in the night, I do what I want, when I want to. I am more important in this alliance than whoever wins the world title match later. More important than Ryan Blasier or Matt Saunders. More… Boston: I don't mean to be rude or anything... But where do I come into this situation? [Cobra, taken aback by the interruption, takes a moment to pick his exact wording. Cobra isn't used to interruptions, but Boston wasn't exactly being crude. He collects himself and responds.] Cobra: I want a team that is worthy of the Warlord's time. I want a team that is worthy of having the Warlord in its presence. I want a team that is going to not only win, but to dominate. I want… Boston: The SSB regional Heavyweight Champion. [It was more of a statement then a question. He was confident, that much was evident. He watched Cobra, no expressions changing on his face, or even moving much. He was in his zone and ready for his match, and he wasn't going to let some Warlord distract him.] Cobra: I want a winner. I want a champion. And I want someone that is going to be there and help me win Summer Games. How about we see just how you do in this title match tonight? See if you have what it takes to be a champion. See if you have what it takes to win. See… Boston: See if I have just been running my mouth since I came to the WWA. Don't worry. Just watch me. [Boston takes a step, smoothly sliding himself past the former champion. Cobra turns, watching Boston go. Hands go to his hips, as he watched Boston head to ringside. A tightening of the eyes can be seen through the trademark snake mask.] ------------------------------
MAIN EVENT I [The intro to "Fulsom Prison Blues" played and was quickly followed by some hyphy beat and synth line. Rassle N' Flow came out as a collective, with their brand new Mojave Tag Team Titles.] [If you didn't hate that song at the start of the night, you probably do now. "Blue" by Effiel 65 began blaring and out dancing from the back came Blue Collar PA ready to compete for the third time in the evening.] [The stage lights dimmed and were instantly replaced with the crimson lights as "Night Prowler" by AC/DC began to pump through the sound system. Boston Bancroft stumbled out from the back and pointed his trademark baseball bat at the three men. He slammed it into the steps before climbing into the ring.] [The lights came back on for "We Gon' Make It" by Judakiss as Mr. Double Crown himself, Justin Brooks came out from the back. He was ready to add some more gold to his collection and this match was going to do it. And maybe the next match too.] [The bell sounded. Brooks and Bancroft instantly teed off against each other with left and rights as Rassle N' Flow took it to Blue Collar PA in the opposite corner. PA fought back the best he could with short kicks and precession punches but FDJ sacrificed his own body allowing C-Loc to get in and open up the working class hero with a haymaker. Justin took control of the exchange and sent "The Spoiler" into the corner with all the action.] [Boston connected with Frank and C-Loc in the corner, missing Blue Collar as he side stepped out of the way. Brooks sprang into the corner with a vaulting body press crushing the three men in the corner. Being the entertainment junkie he is, Blue Collar PA took the opening with a handstand springboard splash, connecting with all four of them and taking Brooks out of the corner with a bulldog.] [The pin attempt only got him a one count as James booted him in the head and took him to the outside, proceeding to rough him up on the outside.] [Boston pulled C-Loc out from the corner and belly to belly suplexed him across the ring. As Bancroft followed up, Brooks pulled him around for a DDT but "The Spoiler" was ready for the move and went for the Northern light suplex, but Justin blocked. C-Loc quickly came in and kicked the back of Brook's leg causing an awkward DDT. C-Loc grabbed Boston in the front face lock and muscled the big man up and back down with stall suplex. He hooked the leg but Brooks hit the double axe handle.] [On the outside, Frank had Blue Collar PA forced against the guard rail. FDJ took a good space back and took a running start at him. He went for the big flying knee but PA ducked out of the way and Frank crashed hard into the guard rail, toppling over and into the crowd. Blue Collar followed him into the crowd and proceeded to suplex the barefoot redneck on the unforgiving concrete. PA led Frank back towards the ring.] [As the brawling continued on the outside, Brook had sent C-Loc flying with a release German suplex, but once again Boston was right there in the scene and spiked Brooks down with a full nelson slam. No man was staying down long enough for a clear advantage to be taken and C-Loc proved the point again as he bounced into the ropes and attempted a cross body block on Boston. Bancroft caught him