Illusions 2008 begins with a blowjob, of all things. A blonde haired girl is on her knees, bobbing her head up and down on the penis of some guy. She stops for a moment, looks up at the man in question and talks to him.

Girl: You'll pay me for this, right?

After several seconds of silence, the man responds, revealing himself to be Chris Extreme, the vilest, most despicable man to ever step foot in a Sin Wrestling ring.

Chris Extreme: Oh, I'll pay you, alright...

The girl, who, upon closer inspection, is the valet of Zero, returns to fellating Chris Extreme, only to have Chris grab on to the back of her head, forcing her to go faster. Gagging and choking sounds are heard, as Zero's valet frantically tries to push Chris Extreme away, even going as far as to claw at his legs, but to no avail!

Chris Extreme: You whore! You like that, whore?!

Chris continues to rock her head up and down his cock, until... nothing. She stops moving. Pulling his cock out and stuffing it back into his white boxers, he grabs Zero's valet and twists her neck, creating a sick snapping sound!

Chuckling to himself, he drops her to the floor and walks off, with a devilish look in his eyes.

Chris Extreme: Happy Halloween, everyone! It's the happiest day of the year!

He grabs a knife that has been left on the backstage table, placing it in his hands.

Chris Extreme: We've returned to the place that I killed Flame... and I'll fucking do it again! And I'll harm anyone that gets in my way!

Laughing like a lunatic, still with some of Booger's guts and feces on him, Chris Extreme walks away, sounding like an absolute madman. As the cameras pan out, the scene shows Zero's blonde haired valet laying lifelessly on the ground, not even breathing.

And we're just getting started for tonight.

0000 0000000 zero 000 0000 0000 "I Saw Your Mommy" by Suicidal Tendencies plays on the speakers and the lights dim, with a single spotlight shining towards the entranceway, leading Zero out from the backstage area. He's wearing his usual black wrestling attire, combined with his black and white luchadore mask. The sounds of his song continues to bolster throughout the area, leading him towards the ring, where he turns around, expecting his valet to come out... but she's nowhere to be seen. Shrugging his shoulders, he turns his attention back to the ring and slides inside, waiting for his match to begin. Lex Robinson: Welcome everyone to Illusions 2008! For a moment, the scene switches to Lex Robinson and Steve Hebert, who are seated at the announcer's desk. Steve Hebert is dressed as a big, fat John McCain; whereas Lex Robinson is donning the blackface and is dressed like Obama. Steve Hebert: We're finally here! One of the most anticipated pay per views of the year! And by goddamn, what a show we have tonight. For instand, we have... uh... help me out here, Lexbama. Steve Hebcain doesn't have a good memory. LeX Robinson: Hah! Tonight, we have loads of action; featuring the return of Morgana, as she faces Stevie Swing in an Ironwoman Match. The returns of Chris Extreme and Flame. Chris Carson and Casanova have promised to brutalize one another; and Roxy has vowed to claim every single SW champion, as she goes title-for-title with Sebastian York. Steve Hebert: And to start things off, we have a Mexican beating up an old man. No, I'm not talking about Chris Carson; I'm referring to Billy Badson, mister droopy-tits, himself. With no music and no pyros, lights, or anything, Billy Badson steps on to the ramp from backstage, quickly making his way to the ring, ignoring fans' reactions entirely. LeX Robinson: Here he is! It was just at the last Eternity that Zero got in his face, promising to rid the fed of the old generation; that it was time for the older people to take the backseat. He's hoping to prove him a lesson tonight. Steve Hebert: Just wait until he actually faces Zero. We'll see who gets the lesson, in that case. In the ring, Zero and Billy Badson step to the center of the ring, getting in each other's face. To start things off, Zero mouths some disparaging words to Badson, who fires back with a slap to the face. Lex Robinson: Ohohoh, he's not going to let anyone give him lip! Steve Hebert: That old bastard should be in a retirement home; or hospitalized with a broken hip. Lex Robinson: Feeling slighted by the slap, Zero fires back with a forearm... and then a wristlock! That's almost a page straight out of Badson's handbook! Maybe he has learned something, after all. Steve Hebert: Doubtful. Offended by this maneuver, Badson pushes Zero against the ropes, where he fires with a punch to the temple of the luchadore. He whips Zero, hoping to clothesline him upon his rebound. Lex Robinson: Zero is flung off the ropes, but he ducks beneath an attempted clothesline from Badson. Steve Hebert: That old guy is totally useless, holy shit. Lex Robinson: On his way back, Zero ducks beneath a punch and is sent back to the original set of ropes. Bouncing back, he brings Billy Badson down with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors! Steve Hebert: Hah! Speed outwits old-school passion and skill. Lex Robinson: You shouldn't speak so soon. Billy Badson pops right up, slapping his chest, demanding for more! Steve Hebert: That old lunatic is out of his mind. He's obviously forgotten his Alzheimer's medication. Either way, Zero happily obliges his requests for more, slapping him across the chest and even hitting several rapid-fire chops. Zero goes to whip him out; but at the last second, the whip is reversed. Bouncing off the ropes, Zero returns, seeing Badson drop down, looking for a backdrop. However, Zero leapfrogs over Billy Badson and traverses into the next set of ropes. Lex Robinson: Zero is off the ropes, returning with pure speed... he goes for a crossbody-block... Steve Hebert: Argh... no! Billy Badson drops down, sending Zero flying into the ropes! As a result, Zero literally gets tangled in the ropes... as if it were some kind of spiderweb! Lex Robinson: Hah, how brazen and cocky. Unable to remove himself from the ropes, Zero is in prime position for Billy Badson to begin whacking and hacking at him with some chops and punches. Grabbing onto the mask, Badson nails a perfect overhanded-punch, which nearly sends Zero sailing over the top rope and onto the floor. Luckily for the Mexican wrestler, he is able to land on the side of the ring apron, protecting himself. Lex Robinson: Holy moly! That shot sent Zero flying! Steve Hebert: Ugh... what an awful way to start the night. It better not be a precursor of how things are going to go. I swear to Jesus God. Lex Robinson: Standing Zero up on the outer portion of the ring apron, Billy strikes with a few more chops and then goes to suplex Zero into the ring. Luckily for Billy, Zero is a small guy... small enough that he's able to whisk himself around Badson... and then attempt an O'Conner Roll...! Steve Hebert: Yes! Hook the tights, you dirty Mexican! The referee counts... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: No! Billy Badson reverses the rollup...! He gives his own O'Conner Roll, now...! Steve Hebert: Oh shit. ...1... Lex Robinson: He even has a handful of tights! ...2... Steve Hebert: Hell no! That's my move! That's illegal! ... Lex Robinson: Despite all that, Zero is still able and willing to kickout! Steve Hebert: Thank Christ. Who does he think he is, huh?! Lex Robinson: You're off to a good start tonight. Not allowing Zero to rise, Billy Badson quickly grabs onto his wrist, contorting it around. Applying an armbar, he hopes to put all of his weight onto his arm/shoulder... only to have Zero spin and roll his way out of it. LeX Robinson: Using his agility, Zero escapes from Badson's clutches. As a matter of fact, he is able to dropkick Billy's legs out from under him. As he rises, Billy gets to a kneeling position, allowing for Zero to jump on his back and then launches himself into the air with a standing moonsault! Rolling Badson onto his back, Zero hooks a leg, attempting a pinfall... Lex Robinson: And he tries for a pinfall... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: That old geezer kicks out again! Holy awful. Lex Robinson: Zero seems as appalled as you, Steve. He lifts Billy up, strikes him with kicks and nails a leaping spin-kick. Bouncing off the nearby ropes, he rolls up Billy Badson, going straight up onto Billy's shoulders! From here, he swings back, flipping Badson to the canvas! Not only that, but he steps to the outer portion of the apron and uses the top rope as a springboard... Soaring through the air, Zero expects to nail a somersault-senton bomb... alas, Billy Badson simply raises his knees up to his chest, giving Zero an unwelcoming present. Steve Hebert: Argh! Knees to the back! That's not what I wanted to happen! Lex Robinson: Sometimes it seems as if you're always the victim, Steve. Steve Hebert: [overexcited] It's true! How do you know me so well?! Billy Badson gets to a kneeling position, watching as Zero gets up. Reaching in, he hooks onto Zero's left-leg and drags him to the canvas, where he promptly delivers an elbowdrop! He then makes another cover. LeX Robinson: Elbowdrop! Badson is covering Zero... The referee counts... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: He kicks out! Thank God... or whomever the Christ those Mexicans pray to. Sitting Zero up, Billy nails an elbow to the top of the skull, following that up by bouncing off the ropes, hoping to kick Zero in the face. However, before the kick is made, Zero rolls out of the way, jumps to his feet and nails a dropkick/moonsault combination! Lex Robinson: Dropsault! Getting right back up, Zero charges into the corner, races up the corner... and nails a moonsault double-stomp! Steve Hebert: Now that's much better! Lex Robinson: Having Billy laid out, clutching his chest in pain--... Steve Hebert: He better not be having another heart attack! LeX Robinson: --...Zero wastes no time in climbing to the top rope, having his back turned to the old man. He leaps off... and hits La Bomb Negra! Steve Hebert: Bomb the Negros! Fuck yeah! Bomb the Mexicans, too! Zero hooks Badson's leg, while the referee counts... ...1...2...3! Steve Hebert: The Mexican does it! Viva la Mexico! This is a victory for young, Mexican men everywhere! Lex Robinson: Zero told us that he'd put the older generation in his place; and I'm guessing he was correc-- hey, wait... who's this?! Another masked wrestler enters the ring. This one is at least 3x larger than Zero, with buldging biceps, triceps... and pretty much every other muscle you could name. Rage is in his eyes, as he looks at Zero and then at Badson. Steve Hebert: Yep, well, The Mexican Hulk has arrived. The guy -- who has "UNO" written on his mask in bright, yellow colors seems to take orders from Zero, who also points at Badson. Like a madman, this larger masked wrestler explodes on Badson, punching and kicking at him! Lex Robinson: This musclehead of a guy is going nuts, ravaging Billy Badson with punches! What's worse is that Zero seems to be guiding him! Steve Hebert: Kill the old bastard! After a devastating clothesline, the large guy lifts Badson in the air, holding him above his head, doing two complete presses. When the time is right, he throws Badson forward, only to nail Badson with an uppercut on his way down! Lex Robinson: The fans are not responding well to this, at all! In unison, they're jeering Zero and his ally for this assault! He won the match, what else does he need?! Steve Hebert: He's proving that it's time for all these old bags to step aside, obviously. Quite frankly, I gotta agree. Finished with this attack, Zero and his new ally exit to the back, leaving Billy Badson in a crumpled heap. As they pass through the curtains, they receives a furious amount of jeers, while other people seem to be worried for Billy Badson. Winner: Zero

Returning from the ringside area, Zero and his fellow masked assailant show signs of vigilance... until they come across the fallen body of his valet. There are several medics around her, checking her pulse and trying to revive her, but it all seems in vain.

Zero: What the fuck, holmes? What happened to her?!

Confused, Zero steps forward, stepping away from his masked partner. He cowers around the crowd that circles around his former valet, not saying a word, while his other partner also remains silent and motionless.

Zero: Who the shit did this?!

Random Medic: I-... I... I'm not sure. I think Chris Extreme is on the loose; but... I'm not sure.

Zero says nothing, as he stands still, watching the medics work on his valet. The other masked man stands back, as well, not saying a word, while Zero remains hunched over, not knowing what's going on.

The cameras opens inside of the Haunted House, which is situated inside of the arena, near the back exit. There's ghouls, goblins, witches and ghosts... all manmade, of course, surrounding the building. It's a pretty spooky place. Steve Hebert: Holy crap, what the hell is a Haunted House match? Lex Robinson: Good intro, Steve. A Haunted House match is where we stuck all of our newcomers in a haunted house built in the arena parking lot, and the winner is the first one out! Oh, and after five minutes, the house implodes. Steve Hebert: What are we talking about, "implodes?" Is this "cardboard boxes falling apart in the rain" implodes, or "massive amounts of high explosives causing death" implodes? Lex Robinson: I wish I could say the former, but this is SW; probably the latter. Steve Hebert: Looks like this disaster is ready to unfold, we've got our cameras showing the house up on the big screen! The bell rings, as a timer begins counting down from 5:00 in the corner of the screen. The first image we see is Dystopia, who rushes from his starting spot, yelling out to try and locate his partner, Brickhouse. Steve Hebert: You know, I was once an honorary Black Panther. Lex Robinson: You're going to be an honorary dead man if anyone hears you saying that. Steve Hebert: I'm just sayin'. Ooh, looks like Dystopia's found Brickhouse...no wait, that's Shithead Obama! Lex Robinson: Ahem...Sakhid Obasanjo. Steve Hebert: Right, right, whatever. What the hell's he doing? On the camera, Dystopia looks downright confused, as Obasanjo appears to be challenging him to a match, right there, right now! Lex Robinson: He wants a match! What a good sport! Steve Hebert: Good thing Dystopia wisely tells him to go piss up a rope. They've got less than five minutes till god-knows-what happens! Lex Robinson: Very true. Suddenly, while stepping away from Sahkid Obasanjo, Dystopia backs right into Brickhouse, who was heading his way! The two quickly double clothesline Obasanjo, and disappear down a hallway, intent on finding their way out of the house. Lex Robinson: What a rude welcome to Sin Wrestling for Sahkid Obasanjo by Brickhouse and Dystopia. Steve Hebert: But look, it appears that the Ice Cream Man has found him! Yay for Ice Cream! Lex Robinson: Your childish demeanor gives me sudden hope for your soul, Steve. And look, he's even offering Sahkid a popsicle! Steve Hebert: How perverse. Lex Robinson: Indeed, but Sahkid doesn't have any money on him to pay for it! He looks pissed...no, he's just challenging the Ice Cream Man to a wrestling match! Steve Hebert: Silly fagrot, GET OUT! Lex Robinson: Indeed, the Ice Cream Man shrugs, and walks away. How disappointing. The Ice Cream Man looks to head through a doorway, but David Cage suddenly steps through and bumps into him. They shrug in frustration, both obviously realizing that the ways they came weren't exits, before heading different ways. Lex Robinson: And Sahkid's now yelling after Cage to wrestle him, as well! No response, Cage no-sells the match request! Steve Hebert: What a Hogan. What the hell is that?! Sahkid Obasanjo shakes his head in frustration, before turning around, only to nearly jump out of his skin as a skeleton crashes through the ceiling! Lex Robinson: It is a haunted house; who knows what kind of sick tricks are in there? Steve Hebert: Lex...he's challenging the skeleton to a match. Lex Robinson: Oh...that's...sad. Sahkid Obasanjo waits for several moments, before sighing and walking away from the skeleton, and he quickly disappears down the hallway. The camera shifts to another part of the house, where ominously, Chris Extreme is seen stepping into the house, apparently confused as to what he's gotten into! Lex Robinson: Oh god, now it really is a scary place to be! Steve Hebert: Ain't that the truth! Extreme thinks those ghost cutouts over there, with the sheets and such, are his "brethren." Lex Robinson: Is that a knife he's got?! Steve Hebert: Come on, Lex. It's a shank. Lex Robinson: Oh. Suddenly, the Ice Cream Man steps into the same area as Chris Extreme! He offers Chris Extreme a popsicle, which Extreme pays for, before quickly shanking the Ice Cream Man in the stomach. Steve Hebert: Ouch...my childhood. Lex Robinson: Shame, really. What's Extreme doing now? Steve Hebert: Sniffing around? Chris Extreme: I smell bitch! Lex Robinson: Oh. The door in front of him bursts open, as David Cage appears, also getting a shank to the gut. Chris Extreme: Close enough. Another door pops open, and Sahkid Obasanjo pops out! Sahkid Obasanjo: I challenge you to a wrestling match! Chris Extreme: Ooh, a darkie! From behind him, Brickhouse and Dystopia appear, glaring at Chris Extreme. Chris Extreme: Rats, lots of darkies. Peace son, I'm ghost! With that, Extreme bolts out of sight. Sahkid sighs again, before perking up and turning to Brickhouse and Dystopia, who begin beating him up. Lex Robinson: Poor Sahkid, but it finally looks like someone's giving him a match! Steve Hebert: It's a handicap match; as in, if they don't get out in the next thirty seconds or so, they're all gonna be handicapped! Lex Robinson: They've given the kid a break though, as they're now yelling at the ghost cutouts! Chris Extreme isn't the only one who thinks they look like Klan members! Given a breather, Sahkid stumbles away quickly, not even looking where he's going, just breathlessly running away from another potential beatdown. Steve Hebert: Time's almost up! 5! Lex Robinson: 4! 3! Steve Hebert: 2! Lex/Steve: 1! Sahkid Obasanjo crashes blindly through a window, stumbling to a heap on the pavement of the sidewalk, having escaped the haunted house! Steve Hebert: For god damn real? Lex Robinson: For real, Steve! The house is collapsing! Somewhere in that wreckage now is Dystopia, Brickhouse, and a stabbed Ice Cream Man and David Cage! Steve Hebert: We must have the highest turnover rate of newcomers in wrestling history. Lex Robinson: That's probably true. But at least Obasanjo has an...impressive...win in his record now. Medics and staffers pick through the wreckage of the house, looking for survivors, as Sahkid Obasanjo finally gets to his feet. He glances around, realizing that he is the only wrestler left standing...except for Chris Extreme, who is standing nearby, calmly licking his popsicle. Obasanjo grabs him by the shoulder and challenges him to a match. Lex Robinson: Could we finally get a match?! Could this be it?! Chris Extreme turns around quickly, stabbing Obasanjo in the abdomen with his shank. He then turns back around, as Sahkid slumps to the pavement. Steve Hebert: Oh, that's freaking awesome! Chris Extreme returns to calmly licking his popsicle, with a psychotic stare. Winner: Sahkid Obasanjo

A little known fact about the locale for tonight's event. It was here in Nova Scotia, at the Convention Centre, that Chris Extreme hung Flame from the rafters. Since then, Flame has not been heard from, as he has been assumed dead; but after the event happened and the arena was burnt down, no body was ever recovered.

This leads us to the topic of discussion between two Sin Wrestling officials, who stand atop the rafters, watching tonight's event unfold. With some idle banter, they talk about some Sw-related things, such as the poor economy and the return of Chris Extreme. When the sacred topic of Flame is brought up, one of the men turns pale and gets chills.

Official #1: You know, they never found his body, eh?

Official #2: Listen, stop, I don't want to hear about it.

Official #1: Scared, are we? Haha.

Official #2: It's just a horrible thing, okay? Sheesh.

The first official prods at the second, trying to get under his skin.

Official #1: They say he haunts this rebuilt arena.

Official #2: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that he's really dead; and that his "match" with Chris Extreme is just a publicity stunt. All of it is a publicity stunt -- done just to market the return of Chris Extreme, who happened to plop out of Booger's big, dirty, smelly asshole.

The first official is rather indignant to this.

Official #1: Yeah, right, you don't know shit.

Official #2: It's true. I overheard Corey Page talk about this to Ace Rodgers.

Official #1: Pffft... Ace Rodgers isn't even real. Everyone knows that he's just a ghost.

Official #2: Wow, you're goddamn retarded. How about you--...

The second official stops speaking, making the other one wonder what's wrong.

Official #1: You alright there, bub?

Official #2: Gho-- gh--...gho---... Fl-- Fla-- Fl... ghost!

