One of the competitors in the latter named match is Stevie Swing, having booked the match due to winning Over the Top Rope 4, last eliminating Morgana. She is entering the large, stone building, looking all around, admiring the structure and all the defeat and victory that has occured here Oddly enough, his last elimination is also in this match, as they will also take on Declan Turner, the World Champion.
Speaking of which, Declan Turner is entering the building right now, having his World Title strapped around his left shoulder, complete with a briefcase in his left hand. Not only is he defending his World Title belt, but he is also placing 1 million dollars of his own cash on the line, trying to put his money where his mouth is.
Lastly, Morgana is shown walking inside. Her pink hair is tucked behind her head in a ponytail, and she is looking ready for business. For the first time in a long while, she is without an actual singles title; and is in dire need of regaining the World Title, which she last held at the end of 2007.
A split screen of the trio is shown, as they initially arrive at the backstage portion of tonight's event. All three looking primed and ready for some serious action.
Lex Robinson: Welcome to Vanity, everyone! We're here, live in Rome, Italy... inside of, you guessed it, The Colosseum!
Steve Hebert: Can you believe all the blood that has been spilled here? And now we're here, ready to spill some more. If you're not careful, Lex, it may just happen to you.
Lex Robinson: Oh, I'm aware, Steve.
Steve Hebert: Heck, if we're lucky, maybe someone will release a tiger and it will maul you.
Lex Robinson: ...Uhm...
Steve pats Lex on the back.
Steve Hebert: Cheer up, Lex. We've got a long, great night to enjoy on this hot summer night.
Lex Robinson: K! We're starting things off with Generic Heel and the weird Gaspard, who claims to be from the future. But I don't know...
Steve Hebert: Yeah, a French man from the future, sent back in time to kill a dragon? The French can barely defend themselves, how do you expect that ugly faggot to kill a dragon?!
GORGEOUS
ANIMAL
SEXY
PRINCE
AREOLAS
ROCKIN'
DIMPLES
"Big Pimpin'" by Jay-Z hits the speakers and a cloud of smoke arrives at the entrance. The Frenchman, complete with his ugly, weird face, walks out from his time machine, amidst a cloud of steam and smoke. Making his way to the ring, he slaps the hands of several fans, giving them high-fives.
Lex Robinson: Holy merciful, it's Gaspard!
Steve Hebert: What's wrong with his goddamn face? Did he have a stroke or something? It's disgusting! My god, I want to vomit.
Lex Robinson: Stop it, Steve!
Steve Hebert: It's true! I can't help it! I swear to God. Holy shit.
Gaspard rolls into the ring, climbs to his feet and eyes Generic Heel, pointing at him, telling him to step back.
Lex Robinson: This is certainly going to be a "Battle for the Ages", haha.
Steve Hebert: If Generic Heel really is a dragon, then I hope he breathes some fire on Gaspard's ugly face. My god.
Lex Robinson: Shut up with that! Good lord.
The bell rings and Gaspard and Generic Heel circle around each other.
Lex Robinson: Here we go...
Generic Heel begins things by charging at Gaspard, tackling him to the ground with a double-leg takedown.
Steve Hebert: Yes! Generic Heel brings old screwface down, straddling him, striking him with punches. That might fix things.
Lex Robinson: Don't count Gaspard out. He pushes Generic Heel over and climbs atop him, swatting him with some more punches of his own!
Steve Hebert: They're rolling around with each other, like some gay homofest.
Lex Robinson: Uh... well, I guess so.
The rolling, swatting and punching continues, until both men accidentally roll out of the ring, falling to the floor.
Lex Robinson: They roll to the outside... where they fall onto the floor. Getting back up, they instantly target each other, sending more punches back and forth. After Generic Heel plugs his thumb into Gaspard's eye, he is quickly struck with a chop from the Frenchman!
Steve Hebert: Typical French... always slapping people.
As Generic Heel turns around, caught by surprise, Gaspard jumps onto his back, applying a sleeperhold, while on the floor. Generic Heel stumbles about, trying to get Gaspard to release him, eventually crashing against the ring railing.
Steve Hebert: Get off his back, you moron!
Lex Robinson: With no other idea, Generic Heel flips Gaspard overhead!
Steve Hebert: Good! And he lands on his asshole.
Lex Robinson: Generic Heel lifts Gaspard back up, headbutts him and slugs it out with him up the entranceway. They stop atop of the entrance, halting just in front of the black curtain. Stepping back, Generic Heel kicks Gaspard in the testicles and charges forward, looking for something bad.
Steve Hebert: Ugh, that French faggot ducks beneath a clothesline attempt! Instead, he goes behind Generic Heel and clubs him in the back of his neck.
Lex Robinson: Having Generic Heel dazed, it's now Gaspard who steps back. He charges ahead and spears Generic Heel through the curtain, sending them both to the backstage area, where...
The camera switches to the back, showing Gaspard tackle Generic Heel into the time machine.
LeX Robinson: Where... uh...
The "time machine" sparks and emits a pile of smoke. The area becomes so cloudy and smoky that the time machine is not seen.
Steve Hebert: Where the hell did they go?!
Lex Robinson: You've got me.
When the smoke clears, nothing is left behind...
Steve Hebert: Did they disappear in that time mach-- what the hell am I saying? Time travel isn't possible... is it?
Lex Robinson: Uh... well...
Confused, Lex has no idea what else to say.
Lex Robinson: Perhaps we should go backstage, where Chris Carson is apparently entering, for perhaps the last time.
Steve Hebert: Good idea!
The image fades out, with everyone in the back wondering what happened to Generic Heel and Gaspard.
Winner: ...
Chris Carson: So, sport, did you have fun this weekend?
Chris Jr.: Uh-huh! I like pizza! Mom doesn't...
Carson grumbles a little under his breath, wiping a little sauce from Jr.'s mouth.
Chris Carson: Your mom doesn't like many things. C'mon, let's get you to the dressin' room.
Carson straightens up and takes Jr.'s hand, then turns to stare right at his ex, Julia, who has already made it to the arena. She actually gets MORE boos than Carson.
Julia: Really. What exactly don't I like, Carson?
Carson sneers to himself, but keeps Chris Jr. behind him. Chris just hugs at his father's leg and looks around his dad to wave at his mother. Carson and Julia start to talk through clenched teeth.
Chris Carson: You know, I figured that a vampire like yourself would fly in before me, Jules.
Julia: You wound me, Carson. Then again, I'm not surprised an irresponsible scumbag like you would come in late.
Chris Carson: Not in front of the kid, Jules. You'll get your chance after my match. You're not sinkin' your claws in him before then.
Julia: I can't believe this. You actually think that you can balance both wrestling and taking care of our kid. You taught him how to hate others, how to swear...and now you're teaching him to eat fatty foods? I'm trying to raise him as a healthy kid.
Chris Carson: And he was fuckin' miserable. The kid needs some lasagna in him, fer Christ sakes. Now go find your broom and winged monkeys. I'm takin' care of him. If I win, you get him then. Julia just crosses her arms, gives Junior a comforting smile, then stares daggers at Carson again.
Julia: This isn't over.
Chris Carson: Hope not. S'fun makin' your panties bunch up.
Julia walks off, leaving Chris Jr. to peek through his father's legs.
Chris Jr.: Daddy, are you leaving again?
Carson slips forward and takes his kid's hand in his.
Chris Carson: Don't worry. Your father has everything under control. Now, to find you a sitter during my match...
Carson sneers a little to himself and leads Chris Jr. away.
POP!
FIZZLE!
CRACK!
Gaspard's time machine re-appears... where a large stegosaurus whips it with its tail, sending both men sprawling out of it!
Back in the stone ages, both men continue brawling and punching each other, with Generic Heel even gauging Gaspard in the eye, gaining the upperhand.
Generic Heel: Ha-ha! I have you now!
With this, Generic Heel kicks Gaspard and then clotheslines him to the ground. He's about to finish him off, when a Pterodactyl swoops in, attacking Generic Heel.
Generic Heel: Hey, wait... fuck off!
Taking advantage of this, Gaspard crawls over and bites Generic Heel in the balls. He swiftly follows up with a stiff French uppercut. After driving some knees into the tip of Generic Heel's nose, Gaspard steps back and charges forward, connecting with a big kick to Generic Heel's chest, knocking him into a gigantic dinosaur footprint.
As a result, Generic Heel falls back, getting covered with mud and various dinosaur excrement. Seeing this, Gaspard flexes and does a gay little French jib, not realizing that a motherfucking Tyrannosaurus is stomping towards the duo.
Tyrannosaurus: Hello, I am hungry.
Generic Heel: What the fuck?
Tyrannosaurus: Errr... ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
This earth-shattering roar is enough to send Generic Heel and Gaspard skittering to their feet, where they push and shove each other, trying to get to the time machine first.
Generic Heel: Out of the way, Frenchie.
Gaspard: Oh, non non. Me first.
The giant dinosaur stampedes towards them. They both get stuck in the door of the time machine as they go to jump inside.
Generic Heel: Holy fuck, watch out...
Gaspard: Ay yi yi.
Generic Heel: Sweet Jesus, save me.
At just the right time, they spill inside, allowing the time machine to blast off... seconds before the Tyrannosaurus can squish them beneath his feet.
Tyrannosaurus: Hmmph.
He then plucks a pterodactyl out of the sky and devours it.
Tyrannosaurus: Om nom nom nom. Tastes like chicken.
The T-Rex's bowels rumble, constipation arises; and for the good of everyone, the image fades out.
Devon D'Andre: I've been in this business a good long while now. Over a decade. I first came in, I tried to do the right thing. I tried to do what I was told I had to do. Open your ears, shut your mouth. You know, shut up and learn. And I did... I learned that this business is a cold mistress. I learned no one should ever be given your respect.
His eyes narrow as his head turns away from the camera.
Devon D'Andre: This business, this... game has given me alot of things, alot of loves. And it's taken away even more. It's left me cold, some even say hearthless That's a lie, I have a heart, just like everyone else, even you, Booger. The difference is that my heart has a void in it. A hole waiting to be filled with the pain and the blood of my opponents.
He runs both of his hands over his head, pushing his hood back. His eyes widen slightly, staring directly into the camera, his eyes cold and dead.
Devon D'Andre: I'm sorry, Booger. Tonight it's you that fills that void. It's your blood that fills the hole.
His eyes close for a moment as his shoulders lower slightly, his voice slightly calmer than it has been.
Devon D'Andre: You... me.... barbed-wire ropes...4 Corners of Pain. I'm sorry, Booger. This is just the way it has to be.
Fade out.
Lex Robinson: Folks, if you have any kids, you may want to put them to bed before this one.
Steve Hebert: Fuck the kids.
Lex Robinson: Fuck the kids? Steve…
Steve Hebert: You’re the one who suggested that their parents “bed them,” Lex.
Lex Robinson: You’re sick.
Steve Hebert: Not that I want you to judge me, but I’ve seen Wall-E four times now, and my dick has never been happier.
Lex Robinson: Jesus.
Steve Hebert: You don’t fuck with him.
Lex Robinson: Ladies and gentlemen, this is violence.
Steve Hebert: Ultraviolence. A bit of the old in-and-out, rookers across tashtooks, young pititsas and strapping chellovecks.
Lex Robinson: What the fuck is your problem, Steve?
The hard opening of "Whisper" by Evanescence plays overhead as the lights fade out with just a few hues of gold and red peircing through.
The lights flash to the song's beat, while a hooded and masked figure, Devon D'Andre, steps out to the stage, His arms outstretched, two figners pointed outwards, the rest inward, he lets his head fall back, the hood coming off, revealing the top half of his face.
Making his way down the aisle, he ignores the fans to both sides of him, until he reaches the ringside area. Turning to his left, he walks to the corner of the two barricades and steps up on to a chair, placing one foot up on the railing, as he stares out over the crowd, his eyes cold and dead.
Reaching up to the ropes, he hops up to a knee on the apron, holding the middle rope as he looks out over everyone. Standing up, he slips into the ring.
As he stands up, he slips the jacket off and removes the mask from his face, tossing each to the outside as the song fades out the lights slowly come back up.
Steve Hebert: What the fuck? Isn’t that guy supposed to be a midcarder?
Lex Robinson: This is the middle of the card, Steve.
Steve Hebert: We need to get an orchestra to let these faggots know when they’re taking too long to walk to the goddamn ring is all I’m trying to say. Doesn’t he have a racecar, anyhow?
Lex Robinson: Rumors and speculation.
Steve Hebert: Here’s a rumor…Evanescence is for queers.
A series of burps and farts play on the speaker system and Booger comes walking out, eating a taco, a ham sandwich and a slice of pizza. As he gets to the ringside area, he drops the foot, attempts to roll inside, gets stuck, and decides to walk up the ring steps, instead. He then cautiously steps into the ring and waits for his match to start.
Lex Robinson: There’s Booger with his customary pre-match snack.
Steve Hebert: Do you think he hates Jews?
Lex Robinson: What makes you say that?
Steve Hebert: The ham sandwich tipped me off.
Lex Robinson: Here comes the ring crew with all the stuff that is going to make this match so dangerous.
Steve Hebert: That’s right, we’ve got mouse traps, thumb tacks, light tubes and rubbing alcohol!
Lex Robinson: Hence the name “Four Corners of Pain,” but on top of that, the ring crew is liberally applying barbed wire to the ring ropes!
Steve Hebert: Whoever wins, the other guy is fucked.
Lex Robinson: Devon D’Andre is wasting little time, though... the ring techs aren’t finished putting up the barbed-wire and the bell hasn’t rung, but he rushes forward and strikes Booger with a forearm to the forehead!
Steve Hebert: Yeah! That’s how to start an Ultraviolence Title match!
Lex Robinson: D’Andre catches the significantly more experienced Booger off-guard and continues to pound at the big man, delivering quick strike after quick strike to him until Booger staggers back and through the ropes! Booger is down outside of the ring!
Steve Hebert: Devon climbs out onto the ring apron and jumps off with a flying stomp, and he connects! Booger is rolling on the floor in the fetal position after that one!
Lex Robinson: Booger doesn’t appear able to get up, but Devon doesn’t continue to attack. Instead, he goes to the guardrail and grabs a fan, throwing him from his seat. Devon’s got a chair!
Steve Hebert: Is it one of those padded souvenir ones? If so, that’s pretty gay.
Lex Robinson: Souvenir or not, Devon has it raised high over his head…and he brings it down on Booger! Now Devon is in a frenzy, slamming the chair on Booger over and over again! Booger looks totally helpless!
Steve Hebert: That chair looks like scrap metal now!
Lex Robinson: Devon throws the chair away and stands over Booger, celebrating his successful attack…
Steve Hebert: But he should be paying attention, because that gross motherfucker is getting up!
Lex Robinson: I’ve never seen Booger so determined…he’s usually staring at the lights after an attack like that!
Steve Hebert: Well, he’s up!
Lex Robinson: And he has Devon gripped tight in his hands…he throws him into the barbwire ropes!
Steve Hebert: And he rips him off of them!
Lex Robinson: And he chucks him right back into the wire! D’Andre’s back is a mess of blood and lacerations!
Steve Hebert: Booger rolls back into the ring, ignoring the barbwire as it digs into him…
Lex Robinson: It’s not nearly as bad as Devon’s predicament.
Steve Hebert: It’s about to get worse, Lex, because Booger is to his feet and stalking Devon like he was several buckets of fried chicken in the arms of a small child covered in chocolate.
Lex Robinson: Booger pulls back on Devon, who screams out as the barbed wire digs deeper into his back! Booger raises his meaty forearm and straight up clubbers his opponent, who is ripped from the wire once more, landing in a heap in the ring!
Steve Hebert: Booger has some bad intentions, Lex. He’s goose-stepping to the box out mousetraps, and he has one!
Lex Robinson: Booger walks back over to Devon, who is just starting to get up. Booger wraps him up in some kind of rear-chokehold with one hand... I’m guessing that’s a Dragon Sleeper...
Steve Hebert: Booger’s other hand, with the mousetrap in tight grasp, snakes down Devon’s body and into the waistband of his tights!
Lex Robinson: Dear God no!
Steve Hebert: Devon’s eyes go wide with pain, and he’s on the ground, screaming! Jesus, did Booger just trap Devon’s cock?
Lex Robinson: I believe he did!
Steve Hebert: I’ve heart of animals chewing off parts to escape traps…
Lex Robinson: I hope to God that Devon isn’t one of those animals.
Steve Hebert: He doesn’t have time, because Booger takes a step, leaps up into the air, all one inch of his ability to do so... and lands with a HUGE splash on Devon! It’s all over!
Lex Robinson: The referee makes the first count of the match...
...1...2...
At the count of two, Devon somehow kicks out!
Steve Hebert: All that cock pain must have him twitchy.
Lex Robinson: Booger peels himself off of the flattened D’Andre and considers his next move...
Steve Hebert: But Devon has some fight in him! From the mat, he kicks at Booger, connecting with some stiff shots to the big man’s legs! Booger starts to stumble…
Lex Robinson: And D’Andre is up! He takes the mousetrap out of his pants, then rushes at the off-center monster and dropkicks him in the back! Booger falls forward and catches a face full of barbwire! I think he’s trapped in the ropes!
Steve Hebert: Devon isn’t done, either! He backs himself up to the ropes, charges, and lands a massive splash on Booger, digging him deeper into the wire!
Lex Robinson: This could cause some serious injury!
Steve Hebert: There’s a lot of fat to cut through before you’re at the vital organs, Lex.
Lex Robinson: Devon charges at Booger and does it again! This is sick! Blood is pouring from the big man’s forehead, and you’ve got to wonder how close that wire is to his eyes.
As if on cue...
Booger: I’m blind! I’m blind! I can’t see!
Steve Hebert: You happy now, you Nostradamus son of a bitch?
Lex Robinson: Oh God...
Steve Hebert: The referee pushes D’Andre aside to check on Booger, but Devon has the sort of malicious look on his face that you typically see minutes before a NASCAR driver beats his wife and children after a loss!
Lex Robinson: Don’t do it!
Steve Hebert: He is, though! Devon runs at Booger again and goes for another splash, but Booger rips himself from the wire, and Devon is sent penis-first into it!
Lex Robinson: Booger was faking! But he’s bleeding something fierce!
Devon D’Andre: My penis and balls!
Steve Hebert: The formerly undefeated fucktard in the ring’s ball trauma continues though...
Lex Robinson: Devon gingerly frees himself from the ropes…
Steve Hebert: Only to have Booger run through him, freight train style!
Lex Robinson: Booger lifts Devon up and unceremoniously dumps him in the pool of rubbing alcohol! You can almost hear the alcohol coming into contact with Devon’s numerous open wounds, Steve, this is sick!
Steve Hebert: This is everything it was advertised as, Lex. Devon spasms in the pool, and here comes Booger, who gets down on his knees and grabs Devon’s head to submerge it under the alcohol! He’s going to drown D’Andre in the alcohol!
Lex Robinson: Devon struggles, splashing the rubbing alcohol around, getting Booger in his badly cut face! The abomination roars in pain and stumbles off the attack, trying to rub it out of his eyes, which are now searing in pain! Devon gets out of the pool and crawls his way to the box full of light tubes!
Steve Hebert: He’s got one, Lex, and he rushes at Booger, who is blindly groping around for something to hit!
Devon takes his light tube and swings for the fences, catching Booger in the face! The big man roars out again and continues to stumble back, but Devon isn’t letting up! He drives the broken off light tube into Booger’s chest and takes him into the corner, where Booger falls into and obliterates the box of mousetraps!
Steve Hebert: Devon wisely goes for the cover on a howling Booger...!
...1...2...
Booger reaches out and grabs the barbwire ropes! He’s howling in pain again, but he’s saved himself from being beaten in his second bid for championship gold!
Lex Robinson: Devon is fresh on the attack once more, grabbing a large piece of the splintered off wooden box! He looks to drive it into Booger’s heart, but Booger kicks him between the legs and stands up, mousetraps clinging to him and everything!
Booger grabs the piece of wood and swings it at D’Andre! It catches him on the chin and shatters, but Devon is sent packing towards the rubbing alcohol again! Booger lumbers after him, but D’Andre somehow senses this and executes a huge drop toehold, sending Booger face first into the pool!
Lex Robinson: It sounds like he’s putting an animal down!
Booger rises up from the pool quicker than the battered Devon expected though, his wounds freshly cauderized, but he lumbers to the box of light tubes. He grabs two…and throws one to Devon!
Lex Robinson: This is odd, to say the least.
Steve Hebert: Are they going to swordfight?!
Devon and Booger square off in the ring, and Booger goes to crush his tube on Devon’s chest, but he ducks and hits Booger in the back! Devon quickly grabs another one and smashes Booger with it! Booger is teetering now, and Devon is kicking the box of light tubes to the center of the ring to catch him!
Steve Hebert: Booger is wise to his plan though and recovers! He nails Devon with a wicked clothesline, and it is D’Andre that winds up in the box!
Lex Robinson: Jesus Christ!
Steve Hebert: Where?
Lex Robinson: Booger still has the one useful light tube in his hand, and he opens Devon’s mouth and puts it there, stuffing Devon like a stuck pig. Booger backs up and charges…AND DROPS A LEG ON DEVON’S HEAD!
Steve Hebert: That light tube is completely crushed! D’Andre has to have swallowed some of that!
Lex Robinson: Booger isn’t done, either, because he’s dragging the pool of rubbing alcohol over... this is too far!
Steve Hebert: Booger lifts the pool up and folds it, using the fold as a kind of funnel, and empties the contents of the pool into a screaming D’Andre’s mouth! When that’s over, he makes the cover!
Lex Robinson: This absolutely has to be over folks. ...1...2...
Steve Hebert: But that motherfucker gets his shoulder up!
Lex Robinson: This is awful.
Booger certainly can’t believe it either! He drags the box of thumbtacks out to the center of the ring and picks Devon up before slamming him into it.
Steve Hebert: Booger starts to pound around the ring…could this be the deadly Boogerquake? I sure hope so!
Lex Robinson: It certainly appears so... he runs off of the ropes, ignoring the harm he’s inflicting on his own body, and tries to flatten Devon again, but the battered warrior rolls out of the box, and Booger turns himself into the world’s largest, most grotesque pincushion!
Steve Hebert: Booger’s in perfect position for one of D’Andre’s favorite moves, and before you can say “shit licking Jap-fan,” he connects with a shining wizard to Booger’s skull!
Lex Robinson: Devon goes for the cover, and we might have a champion! Booger looks totally knocked out!
...1...2...
However, Booger pushes Devon off him, at the right time.
Steve Hebert: But Booger muscles out of the attempt, launching D’Andre off of him and onto the mat! How did he do it?
Lex Robinson: I have no fucking idea, Steve, but Booger has gone berserk! He’s pounding on his chest…and now he’s ripping at his singlet!
Steve Hebert: OH GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Booger rips at his singlet, until his is naked in all his shiny, greasy glory.
Lex Robinson: This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Somebody shoot me. Somebody shoot all of us.
Steve Hebert: Look at that cock though... it’s like an elephant’s! And its…wrapped in barbed-wire...and it has glass glued to it!
Lex Robinson: Jesus, what has happened to poor, innocent, jobber Booger?
Steve Hebert: I have no clue, just like Devon has no idea what’s coming to him... no pun intended.
Devon is up to his knees, but Booger has his firehose of a penis in his hands! He swings with it and blasts Devon right between the eyes! Booger, covered in mousetraps and thumbtacks and shards of broken glass, jumps into the air and drives his deadly dong down into Devon’s face!
Steve Hebert: And he isn’t getting up, either... he’s going for the cover!
Lex Robinson: The ref makes the count...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: One...two...
Devon is unable to move...
...3...!
Lex Robinson: Three! New champion!
Steve Hebert: Mercifully, it’s over!
Lex Robinson: I’ve never seen anything like that, and I never want to again.
Steve Hebert: Booger is the man, though... rising up from jobber to champion here tonight!
Lex Robinson: Yeah, so give him the f'n belt and send him packing. I need to throw up.
Victorious, Booger does a victory dance around the ring, with his bloody cock swaying back and forth, smacking against his legs. He holds the Ultraviolence Title high into the air, as he twists his nipples in celebratory fashion.
Devon D'Andre remains laying on the canvas, bloodied and defeated. Before Booger can exit, he farts at Devon, smiles and walks to the back, getting jeers from the fans.
Winner: Booger
Joseph: Push! Push! Push!
Inside of a barn, three wise men stand, watching a woman bathed in a blue robe giving birth, with her frantic husband pacing back and forth, amongst a herd of cattle.
Mary: You did this to me! You did this to me, you prick! I hate you! I fucking hate you!
Joseph: Oh, but it was okay when you were sleeping with these guys.
The three wise men shake their head.
Wisemen #1: Whoa, negro, not the father.
Joseph: Like fuck. She hasn't even put out to me! Does that make sense? Does it? Huh? Does it?!
Wisemen #2, confused, shrugs his shoulders.
Joseph: Give me that gold, you shithead.
Joseph grabs the gold out of the wise men's hand. Suddenly, there's a loud buzzing, crackling and a luminous light bursts in...
FLASH!
Gaspard: Tu es fagrot!
From out of nowhere, Gaspard and Generic Heel spill out of the time machine, which has now appeared in the middle of a pigpen. The two roll around in the pig filth, slapping and punching each other.
Generic Heel: I'll kill you!
Generic Heel wraps his hands around Gaspard's throat, choking him; all while Joseph, the wise men and a birthing Mary watch on. Both dueling men stop for a second and turn their attention towards the others.
Gaspard: BONJOUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRNOOOOOOOOOOO!
Generic Heel: Hi.
After a second of silence, a sudden screech from Mary roars throughout the barn.
Mary: Holy God! Ow! My god almighty!
As things return to normal, Generic Heel flings Gaspard through the stable door, sending him flying towards Mary. Just then, Gaspard charges forward, looking to capitalize on things... only to have Generic Heel backdrop him, landing hard on the stable, dropping him hard at the feet of Mary!
