Post by NFWCommish on Mar 25, 2018 15:48:54 GMT -8
MAIN EVENT
Falls Count Anywhere For N*FW Women's Championship
Rosemary vs Apocalypta (C)
Two Out of Three Falls For The N*FW Silver Mountain Championship
Rick Dickulous vs Adam Cole (C)
Marissa Payne vs Angel
Tyler Grey & Chris Wolfe vs Bad Luck Fale & Chase Owens
Trina Tanaka vs Kid Cthulhu
Tyson Law vs Vincent Stone
Colt Shields & Satoru Shade III vs The McKeesport Mafia
N*FW TV Championship
Scott Leroux (C) vs Shelton Benjamin
Ryan Steele vs Matt Klazzic
Cutting to a backstage locker room, we see an old photograph of a younger Andrew Payne with a much younger Morgan up on his shoulders. Contrary to how Andrew carries himself in wrestling, the photo shows him smiling as he holds his daughter - also smiling - with his XFW Hardcore Championship held up in front of her with an excited smile - braces and all - on her face. Panning over and down, we are met with “The Punisher” Andrew Payne, sitting on a bench with his elbows propped on his knees with a cell phone to his ear. We can’t hear who’s on the other line, but we can guess by his side of the conversation.
“...You’re resting at home, right? *Right*?” The second ‘right’ is full of a father’s firm affirmation. Like telling a child they better not be lying to him. He closes his eyes and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know, baby girl, but the docs said you had to take it easy for the first week. You listen to them and you’ll be back in no time.”
He pauses, and almost cracks a smile at something he hears on the other line. “You’re a brat sometimes. Good night, kiddo.” Pause. “Ti amo anch’io....” He finishes in Italian before ending the call. The Punisher lowers the phone and lifts his eyes, staring ahead of him. Fuming on the inside as we slowly pan back revealing the rest of the McKeesport Mafia’s locker room.
"Andy. Calm yer shit down, man." Big Daddy Payne raised an eyebrow slowly as he saw the look on his partner's face after hanging up the phone. "Morgan's gonna be fine. She took a bad bump, but she's gonna be fine. And it's not like you're gonna go beating the shit out of a girl, so don't even stress over getting even. We knew when we let our kids train that shit like this was gonna happen. It sucks, but we can't treat them like our kids when it comes to wrestling. We gotta respect them as equal teammates. So just cool it, bud. You know I'm right."
"I don't even know how you guys do it. I'd be losing my mind." Shelton Benjamin said, sitting there playing Mortal Kombat with BDP.
Andy pushes himself to his feet. “A girl, no. You know me better than that, D.” He says, coming to stand next to his tag team partner with his broad arms folding across his chest; the usual Punisher skull - this one gold in color - over his black t-shirt. “Nothing says I wouldn’t have a ‘heart to heart’ with that piece of shit that manages her, though. Anyone can see he’s been mentoring her to dish out nasty shit and not give a damn who gets hurt by it. ‘Sides....” He glances down at BDP and Shelton. “Wouldn’t wanna take the fun away from Marissa, now, would I? I’d imagine she’s just as pissed as I am.”
He goes quiet for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the screen. In a rarely seen comical side to him, he shakes his head. “B-Money, you know this shit has a block button right?”
"Yes..." Shelton laughed, giving a shrug. "But me and Danny been playing this for ten years now, why should either of us learn defense NOW?"
BDP just tried not to laugh in agreement, before glancing over to Andy. "Dude. In the 20 years that girl's been alive, I've never once seen her this livid. Ever."
Andy gave a half hearted shrug. “Kid watched her best friend get dropped on her head and the other girl didn’t even bat an eyelash. I’d say she’s lucky Brody didn’t book a street fight. No telling what Marissa might do.”
From the game we hear ‘Finish Him!’ Andy narrows his eyes sternly. “Fuck me, B. Hope you wrestle tonight better than you play.” Something crosses his mind, seemingly, as he looks at BDP, then. “Wait a minute....” He says. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Because I, of all people, know when you play a fighting game before a match, there’s a part of you that’s formulating up something ridiculous.”
BDP actually burst out laughing then, unable to help it. "Shit. You really do know me well."
He set the controller down, hopping to his feet.
"Just that we're here... the girls are here.... B-Money's here... especially after how Morgan got hurt last week, I got to thinking: maybe it's time we stop using the House of Payne as nostalgia... and bring that motherfucker BACK. Yeah, we're missing a few members... but between the girls, and a couple guys I have in mind... I think we could do this. And then, when we're all set? We hand the keys to the kingdom over to Morgan and Marissa."
An actual smile, while small, finally does find it’s way completely onto Andy’s face. “You know...as much as a big part of me hates to think about hanging up the boots...I couldn’t think of a better time - and manner - than that. But until then? We’ve got a reputation to uphold. Tonight, we have to show Chicago, like you always say: the Pittsburgh boys ain’t nothin’ to fuck with. Chi Town’s gonna be reminded and there’s two very unlucky punks that get to find out, first hand....”
Andy bumps fists with his blood brother. “Non Facciamo....”
BDP gives a proud, devious grin as their hands connect.... before Benjamin stands and joins his to theirs. He looks at the two, then finishes Andy's mantra: "Altro... Vinto"
Andy nods to Shelton. “Damn right, B. Now, move over. Lemme show you how to school this guy at his own game.” With business said and done, Andy sits down in Shelton’s chair and takes up his controller. Once BDP sits down, we see Andy’s fingers navigate the controller buttons before selecting his character. From the TV, we hear the menacing Mortal Kombat voice announce... “D’VORAH!” The shot lingers on the other two’s comical looks of surprise and confusion before hard cutting to black.
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*The scene shifts to the backstage interview area where we see Josh Davison standing.*
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, Matt Klazzic," Davison says as Matt Klazzic enters from the right and exchanges a brief handshake with Davison.
"Hi Josh, great to see you," Klazzic says with a grin under his mask as he slowly rubs his chin with his thumb and index finger as Davison starts to interview him.
"Thank you, Matt. Now, since you've arrived at NFW, many fans couldn't help but notice that you use a somewhat...antiquated...style of offense that has left you on the short end of the matches you've been in," Davison starts.
"Ouch, Matt. I wouldn't call my style antiquated. I would prefer, 'traditional' please," Klazzic retorts.
"Sorry, 'traditional.' But tonight, you step into the ring against Ryan Steele to open the show. How do you handle someone with the unique wrestling arsenal Ryan Steele employs in the ring?" Davison asks.
"Well Josh, I'll handle this match the same way I approach every match since I've arrived. With my 'traditional' offense and the support of these great fans, I'm pretty sure tonight will be the night I turn the corner. You can't deny that I've been gaining the support of these fans, right Josh?" Klazzic responds.
"Well, no. The fans seem to be getting more and more behind you, that is true. But this isn't 1985, it's 2018. And there are some critics out there who feel that it's time for Matt Klazzic to get with the times. What would you say to them?" Davison asks again.
*Klazzic pauses for a moment while he looks down and takes a deep breath.*
"It may be 2018, that is true. But people still look to the 80s and wish they were back in that time, right? Maybe, I shouldn't move forward. Maybe it's time some of those critics look back and see what made wrestling great. Ryan Steele, you're a hell of a young talent, but this Klazzic won't just step aside and let you move on. You're going to need to bring out your best, if you want to beat me tonight. Good luck, Ryan. And thank you, Josh. Always a pleasure," Klazzic says as he shakes Davison's hand again as he leaves the interview area as the scene shifts back to ringside.
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The shot fades in on a TV inside what looks like a hospital room. A caption on the bottom of the screen reads “Last Week.” Santi Mostaffa’s “Las Mil Y Una Noches” plays from the speakers. Some viewers might even recognize the movie as that of “Logan” playing on the small flat screen. Offscreen, we hear the crunching of popcorn as the camera begins slowly panning over....
The shot slows to a stop on none other than Morgan Payne, sitting in a hospital bed, dressed in a typical hospital gown. She looks a little different without her black and gold eye makeup on.
“Awe, yins have gone and fucked up, now.” She says out loud to nobody in particular, with a mouth full of popcorn. Swallowing, she sips from a can of Mountain Dew, completely absorbed in what’s going on in the movie. Her head slightly moving with the film’s soundtrack as we hear the infamous opening fight scene approaching.
We hear a low knocking on the door. "Morgan?” says the voice thats not on camera.
Morgan looks off camera, crunching on more popcorn, and a look of surprise appears on her face. “Ryan?” While she clearly wasn’t expecting anyone, she’s obviously doesn’t object to the company. She even cracks a little smile. “What are ya doing here?”
Ryan Steele steps into the shot. “I came to see how youre doing... I’m sorry I didnt help you.. I was busy helping the refs when they didn’t want me to... and then your dad came to help and I backed off... I brought you something...” Ryan pulls from behind his back a bouquet of flowers... “I hope you like them....”
For the first time ever, we see the tough girl persona waver from Morgan’s demeanor as she looks at the flowers. “For me...?” She takes them slowly, with a flattered smile growing across her face as she looks back up at Ryan. “Dude...thank you! These are pretty!” She even giggles a bit and takes in their scent. “They smell good. Ya wanna sit down? I’m watching Logan. Kinda lonely, though. Everyone else had to fly out.”
“Yea I’ll sit, but those flowers are not as pretty as you.” He sits, looking over at the screen. “I actually have not seen this. If your nurses do not mind, I’ll stay awhile...
Is that ok?”
Morgan frowned, even though her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Dude, I look like Baltimore after playing New England with hometown refs.” She flicks a piece of popcorn into her mouth and offers the bowl to Ryan. “Least my head ain’t throbbin’ anymore.” The mention of the nurses has Morgan roll her eyes and shake her head. “Piss on them if they do. Bed manners suck here. They won’t let me go out for a square!” She gives an adorable pout.
She perks up, though, at Ryan agreeing to stick around. “Hell yeah, man! Netflix and chill with me!”
"Thats cool" Ryan agreeing with her. "I’ll be here all night if its cool" Ryan adds.
Morgan actually seems amused by this. “Really?” She says. “Heh. I’m down with that. That is if these yuppies don’t throw you out at the end of the night.” She giggles with amusement. “Sucks I’m gonna miss ya match, next week. But at least I can cheer ya on from the couch! My first check from when Mari and I signed with the indies? I splurged it all on a ginormous flat screen. It’ll be like watching wrestlin’ in a mini theater!”
A thought looks to be crossing through her mind as she narrows her eyes playfully. “Ya should dedicate ya match t’me.” She points at him, then. “Better win though! Losing a match dedicated to a girl is bad juju!” Morgan shrugs and laughs, sipping her soda again. “Eh, what the hell do I know? I’m not really superstitious. Hope you win, though. I’ll be rootin’ for ya.”
"Thanks" says Ryan. “And I’ll bet you that if I win I get to take you on a date... I mean I do like you and I can sleep in that chair over there.” As he points to it. “It might not be comfy as I want but being with you is all the comfort i need... Do you mind if I sit next to you for a bit?” Ryan asks.
Morgan laughs at Ryan’s proposition but looks at him with a pondering expression for a moment. His following statement has her smiling again, partly in surprise while she also looks unusually flattered. “Dude, you are *killin’* with the flirting, you know that? Most of it sounds like it came out of a dating book.” She chuckles and reaches out, giving him a gentle, playful shove to the shoulder.
“Arright, deal. You win your match, next week, you can take this girl out.” Morgan agrees. “Don’t worry; I’m a cheap date. Y’know, come to think of it? Never really been on one. But, still, I’m not much for the candle lit dinner bullshit. So long as we do something fun, s’all good. Now scoot that chair over and let’s watch this movie!”
The camera pans out slowly as Ryan and Morgan sit together, watching the screen as we hear the movie still going on while the shot fades out.
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Ryan Steele defeated Matt Klazzic by pinfall in 14:20, after countering an attempted slingshot suplex into The Chaos Theory.
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*After a replay of the ending sequence of the match, the camera cuts back to the ring where we see Matt Klazzic standing in one of the corners facing the turnbuckle with his head down, trying to catch his breath and taking a deep sigh when...*
“GIVE IT UP FOR MATT...KLAZZIC!!!”
