LETHAL INJECTION VOTING & PROMO THREAD

MIND OF A MADMAN PART I: LIKE MOTHER LIKE SON

Could my child become like his mother? Perish the thought...


With a feeling of deep yet most singular affection, I regarded my Celeste. Thrown by accident into her society many years ago, my soul from our first meeting, burned with fires it had never before known; but the fires were not of Eros, and bitter and tormenting to my spirit was the gradual conviction that I could in no manner define their unusual meaning or regulate their vague intensity.

Yet we met; and fate bound us together toward the altar, and I never spoke of passion nor thought of love. She, however, shunned society, and, attaching herself to me alone rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder; it is a happiness to dream.

Celeste's erudition was profound. Her talents were of no common order - her powers of mind were gigantic. I soon, however, found that, perhaps on account of her education, she placed before me a number of those mystical writings. These, for what reason I could not imagine, were her favourite and constant study.

Unless I am greatly mistaken, there was not any tincture of the mysticism which I read either in my deeds or in my thoughts. Persuaded of this, I abandoned myself implicitly to the guidance of my wife, and entered with an unflinching heart into the intricacies of her studies. And then, when pondering over forbidden pages, I felt a forbidden spirit enkindling within me. Celeste would place her warm hand upon my own, and rake up from the ashes of a dead philosophy some low, singular words, whose strange meaning burned themselves in upon my memory.

And then, hour after hour, would I linger by her side, and dwell upon the music of her voice, until at length its melody was tainted with terror, and there fell a shadow upon my soul, and I grew pale, and shuddered inwardly at those too unearthly tones. And thus, joy suddenly faded into horror, and the most beautiful became the most hideous.

By the learned these mystical writings will be readily conceived, and by the unlearned they would be little understood. The wild Pantheism of Fichte; the modified Paliggenedia of the Pythagoreans; and, above all, the doctrines of Identity as urged by Schelling, were generally the points of discussion presented by the imaginative Celeste. That identity which is termed personal ... as stated by John Locke I believe ... truly defines the saneness of rational being. And since by person we understand an intelligent essence having reason, and since there is a consciousness which always accompanies thinking, it is this which makes us all to be that which we call ourselves. Thereby we can distinguish us from other beings that think, and giving us our personal identity.

But the notion of that identity which at death is or is not lost for ever, was to me, at all times, a consideration of intense interest; not more from the perplexing and exciting nature of its consequences, than from the marked and agitated manner in which Celeste mentioned them.

But, indeed, the time had now arrived when the mystery of my fiance's manner oppressed me as a spell. I could no longer bear the touch of her wan fingers, nor the tone of her musical language, nor the luster of her melancholy eyes. And she knew all this, but did not upbraid; she seemed conscious of my weakness or my folly, and with a smile she called it fate.







In time the crimson spot settled steadily upon the cheek, and the blue veins upon the pale forehead became prominent; and one instant my nature melted into pity. Next I met the glance of her eyes, and then my soul sickened and became giddy with the giddiness of one who gazes downward into some dreary and unfathomable abyss.

Shall I then say that I longed with an earnest and consuming desire for the moment of Celeste's decease? I did, but the fragile spirit clung to its tenement of clay for many days, for many weeks and irksome months, until my tortured nerves obtained the mastery over my mind, and I grew furious through delay. Then with the heart of a fiend, cursed the days and the hours and the bitter moments, which seemed to lengthen and lengthen as her gentle life declined, like shadows in the dying of the day.

But one spring evening, when the winds lay still in heaven, Celeste called me to her bedside. There was a dim mist over all the earth, and a warm glow upon the waters, and amid the budding April leaves of the forest, a rainbow from the firmament had surely fallen.

"It is a day of days," she said, as I approached. "A day of all days either to live or die. It is a fair day for the sons of earth and life, and still more fair for the daughters of heaven and death!"

I kissed her forehead, and she continued...

"I am dying, yet I shall live."

"Yes, Celeste."

"The days when you did love me have never been. But now in death, you will adore me, won't you?"

"Yes, Celeste."

"But within me is a pledge of that affection. And when my spirit departs the child shall live. But your days shall be days of sorrow - that sorrow which is the most lasting of impressions, as the cypress is the most enduring of trees. For the hours of your happiness are over and joy is not gathered twice in a life."

"Celeste!" I cried, "Celeste! What do you mean? What must I do?" but she turned away her face upon the pillow and a slight tremor coming over her limbs.

She died, and I heard her voice no more.







The child she had birthed grew strangely in stature and intellect, and was the perfect resemblance of her who had departed.

I said the child grew strangely in stature and intelligence. Strange, indeed, was his rapid increase in bodily size. Accompanying this were the terrible, tumultuous thoughts which crowded upon me while watching the development of his mental being. Could it be otherwise, when I daily discovered in the conceptions of the child the adult powers and faculties of Celeste?

And as the years rolled away, and I gazed day after day upon his disgustingly holy, mild, and eloquent face... day after day did I discover new points of resemblance in the child to his mother. And hourly grew darker these shadows of similitude, and more full, and more definite, and more perplexing, and more hideously terrible in their aspect. For that his smile was like his mother's I could bear. His eyes were like Celeste's: they too often looked down into the depths of my soul with Celeste's own intense and bewildering meaning.

And above all else, in the phrases and expressions of the dead on his lips, I found food for consuming thought and horror, for a worm that would not die.

As my son remained nameless upon the earth. I had never spoken to my son, it was impossible to speak. But at length the ceremony of baptism presented to my mind, in its unnerved and agitated condition, a present deliverance from the terrors of my destiny. And at the baptismal font I hesitated for a name. And many titles of the wise and beautiful, of old and modern times, of my own and foreign lands, came thronging to my lips, with many, many fair titles of the gentle, and the happy, and the good.

What prompted me then to disturb the memory of the buried dead? What demon urged me to breathe that sound, which in its very recollection was wont to make ebb the purple blood in torrents from the temples to the heart? What fiend spoke from the recesses of my soul, when amid those dim aisles, and in the silence of the night, I whispered within the ears of the holy man the syllables... Celeste?

Distinct, coldly, calmly distinct, fell those few simple sounds within my ear, and thence like molten lead rolled hissingly into my brain. Years may pass away, but the memory of that epoch never.

I kept no reckoning of time or place, and the stars of my fate faded from heaven, and therefore the earth grew dark, and its figures passed by me like flitting shadows.

Among them all I beheld only Celeste.

The winds of the firmament breathed but one sound within my ears, and the ripples upon the sea murmured evermore... Celeste.

When he dies, with my own hands I will bore him to the tomb. And I will laugh with a long and bitter laugh, forever ridding the world of the traces of my darling Celeste.

MIND OF A MADMAN PART II: SEND IN THE CLOWNS

Why the pasty makeup? Why the funny clothes? Clowns try so hard to make us laugh that they make us nervous. We are uncomfortable in their presence because we know that they are really just people in disguise. When you realize that this grotesque creature is another person in makeup, the clown act loses its humour and becomes intimidating. You begin to wonder what they're really up to.

Yes, there is something very insidious about clowns. You never know what is going on behind the greasepaint and those hidden eyes, those mouths carved into artificial smiles.

Our fear of these creatures springs from the duplicity implied by the frozen grins and false gaiety of clowns. The clown persona protests too much; its transparent artificiality constantly directs our attention to what's behind the mask.

Clown repulsion is a manifestation of the creeping suspicion that the clown's happy face is Jekyll to a far darker Hyde: an embittered alcoholic with one foot in the grave, perhaps, or a sadistic sexual predator and remorseless killer. Sound familiar, Quint? Why must you Hyde behind your Jekyll?

