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HUGELive~! 02/07/2009; I told you it wasn't closed!
Topic Started: Jan 1 2010, 12:04 AM (332 Views)
Mozeart
Member Avatar
Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Okay, the card due out February 7 of last year is done~! Anyone still interested/newly interested/waiting for PVW to take you in just join HUGE's Yahoo Group at http://sports.groups.yahoo.com/group/hugemail/ and drop me a line at hugemail@e-wrestling.info. But first, a few notes...
Future results will be shorter than this. Pure summary with very sparse commentary. My own urges tend towards somewhat longer results, but sometimes I just can't stop~!
I need a vote from everyone, new people too, on whether we should ignore the 10 month layover (since date's not been discussed anyway) or if an accelerated history is in order. In the case of the latter, I'd summarize what happened in the last 10 months in very brief fashion, culminating in the HUGE title being vacated (after a few roster members have already held it) for a fresh start tournament to name a _real_ champion.
The handbook is on JTF if you want to send an app. Thanks in advance!

Note: Card edited and split in two to fit on JTF.

---

[The sound of feet pounding asphalt is what greets the viewer. The camera shows a dark alley way, barely light from a weak overhead lamp. We see HUGE's founder and fabulous announcer Barney Johnson walking into work.]

*slightly muffled voice*: HEY! You, wussbag panzy!

Barney: Who the hell are you?

SMV: Gimme your wallet or I'll brain you with this dong!

[We see a giant black dildo thrust into Barney's face.]

BJ: What the hell. Preston, is that you?

SMV: No!

[And the dong pokes Barney in the eye Preston did not poke last week!]

BJ: OW!

[Now Barney is shoved to the ground and the camera shows someone grabbing for Barney's wallet.]

BJ: What the hell man! *trying to shove off his assailant* Get off me!

[We hear heavy breathing.]

SMV: 13 dollars? What the [INTERNET EDIT] Barney? Strickland Sports pays me... my friend more than this to hide Rob Cole's steroids!

BJ: God damn it Preston!

SMV: Who? I'm Tracy Hudson Mask!

[The camera moves back and we see, in a compromising position, Barney and Pr... er Tracy Hudson Mask together. Basically it is just Preston in a mesh t-shirt, leather pants, a syringe in his left arm tied with a rubber hose and a really poor quality old WWO Tracy Hudson mask, full rubber but rather old.]

Tracy Hudson Mask: That's right, I'm Tracy Hudson Mask and not Preston Mayfield. Preston is busy huffing glue in his spacious office so, um... *runs away*

BJ: *CURSING~!*

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Cue the horns. “Hell” by the Squirrel Nut Zippers plays. Sabbath is seen looking at a ludicrously dressed (in a rubber muscle suit) Vile “Vince” Viper Deluxe from behind as he flexes his fake muscles.]

#In the afterlife,#
#you could be headed for the serious strife.#
#Now you make the scene all day,#
#But tomorrow there'll be hell to pay.#

[Leon Wellsley brushes imaginary dirt off his shoulder, then crushes his opponent with a cross body. Twinkletoes Tiwilliger hits a 500+ pound legdrop, Tre Jordan flees the ringside area in terror.]

#People listen attentively,#
#I mean about future calamity.#
#I used to think the idea was obsolete,#
#until I heard the old man stamping his feet.#

[The Spectre drops a huge, musclebound circus clown on his head. Antonio Morientes hits a vicious lariat, Grant O'Hara powerslams a hapless victim.]

#Now the D and the A and the M,#
#and the N and the A,#
#and the T and the I-O-N,#
#Lose your face, lose your name,#
#then get fitted for a suit of flaaame!#

[Scott Nielsen comes off the top, twirling in air. The instrumental finish to “Hell” hits as Dylan Scott hits a double knee smash in the corner. Preston Mayfield hits a low blow. Then, filling the the viewer's web browser, HUGE's logo shines upon the screen.]

.____________________________________________.
| _ _ _ _ ___________ |
| / / / / | | | / __ \ ____\ |
| / / / /| | | || | \_\ \ |
| / /_/ / | | | || | __ \ \___ |
| / __ / | | | || | | | \ __\ |
| / / / / | | | || | | | \ \ |
| / / / / | |_| || |__| | \ \____ |
| /_/ /_/ O \___/O \____/ O _\_____\_O |
| /_ | / \ |
| Hellfire's Ultimate Grappling / / | [] | |
| \\Excitement Version 2.0.// |___\O \__/ |
|--------------------------------------------|
| Now in glorious on-line 720p, 16X9 HD! |
'--------------------------------------------'

[Cut to a studio setting. Massive computers dominate the scene in HUGE's expanded studio. Several rack mount servers are pressed against the walls, curtains line the walls in spite of the lack of windows, and a desk with a dropcloth over it displays the HUGE logo with the words “Strickland Sports” running around its edge.
Stepping into the scene from the left and right come the always nondescript everyman HUGE boss Barney Johnson, and his partner in announcing “DJ Har-V”, Harvey Jenkins. For those who have forgotten, Harvey's a wannabe long-haired Kid Rock impersonator.
Strangely, Barney wears dark sunglasses. Why is that? Keep watching to find out!]

BJ: Hello, fans, and welcome to HUGE Live! I'm Barney Johnson, and with me is “DJ Har-V” Jenkins. How you doing tonight, Harvey?

DJHV: Tonight, oh ... I'm good, dawg. How's that eye of yours?

BJ: It's ... fine. Which eye? What are you talking about?

DJHV: Don't try to be smart, man. You told me 'bout that “live editing” of yours, and I just watched Preston Mayfield skull*BLEEP* you in the alley out back.

BJ: I don't want to talk about that, okay!? Preston's already been docked what he took from me by the company. What's done is done. Besides ... my shades are quite stylish.

DJHV: At 6pm in the dead of winter? It says you're addicted to somethin' that makes light cook your eyes extra crispy.

[Tearing his shades off, Barney tosses them on a counter behind him, and looks back to the camera.]

BJ: There, they're gone. Happy?

DJHV: I've never been happy...

BJ: What?

DJHV: Family Guy. Man, I love that show.

BJ: Enough TV references! It's time to hear from a newcomer to HUGE. He's big, he's powerful, he's Irish tough! This is Grant O'Hara!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

"Irish tough ... Not sure what that is? I'll show ya."

[Camera opens on the big burry face of "Big Celt" Grant O'Hara. He is the only one sitting in the bar. It appears to near closing time or something. A pint half downed sits in-front of the HUGE warrior. He looks up and begins to speak with a strong Irish accent ...]

"So here I am in the good ol' U S of A ... I am here celebrating me first win in my current employment - HUGE. I planted that poor young bloke Crackhead right on his head but it's a pay check."

[O'Hara pulls up his pint and downs the rest of his beer in a few big
gulps.]

"St. Patrick willing this stop will last longer then my last few. I have a young lad at home back in Dublin. Things haven't been going my way as of late. I'm broke and my old lady kicked me out claiming I have some sort of drinking problem."

[A shout from off the screen is heard - "I don't know where she got that idea I mean it's only 10 AM and you are already drinking!]

"Irish eyes are smiling down on me now ... Here I sit with cash in my pocket after catching on a hot new league in the states. A few more big wins and I could find a handful of scouts eyes on me."

[Another pint is placed in-front of O'Hara.]

"Smashing a few heads every few nights is better then working the docks. I used to go home every night in pain from 16 hours a day. I could pick a dozen "Crackheads" high in the air and plant them on the mat every night it makes no difference to me."

[O'Hara lifts the refilled pint and begins downing it.]

"So you want to know what Irish tough is?"

[O'Hara moves his t-shirt to the side showing a deep scar across his pec muscle. You can make out that it most likley a deep knife wound early in his life that is somewhat covered by his green and black tattoo.]

"When I was 14 this happened. My mother thought I was going to die. St. Patrick was looking after me that day."

[He leans his neck up and another deep scar goes across his throat.]

"My first match in this industry. Let me be the first to tell you barbwire isn't worth $50.00."

[He closes his giant fist. His knuckles are obviously hardened from his life on the docks and god knows what else.]

"These are all the weapons a man needs. Inside that ring I will take on anyone for a pay check. My grandfather was a dock worker ... My father worked the docks ... After eight years of doing it myself I'm here in HUGE and I don't plan on going back."

[O'Hara raises his pint again topping off another beer.]

"Where I come from there are two groups ... The one's who get things done and the one's who don't. Now that I'm here you can bet your life that I plan on getting things done."

[He turns towards the bar keep again.]

"How about one for the road?"

[And with that we fade.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: Hey, lookit that ... another alcoholic. You're really makin' dough on the back end, Barn. These guys must be spendin' all their paychecks buyin' your beer.

BJ: I wish ... all these guys have a certain number of drinks they get for free per match they work. The, shall we say, “lesser” talents are actually the worst. Crackhead in particular, especially after fighting O'Hara about a week ago, says that screwdrivers are the only thing that'll stop his migraines.

DJHV: Yyyeah ... and now O'Hara gets Dylan Scott, right?

BJ: Yeah. Dylan hasn't had a smooth road since debuting in HUGE. Against any really formidable opponent, he's come up short time and time again. Dylan couldn't be reached for comment before the match, and now ... here it is. Scott versus O'Hara.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Dylan Scott came out first, with his manager “the Truth Serum” Buster Stallworth, to Creed's “Higher”. Somewhat more seriously, O'Hara entered to “Heroes Still Remain” by the Dropkick Murphys. Slapping a few hands, he remained focused on the ring and his opponent.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

[Standing in the ring, Dylan Scott became immediately aware of who he was facing; a driven man with great focus, skill to match and a will to win.]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Grant O'Hara
-vs-
“The After School Special” Dylan Scott
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[In the early going, Dylan Scott pressed O'Hara, and seemed on several occasions about to overwhelm the larger man. Any offense that O'Hara might have had was cut off early by Buster Stallworth who slipped in trips, chokes and distracted the referee to give his man a dominant advantage.]