*Coming out from under the titantron from the backstage area, we see Paul Heyman making his way to the ring, dressed in his usual business suit attire. As he finally gets to the ring, he stands on the apron and stops short of entering the ring as a confused Klazzic looks at him and slowly makes his way from his corner of the ring to the corner where Heyman is standing.*
"Now, just a minute, Mr. Klazzic. Before we go any further, allow me to introduce myself...LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...MY NAME, IS PAUL..HEYMAN. And I'm out here this evening to congratulate you on your effort. You show tremendous heart in the ring. The likes of which no one has ever seen since a young Ricky Morton. But unfortunately, heart can only get you so far. You, my friend, are the last of a dying breed. The last true 'wrassler' from the days gone by. You see, I've been watching your matches for the past few weeks and there's a gentlemen I'm representing who has also been watching with great interest and he's finally ready to come out and meet you face-to-face. So, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you, MY LATEST CLIENT!!!" Heyman yells as he turns to the Titantron, along with Klazzic as the fans in the arena turn towards the entrance area.
"Well? Who is it?!?" the announcers can be heard saying as there's an awkward silence in the arena as no one's stepping through.
"Now, give him a moment. This is his first time making an entrance like this, bear with me here," Heyman says as Klazzic holds his arms out, wondering where this person is. Suddenly, through the crowd, a man wearing a black and white track suit slides into the ring with his hood on, waiting for Klazzic to turn around. As the crowd reacts to the new individual in the ring, Klazzic looks at the smirk on Heyman's face as he turns around and gets hit with a charging spear from this new mysterious individual. The man turns to the crowd and pulls back his hood, surprising the crowd to be Katsuya Kitamura. Kitamura lets out a loud yell as we see him wearing a black mouthguard painted with jagged teeth. He removes the top of his tracksuit to reveal a tremendous physique as he picks Klazzic up and effortlessly holds him up for a standing suplex only to turn it into a jackhammer, before getting back up and posing on the turnbuckle, yelling and flexing to the crowd as Heyman casually walks around Klazzic and to this Kitamura's side.
"Ladies and gentlemen, not what you expected, wasn't it? Please, allow me to introduce to you, someone who you can say is a work-in-progress and a harbinger of things to come. This man, is Katsuya Kitamura. Six feet tall and every bit the monster you can be at 265 pounds. This man IS a Wrestling Monster and when WE'RE done...," Heyman pauses as he chuckles, " this man will live up to his title as the 'Japanese-Made Karelin!!!' For all you dirt sheet and IWC smart marks out there, I'm talking about Alexander Karelin. Feel free to look him up on Wikipedia on your cellphone after you finish crushing that corn dog, " Heyman says as he slowly walks over to Klazzic down on the mat, scaring away the EMTs who were checking on him as Heyman is flanked by Kitamura, who flexes his pectoral muscles as he flashes the mouthguard he's wearing.
"And Mr. Klazzic...it's been YOUR pleasure. Have a nice evening," Heyman says confidently as he places the mic on Klazzic's chest and pats him there a couple of times before leading Kitamura out of the ring as the crowd booes the due making their way back up the ramp. The camera shifts its focus from Klazzic in the ring to Heyman confidently smiling as Kitamura walks up with him, yelling at the crowd as we fade to black.
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Shelton Benjamin and Scott Leroux wrestled to a 25 minute draw, which ended just as Benjamin had hit a T-Bone suplex on Leroux and was going for the pin.
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The McKeesport Mafia defeated Colt Shields and Satoru Shade III submission in 12:07 when BDP made Shade tap out to The Steel Curtain.
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As the shot opens up, we are shown Amy Conners standing with Vincent Stone, already in his ring gear. As he rolls his neck and shoulders, loosening up for his match ahead, Amy Collins welcomes the viewers.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m here with Vincent Stone, who I’m sure we are all looking forward to seeing in action, tonight!” She turns to Stone then. “If I may have a moment of your time, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Shoot.” Stone says, almost hesitant about what is about to be asked of him.
Smiling, Amy continues. “Well, let’s start with your match, tonight: you’re up against Tyson Law who has certainly shown that he’s a formidable contender in the ring. What are your thoughts going into this match?”
Stone seems to relax a little, nodding. “Me against Law? Hell, I’m excited. He’s a straight up badass in the ring. I’ve seen his work, both here and before. When it comes to wrestling, I love a challenge. I don’t do squash matches. They’re not my thing. I like to get in there and fight. I like to entertain the fans who paid to see the show. I think he feels the same way. So, I’m hoping for a good match. Tyson, if you’re catching this: let’s tear it up, man. Give the audience what they came to see.”
Amy Conners smiles, almost with excitement herself. “Well, believe me: we all look forward to it. My next question, Vince, has to do with what seems to be a sort of...touchy subject, for you—“
Here, Stone raises a hand to stop her and closes his eyes, sighing. “Look. Amy, if you’re gonna ask about Rosemary, just don’t. Please. I know that there’s members of the locker room questioning my decision. I may not like it, but I do see the necessity. While we’re on that subject, I do wanna say: Pitt? Mannheim? You guys need to chill. This thing with Rosemary and I; it’s a temporary alliance against the Circle of Snakes. We’re not out to help each other cheat to win. I don’t intend on doing it, and I’ve made myself perfectly clear to her that I don’t want her help in anything that doesn’t involve the Circle. So threatening with a ‘trip to hell’ is unnecessary. I was a big fan of you guys back in the day, so just worry about guiding your boy Rick and let me…” he sighs “...and Rosemary, handle our business.”
Amy Conners brings the mic back to herself, then, nodding empathetically. “I can understand your frustration with everything being said. But it has to be asked, *are* you and Rosemary on the same page? Have you spoken with her at all, tonight? Is she even he—“ Amy Conners stops as something behind Stone catches her attention. She suddenly looks nervous.
The camera has a malfunction for a moment turning to fuzz -- again you can see Hands of Decay words inside the fuzz in green lettering, and the camera resets itself and pans back as Rosemary is standing right behind Stone, her face painted to look exactly like Apocalypta.
Tapping him on the shoulder, just enough to get his attention, and waiting for him to spin around so she can interrupt this interview. “Oh Mr. Stoooone, I heard what you said” smiling at his back till he turns around.
Stone’s eyes close again and his shoulders sag as a look of slight annoyance crossing his face; the man clearly not in the mood to deal with this right now. When he does turn around, his expression changes to one of confusion when he sees Rosemary’s choice of...makeup. “What do you want, Rosemary? And…” he lifts a finger, waving it in a circle, pointing at her face, “...why the hell are you painted up like Apocalypta?”
“Oh my dear stoney one, we warned you that you needed us --- and we were right. As far as why are we dressed like the knock off, there is where you’re wrong. You see, they ---- are dressed like us.”
She smiles at him and before he starts to speak she places a finger on his lips as if to shush him for a moment…”We know you don’t like us, and frankly to us you are just a tool. A useful tool, but a tool. If you think you don’t need us, let’s us show you proof.
She points to a tv screen off camera and as the camera slides to the left, everyone is watching the replay of Adam Cole winning the match, and with it the Silver Mountain Championship.
The video is on replay as the Canadian Eh Hole falls onto Stone and Benjamin repeatedly.
“The worst part is after the match though. We avoided getting in the ring, as you requested.”
She giggles a bit, and looks to her finger as if she is talking to it “ Show him the video, show it to him. We will, We will” She turns to look back at him and smiles. As we said the worst part of all of this is after the match. Let’s turn again to the video, because as we both know video does not lie”
The camera again pans to the left and a different video begins to play. It’s another clip from the ladder match.
The clip shows Rosemary entering the ring behind Adam Cole as he holds the Silver Mountain Championship. Turning around, Rosemary surprises Cole with a shot of green mist from her mouth, right in the face. He goes down, clawing at his eyes. Rosemary drops to her knees over him, taunting Cole inaudibly. Outside the ring, Stone has recovered from having Rick Dickulous land on him and Shelton. He slides into the ring to confront Rosemary. He looks at her like she is not supposed to be here she throws her arms back and smile at him, bending low at the waist. Standing back up she nods at him and rolls back out of the ring and dives under the mat.
Stone, not really likely the fact she even accompanied him to the ring in the first place, looks over the ropes at the spot where she entered. The crowd begins to scream as she exits out the either side and rolls back into the ring, something shiny in her hand, yelling at him to “Turn around” and when he does she shoves her hand towards the man, silver object and all, and he takes it looking down at the handcuffs she just handed him, letting one drop to show the crowd.
Rosemary points at the handcuffs and then to Adam Cole and then seems to be encouraging a new level of violence Stone finds disgusting, as he drops the handcuffs and rolls out of the ring.
Rosemary falls to her knees and looks at him as he stares as her, walking backwards, mumbling to himself.
Rosemary continues speaking, but off screen.
“We tried to show you the way, you failed to see it, do we have to… ignore your petty little warning and carve you into something new?”
When the camera pans back to the three, Stone wears a look of exasperation on his face as he turns to Rosemary. “Alright, listen to me….” As he speaks, he stresses his point by slapping one hand onto the other. “I-do not-want-your-help-winning-matches. I don’t need it. I lost last week. It sucks. It does. Am I bothered by it? A little. Who isn’t bothered by a loss? But I take my licks and I get back up. I *will* earn a championship here at some point. But I *was* up against two big names in this business, as well as a walking mountain. Don’t take that as an excuse. Did I make a mistake somewhere? Very likely, but that mistake wasn’t not handcuffing one of them to the ropes to gain an advantage. You wanna call me a tool? Try to get in my head? Sorry to burst your little black bubble, Rosemary, but it’s not gonna work. It’s me and you against the Circle. Not the entire N*FW locker room. I’m not gonna help you with your matches and I don’t need you to help me with mine. And like I said, you’re gonna hate life if you so much as try to ‘transform’ me into some kind of freak like your buddy Steve.”
When he says Steve, she gets visibly annoyed “ Crazy Steve, get it right.”
Stone rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah, Crazy is one word to describe him.” He shakes his head and waves his hands to get back on track. “Alright, look. Like I said...you…me...the Circle. That’s it. Anything else? Forget about it. My match tonight, against Tyson Law? You-stay-back-here. Got it?” He raises his eyebrows, nodding as if asking a child if they understand. “If Abaddon and his pack rear their ugly heads, then and ONLY then, do you come out. As for your match tonight, I know it’s against Apocalypta. Listen to me, Rosemary...I am *not* going to help you cheat to win a title. What I *am* gonna do, per our agreement, is make sure nobody else from her crew decides to try and intervene. I can promise you that, and I can do so just fine on my own without your…’assistance.’”
“So, to clear the air a little” adjusting her hoodie she is wearing. “One, we handed you the handcuffs, after you lost. Not because we wanted to help you win, that is not what we want from you. What we want is to see you embrace that darker side of yourself. We want to you beat a helpless man while he is down, because THAT is the way to get your point across, We see the black ichor that runs in your veins and want that to be released before it consumes you, leaving you as a hollowed out husk, and blown away by the wind.
We remember a time, many moons ago when another snake-man buried a warrior up to his head in dirt and placed a skull in front of the warrior, so the warrior could see the path ahead.
So the warrior could understand his place in all things, and slowly, but surely the warrior got it and when onto become a defeat an Immortal.”
She is obviously referencing the time when Jake the Snake buried the Ultimate Warrior before a match against the Undertaker. “So <she giggles> we will be at ringside, because you are not the Shadow. We won’t get involved, you have our word, because we always keep our word. We know you’ll win your match. We know we will win ours, we have one final thing to say to you however, Stoney”
We hope, sooner rather than later, you realise what we are trying to do to - we mean for you. You would be better off if you just listened. So go ahead, finish your promo about the Lawman, we can wait...”
Stone watches her with a flat expression as she tells the tale of the warrior. As he nods, it’s clear he understands what she’s referencing. “Cute. I like that. You know your wrestling history. Look, fine. I guess I can’t stop you from following me around like a puppy. You wanna sit by and watch? Be my guest. I don’t know why you’re doing this. I don’t know why you chose me. Frankly, I don’t care. Just remember what I said: once the Circle is broken? We’re done.”
He turns back to Amy Conners who has just been standing there with an uncomfortable look on her face like someone is watching their parents argue. Stone sighs again. “Sorry, Amy. I’m done with this interview.” Amy nods in understanding albeit a little disappointment on her face as Stone turns back to Rosemary. “You ready? Let’s go. Just...for the love of whatever god there is...try to behave….” Stone turns and walks off screen.