Joseph: Hey! Get away from my woman, you two!
Mary: Unnnnnnnghhhhhhhhffhhhhhhhhhhhh...
PLOP!
A baby slithers out of Mary's vaginal area, flies through the air and lands directly into Generic Heel's hands.
Generic Heel: Jesus!
Taken aback by this, Generic Heel tosses the baby to Joseph, who just barely catches him.
Joseph: ...Jesus?
Baby: Goo gaa... Jesus.
Gaspard: La fuck Jesus! Je suis Gaspard et Generic Heel must die!
Gaspard rises to his feet, looking hard at Generic Heel, who is covered in blood and baby-goo. With nowhere else to turn, Generic Heel is tackled by Gaspard, knocking them into a horse, who returns by giving both men a mule kick! This kick sends both Gaspard and Generic Heel stumbling towards the time machine, causing them to collapse inside.
...
FLASH!
Just like that, they're gone.
Mary: Oh god! There's something else!
With one more screech, Mary grunts and groans. Soon enough, a second baby tumbles out, wearing white boxers and having a Swastika symbol across his forward. The baby with the reminiscient bald head looks up at Joseph, who happens to glare back at him, his brow furrowed.
Second Baby: Hitler, is that you?
The three wise men are in disarray at the talking baby, about to kneel to him, when the other baby suddenly starts to glow. In fact, a halo even wraps around his head.
The wise men turn their attention from the Swastika baby to the Halo baby. They kneel and pray to it, while the other baby curses, sulks and moans.
Fade out.
TRANSFER MY TRAGEDY!
Through a curtain of fireworks, Tony Millennia steps out to rampant roaring from the crowd, his eyes set on the ring cast before him.my mind's aflame
We could jet in a stolen car
But I bet we wouldn't get too far
BEFORE THE TRANSFORMATION TAKES!
AND BLOODLUST TANKS AND CRAVE GETS SLAKED!
Lex Robinson: We're back with the next match on our card, and if I didn't know better, this is probably the maddest we've seen Millennia in a while.
Steve Hebert: You DON'T know better, Lex. All of that anger's as fake as Tony is. He's a three-dollar bill, y'all.
Lex Robinson: Give him a little more respect than that, Steve. We're talking about a legend here.
Steve Hebert: A legend that couldn't beat his cock. Face it, Lex. Millennia is a disgrace to the Hall of Fame.
The lights in the arena dim as fog machines start pumping out smoke near the entranceway, followed by...
The shadow within me...
The sorrow at my feet...
As soon as the music explodes into the verse of "Simple Survival" by Mushroomhead, and through the smoke, wearing a hoodie that conceals his eyes is Jonathan Collins. Not taking a moment to survey the crowd or anything like that, Collins simply walks down to the ring, focused and prepared for whatever's ahead of him. As he gets to the ringside area, Collins takes the stairs up to the apron and flips his head back to flip the hood off before stepping into the ring. No big pose, no grand entrance, Collins simply unzips the hoodie and stares a hole through Millennia, no questions asked.
Steve Hebert: Now THIS is legend! What's old is NEW again!
Lex Robinson: Collins certainly did surprise us at the last Eternity, but what gripes would he have against Millennia? It's been years since he's been in the ring!
Steve Hebert: Who cares? I just want him to kick Tony's ass!
Millennia steps forward and shakes his fist at Collins, but gets held back by the referee as he keeps the two separated. Collins looks around as if to reacclimate himself, then smirks at Tony.
Lex Robinson: And history starts all over again as the bell sounds!
Steve Hebert: I'm gonna savor this like a cigar.
Lex Robinson: Don't discount Millennia here! The two stare each other down and pace in circles. Millennia and Collins finally tie up, with Millennia going right to the spot he knows is weakest. He lays a few kicks to Collins' right knee, but Collins backs into the ropes defensively, making Millennia back off.
Steve Hebert: Smart. Collins knows that he wants to dictate the pace here.
Lex Robinson: Collins comes forward again and ties up with Millennia. He's got Tony in a headlock...
Millennia shoves at Collins and lays a lariat on him once Collins rebounds off the ropes. He tries to kick at Collins' knee again...
Lex Robinson: And Collins cowers back to the ropes!
Steve Hebert: Smart again! He knows that Millennia wants to act recklessly. He's biding his time!
The crowd boos loudly at Collins, who turns his head to blow a sarcastic kiss at the crowd. He turns to face Millennia again, but Tony's bounded off the ropes and slides behind Collins to hit a running full-nelson bulldog!
Steve Hebert: Well, okay, he's a touch rusty...
Lex Robinson: Collins slides back to the ropes to help himself up. Millennia charges again!
Millennia goes for a clothesline, but Collins falls to his knees and pulls the top rope down, letting it spring back into place so that it clubs Millennia in the chin!
Steve Hebert: How about that! Ring presense. Collins has it.
Lex Robinson: Now here comes Collins, ready to pick his spots...
Collins runs forward to club Millennia with a stiff clothesline, following it with another when Millennia refuses to fall for either. It has Millennia woozy, however, and Collins quickly spikes Millennia into the mat with a DDT.
Lex Robinson: First pinfall attempt...
...1...
Lex Robinson: But Millennia kicks out at 1!
Millennia's back up into the corner, and Collins mounts the corner, hammering at Millennia's forehead. At the fifth punch, Millennia manages to grab around Collins' waist and fall to the mat, pulling Collins' face right into the top turnbuckle!
Lex Robinson: How about that, Hebert? Millennia knows the ropes too!
Steve Hebert: Hardy-har, Lex. Stop sucking Tony's cock. He's getting lucky!
Lex Robinson: A pin from Millennia!
...1...
Steve Hebert: Nope! Collins gets his shoulder up before 2. He rolls to the side and recovers on the ropes again.
Lex Robinson: Millennia goes for Collins and is looking to soften his face in the turnbuckle again...but Collins gets his left foot up and against the turnbuckle! He counters with an elbow to the chin...
Steve Hebert: I know what's coming next!
Collins gives Millennia an Irish-whip chest-first into the turnbuckle.
Lex Robinson: Collins spears his shoulder into Millennia's back, shoving him back into the corner...and rolls him up!
Steve Hebert: He's rolling Millennia back onto his feet and...hits a German suplex! Tsunami Bomb, baby!
Lex Robinson: Referee counts...
...1...2...!
Lex Roboinson: He kicks out!
Collins obviously doesn't want this match to end, locked into the zone. He lays a few more kicks into Millennia's shoulder. He stands Millennia up...
Lex Robinson: More shoulder blocks into Millennia's shoulder. Loosening him up...
Steve Hebert: Millennia's to a knee! Chop the tree down!
Lex Robinson: He stands Millennia up again, arm under a shoulder...and Collins with a creative half-nelson neckbreaker!
Steve Hebert: He's got him!
The count is made by the referee...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: One... two...! No! Tony Millennia's kicked out again!
Millennia holds at his shoulder a bit, laying on the mat. Collins quickly scales the side ropes and comes down with an elbow against Tony's injured shoulder.
Steve Hebert: Another pin! Go, Jonny!
Lex Robinson: Only a two count again. Millennia's struggling!
Steve Hebert: He tastes blood!
Lex Robinson: Collins with kicks to Millennia's injured shoulder! He backs off and lets Millennia stagger to his feet!
The crowd boos loudly, Millennia in serious pain as he holds his shoulder. Collins dashes forward and grabs the injured shoulder, then jumps up and drags Millennia back into his knees.
Steve Hebert: A lungblower to Millennia's shoulder blade!
Lex Robinson: Millennia in trouble again!
The cover is made, with the referee start his count...
...1...2...!
Steve Hebert: Hell no!
LeX Robinson: It's another kickout!
Steve Hebert: Dammit! Count to three, ref! "1, 2, 3!" Anyone can do that!
Lex Robinson: Collins goes back to the corner and climbs the ropes!
Steve Hebert: He's trying to put a fricking hole in Tony's spatula!
Lex Robinson: Scapula, Steve.
Steve Hebert: Whatever.
Collins jumps from the top rope and...
Lex Robinson: He missed! Millennia rolls out of the way, and Collins nails his elbow on the canvass! Millennia struggles to his feet. Collins jumps back up and misses a clothesline...
Lex Robinson: A half-nelson! And Millennia hits a Russian leg sweep!
Steve Hebert: Dammit! C'mon, Collins! Play smart!
Millennia drags Collins up and goes for a full-nelson hold, looking to hit his finisher, driving the half-awake crowd into some sort of a frenzy.
Steve Hebert: Hah! Millennia can't keep the hold! Millennia grabs at his shoulder, letting the hold go. Collins acts quickly and gets Millennia up into a fireman's carry.
Lex Robinson: Uh-oh...looks like this is the end...
Steve Hebert: Millennia set on his feet...and it’s time for...
Collins sweeps Millennia's leg out under him and nails a swingling slam that drives Millennia's head into the mat!
Steve Hebert: The Great Divide! Count it, ref!
Lex Robinson: [deflated] And it's...
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two...
...3...
Lex Robinson: Jonathan Collins with the win...!
Steve Hebert: Yeah! Now, THAT is legendary!
Boos rain down from the crowd as Collins has his arm raised. He yanks his arm away from the ref, mouthing an "I'm not done!" at him. He lifts Millennia to his feet...and hits a second "Great Divide" on him!
Lex Robinson: Now...this is a little much...you can stop now, Collins!
The ref tries to back Collins away, but Collins just gives a confident grin and ushers the referee back. Millennia claws up the ropes again, shoulder visibly separated, but Collins just yanks Millennia back into the center of the ring.
Lex Robinson: Oh, come on! Stop this, Collins!
Steve Hebert: This is like Tivo! I could watch this all night!
Collins hits a THIRD "Great Divide" slam on Millennia, this one finally knocking Tony out. His forehead is busted open.
Lex Robinson: God...I...I hope Millennia's okay.
Steve Hebert: He finally got what was coming to him.
Millennia lays still on the ring while Collins adjusts himself and slides out of the ring. He lifts his fists in the air in victory as he walks back up the ramp, passing a rolling stretcher on the way to the ring. Collins watches with his hands on his hips as the EMTs immobilize Millennia's head and neck. As they cart Millennia away, Collins just stands out of the way, clapping sarcastically.
Lex Robinson: What a totally disgusting display by Collins!
Steve Hebert: Get used to it! That, Lex, is four years of penned-up aggression! Collins dusts himself off and walks backstage.
Winner: Jonathan Collins
Clang!
Clank!
Welcome to the middle ages, where a warring group of knights, vagrants and warriors are colliding. One unfortunate group of soldiers have a dragon insignia on their armor. Sadly, they are soon impaled on the swords and spears of the opposing group.
Nevertheless...
FZZZZZZSHT!
Appearing in mid-fight, the time machine carrying Gaspard and Generic Heel arrives. Again, they tumble out, exchanging blows.
Generic Heel: You stupid man. I'm not a dragon!
Gaspard: La dragon is you!
As they fall out, they manage to duck under various sword blows. One soldier even falls beside Generic Heel, who laughs at his misfortune, only to see a battalion of archers prepare to launch their arrows.
Generic Heel: Uh oh. Get over here.
Generic Heel tries to grab Gaspard, using him for a shield, but Gaspard pushes away and jumps back into the time machine.
Gaspard: Non, fuck non!
The archers launch their arrows...
Generic Heel: Shit.
Gaspard: [from inside of the time machine] Merde is right!
With nothing else to do, Generic Heel rips the shield out of the nearby dead knight's cold, dead hands. Holding it in front of him, he holds off the barrage of arrows.
Generic Heel: King Arthur, where are you?!
A sword is thrown at Generic Heel... by Gaspard, no less.
Generic Heel: You dirty little fucker.
When the arrows stop, Generic Heel throws down the shield and prances after Gaspard. They tumble into the time machine, with the door slamming shut behind them.
FLASH!
...And they're gone, again.
...Just in time for someone to get beheaded.
Johnnyboy: ROCK BITCH! NOTHING BEATS ROCK!
Still confused at the concept of this game, The Masked Day Laborer brings his hurt hand close to his body and begins to rub it.
Buck Travis: Quit fucking around, guys. I'm trying to get you your jobs back.
The Masked Day Laborer: !!!
Buck Travis: I don't care who started it! Oh shit, here's Mr. Page...
Sin Wrestling's owner, Corey Page, is seen walking around The Colosseum, stepping towards the trio, his eyes fixed on some business papers, ignorant to the trio's presence. He peers up, notices the two, and makes a 180 degree turn and starts walking back the other way, but not before Buck Travis can catch up and wrap his arm around Page.
Buck Travis: Mr. Page! How're ya doin' buddy? Long time no see. What're you doin' 'round these parts?
Corey Page: I... uhh... my pay per view, Vanity... WHAT DO YOU WANT?!
Buck Travis: Well, it's not what you can do for me... but what I can do for YOU!
Corey Page: What can you do for me? And how in the hell did you get those two to Italy?
Buck Travis: Well, you know those ships that transport those hundreds of containers full o' dem slanted eyed chinamen? Well, I just had Johnnyboy hotwire that sucka and well... here we are.
Johnnyboy: Yeah, boss. It was like a G-ride, but a G-sail, you know?
Corey scratches his head.
Corey Page: Riiight...
The Masked Day Laborer: !!!
Corey Page: Will someone tell him to speak English?!
Buck Travis: The Masked Day Laborer says the trip was pleasant, as he had a whole container to himself. It's a lot roomier than having to share it with 58 different wetbacks.
Corey Page: ...He said all of that?
Buck Travis: Well, I'm just guessing it was 58. But on to business. Corey Page, you are the owner of Sin Wrestling.
Corey Page: True.
Buck Travis: ...The mastermind.
Corey Page: I agree.
Buck Travis: And you've put together this wonderful Pay Per View... HERE in the heart of Italy, in Rome. In the Colosseum.
Corey Page: It's true.
Buck Travis: But you, as well as I, know that as fanciful as this card is... there's something missing... but you can't quite place your finger on it.
Corey thinks to himself.
Corey Page: I.N.S. Agents?
Responding to this, Buck pipes in.
Buck Travis: No! A real bloodbath of a fight. A fight to the death!
Corey Page: Wait a minute...! You're not gonna be stabbing anyone on my show!
Buck shakes his head -- "no".
Buck Travis: No, no. What I'm offering you is... Mixed Martial Arts!
Placing his hand on his chin, Corey begins thinking to himself.
Corey Page: ...I'm listening. Do you have MMA fighters with you?
Buck Travis: You're looking at 'em in the flesh!
He points to The Masked Day Laborers.
Corey Page: Uhh... Well... The Day Laborers? As Mixed Martial Artists?
Buck Travis: Don't let their looks fool you. These are two of the most dangerous Mixed Martial Artists around. See after their disappointing career in Sin Wrestling, we traveled the world trying to find a new profession.
Corey Page: Did you try Home Depot?
Buck Travis: NOW THERE'S A THOUGHT! But no... we eventually ended up in Japan. Where these two fought on to become two of the best MMA fighters ever! They went undefeated!
Corey Page looks pleasantly surprised by this.
Corey Page: Oh wow. How come I never heard of them finding success there?
Buck Travis: Well, to be fair, they had one match... which they won by forfeit. The Masked Day Laborer refused to unmask... but if that's not proof they scared their opponents shitless, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!
Hmmmm...
Corey Page: Only one match, huh?
Buck Travis: Well, we were deported after that night since we were illegally in the country.
Corey Page: You're illegally in THIS country!
Buck Travis: Not if we're in the employ of an American Company!
Corey Page: We're Canadian, not American!
Buck Travis: Good enough!
Corey Page: Well, I'm sorry; I'm going to have to pass on your offer. I've tried my hand at booking these MMA matches before, and I always have to deal with some legal matter afterwards since we don't have the sanctioned officials for it.
Buck Travis smiles and pulls an identification card out of his wallet. Grinning from ear-to-ear, he hands it to the Sin Wrestling owner.
Corey Page: The bearer of this card is officially sanctioned to officiate Mixed Martial Art contests. Expires August 2009.
Again, Corey thinks to himself.
Corey Page: Where the hell did you get this?
Buck Travis: Ten week course at DeVry Institute of Technology!
Corey Page: Okay fine, ONE MATCH. The Masked Day Laborer versus... The Unmasked Day Laborer, Johnnyboy... tonight! You refereeor or something. Hell if I know, I have a pay per view to preside over. If the fans like it, I'll bring you guys back for more.
Buck Travis: Deal!
Buck shakes Corey's hand and walks off, leaving Corey to look awkwardly at the card in his hands.
Once by the ring, Roxy appears to quickly do a line of some "mysterious" white powder off of Ellie's backside, before sliding into the ring and twitching nervously in the corner.
Lex Robinson: Did Roxy Erikson just bring a goat down to the ring...and then do a line of coke off it's ass?
Steve Hebert: Yes, and yes. By her standards...that's a slow night.
"ABC" by The Jackson 5 blares, as Chris Staggs appears doing "the running man" as Mr. Feeney appears beside him. Chris Staggs breaks into the Macarena as Mr. Feeney pushes him forward to the ring. He stops at a fan near the ring, grabs some popcorn from his tub and finally makes it into the ring, where he begins to do the "tootsie roll".
Lex Robinson: And now we have Chris Staggs, who would make a little more sense if there were obvious drugs involved.
Steve Hebert: Nah, he's just high on life.
The familiar beat begins to resonate and over the loudspeakers, you begin to hear a voice...
Steve Hebert: Let me tell you, Tony Millennia is going to be pissed that someone else is running around to Nine Inch Nails.
Lex Robinson: I doubt that, this is Sin Wrestling. Seriously, at any given time like half the roster has a NIN song for a theme.
Steve Hebert: Nihilistic. Ballsy, but nihilistic.
Lex Robinson: That leaves three, one more to come...
The arena blacks out and lights begin to flash all over the crowd in search of the man wielding the spotlight... "Say Hello" by Jay-Z is heard as the spotlight enlarges on top of the entrance ramp. No entrance video with an underground feel. Augustus Cross stands backwards with his arms in the crucifix position. He spins around, walking down the aisle calm and collected as the spotlight follows him to the ring.
Lex Robinson: And to review the stipulations, this is a special attraction match! We've got two boxes on our table here, one for the winner, and one for the loser! Who knows what could be in either one?!
Steve Hebert: I've got some ideas.
Lex Robinson: You'd settle for a KFC bowl in the box, try harder next time.
Steve Hebert: Curses, how does he know?!
The bell rings and Chris Staggs lunges forward from his corner to drive a sudden knee into Augustus Cross's chest, and then spins around him, quickly smacking him to the mat with a snap German suplex. Meanwhile, Andrew Hurley slowly approaches Roxy Erickson, who seems a twitching wreck. One hard clothesline catches her off guard, though, and flattens her to the mat. Hurley quickly changes targets, running across to the rising Chris Staggs and sending him sprawling over the top rope with a spinning wheel kick.
Lex Robinson: Okay, time for a head check. Roxy's down in the corner, Cross's down in the other corner, and Staggs is outside, with Hurley quickly heading out after him! Staggs and Hurley are brawling on the outside, Staggs battering Hurley's head against the ring steps, only to have a second attempt countered, as Hurley's own head gets pounded against the metal!
Steve Hebert: Cross follows them outside too, and takes both men down with a double spear! This is suitably messy for my tastes.
Lex Robinson: Who're you rooting for, Steve?
Steve Hebert: Augustus Cross. He looks mean.
Roxy Erikson finally rises to her feet, reaching down to give her goat a high five, much to the fan's amusement before running across the ring and vaulting over the top rope, coming down right on Augustus Cross! But Cross easily catches Roxy and throws her further with her own momentum into the crowd!
Steve Hebert: But you can't keep the coke whore down! The fans crowd surf her back to ringside, where she drops Augustus Cross with an unexpected bulldog!
Lex Robinson: She isn't atop the field for long, though, as Andrew Hurley yanks her down into the arena floor headfirst with a snap DDT! Chris Staggs doesn't even get a chance to rise before he's slammed hard into the ring steps again by Hurley, and then bashes his head against the ring post! Andrew Hurley tosses him back into the ring, and goes for a quick cover!
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: Kickout! Only a two!
Steve Hebert: Boo urns.
Staggs gets a shoulder up, and Andrew Hurley goes for another cover but is pulled off quickly by Augustus Cross, who grabs him by the leg, grapevining it with his own legs and pulling back hard! Hurley fights the pressure, and the hold is soon broken by a swift elbow from Chris Staggs!
Lex Robinson: Staggs finally gets a moment to shine here, as he yanks Augustus Cross to his feet and snaps him to the mat with a Stevie Swinging Neckbreaker! Staggs turns his attention to Andrew Hurley, but Hurley stuns him with a chop to the throat, and then throws him up onto his shoulders, before dropping him headfirst to the outside with a Death Valley Driver!
Steve Hebert: Jesus, the odds just fell off the chart for Chris Staggs, his lights have been put out, and harshly!
Lex Robinson: Andrew Hurley needs to keep his momentum though! Right now, he's slid back outside, appearing to line up for a punt to Roxy's precious goat, Ellie!
Steve Hebert: Oh snap, man-on-goat violence could get Hurley banned from SW by Corey Page himself!
The crowd rains boos down on Hurley, as he motions for the kick, but as soon as he charges, Roxy stomps the back of his knee, dropping him hard to the floor! Meanwhile, Augustus Cross has slid out of the ring, coming back in with a chair, with which he awaits the entrance of his opponents.
Lex Robinson: What a mean streak to Roxy, in one smooth motion she grabbed Hurley by the hair and yanked his head up, only to curb stomp his face into the arena floor! God damn!
Steve Hebert: That is one goat you do NOT touch!
Lex Robinson: Absolutely. Roxy appears to try to calm Ellie, and picks her up, carrying her across her chest, into the ring. Oh man, she doesn't see that Cross has a chair!
The referee immediately gets in Augustus Cross's face, blocking him from going after Roxy, and warning him to get rid of the chair! Finally, the referee grabs onto the chair, refusing to let go until Cross drops it!
Steve Hebert: Oh, come on, ref, let some blood spill already!
Lex Robinson: That's not how we roll here, Steve! The referee takes the chair away from Cross and goes to remove it from the ring, but while his back is turned, Roxy steps toward Cross and gives Ellie a little slap, causing her to goat-kick Augustus Cross right on the jaw! He looks as if in disbelief, before collapsing into a heap!
Steve Hebert: Is he really out?! God damn! Roxy sends Ellie galloping back to her corner, and makes a cover on Augustus Cross!
The referee counts...
...1...2...3!
Steve Hebert: Whaaaat?
Lex Robinson: Your eyes did not deceive you, Steve, that match was finished...by a GOAT KICK!
Steve Hebert: What a great moment for Sin Wrestling! Now onto the prizes, what's Roxy going to get?!
Roxy Erikson slides out of the ring with her goat in tow, before happily tearing open her box on the announce table. And within...she screams in happiness!
Steve Hebert: Look at that contract, it's for a title shot sometime in the future!
Lex Robinson: Does it say when?!
Steve Hebert: Not that I can tell, nor what title exactly it's for! Regardless, that's a hell of a treat for Roxy, giving her a chance sometime in the future to again have a chance at wearing a title belt!
Lex Robinson: Very true...but that's not all we've got!
As Roxy Erikson leaves up the entrance ramp victorious, with her goat and title contract in tow, Augustus Cross finally comes to, and reluctantly heads toward the announce table, where Lex Robinson extends a box toward him.
Steve Hebert: What will it be...?
Lex Robinson: Oh, damn, he opens it up and look at that! It's a pink slip!
Steve Hebert: Ouch! Augustus Cross is no longer employed by Sin Wrestling! Normally I'd complain...but you know what? He let a ref disarm him, and then got beat by a goat kick. A pink slip can't make you much more of a bitch than that.
With that comment, Augustus Cross bitch slaps Steve Hebert, sending his headset flying off of his head. The three losing opponents head up the entrance ramp in defeat, but with Cross's shoulders slumped a little lower than the others. The crowd chants "Nah nah nah nah...nah nah nah nah...hey hey hey...goodbye..." repeatedly as they make their exit, and Lex Robinson can barely speak from laughter as his announcing partner recovers from the mother of all bitch slaps.
Winner: Roxy Erikson
Voice: Hello?
Declan Turner: Hi.
Silence.
Voice: Declan? Is that you?
Declan Turner: Yeah. It's me. How are you, Madison?
The voice on the other end can be heard letting out a huge sigh.
Madison Paige-Matthews: I'm good. ... I'm pretty much all healed up. I'm back into television, doing segments for “Breakdown” on the Fight Network again.
Declan Turner: That's...that's really great.
Madison Paige-Matthews: Declan. What is it you want?
More silence.
Declan Turner: I'm—I'm just sorry things didn't work out like we wanted them to.
Madison Paige-Matthews: Yeah. (talking into background) I'll be right there.
Declan Turner: You busy right now?
Madison Paige-Matthews: Kind of. Stephen and I are getting ready to go the movies.
Declan Turner: Oh, you and uh—him are together?
Madison Paige-Matthews: We're sort of dating, yeah. Look, I have to go.
Declan Turner: Sure. No problem. I'll—uh—I'll talk to ya later.
Madison Paige-Matthews: That sounds good, Declan. I'd like that.
Click.
Declan hangs up the phone and stands up, looking down at a sheet of paper on a desk. He throws his phone into the trash and the image fades out.
1912, on the Atlantic Ocean; on top of an iceberg. Once again, Gaspard and Generic Heel spill out of the time machine, where they continue to fight, brawl, bite, kick and scratch at each other.
Gaspard: I must kill you!
Generic Heel: But I'm a nice heel! What did I do?!
Gaspard: You made le dragon!
Generic Heel: I don't know anything about dragons!
Gaspard: Liar!
