Down The Toilet

Confrontation had certainly lived up to its name and, judging by the quality of the card, particularly in the upper echelons, the post-PPV card this evening could be a continuation of the enthralling drama that transpired.

For the majority of men (and women) associated with No Brands Wrestling, this evening would be another day at work. Yet, just breezing into the arena was a new face, a handsome one, who oozed confidence without even uttering a word.

With his dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail, a black leather jacket without a top underneath to display his tanned and toned physique, silver shade and his bag hoisted over his shoulder, Ali Amore marked his entrance.

His smile lit the screen up, a few woman were already won over by his youthful appearance and swagger. He breezed past people in the corridor, people he didn’t know nor would he know. He was a free spirit, a man consumed and concerned only with what went on his world and anything outside of the box did not matter. Ali had no clue where he was going, no sense of direction and wouldn’t ask anyone for help. You could say that was also a metaphor for his career but he’d probably smack you in the mouth and it would hurt. He’s a very clever yet hard-hitting Boxer who is lightning-quick. In other words, he had the potential to remove your front teeth before you said: “That’s Amore!”

Eventually, he stumbled upon a match sheet and realised that his punctuation would need to be improved momentarily. For he was in the first match against an individual he had no knowledge of and he hadn’t found his dressing room either!

Ali hurried past onlookers, the swagger substituted by speed, until he reached a toilet. He looked round to see that nobody else was looking before entering, presumably to get changed.

His plans for a rest and a shower had gone down the toilet, pardon the pun.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a metaphor for his career either, which had barely started…

 

Get Over It!

“Spike,” William Banks said as he and Spike Saunders were sitting backstage in the wrestlers’ locker room. This was the very first time they have spoken, let alone seen each other since the massacre that occurred at Confrontation. “Look man, if I would have known what happened; I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

Saunders didn’t respond. He was in constant pain thanks to the vicious, unscripted beating that Banks had given him at the last nbW broadcast. Saunders, with his ribs taped up and his forehead masked by stitches and his face swollen and bruised, looked down at the floor. He slowly shook his head, he didn’t know what to think.

“Spike, I’m serious. I know how deadly Keegan can be. If I would have known that he had anything to do with your attack on me a couple of weeks ago, I would have just fucking left the nbW and never come back. I do NOT want to go another round with him and his gang of worthless dickheads.”

Saunders looked back up. “Then, why are you here now?” He questioned. Banks sat back and sighed. He ran his right hand through his hair. Banks also had his own injuries that were given to him courtesy of the man sitting in front of him almost a month ago. However, that was beside the point. Banks knew deep down inside of him what the truth was. The truth was that he just couldn’t resist another challenge coming from the man whom hired Saunders to attack him a few weeks ago.

“Right now, Spike,” Banks began. “I am here because I need to talk to you about this, seriously. If he’s coming back after me, I need to know everything. I need to know how he got in contact with you. I need to know how he threatened you. I need to know everything.”

Unbeknownst to the two wrestlers in the room, the door slowly opened. Yet, no one entered into their presence. Whoever it was, they wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“More importantly, Spike” Banks began yet again. “I needed to tell you that I am honestly sorry for what I did.”

“Good!” A voice said from the doorway. The man walked into the room, it was Alex Styles. “Banks, I don’t give a fuck if this hurts your character or not, but you’re going to go out in the middle of the ring and apologize to not only Spike Saunders, but to the fans as well. As a matter of fact, you’re going to be playing a babyface from now on.”

Banks looked up at Styles furiously and confused. “What the fuck? Why in the fuck do you want me to be a face? Would that make ANY fucking sense after what happened at Confrontation? How do you think the fans are going to respond? They aren’t going to give a shit! Fuck that, Alex.”

“If they don’t respond,” Styles started, “Then that’s your fault and obviously, I won’t have any other creative ideas for you to do and you will be fired. That’s all there is to it, alright, William? Now, you will go out there, you’re going to apologize to the fans. Then, you’re going to apologize to Spike. Either you do this, or you can go home, it’s that simple.”

Banks scoffed, “What-the-fuck-ever.”

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two.” Styles said. “But you guys better get over it, soon. I don’t know if Spike attacked you a couple of weeks ago, and what happened at Confrontation was retaliation. I simply don’t know. I can’t be bothered with babysitting the both of you all night either. So, I like said, get over it and get over it soon. Oh, and William, you have two weeks to pay that $25,000 fine.”

Styles looked at the both of them rather closely. Soon, he turned around and exited the room. Banks shook his head. He no longer knew what to think. He stood up and exited the room leaving Spike in the locker room by his lonesome.

Pandora’s Box  

“Faint” popped over the PA as the crowd started to boo madly. Jason Kain stepped out and started for the ring, grabbing a mic on his way. He slid into the ring as the crowd continued to boo him… even after his embarrassing moment last week at Confrontation, the fans still hated them.

And he didn’t care.

“TONIGHT I WANT A PUNCHING BAG!!!” Kain screamed over the PA. “I DON’T CARE WHO IT IS, ANY ONE OF YOU IDIOTS BACKSTAGE THAT WANTS A MAIN EVENT SHOT… and… possibly win my number one contender’s spot…”

He paused, and flopped down in the corner of the ring. He put his face into his hands, utterly and completely depressed. After sitting for a while, he pulled the microphone back up to his mouth.

“What do I have to do?” The crowd continued to boo madly as he spoke. “What do I have to do to get what I deserve? Do I have to beg? Plead with the world to finally give me my due course? That belt is rightfully mine! That championship was my goal, MY GLORY!!! I AM THE HARDCORE LORD!!! I AM THE EPITOME!!! And instead I get cheated out of the one thing that I should have taken in the very beginning. THEY WERE GOING TO HAND ME THAT BELT! And I said I didn’t want it. Why? So that you people would cheer me to the gold. So that I could do it for the fans.”

He stood up and started to shake with anger.

“WELL TO HELL WITH YOU!!! I come in here day in and day out, fighting for my life to appease YOU!!! I have all but given up my family for this, and I get BOOED. I gave everything for YOU ASSHOLES, and what I get is everyone turning on me because your current champ decided to put a LIFE at danger…” He sneered and he looked up at the balcony. “He was trying to kill ME. He didn’t know that Max was supposed to win that night. He didn’t know that He would be facing a rookie… he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t facing me… and if I died in the process, woop de doo!”

He started to step around the ring, pacing, in anger. He trembled with every step, and breathed heavier than he had ever before.

“I poured 9 years of my life into this business… NINE FUCKING YEARS!!! I work my ass off for YOU, so that YOU can have fun. And I get nothing! No glory. No fame. No fortune. NO RESPECT!!!” He spun to the camera and shook a fist to it, his eyes bloodshot. “You want me to quit? You want me to pack my bags and leave!?”

From the crowd the chant started up.

NA NA, NANA NA NA, HEEEY, GOODBYE!
NA NA, NANA NA NA, HEEEY, GOODBYE!
NA NA, NANA NA NA, HEEEY, GOODBYE!

“Well, to HELL WITH WHAT YOU WANT!!!” Kain threw the mic down as security started for the ring. They surrounded it as suddenly Sean Hayes, 3WA Chief Executing Officer, stepped to the entryway.

“JASON KAIN, YOU WILL CEASE THIS TANTRAUM IMMEDIATELY!!!” Hayes said with authority. “You will HAVE your match later tonight… but if you don’t leave this ring NOW, not only will you NOT have that match… you will NEVER HAVE A MATCH HERE AGAIN!!!”

Kain’s eyes started to tear as he pulled the mic to his mouth. “Sean.” He muttered, angrily and sad at the same time. “You used to be a friend.”

“And then we changed, Kain. I betrayed you… I asked for forgiveness… and didn’t get it. Then we got over our disgressions… and now?” Hayes frowned. “Now, you’re betraying me. Please, Jason… get out of my ring… before I have to remove you from it.”

Kain slid out of the ring, and jumped the guardrail… angry that it was the only way he’d get his way this time. The only way.

 

A Rocky Beginning

Callie Urban sat in Alex Styles office, patiently waiting for him to return. He had to step out for a few moments to deal with some sort of circumstance beyond his control. She folded her arms across her chest and slumped low in the deep, puffy chair. It was an awful green color and she pulled at a piece of fraying fabric on the arm.

She turned around when the door opened suddenly. Her face scrunched up and she raised an eyebrow to the person walking through the threshold. "Well, well...If it isn't Jack-off Jade. What are YOU doing here, ya hosebeast?"

Jade stopped in her tracks. She too raised and eyebrow towards Callie and folded her arms across her chest. She watched as Callie rose out of the ugly green seat and stepped toward her slightly. "Wow, that's really hilarious, I mean, I've never heard anyone say something that great! How impressed you must be with yourself right now! Way to go Pinky with no Brain!"

Jade took a step toward Callie just as Alex Styles stepped into the room. Callie and Jade separated from each other and headed to opposite sides of the office. Callie sat back down in the chair she was recently occupying and crossed her legs. Jade leaned against the wall by the door and folded her arms across her chest and bent her knee, placing her foot on the wall under her butt. "What do you want Styles?" Jade sneered as she stared at the back of Callie's pink head.

"Well Jade, Callie, I've invited the two of you here to tell you about an angle I've recently come up with..."

"Oh God Styles, you're kidding me..." Jade pushed off the wall, threw her hands up in the air and began to pace back and forth.

"That's right Jade...I saw the two of you 'complimenting' each other after your match at the Pay-Per-View last week, and I thought to myself...why not have these two fine specimens of athletic ability face off against each other?" Styles walked behind his desk and sat in his large, black, leather chair. He leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach.

"Sweet talking will get you nowhere, Styles." Callie yawned. She was visibly bored.

"Well, here's the deal. You two have no choice. You're going to work together whether you like it or not. But I want to see the best from both of you. No slacking off here. You two are going to be the most looked at females in this federation!!"

"Uh Styles? I hate to break it to ya, but we're the ONLY females in this federation..." Jade leaned back on the wall and shook her head.

Callie began to stretch and yawn as if she was bored. She raised her hands behind her back as if she was REALLY stretching and flipped Jade the finger. Jade sneered. She shook her head again and walked up beside Urban.

Styles turned in his chair and faced the window. He looked out over the bustling city and the line-up for the show still taking place and getting longer, outside. Jade grabbed Callie's finger and twisted it, but suddenly let go as Styles swung back around to face them. He stood up and bent over the top of his desk, leaning in close to the two of them.

"You two WILL do this. If you refuse...you will no longer have a contract with No Brand Wrestling!" he slammed his left hand on the desk and backed up as Jade leaned towards him, mimicking his moves.

"You may be able to scare Pinky here, with your meek little threats, but Styles, you KNOW you can't scare me with them! I'll do your stupid little angle, but just remember...without Jason and me...you'd have NOTHING in this federation!" She pushed Styles back in his chair and walked to the door.

Callie Urban looked astonished as Jade flipped her off and headed out the door of the office.

 

A Slow Start To A Dynasty

The familiar darkness that the audience of any nbW show began to grace itself once again. The whole thing had been something of a surprise at first, given the nature of the appearance it made. But as things had gone on, it no longer was for shock value. Instead it served only to signal the actual entrance of the current Dynasty champion. Whatever it was that he had planned for tonight would hopefully make itself known.

As “Broken” by Sentenced continued to play, Rejection made his appearance from behind the curtain. Still wrapped around his waist was the Dynasty title he had become dangerously attached to. His first title defense had went well, chalking up both a victory, and another successful defeat over Mat Walton, something of a common occurrence since they had both arrived. But this was a new week, and it was most assured that the two would not be facing each other again.

Casual as can be Rejection made his way up the steps, climbing over the top rope when he got to the ring apron, and pausing slightly when he got into the ring. This had become something of a safe haven for him lately. Whatever had been happening in this ring was definitely beginning to become a worthwhile experience. As his music dulled and he waited to be handed a microphone, the fans started to let them know what they thought of him. None of it mattered though, as their comments meant little to him anymore.

“You know, all of this anger and despise really means nothing in the grand scheme of things. I’ll still be here long after you realize your opinions mean absolutely nothing.”

Despite this, they continued for a few seconds longer at least. Even with their passion, they were still curious to see what exactly he had on his mind. Perhaps a resignation.

“As I wear this title around my waist I realize something that is quite pitiful. In only two more weeks I will be the longest reigning Dynasty champion. Not only that, but the person who has that current title, won it a mere month ago. How sad this little circle has come.

Now, I don’t mean to blatantly point out that Callie Urban is a complete waste of talent, I just happen to think that it’s true, and you should too. I’m not one to brag, but in case no one has noticed lately, I am un-fucking-stoppable!!”

To this too the fans realized they felt certain disarray. Their taunts were getting more severe every time, most of them wanting some of the things they were saying to actually come true. Their booing did nothing, but instead seemed to fuel the charisma in the giant in the ring.

“Last week, when I had my first successful title defense…You do all remember that don’t you? If not I have the footage readily available to display if need be.”

The sudden uproar was enough to let him know they both remembered, and didn’t give a shit about his “footage”.

“Well, all right then. I’ll let that slide for now. But, as I was saying, the real problem I’ve noticed lately is a real lack of talent attempting to take my title away from me, even when it wasn’t rightfully wrapped around my waste. Why is it, that after defeating both Pat Dwyer and Mat Walton in one night, I don’t get the first rematch at the Dynasty title that was stolen from me. This is both completely insulting and an all around load of shit.

Both of those men have had their chance to take this title, and now it’s time they understood just what that means: it’s over. Move on, and try to find something else. Perhaps Mr. Owyns would like to play circle jerk with you, but you’re done as far as I’m concerned. Because being beaten by means something: you can’t beat me. And the sooner that everyone can understand that, the better this entire jaunt will be.

I’m not saying to give up. I’m just saying that you need to recognize the facts before they start to come down on you.

That being said, this is my only appearance tonight. After pulling off a title win, and a defense, I think I could use the break. So, if you were hoping for a nice show of pure talent, then you came to the wrong place.”

With that Rejection had concluded his speech, but was met with disgust and anger from the crowd. He had done nothing that warranted any kind of “break” or “vacation” that he was trying to excuse himself with. Stalking his way out of the ring and down the aisle, he disappeared, title wrapped around his waist, for the rest of the night.

 

Lackluster Events

Confrontation came and passed.

Battles were fought...

Blood was spilled...

Champions were crowned...

Winners won...

And losers lost...

And with all of that said and done in one single night...

One question remained on the minds of fans across the world. One question plagued their minds as they ordered the nbW PPV event. And that one question was...'What happened to Studd's BIG debut?!'. A travesty it was! Many fans continued to rant and rave on fan boards across the internet world. The match wasn't showed, and fans CRIED out for refunds...and unfortunately didn't get them. They were forced to pay 30 bucks to see a lackluster show that displayed one of the worst opening bouts straight into one of the most mediocre main events. And not even a Studd debut was shown. But why?!

Well that's EXACTLY what the nbW reporter Jay Hucks looked to discovered. As the cameras opened up to the backstage area, Jay Hucks appeared before the live audience and television viewers around the world. Accompanied by the trusty microphone, Hucks looked into the camera's lens and spoke cleary into his mic.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, last week we witnessed one of the biggest Pay-Per-Views of all time. We witnessed the crowning of a new Keystone Champion, the battle between Jason Kain and Jack Owyns, and we even witnessed one of the most brutal of contests between Spike Saunders and Uncensored - but what we lacked was the promised debut of the self-deemed 'biggest' rookie of all time. The debut of Sean Studd," stated Hucks, as the crowd responded in jeers.

The camera panned out to reveal Hucks standing beside a locker room door, decorated in gold glitter and a shining star that read "Studd". Hucks looked towards the door and spoke again to the crowd, "Two weeks ago, at Infamy, Sean Studd debuted on live television - with intentions of 'revitalizing' the state of no Brand Wrestling. Calling the federation dull and boring, Studd's mission was to entertain the nbW and bring it to a new era of entertainment. But during his debut, he interupted another rookie sensation called 'Frooty' Rudy Kelloggs. And during this interuption, Kelloggs protested Studd's claims - in which Studd responded with a verbal AND physical beating..."

:::FLASHBACK:::
:::INFAMY 05/21/05:::

"Well, allow me to properly introduce myself," Studd said with a joyous grin across his face. He removed his sunglasses and folded them neatly into his pocket, "My name....is Sean Studd. I am the Savior of Sports Entertainment. My mission in nbW is to make this the most entertaining federation of all time - to make it an example for all other federations to follow. And quite frankly...you just don't fit into what I call entertaining..."

"Do you know what that means?"

Kelloggs only shook his head, unknowing.

"That means...I have to make you entertaining. And do you know how I'm going to do that?" Studd asked playfully, with the same smile (this time it seemed a bit more sinister). And again, Kelloggs shook his head in mystery...Studd only chuckled lowly in reaction and looked around the arena for a bit. The fans wondered what the Creation of Charisma meant...but it all became clear....

To ditch the gimmick?

No.

To ditch the rainbow clothes?

No.

SMACK~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!!!!!

"To make you my bitch!"

:::/END FLASHBACK:::



"But that wasn't all...," spoke Hucks.



:::FLASHBACK RETURN:::

He came back in the ring, his back still turned to his opponent at the PPV before saying one last thing, "You know...I think I'm going to give both of you a lesson in entertainment. A rule all must follow when in a segment...you have to open with an impact...

And close with an impact"

WHACK~!!!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOHHHHHHH~!!!

And before either man could prevent it....Sean Studd had side-stepped and literally BLEW Kellogg's jaw off with a devastating superkick (deemed by Studd as the Studdkick).

:::/END FLASHBACK:::

"During this altercation, we were promised a contest between Rudy Kelloggs and Sean Studd - to settle their differences at Confrontation, and to finally see the in-ring skills of Sean Studd. Unfortunately, the match was cancelled and rescheduled to Infamy TONIGHT," Hucks stated clearly, as the crowd cheered in response, "But that still leaves the question unanswered - as to why the match was scrapped. According to sources, Rudy Kelloggs was unsure, so I've decided to ask the other participant..."