But the deepest secret concealed in the clown's painted-on smile is our own mortality - the mocking, mirthless grin of death's head. Clown "mouths carved into artificial smiles" horrify because they embalm a spontaneous expression of happiness; the only other time a human smile freezes is when the mortician fixes it in place, for display in an open casket. Whiteface is just a death mask with a sense of humour.

This is not a new revelation. In medieval mystery plays, the characters of the Fool and Death were often interchangeable. How often do we see a skeleton in jester's cap that literalizes the late-medieval truism that death makes a mockery of life's fleeting joys. Yorick, the dead jester whose grinning skull inspires Hamlet's musings on the worm-eaten end of all our frolics and follies casts the Grim Reaper in the role of the Fool.

Now that you’ve dropped the clown façade, do you really think you’ve escaped Death?

Delving deeper, we find that the clown disturbs because he is uncanny in the Freudian sense of the word, vacillating disconcertingly between human and nonhuman, animate and inanimate. The clown's fixed expression and pixilated antics confuse the human with the wind-up doll, the marionette, the robot.

The clown/freak analogy harks back to the clown's historical origins in the court jester - the hunchbacks, dwarves, and cripples whose misshapen bodies and grotesque gaits, as much as their jokes, amused nobles from Egyptian pharaohs to Renaissance princes.

The earliest clowns were the entertainers who wandered the European Continent after the fall of the Roman Empire, among them all those who violated the human image through physical or psychic deformity.

But aren’t we all entertainers, Quint? Full Metal Wrestling is built on the fundamental principle that we are performers set to entertain an audience. Therefore, isn’t there a little clown in all of us.

And so we are all left to chronicle our descent into madness. Ultimately, we are all gifted with the wisdom of idiots. The clowns within us retain only the dimmest recollections of their parents, and can't recall being named anything but their clown names. When they're in agony, they scream "like only a wounded clown can scream"; when they're aggrieved, they moan a moan "made only by tortured clowns." For them, the world is a great stage of fools: they wear their clown costumes and outsized, floppy shoes onstage and off, and their greasepaint seems permanent, less like makeup than natural colouration.

And those little clowns inside of us, they’re not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of them.






The disdain invited by his nonhuman or freakish state, the Harlequin stirs up animosity through his apparent condescension. Transformed by his whiteface into a mirror for the reflection of human foibles, he seems to observe the human condition from on high, like Puck wryly musing on "what fools these mortals be."

What a fool I must be, inviting, nay, begging the return of the Harlequin. Don’t I remember the madness surrounding him? Don’t I remember the chaos… the havoc created by this creature?

Aye, but I do. It’s what I yearn for the most. It’s what Full Metal Wrestling has been missing these past few months.

The evil clown embodies the black comedy of a society in which giddy amoral bystanders cheer, "Go, Juice, go!" during O. J. Simpson's slow-motion getaway. A society in which people buy white Broncos like Simpson's, in homage to the accused double murderer, or immortalize their pilgrimages to the Simpson mansion with smiling snapshots.

The evil clown puts a manic face on an America where the average teenager purportedly knows the names of more serial killers than senators, and where Jeffrey Howorth, a 16-year-old boy who shot his parents dead for no particular reason, left a note that read, "I want a movie to be made for me after I kill everyone.”

The psycho-killer clown, and therefore the Harlequin itself, encapsulates the have-a-nice-day/make-my-day dualism that typifies our lovely little federation. After all, no one in this company would describe themselves as being happy and sad. That dualism falls short. Instead, we describe ourselves as being happy and violent.

The theory extends outside of the company and across the entire country. Obviously, sweeping generalizations about a country as full of economic disparity, ethnic diversity, and geographical dissimilarity as the United States of America are almost always as wrong as they are right. However, all over the world, America stands for fun and death: Disneyland and the death penalty, Big Macs and murder - the highest rate in the industrialized world. It's surely significant that since the 1990s, America's top two export items were military hardware and "entertainment products," in that order.

The American psyche is characterized, on one hand, by a Teflon optimism and a clench-jawed cheerfulness so impervious to reality it's scary. But on the other hand, the American psyche is characterized by a coiled violence, just beneath the surface.

This perverse way of thinking offers a blueprint for psychological survival at a time when grandiose narratives about God attempt to tell us how to live. Conversely, evil clowns admonish us to relax into the cultural vortex, to embrace it for what it is.

Because the unoriginal performers of Full Metal Wrestling have sought to quote this film at every opportunity for the past two years, I will provide an example that all the aforementioned feeble-minded geeks can understand. The Dark Knight was effortlessly upstaged by that agent of chaos, the Joker, a.k.a. the Clown Prince of Crime. If the comments of Bat-fans are any indication, the Joker was widely viewed as the movie's real hero. There seems to be an attitude now that the Joker is at least as appealing as Batman in terms of the dark forces he represents. His kind of madness seems associated with the Ted Bundys of society, who seem to hold a powerful fascination for people.

In essence, the villain has become the hero. Thus, it follows that all heroes will soon become the villains.

Am I hitting home yet, Quint?

The jester has always been the king’s dark doppelganger. Behind the nobility and status of a king, lies the chaotic and unpredictable course to destruction.

Chaotic?

Destruction?

Doesn’t this all sound like so much fun? Why wouldn’t I want the Harlequin to come back?

So long as the Harlequin lives, I can return to my estate and focus on my upcoming marriage, knowing that Full Metal Wrestling is “safe” in the chaotic hands of the only individual who rivals my own insanity and lust for pure and unadulterated carnage.

But make no mistake about it, you will not be permitted to win. As much as I’d enjoy the Harlequin once again being unleashed at his own free reign, there isn’t much fun in that. No, not one bit.

The most beautiful part of unpredictability is when its seized. Remember that wonderful oxymoron we had, ”Controlled Chaos”?

Granted, it was a wee bit short-lived, but when I summoned the Virus to tear the paint from your face and expose you as the weak, pathetic, mortal human being you’ve become since, it was with this moment in mind. That you would realize you missed Harlequin. That you would realize you missed the chaos, and the havoc. You’ve played right into my hand.

This is why I must win. Not only to preserve my record-shattering reign as Ultraviolent Champion, but to once again harness the chaos that was buried deep inside you, and use it to DESTROY everyone who stands in my way.

Controlled Chaos is Constructive Chaos. Constructive Chaos is Destructive Chaos.

And when you look up at me and realize that I am still the champion, and realize that I have defeated you again… you will have no choice but to accept that the wild child, the creature you try so valiantly to repress, belongs to me and is completely powerless to my will.

Dr. Harley Quint, the Harlequin is more a part of me than it is of you.

So if you’re calling for a clown? By all means…



SEND HIM IN.

-Lethal Injection Pre-Show LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Trey no showed on me....I can't rightly vote for us when we didn't complete the act....friggin stoners!! LOL

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs.Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs.Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs.Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs.Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs.Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs.Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs.Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Moore and Dragos have the bond of marriage, and I'm sure

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

CXC is coming for you PX, I hope you are prepared.

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Kind of sad Kelson has to go out like this, but it was a good run for him. Good job Kaoru.

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

We need more Seth Omega votes, I'll start the trend.

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

Character development is a good thing, and I think Mark did very well in his development. Bryson also did well, it was a close match.

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Drew brought his A-Game, and so did Gabe. Good to see from the both of them, I think Drew edged Gabe but just barely.

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Good job Irishman.

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Tough choice, I'll get back to this.

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Same as above.

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

Battle of the titans, I was leaning towards Quint but the edit Jaro made was a good one.

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

While I agree Romeo is too good to post pictures, I think the pictures he posted sent a strong message and I think that is what got him the win. Good job by both.

-Lethal Injection Pre-Show LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

PX clearly put a lot in here.... hoping CXC comes back with something to make me reconsider my vote here

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

I think you both have had better outings but Seth just edged in for mine.

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs.Mark Johansson

I nominate Bryson as our next UV challenger...

