WFWF Presents "Dark Matter" - Results!

A burly man walks out onto stage with a mic.


The burly man: My name is Wilbur Richardson. I am here to take over the WFWF and bring us back to the days of old. The days of chivalry and being a real man.


He discards the mic and continues his entrance. Wilbur Richardson makes his way to the ring to the the sound of the crowd booing, as he refuses entrance music.


Mike Jette makes his way out to “Fire Away” as the fans cheer with excitement. His entrance continues accordingly.


“In The Stars” starts to play and Zoe Schaefer makes her way to the ring as the fans give her a good reaction. Her entrance continues accordingly.


The crowd goes quiet as “Sensation Temptation” starts to play. They have never heard this theme before. We see chickens coming out onto the entrance way, followed by hookers riding on donkeys. Then, a strange short man makes his way out with a mic. The music stops and the short man starts to talk.


The short man: Good evening all, my name is Dr. Toboggan, MANTIS Toboggan. I am here to treat all of you and for the ladies looking directly at Zoe. It is time for all of you to watch my Virus Video and make me the star of this company.


He drops the mic down and continues his entrance. The fans are too confused to really react to Dr. Mantis Toboggan as the music comes back on and Toboggan finishes his entrance.


The match begins with Schaefer drop kicking Toboggan, followed by Richardson cheap shotting Jette.Toboggan and Schaefer continue to scuttle around the ring until the ref separates them. Schaefer approaches Toboggan and tries to bring him to his feet. Toboggan, having been playing opossum, sweeps her leg out from under her. As Schaefer gets back to her feet, Toboggan charges her with a Battering Ram headbutt, knocking her through the ropes to the outside. Toboggan goes back to playing possum.


Meanwhile, on the other side of the ring, Richardson has been working over Jette. He hits Jette with a Neckbreaker and goes for the pin.
1
2
Kickout


After Jette gets back up to his feet, he is launched into the turnbuckle and gets hit with the Final Drag.Richardson now stalks Jette as he gets back to his feet. Richardson gets Jette set up for the Smoke Break, but Jette grabs the ropes, stopping Richardson from performing the move. Jette then starts kneeing Richardson to release the hold. Richardson lets Jette go. Jette springboards off the second rope and tries to hit his rolling savate, but Richardson ducks. Richardson then runs the ropes and lands a Big Boot. Richardson then gets Jette in position to hit a powerbomb, but Toboggan sneaks up from behind him and throws sand in Richardson’s face, which he got from his pockets. With Richardson blinded, Toboggan kicks him low and proceeds to hit a Stump Puller Piledriver. Richardson slides out of the ring.


With Richardson and Schaefer now on the outside, the ring is left to Toboggan and Jette. Toboggan nails Jette with a DDT and goes for a cover.
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2
Kickout! Toboggan now pulls out a condom and puts it over his hand. Schaefer jumps back onto the Apron and Springboards at Toboggan, but Toboggan sees her coming and counters with the Monster Condom throat thrust as Shaefer launches herself. Schaefer rolls back out of the ring. Toboggan sets his sights back on Jette. Jette makes it back to his feet to be met with Toboggan’s Condom Claw. But right after the submission is locked in, Richardson makes way back into the ring with a chair and starts unloading on Toboggan. Richardson then rips the condom off Toboggan’s hand and stuffs it in Toboggan’s mouth. Toboggan rolls out of the ring.


Richardson now goes to work on Jette. Richardson places him in a half crab. Not long after, Schaefer makes her way back into the ring and hits Richardson with an Enziguri. Now Schaefer and Jette start to team up against Richardson. They get him up and hit him with a double suplex and follow up with hitting him with multiple kick combinations. Jette and Schaefer now go at it with each other with Richardson out of the equation for the moment. Schaefer goes for a gut kick, but gets caught. She then tries to counter with a Dragon Whip, but Jette dodges and lifts her up for a Bridging Deadlift German Suplex.
1
2
Kickout


As he makes it back to his feet, a trash can comes flying at the back of his head and neck from outside the ring and connects. Toboggan has “transformed” into the Trash Man following the torn condom be placed in his mouth. Trash Man now makes his way into the ring. Trash Man now takes Jette and delivers a Tombstone Piledriver onto the chair.
1
2
Richardson pulls Jette out of the ring


Richardson makes his way back into the ring. Trash Man goes for a Running Clothesline, but Richardson doesn’t leave his feet. Trash Man goes for another, but is met with a gnarly Big Boot from Richardson. Richardson then kicks Trash Man out of the ring. Out of nowhere, Schaefer gets up and hits Richardson with the Schaefer Special rolling elbow to the back of Richardson’s head. This knocks him into the ropes. As he rebounds back however he catches Schaefer and connects with the Smoke Break!
1
2
3
Richardson is the winner!!!!!!