"Sean Studd"

With that said, Hucks knocked upon the door, in which he garnered a response of 'aaah, finally, it's about damn time...I've been waitin' for this massage all damn day'. Hucks only cocked an eyebrow up in confusion, as the door opened and...

Man o' man did the female fans cheer.

The Amazon of Athletesism stood before the cameras dressed in nothing more than a white towel wrapped across his muscular waist. His mucles (arms, shoulders, chest, abdoman, all of it) were displayed to the live audience - male fans groaned, but female fans cheered LOUDLY. Studd looked quizically at Hucks and squinted his eyes. He peeked around the backstage area and starred harshly back at Hucks. With a sound of annoyance in his voice, he spoke...

"Hey, if YOU'RE the mesuse they sent, you can trot your fat ass right back out the door. I'm not looking for a 'happy ending' from you, bud. So before your little man between legs catches a case of rigor mortis - I suggest you leave. OH! And call your supervisor and tell 'em to send that one Blonde girl - you know? The one with the big...,"

"EXCUSE ME!" Hucks shouted quickly, as Studd took a step back, "I am not a mesuse"

...

"Wait, you're not the mesuse?" Studd asked rhetorically, "Then who the HELL are you?"

"I'm Jay Hucks, reporter for no Brand Wrestling," he responded matter-of-factly.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Studd shouted in protest, "You're a reporter for nbW?"

Hucks responded with a nod.

"What happened to that Allison chick?"

"Uhh, I believe she's assigned to someone else..."

"No no no no no, that's not possible," Studd responded, "Because it states CLEARLY in my contract that I am not to be interviewed by anyone I do not see as 'sexy' or 'big breasted'. And although you have one of the two, tubby, you damn sure don't make the qualifications to hold a Studd interview...so, goodbye!"

And as Studd looked to retreat to his locker room, Hucks quickly blurted out the one question he had.

"But Studd, I just wanted to know - why was the contest between you and Kelloggs postponed until tonight's Infamy?"

Studd stopped in his tracks and only let out a little sigh, mummbling a few words beneath his breathe and slowly turning to face Hucks. He looked around for a moment, contemplating his thoughts, only to return to Hucks and respond in the way on Studd could.

"Seeing as how I'm in a good mood, and seeing as how my true loyal Studdsters out there need to know what occured with their payment of thirty dollars and no debut of Studd -- I'll breach my contract just this once and answer the questions of a hideous interviewer," Studd stated, before simply taking his open palm, placing it on Hucks face and SHUVING him off camera....but not before snatching his microphone and holding to the glorious, and ever entertaining (and sometimes pleasurable, if you're a lucky female), mouth of the Studd.

"It's quite simple in terms of entertainment value," Studd stated matter-of-factly, making that face of thinking (that made the women 'aww' at), "You see - I made the hype for a contest with the Cereal Jobber for Confrontation - and I've gotta say, I was acting alittle reckless. At first glance, my debut against Frooty Tooty may have seemed like a good idea - considering I'd be able to squash a jobber in 3 minutes and NOT only make myself look godly - but on a Pay Per View to boot. You know what that means? A bigger paycheck for yours truly!"

"But, so many things were wrong with my decision. The first being The Fruit Loop Jobber. What in my mind would make me think that facing this no-name hack at a PPV would benefit me? Sure I'd look amazing, but at the same time - by facing a star like me, I'd be helping him. And the SAVIOR of Sports Entertainment puts over NO jobber! Chris Candido did that, and now look at 'em - he's in the grave!" oooh did THAT garner a heavy reaction of jeers or what. Studd only ignored them and continued, passing it off with a, "HEY! Don't act like that wasn't one of the causes of his untimely death"

"But not only was that an issue - what made me think that Confrontation would be a good place for me to debut? Kain versus Owyns, Urban versus Lancett, Torment versus Martin, Walton versus Rejection - you know what each and every one of those contests had in common?" Studd asked arrogantly, "THEY SUCKED! Besides only two - none of them had much hype, nobody CARED about them! The entire card lacked the entertainment value and anticipation that EVERY Pay-Per-View should hold. And I'd be damned if the good name of Sean Studd would be tarnished by such a lackluster event. So what did the Epitome of Entertainment do?"

"He cancelled the bout and rescheduled..."

"And the best part about the entire deal?" Studd stated with a sly grin, "I still received royalties from the Pay-Per-View. So in the end - Everything went off perfectly. And tonight, when I enter the ring for the VERY first time within the confines of the dying federation - the moment Sean Studd steps foot within the sports entertainment ring, the nbW will be given a dosage of Vitamin M. And that vitamin will revitalize the nbW, and revolutionize the entertainment within it...

"Tonight - the ERA of Entertainment takes its first step towards EVOLUTION!"

 

Big Fish In A Small Pond

Three weeks.....

"The Buzz" Cal Roberts had been involved with nbw for over three weeks now, and was bored with the promotion already. He felt that the promotion contained a lack of competition, and was wondering why he'd signed on with no prior knowledge of the talent involved. Money and national television were motive enough. They were what had been driving Roberts since his first taste of National fame in ECFED and PCW. Immortality was Robert's one goal in wrestling. He'd been after it from the moment he debuted, even before his abrupt personality change that had transformed him from a polite blue chipper to a cocky, rock star-like bad ass. The night he met a legendary performer at an independent show in 95, had prompted the change. "You'll get nowhere being a god damn boy scout." were the exact words of the legend who'd once sold out arenas, but had sunk to the point of selling autographed t-shirts for 50$ bucks at local shows.

He remembered the conversation they had like it was yesterday.

"Baby..", A beautiful woman who sat next to Roberts rubbed his chest as a knock at the door echoed through the extravagant locker room. Roberts was awaken from his day dreaming and looked over and the woman and gave a smile before standing from the black leather love seat they'd both occupied. Roberts stretched for a moment and scooped up a tank top to cover his chest, he'd previously been sitting in his ring gear awaiting his upcoming match.

Allison Cadence waited behind the door, checking her watch, while she waited for "The Buzz" to answer his locker room door. Moments later, the door swung open and he stood before her in a black tank top and ring gear. He placed a hand on the door frame and leaned on it while he waited for to speak her mind.

"Cal Roberts, as of late you've been involved in a bitter rivalry with Blake Gr...", Allison was cut off by Roberts who placed a finger on her delicious lips.

"I assume you want my thoughts on Blake Gray and my match tonight, beautiful.", Buzz paused for a moment as Allison pushed Cal's hand off her face.

"If you would have let me fin..", Roberts grabbed the microphone from her hand this time so that the audience could properly hear a former champion. Allison grew quite perturbed as Roberts began to speak once more.

"Do me a favor and stand there and look pretty like they hired you to do.", Roberts smirked his trademark grin and winked at the young woman who stood unimpressed by the gestures of Roberts thus far. "I wouldn't call it a bitter rivalry. We've had a few words and discussed a shitty pay-per-view last week. I mean yeah he's wound uptight and wants to fight me and all of that to make a name for himself."

"But he's just a punk. Nothing more nothing less.", Cal's voice displayed the lack of respect he carried for Blake Gray. "And as far as my match tonight...I have no idea who I'm facing. But I can guarantee that he's going to look like a million bucks just standing across the ring from me. In fact he might actually draw some money after tonight."

"Well that wasn't quite exactly what I was going to ask you, but...", Allison said as she pulled the microphone back her in direction. However, Roberts gently reached down and pulled the hand of Allison off of the microphone before giving it a gentle kiss. Allison's forehead scrunched in confusion as she backed away slightly.

"Now that all that is out of the way I have a proposition that involves you, me, and this beautiful young woman that sits behind me.", Roberts moved out of the way for a moment to look at his catch of the night; only to see Allison Cadence storming off when he turned back around.

"You forgot your mic’!", Roberts called out to Allison who gave him the universal finger in return. Chuckling, Cal Roberts returns to the love seat, the door shutting behind him happy with his current position. He was a big fish in a small pond and would make the most out of the situation until he moved onto bigger and better things.

 

"The Buzz" Cal Roberts vs. Ali Amore

In the aftermath of Confrontation, a card that certainly lived up to its
billing and generated as many new questions as the issues it resolved, it
was back to the bread-and-butter weekly schedule of television for the stars of No Brand Wrestling.

Well, most of them.

For one man, some may argue he’s still a boy; the potentially hectic life of a Professional Wrestler was not something he was used to. Sure, he’d had brief stints in The Asylum and Mexican-based company, hWo, but that’s all they were – brief. And, painfully brief at best.

Nonetheless, Ali Amore, a Bogota-born junior heavyweight blessed with the punch of a super-heavyweight Boxer, appeared to be ready for active
competition. Just as he had two years ago in his trial run with Asylum, the
cocky Colombian cruiser had entered the arena brimming with confidence in his own abilities. He may have only won 1 contest as a professional in the industry but the manner in which he carried himself conveyed the mark of a man who looked like he’d won nearer a hundred than a solitary scalp, which was assisted.

Cal Roberts could define a dream or disastrous debut for Amore, depending on which way the upcoming encounter went of course. Unbeknownst to Amore, Roberts certainly has the credentials to severely dent the youngster’s claim for a positive result in his opening outing with the organization.

Roberts was becoming a legend in the sport, and had been a blue-chipper much like Ali at one point in his career.. The well-rounded athlete, versed in Boxing and Wrestling, just like this evening’s opposite number, took Primetime Championship Wrestling, one of the industry’s outstanding outfits to put it mildly, captured the company’s most prestigious prize, the World Title, within two months. Some say he was destined for a second spell with the big one until PCW closed its doors for good.

From there, things went from bad to worse for Cal as, following an
uneventful association with PRIME; the Detroit native was involved in a car crash, which led to a fractured fibula. Two promotions and just five
contests later saw ‘The Buzz’ sign with nbW after returning to the ring in
February.

‘Low Down’ by Black Label Society signaled Roberts’ imminent entrance and once the 30-year-old emerged from behind the curtain, he was greeted with numerous boos but as usual they didn’t seem to bother him at all. This man was all business, possessed a game face and appeared to be determined to stake a claim for a higher position on the nbW ladder than the first step opposite an undeveloped debutante. Simply put, the former PCW Champion was overwhelming favorite to dismantle Ali with ease and use this exhibition as an example to the rest of the roster as well as management.‘The Buzz’ methodically made his journey to the squared circle and stepped through the ropes, unfazed and unaffected of how the audience perceived him, as he retreated to a neutral corner where he inspected his hands, seemingly checking if they were okay to utilize to great degree in sparring with a former fellow student of Boxing.

Speaking of which…

Dean Martin’s ‘That’s Amore’ is a relatively famous yet unusual entrance
theme for a Wrestler to have, but Ali didn’t consider himself to be ordinary and it was certainly fitting to give him credit. The South American starlet may not have warranted a response, considering a small proportion of the onlookers actually knew who he was, but he did garner a substantial amount of inquisitive glances due to his colorful attire. Clad in predominantly yellow tights with a hint of red and blue, the contributing colors to the Colombian flag, with a gorgeous gold chain and yellow feather boa, circa Hulk Hogan, the superstar in waiting strutted down the aisle way, soaking up the atmosphere and attention along the way.

Soon enough, the South American, already tagging the hands on those who sat adjacent to the aisle, found himself near the steel steps but rather than ascending them to enter his new workplace, he jumped up onto the apron and somersaulted over the top rope to warm applause, a la Naseem Hamed, where he exerted another distinctive smile prior to removing his chain and handing the boa to a bemused official. Cal Roberts was unassuming, apparently focused on the task ahead and failing to be deterred or bothered in the slightest by the starlet’s stunning bow. The bell sounded shortly after and we were officially underway.

Roberts and Amore, who hadn’t made eye contact at all in the pre-match
shenanigans, circled the battleground before Ali attempted to shake hands with his first-ever adversary. Cal did not look remotely interested and instead continued to sass out Ali, who was slightly disappointed by the snub. The crowd also joined in with light jeering but the boy, destined to become a man, didn’t let Roberts’ refusal play on his mind as they tied up for the first time.

Cal quickly assumed an advantage by negotiating a Side Headlock. Amore, giving up approximately 40 pounds to his more experienced opposition, struggled for a few moments as Roberts sought out to apply pressure from the outset and he reiterated that strategy as he tightened the hold every so often as Ali tried to escape. After twenty seconds or so, Ali pushed Roberts into the opposing ropes but Cal came back at him with a vicious lariat and the Colombian found himself on his carcass within a minute of his maiden match. What a warm welcome, Ali was receiving.
Roberts reaches down and grabs a handful of hair and jerks Ali to his knees with his trademark smirk spread across his face. It was nothing personal, but Roberts planned to make an example out of the young man, and planned to do it quickly. He wrapped both hands around the waist of Ali, and interlocked both of his hands together before delivering an overhead belly to belly suplex that sent Ali into orbit. Seconds later, Ali came crashing down on his upper back, and a sharp pain filled his back as Roberts was back on his feet looking down at Ali menacingly.

Cal rapidly returned Ali to an upright stance, and whipped him into the ropes, but Ali then became the aggressor with a high-impact Spinning Heel Kick. There was a sense of increased tempo, imperative to Amore’s game, and that hunch was confirmed as Ali stunned Cal with a drop kick as he returned to his feet. Roberts once again returned to his feet, impressed with quick witted offense of Ali, and was met with a snapmare. where he then unleashed a sizzling Dropkick into the back of the head before running off the opposing set of ropes and executing the dropkick once again, this time in square in Cal’s jaw. The fans lapped it up and showed their appreciation.

Amore was quick to capitalize upon the advantage he’d gained over the former PCW World Champion with a single-leg Boston Crab. Before he could really get Cal trapped up, the more experienced grappler of the two crawled a few inches on the Colombian in order to extend his hand to reach the bottom rope and ultimately break the hold.

The inexperienced Amore complained to the official for three seconds at the most but, as all Wrestlers know three seconds can be crucial as it’s the difference between victory and defeat, and Cal exploited Ali’s elementary error with a big German suplex for the first pin fall attempt of the match.

1

2

Ali shot his shoulder up, but was still stunned, and almost curious as to where he was after landing hard on his neck and the back of his head. Roberts was ruthless and turned Ali onto his back and delivered a few stiff stomps to his upper back.


A few kicks later to the leg didn’t help Ali’s cause at all and a vicious
elbow also caused the Colombian to exert a rather loud yelp, an indication of the agony he was in and it was about to get more grim momentarily as Cal, rather cleverly, opted to apply his body across the lower back of Ali and wrapped his hands around the Columbian’s chin. Unlike Roberts, moments earlier, Amore had no where to go.

Amore shook his head, probably trying to tell himself that this was not
happening, but it had and that was reaffirmed as Roberts put more pressure on, firmly in the driving seat…
Roberts continued to apply pressure on the hold, gradually wearing down the upper and lower back of Ali Amore. One could assume Roberts wanted to use the inverse dvd, better known to wrestling fans as the Burning Hammer or “Buzzed”. Some sections of the audience attempted to spur the silky South American on with various encouraging chants but Cal was oblivious to this and Ali may as well have been too because in the present climate, he had absolutely nowhere
to go.

Roberts releases the hold and a feeling of relief spread over the back of Ali, but he would not be allowed to rest for long. He was pulled to his feet, and sent back to the mat with a vicious forearm to the back. Ali, brought back to his feet once again, was thrown into nearest set of ropes. Going for a back body drop, Roberts was instead met with a stiff ddt from Ali, who then kipped up to his feet, only to drop down to one knee clenching his back in pain. Amore knew that this was his night to prove himself and pushed through the immediate pain, and delivered his fourth dropkick of the match as Roberts kneeled on the mat. Roberts, now prone on the mat, had his leg hooked by Ali for a pin fall attempt.

1
2

Ali’s first cover wasn’t quite enough to hand him his first victory and
although he was hurting, he lifted Cal back to his feet in order to dish out
more punishment and he did that with a wicked whip to the buckle before a subsequent Splash in the corner squashed Cal and knocked the stuffing out him.

In spite of that, ‘The Buzz’ was still on his feet but the airborne Amore
lived up to his billing by climbing to the top strand once again and
connecting with a flying Bulldog on the vulnerable Roberts…

1

2

It may not have been enough for the Bogotá native to register his first win but he possessed renewed hope and was eager to extend his advantage, which he did in fabulous fashion, with a Standing Moonsault…

1

2

Nevertheless, a second trip to the well from the other side didn’t pay
dividends as Cal lifted his knees up to deny the debutante any luck with the same move, and regained the lead with a series of mounted punches, followed by bringing Ali back to his feet for a stiff snap suplex that sent the pain back through the back of Ali. Roberts rolled on top for a pin fall, and smirked as he knew the Columbian wasn’t going to give up that easily. Not if he was truly passionate about becoming an all-time great.

1

2

Roberts stood and delivered a hard stomp before placing a boot, arrogantly, on his opponent but it was nowhere near enough as Ali affirmatively kicked out on at somewhere around one and a half. Cal then rattled Amore with a chop – make it two- and whipped him into the ropes, an attempted Clothesline went astray as Ali ducked, but on the rebound Roberts brought him back down to an earth with a fabulous Belly-to-Belly Suplex and hooked the leg instantaneously…

1

2

3?

No. The nearest near fall by quite a distance mind. Roberts signaled he was going to end it, and stood on his feet, moments later he hoisted Ali onto his shoulders for the Burning Hammer, ready to inflict a type of pain Ali had never experienced in career. However, Ali had scouted Robert’s when he found out about the match a week earlier and wiggled free of the move. Ali shook the cob webs free and hit the ropes. Roberts turned as Ali returned off the ropes and attempted yet-another lariat.