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs.Gabriel Crow

Gabe as per my feedback I feel you were good. You were not however great and that is what you need to take the belt off Drew.

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs.Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

I didn't like the ending Leon but you had me sold by that point already. Syanide an unlucky second for me.

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

Tough choice, Harley had my vote but Jaro stole it after the edit.

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Both high quality and worthy of the main event but Tyrant by a nose.

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

The'se votes are not definative until the deadline to give those that haven't posted yet a chance to do so. So come on lads only a few hours left!!

Young Man: Duh-duh-Do-Don’t d-do this.

Hatchet: (still launghing) How stupid can you people possibly be?

Young Man: I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sorry.

Hatchet: Your hiding in an empty grave plot. You deserve to die for being so fucking retarded.

Young Man: I C-c-Cou-dn’t RUN an-y more.

Hatchet: Why?

Young Man: Y-y-you sh-shot me.


Hatchet: That’s just a flesh wound!

Young Man: it hurts!

Hatchet: Now you’re gonna die!

Young Man: I don’t wanna die!

Hatchet: You gotta die!

Young Man: Please

Hatchet: Please

Young Man: don’t do this

Hatchet: Waaa! Don’t do this.


Hatchet: Are you irish?

Young Man: Wh-what?

Hatchet: DON’T MAKE ME ASK TWICE!!!

You Man: I didn’t hear you.

Hatchet: HUH!

Young Man: I didn’t

Hatchet: HUH!

Young Man: I didn’t hear

Hatchet: HUH!

Young Man: I didn’t hear you

Hatchet: So I have to ask twice?!

Young Man: Aaaah!!!

Hatchet: HAaaaaa!!!

Young Man: Whyyyyyyy!!

Hatchet: Now that I’ve got your attention, are you Irish?


Young Man: Aaaah!!!

Hatchet: Answer the fucking question or the next one goes through your forehead. NOW, are you irish?

Young Man: Yu-yes

Hatchet: Well…. I may have use for you after all.

Hatchet: Point the camera

Hatchet: Are you fucking stupid?! Point the camera at my face.


Hatchet: You’re un-fucking-believable!


Hatchet: Do I have to sit like this or are you going to hold that fucking camera where you’re supposed to?!

Hatchet: YES?..to which choice retard? Are you going to hold still and point that fucking thing at my face?

Hatchet: Good. Now let’s get to business boys and girls!

Hatchet: Hello FMW. ..(Exhales) Let’s all take a brief moment to stare at me. Everyone ready?.. Now.

Hatchet: So what do you think? ... This is what the future of FMW looks like.

Hatchet: I saw that a large number of you weren’t all that happy about my actions at Supremacy. I would try to defend myself over what went down, but honestly… I don’t really give a shit who I pissed off out there. When the Dark Carnival calls and tells me that there’s business that needs taken care of, I jump on it. This time the Dark Carnival called me away from my usual stomping grounds. They were like “YO HATCHET!” and I said “WHAT?” and then they said “YOU NEED TO GO TO FMW FOR US” and I was like “WHAT THE FUCK?” and then they was like “IT’S NOT UP FOR DEBATE” and I said “DAAAAMN”
Hatchet: I’m not going to tell you again! Prop that bitch up on your shoulder and hold still!

Young Man: My shoulder hurts (points to bullet wound)

Hatchet: Then use your other fucking shoulder! I’ll pop one off in it too if you fuck this up. Do you got a name?

Young Man: Jason

Hatchet: Jason… Naw, I don’t like it. You will now be called Celtic Bitch. Hey Celtic Bitch.

Celtic Bitch: Yuh-yes?

Hatchet: Hold the fucking camera in position and record. That’s all you gotta do Celtic Bitch.


Hatchet: Where was I?.. Fuck! You see how you just fucked up my promo?! This would sound a lot fuckin’ more intimidating if I could actually talk for 5 minutes without you jerking the fucking camera around. We’re gonna get this right this time. Count me down yo!


Hatchet: Just forget it; I’ll edit this shit myself. You are absolutely worthless my friend.
Hatchet: Let’s finish this bitch before you somehow fuck it up more than you already have.

Hatchet: FMW… Your entire format is about to be unraveled. I’m going to shake the entire foundation of this fucking place. It doesn’t matter if I stick around for a week or a year; the fact is that I will leave my mark here, and NOBODY is going to forget it. This all starts with you Celt.



Savana: They gotta be paying you more than this.

Hatchet: What’s up brother?


Savana: What the hell is this? You doing a reality show now?

Hatchet: I’m cutting a promo.

Savana: Am I part of it now?

Hatchet: Hell yeah, an’t it dope?!

Savana: This is a shitty intro.

Hatchet: It’s not like I knew you were coming.

Savana: Where did you find this guy? Camera men don't usually have open wounds do they?

Hatchet: He’s irish.

Savana: Oooooh, that explains everything.

Hatchet: You’ve totally thrown me off my game. How should we end this?

Savana: Impromptu youtube mock video

Hatchet: Couldn’t agree more

Savana: Your camera guy is trying to run.


(right down there)

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne
A little disappointed that Thorne hasn't promo'd, although I gotta admit I do love me a good vampire story.

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar
While I may not have completely understood his promo, Apathy just has the better storyline right now.

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa
Again a shame that Kasim hasn't promo'd otherwise this may have been a completely different story.

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter
Come on Calvin, if ya want votes ya need to get your promo up!

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow
This time round Gabriel's promo just flowed better.

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele
This one was extremely close to call.

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide
Time for a change of the guard. Striker's had a good run, but Frosty deserves the title now.

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint
While Jaro's promo was ok, Harley's was just better.

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo
Just coz he's getting old doesn't mean we can count him out just yet.

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa

===============================

-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Still doing a bit of reading... will finalize soon...





Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa

===============================

-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Omega: We need to talk

Overly flowerily description that fills out several paragraphs needlessly.

Celt: Is that right?

Omega: It’s about Hatchet

Celt: Ha, ok...this should be good. Whatcha want to tell me Omega?

Omega: Look Celt, I know we’ve have our differences, but you know I respect you. And out of that
respect I want to warn about Hatchet...he’s a different breed.

Celt: Go on

Omega: Well, I’m “aquatinted” with him from LPW. I know what he’s capable of, quite frankly Celt he’s fucking dangerous. I mean this guy is violent, demented, deranged. He’ll do anything and everything to get what he wants.

Celt draws in towards Omega real, real close

Celt (whispering): Is this a rib?

Omega: What?

Celt: Is this like a joke? Is Johansson in on this?

Omega: Fuck no Celt, I’m dead serious here!

Celt: Well, I’m just having a hard time believing that’s what’s brought you out all this way

Omega: Celt I’m trying to warn you here, I’m doing you a favour out of respect.

Celt: Nah, I think you’re just after a cameo is all, everyone loves a cameo. Attention makes people feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Omega: Celt...Celt listen to me, you’ve got to take this Hatchet thing seriously, he could really hurt you know?

Celt: And why is that? Because he talks like this? In a dark and cynical tone?

Omega: No! Because-

Celt: He seems to “not give a shit”, saying stuff like “I am fear!” or “I enjoy painz!” yet at the
same time seems desperate for attention?

Omega: Well, no its-

Celt: He doesn’t have an evil voice in his mind does he? I can’t take any more of that shit, I mean when Adrian did it was new but now three years later it’s like if I have to see anymore of that I’m going to have to rip my own eyeballs out

Omega: He’s doesn’t, well, I don’t think he does...but-

Celt: Oh, I get it...

Omega: Finally-

Celt: He starts everything, EVERY TIME, with a quote from history, like


Only attempting to sound more grandiose? Yeah I fucking hate that too Omega, I hear ya.