and tossed him over the top rope. But the gangsta managed to land on the apron, halfway surprised. But the astonishment was short lived as Boston elbowed him in the face and capitalized on the stoner with the "Fuck you" Chokeslam.] [Blue Collar PA rolled Frank back into the ring but the second he did Justin Brooks hit the baseball slide, sending PA back into the guard rail. Brooks even followed PA back out and proceeded to send the already tired wrestler into the steel steps.] [With four men brawling on the outside, Frank looked around and picked the "party" to crash. With Boston and C-Loc brawling near the announce table FDJ goes for another suicide flip, this time yelling "BONZAAI BACK SPLAASH." The three men fell and landed in, through and onto the cheap announce table, much to the fans pleasure.] [Brooks and PA roll back into the match and top the spot with some good old fashioned chain wrestling. The suplexs trade between both men until finally Brooks manages to hit three vertical suplexs in a row followed by a nice lateral press.] [The pinfall only gets him a two but before he can try again C-Loc gets back onto the apron. Brooks rocks the stoner back onto the outside and the Double Crown champion, scales the turnbuckle for something to take him out for good. Frank grabs the top rope and causes Justin to lose his footing and rack himself on the top rope. He signals to his good buddy and tosses Brooks from the apron towards the outside. C-Loc springs up and nails the double crown champion with the 4-2-O, his cutter. The referee counts the pin.] Justin Brooks is eliminated [C-Loc doesn't look like he's moving. Frank goes to check on his partner but as he helps him up Boston Bancroft comes out of no where with a massive double spear. The referee counts the double pin.] C-Loc and Frank Dylan James are eliminated. [Boston got to his feet but the second he did Blue Collar PA suicide splashed "The Spoiler." PA slide Boston back into the ring and went for the pin. But no dice, Boston got his foot on the rope.] [PA hoisted up the big black man but Boston quickly broke the hold and hit a wicked uppercut on the working class dance hero. He went for a hangman's neckbreaker but Blue Collar spun it around again and held him tight for the DDT. Boston broke the hold and delivers a knee to the gut and hoisted him up onto his shoulder but PA slid out the back and nailed him with a German suplex, complete with bridge.] [1] [2] [3!] [NO!] [Boston barely rolled his shoulder off the canvas. Fatigue was setting in on Blue Collar PA and he questioned the referee's call, but the ref stood his ground.] [Blue Collar PA lifted him up but he quickly got a low blow and The Cradle of Liberty for his trouble. "The Spoiler" almost went for the pin but instead he rolled PA onto his stomach and locked in The Boston Massacre.] [PA attempted to walk his way to the ropes but Boston elevated the hold that much more.] [And finally, after three matches and more competition than any one else on the card, Blue Collar PA succumbed to the hold out of fatigue and pain.] Winner via Boston Massacre and Campeonato De La Raza: Boston Bancroft [Thomas Bloodgood personally brought the title down to the ring and Boston held the belt up high as the crowd continued to boo. From the balcony, Cobra watched on, with a grin.] ------------------------------
MAIN EVENT II [Justin Brooks made his way out to the ring, he carried with him the Double Crown Championship and was ready for the task ahead of him, even with the ten or fifteen minute rest he got in between the main event and this match. He took to his corner and waited for The World Heavyweight champion] [Instead of Brad Jackson's music, "Lies" by Evanescence, hitting the arena speakers, the place erupts in a chorus of booing as "My Hero" by the Foo Fighters blares at full blast. The booing only intensifies as the head of the World title division, and former two-time World champion, Ryan Blasier steps through the curtain.] [Dressed in a pair of black dress slacks, polished black shoes, and an off-white dress shirt, Blasier makes his way down the aisle toward the ring. Hair cut short, and a two-day growth of facial hair covering his otherwise handsome features, he clutches a microphone in one hand, and has a devilish smirk painted on his face, as his eyes dart back and forth across the crowd.] [Inside the ring, Brooks plants his fists on his hips, an angry expression on his face. As Blasier climbs up onto the ring apron, Brooks lifts his arms in a questioning gesture, his eyes meeting Blasier's. Blasier maintains the staredown as he climbs through the top and middle rope, and makes his way to the center of the ring, no more than an arm's length from Brooks.] [The raucous crowd begins a chant of "Blasier sucks! Blasier sucks!", just as the former World champ raises the microphone to his lips. He