Attempted yet failed to deliver, and Ali waited to make his move and delivered a standing tornado ddt as Roberts turned around. The strategic breakdown of Amore’s back was catching up with him as he began to feel his back tighten in multiple areas. The muscles and tendons burned in pain as he shot toward the ropes ready to the end the match. The crowd was supportive as he climbed to the top for the frog splash. Ali showed personality as he played to the fans for a brief moment, perhaps a moment to long.

He leapt off the top, getting marvelous hang time on the way down, with a frog splash. However, Robert’s was conscious and rolled out of the way. Roberts shot to his feet and drove a knee hard into the back of Ali. From there he clenched in a half nelson sleeper and sat down on the back of Amore, pulling back in the process.

Roberts was sending a message to Blake Gray at the expense of the great young athlete, Ali Amore. He wrenched back in the hold, and Ali would not tap. Adrenaline and pride was preventing that from happening. However, the pain was building and building. Ali was doubting how much longer he could take it, and the fans while against Roberts began to cheer at the sight of the finisher theft.

“Tap or I’ll break your fucking back!”, Howled Roberts as he continued with the hold. Ali wasn’t going to give up however and held in. The referee had seen enough and called for the bell to allow the rookie to fight another day. Roberts released the hold and took a bow for the crowd who greeted him with a chorus of boos. Robert’s had shown the fans that he was not going to coast through this run and was bound and determined for gold as he had been in every promotion previous to nbW. For Ali, he’d put together an impressive debut showing, had earned respect from Cal Roberts and the fans for not tapping, and was sure to rise to the top of the mountain in the future.

“That one was for you, Gray baby.”, Roberts smirked into the camera and laughed at his remark before leaving us for what laid ahead in the night.

WINNER: "The Buzz" Cal Roberts via Pinfall

 

What Are You Doing, Kirk?

Bandages wrapped around his waist, and even around his upper body; he sat proud. The large frame of Spike Saunders was clearly evident. He sat there on the table, his arm wrapped closely around the female of his intrigue, Callie Urban. Her own bandages around her body, but not enough to cover her figure.

“Spike, you are not thinking of wrestling tonight.”

“Why not, Obi-Callie?” he said back with a smirk. She shrugged out of his arm and stood in front of him, hands on her hips, a frown on her face.

“Because Banks beat the living shit out of you last week! Dammit, you’re not in any shape to wrestle.”

“But I want to,” he said, voice almost child-like. “Besides, the force is with me Obi-Callie, it’ll be okay.”

Callie let out a little growl and flipped him off. “Okay my ass Captain Kirk.”

Spike’s eye’s bulged at the ultimate insult she’d hurled at him. “I’m not Captain Kirk! I’m not! Speaking of which, I didn’t ask you earlier, but what’s up with the hair? You look like a highlighter.”

The woman reached up and held out of strand of her hair, which was now a bright, neon shade of pink.”

“I like it, and I felt like it. Keep it up and yours is going to resemble the rainbow connection, and don’t think I won’t!”

Spike smiled and reached up and ruffled her hair. “Whatever you want highlighter head. Now come on, we’ve got places to be.”

 

Sean Studd vs. Rudy Kellogs

The arena was packed, the crowd was ready, and the pyrotechnic show that had everybody on their feets had just ended. The blood of every human being (employee, employer, and fan alike) was boiling with excitement. Tonight, no Brand Wrestling would bring to the world a show like no other. Tonight was a special night indeed - but not because outcomes of the battles between Uncensored or Spike Saunders, not because feedback of the famous Lockout match between Callie Urban and Randy Lancett, and not even for the aftermath of the contest between Jason Kain and Jack Owyns. This night was special for one reason and one reason only...

The Studd's in-ring debut.

Or at least, thats what Sean Studd would like to think.

The battle between two of nbW's rookies was to ensue. It was just last week that the long awaited LIVE (and surprise) debut of Sean Studd occured, in which the young brash superstar interupted the ever-so dull 'Frooty' Rudy Kelloggs. Kelloggs, an up-and-comer with excellent ring skills attempted to entertain the crowd via an in-ring segment (underline 'ATTEMPTED'), but was quickly cut off in his attempt (ATTEMPT...) by the young Studd himself. Studd promised all that he would revolutionize Sports Entertainment forever - which meant eliminating everything that was lacking entertainment value...enter Kelloggs. The Definition of Disaster, as Studd refers to Kelloggs, was given a verbal AND physical beating last week -- and instead of facing one another on Infamy...Studd felt it be best for his debut to take place on Pay-Per-View. After all -- his debut SHOULD cost fans thirty dollars!

"Cereal Wars" by A.F.I.

The signal for every fan to get up on their feet and 'Support-Your-Troop'! Well, that's what he'd like. The moment fans heard the theme song of one of nbW's new up-and-comers, the fans actually cheered! Shockingly enough, the ringside announcers attempted to pass it off as fans getting behind Kelloggs -- unfortunately, that was not the case. The real reason for the cheers - because this theme meant...HIS DEBUT was first on the PPV card!

Nonetheless, with the theme song blarring and the fans cheering and chanting, out came the dynamic duo of 'General' Mills and 'Frooty' Rudy Kelloggs. The undoubtedly devinaire duo made their way out with a rush of energy. Kelloggs obviously being excited for his first nbW PPV bout, and Mills attempting to garner as much fanfare as he could with the hard chants of 'Support-Your-Troop!' (in which he shouted over and over again). Kelloggs slapped a few hands as he raced down the entrance ramp with his 'Fruit Loops' T-Shirt and his even fruiter ring attire (ring attire that would make Randy Savage himself have a seizure). Kelloggs raced into the ring and scaled the second rope, raising two closed fists into the air with a burst of energy. Meanwhile, Mills continued his chant to the very end, circling the ring and ignoring the fans' requests to 'SHUT THE FUCK UP' (ahem, not my words, the fans -- this is PPV, NO CENSORS). After a few moments of excited entrance, the music of A.F.I died down...and thus began...

Hype Time.

For those of you who missed last weeks definition...go to the archives and look it up you lazy fucks.

The crowd's anticipation grew with every passing second. The silence of the arena took over the crowd - as the Hype Time began to work perfectly. The low chants of old school PIW and WWC fans began to ignite - they chanted his name softly, then a bit louder. The most over rookie in nbW's roster was about to make his in-ring debut. Kelloggs waited patiently in the ring, as Mills rested quietly at ringside. Both looked towards the entrance ramp, awaiting the entrance of their opposition.

Kelloggs looked over at Mills for an explanation when...

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM~!!!!!!!!!!

An explosion ROARED over the arena as the crowd immediately reacted with a WAVE of cheers and jeers. Some loved the man for his charisma, his talent, and his all around entertainment value. Others hated the man for his rude behavior and lack of respect. But love him or hate him - you wanted to watch him. And thats what he planned on. The lights died down and the arena filled with darkness. And when the hype time seemed to have a need to continue...

'I like the pants around your feet...'

'I like the dirt thats on your knees...'

'I like the way you still say please...'

'While you're lookin' up at me...'

'You're like my favorite damn disease.'

At that moment, sparking flames began sprinkling glamorously from the top of the entrance ramp, and dead center of them all, with a lone spotlight shining upon him...was a man with his head hung low and his fist held up in triumph. And with a moments notice the young brash superstar lifted his head up to a resounding BOOOOOOOMMMM~! followed by an explosion inside the ring. Kelloggs immediately jumped in fright, as Mills hit the ground in fear.

Sean Studd....had arrived.

With a wide sly grin stretched across his face, and the spotlight shining on him alone, he pointed up at Kelloggs and immediately began insulting him. No microphone was neccessary for to him, his voice was heard across the nation with or without his golden piece. Studd slowly swaggered his way to the ring, making sure to drop a few insults to some ringside fans. Commenting on a portly mans weight (and 'bitch tits' as Studd referred to them), commenting on a teenage boys need to wear pink (seriously, whats up with that?) and of course commenting on a few lovely ladies in the audience...and actually delivering his hotel room key to a fine looking specimen in the front row (a blonde busty female who gladly excepted the offer). Studd winked towards the lucky fan and quickly leaped onto the ring apron.

Dressed in an open white vest and black and white trunks, Studd leaped over the top rope, landed perfectly on two feet...Ric Flair strutted to the center of the ring...and spread out both arms wide for all to catch a look at his excellent physical features. The six pack abs, the ripped pecs, the picture perfect arms, the slender and strong shoulders and the muscular legs. Studd was the truly a picture perfect specimen of a man. And with a quick flash Studd removed his open vest and flung it to the crowd. The official for the bout quickly took position in between both rookies.

Studd passed only a simple passing glance towards his opponent, but was all about looking over at his adoring public. It was as if, Kelloggs was not even in the ring.

Ring announcer Brent Williams took stage in the center of the ring for the announcements of the bout.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for ONE fall, with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first," began Brent Williams, "on the left side of the ring, he hails from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Weighing in at 245 pounds and standing at 6'2", he is the nbW's resident Cereal Enthusiast...'FROOTY' RUDY KELLOGGS!"

Kelloggs jumped to the second rope and looked for some sort of fan reaction...unfortunately he received a very low mixed reaction. Kelloggs attempted to ignore the lack of fanfare and simply leapt off the second turnbuckle and began stretching before his contest.

"And his opponent...," And here came the HEAVY mixed reaction, "He hails from Miami, Florida. Weighing in at 205 pounds and standing at 5'10", he is...."

Suddenly Brent Williams extracted an index card from his pocket...he took a deep breathe...

"The Amazon of Athletesism, the Creation of Charisma, the Definition of Devastation, the Meaning of Man, the Lover of Ladies, the Epitome of Entertainment AND the Savior of Sports Entertainment (whew that was a mouthful). He is...SEAN STUDD!!!!"

Studd only tilted his head and spread out his arms for the heavy reaction he received. With a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, he finally took a hard look at his opposition and licked his lips in anticipation. The bell rung and the two superstars immediately began circling one another to start the bout. Brent Williams quickly got out of the ring and two competitors were ready to start.

Kelloggs and Studd circled one another for a moment before finally meeting in the center of the ring with a standard lockup. Studd quickly caught the advantage with a headlock, snapping Kelloggs hard into the hold. Kelloggs attempted to break free, but to no avail. Finally finding no way out, Kelloggs whipped Studd to the ropes. Studd bounced off and quickly slid in between Kelloggs' legs. Kelloggs turned around, Studd got to his feet and...

SLAP~!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH~!!

Studd BITCH SLAPPED Kelloggs right across the face! Kelloggs staggered backwards holding his face in pain with a look of shock plastered on his face. Meanwhile, Studd just continued his jawjacking, roaring out to Kelloggs, "I told you, tonight - YOU'RE MY BITCH!". Kelloggs gritted his teeth and faught the embarassment and quickly went into another lockup with Studd. This time Kelloggs caught the advantage and locked Studd up with a standard armbar. Studd gritted his teeth in pain and attempted to reverse into an armbar of his own, but Kelloggs quickly saw the reversal and re-reversal'd back into an armbar. Studd saw no technical way out and quickly hit the mat...flipped about on the mat, kicked up to his feet and...

SLAP~!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOHHHHHHHH~!!!

BITCH SLAP....AGAIN! Kelloggs staggered back again in shock, as Studd began taunting Kelloggs by holding his open palm out in front of him and checking if it was reddened at all (luckily, it wasn't). A beet-red Kelloggs stood shocked for a moment before grunting in anger and locking up with Studd once more, but this time Studd took a quick approach in locking Kelloggs up in a headlock...following it up with a hammerlock...and ending it with a drop toe hold. Once Kelloggs hit the mat, Studd took a page out of good ol' Scott Hall's book by mounting Kelloggs and slapping the back of his head a few times in a gesture of disrespect. Kelloggs quickly scurried to the corner in anger, rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to channel the pain. Studd, however, began taunting the crowd - mouthing off to a few ringside attendants and more importantly, gesturing them with the fancy 'middle finger'. Now Studd was garnering a full blown heel reaction (with the few smart ass fans still cheering of course).

Anger rose in Kelloggs, as his face went redder than ever. He slapped the mat and got back to his feet, as Studd turned around to face his foe. Kelloggs, with no hesitation, charged forward with a lariat. Studd ducked the shot and hit the ropes. Kelloggs turned around and looked for a back body drop, but Studd quickly turned around and went back-to-back with Kelloggs, forcing Kelloggs to back body drop Studd...right onto his feet. Kelloggs, realizing the reversal, hit the ropes. Upon Kelloggs return, Studd looked for a hip toss. Kelloggs blocked the shot and looked for one of his own, but Studd reversed it by taking the flip and LANDING right on his feet. Studd found the opportunity....fans saw it coming. Studd had Kelloggs arm locked...

Studd's free hand turned into an open palm...he sent it forward...

And MISSED the BITCH SLAP...

Kelloggs ducked the shot.

Studd turned around to capitalize but...

SMACK~!!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH SHIT!!!!

Kelloggs hit Studd RIGHT ACROSS the face with the dreaded...BITCH SLAP! Studd staggered back in shock, but Kelloggs allowed no showboating and quickly capitalized by pushing Studd into the corner, rearing back and....

SMACK!!

Fans: WHOOOO!!

Knife Edge Chop!

SMACK!!!

Fans: WHOOOO!

Knife Edge Chop again!

Studd screamed out in pain, but was given no remorse, as Kelloggs grabbed hold of Studd's arm and looked for an irish whip. Unfortunately for the Cereal Fanatic, Studd reversed the irish whip into one of his own. Kelloggs hit the corner hard, and Studd quickly charged, only for Kelloggs to low bridge and attempt a back body drop. Studd, however, caught the ropes and landed on the apron. Kelloggs turned around and received a harsh elbow shot to the side of the head, that brought Kelloggs to stagger back and fall to one knee for a moment (only to bouce back and favor his head). Meanwhile, Studd continued his taunting with comments like, "oh NOW you pissed me off!" and "Come and get whats comin' to ya!". Kelloggs slowly turned around, Studd leapt up, kicked off the ropes and landed a Springboard Spinning Back Elbow into the face of Kelloggs! Kelloggs hit the mat and Studd quickly scurried over for the cover.

One...

Kick out.

Studd at the official and roared out, "It's ONE...TWO...THREE, moron!", only for the official to hold a single finger up indicating a ONE. Studd had a finger for the official as well...a nice classic middle finger. "There's your ONE" Studd retorted as he yanked Kelloggs off the mat. After a few stiff elbow shots, Studd allowed Kelloggs to stammer to the ropes, allowing for another irish whip. Kelloggs hit the ropes and Studd quickly looked for a clothesline...but Kelloggs ducked the attempt. Kelloggs bounced off the ropes again, this time Studd looked for a hip toss...but Kelloggs put on the brakes and instead reversed with a NICE Swinging Neckbreaker! Fans actually rose in shock, as Studd furiously got back to his feet, only to receive a drop toe hold courtesy of Kelloggs. Studd again got to his feet and looked for a right hand, but Kelloggs ducked the shot, turned Studd around, and delivered ANOTHER Knife Edge Chop...

WHACK~!!

Fans: WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Studd: AAAHHHH! SHIT!

Studd walked backwards in pain, right into the corner, where Kelloggs grabbed Studd's arm and sent him to the corner. The impact sent Studd hard and forced him to bounce forward, right into the arms of Kelloggs. Kelloggs quickly slammed Studd down with an armdrag and kept the armbar locked. Studd quickly fought out and got off the mat and to his feet. In a matter of seconds, Studd reversed the armbar into his own hammerlock. Following it up with headlock and slamming down Kelloggs with a headlock takedown. But Kelloggs, the bigger of the two men (by 40 pounds and about 3 inches) pushed Studd off and locked his head with a headscissors. Studd quickly kicked out of the hold and both men rocketed to their feet. Studd charged forward, but Kelloggs side-stepped and sent the young star to the ropes. Studd bounced off the ropes and charged towards Kelloggs with a high cross body. Kelloggs quickly hit the mat and avoided the attack. Both men again got to their feet, but Studd caught the advantage with a boot to Kelloggs gut. Studd quickly shot off the ropes and looked for a BIG TIME Spinning DDT - unfortunately for Studd...Kelloggs wrapped his arms tightly around Studd's waist and reversed the DDT into a reverse atomic drop.

Knee to balls = OW!

Studd roared out in pain and was caught off guard by Kelloggs as the Cereal Freak lifted Studd up again and this time hammered him down with a standard atomic drop.

Knee to Ass Bone = OW!

Studd quickly hit the mat knees first and rolled to the outside in pain. Fans actually clapped for Kelloggs, as Frooty Rudy pumped his fists in reaction. Meanwhile, Outside the ring Studd scaled to a vertical base and began throwing a temper tantrum, yelling out "GOD DAMMIT!" in frustration. Fans, not out of the norm, called insults to Studd, but Studd was not a superstar to ignore them and quickly retaliated with a few verbal gestures of his own. Kelloggs saw the opportunity and hit the ropes. Kelloggs slid on the mat and looked for a baseball slide, but Studd caught the move out of the corner of his eye and side-stepped the attempt. Kelloggs hit the ground feet first, turned around to face Studd and...

SMACK!!!!

Fans: WHOOOOO!!

Open Palm Slap to the chest rushed the air right out of Kelloggs. Kelloggs stammered back in pain, as Studd quickly capitalize by kicking Kelloggs in the gut and slamming the doubled over Kelloggs' head into the nearby announcer's table. Kelloggs skull bounced off the table and forced Kelloggs to stammer backwards into the ring apron. Studd continued his offense by grabbing a handful of Kelloggs' hair and yelling out insults in his face before hurling Kelloggs' body into the nearby ring steps. A 'clang!' of steel and flesh echoed throughout the arena as Kelloggs soon fell over in a daze and laid unconsciously on the concrete floors.