The image of Flame walking through the rafters is shown. He has his trademark black baseball bat clung to his shoulder, along with his white facepaint. He walks behind the first official, who cannot send his spectre-like state.

Official #1: What? Haha, nice try, you're not going to get me.

The ethereal image of Flame walks through the rafters, high above the crowd, soon making his way towards the entrance. The second official can barely blurt out a word, his faith in science being questioned.

Official #1: You're such a gaymo, you know that?

The first official punches the second in the arm, trying to spring him to life, but the second official remains in shock, questioning what he just saw.

The shadow of a man is shown dangerously lurking around the backstage area. This man is wielding a sharp, pointy-edged, jagged knife, which he holds overhead. This monster of a man creeps slowly behind a pink-haired woman, who gets a mega-response from the crowd...

As the woman turns around, she reveals herself to be Morgana, who is on the phone, not seeing the pervading danger that surrounds her. As noted by the screaming fans, they are extremely glad to have her in attendance.

Morgana: I know! I wish you were here, too, Wifey?! Are you watching?

Some mumbling can be heard coming from the other end of the phone. At this point, it's obvious Morgana is talking to her friend, Adora.

Morgana: Yeah, I'm ready for Stevie Swing, that two-faced cunt. Anyhow, have we had many Trick-or-Treaters?

Morgana stops for a moment, confused.

Morgana: Huh? What do you mean "Get out of the way, there's someone trying to kill you"?

...

Morgana: Well, okay.

Morgana walks off-screen... just as Chris Extreme maniacally enters, jamming the knife in his hands into... the wall!

Chris Extreme: These whores! I'll kill them all!

Froth seems to rabidly flow from his mouth. As the camera peels away, it shows him in a tight purple dress... ala Hecate. This dress covers his chest area and goes all the way down to his hips, seductively covering his crotch. Nevertheless, he yanks the knife out of the wall and speaks to himself.

Chris Extreme: I missed that whore. But I'll find another whore to kill.

Suddenly, a beeper goes off. Chris looks wildly around and comes to his senses.

Chris Extreme: Oh yeah, I have to set some flaming faggot on fire. I forgot.

He puts on his black-haired wig, rubs some lipstick on his lips and pushes up his dress.

Chris Extreme: I gotta look sexy. I gotta be a sexy little Hecate and set Flame on fire. I'll send him back to hell. And then I'll piss on him!

Stuffing the knife up his dress and into his white boxers, Chris angrily walks off, like a Norman Bates clone. Hell, Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers has nothing on this motherfucker.

...and then Morgana walks back into the scene, still on the phone.

Morgana: Hmmm...

She observes the hole in the wall, which was made by Chris Extreme's knife.

Morgana: Maybe there was someone trying to kill me.

...muffled words...

Morgana: Chris Extreme? I thought he was eaten by Booger.

...muffled words...

Morgana: Hmmm... you're right, this hole in the wall does look like Stevie Swing's loose vagina.

...muffled words...

Morgana: I'll be fine! Don't worry about me! I'm Sailor Moon, remember?

As she speaks, Morgana puts on her Sailor Moon hair, costume and even picks up her fake, black cat.

...muffled words...

Morgana: Yes, I know I'm a lazy bum for re-using the same costume two years in a row. Shoot me, Wifey, shoot me.

...muffled words...

The cameras finally fade away, as danger has been removed from the scene, with Morgana being too preoccupied. You have to wonder how this will factor into her main event match against Stevie Swing, though.

Lex Robinson: Now we've got a match coming up that's really going to get the crowd going! It's an Inferno match! Steve Hebert: That means carnage, pain, and possibly even death, folks. Lex Robinson: Pretty much. Once our competitors hit the ring, a ring of fire will be lit around it. If they get tossed out, they'll only have two or three feet of clearance from the flames! Steve Hebert: And it goes on until someone catches fire! Mwa ha ha HA! Lex Robinson: ...your evil laugh is lame. Here comes our first competitor! The lights dim down and the candles along the ringside area begin to light, as a figure in a black cloak comes down to the ring. As he steps up, climbing inside, he begins to chant into the microphone. Du haust! Du Du Du Haust! Du HAUST! A boom is heard throughout the arena, as everyone is blinded by the explosion...! Steve Hebert: I can't see! As the smoke clears, the man in the cloak is at ringside and Flame stands there in the center of the ring. He's ready to fight, with the look of determination and anger peering out from his eyes. Lex Robinson: Flame looks pissed. Remember, him and Chris Extreme have come history coming into this match. Steve Hebert: He better be scared. Extreme just got done shanking every white person in the Haunted House match, and only one of the black ones. Lex Robinson: You know, I was wondering about that. You think he's compromising his ideals? Steve Hebert: Nah. He's just lazy. The silent crowd gazes in awe as a giant, heart beating globe of Earth slowly descends from above. In horror, the people watch as the Earth begins to bleed. When the Earth finishes its descent and reaches the surface of the stage, Chris Extreme's voice is heard shouting from within Earth's core. "DIE HUMANITY DIE!" Steve Hebert: HOLY SHIT! The Earth explodes into smithereens and "Sonne" by Rammstein blasts over the speakers. Bloody, flaming pieces of the planet fly in the air and land on the closest people in the crowd. From within the wreckage of Earth stands "Lord Nazi" Chris Extreme in his white boxers and white socks, screaming obscenities at the crowd as he makes his way down and into the ring. Lex Robinson: It looks like he left his shank outside, and thank god! Otherwise, this could be a really short match! Steve Hebert: It still might be, Chris Extreme's been pwning bitches already. The referee calls for the bell, and just as he does, the circle of fire ignites, and gouts of flame spout up to around four or five feet high! Lex Robinson: I swear, this always sounds like a better idea on paper than in reality. Steve Hebert: Nah. Barbeque always is better in reality. The fans cheer loudly as the flames reach their maximum height, and a chant starts for Flame. He turns to the ropes, raising his hands over his head for the crowd, only to get clotheslined by Chris Extreme right over the top rope! Lex Robinson: A horrid mistake by Flame to open things up, but Extreme went over the ropes as well. They're both on their feet, but less than a foot from the fire! Steve Hebert: Chris Extreme: The Other White Meat. Extreme looks to push the advantage, quickly battering Flame along ringside with several punches, before lining up to whip Flame to the steel steps! Lex Robinson: They're on the move...REVERSE! Extreme eats the steps hard, but even while screaming in pain he gets right back up and charges Flame! Steve Hebert: And now he gets dropped with a boot! ARG! My Fuhrer Chris Extreme does not get beat by big boots! Flame grabs Extreme, trying to toss him over the flames, but Extreme fights back in a panic, finally breaking free and sliding right back into the ring. Lex Robinson: Your Lord Chris Extreme is a coward! Look, that's fear in his eyes! Steve Hebert: Maybe of an Obama win. But of Flame? Hell no! Flame waves for Extreme to come back outside the ring, but Extreme shakes his head, and Flame finally ends up sliding back into the ring as well. Lex Robinson: Right into a mudhole stomping by Chris Extreme! Extreme must not think he can beat Flame fair and square, because he's using every trick in the book so far. Steve Hebert: Come on, Chris, you need to do better than that, he's still getting up! Lex Robinson: Wow, Flame fights off Extreme's best efforts, and blows him back with a hard chop to the throat! The Nazi's on the ropes, and he comes back for another strike, but Flame drops him to the mat with a huge punch to Extreme's face! Extreme scrambles for the ropes, but Flame yanks him back into the center of the ring, and drives his head to the mat with a DDT! Steve Hebert: The gayest DDT ever, folks. Lex Robinson: Whatever. Extreme's a sitting duck in the middle of the ring, and now a big leg drop from Flame, all his weight right across Chris Extreme's throat! Steve Hebert: Break out the shank, Chris, it's time to gut a honky. Lex Robinson: I don't think! Flame's motioning for the Flame Bomb, and he's got Extreme up on his shoulders! Steve Hebert: Oh god; he's going to bomb him all the way to the flames! Referee, stop the madness, that's a national hero there! Lex Robinson: Extreme's got the ropes! Flame's trying to dump him, but he's hanging on with all his might! Steve Hebert: And there they go! Extreme's still got the ropes as both men end up dumped over the ropes! Anyone burning?! Both men are scalded by the flames, but quickly press toward the ring to avoid catching fire. Extreme drops, driving an elbow to the back of one of Flame's knees, and then slamming his face off the ring steps! Steve Hebert: Beat the paint off his fugly ass! Lex Robinson: It looks like Extreme's trying! Now he's bashing Flame's face against the ring post! Flame staggers back, only to be punted in the crotch by a charging Chris Extreme! Lex Robinson: Children are out of the question! Steve Hebert: Thank god. Reproduction by Flame should be a federal crime! Extreme takes advantage of Flame's agony to slide under the ring, and pulls forth a ladder! Steve Hebert: And he's got handcuffs from somewhere as well! The sick, sick man! Brilliant, I tell you! Lex Robinson: We can see officials and medics moving into place, technically, this is all within the confines of the match, but they may need to act quickly to deal with whatever the diabolical Extreme has in mind! Steve Hebert: Oh dear, it's going to be great. He's laid the ladder over Flame, and then pulls Flame's arms behind him and handcuffed them to the middle of the ladder! Lex Robinson: My god! Flame will be helpless! Someone get a fire extinguisher, right now! Flame suddenly realizes his predicament, and struggles mightily to get to his feet! He can't even though without assistance from Extreme, who then drops his boxers to cockslap the helpless Flame in the face, before tripping him and sending him tumbling helplessly into the nearest part of the ring of fire! Lex Robinson: The referee's calling for the bell, Flame is definitely on fire! Steve Hebert: Faggot...roasting over an open fire...cockslapped...right across the nose... Lex Robinson: You are sick. The medics have cut the gas lines to the ring of fire, but they're still putting Flame out! Steve Hebert: And they can't even do that, as Extreme's beating them back! And now...OH GLORIOUS NAZI CHRIST! Lex Robinson: ...I have no words... Chris Extreme pisses the remaining flames on Flame out. Steve Hebert: This may have been the greatest moment in Sin Wrestling history. Lex Robinson: No, no, not even close. It's just a sick beat-down from a twisted man who should be in jail. Just because Flame was a little rusty doesn't mean he deserved this. Steve Hebert: Breaking news: It's still better to be pissed off than pissed on. Lex Robinson: You're pathetic. Chris Extreme walks to the back, a delirious, confused and angry man. Flame, on the other hand, is being tended to by the medics. Winner: Chris Extreme

Static shows on the television screen...

It turns into a dial counter...

...5...

...4..

...3...

...2...

...1...

The image opens to a press conference before tonight's pay per view...

Steven Jones, The Neglected Legend and Sin Wrestling newcomer, stands at a podium. There's a voiceover from Mister Jones, himself...

Steven Jones: [voiceover] if you haven’t heard of me, then you aren’t important enough to be listening to this. In fact, you shouldn’t even be breathing, being you're wasting my air supply with your waste of a load that your mother should have swallowed. Seriously, go kill yourself right now. Just hang yourself in a closet somewhere. Its okay, no one will notice. You’re not that important, anyway. You need to stop listening. No, seriously, click on the mute button and leave. If you’re still with me, you're one of those worthy people who has heard of my name, and I will allow you the gift of being witness to this awesome promo; ain’t I a fucking prince? Now where was I...

On the podium is the famous SW logo and in front of him is a giant crew of cameramen and wrestling magazine interviewers from all around the wrestling community. He is dressed in a nice pair of shades, a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his signature leather bomber jacket is on his body. In one hand, he holds a Guinness. In the other, a microphone.

SW Reporter: Mr. Jones, after being released from your contract in PrYde and NEW; and now being in Sin Wrestling, do you have any words on what your goals in this company might be?

Steven Jones: Hey, you. Yeah, you over there that just spoke. I really want to tell you something. You're a fucking idiot.

The reporter kind of nervously laughs, thinking Steven Jones is joking. Unfortunately, he's not.

Steven Jones: Yeah, don't laugh because I'm completely serious. Do you listen to yourself talk at times? Oh, you do? Does that make you want to kill yourself? Because it makes me want to. No, not listen to you, kill you. Because you're a fucking idiot.

SW Reporter: But I...

Steven Jones: Shut up. Don’t interrupt me. You see that rock over there? That rock is smarter than you are. It lacks a central nervous system, brain, and any form of discernible life; and it's still smarter than you are. Do you understand the ramifications of being less intelligent than an inanimate object? It's pretty bad. I could pick up that rock and throw it at your head and you would become smarter. Not because a blow to the head would make you smarter, but because the rock's intelligence would just rub off on you. That's how much of a fucking idiot you are.

SW Reporter: But I’m a Democrat! BARACK OBAMA '08! YES WE CAN!

Steven Jones: No, you can’t! Yeah, I heard you talking about politics, and you're not an intelligent human being. No, I really don't give a shit what your political stance is, because chances are, you have no fucking idea what you're talking about. Please, don't tell me how much you dislike George Bush. Nobody fucking likes him. You have all the wrong opinions for all the wrong reasons. Oh, you took a political science class in high school? I'm totally impressed, except for the exact opposite of that. And you know why I'm not impressed? Because you're a fucking idiot. I would rather throw on some K-Fed and snort a line of coke off a transvestite's boner than be in your presence.

The reporter runs away crying, while Steven Jones smiles. In the meantime, an animal rights protestor has her hand up, eyeing Steven's leather jacket.

Female Animal Rights Activist: Mr. Jones... even though we don’t belong in wrestling, we would like to know for our magazine, which is sponsored by many of your sponsors -- which could make or break you, Mr. Jones; what you do think of the killing of animals for food and clothing? I myself am a vega--...

Steven Jones cuts her off.

Steven Jones: Oh, you're a vegetarian, huh? This is too easy. I really don't even want to go there, but I will. Why don't you eat animals anyway? Because they taste too delicious for your simple mind to understand? Oh, that's not it? I see... you don't eat animals because of the way they're slaughtered. Listen up: cows sit around all day eating grass and taking shits. I don't really think a cow gives a fuck when it's killed. Have you ever tasted how badly grass tastes? Of course you have, because you're a vegetarian, which makes you a fucking idiot.

The activist reaches for a bucket of red paint, but security moves in, tackling her to the ground. Steven Jones watches the entire time, finding arousal in it, never losing eye contact with the girl. He notices the fear in her eyes as she gets taken away, and he smiles a little more, the crowd beginning to really hate him.

Steven Jones: So, have any of you seen any good television shows lately? Oh, but of course you have. Do you know how I know this? Because everything on TV now is a piece of shit. And you're a piece of shit. And you're the smelliest of all the pieces of shit. Seriously, how do you live with yourselves? You just sit around all day drinking beer and making fun of people. Oh wait, sorry, that's what I do. We're getting off topic; you're the fucking idiots here, not me.

That’s when it happens. That’s when the moment of truth hits. Amidst a blur of photoshots, another reporter asks the dreaded question heard around the world.

Pop Magazine Reporter: Who do you prefer, Mr. Jones: TomKat or Brangelina?

His eyes widen with anger and hatred that burns with the wrath of a thousand suns.

Steven Jones: You did not just ask me that question, did you? Did you really just ask me who my favorite celebrity couple was... Tom-Kat or Bran-Gelina? If I had a gun right now, I would pull it out and shoot myself in the head. I would shoot you, but you don't have a brain, so it doesn't matter. Hey, I just got a totally awesome idea! Why don't you pursue an acting career and move to Hollywood! Yeah, I know... super idea. You would definitely do really well. Just kidding, you would fail after two weeks and resort to prostitution to support your rampant methamphetamine addiction. And why would that happen to you? Wait for it... because you're a fucking idiot.

The reporter starts to cry, as Jones gets his ultimate revenge by hunching over and... shitting on the girl's shoe! Everyone at the press conference is horrified at what they've just bared witness to.

Steven Jones: Smell that? While you were crying, I took a shit on your foot. Gross, huh? I decided to take a dump on your foot because you paid enough for those shoes to support middle-to-lower class families for a month. Do you have a soul? Or is it just a black hole that completely envelopes all conscience thought and rationale until you are nothing but a meaningless shell of a human. I'm guessing the latter of the two. Again, I know this because your sunglasses are worth more than a unicorn horn encrusted with diamonds. And you have no idea of this. Because you're an idiot. A really big idiot. Maybe even a fucking idiot.

The reporter runs away, probably to clean off her shoe and then try to O.D. on a bottle of vitamin C.

Steven Jones: Now, I'm not usually this mean to people. There is just something about you people that makes me go nuts. I would rather throw on some Michael Bolton and engage in a world peace conversation with the likes of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, tied down to a bed with rusty tetanus infested nails, while being beaten down with a chain, and having salt poured on my open wounds. I actually like doing that sort of thing - it gets me off, but that's beside the point. The point is that you're all fucking idiots. Quite possibly the fuckiest of all the idiots I have ever met. And for that, that’s why I am here, now, at this podium, tell you just what you are. A fucking idiot.

He finally turns his attention to the main camera, which focuses on his facial expression.

Steven Jones: Attention SW! Attention SW! Can I have your attention please!? I hereby announce the official commencement of the complete domination of Sin Wrestling by one, Steven Jones. The process will begin with a sound beat down of my opponent, whomever the fates at the higher offices of Sin Wrestling might choose at Eternity, then will continue on through the ranks of Eternity and other Sin Wrestling shows until I have taken my rightful place atop the SW, as its... no... YOUR World Champion.

He smirks.

Steven Jones: The only thing I ask of my peers is that you hold no grudges against me; and that when the time comes, you will accept me as your leader, your mentor, and perhaps even…your king. It's a simple fact that as I advance up the ranks of Sin Wrestling, I will have to face friends and foes, I ask that you hold no grudge against me for the pain that I will be forced to inflict upon you in order to ascertain my position at the top of sports entertainment. I will hold no bad blood against those of you that will actually choose to put up a fight. Although. I tell you now that resistance will be futile, I understand that it is only human nature for you to attempt to “prove” yourself against a superior human being.

Everyone left at the press conference listens intently.

Steven Jones: But now let me turn my attention to my first upcoming opponent, whomever the "powers that be" will select to go up against the greatness that is me. I only have a single question for you, my friend. When the time comes, I only have one question to ask you. I want you to tell me, to tell the world, what does it feel like to know that you will be the FIRST stepping-stone in the illustrious career of Steven Jones? To know that after our first match, you will be famous and your name will be etched into the granules of professional wrestling history? To know that no matter what else you do with your pathetic existence, no matter what else you accomplish, that your single most defining moment as a man and human being will be when you become the first tick mark of many in Steven Jones' “W” column?

He laughs to himself.

Steven Jones: Well, I guess that was actually three questions. I suppose nobody’s perfect... but I’m as close as you can get.

Steven Jones smiles again and walks away from the podium to a chorus of boos, insults, and curses. Only one thought runs through his mind as all this is happening... "I think I need some tissue."

Fade out.

Listening to a hot-pink iPod as she walks down the back hallways of the arena, Morgana appears to be uninterested in anything but music at the moment. She turns a corner while the cameraman holds back, only for Morgana to retrace her steps by walking backwards.

Morgana: Well. Fancy meeting you here.

The one who backed Morgana up? Chris Carson. Carson doesn't look very happy, holding his modified steel chair in a clenched fist. He looks over Morgana's body, then back up at her face.

Chris Carson: You don't LOOK like you were injured over the summer.

Morgana: I'm a fast healer. Look, if you're here to dig up old wounds...

Carson tosses the chair to the floor to interrupt Morgana's talk.