“We do have one more thing to say, actually” watching him walk off screen. Turning to Amy, as she gets the most uncomfortable she has been this entire interview as Rosemary’s gaze finally sets directly on her. “ Amy, our knock off recently said that she relishes our meeting and wants to show us the ways of the Abyss. You are either a genius or a fool. Abyss is our brother, we do not fear him. See you soon, prepare to Decay, Decay DECAY”
Turning to Amy and licking her hand and running it down the announcers face as she follows Stone off camera.
Amy, stands there and watches her walk off camera, right hand rubbing her face with a complete look of disgust as the camera attempts to face goes fuzzy, the words Hands of Decay again shown in green and then fades properly
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The camera cuts to Tyson Law in the locker room, watching the Stone/Rosemary interaction with obvious interest. Josh Davison approaches the young man, who's already dressed in his ring gear and a sleeveless vintage NFW shirt with Doomsday & Morgoth on it.
"Tyson Law... tonight you have a match against Vincent Stone, who apparently may be getting help from the unpredictable Rosemary. What are your thoughts on the match?"
Law looked up at Davison, taking a deep breath before replying.
"You know... while I'm only 24, I've already got six years of experience. And I've loved everything about wrestling since I was old enough to understand it. And I've been looking forward to this match all week. Vincent Stone? Is one hell of an athlete. I've had in my head all week that we could put together the kind of matches that duos like Flair & Steamboat, Okada & Omega, or Guerrero & Malenko made famous. But now? I have to admit, I'm feeling a little more worried that that might not happen. I mean... look. I can see the appeal in siding with Rosemary. Truth be told? She makes crazy look hot. Seriously, I'd smash that six ways till sunday and never look back. But the fact is that she *will* bring you down into the darkness with her. And somehow I don't see any five star classics happening with someone immersed in the dark and the violence the way she is."
Law turned from the monitor then, standing face to face with the interviewer.
"See, Josh... I'm here to win, I'm here to make a name for myself... but I'm also here to continue the legacy that the heroes of my youth began. So Stone? Do us both a favor and don't let her get involved tonight. Let's show the fans here and all over the world what we're capable of."
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Tyler Grey & Chris Wolfe defeated Chase Owens & Bad Luck Fale by pinfall in 22:13 when Wolfe pinned Owens after hitting him with The DireWolfe.
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*The house lights dim, the stage lit in red, the ramp in white. A chainsaw roars to life over the sound system as "The Lumberjack" by Jackyl fills the stadium, the crowd pops as Rick Dickulous steps onto the stage, Anne Murray in his hand. He points with four fingers to the left and right, playing the crowd. Mannheim and Pitt step out behind him, and the three make their way to the ring, now bathed in red light. Mannheim steps onto the apron in front of the ramp, as does Pitt to his left, and Rick to his right. They step over the ropes in unison and converge to the centre of the ring, high fiving each other as the lights return to normal. They motion for microphones, and motion for the crowd to quiet as they walk around the ring. Rick lifts his microphone first*
"Hey guys! How's it goin', eh?"
*The crowd cheers, Rick plays the crowd for a moment before continuing*
"Now, we all decided it would be good to come out here to settle something that was insinuated last week by Adam-Fucking-Cole."
*The crowd boos loudly at the mention of Adam Cole*
"So, buddy, we devised a test to see whether Willy and Pitt are, in fact, bumbling idiots! It's pretty good, and it should be pretty accurate."
"See, we all know that they are anything but bumbling idiots."
*Pitt starts puting his hand up apologetically, Mannheim stops him and points at him aggressively, Pitt puts his arm back down*
"Adam Cole clearly doesn't know who Pitt..."
*The crowd rumbles in approval as Pitt waves*
"...and William "The Mangler" Mannheim.."
*The crowd erupts as Mannheim climbs onto the second turnbuckle, shooting a fist into the air*
"...are."
*Mannheim jumps back down to the mat and rejoins the other two*
"So, pop quiz time! Are you ready to give'r boys? Every right answer gets to put a fire in Anne Murray's crotch!"
*Mannheim and Pitt nod, the following pops up on the large stage screen: "What is always coming but never arrives?" Four answers appear underneath: "The Bus," "The Cheque In The Mail," "Tomorrow," and "Your Mom"*
"Gentlemen...answer that riddle, eh?"
*Mannheim and Pitt huddle for a few moments before nodding in unison and turning around with cocky grins. Pitt raises his microphone*
"Really, Rick? You couldn't come up with a better *beeep*--what the *beeep*? Are you *beep*in' kidding me for *beep*'s sakes? Even out here?!"
*Mannheim raises his mic*
"Look, the answer is obviously Your MTOMORROW. Your mom only came when I did that special thi--"
*Rick pushes Mannheim and looks at him completely disgusted*
"GUY!! HOLY SHIT!! No Anne amurray for you! I don't need to hear about this! You're right...the answer is Tomorrow, which is still far too long for everyone to be left scarred with that mental image. Good thing we still get our free healthcare down here, eh?"
"Ok, gentlemen....question number two..."
*Rick gestures to the screen. The following question pops up: "What is the name of the most radioactive isotope on the planet?" The following answers appear underneath: "Cesium 137," "Polonium 10," "Uranium 238," and "Carbon 14." Mannheim and Pitt look at each other, Mannheim shrugs, Pitt confidently nods*
"What is Polonium 10, Alex, as one microgram can kill an average adult, thus making it approximately 250,000 times more toxic than hydrogen cyanide."
*The crowd pops as Polonium 10 lights up green on the list. Mannheim and Rick look at each other in shock. Rick hands Anne Murray to Pitt*
"I think you earned this, friend...."
*Pitt waves his hand*
"No, I want to save it for the end...we've got two so far...double or nothin'!"
*Rick shrugs, then points to the screen. A picture of a giant turd with a little championship belt on it comes up on the screen*
"Gentlemen...what is that?"
*Mannheim and Pitt shrug at each other, then shrug at Rick*
"That, was the Adam Cole I dropped before we came out here. I was gonna tell you to come take a look, but this was more fun!"
*Rick points up the ramp*
"Adam Cole, guy? You got lucky. Good for you, but now tonight it's just you and me, and the best of three falls. Winning a championship is one thing, buddy, but defending it is another thing completely, eh?"
"So, Mannheim and Pitt are gonna make sure nobody gets involved. Then tonight, after I whup your ass six ways from Sunday - just like I did last week - I'm gonna walk back up that ramp with the belt that should have been in my hands.....friend. Just so you know, when I'm done, all I'll have to say for myself is...."
*Rick reaches into his kilt and pulls out a lighter. He flicks it to life and touches it to Anne Murray's bowl. It glows as he sucks the contents through. He clears the chamber and exhales a giant cloud of smoke, coughing and pounding his chest. He points up the ramp*
"SORRY...*coughcough*...NOT SORRY!!"
*Rick tosses his mic to the side of the ring and hunkers down, pointing and gesturing up the ramp as Mannheim and Pitt exit the ring*
-------------------------------------------
Vincent Stone defeated Tyson Law by pinfall in 19:44 after stunning him with The Bootscraper.
---------------------------------------------
Cutting to a dimly lit locker room, we immediately get the idea of where we are. Then, as if to settle any doubt, the camera comes upon a pair of black, buckle strapped boots, panning up the legs of Apocalypta of the Circle of Snakes.
As the camera pans up and back, we are given a full view of the woman’s bare back, baring the menacing tattoo. She pulls on a black, sleeveless, mid-dropped t-shirt before turning around; the top sporting white stenciled image of her makeup design with hollowed out eyes with the words ‘JUDGEMENT IS NIGH’. She checks her hand tape, driving one fist into her palm, seemingly preparing herself.
The scene is interupted then, by the door opening, as Mia Hayashi storms in, looking as angry and menacing as a 5'2" girl in a gothy Sailor Moon outfit can look.
Walking right up to Apocalypta, she looked up at the champion, and said, simply: "You. We need to talk."
Saying nothing, Apocalypta immediately turns towards the sound of the door opening. It doesn’t startle her as she obviously assumes it’s one of her brethren. As Mia steps into the frame, however, the Women’s Champion steps forward silently, leering down at Mia from the six inch height difference between them. Apocalypta remains silent as she waits for Mia to say her piece.
Mia stood her ground, for the moment not even giving a second look to the title belt the other woman had. "I need your help. Blackheart went and got herself backup, which... I admit I didn't see coming. I need someone who can keep her from getting involved when I find new ways to screw with Lara's head."
Like a menacing, breathing statue, Apocalypta stared silently back at Mia with those lifeless white eyes; the woman finally lifting her head. Distrusting but oddly curious, it may seem as to where the smaller woman was going with this. For a moment, we see Apocalypta raise the title belt from her side, just enough to bring the strap into frame as she looks down at her hard earned prize...and then back to Mia with her head tilted to the side, curiously.
Mia rolled her eyes, somehow not at all intimidated by the size difference here. "Look. Drop the shit, ok? You know damn well with your family being who they are, you're gonna get dragged into this one way or the other eventually. Wouldn't you rather have it be on your terms? And knowing that someone's got your back?"
Suddenly, Apocalypta was like a snake, striking at a challenger. From her statuesque pose, the champion grabs Mia by the throat and turns, slamming her back against the locker with a loud, metallic THUD, pinning her in place as she brings her face close to hers.
“I’m only gonna say this once, little girl...” Apocalypta speaks in a low, aggravated hiss, “...so you might wanna listen very...” Apocalypta shifts, pushing her body against Mia’s to prevent her from squirming. “...very...close. The only thing you know about where I come from...is what you and your estranged training girlfriend might have seen on the television...from the comfort of your warm, cozy little home....”
Apocalypta tilts her head, flipping her black and red hair over her shoulder so we get a good look at her terrifyingly painted face as she brings her mouth close to Mia’s ear opposite the side the camera is on. “I was trying to be nice for once...I’m willing to listen. However....” She shifts the hand on Mia’s throat and runs her thumb over the girl’s black lips. “...You mention them again...” She switches positions with the hand again and rests it on the back of Mia’s neck as she rests their foreheads together. Noses brushing. “...I will send your very soul to depths darker than you could ever imagine of...and tear it apart....”
"Hey. This ain't just helping me, lady." Mia told her, a little shaken but still holding her ground. "That's goddamn Shelly Silver she's hanging with. Ever see her? She's known for primarily wrestling intergender. In other words, in most places she's been? There weren't women tough enough to give her a challenge. And how long do you think it's gonna take before she decides to come after your title? I think some backup would help you too."
Apocalypta lets her fingers run across Mia’s face as she releases her but more or less keeps her cornered against the locker. “Well now...that sounds like an impressive resumé.” Apocalypta says, tilting her head to the side at Mia. “It’s easy to crush insects beneath your boot. But when the serpent strikes...not even the bull can withstand the venom. Your little friend’s muscle? When she does decide to step into the den...she’ll soon find out...in the Circle of Snakes...I...am the cobra. The others...Blackheart...the Paynes...Silver...you...everyone...are the rats...scavenging for scraps in the wrong place.”
Apocalypta lifts her hand again and traces it, oddly across Mia’s forehead and down the side of her face. “Granted...some rats are smarter than others.... Point the snake to the largest rat in the mischief...and you sate it’s appetite long enough...before it gets hungry again.”
Finally, she lifts the title up beside hers and Mia’s faces and looks between it and her. “I’m not stupid...but I see the sense in your offer. We can do this...but you watch yourself....”
"Hey.... you ain't exactly my ideal BFF either here, lady." Mia huffed, trying to spare a bit of her dignity while also silently terrified. "Just remember: You have my back? I'll have yours. Now..." She made a waving gesture at the room in general, rolling her eyes. "Go ahead and get back to... to... whatever the hell you weirdos do in here."
Apocalypta takes a step back from Mia, sizing her up without so much as a change in her cold expression before stepping back again and to the side to let the woman leave her locker room. She continues her turn, watching when Mia does go; those void white orbs looking on as the shot slowly fades out.
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Kid Cthulu defeated Trina Tanaka by pinfall in 8:39 after hitting a dragonrana she titled The Call.
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The lights in the arena suddenly go dark, replaced with green spotlights, as “Just Like Tiger Woods” by Steel Panther begins to blare out through the arena, signalling the arrival of Lara Blackheart. But this time, rather than her ring gear, she walked toward the ring wearing street clothes (black jeans, combat boots, and an old Van Halen tee that looked about a size or two too big on her). The tiny girl was not alone though… at her side was the same woman who had arrived with her last week, Shelley Silver.
Lara called for the microphone, for once not looking playful or fun-loving at all as she pointed toward the locker room.