Gaspard jumps at Generic Heel, who quickly steps away... only to slip on the ice, fall down and bash his face off a crunk of the iceberg.
Generic Heel: Owwie!
Trotting towards Generic Heel, trying to maintain his balance, Gaspard goes to finish off Generic Heel.
Gaspard: Now I've got you!
Pulling his arm back, Gaspard goes to strike Generic Heel... but he accidentally strikes his time machine, resulting in it sputtering and spitting off random lights.
Gaspard: Wart the fuck?
HONK! HONK!
In the distance, a large oceanliner speeds towards them... as fast as a large boat can do. Seeing this, Gaspard waves at the boat, trying to guide it away.
Gaspard: Non! Non! You're going to crash!
In the meantime, the time machine continues to crackle and spark.
Generic Heel: I'll show you who's going to crash...
Behind Gaspard, Generic Heel rises to his feet, holding a large chunk of ice in his hand. Managing to charge behind Gaspard, Generic Heel smacks him upside the head with the chunk of ice, knocking him front-long into the time machine.
Generic Heel: Heh heh... that showed him.
Generic Heel throws the chunk of ice into the water, dusting off his hands as he does so. Unfortunately, he is soon caught off-guard by the crashing of the Titanic into the iceberg.
Generic Heel: Oh, fuck me.
This crashing causes Generic Heel to tumble forward, falling into the time machine...
FZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZSHTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
Gaspard and Generic Heel have vaulted elsewhere in time.
On the other hand, the Titanic is about to nosedive into the Atlantic. Shit.
The words illuminate the screen for several seconds, as fog begins to roll onto the stage and entrance ramp.
Down a hole, up a rope
Down some pills, up some hope
This karma machine only takes quarters
New age soldier, new age soldier
Matthew Good's voice creeps out of the speakers, as the lights grow all the more darker, and the illuminated words on the SW-Screen pulsate with color all the more rapidly. During the second time the words "new age soldier" are said, the song cuts and the stage erupts in silver colored fireworks. As the smoke begins to subside, the song picks up exactly where it lets off, and the SW-Screen begins to show highlights of Mike Phantasy's greatest matches.
Everybody's all right
Everything is automatic
And everybody's all right
Everything is skin deep
Finally, Mike Phantasy rushes out of fog to a cheering crowd, apart from a few die-hard Mike Phantasy haters. Phantasy pauses while walking down the ring-ramp to look around at the arena before him, grinning at the signs endorsing him. Then, he looks toward the ring, slowly making his way down to it; his upbeat demeanor slowly melting into a solemn one. When finally inside of the ring, Mike sits on the turnbuckle nearest to him and awaits the beginning of the match.
Lex Robinson:Mike Phantasy. Sin Hall of Famer. Gets ready for the match against Destiny to begin.
Steve Hebert: This better be good.
Lex Robinson: How can it not be?
Steve Hebert: If it's completely one-sided. I may either fall asleep out of boredom or kill the front row behind me out of pure hatred.
Lex Robinson: And speaking of personality disorders, this match is brought to you in part by Aztalan Chemicals; the makers of Diazapropalam and Tropizine. Aztalan Chemicals. “Without us, you will go crazy.”
Steve Hebert: Shhh! I wanna hear the theme music!
The arena goes black and a low hiss is heard. "I'm So Sick (T-Virus Remix)" by Flyleaf fades in harshly, cranked up to its highest setting possible. An image appears.
/ the
destiny
show
i will break into your thoughts
with what's written on my heart
Scarlet fireworks explode in chain up to the top of the entrance ramp, where the flames form a ring of fire from which Destiny emerges. She sways down to the ring, an albino snake resting atop her shoulders.
i'm so sick infected with where I live
let me live without this
empty bliss,selfishness
i will break! break!
Handing the snake to a stagehand, she slides into the ring, reveling in the reaction of the crowd. She tests the ropes, motions for her music to be cut, and feigns a devilish smile.
destiny
fulfilled /
Lex Robinson: And here we go! This match starts off with a collar elbow tie up in the center—Destiny with the Irish Whip on Phantasy into the ropes. Shoulder block as Phantasy drops. Hop over, Destiny against opposite ropes—WITH A HUGE SPLASH! Hook of the leg! One- Phantasy kicks out with authority on that one!
Steve Hebert: What's Destiny thinking?! Doesn't she know Phantasy's a hall of famer?
Lex Robinson: Uh, so is Destiny.
Steve Hebert: Tomato, tomatoe.
Lex Robinson: They're both Hall of Famers and they're both great competitors, so why shouldn't she try to take advantage of...--What are you doing?
Steve Hebert: Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to this band on my iPod called “Shit Nobody Cares About.”
Lex Robinson: ...
Steve Hebert: It's Scottish Hip-Hop.
Lex Robinson: Phantasy and Destiny stalk each other in the ring—Phantasy getting the upper hand with a choke throw towards the turnbuckle; Destiny getting manhandled by Phantasy. Phantasy comes up and over with a haymaker—which Destiny outright blocks! Fighting back from the corner, Destiny with a right, and another right! Another! Fifth right lays him out!
Steve Hebert: Listen to that crowd! They sure do love Phantasy!
Lex Robinson: But Destiny is winning!
Steve Hebert: I can read this crowd like the back of my hand.
Lex Robinson: Who reads the back of their hand?!
Steve Hebert: Well, I'm sorry that not all of us are millionaires and can afford paper or napkins, asshole!
Lex Robinson: Phantasy and Destiny trading blow for blow just outside of that turn buckle. Destiny with a punch, connects with Phantasy's head; Phantasy seems unfazed, trying to come back and stay alive. Phantasy throws a wild right, Destiny ducks and slides around the punch. She grabs his head in her hands and runs up the turnbuckle. Rising Neckbreaker—INTO A FALLING REVERSE DDT!
Steve Hebert: I heard that. It sounded like eggs cracking and dreams shattering.
Lex Robinson: Phantasy took the full force of that DDT right across the bridge of his nose and his bleeding quite heavily. Destiny once again with the roll up.
The referee counts...
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: Phantasy is showing tremendous heart right now.
Lex Robinson: He sure is.
Steve Hebert: No...wait... That's my bad. There's so much blood on his chest and the mat, I just assumed she cracked him open with a pair of rusty rib spreaders.
Destiny lifts Phantasy up to his knees, trying to take him out. Her first match back, trying to re-establish herself on the dominate side of Sin. Raises Phantasy to his feet now; open handed chops across the chest and man are they echoing right now. You can hear the sting resonate as that crowd groans in pain.
Steve Hebert: You'd groan too if you saw perfectly MISHANDLED slaps like that! What an amateur.
Lex Robinson: Destiny steps back and swings Phantasy into the ropes; she runs and bounces on the opposite side, they meet in the center of the ring—SHE JUMPS AS HE SLIDES UNDER HER! Both off the opposite ropes again—DOUBLE LEAPING CROSS BODY BLOCK!
Phantasy falls on top of her to the ring, hooking the leg on Destiny!
Lex Robinson: The cover is made...!
...1...!
Lex Robinson: Destiny's out of the grasp of a loss for tonight; kicking out with authority!
Steve Hebert: I don't know how much of this unprofessionalism I can take. I mean, can't she lose already?!
Lex Robinson: Steve, where are your pills? You're awfully out of touch with tonights match.
Steve Hebert: I sold my Tropizine to school kids in exchange for that milk that comes in little plastic bags...
Lex Robinson: Why on Earth would you do that?!
Steve Hebert: ... Well, if I die a lunatic, at least I'll be fighting osteoporosis along the way!
Destiny has had enough. She's pointing to the turnbuckle! And Phantasy with a desperation attack clubs Destiny from behind, throwing her into that turnbuckle. These turnbuckles seeing a lot of action tonight as Phantasy climbs up the turnbuckle with her facing against the corner. Phantasy leaps off, grabbing her head. REVERSE BULLDOG!
Lex Robinson: Mike Phantasy nails Destiny...
Steve Hebert: But not sexually!
The count is made...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: No! A kickout!
Steve Hebert: I can't take this pressure!
Lex Robinson: Destiny almost getting caught up in that Reverse Bulldog by surprise and Phantasy is trying to hold on. Destiny with a kip up! The fans are on their feet! Phantasy looks like he just gassed and Destiny with a renewed vigor! She grabs him by the arm and swings him back into that turnbuckle! Wow! He hit that hard! He's clutching his chest and turns around to face Destiny! HUGE SIDE KICK TO THE FACE! And Phantasy goes down like a pile of bricks! Destiny off the middle rope! MOONSAULT AND COVER!
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: Phantasy just reversed that into a cradle pin!
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: Another kickout, this time!
Destiny and Phantasy are rolling underneath each other to get that pin! Destiny locks her leg around Phantasy's right arm! She reels back and wraps her arms arouind Phantasy's head ina side twisting modified version of her own crossface, “THE COTTONMOUTH!”
Steve Hebert: Mike Phantasy's trying to reach for a rope! Air! Anything! He's hitting the mat hard as he can! Phantasy tapped! He tapped! Son of a bitch, he tapped!
Lex Robinson: It's over! Destiny Daniels wins!
The ref raises Destiny's hand as the crowd gives her a huge standing ovation! Steve Hebert: Well that was unexpected.
Lex Robinson: What are you talking about? Destiny had it from the beginning.
Steve Hebert: Well, she won and that's great. Let's go to the next match. My milk is getting warm.
Lex Robinson: Ugh...
The image shows Destiny celebrating her victory, slapping the hands of several fans as she walks to the back. Mike Phantasy, in the meantime, angrily slams his hand off the canvas, using the arm that Destiny didn't grab onto.
Winner: Destiny Daniels
Chris Carson is standing face-to-face with one of his past enemies, even though the hatchet keeps getting buried and unearthed. Across from him, eye-to-eye, is Corey Page himself.
Chris Carson: Look, Page, you know the situation. I've trusted Ace, and he dropped the ball. I trusted Pinky, and she made him cry. I certainly don't want to have that bitch Jules take care of him.
Corey Page: Look, Carson, I understand your situation, but there's a big stash of porn calling out my name in my office...
Carson crosses his arms and stares at Page, while Jr. continues to grab at his father's leg, pulling at the See-N-Say Carson gave him earlier in the week.
Chris Jr.: The Morgana says, "Moooooo"!
Chris Carson: Page, you're the last guy I can trust here.
Corey Page: No can do, Carson! I'm a busy man! Busy busy!
A porn magazine falls to the ground behind Page, who had been hiding it during the conversation. He scrambles to pick it up. Carson just smirks to himself.
Chris Carson: Hey, Junior! Uncle Corey here says he's got candy in his office!
Chris Jr.: Candy? WHERE?!
Chris Jr. toddles quickly into Page's room. Carson smiles to himself and pats Page on the shoulder.
Corey Page: But that makes me sound like a pedophile! Jeesh!
Chris Carson: This should take no time at all. I'm gonna destroy Yorkie tonight.
Carson marches off as Page has a pained look on his face.
Chris Jr.: Unca Corey! What's this?
*CRASH*
Corey Page: Noooo! Not my picture of Betsy! I miss her so much!
Page dashes back into his office, slamming the door behind him... well, whatever office this Colosseum can have.
FLASH!
Again, the time machine appears; with both Gaspard and Generic Heel crawling out of it, looking like hell. A trickle of blood flows down the back of Gaspard's skull, while Generic Heel is on his hands and knees, with a cripple headache.
Generic Heel: I warned you to stay away.
Gaspard: Non, fagort! This is mon mission. Shut the fuck up, s'il vous plais.
Generic Heel: Ugh.
As Gaspard continues to crawl away from the machine, he gets to a kneeling position, seeing a young, pink-haired girl -- who is no older than 10 -- prance around, skipping to-and-fro.
Girl: Tra la la la la.
Gaspard: Oh mondieu! I think I know her!
With his eyes wide open, Gaspard looks at the young, pink-haired gal... only to receive a punch in the back of the neck from Generic Heel.
Generic Heel: You sick fuck. I thought I was bad, but you're a goddamn pedophile.
Struggling to get to his feet, Gaspard staggers back.
Gaspard: Non, non... you don't understand!
Girl: Uhm...
Generic Heel: Quiet, whore.
Generic Heel goes to charge at Gaspard, only to receive a swift kick in the balls from the girl. She then grabs onto Generic Heel's face with a 3/4 facelock and hits a Fata Morgana.
Generic Heel: Unghff...
Grinning, Gaspard gives the pink-haired girl a thumbs-up.
Gaspard: Merci beaucoup!
Generic Heel is lifted to his feet and is thrown back into the time machine, along with Gaspard. After some clicking the time machine blasts off...!
POOF!
All alone, the girl, for no reason whatsoever, does a cartwheel, followed by a handstand. She winks and begins talking to herself.
Girl: Wheee! I'm Sailor Moon!
Fade out.
Ace Rodgers: Hello, folks. I'm Ace Rodgers and I'm standing outside the door that belongs to Declan Turner. I'm here to get a few words with the champ, who will march to the ring later tonight and defend that title -- along with one million dollars of his own money; all in a 60-minute Ironman match.
Suddenly, the doorknob begins to turn.
Ace Rodgers: I think he's coming. Here we go, ladies and gentleman...
The door pops open and Declan Turner walks out, holding a piece of paper in his left hand, with a wide smirk on his face. In his right hand, he is carrying a briefcase, presumably filled to the brim with his money, and his World Title is wrapped across his waist.
Ace Rodgers: Declan... Declan, may I have a word with you? What is it that you're holding? Are you ready for your title defense?
Declan brushes past Ace, but stops. He turns towards the interviewer and begins to say a few words.
Declan Turner: This, Ace... this is what us lawyers like to call a "loophole".
With that, he smiles and walks off, reading the printing on the paper.
Ace Rodgers: What does this mean?
Ace gives an inquisitive look and the image fades out.
Lex Robinson: Here comes our challenger, Sebastian York!
Steve Hebert: Maybe day time TV...kiss-ass.
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.
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 hops up and down atop the ramp before bursting into a full sprint towards the ring.
Steve Hebert: This is such an unfair match. York's got nothing to lose, nothing at all!
Sliding into the ring, he pops up onto his feet and lifts both of his hands 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 nods to the referee and waits for his opponent.
The lights dim into a blood red glow, then throb to life with a guitar riff like an alarm, while pyros explode with red flares!
Lex Robinson: We're onto our Impulse Title matchup! Sebastian York vs. Chris Carson, and it's pretty much a lose-lose situation for the Creep!
Steve Hebert: Right? If he loses, he obviously loses the title, but is also forced into retirement. And if he wins, that bitch wife of his takes his kid away from him! That's some kind of pressure on my favorite SW misogynist.
As the song evolves into a rhythmic drum beat and bass line, a haunted version of Queens of the Stone Age's "Sick, Sick, Sick," Chris Carson comes out to the ring, looking quite comical.
Steve Hebert: And on top of that, the Creep is forced to dress like a baby! Did I forget that part? Jesus!
Lex Robinson: Indeed, Steve's favorite he-man woman-hater is decked out in a bib, a bonnet, and a diaper, all over his normal wrestling gear.
Chris Carson slides into the ring, his expression focused, in spite of his tragic outfit. His music fades as he leans into the corner, staring across the ring at Sebastian York, when the bell finally rings to start the bout.
The Creep turns toward the corner, adjusting his bonnet, before turning quickly to charge at his opponent. But York beats him to the punch, meeting him in the middle of the ring charging, as well!
Lex Robinson: And the match is underway with Sebastian York quickly battering Chris Carson back! Carson trips, and falls to the mat, and York...York reaches down to further attack the Creep, but instead he falls into a triangle hold!
Steve Hebert: Go Creep! Choke the son of a bitch!
Lex Robinson: He'd better be careful, York's got a good enough position to push Carson's shoulders to the mat!
The ref counts...
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: Yes! Only two!
The Creep kicks out hard, but breaks the triangle hold in the process. He maintains the hold on York's arm, though, and spins it around as he rises into a hammerlock, wrenching York's arm behind him.
Steve Hebert: Come on, that doesn't really hurt that bad, does it?
Lex Robinson: Actually, it does... a lot. And it looks like it will even more, as Carson uses his other arm to hook a loose half-nelson, before falling backward hard, and sending Sebastian York crashing back and neck first into the turnbuckles!
Steve Hebert: Yeah, right. Bottom line, York's a pussy. The Creep's dressed as a baby and he's still rocking Sebastian's world!
Chris Carson rushes into the corner, throwing several punches and kicks into Sebastian York, before York finally shoves his back, only to have Carson lunge forth again! But this time York gets under him, catching the Creep with a fireman's carry with a little pop at the end that throws the Creep right over the ropes!
Lex Robinson: Smooth counter there by York to stop Carson's advance, but the Creep grabs onto the top rope on the way down and finds some footing to land on the apron!
Steve Hebert: But damn York takes him down outside with a dropkick through the ropes.
Lex Robinson: This is quickly becoming a grudge match as York takes some fists to Carson's face, and now grabs him by the bib and tosses him face first into the ring steps!
Steve Hebert: I told you this wasn't fair!
Sebastian York pulls Chris Carson upright near the corner, before pulling one of his arms around the ring post and yanking it hard around! Carson screams into the post as York straightens the arm back out, cranking it with an arm bar, before snapping it back against the post again!
Steve Hebert: Come on, ref, you can't do that!
Lex Robinson: Pretty sure he can.
Steve Hebert: Man, our rules suck.
Lex Robinson: Don't worry, it looks like York's done with the post for a bit. He's coming around on the same side as the Creep now, and wraps an arm around his neck before snapping him to the outside mats with a neckbreaker! The Creep is reeling, clutching his right arm and neck in a fetal position!
Steve Hebert: Oh God, just like a baby.
Sebastian York lifts Chris Carson to his feet and tosses him into the ring, where he makes a quick cover!
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: No! Carson's got the rope!
Steve Hebert: Thank god! And what endurance, grabbing the rope with his battered arm!
Sebastian York doesn't find this endearing at all though, instead stomping several times on Chris Carson's arm, before yanking it around the bottom rope, and then, while still holding his arm tight, kicks the bottom rope!
Lex Robinson: There's no break for the Creep, who rolls back out of the ring in a heap, bib, bonnet, diaper and all!
Steve Hebert: Seriously, Sebastian York's fighting like a prick! Give the Creep a breather already! Carson's leaning against the guard rail trying to catch his breath, and even now York's sliding out of the ring and readying himself for a charge at the Creep!
Lex Robinson: It looks like he's charging for a big kick that could put Carson's lights out! But he gets a diaper to the face mid-charge for it! Carson lost his diaper and I think York did not see that coming!
Steve Hebert: Who would?! That's genius right there! Freakin' genius, I tell you!
Lex Robinson: You're really overrating this, Steve, he's still taking a beating now that they're trading blows, it just stopped the charge, nothing else. And thank god he was wearing the diaper over his normal gear.
Steve Hebert: Baby steps, Lex. Literally.
The Creep is keeping pace trading blows, but quickly falters, as York again drags him into the ring, this time stomping him several times, before striking a pose for the crowd. He seems surprised by the mixed reaction, only to suddenly hit the mat as Chris Carson kicks him in the back of the knee, and then quickly torques himself around and above to lock a half-Boston Crab onto Sebastian York!
Steve Hebert: Break the prick in half! He's standing between your title, your career, and YOU!
Lex Robinson: I'm sure the Creep needed you to remind him of that, Steve, but it's not helping him at the moment. York's just not ready, he's made it to the ropes; the Creep just doesn't have the strength to keep him down without both arms for that hold!
The referee forces the Creep to break the hold, which he does reluctantly. The two are soon back to their feet, and slam together with a very rough grapple. York missteps and Carson takes the advantage with a headlock, but York quickly slips it, throwing the Creep off as if for an Irish whip, but instead of letting go of that same hurt arm, he yanks Carson right around in a big circle, before stretching it out nice and straight, and then slamming it down across his knee!
Steve Hebert: Jesus, how is that not broken?
Lex Robinson: I don't know, but Carson's still able to move it somewhat! York slams him down to the mat on it with all his weight, and locks him into a crossface!
Steve Hebert: I can't even look...this has to be the end.
Chris Carson bellows in pain, slowly inching toward the ropes, but Sebastian York torques upward, wrenching Carson's arm further back and effectively halting his advance! The referee keeps careful watch on the two, as Carson lifts his free hand repeatedly, with each scream apparently ready to tap, but somehow finding the strength to force his hand not to hit the mat!
Lex Robinson: The referee might have to call this one in a moment, especially if Carson passes out. This is a wrestling match, it isn't worth a career ending injury over!
Steve Hebert: HELLO LEX, if Carson falters here it IS CAREER ENDING! Come on, Creep, fight it, dammit!
Lex Robinson: I don't know if he's got any fight left in him, Steve! The arm is limp, the referee is raising it to see if it'll drop...
Steve Hebert: NOOOOO!!!!
And the arm stays up! The typical wait-till-the-third-drop call is completely dodged by the Creep, who valiantly drives a couple of punches into York futilely, before suddenly twisting himself and York around and over, so that he's on top of York and York's shoulders are down!
Steve Hebert: Dear god, my heart!
...1...
LeX Robinson: One...!
,..2...
Lex Robinson: ...Two...
...!
Lex Robinson: NO! York breaks the hold and kicks free just in time! He's pissed at the near fall, and quickly latches right back onto Chris Carson, but Carson uses the moment to move for the ropes, and now he's clutching them for dear life!
Steve Hebert: No, he's holding on for his title and his career! If York gets that crossface on again, the Creep is OVER!
Sebastian York finally pulls the Creep off of the ropes and into the middle of the ring, quickly falling on him for a crossface or an armbar. Carson fights back mightily though, keeping his arm close and firing punches, kicks, and knees into any part of York that gets within reach. York's finally staggered back for a moment when a stray knee catches his face, and the two make their way to their feet.
Lex Robinson: These two are circling each other again, and they meet with a grapple! Not a wise move on Chris Carson's part, there's no way he gets any advantage with that arm in that condition.
Steve Hebert: Never underestimate the Creep, Lex, never!
Lex Robinson: Who are you really kidding, you bandwagoning toady? As soon as the Creep loses you'll pretend he kicked your dog or something and act like he's the most worthless piece of shit to hit an SW show since Kitty Extreme.
Steve Hebert: Perhaps, but he's still on my good side, so enjoy it, dammit!
Carson is backed into the corner, but he pushes back into the middle of the ring, where he attempts a vertical suplex. He locks his arm around York's neck and gets him off his feet, but York quickly slips over Carson's shoulders, landing on his feet behind him! York quickly yanks Carson into an armbar, flipping upside down while attempting to lock his legs against the Creep's torso to clinch the armbar fully!
Steve Hebert: Ugh, he's almost got it locked, the end is nigh!
Lex Robinson: The Creep steps toward the ropes, but he's not reaching for them. He gets York close enough and low enough until his head is under the rope, and then falls hard to the mat, using his own body as a fulcrum to slingshot York's throat right into the bottom rope!
Steve Hebert: He escaped?! Dear god, how?!
Lex Robinson: I'm not even sure and I watched it happen! The most insane variant on a...well, slingshot...type...thing...really, it was kind of self-destructive...who the hell knows, really.
Steve Hebert: But it worked?
Lex Robinson: Oh, it worked!
Chris Carson goes for the cover on Sebastian York!
...1...
Steve Hebert: Crap! I had such high hopes!
Lex Robinson: Apparently the audience did too! York kicked out, and the crowd actually seemed disappointed! But York's still not nearly as wounded as Chris Carson thusfar.
Carson lifts York to his feet by his hair, this time successfully locking in and lifting York up in a vertical suplex, before dropping him to the mat with a devastating C.C. Bomb!
Steve Hebert: Cover him, Creep! Great Satan's Ghost, cover him!
Lex Robinson: Somehow, Carson's dropped a trademark C.C. Bomb, and he goes for the cover, hooking the leg!
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: KICKOUT! Only a two!
Steve Hebert: NO! COME ON!
Lex Robinson: Skin of his teeth, Sebastian York gets a shoulder up! Chris Carson looks devastated, that might've been just about the last of his energy!
Steve Hebert: No, not yet! Carson flips York over, and he's calling for the Silencer! He mounts York, and clenches his hold in! Yeah, suck on that, Yorkie!
Lex Robinson: He must not have much behind that Silencer, York's getting to all fours, in spite of the Creep's best efforts!
Steve Hebert: Damn it, how?! That's supposed to be the end right there, the end!
Lex Robinson: And normally it would be, but Carson can't get enough force on that injured arm, and York's fighting right through it because of that!
Sure enough, York not only makes it to all fours, even while Carson has the Silencer locked with one arm and raining blows down on him with the other, but he gets right up onto his feet, now holding the Creep onto his back! He charges to the corner before turning, and rams the Creep against the turnbuckles with all their combined weight!
Lex Robinson: Now Carson's in for punishment! Against one turnbuckle, and now York's charging to the opposite, with Carson still on his back!
Steve Hebert: Agh, I can almost feel the impact. Carson's smushed.
Lex Robinson: Oh yeah. The Creep slumps in the corner, and York calmly yanks him to his feet, and locks him up for a fisherman's suplex, perhaps even his finishing shot, The Hunger! Carson goes up...but struggles, and York has to let him back down! York strikes the Creep with some knees and then lifts him again!
Steve Hebert: Come on, Creep! He's fighting it! York's off balance and staggering...OH DAMN!
Lex Robinson: Carson's struggling keeps York off balance, and the two end up against the rope, and tumbling over, both still locked up in the hold! They land on their side, and remain motionless! God damn!
Steve Hebert: Can I say it, Lex. Please? Pretty please?
Lex Robinson: Jesus, fine.
Steve Hebert: Sweet! BAH GAWD, LEX, BAH GAWD!
The referee starts the count, as dueling chants begin to resound through the audience, split half and half for York and Carson.