Chris Carson: If I was here to do that, i would have twisted metal around that head of yours already.

Morgana: So what the hell do you want from me? I've got a match to prepare for.

Carson is counting quietly to himself to avoid any outbursts.

Chris Carson: You know, for the record, I didn't need that help from you last time. I wasn't askin' for handouts, and I wasn't lookin' for a pity pin.

Morgana: Well, I wasn't giving you any pity. I was getting back at Stevie. Screwing her helps ME more than it helps YOU.

Carson just snarls to himself.

Chris Carson: Regardless, I wasn't ASKIN' for your help back then. But...

Carson leans in and looms over Morgana, who isn't backing down either.

Chris Carson: ...I'm askin' for your help now.

Morgana: Excuse me?

Carson backs off.

Chris Carson: Piece of cake. I beat that puppy-eater Casanova. You beat that VD factory Stevie. Then you name ME next to take her title. It's that simple.

Morgana doesn't seem too happy at the thought.

Morgana: You know, there are plenty of others that deserve it. And I'd be plenty content seeing you NOT win.

Chris Carson: Just DO it. You know that I'm the one who deserves to have the title. You know that I'm the only one who can do it.

Morgana smirks and holds out her hand.

Morgana: Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Shake on it?

Carson looks at Morgana's hand, then down at his own. He shakes his head, his own hatchet hard to bury.

Chris Carson: Fuck that. I ain't agreein' to nothin' with you. You just better make the right decision.

Carson retreats to his chair and storms off with it. Morgana just puts her headphones back on and walks off in a different direction.

The lights go out, as "Critical Acclaim" by Avenged Sevenfold plays on the speakers. On the screen, the faintest outline of Roxy Erikson's name can be seen in the lightest grey. One by one, bullet holes begin to fill in the name, making it much clearer to read. The lights fade back on as the guitars come in... Lex Robinson: Well, here we go with the first of our big grudge matches here at Illusions, and here comes Roxy Erikson with her titles. Makes you wonder what she’s bringing to this "Last Person Standing" match… Steve Hebert: Wait, we didn’t just see a grudge match with Chris Extreme? Lex Robinson: You have to have actual grudges for a Grudge Match. There's been plenty of venom between York and Roxy the past few weeks… Steve Hebert: If you ask me, it's been mostly Kool-Aid from York. The guy's a garter snake compared to the Queen Cobra coming out now! Roxy steps onto the stage, wearing a long black cloak. Her face half-hidden with the hood, she starts to push a shopping cart full of barbed wire and bats. The titles she owns are piled in the front of the cart. Steve Hebert: Well, Roxy's got the right idea! Baseball bats in barbed wire! And they're the "break-when-they-hit" maple bats! The crowd whispers loudly, in disbelief at her appearance and demeanor, as she makes her way down the ramp. She retaliates by spitting and hissing back at them. When she reaches the ring, she tosses the cloak aside. She is left wearing black wrestling pants with silver gemstone encrusted boots, with a black wrestling top that has her name written across the chest with silver gemstones. She parks the cart next to the ring and climbs into the ring. She impatiently paces back and forth, waiting for the match to begin. Lex Robinson: I've never seen Roxy so venomous before. Steve Hebert: She's the Black Mamba of Sin! Lex Robinson: Yeah, knock it off with that analogy. All My Life I been searching for something... Something never comes, never leads to nothing... Nothing satisfies, but I'm gettin close... Closer to the prize at the end of the rope MADE FOR TV The words MADE FOR TV appear on the screen as the lights in the arena slowly began to dim and "All My Life" by the Foo Fighters progresses on. An array of baby blue lasers shoot into various directions, moving about, in time with the rhythm of the music. Lex Robinson: And here's our current Ultraviolence Champion, Sebastian York! Steve Hebert: Ultraviolent? Him? I’ve seen diarrhea more violent than him. Lex Robinson: Always the classy guy, Steve. As the song drops in, explosions go off, as Sebastian York makes his way to the top of the ramp, rocking out to the music. He carries a few mops and brooms in his left arm, while he lugs a bucket and a heavy vacuum behind him. Steve Hebert: See? The guy's a fucking MAID! He’s MAID for TV! Lex Robinson: I don’t think that's what he's got those for. He's going to clean up the filth that is Roxy Erikson! Steve Hebert: If he wants to clean her up, he's going to need a twelve-step program! Sliding into the ring, he pops up onto his feet and lifts a mop into the air, drawing a huge pop from the crowd as pyro shoots into the air from the each corner. As the pyro display dies down, Sebastian skips out on waiting for a bell to ring, clobbering Roxy across the neck with his mop handle! Lex Robinson: And Seb's not waiting for any signal! He's cracking that handle against Roxy's skull! Steve Hebert: Well, he's got one thing right. He needs to knock Roxy out and not pin her! After laying Roxy out on the canvass, York retreats to the outside of the ring, looking to select from his bag of tools. He opts for a broom handle, only to turn back to the ring and get a crossbody from Roxy! Lex Robinson: That cat was just playing dead right off the bat! Roxy's clawing at York’s face! Steve Hebert: Prettyboy York's going to need serious work on that face of his. Lex Robinson: Let's hope he didn't get his windpipe crushed! Roxy used her weight to break the broom handle across York's trachea! York rolls to his side and coughs after he shoves Roxy off of him, holding at his throat. Roxy marches about the ring, swearing to herself as she unearths a barbed-wire bat from her cart. She creeps around the ring and lines up for a few shots. Lex Robinson: Ooooh! Roxy crushes her Louisville Slugger against York's back! Steve Hebert: Wish I could crush mine against Roxy's back. Lex Robinson: Excuse me? Is that a sexual innuendo at Roxy? Steve Hebert: Huh? Whoops. Forgot who I was talking about there a moment. Roxy gets in three good shots, ripping cuts out of York's back. York finally is able to stop the torture with a punch to Roxy's stomach, making her drop the bat. Lex Robinson: A temporary halt to the carnage by York! Steve Hebert: But he took a beating there. Guy's gonna have to stand up. The referee had been looking to start counting at some point, but York wobbles to his feet. As Roxy gasps for breath a moment, York starts to pummel Roxy with his broken broom handle, much to the crowd's delight. Lex Robinson: And Roxy's down! But…York's heading back to his bag of tricks… Steve Hebert: Big mistake! He should have picked up that bat and used it! Lex Robinson: I think York wants to make a point first! York brings the vacuum over and unzips at the bag. Before Roxy can get up, York dumps all of the dusty contents over Roxy! The crowd bursts out laughing! Lex Robinson: Well, now all of those people calling Roxy a dirty player would be right! Steve Hebert: What…what a disgrace! C'mon, give Roxy some respect! What a mockery! Roxy coughs and struggles to breathe amidst all of the dust. York lifts his vacuum up and plans to nail it across Roxy's back, only to see a foot shoot out of the cloud of smoke and nail him square in the gonads! Lex Robinson: Yikes! Darn, that hurts from HERE! Steve Hebert: Pure smoke screen there. York was overconfident, and now he's half the man he once was! York struggles and falls to his knees. Roxy coughs and retreats to her cart, and while York is struggling to his feet, Roxy runs forth and clobbers York in the face with the cart itself! Lex Robinson: And York's out from that collision! Face-first! York's face is busted open as he crumbles to the ground. The ref starts to count… ...1...2...3...! Lex Robinson: York's up after that impact pretty quickly. Steve Hebert: Prettyboy York ought to get up. There's another few hundred in reconstructive surgery! York rolls back into the ring to recover as Roxy rummages for more weaponry. She pulls a coil of barbed wire out and wraps it about the ropes, then slides into the ring, attempting to drop-kick York into the ropes. Steve Hebert: Roxy's looking to rip open more of York's back! Lex Robinson: York's going to need to wake up here! Roxy's charging forth and…no, wait! York slides to the side and catches Roxy! Steve Hebert: No fair! He was faking! Lex Robinson: Roxy's up on his shoulders…and York gives Roxy a fall-away slam right into the ropes! Roxy hits the ropes hard, the wire catching her arm and back. She tries to quickly dive away from the ropes after hitting them, but is torn open, thrashing about as she bleeds on the canvass! Lex Robinson: York's got the advantage! He picks Roxy up and tosses her back into the ropes! Roxy hits the ropes again and bounces off them weakly, trying to hold her back. York just picks Roxy up and hits a monstrous sidewalk slam on that bleeding back of hers! Steve Hebert: Roxy's not meant to bleed, Lex! Lex Robinson: Roxy lays on the canvass as the ref starts to count! York's in the corner, trying to stay vertical and ignore his OWN blood-loss! ...1...2...3...4...5...! By the time Roxy stirs, the ref is at six. York slides out of the ring and starts to reach under the apron, tossing in other cleaning supplies! Lex Robinson: A handheld vacuum! More buckets and mops; and,…well, products we can't name without a sponsorship. Steve Hebert: This guy really means to clean up in all meanings of the word! He really IS a maid! ...1...2...3...4...5...6...7...! Roxy gets up at eight, only for York to hike back into the ring and crack a new mop against her forehead. Roxy falls face first to the mat, then York starts to open up a bottle and pour it all over Roxy's back. Steve Hebert: What the fuck's that? Mop-N… Lex Robinson: No! Rubbing alcohol! Roxy thrashes about from the sting, only for York to mash the mop against Roxy's stomach, pretending to clean her up, much to the amusement of the crowd! Steve Hebert: How... how embarrassing. Lex Robinson: Well, look on the bright side. It might disinfect Roxy. Steve Hebert: She's going to have a cooch that smells like pine… After the moment of amusement, York starts to pile the vacuums and handles in the middle of the ring. He pulls Roxy to her feet and gets her into a suplex position… Lex Robinson: A suplex right on the junk! The Hunger! York pulls to the side and tries to lift himself off the mat again, while Roxy is out cold… Lex Robinson: The ref counts! Come on... ...1...2...3...! Roxy's not moving, allowing York to recover. Steve Hebert: C'mon, don’t let Prettyboy win! ...4...5...6...7...! Lex Robinson: We're going to see a new... wait! Roxy's stirring! At the count of eight, Roxy starts to lurch to her side and pull herself up onto a knee. York doesn't wait for the count to finish, walking over to Roxy, only to have Roxy grab York's thigh and pull him to the ropes! Steve Hebert: Faceful of barbed-wire! Haha! Love it! York's cringing in pain! Lex Robinson: York holds his face after getting it cut open by the razor wire. Roxy starts to slither towards the edge of the ring, sliding her body in the direction of her cart... Meanwhile, York blindly stumbles over to drag Roxy back into the ring, only to pull Roxy back in and immediately get a barbed-wire bat to the side of the head! Lex Robinson: Oh, God! Roxy's got the bat again! York falls to his knees, only to get another chop to the stomach from the bat! Roxy pulls herself to her feet and cracks another two shots against York, her body filled with an adrenaline rush! Steve Hebert: And filthy old Roxy is back to her feet! What a comeback! Love that smelly bitch! Lex Robinson: And York... looks genuinely hurt! The pool is growing about his body! The referee starts the count again, York spasming slightly from his injuries, but not moving otherwise. Roxy backs off, the bat tossed away. ...1...2...3... Steve Hebert: One... two... three... oh, I'm loving this! York deserves this! ...4...5...6...7... Lex Robinson: Will the Made-for-TV Superstar get back up?! Steve Hebert: It sure as fuck doesn't look like it. ...8... At the count of seven, York starts to stir. He shifts to a knee at eight... Steve Hebert: Yes! Yes! ...9... He then waddles to his feet at nine-and-a-half! The crowd pops something serious! Lex Robinson: He made it! Steve Hebert: Ah, fuck me. Roxy just curses to herself. Unable to find the bat she just tossed, she decides to hit the ropes. She wraps her arm around York's neck… Steve Hebert: Roxy Ride! Lex Robinson: But... wait! York pushes her off of his body…and hits a spin wheel kick to the jaw! Both York and Roxy tumble to the canvas, exhausted and bleeding heavily. The referee starts to count them both out... ...1...2...3...4...5... Steve Hebert: He's at five! ... Lex Robinson: And York's up! Steve Hebert: But here comes Roxy! She's starting to get up at six! As Roxy rises, York slides over to the turnbuckle, climbing it in hopes of getting Roxy down. York's legs are like Jello as he climbs, and once he gets to the top, Roxy's up, hitting a rope to kick York off balance, the Ultraviolence Champion crotching himself on the top rope! Lex Robinson: Poor York's having no luck down below. Steve Hebert: Poor York? Empathize for his future kids! If he'll any of those autistics, that is. Roxy drags some of the junk to a pile before the turnbuckle. She tries to size her distance up as she climbs the ropes. Lex Robinson: Roxy's looking to hurricana York onto his own weapon of choice! Steve Hebert: Do it, Rox! Send him to Hoover Heaven! Roxy leaps up and gets her thighs around York's neck, trying to pull down with gravity… Lex Robinson: But York's holding her up! He's lifting Roxy up with every bit of strength he has! Steve Hebert: No fucking...! Ah...! He's pulling her across his shoulders! Lex Robinson: York's standing up on the second rope! He's…he's going to hit a neckbreaker from the top...! Roxy starts to try and throw off York's balance as he steps to the top turnbuckle... Lex Robinson: York's up! Roxy's wobbling and w-... Oh God! They're teetering off..and...MADE FOR TV! RIGHT INTO THE BARBED-WIRE CART! Steve Hebert: HOLY SHIT! CAPSLOCK! CAPSLOOOOOOCK! Lex Robinson: York delivers a stunning "made-For-TV" neckbreaker to the outside of the ring! They both get thrown into the barbed wire!! Steve Hebert: But they both took the brunt of it! Who the hell would rise after that spill?! The crowd is on their feet, trying to cheer on York, but the count starts with both competitors sprawled in the metal scraps, bleeding profusely. ...1...2...! Lex Robinson: No one's getting up from that! No one! ...3...4...! Steve Hebert: But someone's gotta win! ...5...6...! Steve Hebert: Someone... anyone... No movement at all, despite the crowd's plea for York. Lex Robinson: Someone's gonna stir... they have to! ...7...8... Lex Robinson: Wait! Is... someone moving? Steve Hebert: It's... it's Roxy! Just as the ref hits eight, Roxy claws at the apron, much to the boos of the crowd. York starts to move slightly, but is struggling just to get his arm under him. ...9... Lex Robinson: And…Roxy's up! She's pulled herself to her feet! Steve Hebert: Sebastian is tangled in the barbed-wire, though! ...10! Steve Hebert: 10! It’s all over! Roxy did it! Lex Robinson: My God, I can't believe it! She said she was going to collect every Sin Wrestling title... and it looks to be that way! Steve Hebert: Roxy Erikson has gotten to her feet before that other douchebag! Holy shit, I can't believe it! I didn't think she actually had it in her! Oh, hell, who am I kidding? I knew it all along! LeX Robinson: This is... wow... this is something else! The bell rings as Roxy slumps against the apron, a bloody mess as the ref slips out and raises her hand. She blindly crawls for the corner, hugging her TV Title to herself before she is given the Ultraviolence Title and thousands of boos. Lex Robinson: Damn that disease! How did she survive that? Steve Hebert: She's like a virus! You CAN’T beat a virus! Roxy grins a lopsided grin as she drags herself and her titles to the back, on all fours as she makes her way up the ramp. The ref is able to get the shards of broken cart and barbed wire out of York’s way and signals to the back for medical help. The medics storm down the ramp, only to find York up on a knee, holding his head wound with one hand and his stomach with the other arm. The crowd’s silence grows into a slow applause as York gets to his feet, then gives a disappointed thumbs-up to the crowd as he is led to the back, limping heavily, with his gear being torn and bloody. Winner: Roxy Erikson

The beaming, bright glow of the World Title shines on the screen, illuminating the presence of Sin Wrestling World Champion, Stevie Swing. Well, it appears to be Stevie Swing, anyhow; only due to the presence of the World Title.

For Halloween, the champion is dressed as a Rabbi, complete with long, bushy beard and robe. Pacing back and forth, with the title strapped around her waist, she curses out loud.

Stevie Swing: Yeeechhhh.... one hour with filthy Morgana... as if she would give me one hour of her time, otherwise.... yeeechhhhh...

She doesn't realize the camera is on her, catching her complaining. Neither does the suspicious figure moving into the scene, holding a hatchet in his hands.

Chris Extreme: Come out, come out, wherever you whore...

Cleverly replacing "are" with "whore", Chris Extreme steps into the scene, still dressed as Flame's deceased girlfriend. With rosy cheeks, he steps next to the Rabbi, aka Stevie Swing, holding the bloody hatched up to his face.

Chris Extreme: Excuse me, father, have you seen any dirty whores around here? I'm planning on killing a few... and well, I'm looking for that Stevie Swing chick. You know her... she's Jewish and has a big nose. I fucking hate big noses. I'll cut it off...

He chops his hatchet through the air, breezing past the fake-beard on Stevie's face.

Stevie Swing: [speaking in a manly voice] Uh... I see no scantily clad women here, young sir. Sorry.

Chris Extreme: Hmmph. Well, I'll be. I'm sure Stevie Swing should have been here. Ah, well, I'll just take my anger out on some other unsuspecting victim.

Stevie Swing: [still talking with a deep voice, while patting Chris on the back] Uh, you do that, son. My prayers will be with you.

Chris Extreme: Thank Hitl--...

Chris stops himself and look at the "Rabbi".

Chris Extreme: Wait, aren't you supposed to be exterminated? Shouldn't you be in my oven?

Stevie Swing: [manly voice, again] No, no! Run along, boy.

Chris Extreme takes a minute to think to himself, holding the hatchet up to his chin, giving himself a quick shave.

Chris Extreme: Well, whatever. If you see Stevie Swing, tell her I'm looking for her.

Just like that, Chris waddles off.

Stevie Swing: ...What the hell is going on here?!

...However, Chris stops, turns around and instantly walks back into the scene.

Chris Extreme: Wait a Nazi fucking minute...

He points to the World Title that's around Stevie's waist.

Chris Extreme: I used to have a belt just like that. But I think I threw it out because it made me look fat.

Insecuringly checking over his purple-dressed body, Chris "fixes" himself up and pats the "priest" on the shoulder.

Chris Extreme: But it looks good on you, father. You wear it well.

Stevie Swing: Uh... uh... th-- thanks, son.

Chris Extreme happily skips off, holding his sharp hatchet, trotting away like some sort of maniac. When all is clear, Stevie removes the beard from her face and pulls off her hat. Wiping away a bead of sweat, she rolls her eyes, trying to keep herself calm.

Stevie Swing: Oi vey... we have a lunatic running around in the back, trying to kill... me... and I still have to let Morgana touch me for 60 seconds. How.... erotic--- no, no... I mean disgusting. Yeah, fuck you, Morgana, you no-good self-centered bitch! You whore! You fucking cunt of a slutting whorebag!

Stevie Swing punches a skeleton mannequin that had been set up for Halloween, making it topple over, where she begins kicking viciously at it.

Stevie Swing: Take that, Morgana! You tramp! You slut! You were holding me back! I should have killed you long ago!

Stevie even begins bashing the skeleton's head into the cold, hard floor... until it pops off into Stevie's hands!

Stevie Swing: Oh no... oh no... Morgy... I... I... wait, you're not Morgana. What the fuck?

Like a football kicker, Stevie punts the head of the skeleton, sending it flying. It sails through the air, landing at the feet of Corey Page, who had just entered the area. Looking down, Corey Page sighs, picks up the head and glares at it.