DJHV: The man's making good now, Barn! The losing streak ends!

BJ: Dylan Scott looking better than he has since debuting here in HUGE. MEANS TO AN END!

[As the announcers jabbered, Scott managed to slip in his finisher, a double knee strike in the corner, crushing the big man's face. Collapsing like a loose pile of round stones, O'Hara looked to be out.]

BJ: Referee Tariq Abdul Aziz makes the count!

1!

2!

[A huge kickout shocked the house as the 800 people in the Hellfire sounded more like 8,000, and O'Hara stood up. Both Harvey and Barney gasped and shouted as the big man got up, pasted an again interfering Buster Stallworth into the ringpost, sending him flying awkwardly onto the concrete. Begging off, Scott absorbed massive punishment, the big man tossing him hither and thither with impunity, finally nailing a gutwrench powerbomb and seemingly knocking Scott unconscious.]

DJHV: Damn! Time to pin dat punk! Un-bah-lee-va-bull!

BJ: O'Hara giving the high sign! Clearly, Scott is done, barely showing any sign of life. Pulling him up, and Grant O'Hara ... IRISH CLASH!

*BOOM!*

[A high angle belly-to-back suplex landed Dylan Scott on his head, and the rest was history. Raising his hands in victory, O'Hara put a foot on Dylan Scott's chest for the pin, a trickle of blood dripping from just above his right eye.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DJHV: Divas and metrosexuals, if I may have yo' attention, the match is over, and yo' winner by way of a horrifying revenge beating ... GRANT O'HARA!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Back in the studio.]

BJ: Nasty business there, Harv. Dylan Scott did all he could, cut every corner, cheated like hell, and even used his manager to try and bring down Grant O'Hara, but to no avail.

DJHV: Well, see, there's a size difference there, and it's serious, man. Much as he try, Dylan ain't no strongman, and, well ... okay, he suck. I said it.

BJ: Fans, sadly, both Dylan Scott and Buster Stallworth were injured as a result of that match. Doctors have not yet given information on when Scott will be cleared to wrestle again.

DJHV: Good! He suck anyway...

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Cut to the arena. MEGA POP!!!]

[Hey, the audience just realized that the Devils You Know are standing on the bar counter. How long have they been there? Do they know how they got up there? Sayaka is noticeable absent, not giving the regulars a chance to stare up her skirt. Sabbath steps around various glasses, and sparse tips, while working the crowd up. On the other end of the bar, Vile "Vince" Viper flexes his plastic buttocks for the crowd. He's really lathered that giant fake muscle suit up in
vasoline. It's so shiny, you have a hard time looking away... but it is making you nauseous. You feel like a drink. ...But Vile is gyrating on the bar. Do you risk it? As Sabbath quiets some chants, Vile produces a microphone out of his grotesque outfit.]


VVV DX: Tre Jordan... I'm going to say this as ssslow as humanly possssssible so even sssomeone <chuckle> of your diminissshed capacity can understand. Pay close attention Tre, because I'm only going to say this once, <wide eyed> If you want the win tonight, I'm _happy_ to lay down for you.

[Taken aback, Sabbath is quick to rip the microphone out of Vile's deceptively weak grasp. He leans in, whispering harshly at his partner.]

Sabbath: Vile... um... don't mean to butt in, but WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!

VVV DX: Well, I don't need the win. <furrowed brow> Is this show even televisssed... I mean outside of the closed circuit in the bar? I've done a lot in my career; I don't have anything to prove... unlike Tre. I'm kind of a <flexes plastic> BIG DEAL. ...Jordan on the other hand? He could really use this. It could really catapult his career. I heard if he pulls it off, they're looking to square him off against the Cloverfield monssster.

[Sabbath looks at Vile, mouth agape. For several seconds he opens and closes his mouth, unsure of how to respond. Slow, simple words? Screaming? Stabbing? They all have their pluses. Especially stabbing. But I think the suit might get in the way. Sigh. Diplomacy it is.]

Sabbath: Dude... that... that was a joke. The Cloverfield Monster isn't real. There was a really popular movie about it about two years ago.

VVV DX: ...I'm pretty sure it controls the Arizona territory. ...In fact I think the Cloverfield monssster still owes me money from the last time I worked there. ...Cheap bassstard.

[Facepalm. Why do I let myself get talked into these things? Can't I just drive him out to the middle of nowhere and let him run free in the wilderness like a puppy? No, Sabby, that would be cruel. Better to just have him put down peacefully... uh oh, he's looking at me ... better respond...]

Sabbath: Y'know... [trying to shift the subject away from the frickin' Cloverfield Monster]... I don't think the bar setting is the appropriate place for our wacky, thirty minute long hijinks... maybe we should just cut a promo and be on our merry way. There's whiskey just begging to be drunk, you know.

[Sabby eyes VVV warily... c'mon, please...]

VVV DX <beaten>: You're right Sssabbath. <faint smile> Sorry everyone. <looks into camera> ...CLOVERFIELD MONSSSTER you just stiffed the wrong wressstler... and I plan to _collect_ with INTERESSSST!

[...... I think Sayaka has his medicine. Why did she have to stay at home? Oh yeah, sick kids... goddamnit, they need to go out and get a job...]

Sabbath: Jordon! Tre Jordan. TRE... JORDAN! Not the movie character or crooked promoter... but... [sputtering]... why would you want to let the kid look good without a fight? This might not be a big setting, but it is your first match here. Try to start on a good note! I mean WHY ELSE ARE WE HERE?

[Why are they here? Staring down at the ground, Vile looks a little saddened. He was just trying to show everyone that his heart is still his biggest muscle. Sighing, the scarlet serpent puts a padded hand on Sabbath's shoulder, before staring up into the camera.]

VVV DX: ...In 2005 a large portion of the mainstream audience voted me the wrestler of the year. It was the last big turnout for any of these award shows, and I won by a significant landslide. Had I finally overcome all the doubters... the haters... the men who liked looking down on me because of my name, my gimmick, everything but my in ring work? I thought that climbing to the top of the mountain would finally shut people up; maybe even get me a little ressspect.
...Instead they chose to move the heap. Invalidating my accomplishment, dumping on everything I've ever done, and making me feel smaller than Ssspectre'sss dick! Ssspeaking of dick... here we are in the crotch of America's heartland.

What happened Sssabbath? How did we wind up here? This place smells like ssstale beer... the only thing cutting out the smell of my costume. I found it in a dumpssster... <sickeningly proud> can you believe someone wanted to throw this out? I'm wearing a hundred poundsss of rubber, not only am I developing a bad rasssh, but it is hotter than hell... still, you know what? I'm not complaining. Sssee for the first time in my career... I feel like...

I'M HUGE!!!

[Throwing out his fake 48" pythons, Vile starts to flex his chiselled plastic physique for the sickened looking crowd. Despite being repulsed by Vile's new appearance, the audience can't help but pop for his H.U.G.E. name dropping. More than one person gets cut off at the bar. They look as surprised as you are.]

Sabbath: [Whispering] ... don't worry... we'll be in Phoenix Valley Wrestling soon... seriously, a few months here and we're aces.

VVV DX: Aren't they out of busssinessssss?

Sabbath: That's New Age Wrestling.

VVV DX: Still why would we want to leave? Look at these people! Finally getting back to the basics... this is what wrestling needs! A grasssssssrootsss campaign for the return of big men! America's crotch will be the new HOSSSSSSSSS city~!

Sabbath: Yeah, but I'm a little more into the finer things in life ... like making enough money to eat and pay the electric bill. I'm all for hanging out and putting on a hell of a show here, but we've also got to think about the big... picture...

[Somewhere inside Sabby's head, a lightbulb goes on...]

Sabbath: ... wait... you live... what, just right up the road, right?

[OH no! Vile's reason for appearing here; and dragging Sabbath away from the lucrative and artistically stifling Shootfire. Forcing a big, fake, idiotic smile – that matches his body – VVV tries to change the subject.]

VVV <sweating profusely>: What, me? No. Who would live in Ohio... only retarded, redneck, child molessstersss... who like to ssshovel their sssnow in front of your driveway, when there are perfectly good mounds five feet away...
<aside> I mean REALLY Frank, did you have to act like such a pric...
<back to character> you're mistaken Sssabsss.

[As soon as he gets over, Vile immediately loses the crowd, putting down his new hometown. Sabbath is starting to think he took a massive pay cut so Vile could die in a bar forty miles from his home.]

VVV DX <desperate to change the subject>: Ssso yeah... sssorry Tre Jordan, I wanted to make your career, but I have a partner. Looks like I'll settle up with Cloverfield before you do! How about this Leon Wellsssley character?

[Blink.]

Sabbath: Who?

VVV DX: Leon Wellsssley?

[Blink.]

Sabbath: Doesn't ring a bell.

VVV DX: [off-side] And people say I'm thick... [long pause, before turning back to Sabbath] ... the guy you're up against, Britisssh accent, full of himself.

Sabbath: That describes half the people I've wrestled in my lifetime. So... me and this Leon Wellsley... we... we're wrestling? Like ... tonight?

VVV DX: Yessss... tonight.

[Sabby looks at Vile, then shrugs.]

Sabbath: Okie dokie. I can do that. So... I suppose I should say something about him...

VVV DX: People might drink more... I think that'sss our motivation...

Sabbath: Hm... alright...

[Sabbath shakes himself, trying to get himself loosened up and into "promo" mode. Why didn't he look at the booking sheet before coming in? Wait, why should he have to do that? Shouldn't someone be calling him? He is a big star and all.]