"Mia Hayashi. You ungrateful BITCH. We grew up together. My dad let your whiny little ass train with him. I told the people behind the scenes here how good you were, and that's why they called you. Everything you have, you owe to me and to my family. And how do you show your gratitude?"
She paused, as the video wall played the footage from two weeks ago, of Mia turning on Lara and costing her the Women's Championship.
"Screw with me all you want... but to involve me family? To make a point of humiliating me in front of my mom, in a match I had dedicated to my father? Your point was made, Mia. And in return, I am going to enjoy every single moment of kicking the everloving SHIT out of you. Right now I don't even care about the championship. I care about humiliating you the way you humiliated me. And yeah... I could have gone to Marissa and Morgan... but they have their own stuff to handle. No... I brought in one of the few other people I know I can trust. My bestie, Shelley Silver."
It had been a while since Shelley actually held a microphone, but when Lara called her and told her what Mia had done, she couldn’t exactly ignore it. Her cut-off denim shorts barely covered what her black lace patterned leggings didn’t, not to mention her Megadeth shirt was almost longer than her shorts. She shook her head as she waved at the scattered cheers. She had made a bit of a name for herself in another company, so she wasn’t surprised that she was recognized here. She took the microphone from Lara and sighed, shaking her head. “When this sweet, talented young woman told me what her supposed best friend had done to her… I couldn’t help but laugh in disgust. I’ve seen it all before, Mia. Do you really think that you’re going to get anywhere? That you’re somehow going to make a name for yourself by screwing Lara over?” Shelley shook her head, “your behavior has only shown me one thing here. Mia Hayashi, you will be the Marty Janetty of this scenario. Because the person who you’ve truly screwed over… is yourself.”
"Now... since I have someone watching my back, someone I TRUST, here's what I propose: Next week. Let's settle this. Me and you, in the ring, one-on-one."
Lara said, running a hand through her purple hair as she (ratherly cutely) leaned back against Shelley as though she were a wall. A sexy, heavily-tattooed wall.
"No need to draw this out. Let's take care of our business right in this ring. So I can move on to other things... and you can get your ass out of NFW and back onto the indies where you belong."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The camera opens on a close up of a photo of Morgan Payne, pinned to a wall. The kanji for ‘shin’ is written across it in black ink. As the shot pans back, we see the wall with the entire women’s roster on it. Unlike Morgan’s photo, they are left unmarked. A moment later, we hear a woman’s voice, speaking slow and cool. While the language is in Japanese, subtitles serve to translate for viewers.
“Vengeance.... Is that what lies in your heart...Marissa Payne?” As we pan further back, we see that the wall of photos is inside a traditional styled Japanese home. It looks to be a sort of training room. A personal dojo of sorts. “Is it vengeance for your comrade that you hope to achieve?”
A sudden flash on the screen brings us back to the previous week. The match between Angel and Morgan Payne. Filtered in grainy, black and white, we see the moment that Morgan Payne was injured from the enziguri while on the top turnbuckle. The woman’s voice continues on as a voice over. “She knew, very well, what the consequences were. Or...perhaps she didn’t....”
Another cut shows a grainy, black and white recap of Morgan and Marissa discussing that very match in the gym. Editing brings us a close up on Morgan’s almost smug smirking face. “Like you...she underestimated her opponent. She underestimated...me.”
The shot cuts to a close up of Angel’s cold stare as she watches, from the ramp, as the EMTs tend to Morgan. “Now there is you...Marissa-san....” Cutting back to the Japanese home, we pan back further until the shoulder of a figure in a black and purple robe comes into view, kneeling in a meditative state. “You...as well as her...are a but obstacles in my way to something greater. A prize held by a creature....” The camera flashes and we see that same grainy, black and white filter over a short compilation of shots, showing the destruction wrought by the Women’s Champion, Apocalypta. The shot ends with the champ standing victoriously at the end of the battle royale, holding the title up high.
“All of you...are but stepping stones...to my glory.”
Another quick series of clips shows Angel’s stiff, vicious offense in the ring from past opponents - even before coming to N*FW. The camera cuts back to the shot in the home, panning over Angel until she comes into view fully on the side of the screen.
“Morrigan’ was the first....”
The pan stops and focuses on Angel’s face under her hood before she slowly lifts her head and opens her eyes. Special effects causing their blue color to glow eerily in the dim light.
“Marissa-san.... You....”
She smiles eerily, lifting a photo of Marissa up in front of the camera with a black circle drawn around it.
“...Are next....”
Cut to black.
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Marissa Payne vs. Angel never technically happened, because as Angel was getting into the ring, Marissa ran to the ring through the crowd, tackling her into the turnbuckles, then repeatedly giving her roundhouse kicks to the chest and face until several referees ran in and literally pulled the redhead off of her, declaring the match a no-contest as the official referee tended to Angel, who had been busted open by the flurry of kicks.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Cutting from ringside, a short music piece that would likely be associated with a news broadcast plays as a news logo glides onto the screen. The logo reads: ‘ANAC’ with the subtitle underneath ‘American News With Adam Cole (Bay-Bay)’
In parody to CNNs old intro, a deep voice announces “This...is American News...with ADAM COLE, BAY-BAY!” The last part, however is an excerpt from his old former New Japan entrance music.
Like most news channels, the camera swoops in from above and pans in on a broadcasting room. Adam Cole sits at the semi-round table in a cheap grey suit, his hair bunned up, and phony eyeglasses on his face as he adjusts a stack of papers in front of him. Looking up from the papers to the camera, he puts on a smug, cheesy smile and sets the papers down. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I’m your host, Adam Cole, and welcome...to American News.” With a ‘ding’ sound effect and a CGI effect causing a sparkle on his teeth, he winks at us with that arrogant smile, removing his glasses just long enough to do so before sliding them back on and picks up the stack of papers. He pretends to adjust his tie.
“In tonight’s news: we bring you the top five reasons why Canada...sucks.” Clearing his throat, he looks down at his papers, briefly lifting his eyes to the camera as if silently asking the viewers if they’re paying attention. Moving his eyes back to the papers in his hand.
“First and foremost: Canada is known to be the birthing place of several subpar musical artists. Groups like U2, Rush and Nickelback, are widely known as hailing from the place known as the Great White North; and just like their homeland, their music is dull, bland and, well let’s just be honest folks: they flat out blow.” As he names off the artists, photos of them appear above him. “Also, a dishonorable mention goes to teenage youtube sensation, Justin Bieber.” An unflattering image of Bieber pops up— “Any place that shits out someone that horrible in a music studio, deserves to get glassed like Hiroshima.” Followed by a shot of one of the World War 2 nukes going off.
Cole licks his finger, picks off the first sheet of paper and tosses it to the floor behind him, before continuing. “Moving on: Curling.” He frowns at the paper and looks off camera, shaking his head as he holds his hands out to the side. “Is that even a fucking sport?”
“It’s an Olympic event, also.” A stagehand offscreen replies.
Cole snatches off his glasses, looking at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?!” He looks at the camera, blinks, shakes his head and slides his glasses back on, regaining his ‘professional composure.’ “Curling is an unusual game, originating from - you guessed it - Canada. The game involves two idiots on an ice rink feverishly shaving away the ice in a path for the ‘curling stone’ while a another player—“ Cole looks up off camera again. “It’s a rock. They have a sport sliding a fucking rock on ice into a circle!” He tosses the sheet of paper to the floor, smiling back at the camera. “Well, Canada, at least you still have hockey.” He throws a thumbs up and flashes another grin.
“Moving onto number three.” Cole says, pretending to adjust his glasses again and looks at the stack of papers in his hand. “Canada has a French providence...and the French are assholes. Capital A. You know, like Alberta? Reason number four!” The third sheet of paper gets crumpled up in his hand before being discarded.
“This particular reason has a name, and it’s name - ladies and gentlemen - is Tim Horton’s.” Cole glances down at the paper occasionally but keeps his focus mainly on the camera. “Tim Horton’s, for those of you fortunate enough to have never tried it, is a Canadian brand of coffee known for it’s bland taste and has been the cause for multiple cases of stomach cramps and dysentery. We spoke with a gentleman, earlier, who shared his horrific experience with consuming this particular beverage.”
The screen cuts to what is supposed to be a witness interview. While the headline below reads ‘Anonymous Consumer’, the man shrouded in the shadows is quite obviously Adam Cole, talking in his normal voice, but like he is telling of a near death experience.
“I started feeling cramps in my stomach region and uhh...it kept getting more painful.” He sighs ‘uncomfortably’. “I spent hours on the toilet. The feeling was just...unbearable. There was blood and—“
The camera cuts back to Adam Cole in his reporter getup again, shaking his head sympathetically. “We apologize for the graphic content, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we move on?”
Tossing the fourth piece of paper to the side, Cole fixes his glasses, adjusts his tie and clears his throat a final time. “Last but not least, folks, we have the absolute top reason of all that Canada sucks. As much as the music, sports, and cuisine leave much to be desired, not enough can be put into words when it comes to this right here.” Cole points upward and a still shot of Rick Dickulous pops up beside him.
“The man known as Rick Dickulous of New Frontier Wrestling, born and raised in Canada, is a giant walking example of the type of people that call the country home.” No longer ‘needing’ the paper, Cole rips the last sheet up and tosses it. He folds his hands on the table in front of him, keeping up the charade of professional broadcaster. “Mr. Dickulous, ladies and gentlemen, is what some folks like to call an inbred. It’s what you get when his father—“ Rick’s picture is replaced by a photo of William Mannheim, years back in his career during a particular bloody match, “—and his mother—“ Mannheim’s photo is replaced by a large moose, “—are descended from the same maple tree.” A cartoonish image of a maple tree with a feminine face animated onto it, replaces the moose image. In the image, the tree cradles two cartoon infants: one with Mannheim’s bloody face on it while the other has that of the moose.
“Rumor has it that little baby Rick was so ugly at birth, that his inbred parents abandoned him in the Rockies in hopes to rid themselves of the abomination that they had brought into the world. Years later, he was often mistaken for infamous sightings where he was thought to be the elusive Sasquatch.”
Here, the infamous image of Sasquatch seen walking through the woods while looking over his shoulder pops up. The image has been edited to have Rick Dickulous’ grinning face imposed over the actual face of the creature.
“As a side effect of his inbred DNA, this mentally handicapped man-beast believes he has a flying chance in hell of winning the N*FW Silver Mountain Championship. This, dear viewers, is what is known as being ‘fucking delusional’ and anyone else on the roster suffering from similar symptoms, should seek therapy immediately. Unfortunately for Dumb Dick, it’s far too late and the only option left, in his case, is to be shown not once, but twice why he should have stayed in his cave in the mountains, scratching his ass and sucking sap from the surrounding vegetation. That’s our show for tonight, folks. Stay tuned to see Rick Dickulous receive his lesson live on national television. I’m Adam Cole. Thank you, good night...and God bless America!” The camera pans back out, much like the climax of a news show as Cole straightens his jacket and gets up from his chair, walking off set.
“This has been your weekly broadcast of American News with ADAM COLE BAY-BAY!!” The same voice from the beginning of the broadcast says with the logo flashing across the screen again before we hard cut away.
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In the Silver Mountain Championship Match, Rick Dickulous won the first fall, positively CRUSHING Adam Cole with a turnbuckle bomb, followed by a spike DDT. Cole spent most of the second fall working over Dickulous' knees, but won the fall after reversing a suplex attempt and hitting the Last Shot. In the third fall, despite his knees being worked on throughout the match, Dickulous built up a head of steam, dominating a clearly surprised Cole with several crushing power moves as well as a shocking display of Krav Maga striking. His knee buckled though, as he tried to lift Cole for another powerbomb, giving Cole an opening to hit a cheap chop block to the knee. He put Dickulous in the figure-four leglock, but the challenger refused to tap out, eventually blacking out from the pain as the fall and the match were awarded to Cole.
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Rosemary and Apocalypta brawled all over the ring, the ringside area, and even backstage, before ending up fighting in the back lot of the arena. The two were surprisingly well-matched, neither keep an advantage over the other for very long. While in the back lot though, Rosemary lifted Apocalypta for the Red Wedding, only for Candi Brodeur to run out suddenly and hit her in the back with a wooden chair. As she dropped Apocalypta, Candi scowled at her and screamed, "You want an inferno, you crazy bitch? You got one." She then quickly lit the chair on fire with a small lighter, before giving Rosemary a DDT onto it. The referees grabbed Candi and pulled her away from the area as Apocalypta covered Rosemary for the pin at the 15:52 mark.
