Anarchy 8.2 - RESULTS

[ana]After the opening theme and pyro comes to an end, the show immediately opens up to a shot of the ring, where one of the combatants for the opening match - Chris Kelson - waits for the crowds disapproval to die down.

Kelson: Apparently, my punishment for speaking out against the General Manager is a match against the former FMW Champion, John Derrick.

The crowd gives a resounding pop for the fan-fave veteran, while Kelson glares at the fans with annoyance.

Kelson: I highly respect John Derrick, because like myself, he too, is an Honor Rollee...a fellow innovator...in other words, I consider him my frère. And while I respect Frère Derrick for all of the success that he has obtained throughout his impressive career, I see this match as more of an opportunity to prove myself to the General Manager.

Speaking of Mademoiselle Rousseau - Celeste, this "punishment" that you've booked has only infuriated me more. So much so, that I'm even more determined to press charges now!

Kelson's statement elicits a negative reaction from the fans, while the focused-looking youngster scans the rowdy crowd once more.

Kelson: Now on to some really good news. I'd like to take this moment to officially announce that on Anarchy 8.3, Frère Hostyle and I will be challenging for the FMW Tag Team Titles! But wait, that's not all. If O'Rion happens to defeat Slegna tonight, he WILL have to defend the TV Championship on 8.3, as well. Which means that unless he's willing to pull double duty, he won't be able to defend the Tag Team Titles against us, and instead, will have to find himself a replacement.

Them's be the rules, Andy. And it's about time that you abide by them...

A smug smirk forms across the face of Kelson, while the crowd responds to his announcement with a mixed reaction. Kelson then hands over the mic to a ringside staff member, before loosening himself up, as he awaits the arrival of John "Doc" Derrick.[/ana]

Buster Cherry: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Tombstone, Arizona. Weighing in tonight at 230 pounds...JOOOOOOHN "DOOOOOOOOC" DEEEEERRIIIIIIIIICK!

”Gimme Shelter” by The Rolling Stones starts playing in the arena as John Derrick walks out onto the stage with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He makes his way down the ramp as he takes a swig from the bottle, and stops at the bottom as he a notices a buxom blonde sitting by the guard rail. He winks at her then continues on to the ring.

Larsen: And this match has been dubbed by quite a few people as “Celeste’s Revenge” after she booked Chris Kelson in this match against the former Ultraviolent and Full Metal Champion, John “Doc” Derrick.

Morpheus: People? What people? Those loser nerd friends of yours that run the Full Metal Wrestling news site? Those guys are douche nozzles.

Larsen: Like you wouldn’t want to be one?

Morpheus: Touché.

Doc is about to set the bottle on the announce table, takes a look at Morpheus, then puts the bottle on the time keeper’s table before he enters the ring.

Morpheus: What the hell was that about? Like I would drink his Jack Daniels.

Larsen: You mean you wouldn’t?

Morpheus: Not all of it.

Buster: And his opponent, hailing from Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Weighing in tonight at 226 pounds. He is the Technician of Innovation...CHRIIIIIIIIS KEEEEEELSOOOOOON!

Kelson stares bullets into Doc as he makes his way to the ring.

Larsen: And that isn’t happiness on Chris Kelson’s face. And you have to feel bad for this kid, because t seems that he has been getting screwed left and right as of late.

Morpheus: I don’t have to feel anything. He’s just a sore loser. He needs to accept it, move on, and stop being douchebagels.

The referee checks over both men as Buster leaves the ring, then calls for the bell to start the match.

Larsen: Both men locking up in the middle of the ring, Doc goes for an Irish whip, but Kelson counters, follows behind him. Clips the knees, and nails the Young Blood’s Hurricane! And Doc seems to be surprised at the quick offense of the young French-Canadian Superstar.

Morpheus: Doc quickly to his feet, now, and he circles Kelson, both men sizing each other up. Kelson moves in first, and Doc pays him for it with a jawbreaker. Kelson quickly up to his feet, and he’s met with a kick to the gut from Doc, followed by a double arm DDT. He quickly rolls to the outside, and Doc is getting...his bottle of Jack Daniels to take a healthy swig.

Doc starts to get back in the ring, but stops when he spots an attractive brunette at ringside. He goes over, kisses her on the mouth, then climbs onto the ring apron.

Larsen: He never ceases to amaze me.

Morpheus: I know. He just kissed your sister.

Larsen: That wasn’t...wait, that IS my sister!

Morpheus: Kelson on his feet , he turns around to find Doc, and only finds his foot and Doc connects with a slingshot spinning wheel kick! Doc makes the cover, 1...2...kick out by Kelson.

Larsen: Doc quickly to his feet, and starts stomping away at Kelson’s back. Doc climbing to the top turnbuckle now, but Kelson quickly to his feet! He climbs up behind Doc, German suplex off the top turnbuckle! Kelson hanging on, pulls himself up...and he finishes the Salticidae! Kelson hooks the leg, 1...2...kick out by Derrick! And again Derrick looks surprised by the offense of Chris Kelson.

Morpheus: Kelson going back up top as Derrick gets to his feet. Kelson with a moonsault, and Derrick catches him! Back over to the corner...Snake Eyes! Kelson is a bit dazed. Doc with a kick to the gut, hooks the leg, fisherman’s DDT! Doc hooks the leg for the cover, 1...2...kick out by Kelson!

Larsen: Doc now sitting on Kelson, and he starts raining down lefts and rights on Kelson’s head. Doc gets up...and it looks like he’s coming back out for more whiskey.

Morpheus: I still can’t believe he won’t share any. That’s very selfish of him.

Larsen: Doc now heading back to the ring. Kelson going for a suicide dive through the ropes, and Doc ducks under it! Kelson crashing into the table here in front us, and he lands in a heap!

Morpheus: That was insanely stupid! That’s specifically why they call them risky maneuvers! He took the risk and failed miserably!

Larsen: Doc now stomping away on Kelson as the referee starts the ten count.

1...

Morpheus: He picks Kelson up off the floor, and drills him with a spike DDT! That was sick!

2...

Larsen: Doc takes another swig of whiskey and rolls back into the ring.

3...

Morpheus: Kelson still isn’t moving out here. This could be bad.

4...

5...

Larsen: Kelson now starting to move, and he’s pulling himself to his feet using the table for support.

6...

Morpheus: Doc now back up to the opposite side of the ring. He’s cooking up something.

7...

8...

Larsen: And Kelson rolls into the ring to stop the ten count. He pulls himself up to his feet with the ropes. Doc charges in...AND KELSON WITH A SUPERKICK OUT OF NOWHERE! Doc is dazed! He takes a swing at Kelson, who catches the arm into a twist, PULSAR IMPLOSION! Kelson makes the cover, 1...twkick out by Derrick!

Morpheus: Where the hell did he pull that from? And more importantly, how much does he have left after that?

Larsen: Kelson is trying for the cover again, 1...2...kick out again by Derrick. Kelson picks Doc up and goes for an Irish whip. Doc stops himself short, and he hit’s the Knob Creek! Kelson is staggering. Doc grabs his arms, AND HE NAILS THE OL’ NUMBER 7!

Morpheus: Derrick keeps a hold of Kelson’s arms for the pin, 1...2...3!

Buster Cherry: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, JOOOOOOOHN “DOOOOOOOC” DEEEEEERRIIIIIIICK!

John “Doc” Derrick (8.38 aps - 0.1 penalty + 1.4 avs = 9.68 total)
Chris Kelson (8.15 aps + 0.9 avs = 9.05 total)

Larsen: And Doc having his hand raised in victory! He climbs out of the ring and goes for his whiskey bottle...wow, he just drained the rest of that bottle in one pull!

Morpheus: And he’s heading off through the crowd...and taking your sister with him, I might add.

Larsen: Yeah, and taking my...wait, what?

Morpheus: Doc is no doubt off to celebrate another victory the only way he knows how, with plenty of alcohol and a loose woman.

Larsen: HEY!

[ana]Backstage, William Dervinshire sits in an oversized leather chair, accompanied by Anarchy General Manager Celeste Russeau.

Dervinshire: Wow. That was quite the match. You know, week after week Kelson is put up against the top competition in Anarchy, and week after week he comes out looking good, win or lose. I think he’s a great future star.

Celeste: I think he’s disgusting. I’d trade him if I could, but I doubt Alchemy wants him.

Dervinshire: That’s because you’re wrapped up in his little legal games. Whatever. Oh, by the way, even though I’m making many generous contributions to this place, I wont be financing your legal issues. You are not my concern.

Celeste: That’s nice of you.

Dervinshire: And clearly you have a lot on your mind, what with that little bundle of love in your oven and all. When is it due?

Celeste: Very mature conversation we’re having. August, for the asking.

Dervinshire: I’d say. How quaint, though! August! That’s just in time for the summer ratings to soar! I’ve got dozens of blockbuster ideas that will make Anarchy the number one show in professional wrestling, no, all of television! The possibilities are endless, Celeste, and if you’d like, I’d happily take over the Anarchy General Manager position in your leave of absence, what with your… condition.

Celeste: Um, no. Thanks but, no thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me-

Dervinshire: Oh, well, madam you know the offer is always on the table. You know where to find me!

Celeste stands and exits the room. The shot cuts to the ring[/ana]

[ana]The lights in the arena suddenly go out, and a wall of fire explodes on the stage as “Indestructible” by Disturbed starts pumping from the speakers. A spotlight sweeps through the crowd, and as the firewall on the stage dies down, the spotlight zeroes in on War Machine, with Dennis Williamson standing behind him and to the left. Williamson has a smug look on his face as the two men walk down the ramp and head towards the ring.

Morpheus: And there’s the man who apparently is the new War Machine, given what we were told by that man behind him, Dennis Williamson. Let’s take a look again at that glorious footage from Anarchy 8.1.

Larsen: You call that glorious? Folks, if you have any little ones in the room, I urge you to have them leave the room.

Anarchy 8.1 wrote:

Larsen: This is hard to watch. Old War Machine is helpless, bleeding and blind. This new guy must have punched him 15, 20 times. And now he’s going into that bag...what’s that?

Morpheus: An oil lantern?

Larsen: He cracks it over the head of James Casey. Casey is in big trouble.

Morpheus: I think I know what he’s pulling out next.

Larsen: That looks like a grill lighter.

Morpheus: It is.

Larsen: OH MY GOD! THIS IS SICKENING!

Morpheus: He lit his goddamn head and shoulders on fire...holy shit. This guy is nuts.

Larsen: What the hell else is in that bag?

Morpheus: Vasoline?

Larsen: What the...

Morpheus: Shit...that’s going to hurt.

Larsen: He’s rubbing it all over, and Casey is screaming in agony. The new War Machine grabs his arm...OH SHIT! He broke his fucking arm with that kick!

Morpheus: That vasoline...it’s trapping the heat in the skin of Casey. He’s already suffering from 3rd degree burns...and this is making it worse. It’s...I’m guessing it’s like being set on fire all over again.

Larsen: He’s going back to the bag. What the fuck else...a sledgehammer, that’s great. And...is that a nail gun?

Morpheus: Oh...my...god.

Larsen: SLEDGEHAMMER TO THE KNEE! That caved in his knee. And another swing...now this is getting ridiculous.

Morpheus: This is unreal...I can’t believe I’m witnessing this.

Larsen: And now the nail gun...aimed to the other leg. JESUS CHRIST!

Morpheus: FMW Anarchy: not for the squeamish.