pauses, tearing his gaze away from Brooks, turning gaze upon the crowd, his smug grin growing with each chant. Finally, he turns his attention back to Brooks, who is now seething, his jaw muscles clenching tight, bouncing back and forth on the balls of each foot.] Blasier: "I've got some bad news for you, Justin." [This elicits a loud chorus of booing. Blasier waits until it subsides before continuing.] Blasier: "That contract you signed? The one that you thought entitled you to this World title shot tonight?" [Blasier shakes his head.] Blasier: "Not gonna happen. In fact, I've already sent Jackson home." [The booing becomes so loud, so ferocious, that it feels like the entire arena is going to shake apart. Brooks says something to Blasier that no one -- not even Blasier -- can hear because of the nose, but the meaning is obvious. Pointing his finger at Blasier in a threatening manner, it's plain as day that Brooks isn't a fan of Blasier's verdict.] Blasier: "You see, Justin, everything that happens with regards to the World title ... and I mean everything ... goes through me first. I don't know who signed off on this match in the first place, but quite frankly, I don't give a damn. The bottom line is, I didn't authorize it. And that's all that matters." [He smirks at Brooks, as if enjoying taunting the Double Crown champion. Brooks looks on the verge of an eruption, but has thus far been able to keep his cool.] Blasier: "So what I suggest is, you get the hell out of this ring, go back to the locker room, pack up your belongings, hop in your car, and make your way to your next scheduled Double Crown title defense. Because ..." [This time, Blasier gets directly in Brooks' face. We're talking nose to nose, separated by no more than the room necessary for Blasier to continue to hold the microphone up to his mouth.] Blasier: "As long as you can't even dedicate your every waking hour to your wrestling career, and insist on running into burning buildings in some sad, pathetic attempt to play hero, I'm not letting you anywhere near the World championship." [More booing. The chant of "Blasier sucks!" picks up in intensity. He ignores the crowd, holding one hand up, index finger pointing at Brooks.] Blasier: "You want to continue on with your firefighting career? Be my guest. But as long as you do, you're an insurance liability waiting to happen, and I'm not going to take a chance on you injuring my World champion inside that ring. Case closed." [Blasier turns to leave, but pauses as Brooks reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder. The crowd erupts at the gesture. Blasier glances down at Brooks' hand, still holding him in a firm grip, then his eyes go wide as Brooks snatches the microphone from his hand.] Brooks: "Don't you turn away from me, Blasier." [The crowd turns electric.] Brooks: "You're not gonna take this World title shot away from me, Blasier. I earned this shot! So why don't you just ..." [A collective "Oh!" runs through the crowd, as Blasier snatches the microphone back from Brooks. He sneers in Brooks' face, again as if taunting the DC champ to make a move.] Blasier: "Do that again, Brooks. See what happens." [The tension in the building can be cut with a knife, as the two men stare at each other, eye to eye, neither man blinking. The crowd begins to chant Brooks' name, willing him on to take action against the dastardly Blasier.] Blasier: "Come on, punk. Do it." [Blasier practically screams in Brooks' face.] Blasier: "DO IT!" [Brooks' fists clench and unclench, breathing heavily through his nose, jaw muscles tight enough that it looks as though Brooks has a steel wire running along his jaw.] [But he holds back, the rational part of his brain telling him it will do no good to strike the man who controls what goes on in the World title division, the prize that Brooks wants more than anything.] [Blasier senses Brooks' anger fading, so he smirks, nodding.] Blasier: "Yeah, that's what I thought." [Blasier begins to make his way from the ring, pausing as he's in the process of climbing through the middle and top rope, and glances back at Brooks.] Blasier: "The World title is for those who are committed to this industry, not for those who see it as a side-hobby or a part-time job. If you ever decide you want this bad enough, give me a call. Until then ..." [He climbs through the ropes, and drops down onto the arena floor. He begins to backtrack up the aisle, addressing Brooks the entire time.] Blasier: "I don't want to hear you mention the World title ever again." ["My Hero" hits, as Blasier makes it the rest of the way up the aisle to a ear-splitting chorus of boos, before disappearing behind the entrance curtain.] [Inside the ring, Brooks' head is lowered, the turmoil on his face readily apparent.] [SSB Distressed Logo]
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