Sabbath: ... ALRIGHT LEON WESLEY....

VVV DX: ... Wellsssley...

[Sigh]

Sabbath: ... *Wellsley*... YOU'RE IN FOR A LOT OF TROUBLE TONIGHT BROTHER! I'M COMIN' AT YOU WITH GUNS A BLAZIN' AND.... ah, hell, I can't do it. Look, Wesley, Wellsley, whatever... by now you should know who I am. You should have watched some tapes. And you should know that there's not a lot you can do. The plain and simple truth is... you're going to lose.

[He shrugs.]

Sabbath: Sorry, but thems the breaks, dude. Hopefully your next match you won't get placed against someone like me. Just accept it as a learning experience and move on. Actually, it'll make my life easier if you just like... don't even show up. Seriously, think about it...you don't get curbstomped into oblivion and I can start drinking five minutes early.

[He smacks his palm with each word to emphasis his point.]

Sabbath: That is the DEFINITION of win-win.

[He looks at Vile.]

Sabbath: How was that?

VVV DX: Eh... I've heard you do worsssse promosss. At leassst you didn't flake.

Sabbath: Yeah, I suppose I should work on that one of these days. Anyway...

[He turns to the camera and shrugs.]

Sabbath: Sorry, I got nothin'. And I think we've hit our ten minute combined slot, so just... go. Apparently we have matches to prepare for.

VVV DX: Hey! I at leassst know who I'm facing!

Sabbath: And you got him confused with the Cloverfield Monster!

VVV DX <rolls eyes at the crowd>: That's jussst a movie!

Sabbath: I....

[Laughing Vile points at his partner, shaking his head in disbelief, get a load of the guy who doesn't watch films. As Sabbath's brain asplodes, we fade away before the tag team can turn on each other.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Back in the studio.]

BJ: Haha, wow, that's ... that's just great.

DJHV: I ain't never seen that movie, man. That ... “Cloverfield”? I mean, first off, I never seen no clovers in the promo, right? And everybody's just all excited and *BLEEP*. Why they so excited?

BJ: I ... really?

DJHV: Really what?

BJ: It's a monster movie. Like ... King Kong or Godzilla.

DJHV: Huh? Why the hell don't they show the monster in the promos?

BJ: Well, you don't get to see the monster for the most part. It's from street level. From one guy with a handicam's point of view.

DJHV: Oh, so it's kinda like if one of the dorks we got running the camera got ate up by Mothra or some *BLEEP*?

BJ: Yeah. That's right Harvey. Just like that.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[A door opens.

Suspense builds...

And it's Stephen Harper, the prime minister of Canada. I mean, I knew his approval ratings are rather low, but to stoop to HUGE's standards is just sad.

But you know, he looks a little like Tre Jordan in the face. The hair, gray, doesn't look all that real and the suit, while we assume an established politician like Harper would wear a suit, is more of a tuxedo than a suit. It seems if this is Mr. Jordan, he doesn't quite understand political appearance. Further hurting his image is the fact that instead of a Canadian flag pin, he wears an American flag pin. Someone should have advised him.

Meanwhile, walking in behind him in a blue suit...well, a blue skirt suit...is Billy "Mack" McWilliams, the blind assistant to Mr. Jordan. Well, we can assume under that blonde wig and horrible makeup is Mack. The cane gives it a way. But in Jordan Land, this is Laureen Harper.]

Laureen: "Sir, it is times like this that I learn to appreciate my disability. Otherwise, I would really feel ridiculous about how you have dressed me."

Stephen: "Oh, Lo Lo, how you kid with that Canadian political humor. I really do owe my popularity to my sassy wife. Though, I must say 'Reen, you sound a little froggy. Are you getting sick with all these fancy diseases and the like here in the states? We need to get back soon to our universal health care, then."

Laureen: "I just don't understand why we are doing this, sir. Are we that afraid of The Spectre?"

Stephen: "Well, L-babe, The Spectre seems like a scary man, though I think people here in the states just haven't tried to get to know him. Why, I know a fancy chap by the name of Tre Jordan who just had glowing remarks about this man and in no way was involved in the decision that makes Jordan the winner."

[Mack sighs.]

Stephen: "Seriously, cupcake, are you sick?"

Laureen: "YOU ARE TRE JORDAN!"

[And Jordan's eyes bulge.]

Mack: "Sir."

Jordan: "Listen, Mack, while I love Spectre dearly, I believe that he has been pushed into attacking those that he actually likes. For instance, us two. However, I guess I should say that a win is a win...and because I am a good person, I will never brag or even speak of this match again so that Spect-dawg and I can go back to being friends who never talk or are seen in the same room together. Ever. Now, stay in character. Oh, crap, did I break kayfabe?"

Mack: "Kay-what?"

Stephen: "Nothing, sugarplums. So, tell me, what have you learned about this Vile "Vince" Val Valentin Vance Vern Viper Thingy Person?"

Laureen: *sigh* "Fine. Well, sir, he has a hardcore background and seems to wear a muscle suit."

Stephen: "That's what the darn preview said! You have done no work for our countryman. He needs our help and you haven't even scouted this guy."

Laureen: "Sir, I feel I must once again remind you I'm blind."

Tre: "Hogwash and bullpoo. Do not try to justify your level of incompetence. We must now ask around for this guy. Just remember that you're not British, but Canadian. It is kind of the same thing, except in Canada, we only try to be England."

Mack: "I was born in Baltimore, sir."

Tre: "...I thought that was a joke."

Mack: "How is that funny?"

Tre: "I don't know. I never got all of Monty Python's jokes, I just laughed along! Fine, come come, gumdrop. There is much work to be done. If you see Spect-dawg, be sure to...play dead."

Mack: "See him?"

Tre: Yes. Now, we also must track down Barney Johnson because I demand to know why he chose to leave me off last week's introduction video. That is just a shammockery. The man seems to hunt down the cruelest, evilest, mean bastards aside from last name Spectre, first name The in the world to be my opponents and he can't even give me a little pat on the back by using my likeness in the video that brings us into HUGE Live? Am I not Live enough? Not HUGE? Don't answer that, Mack.

Mack: Of course, sir.

Tre: I will take my case to Johnson in good time. For now, I have to get ready for V For Viper. Mack *ahem* Laureen. There is much work to be done in this goodwill trip to the states.

Laureen: Indeed, sir. Indeed.

[And with that, the scene fades.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Studio~!]

DJHV: What the *BLEEP*?

BJ: Tre Jordan ... confident?

DJHV: No, seriously, what did I just see?

BJ: Confident in his ability to--

DJHV: I mean, yeah, Spectre's scary, but who was Tre supposed to be just now?

BJ: The Prime Minister of Canada?

DJHV: The what now?

BJ: Don't even try to tell me you don't know what Canada is.

DJHV: Sure I do. Biggest state in the union. They got a Governor though.

BJ: ...

DJHV: Or is that a Mayor? Can't keep that crap straight sometimes.

BJ: Please note that, because he asked so nicely, a clip of Tre Jordan has been added to the introduction of this show. Now, folks, let's see what happens when Tre Jordan collides with Vile “Vince” Viper Deluxe.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Arena~! Tre came out first, heralded by Sponge's “Plowed”. He looked around himself, visibly nervous, Seemingly searching for the spectre. Mack even got in on the act, waving his cane about while pleading with Tre that his cane had no ability to make invisible monsters visible.
“Juke Joint Jezebel” by KMFDM blasted over the PA system as the lights dim. Pushing back the curtains, Vile “Vince” Viper stepped out into the spotlight, still decked out in his ridiculous muscle outfit. It looked the worse for wear. The light gleamed off the heavy layer of Vaseline Vile has lathered his costume up in. Audience members passed out, some plants, some mockingly, as the muscular Triple V swaggers up to ringside. Sliding under the ropes, VVV started to flex his rubber pecs for the capacity crowd.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DJHV: Look at the size difference, Barn!

BJ: It's ... just a suit. They're actually pretty close to the same size.

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Tre Jordan
-vs-
Vile “Vince” Viper Deluxe
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[The pair started off by feeling one another out. That lasted for about 5 seconds until Tre realized how immobile Vince's suit makes him. Shots to the body did little, but a series of dropkicks, 'though well-padded by the rubber suit, sent Vince's massively exaggerated physique plunging repeatedly to the mat. After about five times, Vince took a breather on the outside.]

DJHV: I'll tell you what, Barn, when Tre showed up, I figured him for some kinda little weenie loser, but damn! The guy's hanging with anybody you put him against.

BJ: I'm a little surprised at how easily Viper's going down each time. I mean, Tre hasn't hit him in the head once...

[The assault continued on the outside as Jordan PLUNGED over the top rope and onto his opponent. Finally Tre realized what was happening and started raining punches down on Viper's head. The hardcore brawler slowly came to his feet, rocked back on his heels, then grabbed onto Tre, seemingly for balance, but sent him sprawling awkwardly into the ringsteps! “I’m really sssorry... I’m kind of new to the good guy thing. Force of habit, I ssswear!” said Vince, seemingly horrified as Jordan held his hurt ribs.]

BJ: Jordan had his ribs bruised last week during his match with the Spectre. That isn't going to help them get better.

DJHV: You think? And what's up with ol' Triplevee claiming innocence? Man, I did that, I'd be BRAGGING!

[In an effort to play by the rules, Vince shoved Tre back into the ring and waited for him to stand up. The pair traded punches, Tre getting the upper hand, and then hitting an Irish Whip. Reversed by Vince, the hard Irish whip sent Jordan running into the corner, Triple V charging along after him. At the last second Jordan managed to jump up, perching on the top rope Tre leaves only ring post for Vile to ram his shoulder into. Dented, the rubber outfit seemed to form around the post, with an irritated Viper having a hard time pulling away from the steel. Sliding off the top rope, Jordan drops to the outside, catching Viper’s head as he falls, and dragging the fake big man with him for a brutal bulldog into the steel steps. The first step busts Vile’s nose wide open.]