Corey Page: This will happen to me if I can't pay back those loans.

A random kid, who is dressed up as a vampire, pops out at Corey Page, frightening him. This surprise makes Corey release his hold of the skeleton head, smashing it to the floor.

With another loud, depressing sigh, Corey speaks out.

Corey Page: If only the Great Pumpkin would visit me... or 10 million dollars. Whichever comes first.

Gloomy, Corey Page, who is dressed as a homeless man, walks away, with his hands tucked into his pockets. Come to think of it, he may not even be dressed for Halloween, after all.

The lights go out as "Scream" by Avenged Sevenfold begins playing. On the SW-Tron, an image is seen and heard faintly, showing just the legs of a man walking down a hallway, apparently dragging a steel chair along, which is covered in patches of dried blood. Caught up in this madness too blind to see Woke animal feelings in me Took over my sense and I lost control I'll taste your blood tonight Casanova steps out onto the stage, glowering over the audience, before striding down the ramp and ignoring the fans. On the screen, the image slowly trails up the silhouette of the man walking with the chair, rising until it reaches the outline of his shoulders and head, the eyes suddenly visible in flashes of red, as the image shatters like glass, replaced by "Casanova," spelled out in a trail of blood. You know I make you wanna scream You know I make you wanna run from me baby But know it's too late you've wasted all your time Casanova slides into the ring, rolling into a crouch in a corner with a fangy smirk. The screen and music fade, as he adjusts his gloves and waits for the match to start. Steve Hebert: One bad motherfucker coming through. Lex Robinson: Indeed. These past few months, Casanova has been an absolute monster. At the last Eternity, he even shocked Chris Carson -- in front of "The Creep"'s own kid. I mean, come on; what kind of bastard does that? Casanova used to be a "good guy", someone you could respect... but ever since his epic battle with Zimdela Brudon, he's been a changed man. Steve Hebert: It was a change for the better, Lex. Like Obama. Someone photoshop Casanova over an Obama poster, post-stat. Lex Robinson: You've got to be kidding me. Steve Hebert: Come on, everyone knows Obama would bust John McCain open, if given the chance. Maybe even use some defibrillators on him. Lex Robinson: Only if McCain were dying... which, at this point, is quite likely. Steve Hebert: Screw it. I've always wanted John McClain as my president. Yippee-kay-yay, motherfucker! Too bad Bruce Willis is a busy man. Lex Robinson: ...Aren't you Canadian? You had your election just a few weeks ago. Steve Hebert: Yeah, but that was won by a sweater-vest wearing Libertarian faggot. Kind of like Chris Carson, you know. Lex Robinson: I-- uh--... what?! You're not making any sense. Steve Hebert: Listen, all that needs to be said is that Casanova is going to kick the snot out of "The Creep" and make Chris Jr. watch and cry over his father's dead body. Lex Robinson: Jesus Christ. Red pyro explodes in the form of two fiery upward torrents from the stage, as Theory Of A Dead Man's "Invisible Man" charges onto the speakers. However, instead of Chris Carson, rabid fans, numbering triple-digits easily, stampede from the entrance and surround the ring, just about all of them making the ring quake as they stomp to the tempo. I always know where you are You never know where I am You got me sneaking around Like the invisible man Carson comes out onto the ramp in mid-chorus, barebacked and oiled up, wrestling tights sharp in a fire-red/ice-blue design. The crowd around the ring, and in the stands as well, respond to Carson's double middle-finger salute with a roar. You'll never know where I've gone You've gone and done it again You've got me sneaking around Like the invisible man Another pyro explosion, and Carson starts shoving his way towards the ring, not acknowledging the support he gets from his supporters yet. Sliding into the ring, "The Creep" wastes no time, as he darts straight for Casanova! Lex Robinson: Good lord, here we go! The referee calls for the bell... Ding... ding... ding! Steve Hebert: "The Creep" is a cheap-shotting dickhead! Look at him attack Casanova like that! Lex Robinson: [rolling his eyes] Yeah, as if Casanova wasn't ready for it. Right off the bat, both men go toe-to-toe, striking each other with forearms. Each shot lands at exactly the same time, ringing off each other's face/head. Lex Robinson: They're going blow-for-blow! Steve Hebert: What?! They're not blowing each other! Lex Robinson: No, they're stiffing the crap out of the other. Steve Hebert: Oh, well, that's definitely true. Stiff as hell, Chris Carson is able to knock Casanova back a few feet, until he is reeling against the ropes. Applying a bearhug, he lifts Casanova up and turns around, hotshotting him throat-first across the top rope! Steve Hebert: Oh crap... Lex Robinson: "The Creep" dumps Casanova across the top rope, stunning him! He's quickly up to his feet, too. Standing across the ring from Casanova, Chris Carson races forward, extending his right arm... Steve Hebert: Uh oh, watch out, Casanova... Lex Robinson: "The Creep" clothesline Casanova; and they go up-and-over the top rope, where they spill to the floor! Out here, Casanova and Carson exchange some more punches from a kneeling position. As he stands, Chris Carson nails Casanova with a spiteful knee to the gut, which he follows up by smashing his face into the ring apron! Steve Hebert: Casanova can't get a move in edgewise, as that old fucker, Chris Carson, drags him towards us. Lex Robinson: Holy crap, watch out, Steve! Steve Hebert: Mehhh... I'm going nowhere! Smashing Casanova in the face with a fist, Chris Carson hoists him up into a suplex position and then drops him vertically onto the announcer's table! Lex Robinson: Jeez! Steve Hebert: Casanova's foot just hit me in the face -- but I'm okay! Lex Robinson: Not that we're worried. As Casanova lays across the table, hanging off it, Chris Carson takes this chance to commence delivering elbows across the vampire's jaw and throat! Lex Robinson: Look at these repeated shots from "The Creep", which knock Casanova off our table! Steve Hebert: God, do I have to? Lex Robinson: It's right here in front of you, so of course! Kicking Casanova a few times, making sure he's on his knees in front of the announcer's table, Chris Carson stumbles back, reaches over the ring railing and pulls out two chairs. He takes the first one and carelessly flings it at the vampire, smashing it against him. Lex Robinson: We even have chairs being flung about, now! Steve Hebert: And I'm still here! No 80 year old man is going to get me to move out of my seat! Lex Robinson: "The Creep" isn't... actually, you know what, nevermind. Steve Hebert: I win this round. The relaxed rules of this grudge match allow for "The Creep" to hoist the second chair overhead, allowing him to have it crash across Casanova's back! Lex Robinson: "The Creep" cracks that chair against Casanova! Owwie! Good lord! Steve Hebert: Just as Casanova is about to stand, too! LeX Robinson: Watching as Casanova pulls himself up near the ring post, "The Creep" waits, wanting to smack him again. He swings the chair...! Steve Hebert: But Casanova ducks out of the way! The chair cracks against the ring post, forcing "The Creep" to drop it! Alternatively, Casanova reaches into the audience, pushing a kid away and grabs his own chair. Haha, yes! Punch that kid in the face! Taking the chair, Casanova quickly blasts Chris Carson across the head with the chair, dropping him on the cold, hard floor! Steve Hebert: Pow! Now that's much better! LeX Robinson: Casanova even uses the edge of the chair to jab into Chris Carson's spine and ribcage! Steve Hebert: Good! Cripple the bastard! LeX Robinson: He stands, holding the chair, and then decides to whack the chair against Chris Carson's legs, just as he is about to try and roll back into the ring! This is awful! Steve Hebert: Hey, "The Creep" brought the chairs into play, first! He gets what he deserves. Tossing the chair in his hand into the ring, Casanova stalks around the outside, grabs the chair that was thrown at him by "The Creep" and then tosses that in, as well. Before re-entering, he searches beneath the ring apron, allowing him to pull out a table, which he keeps setup on the floor. Steve Hebert: Casanova even has a table, now! LeX Robinson: But he's leaving it. Instead, he's sliding back inside, where he instantly drops a knee across "The Creep"s face, following that up by then dropping an elbow. Steve Hebert: Good; keep him down. Lex Robinson: Grabbing a chair and setting it up in the corner, between the middle and top turnbuckle pad, Casanova turns his attention towards "The Creep", who is struggling to his feet. That chairshot to the legs really hampered him, I do believe. Steve Hebert: Of course it did. The guy's pretty much a cripple. What else were you expecting? Tuning out the pain, however; Chris Carson notices Casanova turn towards him, deciding to try and bring things back into his favour. Stumbling towards Casanova, "The Creep" hunches over, using his shoulders to push Casanova into the corner, where he crashes him against the chair that had been setup in the corner, using a spear to his efforts! Steve Hebert: Aw, crap. So much for that. That old bag literally wobbles at Casanova, knocking him against the chair. Lex Robinson: Not only that, but Chris Carson knocks Casanova's head against the chair, as well! Steve Hebert: Ugh... terrible. Lex Robinson: Casanova stumbles out, holding his head, with an obvious headache. Ripping the chair away from the buckles, Chris Carson holds it tight, waiting for Casanova to turn around. He charges out... only to run right into a big boot from Casanova, which bashes the chair into Chris Carson's own face! Steve Hebert: Ahaha, that moron! That old, dumb, idiotic moron. This allows for Casanova to lift a limp Chris Carson back up, kick him once more in the face and then pull him into a front-facelock. Lex Robinson: What's more disconcerting is that Carson's face has been slightly busted open. There's a tiny spotch of blood at the tip of his forehead. Steve Hebert: He probably cut one of his wrinkles open. Lex Robinson: Making sure that the chair is in the right position, Casanova lifts "The Creep" up and brings him down with an Implant-DDT, driving him headfirst into the chair! Steve Hebert: Yes! That's it! This match is over already! All Casanova needs to do, is roll the old bastard over and cover him. However, Casanova opts to do anything but this. Deciding to keep punishing Chris Carson, Casanova digs his knee into "The Creep"'s back, making sure to keep him grounded, while his face remains on the chair. Reaching forward, he uses his fingers as talons, trying to rip and claw at the open flesh wound on Chris Carson's face, hoping to drain every inch of blood out of him. Steve Hebert: Bleed him dry, Cas! Pretend he's a pig. An old, gay, dumb pig. Lex Robinson: He's digging his fingers into that wound, trying to slice it open even further. What a sick, demented, twisted fucker. Steve Hebert: Oh, don't be so conservative. LeX Robinson: Casanova lifts "The Creep" up -- and yup, he really is cut open. Striking with some punches, with each shot smashing into Chris's wound, Casanova knocks Carson into the corner. In here, he plants some boots to Carson's gut, keeping him hunched over and held in place. Right after these shots, he combines some hard-hitting elbows, which absolutely stun "The Creep"! Steve Hebert: There's no way Chris Carson can survive an onslaught such as this. No way, whatsoever. LeX Robinson: Eh, he's whipped across the ring, where he slams into the opposite set of turnbuckle pads! Casanova follows in, nailing a running-forearm into the corner, snapping Carson's head back, nearly decapitating him! Steve Hebert: Yes! Cut off his head! Good idea! I like that. Lex Robinson: Looking at the blood on his arm and hand, Casanova devilishly smirks and then sits Chris Carson on the top rope. After nailing a punch, which keeps "The Creep" in place, Casanova turns around, grabs the two chairs and sets them up, parallel to Chris. Steve Hebert: He's going to kill him! I knew it! Tapping the chairs, making sure they're in perfect position, Casanova turns his attention back to Chris Carson. Climbing up alongside him, he hammers "The Creep" with some shots to the ribcage and then looks to nail a superplex. Steve Hebert: Here we go! Kill him! Come on! Lex Robinson: Wait--...! Before anything too dangerous can occur, "The Creep" begins firing back with some punches of his own! These shots are almost enough to knock Casanova back; but not enough, as Casanova gouges at Chris's eyes, stopping his momentum. Lex Robinson: Ugh... he poked Chris's eyes. Steve Hebert: That's my type of move! I taught him that! Lex Robinson: Wait... wait... before anything else can occur, "The Creep" fires back with some forearms! "The Creep" even gouges at Casanova's eyes, now! Hah! Did you teach him that?! Steve Hebert: Oh, shut up. Lex Robinson: With some blood flowing from his forehead, Chris Carson begins recklessly smashing at Casanova, confusing him and weakening him! With two hands, Chris Carson pushes on Casanova, sending him flying off the turnbuckles... making Casanova crash onto the two chairs! Yes! Steve Hebert: No! Lex Robinson: Listen to these fans! Steve Hebert: No! Lex Robinson: They're going nuts! Steve Hebert: No! Shut up, cunt. I said, "Shut up!" Having cracked his back against the two chairs that sat face-to-face, Casanova lays across the seats of them, trying to recover. This lapse of time is enough for Chris Carson to slowly recover, allowing him to jump off the top rope, landing a flying guillotine-elbowdrop, knocking Casanova off the chairs! Lex Robinson: Holy shit! Steve Hebert: That old man just flew! Lex Robinson: I don't remember the last time Chris Carson jumped off the top rope like that. Hell, I don't remember the last time Chris Carson jumped that high! He is risking body and limb, this is nuts! Steve Hebert: At least I've now seen a 90 year old man fly through the air. My life is now complete. Lex Robinson: Straddling Casanova, a bloody Chris Carson begins throttling Casanova with a flurry of punches, leaving him barely able to defend himself! It isn't until Casanova is able to kick Chris off, that he finds the strength to roll to the floor... with "The Creep" in hot pursuit! Casanova stumbles around the floor, while Chris Carson steps onto the outer portion of the ring apron. When he notices Casanova turn around, Chris takes a few steps forward and risks his old, worn-down body to attack Casanova with a flying crossbody off the apron! Steve Hebert: Holy cowshit! Chris Carson has gone nuts. Lex Robinson: Damn right he has. Like a madman, Chris Carson smashes his fists against Casanova's face, almost bloodying his own knuckles! Pulling Casanova up to his feet, Chris Carson begins kicking at him, sore legs and all. Plucking him up to a two-legged stance, Chris nails a haymaker of a punch, which stumbles Casanova backwards, allowing Chris to then grab onto his opponent's head and eagerly smash his face off the ring apron! Steve Hebert: Jesus why? LeX Robinson: Casanova just cannot escape from Chris Carson's angst. He should never have messed around with "The Creep" in front of his son. Steve Hebert: Don't be so shocking -- haha! Get it?! Lex Robinson: For god's sake, Steve. Have a heart. Steve Hebert: Chris Carson has one... Casanova even made sure of it! Haha! Lex Robinson: Oh my. Steve Hebert: ...the only problem is that Casanova may have sent it surging way too much. Lex Robinson: That, I'm going to agree with. From the ring apron, to the ring post, Casanova has his bell rung. Steve Hebert: Needs more cowbell. Lex Robinson: Next, Chris even blasts Casanova's face off the ring steps--... BANG! Lex Robinson: Listen to that cracking sound! Holy God. Chris Carson pulls the ring steps out of place and positions them in the center of the floor. Standing on it, he places Casanova between his legs, also lifting him onto the ring steps. Before he can do anything, though; Chris claws at Casanova's back, drawing some blood of his own! Steve Hebert: Watch out, Casanova! Lex Robinson: Piledriver onto the ring steps by Chris Carson! Casanova's head blasts directly into the steel, sending him writhing to the ground! Casanova turns on his side, holding his cranium, while blood spills from the claw-marks on his back. Chris Carson is immediate to go back on the attach, as he stumbles towards his opponent, stomping him several times on the back. Lex Robinson: Mad as hell, Chris lifts Casanova up, only to bash his face off the table that had been setup earlier by Casanova! Steve Hebert: Ughhh... Lex Robinson: "The Creep" delivers a flurry of punches, knocking Casanova across the table. Picking up a nearby chair, he cracks it against Casanova's stomach and then rests it on the ring apron. Climbing onto the side of the ring, he looks as if he's up to something... Steve Hebert: That something better hurry up because Casanova's taking no shit. He's off the table, struggling to stand and breathe; but he notices Chris Carson... Lex Robinson: And "The Creep" notices him, too! Walking over, he goes to stomp at Casanova's head, but the shot is blocked by the vampire, who holds onto "The Creep"'s foot! With force, he yanks Carson off the apron, only to then clobber him with a lethal shot to the skull! Steve Hebert: A splotch of blood goes flying into the front row, too! Enjoy that old man blood, assholes. Giving Chris Carson a taste of his own medicine, Casanova bashes his face off the ring apron, leaving behind a streak of blood; and then turns Carson around... only to pepper him with a stiff forearm! Speaking of pepper, I make a mean pizza, Lex. Lex Robinson: Errr... Casanova hoists Chris Carson up and then dumps him across the railing, smashing his face into it! Jesus! He repeatedly smashes Chris's face against it, too! Look at the blood ooze onto several fans in the front row! This is friggin' disgusting! Ramming Chris Carson into the steel ring post, Casanova soon hoists him up into a back-suplex position... only to then bumble forward, crotching him against the pole! Still clutching "The Creep" he steps back and then drops him onto the floor with a back-suplex! Steve Hebert: At least we know "The Creep" won't be having any more Down's Syndrome babies. Lex Robinson: Oh god, you're one horrible, horrific bastard. Steve Hebert: Yes, that's what they all say. Lex Robinson: Not relenting for one bit, Casanova kicks "The Creep" in the ribs, grabs his hair and then yanks him to his feet. Picking up a steel chair, Casanova smashes it against the side of Carson's skull, knocking him backwards, rolling him onto the wooden table! Steve Hebert: Homerun! Fuck the Phillies, Casanova just won the World Series with that swing! A puddle of blood remains on the table, dripping off Chris Carson's forehead, as he lays helplessly across the top of it. In the meantime, Casanova has taken the chair and is standing on the ring apron with it. Within seconds, he climbs to the top turnbuckle, holding the chair in front of his chest. Lex Robinson: Oh my God... no... is he? Steve Hebert: He is! Lex Robinson: He leaps through the air...! Using his body as a weapon, complete with the chair that he holds in front of him, Casanova flying splashes to the outside, crashing down onto Chris Carson, chair and all! Both men splatter through the table, which splinters into pieces, sending both of them into a rack of pain! Lex Robinson: Good god almighty! Steve Hebert: The way they exploded through that table, I think they both may be dead! Luckily for Casanova, he's a vampire...which, uh, means he's undead... or something! Even though vampires aren't real; and uh... I don't even know. Lex Robinson: After witnessing that dive, you're as shocked as anyone. Steve Hebert: But not as much as Chris Carson! Lex Robinson: Both men are barely mobile. The first to stir from the pile is, of course, Casanova, who gets to a kneeling stance, looking at the bleeding Chris Carson. From this position, he stares at "The Creep", who begins moving, attempting to sit up, coughing up blood. Steve Hebert: Oh Dear, he definitely has a collapsed lung or something. Someone may as well call an ambulance right now. That old man is done for. From amidst the pile, Casanova stands to his feet, trying to keep his composure, despite the jeers that are poured upon him. Lifting Chris Carson up to his feet, he headlocks "The Creep", giving him some fists to his bleeding wound. Lex Robinson: Casanova's ripping away at that cut, now. Rolling Chris back into the ring, he is quick to slither after him, not giving "The Creep" a chance to convalesce. Steve Hebert: Conva-what now? It looks to me he's repeatedly kneeing Carson in the head. I don't know what you're yapping about. Lex Robinson: Well, yes. Picking Carson up, he jams him into the corner and then moves into the opposite corner. Casanova charges forward... However, Chris Carson is able to reach out, grab onto one of the chairs inside of the ring and frantically heave it towards his enemy, catching him square in the gourd! Steve Hebert: Agh! Lex Robinson: Out of nowhere, Chris Carson throws another chair directly in the face of Casanova, who was not ready for that, whatsoever! Steve Hebert: Motherfuc--... Lex Robinson: Bam! A bloody Chris Carson strikes with another chairshot! Steve Hebert: Oh no, that caught Casanova in the back! Lex Robinson: Damn right it did. Chris Carson drops down and covers Casanova, hoping for a pinfall. The referee starts the count and the fans are counting along! ...1...2... Steve Hebert: Casanova kicks out! Phew! Lex Robinson: That was so close for Chris Carson! Bleeding, Chris Carson gets to a kneeling position and sets one of the chairs into a seated-position. He grabs a second chair and puts it into the same position. Focusing on Casanova, he stomps on his head and then lifts him up, forcing him to sit in the other chair. Lex Robinson: With a punch to the skull, Chris Carson forces Casanova to take a seat. Sitting across from him, it appears it's time to knuckle-up! Steve Hebert: Oh crap... Sitting across from Casanova, Chris Carson begins unloading with a series of fists. Quick to respond, Casanova begins firing back, as well! Ultimately, both men are going nuts, striking each other over-and-over again, with the crowd cheering out loud! Lex Robinson: There they go again! They're going smack-for-smack... blow-for-blow... punch-for-punch! Steve Hebert: B- but... Casanova isn't a freakin' boxer! Lex Robinson: Thankfully for Chris Carson's background in brawling, he's able to take control over things, as he's able to smack the life out of Casanova, who is left a drooling, retarded mess on the chair across from him! Steve Hebert: Casanova isn't going to let this shit happen, though! Angrily thrusting his hand into Carson's throat, Casanova pops off the chair, bounces off the nearest set of ropes and returns with a devastating big boot to the chest! Fuck yeah! That topples "The old Creep" off the chair, which also gets knocked over! Lex Robinson: Hovering over Chris Carson, Casanova picks up the chair he had been sitting on, watching Chris Carson squirm around, trying to get back to his feet; with blood dripping from his forehead. Watching as Chris helplessly crawls towards the ropes, Casanova tugs his hair out of his eyes and speaks out loud. Casanova: I hope your son is watching this, you old fuck! Lex Robinson: Whoa! Did you hear that?! A second later, Casanova blasts the chair across the back of Carson's back, making a resounding cracking sound! Steve Hebert: Oh, but did YOU hear THAT?! Man, Casanova just slammed that chair against "The Creep"'s back -- hard! Casanova continues to spout words about Carson's son, while holding the chair overhead. Lex Robinson: Goddamn, another chairshot to the back! But "The Creep" keeps trying to stand! Casanova: Why don't you quit, you old bastard? Lex Robinson: And another wicked chairshot! My God! Casanova's trashtalk seems to fuel Chris Carson. Despite the harsh chairshots, "The Creep" stands to his feet, pain soaring throughout his body, but he turns around, seeing Casanova attempting another shot... LeX Robinson: I can't believe it! "The Creep" is on his feet! Steve Hebert: I can't believe it, either! What the motherfucker?! Lex Robinson: Casanova's going for another chairshot... but Chris ducks below it! Swinging around, he spins Casanova around, facing him, and delivers a quick kick to the stomach! Yanking the chair out of Casanova's hands, he uses it to blast against his skull, sending Casanova bounding to the ropes! Steve Hebert: Oh my fucking God, no! Lex Robinson: Rebounding off the ropes, Casanova stumbles out... only to have Carson go for "The C.C. Bomb"! Steve Hebert: Is he fucking nuts?! However, his back and body is too worn down to hold Casanova up, resulting in the former World Champ landing on his feet behind "The Creep". Steve Hebert: Apparently he is! Lex Robinson: Damnit... Casanova delivers a snap-kick to "The Creep"'s stomach and runs off the adjacent set of ropes, looking to hit "The Bad Omen"! Lex Robinson: Wait... no! Chris Carson steps back! He punches Casanova in the face... again.. and again... and again! Tucking him in, he nails "The C.C. Crash" onto one of the steel chairs! Oh my God yes! Steve Hebert: No! No! No! Lex Robinson: Carson slides his body atop Casanova... he hooks a leg... The referee counts... ...1... Lex Robinson: One... ...2... Lex Robinson: Two... ... Steve Hebert: No! Casanova gets his shoulder up! Holy Jesus, that was close! I think I just had a stroke or a heart attack or something. Give me mouth-to-mouth, Lex! Lex Robinson: Fuck no, disgusting! Steve Hebert: Bleed leaks from Carson's head, onto Casanova, as he looks at the referee, not believing he hasn't won the match. Well, guess what, asshole? You didn't win, so get to moving. Blood happens to pour from Carson's mouth and forehead, while he gets to a single kneeling position. Sitting Casanova up, he stomps on Cas's fingers, even starts twisting them, hoping to break them. It's only when Casanova leans back, striking with a knee-to-the-head that he's able to free himself. Steve Hebert: This is insane. They're beating the hell out of each other. They both slowly rise, with Casanova keeping a close eye on "The Creep". Bruised, bloodied and beaten, they stomp toward each other and find themselves in the same position they were in at the beginning of the match. Lex Robinson: Here we go, again! Casanova and Chris Carson are going nuts, striking at each other, using their fists, forearms and elbows! Steve Hebert: With a simple kick to the cock, Casanova regains control of things! Lex Robinson: Holy crap, wait... Carson shrugs it off! He slaps his hands off the canvas and storms back to his feet. Casanova is taken aback; and thus he charges at "The Creep", who ducks beneath an attempted-clothesline! Backdrop driver! Chris Carson nails a backdrop driver! Steve Hebert: Casanova pops right back up, though; acting as if nothing happened! Fighting spirit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~u! Lex Robinson: ...Are you okay? Just as he stands, Casanova attaches his arms around Carson's waist and backdrop-drivers him, in return! Lex Robinson: Backdrop driver!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~u! Steve Hebert: You got it, too! Like Casanova before him, "The Creep" jettisons to his feet, slamming his fist off the canvas. Both men reapproach each other and begin striking each other with even more fists and chops. Lex Robinson: They're giving each other more strikes! "The Creep" ducks under a reverse-clothesline attempt from Casanova... who, in turn, spins around and wraps both of his hands around Carson's throat! Lifting "The Creep" into the air with a two-handed choke, Casanova goes to speed forward, only to have Chris Carson gouge at his eyes. Steve Hebert: It's like a scene straight out of Blade Runner! Lex Robinson: To further this, "The Creep" uses both hands to clap together, hammering against the side of Casanova's head! Back on his feet, Chris Carson kicks his nemesis in the groin and then pulls him into a standing headscissors. Steve Hebert: Oh shit, come the fuck on... Lex Robinson: Chris Carson hoists Casanova into the air, putting him into a powerbomb-position... but he can't hold it! Stumbling backwards, leaning against the ropes, Chris Carson can't throw Casanova down, as he slides off "The Creep"'s shoulders, landing on the outer portion of the apron! Steve Hebert: Praise Jesus. Just as "The Creep" turns around, Casanova grabs onto his head and guillotine chokes him across the top rope! Like a bolt of lightning, Casanova climbs to the top turnbuckle pad and leaps off... Lex Robinson: Swandive clothesline off the top rope by Casanova, who makes a pinfall! The referee begins his count... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: Son of a--...! Lex Robinson: Chris Carson barely kicks out! Steve Hebert: Oh, for God's sake, don't remind me. Casanova sits up, looking quite displeased about the lack of a victory. Rising up, he takes one of the chairs leftover in the ring and sits it down. Grabbing Chris Carson, he drags him over to the chair, placing his head over it. Lex Robinson: What's Casanova up to now? Steve Hebert: I have an idea. With Carson bleeding on the chair, it's not going to be good for him... Reaching down, Casanova grabs onto both of Chris Carson's arms, bending him back. Placing his left foot across the back of "The Creep"'s skull, Casanova looks to the crowd and jeers at them. Lex Robinson: Oh no... Steve Hebert: Blammo! Casanova curbstomps Chris Carson's face into the chair... ...and he does it again... ...and again... ...and again... Lex Robinson: Over and over again, Casanova stomps Carson's head into the chair, leaving him a bloodied, unconscious mess! This is awful! Steve Hebert: It's like stomping on a fire! Except he's extinguishing this old retard! Lex Robinson: Chris Carson is a bloodied, disgusting mess! He's out cold! Unable to defend himself, a familiar voice comes from the backstage area. Julia: He quits! Ring the bell! Lex Robinson: Uhm... what? From behind the curtain, out steps Julia, who has a white towel in her hand. Everyone in the arena is confused, as she makes her way to the ringside area, waving it. Steve Hebert: Yeah! You heard the lady! He quits! Lex Robinson: But he didn't say that! Steve Hebert: Probably because he's unable to do so! Look at him, laying in a pool of his own blood on that chair. The referee stands stunned in the ring, not knowing how to react. Suddenly, at ringside area, Julia tosses in the towel for Chris Carson, demanding that the match be over. Steve Hebert: "The Creep" can't defend himself! She threw in the towel! Ring the bell, referee. Confused, the referee checks the status of Chris Carson -- it's not good. Lex Robinson: Wow, "The Creep" is out of it! Julia throws the white towel into the ring... Lex Robinson: Wait... no... this can't be it! The referee calls for the bell, pushing Casanova away from his fallen opponent, making sure his foot has been shoved away from "The Creep"'s head. Steve Hebert: There's the bell! The match is over! The referee has called for the bell! "The Creep" can no longer defend himself! "Scream" by Avenged Sevenfold plays on the speakers, officially announcing the victory of Casanova. The referee reluctantly raises his hand, while looking down at Chris Carson, who lays in a bloody heap, facedown on the chair. Lex Robinson: This is awful... Julia slides into the ring, raising Casanova's hand, as well. Together, they laugh at Chris Carson's expense, as the referee focuses his attention on "The Creep", trying to check on his health. Steve Hebert: It looks like "The Creep" is dead. This night has been redeemed. Lex Robinson: Carson isn't in good shape, at all. God damn. Casanova and Julia walk to the back, leaving Chris Carson down and out. After some minutes of being checked on, Chris Carson finally budges, not looking in good shape. Under his own strength, he finally rises, getting a greatful applause from the fans. Vengeance remains in his eyes, while the blood flows, promising that things are not over. Winner: Casanova