Falls Count Anywhere For N*FW Women's Championship
Rosemary vs Apocalypta (C)
Two Out of Three Falls For The N*FW Silver Mountain Championship
Rick Dickulous vs Adam Cole (C)
Marissa Payne vs Angel
Tyler Grey & Chris Wolfe vs Bad Luck Fale & Chase Owens
Trina Tanaka vs Kid Cthulhu
Tyson Law vs Vincent Stone
Colt Shields & Satoru Shade III vs The McKeesport Mafia
N*FW TV Championship
Scott Leroux (C) vs Shelton Benjamin
Ryan Steele vs Matt Klazzic
Cutting to a backstage locker room, we see an old photograph of a younger Andrew Payne with a much younger Morgan up on his shoulders. Contrary to how Andrew carries himself in wrestling, the photo shows him smiling as he holds his daughter - also smiling - with his XFW Hardcore Championship held up in front of her with an excited smile - braces and all - on her face. Panning over and down, we are met with “The Punisher” Andrew Payne, sitting on a bench with his elbows propped on his knees with a cell phone to his ear. We can’t hear who’s on the other line, but we can guess by his side of the conversation.
“...You’re resting at home, right? *Right*?” The second ‘right’ is full of a father’s firm affirmation. Like telling a child they better not be lying to him. He closes his eyes and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know, baby girl, but the docs said you had to take it easy for the first week. You listen to them and you’ll be back in no time.”
He pauses, and almost cracks a smile at something he hears on the other line. “You’re a brat sometimes. Good night, kiddo.” Pause. “Ti amo anch’io....” He finishes in Italian before ending the call. The Punisher lowers the phone and lifts his eyes, staring ahead of him. Fuming on the inside as we slowly pan back revealing the rest of the McKeesport Mafia’s locker room.
"Andy. Calm yer shit down, man." Big Daddy Payne raised an eyebrow slowly as he saw the look on his partner's face after hanging up the phone. "Morgan's gonna be fine. She took a bad bump, but she's gonna be fine. And it's not like you're gonna go beating the shit out of a girl, so don't even stress over getting even. We knew when we let our kids train that shit like this was gonna happen. It sucks, but we can't treat them like our kids when it comes to wrestling. We gotta respect them as equal teammates. So just cool it, bud. You know I'm right."
"I don't even know how you guys do it. I'd be losing my mind." Shelton Benjamin said, sitting there playing Mortal Kombat with BDP.
Andy pushes himself to his feet. “A girl, no. You know me better than that, D.” He says, coming to stand next to his tag team partner with his broad arms folding across his chest; the usual Punisher skull - this one gold in color - over his black t-shirt. “Nothing says I wouldn’t have a ‘heart to heart’ with that piece of shit that manages her, though. Anyone can see he’s been mentoring her to dish out nasty shit and not give a damn who gets hurt by it. ‘Sides....” He glances down at BDP and Shelton. “Wouldn’t wanna take the fun away from Marissa, now, would I? I’d imagine she’s just as pissed as I am.”
He goes quiet for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the screen. In a rarely seen comical side to him, he shakes his head. “B-Money, you know this shit has a block button right?”
"Yes..." Shelton laughed, giving a shrug. "But me and Danny been playing this for ten years now, why should either of us learn defense NOW?"
BDP just tried not to laugh in agreement, before glancing over to Andy. "Dude. In the 20 years that girl's been alive, I've never once seen her this livid. Ever."
Andy gave a half hearted shrug. “Kid watched her best friend get dropped on her head and the other girl didn’t even bat an eyelash. I’d say she’s lucky Brody didn’t book a street fight. No telling what Marissa might do.”
From the game we hear ‘Finish Him!’ Andy narrows his eyes sternly. “Fuck me, B. Hope you wrestle tonight better than you play.” Something crosses his mind, seemingly, as he looks at BDP, then. “Wait a minute....” He says. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Because I, of all people, know when you play a fighting game before a match, there’s a part of you that’s formulating up something ridiculous.”
BDP actually burst out laughing then, unable to help it. "Shit. You really do know me well."
He set the controller down, hopping to his feet.
"Just that we're here... the girls are here.... B-Money's here... especially after how Morgan got hurt last week, I got to thinking: maybe it's time we stop using the House of Payne as nostalgia... and bring that motherfucker BACK. Yeah, we're missing a few members... but between the girls, and a couple guys I have in mind... I think we could do this. And then, when we're all set? We hand the keys to the kingdom over to Morgan and Marissa."
An actual smile, while small, finally does find it’s way completely onto Andy’s face. “You know...as much as a big part of me hates to think about hanging up the boots...I couldn’t think of a better time - and manner - than that. But until then? We’ve got a reputation to uphold. Tonight, we have to show Chicago, like you always say: the Pittsburgh boys ain’t nothin’ to fuck with. Chi Town’s gonna be reminded and there’s two very unlucky punks that get to find out, first hand....”
Andy bumps fists with his blood brother. “Non Facciamo....”
BDP gives a proud, devious grin as their hands connect.... before Benjamin stands and joins his to theirs. He looks at the two, then finishes Andy's mantra: "Altro... Vinto"
Andy nods to Shelton. “Damn right, B. Now, move over. Lemme show you how to school this guy at his own game.” With business said and done, Andy sits down in Shelton’s chair and takes up his controller. Once BDP sits down, we see Andy’s fingers navigate the controller buttons before selecting his character. From the TV, we hear the menacing Mortal Kombat voice announce... “D’VORAH!” The shot lingers on the other two’s comical looks of surprise and confusion before hard cutting to black.
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*The scene shifts to the backstage interview area where we see Josh Davison standing.*
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, Matt Klazzic," Davison says as Matt Klazzic enters from the right and exchanges a brief handshake with Davison.
"Hi Josh, great to see you," Klazzic says with a grin under his mask as he slowly rubs his chin with his thumb and index finger as Davison starts to interview him.
"Thank you, Matt. Now, since you've arrived at NFW, many fans couldn't help but notice that you use a somewhat...antiquated...style of offense that has left you on the short end of the matches you've been in," Davison starts.
"Ouch, Matt. I wouldn't call my style antiquated. I would prefer, 'traditional' please," Klazzic retorts.
"Sorry, 'traditional.' But tonight, you step into the ring against Ryan Steele to open the show. How do you handle someone with the unique wrestling arsenal Ryan Steele employs in the ring?" Davison asks.
"Well Josh, I'll handle this match the same way I approach every match since I've arrived. With my 'traditional' offense and the support of these great fans, I'm pretty sure tonight will be the night I turn the corner. You can't deny that I've been gaining the support of these fans, right Josh?" Klazzic responds.
"Well, no. The fans seem to be getting more and more behind you, that is true. But this isn't 1985, it's 2018. And there are some critics out there who feel that it's time for Matt Klazzic to get with the times. What would you say to them?" Davison asks again.
*Klazzic pauses for a moment while he looks down and takes a deep breath.*
"It may be 2018, that is true. But people still look to the 80s and wish they were back in that time, right? Maybe, I shouldn't move forward. Maybe it's time some of those critics look back and see what made wrestling great. Ryan Steele, you're a hell of a young talent, but this Klazzic won't just step aside and let you move on. You're going to need to bring out your best, if you want to beat me tonight. Good luck, Ryan. And thank you, Josh. Always a pleasure," Klazzic says as he shakes Davison's hand again as he leaves the interview area as the scene shifts back to ringside.
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The shot fades in on a TV inside what looks like a hospital room. A caption on the bottom of the screen reads “Last Week.” Santi Mostaffa’s “Las Mil Y Una Noches” plays from the speakers. Some viewers might even recognize the movie as that of “Logan” playing on the small flat screen. Offscreen, we hear the crunching of popcorn as the camera begins slowly panning over....
The shot slows to a stop on none other than Morgan Payne, sitting in a hospital bed, dressed in a typical hospital gown. She looks a little different without her black and gold eye makeup on.
“Awe, yins have gone and fucked up, now.” She says out loud to nobody in particular, with a mouth full of popcorn. Swallowing, she sips from a can of Mountain Dew, completely absorbed in what’s going on in the movie. Her head slightly moving with the film’s soundtrack as we hear the infamous opening fight scene approaching.
We hear a low knocking on the door. "Morgan?” says the voice thats not on camera.
Morgan looks off camera, crunching on more popcorn, and a look of surprise appears on her face. “Ryan?” While she clearly wasn’t expecting anyone, she’s obviously doesn’t object to the company. She even cracks a little smile. “What are ya doing here?”
Ryan Steele steps into the shot. “I came to see how youre doing... I’m sorry I didnt help you.. I was busy helping the refs when they didn’t want me to... and then your dad came to help and I backed off... I brought you something...” Ryan pulls from behind his back a bouquet of flowers... “I hope you like them....”
For the first time ever, we see the tough girl persona waver from Morgan’s demeanor as she looks at the flowers. “For me...?” She takes them slowly, with a flattered smile growing across her face as she looks back up at Ryan. “Dude...thank you! These are pretty!” She even giggles a bit and takes in their scent. “They smell good. Ya wanna sit down? I’m watching Logan. Kinda lonely, though. Everyone else had to fly out.”
“Yea I’ll sit, but those flowers are not as pretty as you.” He sits, looking over at the screen. “I actually have not seen this. If your nurses do not mind, I’ll stay awhile...
Is that ok?”
Morgan frowned, even though her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Dude, I look like Baltimore after playing New England with hometown refs.” She flicks a piece of popcorn into her mouth and offers the bowl to Ryan. “Least my head ain’t throbbin’ anymore.” The mention of the nurses has Morgan roll her eyes and shake her head. “Piss on them if they do. Bed manners suck here. They won’t let me go out for a square!” She gives an adorable pout.
She perks up, though, at Ryan agreeing to stick around. “Hell yeah, man! Netflix and chill with me!”
"Thats cool" Ryan agreeing with her. "I’ll be here all night if its cool" Ryan adds.
Morgan actually seems amused by this. “Really?” She says. “Heh. I’m down with that. That is if these yuppies don’t throw you out at the end of the night.” She giggles with amusement. “Sucks I’m gonna miss ya match, next week. But at least I can cheer ya on from the couch! My first check from when Mari and I signed with the indies? I splurged it all on a ginormous flat screen. It’ll be like watching wrestlin’ in a mini theater!”
A thought looks to be crossing through her mind as she narrows her eyes playfully. “Ya should dedicate ya match t’me.” She points at him, then. “Better win though! Losing a match dedicated to a girl is bad juju!” Morgan shrugs and laughs, sipping her soda again. “Eh, what the hell do I know? I’m not really superstitious. Hope you win, though. I’ll be rootin’ for ya.”
"Thanks" says Ryan. “And I’ll bet you that if I win I get to take you on a date... I mean I do like you and I can sleep in that chair over there.” As he points to it. “It might not be comfy as I want but being with you is all the comfort i need... Do you mind if I sit next to you for a bit?” Ryan asks.
Morgan laughs at Ryan’s proposition but looks at him with a pondering expression for a moment. His following statement has her smiling again, partly in surprise while she also looks unusually flattered. “Dude, you are *killin’* with the flirting, you know that? Most of it sounds like it came out of a dating book.” She chuckles and reaches out, giving him a gentle, playful shove to the shoulder.
“Arright, deal. You win your match, next week, you can take this girl out.” Morgan agrees. “Don’t worry; I’m a cheap date. Y’know, come to think of it? Never really been on one. But, still, I’m not much for the candle lit dinner bullshit. So long as we do something fun, s’all good. Now scoot that chair over and let’s watch this movie!”
The camera pans out slowly as Ryan and Morgan sit together, watching the screen as we hear the movie still going on while the shot fades out.
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Ryan Steele defeated Matt Klazzic by pinfall in 14:20, after countering an attempted slingshot suplex into The Chaos Theory.
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*After a replay of the ending sequence of the match, the camera cuts back to the ring where we see Matt Klazzic standing in one of the corners facing the turnbuckle with his head down, trying to catch his breath and taking a deep sigh when...*
“GIVE IT UP FOR MATT...KLAZZIC!!!”