Alecia Matthews: A huge win for the debuting Wilbur Richardson, that’s how you make an impression here in the WFWF.


Daniel Knight: And what a commentary job we did Alecia, easily our best stuff. Really hope the microphones were working throughout.


Alecia Matthews: Well of course they were, what kind of match would we have that didn’t have commentary?


Daniel Knight: A red one, that’s what.


Alecia Matthews: And now, recent signee Quenton Alexander requested some time backstage on his own to share his thoughts on his upcoming debut tonight. Here's that clip.


Quenton Alexander: Tonight, begins a journey that honestly, took a journey on its own just to get here. If you had told me a chubby Black kid from the Southside would go from swinging on the creaking swingset in a dilapidated playground across the alley from his house, to the Centre Bell of all places debuting in his first match in the WFWF, I've would've ran home and had the cops called because why the hell are you talking to a little kid in a park, hashtag stranger danger? Not to mention, my first time in Canada. People say I needed to worry about the cold, but shoot, around this time, 'bout as cold as Chicago. No big deal.


But all jokes aside, I'm not gonna lie to you; I'm nervous as all hell. I don't deny my skill. I don't deny the potential everyone says I have. After all, in an industry like this, you need a little bit of an ego on you. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to take any of my opponents for granted. Especially not tonight. Coming up, I have Brandon Bison, a guy who's trying to make something of a name himself. I'm looking for a scrap, and from the looks of it, we gon' get one! I look forward to all our wars if we each have our way.


Know this, and this isn't just for Bison, but for all of the locker room. I'm not looking to make a statement, I'm *going* to make one. My name is Quenton Alexander. And you will make time for me.

Christa Adina: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome at this time the head booker of the WFWF - Lila Sleater!


Lila Sleater emerges from behind the curtain to little fanfare, punctuated by her match to the ring going unaccompanied by the usual herald of a defining entrance theme. She makes her way down the ramp pointedly and walking with a distinct air of confidence and purpose - for all that may be said of her nature or her character, Sleater is, tonight, the consummate professional, boasting no swagger or arrogance as she ascends the steel ring steps, entering the ring beneath the second rope and crossing the mat toward the media outpost, where a ring hand is dutifully waiting to hand over a microphone. Once situated, she pauses a moment to evaluate the crowd, piqued with interest at what she may be here to address, before tossing her hair back only just and raising the mic.


Lila Sleater: Thank you, Christa, and thank all of you for joining us here tonight. We've already witnessed the tides of change rolling in, as we all learned earlier this evening of the coming unification of the National and International Championship titles to be enacted in a winner take all match at Black Hole Sun, live on pay-per-view. While one man will walk out of Boston the undisputed bearer of the unified International Championship, it would do a disservice to the champion and disservice to all of you to allow complacency to take hold, especially in light of what is bound to be an even more highly sought after title, and so in the spirit of reorganization, it would seem only fitting to name a new number one contender to the International Championship. There are some who will question the motives in naming an outright contender. To them, I say that the bar has been raised. Titles are not up for grabs to satisfy all comers. Let this serve as a notice to everyone out back that the level of competition needed to take the next step going forward has just been significantly elevated.


As if on cue, the arena lights dim as sparkles of purple, pink, and baby blue settle around the entry way. Smoke fills the aisle as the shrill of L7's "Fast and Frightening" damn near rips the speakers in two!


Alecia Matthews: Now we're talking!


Daniel Knight: It would appear that the crowd here tonight shares the sentiment, Alecia.


Penny Shannon pushes herself through the entrance curtain, hooded up in her signature hoodie. She takes a moment to stand by the edge of the stage, pulling down her hood to reveal her pigtails as she kicks her feet and makes a mad rush down the aisle.


Slipping into the ring beneath the ropes, Penny charges past Lila and up the turnbuckle, raising her left arm into the air, holding up a single fist as she turns toward the hard camera, pointing to her own face and cursing her ass off as the music fades out.


Lila Sleater: Ladies and gentlemen, here she is - the NEW number one contender for the WFWF International Champion - Penny Shannon!!!"


The crowd erupts as Penny throws her arms up, never having quite left the turnbuckle now as the celebrates with the adoring crowd at the official announcement of her contendership.