DJHV: Payback! Man, that could have been worse...

[...Then the weight of the costume causes Vile to start slipping forwards, hitting his head on step, after step, after step. It isn’t pretty.]

DJHV: Same! Set! Of stairs! Bam bam bam all the way down!

BJ: Of course it is. You think I'm gonna pay for two sets of steel steps? There's a reason they're in a neutral corner.

[Cut to later in the match. And it looked like a long one as Vince, wearing a crimson mask and sweating bullets staggered away from Tre, who was hot in pursuit. Falling against the turnbuckle, Vince absorbed a corner splash, and dipped down, barely standing. A second splash, and--]

BJ: Nobody home! Tre Jordan eats the turnbuckle as he goes to the well once too often.

DJHV: What you talkin' 'bout, Barn? The man just buried his RIBS into that pad, man. I'd be surprised if his breathing didn't sound like wet gravel movin' right now.

[Apologizing again, a breathless Viper said “I haven’t wrestled in the sssuit before; it’s kind of awkward... I’m not TRYING to work the ribsss!” as he pulled his opponent up to his feet. One bearhug later, and Vince had Tre ready to pass out. The ref lifts Tre's hand once, twice, and Vince suddenly remembers that he's trying _not_ to work Tre's injured ribs.]

BJ: Viper drops Tre, who holds his hand up to signify he's conscious. Awkward timing, but isn't it always in HUGE?

[Scrambling back to his feet and away from Vince, Tre leaned against the ropes for support. Vince ran at Tre, caught a boot to the mush, allowing Tre to backflip onto the apron. A second run, and Tre dropped to the floor, putting the fat, old bastard's throat across the top rope.]

BJ: Jordan is rallying!

DJHV: Shouldn't he be dead by now?

[Rolling from side to side to regain his feet, the stunned VVV looked like a turtle on the mat. Pressing the advantage, Tre hopped up to the apron and quickly hit a slingshot legdrop! Viper barely managed to kick out, mostly because of his costume. Laying a few punches in to a recovering Viper, Tre ran to the ropes, rebounded, and--]

BJ: Whoa!

DJHV: What was that? Did he just fall down or something?

[Lunging from a kneeling position VVV hit a rolling kuppou kick to the midsection and sent Jordan stumbling backwards into the ropes. Calling for the Satan’s strut, Vile extended his rubbery fingers into devil horns, visibly wondering if this move will work with his bulkier padded digits. Charging across the ring, VVV found no answer as Jordan ducked under his eye gouge attempt. Hooking a leg for assistance, Jordan groaned audibly, back dropping the king of snakes over the top rope. Tre favored his ribs as the “Jordan” chants went up throughout the crowd. Wait! VVV landed on the apron! Jordan turned, looking to correct it, when Vile wraps his beefy limbs around the cruiserweight sensation.]

*HOT DAMN*

[The crowd pops hard as Vile comes off the apron with a belly-to-belly overhead suplex, releasing Jordan in midair, Tre is sent flying into the audience. Hitting the concrete hard, Vile rubs the back of his head for a moment, hoping that spot looked good. Turning to his victim’s corpse, Triple V seems a little saddened to find the delighted crowd body surfing Tre around. Sure Tre isn’t pleased about being a rag doll, but at least the audience is eating it up. That looks like fun. Climbing back up on the apron, VVV dives into the middle rope, than throws himself off with an Asai moonsault, hoping the audience will catch him too … they don’t.]

BJ: And the crowd parts like the Red Sea!

DJHV: Damn good thing too, man. I don't think yo' insurance gonna cover a 260-pound dude in a 200-pound suit squashin' a buncha drunks.

BJ: You have to admit though; the mere fact that a man as long in the tooth as Viper can backflip in a suit like that is damned impressive.

DJHV: So's a solar eclipse, but that don't make it safe to look at.

[Rolling around briefly, Viper made his way to his feet with some difficulty. He seemed remarkably unhurt, protected from the impact by his padded suit. Tre made his way into the ring at a 5-count, laying still and trying to regain his breath. VVV barely made it in at 9, similarly breathless, if only for the effort it took to haul his suit over the guardrail and into the ring.]

DJHV: Barney, suggestion; maybe put the guardrail a little further back from the ring?

BJ: Eh … yeah, maybe that's a good idea.

[Both men struggled to find their feet again, exchanging blows before Tre finally hit an armdrag, followed by a hiptoss. Seemingly dizzied, Viper slid/rolled to his feet, staggered, then flopped as Tre hit a high dropkick directly to his face. Seemingly on a roll, Jordan climbed the turnbuckles, giving the high sign for his finisher.]

DJHV: I'm wondering … why's Viper slide all over when he falls? Is his suit lubed? 'Cause I thought it was just shiny rubber...

BJ: What the? Viper playing possum, and getting to his feet!

[Getting up on one knee, Vince locks eyes, defiantly, with his opponent. Tre, changing course, opts for a basic top-rope crossbody instead of his finisher “Tre Jordan's Japanese Move”. Viper rises to his full height, and the two collide, sloppily...]

DJHV: WOW! What the hell was that!?

BJ: Crossbody attempt, but I think Viper hit with an uppercut. Oh...

DJHV: Pin! He pinnin'!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DJHV: Yo winnah by way of train wreck be Vile “Vince” Viper Deluxe, y'all!

BJ: I think that was supposed to be the “Tiger Uppercut”.

DJHV: Hanh?

BJ: I received an email this morning from Capcom, makers of Street Fighter IV, now on all major consoles and personal computers stating that I should mention their product if Vince Viper were to hit an uppercut... Apparently they're paying him to do it.

DJHV: But … we're not on TV.

BJ: True, but we're on the internet, where commercials are harder to skip. So go out and buy Street Fighter IV, people. Okay, I think that satisfies any contractual obligations that may be in play here.

[In the ring, the referee is checking on Jordan when VVV pushes him to one side, the fake Adonis that is Vile “Vince” grabs Tre Jordan’s arm. Clearly impressed by the young man’s work, and trying to siphon some of his heat, Vile raises Jordan’s arm high in the air. This doesn’t help Tre’s rib cage or his ego. As Tre doubles over in pain an oblivious Viper continues to pose for the crowd.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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Vile Side
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Keith
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Speaking for Tre Jordan fans everywhere.

Sweetest card ever.

Well worth the wait.
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Picky
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
I don't even remember writing that Preston Mayfield RP.
Have I told you how much I loathe your continued existence today?

Proud member of the Quote Pyramid Builders Union Local #317
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Mozeart
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Picky,Jan 1 2010
03:01 AM
I don't even remember writing that Preston Mayfield RP.

Maybe you were high when you wrote it?
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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Picky
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Mozeart,Jan 1 2010
07:01 AM
Picky,Jan 1 2010
03:01 AM
I don't even remember writing that Preston Mayfield RP.

Maybe you were high when you wrote it?

Nope. Never touch any of that stuff.
Have I told you how much I loathe your continued existence today?

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Overly_Critical_Jue
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Amigo, I ain't anybody but Juan Vasquez!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
I'm sure writing your rps has the same effect anyway. :beer:
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Picky
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Now let us retreat wench, for tonight, we feast on snobbery...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Overly_Critical_Jue,Jan 1 2010
02:04 PM
I'm sure writing your rps has the same effect anyway. :beer:

I tend to edit things down to be less offensive for others because my line on what is offensive is barely there.
Have I told you how much I loathe your continued existence today?

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Mozeart
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
[STUDIO~!!!]

DJHV: 100% class as always, Barn.

BJ: Tre Jordan with his first loss in HUGE. Still, when the time comes to crown a new HUGE champion, I'm sure he'll be one of the top seeds in the tournament.

DJHV: When you getting around to that again?

BJ: Soon.

DJHV: Soon like a year from now? Tonight? Maybe when we have a colony on Mars?

BJ: Next week, okay? The tournament starts next week.

DJHV: Oh. Hell yeah! Hope it works out better than when the racist cop was the champ.

BJ: Oh, please, never mention Bob Bobley to me again.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[HUGE's men's room, specifically the former handicapped toilet stall that is now the office for Strickland Sports Liason Preston Mayfield. Oh, and here comes someone now. A man in leather pants, black Doc Martens and leather pants scurries into the stall.]

*muttering*: 13 lousy bucks...

[There is a lot of movement in that stall and now the camera goes inside. We see Preston Mayfield stashing something in his makeshift file cabinet (an old cardboard pizza box) and he is putting the lid back on the toilet.]

Preston Mayfield: Hello HUGE fans! It is I, Preston Mayfield. I have been here all evening huffing glue and working hard for Strickland Sports, scouting out the best talent in all of Ohio.

[Preston reaches under a poker table that is his makeshift work desk and produces a brown paper bag and some rubber cement. Mayfield pours some of the cement into the bag then inhales.]

Preston Mayfield: Oh yeah... that hits the spot. Anyhow, I would like the world to know that my pal here, Barney Johnson, was an innocent bystander last time and not meant to get harmed in any way shape or form. I would never do anything to hurt Barney. He's a pal and I would be sad if Barney were hurt or mugged for a paltry sum of 13 dollars. I also would be unhappy if I found out he uses a Hannah Montana wallet.

[Preston's hair is very messed up and he looks flushed. Instead of taking another huff from his glue bag he just reaches into his pants and pulls out a red stained rag and deeply inhales]

Preston Mayfield: HOLY [INTERNET EDIT]! Everything is spinning!

[Mayfield hops up and down and reaches down again and produces a giant, plastic dong. He begins to pound it on the table like a gavel. Preston bolts up and starts to walk back and forth.]