Omega: Celt, I swear to God, I will rip out your throat right here unless-

Celt: I HAVE GOT IT!! What is THEE most annoying thing someone can make you do? I mean something that really goes against your wishes, something you just really don’t want to do but they force you into?

Omega: I don’t know Celt

Celt: He’s plays you music, horrible, shitty music that you would never ever normally listen to, but he sits there and forces you to listen doesn’t he? And then, AND THEN he quotes the fucking lyrics to you as he does something! Bastard, evil Bastard! Well don’t worry Omega, because I’ll get the asshole for that! I refuse to listen to some snotty-nosed music nobodies that I’ve never heard of drain on about how shit life is!

Omega: HE KILLS PEOPLE CELT! He fucking kills people!

Awkward Silence

Celt slowly sits back down

Omega: I’m sorry man, I didn’t think I’d have to just say it like that...but there it is. He’s a murderer.

Celt: You mean...

Omega: That’s right Celt

Celt: You mean...

Omega nods his head

Celt: You mean he’s exactly like every single heel I have encountered in my career

Omega: Yes! Wait, I mean...no? Erm...huh?

Celt: You’re telling me he just mindlessly goes out and brutally slaughters some innocence person right before a match to get his kicks?

Omega: Yep

Celt: Then how the fuck is he any different to Syanide or Adema Aries or O’Rion or anyone other guy I’ve ever seen? I mean THEY ALL killed random people before our matches

Omega: Um well...he’s...a Juggalo?

Celt: What’s that?

Omega: It means that, hmm, that’s like this psycho clown type guy

Celt: You mean like

Omega: like ah...

Celt: Exactly what Harlequin was...I see. Omega I want you do me a favour. I want to ask you this: On any given day before an FMW show, how many people do you think would check the following boxes
- Talk like this
- Always claim life is shit, and try act as badass as possible
- Always quote some random figure in history or literature
- Or always quote random song lyrics and try to fit them as closely to their lives as possible
- Or fuck it, both
- Kill someone each and every single time they walk about the fucking door; also does the person they kill seem to have a striking resemblance to their next opponent?

Omega: Well, man I guess I’d have to say at least 10 people every time, but come on, that’s alot of ground you’re covering

Celt: Do I ever do that?

Omega: Eh, not really

Celt: Do you?

Omega: No.

Celt: Exactly. However, you’re here now so we might as make a promo out of it while we’re at it.

Celt, Omega and Mark Johansson are all in car. Celt is driving.

Mark Johansson: Why am I even here?

Celt: Because Alex O’Rion’s Mom won’t let him come out to play with us

Omega: I thought she was dead?

Celt: That’s the weird part of that problem

Omega: Ohh...ok, right. So, besides the obvious, why isn’t PX with us?

Celt: Because he just got FIFA 2010 for Xbox 360 and hasn’t left the couch in over 2 weeks.

Mark: Really?

Celt: Yeah, the room was starting to smell last time I left it. Anyways, here we are: Skyler Striker’s house.

Mark: Since when were we in Australia?

Celt: Since when did this promo make any sense?

Mark: That’s not a valid point but I’m going to nod my head regardless

The guys exit the car and walk up to the Striker’s household’s frontdoor. Celt knocks on the front door, and after a moment it opens.

Celt: Hello?

Man: Who the hell are you people?

Celt: House, M.D.?

House, M.D.: No, that would be my name you moron. The question is who are you?

Celt: Oh, we're... “Friends” of Skyler

Chris Jericho: Well he’s not here at the moment

Mark: Jericho?

Jericho: Shut up you bottom feeding worm

Omega: Umm, just a quick question: Why are you guys here?

Jericho: Isn’t it obvious? House and I are Skylar’s parents; he is clearly our love-child.

Mark: I’m not sure I see it

As Mark is speaking House guzzles down 5 bottles of Vicodin and Prozac simultaneously while Jericho adjusts a pin on his suit reading “Last Honest Man”.

Mark: Oh wait now I see it . Lol where was my mind on that one?

Celt: Actually we’re not here to see Skylar, we’re here to see Jade.

Jericho: JADE! Get down here! Some strange men are here to see you!

Jade (from upstairs): KKKKAAYYY!!!

There is an awkward silence as they all wait for Jade to come down.

House, M.D.: (looking at Omega): So, what’s your deal, attempt to shallow a McMuffin and took the whole building with you?


House, M.D.:(turning to Celt): And you, if you were any whiter you’d be transparent


House, M.D.: (eyeballing Mark): And Johansson, Mark David Chapman called here, he told me to tell you you’re giving stalkers a bad name.

Each of the guys looked bummed out by House’s comments.

Jade enters the room

Jade: I’ll take it from here Grand-dads

House, M.D.: We’ll just randomly leave you on your own to give you some privacy

With that House, M.D., and Chris Jericho leave the room.

Omega: Well that was completely normal and wholesome.

Jade: So, what do you guys want?

Celt: Omega convinced me that I need to in a pointless and random road trip in order to prepare for Hatchet, despite the fact he’s a carbon copy of all my other opponents

Jade: And?

Celt: I need advice on how to beat him

Jade:Wow, you are stupid. A 5 year old could tell you how?

Mark: Aren’t you like only-

Jade: SILENCE! And I shall give you the information you seek; Although Juggalos come in various different shapes and sizes (But only one color), they all have one thing in common; they suffer from a mental illness known as Clown's Syndrome. Clown's Syndrome is characterized mainly by deliberately dressing to get attention, then acting like they don't want it.

Celt: I hear what you’re saying, but-

Jade: But the secret to defeating Hatchet is-

The Scene begins to fade to black and the volume begins to go down

Omega: Hurry up Jade the scene is about to end!


Black and silence




Omega: Fuck it!


The Scene has changed to Celt, Omega and Mark seating on chairs in front of camera, each of them holding a sheet of paper.

Celt: Gentlemen, let’s begin. I’ll start us off: "Hatchet-man" carries a meat cleaver, not a hatchet you fucking morons. Omega, over to you.

Omega: Fred Durst is the greatest white rapper there ever was. Take it away Mark

Mark: Are we seriously doing this?

Celt: Stick to the plan Mark, it’s what Jade said.

Mark: *ahem* Mimes>Juggalos. Also, the dollar tree Dropped Faygo soda for Stars and Stripes because even the dollar store has Quality Standards.

Celt: Shaggy 2 Dope does not in fact write his own music, however, “Burnin Up” is ICP’s greatest song. Ever.

Omega: Juggalo make-up is created from...oh God, santorum . It’s amazing that’s actually true.

Mark: Never in recorded history has they been found a Juggette under three hundred and fifty pounds. Fact.

Celt: Finally, the fact that Juggalos are secretly rich kids only reinforces how fucking stupid the whole concept is. Also, Andrew WK is a hero.

Omega: Ok, I really don’t get that one.

Celt:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUOvnbCtnVQ&feature=player_embedded

Omega: Ok, Epic.

Celt: There, fin.

Celt pauses the camera.

Celt: Now, when this video response gets back to Hatchet, Clown’s Syndrome will cause him to wig out like a spastic and thus make his destroy his efforts against me...at least that’s what Jade said.

Mark: This is going to fail miserably isn’t it

Celt: Oh Gods yes, but there’s nothing like going out as miserably as possible right?

All together: True

Mark: Just before we go to the outro, I just want to make this offical; this is the weirdest promo you've ever done.

Celt: Goodnite everybody





Dear Hatchet

We’ve had a lot of fun here today, but all good things must come to an end. Welaughed, you cried, and all and all it’s been just a super time. I for one can’t wait to meant you in the ring, and see the look of horror on your face when this promo beats yours to a pulp without even being serious. But keep that chin, wear that make-up with pride and always stay true to your mutant, sub-species of trailer trash mock-faith, and maybe one day you make as big an impact on FMW as Jamie Kidd did. Good luck you crazy kid you.May the whitest man win.