Lila Sleater: In many ways, folks, the road to SuperBrawl has just met its starting point, right here in Quebec! Ms. Shannon here, with this announcement, is THE first official lock for the WFWF's hallmark event, where she will take on the winner of the title unification match coming out of the Black Hole Sun pay-per-view event! Let this not be just a notice to Ms. Shannon's peers in the back, but an incentive - there are rewards to be reaped for a continued show of tenacity. The WFWF finds itself on the verge of a very precarious time, and Ms. Shannon has proven herself, without question, to be a staple on the WFWF roster, dedicated to her craft, and is a clear cut, nearly unparalleled choice to usher in a new era of the International Championship as - "


Sleater is cut off as the house lights fall dark once more, bathing the arena now in a kelly green hue. She makes to speak again, perhaps to question just what the hell is going on, when she's interrupted once more by a frantic, high frequency guitar lick.


Daniel Knight: We have GOT to do something about this - every time someone tries making a point in this industry, our production crew gets conned into orchestrating an interruption.


Alecia Matthews: But on who's behalf? I don't recognize this music...


Above the stage, a time lapse video of a city skyline flashes by, almost in time with the pace of the music, now being accompanied by a steady guitar riff. As the music builds to a crescendoed peak, the city skyline fades, and in its place, two grayscale fists of tattooed knuckles come together in its place, the word "SKINHEAD" spelled out across the forefront of the two closed fists.


Daniel Knight: Oh, no...


Alecia Matthews: Dammit, not him, come on...


The familiar image brings the crowd to their feet in a momentous uproar - it's funny how they'll cheer for a returning face, even if it's one they've been conditioned to abhor, isn't it? "Hail to the King" takes off on all cylinders now, and an explosive pop of showering sparks erupts from the stage as David Brennan himself swaggers out into full view, virtually unchanged from the viewer's most stark memory of the WFWF's resident drunken bastard - closely cropped dome, haggard, stubbled face, and a signature, half filled bottle of Tennessee's finest dangling from his right hand.


Alecia Matthews: Whose idiot idea is it to keep bringing this guy back?


David pauses atop the stage as his music fades. He swigs from his handle of whiskey, slowly spreading his arms wide, as if to embrace the mixed welcome he's receiving in full clarity now from the sold out crowd, the arrogant smirk that's just as token as his bottle of liquor never once fading for even a moment from his face. He basks absent-mindedly as the lights come back up, paying no mind to the women hurriedly discussing this unforeseen swerve in the ring.


Lila Sleater: David, we wer-


David Brennan: Hi Lila.


Lila Sleater: Excuse me, David. Penny and I wer-


David Brennan: Lila, if you don't mind - I was talking.


The crowd pops in excitement over Brennan's downright rude disregard for Lila's authority or her having the floor, which doesn't make much sense 'cause Brennan's a real piece of sh*t, but I guess you've gotta give it a day or two when dealing with those who've been MIA for so long. In the ring, Sleater is clearly frustrated with David's lack of respect, and Penny is blatantly egging her on to confront it, but all the same, she remains agitatedly restrained in the face of interruption.


David Brennan: I can continue then? That's alright with you? Good. Well, then - first off, I suppose congratulations are in order. Penny Shannon, everybody - THE irrefutable choice to stand in wait as the top contender for the soon to be unified National and International Championships. Really, well done - bang up job there, Pen'.


David reluctantly sets down his bottle of Jack Daniels in order to free up one hand with which he leads the crowd in a rousing mockery of a round of applause. While Sleater exasperatedly rolls her eyes, wondering how much longer this is going to go on, Shannon's eyes narrow, staring daggers up the ramp toward the riotous vagrant who's just interrupted her moment. Not one to run on empty, Brennan quickly retrieves his crutch, slugging back another gulp before carrying on.


David Brennan: Now, my memory's not the greatest, I guess - he holds up the bottle, swilling around the murky brown contents - but, uhhh, what the f*ck did you do?


This is enough to irk the ire of the Velocity Grrrl, who points toward the scruffy ass jack wagon who's by now hijacked the show, shouting an inaudible list of what one could only assume are a hodge podge of legitimate accomplishments and not so thinly veiled insults directed at the lousy drunk. The crowd is, in turn, firmly planted at the back of Shannon at this point, taking none too kindly to Brennan's suggestion of a lame duck contender.


David Brennan: Are you people for real? And they say I'm sh*t faced...