Preston Mayfield: So this week some sort of weird living lard thingamajig is going up against the Mayfield. I've fucked things with more folds that this Twinkles[INTERNET EDIT]. I... whoa, I've got a boner that just won't quit... man my balls itch.

[Preston tries to scratch himself with that giant dong.]

Preston Mayfield: I WILL SCORE SOME BLOW TONIGHT AND PLOW SOMEONE'S ASS[INTERNET EDIT] UNTIL IT GUSHES!

[Yeah... Okay, the camera man begins to back out as The Mayfield drops trou and begins to shuffle forward.] Preston Mayfield: *dun dun dun dun* King Dong gonna blacken your face with a slap!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Back in the studio, there is much horror evinced by both Barney and Harvey.]

DJHV: Man, holy, what? Don't you even? Words fail, man!

BJ: Don't worry, I'll be blurring most of that nastiness out.

DJHV: Just blur the whole thing. Maybe make the screen solid black.

BJ: Oh, it's not that bad.

DJHV: Not that bad? I think that guy may be more chemical than man!

BJ: His drug tests always come back clean.

DJHV: BULL*BLEEP*!

BJ: All I can do is test him, man. It's up to the guys at the clinic to catch anything he's doing. Until then it's just conjecture and rumor.

DJHV: Uh-huh. I heard some rumors. Rumors that Tracy Hudson Mask mugging people. That he's knockin' boots with Cindy in yo' broom closet. Oh yeah, I also heard that TRACY HUDSON MASK IS ACTUALLY PRESTON MAYFIELD!

BJ: You can't use that against me! I told you that!

DJHV: Yeah, well, it's just a rumor, so nothin' you can do about it, huh?

[Cut as Barney rubs his black eye.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Down in the arena, another match was about to get underway! "Pump up the Jam" by Technotronic began to play over the speakers. Up from The Dungeon onto the entrance way emerged Twinkletoes Tiwilliger. Twinkletoes came down to the ring in what might be described in the loosest definition of the term dancing. He was doing hip swivels and pelvic thrusts in tune to the music. He also came to the ring with a triple patty cheeseburger in one hand, and a giant turkey leg in the other, takings bites out of both items in alternating fashion. He eventually makes his way to the ring as the camera pans the crowd who have mixed looks of disdain,puzzlement and nausea.
Twinkletoes enters the ring and does a very slow uncoordinated form of the running man dance, that is more noticeable for the amount of flesh it causes to jiggle than for the lack of technique demonstrated in its execution. Twinkletoes concludes his dancing by holding up the remnants of the burger and turkey leg and letting out a belch , at least 15 seconds in duration, that echoes throughout the building, broken only by the sounds of the crowd jeering and the sounds of possible retching from those in attendance.
Keith John Adams's "Lie" begins to play and Preston Mayfield makes his way down the ring... but not before groping a few female fans.]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Preston Mayfield
-vs-
“King of the Cruiserweights”
Twinkletoes Tiwilliger.
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Preston and Twinkletoes look to lock up, but as Tiwilliger lunges forward, Mayfield falls backwards, gets pinned, and the match is over before it begins. Preston Mayfield finally squirms out from underneath the winded Twinkletoes, receives a small wad of bills from the oversized “cruiser” and scrambles to find a microphone. Somehow, somewhere, the Mayfield finds a microphone. Preston crawls back into the ring and walks up to the winded Twinkletoes.]

PM: And that just goes to show you what you Clean Living can get you!

[Mayfield holds out his right hand to Twinkletoes and the little big "cruiser" accepts.]

TT: *BURP*

PM: Watch the [INTERNET EDIT] out Ohio. Clean Living is going to fist this bitch.

BJ: Preston Mayfield is cheating the fans out of a match!

DJHV: Check it man, I ain't even gonna ring the bell, much less announce. Just mark it down.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

BJ: Abominable. Just … awful.

DJHV: Best match so far. Y'know … but who knows? Maybe there'll be an even shorter one tonight.

BJ: Ladies and gentlemen, a young man with a bright future in professional wrestling, and a hopeful to move up to Phoenix Valley Wrestling … Scott Nielsen.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[We fade up from black after the obligatory static to see fresh-faced 23 year old newcomer Scott Nielsen stood in front of the low-cost HUGE backdrop. Tonight Scott’s dressed simply in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. A subtle leather strap sits on his wrist and a small silver crucifix rests on a chain around his neck. As per usual, his jaw is wrapped in five o’clock shadow and his dark brown hair is messed up in the fashionable bed-head style.]

[Scott’s looking straight into the lens with his piercing brown eyes, a look of determination and honesty playing out across his face.]

SN: I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get used to this feeling that sits in the pit of your gut before a show.

SN: I don’t know if it’s fear... or excitement.

Or both.

[A wry smile, pushing up the corner of his youthful mouth.]

SN: Last week I notched up my first win here... and, the funny thing is... it didn’t feel right.

I was sloppy... I panicked... I didn’t pace myself.

[Pause.]

SN: I saw a big... _ huge_ guy standing across the ring from me and the self-doubt clawed its way up from the depths of my belly and, for a moment, I wasn’t sure I could beat him.

I wasn’t sure I had it in me.

He was too big. I was too small. Anything I had in the trunk just wasn’t gonna be enough... Anything I could do to him wouldn’t put him down.

[A glance away from the camera to gather his thoughts.]

SN: But I found I had it... I took a deep breath and just... went for it. I remembered my training, tried to forget the nagging doubt deep down and... just did what I do best and, in the end, I got the job done.

But even that wasn’t good enough.

The people that come here and pay good, hard-earned money to watch guys like me pull out all the stops out there deserve better. That’s why they shouted ‘boring’ at me... and they were right.

For a few minutes out there... I was boring.

[Scott shakes his head as if clearing the dark thoughts from the back of his mental cupboards.]

SN: This week, though, they’re gonna get their money’s worth.

[Beat.]

SN: This week Barney’s put me up against Crimson Dragon. I don’t know much about him, but I know he’s a guy much more... suited to my style.

And that means I can show the HUGE fans – and myself - that I’ve got it... That I’ve got what it takes to be successful in the squared circle. That I’ve got what it takes to bring the house down.

[Scott’s eyes shimmer with his trademark resolve.]

SN: Last week I made a promise that I would win and, despite the fact I may not have been entirely happy with how it went... I did it.

This week, I’m promising that not only will I win... but I’ll do it in _style_. I’ll come away from that ring not ashamed of how I won... but _proud_.

Proud that the fans cheered a man who gave it his all and came out on top.

[Pause.]

SN: Last week I walked up to the ring with a self doubt ringing in my ears and fear churning away in my stomach. Fear of the unknown; fear of not knowing I had the balls to be a pro-wrestler.

This week, though, I’m not scared - I’m feeling... _ready_.

[Scott points at the camera.]

SN: And I’m gonna use that; feed on it - _thrive_ on it – to give my all out there... To give the fans here at Hellfire and the guys logging on to the website a match they can remember.

If I can keep that up, maybe I could get used to this feeling.

[Scott flashes a smile as we fade.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: He still boring.

BJ: _Actually_, Harvey, Nielsen is one of the more dynamic competitors in HUGE today. The only question being … can he take the Crimson Dragon tonight and make it a streak?

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[First out was Crimson Dragon, accompanied by Cole Parker as “the Optimist” by Skinless plays. Then “Jesus Walks” hit the PA, Scott Nielsen emerged from The Dungeon looking ready for business. His face was a cold mask and his eyes were set firmly on the match and it looked like he could have been wrestling in an empty room for the lip service he paid to the fans.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Crimson Dragon
-vs-
Scott Nielsen
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[As the match began the pair of crusierweights went round and round, looking for an advantage. Trading hiptosses, armdrags and snapmares. Eventually Nielsen gained an advantage, and Dragon ducked to the outside to consult his manager.]

BJ: Cole Parker offering his man some advice.

DJHV: So you think Crimson Dragon's actually asian? I was just reading about how some “asian” wrestlers back in the day were actually white guys in masks. And, y'know … this guy's wearin' a mask.

BJ: You read?

[Standing back, waiting, Nielsen waves his opponent back inside. Dragon, however, takes full advantage of the 10-count, and slides in at the furthest part of the ring from him as the referee heads off a charge from Nielsen. Parker shouts at Nielsen, making the rookie sensation turn his head just as the Crimson Dragon hits a dropkick! Stunned, Nielsen absorbs a standing moonsault, then a series of martial arts kicks that first goad him to his feet, then knock him down again. Less than 5 minutes in, the first pinfall attempt goes to the Dragon.

BJ: Kickout! Nielsen got distracted, and is having trouble recovering.

[Wearing on, Nielsen was dragged to his feet, held onto the ropes after an Irish Whip, ducked under a mad charge by Dragon, and flung him over the top rope to a mad face pop! This was short-lived, however, as Dragon dropped down, hanging Nielsen across the top rope!
Dragging Nielsen back into the ring, Dragon pulled him up for a Michinoku Driver, only to have Nielsen cartwheel out of it, then hit one of his own!]

BJ: DRAGON DRIVER! Either Nielsen doesn't know he just hit Dragon's own finisher on him, or he's got him scouted better than anyone else might believe! That between-the-legs piledriver has put Dragon on dream street, but Nielsen slow to cover!

[As Nielsen moved to cover, the referee suddenly went to intercept Cole Parker who aggressively attempted to enter the ring! Dragon made no attempt to kick out, and Nielsen stood, shouted and pointed at Parker, only to be hit with a Dragon Suplex! Heel pop as Nielsen kicked out at one, breathlessly rolling away from his opponent.
Pressing the advantage with another flurry of kicks, Dragon found his foot caught, missed with an enzuigiri, and immediately took a senton, then a standing moonsault from Nielsen. Dragging him up, Nielsen threw Dragon into the ropes, rebounded, and nailed him with a flying forearm!
At about this moment the fans started chanting Nielsen's name.]