Tag Team Match:
Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Apathy

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS

Television Championship:
PX (c)

Submission Match:
Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c)

Street Fight:
The Celt

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Hannibal Frost
Simple put his promo was the best, really enjoyed it. Would vote for myself but I want my vote to count. If problems arise "Iz Sorry Babez"

Ultraviolent Championship:
Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c)

-Lethal Injection Pre-Show LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-

Tag Team Match:
Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c)

Submission Match:
Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c)

Street Fight:
Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Hannibal Frost

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c)

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c)

[/quote][i]

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa

===============================

-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Christian Moore & Cole Dragos

Alistair Wolfe

Apathy

DGS

PX

Kaoru Hanayama

Virus

Drew Michaels

Mark Johannson

The Celt

Chris Austin

Dunnwood

Jaro

TyranT

-Lethal Injection Pre-Show LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Calvin X. Carter
Proudly Presents

Wit's End


Forward. Calvin’s eyes stayed locked on a random cross section of the flat steel horizontals and long rounded verticals of his cell door. Gazing at something far from particular, Calvin gave off a much more pensive demeanor within the past few weeks, following his solitary confinement. Most times, Calvin’s staring meant he was preoccupied with trying to catch his thoughts as they whizzed past him as swift and intelligible as subway graffiti. With his despair of his incarceration, his hatred of those responsible, his fear of the powers that be, and the constant paranoia that surrounded each aforementioned facet of prison life, it was hard to keep a train of thought with all wheels on the rails. But at this moment, this morning, this precise second, Calvin had what Chris Austin so shamelessly raped from Sean Carter, a “moment of clarity.” No, perhaps he hadn’t it all figured out, but one key, one thread could possibly unravel the situation, and that thread was tightly locked in Calvin’s fist.

A two note whistle was heard. The signal of a friendly. Anyone else wandering into Calvin’s cell would surely walk out with a whittled chunk of plastic for their stomach’s next door neighbor. Theo, Calvin’s inside confidant, strode drowsily into Calvin’s personal quarters and plopped down on the smooth steel urinal across from his partner, almost initiatively. His eyes hung with dark brown saddle bags. The corners of his mouth almost slumping to his chin. The mask of a man living his final days. This man, days shy of two years older than Calvin, now could have been a stand in father in appearance.

“Ain’t lookin’ too hot, T. Can’t be droopy these days, dog.”

“Hey man, the jobs for somebody with a mind like freeway rick, not a face like Chris Breezy. Lay me this new game, I gotta make sure I’m at the courts in twenty or those spics will think I went stateside.”

Appreciation for wit was something that surely wasn’t shed from Calvin’s three month confinement, even if the ever present danger stifled his ability to chuckle. Reaching deep within the puncture of his paper thin bunk mattress, he drew a chubby paperback novel: George Orwell’s Nineteen-Eighty-Four. He tossed it towards Theo, whose arm propped his head from falling across his knees. Theo jerked minutely, possibly after dosing off. After a weary gaze and a double take between his associate and the novel, he spoke.

“I liked Animal Farm better.”

In a lightning fast instant, Calvin slapped the novel out of Theo’s grasp. Bewilderment rushed across Theo’s face, his fist slowly rolling inward, before glancing at the catwalk outside of Calvin’s cell: A guard. The book hadn’t been checked in with the security clerks like other legal gifts from the outside, namely due to the fact that it was packaged with a laundry list of illegal gifts and smuggled by way of a doctor ordered oxygen canister. This new source of Calvin’s inspiration, no, it wasn’t hitting the furnace like every other ganja baggie, phone, and dagger confiscated from his cell.

“Now stay with me, because this is all in the theoretical, alright. Now Big Brother floods these people with his likeness, beats them over the head with their rhetoric, even revises history to make himself look legit, right?”

“That’s the gist, yup.”

“Alright, well that shit happens nowadays? Wouldn’t last a minute. Why?”

“Well, I mean the masses are always blind, but to that extent, I guess you're right, can't happen. People are too smart for something like that.”

“Damn straight. Not to mention, if a mindfuck is going on, the last thing the engineer’s want is evidence all up in people’s business. Now in this day and time, it really isn’t enough to keep such a conspiracy under wraps, nah. There needs to be distractions. When we’re hungry enough, we’ll sniff out the right loot. So their job, they keep us fed.”

Theo gnawed at the inside of his cheek, nodding and staring at the floor. As the silence stretched on, he looked up only to see Calvin waiting for a response. After stumbling over a few openers, he shrugged.

“I don’t know where you’re headed with this.”

“Alright look at it this way, my cousin went hunting this one time.”

He was met with a face that would meet a claim of seeing big foot.

“I didn’t know our people hunted these days either. Now, my cousin said they were up in this cabin, and they were surrounded by grizzlies, every door, window, drain pipe, all of it. Any sort of escape would have meant Yogi gets his hands on a pic-a-nig basket. So what they do is, they start tossin’ food, candy, shiny shit, all sorts of stuff out the kitchen window. The bears see this and just crowd all around it, obsessed, fed. My cousin pops out, twelve gauge ready, BOOM. Yogi goes to heaven.”

The way Calvin’s face looked as if he had just explained salvation made Theo thought he had missed something. But as he traced through Calvin’s story for blank spots, he found nothing. Throughout his years in the system, he had known men of all sorts of mental sharpness, each one blunted by a stint in the hole. And now, sitting across from the toughest man he’s ever known, listening to him ramble between George Orwell and his cousin’s hunting trip, he saw Calvin in a new light. He was neutralized, broken, tarnished. Theo now had a hard time deciding which was a worse post-lockdown mental state: Being a broken, mumbling zombie, or using the little bit of sanity left to scramble like a mad man and pick up the pieces. Regardless, he had to treat the situation as delicately as possible.

“You been smokin’ sherm or something?”

“What I’m sayin’ is what’s all around us, the whole system that we think we’ve got figured out, it’s all a fuckin’ charade, a cave allegory, even the moves we’re makin’ on our own accord, someone’s crafted the scenario to make us make those moves. It’s gotta be.”

He was ready to deflect the next bit of nonsense to come, but Theo was just too wracked with pity to do so.

“A simple stabbing happens in the yard almost everyday during those riots. I’m the only one that’s wrapped up? I ran the most dangerous city in the country for three years, and I can’t even get a hold over a single prison? We’re smart dudes. There’s another answer, it’s just a little bit tougher than flipping to the back of the book to find it.”

“So you think everything we’ve been doing is part of a giant conspiracy to keep us held down?”

“Noriega’s a smart dude. He had to have known about the heat that would have come down on me for killin’ that dude. He’s keeping big business in his pockets and out of our sights. What’s stopping us from getting wise? Maybe the fact that he’s got us thinking we’ve got a loyal leader. Now I’m not sayin’ this is that deep, but if we keep an eye out like it is, we’ll see any cracks in his foundation.”

There was nothing more rewarding than seeing Calvin’s logic shine through the clouded mess he had become. In prison, paranoia is just like any medicine. A little bit will go a long way, and a lot will go the wrong way. Theo personally saw no benefit that Noriega that he and Calvin couldn't work towards themselves, albeit a bit slower with only two men, but the fact remained that he wasn't untouchable.

“So what do we do?”

“We don’t take any favors from him, at least not to heart. I’ll stay close, take notes and what not. But I’ll have get in there deep. I’ll need to be a partner, maybe help him out in a way he wouldn’t think I could. I’m thinking the Colombian is the weak link. I just gotta make him look weak, take his spot, and we’re golden.”

“What about the fuckin’ kraut?”

“Landgrave’s alright people. I’d have nazi tatted knuckles still up my ass if he didn’t risk his to save mine. Something about wielding two whittled toothbrushes on my behalf speaks volumes.”