*Coming out from under the titantron from the backstage area, we see Paul Heyman making his way to the ring, dressed in his usual business suit attire. As he finally gets to the ring, he stands on the apron and stops short of entering the ring as a confused Klazzic looks at him and slowly makes his way from his corner of the ring to the corner where Heyman is standing.*
"Now, just a minute, Mr. Klazzic. Before we go any further, allow me to introduce myself...LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...MY NAME, IS PAUL..HEYMAN. And I'm out here this evening to congratulate you on your effort. You show tremendous heart in the ring. The likes of which no one has ever seen since a young Ricky Morton. But unfortunately, heart can only get you so far. You, my friend, are the last of a dying breed. The last true 'wrassler' from the days gone by. You see, I've been watching your matches for the past few weeks and there's a gentlemen I'm representing who has also been watching with great interest and he's finally ready to come out and meet you face-to-face. So, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you, MY LATEST CLIENT!!!" Heyman yells as he turns to the Titantron, along with Klazzic as the fans in the arena turn towards the entrance area.
"Well? Who is it?!?" the announcers can be heard saying as there's an awkward silence in the arena as no one's stepping through.
"Now, give him a moment. This is his first time making an entrance like this, bear with me here," Heyman says as Klazzic holds his arms out, wondering where this person is. Suddenly, through the crowd, a man wearing a black and white track suit slides into the ring with his hood on, waiting for Klazzic to turn around. As the crowd reacts to the new individual in the ring, Klazzic looks at the smirk on Heyman's face as he turns around and gets hit with a charging spear from this new mysterious individual. The man turns to the crowd and pulls back his hood, surprising the crowd to be Katsuya Kitamura. Kitamura lets out a loud yell as we see him wearing a black mouthguard painted with jagged teeth. He removes the top of his tracksuit to reveal a tremendous physique as he picks Klazzic up and effortlessly holds him up for a standing suplex only to turn it into a jackhammer, before getting back up and posing on the turnbuckle, yelling and flexing to the crowd as Heyman casually walks around Klazzic and to this Kitamura's side.
"Ladies and gentlemen, not what you expected, wasn't it? Please, allow me to introduce to you, someone who you can say is a work-in-progress and a harbinger of things to come. This man, is Katsuya Kitamura. Six feet tall and every bit the monster you can be at 265 pounds. This man IS a Wrestling Monster and when WE'RE done...," Heyman pauses as he chuckles, " this man will live up to his title as the 'Japanese-Made Karelin!!!' For all you dirt sheet and IWC smart marks out there, I'm talking about Alexander Karelin. Feel free to look him up on Wikipedia on your cellphone after you finish crushing that corn dog, " Heyman says as he slowly walks over to Klazzic down on the mat, scaring away the EMTs who were checking on him as Heyman is flanked by Kitamura, who flexes his pectoral muscles as he flashes the mouthguard he's wearing.
"And Mr. Klazzic...it's been YOUR pleasure. Have a nice evening," Heyman says confidently as he places the mic on Klazzic's chest and pats him there a couple of times before leading Kitamura out of the ring as the crowd booes the due making their way back up the ramp. The camera shifts its focus from Klazzic in the ring to Heyman confidently smiling as Kitamura walks up with him, yelling at the crowd as we fade to black.
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Shelton Benjamin and Scott Leroux wrestled to a 25 minute draw, which ended just as Benjamin had hit a T-Bone suplex on Leroux and was going for the pin.
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The McKeesport Mafia defeated Colt Shields and Satoru Shade III submission in 12:07 when BDP made Shade tap out to The Steel Curtain.
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As the shot opens up, we are shown Amy Conners standing with Vincent Stone, already in his ring gear. As he rolls his neck and shoulders, loosening up for his match ahead, Amy Collins welcomes the viewers.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m here with Vincent Stone, who I’m sure we are all looking forward to seeing in action, tonight!” She turns to Stone then. “If I may have a moment of your time, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Shoot.” Stone says, almost hesitant about what is about to be asked of him.
Smiling, Amy continues. “Well, let’s start with your match, tonight: you’re up against Tyson Law who has certainly shown that he’s a formidable contender in the ring. What are your thoughts going into this match?”
Stone seems to relax a little, nodding. “Me against Law? Hell, I’m excited. He’s a straight up badass in the ring. I’ve seen his work, both here and before. When it comes to wrestling, I love a challenge. I don’t do squash matches. They’re not my thing. I like to get in there and fight. I like to entertain the fans who paid to see the show. I think he feels the same way. So, I’m hoping for a good match. Tyson, if you’re catching this: let’s tear it up, man. Give the audience what they came to see.”
Amy Conners smiles, almost with excitement herself. “Well, believe me: we all look forward to it. My next question, Vince, has to do with what seems to be a sort of...touchy subject, for you—“
Here, Stone raises a hand to stop her and closes his eyes, sighing. “Look. Amy, if you’re gonna ask about Rosemary, just don’t. Please. I know that there’s members of the locker room questioning my decision. I may not like it, but I do see the necessity. While we’re on that subject, I do wanna say: Pitt? Mannheim? You guys need to chill. This thing with Rosemary and I; it’s a temporary alliance against the Circle of Snakes. We’re not out to help each other cheat to win. I don’t intend on doing it, and I’ve made myself perfectly clear to her that I don’t want her help in anything that doesn’t involve the Circle. So threatening with a ‘trip to hell’ is unnecessary. I was a big fan of you guys back in the day, so just worry about guiding your boy Rick and let me…” he sighs “...and Rosemary, handle our business.”
Amy Conners brings the mic back to herself, then, nodding empathetically. “I can understand your frustration with everything being said. But it has to be asked, *are* you and Rosemary on the same page? Have you spoken with her at all, tonight? Is she even he—“ Amy Conners stops as something behind Stone catches her attention. She suddenly looks nervous.
The camera has a malfunction for a moment turning to fuzz -- again you can see Hands of Decay words inside the fuzz in green lettering, and the camera resets itself and pans back as Rosemary is standing right behind Stone, her face painted to look exactly like Apocalypta.
Tapping him on the shoulder, just enough to get his attention, and waiting for him to spin around so she can interrupt this interview. “Oh Mr. Stoooone, I heard what you said” smiling at his back till he turns around.
Stone’s eyes close again and his shoulders sag as a look of slight annoyance crossing his face; the man clearly not in the mood to deal with this right now. When he does turn around, his expression changes to one of confusion when he sees Rosemary’s choice of...makeup. “What do you want, Rosemary? And…” he lifts a finger, waving it in a circle, pointing at her face, “...why the hell are you painted up like Apocalypta?”
“Oh my dear stoney one, we warned you that you needed us --- and we were right. As far as why are we dressed like the knock off, there is where you’re wrong. You see, they ---- are dressed like us.”
She smiles at him and before he starts to speak she places a finger on his lips as if to shush him for a moment…”We know you don’t like us, and frankly to us you are just a tool. A useful tool, but a tool. If you think you don’t need us, let’s us show you proof.
She points to a tv screen off camera and as the camera slides to the left, everyone is watching the replay of Adam Cole winning the match, and with it the Silver Mountain Championship.
The video is on replay as the Canadian Eh Hole falls onto Stone and Benjamin repeatedly.
“The worst part is after the match though. We avoided getting in the ring, as you requested.”
She giggles a bit, and looks to her finger as if she is talking to it “ Show him the video, show it to him. We will, We will” She turns to look back at him and smiles. As we said the worst part of all of this is after the match. Let’s turn again to the video, because as we both know video does not lie”
The camera again pans to the left and a different video begins to play. It’s another clip from the ladder match.
The clip shows Rosemary entering the ring behind Adam Cole as he holds the Silver Mountain Championship. Turning around, Rosemary surprises Cole with a shot of green mist from her mouth, right in the face. He goes down, clawing at his eyes. Rosemary drops to her knees over him, taunting Cole inaudibly. Outside the ring, Stone has recovered from having Rick Dickulous land on him and Shelton. He slides into the ring to confront Rosemary. He looks at her like she is not supposed to be here she throws her arms back and smile at him, bending low at the waist. Standing back up she nods at him and rolls back out of the ring and dives under the mat.
Stone, not really likely the fact she even accompanied him to the ring in the first place, looks over the ropes at the spot where she entered. The crowd begins to scream as she exits out the either side and rolls back into the ring, something shiny in her hand, yelling at him to “Turn around” and when he does she shoves her hand towards the man, silver object and all, and he takes it looking down at the handcuffs she just handed him, letting one drop to show the crowd.
Rosemary points at the handcuffs and then to Adam Cole and then seems to be encouraging a new level of violence Stone finds disgusting, as he drops the handcuffs and rolls out of the ring.
Rosemary falls to her knees and looks at him as he stares as her, walking backwards, mumbling to himself.
Rosemary continues speaking, but off screen.
“We tried to show you the way, you failed to see it, do we have to… ignore your petty little warning and carve you into something new?”
When the camera pans back to the three, Stone wears a look of exasperation on his face as he turns to Rosemary. “Alright, listen to me….” As he speaks, he stresses his point by slapping one hand onto the other. “I-do not-want-your-help-winning-matches. I don’t need it. I lost last week. It sucks. It does. Am I bothered by it? A little. Who isn’t bothered by a loss? But I take my licks and I get back up. I *will* earn a championship here at some point. But I *was* up against two big names in this business, as well as a walking mountain. Don’t take that as an excuse. Did I make a mistake somewhere? Very likely, but that mistake wasn’t not handcuffing one of them to the ropes to gain an advantage. You wanna call me a tool? Try to get in my head? Sorry to burst your little black bubble, Rosemary, but it’s not gonna work. It’s me and you against the Circle. Not the entire N*FW locker room. I’m not gonna help you with your matches and I don’t need you to help me with mine. And like I said, you’re gonna hate life if you so much as try to ‘transform’ me into some kind of freak like your buddy Steve.”
When he says Steve, she gets visibly annoyed “ Crazy Steve, get it right.”
Stone rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah, Crazy is one word to describe him.” He shakes his head and waves his hands to get back on track. “Alright, look. Like I said...you…me...the Circle. That’s it. Anything else? Forget about it. My match tonight, against Tyson Law? You-stay-back-here. Got it?” He raises his eyebrows, nodding as if asking a child if they understand. “If Abaddon and his pack rear their ugly heads, then and ONLY then, do you come out. As for your match tonight, I know it’s against Apocalypta. Listen to me, Rosemary...I am *not* going to help you cheat to win a title. What I *am* gonna do, per our agreement, is make sure nobody else from her crew decides to try and intervene. I can promise you that, and I can do so just fine on my own without your…’assistance.’”
“So, to clear the air a little” adjusting her hoodie she is wearing. “One, we handed you the handcuffs, after you lost. Not because we wanted to help you win, that is not what we want from you. What we want is to see you embrace that darker side of yourself. We want to you beat a helpless man while he is down, because THAT is the way to get your point across, We see the black ichor that runs in your veins and want that to be released before it consumes you, leaving you as a hollowed out husk, and blown away by the wind.
We remember a time, many moons ago when another snake-man buried a warrior up to his head in dirt and placed a skull in front of the warrior, so the warrior could see the path ahead.
So the warrior could understand his place in all things, and slowly, but surely the warrior got it and when onto become a defeat an Immortal.”
She is obviously referencing the time when Jake the Snake buried the Ultimate Warrior before a match against the Undertaker. “So <she giggles> we will be at ringside, because you are not the Shadow. We won’t get involved, you have our word, because we always keep our word. We know you’ll win your match. We know we will win ours, we have one final thing to say to you however, Stoney”
We hope, sooner rather than later, you realise what we are trying to do to - we mean for you. You would be better off if you just listened. So go ahead, finish your promo about the Lawman, we can wait...”
Stone watches her with a flat expression as she tells the tale of the warrior. As he nods, it’s clear he understands what she’s referencing. “Cute. I like that. You know your wrestling history. Look, fine. I guess I can’t stop you from following me around like a puppy. You wanna sit by and watch? Be my guest. I don’t know why you’re doing this. I don’t know why you chose me. Frankly, I don’t care. Just remember what I said: once the Circle is broken? We’re done.”
He turns back to Amy Conners who has just been standing there with an uncomfortable look on her face like someone is watching their parents argue. Stone sighs again. “Sorry, Amy. I’m done with this interview.” Amy nods in understanding albeit a little disappointment on her face as Stone turns back to Rosemary. “You ready? Let’s go. Just...for the love of whatever god there is...try to behave….” Stone turns and walks off screen.
“We do have one more thing to say, actually” watching him walk off screen. Turning to Amy, as she gets the most uncomfortable she has been this entire interview as Rosemary’s gaze finally sets directly on her. “ Amy, our knock off recently said that she relishes our meeting and wants to show us the ways of the Abyss. You are either a genius or a fool. Abyss is our brother, we do not fear him. See you soon, prepare to Decay, Decay DECAY”
Turning to Amy and licking her hand and running it down the announcers face as she follows Stone off camera.