BJ: Nobody will ever call Scott Nielsen boring again!

[Dragon arched his back to escape the pinfall, ran, and missed a shining wizard! Nielsen tuck-and-rolled, rebounding off the ropes, and hit a wizard of his own! The result was a 2 count.
Needing some distance, Dragon rolled from the ring, consulting again with Parker as Nielsen dove over the top rope with a springboard plancha! Dragon moved, however, leaving his manager to get absolutely creamed!]

DJHV: Aw hell, he done crushed the old man!

BJ: I wouldn't call Cole Parker elderly, but he's no athlete. Oh man, we'd better get our EMT out here.

DJHV: We have an EMT?

BJ: Well, he's a fan, and we feed him, so he helps us out when people get hurt.

[The call goes out for Ron Gomez, food-paid medical guy, and he quickly isolates Parker's neck as Dragon tries again, unsuccessfully, to pin Nielsen in the ring. In desperation, as he sees his manager loaded onto a stretcher, he applies a Dragon Sleeper.]

BJ: Dragon slapping on a submission maneuver! That looks nasty, and Nielsen struggling to get to his feet!

[Gripping tightly, Dragon did his best to keep Nielsen in place, but the rookie repeatedly pressed back, forcing Dragon to rise to his feet. In answer, Dragon kneed Nielsen in the spine, causing him to drop back down. Ultimately, however, Nielsen found his feet and BACKFLIPPED, locking on a Dragon Sleeper of his own! Face pop! Throwing his feet out, Nielsen hit a corkscrew neckbreaker out of the reverse chancery position, sending Dragon down hard!]

BJ: What a move! The Dragon is on dream street!

[Staggering back to his feet, the Dragon looked panicked, but only for a moment as he absorbed a superkick to the mush! As the fans go wild, Nielsen fairly leapt to the top rope, NAILING a 450 splash, bounced, and rolled back onto Dragon, holding his own stomach, hurt from the impact.]

BJ: Big Bang into a 450! That's it!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DJHV: Party people, check that out! Yo' winnah after splatterin' an old dude is SCOTT NIELSEN!

[More positive fan reaction rained down on Nielsen as he hopped up on the turnbuckles and acknowledged the fans for their support.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

BJ: Impressive win by Nielsen there. You know he's already packed 5 pounds of muscle on since signing with HUGE? I've never seen an athlete gain muscle mass that quickly.

DJHV: If he's an athlete then he's the only one. Booze-soaked has-wanna-bes infestin' this place like cockroaches makin' me sick.

BJ: Good rant.

DJHV: Think so?

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Cut down to the arena, strangely with no leadin whatsoever.]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Leon Wellsley
-vs-
“The Walking Contradiction” Sabbath
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve starts up. Leon Wellsley makes his way out with a cocky smirk on his face. He strides down the ramp, ignoring the belligerent fans around him. He hops on the apron, having to pull himself up a little, before stepping through the ropes and going to his respective corner.
["The Memory Remains" by Metallica blasts over the P.A., the crowd singing along with the familiar first line. Sabbath and Sayaka step out from the back, dual Singapore canes in hand. As they make their way down the aisle, they slap hands and bump fists with the fans. When Sabbath reaches the ring, he slips under the ropes and pushes himself up before going to his corner to begin his prematch routine.]

BJ: Sabbath, a 15-year veteran, facing off against a man that I believe is new to the business. I can't imagine a greater challenge for the young Wellsley.

[Sabbath stretches as Wellsley watches him with great interest. As the veteran bends down to tighten his boots, Wellsley charges, and comes face to face with a ready Sabbath. Seeing his opponent set to receive charge, Wellsley changes his stance from one of striking overhand to a pleasant handshake. When Sabbath accepts the handshake, a dubious expression on his face, Wellsley hits a thumb to the eye!]

BJ: Dirty tactics already!

[But Sabbath ducked his head, giving Wellsley a forehead to stub his thumb on. Wellsley sees that Sabbath is unhurt, and immediately starts to beg off as the Veteran grips his hand more strongly.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

[The match begins as Sabbath applies an arm wringer to the hapless Wellsley. Dragging him to center ring, Sabbath smashes Wellsley's shoulder with an overhand strike. Hitting repeatedly, Sabbath then twists, strikes again, then pulls Wellsley into a headlock.]

BJ: Sabbath dictating the pace in the early going here.

DJHV: Embarrassin' the kid, you mean.

BJ: He's giving up some size to Sabbath, an infinite amount of experience, and I don't think he's really got any advantage in speed, so we'll see how this turns out.

[Wellsley hits repeated elbow strikes to the back of Sabbath, looking to escape somehow, some way. Loosening his grip, Sabbath gets shot into the ropes, stops short of Wellsley on the rebound. Wellsley, ready to hit a backdrop, instead gets kicked in the face, hit with a palm strike and finally a spinning heel kick. Sabbath scowls, shaking his head, and beckoning Wellsley to get up.]

BJ: Great combination by Sabbath. Wellsley looking very intimidated.

[The haughty Englishman gets to his feet, dusting himself off, makes a dismissive gesture towards Sabbath, and turns to leave the ring. Sabbath, hands on his hips, looks to the crowd as if to say “what the hell's going on here?” until Wellsley ducks his head to exit. Sabbath then runs forward, catching Wellsley by the seat of his pants. Holding onto the middle rope, Wellsley calls to the referee, demanding a rope break. Getting close, referee Freddy Jacobs issues a 5-count, and as he looks towards Wellsley's grip, Sabbath catches a heel to the groin. Heel pop!]

DJHV: That's how you do it! Sabby thought he had this easy, but Leon da lion gon' show him how it's done now!

[Throwing his hands up, Jacobs calls the break, but looks confused at Sabbath falling to the mat. Diving onto Sabbath, Wellsley desperately pounds away at him before attempting a pinfall. He gets a 2-count, but that's it.
Stomping away at Sabbath, Wellsley gets a wild look in his eyes. Sabbath, getting to his knees, protects his face from kicks with one hand, and grips Wellsley's belt with the other. Quick like a whip, Wellsley drops down with a Fujiwara armbar.]

BJ: Submission applied!

DJHV: What I tell you!?

[Working to get his elbow under him, Sabbath quickly escapes, hooking one of Wellsley's arms and attempting a pin. Kicking out quickly, Sabbath then gets tugged up by the arm, and pulled in for a DDT.]

BJ: Wellsley wisely trying to finish this match quickly. Sabbath has already shown what he can do when they're both on equal footing.

[Another pin attempt, and another kickout. Wellsley applies a headlock and frantically pounds on Sabbath's head. The referee admonishes him for using closed fists and issues a 5-count, finally pulling Wellsley up by one arm. An argument ensues, and Wellsley backs away, holding up his hands to plead his innocence.]

BJ: Wellsley lost it for a moment there, but looks to be gaining confidence in this matchup.

[Quick like a whip, a Michinoku Driver folds Wellsley in two. Sabbath moves to pin.]

BJ: RAPTURE! WHAT THE HELL!? There's the 3-count! This is over!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DJHV: Wow. People, winnah by slippin' one in on the rookie is “The Walking Contradiction” Sabbath.

[Sabbath shakes the arm that took the armbar out, shaking his head at the unconscious Wellsley. He chuckles slightly as he exits the ring.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Stu-ah, you know.]

DJHV: I'll tell you Barn, when I ain't around you, I don't even pay attention to wrestling, but even I thought that was pretty damned impressive.

BJ: Sabbath took a very game Wellsley to school there. I for one couldn't tell if Sabbath was playing possum or not there, but he certainly was explosive with that finish.

DJHV: Nobody saw it comin' if that's what you mean.

BJ: Indeed. Now fans, the fan favorite direct from Spain, Antonio Morientes.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[We cut to the HUGE backdrop set up in the Dungeon Area. Standing in front of it is Antonio Morientes, dressed in his wrestling gear and with an intense look adorning his face.]

AM: I could not sleep last night.

[Antonio shakes his head slowly.]

AM: When I layed in my bed all I could feel was this heavy weight on me! A weighty burden sitting upon my chest crushing me with it's responsibility.

[Antonio looks into the camera.]

AM: God has placed this on me! He has given me a crusade, a deed I have to accomplish for the good of mankind, and as heavy as the burden may be I can not run away from it or pass it on to another person!

[Antonio nods.]

AM: There are times where the challenges facing you in life are shades of gray. It may not be clearly one way or another, and you have to use your faith and your best judgment to do your best in overcoming those obstacles.

[Antonio looks up at the camera again.]

AM: But then there are times where it is plain black and white! The challenge before you is clearly one way and you are to have no doubt about it as you march forward to face the challenge!

[Antonio's face hardens.]

AM: Spectre.. You are CLEARLY black! You cling to the darkness, you tell us to fear it, you lash out with your violence to hurt, maim and wrecklessly and intentionally injure all in your path.. Just to feed your darkness! God has placed us both in this unfortunately named arena called "Hellfire" and now we will do battle!

[Antonio points to the banner behind him.]

AM: An agent of darkness and evil, of blood and violence, such as yourself should have all the advantage! This arena is known as "Hellfire" and you are surely one of the Devil's minions and your experience in this business of fighting far outweighs mine! Your ability to injure and inflict your evil onto others is greater than anyone here right now!

[Antonio looks back towards the camera.]

AM: But where others fear.. Where others flee.. Where others try to offer you promises of drinks and friendship to try and avoid your mindless fury...

[Antonio taps his chest.]