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: Come on, Creep, come to!
Lex Robinson: They're starting to stir, who's going to get in the ring first! This countout could change a titleholder, since if Carson's counted out, he's forced to retire!
Steve Hebert: And nobody wants that! Come on!
...3...4...5...
They're both up to a knee, and Sebastian York throws a punch into Chris Carson's face! Carson slumps, but grabs hard onto York's leg, keeping him from getting back into the ring!
Lex Robinson: York's got the same idea as I mentioned, he doesn't need to pin Chris Carson to take him out for good here!
...7...8...
Sebastian York goes to stomp York off, but Chris Carson rises suddenly, driving a knee to York's gut, and then slamming his head against the ring apron, before sliding into the ring!
Lex Robinson: Unbelievable, the Creep might just be able to pull this off!
Steve Hebert: YEAH! Come on, it's almost in the bag...
...9...
But York slides in, regaining his bearings just in the nick of time! Chris Carson stomps him in frustration, before reaching down to lift him to his feet.
Steve Hebert: Damn it! So freaking close...NO! Yorkie yanks the Creep down and clamps on a crossface out of nowhere!
Lex Robinson: Jesus, the momentum is all over the place this match! The Creep's screaming in pain...but he's got the ropes! Somehow, some way, Chris Carson escapes the crossface yet again!
The two stagger to their feet slowly, and right in the middle of the ring, Chris Carson walks right into a spinebuster by Sebastian York! York lifts him back up and quickly lifts him onto his shoulders!
Steve Hebert: He's going for the Made For TV! It's the end of the Creep!
Lex Robinson: No, Carson slides off behind York, breaking his grip, and chop blocks the back of York's knee, and crawls atop him quickly!
Steve Hebert: The SILENCER!
Lex Robinson: Yes! Carson wraps his hurt arm across York's face, and grabs it with his good arm and just yanks back as far as he can!
The referee checks Sebastian York closely, but he isn't tapping! He's fighting ferociously, while both him and the Creep scream in pain!
Steve Hebert: Come on, damn it! You're DONE, York!
Lex Robinson: He's gotta be close now...
Sebastian York extends his hand, inches from the mat...before quickly reaching upward, and grabbing a handful of Chris Carson's hair, and yanking him forward, flipping into a rollup!
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: No!
Lex Robinson: Just barely! The Creep stays alive! York goes for a cover again, rolling him up even tighter!
Steve Hebert: Yes...!
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...!
2...
Lex Robinson: Two...!
...
LeX Robinson: He kicks out!
Steve Hebert: The Creep will not go into the sunset quietly!
Lex Robinson: Neither of these two will! York's defied the odds and broken the Silencer twice already, and the Creep is wrestling with essentially one arm!
The two are actually quick to their feet, both feeling the final surge of adrenaline as they sense the other on the proverbial ropes! They lunge into a grapple, but Carson quickly yanks York down into a headlock, and attempts to flip him down to the mat, but York grabs Carson by the bib, and runs him face first into the turnbuckles!
Lex Robinson: York goes for the roll up again, but Carson kicks out before the referee's even in position! Carson isn't even on his feet before he ties York's legs up with his own and drops him to the mat with a one arm ankle lock! York's already on the ropes, though, and Carson's forced off by the referee, but the Creep only breaks it to drop an elbow onto Sebastian York's chest!
Steve Hebert: Jesus Christ, I can't keep up anymore! What the hell is going on?!
Lex Robinson: A LOT! Carson lifts York to his feet, he's going for another C.C. Bomb! York's up...and spirals quickly down with a hurracanrana, countering the C.C. Bomb!
Steve Hebert: York holds the legs for the pin!
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: NO! Carson shifts his weight back suddenly, popping York to the mat instead!
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...!
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two...!
...3!
Steve Hebert: NO! Creep, you can't go!
Lex Robinson: He's not going anywhere, he won!
Steve Hebert: For real?! Shit, I lost track in that ending stuff there!
LeX Robinson: Chris Carson wins. Not only does he keep his job, but he retains his Impulse Title!
Steve Hebert: Yeah, but what about his son?!
The bell rings, as Chris Carson roars with a victory yell, the referee handing him the Impulse Title back. Sebastian York rolls outside the ring, shaking his head in disbelief, as he heads up the entrance ramp to a good amount of applause.
Lex Robinson: Wow, what a match, Steve, can you believe it? The fans are chanting "Chris Car-son...Chris Car-son..." Did you ever think you'd hear that?!
Steve Hebert: Nah, I wouldn't believe it if I weren't hearing it right now!
The Creep rises, staring into his title belt in almost a giddy stupor, when suddenly his wife, Julia, appears on the big screen, taking his crying son away from the arena. The fans start to boo at the image on the screen, as Chris Carson takes a long look at his belt, before dropping it in the middle of the ring, thowing off his bib and bonnet, and quickly heading up the ramp to the back.
Steve Hebert: Jesus, Creep, you forgot your title!
Lex Robinson: There are some things more important than titles, Steve, I think that's something Carson has in mind.
Steve Hebert: No...no. I think he just forgot his title.
Lex Robinson: You're a delusional announce-tard sometimes, I swear.
Fade to the back.
Winner: Chris Carson
Gaspard: This is the end, mon ami.
Generic Heel: Never!
Generic Heel rises, turns and swats at Gaspard with a vicious slap across the face. This blow knocks him back, stumbling into a half-man/half-gorilla creature.
Creature: Moot.
Gaspard: Wart?
Creature: Moot.
Gaspard: Wart?
Creature: RUN!
Just as it speaks, the creature runs off... only to be followed by a giant spaceship, which shoots lasers at it. At the helm of the spaceship is some sort of lizard-like alien being, which targets the mammal creature, ala a game of Counterstrike.
Generic Heel, confused and somewhat scared, hops back into the time machine.
Generic Heel: That's it. Fuck this, I'm outta here.
Gaspard: Wart the heck?! Wait for me, fagrot. I've got to murder you!
Like a Frenchman, Gaspard tip-toes after Generic Heel, slamming the time machine's door behind him. As usual, the sound of surging electricity is heard and a second later, all signs of the time machine are gone.
Chris Carson: Junior! JUNIOR!
Carson has to rest his hands on his knees, as he wheezes for air.
Chris Carson: JULES! Goddamn it, bitch! Bring my son back!!
While Carson gasps for air, he hears a laugh behind him. It's none other than Declan Turner, who has a smug look on his face and is clapping.
Declan Turner: Never fucking trust lawyers, Carson. We always win in the end.
Chris Carson: Shut up, fucker!
Carson tries to go after Turner, but officials are already on the scene, pulling the two apart. Turner just laughs to himself as Carson is left to survey the damage to his life and career. He's practically in tears for the first time in his life, hands holding his head. He walks down the corridor with a pained look on his face.
Steve Hebert: Lex, our producers are telling me that up next is the MMA fight featuring The Day Laborers!
Lex Robinson: What MMA fight? Those two couldnt karate their way out of a paper bag.
Steve Hebert: Shows how much you know, Lex. M in MMA stands for Mixed. Which means it's combination of styles. You don't have to know karate to do MMA.
"Streets of Bakersfield" by Dwight Yoakam and Buck Owens plays over the arena loudspeakers, as the crowd lets out a large cheer for the entrance of the The Masked Day Laborer and Johnnyboy, lovable misfits to the Sin Wrestling audience. A large cloud of smoke fills the top of the entranceway, as a pickup truck appears at the top of the ramp with Buck Travis behind the wheel. He honks twice and The Masked Day Laborer runs out from one of the wings and Johnnyboy from the other and hop into the flatbed as Buck Travis drives himself and his employees for a day to ringside.
Lex Robinson: Wait a minute, I thought these two were opponents. Why're they coming to the ring together?
Steve Hebert: I sure do got to give Buck Travis credit! He's booked us the first ever MMA Tag Team match!
The trio make their way inside the ring as the crowd dies down and Buck Travis grabs a mic.
Buck Travis: Welcome ladies and gentleman to the featured event of the evening...
Lex Robinson: FEATURED? This isn't even Main Event Status!
Buck Travis: The following contest is a Mixed Martial Arts treat for you all. It is the first of it's kind...
Steve Hebert: I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! IT'S A TAG TEAM MMA MATCH!
Buck Travis: As this affair will pit two fighters in different weight divisions! Introducing first. Excelling in the style of Lucha Libre and weighing CIEN KILOS, he is the pride of Mexico, Uncle Sam's masked stepson, your worker for a day, THE FIRST EVER MASKED MIXED MARTIAL ARTIST... The Masked Day Laborer!
The crowd cheers loudly as The Masked Day Laborer climbs to the top rope and takes in the cheers.
Lex Robinson: This fight doesn't even have an MMA cage. It's taking place in a wrestling ring for crying out loud! And what's he mean his style is "Lucha Libre?!"
Buck Travis: And his opponent. He hails from the streets of Bakersfield and weighing in at 205 american pounds. He's everyone's favorite spanish gangster rapper. He excels in the style of back alley brawling... The Unmasked Day Laborer, Johnnyboy!
Lex Robinson: Back alley brawling?! That's not martial arts! Are you as surprised as I am Steve?
Steve Hebert: I sure am. I didn't realize they had back alleys in Bakersfield. Actually come to think of it, I've never even heard of a front alley. Why do back alleys always get all the fame?
The bell rings as both opponents round each other in the squared circle... Johnnyboy rushes The Masked Day Laborer but The Masked Day Laborer leaps over him and runs to the opposite ropes, jumps off the middle rope and lands a flying crossbody on a surprised Johnnyboy!
Steve Hebert: HE DEFINITELY EXCELS IN LUCHA LIBRE STYLE!
The Masked Day Laborer gets off Johnnyboy and irish-whips him to the ropes... Johnnyboy comes racing back but The Masked Day Laborer meets him with a hurracanrana and plants him in the center of the ring... he grabs ahold of his legs... Buck Travis drops to the mat...
Lex Robinson: What's this? Is he going to count the pinfall?! There's no pinfalls in MMA!
But to Lex's surprise, Buck Travis doesn't count the pinfall, instead he asks Johnnyboy if he's ready to quit... Johnnyboy refuses and instead flips The Masked Day Laborer over... but realizes soon that pinfalls don't count in this contest! Johnnyboy stands up and heads to the corner to remove the padding off the bottom turnbuckle exposing the steel underneath. He looks over his shoulder and realizes The Masked Day Laborer is charging at him! He thinks quick and hits him with a drop toe hold landing The Masked Day Laborer face first into the exposed turnbuckle!
Steve Hebert: UFC has NEVER been this awesome!
Lex Robinson: What the fuck was that?! This isn't an MMA fight!
The Masked Day Laborer begins to get to his feet, using the ropes for support when Johnnyboy, still on his knees, meets him with an uppercut to the groin!
Steve Hebert: Back Alley Brawling to its finest!
With The Masked Day Laborer on the floor now, writhing in pain, Johnnyboy stands above him and begins to unlace The Masked Day Laborer's mask!
Steve Hebert: Johnnyboy is seconds away from winning Sin Wrestling's first ever MMA match! If he's successful in taking off his mask he wins!
Lex Robinson: What do you mean if he unmasks him he wins?! This isn't a luchador fight. This is MMA!
Steve Hebert: Yes! And that includes Lucha Libre Style and hence Lucha Libre rules!
The Masked Day Laborer reaches up and digs his claws into Johnnyboy's head as he begins to stand and nails Johnnyboy with a jumping jawbreaker to the top of his head!
Steve Hebert: What a save by The Masked Day Laborer!
Lex Robinson: Oh brother...
With the fans cheering, The Masked Day Laborer heads to the top turnbuckle. Johnnyboy begins to stumble on to his knees...
Steve Hebert: If The Masked Day Laborer hits this Cherrypicker... this match is over!
The Masked Day Laborer jumps off the top rope, but before he lands, Johnnyboy is on his feet and rolls The Masked Day Laborer in a schoolboy pinning predicament!
Buck Travis drops to the mat...
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: He kicks out!
Lex Robinson: What the hell, pinfalls count now?
Steve Hebert: I think the rule is that pinfalls are only permissable after top rope maneuvers.
Lex Robinson: It sounds to me like the rules are being made up as we go!
The Masked Day Laborer rolls away as Johnnyboy gets up and complains about the slow pinfall with Buck Travis. He tells Buck Travis he wants a consistent, fast pinfall. He even slaps the palm repeatedly to motion how fast the pinfall should go.
Steve Hebert: Yeah, you tell 'em, ugly.
Immediately, Buck Travis turns around and orders the bell be rung.
Lex Robinson: What just happened? Is this farce of a match over?! Is he disqualified?
Steve Hebert: I don't know. I'm confused, as well.
Buck Travis grabs the mic and grabs ahold of The Masked Day Laborer's arm...
Buck Travis: The winner of this match as a result of a tap-out... THE MASKED DAY LABORER! The fans cheer at The Masked Day Laborer's victory, as Buck Travis raises his hand, much to the dismay of Johnnyboy.
Lex Robinson: A tap-out?! When?! There wasn't a single submission move the entire match!
Steve Hebert: What're you talking about. Johnnyboy tapped out! I saw it! Look at the replay!
The replay shows Johnnyboy slapping his hand three times, showing how he wanted to the count to go. As a result of this, Buck calls for the bell, thinking Johnnyboy is officially tapping out.
Winner: The Masked Day Laborer
Stevie Swing: I can do it. This is all for Daniel-san.
WHOOSH!
Out of nowhere, Chris Staggs Super Ref rushes into the scene, complete with face mask and Super Ref costume. He pats Stevie on her shoulder, wishing her good luck, confirming some things of his own.
Super Ref: Hello, Stevie!
Stevie Swing: Oh god why. What do you want?
Super Ref: I just want to wish you good luck in becoming the new champion of the world! It's great to see a nice, Jewish person rise to the top, you know.
Stevie Swing: Well, I'm not the champion... yet.
Super Ref: Oh, I know. But with "Super Ref" behind you, refereeing the match, you have nothing to worry about!
Stevie twists her face.
Stevie Swing: Oh yeah... about that...
Super Ref: Yessss?
Tapping her finger off her temple, Stevie thinks and begins walking towards a broom closet.
Stevie Swing: Uh, yeah... I'm glad you'll be there. I will definitely need you.
Super Ref: Gosh, I know!
Stevie Swing: Yup, now let's head to the ring. It's this way.
She opens the door, leading the way for Super Ref.
Stevie Swing: Sexy "Super Refs" go first.
Super Ref: Oh boy, oh boy!
Super Ref walks into the broom closet, thinking it'll lead him to the ring.
Super Ref: Sheesh, it's dark in here.
Stevie Swing: Whoops!
SLAM!
Slamming the door shut behind Super Ref, Stevie quickly locks the door; even placing a chair against it, making sure he can't get out. Dusting her hands off, she whistles and walks away, wanting nothing to do with Super Ref.
Stevie Swing: And that is that.
Meanwhile, some loud banging can be heard from inside the door.
Super Ref: Hey, wait a second! Stevie, is that you?
Some kissing sounds are heard.
Super Ref: ...Oh, it's just a mop.
...
Super Ref: Mmm... mop.
For the love of God, fade out.
Lex Robinson: Declan Turner is coming to the ring, with briefcase in hand and World Title around his waist.
Steve Hebert: But aren't World Champions supposed to come out, you know, last?
Lex Robinson: Uhm... I guess. He's demanding the microphone, though. Perhaps he has something to say.
From within the briefcase, Declan Turner removes the sheet of paper that he was holding just a few minutes ago. Getting the microphone, he raises it up to his lips, beginning to speak.
Steve Hebert: Shush, listen to what this man has to say.
Lex Robinson: But I wasn't even saying anything!
Steve Hebert: Fine.
Declan Turner: While in the back, poring over the contract for this... this "60-Minute" Ironman match, I came to a conclusion. That conclusion, of course, being this: Stevie Swing, you're a goddamn moron.
The crowd jeers this, defending one of their favourites, Stevie Swing.
Declan Turner: I found what you call a loophole... a loophole that exists because you didn't properly sign the contract! A loophole that exists that doesn't make this a 60-minute match; it doesn't even make this an Ironman Match. No, this match is a straight-up first-fall wins match, you idiot.
In response to more jeers, Declan holds the contract for the match up, letting the camera get a full-on gaze at it.
Declan Turner: You goddamn idiot, you screwed up your own contracted match. All I need to do is pin you or Morgy just once and I retain this...
He removes his World Title and holds it up in the air...
Declan Turner: And to keep this...
Next, he holds up the briefcase full of money.
Declan Turner: ...the last 1 million dollars to my name.
Confused, Steve Hebert pipes in.
Steve Hebert: Did he just say the last million dollars?
Lex Robinson: I believe so, yup. Perhaps Declan has been spending too much on the slots. I don't know.
Steve Hebert: What the hell?
Declan Turner: I just need one pinfall, so come on...
Declan throws down the microphone, hands off his briefcase and title and turns towards the entrance, awaiting the arrival of his two opponents.
Steve Hebert: So wait, this isn't a sixty-minute match?
Lex Robinson: Apparently not. Stevie Swing didn't actually sign the contract for it.
Steve Hebert: That dumb broad. At least this means I'm closer to eating the after-show buffet. Actually, come to think of it, wasn't this match supposed to be the main event?
Lex Robinson: It was originally scheduled as the main event... but I guess we're having it now.
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.
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, it's Morgana! The fans go nuts upon her arrival. This is her chance to cash in and become a two-time Sin Wrestling champ, joining the likes of Regan Chambers, Gwenivere Jordan, Draco and Chris Extreme.
Steve Hebert: What a bunch.
Lex Robinson: Bite your tongue.
Steve Hebert: Oh, I am. I just miss Chris Extreme... ever since he met his end at the hands of some creature. Whatever happened to him?
Lex Robinson: The ghost of Mercedes probably threw him into the basement, where he perished from malutrition.
Steve Hebert: At least he got to fuck her tits.
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: And here's Stevie Swing, who looks rather annoyed and pissed at Declan.
Steve Hebert: She should be. She's the one that messed up and forgot to properly sign the contract for the match she wanted!
Lex Robinson: Stevie stares across the ring at Declan, who is chuckling at Stevie's misfortune, knowing all that he needs to do to retain is get one quick pinfall or force a submission.
Steve Hebert: Good. Pin one of those whores and get things over with, Declan.
Lex Robinson: It's not going to be that easy, though.
Steve Hebert: Ugh, of course.
Ding, ding, ding...
Lex Robinson: There's the bell. Let's get things underway...
Once the bell sounds, the trio begin circling each other, trying to scope things out. Sharking a look back and forth, Stevie and Morgana rush Declan, grabs each of his hand and then wristlocks him -- Morgana grabbing his right; and Stevie grabbing his left.
Lex Robinson: Things begin with both women grabbing Declan's hands and wristlocking him...
Steve Hebert: Those old twats are going to gang up on him!
Lex Robinson: You know, Stevie Swing's error could potentially be a good thing for her. What if she scores the pinfall first? She's the winner.
Steve Hebert: Declan will just have to make sure that doesn't happen.
Lex Robinson: Well, he's off to a good start with that, as he rolls forward, dragging both ladies over with his roll. Automatically, they roll up alongside him, surprising him, catching him with a series of kicks to the front and back. Caught in a daze, Declan is unable to move away, as Stevie swinging legsweeps his legs out from beneath him, while Morgy leaps up, spins around and connects with a spin-kick to the jaw!
Scrambling to the outside, Declan tries to recouperate, only to look up and bare witness to Morgana charging at him with a baseball-slide dropkick...
Steve Hebert: Eyeing Morgana slide at him, Declan quickly rolls back into the ring, making Morgana slide out and land on her feet. Good! He outwitted her.
Lex Robinson: But just as he re-enters, Stevie Swing runs at him. Declan side-steps her attack, kicking her legs out from under her, resulting in Stevie inadvertently baseball-slide dropkicking Morgana! This blow knocks her back against the ring railing, enabling Declan to come up behind on Stevie Swing.
Steve Hebert: Yeah, she'd like that, wouldn't she?
Lex Robinson: What? I don't get it.
Steve Hebert: I wasn't expecting you to.
Lifting Stevie up by her hair, Declan chops her across the chest a few times and then clobbers her with some repeated kicks to the stomach. Finishing up, he whips her into the ropes and goes to strike her down with a clothesline. But Stevie has other plans.
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing ducks underneath the attempted clothesline, rebounds off the next set of ropes and returns by sliding underneath Declan's legs. Absolutely confused, Declan is unable to stop Stevie's slide, allowing her to pop up behind him. Meanwhile, at the exact same time, Morgana jumps onto the apron and springboards off the top rope, aiming for Declan...
Morgana, looking to regain her World Title, somersaults through the air, lands on Declan's shoulders and then hurricanranas him!
Lex Robinson: A hurricanrana into a rollup by Morgy! She holds Declan's legs, going for a quick pinfall...
...1...
Steve Hebert: Fuck nah, Declan rolls through it. Instead, he rolls her up with a jackknife-pinfall attempt!
Lex Robinson: And he's holding onto her tights, might I add!
Steve Hebert: If it works, it works...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing stops the count by delivering a sit-out dropkick!
Steve Hebert: That no-good, rat-like, Jewish whore. Why doesn't she just climb into an oven?
Lex Robinson: Declan was attempting to get a quick victory, trying to surprise Morgana; but thanks to Stevie Swing, it doesn't work.
Steve Hebert: Yeah, well, it was Stevie's own inteptitude that would have cost her, anyhow.
Angered at Stevie's interference, Declan turns his attack towards her, giving her a mixture of punches, using both left and right hands. Clubbing her across the back, Declan throws Stevie into the corner, where he follows in with a leaping-clothesline. As Stevie stumbles out, obviously dazed, she is kicked in the stomach by the World Champ, who tucks her into a standing headscissors.
Steve Hebert: Yes! Get her, Declan! Powerbomb the bitch through the canvas!
Lex Robinson: Wait, Morgana rises, bounces off the nearby ropes that face Declan, climbs up a hunched-over Stevie Swing and jumps off Stevie's back. On her way down, she jams both feet into Declan's chest and rides him down to the canvas, delivering a flying double-stomp! I guess that saves Stevie Swing from that powerbomb.
Steve Hebert: Goddamn dykes; always sticking up for each other.
Lex Robinson: Shaking his head, trying to regain his energy, Declan begins to rise, while Morgana bounces off the ropes yet again. Returning at a rapid pace, she tilt-a-whirl headscissors around Declan, not once, but twice! On the second rotation, she holds her position, keeping her legs wrapped around his head, while hanging from his side, and reaching over, grabbing onto his right arm, applying a modified-Octopus Hold while hanging from the World champion!
Steve Hebert: Argh, what the hell?
Lex Robinson: Squeezes his neck and head with her legs, she pulls back on his right arm, trying to get him to submit.
Steve Hebert: Don't do it, Declan!
As Morgana hangs from Declan, Stevie Swing pops up, walks over to the duo... and applies a 3/4 facelock on Morgana!
Lex Robinson: Wait, no; Stevie Swing steps in and facelocks Morgana!
Steve Hebert: Hah! Typical Jew, you can never turn your back on them, or leave them with your wallet.
Lex Robinson: Stop it! It's a World Title match. It's something that must be done.
Steve Hebert: But this early?! Pfffft.
The referee moves in, checking to see if Morgana or Declan submits, but no dice. Coincidentally, Declan is able to step forward, and reverse facelock Stevie Swing!
Lex Robinson: Declan is able to apply a Dragon Sleeper to Stevie!
Steve Hebert: They're all linked together... like some sort of chain... or Jewish pretzel.
Lex Robinson: All three of them are trying to submit the other, but it's to no avail. Neither of them dares to quit.
Steve Hebert: Declan definitely won't.
No one dares utter the words "I quit", with Morgana being the first to release the hold, collapsing to the mat, releasing her hold on Declan, which leads to Stevie dropping his facelock on her. Declan, on the other hand, maintains his Dragon Sleeper on Stevie, but it isn't held on for long, as Morgy instantly pops up, hitting him with a spinwheel kick!
Lex Robinson: Morgy spinwheel kicks Declan off Stevie, seeing him roll out of the ring, holding his jaw. Meanwhile, on the inside, Stevie rises and Morgy questions her about the facelock to which Stevie simply shrugs her shoulders.
Steve Hebert: I smell dissention... and menstrual fluid.
Lex Robinson: No, it's what you smell like.
Steve Hebert: [sniffing himself] Nuh uh!
Exchanging some words, Stevie cunningly steps towards Morgy and inside-cradles her!
Lex Robinson: Stevie with a rollup!
Steve Hebert: Agh! That dirty bitch, I told everyone not to trust her!
Even the referee is surprised, but he drops down, making the pinfall...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: Only a two!
Steve Hebert: Thank God. If Declan had to lose his title that way, he may have killed himself. I still can't believe he said "his last million".
Lex Robinson: Seconds after kicking out, Morgana pops right back up, staring hard at Stevie, obviously angry at her.
Steve Hebert: Ah, come on. Just kick each other in the vagina.
Lex Robinson: We actually may get close to that, as Morgy slaps Stevie across the cheek!
Steve Hebert: Serves her right.
Lex Robinson: Holding her cheek, Stevie turns back around and chops Morgana across the chest.
Steve Hebert: Yes! Slap those tits! You know what I like, baby.
Lex Robinson: Surprised, Morgana fires back with a knee to Stevie's ribs.
Steve Hebert: Surprised? Hell, Stevie was the one that kicked her in the face two weeks in a row. She shouldn't be surprised, she should have known it was bound to happen. That bitch is purely out for herself.
Lex Robinson: God, Steve, the first was accidental. The second was on purpose... only because it was a match made by Chris Carson.
Steve Hebert: Oh yeah? And how about Stevie giving her "The Last Dance" at Over The Top Rope 4?!
Lex Robinson: Ehhh...
Steve Hebert: Haha, see!