The official roared out for Studd to bring the action to the ring, and Studd only cracked a sly grin and arrogantly replied, "Okay, Okay - Enough fooling around". Studd soon pried Rudy off the arena floor and rolled him harshly into the ring. Kelloggs rolled to the center of the ring and laid motionless, as Studd climbed the apron and looked out to the crowd. With a moments notice, Studd leaped into the air, landed onto the ropes, springboarded and...

HIT A PERFECT SPRINGBOARD SHOOTING STAR PRESS!

The fans ROARED out in disbelief, as Studd hooked the leg and covered.

One...

Two...

NO~! Kelloggs kicked out, as Studd only looked at the official and pushed him harshly, holding up 3 fingers, only to get a shake of the head in reply. Studd scoffed at the official and yanked Kelloggs back to his feet. Studd pushed Kelloggs back a bit, measured him up.

Snap Jab to the jaw.

Snap Jab to the jaw.

The windup, the pitch...

STRONG Closed Fisted Right Hand to the face of Kelloggs, knocking the Cereal Freak back on the mat. The crowd jeered Studd wildly as he paradded about the ring, flexing his biceps to the females delight (whilst being yelled at for using the closed fist by the official). Studd, again, ignored the official and again yanked Kelloggs off the mat and this time shuved him to the corner. Studd quickly led his offense off with an irish whip that sent Kelloggs to the opposite corner. Once slumped against the corner, Studd charged forward with all his might - but Kelloggs QUICKLY rolled to the side to avoid the contact. Unfortunately for Kelloggs, Studd landed himself on the second rope. Kelloggs got to his feet, Studd launched sideways and landed a High cross Body...

Unfortunately, Kelloggs caught him in midair and DROOOOOVE Studd HARD into the mat with a heavy powerslam. Kelloggs quickly kept up and hooked the leg.

One...

Studd kicked wildly...

Two...

Kelloggs held on tighter...

General Mills roared out in approval...

...

NO~! Studd powered his way out.

Both men quickly got to their feet. Kelloggs looked for a lariat, but Studd ducked the attempt. Kelloggs turned around and Studd looked for a boot to the gut, but the leg was caught. Kelloggs spun Studd around and kicked him in the gut. Kelloggs locked Studd up for a powerbomb, but Studd quickly maneuevered out and landed behind Kelloggs. Studd shot himself off the ropes, as Rudy turned around and leap frogged over Studd. Studd hit the ropes again, and Rudy hit the mat, looking for a monkey flip. But Studd quickly rolled over the awaiting Rudy. The Cereal Killer rolled to his feet, as Studd kicked back up. Studd charged first, but Rudy side-stepped and sent Studd to the ropes. Studd charged again, but Kelloggs quickly applied a go-behind. Studd looked to fight out, but Kelloggs kept the rear waistlock on tight, lifted Studd up and SLAMMED him to the mat with a German Suplex.

The pain traveled through the Lover of Ladies' shoulders, to his neck and right to his skull. And that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was - Kelloggs still had the rear waistlock held on. Studd groggily got to his feet, as Kelloggs launched Studd up once again and SLAMMED him down with another German Suplex. The pain resurfaced even more, as Studd's eyes fought to keep focus. And as Studd slowly regained enough composure to get to his feet, Kelloggs lifted one more time and SLAMMED Studd hard with a release german suplex (which Studd SUPER SOLD by landing on the back of his head). Studd rolled to his stomach and remained motionless, as a battered and worn-out Kelloggs remained on the mat.

It seemed that the basic brawling contest was beginning to garner a bit more speed. And the fans ate it up. (Slow beginning + Fast Paced Middle = CLASSIC Ending *wink*).

The official watched over both men and began to count the standard Knockout Ten count, but at the count of five, Kelloggs and Studd slowly began to get to their feet. Fans began to actually cheer the Cereal Killer on (his skills garnering him a fanbase once again). Mills slammed his hands against the mat, gaining a 'clap' chant for the regaining superstars. Both men finally got to their feet and groggily stumbled into one another. Studd swung wildly, but Kelloggs ducked and caught Studd from behind, looking for a back suplex. Studd, however, flipped off Kelloggs' shoulder and landed behind him, kneed him in the lower back, and wrapped Kelloggs up in a Dragon Screw Submission!

Kelloggs waved his arms frantically to get out, but Studd continued to apply pressure. Suddenly, Kelloggs swung a wild left into the side of Studd's skull. Studd shook it off, but only to receive another, and another, and another. Finally the pressure was weakened, and allowed Kelloggs enough time to roll around, lift Studd up and LAUNCHED him to the mat with a Release Northern Lights Suplex! The fans actually applauded Kelloggs in his reversal, and even more so as Kelloggs rolled over and landed atop of the fallen Creation of Charisma.

One...

Two...

...

and a Half...

(don't ya hate that?)

...

Thre...

NO~! Studd kicked out in the knick of time! Kelloggs looked wide-eyed at the official, as the official continued to hold to fingers into Kelloggs' face. Kelloggs only shook his head in disbelief and pried the Studdster off the mat and to his feet. Kelloggs wrapped Studd up and slammed him to the ground with a scoop slam. The Cereal Addict looked to the crowd and motioned towards his elbow...and pointed to the top rope. (Top Rope Action = CHEERS!). Kelloggs, a basically grounded wrestler, began to scale the top rope. Studd remained out on the mat, as Kelloggs continued to climb, finally balancing himself on the top. But as he did so, Studd grabbed the official. Held onto his shirt for dear life, not allowing Kelloggs a clear view to hit the Top Rope Elbow Drop. Studd begged the official of an injury when he suddenly pushed the official...right into the ropes...shaking them...and causing Kelloggs to crotch himself on the top rope!

Fans: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

The official roared in disapproval, as an exhausted Hero of Hollywood began to groggily get to his feet - with a devilish smile stretched over his face. Studd pointed to his head and yelled out, "Brains AND Beauty - what more can a woman ask for?". Studd continued his bantering and looked over at Kelloggs, calling out comically, "Well, look at the bright side - you had nothing to lose". Studd then sent a few heavy rights into Kelloggs head to keep him off his game, and began to scale the ropes with the Cereal Killer. Studd locked Kelloggs up and indicated a Top Rope SUPERPLEX! THAT got the fans standing. An anticipated crowd watched as Studd hooked the arm...then grabbed the tights...and as Studd implied the liftoff...

ELBOW TO THE SKULL courtesy of Kelloggs...

Studd was thwarted.

Another elbow to the skull. Studd attempted to fight back with a right hand, but Kelloggs fought back even more with a stiff forearm across the forehead. Studd leaned back, nearly losing his back, but countered back with another jab to the side of the face. Kelloggs fought it off and retaliated with a left hand...then a right hand...and a left hand. A groggy Studd looked to fall back, but Kelloggs did not allow it and grabbed Studd by his trunks (and BOY did that get girls screaming, hoping to catch a peak at the big kahuna). With a stiff shot to the stomach, Studd doubled over at the top rope...and NOW the fans grew anticipated...

Kelloggs positioned himself to stand on the top rope. He lifted Studd up and positioned...for what looked to be...

A top rope powerbomb...

Fans: YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Kelloggs latched his arms around Studd's waist. The Cereal Freak nodded to the crowd. He lifted Studd up... launched forward...

...

...

...

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

AND STUDD REVERSED IN MID-AIR WITH A HURRICANRANA!

Fans: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

With a crowd in complete awe, Kelloggs and Studd remained motionless in the air. In one of the more bump-taking, high risk, adrenaline pumping moments of the rookie bout - both men were just launched across the ring and Kelloggs received the worst of the move. And as the official counted the standard Ten Count...Studd finally began to move...taking what little energy he had left and laying an arm across the chest of the KO'd Kelloggs.

...

One...

...

The ref's hand lifted...

Two...

...

Kelloggs remained motionless...

Mills called out from ringside frantically...

...

Three...

...

Din-

NO~!

Fans: YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Studd: WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!

Kelloggs had kicked out. In a moment of shere disbelief, Rudy Kelloggs had kicked out of one of the most high moves within the contest. Studd looked up at the official in disbelief and roared out, "What the FUCK was that?! THAT WAS A THREE!". But his protests were in vain and the two count remained just. Studd held two arms in plea, but received no sympathy. He could not believe his ears - as the number TWO rang in his mind. And just as he seemed to break down to tears...anger rose up. He was frustrated with his debut not being a three second squash fest. How DARE a jobber like this actually provide a decent contest - that wasn't in his job description!

An angry Studd pried Kelloggs off the mat harshly (and it was obvious Kelloggs was fighting just to stay awake). Studd proceed to pound Kelloggs in his back with a few heavy forearm shots, and placed Kelloggs between his legs. Wrapping his arms around Kelloggs waist he lifted the bigger man up...held him in position for a moment...yelled out "KICK THE FUCK OUT OF THIS ONE!"...placed an arm in between Kelloggs' legs...and...

WHAM!

Slammed him down with a Stalling Cradle Piledriver...(a.k.a. - The Greygoose Hangover).

With Kelloggs flat on his back once again, a smiling Studd landed on top of Kelloggs nonchalantly for the cover...

One...

...

Two...

...

Three.

NO~! AGAIN! Kelloggs kicked out AGAIN! Studd roared out in disapproval, literally getting in the official's face. The Studdster and the unnamed official continued arguments, as Kelloggs slowly got to his feet. Kelloggs, with the assistance of the ropes, finally got to his vertical base. Studd noticed this and quickly began to shake his leg. Kelloggs turned around....Studd side-stepped...

STUDDKICK~!

...

CAUGHT!

Kelloggs caught the attemtped superkick, and a shocked Studd begged Kelloggs' forgiveness. Kelloggs shook his head, and spun Studd around. Kelloggs kicked Studd in the gut and looked for a vertical suplex...but Studd maneuevered out of it in mid-motion and landed behind Kelloggs. Studd launched himself to the ropes and looked for a clothesline, but Kelloggs ducked the shot. As Studd hit the ropes again, Kelloggs did as well...Studd charged...Kelloggs charged...

...

WHACK~!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

THE CEREAL-LINE!

Kelloggs had finally hit a DEVASTATING Clothesline from hell! Studd flipped right in mid-air and crashed onto his stomach. A shocked Rudy looked up at the crowd and at his manager and smiled in happiness. He had hit one of his signatures, finally debuting it to the crowd. He looked over at Studd and saw he was clearly out of it. A groggy Studd only lifted his head slightly, and looked blankly at his surroundings, asking 'Where am I?'. Kelloggs got to his feet and ate the crowd's attention up! Pumping his fists to the cheers he pointed to Studd and motioned for a powerbomb...or better yet...'Cereality Check'. Studd reached a hand out to the ropes, but Kelloggs quickly cut it off and pulled Studd to his feet. Kelloggs placed him between his legs and raised a closed fist to the air...

...

And Studd collapsed to the mat.

Kelloggs pulled Studd up again and pumped a fist to the air again, looking to hit the Cereality Check...

But Studd collapsed again.

Kelloggs AGAIN pulled Studd up...

And Studd wrapped Kelloggs in a SMALL PACKAGE!

ONE!

TWO!!!!

THREE!

NO~! Kelloggs kicked out AGAIN!

Kelloggs got to his feet. Studd got to his feet. Kelloggs looked for a kick, but Studd caught it and spun Kelloggs around. Upon his return, Studd sent a SICKENING Knife Edge Chop. But Kelloggs quickly retaliated with one of his own. Studd stammered back to the ropes and Kelloggs quickly irish whipped him. Kelloggs looked for a back body drop but Studd hit the brakes and kicked Kelloggs with a fied goal kick...forcing Kelloggs back up and...

WHACK~!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

THE STUDDKICK~! (Rate of Entertainment: 9 out of 10~!!)

Studd hit the superkick and Kelloggs hit the mat. Studd quickly toppled over Kelloggs and hooked the leg...

One...

Two...

Three.

...

NO~! AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN! Kelloggs got to his feet. And the fans continued to cheer on the continuation of the bout. Studd roared out in disbelief and yelled out to Mills, "What the FUCK did you feed this guy?!". Studd angrily got to his feet and looked around for a moment - thinking of a way to put Kelloggs down for a good.

Studd walked to the corner with a devilish smile and began to remove the padding off the top turnbuckle. Once he did so, the official quickly caught eye and warned Studd of the consequences if he used it to his advantage. AKA a DQ (Oh, we mustn't have a loss for Studd upon his debut!). So Studd only grunted at the official...

And Finally, he thought of something. He walked to the ropes and got to the apron. Waiting patiently for Kelloggs' arise. 'Frooty' Rudy slowly got to his feet and staggered a bit in the ring. Fans roared out in warning...

Studd launched off the ropes...

...

WHACK~!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (another OOOH moment indeed)

CEREAL-LINE! The Super Clothesline caught Studd in mid-flight and slammed him to the ground. Kelloggs wasted no time this time and yanked Studd right to his feet. He pulled him in position...lifted him up...

CEREALITY CHECK...

REVERSED!

Studd slipped away from Kelloggs' grasp and slumped against the corner. Kelloggs quickly caught composure. He turned around and charged at Studd with all his might...Studd hit the mat to avoid the attack...and WHAM~! Kelloggs went face first into the EXPOSED Turnbuckle! Kelloggs hit the mat hard and remained out cold on the ground. Studd looked to the crowd and smiled sadistically as the crowd responded in jeers.

The official yelled out at Studd, as Studd's only reply was, "Hey! I didn't PUSH him into it, now did I?!" Studd soon looked at the fallen Kelloggs and only nodded as he began to scale the top rope. With Kelloggs clearly out on the mat, Studd balanced himself on the top rope...did a little 'Rick Rude Weiner Dance'...flipped off General Mills...told the crowd to 'SUCK ON THIS'....launched himself HIGH into the air...SNAPPED HIS BODY...

WHAM~!!!!

Fans: OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

STAR STUDDED SPLASH!

The Top Rope High Elevation Frog Splash with the extra UMPH!

The move was hit, as Studd's body bounced off Kelloggs'! Studd held his ribs in extreme pain and only had enough power to lay across the fallen Kelloggs. And as the official hit the ground, Studd counted along with him...

ONE!!!

....

TWO!!!!

....

KICKOUT...

HELL FUCKING NO...


THREEE!!!!!!!

*DING DING DING!*

"Figured You Out" by Nickelback ROARED over the PA System.

Fans couldn't help but jeer....and clap. The crowd was amazed, a slow contest formulated into a fast paced bout...and into a spectacular finish. Sean Studd lifted himself off the mat and held a fist to the air, and with a high and mighty roar of victory, he said loudly and proudly...

"And THAT is how you debut!"

Studd rolled out of the ring and began strutting his way back up the ramp. Meanwhile, inside the ring, the official and General Mills began to check on the unconscious Rudy Kelloggs. Although he had lost, he was seen as a much more respected individual after such a great bout. But would Studd admit to that?

Hell no...

Studd was the winner, bitches!

The star won, and the jobber lost...End of Story.

WINNER: Sean Studd via Pinfall

 

The Era of Entertainment Has Begun!

Backstage, Jay Hucks stood by once again - microphone in hand, prepared to give another interview for nBW fans. The cameras cued up, and Hucks appeared before the screen. He spoke clearly into his microphone and greeted the fans professionally.

"Hello nBW fans, I'm Jay Hucks and I'm here to ask some questions to...," but Hucks was suddenly cut off as a figure suddenly walked across the screen and made off with Hucks' prized possession - his microphone. The fans looked on and laughed, as the camera followed the culprit. Hucks roared out in anger with shouts of 'What the hell?' and 'this is bull...' (CENSORS). But the figure who stole the mic was followed and appeared to be none other than a sweaty and heavy-breathing, Sean Studd. With a water bottle in one hand, and a microphone in the other - Studd looked towards the camera that frantically followed the mobile Definition of Devastation. He poured the remnants of his water bottle over his head, as he continued walking through the corridors with microphone in hands.

"Believe me, the ratings JUST went up when I took this microphone from that no-talent son of a bitch," Studd stated as he breathed heavily following his riveting contest against Rudy Kelloggs. Sweat still fresh over his sultry body, and his wrestling attire still on, Studd looked towards the camera and began to speak towards his fans, "Ladies and gentlemen, Studdster of young and old, tonight marked the beginning of the Era of Entertainment. That match that just took place was quite possibly the only match that had every factor of entertainment involved - charisma, agility, speed, technicality, and brawling. That contest held all forms of sports entertainment styles - and BABY, it was all thanks to ONE man. One man who had the power to not only put himself over, but made a lowly 'fruit loop' jobber look good - and that man...(moving his finger about randomly, before pointing to himself) Me."

As he continued down the backstage area, he passed many different locker rooms - names like Cal Roberts, Rudy Kelloggs, Callie Urban, and even Spike Saunders appeared in the backround. And with every door he passed, Studd looked hard at the signs, and scoffed in disgust. He took a deep breathe and looked hard at the camera, "Do you see these names? Do see these overrated piles of unentertaining piles of feces? Not ONE of these sports entertainers can match up to HALF of what I have done in that ring. Saunders, Urban, Roberts - they all lay in their beds and DREAM of being me....or in Urban's case...dream of being WITH me"

Studd only cocked a sly grin before continuing down the corridor, "These names won't bring in buyrates. Those matches won't bring in new fans. The only time the fans will feel the need to go to Ticketmaster and purchase their 90 dollar ticket - is to see the Amazon of Athletesism, the Creation of Charisma, the Meaning of Man, the Definition of Devastation, the Lover of Ladies, the Epitome of Entertainment, and the SAVI-AH of SPORTS ENTERTAAAAAINMENT. The buyrates, the fans, they will all flock just to see....The Studd"

"The spotlight is MINE, bitches. nBW is MY home. I will take this federation of no-names, or talentless hacks, and make it into a federation of infamous celebrity status! The word sports entertainment will not be mentioned without the nBW name -- and the name of it's new franchise player - Sean Studd," Studd stated confidently, as he switched his attention to the backstage area, "I know....the cameraman knows it...that fat son of a bitch knows it (the camera moving to the left to see Jay Hucks complaining to a backstage attendant)...he knows it (pointing to the Cal Roberts locker room)...he knows it (pointing to the Spike Saunders locker room)...and she DAMN sure knows it (pointing to the Callie Urban locker room)...and most importantly, THE PEOPLE know it!"