Amy, stands there and watches her walk off camera, right hand rubbing her face with a complete look of disgust as the camera attempts to face goes fuzzy, the words Hands of Decay again shown in green and then fades properly
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The camera cuts to Tyson Law in the locker room, watching the Stone/Rosemary interaction with obvious interest. Josh Davison approaches the young man, who's already dressed in his ring gear and a sleeveless vintage NFW shirt with Doomsday & Morgoth on it.
"Tyson Law... tonight you have a match against Vincent Stone, who apparently may be getting help from the unpredictable Rosemary. What are your thoughts on the match?"
Law looked up at Davison, taking a deep breath before replying.
"You know... while I'm only 24, I've already got six years of experience. And I've loved everything about wrestling since I was old enough to understand it. And I've been looking forward to this match all week. Vincent Stone? Is one hell of an athlete. I've had in my head all week that we could put together the kind of matches that duos like Flair & Steamboat, Okada & Omega, or Guerrero & Malenko made famous. But now? I have to admit, I'm feeling a little more worried that that might not happen. I mean... look. I can see the appeal in siding with Rosemary. Truth be told? She makes crazy look hot. Seriously, I'd smash that six ways till sunday and never look back. But the fact is that she *will* bring you down into the darkness with her. And somehow I don't see any five star classics happening with someone immersed in the dark and the violence the way she is."
Law turned from the monitor then, standing face to face with the interviewer.
"See, Josh... I'm here to win, I'm here to make a name for myself... but I'm also here to continue the legacy that the heroes of my youth began. So Stone? Do us both a favor and don't let her get involved tonight. Let's show the fans here and all over the world what we're capable of."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tyler Grey & Chris Wolfe defeated Chase Owens & Bad Luck Fale by pinfall in 22:13 when Wolfe pinned Owens after hitting him with The DireWolfe.
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*The house lights dim, the stage lit in red, the ramp in white. A chainsaw roars to life over the sound system as "The Lumberjack" by Jackyl fills the stadium, the crowd pops as Rick Dickulous steps onto the stage, Anne Murray in his hand. He points with four fingers to the left and right, playing the crowd. Mannheim and Pitt step out behind him, and the three make their way to the ring, now bathed in red light. Mannheim steps onto the apron in front of the ramp, as does Pitt to his left, and Rick to his right. They step over the ropes in unison and converge to the centre of the ring, high fiving each other as the lights return to normal. They motion for microphones, and motion for the crowd to quiet as they walk around the ring. Rick lifts his microphone first*
"Hey guys! How's it goin', eh?"
*The crowd cheers, Rick plays the crowd for a moment before continuing*
"Now, we all decided it would be good to come out here to settle something that was insinuated last week by Adam-Fucking-Cole."
*The crowd boos loudly at the mention of Adam Cole*
"So, buddy, we devised a test to see whether Willy and Pitt are, in fact, bumbling idiots! It's pretty good, and it should be pretty accurate."
"See, we all know that they are anything but bumbling idiots."
*Pitt starts puting his hand up apologetically, Mannheim stops him and points at him aggressively, Pitt puts his arm back down*
"Adam Cole clearly doesn't know who Pitt..."
*The crowd rumbles in approval as Pitt waves*
"...and William "The Mangler" Mannheim.."
*The crowd erupts as Mannheim climbs onto the second turnbuckle, shooting a fist into the air*
"...are."
*Mannheim jumps back down to the mat and rejoins the other two*
"So, pop quiz time! Are you ready to give'r boys? Every right answer gets to put a fire in Anne Murray's crotch!"
*Mannheim and Pitt nod, the following pops up on the large stage screen: "What is always coming but never arrives?" Four answers appear underneath: "The Bus," "The Cheque In The Mail," "Tomorrow," and "Your Mom"*
"Gentlemen...answer that riddle, eh?"
*Mannheim and Pitt huddle for a few moments before nodding in unison and turning around with cocky grins. Pitt raises his microphone*
"Really, Rick? You couldn't come up with a better *beeep*--what the *beeep*? Are you *beep*in' kidding me for *beep*'s sakes? Even out here?!"
*Mannheim raises his mic*
"Look, the answer is obviously Your MTOMORROW. Your mom only came when I did that special thi--"
*Rick pushes Mannheim and looks at him completely disgusted*
"GUY!! HOLY SHIT!! No Anne amurray for you! I don't need to hear about this! You're right...the answer is Tomorrow, which is still far too long for everyone to be left scarred with that mental image. Good thing we still get our free healthcare down here, eh?"
"Ok, gentlemen....question number two..."
*Rick gestures to the screen. The following question pops up: "What is the name of the most radioactive isotope on the planet?" The following answers appear underneath: "Cesium 137," "Polonium 10," "Uranium 238," and "Carbon 14." Mannheim and Pitt look at each other, Mannheim shrugs, Pitt confidently nods*
"What is Polonium 10, Alex, as one microgram can kill an average adult, thus making it approximately 250,000 times more toxic than hydrogen cyanide."
*The crowd pops as Polonium 10 lights up green on the list. Mannheim and Rick look at each other in shock. Rick hands Anne Murray to Pitt*
"I think you earned this, friend...."
*Pitt waves his hand*
"No, I want to save it for the end...we've got two so far...double or nothin'!"
*Rick shrugs, then points to the screen. A picture of a giant turd with a little championship belt on it comes up on the screen*
"Gentlemen...what is that?"
*Mannheim and Pitt shrug at each other, then shrug at Rick*
"That, was the Adam Cole I dropped before we came out here. I was gonna tell you to come take a look, but this was more fun!"
*Rick points up the ramp*
"Adam Cole, guy? You got lucky. Good for you, but now tonight it's just you and me, and the best of three falls. Winning a championship is one thing, buddy, but defending it is another thing completely, eh?"
"So, Mannheim and Pitt are gonna make sure nobody gets involved. Then tonight, after I whup your ass six ways from Sunday - just like I did last week - I'm gonna walk back up that ramp with the belt that should have been in my hands.....friend. Just so you know, when I'm done, all I'll have to say for myself is...."
*Rick reaches into his kilt and pulls out a lighter. He flicks it to life and touches it to Anne Murray's bowl. It glows as he sucks the contents through. He clears the chamber and exhales a giant cloud of smoke, coughing and pounding his chest. He points up the ramp*
"SORRY...*coughcough*...NOT SORRY!!"
*Rick tosses his mic to the side of the ring and hunkers down, pointing and gesturing up the ramp as Mannheim and Pitt exit the ring*
-------------------------------------------
Vincent Stone defeated Tyson Law by pinfall in 19:44 after stunning him with The Bootscraper.
---------------------------------------------
Cutting to a dimly lit locker room, we immediately get the idea of where we are. Then, as if to settle any doubt, the camera comes upon a pair of black, buckle strapped boots, panning up the legs of Apocalypta of the Circle of Snakes.
As the camera pans up and back, we are given a full view of the woman’s bare back, baring the menacing tattoo. She pulls on a black, sleeveless, mid-dropped t-shirt before turning around; the top sporting white stenciled image of her makeup design with hollowed out eyes with the words ‘JUDGEMENT IS NIGH’. She checks her hand tape, driving one fist into her palm, seemingly preparing herself.
The scene is interupted then, by the door opening, as Mia Hayashi storms in, looking as angry and menacing as a 5'2" girl in a gothy Sailor Moon outfit can look.
Walking right up to Apocalypta, she looked up at the champion, and said, simply: "You. We need to talk."
Saying nothing, Apocalypta immediately turns towards the sound of the door opening. It doesn’t startle her as she obviously assumes it’s one of her brethren. As Mia steps into the frame, however, the Women’s Champion steps forward silently, leering down at Mia from the six inch height difference between them. Apocalypta remains silent as she waits for Mia to say her piece.
Mia stood her ground, for the moment not even giving a second look to the title belt the other woman had. "I need your help. Blackheart went and got herself backup, which... I admit I didn't see coming. I need someone who can keep her from getting involved when I find new ways to screw with Lara's head."
Like a menacing, breathing statue, Apocalypta stared silently back at Mia with those lifeless white eyes; the woman finally lifting her head. Distrusting but oddly curious, it may seem as to where the smaller woman was going with this. For a moment, we see Apocalypta raise the title belt from her side, just enough to bring the strap into frame as she looks down at her hard earned prize...and then back to Mia with her head tilted to the side, curiously.
Mia rolled her eyes, somehow not at all intimidated by the size difference here. "Look. Drop the shit, ok? You know damn well with your family being who they are, you're gonna get dragged into this one way or the other eventually. Wouldn't you rather have it be on your terms? And knowing that someone's got your back?"
Suddenly, Apocalypta was like a snake, striking at a challenger. From her statuesque pose, the champion grabs Mia by the throat and turns, slamming her back against the locker with a loud, metallic THUD, pinning her in place as she brings her face close to hers.
“I’m only gonna say this once, little girl...” Apocalypta speaks in a low, aggravated hiss, “...so you might wanna listen very...” Apocalypta shifts, pushing her body against Mia’s to prevent her from squirming. “...very...close. The only thing you know about where I come from...is what you and your estranged training girlfriend might have seen on the television...from the comfort of your warm, cozy little home....”
Apocalypta tilts her head, flipping her black and red hair over her shoulder so we get a good look at her terrifyingly painted face as she brings her mouth close to Mia’s ear opposite the side the camera is on. “I was trying to be nice for once...I’m willing to listen. However....” She shifts the hand on Mia’s throat and runs her thumb over the girl’s black lips. “...You mention them again...” She switches positions with the hand again and rests it on the back of Mia’s neck as she rests their foreheads together. Noses brushing. “...I will send your very soul to depths darker than you could ever imagine of...and tear it apart....”
"Hey. This ain't just helping me, lady." Mia told her, a little shaken but still holding her ground. "That's goddamn Shelly Silver she's hanging with. Ever see her? She's known for primarily wrestling intergender. In other words, in most places she's been? There weren't women tough enough to give her a challenge. And how long do you think it's gonna take before she decides to come after your title? I think some backup would help you too."
Apocalypta lets her fingers run across Mia’s face as she releases her but more or less keeps her cornered against the locker. “Well now...that sounds like an impressive resumé.” Apocalypta says, tilting her head to the side at Mia. “It’s easy to crush insects beneath your boot. But when the serpent strikes...not even the bull can withstand the venom. Your little friend’s muscle? When she does decide to step into the den...she’ll soon find out...in the Circle of Snakes...I...am the cobra. The others...Blackheart...the Paynes...Silver...you...everyone...are the rats...scavenging for scraps in the wrong place.”
Apocalypta lifts her hand again and traces it, oddly across Mia’s forehead and down the side of her face. “Granted...some rats are smarter than others.... Point the snake to the largest rat in the mischief...and you sate it’s appetite long enough...before it gets hungry again.”
Finally, she lifts the title up beside hers and Mia’s faces and looks between it and her. “I’m not stupid...but I see the sense in your offer. We can do this...but you watch yourself....”
"Hey.... you ain't exactly my ideal BFF either here, lady." Mia huffed, trying to spare a bit of her dignity while also silently terrified. "Just remember: You have my back? I'll have yours. Now..." She made a waving gesture at the room in general, rolling her eyes. "Go ahead and get back to... to... whatever the hell you weirdos do in here."
Apocalypta takes a step back from Mia, sizing her up without so much as a change in her cold expression before stepping back again and to the side to let the woman leave her locker room. She continues her turn, watching when Mia does go; those void white orbs looking on as the shot slowly fades out.
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Kid Cthulu defeated Trina Tanaka by pinfall in 8:39 after hitting a dragonrana she titled The Call.
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The lights in the arena suddenly go dark, replaced with green spotlights, as “Just Like Tiger Woods” by Steel Panther begins to blare out through the arena, signalling the arrival of Lara Blackheart. But this time, rather than her ring gear, she walked toward the ring wearing street clothes (black jeans, combat boots, and an old Van Halen tee that looked about a size or two too big on her). The tiny girl was not alone though… at her side was the same woman who had arrived with her last week, Shelley Silver.
Lara called for the microphone, for once not looking playful or fun-loving at all as she pointed toward the locker room.