Eventually, both Morgy and Stevie send shots back-and-forth, trying to rattle each other, which seems to humor Declan, who remains on the floor, snickering at their catfighting.
Lex Robinson: Look at Declan!
Steve Hebert: He's happy to see this implosion; and so am I, to be frank. All this lovey-dovey, "Let's help each other masturbate" stuff was sickening. It gave me an erection, but it disgusted me. As a matter of fact, I would vomit and masturbate simultaneously aplenty.
Lex Robinson: ...Thanks for that.
Striking Morgy with a stiff European uppercut, Stevie goes to whip her towards the ropes nearest Declan; but at the last second, Morgana reverses the whip. Instead, Stevie Swing is sent soaring towards the ropes... where she dives through the ropes, hitting a suicide-dive into a Tornado DDT onto Declan, dropping him headfirst onto the floor!
Steve Hebert: No! Stevie and Morgy are supposed to be fighting! This wasn't supposed to happen!
Lex Robinson: Things changed at the last second, and the girls get the last laugh... all while Declan's skull is driven into the floor!
Steve Hebert: Jesus Christ, why?!
Lex Robinson: Morgana remains in the ring, watching as Declan and Stevie manage to slowly peel themselves off the floor. When the time is right, she sprints off the furthest set of ropes, slingshots back, cartwheels, does a backflip and then corkscrew planchas herself over the top rope, twisting her body in mid-air! She lands on both Stevie and Declan, taking them both down, as if they're bowling pins!
Steve Hebert: Who -- or what -- does she think she is? A Crash Test Dummy? Huh? Well? Is she?
Lex Robinson: No.
Steve Hebert: Or maybe she thinks she's an astronaut... that... that she can deny gravity. Well, she's no astronaut. She's no pilot. If anything, she's Amelia Earhart and she's going to crash into my tiny, white dick.
Lex Robinson: ...What in the world are you rambling about?
Steve Hebert: I haven't a clue!
Lex Robinson: I didn't think so. Slowly, all three competitors rise, with Morgana focusing her attention mainly on Declan Turner, giving him some kicks and stomps to the back of his head. Turning around, she kicks Stevie Swing, making sure her friend/current opponent stays down.
Steve Hebert: Some "friend" Stevie is. Punching her in the titties and everything.
Declan, befuddled from being dropped on his skull and then having Morgy crash into him, pushes the pink-haired former champ away. She goes to return, but he rises, swinging a stiff-forearm at her face.
Steve Hebert: Hah! Yes! Take that!
Offering Declan a kick in the head, Morgana steps back one more time, noticing Declan now leaning against the ring railing for support. Charging ahead, she runs at him with full velocity, going for some sort of high-flying maneuver, Morgana's attempt is quickly stopped by a wise Declan Turner.
Lex Robinson: Morgy runs... but Declan steps out from the railing and then release belly-to-belly suplexes her! She goes flying over the ring railing, crashing into the fans that are in the front row!
Steve Hebert: Yes! Throw her like a sack of dead whores!
On the mend and fresh off throwing Morgana overhead, Declan notices Stevie Swing begin to stand. Not liking this, he runs forward, delivering a swinging neckbreaker to her out on the floor! Picking her up, he forces her back into the ring, jumps onto the apron and begins to climb to the top rope.
Lex Robinson: Having neckbreakered Stevie, Declan climbs up top, where he is about to jump off.
Steve Hebert: Flatten the bitch, I say.
Lex Robinson: He rockets off, going for a frog-splash...!
Steve Hebert: She moves! Goddamnit!
Lex Robinson: At the right time, Stevie Swing rolls inward, meaning Declan eats nothing but the canvas! Hoping to capitalize on this, Stevie kicks-up, steps toward Declan and Majistral Cradles him! We might have a new champion right here!
The referee starts the count...
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: Hell no! Declan kicks out! On top of that, he angrily stands to his feet, shrugging off the miscued splash. Right away, he savate kicks Stevie's jaw, following that up with a spin-kick to her abdomen! Applying a side-triangle submission, Declan hoists her up and drops her back down to the ground with a uranage!
Lex Robinson: Oh my... this could be it! He's locking in a side-Triangle Choke, trying to make Stevie pass out or lose consciousness.
Steve Hebert: Do it, Declan! He's going to retain. He's going to keep that million! I just know it!
On the outside, Morgana finally returns to a standing base, getting helped up by the fans. From out here, she notices how hard Declan has this submission locked on. There's only one thing left for her to do -- and that is break things up.
Lex Robinson: Morgana notices what's going on and she... she leaps onto the ring railing...
Leaping onto the ring railing, Morgana uses this to vault off and land on the side of the ring apron. Kicking up onto the top rope, she then springboards herself into the air, aiming towards the adjacent set of ropes that lay parallel to Declan's body.
Lex Robinson: She hits a split-legged moonsault! From the floor, to the railing, onto the apron, to the ropes and off the adjacent rope, she nails a perfect split-legged moonsault onto Declan! It's enough to break the hold, too!
Steve Hebert: Son of a bitch! Declan needed eyes in the back of his head to be aware of that. Screw this shit.
Rolling over, Declan holds his ribs, vastly unprepared for Morgana splashing onto him like that. As he goes to stand, he is met with a sit-down dropkick to the side of his head from Morgana, who quickly jumps back up and pounces on him, leveling him with some punches.
Steve Hebert: That bitch thinks those punches are bad? Just wait until Declan unloads on her... sexually and physically.
Lex Robinson: Delivering some kneelifts to a kneeling Declan, Morgy forces him up to his feet, while Stevie Swing rolls to the outer portion of the ring apron, trying to recollect herself.
Steve Hebert: She tries to whip Declan across the ring... but he puts a quick stop to that. As she goes to fling him out, he immediately knees her in the gut and then flings her with a double-underarm suplex. Hah!
Lex Robinson: Still with her arms butterflied, he promptly picks her up, not giving Morgy a minute to rest. Elbowing her in the back of her pink head, he backs her against the ropes and Irish-whips her out. Upon her rebound, he ducks down, letting her up on his shoulders with a standing fireman's carry... but she squirms and wiggles her way out! She's able to wrap her legs around Declan's head for the second time tonight, and successfully bring him down with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors!
Steve Hebert: Ugh, so much for that fireman's carry.
Popping back up, Declan becomes aware of Morgana charging at him; and again, he ducks down. Just like last time, she goes up on his shoulders, with her using her knees to batter his skull.
Lex Robinson: Again, Morgy's on Declan's shoulder. This time, she slinks around him, grabs onto his arm and lucha-armdrags him to the canvas, flipping him onto his back. Right away, she races towards him and goes for a standing shooting star press...
Steve Hebert: He's roll--...
Lex Robinson: He rolls out of the way, but luckily, Morgana lands on her two feet!
Steve Hebert: Yeah, but she can't escape from the clutches of Stevie Swing, who springboards off the top rope, hitting her with a missile dropkick to the back of her skull!
The momentum of this dropkick propels Morgana forward, pushing her front-first against the ropes, which she rebounds from.
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing quickly follows behind Morgana and waistlocks her. She tries to German suplex, but Morgy reaches out and holds onto the top rope, trying to stay afloat.
Steve Hebert: But here comes Declan, who waistlocks Stevie... and German suplexes both of them! Holy shit, he just dropped both whores on their neck!
Lex Robinson: Goddamn! He sent them flying. I'm not even sure who got the worst of that!
Steve Hebert: If we're lucky they're both dead; or at least paralyzed.
Lex Robinson: Declan Turner, that sneaky little bastard crawls towards Stevie Swing, looking for the cover. Remember, the rules of this match are actually first-fall wins; all thanks to a legal loophole found by Declan. He may be retaining right here, right now...!
The referee counts, while Declan hooks Stevie Swing's right leg...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: Only a two! Stevie Swing kicks out!
Steve Hebert: What?! He should have gotten a faster count! Come on, ref! How's he supposed to retain and keep his money like this?!
Disappointed about the lack of a pinfall, Declan slaps his hands off the canvas and hustles over to Morgana, who is laying prone on her back. Dropping down to his knees, he also hooks a leg, looking for a cover.
Steve Hebert: Here, he'll beat the old pink whorebag.
Again, the count is made...
...1...2...
Steve Hebert: What the...?!
Lex Robinson: Another two! Morgana gets her shoulder up! Declan can't believe it! He demands a faster count from the referee and covers her again...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: And she kicks out!
Steve Hebert: Oh, hell.
Peeved about the lack of a pinfall, for the third time in a row, Declan looks at the referee and howls some offensive words to him. When he's done, he grabs Morgy's pink hair, sits her up and then delivers a football/soccer kick to the broad of her back, which has become notorious as of late to be injured.
Lex Robinson: Declan with a vicious kick to Morgy's spine... and another... and another. Bouncing off the ropes, he snaps back, delivering a seated-dropkick to her back, resulting in her yelping in pain!
Steve Hebert: He's just practicing to join Manchester United, that's all.
Lex Robinson: Standing behind a seated Morgy, Declan grabs onto both of her hands, while jabbing his knee into her back. Hunching over, he pulls back on her arms, applying more pressure to her back, not noticing that his other opponent is on her feet, as well.
Steve Hebert: Uh oh.
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing, the person that actually requested this match; albeit an Ironman Match, bounces off the ropes and returns by sunset-flipping over a surprised Declan Turner, who is forced to release his hold on Morgy. At least that's one good thing.
Steve Hebert: Declan struggles to stay standing... Stevie is trying to drag him down...!
Holding her back and looking over her shoulder, Morgana realizes Declan's position. Thinking quickly, she rolls back and delivers a snap-kick to the front of his forehead, knocking him back, allowing Stevie to complete the sunset-flip...!
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing rolls him up; thanks in part to Morgy...!
Steve Hebert: Oh Christ...
The referee counts...
...1...2...
Lex Robinson: Aware of the danger of losing, Morgana reaches in and pulls Stevie Swing away from the pinfall, breaking the count!
Steve Hebert: Ah-ha! Now Morgy strikes back, giving Stevie an "F U". Cunts, you just gotta love how cunty they get. If only someone would shit in their purse.
Using the momentum from Morgana pulling on her, Stevie Swing rolls backward, pushing herself all the way up to her feet. Shocked, Steve shoves Morgana, who pushes back.
Steve Hebert: Here we go again!
Lex Robinson: These two women are preoccupied with their own struggles, not realizing Declan has just risen...
Steve Hebert: Go get 'em, champ.
Out of nowhere, Stevie and Morgy are blindsided by a chugging Declan Turner, who steamrolls at them, nailing them both with a massive spear, sending them tumbling through the air!
Lex Robinson: Wow!
Steve Hebert: He almost knocked them out of their shoes!
Popping back up, with a long, wicked smirk on his face, Declan stomps on both women, picks up Morgy and then drops her back down with a scoop slam. Turning to Stevie Swing, he grabs her by the hair, knees her in the jaw and scoop-slams her on top of Morgana!
Steve Hebert: This is kind of hot. My pants are getting tight.
Lex Robinson: Both women are laying parallel on top of each other. Moving into the corner, Declan ascends to the top turnbuckle pad, looking away from his two downed opponents. Once atop, he backflips off, hitting a quick, no-look moonsault, landing on both ladies!
Steve Hebert: He isn't going for the cover, though! God why?! This is the perfect time -- get the victory, retain your title and keep your moneys. Capitalize on Stevie Swing's fuck-up!
Lex Robinson: He seems to be making sure both women remain on top of each other, as he piles Stevie back onto Morgana.
Steve Hebert: He's moving down to their legs, now... maybe to punch them in the cunt.
Lex Robinson: He's actually lifting up both of their legs, having a total of 4 legs tucked between his armpits. What the... he's turning Stevie and Morgy over... he's applying a Boston crab on both women!
Steve Hebert: Wow! Yes! Make them tap!
Lex Robinson: Complete with placing his feet at the back of their head and neck! This is a version of his move, The Payback!
Steve Hebert: And they have nowhere to go. He's not only going to pin or submit one of them; he's going to do it to both of them -- at the same time!
Alternating stomps to the back of Morgana's and Stevie Swing's skull, Declan tries to apply as much pressure as possible. The fans send in a multitude of jeers, as he unrelentlessly kicks both women in the skull, wanting to add insult to inury. Luckily, thanks to having so many appendages tucked beneath his arms, he can't hold onto the move for long, thus he stumbles forward, accidentally releasing the hold.
Steve Hebert: Did you hear those cries of pain from those whores? Did you hear them muffled by those vicious stomps to the skull?! I know I did!
Lex Robinson: What's even more horrifying, is that he's again neglecting to pin one of them. I thought he wanted to pin one of them and get this over with.
Steve Hebert: Plans change, Lex; now he wants to dish out some more punishment.
Climbing back to the top turnbuckle, Declan takes his dead time, thinking he has both ladies still laid out. This is not the case.
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing looks up, noticing Declan ascending for the second time. She isn't going to let lightning strike twice...
Steve Hebert: The fuck she isn't!
Seeing Declan with his back turned, Stevie promptly jumps up, shrugging off the pain, deciding to run towards the World Champ. Using the middle rope to propel herself into the air, Stevie jumps towards him and connects with a dropkick to his rear-end, sending him flying over the ring post, much to the abundant joy of the crowd!
Steve Hebert: No!
Lex Robinson: Declan Turner spills all the way out to the floor, landing severely hard on his back!
Steve Hebert: Oh sweet god, that's horrible.
Lex Robison: The fans are eating this up, Declan has been knocked out, leaving Stevie and Morgy alone in the ring!
Steve Hebert: The only way this can redeem itself is with some pleasant ass-to-ass action.
Ironically, having disposed of Declan, who had his back turned, Stevie Swing turns away from Morgy, who begins to stand behind her. Like an assassin, Morgy, who is showing signs of back pain, walks up behind Stevie and jumps on her shoulders.
Lex Robinson: Morgy, out of nowhere, leaps onto Stevie Swing's shoulders. All Steve can do is push her forward, letting Morgana land on her two feet. Now that she's behind Morgana, Stevie applies a standing cobra-clutch and drops down to one knee, backbreaking Morgy across it!
Steve Hebert: So much for friendship. More like friendshit, at this point.
Lex Robinson: Scooping Morgy up, only to deliver a front-backbreaker, Stevie slides her off her knee and looks into the corner. Before moving anywhere, Stevie is quick to roll Morgana over onto her stomach, so that whatever move she performs, the brunt of the pain will goto Morgana's injured back.
Steve Hebert: Hmm... now that's actually smart!
Delivering a stomp to the broad of Morgana's back, Stevie Swing climbs to the outer portion of the apron and climbs to the top. Swirling her arms in the air, she calls for the end.
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing with a flying Shooting Star Press...
However, just as she jumps, Morgana rockets to her feet, summoning every bit of energy that she can muster. Caught in mid-air, there's nowhere for Stevie to escape, as she performs a backwards 360 degree flip... only to fall straight into a 3/4 headlock cutter!
Lex Robinson: A cutter! Morgy saw it coming!
Steve Hebert: Morgana's no emo!
Lex Robinson: She hit a cutter onto Stevie Swing, who flew off that top rope, trying for a Shooting Star...!
Rolling atop Stevie, Morgana leans her back against her friend's chest. The referee begins his count...
Lex Robinson: The count is being made, Steve!
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...!
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two...!
Steve Hebert: This can't happen! Declan's supposed to get the pinfall! Turn this match into an Ironman match, pronto!
...
Lex Robinson: Thr-...
......
Lex Robinson: No! Holy hell!
Steve Hebert: Declan Turner puts Stevie Swing's foot on the bottom rope! Thank Jesus!
Lex Robinson: So close!
Steve Hebert: Too close... for Declan's sake, anyhow!
On the floor, Declan Turner remains hunched over the ring apron, a bit of blood coming from his mouth, thanks to plummeting all the way from the top rope, to The Colosseum's floor. Barely able to move, he looks quite pleased at breaking up the count, but knows that things are not currently in his favour.
Steve Hebert: Oh God, get back in there, Declan. Stop this godforsaken madness.
Lex Robinson: He was so close to losing that million dollars, too; along with his World Title.
Steve Hebert: I know; please don't remind me.
Lex Robinson: Appearing astounded about the lack of a pinfall, Morgana sits up, lifting Stevie up with her.
Stevie, who is quite groggy from the prior cutter, tries to eye Morgana, but it's difficult to do, thanks to the rapid-fire chops to the side of the head she receives from her friend(?). Bouncing off the ropes, Morgana briskly returns and shoots her legs at Stevie, attempting to body scissors her into a rollup. Stevie, interestingly, has another idea.
Lex Robinson: Morgana tries for a leaping body scissors... but Stevie is able to hang on! Stevie hoists Morgy up, spins around and drops Morgana onto her face with a reverse wheelbarrow-powerbomb!
Steve Hebert: Now it's Stevie's turn for a pinfall attempt...
She rolls Morgana over onto her back, with her arms interlocked around her waist. Holding down her legs, Stevie sits on Morgana's stomach, trying to keep her down, unable to kickout.
Steve Hebert: Get back inside, Declan!
The camera flashes to Declan Turner, who is still leaning against the ring apron, but unable to fully stand. It then flashes back to the referee beginning his count.
Lex Robinson: Stevie's going to do it...!
...1...
Lex Robinson: There's one...!
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two... and...
...
Steve Hebert: Morgana kicks out! I've never been so glad to say such a thing before now!
Lex Robinson: Rolling to the side, Morgana is able to safely exit the pinfall attempt, much to the chagrin of Stevie Swing.
Steve Hebert: Listen to these fans... starting a dueling "Morgy!" and "Stevie!" chant. Where is the chant for Declan?!
Lex Robinson: Considering how much of a prick Declan has been, he'll be lucky to get one at all. Come to think of it, by the looks of him, Declan will be lucky to even roll back into the ring.
Steve Hebert: It's not looking good, at all.
Lex Robinson: Inside, an aggravated, slightly dizzy Stevie Swing stands to her feet, waiting for Morgy to stand. Taking position into the far corner, she watches and lies in waiting, calling for "The Last Dance" superkick, a move that Morgana has become quite acquainted with, as of late.
Steve Hebert: Not acquainted enough, for my tastes.
Just as she's about to dart forward, wanting to give Morgana "The Last Dance", Stevie Swing is abruptly stopped by Declan Turner, who, despite his injuries, reaches inside of the ring and holds onto her foot.
Lex Robinson: Oh god, Declan Turner is holding onto Stevie Swing, not permitting her to exit the corner.
Steve Hebert: And can you believe it, some random assholes are booing him for this! This is an injured man they're jeering!
Lex Robinson: That's the jeers from the "Stevie Swing camp" pouring in. The "Morgana camp" are actually quite satisfied with this turn of events.
Steve Hebert: You think?!
Using her free foot, Stevie Swing delivers a kick to the face of Declan Turner, knocking him backwards. She then turns her focus back to Morgana, who is now up to her feet...
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing charges out...!
Steve Hebert: Morgana ducks "The Last Dance"!
Lex Robinson: However, Stevie quickly spins back around, kicks Morgana in the stomach and goes to suplex her... but Morgana is able to whirl around, push herself out, flip over and change the suplex into a hurricanrana-rollup!
StevE Hebert: Oh Christ, not again...
The referee immediately begins his count...
Lex Robinson: Stevie's shoulders are down...!
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two...!
Steve Hebert: Declan....?
...
Lex Robinson: Thr--...
Steve Hebert: Stevie reverses the rollup, nanoseconds before the three! Holy crap in my pants!
Lex Robinson: She changes it into a sunset-flip! Morgy's shoulders are down, now...!
The referee now counts in aide of Stevie Swing...
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two...
Steve Hebert: Please kickout!
...
Lex Robinson: Thr--...
...
Lex Robinson: No! Morgana escapes the pinfall and pushes herself back into a sitting position on Stevie's chest...!
Steve Hebert: Oh, what the hell? Now Morgana is covering Stevie! I can't keep up with this!
Once more, the referee counts for Morgana...
Lex Robinson: I don't even think the referee can keep up.
...1...
Lex Robinson: One... tw-...
...2...
Lex Robinson: ...woooo... thrrrr--...
...
Steve Hebert: No! Thank god! Stevie bridges her way up! Declan still has the title and the money!
Lex Robinson: Maybe not for long; Stevie is backsliding Morgy...
Steve Hebert: Hell no, Morgy is trying to backslide her!
Lex Robinson: Stevie is trying for it... but Morgy fights it off! In comes Declan Turner, rolling in underneath the bottom rope...
Steve Hebert: Finally!
Declan stands up, using all of the strength that he can find, as he chases over to the dueling Morgana and Stevie Swing, actually giving Stevie some aide. Grabbing her feet, he pushes her over Morgana, allowing for Stevie Swing to backflip over Morgy, escaping the backslide attempt. Unfortunately for Morgy, this puts her in prime position for an attempted "Last Dance" superkick!
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing with "The Last Dance"! But for the second time in a row, Morgana ducks it! In a scene familiar from the previous Eternity, Stevie Swing nearly lobs off Declan Turner's head with the kick, sending a wad of bloody spit into the front row!
Steve Hebert: Augh! No! That dirty whore, Morgana, tries to capitalize on this, too!
Lex Robinson: Spinning Stevie around, she kicks her in the stomach... and goes for the Fata Morgana!
Scouting Morgana's attempted move, Stevie Swing rushes into the corner, where she crutches Morgana on the top rope. Granted, she may not have testicles, but she does have vaginal muscles, and they have been "ruined", so to speak.
Lex Robinson: Stevie Swing stops the attempted Fata Morgana! She leaves Morgana hung out on the top rope, as she turns around, eyeing an unconscious World Champ!
Steve Hebert: Oh no... oh Jesus no...
Lex Robinson: Oh yes! All the failed attemprs flash before Stevie's eyes, including the near-misfortune of not signing all the details for this match. She drops to her knees, knowing Declan Turner is in "La-La Land". This is going to be it!
As if in slow-motion, Stevie drops down, hooks Declan Turner's right leg, grins and listens to the referee slap his hand off the canvas.
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...!
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two...!
Steve Hebert: No! Please, no! I can't handle a Jewish champion!
...
Lex Robinson: Thr--...
...
Lex Robinson: ...reee...
Steve Hebert: No!
Realizing what's occuring back inside the ring, a sore, injured, barely mobile Morgana climbs to the top turnbuckle pad, just as the referee's hand strikes the mat for the one count. As the referee strikes for the second time, Morgana leaps off, praying that she'll land just in time...
She does.
Steve Hebert: Morgana with some corkscrew-thingy-swinging-spinny... thing! I don't know!
Lex Robinson: She stops the count, hitting The Morgasm, with some added twist! She lands squarely on Stevie and Declan, rolls Stevie to the side and then positions Declan parallel to the corner. I think she's going for it!
Steve Hebert: Ugh... wake up, Declan! My heart is racing. Someone get me a defibrillator, for Christ's sake!
In a matter of seconds, Morgana slingshots herself back onto the top rope. All the pain forges out of her body, projecting it all into an aerial assault, allowing her to rotate twice in the air, nailing The Variations on a Theme!
Lex Robinson: She hits it! She lands on top of Declan Turner! She hooks his leg!
Steve Hebert: No!
...1...
Lex Robinson: One...!
Steve Hebert: This can't happen!
...2...
Stevie Swing begins to stir, realizing she's about to be on the losing end of the match. In a last ditch effort, she dives towards Morgana and Declan...
Lex Robinson: Two...!
...
Lex Robinson: Thr--...
...but it's too little, too late.
...3...!
Lex Robinson: ...reeeee! New champion! New champion! Morgana has won!
The fans instantaneously rise to their feet, a loud explosion of cheers pouring in for the title change.
Steve Hebert: WHYYYYYYYYYY!
Lex Robinson: For the first time since 2007, Morgana holds that World Title!
Steve Hebert: If this means the return of the pink title, I'm going to off myself. I really am.
Lex Robinson: Can you believe it?! What a match! We even have more to come!
From a saddened kneeling position, Stevie Swing watches the referee raise Morgana's hand, giving her both the World Title and the briefcase full of the million dollars. Overjoyed, Morgana takes out a wad of cash and throws it into the audience, sprinkling bills everywhere.
Steve Hebert: Uh... be right back.
Lex Robinson: The raining money is enough to get Steve Hebert to leave his seat, push some fans out of the way and try to retrieve some money. Unfortunately, the lust for money isn't enough for Stevie Swing, which if he weren't pushing over random kids for money, Steve Hebert would have a comment to say about her Jewish heritage. Nevertheless, a sad, beaten person walks to the back, looking upset about her loss.
Morgana continues in the ring, listening to the praise roll in from the fans, as she holds her newly won World Title high in the air. All that remains in the ring is Morgana, her title and money; along with Declan Turner, who is spitting up blood, as he tries to stand to his feet.
Lex Robinson: Morgana and Declan go eye-to-eye...
Facing each other, they have no idea how to react, until Declan offers his hand to Morgana for a handshake.
Lex Robinson: Oh dear...
Looking around, Morgana has no idea how to respond to that. Getting a mixed reaction, she eventually accepts Declan's handshake.
Lex Robinson: Well, I'll be damned.
Just then, Steve Hebert returns, holding a load of cash in his hands and pockets.
Steve Hebert: I have returned... and wasn't that sickening? Not only do I have to watch Morgana win the World Title, but I also have to see her try and touch Declan Turner one last time. That bitch is pathetic.
Lex Robinson: ...You can't be serious.
Steve Hebert: I bet 500 dollars I am. [Steve waves the money in Lex's face]
Lex Robinson: That's a bet I'd be willing to take.
Fireworks and confetti explode from turnbuckles and the main entrance, as the celebration continues inside of the ring. As Declan stumbles back into the corner, a camera catches him coughing up blood, spraying it all over the turnbuckle, as he collapses against the ropes.
Steve Hebert: Fucking yuck!