Larsen: He’s aiming it under his chin...dear god, no! GODDAMNIT!

Morpheus: I think James’ tongue is now nailed to the bottom of his mouth.

Larsen: He didn’t kill him, but damn he’s getting close.

We cut back to the announce table, where Larsen is leaning off to the side and throwing up in a trashcan.

Morpheus: You’re such a pussy. Well, it looks like Williamson and his charge have entered the ring. Let’s see what he’s got to say for himself.

Dennis Williamson: As you people just had the pleasure of re-witnessing, there has been something of a rebirth here in Full Metal Wrestling. For the past few months, you folks have had to suffer through watching a charlatan try to pass himself off as the Human Weapon, the man you people know and love as War Machine. Now granted, when James Casey first set foot in an FMW ring, he was indeed a War Machine. The man struck fear and terror into his victims. So much so, that he attracted the attention of one of the greatest leaders to grace this company, Ethan Black. Ethan groomed him, trained him, to be a force to be reckoned with. In short, Ethan helped James to release his inhibitions and to just do whatever he damn well pleased, consequences be damned. The man was a beast.

And then, James decided that, like some other wrestler that shall remain nameless, he could become a big time action star. But nobody, not even the great and mighty War Machine, can just waltz into Hollywood and make it big. You need an agent. And when actors need an agent, they call on the best, and that’s where I come in. I went to Ethan, bought War Machine’s contract from the Black Covenant, and arranged for his release from FMW.

Williamson gets a look of disgust on his face and continues.

DW: I had to let go of every single one of my clients in order to buy that contract, but I thought it was worth it. I had faith that Casey would become the next big action star. And for a while, it seemed like it was going to happen. He got critical praise for his small parts. Then, he got what should have been his big break: co-billing on a big franchise picture. And what does he do? THE ASSHOLE FUCKING BLOWS IT! That dipshit let his temper get the best of him, and he damn nearly ended the career of a star. So what does he do after? He comes crying to me. “Oh, get me out of here. I need to go back.” Wah wah FUCKING WAH! Pathetic. So I made some calls, got him back on Anarchy like he wanted. But I saw the writing on the wall. Years of being in Hollywood made him soft.

So being the brilliant man that I am, I made some calls of my own and to protect my investment. I invested in the name, the image of War Machine. And James Casey no longer fit that image. So I let him continue the charade, thinking that maybe, just maybe, once he got back in the ring he’d back to his old self. It started off promising enough. He made a good attempt during the Mount Vesuvius match at Circus Maximus, and erased all doubts of ring rust in his match against Ash Strife. But even in that match, I could see the intensity, the ferocity was gone. He was a shell of his former self.

Then he walked out on his partner in that tag team match. He could have taken on those two by himself back in the day, but he still had a goddamned prima donna attitude and didn’t want to be in a tag team match. So he just walks out. You know what his lame-ass excuse was for that? “I don’t do split billing.” Are you fucking kidding me? YOU’RE THE GODDAMNED WAR MACHINE! Just kick some fucking ass like you’re supposed to, earn your keep, and shut the fuck up!

The crowd is growing restless and starts booing Williamson. A “Shut The Fuck Up” chant starts, but War Machine glares out at the general area of where the chant started. Williamson taps him on the shoulder, and War Machine exit’s the ring as he continues.

DW: So as Casey continued his charade, I had already had some of the top trainers in the world groom a new and improved War Machine. This kid's been in training for the last 10 years of his life. He would be a ruthless, devastating, unstoppable weapon of destruction. In the meantime, Casey was given ample opportunity to -

Williamson stops as a loud scream comes from the crowd. The booing intensifies as War Machine makes his way back to the ring from the crowd, carrying a man over his shoulder with little effort. He throws him over the top rope and into the ring, then jumps up onto the apron and steps through the ropes.

DW: As I was saying, Casey was given ample opportunity to prove me wrong, that he was still worthy of bearing the title of War Machine. He had the chance to recapture the Ultraviolent Title in a match he helped pioneer - the 15-Minute Massacre. What did he do? He blew it. He wasted his fucking time playing Jason and chasing people with a knife. And you know what his excuse was? That he wasn’t able focus. That there was too much going on. I wanted to punch him in his fucking mouth right then and there. But then he had a prime opportunity against an upstart rookie to prove me wrong, to help me regain some confidence in him. And what happens? HE BLEW IT! So before he could make yet another piss poor excuse for losing, I decided it was time to revoke his license, so to speak, and introduce everyone to a man who was worthy of the mantle of War Machine.

As he says this, War Machine helps the fan to his feet, and whips him into the corner. Williamson tosses him a pair of grappling gloves, and we see that there are spike protruding from the knuckles.

Larsen: Oh my god, no! He can’t be serious!

Morpheus: Oh, he’s very serious.

War Machine stalks into the corner, and proceeds to pummel the man in the face with numerous lefts and rights. The spikes on the gloves start causing punctures after several blows, and several beads of blood form on his face. War Machine grabs his head and starts punching him in the head. The spikes cause a deep gash in his scalp, and blood starts pouring down his face.

Morpheus: Jesus, I haven’t seen that much fucking blood since the Mass Transit Incident!

DW: This man here, now he is worthy of being the War Machine. He shows no mercy.

War Machine steps back and delivers a vicious Yakuza kick to the man’s face that snaps his head back violently. He delivers two more in a row, and after the third one, blood flies out of the man’s mouth, and he spits out some teeth.

DW: He shows no remorse.

War Machine kicks the man in the gut, powerbombs him into the turnbuckle, holds him up as he backs up several steps, then drills him into the mat with a sitout face buster.

Larsen: He just nailed that guy with a modified Flames Of Hell! All because the guy started a stupid chant?!

Morpheus: And it looks like he’s not done with him yet.

War Machine picks up the near-unconscious man, and slaps him in the face a few times. The man’s face is completely covered in blood, and is totally unrecognizable. War Machine whips him into the ropes, and takes him down with a vicious tilt-a-whirl back breaker that elicits a scream from the man. War Machine punches him in the face, knocking him out cold and possibly shattering his jaw.

DW: He is a living nightmare.

Larsen: What is he doing now? Why isn’t anybody stopping this?

Morpheus: Do YOU want to do it?

Larsen: Not really, no.

War Machine goes outside and under the ring, and pulls out a table. He slides it in under the bottom rope, then rolls in himself. He drags the man by the hair to the corner, where he slams his head against the mat a few times. He sets up the table in the middle of the ring as Williamson pulls a bottle of lighter fluid from his pocket and squirts it all over the table as War Machine picks the man up off the mat and throws him into the corner.

Larsen: What the hell is with this guy and fire?

Williamson tosses the bottle over his shoulder and into the crowd, and the boos reach a frenzied level as he pulls a grill lighter from his inside coat pocket.

Morpheus: I think that’s the same lighter that War Machine used to light James Casey on fire.

Williamson ignites the lighter, and sets the table ablaze as War Machine puts the unconscious man standing on the middle turnbuckle. He gets out onto the apron and climbs to the top turnbuckle.

Morpheus: Holy shit, is doing what I think he’s doing?

War Machine draws his thumb across his throat, sits the guy up on his shoulders, then leaps off, driving the man through the flaming table, causing his shirt to catch on fire.

Morpheus: HOLY SHIT! He just nailed him with a Napalm Drop!

DW: This man is a force to be reckoned with. This man is the future of Anarchy. This man is the true Human Weapon. He...is...War Machine

Both men leave the ring as an EMT rushes in with a fire extinguisher and puts out the flames. Some people in the crowd throw some debris at Williamson and War Machine, but take note to not hit either man so as not to face the wrath of the Human Weapon.

Larsen: James Casey may not have been a saint to begin with, but this new War Machine makes me sick.

Morpheus: I like him. Anarchy is supposed to be the home of the most ruthless, violent wrestlers we have. That’s the reason all those Anarchy shirts in this crowd say “Wrestling Is A Blood Sport”. And guys like War Machine make sure that it’s not just a slogan, they make it truth.[/ana]

Of Wolf and Man by Metallica blasts through the PA system as Zakk Wylde and Seth Omega make their way to the ring

Larsen: A lukewarm reception for these two new combatants for the Anarchy.

Morpheus: Because everyone is waiting in anticipation for the real star of this match, special guest ref Mark Johnson will bring law and order back to these hallowed grounds!

Larsen: Surely you-

Morpheus: LAW AND ORDER!

As the two enter the ring, their music is cut off by SOS by Earl Grayhound as Scott Oliver Steele, aka SOS, makes his way to the ring.

Cherry: And introducing, weighing in at-

Suddenly, SOS is cut off by Asshole by Dennis Leary as Tommy Strife makes his way to the ring, charging in front of his tag team partner.

Larsen: Some animosity brewing already between these two.

Morpheus: None of this matters until the ref shows up, Larsen!

Forever by As I Lay Dieing, the official song of Anarchy, blasts as the crowd showers Senior Referee "Smart" Mark Johnson with jeers. He smiles and waves as he walks up the ramp, rulebook in his hand. As he enters the ring, he pulls two white strings from it and ties them to the turnbuckles.

Larsen: Are those the tag ropes? What the hell, nobody uses those anymore!

Johnson takes the mic from Cherry as shoos him from the ring. He instructs both teams starters to come together in the center of the ring.

Johnson: Right, now, I'm going to make these things very clear to all of you. I want a clean fight here, no shots below the belts, got it? Your partners have been instructed to hold their respective tag ropes at all untimes until a legal tag is made. A legal tag is defined as any touch made by the inactive team member onto the active team member, understand?

Larsen: This is rediculous.

Johnson: Now, due to some rule changes made by some idiots in the mid nineties, throwing your opponent over the top rope is no longer grounds for disqualification. Also, closed fist hits are frowned upon, but are no longer illegal. One last note, this is a tag match, so there will be NO use of weapons, understood!?

Larsen: The crowd has begun to boo violently and I dont blame them!

Morpheus: Rules are rules, Larsen! You of all people should scholb on this guys knob!

Larsen: Cute. The bell rings after all those shenanigans and finally the match is underway! SOS locks up with Omega and quickly takes him down in a headlock!

Morpheus: And already Johnson is checking on Omega. That is some solid refereeing!

Larsen: Right, well... back in the ring Omega is trying to fight out of the headlock! He is slowly getting up to his feet! Elbows to the gut! He tosses SOS off the ropes, blind tag from Strife! He's in and he shoots forward and is stopped by... Johnson? What the hell!?

Morpheus: If you looked at that, Strife clearly let go of the tag rope to reach over and tag SOS. Thats not a legal tag because he isnt holding the rope! SOS continues in this match!

Larsen: And Steele finds that hilarious until the clubbing blow to the back of the head and the inverted DDT! Omega is now putting the boots to the face of Steele and that cant feel good!

Morpheus: That HAS to be against the rules!

Larsen: So far so good, Morph. These boots to the face are completely legal.

Morpheus: Well, those shouldnt be!

Larsen: Omega is over and tags his partner and Wylde is in, and he is a house of fire! Shot to Steele! Kick to his face! Omega picks him up and tosses Steele off the ropes, double clothesline- NO! Stoppeed by Johnson!

Morpheus: Excellent. Thats what I like to see.

Larsen: Johnson says that Omega's been in the ring for longer than 5 seconds and he needs to get out of the ring! Omega is arguing with Johnson, STEELE WITH THE LOW BLOW BEHIND JOHNSONS BACK!