AM: I will stand before you unmoving and unwavering! God has placed this challenge before me and I will not repay all he has benefited me and my family in life by running away when he calls on me to do his work! I will stand before you Demon and I will smite you! I won't do it with maiming! I won't do it with reckless and wild violence! I won't do it with intentions to cripple or disfigure!

[Antonio's face gets even more serious!]

AM: I won't do it by breaking the rules of our business! I will use the rules to break you! For every illegal blow you throw at me, I will use legal blows to fight back! For every object you try to break over my body, I will use just my hands and limbs to wrestle you! For every drop of blood you spill from my person, I will spill ONLY your selfish desire to see others suffer for your benefit because I will grab victory in a legal manner despite all your hurricane of violence.. And you and your ways of darkness will be defeated by the light!

[Antonio's face softens.]

AM: And when it's all over, I will invite you to join me. To be a brother with me under the tent of Rome! I will meet your violence with unflinching integrity and all my heart and strength! But then I will offer you the hand of compassion! I will offer you a path to a better way and I will do so happily! So let this war of light and dark commence but at the end does not have to be emptiness and nothing!

[Antonio nods.]

AM: May God bless you with light and shield us both from mortal injury!

[Fades to black.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

BJ: Morientes with a huge challenge ahead of him. The Spectre is indeed a veteran, a powerhouse and a monster that feels no pain. Or ... if he does, he likes it!

DJHV: Boy done pretty good so far, but hey, lemme change the subject. Wassup with that racist crap?

BJ: What? Racist?

DJHV: Yeah man, Morientes was spoutin' off about black and white.

BJ: He was speaking religiously! Philosophically! He's not talking about African Americans! Spectre's an albino or something, for God's sake!

DJHV: Oh, so now you don't like albinos?

BJ: Gah!

[Barney slaps his forehead, accidentally catching his black eye.]

BJ: Ow...

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[The camera cuts downstairs into the storage room. Kegs of beer are
stacked in a fairly precarious column against the far left wall, while a steep staircasae ascends up the right side. Dim light filters through the space between the floorboards from the food prep area above, sending dim bars of illumination into the dim room.

From under the stairs, a piece of the blackness detaches itself from
the shadows and slowly approaches, stalking its way slowly forward until it comes into relief as The Spectre. The ghoulish goth is wearing a tattered black trench coat over his normal ring gear, making his heavily muscled form appear even more massive than it is.]

"Now...now HUGE has provided us with what we've asked for."

[His pale eyes shine out beneath is dark dreaklocks as a sadistic
smile creases his features.]

"Make no mistake...Strickland and his WILL suffer for our banishment,
our mind is unchanged in this decision...but in the meantime we have
been provided with nothing less than a paragon of virtue...a paladin
come to slay the Beast and make the world safe for children to sleep
in their beds at the end of the night, secure in the knowledge that
the hero can still emerge triumphant."

[Shaking his head, Spectre's smile fades, his expression hardening
into something far more sinister.]

"Offal.

This boy...Antonio Morientes...does not realize the task that has been laid out before him...the gravity of the challenge which he will face. He feels that fair play and compassion will place him in good
stead...that friendly competition will win the day. That virtue is
its own reward, and that good will triumph over evil.

We know all of these pronouncements to be lies...and by the end of our time with little Morientes, he will know the same.

As he lies on the canvas in a slowly spreading pool of his own fluids, the people he professes to care for...the unwashed masses who pack this facility and offer their mindless adoration will see their hero laid low. They will see him cry out as he receives a baptism in pain.

In short, they will see him broken.

And everyone here will truly understand what it means to fear the dark."

[cut]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

BJ: Spectre creepy as always. And ... I'm glad he likes his opponent for this week.

DJHV: You mean the guy _you_ picked out?

BJ: Can we pretend I didn't do that? It'd be nice if Spectre stayed mad at someone like Billionaire Ron Strickland instead of nice, accessible me.

DJHV: Hey, you filled up the sandbox, brah. No use crying if someone kicks some o' that sand in yo' face.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[The arena is silent, but only briefly.]

DJHV: Hey y'all, time for da main event for the week!

[A massive pop goes up, and the camera focuses on DJ Har-V at the announcer, one hand on the switchboard, having routed his mic to the PA system, the other pressing one headphone deeper into his ear.]

DJHV: Introducing first... He big, he scary, and last week he lost to Tre Jordan. Is he pissed? You bet. He's the 275-pound monster from New York ... THE SPECTRE~!!!

[The arena lights suddenly cut to pitch black without warning.]

DJHV: It's the anticipation that kills ya...

BJ: Sh.

[Over the PA system, the faint sound of a heartbeat begins after ten seconds of complete silence.

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

"Do you fear the Dark?" a gravelly voice asks in a whisper.

[A single red spotlight cuts through the blackness, illuminating the solitary form of The Spectre as "Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson cuts in over the PA System. Spectre, clad in a pair of cutoff jeans, a black t shirt and combat boots stands with his taped forearms held up at angles away from his pale, scarred body as the combination of his dark dreadlocks and the red lighting paints a ghastly picture over the ghoulish wrestler.
As the music picks up, the lights start flashing in time with the beat, creating almost a stobe-effect as The Spectre makes his way towards the ring, ignoring the fans lining the aisles. As he reaches the apron, the pale skinned grappler speeds up to a run and slides smoothly under the bottom rope, standing and stalking towards the ropes in front of the announce table. Climbing to the second rope, he stares coldly at the announce team for a moment before stepping down and moving to his corner to await the start of the match.]

DJHV: And his opponent...

[Mario Lanza's voice singing "Ave Maria" plays over the PA. From the back comes a Caucasian man with black hair, brown eyes, a five o'clock shadow on his face, wearing white tights with a purple stripe down the side of each leg and yellow boots. Antonio Morientes is here!]

DJHV: He done come over here from Spain, and I'm sure he's sorry tonight. 250 pounds of spicy rice with a side of fancy crucifix on the wall, this man here is ANTONIO MORIENTES~!

[Massive face pop, except perhaps for what few people are booing DJ Har-V. Morientes walks to the ring, his head lowered as he prays silently to himself but moving his lips. He walks up to the ring, climbs onto the ring apron, makes the sign of the cross and then climbs through the ropes and pumps his fist into the air and goes to his corner.]

[More face poppage as Morientes awaits word from the referee. The ref calls both men to the center of the ring. The two men are almost the same size, but Spectre is an inch taller and a little thicker. The ref first explains the rules briefly, then sends both men to their respective corners before calling for the opening bell.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

BJ: Morientes has been dominant since coming to HUGE. Even if this is his first loss tonight, I do hope that he at least makes it out unhurt.

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Antonio Morientes
-vs-
The Spectre
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

DJHV: Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen.

[Grimacing, Morientes comes to stand nose to nose with Spectre at the ring's center. The pair have words, Morientes seemingly taking exception to Spectre's very nature, and Spectre giving a sick smile at the distress he's already caused his opponent.
Spectre says something that can't be heard and Morientes' face twists up in horror. Suddenly he hammers Spectre with a forearm! Spectre hits back, and the two trade blows for a moment. Grinning even as Morientes presses him back, Spectre takes a few shots without answering, then rakes Morentes' hurt eye and immediately rams him facefirst into the top turnbuckle! Heel pop!]

BJ: Morientes was holding his own, but Spectre with the dirty tactics already!

[Morientes falls to his knees, and Spectre grips him in a chinlock, hunching down over him and biting him on the brow of the hurt eye! Fighting to his feet, Morientes shoves Spectre into the ropes. Spectre misses a clothesline, and Morientes goes for a quick rollup! The move gets only a 1-count, and Morientes rolls to his hands and knees, holding his newly bleeding eye.]

BJ: Not two minutes in and Spectre has already drawn first blood!

DJHV: Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!

BJ: Inqui--, because he's a Spaniard being tortured?

DJHV: No, because I like Monty Python.

BJ: ENOUGH TV REFERENCES~!

[Back in the ring, Spectre has slapped a side headlock on Morientes and is grinding his forearm and wrist into the hurt eye. Both men are getting blood smeared all over them.
Positioning himself behind Spectre, Morientes tries for a German Suplex, but unable to free his head instead hits a Saito suplex. The high-angle impact, however, fails to detach the Spectre. Instead, gripping onto Morientes even tighter, he drags him up, then starts to hammer on his face with closed fists.]

BJ: The referee starting to read Spectre the riot act. Complaining of closed fists!

DJHV: Closed fists? What, you're only allowed to slap or something?

BJ: Not exactly. Referees can give some leeway, but Spectre's clearly trying to injure Moriente's eye.

[A second attempt at a suplex is blocked, but Morientes, desperate to escape, jerks at Spectre, and after a brief struggle, both men tumble to the outside, Spectre on the bottom of the pile. Finally free, Morientes leaps up, backs up, and lands a kick on the rising Spectre's face at a full run. Face pop!]

BJ: Saint Raul! Morientes lands Saint Raul on the outside!

DJHV: That hurt! He actually hurt Spectre? No way!

[The force of the kick actually sending Spectre's head bouncing off the pavement, the gothic monster rolls to one side, struggling to get to his feet. Seeing Spectre recovering so quickly, Morientes runs again, and lands his signature kick one more time!]

BJ: Saint Raul! Good God! Spectre has been rocked!

[On the outside Morientes jerks Spectre up by the scruff, looking to toss him back into the ring. The Spectre turns their momentum, tries to whip Morientes towards the ring post but Morientes reverses. He yanks The Spectre away from the ring post before he can hit it, however, not wanting to use the ring post as a weapon and correcting his instinct to reverse a move. The Spectre repays Morientes' save by booting Morientes in the head! Morientes falls to the floor outside, the referee is trying to get them back in the ring, The Spectre stomps at Morientes' head, then yanks up Morientes and with a hand full of hair rams Morientes face first into the ring post and Morientes falls down clutching his bad eye!]