"Mia Hayashi. You ungrateful BITCH. We grew up together. My dad let your whiny little ass train with him. I told the people behind the scenes here how good you were, and that's why they called you. Everything you have, you owe to me and to my family. And how do you show your gratitude?"
She paused, as the video wall played the footage from two weeks ago, of Mia turning on Lara and costing her the Women's Championship.
"Screw with me all you want... but to involve me family? To make a point of humiliating me in front of my mom, in a match I had dedicated to my father? Your point was made, Mia. And in return, I am going to enjoy every single moment of kicking the everloving SHIT out of you. Right now I don't even care about the championship. I care about humiliating you the way you humiliated me. And yeah... I could have gone to Marissa and Morgan... but they have their own stuff to handle. No... I brought in one of the few other people I know I can trust. My bestie, Shelley Silver."
It had been a while since Shelley actually held a microphone, but when Lara called her and told her what Mia had done, she couldn’t exactly ignore it. Her cut-off denim shorts barely covered what her black lace patterned leggings didn’t, not to mention her Megadeth shirt was almost longer than her shorts. She shook her head as she waved at the scattered cheers. She had made a bit of a name for herself in another company, so she wasn’t surprised that she was recognized here. She took the microphone from Lara and sighed, shaking her head. “When this sweet, talented young woman told me what her supposed best friend had done to her… I couldn’t help but laugh in disgust. I’ve seen it all before, Mia. Do you really think that you’re going to get anywhere? That you’re somehow going to make a name for yourself by screwing Lara over?” Shelley shook her head, “your behavior has only shown me one thing here. Mia Hayashi, you will be the Marty Janetty of this scenario. Because the person who you’ve truly screwed over… is yourself.”
"Now... since I have someone watching my back, someone I TRUST, here's what I propose: Next week. Let's settle this. Me and you, in the ring, one-on-one."
Lara said, running a hand through her purple hair as she (ratherly cutely) leaned back against Shelley as though she were a wall. A sexy, heavily-tattooed wall.
"No need to draw this out. Let's take care of our business right in this ring. So I can move on to other things... and you can get your ass out of NFW and back onto the indies where you belong."
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The camera opens on a close up of a photo of Morgan Payne, pinned to a wall. The kanji for ‘shin’ is written across it in black ink. As the shot pans back, we see the wall with the entire women’s roster on it. Unlike Morgan’s photo, they are left unmarked. A moment later, we hear a woman’s voice, speaking slow and cool. While the language is in Japanese, subtitles serve to translate for viewers.
“Vengeance.... Is that what lies in your heart...Marissa Payne?” As we pan further back, we see that the wall of photos is inside a traditional styled Japanese home. It looks to be a sort of training room. A personal dojo of sorts. “Is it vengeance for your comrade that you hope to achieve?”
A sudden flash on the screen brings us back to the previous week. The match between Angel and Morgan Payne. Filtered in grainy, black and white, we see the moment that Morgan Payne was injured from the enziguri while on the top turnbuckle. The woman’s voice continues on as a voice over. “She knew, very well, what the consequences were. Or...perhaps she didn’t....”
Another cut shows a grainy, black and white recap of Morgan and Marissa discussing that very match in the gym. Editing brings us a close up on Morgan’s almost smug smirking face. “Like you...she underestimated her opponent. She underestimated...me.”
The shot cuts to a close up of Angel’s cold stare as she watches, from the ramp, as the EMTs tend to Morgan. “Now there is you...Marissa-san....” Cutting back to the Japanese home, we pan back further until the shoulder of a figure in a black and purple robe comes into view, kneeling in a meditative state. “You...as well as her...are a but obstacles in my way to something greater. A prize held by a creature....” The camera flashes and we see that same grainy, black and white filter over a short compilation of shots, showing the destruction wrought by the Women’s Champion, Apocalypta. The shot ends with the champ standing victoriously at the end of the battle royale, holding the title up high.
“All of you...are but stepping stones...to my glory.”
Another quick series of clips shows Angel’s stiff, vicious offense in the ring from past opponents - even before coming to N*FW. The camera cuts back to the shot in the home, panning over Angel until she comes into view fully on the side of the screen.
“Morrigan’ was the first....”
The pan stops and focuses on Angel’s face under her hood before she slowly lifts her head and opens her eyes. Special effects causing their blue color to glow eerily in the dim light.
“Marissa-san.... You....”
She smiles eerily, lifting a photo of Marissa up in front of the camera with a black circle drawn around it.
“...Are next....”
Cut to black.
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Marissa Payne vs. Angel never technically happened, because as Angel was getting into the ring, Marissa ran to the ring through the crowd, tackling her into the turnbuckles, then repeatedly giving her roundhouse kicks to the chest and face until several referees ran in and literally pulled the redhead off of her, declaring the match a no-contest as the official referee tended to Angel, who had been busted open by the flurry of kicks.
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Cutting from ringside, a short music piece that would likely be associated with a news broadcast plays as a news logo glides onto the screen. The logo reads: ‘ANAC’ with the subtitle underneath ‘American News With Adam Cole (Bay-Bay)’
In parody to CNNs old intro, a deep voice announces “This...is American News...with ADAM COLE, BAY-BAY!” The last part, however is an excerpt from his old former New Japan entrance music.
Like most news channels, the camera swoops in from above and pans in on a broadcasting room. Adam Cole sits at the semi-round table in a cheap grey suit, his hair bunned up, and phony eyeglasses on his face as he adjusts a stack of papers in front of him. Looking up from the papers to the camera, he puts on a smug, cheesy smile and sets the papers down. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I’m your host, Adam Cole, and welcome...to American News.” With a ‘ding’ sound effect and a CGI effect causing a sparkle on his teeth, he winks at us with that arrogant smile, removing his glasses just long enough to do so before sliding them back on and picks up the stack of papers. He pretends to adjust his tie.
“In tonight’s news: we bring you the top five reasons why Canada...sucks.” Clearing his throat, he looks down at his papers, briefly lifting his eyes to the camera as if silently asking the viewers if they’re paying attention. Moving his eyes back to the papers in his hand.
“First and foremost: Canada is known to be the birthing place of several subpar musical artists. Groups like U2, Rush and Nickelback, are widely known as hailing from the place known as the Great White North; and just like their homeland, their music is dull, bland and, well let’s just be honest folks: they flat out blow.” As he names off the artists, photos of them appear above him. “Also, a dishonorable mention goes to teenage youtube sensation, Justin Bieber.” An unflattering image of Bieber pops up— “Any place that shits out someone that horrible in a music studio, deserves to get glassed like Hiroshima.” Followed by a shot of one of the World War 2 nukes going off.
Cole licks his finger, picks off the first sheet of paper and tosses it to the floor behind him, before continuing. “Moving on: Curling.” He frowns at the paper and looks off camera, shaking his head as he holds his hands out to the side. “Is that even a fucking sport?”
“It’s an Olympic event, also.” A stagehand offscreen replies.
Cole snatches off his glasses, looking at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?!” He looks at the camera, blinks, shakes his head and slides his glasses back on, regaining his ‘professional composure.’ “Curling is an unusual game, originating from - you guessed it - Canada. The game involves two idiots on an ice rink feverishly shaving away the ice in a path for the ‘curling stone’ while a another player—“ Cole looks up off camera again. “It’s a rock. They have a sport sliding a fucking rock on ice into a circle!” He tosses the sheet of paper to the floor, smiling back at the camera. “Well, Canada, at least you still have hockey.” He throws a thumbs up and flashes another grin.
“Moving onto number three.” Cole says, pretending to adjust his glasses again and looks at the stack of papers in his hand. “Canada has a French providence...and the French are assholes. Capital A. You know, like Alberta? Reason number four!” The third sheet of paper gets crumpled up in his hand before being discarded.
“This particular reason has a name, and it’s name - ladies and gentlemen - is Tim Horton’s.” Cole glances down at the paper occasionally but keeps his focus mainly on the camera. “Tim Horton’s, for those of you fortunate enough to have never tried it, is a Canadian brand of coffee known for it’s bland taste and has been the cause for multiple cases of stomach cramps and dysentery. We spoke with a gentleman, earlier, who shared his horrific experience with consuming this particular beverage.”
The screen cuts to what is supposed to be a witness interview. While the headline below reads ‘Anonymous Consumer’, the man shrouded in the shadows is quite obviously Adam Cole, talking in his normal voice, but like he is telling of a near death experience.
“I started feeling cramps in my stomach region and uhh...it kept getting more painful.” He sighs ‘uncomfortably’. “I spent hours on the toilet. The feeling was just...unbearable. There was blood and—“
The camera cuts back to Adam Cole in his reporter getup again, shaking his head sympathetically. “We apologize for the graphic content, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we move on?”
Tossing the fourth piece of paper to the side, Cole fixes his glasses, adjusts his tie and clears his throat a final time. “Last but not least, folks, we have the absolute top reason of all that Canada sucks. As much as the music, sports, and cuisine leave much to be desired, not enough can be put into words when it comes to this right here.” Cole points upward and a still shot of Rick Dickulous pops up beside him.
“The man known as Rick Dickulous of New Frontier Wrestling, born and raised in Canada, is a giant walking example of the type of people that call the country home.” No longer ‘needing’ the paper, Cole rips the last sheet up and tosses it. He folds his hands on the table in front of him, keeping up the charade of professional broadcaster. “Mr. Dickulous, ladies and gentlemen, is what some folks like to call an inbred. It’s what you get when his father—“ Rick’s picture is replaced by a photo of William Mannheim, years back in his career during a particular bloody match, “—and his mother—“ Mannheim’s photo is replaced by a large moose, “—are descended from the same maple tree.” A cartoonish image of a maple tree with a feminine face animated onto it, replaces the moose image. In the image, the tree cradles two cartoon infants: one with Mannheim’s bloody face on it while the other has that of the moose.
“Rumor has it that little baby Rick was so ugly at birth, that his inbred parents abandoned him in the Rockies in hopes to rid themselves of the abomination that they had brought into the world. Years later, he was often mistaken for infamous sightings where he was thought to be the elusive Sasquatch.”
Here, the infamous image of Sasquatch seen walking through the woods while looking over his shoulder pops up. The image has been edited to have Rick Dickulous’ grinning face imposed over the actual face of the creature.
“As a side effect of his inbred DNA, this mentally handicapped man-beast believes he has a flying chance in hell of winning the N*FW Silver Mountain Championship. This, dear viewers, is what is known as being ‘fucking delusional’ and anyone else on the roster suffering from similar symptoms, should seek therapy immediately. Unfortunately for Dumb Dick, it’s far too late and the only option left, in his case, is to be shown not once, but twice why he should have stayed in his cave in the mountains, scratching his ass and sucking sap from the surrounding vegetation. That’s our show for tonight, folks. Stay tuned to see Rick Dickulous receive his lesson live on national television. I’m Adam Cole. Thank you, good night...and God bless America!” The camera pans back out, much like the climax of a news show as Cole straightens his jacket and gets up from his chair, walking off set.
“This has been your weekly broadcast of American News with ADAM COLE BAY-BAY!!” The same voice from the beginning of the broadcast says with the logo flashing across the screen again before we hard cut away.
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In the Silver Mountain Championship Match, Rick Dickulous won the first fall, positively CRUSHING Adam Cole with a turnbuckle bomb, followed by a spike DDT. Cole spent most of the second fall working over Dickulous' knees, but won the fall after reversing a suplex attempt and hitting the Last Shot. In the third fall, despite his knees being worked on throughout the match, Dickulous built up a head of steam, dominating a clearly surprised Cole with several crushing power moves as well as a shocking display of Krav Maga striking. His knee buckled though, as he tried to lift Cole for another powerbomb, giving Cole an opening to hit a cheap chop block to the knee. He put Dickulous in the figure-four leglock, but the challenger refused to tap out, eventually blacking out from the pain as the fall and the match were awarded to Cole.
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Rosemary and Apocalypta brawled all over the ring, the ringside area, and even backstage, before ending up fighting in the back lot of the arena. The two were surprisingly well-matched, neither keep an advantage over the other for very long. While in the back lot though, Rosemary lifted Apocalypta for the Red Wedding, only for Candi Brodeur to run out suddenly and hit her in the back with a wooden chair. As she dropped Apocalypta, Candi scowled at her and screamed, "You want an inferno, you crazy bitch? You got one." She then quickly lit the chair on fire with a small lighter, before giving Rosemary a DDT onto it. The referees grabbed Candi and pulled her away from the area as Apocalypta covered Rosemary for the pin at the 15:52 mark.