Morpheus: Why is Wylde on the ground? It looks like someone might have hit him!

Larsen: You cant possibly expect me to believe that you didnt see that.

Morpheus: See what? The ref didnt see it and neither did I.

Larsen: Thats mighty fine. Steele is on the offensive now! Half Nelson suplex! Steele off the ropes! Knee strike to Wylde's face! He hits Omega off the apron with a springboard dropkick!

Morpheus: Look! He let go of the tag rope! DQ him ref!

Larsen: Yes, that'd be fair.

Morph: Glad we see things the same way.

Larsen: Steele has Wylde up, snap suplex! He rolls through, facebuster! Steele still holds on and stands up, DDT! Steele turns over, ANACONDA VICE!

Morpheus: Beautiful wrestling and all of it legal and true. I love this sport.

Larsen: Omega hit his head on the ring steps! He's not going to get up to save his partner! Steele pulls harder and, STRIFE TAGS IN!

Morpheus: What?

Larsen: Wylde taps out! Steele stands like he's just won the match! He's celebrating! Strife hops on the top rope, STRIFES LEGACY!

Morpheus: Johnson is getting Steele out of the ring! Look how confused he is!

Larsen: Omega is starting to stir, but it doesnt mean anything! Strife with the pin, ONE TWO, NO! Wylde kicks out!

Morpheus: BLAST!

Larsen: Wylde shoots up to his corner but his partner is down! He turns to face Strife and charges! Strife ducks, SUPER ROUNDHOUSE KICK TO WYLDE! WYLDE STUMBLES, STRIFE LEAPS UP, CUTTER! GAME OVER!

Morpheus: GAME OVER!

Larsen: Strife with the pin, ONE!

Morpheus: Look at Johnson check the shoulders! Beautiful craftsmanship!

Larsen: Two!

Morpheus: Omega is up! Look at him break the rules and get in the ring! HOLD THE ROPE!

Larsen: Three! Omega breaks it up but its too late! Strife and Steele win!

Tommy Strife and S.O.S. (7.8 aps + 7.51 aps – 0.1 penalty + 1.4 avs = 16.61 total)
Zakk Wylde and Seth Omega (7.64 aps + 7.73 aps – 0.1 penalty + 1.0 avs = 16.27 total)

[ana]Backstage, Veronica Cherrywood stands with microphone in hand in front of the Anarchy logo. As she begins to speak Hannibal Frost makes his way into the picture

Cherrywood: I'm backstage with potential Gold Card Gauntlet winner and HavOc member, Hannibal Frost! Now, Hannibal, what are your feelngs on this upcoming-

Hannibal grabs the microphone from her hand, silencing her.

Frost: My feelings on this upcoming match, Veronica? You want to know my feelings about HavOc? I'll tell you Veronica, things are not as they seem in paradise. I've been slighted and avoided my entire tenure here, and it really makes me question my purpose in the group. Is that what you wanted to hear?

Veronica looks a little cautious as she shakes her head

Frost: I didnt think so, because you see, Veronica. Nobody cares, but Hannibal Frost knows the meaning of teamwork. Hannibal Frost knows what it means to be an essential member of a team, so Hannibal Frost will do what he does best, and thats win. Eastwood and I? We're on the same page. He understands that now, much like I had in the past, he must be initiated, and I am the happy one to do it for him, because this match serves that purpose. This match shows that whats good for the individual is good for the group, something very few people have come to understand. So tonight, Jack, we will go out and show the world a little bit of HavOc.

Frost drops the mic and exits the shot. The scene cuts to the ring.[/ana]



“Mr. Jack” by System of a Down shoots through the PA system as Jack Eastwood sluggishly makes his way out from the curtain to the ring, a mix of cheers and chorus of boos following him. He merely yawns in response as he rolls into the ring.

Cherry: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!!! Introducing first from Blackpool, England weighing 280 pounds, JACK EASTWOOD!

Morpheus: Initiation time, Robbie. Jack is about to be welcomed to HavOc here, by the most sophisticated of the bunch.

Larsen: Frost is obviously a little frustrated with HavOc, so he might enjoy beating Eastwood into HavOc.

Morpheus: Either way, I expect entertainment, just because it's HavOc. Hell yeah!

“Reborn” by Stone Sour drowns out SOAD as Hannibal Frost makes his way onto the red lit stage as fire shoots down the aisle, Frost smugly proceeds with focus on his face as the crowd cheers on it's hometown guy.

Cherry: His opponent, from Memphis, Tennessee weighing 234 pounds….HANNIBAL FROST!

Larsen: Frost is making a return home here, and what better way than to leave with a win over a rising star in Eastwood.

Morpheus: I wondered why he was being cheered. He's like the Rodney Dangerfield of this place, he gets no respect. It's a damn shame too.

Frost removes his coat and hat, then slides into the ring and both wrestlers circle each other before the bell rings. When the ref signals they follow in with a standard tie up center ring. Each man jockeys for position to a stalemate it seemse. Frost gets in an arm wrench as Jack oversells it.

Morpheus: He must really have it cinched in.

Larsen: I don't know, Eastwood's power should allow for him to get out of this easily.

Morpheus: Frost pulls for a shoulder thrust, with..no impact at all. What is this crap?

Larsen: Eastwood reverses, and a light tap of a punch to Frost and Frost holds his jaw as if it may be broken.

Morpheus: This isn't much of a match, I guess they have been advised to not hurt each other.

Larsen: They are stablemates, does make sense.

Morpheus: Eastwood breaks the hold and Frost joins the new HavOc member in a light chuckle. I guess they are just playing around here.

Larsen: Eastwood motioning for Frost to bring it.

Eastwood's lips mouth "For real this time."

Morpheus: I guess we will have ourselves a real match now.

Larsen: Let's hope so.

The competitors circle each other, and suddenly Frost explodes with a hard clothesline. A surprised Eastwood scrambles to his feet, but is stopped dead with a Kevin Nash-esque elbow strike.

Morpheus: Ass whooping time now and this pro-Frost crowd is loving it.

Larsen: Frost with a hard throat thrust and he quickly takes down Eastwood with an STO backbreaker.

Morpheus: Frost has mounted Eastwood now, and is bringing the pain, raining down huge punches now! Eastwood looks in trouble, trying to cover up.

Larsen: Eastwood manages to throw Frost off of him, but Frost lands a back elbow to the mush of the Englishman sending him into the corner.

Morpheus: I knew Frost was frustrated, but this is a bit much. They are still stablemates you know.

Larsen: Frost coming off the ropes, Eastwood looks out on his feet and Eastwood instinctively responds with the 'Prison Song' Polish Hammer!

Morpheus: He might have broken Frosty's sternum just then!

Larsen: I am not sure Eastwood knows what he has done, but the fight is on.

Eastwood snatches Frost to his feet and rocks him with an uppercut. Eastwood Irish whips Frost and nails him with a 'Deer Dance' Big Boot and covers for a two. Eastwood yanks Frost to his feet again, but Frost uses the momentum gained from being taken to his feet to floor Eastwood with an STO slam.

Morpheus: Now we're talking, these two are just giving high impact after high impact

Larsen: Frost follows up with a corkscrew elbow, and then another!

Morpheus: Frost with a cover, but only gets two.

Larsen: Frost has Eastwood in a front facelock, he's going for a suplex, but Eastwood braces and Frost can't over power him. Eastwood has Frost up now, and a Falcon Arrow is delivered!

The crowd boos at Frost taking this punishment. Eastwood's insomnia begins to kick in, as his movements begin to start slowing. He takes Frost to his feet, and goes for the 'Ego Brain' Tombstone Piledriver. Frost then comes alive, wiggling his way behind Eastwood's back onto his feet. Frost hits Eastwood with a rough headbutt to the back of the head then Irish whips the big man, flooring him on the rebound with a Spinebuster.

Morpheus: Frost escapes upset city with a show of strength that I didn't know he had in him!

Larsen: Frost has a cover..1...2..Kickout from Eastwood!

Morpheus: He damn near pressed Frost a foot off him!

Larsen: Frost isn't deterred though, and he goes for Eastwood as he rises, but Eastwood counters with a 'Holy Mountains' Flapjack!

Morpheus: Frost was sky high, but Eastwood looks beat. Insomnia is not a joke, kids.

Larsen: Eastwood with a cover...1...2...Kickout by Frost!

Eastwood smiles and takes Frost to his feet. He quickly slaps a chokehold onto Frost, looking for the 'Sad Statue' Chokeslam. HE lifts, but Frost gets an eye poke in, causing Eastwood to release him. Frost flattens Eastwood with a German Suplex, causing Eastwood to roll through on all fours from the impact. Frost quickly scales the second rope as a dazed Eastwood stumbles towards him. Then Frost dives and connects with the Ice Pick!

Larsen: ICE PICK from the Tennessean!

Morpheus: Cover..1...2...3!!!

Larsen: Frost has won it!

Cherry: Here is your winner...MEMPHIS' OWN...HANNIBAL FROSSSSSST!!!!!

Hannibal Frost (8.39 aps + 1.8 avs = 10.19 total)
Jack Eastwood (8.26 aps + 1.0 avs = 9.26 total)

"Reborn" by StoneSour plays as Frost rises from Eastwood and the ref raises his hand. After soaking in the win, Frost helps up his HavOc co-member. They look each other in the eye as they shake hands, Eastwood saying 'I can get used to this.' Frost nods and takes his leave as Eastwood recovers.

Larsen: Slow start to a fast-spirited match, and Frost has a win in front of his home fans.

Morpheus: Whatever, I just liked the match. Wait...Blackwell is in the house!

Out of nowhere, Blackwell, armed with a hammer that one would find at a carnival bell ringing game, hops the fan barrier and rolls into the ring, unbeknown to Eastwood. Eastwood goes to take his leave and Blackwell strikes him at the base of the neck with the item as the crowd boos. Frost turns to the ring to see what is happening, and he bolts back towards the ring. Frost is hesitant to enter the ring with Blackwell armed. Blackwell, knowing this, take it upon himself to add a few more shots to Eastwood's ribs and quad

Larsen: Get in there, Frost!

Morpheus: Do you see that damn hammer Blackwell has? I don't blame him.

Larsen: Still, that's his stablemate!

Morpheus: And they just beat the hell out of each other.

Larsen: Blackwell adds another shot, and now he's admiring his work! The man is nuts and he goes right back through the crowd where he came, and now Frost is in the ring to check on his co-member.

Morpheus: A little late, don't you think.

Larsen: Eastwood seems to be alright, but he may have some internal injuries.

Morpheus: Blackwell, as much as I like his showing of cajoles just now, may have made the worst enemy ever.

Larsen: You might be right.

Morpheus: I know I am.

Larsen: More Anarchy after this visit backstage!

"Psycho Circus" By KISS plays as Frost helps Eastwood to a seated position. Frost looks towards the crowd section where Blackwell left, snarl on his face as he and Eastwood slowly exit the ring. Eastwood, with some assistance from Frost makes his way up the aisle as we fade backstage.

[ana]Backstage, Celeste Russeau sits in her office, reading some paperwork when her door bursts open and William Dervinshire enters the room, startling the General Manager.

Celeste: What the hell?! Dont you know how to knock?

Dervinshire: I believe I just did.

Celeste: What the hell do you want, Dervinshire, I'm busy!

Dervinshire: Did you see that last match? Blackwell running in like that? That was dispicable!

Celeste: Yes, I saw. Is that what you wanted to talk about?