Daniel Knight: Folks, we do apologize for...erm...Mr. Brennan's thoughts do not reflect the values of the...oh, for - does he have an off button?!


David Brennan: ...look, we've, uh...we've established that the faculties of my memory may not be entirely functional - he indicates the bottle again - and it's been a hell of a whole since I went and f*cked off outta here -


Penny Shannon: Like a b*tch!


David Brennan: - like a b*tch, yes, thank you Penny. Shut up. But - all that being said, and all the f*ckin' same, I can't really place you out much further than riding Scarlett Quinn's jock back when I cleared out some room for her to make a run, and uhhh, last I recall you were - what? Rolling joints with the likes of Josh Dean and Dave Deme - whatever the hell his name is now?


Penny nods in enthusiastic agreement, seemingly contended in her past with both Scarlett Quinn and the Saviors of Salvation


David Brennan: So, uh, I guess I reiterate - what the f*ck have you done?


Lila Sleater finally steps forward, now standing side by side with Penny Shannon, her frustration having reached its penultimate peak. Steadying herself using the forward most top rope, she lashes out.


Lila Sleater: David, Penny Shannon is a perfectly valid candidate for this title, and neither she nor I are under any obligation to explain ourselves to the likes of -


David Brennan: Lila, shut the f*ck up before you say something you wind up regretting.


Lila Sleater: Stop interrupting me!!


David Brennan: Nah, shut up, I'm talking here. Look - no one's arguing that Pen' here deserves a shot at whatever ham fisted title Trace went and came up with here. Alls I'm saying - shouldn't she f*ckin' earn it?


A mixed roar from the crowd indicates to all that while some are contended to simply see the Velocity Grrrl step up to take on the would be unified champion, David's claims are not without their supporters either. What a conundrum.


David Brennan: I mean, you didn't really think you were gonna come out here tonight in America's hat and talk all this sh*t about number one contenders, then make plans to roll through MY f*ckin' hometown and just not expect to hear about it? I mean - how long have you known me?


Lila Sleater: So what - you want to play matchmaker now, is that it David? Just what is it you're proposing?


David Brennan: Gotta spell out for you, huh? F*ck's sake - fine. What I'm proposing is we toss lil' Penny there right up on your pedestal, Lila. If she can roll into Boston, USA and get past me and my size 14 sh*t kickers, then right as f*ckin' rain, she's your number one contender. Then again, if she can't...


The crowd pops elatedly at the prospect of a Brennan/Shannon showdown. In the ring, Penny seems to share their enthusiasm, enthusiastically pointing back and forth between Brennan and herself, all the whole screaming in the ear of Lila Sleater, presumably citing her own willingness to step up to Brennan's challenge. Back on the stage, Brennan basks smugly in the crowds uproarious approval of his suggestion, seeming perfectly content with being, at least as far as his eyes can see, right.


Lila Sleater: That's what you want? That's what this is about? If we do this -


In what seems to be becoming a pattern this evening, Sleater is cut off once more, as the man she was just addressing is suddenly leveled, laid out from behind by a quick moving and heavy handed assailant.


Alecia Matthews: Ante Whitner!!!


Daniel Knight: It's about time someone shut that derelict up!


Alecia Matthews: Well, technically he interrupted Lila as well...


Daniel Knight: Who cares?! David Brennan stinks, and I don't like him!!!


Alecia Matthews: Decorum, Daniel...


Back up on the stage, Ante Whitner's chest heaves as he stands massively over the man he just leveled moments before. He reaches down with relative ease, hoisting the man up, and with a deafening crunch, tosses him aside like a piece of trash (he kind of is), sending him flying off the side of the stage in a heap. Regaining his composure, he reaches down once more, locking eyes with Sleater and Shannon in the ring as he moves, and retrieves Brennan's microphone, rising to an intimidating height as he surveys the women in the ring and the crowd, now at a fever pitch from all that has just transpired.


Ante Whitner: It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?


Shannon smirks as Sleater observes the scene. She turns to Shannon, amazed at Whitner’s sudden appearance. Whitner stands defiantly atop the stage, staring daggers down the ring toward the two women taking in his sudden reemergence.


Lila Sleater: Ante Whitner. Who do you think you-


As Whitner is about to address Sleater, Shannon steps in and pushes Sleater out of the way. Whitner’s and Shannon’s eyes lock, as they both breathe heavily and stare with anger.


Penny Shannon: It has been awhile, Ante.


Ante Whitner: It has, Penny.


Daniel Knight: While everyone has been fantasizing about the possible Brennan/Shannon showdown, the Whitner/Shannon rematch is still on the table!