"The ERA of ENTERTAINMENT...has officially...begun! And until I see fit, the spotlight will remain on the creator ............................

"Me"

And with that, Studd lobbed the microphone off screen and walked off - he jaw-jacking of celebration continued to echo in the backstage area, as Studd strutted his way through the locker room area...but not before tapping on the Urban locker room door and stating, what he felt was obvious - 'Don't worry baby, you're number will come up -- and when it does, WHOO are you lookin' at a good time'.

Arrogance is just an attitude without the talent backing up. Unfortunately for everyone at nBW - Studd was the Equation of Arrogance and Talent. Sucks to be less over than a rookie - don't it?

 

IMMORAL!

“Fixxxer” by Metallica blared throughout the stereo system in The Epic Arena. Those that saw Confrontation immediately began to boo. However, the majority of the audience who hadn’t seen the event sat in confusion. However, their confusion was only temporary. The man that everyone hated soon pushed through the curtains.

Though he didn’t look quite the same as the last time most everyone had seen him, Uncensored, the foul mouthed S.O.B. himself was indeed on his way down to the ring. His ribs were taped up due to the backstage assault that he received a week short weeks ago. His head wasn’t taped up like it had been at Confrontation. However, there were a few stitches visible.

Aside from his attire, Uncensored didn’t really look like himself either. He didn’t look cocky whatsoever. He looked relaxed yet a bit upset at the same time. Generally, everyone was confused by his presence.

He entered the ring and upon his request was granted a microphone. Shortly, “Fixxxer” was cut off. Uncensored was all business tonight. He didn’t want to fool around with nor about anything. He was out here for a purpose. He wanted to make this purpose clear and precise.

“Look,” Uncensored said before he paused. “At Confrontation, I went against my doctors orders and I stepped into the ring. Why on earth would I have done such a thing? I did this because I had an agenda. If anyone remembers my SHOWrestling days or if anyone remembers my TFZ days, when I have an agenda there is not going to be one mother fucking thing that can stop me.”

The fans didn’t know how to react. They sat calmly and almost complete silence.

“My agenda at Confrontation was simple. I was going to destroy Spike Saunders, if not kill him in front of the public audience. There’s absolutely no need to go into details as to why I wanted to do this. I came down to the ring against not only my doctors orders, but my actions were not in the manner that the nbW or the 3WA would want to be represented. For my actions, and to those that were seriously offended by my actions, I apologize.”

Still, no real response was generated by the crowd.

“But, there is someone that I need to apologize to the most. You all know and love him very well. His name is Spike Saunders!” Uncensored said. With the mention of that name, the crowd popped violently.

“Spike-It-UP” started playing throughout the arena. Spike Saunders was on his way down to the ring. The crowd roared even louder upon him entering the arena. However, he was moving very slowly. His ribs were taped much like Uncensored’s. Just like Uncensored’s head, his too had been stitched up as well.
Spike took his time while getting into the ring. Due to his pains and injuries, he couldn’t really help himself. However, he quickly walked up the steps. Just as fast, he stepped over the top rope. Just like the, “Spike-It-UP” was faded down until all that could be heard was the cheering of the crowd.

“Like I said, Spike,” Uncensored began. “I called you out here to say that from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry for what I did at Confrontation. If there is anyway I can make it up to you, please, just let me know.”

Uncensored extended his right hand to Spike. He seemed like he generally wanted to shake the man’s hand. However, Saunders couldn’t know if he could trust the man. Not only is he like a vicious dog that would bite the hand that fed him, he’s also just completely all-round untrustworthy.

Saunders took off his sunglasses and looked Uncensored in his brown eyes. He looked over to the fans on his left. Slowly, he looked over on the fans to his right. They all wanted him to just shut Uncensored up right there. Saunders then looked back into Uncensored’s eyes.

The heat reached the boiling point. The elements were about to combust. “This is gonna be a sloberknocker!” Whatever you may want to say, you could tell that there was going to be some sort of reaction that most likely wasn’t going to be for the wife and kids.

“The Fifth Symphony” as performed by Beethoven began playing inside the arena. Both Uncensored and Spike Saunders turned their attention to the entryway, as did the entire audience. Whatever it was that was interrupting what was sure to be another brutal battle would HAVE to be worth it.

An unfamiliar face pushed through the black curtains. He wore a white, long-sleeved business shirt, black Khakis, and black shoes. His eyes had the covering of prescription eyeglasses. He held a clipboard filled with some sort of documentations. On his shirt the letters “FCC” were designed on his left chest.

He thumbed through some of the papers as he made his way down to the ring. Once he reached the ringside area, he looked in the ring and shook his head at the two men standing in its center. They looked down at him confused as ever. They had absolutely no idea why he was interrupting them.

Soon, he entered the ring and requested a separate microphone. He looked at both Uncensored and Saunders disgusted. Finally, he rose the microphone to his lips and began to speak.

“I don’t know how it is you two think you can continue to get away with this sort of ludicrous!” The man said. Uncensored scoffed into his microphone. “I don’t know how it is that you, Uncensored, think you can continuously use profanity every other word every time you have an interview. Nor do I know how you, Uncensored have think you can get away with the public, graphic violence that was displayed last week at Confrontation! It’s sick! You’re nothing more than an animal! You do not belong on the television sets of ANY true American!”

The crowd didn’t know how to react.

Slowly, Uncensored spoke once more. “Just who the fuck are you, dickhead?” Uncensored said to a fairly decent amount of laughter from the crowd. The man breathed heavily to show just how upset the last comment made him. However, he closed his eyes and took two deep breaths to relax himself.

“Uncensored, I am Lucas Morgan. However, everyone may remember me as that colorful, embarrassing, and nearly career-killing character, Lunatic.” Morgan shivered at the thought of his former self. “Thankfully, after the time I spent in the mental hospital, I no longer will need to be subjected to such obscure gestures and quite frankly, ignorance.”

“Hold on,” Uncensored said, “You’re the fucking dumb ass Lunatic?!” Uncensored laughed after his previous statement. “No wonder your nose looks about as fucked up as Michael Jackson.” Once again, the crowd laughed.

“THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM HERE TO PUT AND END TO!” Morgan said. “I am here because the Federation’s Censorship Committee will not tolerate the profanity, the violence, the sexually explicit, or any other immoral and un-American gestures that have taken over this programming!”

“You want me to comply with your rules, is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Uncensored questioned. Morgan responded by nodding his head. “Fuck that!”

“NOW YOU’VE DONE IT!” Morgan yelled.

“Fuck…” Uncensored said.

“STOP!” Morgan replied.

“Shit…”

“I’M GETT-…”

“Bitch…”

“I’VE HAD…”

“Cunt, cock-sucking, dick-licking, mother fucking, bitch ass mother fucking son of a fucking whore!” Uncensored was just trying to irritate Lucas Morgan. Obviously, it worked. Morgan looked down at the ring.

Slowly, Morgan raised his head back up. He took off his glasses and dropped the on the mat. He threw his clipboard down and he looked at Uncensored. “That’s it!” He said. “I don’t want have to resort myself to taking actions into my own hands. Uncensored, you leave me with no other choice.”

“Heh,” Uncensored said. “I don’t need to waste my time with a pathetic piece of shit like you.” Uncensored smacked Spike’s chest. “Spike, kick his fucking ass.” Saunders looked at Uncensored furiously. He was in no shape to compete. However, he had just been volunteered by his nemesis. Uncensored exited the ring. Morgan was preparing for a battle. Meanwhile, Uncensored and Saunders exchanged words.

 

Spike Saunders vs. Lucas Morgan

An impromptu match was underway. Spike Saunders, just a week after a vicious beating from Uncensored was to do battle with the returning nbW performer now known as Lucas Morgan. He was the man the audience loved previously known as “The Lunatic.” Around two months ago, Lunatic lost as match to Rey Campbell. The stipulations of that match being if Lunatic lost, he would be checked into a mental hospital. Two months later, he is back.

One should know that Saunders was no where near 100% healed after the sadistic beating he took at Confrontation courtesy of the man that just apologized for his actions and was joining the commentators at ringside, Uncensored.

Saunders and Morgan inched closer to one another as an nbW official was rushing towards the scene. The referee entered the ring and called for the bell to start this impromptu match. Morgan raised his right hand which showed a request for a test of strength.

Saunders looked down at the man half his size and laughed. However, Morgan was deadly serious. He gravely wanted to test the strength of the big man. Upon his request, Saunders grabbed hold of Morgan’s right hand with his left. As soon as that happened, Saunders’ already brutally beaten mid-section was met with Morgan’s right boot.

Saunders immediately let go of FCC official’s hand. Morgan smiled as Saunders fell right in his trap. Lucas was not about to relent, either. He gave Saunders two more boots to the damaged ribs. Through all of the pains he was fighting, Saunders forcefully shoved Morgan down to the canvas.

Spike wrapped his arms around his gut and bent over only slightly. Morgan looked up at the monster before him with a face of worriment drowning his every expression. He couldn’t help but fear for his safety as his original strategy hadn’t worked out the way he had intended it to.

Saunders pieced himself back together and stalked towards the downed Morgan. As quick as a cat, Morgan slid under the ring. He didn’t want to have any part of the awoken giant’s fury.

Instead, Morgan walked towards the commentator’s booth. He pointed towards the guest commentator for this match, Uncensored, and yelled, “Your mouth will NOT be tolerated by the FCC.” By this time, the referee brought his count on Morgan up to five. Morgan turned around.

Spike was standing in the ring and holding onto the top rope on the side closest to where his opponent was located on the outside. “Get back in the ring!” The official demanded of Morgan. Lucas requested that Saunders be held back to allow a fair entrance. The referee tried his best to grant Lucas’ wishes. However, Saunders wouldn’t have any of it.

Instead, Saunders bent as far over as he possibly could. He grabbed hold of what little hair Lucas Morgan had to pull back up into the ring. However, Morgan wrapped his arms around the back of Saunders’ neck. He put all of his weight and completely let himself go.

Spike was in no condition to be able to force his way out of this one. As Lucas was going back to the outside of the ring, Saunders’ throat connected with the top rope. Saunders quickly bounced back up, which only added even more strain to his ribs due to the sudden movement. Lucas watched on as Saunders backed up.

Quickly, Morgan slid under the bottom rope. Just as fast, Lucas stood back up on his feet. He ran towards the ropes on his left and bounced off. He charged back towards his opponent, Saunders. Spike, by that time, was able to regroup himself enough to stand straight and maintain his balance.

However, there was an angry young man that would do anything reasonable to stop anything that is truly demoralizing the country that was at one point in time so pure and so innocent (…right) charging straight towards him.

The pair’s right shoulders collided with one another. Lucas found himself back on the mat. He had just run right into the metaphoric brick wall. He looked up at the lights. More importantly, he looked up at the dragon towering over him.

Spike flexed his right arm, which received a fairly decent pop out of the crowd. Soon after that, he dropped an elbow deep into the heart of Lucas Morgan. Right away, Spike Saunders hooked Morgan’s leg to try and end the match.

One!

Two!

However, seeing as he hadn’t received much damage in the match, Lucas easily got his left shoulder off of the mat and shot his arm up towards the sky. Saunders rapidly stood back up to a vertical basis. Lucas was a bit slower. However, he managed to get to one knee.

That was as far as Spike Saunders was going to allow him to go. Morgan found his head tucked between both of Saunders’ legs. Saunders motioned to the fans that he was about to give Lucas the ride of his life.

Spike bent down and wrapped his arms around the gut of Lucas. Slowly, Saunders picked Morgan up. It could easily be seen that that was not as quick as he normally would be able to pick someone half of his size up. However, he had every right to be slow, his mid-section was in no shape for him to be able to compete with the condition it had been in thanks to the beating at Confrontation. He was about to drive Morgan back down onto the unforgiving mat below. Morgan could also feel this coming with every fiber in his being.

Morgan was going to do everything possible to get himself out of this predicament. He threw fist after fist after fist until he had hit Saunders in the forehead a good five times. With the damage Spike’s head had taken within the last week, he was powerless. He had to fall back, and he did.

As he hit the ring’s floor, his legs also rose up from the impact. Morgan wrapped his right arm around Spike’s left leg. He remained in this position as the official made his way into position and counted the cover.

One!

Lucas grabbed hold of the middle rope with his free left hand. The referee didn’t see it.

Two!

Three!

NO!

Despite the odds, Saunders was still able to power out of the pinfall attempt with the strength in his legs. Morgan soon stood back up. Like a shark scenting blood, he held onto the top rope and stomped away at the hurt abdomen. The referee eventually broke him up. However, he went back right away to the attack and continued to stomp at ribs.

Finally, Morgan let up. He turned his back and threw his arms up angrily towards the fans. The fans responded with boos, obviously. Maybe they booed due to the fact that their hero, Spike Saunders, was on the mat due to circumstances out of everyone’s control. Maybe they booed because they already legitimately couldn’t stand Morgan. Either way, they booed.

Morgan jumped up and down three times, as the electricity and vibe from everyone and everything that was going on was giving him an extra boost of energy. He called for Saunders to stand back up. “I’ll show you how the FCC rids the scum!” He yelled.

With the official’s back to Lucas, Morgan suddenly had a change in plans. He turned around and walked as fast as he could towards the corner behind him. He began untying the top turnbuckle padding. He turned his head quickly to see what was going on behind him. Saunders was almost to his feet already and the referee was turning around. He had to think of something and fast.

He abandoned his idea of removing the padding and jumped onto the top rope and crouched down to wait for Saunders to stand to his feet and realize where exactly he was. That happened rather quickly. Spike slowly walked closer towards the corner Morgan was standing on just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Lucas Morgan made the leap of faith. He was looking for a flying cross body. Both of the chests of the competitors smacked against each other. However, despite all of the pain he was in, Spike didn’t fall down. He was still able to catch Morgan.

Saunders turned around 180 degrees and dropped Lucas Morgan down onto the mat with a spine tingling powerslam. The crowd rose to their feet in respect and applauded the maneuver. Uncensored did this as well as he sat at the commentating booth and both verbally and physically congratulated. This could be over yet again. Saunders stayed in this position and there was yet another cover on its way.

One!

Two!

Three!

NO~!

Morgan was still somehow able to kick out. Spike didn’t know what to do. He knew that the match was just a moment or two from being over. Morgan was a miserable piss-ant compared to him. There was no way he could take much more damage in this bout.

He felt the energy from the crowd rushing through his veins as he returned to his feet. He favored his ribs for a succinct moment. He looked past all of his aches as he bent over and pealed Morgan off of the canvas via pulling on his arm. He held onto that arm even after Lucas was on his feet. He threw Morgan into the corner opposite that of the one which he had just flown off of previously.

Lucas hit the turnbuckles with his back. Nevertheless, the punishment wasn’t through from there. Saunders was running straight towards him. Saunders extended his right arm. It crashed onto the upper chest of Lucas Morgan. Yet the retribution wasn’t quite through just yet, either. Saunders followed through with three elbows driving into Morgan’s face. Even after that, Spike wasn’t finished. Instead of relenting, Saunders drove his right boot into Morgan’s throat. The referee had no choice but to stop this vicious assault built inside of Saunders.

Right after the official gave Spike a quick lecture, Saunders went back onto the attack. He whipped Morgan into the opposite corner. However, instead of following up from there, he played to the crowd. He let them know just how furious he was. The pain was nothing to him at that point. The adrenaline had finally kicked in and completely taken over his entire body.

Morgan noticed that Saunders wasn’t capitalizing. He went back to untying the turnbuckle’s padding. Uncensored had seen enough. He took off the headset and headed towards the ring. He wasn’t able to allow Morgan to get away with what he was doing. He started up a minor ruckus on the outside. The official pleaded with him to let it be. However, Uncensored begged for Saunders’ attention.

By the time he got it, it was too late. Morgan removed the padding and threw it on the outside. Neither the referee nor Spike saw any of this happening. Morgan returned to his “unconscious” state in the corner.

Spike turned around and put all of his force into running towards Lucas Morgan. “He’s playing you!” Uncensored cried out as loud as he could. However, between the roaring of the fans, his heart beating rapidly, and the wind blowing into his ears from the running, Uncensored might as well have been talking to an old 90 year old man.

Saunders didn’t stop whatsoever. He charged towards Morgan with every ounce of energy he had. He was running so quick, whatever it was that he had planned was sure to do a great deal of damage.

Tragically, it wasn’t to be. Morgan sidestepped Saunders just as Uncensored suggested that he would. Saunders’ injured mid-section collided with the exposed steel turnbuckle. Saunders backed away from the corner. He took in deep breaths and held onto his abdomen with both hands.

Little did he know, Morgan was on his hands and knees directly behind him. The Dragon fell backwards over Morgan’s body. Lucas rolled Saunders up in a school boy pin. He held onto Saunders’ tights as well. The official ran and dropped his body into position. As if the collision with the exposed turnbuckle and the fist full of tights wasn’t enough, Morgan also placed both of his feet on the middle rope for ever more leverage.

One!

Two!

Three!

The official called for the bell. This one was in fact over. Somehow, someway, Lucas Morgan was able to steal his very first victory while working for the nbW. Quickly, Morgan left the ring and Beethoven’s “Fifth Symphony” plagued the stereo systems again. He held his arms high above his head in victory. Apparently, the FCC doesn’t approve of violence. Nor does the FCC approve of profanity. Nonetheless, the FCC apparently does approve a win via cheating with great acceptance. Morgan held his hands high all the way up the entryway before he left the scene.

Uncensored came into the ring as Spike Saunders sat up. He tried to explain to Saunders what happened. Spike looked up at him ferociously. He shook his head and beat the mat with his right hand. “Thanks for the help,” Saunders said before he rolled out of the ring.