Moments before the main event, Morgana stands in the back, readying herself for her return to the ring. Nervous, she tries to gear herself up, only to be stricken with a knife that presses against her throat.

Chris Extreme has returned; and he's pointing the edge of his knife against the side of Morgana's neck.

Chris Extreme: Oh yes, there will be blood.

Knowing not to react too harshly, Morgana steadies herself, trying not to move a muscle.

Chris Extreme: Oh yes, there will be blood, Mercedes.

A curious look piques on Morgana's face, as her back is turned to Chris Extreme, who keeps the knife edge pointed towards her throat/neck.

Morgana: ...Mercedes?

Chris Extreme: Oh yes, I finally found you, Mercedes. I can finally stop my Halloween terror. I can finally put an end to the bloodshed... just as long as you promise to be my partner, Mercedes. Do you promise to be my partner?

Morgana has no idea how to respond. The silence is deafening, thus making Chris even more tense.

Chris Extreme: Do you promise?!

He holds the knife closer to her neck. In order to save herself, she quickly formulates a response.

Morgana: Uh... oh yeah, sure. I promise!

Hearing that, Chris happily pulls the knife away.

Chris Extreme: ...Really?!

At first, Morgana doesn't response. This prompts Chris to angrily place the knife back to her neck.

Chris Extreme: I said "...really?!"

Again, Morgana is quick to respond, lying through her teeth.

Morgana: Yes... yes, it's true! Really. I promise!

Chris Extreme: Phew.

Chris removes the knife from her neck, claps like a drooling, retarded down's syndrome patient and skips away, thinking he has Mercedes back. Unfortunately, it's really Morgana, who fixes herself up, shrugs off the attempted attack from Chris Extreme and bounds towards the ring, ready for her return match.

The cameras return high up in the rafters, showing the two Sin Wrestling officials from earlier. They seem to be arguing with the second official trying to convince the other one of seeing a ghost.

Official #2: I'm telling you right now I saw him!

Official #1: Who? Flame? Of course you did, he was wrestling down there!

The first official points down to the ring, which is way below them.

Official #2: I'm sure it was a ghost. I'm tellin' you.

Official #1: Haha, no way. Now help me lift these boxes.

The first official turns away, about to lift some crates, wanting the other guy to help him. However, just as he turns, the ghost image of Booger creaks onto the rafters. The large ghostly shadow is pale and see-through... and eating a giant cheeseburger. Haunted, the second official yells out.

Official #2: Gh- gh-- ghost!

Official #1: Haha, I told you...

Before the first official can finish, the second guy blurts out.

Official #2: Hey, fuck this; I'm outta here.

The second official leaps over the barrier and plummets to the ground below. The first official, not hearing him, stands up and looks around.

Official #1: Hey, where did he go?

Looking around, the official does not see the ghost of official #2 stand beside Booger, giving him a high-five and trying to steal his burger away, prompting Booger to chomp his fingers off.

The scene fades out with the second official looking sad.