“And how are we gonna do this without the Warden in our shit.”

“We need to know more about that man. You’re still pretty good with the staff Jamaicans, right?”

“When they’ve got the herbal essence, yeah.”

“Start pressin’ them for what they know. I’m sure a little info about ol’ Scooter’s trickled down over the years. And a little is a shit ton more than we’ve got.”

~cXc~

It was pitch black outside, the wee hours in the morning where those on the street were either out too late or up too early. Vincent Bravka, his eyes heavy from a night of personal terror, mechanically drew his police issue pistol from his side holster. Fingering a small switch, he ejected the barrel, then thumbed out each glossy golden bullet onto the bed sheets beside him, quietly, so as not awaken his bride. He eyed each pistol, meticulous to the extent of being uncharacteristic for this hour of the day, looking for scratches, residue, anything that would result in less than a perfect killshot. These weren’t the times to fuck around. After inspecting each bullet, he loaded and locked the weapon, again, as quiet as possible, and stood.
Gazing into the mirror, his eyes grew sore at what stared back. At this rate, Captain would be a courtesy very soon. He couldn’t expect to keep his job if he couldn’t keep his wits. As long as he could make his next couple of moves without the brass upstairs getting wise, he’d be able to retire with his penchant intact. He also wouldn’t be putting off that retirement for very long, either.

--------------------------------------------

He sat in his 1998 Buick for what seemed like hours, waiting in the parking lot of the precinct. He had a folder open, out in front of him, his eyes tracing back in forth, but reading about vending machine thieves was the absolute last thing on his agenda. He waited just a bit longer before the familiar red head of Patrick McAllister came bouncing through the parking lot, then gave a whistle to call him forth. After another bit of quiet waiting, the pair watch Raul Dominguez crossing the tarmac, and snatched his attention as well.

--------------------------------------------

Pulling far from the precinct, ducking and dodging multiple “tails” (Bravka now considered any pizza truck, taxi cab, or any car in his rearview for more than a block a tail) the crew rolled into a marginally busy gas station. After killing the engine, Dominguez and McAllister shared skeptical glances, but kept their opinions silent. They understood their Captain’s concern.

“How’s everything holding up, Vincent?”

Raul’s calm tone told Bravka that this question was void of all professionalism. His eyes widened, hoping to suck back the brewing tears that brimmed his eyelids. With a deep sigh, he looked to Raul.

“I need to get this to the finish line. I can’t work after anymore sleepless nights.”

“Say the word Cap, we’ll get you covered.”

Glancing back to the redhead detective, whose stare was locked firmly on his own, he felt comfort. A look to Dominguez doubled that comfort.

“I’m going to have to get that ball rolling on Sal Peterson’s deal. He’s the only guy we’ve got that can give us an advantage.”

“You’ll get shitcanned, plain and simple. I know we’re up against it here, but losing your badge won’t get us anywhere.”

“I’d rather lose my job then my family.”

There was simply no arguing with that one.

"I'm also going to head down to the Prison, speak to Scooter."

This time, both serene and listening stares morphed into disbelief.

"You aren't considering what I think you are."

"We at least need to look like were putting his demands in motion. We don't need him making any more statements by killing the innocent."

"Allen is a prick, do you really think he'll go anywhere near this."

Bravka's gaze darted towards Dominguez. While his tone had been tentative, as to slowly soften the blows of each bit of news, the next was so matter of fact, Raul felt foolish for even questioning him.

"After all the things the three of us have done for that hick piece of shit, he had better do what he's told."

~cXc~

At the sound of a distant buzzer, Malik Porter came billowing into the prison’s visitation cubicle, smiling widely, his arms out.

“What up, kid? How’s it running this ship?”

They both stood, embraced. Where Calvin felt a warm grip of a brother, Malik was greeted with the motions, and hug for show. A formality. Calvin’s lack of enthusiasm had Malik coming to a screeching halt. He immediately realized the meeting would go in a different direction.

“How you doing, man? I don’t have as much time as I’d like so do you mind if we got down to business.”

"Anything for you, playa."

Malik could have wept. His best friend responded with nothing more than an exasperated plea. While they had all believed their favorite son would meet his fair share of obstacles in the pen, the general consensus was that he’d be calling the shots in some form or fashion. The mess in front of him told Malik otherwise.

“I’ve got a powerplay in mind, but I’m gonna need you to help me out on the outside. This is my last chance at keeping a level head in here, or I swear I’m gonna fuckin’ slash my wrists.”

“What’s up brother?”

“Find out everything about a Colombian in here named Molina. Find out every daunting expense he and his have on the outside. Then, go into my accounts and pay them all. Every last one I can afford. But you make sure it doesn’t get traced, at least for a few months. Launder it, misappropriate it, fuckin’ color on it, I don’t care.”

“What’s this all about, bro?”

“Can’t get into that. Please just do me this solid. Otherwise I can't promise we'll ever see each other again. I don't think I can live like this much longer.”

~cXc~

“Sign here on the dotted line…”

The deal was now published. 3:00 in the morning, under the flickering lights of the Locust Point Arby’s, across from Rollin’ 20’s shot caller Sal Peterson, the deal that would end the calm of Vincent Bravka’s life was now official. There was no downtime any longer. All hours of the day and night were devoted to stopping Smilez. He couldn’t even sleep if he tried. So why try?

“Tell me again why we’re in an Arby’s.”

“This isn’t exactly a legal deal, but once it’s on paper, it’s binding. I can’t expect to have this job much longer after this move. Plus, I’m starving. So basically, you’ve written out all the crimes you’ve committed, and so they’re now wiped clean. You’re immune to conviction, but if you fuck up, commit another crime, or just fail to provide any help, you’re right back where you started, but now, we’ll have a confession.”

“Lovely. Now, I’m not too sure how much I can give you people. And to be honest I can see this getting into my business, and I don’t like that.”

“Save that shit for someone who has time for it. We’ve got more to discuss. Namely, the off the table deal.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“You’re gonna be the gun in my holster. I’m gonna need an outlaw like you, no matter how disheveled, if I’m gonna keep my family and myself alive.”

“I don’t help pigs.”

“You do now. Funny thing about Laurent’s apartment, he had a number written on napkin. It was labeled landlord, but somehow, it was the same number as that attorney you gave me the other week.”

Peterson had nothing to say. Sure, he’d try and deny it with his expression, but if he had a legitimate response, he’d have used it. He was fucked.

“I know you had me call him, tip him off that Jimmy was in the precinct, but not you, and now you getting uncle Jimmy killed has you sitting in my pocket. Especially since I was the one who had to make the call. And since Jimmy’s case is still technically open, I’ve written a full report that more than builds a case against you. If something happens to me, that report gets sent straight to the Department of Justice, and nothing holds up better in court than a posthumous work of a police captain.”

“So tell me this, what if you lose your job? What’s stopping me from just kicking your ass.”

“Well, I’ll have more than enough guys to pass my word along to Justice. Not to mention, if you slack in helping keep my kids safe, I’ll kill you, it’s as simple as that.”

Leverage was always a factor. Criminals had leverage by way of not operating in the spotlight or moving along a moral compass. Bravka was too far gone to care about morals now, especially with his family involved. Plus, once his job was kaput, he'd be thrown out of the the limelight quicker than a streaker at the Oscars; the cops never like to keep a tarnished cop around. This time, Bravka had the leverage.

“…whatever you say, Captain.”

“We aren’t working on the same levels anymore. I’m not the Captain, and you aren’t the Roarin’ 20’s kingpin. It’s Bravka and Peterson, and we’re taking this fuck out of the equation as soon as possible.”

--------------------------------------------

As he stepped away from the dining establishment, his phone rang a familiar tune. The name "Paddy" blazed across his screen, and he lifted it up to the beading sweat of his cheek.