Lex Robinson: uh... I think we may need some help out here for Declan Turner...
Declan clutches at his stomach as he bends forward, turning onto his back. Blood flows out of his mouth and onto the ring canvas, as the camera pans out to an above shit of the ring, showing a horde of officials and medics coming to the ringside area.
A stretcher comes down, which Declan is lifted onto and carried to the back, where a camera catches a glimpse of him giving a bloody half-smile. This image then fades into a concerned looking Morgana watching on from inside of the ring, as he carried to the back.
Winner: Morgana
A million light years from now... Earth is destroyed. All that remains is the space rocks, which orbit around the sun, which has soared to even more scorching temperatures. Despite all of the spacedust, the time machine appears out of nowhere...
...and Gaspard and Generic Heel flop out, not knowing what the fuck.
Generic Heel: Holy shit, is this space?
Gaspard: I t'ink so!
Generic Heel: ...I thought we couldn't breathe in space?
Gaspard: DRAGON! DRAGON! YOU ARE LE DRAGON!
Generic Heel: Not this again.
In agony, Generic Heel grabs Gaspard's ugly, twisted face and slams it into an asteroid.
Generic Heel: That was for Michael Bay's Armageddon!
Gaspard: Ughhhh... owwie.
Thinking quickly, Gaspard nails Generic Heel with an elbow to the jaw, forcing Generic Heel to float backwards in space. Swimming after him, Gaspard is keen on doing more damage.
Generic Heel: I cum to save le monde. I will slay you, dragon!
Without hesitation, Generic Heel grabs some stardust and throws it into Gaspard's eyes.
Gaspard: Les yeux! N'est pas les yeux!
Generic Heel: Who's the fagrot now, faggot?!
Hooking onto Gaspard, Generic Heel goes to deliver a DDT in space. However, a comet comes out of nowhere and smashes into Generic Heel, sending him flying off into space.
Generic Heel: Auuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..........!
The comet speeds off, carrying Generic Heel off into the stars. Left alone, removing dust from his eyes, Gaspard watches as Generic Heel becomes lost in space and time. With no other choice, he breaststrokes towards his time machine, which remains floating in the wide open atmosphere that is space.
Gaspard: I may not have killed you, Generic Heel. But you'll never be found, mon ennemi.
Gaspard pulls himself into the time machine and pulls a lever.
Gaspard: My job is done. Goodbye Mo'gana, your breasts have given me new confi'ence.
Getting a boner, Gaspard returns to his time, while Generic Heel remains dislodged, out of his world... ...when suddenly a black hole appears.
Is this the end of Generic Heel?
Or is this ending a new beginning for Generic Heel?
All that's known is the black hole engulfs Generic Heel, who howls out in pain, sounding like a roaring dragon.
Booger: Hey sweet-tits, how are you?
Surprised by Booger's up-frontness, Morgy looks at him with concern, while holding her back.
Booger: How 'bout us champions go out on the town, eat an entire buffet, and have some anal.
Booger points to the barbed-wire hanging from his cock and winks to the World Champ. Disgusted, Morgy walks away, trying not to vomit.
Booger: Hey, get back here... or I'll dig up Julius and eat him!
That does nothing to help matters, as Morgana continues to walk away from the disgusting Booger, who appears angered at Morgana's lack of interest.
Booger: That dirty, pink bitch. I'll put her in a club sandwich. A pink club sandwich.
Showing off his new attitude, Booger hears his stomach rumble, getting an awkward look on his face.
Booger: Fuck, not again...
The image fades out with Booger looking quite frustrated and angry.
A huge chant of “Brudon Sucks” begins to go around the entire Colosseum, as the darkness lasts for a few more seconds. Finally, one of the lighting rigs creates a spotlight onto the entrance ramp, where a woman dressed in a latex black dress is standing there with a cordless microphone. The “Brudon Sucks” chants die down, as the entire audience is fixated on the woman. She slowly lifts the microphone to her lips . . .
Woman: BRUDDOONNNNNNNN
The crowd remembers how the start of all Zimdela entrances go. They begin to boo loudly once more, but that doesn’t deter the woman.
Woman: OHHHHHH BRRRUUUDDDOOOONNNNNNN
The crowd is really raining down on her with boos. The woman frowns and looks to the back, as she does not get any answer. She drops down to her knees and begins to speak in the microphone again.
Woman: OHHHHH BRUDDDDDONNNNN! OHHHH BRUDDOONNNNN!!!!!!
Responding Voice: YESSSSSSSSSSSS?
The crowd is really in an uproar now, as the woman looks up to the sky and begins to scream in the microphone.
Woman: CUT ME BRUDON! CUT ME CUT ME CUT ME CUT ME!!!!!!!!!
The spotlight on her goes out again.
The crowd’s jeering quiets down a bit, when out of nowhere, two massive firework explosions on both sides of the entrance ramp goes off. All the lighting comes back, as "Prison Sex" by Tool begins to play and ZIMDELA BRUDON stands behind the woman, taking a razor blade to her forehead!
The jeers pour in again, as Zimdela digs into the woman’s forehead, deeply causing blood to ooze out from her skin and down the sides of her face, as she keeps mouthing “Thank you” over-and-over again to Zimdela. He finally stops cutting into her forehead, takes two fingers and slides them across her blood splattered forehead and then sticks the fingers in his lips before he makes his walk to the ring. He’s wearing no shirt and black jeans. He pays no attention to the crowd, who are shouting obscenities and insults at him as he heads to the ring.
He makes it to the ring and slowly turns around, as the crowd continues to boo. He raises one hand in the air as he slowly massages his crotch with his other hand. He does this for a few seconds before rolling into the ring and suggestively crawls to the middle of the ring. He stands up, erect, in the middle of the ring, and then backs up to a corner to wait for Casanova to enter.
Steve Hebert: It's him! It's him! It's finally him! Zimdela Brudon has stepped into the ring! We haven't seen him inside of a Sin Wrestling ring in years. I think I just came.
Lex Robinson: You would.
Steve Hebert: Hey, he'd supply me with an endless supply of whores... some of which wanted to defecate on me and then cut me. But still!
Lex Robinson: But of course.
The tinkling bells mark the beginning of "Rock Superstar" by Cypress Hill, as the arena lights suddenly go dark. With the guitars beginning the main part of the song, multicolored lights begin to pulse along with the beat, revealing Casanova to be standing on the stage, staring behind sunglasses over the ring and crowd. He heads toward the ring, high fiving a few fans and basking in the audience response, before rolling into the ring and crouching in one of the corners, ready for the match.
Lex Robinson: Casanova is here! This is a match we've been waiting on for months, now.
Steve Hebert: Ever since Zimdela unexpectedly returned and literally destroyed Casanova, ripping him open, shredding his skin... dripping blood everywhere... slicing him open... dripping the plasma all over the place... cutting him, annihilating him...
Lex Robinson: Uh, Steve?
Steve Hebert: Mmmm... yeah, cut him open, Zimmy.
Lex Robinson: Steve...
Steve Hebert: ...What?
Lex Robinson: The match is starting.
Steve Hebert: Fap fap fap... thank God. Zimdela is going to bludgeon Casanova and then grudge-fuck him.
Lex Robinson: Here we go; they're staring down...
True to Lex's words, the bell rings and the match commences with both men going face-to-face with each other, glaring angrily at each other, with the crowd getting riled up at the silent stare. Louder and louder, the crowd cheers for Casanova; and firmly jeers Zimdela, steadily booing every movement and motion he makes.
Lex Robinson: Man, these folks hate Zimdela Brudon.
Steve Hebert: How dare they! I can understand them booing Declan Turner or something; but not Zimdela! What has he ever done to them?! He should be respected -- like a God! He's a Hall of Famer... a former World Champion... he'll fuck them all to death!
Lex Robinson: Sadly, he probably would, too.
Steve Hebert: Sounds good to me!
Starting off, Zimdela goes to strike Casanova, but the vampire does not flinch. Zimdela is left with his arm hanging in mid-air, laughing as he pretends to strike the current Television Champion.
Steve Hebert: Bah, should have just cold-clocked him, Zimmy.
Lex Robinson: Instead, Zimdela gently pats Casanova on the crotch! Ugh.
Steve Hebert: Oh dear.
Lex Robinson: This does nothing but infuriate Casanova, though; who fires off with some rapid forearms to the head of Zimdela Brudon, knocking him backwards. Over and over again, he strikes, until Zimdela cannot stumble back any further.
Steve Hebert: He even whips Zimdela across the ri-- no wait... Zimdela reverses the whip! Alternatively, Casanova is sent into the ropes, where he bounces back, running directly into a stiff-forearm from Zimdela Brudon!
Lex Robinson: Zimdela stomps forward and nails a running knee to Casanova's chest. Hunched over, Casanova remains temporarily winded, allowing for Zimdela to club him across the back with repeated forearms and axehandles. Bouncing off the ropes, Zimdela even returns with a running stiff-kick to Casanova's face, causing his head to snap back, probably breaking Casanova's nose!
Steve Hebert: Good! It's about time that bastard vampire was put away for good. If Zimdela doesn't do it, I will.
Lex Robinson: You wouldn't last 5 seconds.
Steve Hebert: Hey, hey; let's not talk about your sex life.
Lex Robinson: Anyhow, Zimdela remains in control, having Casanova on his hands-and-knees, even giving him some more kicks to the temple. Grabbing onto Casanova's long hair--...
Steve Hebert: His long, greasy, unwashed hair, that is.
Lex Robinson: Err... Zimdela begins to repeatedly bash his skull against Casanova's own skull, striking with some rapid-fire headbutts, making sickly thuds with each smack. It's skin-against-skin; bone-on-bone.
Steve Hebert: Hamlet would be pleased. Disgusted, but pleased.
Leaving Casanova kneeling, Zimdela stumbles back, feeling good, albeit a little dazed from the headbutts. Remaining on his feet, he bounces off the ropes and returns with a secondary stiff-kick to Casanova's temple, snapping his head to the side!
Lex Robinson: Look at that sick grin on Zimdela's face. He's a godforsaken monster.
Steve Hebert: He'll make you "oink", Lex.
Lex Robinson: Christ, that's horrifying.
Steve Hebert: He'll make Casanova "oink", as well. Look at him, backing up for another running kick. Here he goes...
Lex Robinson: But Casanova side-steps the kick, thankfully ducking out of the way! This enables him to pop onto his feet, his fists clenched, popping Zimdela in the skull several times! Listen to the fans roar, chanting for Casanova's uprise!
Steve Hebert: Screw the fans. They'll be all depressed and whiny once Zimdela carves him like a Jack-O-Lantern and sticks his dick inside of him.
...Steve pauses...
Steve Hebert: Again, let's not talk about our sexual practices.
Lex Robinson: Thank god. Good idea.
Battering Zimdela with punches, Casanova bounces off the ropes, looking to continue the damage. Unfortunately, upon his rebound, Zimdela catches him with his attempted clothesline, swings him around and then forcefully spinebusters him onto the canvas!
Lex Robinson: Oh no!
Steve Hebert: Oh yes!
Lex Robinson: Zimdela just dropped Casanova with ultra-force!
Steve Hebert: You're starting to sound like a Power Ranger or something.
Lex Robinson: Hovering over the fallen Television Champion, Zimdela stomps on his chest, hunches over and then goes to drag him upward, using a handful of hair. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned...
Steve Hebert: Did he... did Casanova just... did he...?
Lex Robinson: Reaching inside of his wrist tape, Casanova removes a blade from beneath both sets of tape and lashes out at Zimdela, slashing him across the chest!
Steve Hebert: That has to be illegal!
Lex Robinson: Hell no, it's "Falls Count Anywhere", which also means that anything goes.
Steve Hebert: Zimdela may as well just throw a bowl of Flesh Eating Bacteria at Casanova, then, in that case!
Stumbling back, Zimdela stares down at the flesh wound that is now across his stomach. He isn't in pain, nor is he angered. If anything, he seems slightly bemused and predatory, almost happy to see Casanova cut him open.
Steve Hebert: Gah, what am I saying? That's nothing to Zimdela. I mean, look at some of the scars on his body -- he's had much worse done to him. Hell, he thrives on this kind of sick shit. Upon closer inspection, it even excites him!
Lex Robinson: Are you referring to his apparent erection?
Steve Hebert: That's one stiff cock, am I right?
Lex Robinson: This fascination with the blood and cut turns out to be bad, though. As Zimdela stands there, watching the blood flow down his belly, Casanova tosses the blades aside, throwing them to the floor, allowing him to charge towards the ropes and boomerang off. A running big-boot to the face of Zimdela Brudon via Casanova, who hits a climbing single-leg dropkick!
Steve Hebert: Ugh, that completely caught Zimdela Brudon off-guard, too.
Lex Robinson: Straddling Zimdela, Casanova fires shot-after-shot with punches into Zimdela's head, as Casanova maintains his position by holding onto Zimdela's hair.
Steve Hebert: He's gone nuts, Lex. He's even bashing the back of Zimdela's skull off the canvas!
Lex Robinson: I do believe THAT'S the Casanova Zimdela has wanted to see.
Steve Hebert: And he still has that erection!
Using Casanova's momentum against him, Zimdela dumps the Television Champ overhead and rolls atop him, where he begins sending some forearms of his own down into Casanova's face. Each shot batters Casanova's head into the canvas, making him unable to rise.
Lex Robinson: Now it's Casanova that turns things over...
Steve Hebert: Agh...
Lex Robinson: Using his knees, he pushes Zimdela off, jumps up and then rushes at the deviant, hitting him with a high-knee, knocking Zimdela into the corner. With reckless abandon, Casanova charges in, hitting a thunderous clothesline against the corner turnbuckles.
Steve Hebert: Not only that, but he whips Zimdela into the opposite corner, as well.
Lex Robinson: Yup; and follows in with another running-clothesline, squashing him against the pads. As Zimdela Brudon stumbles out, Casanova bounces off the ropes and returns with a stiff-running lariat, which nearly lobs off Zimmy's skull!
Steve Hebert: Holy Christ.
Instead of going for a cover, Casanova returns to kicking and stomping at Zimdela, making sure to repeatedly strike him, thus keeping him grounded. These stomps eventually force Zimdela into the corner, where Casanova continues to angrily stomp his nemesis.
Steve Hebert: Like a goddamn vampire scorned -- which he is; even though vampires don't exist... but I digress... he stomps Zimdela in the face! These stomps literally squish Zimdela's skull like a grape! Look at him, he's squishing his head against the middle rope, immobilizing him!
Lex Robinson: You gotta admit it -- it's a good tactic. It's keeping Zimdela down.
Just as soon as those words are stated by Lex Robinson, Zimdela mounts a comeback, as he rises to his feet, striking Casanova with various right-and-left handed shots, which hit him all over the body. Like a rabid animal, Zimdela even bites Casanova's face, gnawing on him, nearly drawing blood. Realizing that Casanova is pushing himself away, Zimdela furiously retorts with some punches of his own, even smashing Casanova's face into the top turnbuckle.
Steve Hebert: Zimdela takes advantage of things. He smashes Casanova's face into the turnbuckle pad once... twice... thrice... hell, four times... five times... fuck it, loads of times! Over and over, he beats Casanova's head off that buckle!
Lex Robinson: He goes for one more buckle shot, but Casanova halts him, placing his right hand on the buckle, stopping the advancement. Casanova then quickly strikes with an elbow to Zimdela's jaw, knocking him backward, allowing for Casanova to take a breather. When the time is right, Casanova runs out of the corner, leaps into the air and bulldogs his enemy onto the canvas!
Steve Hebert: But still -- no cover!
Lex Robinson: You're right. Instead, Casanova steps out onto the ring apron and slowly elevates himself to the top turnbuckle pad.
Steve Hebert: Too slowly, if you ask me. This is giving Zimdela tons of time to recouperate.
The slow pace of Casanova's climbing allows for Zimdela to convalesce, permitting him to rise to a standing base, watching his opponent try to gather himself on the top turnbuckle. However, before he can come up with a plan to destroy Casanova's attempt, Zimdela stands, unable to move, as his opponent quickly comes towards him.
Lex Robinson: Shooting himself off the top rope, Casanova soars through the air and connects with a picture-perfect flying dropkick!
Steve Hebert: Catching Zimdela right in the mush, too.
Lex Robinson: It forces him to stumble back, where he unwittingly tangles himself in the ropes! Yes! The fans are loving this; and so is Casanova, who gleefully stands to his feet, with a huge grin on his face!
Steve Hebert: Ugh... free yourself, Zimmy!
Like a vulture circling its prey, Casanova moves in on Zimdela, who is unable to remove himself from the ropes.
Lex Robinson: With rights and lefts, Casanova hammers Zimdela, much to the delight of the fans!
Steve Hebert: Sickening!
Lex Robinson: Once he's finished battering Zimdela, he bounces off the ropes, hoping to return with an even more impactful move. On his way back, Casanova leaps through the air, looking to tackle Zimdela over the ropes with a high-impact move... only to have Zimdela luckily untangle himself!
Steve Hebert: Hah! Yes! Casanova goes tumbling to the outside!
Remaining in the ring, Zimdela shakes the cobwebs out of his head and watches as Casanova sluggishly stands to his feet. As he goes to re-enter, Casanova is quickly taken aback by Zimdela, who charges at him, delivering a running-knee to the ribcage!
Steve Hebert: That'll stop that!
Lex Robinson: Casanova is left hanging on the middle rope... and Zimdela then kicks the middle rope, literally crotching Casanova, sending him flying back into the ring!
Steve Hebert: Even I can feel sorry for that.
As Casanova rolls into the center of the ring, holding his crotch, Zimdela stumbles around, still with bloodflow to his penis, looking intently at Casanova. He licks his lips, walks towards Casanova's feet, lifts his legs and then eagle-splits him, adding more injury... and more insult.
Lex Robinson: Zimdela... that freaking pervert... is circling around Casanova, looking at him, like how a child looks at cotton candy.
Steve Hebert: Next thing you know, Zimdela will be eating Morgana's pink hair.
Lex Robinson: What?
Steve Hebert: Her hair... it just looks tasty! I can't help it.
Lex Robinson: You really are a weird man.
Steve Hebert: You've been telling me that for the past 4-5 years!
Lex Robinson: But this time I mean it.
Spreading Casanova's legs once more, Zimdela licks his lips, gets to one knee and traces his hands up Casanova's thighs. Seconds before running his hands over Casanova's genitals, Zimdela hurriedly balls his right hand into a fist and repeatedly hammers Casanova in the crotch!
Steve Hebert: Jesus.
Lex Robinson: What do you have to say about that, Steve?
Steve Hebert: All I can say is that my own testicles are in a world of pain from just watching that.
Lex Robinson: I hear ya. Meanwhile, as Casanova rolls around in dubious pain, Zimdela bounces off the ropes and returns with a double-stomp onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him even moreso!
Steve Hebert: If there any oxygen -- or manhood -- left in him beforehand, it's certainly gone now.
Lex Robinson: He follows that up with an elbowdrop... and then walks back over and delivers a double-kneedrop onto Casanova's testes!
Steve Hebert: Ouchies. Oh god why.
Lex Robinson: Kicking the mat, Casanova tries to stand, but is finding it extremely difficult.
Steve Hebert: Now that I think of it, Zimdela seems to be trying to be making a woman out of Casanova. He may as well just castrate him.
Lex Robinson: Don't say that, it might just happen.
Mulling around the ring, offering Casanova random kicks, Zimdela takes a moment to stick his hand down his pants, pleasuring himself over Casanova's face. Obviously, this gets a load of jeers, as no one wants to see Zimdela's... well... Zimdela's load.
Steve Hebert: Fap, Zimdela, fap. You fap until your cock tears off. Fap until Casanova's eyes are blinded with ejaculation.
Lex Robinson: This is honestly absolutely disgusting.
Steve Hebert: Oh, don't be such a prude.
Continuing to stroke faster and faster, Zimdela closes his eyes, as he uses his free hand to rub the blood on his stomach onto his dick and then onto his tongue. Once his eyes are fully enclosed, and he is completely lost in the pleasure, Casanova surprisingly reacts.
Lex Robinson: Casanova with a mule-kick to the crotch of Zimdela Brudon... literally out of nowhere!
Steve Hebert: Ooof! Stop that, all of you!
Lex Robinson: On his knees, clearly gasping for life, Casanova watches as Zimdela stumbles back, holding his own crotch. Standing up, he kicks Zimdela in the stomach and then pulls him into a standing headscissors position, where he attempts to double-underhook his arms...
Steve Hebert: Zimdela pushes him into the ropes, though. He literally spouts "Fuck that shit!"
Rebounding off the ropes, Casanova returns, hoping to strike with another big kick to the face...
Lex Robinson: Zimdela halts the kick to the face!
Steve Hebert: Wisely so.
Lex Robinson: He spins Casanova around and tries to bring him down with a rough-clothesline! Casanova ducks!
Steve Hebert: Aw, crap.
Lex Robinson: Casanova with a mixture of rights and lefts... even some forearms... but here comes Zimdela! These two are going tap-for-tap, striking each other with punch-after-punch, with the crowd going mad! Casanova blocks an attempted haymaker from Zimdela, only to follow up with a discus-punch of his own... and then another punch... and... no! Zimdela blocks a punch from Casanova, now!
Steve Hebert: They're going back-and-forth, this is nuts!
Lex Robinson: Headbutts! Once again, they are headbutting each other! The sounds of bone-on-bone is apparent!
Steve Hebert: That's the sound of cracking skulls!
Lex Robinson: Thanks to this, both men have a tiny trickle of blood flowing from their forehead! Eventually, they both wear themselves down, resulting in each of them stumbling back, trying to regain their senses. It isn't long until Casanova throws another fist at a dazed Zimdela... who ducks!
Steve Hebert: Good!
Lex Robinson: Zimdela holds Casanova up into a back-suplex position...
However, Casanova is able to backflip over Zimdela's right shoulder, landing on his feet.
Lex Robinson: No! Casanova is on his feet! Casanova now with some headbutts to the back of Zimdela's skull! This is even worse -- the skull is softer back there!
In no time later, Casanova spins Zimdela around, kicks him in the stomach and standing headscissors him. With his head tucked between Casanova's legs, Zimdela has his arms strait-jacketed across his chest, with Casanova bending over, trying to lift his opponent up.
Lex Robinson: Can he do it?! Zimdela is so much larger than him, though...!
Steve Hebert: Annoyed, Zimdela weighs himself down, blocking the attempt. Again, he pushes Casanova off... except he returns with a roaring-forearm. Great, just great. Ugh.
Lex Robinson: For the second time in a row, Casanova places Zimdela between his legs, even strait-jacketing his arms around his chest... he lifts Zimdela up!
Using all of the strength that he can muster, Casanova amazingly hoists Zimdela up and brings him smashing down to the canvas with a strait-jacket sit-down powerbomb!
Lex Robinson: He hits it! Casanova hooks his legs around Zimdela's shoulders, going for a pinfall!
The referee drops down, making the count...
...1...
Lex Robinson: This could be it... right in this ring...
...2...
...
Steve Hebert: No!
Lex Robinson: Zimdela kicks out!
Steve Hebert: Jesus merciful, thank God.
Just as the count stops, Zimdela slips away from Casanova's clutches, shrugs off the damage and gets to his feet. Despite the tiny trickle of blood on his face, Zimdela charges at Casanova before the Television Champ can fully regain his footing.
Steve Hebert: Zimdela hurriedly strikes with a running-kneelift! So much for that surge from Casanova.
Lex Robinson: That disgusting, piece of shit of a man, Zimdela Brudon, gives Casanova some more knees, too. These shots aiming directly into Casanova's stomach and ribcage, hunching him over, making it hard for him to maintain his breathing. After delivering a clubbing axehandle to the back of Casanova, Zimdela applies a gutwrench hold on Casanova and hoists him into the air, onto his right shoulder.
In a matter of seconds, Zimdela swings Casanova forward, dropping him face-first onto the canvas with a sit-down reverse gutwrench-powerbomb! Casanova's body spasms and squirms, feeling the brunt of the blow, while a sneaky Zimdela slithers out of the ring, tossing aside the ring announcer and pulling a chair from the audience.
Lex Robinson: Uh oh.
Steve Hebert: Yeah, show that ring announcer who's boss! Should have pissed on him, too.
Lex Robinson: More importantly, he is now wielding a chair, which he tosses into the ring.
Steve Hebert: Oh... that. Oh yeah, it's some serious business. I'm willing to bet Casanova will get raped by that chair. Furthermore, I'm willing to bet that chair will soon be inside of Casanova. It's just a theory. I have a hunch, you know.
Sliding back into the ring and grabbing the steel chair, Zimdela hoists it above his head and then franticly begins bashing it across Casanova's body and head. Even worse, he's focusing these shots on the back of Casanova's skull, a step above of Casanova's headbutts into the back of Zimdela's cranium.
Lex Robinson: My God, Casanova is being battered with those shots.
Steve Hebert: Serves him right... for, uh... being a vampire!
Lex Robinson: Didn't you say not that long ago that vampires don't exist?
Steve Hebert: I say a lot of things, Lex. You should know this by now.
Lex Robinson: Figures.
Opening the chair and sitting it in the center of the ring, Zimdela lifts Casanova up and sits him on the chair. Offering a few boisterous slaps and chops to his seated nemesis, Zimdela hurries into the ropes and bounces off at rocket-speed. Upon his return, he somersaults through the air, using his body as a lethal weapon to crash into Casanova, toppling both he and the chair over!
Steve Hebert: Zimdela uses his own body as a missile and crashes into Casanova! That was a whole load.
Lex Robinson: To make matters worse, it's those kind of things that fuel Zimdela.
Steve Hebert: I know. How arousing.
Lex Robinson: I think not.
With the chair buckled over in the ring, Zimdela hoists Casanova up, throttles his hands around his throat and tries choking the life out of him.