Darkness cockslaps the arena. “Chick Habit” by April March pumps through the P.A., and a spotlight shines on a pink glass and tissue paper structure that is not unlike…a vagina. There’s a silhouette of a woman on the pink paper, and an image of the one and only Stevie Swing on screen. Stevie Swing bursts through the vagina to deafening cheers, the people in the audience going apeshit for the Dancing KingQueen. That sounds gay. Stevie dances around as fireworks explode all over the stage (gotta have fireworks), showing off her figure. She dances on down to the ring and rolls in, where more fireworks go off, much to the delight of the crowd. LeX Robinson: Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. It's main event time. That means we have the Ironwoman Match. For one hour, these two ladies -- Stevie Swing and Morgana -- will do battle, with the person gaining the most pinfalls being the victor. Steve Hebert: An entire hour to go? Holy shit, I'm starving now, though. Lex Robinson: You're gonna have to wait; because we have potentially one of the greatest matches in Sin Wrestling about to get underway. Right now, we have Stevie Swing in the ring, holding her World Title high. Of course, it was Stevie who attacked Morgana, while posed as Generic Heel. It was also Stevie Swing that won the World Title in a Ladder Match at Back to School 5, again posing as Generic Heel. Steve Hebert: Sounds like a pretty ingenius plan, if you ask me. Lex Robinson: Yeah, too bad betrayal had to be a part of it. Steve Hebert: Hey, Morgana was dragging Stevie down! What's a Jewish girl to do? You should know to never trust a Jew -- at least that's what Mel Gibson told me. Lex Robinson: Oh, har har. Don't be so ridiculous. This only proves that Stevie Swing is a vile, self-absorbed, psychotic, lesbian woman. Steve Hebert: Personally, I'd call that type of person a "cunt"; but whatever. Lex Robinson: She'll have her hands full with Morgana, who has been waiting a long time for this, I'm sure... Steve Hebert: That's if Morgana isn't butchered by Chris Extreme, first. The arena unexpectedly descends into total darkness, sparking the crowd into an expectant frenzy. After a long moment of anticipation, "Piece of Me (Remix)" by Britney Spears pulses through the sound system, accompanied by an image of Morgana in all of her pink-haired glory, which overtakes the screen. The crowd cheers at nearly deafening decibels as hot pink and gold fireworks explode down the ramp, prompting Morgana to saunters out from backstage. Wearing a miniscule pink and black skort, black fishnets, knee-high boots and a tight black tank top, her long hair pulled into two loose braids, Morgy slowly makes her way toward the ring, blowing kisses to fans in the front row as she does so, her every step accompanied by another explosion of fireworks. i'm miss lifestyles of the rich and famous i'm miss oh my god, that morgy's shameless i'm miss extra, extra, this just in i'm miss she's too big now she's too thin Basking in the cheers of the crowd, Morgy pauses on the apron before grasping the top rope and flipping gracefully into the ring. "Piece of Me (Remix)" dies abruptly over the speakers as Morgy parades confidently around the ring, waiting for the match to begin. Lex Robinson: There she is! Steve Hebert: Ugh... disgusting. I want to vomit. Lex Robinson: Listen to this praise. Steve Hebert: I hear it; and I told you that I want to vomit. What else do you want me to say? Lex Robinson: Morgana is staring hard at the champion, Stevie Swing, who looks awkward, trying to pass these brazen looks off. However, you just know that it has an affect on Stevie, you just know it. Steve Hebert: Eh, you're not a mind reader, Lex. Lex Robinson: I'm just going on her facial expression, Steve. She looks worried. Steve Hebert: Worried, schmorried. Stevie Swing is ready to go. Steve's words seem to betray him, ala how Stevie Swing betrayed Morgana. Nevertheless, Stevie, who has removed her Halloween costume, unstraps her title, hands it over to the referee and stretches against the ropes, ready to start this one hour match. LeX Robinson: These two ladies will be going head-to-head for one straight hour. However, Stevie Swing has opted not to put her title on the line. So much for her not being worried, hey, Steve? Steve Hebert: Hey now, Morgana just can't waltz in here, expecting a title shot. She's been out for months. Lex Robinson: She was the World Champion until Stevie Swing brutally attacked her, hositalizing her, you know. Steve Hebert: Big f'n deal. Besides, it's not like there's no stipulations for this match. If Stevie wins, she still keeps his title. If she loses, she keep it, as well. LeX Robinson: With one exception, if she loses. If Morgana comes out as the winner, she gets to choose Stevie's next opponent, who will contend for that title. Steve Hebert: Pffft... it'll probably just be her vibrator or something. Of course, in a rightful world, my tongue would be Morgana's vibrator. Receiving the title and handing it off to the ring announcer, the referee calls for the bell, starting the match; and thus starting the countdown. (1:00:00) (59:59) Lex Robinson: Here we go, the match begins. The clock is counting down... Steve Hebert: And neither of them moves. They stand in opposite corners, staring each other down. Fucking creepy, man. Lex Robinson: Eh, slowly, but surely, that step out, circling around each other. With the fans cheering out loud, Morgy and Stevie finally get in each other's face, not saying a single world to each other. This is intense. Steve Hebert: Maybe, instead of fighting, they'll kiss on the lips and we'll be treated to an entire hour of scissoring and ass-to-ass. Right away, Morgana belts Stevie with a merciless punch to the head, knocking her down! Steve Hebert: ...or maybe not. Lex Robinson: There we go! It's on! Steve Hebert: Stevie stands right back up... only to be knocked right back down with a stiff chop and some punches. She tries to get back up again, but Morgy is right back on her. I don't know whether to jerk off or to cry for help. Lex Robinson: At this rate, you'll probably do both. Stevie Swing pops up, but Morgana keeps drilling her with blows, this time nailing her with a stiff forearm shot! These shots batter Stevie against the ropes, disabling her from exiting from Morgy's path of destruction. In fact, Morgy whips her across the ring and catches Stevie upon the rebound with a spin-wheel kick! Morgy is on fire! Steve Hebert: Ugh... I wish someone would literally set her on fire! Stevie can't get away from this assault! In pain, Stevie strides upward, trying to run from Morgy, but she gets nowhere. Following after, Morgana is quickly to bring Stevie down with a double-leg takedown, continuing to hold onto her legs, as well. With Stevie's legs pointed upwards, Morgy unleashes with a flurry of stomps to Stevie Swing's crotch and abdomen, striking rapidly, over-and-over again! Steve Hebert: Oh no. Good thing Stevie isn't a male, after all. We could have had some serious trouble there. Lex Robinson: The fans are going nuts, as Morgana is unrelentlessly stomping at Stevie Swing, showing her who's the boss. Steve Hebert: With those kicks and stomps, I wouldn't be surprised if Tony Danza hopped out of Stevie's uterus, looking to protect himself. Delivering a snap mare, Morgy brings Stevie down, placing her in a seated position. Not only that, but she bounces off the ropes and returns with a seated-dropkick to the back of Stevie's head/neck, making sure to keep her dazed. Steve Hebert: Gah, it just goes from bad-to-worse for Stevie. Lex Robinson: Morgy lifts Stevie up, chops her across the breasts, the same place that she signed the contract for this match. Steve Hebert: If only Stevie had to misread the fine-print, like the last time. Lex Robinson: Using these chops to knock Stevie into the corner, Morgy grabs Stevie's wrist, chops her once more and then Irish-whips her across the ring... only to have Stevie propel herself up-and-over the adjacent top rope, landing on the side of the ring apron! But Morgy is quick to fix that, also... Charging in, Morgana uses the middle rope to spring herself into the air, allowing her to dropkick Stevie Swing off the ring apron and onto the floor! Steve Hebert: Argh! Down goes Stevie Swing, who has yet to get a bit of offense in this match! This is truly awful! Landing on the floor, Stevie soon rises, trying to regain her senses, whilst having her back turned to Morgana. This proves to be flawed, though; as Morgana is able to instantly shoot herself up to the top turnbuckle and wait for Stevie to face her. Steve Hebert: Ugh... watch out, Stevie! Lex Robinson: Morgana is on the top rope; and she's about to fly... True to words, Morgana somersaults off the top rope, vaulting all the way to the floor, where she takes Stevie Swing down with a rolling top-rope plancha to the floor! Lex Robinson: Can you believe that?! The fans are on their feet! They're going nuts! Morgana is absolutely taking it to Stevie Swing! This bodes well for Morgy if she wants to take an early lead in the matchup, too! Steve Hebert: Don't say such terrible things, you monster! Stevie will bounce back, I'm sure of it! Lex Robinson: Quickly lifting Stevie Swing back up, Morgana hammers her against the steel post, throwing her limp body against the pole. Finished with things, she rolls Stevie Swing back into the ring, but not before soaking up the applause from the fans in attendance! Steve Hebert: Holy shit, fuck these fans. What awful people. Lex Robinson: Climbing onto the ring apron, Morgana points to the top turnbuckle, gaining a lot more support from the crowd. In a matter of seconds, she's elevated herself to the top turnbuckle... here she goes... She leaps off, hoping to hit Stevie Swing with a diving crossbody... Steve Hebert: No! Stevie Swing says "No way" to that, as Stevie leaps into the air and connects with a crisp dropkick to the gut, stopping Morgana in her tracks! Lex Robinson: It was just as if she struck a pole or something. Steve Hebert: More like she flew directly into Stevie Swing's boots. Crashing to the ground, Morgana holds her stomach, feeling the impact of the blow. Both Stevie and Morgana are slow to rise; but in the end, they're approximately standing at an equal time... Lex Robinson: The two women are up; and Morgana looks go back on the attack. Seeing Stevie stand, Morgy rushes towards the ropes... and With all of her might, she does a handstand, using the ropes to flip her back, almost hitting Stevie with a springboard back-elbow...! Steve Hebert: But Stevie saw it coming! She catches Morgy! In fact, she applies a Cobra-Clutch on Morgy and... Lex Robinson: Oooh! Steve Hebert: A suplex! Lex Robinson: Stopping Morgana in mid-air, yet again, Stevie Swing sends her flying back, nailing a bridging Cobra-Clutch suplex! With the birdge applied, the referee goes for the count! At about the 8 minute mark, the referee drops down, looking for the pinfall... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: One... two... Steve Hebert: Ugh! No! Morgana rolls out! Stevie Swing was "this" close to going up one-to-nothing. I swear. Lex Robinson: Yup, that was way close. Nevertheless, both women get right back up, Morgana's eyes a tad glazed over from the former blow. She returns to trying to beatdown Stevie, though; as she charges at her... only for Stevie to hoist her up into the air, in a standing fireman's carry position! Morgana dangles across Stevie Swing's shoulders, looking for anything to find safety. When she's swung forward, she is able to latch onto Stevie's left-arm, bringing her down with an armdrag takedown! Lex Robinson: That move fails, as Morgy swings out, bringing Stevie down... with both ladies popping right back up! Imagine that! Steve Hebert: Stevie swings a back-fist at Morgy's head, but it gets ducked! Son of a... Lex Robinson: Morgy proceeds forward, bounces off the nearby middle rope and springs back, looking to swoop Stevie into a leaping bodyscissors type of maneuver. Pushing off the canvas with both hands, Morgana pushes upward and attempts a bulldog on Stevie... Steve Hebert: ...only to have Stevie instead swing her around... and nearly lob off her pink skull with a clothesline! Yes! That's more like it! Lex Robinson: Crawling atop Morgy, Stevie makes the cover...! The referee drops down, counting for Stevie... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: No! Morgana kicks out! We're still 0-to-0; there hasn't been a single pinfall yet. Steve Hebert: Let Stevie show Morgy such punishment; then we'll have some goddamn punishment. I promise you that. Lex Robison: Like how Morgana promised Chris Extreme she'd be his partner? Steve Hebert: ...Uhm... well... Frustrated at the lack of a pinfall, Stevie Swing stands up, sitting Morgana up, as well. A second later, she gives Morgy a stiff kick to the chest, followed by a Majistral Cradle... Lex Robinson: Stevie is going for another quick cover! Steve Hebert: Hey, that may actually work... The referee counts... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: Then again, perhaps not. Lex Robinson: Morgana kicks out with ease! This only serves to frustrate Stevie even more, though. Steve Hebert: Damn right. Stevie moves around to dumbgana's legs, hooks them both... and slingshots her into the corner... Lex Robinson: But Morgana lands on her feet on the middle turnbuckle pads, though! She corkscrew moonsaults back, trying to catch Stevie Swing off-guard... but she lands stomach-first across Stevie's shoulders! Steve Hebert: A Death Valley Driver-into-a Powerbomb! Perfect! Just what the doctor ordered! Stevie quickly covers Morgana, once more...! Again, the referee counts... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: No! Morgana kicks out again! What versatility! Steve Hebert: What bullshit is more like it! Lame as fuck. An irritated Stevie Swing now rises to her feet, giving the referee a harsh glare, while stomping at Morgana's back. A second later, she applies a half-nelson, which she segues into a rollup attempt. Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing, in an act of desperation, rolls up Morgana, looking for a pinfall... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: And Morgana again kicks out at two! Steve Hebert: Ughhhh... this is going to be a long match. Lex Robinson: We still have about 45 minutes to go! Steve Hebert: Don't remind me. Lex Robinson: Getting to her feet, Stevie Swing stalks Morgana, waiting for her to rise. Once she's up, Stevie goes for a schoolboy-rollup, looking for another quick pinfall! Steve Hebert: Maybe this time...! The referee counts... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: No! Morgana is out, again! Steve Hebert: Oh, for fuck's sake! However, Stevie is quick to try another rollup attempt... Lex Robinson: Yet another pinfall attempt from Stevie... ...1... Steve Hebert: Maybe... ...2... Lex Robinson: There's two... ... Steve Hebert: No! That bitch kicked out again. How dare she! LeX Robinson: Stevie Swing is furious! She's even demanding that the referee count faster! Steve Hebert: I don't blame her. This is absolutely fucking ridiculous. Hands ripping at her hair, Stevie bounds back up, lifting Morgana up with her. Delivering a quick kick to the gut, Stevie pulls her in... Lex Robinson: A fisherman's suplex from Stevie, who holds onto the bridge! It's another attempted pinfall... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: No! She keeps kicking out! What the fuck! Lex Robinson: Just as the referee's about to slap his hand down for the third time, Morgana kicks out! That's amazing! Steve Hebert: It has driven Stevie Swing over the edge. The bitch has gone nuts. So much for Jewish people being sane. Lex Robinson: She's the World Champ; but she just can't seem to keep Morgana down! Horrified at the lack of pinfalls, Stevie Swing stands over Morgana, who is trying to fight her way to her feet. She delivers a fist to Stevie's gut, but the World Champ soon fires back with a kick to the temple, which is simple, but effective. Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing is lifting -- no, dragging Morgana up to her feet. Nailing a chop to the chest, she has Morgana against the ropes and whips her out. Ducking down, she looks to backdrop Morgana... only to have Morgy return and kick her in the face! Steve Hebert: What?! Fuck no! Lex Robinson: As Stevie remains crumpled over, Morgana jumps up, stands on Stevie's back and then jumps into the air. On her way down, she latches both legs around Stevie Swing's head and brings her down with a hurricanrana! Steve Hebert: Shit, shit, shit! This can't happen like this! Lex Robinson: Both ladies get right back up, with Morgy desperately rising first... Seeing Stevie Swing bent over, Morgana decides to charge forward. She leaps over Stevie, almost doing a sunset-flip; but before she goes through her legs, she's able to wrap her own feet around Stevie's shoulders. Pushing herself back into the air, this gives her enough momentum to swing through Stevie Swing's legs, nailing a sunet-flip bomb/yoshitonic! Lex Robinson: Wow! What a move by Morgy! Rolling through the hold, completing a sunset-flip, she places her feet across Stevie's shoulders, looking for the pinfall. Steve Hebert: Time to take up full-time alcoholism. Lex Robinson: The referee is counting... ...1... Lex Robinson: One...! ...2... Lex Robinson: Two...! ... Steve Hebert: Holy fuck, no! Stevie Swing uses her feet to scissors together and kick Morgana in the temples! Thank fucking dickens! Lex Robinson: No pinfall for Morgy; and still no pinfalls for this match! Steve Hebert: We're going to be here all night. Both women rise at the same time, wasting no time in getting back at each other. Stevie throws a right-handed fist at Morgy, who replies with a left-handed swat of her own. This continues for a bit, until Stevie Swing attempts a standing-lariat... Lex Robinson: Morgy and Stevie go back-and-forth, going shot-for-shot! Morgy with a blow of her own... Stevie with a punch... Morgy slaps back... and now Stevie with a chop to the neck! Steve Hebert: Stevie Swing gains the upperhand after a discus-forearm, though! That does it! Standing in one place, she vaults her arm at Morgy... but she ducks! No! Lex Robinson: Morgana toreadors around Stevie, interlocks her arms with her opponents and tries for a backslide... but no go. Steve Hebert: Hah! Stevie is able to outpower Morgana, knowing what she'll do before she can even hit it. Lex Robinson: Well, Stevie tries for his own backslide on Morgy... but she flips over his back, landing on her own two feet... she applies a 3/4 facelock! That's usually a setup for the Fata Morgana! She jumps into the air... However, Stevie Swing pushes her forward, disabling her attack. Morgana, on the other hand, has other ideas... Lex Robinson: Wait, as Morgana flips through the air, she uses her two feet to wrap around Stevie's head and bring her crashing to the canvas, too! What a reversal... by both ladies, no less! Steve Hebert: They're going hold-for-hold, trying to hit the other with everything that they've got. The problem with that is that they've scouted each other out and know each other so well, it's backfiring against them. Hell, Morgana just used a reversal-of-a-reversal! Lex Robinson: Speaking of Morgana, she gets right back up, a little breathless, but still in this match; and still haven't given up a single pinfall, as we creep closer to the halfway mark. Steve Hebert: Oh, but we're not there yet. We have a long ways to go yet; with Stevie Swing willing to bash Morgana's face in. Lex Robinson: Despite everything they've thrown at each other, they're both back up, ready for some more... Morgana charges at Stevie, getting wind back in her sails... only to have Stevie duck underneath a charging clothesline attempt! Seconds later, she hoists Morgy up into a back-suplex position, only to bring her down with a Blue-Thunder Driver! Steve Hebert: Yes! Way to go, Stevie! Knock that wench flat on her back! Lex Robinson: A wise move by Stevie Swing, who used a last-ditch effort to drop Morgana down! Now, having Morgana laid out with that move, she can begin climbing to the top rope. Steve Hebert: Which she does... but not before nailing a back-senton onto the traitorous whore! Lex Robinson: What? That's nonsense. Stevie is the one that attacked Morgana... she's the one that stabbed Morgana in the back, betraying her, stripping her of the World Title and her dignity. Steve Hebert: Yeah, well, if Morgana was so smart, she'd have seen it coming. Moving to the outer portion of the apron, Stevie Swing quickly escalates to the top turnbuckle pad. As she goes to fixate herself on the top rope, a groggy Morgana springs to life, jumps up to her feet, and like a ninja, surfs to the top rope, using the middle rope to spring herself into the air! Lex Robinson: Morgana is up! She races up the ropes... and she connects with a leaping enziguiri to the side of Stevie Swing's head! Stevie collapses off the top rope, being sent all the way over the ring railing, landing in the front row, toppling several fans over! Oh my lord! Steve Hebert: Oh my God, Sin Wrestling can't afford a lawsuit... can we?! Lex Robinson: Probably not... but damn! Steve Hebert: Oh dear, this is not good. Not good for SW; and certainly not good for Stevie Swing, who lands in the front row, even falling past the ring railing. This is all your fault, Lex Robinson! Lex Robinson: [aghast] Me?! What the hell did I do?! Steve Hebert: Hell if I know; I'm just trying to lay blame! Lex Robinson: Figures. Steve Hebert: Ugh. How much time is left on that clock?! As Stevie Swing bumbles around on the floor, walking around the front row, having slowly risen to her feet, Morgana regains her senses within the ring. She notices Stevie aloof on the outside, on the other side of the ring railing, with dangerous thoughts leaking into her mind. Lex Robinson: Morgy is up to her feet, but what's she doing? Steve Hebert: That pink-haired bimbo is scoping out Stevie Swing, that's what she's doing. Poor Stevie, she was just dumped all the way to the front row, after Morgana pushed her off! This is not right. When Stevie Swing is in prime position, Morgana places both hands on her top rope, smirking at the fans, who are now on their feet, firmly behind her. Using the rope as a launching pad, she springboards onto the top rope and leaps off, soaring through the air at a great height, rocketing herself over the ring railing, allowing her to land squarely on Stevie Swing with a twisting plancha! Lex Robinson: Oh my God, Morgana, like a missile, just took out Stevie Swing by diving from the ring -- to the outside, over the ring railing! Steve Hebert: Not only that, but she took out the first few rows of fans... which is not a bad idea, at all. Too bad it didn't happen long ago, these noisy fucks. Lex Robinson: Hell nah, these fans are on their feet, standing strong behind Morgana! They know how Stevie Swing ruined her second World Title reign; how Stevie Swing betrayed their friendship; how Stevie Swing attacked her in cold blood, leaving her for dead. Steve Hebert: Jesus, Steve, it was only in the backstage area of Vanity. Get