“Hey cap, I got this lead on a wrecked government sedan, it’s registered to a David Harlow, working for the Department of Treasury. Some uniforms said that a young black woman was seen fleeing the scene of the crime. Think it could help?”

“I’m pretty sure it could take us somewhere. Where’d it come from?”

“I got it from some feds that were around here, looking for you. They know about you and Peterson, and they’re very firm about not giving him that deal. They gave us this lead as a courtesy. In return, you really can’t make that deal. It’ll be the absolute end of you, Vin, you can’t do it.”

He clutched the phone to his chest, breathing out as tears bulged again. Twice in one day, he was about to lose it. But why not?

“Listen Pat, if this does lead, and I need to follow up, can I count on you to back me up?”

“I don’t know Captain, not tonight, me and the Mexican are tied down to a missing girl case. Just wait for a time when Raul and I can flank you. I’m guessing your expecting some gunplay?”

“That’s right Pat. I’m expecting quite a bit, yes."

~cXc~

”So, tell me, Miss Marsden, were you aware you can’t just wrap cars around trees and flee?”
“True? Can you prove I wrecked the Mazda?”
“No, but did I say Mazda? Listen, that’s a government car. It’s traceable. Before I have to start digging around files to find out who’s missing a car, you can tell me now and make it loads easier on you.
“That car was a gift, baby. Anything before I had it is none of my problem.”
“Alright then, I’ll see you in federal court then.”
Kicking out the chair behind him, Bravka started for the door. If she wasn’t going to dish the details, he’d have to find another route, there was no time for the bullshit.
“Wait, wait, federal court?”
“Oh, of course, you see, you wrecked a car, and won’t tell me who it belongs to. I’m beginning to think you aren’t supposed to be associated with whoever it belongs to, probably somebody’s mattress madam, no doubt. So if you’re that interested in keeping someone else’s secret, I can just book you for Grand Theft Auto of a government vehicle, you’ll serve five to ten in a federal pen, and the secret will come out anyway.”
Glancing at the corner of the room, Bravka noticed the security camera’s blinking red eye. If he were to drive this point home, he’d have to ensure their privacy. With a quick reach, he unplugged the feed.
“Now you and I both know what’s going on here. We both know why you were racing across the county in that car, and we both know your boy’s probably not too conscious. You get booked for this and they find his body, you’re going down for murder. “
“Alright. I was working luggage at Thurgood Marshall, and Bryant came through one time. I was on break and he was trying to relieve some preflight jitters while he was working assembly in New York. One thing led to another…”
“Let me guess, airport bathroom brunch?”
“It wasn’t just about that. He was taking care of me. Once he got the job at Treasury, he started putting me up, cars, clothes, you know; not really getting too mixed up, but we talked. Once this Smilez guy started coming around, he’d have to stay at my place, just so his family wouldn’t get in the middle of it.”
“Leaving you out to dry?”
“You heard of Michael Rossi, Benny Frankers, Calvin Xavier? Trill ass niggas, I’m from their hood, I ain’t afraid of nothing. I was supposed to take the car and get rid of it. We were gonna hop on a jet to Mexico and get out. But then I wrecked the car, and Bryant isn’t keeping in contact. I’m worried. “
She was tough, but he needed more.
“What’s his full name?”
“I can’t do that…”
“If you want to stay out of the pen and make sure he’s not dead, you’ll tell me who he is, and where he is.”
She averted her gaze, freezing up, the Captain thought. But as she turned her head back to the captain, the fluorescent bulbs of the interrogation room highlighted two gleaming streams running down her face.
“His name is Bryant Fuller. He’s at my brother’s house…54th and Monroe.”

~cXc~

“My homeboy sent me this shit from the outside. I asked him to do a quick background check on all our operatives, you know, make sure nothings out of order?”


Both men, while holding the appearance of two orange clad buddies hanging out, couldn’t be in a more business mindset. Calvin made sure to keep his ears to the ground, making sure this day would be completely quiet, uneventful. He had to have Noriega’s full attention to pass on this steaming plate of bullshit.

“Our operatives?”

“If they aren’t now, they will be in a few short minutes. My man checked his shit, bank records, family history, all that jazz. Twelve years of tax penalties: paid. Parking Tickets: Reimbursed. His baby momma’s bent fender: Fixed. All in a couple of days? Smells like government payroll.”

Much to the black guy’s frustration, the Mexican brushed off the accusation like a shoulder angel.

“Bullshit, I’ve screened that man a hundred times over by top men.”

“Don’t be so damn naïve. He’s got unlimited resources covered by a senator whose son he’s protecting. If he’s had an official in his back pocket all this time, why all of the sudden are all of his dues paid? It’s a goddamn protective custody deal.”

“And how do I know you aren’t full of shit?”

“Besides the fact the bank records are sitting in front of your face? Look, I may live on the edge at times, but I surely don’t like danger. You being ignorant and stubborn, keeping a guy on the team just because it’d mean being wrong, a guy who, in my book, is an obvious fucking informant, that’s willful fucking danger. And if you want to be that willing to put me in danger, I’ll put a knife in your skull just like any other Baltimore baser turned informant.”

Noriega’s normally quick responses made this awkward pause stand out like a communion line boner. Calvin had a hard time keeping his excitement contained as well, though he was about to burst out laughing; knowing this stunned silence might as well have been golden ticket into the Maryland grove inner circle.

~cXc~

The crunching grit beneath his loafers encapsulated Bravka's whole world. No doubt, the man he "intended to interview" was already dead. No doubt, Smilez had a trap, or a plan, or some sort of horrific scene for the Captain to find. No doubt, Vincent Bravka had a high probability of dying tonight.

But he was a militaristic man. He had a duty, he'd fulfill that duty, and that was that. He soaked himself in the minute details of the night like and vigilante reporter. The cold smooth breeze filling his lungs, the soft parting of grass beneath his shoes and he spied through the darkened windows of the suburban town house. The night was graced with an uncommon moonlight, bathing the neighborhood in a serene blue light. It was almost unnatural in its natural beauty.

This minutia. Bravka's mental diversion. What it took to derail the realization of his oncoming finest hour. What stopped him from turning tail, hopping into his car and hitting I-4, arriving at Disney's Magic Kingdom with a security guard application. It wouldn't even have to be a Captain slot.

He drew his pistol. No police issue glocks tonight, no sir. Business was taking a back seat to pleasure tonight. From his custom leather side holster, he drew the meanest gun in his arsenal, his Desert Eagle .50.

Standing on the porch, instant death seemed preferable over going down in the blaze of glory. That was the fear talking. The fear happened to wriggle Vinny out of the driver's seat and take control for a short while. The fear kept him frozen in that spot for a twenty minute span. The fear marched him back and forth, down to his car, hand on the handle, pistol in the holster, then back up the painted wooden steps that echoed across the wide porch, pistol tight between both palms. It was the fear that whispered kill me now as Vincent mechanically kicked opened the shabby front door, taking no cover, but simply standing as a silhouette in the pale moonlight.

As the Captain strode into the room, the little light that crept through the closing door behind him gleamed off of the automatic shell casings that hopped from the side of Smilez’s tech-9. Bravka hit the deck, rolling as quick as he could behind the suitcase sized ottoman in the center of the room. Cover was better than no cover. Oh yeah, that fear? Bye bye, birdie. Splinters and chunks of plaster now rained down onto his neck and hair from the punctured wall behind him. Slivers of moonlight hit the room like tiny spotlights.

After the first round of gunfire ceased, he left off a few bursts of his own Desert Eagle. On the range, this gun was loud. In a living room, it was a plane crash. Having to duck behind an ottoman, the blast from the .50 cal acted queerly on his awkwardly positioned arm, jerking his arm in an ugly arch and jump roping his tendons.