Lex Robinson: Striking Casanova with an overhand punch, Zimdela positions Casanova... and then fisherman busters him onto the steel chair! Goddamn, he has to go for a cover here.
Steve Hebert: He is!
Zimdela gingerly lays across Casanova, placing his crotch upon his face.
Steve Hebert: The referee's counting...
...1...
Steve Hebert: What the...?
Lex Robinson: It's just a one!
Steve Hebert: Zimdela pulls himself off Casanova! What the hell? Why would he do that?!
At this point, Zimdela signals to the top rope.
Steve Hebert: Ooohhh... now I get it.
LeX Robinson: Placing the steel chair across Casanova's face, Zimdela offers one more thrusting stomp and then turns into the corner. Slowly, but surely, he moves in and climbs to the outer portion of the apron. The fans are absolutely loathing this; and I can't say I don't agree.
Steve Hebert: Pffft... Zimdela is going to put an end to Casanova, who has become soft... he has become weak. It's like putting an old, busted, wrinkled dog out of its misery by blasting its head off with a shotgun.
Lex Robinson: You don't have to be so explicit.
Steve Hebert: It's necessary; because it's what's going to happen right here, in a second. He has finally climbed to the top turnbuckle pad...
Ironically, Casanova has risen, too -- onto his feet, that is, complete with the chair in hand. Seeing Zimdela's predicament Casanova launches the steel chair towards his rival, absolutely smashing the chair against his head, resulting in it being wrapped around his neck!
Steve Hebert: ...Son of a...
Lex Robinson: What a shot! Casanova flings that chair at Zimdela, absolutely crushing his skull!
Steve Hebert: I hate life.
With Zimdela in prime position, Casanova races into the corner, charges up the turnbuckles, grabs onto Zimdela. In a scene somewhat reminiscent of "Over The Top Rope 2", Casanova delivers the "Destiny Calling" from the top rope, even having the steel chair smash directly into Zimdela's face, no doubt concussion him and busting him open even further!
Lex Robinson: Destiny Calling! He hits it! Out of nowhere, he charges up the ropes and hits it!
Steve Hebert: Ah... fuck. Someone shoot me in the head.
LeX Robinson: It's over after that, it has to be! Casanova can't believe it, either! He's on his feet, listening to the crowd applause, he's... wa... wa... wait!
Steve Hebert: Zimdela stands! Holy shit, he stands! After receiving a top rope "Destiny Calling", he stands! Just like that!
With blood streaming down his face and into his mouth, whose lips are spread apart, with a wicked smile on his face, Zimdela stands to his feet. He flagrantly rips the chair off his neck, throws it into the audience, who has no idea how to react.
Steve Hebert: Holy freakin' shit.
Lex Robinson: Zimdela pulls something out of his pants, too...
Steve Hebert: Oh, I know where you're going with this.
Lex Robinson: No! It's something else. It's... it's a pair of spiked brass-knuckles!
Steve Hebert: Even sexier!
Lex Robinson: His smeared in blood, it's as if nothing has happened at all. Like a steed, he tramples towards Casanova, with fury in his eyes!
Uttering the words "Foreplay is over!" Zimdela barrels towards Casanova, who cannot defend himself from the full-body onslaught from Zimdela Brudon. Tackling the current Sin Wrestling Television Champion over the top rope, both men go flying to the floor; with Casanova smacking his face off the ring apron on his descent!
Steve Hebert: They go flying to the floor!
Lex Robinson: Like a freaking bulldozer, Zimdela runs into Casanova, sending them crumbling over the top rope -- and out to the floor!
Steve Hebert: Exactly like a bulldozer, Lex; I'm not talking about Dan Black, either.
Lex Robinson: Out here, on the floor, Zimdela grabs Casanova by the hair and begins bashing his fist against his skull! Pieces of flesh dangle from the blood-soaked knuckles, as Zimdela repeatedly hammers his former Sentinel ally in the skull!
Steve Hebert: That's something we haven't talked about much, too! The Sentinels of Insanity and their prior history.
Lex Robinson: To be honest, anyone that knows anything knows of their history. Members of the Sentinels of Insanity, the most successful stable to ever grace Sin Wrestling, alongside Draco and Gwenivere Jordan.
Steve Hebert: And Lucius Pendragon!
Lex Robinson: Who?
Steve Hebert: My thoughts exactly.
Lex Robinson: Watching Zimdela rip the flesh from Casanova's head with those knuckles reminds me of the old days; back when the Sentinels would literally fight, bicker and beat each other to a pulp. Despite it all, though; they stayed together and managed to climb the ranks of Sin Wrestling sooner than later.
In the midst of this reflection, Zimdela Brudon lifts a bloody Casanova to his feet, uses his index finger to seductively trace down Casanova's forehead, licking the blood off it when done. Seconds later, he uses his spiked, brass-knuckled right hand to pulverize Casanova some more, even using his left hand to grab Casanova by the hair to smash his face off the ring steps and then off the ring apron.
Steve Hebert: Casanova is dripping blood all over the place!
Lex Robinson: Kind of like their match at Over The Top Rope 2, when Casanova defeated Zimdela Brudon to become the second-ever Sin Wrestling Sin Trophy winner and retain his World Title.
Steve Hebert: Well... yeah, but with less zambonis.
Lex Robinson: Or the time that Zimdela Brudon, after losing twice to Casanova in previous matches, finally broke the mould and defeated his Sentinels ally-slash-rival, thus becoming the new World Champ. That victory set Zimdela apart from the rest of the competition, as he became the first-ever Sin Wrestling "Triple Crown" holder.
Steve Hebert: Jesus, someone get this guy a tissue.
BAM!
With full velocity, Zimdela heaves Casanova towards the ring railing, sending him toppling over, landing in the front row!
Steve Hebert: While Lex was having an emotional moment, we saw Zimdela beat the holy shit out of Casanova, sending even more punches to the forehead of him. For Christ's sake, Casanova was just flung into the railing, causing him to go flying into the fans. Someone will probably die as a result of this.
...Just as Casanova stands, Zimdela picks up a nearby chair and again charges towards his former acquaintance.
Lex Robinson: Here he comes again...
Steve Hebert: It's like he's a bowling ball or something!
Steel chair and all, Zimdela Brudon recklessly leaps over the ring railing, aiming himself at Casanova, as if he were a wrecking ball! This results in at least 5-6 rows being taken out, with fans splintering everywhere!
Steve Hebert: See?! Just like a bowling ball! People fall and split everywhere!
Lex Robinson: Rolling onto Casanova, Zimdela hooks a leg, trying for a pinfall...
Steve Hebert: Good! It's about time! He could have had him long ago!
Climbing over the ring railing, in hot pursuit, the referee begins his count...
...1...
Lex Robinson: There's one...!
...2...
Lex Robinson: Two... and...
...
Steve Hebert: Bah! Zimdela purposely stops the count!
Lex Robinson: Actually, I think Casanova may have pushed Zimdela off him.
Steve Hebert: No way. Not how I seen it.
Lex Robinson: But you've been known to wear special blinders.
Steve Hebert: I swear! It looked like it, at least!
Lex Robinson: Picking Casanova up, Zimdela happily glances at the blood dripping onto the floor, onto someone's can of soda, even.
Steve Hebert: It's like Cream Soda. Some retard will drunk that, thinking he'll turn into Blade or something. I bet on it.
Lex Robinson: Placing Casanova's head between his legs, resting his genitalia on the back of his... ugh... head, Zimdela gets a sick, demented smile. The small trickle of blood that began earlier is slowly beginning to cease, but the stains remain, which aide in showing just how wicked this bastard really is.
Steve Hebert: He's a good guy. He'd never hurt a kitten. He may fuck it... let the kitten piss on him... but he wouldn't hurt it.
Lex Robinson: Yeah, right.
Steve Hebert: Oh, fine; he'd put the kitten in a bag and kick it down the stairs. But that doesn't make him a bad guy!
Digging his fingernails into Casanova's back, the former Ultraviolence Champion sadistically smirks, enjoying the punishment he is handing out. He wraps his arms around Casanova's waist, moments away from piledrivering him onto the floor...
Lex Robinson: Casanova stops the piledriver attempt with a big backdrop!
Steve Hebert: Oof! Even more fans go flying; as the moronic vampire actually sends the big man into another row of fans. People, cripples and chairs go flying. And yes, I don't consider cripples as people, sue me.
Considering the momentum swing, Casanova whips himself up to a standing base, pulling his scraggly hair out of his eyes. Realizing Zimdela is now found within an array of chairs, Casanova begins to pick random steel chairs up, only to furiously whip them at his opponent!
Lex Robinson: Casanova has sent a good dozen or so chairs crashing into the back of Zimdela Brudon! He wipes some of his own blood out of his eyes, walks over to Zimdela... and uses the blood he washed from his own eyes to temporarily blind Zimdela!
Steve Hebert: What the...! AIDS! AIDS prevention, where are you?! Zimdela could have Hepatitis, by now! Lex, why are you looking at me?
Lex Robinson: As if he didn't have it before.
Steve Hebert: Pffffft. You're no urologist, Lex.
Throwing a few more chairs onto mound of chairs already on Zimdela, Casanova searches through the horde of objects, grabs Zimdela's hair and plucks him out of the mess of steel. Delivering some tremendous right hand punches, Casanova soon briefly holds Zimdela up into a suplex-position, only to slink him forward, dropping him stomach-first across the steel ring railing!
Steve Hebert: Goddamnit! That's another ouchy!
Lex Robinson: To further the damage, Casanova picks up a steel chair from the mound that has collected near the railing. Taking it, he swings it at Zimdela Brudon's back, hitting a homerun in the most figurative sense. Giving a few more lethal shots to the back, Casanova is glad to hear Zimdela's shouts of pain...
Steve Hebert: Or are those shouts of encouragement?
Lex Robinson: Eh...
Steve Hebert: It has to be!
Lex Robinson: Uhm... yeah... as Zimdela hangs across the railing, Casanova takes another chair, sits it underneath Zimdela's body and rests his head on it. Getting yet another chair, he sets it next to the chair with Zimdela's head. He takes a few steps back and runs forward, using the first chair to springboard himself into the air...
Steve Hebert: Oh... oh, no...
Lex Robinson: Casanova comes crashing down onto Zimdela's skull with a double-stomp! To add even more impact, he promptly falls down, collapsing onto Zimdela and the chair, which buckles beneath them, with a back-splash! Not only does the chair go flying out of the way, but Casanova falls to the ground, as well, splattering onto Zimdela Brudon!
Taking a second to stand, Casanova holds his arms in the air, getting a grand ovation from the crowd, who is vehemently cheering him on. Turning back around, he continues to kick and stomp at Zimdela's head, taking another second to quickly pull Zimdela up to his feet, where he strikes with a headbutt to the nose, spouting a tiny bit of blood to come trickling out of his nostrils.
Lex Robinson: Casanova is taking it to Zimdela, now. Next, he turns Zimdela around and holds him up into a back-suplex position... only to drop backward, dropping Zimdela across the ring railing!
Steve Hebert: The entire barrier collapses, too!
Lex Robinson: Good lord, that barrier almost fell on top of us, too!
Steve Hebert: If that shit had squished me, I would have punched someone. Probably you.
Lex Robinson: Oh dear. With the ring barrier pretty much collapsed, everyone is free to go wherever they want. Of course, Casanova and Zimdela are the first to oblige this, as Casanova kicks Zimdela until he is forced up into a kneeling position. Whipping Zimdela into the ring post -- from the front row, Casanova watches as Zimdela's head bounces off the steel, causing him to stumble backward into a kick to the kidneys from Casanova. From here, Casanova spins Zimdela around and then snap-suplexes him onto the pile of chairs that reside on the floor!
Steve Hebert: Ugh, oh god.
Lex Robinson: Thanks to having his face rammed into the post, Zimdela's forehead has been busted open again, with a fresh flow of blood rolling down his face.
Steve Hebert: That idiotic vampire is even covering Zimdela...
As usual, the referee counts, slapping his hand off the chairs that lay beneath Zimdela...
...1...
Steve Hebert: But he kicks out! At a one-count, no less!
LeX Robinson: His blood may be flowing, but Zimdela is still ready for a fight.
Steve Hebert: He's enjoying it, I'm tellin' ya!
Lex Robinson: Meh. Perhaps.
Zimdela's defiance of letting Casanova pin him, eggs the fan on, prompting them to offer him more boos. As Casanova goes to lift him back to a kneeling position, Zimdela catches his aggressor by surprise, giving him a bloody headbutt to the crotch, which absolutely winds the Television Champ. On top of this, Zimdela offers a stiff right-handed uppercut to Casanova's jaw, sending him stumbling backward, allowing for Zimdela Brudon to heal.
Steve Hebert: Hell yeah, that's how you reverse things -- with a headbutt to the cock. My line of thinking and fighting.
Lex Robinson: Of course, this doesn't bode well for Casanova, who has to stumble back, making sure everything's fine down below.
Steve Hebert: Pffft, as if he has anything.
Lex Robinson: Zimdela goes to rise... and he runs at Casanova! Like a bull, he lifts Casanova onto his shoulders, pushing him through the sea of fans, knocking over random people, and pushing chairs away until they both crash into the back wall of The Colosseum! Just like the gladiators of old, these two men battle for supremacy, with Zimdela crushing Casanova against the stone wall!
Steve Hebert: Delivering some furious elbows to the back of Casanova's head, Zimdela shows his rage, making sure his opponent remains slumped against the wall. He even gives some knees to the side of Casanova's head; with each shot bouncing Casanova's head and bloody face off the wall!
Lex Robinson: He even grabs Casanova's stringy hair and grinds it against the stonewall, leaving traces of blood behind.
Steve Hebert: I'm sure that isn't a first. I think I saw Russell Crowe do that to someone once.
Lex Robinson: Yeah, Gladiator... what a great movie.
Steve Hebert: No, I mean just last week. That man is one grouchy fellow.
Lex Robinson: Err... that I wouldn't doubt.
Throwing Casanova against a table leaning against the wall, Zimdela steps back, ready to plow forward, wanting to smash both himself and his opponent through it.
Lex Robinson: And now Zimdela charges!
Unfortunately, his attempt is thwarted by a bloody Casanova, who steps toward his assailant, only to hip-toss him through the table, sending him tumbling through the wood and into the side of the wall!
Steve Hebert: Well, that didn't work out, whatsoever.
Lex Robinson: Seriously. Casanova brutally flung Zimdela through that table.
Steve Hebert: Even worse was the wall on the other side of that table. Once he hit that, he flatlined to the ground, falling into the pile of wood, dirt and gravel.
Lex Robinson: Uh huh. Speaking of the wood, Casanova picks up a piece of the table that has a jagged edge. He takes the wood and slices it across Zimdela's right bicep, cutting him wide open!
Stevie Hebert: For some reason, I get the feeling that the Red Cross is watching this match very closely for donations. But then again, it's not like their blood is wholesome.
Jabbing the wood into Zimdela's right arm a few more times, Casanova tosses the wood aside and turns to the fans, who cheer out loud for him, wishing to give him even more strength. Grabbing another random chair, Casanova waits for Zimdela to stand.
Steve Hebert: Chair in hand, Casanova creeps up on Zimdela... and spins him around... but he whiffs with a chairshot!
Lex Robinson: Bah.
Steve Hebert: As he turns around, Casanova goes to deliver another chairshot, but Zimdela simply punches the chair, knocking it back into Casanova's face! What a wise, smart move that literally popped out of nowhere!
Lex Robinson: Sure, it may have hit Casanova, but the Television Champ is quick to fire back with a wicked chairshot to the base of Zimdela's skull!
Steve Hebert: ...Shit.
Lex Robinson: Dropping the chair, Casanova stumbles back; as does Zimdela Brudon.
Oddly enough, as Casanova backs up, he bumps into a rowdy group of fans, who, in between patting him on the back, hand him various items to use on Zimdela Brudon.
Steve Hebert: The hell? Did someone just havd Casanova a cheese grater?
Lex Robinson: I believe so!
Casanova, becoming more aware of his surroundings and aware of what lays in his hands, proceeds forward.
Lex Robinson: Casanova runs, pulls back and decks Zimdela across the forehead with that cheese grater! Flakes of Zimdela's skin go everywhere, along with his very own blood.
Steve Hebert: He's even laying it across Zimdela's face... and now what?
Climbing onto steel rungs at the back of the Colosseum, Casanova pulls himself up onto the second deck. A second later, he jumps off, extending his two legs, nailing a legdrop onto the cheese grater, which slides even more into Zimdela's forehead!
Lex Robinson: A flying legdrop off that balcony!
Steve Hebert: Onto that friggin' cheese grater, too! What the hell? That can't be legal!
Lex Robinson: Oh, shut up. It is.
Steve Hebert: Gah, not fair! How come no one's handing Zimdela weapons?!
Lex Robinson: Because they loathe him!
Steve Hebert: Hmmph.
Lex Robinson: When Casanova stands, someone gives him a crutch... which he uses to snap in half across the back of Zimdela!
Steve Hebert: Hah! That person won't be able to stand anymore.
Lex Robinson: That person... that person... removes his fake leg and also hands it off to Casanova!
Steve Hebert: What i the goddamn.
Casanova, slightly amused by this, turns around and listens to the advice of the fans -- use it to destroy Zimdela Brudon.
Lex Robinson: Casanova uses that fake, wooden leg to beat across Zimdela's bloody head! Like a gentleman, Casanova hands the fake leg back to the fan, letting Zimdela continue to bleed like a stuck-pig.
Steve Hebert: That fan didn't even have a leg to stand on!
A little further down the line, someone holds up a chair for Casanova to smash Zimdela's bloodied face into.
Lex Robinson: Casanova lifts Zimdela back up, punches him in the temple, grabs his greasy, sweaty hair and charges towards the chair that is being held up by that fan.
POW!
Lex Robinson: Bam! Zimdela Brudon's skull goes headlong into the chair, leaving quite the bloodstain on it. Some lucky fan will have that as a souvenir, I'm sure.
Steve Hebert: Hopefully he gets "the clap".
Out of the crowd, someone hands Casanova a wooden barbed-wire baseball bat.
Steve Hebert: What?! This can't be real. There's no way that this is truly happening.
Lex Robinson: It's happening. Thanks to some fans, Casanova now has a barbed-wire baseball in his hands!
Steve Hebert: Move, Zimmy!
Leaning against the wall of The Colosseum, Zimdela goes bug-eyed, as Casanova strolls towards him with that barbed-wire baseball bat. Swinging it if he were Barry Bonds pumped-up on roids, Casanova aims for Zimdela's skull... but misses!
Steve Hebert: Good! Zimdela ducks out of the way!
This results in a portion of The Colosseum's wall being chipped.
Lex Robinson: But he can't duck out of the way of this second shot! Swinging around, Casanova connects with a brutal shot to the stomach and ribs, with the barbed-wire slicing into Zimdela's skin! As he pulls the bat back, shards of Zimdela's skin come pulling off, leaving behind a bloody trail of flesh and blood. Yelling out in pain, Zimdela almost seems to enjoy this, What the Christ?
Dropping to one knee, Zimdela can't stop Casanova from again striking with the barbed-wire bat. This time, Casanova brings the bat smashing down across the back of Zimdela's back, forcing Zimdela to cough up a wad of blood, which lands at the feet of several fans!
Steve Hebert: Oh Jesus, that's sick.
Lex Robinson: Ugh...
Steve Hebert: Casanova doesn't care, though. He takes that bat, uses the barbed-wire wrapped around it, and starts grinding it across Zimdela's forehead, cutting him open even more! Hell, he even slips it underneath his chin, trying to choke him out... or slit his throat... or something. Holy Jesus.
Struggling for oxygen, Zimdela kicks and squirms, trying to suck in air; but Casanova doesn't relent. The only way to get him to remove the bat away from Zimdela's neck is to have another fan offer him another weapon -- a rope with, you guessed it, a cowbell at the end of it.
Lex Robinson: More cowbell!
Steve Hebert: At least he stopped choking Zimmy; but come on...
Lex Robinson: More cowbell!
Steve Hebert: Yes, you and the fans are chanting that. Who cares?
Lex Robinson: More cowbell!
Steve Hebert: Quiet!
Ringing the bell, a bloody grin twists across Casanova's face, watching as Zimdela proceeds to spit up more blood. Waiting for him to rise, Casanova swings the bell and rope around, as if he were a cowboy waiting to knab a criminal.
Lex Robinson: Zimdela Brudon stands... here goes, Cas...
Steve Hebert: Oh no!
DING DING!
The cowbell smacks against Zimdela's skull, snapping his head back, sending a wave of blood into the crowd. This sends Zimdela stumbling back, plumetting his way through a glass door to the backstage area, smashing it into smithereens!
Lex Robinson: That shot with the cowbell sends Brudon flying through that glass window! There, he's covered in glass... similar to many of his sexcapades! How does that feel?! Is he feeling pleasure now, that sick fuck?!
Steve Hebert: Don't swear, asshole.
The crowd gathers around Casanova, who again swings the bell around, leading a chant of "MORE COW-BELL"!
Steve Hebert: Ugh... shut up, shut up. Everyone, shut up.
Lex Robinson: More cowbell!
Steve Hebert: That means you, too.
Stepping after Zimdela, watching him cower in the glass, trying to crawl away, leaving behind splotches of blood, Casanova progresses ahead and ties a noose around Zimdela's neck with the rope. Forcing Zimdela up into a standing position, he throws him into the wall of the building and then whips him over a stone pillar, dropping Zimdela onto his rear-end.
Steve Hebert: Casanova throws Zimdela out of the build! Augh! He places his own foot on the pillar, while wrenching back on the rope, choking Zimdela with it!
Lex Robinson: Zimdela seems to be... rubbing himself, trying to regain his strength. Oh god.
Steve Hebert: Yes, rub that dick! Regain that strength!
Lex Robinson: Having his eyes rolling into the back of his head, Zimdela reaches up, grabs onto the rope and flings Casanova overhead, sending him flying out the corridors of the Collosseum, onto the outer grounds!
Steve Hebert: You forgot to mention the best part: Zimdela freeing himself.
Lex Robinson: Well, yeah. However, he's also a bloody mess.
Steve Hebert: It's okay, he likes that.
Tossing the rope and cowbell aside, Zimdela releases more bloody bile, spitting it onto the ground just a few feet from Casanova. Once he sees the current Television Champ begin to rise, Zimdela bursts into action...
Lex Robinson: Before a dusty, bloody Casanova can rise, Zimdela hammers at the back of his neck and skull with a ham-fisted blow! Raking Cas's eyes, Zimdela scoops him up, holding him upside-down, placing him into a tombstone piledriver position.
Steve Hebert: Good!
Lex Robison: But Casanova scrambles, wildly kicking his legs, trying to find freedom...
Steve Hebert: Bad!
Lex Robinson: This squirming tilts Zimdela back, letting Casanova gain his footing and lift Zimdela upside-down... tombstone piledriver by Casanova, who steps forward, driving Zimdela's head into the ground!
Steve Hebert: No! That leaves behind a puddle of blood, too. Jesus Christ why.
On closer inspection, it also looks as if Casanova has Tombstoned Zimdela into an ant hill. A fire ant hill, to be more exact.
Steve Hebert: Zimdela is on the ground, holding his head, rolling around in pain... and what the hell is crawling on him?
Lex Robinson: I think those are ants! And no, Steve, I'm not talking about your Aunt Bertha. These are red ants that crawl over the top of Zimdela's head and back... and they're going mad, biting him!
Rolling on the ground, finding a mixture of joy and pain in the searing bites, Zimdela pinches at his skin, trying to rid himself of the ants. Walking in, Casanova inadvertently aides Zimdela... by stomping him all over, killing the bugs.
Lex Robinson: At least he's helping Zimdela to kill the bugs, I guess. Hey, Steve?
Steve Hebert: I want to eat my hat.
Lex Robinson: Everytime Casanova spots an ant crawling on Zimdela, he delivers a vicious stomp to it. When done, he grabs Zimdela's arms and begins dragging him back over to the side of The Colosseum, where he picks him up and throws him up against the solid structure!
Steve Hebert: Zimdela even bumps off the wall, falling to the ground, in a massive pile. Luckily for him, as Casanova stumbles toward him, he's able to pick up a clump of dirt and throw it into his eyes! Nice and dirty, just how I like it. Where's his stupid cowbell now?!
Lex Robinson: Picking his spot, Zimdela rises, seeing Casanova try and remove the clay from his eyes. Brushing off the last of the fire ants, he moves next to Casanova, double-underhooks his arms and Implant double-underarm DDTs him, face first onto the ground!
Sitting next to Casanova's fallen body, Zimdela takes a moment to lick his own wounds, then turning his focus back to his foe. Delivering even more elbows to the back of Casanova's neck/head, Zimdela is sure to bounce his face off the rocks and clay.
Lex Robinson: Back up a standing base, a very bloodied, bruised and scratched Zimdela Brudon hooks onto Casanova's hair and takes a page out of his opponent's own book. Using all of his strength, he yanks Cas back into The Colosseum, dragging him along the ground, letting the rocks and dirt scratch and cut him up.
Steve Hebert: Once inside, he grabs both of Casanova's hands and pulls him up... only to place his left foot across his face and then jam it down, delivering a reverse curbstomp, of sorts!
Lex Robinson: Man, oh man, Zimdela literally stomped Casanova's head into the ground.
Steve Hebert: And he literally made him eat his boot.
Walking over to the cowbell and rope, Zimdela picks it up and twirls it around, mocking Casanova. In a turn of events, he waits for Casanova to rise, watching with evil intent in his eyes.
Lex Robinson: Casanova is on two feet...
Steve Hebert: Good! Because this allows for Zimdela to truck forward and swing that cowbell into Casanova's own face, getting a taste of his own medicine!
Lex Robinson: Ouch! That ding could be heard all the way back home, in North America!
Steve Hebert: Those fire ants that were on Zimdela, they were even worse than normal ones, too. They were European fire ants, which are 10 times worse.