Uncensored remained inside of the ring, however. He watched on as Saunders walked up the aisle. Uncensored felt bad for his actions last week just as he was feeling bad for his actions now. Although, he did believe in his mind that he did all that he could to try and help out the situation.

There’s quite the irony in all of this, actually.

WINNER: Lucas Morgan via Pinfall

 

Bitter Reaction

The camera opened in the room of a rather frustrated and bitter Blake Gray. He was pacing around the room, right hand rubbing the back of his neck as he seemed aggravated over something. Anyone who had been watching Infamy could tell exactly what he was aggravated over. Cal Roberts had mocked Gray and stole his most effective submission move, the Vice Grip.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Blake grinded his teeth as he spoke in a harsh, raspy tone.

Pacing around, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his nerves, Blake Gray turned toward the television monitor in the locker room and lowered his arm. He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

“He wants to try and play games like this?” Gray asked himself. “Then, we will show him exactly who is better at this game.”

A smile overcame Blake’s face as he lowered his head from looking at the ceiling and stepped toward the television monitor. A video-cassette player sat on top of the television. Gray hit the eject button and out came a tape. He tapped the top of the tape.

“If Cal Roberts thinks he is going to get the better of me by stealing the Vice Grip, he has another thing coming,” Blake slowly nodded as he looked at the tape.

Blake set the tape down on the video player and started to walk away.

“Let’s see how he feels when I steal something of his,” Blake grinned in a sadistic way.

The intense and aggravated young man opened the door to his locker room and began to walk out into the hallway. The live camera was still positioned by the video player and television. It panned back to the television and slowly tilted down to look at the tape sitting on the video player. There was a white sticker on the tape with words written on it:

Cal Roberts – PCW Highlights

It seemed as if Blake Gray was doing a little scouting.

 

Short Fuse

“Yo Spike, you in here?”

It was the voice of Andrew Martin, as he walked into the locker room of Spike Saunders. “Yooo hooo.”

“What?” said the large man behind him, towering above him.

“HEh you scared me there buddy. Just wondering what you though of my excellent work against Torment last week…”

“You won. Congrats.”

“More luck of the fall really.”

“Either way, you showed you still have talent inside the ring, and just need to work off that ring rust man.” Stated Spike as he leaned himself up against the door frame.

“Yeah. Unlike you… you know. I’ve never seen someone beat down like that before. It was surreal!”

Spike’s face flustered over with a deep shade of red, before he relaxed again. “Banks broke character… Frak he broke nbW’s rules. Bruised and Battered some of my ribs, and then he has the nerve to walk out on our match? And even worse yet, he comes out to my match tonight in an attempt to ‘help’ me? I believe we have the wrong person sent to the loony bin.”

Martin laughed heartedly as Spike looked at him with a crooked eyebrow.

“Too bad your dyke didn’t get involved. She backed down from Banks without hesitation, she wasn’t wan…”

Martin’s words were cut short, as Spike’s hand wrapped around his throat, hovering him off the ground. Martin struggled against the grip will keeping a faint smile and nodding his head. Saunders let go so Martin could drop back down to his feet. “Tough… Well I’m out of here. My nephew has a match against Jason Kain later tonight, so I need to go see if he’s prepped.”

“Good luck to him. Later”

“Yeah later Spike. Tell the dyke I said hi.”

Spike reached out for Martin once more, but this time the littler man slipped past him and sprinted down the hallway. Spike shaking his head, he scooted his body down the doorway to sit down, while looking up at the ceiling.

 

Kids Today

With an icepack on his face there was no way that Rudy Keller looked pleased tonight. He’d lost his ‘big’ match with Sean Studd and felt a little pathetic. It wasn’t the fact that he lost, but the fact that the match was promised to be on Pay-Per-View and at the last minute was bumped to Infamy. How disappointing.

Francis could see the sadness in Rudy’s eyes. Rudy was feeling like all Hell. “Success doesn’t come easy, kid,” Mills said and left the room. “General” Mills was never really one for sentiments or encouragement. He wanted people to do their jobs and do their jobs well. Rudy wasn’t really doing anything well and he wasn’t about to get any help from his manager, Francis Mills.

Rudy lifted the icepack from his jaw. Sean Studd’s kicks to the face were terribly painful and Rudy thought his jaw bone might in fact be bruised. Bruised bones hurt, but after a few days the pain just goes away. It’s one of those self healing injuries that someone can work through. In college he’d had bruised ribs numerous times.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t know his place. Rudy thought that being on the nbW roster would get him respect and people would be friendly. This is not the case. Rudy is THE nbW jobber, curtain jerker, infant. He’s as green as the Lucky Charms leprechaun’s suit. There’s no way around it. Maybe once Rudy realizes his place he’ll be able to break out of it and become something more.

Kids today…

 

Check Your Caller I.D.

Alex Styles was on his way back into his office when his secretary notified him that he had received a few calls while roaming the backstage locker room keeping everyone and everything in order.

”Ah, whatever, I’m sure if it’s important they’ll call me later.” Styles didn’t seem to care much as he is used to receiving numerous pointless phone calls daily. His secretary smiled slightly and stared at Styles. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh no particular reason really…” replied his secretary. “I just think that you might be interested in who it was that was calling, that’s all.”

“Alright, alright” Styles threw his arms up in the air. “Let me know, I don’t have time for this, the main event is up next.”

Once again his secretary looked at him in a funny manner, she then said “It was an old, well I wouldn’t say friend of yours… but certainly an acquaintance. Just check your caller I.D. when you get in your room, I made sure not to delete any of the calls.”

Styles was a bit annoyed that his secretary was speaking to him this way, but then again he’s also used to being a bit disrespected, and he never has been one to do much about it. He pushed his way through his secretary, sarcastically saying “Thanks a lot” and opened the doors to his office.

Once inside he turned on the television to prepare to watch the second half of the show. He started getting comfortable into his chair which was stationed in front of the television when he thought about checking to see who the calls were from. Styles was visibly annoyed but the suspense of who it could be was eating at him. It must be someone out of the norm for his secretary to be acting so strangely.

Styles got up from his seat and strolled back on over toward his desk. Styles was actually seemingly excited and in his mind he was going over the possibilities as to who it might be. Styles looks down….

RING
…
RING
…
RING

Styles jumped back, startled by the phone and clutched his chest by his heart. He wiped his brow and answered the phone. “Executive Styles speaking…”

“Well did you look to see who called?” said Styles secretary on the other line.

”No actually, I was just about to but well you interrupted. Now get back to work.” Styles slammed the phone down. He now had to fidget with some buttons on his phone since the mystery caller was no longer the last caller. Boy is Styles awful when it comes to machines. He began playing around with the damn thing but couldn’t get it to come up then next thing he knew it, he was reading the text on the phone display. It read… ‘Call History Erased’…. “AHHH you gotta be shittin me! Damnit all…” Styles ripped his phone off his desk, plugs flying everywhere, and chucked it across the room. He stormed out of his office to find his secretary, but as soon as he opened the door she was already there. He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her right in the eyes… “Alright now, this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, just let me know who it was that called damnit…”

”Whoa, whoa, Mr. Styles… No need for me to tell you, he’s just arrived and he wants to talk to you. I told him to go right on in to your office.”

A door opened from the hallway behind Styles’ secretary and through the door walked a man heading straight toward Styles office. “What’s up Boss… Good to see you again” said the man as he patted Styles on the shoulder and walked through into his office.

Styles slowly turned around, facing into his office with a dumbfounded look.

“Mr. Helms?” He walked back into his office and slammed the door shut.

 

Blake Gray vs. Pat Dwyer

With the dimming of the house lights, “Do You Call My Name?” by Ra began to play.

A single light shone down from the top of the arena, much in the way of a spotlight. Blake Gray stepped out from behind the curtains and the animated young man looked around with a smile on his face. Dressed in his wrestling trunks and boots, Gray paced around in front of the entrance way taking a good look at the live audience he was about to perform before. Slowly, Blake Gray began to make his way down the aisle toward the ring as that spotlight from above surrounded his figure and the floor at his feet.

Approaching the ring, Blake Gray shifted his look up as he looked around the ring. Gray turned and placed a foot on the steps and began to walk up each step and, when he reached the top, he stood at the outer edge of the ring grabbing the ropes. The reception for Gray was a fine one as most wrestling fans were cheering the young man. Blake held the ropes with both hands and leaned back, jumping up and catapulting himself off the second rope into a high jump and inside the ring.

“Ahem! Pat Dwyer commands your attention!”

The head of Blake Gray swerved as he knew this match was going to be a return to Relentless over two months ago. Heads of the fans turned as the phrase spoke over the sound speakers of the arena, echoing against the walls and hoards of booing reactions were plastered in the direction of the stage. As "Lip Gloss and Black" by Atreyu struck up and played over the sound system, the loud guitar riff heard throughout the arena, Dwyer emerged from the backstage area. He was dressed in an nbW T-shirt and his black warm up pants. There was his usual pause to absorb the loud boos coming from the heated crowd.

As Dwyer continued toward the ring, his eyes remained fixated on the ring and Blake Gray as he absorbed the harsh reactions of the crowd creating energy for himself. He made it to the stairs, climbing up step by step. Never did he bat his eyes in the direction of the crowd to allow their reaction to make him hesitate. Dwyer ducked under the middle rope, entering his corner of the ring. He took off his nbW T-shirt and threw it into the crowd, eyes looking at Blake Gray who was across the ring fixing his elbow pad and readying for a rematch of quite some time passed.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

With the bell echoing in the arena, Dwyer moved out of his corner after taking his warm up pants off. Blake circled in and the both of them were eyeing each other. Blake shot in for the collar and elbow tie-up and Pat passed his lock with a shift around the backside. He had a waist-lock on Gray and lifted Blake up, dropping him forward on the mat with a nice amateur takedown. Blake was quick and flipped himself over under Pat and rolled to avoid any attack or submission from Pat. The two of them hopped back up to their feet and bounced around at a distance.

Having met twice already in the past three months, Blake and Pat were beginning to understand each others’ styles. They moved in once more for a tie-up and Dwyer struck with a toe kick right to the abdomen. Blake doubled over and Pat drove a forearm into the side of Gray’s head. He backed Blake against the ropes, whipping him across the ring. On the return, Blake caught Pat with a Shoulder Tackle and leveled him on his back!

Grabbing his head, Pat jumped to his feet and charged at Gray. Blake tagged Pat with a stiff right forearm and backed him into the corner. Pat covered up as Blake tried to tee off with forearms but Blake shifted and went for a brutal chop across the chest!

“Woo!” went the crowd as the sound of Gray’s right backhand stung across Dwyer’s chest.

Pat flinched from the shot and Blake tagged him with a forearm to the face as Pat had grabbed his pectorals. Blake whipped Pat right out of the corner and sent him into the opposite corner. Gray charged across the ring and hit Pat with a hard clothesline against the turnbuckles!

Once again, Blake took Pat by the arm and swung him across the ring. Dwyer smacked into the turnbuckles and Blake readied himself in the opposite corner. Rushing across the ring, Blake jumped up looking for a Stinger Splash—

Pat Dwyer moved out of the way and Blake hit the turnbuckles across his sternum!

Taking advantage, Pat ran into the back of Blake Gray as he staggered back from the corner. He drove Blake right back into the corner against the turnbuckles and Gray let out a cry in pain from hitting the corner! Pat went to work on the kidney area of Blake from behind as he drove haymakers and hammer-like punches into the young athlete’s side. Blake was limp against the corner and Pat leaned down and drove his shoulder right into Blake’s kidney!

“Get it out of the corner!” yelled referee Chuck Radford.

Watching Blake’s body begin to fall down in the corner, Pat Dwyer put his hands up in the air and backed off. He had weakened Blake substantially in quite the short time. Blake held his back and kidney area in pain as he struggled to pull himself up with one hand. Pat moved back into the corner and pulled Gray from his knees.

Pat turned Blake around against the corner and belted him in the face with a hard right hand. He followed up with a left jab and Blake’s head was snapping back like it was being jerked. Pat took hold of Blake by the head and hit a snapmare take over into a rear chin lock. As Blake struggled on the mat, Pat pulled back on the neck and dug his knee into the side of Blake’s back, still working on that weakened kidney area.

The crowd began to rally behind Blake in the early portion of the match as he worked to a vertical base. Pat tried to keep him down but Blake forced up with his power and exploded with an elbow right to the side of Dwyer’s abdomen. Pat let go of his chin lock and Blake turned around catching Pat with a hard short range clothesline!

Both men shook off the pain from the past few minutes and began to rally to their feet. Blake reached his feet first as Pat stood against the ring ropes. Blake came running at Pat but Dwyer ducked and flipped Blake right over top the ropes—

Blake landed on the apron and held the ropes!

As Dwyer turned around, Blake hammered him with a haymaker to the face! Dwyer’s head snapped back and Blake drove a hard shoulder thrust through the ropes into Pat’s stomach. A doubled over Dwyer was pulled in close to the ropes by Blake as he propelled himself with a Sunset Flip back into the ring with a pin-fall forthcoming!

One…

Two…

Quick kick out at two by Pat Dwyer!

They rolled to their feet and Dwyer ducked under a shot from Gray as he whizzed by and bounced off the opposite ropes. Dwyer looked for a deep arm drag but Gray flipped himself around Dwyer and countered with an arm drag of his own to Pat catching him with an arm bar on the canvas! Blake worked on the right arm of Dwyer and tried to twist it around into a hammerlock as Dwyer struggled to find an out.

Writhing in pain was Dwyer but Blake pressed that hammerlock up into the back of Dwyer as he pulled his opponent to his feet. Blake lifted up Dwyer into a back drop set-up and fell backward—

Shoulder Breaker Back Drop!

One…

Two…

Yet again, Pat Dwyer forcefully kicked out at two!

The pressure being applied by Blake Gray was slowly softening Dwyer; it had to be. But it was going to take a lot of work to put Pat Dwyer down. Blake pulled Dwyer to his feet and connected with a hard chop to the chest as Dwyer flinched and took a few steps back. Dwyer received another stinging chop from Gray who shook his hand after the latest chop to show how much it hurt him in addition to Dwyer. Gray sent Dwyer for an Irish whip but Pat countered it and spun under the arm grasp of Gray—

German Suplex!

Straight back on the mat both men went and Blake Gray flipped over to his stomach holding the back of his head and neck. Giving a few kicks at the mat, Blake sold the impact of the German Suplex as Dwyer showed effort in standing back up. As Dwyer reached Blake, the young amateur wrestler was starting to his feet. Dwyer drove a series of body shot punches into Blake and took a step back—

Roundhouse Kick to the Head!

The shot clocked Blake Gray right in the temple and he fell over like a stiff. He was rocked with the impact from the leg kick and Dwyer immediately dropped down to make a pin-fall with referee Chuck Radford counting and the crowd’s “Oh!” echoing after they witnessed the shot.

One…

Two…

Three—

Blake Gray kicked out just before the three!

Almost certain he had the match won Pat Dwyer cussed and smacked the ring mat in frustration. Blake Gray was in a daze, the camera’s view of him showed it well. A glazed over look was in his eyes as he reached for an object for support but there was no object. Dwyer took Blake by the hair and pulled the young man up to his feet, backing him into the corner of the ring.

In the corner, Pat Dwyer unloaded with more mixed fighting tactics as he caught Blake with elbows to the face and punches to the mid-section. A series of toe kicks to the abdomen were even thrown in and Chuck Radford finally stepped in to back Dwyer off. As Dwyer backed up, Blake slumped to the ground, arms dangling at his side, and his head fell against the lowest turnbuckle.

“Get up!” Dwyer yelled at Gray as he beckoned at him from the middle of the ring.

Things were almost too easy for Dwyer this time around against Gray. Pat waited as Blake slowly began to pull himself up. Taking a few sluggish steps out of the corner toward Dwyer, Gray began to stand in his fighting stance but appeared too weak. Dwyer almost laughed but went down to serious business. Pat moved in toward Gray and seemed poised to finish him off.

Blake caught Dwyer in a Belly to Belly position—

Belly-to-Belly Takedown!

He had managed to scoop up Dwyer as he rushed in, stopped Pat dead in his tracks, and proceeded to drive him down with that amateur style slam! Blake laid at the side of Dwyer who was in a daze himself. Gray wiped the sweat from his eyes and started to shift his body so he could stand back up. Pat was stirring and would eventually make it to his feet before Blake could stand steadily.

Dwyer connected with a hard right hand to the side of the head but Blake reacted fast with a stiff chop to the chest. Dwyer’s chest was growing redder with every chop and Blake drove a second one down and it was unanswered by Dwyer. A whip attempt by Blake was reversed and as Blake rebounded off the opposite ropes, Dwyer caught him with a lifting knee to the abdomen flipping him over onto the canvas!

Staying on the attack, Dwyer lifted Gray right up into a front face lock. With Gray in the chancery, Dwyer lifted him up and immediately dropped back with a vertical suplex. It was textbook and Pat popped his hips and began to stand Gray and himself once again. He locked his legs and popped his hips again, this time hitting more of a Snap Suplex! With Blake on his back, Dwyer sought to take advantage and went for a pin-fall.

One…

Two…

A three was not even close as Blake Gray shot his arm up!

Pat Dwyer looked to change gears as he grabbed the left leg of Blake Gray. Gray pulled Dwyer in looking to stop him with a few stiff punches to the head as he pulled on the fighter’s hair. Radford warned Gray about the hair but Gray was going to do whatever it took to keep from being turned over by Dwyer into a submission. Gray continued to pull at Dwyer and drive punches up, some which connected and others which missed. Dwyer let go of the leg and just drove down a brutal stomp on the chest of Gray!