Whitner breaks the stare as he pauses to finally look out into the fever pitch crowd. Whitner then casually allows his arms to drop to a rest at his side and awaits his tirade from Sleater.


Lila Sleater: Does this announcement have anything to do with you?! This is about Penny Shannon and the unification match, not you and Mr. Matchmaker - wherever the hell he landed!


Sleater gestures toward the right side of the stage, below which David Brennan presumably lies in a heap somewhere.


Whitner smirks as Sleater motions to order security to escort the second interruption of the past five minutes out of the building.

Daniel Knight: Sleater is looking to regain some sort of order.


Ante Whitner: No, I ain't going anywhere.


Lila Sleater: I’m sorry, but who’s in charge around here, me or you?!


Penny Shannon: Trace is, actually.


Whitner breaks the hold of the guards and casually steps away a bit, aimlessly kicking Brennan's Jack Daniels bottle off the side of the stage, laughing at what we can only assume is a mess of a human being down below.


Ante Whitner: So, this is how a unification match is gonna go down? A drunken bastard, returning from his rotten grave, going up against a lesbian badass, who has literally done nothing to get to this point? It’s a good match, Lila, don’t get me wrong. But, there is something extremely off here. It’s lacking the zest of a true champion.


Alecia Matthews: Oh no.


Lila Sleater: A Whitner/Brennan/Shannon showdown? Is this what you want Ante?


The crowd pops as Shannon’s eyes widen, her mouth beginning to fire off, seemingly without filter toward Sleater. Sleater seemingly ignores Shannon's pleas, until she interrupts, again.


Penny Shannon: Now wait just a god damn minute! I have no clue who this blonde-haired, blue eyed, f*cktard thinks he is. But if he wants to -


Lila Sleater: It’s my turn to speak, Penny... We have an excellent opportunity here, folks. Ante Whitner, David Brennan, Penny Shannon. Three gladiators enter the pit for one prize; a shot at the reborn International Championship. We are entering a new era in the WFWF and this is what will pioneer it.


The crowd begins to chant “triple threat” as the four figures in the ring gaze around the arena. As the various “triple threat” chants begin to subside, the chants turn into “SuperBrawl”.


Lila Sleater: I am making it official, here tonight! You three - assuming David can hear me down there - will clash in a triple threat match at Black Hole Sun for the #1 contender’s spot in the International Championship match at SuperBrawl! If we are truly on the road to SuperBrawl, it is best to fill the potholes and prepare for a tumultuous, turbulent, and excruciating ride ahead. This is the personification of the past, present, and future of this company. You will prove your strength and your might as we move toward the uncertain future.


The crowd roars as the “SuperBrawl” chants get louder and louder. Whitner, Shannon, and Sleater smirk at the exhilarated crowd, while Brennan presumably ambles off into the distance, out of sight.


Daniel Knight: What a huge match! So much is on the line, and I love it.

The words “I’m a mother f*cking BEAST!” blares through the arena as Beast by Rob Bailey and the Hustle Standard hits.


Alecia Matthews: And here's the main event...and this could get very ugly, very fast.


Daniel Knight: A lot of bad blood is going to be in this ring for this match...and apparently around it.


Lucas Crowe makes his way from behind the curtain, followed closely by Justin Tyme. There are massive amounts of boos coming from the crowd as the big man and his one man entourage saunters his way down the ramp.


Christa Adina: The following match is scheduled for one fall! First, accompanied by Justin Tyme, he is the WFWF National Champion, he is Lucas CROOOOOOOWE!


Crowe gets to the ring and climbs up and over the top rope. He paces inside the ring a bit before facing the camera side and raises his fist. BOO THIS MAN.


"Edge of a Revolution" by Nickelback hits the PA system and the crowd loses it as the stage is dark with a figure crawling along under a dim spotlight. The figure kips up and the lights kick on and on the stage isn't who's supposed to be there.


Alecia Matthews: ...Sam?


Ahriman has a mic from the sound booth.


Samael Ahriman: How do you like unexpected surprises, jackoffs?


Alecia Matthews: The h...AHAHAHAHA. TURN ABOUT.


Crowe and Tyme are looking up at Sam on the stage when from out of the crowd comes Trevor Wolf. He slides into the ring, grabbing a steel chair on his way and he cracks Lucas Crowe repeatedly in the back, driving the chair into the spine of the champion. Justin Tyme rolls into the ring and Ahriman books it from the stage to the ring, tackling Tyme before he can lay a hand on Trevor, tossing the former International Champion out of the ring. Wolf takes one last wack at Crowe, then he sets up the chair near the ropes, allowing Sam to jump over Crowe, onto the chair, onto the ropes and corkscrew moonsault off of the rope to the outside onto Tyme!