over it. It isn't like Stevie blew her head off with a shotgun, in the middle of a forest, while hunting for moose. Calm down. Lex Robinson: Hey, I'm just saying. Morgana has waited a long time for this. A long, long time. Steve Hebert: Yes, we get you. And now she's got her hands on Stevie... after taking about a dozen or so fans down with them, acting like a scud missile. I'm proud of her. If only she'd sit on my lap. In the crowd, Morgana retains control, having Stevie Swing at her feet, pleading for mercy. Morgana doesn't lean back, though; as she strikes a kneeling Stevie Swing with her fists, coupling these blows with the dramatic dive she made seconds ago. Lifting Stevie up to her feet, she nails some back-elbows to her rivals' chest, which sends Stevie laying across the railing, in prime position for Morgy. Lex Robinson: Morgy is beating Stevie Swing down, showing no remorse; and rightfully so. Steve Hebert: You really are a monster, Lex Robinson. Don't you know Stevie Swing is a person, too?! Albeit a filthy Jew, but come on! Lex Robinson: Crotching Stevie on the ring railing, Morgana is sure to keep her there, thanks to some thrashing forearms. Grabbing a chair, she sets it just a few feet in front of the railing, requesting that a few fans move out of her way. Steve Hebert: Look! Look at her push those fans! She even knocked over an old lady and stole a kid's popcorn! Lex Robinson: ...Uhm, no she didn't. She's just trying to make room for herself. With the space needed, Morgana runs forward, jumps onto the chair and uses it to launch herself through the air. She soars high, wrapping her legs around Stevie's head, as she remains crotched on the railing. Gravity works its magic, though; and both women go crashing back over the railing, with Morgana using a hurricanrana to rip Stevie off the rail, sending her hard to the unforgiving floor! Lex Robinson: As Stevie Swing lands with a sickening thud, sweet justice has to ooze through Morgana's mind. For months, she stewed over the damage Stevie Swing did to her. For months, she was out of action. Steve Hebert: For months, her big old titties were off the air. Hell, she even stalked David Duchovny, for Christ's sake! Lex Robinson: Mulder would hit that. Steve Hebert: Mulder would fuck an alien. Him fucking Tea Leoni just proves my theory. On the floor, Morgana peels Stevie off the padding, only to then bounce her head off the ring apron. She glances at the time ticking away on the Sin Wrestling screen and then elbows Stevie in the skull. Steve Hebert: Morgana looks at how much time is left. Lex Robinson: We're not even halfway through this match, so there's no worries. If anyone should be worried, it's Stevie Swing, who has tried multiple times to pin Morgana, but to no such luck. Steve Hebert: Hey, stop that. There's still tons of time left, even you said so. Lex Robinson: Giving Stevie Swing one last thwack off the ring apron, Morgana rolls her nemesis inside the ring and climbs onto the ring apron, waiting for Stevie to rise. Slowly, Stevie rises, slightly dazed and unsure of her surroundings, which proves to be perfect for Morgana, who springboards off the top rope and somersaults through the air... and nails a somersault swandive stunner! Variations on a Theme! Steve Hebert: Ugh. Oh no. Lex Robinson: That's what she calls that move -- "The Variations on a Theme"! However, she decides not to cover Stevie. Instead, she pulls her near the corner, turns around and begins to ascend to the top rope! What could she be going for here?! Perhaps a Morgasm, which would seal the deal and put her up 1-to-nothing?! Steve Hebert: God, I sure hope not. Lex Robinson: The fans are going nuts! They know if she hits it, she will have the lead! Up top, Morgana steadies herself and jumps... looking for a twisting 450 degree splash...! Steve Hebert: Stevie Swing rolls into the center of the ring, out of Morgy's way...! Despite Stevie's roll, Morgana is able to compile her thoughts and land safely on her feet! Lex Robinson: Morgana lands on her feet! She stops herself at the last moment! Steve Hebert: But here comes a groggy, worn-down Stevie Swing... The Last Dance! He hits the Last Dance superkick on Morgy! Yes! My God yes! No one gets up from that! Splattering her body onto Morgana, Stevie makes the cover...! Lex Robinson: The referee is counting... ...1... Lex Robinson: One... ...2... Lex Robinson: Two... ... Lex Robinson: She kicks out! Oh my God! I can't believe it! Steve Hebert: Why?! Why?! Why God, why?! Lex Robinson: Stevie didn't get enough on the kick to knock her out! As a result, this match remains tied! Flabbergasted with the lack of a pinfall, Stevie Swing rises, trying to drown out the general excitement of the fans. Steve Hebert: For cryin' out loud, somebody do something! Lex Robinson: Well, Stevie's trying to do something. She slowly lifts Morgana up, knees her in the face and makes a throat-slash signal. Steve Hebert: Off with her head! Taking a deep gasp, Stevie Swing lifts Morgana onto her shoulders, holding her in a reverse fireman's carry position. Wasting no time, she drops to the side, crashing Morgana onto the ring canvas with a Burning Hammer! Steve Hebert: Burning Tacos! Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing lays out Morgana with the Burning Hammer! Steve Hebert: Close enough! That should put Morgy away... Lex Robinson: But is Stevie making the same mistake Morgana made?! She's opting not to go for the cover. Alternatively, Stevie Swing waddles into the corner, keeping a close eye on Morgana... Steve Hebert: Oh, I know what that sexy, Hebrew beast is up to. She's going to kick Morgana in the face, again. This time, harder and with 100% more accuracy. Lex Robinson: I'm afraid that may actually be the case... All the fans cheering for Morgana go tense as she begins to stir on the mat. Slowly, she sits up, somewhat aware of her surroundings, but still quite hazy. Once on her feet, she turns to face Stevie Swing... Steve Hebert: The World Champ charges out from the corner... Lex Robinson: Watch it... Steve Hebert: Bam! Right in the mouth! Morgana collapses to the ground, falling to the canvas like a bag of black cocks! Stevie Swing falls on her, too, believing she may have this pinfall! The referee, of course, counts... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: Count along, Lex! Lex Robinson: Morgana is down... ...3! Lex Robinson: And out! Stevie Swing gets the first successful pinfall at the lock 26th minute of this match! Stevie Swing: 1 Morgana: 0 (26:28) Steve Hebert: Goddamn right! Stevie Swing has the lead! She gets the first pinfall and the first lead of the night! Isn't life grand? This... this is why she's our World Champion, Lex. When things weren't going great, she perservered and came out on top. Lex Robinson: ...Uh, Steve, the match is not yet over. And secondly, she's the World Champion only begin she attacked Morgana at Vanity, putting her out of actions for months. We even had to vacate the belt because of it. Heck, she even had to pose as Generic Heel! Steve Hebert: Yeah, but she's the champ, now; and that's all the matters... to me, at least. Lex Robinson: You don't say. Still affected by The Last Dance, Morgana remains on her back, while Stevie Swing slowly recouperates and sits up. Shaking the cobwebs out of her head, Stevie Swing gets to a kneeling position and then to her feet, where she proceeds to stumble precariously into the ropes, trying to figure things out. Lex Robinson: Still a bit woozy, Stevie Swing steps forward, sits Morgana up and then unloads with some football kicks to the back, which would make David Beckham proud. Steve Hebert: David Beckham is a faggoty old metrosexual, Lex. Someone waxing his eyebrows would make him proud. Lex Robinson: I think we should concentrate solely on the confines of this match, Steve. Stevie Swing is currently up 1-0; and she's trying to set herself ahead even further. Steve Hebert: Hey, I know that. That's why I have no worries in the world that she'll be able to keep things under control. Lex Robinson: After delivering a few more kicks to Morgana's back, Stevie plucks her to her feet and pushes her into the corner, where she then connects with a side-kick to Morgy's ribcage. Battering Morgana in the corner with a series of blows, including fists and some back-elbow shots, Stevie Swing goes to Irish-whip Morgana across the ring, hoping to slam her into opposite corner. Lex Robinson: Stevie whips Morgy across the ring and charges after her... Before landing, however; Morgana is able to push herself upwards into the air, using her hands to push herself off. Hoping to at least go up-and-over Stevie, wanting to stop Stevie's current beatdown, her plans are thwarted when Stevie docks herself a few feet away from her. Lex Robinson: Wait... no! Stevie Swing stops, grabs onto Morgana's legs, turns around and then slings her back down with a spinebuster-powerbomb type move! Steve Hebert: Haha! Serves her right! That's what Morgana gets for thinking she's some sort of monkey... or whatever the reason why she's flipping around all the time. Lex Robinson: That move may have concussed her, too. Her head literally snapped off the mat! Steve Hebert: And Stevie isn't even finished yet. She's staying on the hunt, smelling fresh blood! She's got the advantage; and she's going to keep on it. Scooping Morgana back up, Stevie quickly drops her back down, headfirst, driving her into the canvas with a brainbuster! Steve Hebert: Oooh! Yes, that'll do it! You may as well cover Morgana, now, Stevie. Lex Robinson: Morgana lays parallel to the corner, which Stevie seems more inclined to focus on. This could be a bad idea, we'll see... Within seconds of laying out Morgana, Stevie turns towards the corner. Jumping onto the middle turnbuckles, she immediately leaps onto the top turnbuckle pads and backflips off, nailing a perfectly-timed moonsault onto Morgy! Steve Hebert: Yes! With perfect, Lex! See? There was nothing wrong with that! LeX Robinson: You're right. Stevie even hooks the inner-leg... Steve Hebert: Yes, good! Count the three, ref! With Stevie Swing barking orders at him, the referee drops down, starting the count. Lex Robinson: Here we go...! ...1... Lex Robinson: One...! Steve Hebert: Yes...! ...2... Steve Hebert: There's two...! ... Lex Robinson: No! Morgana is able to place her right leg on the bottom rope, thus halting the count! Steve Hebert: Fuck, so close. Stevie Swing was almost up 2-falls-to-0! Lex Robinson: I'm not even sure Morgy would have been able to come back from that, either. Steve Hebert: Well, that's certainly good to hear. Annoyed, Stevie slowly stands, noticing Morgana's right leg slung on the bottom rope. With evil intentions in her eyes, she steps towards her leg and starts stomping and kicking it, even going knee-to-knee with a shot! Furthermore, Stevie hooks Morgy's right leg underneath Morgy's left leg and moves her onto her side, looking for a Texas Cloverleaf. Lex Robinson: Morgana, who is semi-aware of her situation, struggles and twists, trying to find her way to safety... even reaching out and clinging onto the bottom rope. Steve Hebert: Stevie Swing will have none of that, however! Still with Morgana's legs interlocked, she jabs a foot into the base of Morgana's spine and pulls her back, smashing her onto the canvas. It's here, in the middle of the ring, that Stevie able to aptly apply a Texas Cloverleaf! Yes! Make her tap! Lex Robinson: Morgy shakes her head -- no, she won't quit! In response, Stevie jams her knee into Morgy's spine, pulling back even harder! Steve Hebert: Tap, you cunt, tap! Lex Robinson: At the halfway point of this match, this would no doubt give Stevie Swing the edge; and probably the win! Reaching out for the ropes, Morgana is nowhere near them in order to grab ahold of them! Steve Hebert: That's music to my ears... Morgana's groans, that is! Tap, you old pink whore, tap! Pain soars through her body, especially in her back and lower-body, but she's unable to do anything about it. With her knuckles pressing against the canvas and anguish on her face, Morgana screams out, trying to deny the pain, but comes closing to tapping out. Lex Robinson: She's still holding on. The fans are firmly behind her, too. Steve Hebert: Just end it and give the match to Stevie Swing. It's the smart thing to do. Lex Robinson: Her knuckles press against the canvas, pushing herself up... but she rolls forward, ducking between Stevie's legs! She's out of the hold, what a wise strategy! Steve Hebert: That only temporarily got her released, though. Stevie is right back on the attack, grabbing her pink hair and kneeing her in the face. In fact, Stevie immediately scoops her up and body slams her back down! Yes, take that, bitch! LeX Robinson: Rolling Morgana onto her back, Stevie is quick to stomp on her back, charge towards the ropes and... land a springboard moonsault! Turning over, Stevie nails several elbows to Morgy's back, jabs her knee into her back and then latches onto both of Morgy's arms! She pulls back, trying to make Morgana submit, yet again! Steve Hebert: Say "I quit"! Lex Robinson: The referee's asking her, but she yells back, "No!" Stevie Swing grabs her hair, even tugging on it, to add some extra pain. With the fans goading her on, Morgy fights back, struggling to get back to her feet, much to the chagrin of Stevie Swing, who keeps the hold applied. Lex Robinson: These fans are cheering Morgana on! Slowly, she's rising, still with Stevie holding onto her... but not for long, though. Using the back of her skull, she smashes her head off Stevie's skull, using the back of her head to bash across the bridge of Stevie's nose! Steve Hebert: Argh! Her big, Jewish nose! Her one weakness! Lex Robinson: These shots weaken Stevie's hold, allowing for Morgy to twist her way to freedom... Morgana gives Stevie a kick, buckling her over, trying her best to mound a comeback. Next, she delivers a rising palm-thrust, which levels Stevie Swing into the corner. In retaliation, Stevie strikes back, but it gets ducked by Morgy... Steve Hebert: Stevie misses...! LeX Robinson: Morgana uses Stevie's momentum against her by swinging her down with a judo throw! Stevie immediately pops back up and chases after Morgana, who side-steps the attack, resulting in her crashing against the turnbuckle pads! Taking full advantage of this, Morgana goes into the opposite corner and runs out... Cartwheeling and then perfecting several palm-spring backflips, Morgy nails a springing-elbow into the corner, smashing hard against Stevie Swing! Lex Robinson: Having Morgy smash against her, Stevie stumbles out, having Morgy race back toward her... Steve Hebert: But Stevie sees her coming and thus throws her into the air... Lex Robinson: Morgana lands on the top rope, though! She leaps back, trying to hit a 360 degree tornado DDT onto her opponent, but Stevie hangs on! She, instead, tries for a release Northern Lights suplex... but Morgana holds onto Stevie and sunset-flips her... The referee makes the count... Lex Robinson: The referee is counting... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: Morgana comes close to her first-fall, but Stevie rolls out! Steve Hebert: Thank Christ! They both stand at the same time, breathless, trying hard to maintain their wits, as time continues to roll. They step toward each other, preparing to strike... Lex Robinson: Stevie strikes Morgana with a chop, knocking her back a few steps, only to have Morgy swat back with a forearm of her own. However, Stevie now strikes with a knee to the gut, hunching Morgana over... Steve Hebert: Good! Knee her in the groin. Lex Robinson: Next, Stevie axehandles Morgana, knocking her against the ropes. After delivering an elbow to the face, Stevie applies a reverse-facelock and hoists Morgy up, looking for a reverse-suplex... but Morgy slides over Stevie's shoulder, escaping the predicament! Steve Hebert: Damnit! Lex Robinson: From behind, Morgana leaps onto Stevie's shoulders, trying for a Victory Roll... but Stevie simply pushes her forward, dropping her onto her feet. Stevie Swing even goes to attempt a back-suplex... but Morgana is able to backflip out of the attempt, landing safely behind Stevie. Alternatively, Morgana swings Stevie around and whips her into the ropes. Steve Hebert: Morgana with an Irish-whip... wait, no... it's reversed! Stevie throws Morgy into the ropes... Bouncing off the ropes with much-gusto, Morgana speeds back, attempting for a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown. Lex Robinson: She circles around-and-around, looking for a tilt-a-whirl headscissors! She even makes one extra-rotation, forcefully bringing Stevie down onto the canvas with a thud! After landing facefirst, Stevie has a crossface applied to her from Morgy! Steve Hebert: Oh God. Lex Robinson: She calls this "Happiness in Slavery"! Steve Hebert: Oh dear, don't tapout, Stevie! This is awful! Oh God, oh God... Echoes of pain are emitted from Stevie, who desperately reaches out, trying to grab onto the ropes, but latches onto nothing but dead air. Steve Hebert: Reach harder, Stevie, come on! Lex Robinson: She's about to tap... I know it! We're going to be tied, 1-1. Any second now... Stevie holds her right arm up, looking as if she's about to tap. In reality, she's trying to re-position herself, hoping to find an opening. Lex Robinson: Will she tap?! I think so...! Steve Hebert: Wait... she's moving! Or trying to move, at least! Using her knees to rise up, she attempts to escape the crossface-hold! LeX Robinson: She's struggling. Either way, the fans want her to tap; as does Morgana, obviously, who clinches the hold on even further! Using Morgana's own strength against her, Stevie Swing uses an act of desperation, as she rolls forward and then to the side -- still with the crossface applied on her. Steve Hebert: Look! She's rolling out of it! Lex Robinson: But the hold is still applied! Steve Hebert: Stevie's laying atop Morgana! The referee sees this and is going to make the count...! Yes! True to Steve's words, the referee drops down, making the count... Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing has reversed the hold and is now on top of Morgy... ...1... Steve Hebert: There's one...! ...2... Steve Hebert: ...two... ... Lex Robinson: Oh no... ...3! Steve Hebert: Three! Yes! Stevie Swing does it! She goes up two-falls to zero! Hell yeah! Lex Robinson: Un-freaking-believable. I have no idea how Morgana is going to be able to come back from this. Steve Hebert: She can't; and she won't. Trust me. Lex Robinson: She has less than a half-an-hour to try and at least tie this match. I honestly have no clue if she'll be able to do it. Steve Hebert: What'd I say? I told you so. I knew this would happen. Stevie Swing: 2 Morgana: 0 (38:45) Everyone's in shock and awe, trying hard to believe Stevie has just gone up by two pinfalls. Lex Robinson: This is insane! How is Morgana going to be able to counter this?! Steve Hebert: By laying flat on her back until this match is over, that's how! Lex Robinson: Well, I doubt that. Even Stevie Swing is in shock, as she gets to her feet, looks around and receives a ton of jeers from the fans. Looking down at Morgana, who is still on her back, she waves her hand at her former friend and ally, and exits the ring. What the heck? Steve Hebert: She's grabbing her title; and she's getting out of here. There's no need to wrestle for 20 more minutes. This thing is over. Lex Robinson: What the...? On the floor, Stevie Swing grabs her title from the ring announcer and begins walking to the back, claiming that the match is over. Everyone is confused, including the referee, who watches as Stevie is halfway to the backstage area. Steve Hebert: So much for Morgana's big return, eh? As Stevie is about to enter the backstage area, the ring announcer speaks up, having spoken to the referee. Steve Hebert: Hmmm? Ring Announcer: I have just been informed by the referee that if Stevie Swing does not return to the ring... not only will she be counted out, but she will be disqualified for this entire match. Therefore, Morgana will be the winner of this match and will announce the future opponent for Stevie Swing! Lex Robinson: Holy crap! Steve Hebert: No! Is that allowed?! Lex Robinson: It is! Needless to say, Stevie Swing is pissed. She turns around, yelling at the referee, who actually commendes a 10-count, which she will need to return by. Steve Hebert: This is racism... or sexism... or something! Actually, this is both! That referee hates women, Jews and black people! As the referee reaches closer to disqualifying Stevie, she stomps towards the ring, mad as hell about the turn of events. Lex Robinson: There's about 18 minutes left on the clock, which means there's still plenty of opportunities for Morgana to win; or at least tie this up. Dragging her title back to the ringside area, an upset Stevie Swing makes her way back to the ring... only to be caught off-guard by Morgana, who has gotten back to her feet and leaped through the ropes with a suicide dive... Lex Robinson: Morgana leaps through the ropes... and nails a Tornado DDT onto the floor, after diving to the outside! She came out of nowhere! Steve Hebert: Like a friggin' ghost! Stevie and Morgana lay on the entranceway, trying to regain their strength, after the amazing dive performed by Morgy. Unfortunately for Morgy's sake, Stevie is the first to stand, shrugging off the DDT on the floor. Picking Morgana up, she throws Morgana back-first against the railing and then viciously rolls her back into the ring. Lex Robinson: Stevie forces Morgy back inside... Steve Hebert: If she has to break her back in order to win this match, she'll do it. Stevie rolls behind Morgana, re-entering the ring. Morgana and Stevie Swing look absolutely dazed, trying to regain their footing. Slowly, but surely, Stevie is the first to her feet... Lex Robinson: Both ladies have been battling for about 45 minutes straight. Hell knows what else will happen between them. Right now, Stevie is standing before a groggy, weak-legged Morgana, who can only rise to a kneeling position. It's here that Stevie manages to strike with several kicks to the chest, following that up by bouncing off the ropes and returning with a sit-down dropkick to Morgana's chest! Steve Hebert: Good! Now go for a cover! Going up 3-0, at this point, would be absolute killer. Lex Robinson: Seriously. There's no way Morgy could get back from that. Opting not to cover Morgana, Stevie turns her back on her opponent, but not before delivering a kick to Morgy's spine. She walks into the corner, where she begins climbing to the top rope, apparently looking to nail a top-rope moonsault. Steve Hebert: She's climbing to the top rope, with her back arched away from Morgana. This could be the end for Morgy, that insufferable cunt. This could be the move that keeps her down and out for good, which pushes her to the end. Lex Robinson: Well, Stevie's back's turned, making it seem obvious she's going for the moonsault. However, what she doesn't realize is that Morgana is actually starting to rise, roaring back pain and all... Steve Hebert: Ugh... spoke too soon. Lex Robinson: As usual. Steve Hebert: Stevie is unable to see