BJ: Both men taking their pound of flesh, but Spectre doing so with extreme prejudice. I've never seen a man brawl like Spectre!

[Laughing, Spectre sets about tearing apart the nearby ringsteps.]

BJ: Oh Christ, somebody stop him! If he damages those steps I don't have the budget to replace them!

[The heavy steel construction of the stairs makes it slow-going. The top level gets worked free, then the bottom is dislodged from the corner post, then a recovered Morientes grips him from behind! Face pop!
A Tiger Suplex on the concrete floors Spectre. He lays flat on his side, fetal, trying to shake loose the cobwebs. Next to him, Morientes is on his hands and knees, trying to get up. Leaning on the apron, he does so. Jerking Spectre up by the dreadlocks, Morientes shoves the gothic monster forcefully into the ring. Staggering to his feet, Spectre is up just in time to be leapt upon as Morientes hits a slingshot sunset flip!]

BJ: Pin attempt!

1!

2!

3!?

[Bucking violently, Spectre shakes himself free, and starts rising immediately. The referee holds up 2 fingers. The pair start trading punches, Morientes, in his fury, again managing to gain the advantage. Spectre boxes Morientes ears, stunning the Spaniard. Cackling, he drags Morientes by the head, raking his eyes across the top rope!
Refusing to go on the defensive, Morientes staggers into the nearby corner, using the top turnbuckle for leverage and kicking Spectre straight in the face. Shaking his head to get his bearings, he whips Spectre back into the corner and follows in with a lariat, staggering the ghoulish goth. Stepping back, he fires off a knife edge chop, and the Spectre stares back at him. He hits a second and The Spectre stands up straight,a smile on his face. A third chop as Morientes is becoming more panicked and The Spectre lunges forward, grabbing Morientes by the ears and gnawing on the wound above his bad eye and he flails and falls to the canvas with Spectre attached to his face.]

BJ: Good lord! Morientes has thrown everything he has at Spectre, and Spectre is just clinging and tearing at him, trying to destroy his already hurt eye!

[Thrashing on the mat, Morientes tries and fails to free himself from the Spectre's sick grasp. After a 5-count, Spectre backs away, firing an evil glance at the referee to get the third man in the ring to back away. Getting to his feet, Morientes finds Spectre waiting.
The Spectre knees Morientes in the midsection doubling Morientes over! He then grabs Morientes by his hair and he brings Morientes' head down, and brings his own knee up, and VICIOUSLY knees Morientes in the head! Morientes goes down holding his bad eye! The Spectre leaps down on top of Morientes, grabs Antonio by his hair with his left hand and then begins RAINING HARD PUNCHES DOWN ON THE BAD EYE! Blood begins flowing more and more as each hard punch rains down on Antonio's eye!]

DJHV: Hey Barn, you ever consider just getting a red mat?

BJ: The mat doesn't absorb liquid. The dropcloth on top does. The referee with another 5-count, and Spectre bending the rules even further.

[Sliding to the outside, the Spectre gleefully presses his advantage. He finds a folding table just under the apron, pulls it out, nad slides it under the ropes while the referee protests! Morientes rolls around clutching at his bleeding injured eye. The Spectre sets up the table in a corner and shoves past the referee and kicks Morientes in the head! The Spectre reaches down and grabs Morientes by the hair and yanks him up to his feet, he then whips Morientes towards the table.. But Morientes reverses and goes behind The Spectre, hooking the Spectre's waist as he does so! Morientes yells out and then.. GERMAN SUPLEX! He maintains his hold on Spectre, rolls up to their feet, he grabs Spectre's arms from behind... TIGER SUPLEX! He maintains his grasp again, rolls up to their feet once more, goes for a half nelson.. But Spectre gets an arm free and ELBOWS Morientes in his bad eye and
Morientes crumbles.]

BJ: Morientes attempting the Suplexo Trio, his signature suplex combination. Spectre cut him off again, preventing Morientes from pressing the advantage.

[Spectre pulls Morientes up by the hair, but the Spaniard throws his hands up, batting the brutal goth's hands away. A quick uppercut stuns Spectre, and Morientes attempts a suplex, but is blocked. A second attempt is blocked again...and a third is reversed by Spectre, who picks Morientes up and takes three steps forward, falling forward and causing him to smash stomach first onto the ringpost.]

DJHV: Damn! Boy done been impaled!

[Spectre tosses Morientes off his ringpost perch and onto the floor. As Morientes crawls away, clutching at his stomach, Spectre grabs one of the electrical cables off of the ground and wraps it around Morientes' throat and wraps one end around his right wrist..then Irish whips the Spaniard as hard as he can...and yanks hard on he cable, guillotining the young wrestler in the process. A quick shove, and Morientes is back in the ring.
The referee is trying to get the table out of the ring when Spectre slides into the ring with a steel chair in his hands! Morientes is struggling up, clutching at his stomach and ribs, The Spectre gets to his feet and charges. ONLY TO TRIP ON THE
REFEREE'S LEGS! The ref stumbles through the ropes and to the floor.
The Spectre trips to his knees! The Spectre shakes off the shock and straightens up on his knees, holding that chair in his hands when Morientes shouts out "GOAL!" and.. HITS "ST. RAUL" KICKING THE CHAIR OUT OF THE SPECTRE'S HANDS and into the ropes! Morientes leans on the ropes, satisfied that he got the illegal object out of the ring, but The Spectre is PISSED at having the chair kicked out of his possession spins Antonio around and HEADBUTTS him in the bad eye sending Morientes through the ropes to the floor outside clutching his eye!]

BJ: Oh, this is getting out of hand. Spectre setting that table up in the corner!

[Oblivious to any kind of order that might remain in the match, Spectre clubs Morientes across the shoulders, then shoves him against the table. Antonio slides down into a seated position, Spectre backs up a little, then rushes Morientes with a knee! Antonio rolls to the side, and then to the apron, leaving Spectre to snap the table in two, the top half smashing across his face, and a shard the middle portion lancing him through the thigh! Gritting his teeth, Spectre looks suddenly enraged at his tactic's failure.]

DJHV: More blood! Holy crap, man, Spectre's just a bloodlettin' machine!

[Finally getting back into the ring, the referee looks at the shattered table, the shard in Spectre's leg, and then at Morientes who pleads his innocence. Spectre pulls the wood shard out of his leg, tosses it aside, and grabs onto Morientes who looks in shock from the carnage he's witnessing.
Punching Morientes in the corner, Spectre targets his bad eye! Morientes yells out with some anger and then smacks a hard chop across The Spectre's chest! It seems to enrage The Spectre and he rears back for a headbutt ... Only for Morientes to hit an elbow smash as The Spectre brought his head in with a headbutt! The Spectre staggers back out of the corner, Morientes steps forward, rears back, smacks ANOTHER hard chop on The Spectre! Morientes rears back and hits yet another hard chop backing The Spectre into the opposite corner! Morientes then begins unleashing MACHINE GUN CHOPS! Chopping furiously at The Spectre's chest in the corner! The crowd is on their feet ... only to be deflated as The Spectre POKES Morientes' bad eye and Morientes staggers back and the Spectre Elbows Antonio in the bad eye HARD sending Morientes down!]

BJ: Fans, I can't begin to explain, to, to quantify what we're looking at here. If you're not in the Hellfire tonight, you just can't understand the gore!

[Spectre looks at the blood on his hand, a combination of both his own and Morientes, smears it across his face and down his neck, then ambles across the ring, pulling Morientes up with purpose. Heaving him up, he goes for the Rebirth! Slipping free, Morientes gets a rear waistlock, but Spectre attempts a back elbow, spinning 180 degrees to face Morientes. One belly to belly suplex later, and Morientes starts slapping his forearm to signal that St. Amuro is coming!
Bounding off the ropes, Morientes swings his arm wide with a burning lariat!]

BJ: Saint Amuro!

MISSES! Right hand to the injured eye!

*BOOM!*

Spectre with the Rebirth! Collapses on Morientes! There it is! There's the three count! This match is over!

DJHV: I think his neck is broken! Spectre ain't done, neither!

[Leaning hard, dripping blood from the cut in his own forehead, Spectre strangles an unconscious Morientes. The hatred in his eyes is palpable as the referee strains and fails to detach the big freak from his victim.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

BJ: Security flooding the ring, and Spectre wailing on our ... poor $20 a night college student security force! All of 'em just going down like sacks of potatoes!

[Suddenly, the horrible heel heat that's raining down on the ring as Spectre continues to stomp on Morientes between knocking out college students subsides and a mad face pop goes up. Someone else has arrived!]

BJ: THE DEVILS YOU KNOW! Viper and Sabbath have hit the ring!

[There's a brief moment of confusion as Sabbath looks the DYK over, then bellows and charges, plowing into Vince Viper. Viper is knocked back into the corner, and pummeled, but avoids all harm by actually pulling his head down into his rubber muscle suit!
Suddenly, from behind, Sabbath grabs Spectre and hits a Uranage! Bouncing once, Spectre rolls from the ring, gritting his teeth and snarling up at the men in the ring. The EMT has hit the ring and is attending to Morientes.]

BJ: That's it! We are done! Good-night everyone! Holy God!

DJHV: It's death in the ring, man. I'm telling you, Morientes is done, man!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

A Strickland Sports Company, © 2009 RTN International. All rights reserved.
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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Mozeart
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Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Please note that I am aware of the tense of the card changing abruptly from past to present. I TRIED to keep it past-tense because, generally speaking, summary is past-tense, but it was slowing me down. So... Blah. Gonna go back and edit it one way or another eventually, or maybe I'll just move on. Haven't decided. :)
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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texanspaniard
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The Luther Burger
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I have to be honest, I wasn't sure this show would ever come out! But woah, it has! Must read!
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