Dervinshire: No mam, I actually have some great news to tell you about a stellar new talent I've brought into the fold!

Celeste: That sounds...great.

Dervinshire: You bet your bottom dollar it does! His name is Jaxson Horn and I've been personally grooming him for quite some time to make his debut on Anarchy, and lucky you, you get to scoop him up before that wretched blue brand does!

Celeste: Thanks... thanks William. Now, is that all?

Dervinshire: Oh, no mam, because next week, I can promise you that I can get a main event that will make every other main event in history seem like openers in comparison!

Celeste: Really now? What is it?

Dervinshire: Mam, I cant reveal that right now, I-

Celeste: Dammit, William, this is my show and I have a right to know!

Dervinshire: Good things come to those who wait, madam General Manager! Now, I bid you farewell. I have a few calls to make.

Celeste simply rubs her head as Dervinshire exits the room. She breathes a heavy sigh as the scene cuts to the ring.[/ana]


Renegade pours over the speakers as the arena goes stark black. The lights pulse in time with the music and as the first lyric sounds pyro goes off as Hostyle makes himself known.

Morpheus: And let there be light.

As the words escape his lips the arena is basked in light once more with red pulses of energy interrupting in time with the music.

Cherry: The following match is scheduled for one fall and is a Gold Card Gauntlet Qualifier. Introducing first, hailing from the Bronx, he is the True Artist, Hostyle!!!

Larsen: Notably absent from this scene is Hostyles’ partner Kelson.

Morpheus: He probably just figured he would make short work of Celt and didn’t want Kelson to work up a sweat walking him to the ring for nothing.

Larsen: I wouldn’t underestimate Celt in this matchup. He has been a ball of fire lately and with the difference in styles here I don’t see a clear advantage for anyone in this match.

Morpheus: That’s why I get paid the big bucks Larsen. You see things about as well as Ray Charles in a broom closet.

Larsen: You really are a douche bag you know that?

Morpheus: One of my finer traits.

A police siren goes off in the arena as The Warriors Code travels through the building.

Morpheus: Run Hostyle its INS!!

Larsen: No you fool it’s the Celt. I swear sometimes you…

Morpheus: If it’s the Celt then where is he? The stage is empty.

Cherry:And introducing next, from Castlebar, Ireland coming in at 214 pounds, The Celt!!

Hostyle laughs as Celt is no where to be found.

Morpheus: I told you didn’t want any part of this match……Wait, what the hell?

Larsen: Its Celt coming out of the crowd!! He slides in the ring and Hostyle doesn’t see him.

Morpheus: Turn around!!!

Larsen: Holy crap The Celt with a superkick to the back of Hostyles head that sends him out of the ring!!

Morpheus: That’s some dirty underhanded shit by The Celt.

Larsen: Come on you would have been cheering if Hostyle had done it.

Morpheus: And your point?

Celt sees the groggy Hostyle begin to get up outside the ring. He bounces himself off the far rope

Larsen: Jesus, Celt putting his body on the line with a suicide dive and it connects! Both men are down on the outside. If Celt can get up from that he clearly has the advantage.

The Celt begins to stir first out of the pile of limbs.He stand slowly before grabbing Hostyle and rolling him into the ring. The Celt rolls in slowly and the ref calls for the bell.

Larsen: and this match is officially underway.

Morpheus: Yeah had Celt not been such a coward and attacked an unknowing opponent Hostyle would have ended this one already.

Larsen: Say what you want about The Celts questionable tactics but he is firmly in control of this one early.

Hostyle crawls to the far ropes and uses them to pull himself up. The Celt walks toward him and locks him up and receives a rake to the eyes for his efforts. Celt staggers backwards and Hostyle takes control with a dropkick to the knee.

Larsen: Hostyle seems to have reversed his fortunes here.

Morpheus: Thats the great thing about him. The Influencer of Innovation can never be counted out of a matchup.

Celt is down on one knee as Hostyle stalks him. He brings Celt up to a vertical base before irish whipping him into the far turnbuckle. Hostyle approaches and gives The Celt a boot to the gut.

Larsen: Hostyle with a springboard DDT! He goes for a cover!

One…

Two..

Larsen: Celt gets his foot up onto the rope! Referee sees it!

Morpheus: If Hostyle is so innovated why didn’t he drag Celt to the center?

Larsen: Because it takes away any damage done. Celt gets up using the ropes! Hostyle charges! Celt ducks!

Hostyle goes over the top rope but is able to Skin the Cat and stays on the apron.

Larsen: What can you say to that Morphie?

Morpheus: Morphie?

Larsen: Celt charges! SPEAR!

Morpheus: More of a suicide dive, both men are out of the ring.

Larsen: The referee starts counting, but Celt is up and he helps Hostyle back into the ring.

Hostyle gets back up and turns into Celt who has a flurry of lefts and rights to the stomach.

Larsen: Celt as unloaded with his trademark Kenpo Fist! He hit’s the haymaker right sending Hostyle to the floor.

Morpheus: Celt sees his opportunity and hits his Castlebar Kiss!

Larsen: Hostyle looks after it after that vicious knee to the skull! Celt goes for the pin.

One…

Two - Kickout!

Larsen: Celt is frustrated here! Attempts an ankle lock!

Morpheus: Hostyle wimps out and dives for the ropes… before it was even locked in.

Larsen: The referee has added distance between the two competitors taking away any momentum.

Morpheus: It’s called doing his job so lose the attitude.

Larsen: Hostyle and Celt lock up! Celt powers into the corner!

Morpheus: Celt runs back, The Impalement!

Larsen: No! Amazing athleticism shown by Hostyle! He has jumped onto the top rope!

Morpheus: Sunset flip!

Larsen: Powerbomb pin!

One

Kickout!

Larsen: Celt is straight up! He hits an uppercut! SPINEBUSTER! PIN!

One!

Shoulder Up!

Larsen: Holy Crap this is fast action! Both competitors are up! Celt swings! Hostyle ducks! STO!

Morpheus: He doesn’t go for the pin! He locks in an inverted figure four!

Larsen: Smart move, that pace was out of control.

Morpheus: It was quite smart, now Hostyle controls the pace of the match.

Hostyle has now moved into a bridge adding more pressure onto the ankle of Celt. Celt is trying to reach the ropes but eventually gives up and starts to roll.

Larsen: Nearly… there… Celt has done it! He has rolled through, reversing the pressure.

Morpheus: When I was 12 my younger brother didn’t believe rolling over reversed the pressure. So I did it to him… broke his leg.

Larsen: Ummm, thanks… Hostyle easily releases the hold, the advantage of being the one who initiated the hold is that you can break it even when reversed.

Hostyle quickly gets up but the time that Celt was in the hold has taken its toll and is now limping on his right leg.

Larsen: Hostyle on the attack!

Morpheus: He has seen a weakness in Celt, now to take advantage of it.

Larsen: Hostyle whips Celt into the ring ropes! Celt doesn’t even have the momentum to keep going, his leg is that bad.

Morpheus: Or he is milking the injury.

Larsen: The referee checks on Celt. I don’t think he is faking anything, this man has the fighting spirit of the Irish.

Morpheus: Slash. Plug.

Larsen: Nerd, Celt pushes away the referee, claiming he is fine. Hostyle attacks! Diving Clothesline from Celt!

Morpheus: See milking it.

Larsen: Not at all, didn’t you notice that it was off one step? Celt put as little pressure as possible on his right foot.

While Hostyle is down Celt shakes his leg out and is able to put pressure on it.

Larsen: Just a cramp, the twice C4 champion knows how to make someone cramp to a submission manoeuvre. More surprisingly Celt didn’t tap even though he cramped.

Morpheus: Thanks for the rant there Larsen… Really… Hostyle is up!

Larsen: Hostyle has caught him unaware!

Morpheus: He nails the Hostyle Hysteria UNO… bah gawd that’s a mouthful and a half.

Larsen: Hostyle grapevines the leg.

One!

Two!

Three!

Cherry: Here is your winner…. HOSTYLE!

Hostyle (8.32 aps + 1.6 avs = 9.92 total)
The Celt (8.27 aps + 1.1 avs = 9.37 total)

Renegade once again takes over the arena as the referee holds up Hostyle’s hand in victory.

Larsen: Impressive momentum for the multi time champ especially going into back to back pay per views. No Holds Barred and Ultimatum are both around the corner.

[ana]The camera cuts to the back as Creative Control Manager T. Ekstreme stands in front of the Anarchy logo, microphone in hand.

Ekstreme: Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you all for spending this evening with us. It truly means a lot to know that you welcome us into your homes, to know that the work we put in and the effort we make aren't thankless, but tonight, some men are no longer here with us to celebrate that love we share, be it due to retirement, injury, or even death.

Ekstreme pauses for a moment and wipes a tear from his eye.

Ekstreme: Excuse me. Now, as I stated a minute ago, some of the greatest entertainers have come and gone through these doors and I'd like to take a moment to honor their memories, so without further a-do, roll the footage.



Ekstreme: As you can see, many great performers have stepped through these hallowed halls. We here just hope that their contributions are not for nothing, and that they are remembered. Remembered for the great times they've given us, the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears they sacrificed, and hopes that they had, that all of you could live your lives happy. Thank you.[/ana]

Larsen: Welcome back to Anarchy, and if you're just joining us, where the hell have you been?

Morpheus: They've probably been taking a dump. Up next... well. Let's let Buster Cherry give us the introductions.

Cherry: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the FMW Television Championship! Introducing first... the number one contender, accompanied to the ring by T. Ekstreme, from Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, France... SLEGNADAMUS!

“Third Eye” by Tool blasts out of the speakers in the arena as Slegna makes his way down the ramp to the sound of jeers, followed by his manager Ekstreme. He steps up to the ring apron quietly and waits for the champion to arrive as his manager goes to his corner, outside of the apron.

Cherry: And his opponent! Hailing from FMW's hometown of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada... he is the Television Champion and one half of the Tag Team Champions, standing 6'1'' and weighing 250 lbs...O'RION!

“Fuck You (An Ode To No One) by The Smashing Pumpkins hits as the crowd boo the reigning champ, who basks in the glory of it all as he carries his Television belt over one shoulder and his Tag Team belt over the other. Handing both to the lovely ringside girls, he steps onto he ring apron and springboards into the ring.

Larsen: With Mr Devinshire's 'Night of Champions' ethos around tonight's events, I'm surprised O'Rion isn't being forced to defend both his belts tonight.

Morpheus: Well, it's common sense, isn't it? Mr Devinshire doesn't want an unfair title change due to tiredness. People underestimate that man, he might not look it but he's a genius.

Larsen: Why am I not inclined to believe you?

Morpheus: Simple. You, unlike me and Mr Devinshire, are an idiot.

Larsen: It's 'Mr Devinshire and I', actually.

Morpheus: Um, no, I just said, it's me and him, not you and -

Larsen: Forget it... I'll explain after the match. O'Rion and Slegna circle, they enter the lockup... quick standing jawbreaker by O'Rion sends Slegna reeling. O'Rion follows up with a succession of chops that pushes Slegna against the ropes.

Morpheus: As Slegna springs back off the ropes, O'Rion embraces him and takes him over for a German suplex! Early cover by O'Rion!

One!

T-
Nowhere near enough.

Larsen: O'Rion goes to pull Slegna to his feet, and gets a rake in the eyes for his trouble! Slegna on the offensive now!