Alecia Matthews: Sneak attack mimicking what Drakz and Demon pulled last week on Sam and Wolf. Fantastic!


Daniel Knight: Has the match even begun yet?


The ref is checking on Crowe, who is seemingly down for the count. He begins to wave off the match when in a motion the champ gets to a knee and gives a nasty low blow to Wolf, who falls to his knees. The crowd abhores this motion. Heelish move by the face, cheered. Heelish move by the heel, booed. Crowd on fleek. Yes. That's officially in a WFWF match. The ref kicks the chair out of the ring and pulls Trevor Wolf to one corner and stands in between him and Crowe who is starting to get his bearings. He asks both men if they still want to have the match, both agreem and the ref reluctantly rings the bell.


DING DING DING!


Alecia Matthews: Now you have your match. Happy?


Crowe starts out the match by going to Wolf's corner, grabbing him with one hand by the throat and throwing straight, stiff punches to the very outsized and overpowered Wolf. The ref breaks it up, warning Crowe that he'll be disqualified. Crowe keeps blasting away until the reff shoves Crowe away from Wolf. The champ stutter steps the ref, causing the ref to back up quickly and almost fall to the mat. Attention back on Wolf, he goes for the same method of attack and charges the corner, but Wolf ducks out through the middle rope, Crowe's sternum hitting the top turnbuckle hard. Using his momentum, Wolf holds onto the top rope and, while between the top and middle, flips backwards and catches Lucas in the middle of his back with his boots. The champion staggers backwards as Wolf leaves the ring entirely and climbs to the top rope and goes for a cross body!


Alecia Matthews: Uh oh.


Daniel Knight: Bad idea.


Well, they're not wrong. Crowe catches Wolf, and without even as much as a wince of pain, bends forward then leans back, tossing Trevor Wolf clear across the ring with a fallaway slam. Trevor rolls into the corner, out of it like crazy. Crowe grabs the opposite corner ropes and shakes them and stomps his feet, the crowd booing ridiculously at this point. He releases the ropes and runs at Wolf and squashes him with a cannonball senton. Lucas picks up Wolf and tosses him into the ropes and drops him with a discus clothesline. Cover.


... 1 ...


... 2 ...


...


Wolf gets a shoulder up at two! Crowe is shouting at the ref. On the outside, Tyme has recovered from being rightfully ambushed and telling Crowe to calm himself. On the other end of the ring, Sam is also up and shouting at Tyme to shut his inappropriate word-ing mouth and starts chanting for Wolf. Crowe picks Wolf up from the mat again and tosses him into the ropes but this time on the rebound pops him up for a powerbomb but Wolf locks his ankles and hurricuranna's Crowe into the ropes. Dizzy, Wolf runs the ropes and grips the top and middle, swinging his body through and kicking Crowe dead in the face with a Tiger feint kick. Trevor hops onto the top rope and leaps off, pulling his legs back and getting great height, grabbing his leg before releasing for the springboard legdrop across the champion's throat.


Sam yells for Wolf to not let up the assault, while Tyme returns Sam's original bullets, obscenities that are going to be coming out of Demon's pocket. Trevor is now on his feet and starts stomping on every visible part of Crowe, focusing heavily on the lower body that he injured earlier, and the face that was injured by Cameron Stone last week. Crowe gets his face washed with the soles of each of Wolf's boots. Finally Crowe grabs the bottom of a boot and pulls the other leg of Wolf down, Wolf able to rol out of the way before Lucas could mount an assault. Wolf looks out at Sam, who nods his head and gives him a wink as he places his head in his hands and smiles.


Daniel Knight: What are these two planning?


Alecia Matthews: Knowing Sam, something to completely throw Crowe.


Hot from the last exchange, Crowe goes for another hard clothesline but Wolf bends to the side and tosses Crowe by his arm up and over to the mat!


Daniel Knight: What the hell did I just see?


Alecia Matthews: Something that completely threw Crowe. Martial arts one o one. Use your oponent's momentum against them. you just saw a 5'9" 170 pound soaking wet kid make a 6'10" 300 plus guy go flying.