As Blake grabbed his stomach, Dwyer reached back down and took hold of that leg. Catching Blake off guard, he flipped the young man over to his stomach and began to lean back with a Single Leg Boston Crab! Blake bellowed in pain as Dwyer pulled at the knee joint and tried to really stretch the quadriceps muscle of the amateur. Blake reached up and tried to grab his leg or Dwyer. He then began looking ahead of him, trying to find an escape.

Clawing at the canvas, Blake slowly began forcing his way to the ring ropes which laid maybe five feet away. Dwyer looked behind him and saw Gray’s aim. He tried to keep the pressure on and move toward the middle of the ring but Gray seemed to really have some momentum. Gray pulled himself closer and reached up—

Grabbing the ring ropes!

“Break the hold!” Radford yelled as he tapped on Dwyer’s shoulder.

“No!” Dwyer screamed. “Tap, damn it!”

Blake clenched the ring ropes with both arms and started pulling himself under the ropes. Dwyer was not giving the break and Blake was really in pain. Radford started his five-count and Dwyer released at the three. But damage had been done, Gray was on the outside of the apron holding his left leg in pain.

Dwyer turned and rushed off the ring ropes at Blake—

Baseball side into Gray causing him to fly off the apron and to the floor!

The thud echoed as Blake Gray hit the floor and yelled out in pain. Dwyer took the time to recover in the ring as he fixed his knee pads and played with his gloves. Blake was curled up in a ball on the floor outside the ring, holding his right shoulder which may have been damaged on the fall. Dwyer turned and dropped through the ropes to the outside as he paced toward Gray. Radford was in the ring shouting at Dwyer, telling him to bring the match into the ring.

With a smile on his face, Dwyer drove a boot down into the shoulder of Gray and then reached down to pick him up. He waved his hand violently at the camera crew on the outside of the ring, telling them to move. Dwyer grabbed Gray and with all his might flung him straight in the direction of the cameras—

Blake Gray’s shoulder collided right into the steel barricade around ringside!

“Ah! Son of a—” Blake growled as he made contact.

Facedown on the hard floor outside the ring was Blake Gray in pain as Dwyer rolled back into the ring and broke the count of the official to keep the match alive. Right back to the outside went Dwyer dusting off his hands with a smile on his face as he was booed by the live crowd. Dwyer reached down and took hold of Gray, moving back to the ring and rolling his limp body inside. Dwyer slid into the ring and made a lax cover on Gray as Radford had no choice by the count.

One…

Two…

Three…

“No!” Radford shouted. “Two!”

Blake Gray, through the pain and the possibly separated shoulder, was going to continue in the match. He kicked out with force and with heart. Dwyer looked at Gray and scowled. Blake had been a thorn in his side for too long. It was time to end this.

Making his way to the ring ropes went Pat Dwyer, something a bit unconventional for him. Dwyer began to make his way up the ropes slowly. As he reached the top, Blake was in the ring beginning to stand. Dwyer looked focused as he watched Gray stand up and turn to face him. Raising his hands as he leapt from the corner, Dwyer soared through the air—

Axe Handle Smash by Dwyer—

Countered with a Drop Kick to the Chest by Gray!

The two of them collapsed in the middle of the ring to a roar from the crowd which rallied behind the resilient Blake Gray. Heavy, deep breaths were taken by Gray as he tried to work the kink out of his right shoulder. Dwyer held his chest and took short, steady breaths as he must have had the wind knocked out of him by Blake’s drop kick. Chuck Radford watched them both and saw it fit to begin a ten-count.

As Radford reached the sixth count, Blake Gray was starting to his feet. Dwyer was still down until the call of eight. The count would stop as nine was shouted due to Gray standing under his own will and moving toward Dwyer who was on a knee. Dwyer tried to explode with a jab but Gray countered and landed a haymaker right to the side of the face! Dwyer took an Irish whip to the ropes and on the way back received a boot to the stomach for his trouble. Blake readied a front face lock and lifted up—

Beautiful Vertical Suplex with a pin-fall following!

One…

Two…

Three— Broken by Dwyer with a kick out!

It was Blake Gray who then had the revelation to try for a submission. Minutes before, Dwyer had attempted the very same concept in the same situation. Blake reached down and began to configure the set-up to a Texas Cloverleaf! Pat Dwyer was somewhat stunned but realized what was going on. He began to throw cross-hammer-like punches. They hit Gray in the side of the face and in the shoulder, the bad shoulder, and prevented any progress from Gray with the submission!

As Gray shook off the pain in his shoulder again, Dwyer started to his feet. Blake looked for a hard clothesline or haymaker and Dwyer ducked underneath it. He took Gray by the feet, knocked him on his back, and began to look for a leg lock on the technician. Dwyer tried to lock his legs around Gray’s leg as Blake began to fight for survival. Blake kicked Dwyer right in the side of the head and the submission attempt would be blocked!

As Dwyer spun around and shook off the kick, Blake rolled to his feet and applied a leg scissor lock to the legs of Dwyer! He took Pat right down on his back and began to look for some sort of heel or ankle lock. Pat Dwyer kicked with his feet trying to prevent that. Both men were running on adrenaline and pure instinct. They were scrapping to pick up a victory by any means necessary. Nothing was moving at a fast paced, but they were moving like well-conditioned athletes at the least.

Each man began to stand up, still taking deep breaths. Blake connected with a hard forearm to the face on Dwyer. Dwyer shot back with a punch and then a big kick to the stomach! Blake doubled over and Dwyer pulled him into a stand head-scissor set-up. Reaching for Gray’s waist, Dwyer had something vicious in mind.

Before he could attempt it, Blake sucked his head out and reached up for the waist of Dwyer—

Northern Lights Suplex with a pinning predicament!

One…

Two…

Three—

Barely escaped by Dwyer who was caught off-guard!

The two were weakening with each move and Gray stood up first as Dwyer followed. Blake looked for a front face lock but Dwyer managed to find a way to reverse it. He lifted up Blake but Blake stiffened up and blocked a suplex. Dwyer clubbed Blake in the back with a few hard right hands to soften him up. He tried for another suplex, got Blake up, but Blake managed to slide behind him and apply a waist-lock from behind. As Blake attempted a German Suplex, Dwyer caught him with a hard elbow to the side of the head!

Dwyer grabbed Gray from the side and looked for a leg sweep set-up—

Front Russian Leg Sweep!

It looked much like a variation of Blake Gray’s “Changing Pace” and Pat Dwyer rolled Blake over for an attempted pin-fall.

One…

Two…

Three…

By the skin of his teeth, Dwyer’s count was broken by Blake Gray! The upset when Cal Roberts had stolen his finisher was bad enough already on the night. To have lost to Dwyer with his own move would have been a real kick in the face. Blake was going to continue until he had nothing left. Dwyer could not believe the face-plant did not seal the deal.

A very beaten Blake Gray was crawling for the ropes and searching for a way to mount a return in this grueling match. Dwyer was beside himself, angry that Gray was almost impossible to put down. Blake reached the ropes and began to stand up. He wobbled as he grabbed the ropes but managed to hold his balance pretty well. Dwyer was fed up and he knew he had to finish this mess.

Rushing at Blake came Dwyer— but Blake ducked!

Off the ropes in front of them went Pat Dwyer and he came running back into the open arms of Blake Gray as he popped his hips and carried Dwyer over—

T-Bone Suplex!

Blake fell right on top of Pat Dwyer and a pin-fall was counted by Chuck Radford as Blake just might have done enough to pull out the surprise victory.

One…

Two…

Three…

Only a two-count said referee Chuck Radford and the live crowd booed as they thought Blake had sealed the deal before the shoulder of Pat Dwyer came flying off the level canvas!

Both Blake and Pat were practically oblivious to the story being told in the ring as they were laid out, piled on one another. Blake rolled off of Dwyer who was partially on his side. Dwyer held the back of his head in pain as he slowly began to roll for his feet. The young Blake Gray started to his feet and looked at Dwyer. This was it. This was the opportunity he needed.

Taking deep breaths as he watched Dwyer begin to rise to his feet, Blake must have felt like the world was in slow motion. Dwyer stood up and turned toward him, head down looking at the mat. Blake nodded his head, even a slight smile appeared. The live crowd cheered, backing up the young amateur. As Dwyer staggered into the grasp of Blake, he hoisted Pat up and sat him on top of his shoulders in an inverted fireman’s carry—Dwyer’s face staring up at the lights.

Blake was setting Pat up for Cal Roberts’ signature finisher: The Burning Hammer.

Right then, a chill ran down the spine of every fan in the arena.

Suddenly, this seemed like a bad idea. It was a bad idea. Blake tried to swing the body of Pat Dwyer over in one motion from his shoulders but Dwyer was sneaky and looped his left arm around Blake’s head as he was being lifted up by Gray. Dwyer fell to his feet behind Blake and then lifted Blake up backwards into a Power-slam set-up—

Last Scoop!

Dwyer drove Blake down into the mat with his Powerslam and Reverse DDT combination! Blake was stunned and the crowd was wide-eyed, watching everything completely breakdown. Chuck Radford dropped into position and made the three-count as Dwyer hooked the near leg of Gray.

One…

Two…

Three!

There was no kick out; no foot on the rope; no interference. Blake Gray lost to Pat Dwyer as the bell tolled and made it official. The humiliation was only growing. It was worse than Cal Roberts stealing his submission. It was worse than just being called a rookie. Blake had set out to avenge those small instances of disrespect, but had only made the situation worse.

“Lip Gloss and Black” by Atreyu roared over the sound system of the Epic Arena once again as Pat Dwyer rose to his feet victorious. He held his hands up and smirked. Chuck Radford held Pat’s hand up and pointed at him as they circled the ring, signaling at Dwyer had indeed won the match. Blake laid on the canvas in pain, hands holding his head as he began to realize what had happened.

He had failed.

WINNER: Pat Dwyer via Pinfall

 

Altercation

Standing backstage with a smile on his face was a calm and collected Ryan Billows. Allison Cadence stood to his left with a microphone, and both were ready to start the interview.

“Now Ryan, I’m just curious to know what exactly were your thoughts on what happened last week at Confrontation?” Allison asked.

"Well, I've had some time to collect myself since Confrontation, and I'm not as bitter as I was when you last spoke with me." Ryan smiles, and continues, "It's like this, okay? Professional wrestling runs through my blood like the colour red, it's what keeps me going. Professional wrestling is an internal organ to me...more important than the heart. It's my passion. IT KEEPS ME GOING. At Confrontation, when Dilly Dawg didn't show up, it sent a shockwave through me and in all honesty I was very dissapointed and very saddened that I wouldn't get to put on a show for the fans.

Wins and losses, they come and go. The losses are what make the victories that much more worth celebrating, this is a sport where wins and losses go hand in hand and you know you're going to be blessed with a win or suffer a loss on more than one occassion. But for Dilly Dawg to disrespect our opportunity to work some magic in the ring hurt me on a professional note, and on a friendship note. So I won the best of seven series, great. I would have rather taken a loss after an adrenaline-pumped, fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat match than to win the series with such an utter lack of a climax." Ryan finished.

The fans cheered, they appreciated every word that Ryan had said.

"What's in store for Ryan Billows now?" Allison asked.

Ryan's gaze fell to the ground with a smile before he looked up and began speaking. "Well, Allison, that's hard to really say I suppose. Hopefully some wins, possibly some losses. All I know is that the best I can do is to keep going out there in front of the fans and giving them their money's worth. That's what's important to me at least, proving to these great people in attendence that I am worthy of being part of a show they're spending their hard-earned money to witness and..."

Ryan stopped speaking abruptly and cocked his head to the side as Rejection stepped into the camera's view. The fans offered Rejection a steady round of a boos as he looked Ryan up and down.

"Something I can help you with man?" Ryan asked calmly.

"No," Rejection shook his head, "Just wanted to say...you had such a great match at Confrontation."

The obvious sarcasm brought forth more boos from the crowd and Ryan almost let a sneer creep across his face before swallowing it down.

"Yeah, that's cute man. Thanks." Ryan replied.

Rejection adjusted the Dynasty Title that laid upon his shoulder and continued to stare at Ryan who stared back thinking of what to say next.

"You know, Rejection...I've always been told that gold looks absolutely sensational on me. It's a fitting compliment, seeing as how I AM a generation's sensation. Looks like you got some gold right there. Could use a better owner though, doesn't look like you've been taking care of it too good." Ryan says.

He completes the statement by breathing onto the belt and going to wipe it with his towel. Rejection moves his shoulder back so that the belt is just out of Ryan's reach.

"Yes, Ryan. Well, unfortunately, this is a championship...you don't just get these handed out to you, you have to earn them. You know--you have to prove yourself. That's something I don't think you've necessarily done yet." Ryan is about to come back with a retort, but Rejection continues. "But, who am I to decide such a thing? We'll let the fates land us where they may, huh? I'll make a deal with you, Ryan. Next Infamy, I've got a title match. I'm sure you'll have a match too, if you win, I'll give you your title shot against me. If you lose, I won't. It's that simple."

Ryan chuckled to himself.

"And what if you lose?" Ryan asked

"Haha...hahahahaha...Unlike you, Ryan, I don't advocate losses as coming with the territory in this sport. I practice winning, and I promise you I'm very good at my practice. You worry about yourself, the guy with something to prove. Don't worry about people like me, the guys holding the championships. Just do your best to stay out of our way." Rejection said and started to walk away.

"I worry about championships being referred to as CHUMPionships with guys like you holding um'." Ryan said, clenching a fist.

The fans roared for the lame, yet funny insult produced by Billows. Rejection stopped dead in his tracks with his back facing Ryan.

"I'm sorry, I missed that Ryan. What did you say?" Rejection asked over his shoulder.

Ryan chuckled and shook his head, "Man, are you deaf or just dumb?"

Just as Billows started to lose his cool, Rejection spun around in the blink of an eye and completely leveled Ryan with the Dynasty Title. Ryan was sprawled out on the floor within a matter of seconds and Rejection stood above him looking down on him as Allison backed away slowly.

"Neither." Rejection said and walked off-screen with the boos of the crowd echoing in the background.

 

Back Again!

After the brutality that was the LOCKOUT match at last week’s pay per view “Confrontation” many in the crowd wouldn’t have expected their new Keystone Champion to be on hand at Infamy. But Callie Urban was never that good at meeting other’s expectations and she proved many of them wrong as Soul Kid No. 1’s “More Bounce (In California)” blared through the arena and the Keystone Champion limped her way to the ring.

The crowd cheered as she walked past them, her shoulders and forehead bandaged, knee wrapped in a brace, all results from the LOCKOUT match. The Keystone belt was fastened around her waist as she cocked her head to the side and smirked, silently drinking in the crowd’s applause, something she never expected to hear.

Nearing the ring, she hopped her way up the stairs and gingerly eased under the top rope and into the ring, accepting a mic from Oliver Crestmore before making her way to the center. Drawing the mic to her mouth, she waited a few seconds for the applause to die down before she began to talk.

“Guess what guys. I’m baaaaaaaaack!”

The crowd cheered again, no one thinking it odd that merely a few weeks ago they’d booed her for giving a speech on her last title win.

“I’m back, and let me say, this feels awesome. I promised you all I wouldn’t disappoint at Confrontation, and I DIDN’T. I’m standing here, your new Keystone Champion!” The crowd erupted again and Callie smirked, waiting for them to settle down.

“I’m back in this ring, a champion once again. Now, I know I told ya that I planned on holding the Dynasty belt for a long time, and we all know that didn’t happen. But this time, this time is different. I PAID for this belt. I put my stripes in; I took this belt off a young upstart who thought he was a god in the ring. And he might have been, but his godhood ended last week. I ended his reign.

“His reign ended in pain, in broken bones and torn flesh. And my reign began with my own blood, my own pain. I paid for this belt in blood. I paid for this belt with tears. And I’ll be DAMNED if I lose this belt without paying the same price. I won’t promise you that I’m gonna hold this belt forever. But I’m gonna keep this belt as long as I can fight.”

She brought the mic down for a moment, taking a few breaths from her mini speech. The crowd cheered and chants started.

“URBAN!”
“URBAN!”
“URBAN!”

The pink-haired woman smiled and spoke again. “I told you before that you would respect what I did in this ring, and dammit, I’m not going to give ya a reason not to! So anyone in the back who thinks they have a chance of taking this belt from me, bring it. Next week, I’m going to be back in action, and I’ll kick any hosebeast’s ass who thinks he can waltz in and take what I’ve worked so hard for.

“And for you lot,” she said, pointing to the crowd, “y’all know I have this little tradition going, and I kinda like it. It involves two fingers and I just don’t think that I should be the only one in this place shooting the bird. So come on dammit, when else to you get the chance to? Hell, think of your fat boss in front of you if you have to, but ya know what?”

The crowd waited for her answer, but instead of talking again, Callie raised her hands as high as her lacerated shoulders would let her and brought up her middle fingers, flipping the audience off. She was rewarded with a sea of people mimicking her and flipping her off. Smirking she made her way to the ropes as “More Bounce (In California)” started play again. She stepped out and patted her belt one more time before limping backstage.

 

Face to Face

Sunny Day By Zug Island

Came into play as the chants quickly followed.

“Owyns Sucks” were the chants the crowd repeatedly said at the top of there lungs. You weren’t even able to hear the music at this point, as the chants were much louder. It didn’t take long for Jack Owyns to show his face, as Owyns walked out cockier, more higher on himself then before.

She was there too the latest edition to the chapter.

Owyns entered the ring as she took her stand outside the ring. He had already had a mic handy as he grabbed it from his inside coat pocket.

He paused and looked out at the crowd.

“You all look quite surprise…To tell you the truth I‘m quite surprised too. Except there’s a difference between me and you…your surprised that I defeat Jason Kain and retain my title. I’m surprised that nobody had seen it coming, I though I was easy to read…guess not.” Owyns had said out to the crowd.

Owyns scratched his chin and then wiped his lips with the palm of his hand.