Morpheus: DDT by Slegna, who quickly goes to ground and locks in the STF. O'Rion in pain, but he easily shrugs off the smaller man.

Larsen: Slegna rolls away and uses the ropes as leverage to get up. O'Rion staggers to his feet and is met with a step-up enzuigiri! Both men fall! Slegna on top of a face down O'Rion, he locks in another submission, a one leg Boston crab!

Morpheus: But O'Rion is easily able to break this hold as well, and Slegna is visibly frustrated! He goes over to his manager for some sound advice!

Larsen: You mean like the advice he could get from Mr Devinshire?

Morpheus: Shut the hell up Robb. The referee goes over to check – unnecessarily, I might add – that Slegna is not doing anything illegal! O'Rion takes advantage of this with a small package from behind!

One!

Tw-
Slegna kicks out quite easily.

Larsen: Slegna manages to catch O'Rion with a leg sweep as he gets up! O'Rion stumbles and comes to lapse in the corner, to which Slegna responds with a Stinger splash! O'Rion manages to remain on one knee, Slegna backtracks to the other side of the ring, looks like he's going for a shining wizard!

Morpheus: He makes the dash, O'Rion ducks at the last second – OWW!

Larsen:[b] And I think every man in the arena felt that impact! That truly was a case of risk and reward!

[b]Morpheus: Only masochists like yourself would consider that a reward, Larsen! Goddammit! We won't be seeing any baby Slegs for a good while now!

Larsen: Too right!

Morpheus: So you admit you're a masochist?

Larsen: …

Morpheus: Your silence means yes. O'Rion now looking for Slegna, who's being hoisted his feet and rolled back in by T. Ekstreme! That's fair!

Larsen: Fair? It's blatant interference!

Morpheus: Consider it a test of Slegna's resolve. He's fought valiantly in tag team matches with his partner injured and now he's going into battle with his sword out of commission!

Larsen: What would he need his 'sword' for anyway? Are you implying...

Morpheus: Well he is French.

Larsen: Touché. Slegna wobbles to his feet and O'Rion, who has been catching his breath, reluctantly plucks himself from the turnbuckle. He walks over lazily and – Slegna hits him with an MMA-style kick to the gut, severely winding the champion! He was playing possum since he got back to the ring!

Morpheus: He's either got balls of steel, or none at all. Slegna springs off the ropes and catches O'Rion with a one-handed bulldog! Slegna makes the cover!

One!

Two-
O'Rion manages to kick out.

Larsen: And as both men get to their feet Slegna is Irish whipped into the ropes by O'Rion, then as he comes back, takes him over with a snap suplex. O'Rion runs to the ropes, springboards off... springboard splash onto Slegna! Make that a cover!

One!

Two!

Th-
Slegna manages to raise a shoulder.

Morpheus: Both men get to their feet, out of nowhere Slegna hoists O'Rion onto one shoulder and brings him crashing down onto his knee! Psychic Vision out of nowhere! Slegna makes the cover!


One!

Two!

Thr-
We were half a second away from a new champ!

Larsen: And O'Rion swaggers to his feet, catching Slegna with a haymaker to his temple as he gets up! Slegna falls, slumped against the ropes near the turnbuckle! O'Rion sees his chance and stalks over to The Seer, pulling him off the ropes for a snap suplex... into the turnbuckle! Crossed Wires!

Morpheus: Why has Slegna not fallen?

Larsen: I think his legs are caught, Morph! Slegs is trapped in a tree of woe! And look at the glee on O'Rion's face!

Morpheus: That sadistic grin on the face of the Television champ... what's he going to do now?

O'Rion: Come on, baby!

Larsen: Woah! Basement dropkick to the face of Slegna and he goes flying! Tribute to Y2J there!

Morpheus: And there's only one thing to do now... the count is just a formality here.

One!

Two!

Three!

O’Rion (8.04 aps + 2.3 avs = 10.34 total)
Slegnadamus (3.13 aps – 0.3 penalty + 0.2 avs = 3.03 total)

Larsen: Impressive display here by the champion!

Morpheus: Absolutely, you don't get to hold a title in this federation without talent!

Larsen: What about Westley McGreggor, Slegna's former associate?

Morpheus: I rest my case.


[ana]The camera pans to the outside of the arena where The Notorious B.U.G. Is pacing, looking around.

B.U.G.: Where is he? We were supposed to start BUGGIN like ten minutes ago... We're gonna look stupid if we're late for our premiere.

Just as B.U.G. Says that, a car horn playing the tune of “The Mexican Hat Dance” pulls up. A 1999 Volkswagon New Beetle pulls up with Butters hanging out of the driver's window. The car stops in the center of the camera as we can see Butters and B.U.G.'s face plastered on the side with the words “GET B.U.G.G.I.N.” behind them, the red type a loud accent on the yellow car.

Butters: Check it out, Big Guy! I got us a BUGGIN-mobile! We can take this show on the road now!

B.U.G. Stands there, his jaw open and eye wide, completely speechless. He takes a few steps towards the vehicle before dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around the front of the car.

B.U.G.: THIS IS AWESOME!!!

Butters: I thought you'd say that. Check it out, all original parts, only 400,000 miles on the engine, and an AM/FM radio with fully functional tape deck.

B.U.G.: I have seen heaven, and it is this car.

Butters: Not so fast, you haven't even seen the best part yet.

Butters darts his head back inside the car, and shouts out to B.U.G.

Butters: You ready for this?

Butters can be seen fumbling with something as suddenly the front end of the car comes to life and lifts into the air, bouncing up and down, and rocking side-to-side.

Butters: I got this baby on hydros!

B.U.G. Looks almost in tears as he looks upon the BUGGIN-mobile. He stands up as Butters lets the wheels come to a rest.

B.U.G.: C-C-can I.... sit in it?

Butters: Sit in it? Get in, buddy. We're taking a road trip! You ready?!

B.U.G.: LET'S GET B.U.G.G.I.N.!!!

B.U.G. Jumps in as the pair drives off slowly, the wheels bouncing as they go.




We can see the BUGGIN-mobile outside of what appears to be a cemetery, a place slightly out of the normal for the pair.

B.U.G.: Remind me why we're here again...

The two are walking past large grave stones and trees older than either of them as Butters suddenly stops in his tracks and stares at a massive grave marker, emblazoned with a music note.

Butters: This... We're here.

B.U.G.: You know, a dank cemetery wasn't exactly my idea when you said we were going to see the sights of Memphis. What is this anyways?

Butters: The Tomb of the King.

B.U.G.: Holy crap! I've seen those Mummy movies! I'm not touching anything! Let's get out of here!

Butters: No... Not the Scorpion King... -THE- King. This is where Elvis is buried. This right here is what brought people to Memphis, and shaped rock and roll.

B.U.G.: A slab of granite?

Butters: No... Elvis, he changed the entire country. This is just... wow.

B.U.G.: I guess when you put it that way.... This is Pretty BUGGIN!!!

Butters: At least you're excited. We should both be excited, just imagine what the world would be like if he were still alive.

B.U.G.: You mean if he never died? Or if he was alive again?

Butters: No Zombie talk. None.

B.U.G.: But why? I was only kidding.

Butters: Zombies creep me out... last thing I need to think about is what would happen if some crazy guy tried to make my worst dreams come to life. We don't know anybody that crazy, though... whew.

B.U.G.: What about that Dunn guy?

Butters: Wait, What?

B.U.G.: Dunn... He's pretty crazy...

Butters: You think Dunn's trying to bring Elvis back to life?

B.U.G.: No... not really, but... you never know.

Butters: Tell me what you know! Dunn's going to bring Elvis' rotten corpse back to eat me, isn't he! IS he going to form an army of Zombie Musicians? Should we check on Frank Sinatra and Axl Rose's graves, too?

B.U.G.: Ummm... Axe Rose isn't dead.

Butters: AHHH!!! He's already got one!

Butters starts to run back towards the safety of the BUGGIN-Mobile. He dives in the car, and covers his head, protecting himself form imminent zombie-harm.

B.U.G.: Butters, come on...Stop BUGGIN! Dunn can't make an Army of Zombie Musicians... that's just crazy.

Butters: You're right... He can't because I won't let him. I'm going to stop his horrible horrible zombie-ridden plans.

B.U.G.: Well... I guess since you're hudled in fear, this is gonna have to end “GET B.U.G.G.I.N.” for today.

Butters: Damn zombies...[/ana]

[ana]As the camera cuts back to Anarchy, William Dervinshire stands atop the entrance ramp, beaming as he looks over the crowd.

Dervinshire: I hope everyone's having a great time!

The crowd gives a little pop at the relatively unkown man.

Dervinshire: Excellent! You see, I realize most of you are unfirmiliar with my work, and who I am. Well, you would have seen more of me last show, however, I found certain elements of the show to be... lacking. Certain elements regarding me and, as you all know, you have to look out for yourself in these kinds of situations.

Larsen: What the hell is this guy talking about?

Morpheus: Maybe if you'd shut the hell up, he'd tell us.

Dervinshire: See, last show there was supposed to be footage of a farewell speech from Eric Scorpio and-

The crowd gives a slight boo.

Dervinshire: Yes, yes, I know. He's a bad man. Oooh. Well, anyway, I happened to be involved in said speech, and I decided, after I did some all night footage editing, that it was finally ready to be shown to the public. So, ladies and gents, here it is, Eric Scorpio's farewell speech!

The METALTron lights up with footage as the arena goes dark. No More Sorrow by Linkin Park blasts through the arena as Eric Scorpio gets a mixed review from the crowd as he makes his way to the ring.

Larsen: An understandable mixed reaction for a man who has done many things in this company.

Morpheus: Heathens. These guys should be killing each other to lick the ground he walks on.

Scorpio enters the ring and looks around the arena for a few seconds before grabbing the microphone to begin his speech.

Scorpio: You know... I hear a few of you booing me... and to be honest, yeah, I deserve it. I wont deny the things that I've done here to the people you admire have been reperable at best, and believe me, I've payed the price for them.

Larsen: Thats the truth.

Morpheus: SHH!

Scorpio: You see, in my time here I've been slighted. I've been beat down, kicked, spat on, then kicked again, but every time I was knocked down I came back a little bit smarter, a little bit stronger, and I used that knowledge and strength to acheive the ultimate goal, and reached the top of the ladder when nobody thought I could. Eric Scorpio, Full Metal Champion.

Again a mixed reaction from the fans in the crowd.

Scorpio: And you know, tonight I didn't really know what I was going to say...what I was going to feel... but to hear some of you cheer me, well. It makes it all seem worth it.

The crowd begins to lighten up for the man who has given them his respect.

Scorpio: Because I realize that without you guys here, I'd-

Suddenly, Scorpio is cut off as Bulls on Parade by Rage Against the Machine blasts through the loudspeakers. A man dressed in a suit walks out of the curtain closely followed by a new wrestler.

Man: Wow, just... wow. Please, stop for a second and let me introduce myself. My name is J. William Dervinshire the Third, and let me say, Eric Scorpio, that it is an honor to be in this building with you for your final farewell.

Scorpio looks confused as he begins to speak.

Scorpio: Yeah, thats great. Listen, autographs are for after the show, ok? I'm sort of in the middle of something important.

Dervinshire: Oh, yes, yes. I see that and its precisely why I came out here in the first place. Listen to these people Eric, they don't want you to leave, and I'd be happy to accomodate them by offering you some handsome compensation to stay.