Crowe is on his feet and, in a much more guarded position throws a stiff punch which Crowe blocks to the side and reaches high, slapping Crowe on the cheek and backing away. The National Champion goes for another strike, which Wolf bows out of, kicks Crowe in the shin and catches him in the chin with a spinning open handed backhand slap.


Alecia Matthews: Wolf keeping his pimp hand strong.


Daniel Knight: What's the point in this? He's purposely not doing any real damage to him after the initial sting. It's just going to make the big man angry.


Alecia Matthews: You're catching on.


Daniel Knight: Why on earth would Wolf want to make Crowe even madder than he already is?


Alecia Matthews: Force a mistake.


Absolutely enraged, Crowe tries spearing Wolf, who simply rolls over Lucas's back and literally kicks him in the ass. Crowe turns around and is kicked in the gut and Trevor Wolf starts going HAM on the Motor City Mercenary, a wild flurry of incredibly stiff kicks and punches to the side, chest and head of Crowe, the big guy completely vulnerable for he first time since the opening bell. Having complete control of the flow of the match, WOLF Irish Whips CROWE and...well...


Alecia Matthews: THE FINAL HOWL! WOLF HITS THE FINAL HOWL! THE CHAMPION'S DONE!


COVER!


... 1 ...


... 2 ...


...


In the longest 2-3 count in history, Crowe BARELY kicks out. Sam hangs his head and on the inside of the ring, Wolf is on his knees begging the ref to explain that count. It just felt too long, but it was a true two count. Sam shouts for Wolf to not give up but at this point Wolf is already up on his feet ready to try another attempt at The Final Howl. Tyme starts freaking out on his side of the outside.


Alecia Matthews: The hell is Tyme go....NO NOT AGAIN.


It was a calling card, as from out of the crowd come The Wreckers and the barricade is lept and they pounce on Samael, beating the living hell out of him, the former National Champion trying to fend off the relentless assault. Wolf notices this and gets away from Crowe and begins a launch out to attack The Wreckers but before he can leap, Crowe is up, turns him around and drops Wolf with the Crowe's Nest. Cover.


... 1 ...


... 2 ...


... 3 ...


DING DING DING!


Christa Adina: Here is your winner, LUUUUUUUUUCAAAAAAS CROOOOOOOOOOOOOWE!


But not a single person in the arena could hear Christa's announcement, the boos so loud. Tyme and Crowe are now on the outside with The Wreckers and they're beating the sh*t out of the number one contender, a 4-1 asault, something not even Sam can bypass. Ahriman tries to get away from them by rolling into the ring and it somewhat works. He tries pulling Wolf to the other side of the ring. The group now enters, Sam unable to successfully get the out of it Wolf to safety. Both Wreckers have a steel chair in hand; both raising them in the air, Ahriman rolling himself on top of Wolf to shield him from the attack.


Alecia Matthews: NO! SOMEONE HELP HIM!


On cue, just as the chairs are about to slam down, "In the City" by Kevin Rudolph blasts through the PA system and the crowd loses it, coming from behind the curtain and making a b-line for the ring are the WFWF International Champion Cameron Stone, infamous barbed wire hockey stick from the Untraviolent Playground match in hand, and Dean with a Singapore Cane. The two roll into the ring and start going to town. Wrecker One, down. Wrecker Two, eat wire. Crowe tackles his Black Hole Sun opponent and the two roll out of the ring and start brawling. That leaves Justin Tyme alone in the ring with Josh Dean, who points the kendo stick at him then points behind him and motions for him to come forward.


Hobbling, Samael Ahriman has his Sakabato in hand, unsheathing it and tossing the protective case to the side, revealing the blade. He flips the hilt and suddenly the reverse blade is fully ready to slice through someone. Dean tries talking Samael down not expecting THIS extreme action to pour out of him. Sam puts a hand on Dean's chest; quickly shoving him into the ropes as he flips the hilt back around and drops to a low stance, striking Tyme with the dull end in the side of the head and blasts a surprisingly up Wrecker below the belt with a super elbow, the Wrecker and Tyme falling to the mat in unison; the camera panning in on Samael.


Daniel Knight: Jesus Christ is he really a samurai?


Alecia Matthews: He's probably one of the greatest martial artists you'll ever see, known before he even got here.


Daniel Knight: Dean's not a slouch either.


Alecia Matthews: Nope. This is a fight everyone would love to see one on one, no inte....DOES NO ONE WATCH THE F*CKING SIDES?!?!