After the familiar clicking of a tech 9 reload was heard, Bravka slid on his knees Travolta style towards the hallway, burning the flesh beneath his slacks. With his shoulder presented, he barreled toward what appeared to be a bathroom. From beneath the door, a golden light crept out, the only light on in the house. Contrary to the expected result, the Captain was sent backwards, denied by a surprising sturdiness of the wooden door. Knocked flat on his back, he was eye to eye with the smiling face painted crudely across the front of Smilez’s stocking cap. His life waited to flash before his eyes, but the pissed off Russian fire in his belly refused to acknowledge the forgone conclusion. Staring down the gun of the barrel, all Bravka could think of was the last thing Smilez would expect.

Before Smilez wicked index could pressure the trigger of his Tec-9 automatic pistol, the Baltimore Police Captain drew his .50 Calibur Desert Eagle across his chest and fired two quick shots. His target ducked the first as it sped towards his skull, but the second found a home in the center of the monster’s chest, sending him caving into himself. As he fell, the beast’s muscles twitched, tightening that Tec-9 trigger just enough to let off a quick burst. A loud crash signaled the perpetrator falling back into the wall behind him.

Bravka awoke to his own labored breathing. One armpit was suspiciously more sweaty that the other. Lying on his back, he was in the same spot he was laying when he fired the kill shot that took out Smilez. Above him, jagged rays of yellow light poured from rough holes in the bathroom door, the bathroom door that knocked the Captain flat. Rolling onto his side, his insides roared with a pain resembling that of having rocks in your body cavity. He reached down to the super perspired armpit and felt a flowing of liquid, uncharacteristic of sweat glands. He reached his hand into the light eminating from the latrine. Blood. His palm was as red as Satan’s. It was then he began to breathe even heavier. It was now safe to lose all sense of composure.

He could hear a wheezing sort of obstruction that made his breath such a task. He could hear his lungs draw in air from the gaping puncture in his side. Just below the arm, a wound he wouldn’t be able to nurse without dropping his gun. That Smilez fucker was an genius even when he didn’t mean to be.
He had no way of telling how long he had been knocked out, but it was verging on morning by the time he struggled to his feet, as told by the purple blue of the almost rising sun. He slowly crept towards the heap of Smilez, holding armpit closed tightly and painfully, clutching his wobbling .50 calibur in the opposite hand. If he had to use that pistol, there was nothing stopping that power from knocking him on his ass, but he had no choice.

He crept closer, trying to convince himself that he only wanted to confirm the kill. No, he definitely didn’t want to put another shell between this mad man’s eyes, of course not. Not the man who had threatened his life, his family, and put a bullet in his chest. Not no way, Not no how. But as he crept closer, despair sunk in.

Maybe he slid his leg over a bit, that’s why I can’t see him yet. Maybe he rolled over before he died, that’s why I can’t see him yet. Maybe he tried crawling away, that’s why I can’t fucking see him yet. Where the fuck is he?

Drooling blood, peering at the would be death bed of the man he thought he killed, pouring blood from his open wound, struggling to hold his pistol at attention, Bravka’s heart was frozen at the sound of four short words.

“Kevlar, my friend. Kevlar.”

And with a crack to the skull, the Captain drifted to sleep.

When the planes hit that day, I cried. I cried for my brothers and sisters in the towers and for all the families that lost people. What does a country do when it is violated like that? When its people are snuffed out for seemingly no reason whatsoever? On September 12th 2001 I felt more American then ever before. And then the worst thing ever happened. The world found out the people who committed this atrocious act looked just like I did. In the coming days and weeks I felt disgusted by my own skin. These were my people who did this. The ironic thing is that the people who died and their families were not the only ones to suffer.

The hate that was spewed to me and my ilk was disgusting. My people were treated terribly. Lifelong friends distanced themselves from me as though I had the plague. I was ostracized openly in school and was told that America was no place for me and that I should go home. Damn it I was home.

Sometimes in life you run across an ultimate truth. Sometimes you can share this truth with everyone but sometimes it must be kept within yourself. I am finally sure of what I must do. I am finally certain of my mission. There is a quote that I quite enjoy from your holy book that will set this letter up nicely.

“When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.”

So children, sit down and let me show you how to put your childish ways behind you.

There are those in our midst who will wish to discredit me. Before you lend them credibility understand this, the Saints are Broken for a reason. Their message is not strong enough. Their faith is weak. They find you all ignorant and feel that the wool can be pulled over your eyes. They will only serve to pull you further and further from Allah the forgiving.

There is an expectation, thanks to some who came before me that I should spout as much anti-American sentiment as possible and just hope something sticks. This will not be my motus operendi. No, instead I hope to educate you all on the proper way to live in the hope that further steps needent be taken. Some would like to look past my opponent, a relative unknown, and focus instead on what lies ahead of him. I will not do this either. You see David, you are very important to me. More so than you could possibly realize. It is with your battered body that I make my first statement. It is your blood with which I will begin to paint my masterpiece. Without the proper start everything else just becomes....brush strokes. Thank you David for so willingly offering yourself up for sacrifice. Your place in heaven shall be assured for your sacrifice shall further the cause of Allah the way planes flying into buildings never could. We will build a new world together David. I will be the mason, and you the foundation.


OOC: First I want to apologize to David for the lackluster showing I put in. You deserved much better I just ran out of time. Hopefully next go around wont be so bad.

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide
I'll be dead honest here. Everyone can tell this is a contest between Frosty and Leon, and personally, my promo was always more about building character than it was directed towards winning (despite the IC tones). I've had a great run as Abandoned Champ but I think it's time for that mantle to pass on to someone else, and I just want to make this as close between Leon and Snowman as possible. Skyler needs to move on to something else in order to develop and this is my chance to do that, so good luck to the both of you. Looking forward to writing this.

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo
For the run Romeo's been on he's been a fantastic contender but pictures don't win World Titles, no matter how many words they're worth. TyranT shows, shows strong and that's why he's the World Champ.

-Lethal Injection Pre-Show LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

Tag Team Match:
Trey Spruance and Axel Van Osbourne vs. Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe vs. Bryce Thorne

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Butters (w/ Slegnadamus) vs. Apathy vs. MASS Caesar

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS vs. Kasim Mustafa




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
PX (c) vs. Calvin X. Carter

Submission Match:
Chris Kelson vs. Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Seth Omega vs. Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson vs. Mark Johansson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c) vs. Gabriel Crow

Street Fight:
The Celt vs. Hatchet

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin vs. Abel Steele

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Skyler Striker (c) vs. Leon Caprice vs. Hannibal Frost vs. Dunnwood vs. Apostasy vs. Syanide

Ultraviolent Championship:
Jaro (c) vs. Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
TyranT (c) vs. Romeo

-Lethal Injection Pre-Show LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-

Tag Team Match:
Christian Moore and Cole Dragos

Singles Match:
Alistair Wolfe

Ammunition vs. Corruption vs. Distortion Triple Threat Match:
Apathy

MAIN EVENT, Singles Match:
"The Undefeated" David GS




-FMW presents Lethal Injection LIVE from the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania-
Tonight's Card:

Television Championship:
Calvin X. Carter
You killed it bro. Just you killed it two days late.

Submission Match:
Kaoru Hanayama

Dog Collar Match:
Virus

Grudge Match:
Nick Bryson

C-4 Championship:
Drew Michaels (c)

Street Fight:
The Celt

Grudge Match:
Chris Austin

Abandoned Championship Elimination Chamber:
Hannibal Frost
Hanny has the best promo, but Sy-Sy is being criminally overlooked with his offering IMO.

Ultraviolent Championship:
Harley Quint

FMW World Heavyweight Championship:
Romeo
Ro's message + Ty promo = I think Ro needs this one...maybe Ty needs Ro to win too