Scorpio: Truly... you flatter me. However, my mind is already made up, so if you'd please-

Dervinshire: Oh, no, see I'm not finished. I'd like to totally rebrand the Scorpio image. Remake that which has become bland and boring into something fresh and exciting! I'm talking huge merchandise bonuses, world titles, charter jets, the whole nine yards! Not to mention I've got people ready in the back to help ensure that you make it all the way back to the top after your catastrophic fall from grace.

Scorpio grows increasingly upset with every word from Dervinshires mouth.

Scorpio: Look, you ingrate, I already said no, so how about you beat it, and maybe if you're lucky, they'll give you a timeslot next show. Now, where was-

Dervinshire: Oh, see, no. Its not like that. I came out here to make a point, Scorpio. You don't make the shots. Hell, you never did. In fact, I'm going to be making the shots now, what with a partial investment into the company, but thats beside the point.

Scorpio begins to curse Dervinshire under his breath.

Dervinshire: You see, I wanted to point out to you that no matter what you think or say, you're yesterdays news. You're the old dog that hasn't learned a new trick in decades, and I'm going to take you behind the woodshed and end your misery, ol' yeller. You see, these people dont care about you! You're no longer entertaining, and thusly, you're no longer an asset to myself or this fine organization. You pretend that you matter, but the only truth you've spoken about so far is the fact that you've been slighted and got the crap beat out of you. The people don't care about losers, Eric, and I'm all about what the people want, so you see, I have to bring in fresh new faces full of talent and potential to make up for the black hole of suck you have slowly, but surely, and dare I say, inevitably become.

Scorpio: You do realize who you're talking to right? Are you really trying to threaten me, of all people? You do comprehend that I can break every bone in your body, and I can-

Dervinshire: Yeah, yeah. Fee, fi, fo, fum, crush my bones to make your bread, look pal, we've heard it all before. Now, I'm only going to ask you once nicely, and please, leave the ring. You've taken up enough time as it is.

Scorpio: Excuse me? Leave the ring? Oh, alright.

Scorpio drops the mic and exits the ring. As he hops off the apron, he begins a charge at Dervinshire at the top of the ramp.

Dervinshire: I figured you might do that.

Suddenly a horde of security guards charge in and restrain Scorpio, who tries to fight them off.

Dervinshire: Dont fight change, Scorpio! You're a road block on this shows path, and my path, to greatness!

The numbers prove too much for Scorpio and he is eventually subdued. As the guards begin to take him backstage, Dervinshire quickly pulls an object from his pocket and flicks a switch. A small charge of electricity flashes as Dervinshire leaps in and thrusts quickly, shocking Scorpio with the tazer in his hand. Scorpio's body shakes for a few moments before he ceases to struggle. He continues to glare at Dervinshire through the pain, and curses him as he is dragged off the stage to the back.

The footage cuts back to Dervinshire live.

Dervinshire: Did you see that!? Was that not AWESOME!? Look, look again right here!

The footage rewinds. As the guards begin to take Scorpio backstage, Dervinshire quickly pulls an object from his pocket and flicks a switch. A small charge of electricity flashes as Dervinshire leaps in and thrusts quickly, shocking Scorpio with the tazer in his hand. Scorpio's body shakes for a few moments before he ceases to struggle. He continues to glare at Dervinshire through the pain, and curses him as he is dragged off the stage to the back.

Dervinshire: Man, what finesse. What talent. Lets watch that again!

Once more the footage rewinds. As the guards begin to take him backstage, Dervinshire quickly pulls an object from his pocket and flicks a switch. A small charge of electricity flashes as Dervinshire leaps in and thrusts quickly, shocking Scorpio with the tazer in his hand. Scorpio's body shakes for a few moments before he ceases to struggle. The footage pauses here.

Dervinshire: You see, Scorpio got in the way of my image for this brand. My image to provide you people with the best entertainment possible and I will do anything, ANYTHING, to ensure that my investment, and your happiness, are secure. So, I wont take up any more of your time.

He looks back and laughs at the image of a schocked Scorpio.

Dervinshire: Enjoy the rest of your show![/ana]

The crowd comes out of their confusion and begin to cheer as staff members begin to appear from beyond the entrance ramp, pushing the electric chair in tow. The staff members drag the chair down to the ring side before they slowly hook it up to several wires and connections to prep it up for the match.

Larsen: And there it is, the electric chair…as a great announcer would say, business is about to pick up.

Morpheus: If it’s anything like the first on on Anxiety, we are in for a treat, topped off with a death. I like violence and pain as much as the next guy, but this one has me a bit uneasy.

Larsen: Can you imagine what lengths these men are about to go to, and with the FMW Championship on the line, multiply that by 100.

Morpheus: At least the challenger has won a match like this before.

Larsen: With the help of the now departed Cactus Sam, Ethan Black and Eric Scorpio…neither man is here now and Bryson would like to become the first champion in a while to make a successful defense and continue his magical story.

Morpheus: You act like Bryson is Rey Mysterio. I hate the guy but I’ve known that he’s always had the skill, he just never got the shot until Catalyst. Rey had no business as World Champion, especially when they booked him like a pussy.

Larsen: You do have a point, apologies Bryson.

Morpheus: Like an apology is something he’d like to hear now.

Cherry: The following contest is the first of our two main events of the evening, and it is the ELECTRIC CHAIR match for the FULL METAL WRESLTING CHAMPIONSHIP!!!! There are no count outs and no disqualifications, the only way to win is to strap your opponent into the chair, and flip the switch to begin to electrocute him. The man who does this will be declared the winner and FMW Champion!

“Written in Cold Blood” by Mindless Self Indulgence hits the P.A. A shovel armed Matthew P. Dunn steps out from backstage trying to pump up the crowd, playing to them as if he was a fan favorite ala Jeff Hardy. This does nothing but causes the crowd to boo even louder and Dunn smiles and confidently makes his way to the ring, eyeing the electric chair with a cocky smile on his face. Dunn rolls into the ring and patiently waits for his opponent.

Cherry: Introducing first the challenger, from Birmingham, England weighing 218 pounds…the Threefold Man, MATTHEW P. DUNN!!

Larsen: Dunn obviously looks confident, and I don’t blame him. He’s been on quite a hot streak, one recently ended by O’Rion of HavOc, but still.

Morpheus: We’ll see how he fares.

All of a sudden the booing stops as the arena blacks out. As if the Undertaker is about to enter, the predictable fans hold up lit lighters until some familiar guitar vocals hit and the arena is lit by a refreshingly blue strobe lights, but only for a few seconds. Then “Clouds Over California” by DevilDriver hits officially, and FMW champion Nick Bryson, title around waist and SPARTA shirt over his body, steps out to a darkly blue lit arena. The crowd cheers as a focused Bryson walks with purpose towards Dunn, merely glancing at the electric chair and back at Dunn as if to say ‘Dunn, you’ve brought this on yourself’. He removes and tosses his SPARTA shirt into the crowd, and removes the FMW championship, kissing before handing it to the ref, who holds it up for all to see. Dunn places his shovel within reach under a turnbuckle corner, just in case.



Cherry: His opponent, from Cleveland, Ohio, weighing 245 pounds, he is the FULL METAL WRESTLING CHAMPION….The Cleveland Crippler, NICK BRYSON!!

Larsen: Bryson looks ready, Dunn looks ready. This is gonna be violent in a hurry.

Morpheus: Hell. Yes.

The bell rings as the crowd cheers. Dunn and Bryson circle the ring and then lock up. Bryson, being the stronger man as well as the champion, quickly gains the advantage with a side headlock. Dunn tries to push off but to no avail. Bryson takes Dunn over with the headlock, who headscissors his way out of it. Bryson nips out and this process is repeated twice. The fourth go around Bryson feigns the takeover and bulldogs Dunn’s face into his knee to a small pop from the crowd.

Larsen: Bryson holding the advantage thus far and Dunn is tossing around as if his nose is broken. Bryson isn’t buying it though and he’s back on the attack.

Morpheus: I do hate that Dunn does that. I love the guy, but that can backfire, especially with a guy like Bryson, trashing around like that is like begging Bryson to mangle the area even more. That, my friends, is bull but that’s the new age Face.

Larsen: Bryson holds Dunn to the mat and drives a knee to the face, and again! The champion takes Dunn to his feet and here’s an Irish whip, but Dunn reverses. Dunn vaults the champion almost out of the ring with a Monkey Flip!

Morpheus: Dunn posing to the crowd now, thinking he has the advantage; he kicks away at Bryson who rolls out of the ring for a breather…Dunn waits for Bryson to turn around and he wipes out the champion with a slingshot plancha!

Larsen: Dunn is back up now and he’s gesturing that he’s already got the title won; a bit much I’d say.

Morpheus: Suit yourself, right now he has the advantage, but Bryson is back up and he greets Dunn with a hard right hand, sending him backwards into the steel steps. Not a good aftertaste.

Larsen: Huh?

Morpheus: You heard what I said, and you know what the fuck I meant. Don’t make me come cross this table.

Larsen: While Morpheus gets his panties out of a bunch, Bryson tosses Dunn back into the ring, and he grabs a chair. Dunn is up and Bryson stabs Dunn in the gut with the chair, and the crowd loves it!

Morpheus: See, why is it OK for him to use a weapon?

Larsen: No rules in this one, Morph.

Morpheus: I know that. My thing is for all faces in general. They get to use weapons and it’s OK, a heel even brings one down and they are vilified.

Larsen: I guess it’s because heels generally tend to be portrayed as cowardly, hiding behind the weapon. And Bryson strikes again across Dunn’s back!

Morpheus: Well, it’s bullshit. If you are gonna be a good guy and all of that, you shouldn’t be using weapons unless you happen to be Ultraviolent Champion. Double standards are a bitch.

During this conversation. Bryson has tossed the chair aside, and began to work over Dunn with a Texas Cloverleaf. Dunn managed to roll through and escape with an Eye Gouge and then…

Larsen: That is a bad argument. Meanwhile, Dunn has the chair and a disoriented Bryson turns around, Dunn tosses him the chair and smashes it back in the champion’s face with “Three-Double-Six-Eight”!

Morpheus: Woo-hoo! And now Dunn has his sights set on the chair, I smell a new champion!

Larsen: Probably a faint musk of burnt flesh.

Morpheus: Dunn is dragging Bryson towards the electric chair, and Bryson comes alive. Bryson fighting his way from the death trap and he rams Dunn into the side of it! Bryson tosses the challenger into the ring now, and he has Dunn set up for some high impact…Lifting Inverted DDT coming but Dunn rolled out of it!

Larsen: Lightning Spiral connects, and Dunn really has an advantage now.

Morpheus: A head drop like that has to be enough for Dunn to strap him in…

Larsen: Dunn is looking for a decisive win…he’s got the shovel!

Morpheus: And Bryson is getting to his feet, right out of a movie Larsen. Baseball season just started and Dunn is looking to go yard!

Larsen: The crowd is seemingly trying to warn Bryson, but he’s still a little absent…

Morpheus: Good bye, Bry-Bry….SWING AND A MISS! Wait, a Miss?!?!?!?

Bryson manages to duck from the swing as the crowd cheers. The force of the swing cause Dunn to drop the shovel when it hits the mat. A angered Dunn then turns around to attempt to strike, but the champion flattens him with an Alabama Slam! Dunn, obviously stunned, tries to scramble to his feet but Bryson is apparently on some other shit because he sets up for and delivers a Wheelbarrow Suplex, making sure that the back of Dunn’s head connects with the discarded steel chair! Bryson, with a glare on his face, begs for Dunn to “Get your ass up!” as the crowd goes nuts!