"Seizure of Power" hits and the fans are very, very angry. Trace Demon bolts down to the ring from the stage as Drakz makes his way into the ring from behind. Demon is facing Sam, Drakz, title in hand, is facing Dean. Sam and Josh, back to back are talking to one another hushed. It gets worse as Crowe rolls into the ring, having temporarily downed Cameron Stone; and Justin Tyme is up against the ropes.


Daniel Knight: This is bad. Very, very bad. They're cornered.


Alecia Matthews: Demon and his bitches, goddammit. Sam and Josh aren't making it to Black Hole Sun.


Sam and Josh swap sides quickly and charge their respective PPV opponents, swinging their weapons for the fences hoping to connect with just about anything that moves that isn't one of them. Trace takes some hard wacks, gonna bruise in the morning, but he starts slugging it with Dean, throwing wild punches. On the other side, Drakz is side stepping straight out stabbing attempts from Ahriman, who's flipped the hilt and is intent on making sure the WFWF Champion is somehow mamed.


Realizing the underdogs are getting the upper hand, Crowe and Tyme start to intervene when Cameron Stone rolls into the ring and drops Lucas Crowe with the Set In Stone! Before Tyme can get involved, Trevor Wolf takes him out with the The Final Howl! Demon gets cracked in the head by Dean, who wraps the kendo stick around his throat and flips him up and over the top rope! Ahriman tosses the sword at Drakz, who dodges and attempts Needle Damage, which Sam gets out of and shoves Drakz into the ropes and on the rebound clocks him good with the 19:15!


The crowd chants MALAKAI!


Drakz rolls out of the ring, backing into one of the Wreckers, whom he shoves out of the way.


Daniel Knight: YEAH. RUN WITH YOUR TAILS BETWEEN YOUR LEGS. DON'T LIKE THE NUMBERS GAME.


"Punk Rock Song" by Bad Religion blasts through the PA. From behind the curtain comes the ever lovely Lila Sleater, mic in hand.


Alecia Matthews: Hey look, someone finally gave her a theme.


Lila Sleater: You know, you're all f*cking lunatics, right? Enough is e-f*cking nuff. We've had...what...four ambushes in the last half hour? People brandishing barbed wire, steel chairs, swords...you all are like caged animals.


Daniel Knight: A VOICE OF REASON!


Lila Sleater: ...actually, you know what? That doesn't sound like a half bad idea. Putting you all in a cage.


Daniel Knight: My mistake.


Lila Sleater: Josh Dean, you will be locked inside of a steel cage with Trace Demon. No rules. No disqualifications. Just beat your opponent so bad you, somehow, win.


Demon turns around to face Sleater and is SO RED in the face it's ridiulous. Drakz is backing Demon in his complaining about the match.


Lila Sleater: Oh, Mr. Isaac Cray, Drakz, don't think you've been forgotten about my lovely friend. Your payment for abusing the authority Trace Demon had no true right to give you to begin with You too will be locked inside of a steel cage. With Samael Ahriman. For the WFWF Championship.


Justin Tyme's now speaking his mind, Drakz stepping in front of him making sure his complaint is center stage.


Lila Sleater: Bitch and moan all you want, Drakz. You've bitten the apple and now it's time for you to choke on it. Because unlike Trace and Josh, you and Sam...there's a caveat. NO ESCAPE. You win by pinfall or submission. If you so much as touch a finger to the floor before one of you is pinned; either of you, you will immediately lose. Sam will forfeit any claim to the WFWF Championship. And Drakz, if you try any trickery yourself, getting out of the cage, Samael Ahriman will be declared WFWF Grand Slam Champion because YOU WILL LOSE YOUR TITLE. Speaking of which...


Lila points to the ring and inside, the most unusual alliance in WFWF history is standing tall. Trevor Wolf. Cameron Stone. Josh Dean. Samael Ahriman. Dean, however, has gotten his hands on Drakz's WFWF Championship; something he's felt robbed of for weeks. Sam takes a look at Dean, both men staring at the WFWF Championship. Wolf and Stone position themselves to step in between in case yet another fight breaks out, but Sam and Josh both smile; Josh handing Samael the WFWF Championship and slapping him on the chest.


This is your time, bro. But I get next shot, Dean is heard saying with the boom mics.


"Make You Mine" by Modestep blasts through the PA system as Wolf, Stone, Dean and Ahriman all raise their hands up in the air; panning first to Wolf, then Stone and his International Championship; then to Josh Dean and we close the show with a closeup of Samael Ahriman raising the WFWF Championship high in the air.


With a little help from my friends, he shouts out on the zoom in, the Devil's smile on his face as he kisses the belt. Fade to black.