Lex Robinson: I see.
The shot with the bell bowls Casanova over, knocking him onto the steps which lead to the next level of The Colosseum. Instead of using the steps, Zimdela easily walks on Casanova, climbing up to the extra level, grabbing him and pulling him up when near the top. It isn't until when Zimdela fully lifts Casanova to his feet and suplexes him that they're at the next level of the building.
Lex Robinson: Both men escalate themselves to the next layer of The Colosseum, with Zimdela forcing Casanova up and throwing him up another plank of steps.
Steve Hebert: Zimdela quickly gives chase, though; as he follows behind Casanova, even giving him some more kicks and stomps. Up here, Zimdela hoists a heavily-bleeding Casanova up and tucks him between his legs and then hits a spike-piledriver! You know, Casanova is bleeding like your wife's vagina, Lex.
Lex Robinson: It's odd -- the more Zimdela bleeds, the stronger and more resilient he becomes. Casanova, on the other hand, is becoming weaker, as he continues to bleed. It makes you think "Hmmm...", doesn't it?
Steve Hebert: For the last goddamn time, vampires aren't real. Neither is Dracula... or Count Chocula... or Kiefer Sutherland in The Lost Boys. If anything, Casanova is a pretend vampire. If he was actually a vampire, he would turn into a bat and fly away.
Lex Robinson: ...Right.
Battling up the rim of The Colosseum, Casanova desperately tries to fight back against Zimdela Brudon's onslaught. When Zimdela moves in on Casanova, who has risen to a kneeling position, not too long after being dropped on his head, he walks directly into a chop to the groin, which both infuriates and arouses him.
Lex Robinson: Punches to the midsection seem to make Zimdela erect!
Steve Hebert: What's the sense of doing that? It just makes him one-step closer to having Zimdela's cock inside of his faux-vampiric asshole. If there was any time to turn into a bat or a cloud of mist, Lex; now is the time. You don't see it happening, do you?!
Relishing in the shots being given to him, Zimdela tweaks his bloody nipple, which has a gash running through it. Licking his chops, he throws Casanova against the highest pillar at the top of the building, seconding it with some back-elbow shots to Casanova's jaw.
Steve Hebert: Bash his goddamn brains in, Zimmy.
Lex Robinson: They had better be careful up there. You don't want to fall a certain angle, or you'll be plunging off this building.
Steve Hebert: Hmm... good idea! Do that, Zimmy! Fling Casanova overboard!
Lex Robinson: Apparently Zimdela doesn't heed your words, Steve, as he wraps his hands around Casanova's neck, digging his fingers and nails in, trying to choke the life out of him.
Steve Hebert: He should cut his head off, like how Casanova tried to do with him, using that barbed-wire baseball-bat.
Lex Robinson: Laughing like a true sadist at Casanova's predicament, Zimdela towers over Casanova, whose legs begin to buckle beneath him. However, just as the time is right, Zimdela uses both hands to hoist him up, giving him a double-handed lifting choke!
Steve Hebert: Yes! Throw him off The Colosseum!
Lex Robinson: Alternatively, Zimdela turns around and goes to heave Casanova down the rubble and the flights of stairs, trying to heave him down to the ringside area! If he hits this, Casanova will tumble down all those steps, beating the life out of him!
Steve Hebert: If we're lucky, he may knock some fans out of the way, too!
Zimdela Brudon goes to step forward, attempting to double-handed choke toss Casanova down the flight of stairs from the top of The Colosseum's rim.
Lex Robinson: Wait, no!
Using both of his own hands and fingers, Casanova claws away at Zimdela's eyes and face, trying to halt the attempt. It's with a swift knee to the crotch that Casanova is able to stop the momentum, allowing him to regain his footing.
Lex Robinson: Zimdela's plan is thwarted! Casanova lands before him, punches him in the skull a few times and then goes to suplex Zimdela down the flight of stairs! If he can hit this, oh my...
Steve Hebert: Don't speak so soon. Zimdela blocks the attempt and steps back. Superkick by Zimdela to Casanova's face!
Lex Robinson: Oh no...!
Thump...
Thump...
Thump...
Steve Hebert: Casanova is following down those steps, knocking several of fans over, as he continues to roll like a giant boulder!
Lex Robinson: He's knocking over fans... chairs... trying to grab onto anyone or anything to stop himself! Unfortunately, he doesn't come to a halt until he finally rolls all the way down the top of The Colosseum, to the ringside area, finally stopping on the collapsed ring railing!
Steve Hebert: If his neck... legs... or arm aren't broken, then I don't know what the fuck.
Standing at the top of the stairs, Zimdela holds his arms in the air, letting all the blood drip off him and onto the steps below. Looking ahead, he notices Casanova almost lifeless on the railing, barely even breathing.
Steve Hebert: He's dead. He has to be. Someone has finally put that retard out of his misery. I know it.
Tiptoeing down the steps, Zimdela pushes his ways past the frenzied fans, keeping his eyes on Casanova, who is still unable to move.
Steve Hebert: Get down there, Zimmy, and cover him!
Lex Robinson: Slowly, but surely, Zimdela traverses down the steps, finally stopping at the bottom step to laugh at Cas's predicament. Collapsing onto him, Zimdela covers, looking for a bloodied victory...
Steve Hebert: Yes... yes... yes! Come on!
The referee starts counting...
...1...
Steve Hebert: There's one...!
...2...
Steve Hebert: Two...!
...
Lex Robinson: No! Casanova kicks out, just before the referee can strike the railing for the third time!
STeve Hebert: Son of a fucking bitch! If he had walked down those stairs quicker, he would have had him! I just know it!
Lex Robinson: Maybe. Either way, Zimdela is now kneeling next to Casanova, giving him even more whacks across the face and the head!
Climbing to his feet, an angry Zimdela Brudon circles around the ring, looking beneath the apron, where he finally slides out a barbed-wire board/platform.
Lex Robinson: More barbed-wire!
Steve Hebert: It's a Zimdela Brudon staple!
Lex Robinson: This may not be goo-- hey!
Laying the platform against the announcer's table, Zimdela turns around and backhands Lex Robinson, knocking the headphones off his head. He beckons for both Lex and Steve to get out of the way, even shoving them aside, forcing the announcers to quickly get out of the way.
Steve Hebert: Holy fucking Christ. I don't know what's going on; but I'm getting the fuck out of here. For Lex Robinson, I'm Steve Hebert, thanks for tuning in and keep watching, the action continues! Lex and I will see you again in September; but we're still filming...
Zimdela latches onto Steve Hebert...
Steve Hebert: H-- he-- hey!
Grabbing onto Steve Hebert, Zimdela lifts him up and throws him towards Lex Robinson, knocking him down. Pulling the monitors and every other appliance off the booth, including Steve Hebert's rubber chicken, Zimdela lays the barbed-wire platform across the table and then throws the chicken at Casanova, who is just now sitting up.
This prop seems to awaken Casanova from his slumber, prompting him to get on his knees and pop up, charging at Zimdela. Striking with a multitude of punches and knife-edge chops, Casanova looks to regain the advantage, but is thwarted once Zimdela thrusts his hand into the Television Champ's throat!
Delivering one more wicked headbutt, Zimdela scoops Casanova up and body slams him onto the barbed-wire platform, which lays across the table. Grabbing a chair and holding it above his head, he makes sure to smack it across his nemesis's face, leaving him prone for a further attack.
Leaving the chair across Casanova's chest/face, Zimdela turns his back on him, confusing the audience. Slowly, Zimdela climbs onto the ring apron, making everyone hold their breath in apprehension. Furthermore, he turns to the nearest ring post and begins climbing the turnbuckles attached to it, soon finding himself perched on the top turnbuckle.
With his back facing Casanova, Zimdela looks over his shoulder, as if to measure him up. The second that Zimdela launches himself off the top rope, the fans instantly rise to their feet, in absolute disbelief at what they're witnessing.
Soaring through the air -- all 290 pounds of him, Zimdela performs a picture-perfect moonsault, which would almost put Morgana to shame. Not only does he crash onto the chair that's laying across Casanova; but he also manages to put Casanova and himself through the barbed-wire board, which cracks in two, along with the ring announcer's table, which has been properly destroyed!
Standing on their feet, the fans can only watch as Zimdela lays lifeless across an equally immobile Casanova, having his right shoulder lay across the Television Champ's chest. Upon seeing this, the referee drops down, making the count...
...1...
The ref's hand slaps the ground once...
...2...
It slaps against the broken pieces of wood twice...
......
NO!
Just in the nick of time, a nano-second before the referee slaps his hand down for the third time, Casanova lifts his right shoulder off the canvas, continuing the match; and continuing the brutality!
After about a minute, both men soon begin to rise, with lacerations all over their body, including a deep one on Zimdela's arm, thanks to Casanova and the piece of wood. Nevertheless, they toughen their way through the pain, with Zimdela being the first to his feet.
Using his fingernails, he claws at Casanova's flesh wounds, trying to open them up even further. Over and over, he tears away at Casanova's skin, attempting to drain him of every morsel of blood the resides in his body. Removing him from the plunder, Zimdela throws Casanova against the ring railing, rips off a piece of the barbed-wire that had been attached to the platform and begins to whip it across Casanova's back, even going as far as to wrap it around his own head, as if it were a crown.
Blood flows from his head, but Zimmy doesn't seem too worried, as he turns Casanova around and nails him with a barbed-wire amplified headbutt! Skin shreds from both men's forehead, as Zimdela scrobs at Casanova's back, trying to rip him open.
Removing the crown of barbed-wire from around his head, Zimdela carelessly throws it into the fans, not bothering him where it lands. With his attention focused solely on Casanova, he stands his opponent up, bashes his skull off the ring apron and leaves a disgusting blotch of blood behind. From here, he then tosses him against the ring post, smacking Casanova's shoulder against the steel.
Turning Casanova around, Zimdela clotheslines him into the post, making sure to stand his ground. After striking with a kick to Casanova's gut, hunching him over, Zimdela pulls the Television Champ near and hoists him up into a powerbomb-position about to throw him into the corner post...
...Fortunately for Casanova, he becomes well-aware of the position he's in. Forming a fist, he begins to pound away on Zimdela's temple, opening the cuts on his head even further; but above all else, dizzying him. These punches allow for Casanova to slip out behind Zimdela, land on his own two feet and then give Zimdela a push into the steel post, forcing his skull into the unforgiving steel!
After cracking Zimdela's gushing head off the ring steps, Casanova takes a few steps around the outer portion of the ring, where he stumbles upon the spiked brass-knuckles that Zimdela had introduced earlier in the evening. With a twisted look on his face, Casanova hunches over, picks up the knuckles and places them on his fingers, getting a firm and steady grip on them.
Targeting Zimdela, gaining revenge for the earlier attack, Casanova applies a side-headlock and begins to mercilessly wail away on Zimdela's skull with punches using the spiked knuckles. Soon enough, blood soaks the knuckles and sops in between the attacker's knuckles, having his own hand drenched in the blood of the former Ultraviolence Champion, a scene that Zimdela has not seen in a while.
Dropping the knuckles, Casanova allows for Zimdela to lean against the ring, trying to piece himself together, blood spilling from his wounds. A few fans at the ringside area offer Casanova some weapons to use, but Casanova shrugs them off, opting to only kick Zimdela, as he collapses to the ground.
Again, Casanova ignores the pleas from the fans, who ask him to use their way, but he shies away from them and decides to follow his own course. In doing so, he checks under the ring apron and happens to pull out not one, but two tables; even dropping the second one carelessly onto a highly-damaged Brudon.
Having set up one of the tables, Casanova turns back around, attempting to lift Zimdela, only to be struck with a right fist to the gut. This, along with Zimdela grabbing onto Casanova's pants, falling backward and bumping him against the ring apron, aides in Casanova's growing frustration.
After being thrown against the ring apron, Casanova is quick to relocate Zimdela, who has a hard time rising. To fix this issue, Casanova quells the standing with a quick kick to the skull, followed by Casanova grabbing a walker from an elderly fan and throwing it onto Zimdela!
The fan topples over, actually causing Casanova to receive some jeers, as he holds the walker up, only to smash it down again onto his opponent! He shows no compassion for the fallen elder, but instead chooses to push some fans out of the way to grab another chair. Seeing Zimdela continue to get back up, a look of anguish arises on Casanova's face, as he briskly raises the chair over his head... only to send it smashing down across Zimdela's forehead not once... not twice... not even three times. In fact, Casanova blatantly bashes the chair across Zimdela's skull a total of five times, resulting in a massacred Zimdela Brudon to lean helplessly against the ring.
Receiving shot after shot, Zimdela's blood continues to flow down his face, looking as if he has just been in an explosion. He witnesses Casanova hold the chair up for a sixth time, soon deciding that he's had enough of that. With a last ditch effort to save himself, Zimdela races towards the flustered vampire... only to have Casanova grab a random teenage fan, pick him up and volley him towards Zimdela!
Caught by complete surprise, Zimdela crashes into the fan, knocking him over. Fortunately for Mister Brudon, he stays afloat, but his luck would soon run out, as Casanova is quick to connect with a superkick of his own!
Zimdela goes stumbling backward, with Casanova pursuing him, where they accidentally arrive upon a crippled old lady. Taking advantage of this, Casanova grabs the wheelchair the crippled woman is in and begins mowing towards Zimdela, smashing into it, sending the old lady flying onto the floor; with Zimmy collapsing, as well.
The fans in attendance have no idea how to react to Casanova's actions, as he picks up the crippled old lady, tosses her out of the way and then lifts her wheelchair up, as well. Seconds later, he heaves it down onto Zimdela, who was on his hands and knees, trying to fight his way up.
Lifting Zimdela up, Casanova sits the bloody man in the seat of the wheelchair and now pushes it to the ringside area, stopping only when Zimdela crashes into the ring steps! Following in, Casanova charges at Zimdela, who remains seated, striking him with an insufferable running Yakuza kick to the back of the head, knocking both the chair and his opponent over!
Casanova falls atop Zimdela, looking for the pinfall victory...
...1...2...
...
However, Zimdela fiercely kicks out, continuing this all-out war, which would put thousands of gladiators to shame!
Stunned that he has not won the match, Casanova grabs another handful of Zimdela's hair and plucks him up to a standing base. Once again, he smashes Zimdela's skull off the ring steps and then follows that up by smashing it off the table he had previously setup!
A tiny trail of blood is left behind on the table, as Casanova pushes Zimdela onto the ring apron and follows him up. Standing alongside Zimdela, Casanova knees him in the guts and then places him between his legs with a standing headscissors. Double-underhooking both arms, Casanova strives to hit the "Second Death" piledriver, but is stopped by Zimdela, who frantically reaches out and squeezes Casanova's testicles, finding the release!
Shouting out in pain, Cas can only holds his crotch as Zimdela locks both arms around him, holds him up into a bearhug and proceeds to leap off the apron, hitting The Very Best in Pain through the table that Casanova had setup! This devastating spinebuster from the apron splinters the wooden table, leaving the Television Champ in a crumpled pile amongst the wood!
Obviously, Zimdela holds his body over Casanova, thinking he has the match won.
Here comes the count...
...1...
...
...2...
...
Everyone expects Casanova to lay down, unable to withstand "The Very Best in Pain"...
...
They're wrong.
Before the referee can slap his hand down for the third time, Casanova amazingly kicks out, shocking everyone, including the referee!
Oddly enough, Zimdela seems the least shocked of everyone that is watching. Scrambling from the pile, sucking for oxygen, he stumbles towards the ring apron, barely able to hold himself up. Falling to one knee, Zimdela again searches beneath the ring, no doubt looking for more plunder and artillery. What he pulls out is something tiny, sharp and dangerous.
Leftover from tonight's earlier Ultraviolence Title Tournament Finals match, Zimdela pulls out a bag of thumbtacks, The crowd is aghast, as he stands to his feet and wobbles towards Casanova, who is ailing, trying to regain his senses. Unfortunately for Casanova, it's probably better if he had stayed on the ground, as Zimdela grabs the front of his tights, pulls them out and pours half the bag of thumbtacks down the front of Casanova's pants!
Struggling to yank himself away from the deviant, Casanova batters Zimdela with a forearm to the jaw, which only leads into Zimdela kicking him in the crotch, jabbing the thumbtacks into his genitals! Smiling wildly, he quickly begins hammering fist-after-fist into Casanova's crotch, making the bloodstains apparent on his pants -- and on his own knuckles.
Feeling pain like no other, Casanova stumbles forward, holding his crotch with his two hands. Using this momentum, Zimdela rolls him back into the ring, even sliding the rest of the thumbtacks out of the bag and onto the canvas.
The cameras focus in on Casanova, who is rolling around in the ring, accidentally rolling across remnants of the tacks. When they switch back to Zimdela, they show him with a can of gasoline in one hand and a match in the other. In front of him is the other table that Casanova pulled out from beneath the ring and dropped onto him. Squirting the gas onto the table, Zimdela strikes the match and drops it onto the table, licking his lips with pleasure as it ignites before him.
In the meantime, Casanova has slowly begun to recover inside of the ring, lifting himself up to a kneeling position. Becoming aware of this, Zimdela rolls back inside, rolling across the thumbtacks, which he seems to take pleasure in. Hammering Casanova with some fists, Zimmy is quick to scrape his nails across his rival's back, making sure to peel some skin off, in the process.
Placing Casanova between his legs, Zimdela rests his testicles across the back of his head, jump up and then drop his weight across Cas's neck. To make matters worse, Zimdela pulls him up into a powerbomb-position, pressing Casanova's crotch against his face... and charges ahead, running towards the flaming table on the floor...
As Zimdela goes to release Casanova, hoping to powerbomb him through the flaming table, he is taken off-guard by Casanova keeping his legs locked around his neck, sending him all the way to the outside with a hurricanrana! Thanks to this, Zimdela somersaults upside-down through the air and crashes shoulder-first into the fire-laden table, smashing it into pieces, while landing in the pile of flames!
Scorched, Zimdela instinctively stands, trying to swat out the flames that have begun to burn him, including those which now burn his attire. The disgusting aroma of burning flesh permeates throughout The Colosseum, with people desperately trying to figure out how much more these two men can take and unload onto each other. According to Casanova, some more punishment is about to come, too.
Why?
During Zimdela's attempts to pat himself down, Casanova has snuck to the backstage area, stumbling his way to the back. The fans are in dire confusement for a moment, until he returns with his big surprise.
A zamboni!
For the first time ever, a zamboni has entered The Colosseum; and it's being driven by Casanova, a flashback to their prior meeting at Over The Top Rope 2. In his crosshairs stands a stumbling and confused Zimdela, who watches as Casanova revs the engine of the zamboni and speeds it forward -- as fast as a zamboni can go, anyhow!
The machine rumbles towards Zimdela, who, at the last second, dives out of the way, thus causing the ice machine to slam directly into the side of the ring, toppling it over! Panic and carnage fills the air, as the ring's moorings giveway, resulting in the wrestling ring falling apart!
Upset about the miscue, Casanova goes to hop off the zamboni, but he is halted by Zimdela Brudon, who reaches up from behind, grabbing onto Casanova's tights. Turning the vampire around, Zimdela strikes a few more fists against Casanova's crotch, daggering those thumbtacks that have been stuck inside even further into the skin.
Taking this time, Zimdela grabs Casanova's bloody head and smashes it against the steering wheel of the zamboni, snapping it off -- the wheel, that is. Rendering immovable, the zamboni becomes perfect use for Zimdela, who has its steering wheel in hand, using it to bash across Casanova's skull!
Like a wounded animal, Casanova screeches out, while Zimdela wraps the wheel around his head. In an effort to escape, Casanova strikes some elbows to the side of Zimdela's cranium, temporarily dizzying him. This works out to perfection, as Casanova, steering wheel and all, lifts the larger Zimdela up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry position, steps onto the front of the zamboni and races forward. Jumping off the zamboni, into the partially destroyed ring, Casanova nails a flying Death Valley Driver onto Zimdela, who crashlands onto the pile of thumbtacks that had been laid out!
The fans are going absolutely bonkers, as both men continue to beat the holy hell out of each other. On his hands and knees, which are now equally as bloody as his face, a weakened Casanova lays across Zimdela Brudon, expecting victory...
The referee rolls into the broken ring and begins his count...
...1...2...
...
Yet again, at the very last second, Zimdela pops his shoulder up, almost displaying superhero powers! With the count disrupted, a stunned, perplexed and appreciative Casanova sits up, thinking what else he can do to put his longtime friend/rival away.
But things are never that easy.
At approximately the same time, both men go to stand. Bloodied, beaten down, scorched, eaten, destroyed are all words that describe their current condition; but they still manage to stand to their feet, where they begin exchanging blows.
Zimdela strikes Casanova with a hard-hitting right forearm...
Casanova swings a stiff punch to Zimdela's temple...
Zimdela replies by striking Casanova with a bionic-elbow...
To which Casanova responds by kicking Zimdela in the gut, bouncing off the ropes and hitting "The Bad Omen" to the side of Zimdela's head!
As quickly as he had been knocked down by the "Bad Omen", Zimdela arises, with blood in his mouth, eyes and ears. Struggling to remain on both feet, he quickly taken down by Casanova, who steps out onto the broken portion of the ring, climbs to the top turnbuckle and dives off, hitting The Carpe Nocturne!
...but again, Zimdela pops right back up, despite the damage done to him. Seeing this, Casanova knees him in the stomach, pulls him close and then applies the Exsanguination, a seated Abdominal Stretch! On his rear end, Casanova pulls and pulls, trying to force Zimdela to submit in the middle of the broken-down ring... but it's useless.
Nothing but laughter can be heard emanating from Zimdela Brudon each time the referee checks on his condition. He will never give up! In due time, he rises to his feet, still with Casanova trying to hang onto himl only to derail Casanova with some elbows to the gut. He picks up a chair that had been left in the ring and goes to swipe Casanova with it, but Casanova steps up to him, stopping him before it can be done!
Instead, Casanova offers him some payback, as he kicks him quickly and stiffly in the midsection, forcing him to drop the chair. Wrapping two hands around Zimdela's neck, Casanova holds the big man up, surprisingly lifting him into a two-handed chokeslam postion. The muscles in his arms contract and ripple, as he steps forward, headed towards the ropes, dumping Zimdela to the floor!
Hitting nothing but concrete, stone and wooden remnants, Zimdela Brudon crashes onto the floor, while all of the strength Casanova summoned flushes out of his system, resulting in him dropping down to two knees, trying to replenish himself. Everyone watching this spectacle is stunned... shocked... horrified at what these two men have done to each other, yet their fear rises, as they know it's still not over.
Especially with Zimdela snarling back up to his feet, acting as if nothing has happened!
Rolling back into the ring, which is falling apart, Zimdela, who seems to be in full zombie mode, charges directly at his opponent... only to receive a kick in the gut, for his efforts!
Grabbing the chair inside of the ring, Casanova lays it flat on the ground and then prepares tohit the "Second Death" double-underhook piledriver on it. Yet again, however; Brudon overpowers him, standing up straight, with Casanova still holding on to him, for dear life. Before Brudon can reverse things, Casanova immediately shifts his weight and flips forward, sending Zimdela Brudon onto his skull -- and on the chair -- with a flipping double-underhook piledriver!
...And again, Zimdela rises, trying his best to fight off the pain, despite the twisted look on his face!
Casanova can't believe it. The fans can't believe it. Deep down inside, perhaps Zimdela Brudon can't believe it, either. It takes Casanova picking up the chair and wailing away on Zimdela to finally bring him down to a kneeling position.
There's one chairshot...
...and two...
...and three...
...and four...
...and five...
...and six...
...and seven...
...
In total, Casanova delivers 20 chairshots to an obliterated Zimdela Brudon, who probably has portions of his skull showing. The fans have no idea how to react, as they think Casanova has gone way too far.
He shrugs off their indecision, lifts Zimdela Brudon up once more and then calls for the end. For the second time tonight, Casanova hits Destiny Calling!
Zimdela Brudon lays motionless in the ring, as Casanova rolls him onto his back, getting the cover.
The referee, who is appalled at the damage these two have done onto each other, drops down, slapping his hands off the blood-stained canvas...
...1...
...
...2...
Will this finally be the end?!
...
...3...!
It almost feels like a miracle that the referee slaps his hand down for the third time, signalling the end of the match and Casanova's defeat of Zimdela Brudon!
The fans are in an uproar -- appreciative of the hard-fought match between the two and the utter chaos they created. However, is all this violence, bloodshed and destruction too far?! Not to Casanova, who solemnly slides out of the ring, retrieves his Television Title and turns his back on the mixed emotions from the fans.
Not sticking around to listen to their cheers -- or their jeers, Casanova begins walking to the back. At the top of the entrance, he stops, turns around and looks back into the ring, noticing Zimdela Brudon sitting up, showered in his own blood! As Casanova looks at him from the entrance, Zimdela looks back, smirks and nods his head.
And that's where the action for tonight ends.
More importantly, that's where the action for Sin Wrestling ends until September 2008.
Winner: Casanova
One of the officials speak up, trying to warn the cameraman.
Official: You can't go in there. You are not allowed!
The official holds the cameraman back, not letting him see inside. Luckily, Corey Page soon arrives on scene.
Corey Page: What happened?! What's going on here?!
Another official speaks to him.
Official: It's Morgana... she's been attacked! We've call an ambulance for her. She's going to need medical treatment.
Corey Page: What the hell?!
Corey pushes his way into Morgana's locker-room, allowing the cameraman to point the camera inside, finally getting a good view of the commotion inside. Right away, he spots Morgana laying front-first through a wooden table that has been broken in half by her body.
Corey Page: Who did this?!
Her newly-won World Title remains at her feet, with everyone wondering exactly what happened to her. When the stretcher finally arrives, the camera respectfully cuts out, fading out into the Sin Wrestling logo.
What a way to start the summer vacation.