Larsen: Bryson is seemingly possessed, he’s just turned it on out of nowhere!

Morpheus: Didn’t know he had that kind of a temper…there may be hope yet.

Dunn begins to seep blood from the back of his head and pulls himself up using the ropes. Bryson shoots in and goes to lift him in a rack, but Dunn grasps the ropes for dear life and low blows the champion. Dunn then catches him on the rebound with a flying forearm.

Morpheus: A true fighter that Dunn.

Larsen: Dunn is still out of it from that Wheelbarrow Suplex.

Morpheus: I would be too, I’d also be looking for revenge.

Larsen: Dunn wearily grabs the chair…and Bryson is up and DUNN CONNECTS to Bryson’s face!

Morpheus: Bryson is a bit busted now, turnabout is fair play, Robbie!

Larsen: Dunn looks over to the chair now, and that gleam is in his eye again.

Morpheus: He drags Bryson out of the ring, and he’s taking the scenic route to the chair…and he sits Bryson in it, but he goes to grab that shovel now, looking for the knockout blow, but no!

Larsen: Bryson kicks the challenger away now, and he spears Dunn down, but he quickly transitions into a laid out Dragon Sleeper!

Morpheus: Get out of it Dunn!

Bryson works his way to a kneeling position so he can really cinch in the hold. Dunn struggles mightily but is starting to fade. Just then Bryson adds insults to injury lifting up Dunn and driving him down roughly with a Lifting Inverted DDT.

Larsen: Dunn has to be out of it now, did you hear the sickening splat?

Morpheus: Yes, I heard it and I don’t want to talk about it. I really thought this was his night. But save for a few moments, Bryson has frankly been getting in Dunn’s ass, no homo.

Larsen: Exactly what is up with that ‘no homo’ phenomenon anyway?

Morpheus: You don’t know ‘no homo’? Come on, Larsen.

Larsen: I know it, I just don’t get what’s the big deal.

Morpheus: Thus proving you are homo.

Larsen: Piss off.

Morpheus: I always suspected it…

Larsen: Bryson has Dunn up now, and a hard whip into the ring apron. Dunn is staggering towards Bryson, but he ducks a clothesline and leaps to the security fan barrier but Bryson stops whatever Dunn had planned.

Morpheus: Looks like Bryson has something planned himself…Dunn’s seated on the barrier now, and Bryson takes him down with a Straight Jacket Lung Blower! Bryson may have hurt himself there!

Larsen: I can’t really agree with that move, he could’ve just suplexed him.

Morpheus: He’s in the heat of battle, things happen.

Larsen: You act like I’ve never wrestled before.

Morpheus: Well, what have you done of note?

Larsen: I’ve won my fair share of matches.

Morpheus: Any titles, by chance?

Larsen: At least I don’t have cancer.

Morpheus: That’s low, uggo. Besides, I’m in remission.

Larsen: Bryson is up now, and he’s dragging Dunn, who’s lifeless, towards the chair and the crowd is on it’s feet. Bryson tosses Dunn into the chair, and is staring to strap him down, but DUNN BLINDS THE CHAMPION WITH POWDER TO THE EYES!

Morpheus: Bravo, Mr. Dunn! Here’s your chance!

Larsen: I think it was a last gasp effort, because Dunn is slow about getting out of that chair.

Morpheus: Why is Bryson rambling among the fans…wait...he’s blinded. Silly me!

Larsen: Bryson’s sight looks to be coming back and Dunn is now out of the chair.

A spent Dunn charges for Bryson, but the war cry beforehand alerts Bryson of his presence and Bryson flapjacks Dunn chest and torso first across the steel steps. Bryson staggers away and rubs his face with the ring apron sheets, seemingly offering himself some relief from the powder in his face and eyes.

Larsen: Bryson has wasted Dunn right here, and his sight is now back!

Morpheus: I’ll admit, that Steel Step Flapjack was sick.

Larsen: Uh oh…Bryson has the shovel…

Bryson: Come on, you bastard. COME ON!

Morpheus: Don’t turn around, Dunn!

Larsen: Dunn has no idea where he is…

Morpheus: For Larsen’s God’s sake, DON’T TURN AROUND.

Morpheus’ warnings go all for naught as Dunn is struck in his back with his own shovel. Dunn crumples to his knees as Bryson snatches him up onto his shoulders in a rack position, the crowd cheers as Bryson kicks the top level steps off and delivers the SICKLE TOUCH onto the bottom level steps much to the ‘Holy Shit’, ‘Bryson! Bryson! Bryson!’ and ‘OHHHHHH!!!’ chants that accompany it. Yeah, it was pretty bad to say the least.

Larsen: DEAR LORD, A SICKLE TOUCH ONTO THE STEEL STEPS!

Morpheus: Game over. Thanks for playing Dunn.

Larsen: I hate to say this, but it’s not quite over…

Morpheus: Oh shit…

The Full Metal Wrestling Champion rises to his feet as the crowd cheers. Standing triumphant over his fallen challenger, Bryson drags Dunn’s lifeless body off of the steps and towards the dreaded electric chair, akin to a predator retreating to his hide out in order to finish off his kill of the day. Bryson lifts Dunn and begins to strap him in as he remains limp having been on the receiving end of a vile Sickle Touch. The headset is placed on Dunn’s head, and Bryson steps back a bit, grabbing Dunn’s shovel. A slight smile creeps on the Champion’s face; he can sense the end is near. Dunn’s eyes open and they grow wide with realization that he is trapped. The crowd cheers, forgetting that Dunn’s life now hangs in the balance. All they know is that their guy is about to triumph, and roll into Ultimatum with all the momentum…Dunn struggles frantically but Bryson renders him motionless with a shovel shot to the face and Bryson walks over to the lever. He places his hand on it as the crowd begins to grow hushed and with a effortless pull, Bryson seals Dunn’s fate, defeating the man who has by one way or another defeated many of the who’s who in FMW and decisively adding another name to his own list of who’s who…

Nick Bryson (8.25 aps – 0.1 penalty + 2.1 avs = 10.25 total)
Matt Dunn (0.0 aps + 0.1 avs = 0.1 total)

The ominous crackle echoed through the arena as Matthew P. Dunn’s body locked up, before shaking violently as a few sparks let out. Everyone fell to silence, some turned away from the grisly sight. The whole arena is silent save for the crackles and pops of energy emitting from the chair. The 5 to 15 seconds of torture seemed like eternity, but somewhere inside the just previously satisfied Bryson finds it within to stop the torture himself and he mercifully lifted the lever, saving Dunn from the end of his existence. Smoke began to rise from the Threefold Man’s shoulders. Nothing about this was serene, promising at all, save for the ever so faint rise and fall of Dunn’s chest as breath entered and escaped his battered body. Bryson leaves to retrieve his prize as paramedics ran down to try and aid Dunn. The shaken referee raises Bryson’s hand as “Clouds over California” by DevilDriver began to play. Bryson placed his title over his shoulder, and without looking back started towards the backstage area triumphant; an example of what Bryson is capable of, well expressed.

Larsen: Holy…My God…

Morpheus: Damn…

Larsen: Um…Nick Bryson has retained the FMW Championship in a heinous, rather dominant fashion, but right now the bigger concern is for Matthew P. Dunn.

Morpheus: I don’t know what to say…wow…

Larsen: The thing is, the Ultraviolent title match is still to come.

Morpheus: I forgot about that, the return of Jaro is still to come.

Larsen: I think the violence has only begun

We fade backstage as a hushed crowd watches a still breathing Dunn be wheeled away on a stretcher towards the back…

[ana]Backstage, William Dervinshire stands with Celeste Russeau in her office.

Dervinshire: So, miss General Manager, what did you think? Great TV Huh? Must see even? I bet I'll get an emmy.

Celeste: I dont think you understand what you've done, William. I'm not a fool. From my time in Original Sin I can tell you safeley, without a doubt, that Eric Scorpio is one of the most calculating, vicious, and twisted people I've ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Dervinshire: I welcome a challenge.

Celeste: No, you dont understand. He will hurt you. Bad. He-

Celeste is interrupted as the door clicks open and former FMW CEO Jaro enters the room to an awkward silence.

Jaro: Hey sugartits. Oh, hello to you too Celeste.

Celeste: What do you want, Jason?

Dervinshire: Wow... Jaro! The Jaro!? It's an honor sir, I mean really! I-

Jaro: You can continue shoving your nose up my ass after I beat the clown, moron. I've seen your actions, you are not a very smart man. I doubt I'd get to know you before you're crippled for life, so lets avoid the formalities, mmmk?

Dervinshire: I-

Jaro: You know, Celeste. I heard you talking about Eric and, well, I couldn't help thinking that you were talking about me. You see, Jaro is the original sick and twisted one. Jaro is the most vicious man in this company, not Eric. You talk about Eric as if he were some legend, but he's nothing more than the only man to ever get close to being Jaro Junior. Thats why I'm here now, to drown the clown in his own blood while he attempts to take the throne that nobody else besides me has the balls to fill. Its a tough job, but somebody has to do it.

Celeste glares at Jaro as he smiles at her.

Celeste: What do you want, Jason?

Jaro: Oh, you know me. I just wanted to get my face on television so I could show it to some groupie later and get my nut. I'll be on my way now, I have a wannabe to kill.

Jaro exits the room as Celeste and William glare at him. The scene cuts to the ring.[/ana]

Buster Cherry stands mid ring, microphone in hand.

Cherry: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the ULTRAVIOLENT CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, weighing in at 200 pounds, the Ultraviolent Champion, HAAAAAAAARLEEEEQUIIIIIN!

Voodoo by Godsmack blasts through the loudspeakers as Harlequin makes his way out of the curtain, Ultraviolent belt in had. He skips giddily down the ramp as he makes his way to the ring.

Cherry: And introducing his opponent, former FMW CEO-

Cherry is cut off as Jaro bolts out of the curtain and to the ring. The former UV champion slides into the ring and immediately begins to brawl with Harlequin

Larsen: Jaro not wasting any time in his return match!

Morpheus: He's out here to prove that he hasn't lost a step, Larsen. He's here to show he's still the most vicious star in FMW today.

Larsen: Harlequin will definately give him a run for his money. This is a sadistic dream match made in hell, Morph, and I am genuinely afraid of what is going to happen. Jaro is able to get the upper hand over Harlequin, he tosses him off the ropes, Jaro with the reverse elbow!

Morpheus: You're right, Larsen. This is going to be violent to the point of excessiveness, and I like that.

Larsen: Harlequin rolls out of the ring and, wait... is he laughing?

Morpheus: This guy is dememnted, Larsen.

Larsen: I can't fathom what would be so funny that- OH MY! JARO FLIES OVER THE TOP ROPE! BOTH MEN GO CRASHING TO THE FLOOR!

Morpheus: Wow! Rarely does the boss fly, he's pulling out all the stops tonight!

Larsen: Jaro is up quick! He lifts Harlequin, whip into the guard rail! Jaro charges, shoulder tackle! Jaro pulle Harlequin once again, WHIP INTO THE TURNBUCKLE POST! HARLEQUIN FALLS TO THE GROUND!

Morpheus: Look, Larsen! He's on the ground but he's still laughing! I dont know why they let this guy show up to shows, he's deranged!