Morgy stand... this is not good... Lex Robinson: And she certainly doesn't see Morgana charge in behind her... Using a full burst of speed, Morgana races into the corner, catching Stevie Swing by complete surprise. Quickly climbing up the turnbuckle pads, Morgana wraps her arms around Stevie's waist, drops down and delivers a spiderweb-German suplex, as she's able to wrench her own legs around the top rope, sending her opponent flying overhead! Lex Robinson: A top rope release-German suplex from Morgy...! Steve Hebert: Her legs remain wrapped around the top rope... but Stevie is able to successfully flip around, landing safely on her feet! She even notices Morgana still hanging from the turnbuckles by her feet... Lex Robinson: Ooohhh... shhh--... Steve Hebert: And Stevie Swing nullifies the suplex attempt from Morgana with a running sit-down dropkick directly into Morgana's face! Lex Robinson: Ouch! That pancaked Morgy into the buckles! Absolutely squished her! Steve Hebert: I think I even see pink dye oozing out of her ears! Sitting Morgana on the top rope, Stevie climbs up behind her, battering her with some stiff-forearms to the back of Morgana's neck, making sure she remains stapled to the top turnbuckle pad. Eventually, both ladies climb to the top turnbuckle, with Stevie Swing looking to nail a back-superplex... Steve Hebert: If Stevie hits this, it'll be lights out! Lex Robinson: Again, don't speak so soon! Morgana is showing signs of life. She nails with two straight elbows to the nose of Stevie Swing... and then reaches back, applying a 3/4 facelock on the top turnbuckle pad. You know what this is usually a precursor to, right? Steve Hebert: Don't even mention it, asshole. Lex Robinson: Morgana retains the hold, but this time, it's Stevie Swing fighting back, hitting Morgana with a flurry of punches to the ribcage. These shots repeat over and over, until Morgana has the final say... With both of them on the top rope, Morgana flips backward, nailing the top rope Fata Morgana onto Stevie Swing, driving her into the canvas! Lex Robinson: Fata Morgana! Steve Hebert: Off the top-goddamn-rope, too! Lex Robinson: Not only that, but Morgana reaches forward, hooking the leg, trying to get the pinfall...! Steve Hebert: Oh, crap... Lex Robinson: The referee is counting... Steve Hebert: This isn't what Stevie Swing needs! As per usual, the referee drops down and begins slapping his hand off the canvas... ...1...2... Lex Robinson: One... two... ... Steve Hebert: Oh no... ...3! Lex Robinson: Three! Morgana is finally on the board! Steve Hebert: Yeah, it only took her about 47 minutes into the match! Lex Robinson: It's officially 2-1 for Stevie Swing. Steve Hebert: Hell yeah, that's right. She still needs one more pinfall to even things up. And considering it took her over 45 minutes to get one-pinfall, she doesn't have the time to make a second. Stevie Swing is still winning this match and still has control over her fate... Stevie Swing: 2 Morgana: 1 (46:31) Both ladies remain on the canvas, sucking the air for oxygen. The first to move is the World Champ, who uses a prior used scene. Crawling on her hands and knees, she exits to the floor and waddles around the ring, looking for her World Title belt that remains on the entranceway. Steve Hebert: Good! Get out of here, Stevie! Lex Robinson: Not if the referee has his say, again! Steve Hebert: Motherfucker! Lex Robinson: Overhearing the referee counting against her, Stevie Swing slams down her title and stumbles towards the ring and rolls back inside. She gets in the face of the referee, screeching and yelling at him! Steve Hebert: He had it coming for being a filthy racist! Thanks to having her back turned, Stevie is unable to see Morgana slither up behind her. Lex Robinson: Whoa, wait...! Morgana with a schoolboy-rollup! Steve Hebert: What the hell?! Of course, the referee happily counts down Stevie Swing... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: No! Stevie kicks out! Holy Christ, thank fucking God. Lex Robinson: The World Champ immediately kicks up, though. She's right back onto Morgy, kicking her in the temple and then delivers a knee to the side of her skull! Grabbing Morgy's pink hair, she drags her upward and tosses her into the corner. Charging in, Stevie uses the middle rope to jump into the air and nail a climbing enziguiri! Steve Hebert: Yes! Knock her the fuck out! Lex Robinson: Stevie places Morgana onto her right shoulder and then forces her to take a seat on the top turnbuckle. Steve Hebert: Take a seat, whore. Lex Robinson: Stevie goes to climb up with Morgy... but Morgy pushes her down. Interestingly enough, she slaps Stevie Swing across the face and seconds that by using both feet to shove her backwards! Frustrated, Stevie Swing goes charging in... Noticing Stevie run toward her, Morgy thinks quickly... Lex Robinson: Wait...! Morgana leaps off the turnbuckles, vaulting herself through the air and hits a John-Woo Kick onto Stevie! Lex Robinson: John Woo Kick! Holy crap! Steve Hebert: Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh... Lex Robinson: Morgana almost placed both feet through Stevie's chest! Steve Hebert: Stevie's poor lungs! She's gasping for oxygen! How do you expect her to breathe?! She may have a collapsed lung! Rolling around on the canvas, holding her chest, Stevie yelps in pain. On the other side of the ring, a resurging Morgana rolls to the outer portion of the apron, where she lifts herself up and takes one long, deep breath. Steve Hebert: And now what's that pink bitch doing? Out here, Morgy wastes no time and springboards off the top rope, sailing through the air... Lex Robinson: Double-stomp to the back of Stevie Swing's head! She lands on her feet and rolls forward. Using the top rope as a springboard, for the second time in a row, she twists back, wrapping her legs around Stevie's head, bringing her down! Steve Hebert: No way! No goddamn way! Lex Robinson: With about 10 minutes left in the match, Morgana gets a grand surge of energy, as she stands up and runs towards Stevie. Steve Hebert: But Stevie backdrops her over the top-- no! Lex Robinson: Morgana lands on the outer portion of the apron! She slingshots herself back into the ring and grabs onto Stevie, wrapping her legs around Stevie's waist, while applying a guillotine-chokehold! She's going to try and make Stevie tap! Steve Hebert: What the fuck?! Someone stop supplying that woman with meth! Stevie Swing remains on her feet, with Morgana clinging tightly to her, trying to choke her out, with her legs wrapped firmly around her body. Steve Hebert: Keep standing, Stevie! Oh Jesus. Lex Robinson: Stevie is stumbling around the ring, unable to maintain her standing base. She falls to one knee... Morgana is still on her... Steve Hebert: Each time the referee checks on her, she waves her hands, informing she's still afloat. You just have to kill 10 minutes or so, Stevie! You're up by one! Finally releasing her hold on Stevie, Morgana gets to her feet and cripples towards the ropes. As she steamrolls towards Stevie, the World Champ extends her arm, looking for a clothesline. Thinking rapidly, Morgana goes for a tilt-a-whirl headscissors, but Stevie cartwheels her way out of it, safely remaining on her feet! Steve Hebert: Yes! You show that bitch who's better, Stevie! LeX Robinson: How the hell can these two ladies keep hitting each other with these moves?! Steve Hebert: They're fucking robots. Fucking slutty, horny robots. Hitting Morgana with a European uppercut, Stevie knocks her back, wraps her arms around her waist and attempts a German suplex. However, Morgana blocks the attempt and instead rolls forward, victory rolling Stevie into a pinfall... Lex Robinson: Morgana reverses the suplex attempt into a rollup! The referee starts his count... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: Stevie rolls out of it! Not only does she roll out of it, but she also maintains a hold on Morgana's legs. She goes for a wheelbarrow-suplex... LeX Robinson: Rolling through, Stevie lifts Morgy up... no! Morgana reverses it, armdragging Stevie! How in the hell?! They're been going for over 50 minutes; yet they're still going strong! Steve Hebert: Just as long as Morgana can't get another pinfall... When Stevie pops up, Morgana shoots herself at her, jumping onto her shoulders, looking for a hurricanrana. However, as she rolls through Stevie's legs, she is surprised when Stevie rolls all the way through the hold, rolling Morgana into her own pinfall attempt...! Steve Hebert: Wait, Stevie's about to get her third pinfall! I know it! The referee counts... ...1...2... LeX Robinson: No! Morgana hops out of it! My god, this is lunacy! Morgana needs just one more pinfall to tie this match; but she's running out of time! Steve Hebert: Fucking good! When Morgana stops the count, Stevie Swing can only shrug her shoulders, wondering what else she can do. As Morgy begins to rise, Stevie stands to her feet, knees Morgana in the spine and pushes her front-first against the turnbuckle pads. In here, Stevie strikes with some repeated-knees to the back, hoping to cripple her former partner. Lex Robinson: Over and over again, Stevie jams her knees into Morgana's spine! Steve Hebert: If she can't walk, she can't win! It's simple strategy! LeX Robinson: Scooping Morgana up, Stevie drops her across her knee, delivering a backbreaker. Laying her on the mat, Stevie exits to the outer ring apron and climbs to the top rope. This could be it. This might be the end of things for Morgana! Her return might be thwarted right here, right now... Steve Hebert: Her back is facing upward, which would be perfect for Stevie to jump on! Leaping off, Stevie Swing goes for a Shooting Star Press... only to have Morgana roll inward, clearing out of the way! Lex Robinson: She misses! Steve Hebert: Ugh... there's only 5 minutes left, too! Time needs to start moving faster. Where's that slew-face, Gaspard, with that time machine? It takes several seconds for both women to get to their feet. Once they do, Morgana is the first to strike, hoping to take advantage of Stevie's miscue. Rushing out of the corner, she uses her right hand to grab ahold of Stevie Swing's hair and then drag her to the canvas, delivering a single-handed bulldog! Steve Hebert: Ugh... come on, time. Tick, tick, tick. Lex Robinson: Getting back to her feet, Morgana stomps Stevie a few times... and then nails a standing Shooting Star Press of her own! She hooks a leg...! The fans join the referee in making the count... ...1... LeX Robinson: Everyone counts along... ...2... Lex Robinson: There's two... and... ... Steve Hebert: Hell no! Stevie Swing kicks out! Most importantly, she gets her shoulder up! Lex Robinson: Disappointment kicks in for everyone, especially for Morgana. Time seems to tick away way too fast, as she just can't seem to keep Stevie Swing down for the three. Steve Hebert: Now that's what I like to hear. Pulling Stevie up to her feet, Morgana nails some stiff forearm shots to the jaw of the World Champ, knocking her to the ropes. She goes to whip her out, only to see that it gets hastily reversed. Lex Robinson: Morgana is sent to the ropes; Stevie Swing nails her with a back-elbow, which forces Morgana to stumble back against the ropes. Steve Hebert: Only 3 minutes left! Lex Robinson: Time is ticking away for Morgana to tie this match up. Can she do it? As it looks right now, I don't think so. She's reeling against the ropes, while Stevie lurches at her, delivering a knee to the gut! This time, it's Stevie's turn to whip Morgana across the ring... Steve Hebert: Hit her with "The Last Dance"! Despite Steve Hebert's clamoring, Stevie tries to strike with another knee. Unfortunately, Morgana is prepared, allowing herself to somersault over it and roll her up...! Steve Hebert: That's not what I wanted! LeX Robinson: A rollup out of nowhere! ...1...2... Steve Hebert: No! Stevie Swing kicks out! Thank Zeus! Seconds after the kickout, Morgana tries for another rolling-cradle... Lex Robinson: Another pinfall attempt... ...1...2... Steve Hebert: Stevie again kicks out! Yes! My God, yes! My pants are getting tight! Lex Robinson: They right back up... Morgana sunset-flips over Stevie, who was hunched over... The referee counts... ...1...2... LeX Robinson: But that fails, also! Steve Hebert: The story of Morgana's life! Speaking of which, only two minutes remain! Lex Robinson: This is getting too close for comfort... Steve Hebert: Stevie's going to win; just like how I predicted. Both ladies are on their knees, glaring at the other, taking their time to get up. For Morgana, time continues to move way too quickly, prompting her to start thinking quicker. This is unfortunate, as Stevie uses this to outwit the former World Champ. Lex Robinson: Morgana steps up to Stevie, who remains on her knees... only to have Stevie latch onto her tights and yank her face-first into the top turnbuckle pad! Steve Hebert: Good! LeX Robinson: Still with her hands hooked on Morgana's tights, Stevie rolls her right up... Steve Hebert: This is going to be it! The referee sees this and starts his count... ...1... However, he doesn't notice Stevie Swing's feet on the middle rope... ...2... Lex Robinson: Wait, referee, look...! Steve Hebert: Yes! ... Steve Hebert: No! Lex Robinson: She kicks out! Despite rampant cheating from Stevie, Morgana kicks out! Steve Hebert: Blow my fucking head off. Lex Robinson: In a last ditch effort to finish Morgana off, Stevie pulls the pink-haired vixen to her feet. Pushing her into the corner, she lifts Morgana up and sits her on the top rope. The last time they were in this position, Stevie received a John Woo Kick. Now? Let's see... In a matter of seconds, Stevie Swing is on the top rope... but she gets pushed down by Morgana, who hops after her. Steve Hebert: Only one minute remaining in the match! Lex Robinson: If Morgana wants to tie this up, she needs to do something -- and she needs to do it right now! Stevie's attempt at an apparent superplex failed; which was good for Morgy, but she needs to do something... Seeing Stevie Swing stumble about, Morgana decides to act on it. She races towards the ropes, flips towards them and back-handsprings, only to contort her body around and nail a Tornado DDT! LeX Robinson: She hits the Feminine Mystique! Steve Hebert: [with fear in his voice] 25 seconds... Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing has been laid out! Morgana yanks her into the corner and starts climbing to the top turnbuckle... Steve Hebert: [counting down] ...17 seconds... Stepping out onto the apron, Morgana quickly sprints to the top turnbuckle pad. Lex Robinson: She's on the top rope. She needs to hit something big...! Steve Hebert: ...10 seconds... She leaps through the air... Steve Hebert: ...9... ...and lands with The Morgasm onto Stevie Swing! Steve Hebert: ...8... Lex Robinson: Morgasm! The fans are going nuts! Can she get the pinfall and tie this match?! Steve Hebert: ...7... Hooking Stevie's leg, Morgana calls for the referee... ...1... Steve Hebert: ...6... ...2... Steve Hebert: ...5... ... Lex Robinson: One... two... and... ...3! Steve Hebert: Fou--- NO! Stevie Swing: 2 Morgana: 2 (59:57) Lex Robinson: She gets the pinfall! With just 3 seconds left, Morgana ties the match! (00:02 ... 00:01 ... ) A buzzer goes off, signalling the end of one hour! Steve Hebert: What the fuck?! Now what? Confusion is about, with the referee quick to act upon this state of delirium. LeX Robinson: It's seems the referee has a solution... The referee informs the announcer, who holds the microphone up, ready to detail the referee's decision. Lex Robinson: We need to break this tie, even the fans are calling for it. The fans are in absolute disarray, not sure how to react. They chant "OVER-TIME", hoping to have someone walk out as a winner in this match. Perhaps the ring announcer will give some resolution... Ring Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, due to the draw, the referee has informed me that there is NO winner! A ton of jeers pour in. Lex Robinson: ...What? Steve Hebert: ...Well, it isn't a loss, so that's good enough for Stevie and me. Lex Robinson: There's got to be more to this... Ring Announcer: Therefore, he has announced that this match... will go into overtime! The fans roar out, very content with the message. Ring Announcer: The person that scores the next pinfall will win this match! Lex Robinson: Oh dear! Steve Hebert: Ugh... but Stevie was 2-to-0! Doesn't that count for something?! Lex Robinson: Nope! Steve Hebert: What the Christ? Overhearing this, Stevie and Morgy slowly stand,stumbling towards each other, with hatred in their eyes. They're far from healthy and far from energized. However, they still trot forward, wanting to be the person that scores the next pinfall and win this match. Steve Hebert: Stevie is up. Unfortunately, so is Ratgana. Stevie goes to punch her opponent... but Morgy ducks! She then shoves Stevie against the ropes, making her bounce back... Lex Robinson: Morgana with a handstand-into-a-headscissors! Wait, no! Stevie grabs onto her legs! Stevie interlocks Morgana's legs and applies another Texas Cloverleaf! That's going to be hell on her back! Steve Hebert: Yes! Great reversal! To hell with pinning her, make her tap! If she taps, I'll fap. Lex Robinson: Oh God. Grunting can be heard from Stevie, who yanks hard on Morgy's legs, pulling back, obviously trying to injure her. Even with all of this, Morgana refuses to quit, using the power of the chanting fans to aide her in crawling towards the ropes. Lex Robinson: She's almost at the ropes...! Steve Hebert: Pull her back, Stevie! LeX Robinson: She's got them! She has the ropes! The referee taps Stevie on the shoulders, informing her that Morgana has reached the ropes. Stevie, thinking she has won the match, releases the hold and raises her arms in the air. Steve Hebert: No, Stevie! You didn't win! Lex Robinson: She thinks she does, though! The referee is telling her otherwise. Steve Hebert: Awww... just let her lavish in the glory for just a few minutes, would ya? Stevie Swing spins around, aware of the lack of a victory. She motions towards Morgana, picks her up and then begins choking her with her bare hands! Steve Hebert: Kill her! Yes! Lex Robinson: Morgana is desperately thrusting her arms about, trying to break free! The referee is making the count on Stevie Swing... ...1...2...3...4... At the count of four, Stevie releases the hold! Steve Hebert: She made the five-count, see? Out of nowhere, Stevie gauges Morgana in the eye and then bashes her face off the turnbuckle pad. Steve Hebert: And now she's bashing her face off the turnbuckles! It's all good! Turning Morgana around, placing her stomach-first against the turnbuckle pads, Stevie focuses on her back again, delivering another knee-shot. Tracing into the opposite corner, Stevie prepares to shoot out... Steve Hebert: Break Morgana's goddamn back, Stevie! Lex Robinson: She just might... Steve Hebert: There she goes...! Lex Robinson: Morgana steps out of the way! Both of Stevie Swing's knees go slamming against the turnbuckle pads! Morgana is capitalizing on this -- as she applies a 3/4 facelock! We seen this earlier in the match... Jumping into the air, Morgana attempts a Fata Morgana, but Stevie is aware of this. Pain surges through her knees, but that doesn't stop Stevie from prancing backward, hoping to dump Morgana overhead, trying to toss her to the floor. Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing goes to throw Morgana to the floor, hoping to avoid the Fata Morgana... but Morgana lands feet-first on the ring apron! Stevie doesn't realize this! Steve Hebert: Turn around, Stevie! Oh Jesus. Lex Robinson: Morgana is preparing for something... Steve Hebert: Actually, don't turn around, Stevie! Fuck that! Lex Robinson: Stevie faces Morgana... Using the top rope as a springboard, Morgana launches herself into the air, a place where she has become quite comfortable with. Twirling her body forward, she takes a page out of her best friend -- Adora's book with a Dragonrana/somersault hurricanrana! Lex Robinson: Springboard somersault hurricanrana! Morgana rolls through it, rolling into a pinfall! She hooks Stevie's legs down...! Steve Hebert: No! The referee counts... ...1... Lex Robinson: One...! ...2... STeve Hebert: Kick out, Stevie! ...3...! Steve Hebert: No! Just as the referee slaps the mat for a third time, the fans in the arena figuratively explode with joy! LeX Robinson: Yes! Morgana does it! Morgana wins her return match, defeating Stevie Swing! Amazing! What a match! Over one hour of non-stop in-ring action! Cheers flood in for Morgy's victory, while Stevie Swing remains on the canvas, shocked. Steve Hebert: Poor Stevie, she doesn't know what the fuck. Lex Robinson: Hah. She rolls out of the ring, crawls to her World Title and hugs it! Steve Hebert: At least she's still the champ! Right?! Lex Robinson: Well, true; but we still have one more thing to figure out. Inside the ring, Morgana has her hand raised by the referee. Breathless and barely able to speak a word, she requests the microphone, which she promptly receives. Steve Hebert: This is the worst Halloween, ever. Morgana begins to speak over the cheering ovation. Morgana: I want to thank all my fans for the well-wishes while I was away. The cheering continues; even Lex claps. Steve Hebert: Oh, stop it. Morgana: But there's one more thing we need to get clear... and that is the person that will receive the next World Title shot. The camera switches to Stevie Swing, who is still seen clutching and hugging her title. Morgana: I've thought long and hard; and I'm gonna give it to someone deserving... someone who has not had a shot yet... Lex Robinson: Hmmm... Steve Hebert: That vain bitch will probably give it to herself. Lex Robinson: But... Morgana: ...which means, no; I'm not giving myself an immediate shot. The person that is getting the shot, however; is... A slight pause echoes as Morgana points to the entranceway. Morgana: Sebastian York! Steve Hebert: What?! Lex Robinson: Whoa! Steve Hebert: As if he even deserves the shot! That bitch has gone crazy from wrestling for over an hour! Lex Robinson: He lost to Roxy Erikson earlier tonight; but I'll be damned if he hasn't earned a shot. He's been Purity Champ, Television Champ, Ultraviolence Champ and everything. It's time for his turn! "All My Life" by the Foo Fighters plays on the speakers, bringing Sebastian York out to the top of the stage, delighting the fans in attendance. Lex Robinson: There he is -- the next contender for Stevie Swing's World Title! Steve Hebert: I feel sick. Lex Robinson: Happy Halloween, everyone! Thank you for tuning it! Steve Hebert: Wait, this is all a Halloween prank, isn't it?! Isn't it?! The final few images of the pay per view are shown. Morgana is shown celebrating her victory inside of the ring; Sebastian York looks at Stevie Swing, who is cowering at the ringside area, pissed-off, angry at Morgana and annoyed at having to defend against Sebastian York, someone she has quite a history against. Lex Robinson: Goodnight! The camera feed slowly fades out, with "Meyers (October 31" by Blitzkid acting as the lead-out song. Winner: Morgana