Larsen: Jaro is walking over to the announce table now, he's got the timekeepers chair! He walks over to Harlequin, STRAIGHT SHOT TO THE BACK! Jaro lifts again, NO! HE MISSED!

Morpheus: Harlequin rolled right out of the way! He's still laughing but he has to learn that going up against Jaro is no laughing matter!

Larsen: Sweep of the legs sends Jaro to the ground back first! Harlequin is quick to get up, he grabs the chair! OH LORD! STRAIGHT SHOT TO JARO'S FACE! ANOTHER SHOT! AND ANOTHER! JARO IS BUSTED WIDE OPEN FROM THREE STRAIGHT SHOTS TO THE FACE!

Morpheus: Oh dammit, I can't believe this. You don't hit the boss like that and expect not to get away with it, do you?

Larsen: Harlequin is searching under the ring! He lifts out a trash can and tosses it into the ring! He pulls out- he pulls out a ladder! HE BLASTS JARO WITH THE LADDER! JESUS!

Morpheus: I dont think Jesus wants any part of this match.

Larsen: Harlequin pulls out a table and sets it up! He slides Jaro into the ring, followed by that ladder! Jaro is trying to pull himself up with the ropes but Harlequin throws the ladder like a javelin! Jaro goes down again!

Morpheus: This isn't looking good for the boss. His face and hair are crimson. I dont think I've ever seen that much blood...

Larsen: Harlequin lifts Jaro and whips him into the corner! Harlequin mounts the turnbuckles and holds his fist high! He's punching that cut on Jaro's head open even more! This is disgusting!

Crowd: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX!

Larsen: WAIT! LOOK!

Morpheus: BRILLIANT! GO BOSS!

Larsen: JARO HEADBUTTS HARLEQUIN'S CROTCH! HE HOLDS HIM HIGH! JARO RUNS FORWARD, POWERBOMB ONTO THE TRASH CAN! HARLEQUIN WRITHES IN PAIN!

Morpheus: He's either in pain or he's laughing again, I cant really tell.

Larsen: Jaro is up first! He lays the boots to Harlequin before he picks up the ladder! Jaro hits Harlequin with that ladder before setting it up in the corner! Jaro lifts Harlequin, WHIP INTO THE LADDER!

Morpheus: Excellent! This could be the turning point for the boss here. A triumphant return!

Larsen: Jaro charges, NO! HARLEQUIN MOVES AND JARO GOES FACE FIRST INTO THE LADDER!

Morpheus: Oh damn!

Larsen: Jaro falls back! Harlequin goes to lift him, NO! JARO FIGHTS BACK! RIGHTS AND LEFTS TO HARLEQUIN'S GUT!

Morpheus: FIGHT BACK BOSS!

Larsen: Jaro with a huge swing, HE MISSED! NO! HARLEQUIN WITH THE PALE RIDER! HARLEQUIN WITH THE PALE RIDER! HE STUMBLES OVER TO COVER, ONE, TWO, NO! JARO KICKS OUT!

Morpheus: It's gonna take more to stop Jaro than that, Larsen!

Larsen: Jaro has lost a lot of blood though, who knows what effect that will have. Harlequin is rolling outside of the ring now. He's looking for something else, isn't there enough crap out here?

Morpheus: What the hell? He's got a box. Whats in that damn box?

Larsen: Harlequin opens the box and- OH MY! HARLEQUIN HAS A BULLWHIP IN HIS HANDS!

Morpheus: Oh come on! Thats gotta be cheating!

Larsen: Harlequin slides in the ring and chokes Jaro with that bullwhip! The blood is pouring from that cut on Jaro's head! His hair is dripping red!

Morpheus: This is bad.

Larsen: Harlequin lets go of the choke and unfolds the whip! My god, that thing has to be six inches thick! Don't do it Harlequin!

Morpheus: THIS MAN HAS A FAMILY TO THINK ABOUT AND HARELQUIN DOESNT EVEN CARE!

Larsen: Its not like Jaro cares much either.

Morpheus: Lies. He's a family man.

Larsen: Harlequin winds up, MY GOD! HE NAILS JARO WITH THE WHIP! LOOK AT THE GASH IN HIS BACK! HE WHIPS HIM AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN! JAROS BACK IS TORN UP! LISTEN TO HIS SCREAMS, MY GOD!

Morpheus: This is sickening. This is so sickening. I never thought I'd agree with Larsen here, but someone needs to stop this match.

Larsen: Harlequin rolls Jaro over! Pin! One, Two, NO! JARO GRABS THE ROPES!

Morpheus: This is insane. These two are putting each other through hell, and I can't say that I'm enjoying it.

Larsen: Harlequin slides out of the ring, what is he going for now!? Isn't there enough in this match?

Morpheus: These men are going to do whatever it takes. Their reputations are at stake!

Larsen: OH LORD! HARLEQUIN HAS A ROLL OF BARBED WIRE!

Morpheus: Oh dammit.

Larsen: Harlequin wraps it around his leg! He climbs to the top, FLYING LEG DROP ON JARO! OH MY GOD! RIGHT TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! COVER! ONE, TWO, NO! JARO GRABS THE ROPES AGAIN!

Morpheus: Jaro, you've proven you still got it, please just give up...

Larsen: Jaro refuses to give up!

Morpheus: The heart of a champion, Larsen!

Larsen: As of this moment, that may be. Harlequin is up, he hobbles over to the corner, wincing inbetween laughter as he removes that barbed wire from his leg! LOOK AT THIS!

Morpheus: What goes around comes around!

Larsen: JARO IS UP WITH THE WHIP! HE NAILS HARLEQUIN IN THE BACK! HE HITS HIM AGAIN! Jaro charges forward and wraps the rope around Harlequin's neck! NO! JARO YOU CANT DO THAT TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!

Morpheus: This match is pushing both men to their extremes, Larsen. He might have to do it-

Larsen: NO! JARO THROWS HARLEQUIN OVER THE TOP ROPE! HE IS STRANGLING HIM WITH THAT WHIP! NOT LIKE THIS, JARO! THATS ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!

Morpheus: Harlequin is begining to bleed profusely from the head now, this could be the edge Jaro needs!

Larsen: Harlequin is kicking to try and get out! Jaro finally lets go! He's going outside. What is he doing now?!

Morpheus: Oh man, thats sick.

Larsen: JARO JUST WROTE DIE ON HIS CHEST IN HARLEQUINS BLOOD! THESE MEN ARE TWISTED! WORDS DONT BEGIN TO DESCRIBE THE INSANITY!

Morpheus: Twisted is a pretty good word for an understatement.

Larsen: Jaro looking under the ring now! Dont tell me he-

Morpheus: YES! YES!

Larsen: BANHAMMER! JARO HAS THE BAN HAMMER! He slides Harlequin in the ring! Jaro lands a White Russian Legsweep with the banhammer assist! Both men are down!

The ref begins a count.

ONE!

TWO!

Larsen: This could be the end of the match! Jaro just crushed Harlequin's throat but who knows what that bloodloss has done to Jaro! He is practically laying in a pool of his own blood!

Morpheus: This has been the most extreme match I've ever seen...

THREE!

FOUR!

Larsen: LOOK! JARO IS THE FIRST TO GET UP! HE SETS UP HARLEQUIN FOR A POWERBOMB, NO! REVERSAL!

Morpheus: I cant believe he had that left in him!

Larsen: Harlequin sits on Jaro's chest! One, Two, NO! Jaro pulls Harlequin back with his legs into his own pin! One, Two, NO! Harlequin rolls out and pins Jaro! One, NO! Jaro flips Harlequin! One, Two, NO! Harlequin rolls over, One, Two, NO! Jaro just kicks out! Listen to these fans applaud!

Morpheus: Near fall after near fall, these men are going to do whatever it takes, Larsen!

Larsen: What is going on? Harlequin is staggering up, he grabs the ladder AND BLASTS JARO WITH IT! He has to be out!

Morpheus: Things look bad for the boss.

Larsen: Harlequin is setting up the ladder! He's beginning his slow climb!

Morpheus: He's looking for the match ender, Larsen. This could be it!

Larsen: Harlequin is at the top of the ladder after his slow climb! He stands and, OH MY GOD! JARO IS UP! HE SWINGS THE BANHAMMER AT THE BASE OF THE LADDER! THE LEGS COLLAPSE AND HARLEQUIN IS FREEFAILLING FORWARD! HE FALLS TO THE OUTSIDE THROUGH THE TABLE! OH MY GOD!

Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Morpheus: The crowd says it all Larsen! This is unbelievable!

Larsen: JARO STUMBLES OVER TO THE ROPES! HE SLIDES OUT OF THE RING, COVER! ONE, TWO, THREE! ITS OVER! THANK GOD!

Jaro (8.6 aps + 1.4 avs = 10.0 total)
Harlequin (8.5 aps + 1.3 avs = 9.8 total)

Cherry: Here is your winner, JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAROOOOOO!

As Jaro is helped to his feet Forever by As I Lay Dieing blasts through the PA system and General Manager Celeste exits the curtain, mic in hand.

Celeste: Wow, Jason. Thats quite the comeback win there. Truly you earned it. But, how am I supposed to cap off such a momentus win? Oh, I know, by making an announcement of one of the biggest matches in FMW histoy, scheduled for Ultimatum!

Larsen: What?

Morpheus: Wont this bitch leave Jaro alone! All she tries to do is ruin his life!

Celeste: So, at Ultimatum, it will be Jaro versus Drew Michaels... versus Harlequin in a triple threat match! There will be two falls to a finish. The first fall will be for the C-4 Championship and the second fall will be for the Ultraviolent Championship!

Larsen: OH MY! WHAT AN ANNOUNCMEENT! THIS IS GOING TO BE EPIC!

Morpheus: THAT BITCH IS STACKING THE ODDS AGAINST HIM AGAIN!

Celeste smiles as she exits the curtain while Jaro stares bullets into her. As he hobbles towards the ramp, he is immediately blindsided by a hooded assailant.

Larsen: What the hell!? Who is that!?

The man's hood falls off, revealing him to be HavOc member O'Rion. He shoves Jaro into the side of the ring and calls out. Two men hop the railing and take off their hoodies, revealing themselves to be Hannibal Frost and Jack Eastwood

Larsen:WHAT THE HELL!? HAVOC IS ASSAULTING JARO!

Morpheus: Wont someone save him!? What the hell!

Larsen: Nobody is going to forget what Jaro did to them! Nobody will come to save him!

As the trio continue their beatdown of the former CEO, Harlequin pulls himself to his feet and into the ring. He charges forward and splits the group, sitting on Jaro's chest and strangling him.

Larsen: HARLEQUIN IS COMING IN FOR GOOD MEASURE!

Morpheus: THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!

Larsen: Jaro is damn near unconscious and nobody is going to save him! You reap what you sew, Jaro!

Morpheus: The fact that you don't hate this proves you have no soul!

Harlequin grabs the Ultraviolent title and drapes it over Jaro's prone body. He laughs histerically as he plants a kiss on his cheek and exits the ring, followed in tow by the other members of HavOc

Larsen: Someone call the EMTS.

Morpheus: Is there a doctor here!? Someone get this man help!

Larsen: I hate to say it, but I think HavOc might have sunk lower than they ever have tonight! I'm Larsen and for my broadcast partener Morpheus, thanks for watching Anarchy. Now someone please help this man!

The camera focuses in on a barely breathing Jaro laying in his own blood before fade to black.