“So now what…what is next in the chapter of The Villain Jack Owyns. I’ve defeat Uncensored and Jason Kain two people though of as top contenders in nbW. Who else is there?” Owyns asked himself, the crowd, anybody listening.

The Full Effect By Poor Excuse.

He would get his answer.

Alex Styles walked out and head straight towards the ring. The moment he stepped in, he grabbed the mic right from the hands of Jack Owyns.

“Jack…” Styles Began.

However,

Jack Owyns didn’t want to hear the answer, so instead let Alex Styles meet one on one with his title. Styles dropped to the canvas as Owyns reached down and grabbed him by the back of the head. Only to lay into him once more with his championship. Creating an open gash in the forehead of Alex Styles.

Owyns laid his title to the side as he brought Styles up onto his feet.

ENCORE!

Owyns nailed Alex with his finisher, driving him with much force into the mats. The crowd watched away as Owyns pounded on the lifeless body of Alex Styles. He finally brought his attack to a stop, as he grabbed the mic that lay on the canvas.

“I don’t care anymore for what you have to say Styles.” Owyns spat out as he tossed the mic down on the body of Alex.

Sunny Day By Zug Island began to replay on the PA system as Owyns and his sidekick made there exit.

 

What Were You Thinking?

“Spike?”

Callie hollered a she stepped into the locker room. Nobody in sight, yet the slight sound of water running filled the room. Realizing that he was still in the shower she sighed and resigned herself to wait for him. Easing her sore body down to a bench she sat and tried to relax.

She didn’t wait long, as Spike stepped out of the shower with his towel wrapped around his waist. Callie has brushed her hair newly dyed hair back and cocked an eyebrow at the tall man.

“You know, after you went to the hospital last week I think it’s pretty stupid you swung right into another match.”

Spike blushed and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I had to, and it was that match against Morgan. He’s changed. Sitting down next to Callie he was about to set his arm across her shoulders before he noticed the bandages and thought better of it, dropping it down to his side.

“I saw. And Banks was out there too. Except, in your favor… I think.”

“He confuses me. Last week he beat me down with a pipe till I couldn’t move, and then just left.”

“Didn’t you say something to him before he left?”

“Uh…” responded Spike, scratching his head lightly while looking away from Callie. “How about you, don’t you have a match to prepare for?”

Callie frowned at his sudden change of subject. She didn’t like that he was keeping things from her. First that RC man, now Banks. Deciding to let him off the hook she answered him.

“Spike, look at me, I’m a frickin’ mummy. Unlike you, I know my limits and I know the guys in the locker room would kill to wrestle me this week, especially since I’m banged up.”

The tall man frowned, realizing how stupid he must have sounded. She was more upset than he thought she’d be.

”Sorry, I know. I just don’t like to see you hurt I guess. I can handle when you’re banged up and can get back in and fight, but I feel helpless when you’re like you are. I don’t want that for you.”

The pink-haired woman sighed, a frown once again marring her features. “Spike, I’m going to get hurt, and I accept that, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. But I WANT to be here so I’m willing to take whatever that entails. This is what I WANT. I WANT to wrestle, and this is just something you’ll have to get used to. You got hurt and what did you do? You went right out and wrestled another match. I’m pissed off you did, but I let you do it anyway because that’s what YOU wanted to do.

“We’re going to be miserable if you want me to give this up, and I honestly don’t know that I can. You’ve got to let me get banged up and beaten, just kick my ass and tell me to do better next time, okay?”

Spike frowned, but knew she was right. “Okay, I’ll work on it. Now where do you want to eat after the show?”

Callie frowned inwardly, he dropped it too quickly for her taste and she knew this issue would come up again. And he still wouldn’t tell her what he was doing out running around. They would talk later.

 

Jason Kain vs. Mat Walton  

“Don’t Stop, Won’t Stop” popped over the PA as Mat Walton stepped out of the entryway. He knew that earlier Kain had called out anyone in the back as he wanted to get his frustration out from his loss the week before… but now that Owyns said that if he could keep himself on top, he’d get another shot at the belt… tonight may very well be on of the worst nights in Walton’s short career. He shoved the feelings off, though, as he climbed into the ring realizing he was in his first nbW main event.

Even if he had to go through a match and a half, he would. He’d prove himself worthy of this shot… better than what Andrew Martin thought, better than that asshole Spike Saunders, better than EVERYONE. He sneered though… even through the cheers… because the music changed.

“Faint” by Linkin Park.

Jason Kain slowly walked down the aisle stopping just halfway down, looking at Walton with a glare that would shake any normal person to the bone. But Walton didn’t want to be a normal person… he stared back at him, then smirked. Kain didn’t care for his attitude. The man was nothing. He was a peon. There was only two reasons why he even got in this ring.

Number one. It was the main event, and any idiot backstage would take an open challenge to get in the ring against the NEW biggest asshole in the federation and take him down.

Number two. To help Kain prove Jack Owyns wrong.

And number two was going to be fun.

Jason Kain slowly climbed into the ring and stepped face to face with the red head, and smiled. He put his hand out and called for a mic. Jonothan Munroe grabbed one and handed it to him.

“NOW SUCK ON THIS!!!”

Kain stepped back and looked at Walton who was now shaking with anticipation to start the match. Kain chuckled at the rookie and lifted the mic again.

“So… you thought you’d come out here and show off your talents under the BIG spotlight, huh? You thought you could come face to face with THE EPITOME and make yourself known to millions of people, and become a household name? You thought you could beat ME!?” Kain stepped into Walton’s face again and stared into his eyes. “SAY SOMETHING! TELL ME YOU’RE THE MAN!! TELL ME YOU’RE THE NEW HARDCORE LORD!!! TELL ME!!!!”

The intensity in Kain’s eyes made Walton flinch, something he didn’t want to do. Something he didn’t expect to do. But not only did Kain notice it… the crowd did also.

“You’re weak.” Kain sneered. “You let your fears get to you. You’re a failure in the ring… and now you’re coming out here alone? Where’s your manager? Where’s that stupid idiot that allowed you to sign that contract to get into the ring with me?”

Kain paused, looking round Walton for Andrew Martin, then smirked.

“Abandoned you?” Kain stared at the man, but Walton opened his mouth…

“No! I came b…”

“BY YOURSELF!?” Kain started to laugh hysterically. “What are you? A moron? No wonder Martin doesn’t care for you much! You should just go home, you idiot. Go ahead, walk out, get in your car, go home… and go to bed crying hat you can’t make it in this federation…”

Suddenly Walton yanked the microphone out of Kain’s hands while the crowd roared their approval.

“I don’t see you with a belt.” Walton stood there, saying what was on his mind and Kain raised an eyebrow. “I… I don’t see YOU as a champ! I don’t see you PROVING ANYTHING EITHER!! Why are you held so highly, when all you’ve done is lose like me? What makes YOU a god?”

Kain’s face went a bit slack, actually appalled that the man had the gall to say such things.

“You want a shot at the title? You have to keep your number one contendership. To do that… you have to win. HERE I AM.” Walton slammed the microphone back into Kain’s chest. “SHUT THE HELL UP AND BEAT ME!!!”

The time didn’t waste away as Kain drove a fist into Walton’s face, and followed it up with a wheel kick dropping Walton to the mat holding his nose. Kain pulled Walton up and locked him in an arm capture suplex, then pulled him to his feet and yanked him over into a leg capture suplex just to leave Walton gasping for breath.

Kain knew the kid had no chance of survival in the ring with him, but a smile crept across his face as Walton slowly pushed himself to his feet. Before the man could get upright, Kain leapt at him with a waist-lock and right into a belly to back that leveled Walton again. Kain spun in the hold hooking a neck and shoulder lock, clasping Walton’s airway shut…

Walton started to panic, this wasn’t what he was expecting… especially since the match wasn’t supposed to be this one-sided right off the bat. But Kain wasn’t allowing him to have a chance. Pulling back, he popped his arm into a position strong enough to lift his body off the mat. Kain quickly threw his legs down, sliding under the man, pulling him into an even more painful rendition of the hold, squeezing his head down onto his own chest.

Walton started going into convulsions from the position, and he reached around trying to fight passing out... but he was losing that fight, fast.

Then suddenly, light. Somehow he was freed from the hold, and he didn’t know how… he blinked as air came into his lungs and Kain stood over him. From the sound of it, he hadn’t lost the match yet… and then he saw it. His foot was on the ropes… one of his convulsions had made him pop his foot up, and force Kain to let go of the hold.

Mat blinked, he was still in the game, and that was a good thing… for the moment. He pushed himself up, making sure he kept a good hold on the ropes to keep that madman away. He coughed from the legal choke, though, realizing he was just a few seconds away from blowing his main event shot.

He pulled himself to his feet, making sure he hung on the ropes… as long as he did that that madman would be kept away. He let go just in time for Kain to catch him with an irish whip, but Walton actually knew what he was doing, as he rebounded of the ropes with a flying forearm shoving Kain to the mat.

Mat quickly ran over and pulled Kain into a neckbreaker and a standing moonsault pin attempt…

1…

2…

KICKOUT…

Mat didn’t want this to keep going, though. He looked down at Kain, who’s face was set in complete anger… Kain shoved himself to his feet, virtually no-selling the barrage of moves he had just received, but Walton was ready for it, catching Kain with a drop toe hold into the ropes as he charged. The effect was a little different than he expected, though, as the sound in the arena changed…

LET’S GO WAL-TON *thump* *thump* *thump thump thump*
LET’S GO WAL-TON *thump* *thump* *thump thump thump*
LET’S GO WAL-TON *thump* *thump* *thump thump thump*

He truly wasn’t expecting this, but apparently the crowd was willing to forgive his actions, only if he could take down The Epitome.

With Kain hung up in the ropes, Walton rushed to the other side, rebounding to pick up speed, then hopped over Kain AND the ropes, in a dive, catching Kain’s head into a devastating neck whip causing Kain to shoot off the ropes and back into the ring, stunned. The crowd exploded. Mat stood up and realized his position. He was in the main event. And he was the fan favorite. He stood up to revel in it, lifting his arms slightly to absorb the praise…

Bad decision.

The baseball slide kain shot at Walton sent him chest first into the guardrail. Walton staggered backwards into Kain’s set full nelson… Kain jumped forward into his classis full nelson bulldog…

ELECTRIC SLIDE!!!

It was done. Mat Walton blacked out as his face hit the concrete, and Kain pulled him into the ring. The ref looked at Walton’s face, and realized he wouldn’t go on… but Kain grabbed Munroe…

“DON’T YOU DARE COUNT HIM OUT!!!”

With that he grabbed Walton and flipped him onto his chest, buffalo armlocking both arms, and hooking the neck. Pulling up, Kain knew there was no way for Walton to break out, and when he woke up, he’d be in more pain than when he went out… Kain pulled up on the hold more, fully locking in the Overload… and Munroe called for the bell.

…But Kain wouldn’t let go! Officials came running down as Kain choked the life out of Walton, whose face was turning blue. Kain’s eyes were wild, the ref called for the bell again, trying to get Kain to realize the match was over…

Jason Kain had won. He was one step closer to that rematch… and he made Owyns know it. But did he truly?

WINNER: Jason Kain via TKO

Adjusting the Studd Spotlight

The following advertisement is paid for by Hawkins Entertainment

He is a mutli-time amateur wrestling champion…

He scored the game winning goal in Syracuse’s National Lacrosse Championship with only seconds to spare…

He fought for his country in Operation Iraqi Freedom 1 and 2…

And next week he will make the hearts of women and the egos of men melt away with a single glare

Next week the nBW is proud to bring to you, the future of wrestling entertainment…

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He will leave you with your mouths gapped open and saying one phrase over and over in your head…

Simply Amazing

 

The Final Straw

It had been a rather harsh night for Blake Gray to deal with. First, Cal Roberts had stolen his submission, mocked Blake, and used it to defeat Ali Amore. Then, Blake in a fit of rage, tried to steal the Burning Hammer trademark of Roberts to defeat Pat Dwyer but it backfired. Gray had lost the match and was humiliated in the process. He was not acting like himself. Everyone knew it. This problem, this jealous rivalry of competition, was driving Blake Gray to do things he never trained for. It was eating him alive.

“I guess you can’t win them all, huh?” a voice chuckled off-camera.

Blake Gray had been walking down the hallway of the Epic Arena but stopped when he heard that line from whomever called. His match had ended a good while ago but Blake was walking off his steam around the arena trying to make sense of everything. The voice sounded familiar but Blake looked in front of him and saw no one. The camera showed no one in the hallway that could have mentioned it to him. There were company associates and production crew members off in the distance, but this voice had come from very near to Blake.

The night was winding down for wrestling fans, but was only beginning for the man known as The Buzz. His heart had settled down long ago after what some were calling a match of the year candidate. Roberts had made himself scarce in the recent weeks since his debut to survey the competition, rather then come out in his usual boisterous manner. Roberts was making his presence known tonight, and was showing everyone he planned on coming for wins and gold.

"It's okay though, Blake. That's what I'm here to do,” Roberts continued before trailing off.

Roberts ran a hand through his short spiked brown hair and took his bag off of his shoulder. A young lady he had met the night earlier at a local club released hold of his arm and moved toward the bag. Roberts gave a quick smile and a wink and motioned toward the exit that sat north of Blake Gray past the production trucks. The young woman hoisted the bag on her shoulder and gave Roberts a seductive look before moving past Gray, a man who was growing impatient with Cal Robert's actions.

"I'm here to make you into a champion."

Blake Gray's stomach knotted up and sunk to his feet as the remark settled in his mind. Roberts smirked a bit and moved in closer rolling up the sleeves to his dress shirt.

"You want to know where I'm going, boy?" Roberts raised his eyebrows to accentuate the question before pointing a finger upwards, "I'm going right back up to the top like I always do. I'm heading straight for Heavyweight Championship."

Roberts stood nose to nose with Blake Gray who slightly butted heads with the man who was five years his senior. He continued his trademark smirk as visions of his former victories, both in and out of the ring filled his head.

"The question is Blake. Are you going to keep up, or will you be discussing pay-per-views in a small room in six months?"

Blake could take no more and tackled for the former World Champion to the cold, hard concrete. Robert's head bounced off the floor like a basketball, and moments later he was being beaten into the ground by right hands from Gray. Roberts was proud of Gray, and decided to give him a little lesson. Gray's eyes filled with pain and tears after a poke to them from Roberts. He was on his back as Roberts delivers a few stiff slaps to the side of his head. A few hard blows to the nose broke the cartilage and bone causing blood to begin to trickle out.

"Come on! I'm don't mind being fined for you sons a' bitches,” Roberts proclaimed while smiling on top of Gray as security neared. Gray took advantage of this moment and wrestled over Roberts, pinning him on his back, almost straddling the veteran. Blake worked to push the arms of Roberts out of the way and readied a big punch as security was growing nearer.

“Is this what you wanted?” Blake roared as he drove down his fist into Cal’s face.

Blake began to rear his hand again as blood was dripping from his nose and landing on Cal’s chest and neck.

“If you wanted a fight, Cal, I will give you a god damn fight!” Blake Gray again swung down with his hand and cold-cocked Cal in the mouth.

The mouth of Cal Roberts began to drip blood as his lip had been busted open. Cal’s lip had busted between the fist of Gray and his very own teeth. Blake did not have time to throw another punch. Security was on top of him, pulling at him to take him off of Cal Roberts. These two looked as if a war had been had but, in truth, nothing more than a minor, yet intense, scuffle had occurred.

“I have worked too hard to become something here and I will be damned if you are going to take it away!” Blake was still yelling at Cal Roberts. “You are right about one thing; you can’t win them all. I may not have won tonight in that ring, but I promise you, Cal, if I ever get my hands on you, I will do more than just bust your little lip open!”

Cal Roberts had not yet realized he was bleeding. He brought his hand up from his side where he still laid on the floor. The hand wiped his mouth and he brought it up so he could see the blood himself.

“Call a medic and get Alex Styles out here!” an nbW worker called. “Now!”

A weary and somewhat baffled Cal Roberts started to sit up. Blake Gray was panting as three security guards were holding him back from charging at Cal Roberts while he was down on the ground. The blood was still trailing from the nose of Blake, leaving a path down his face and chest until landing on the floor. Robert smirked and his teeth shined with a coating of crimson over them. Roberts stood up and moved toward Gray. A group of more security attempted to take Buzz down, but soon found themselves laid out on the concrete.

Roberts cracked his neck side to side before stopping about ten feet away from Gray. He nodded in approval and motioned with his hand for Gray to come get some more. However, security continued to flood into the area and now stood between Roberts and his opposition.

"You're nothin' Gray!" Robert's paused to catch his breath. "I've beaten career mid-carders in my rookie year that have more talent then you could ever dream of having." Roberts began to laugh as he was being tugged on by security.

"What the hell is going on here?" a familiar voice cried, cracking with anger.

There behind them all stood Alex Styles, half-bandaged from the assault he took from Jack Owyns. The head of no brand Wrestling was glaring at Blake Gray, Cal Roberts, and the hoards of security which stood trying to restrain them, not to mention the three men who were recovering from being punched by Roberts.

“Someone tell me what the hell happened here!” Styles roared as all parties in the vicinity were quiet.

Alex was an impatient man given everything that had been going on lately. He was not going to wait long for someone to explain themselves. But he looked at Blake and Cal, each wearing and dripping blood. All he had to do was add up the possibilities. Alex was smart enough to know what happened.

“The both of you,” pointing at Blake and Cal, “are on my last nerve. I am not dumb. I am not blind, deaf, nor am I retarded. You both think I will condone this sort of barbaric activity? You have been at each others’ throats since the first moment you saw each other. And I will promise you, we are going to put an end to this garbage.”

There was a pause as Styles turned his head and looked at each man individually. Blake and Cal shot each other each a glance but security made sure they stayed separated.

“At pain, in three weeks, you two are going to have a match against each other,” Styles explained. “I do not care who wins, how they win, what the stipulations are, or anything like that. All I know is; you are going to end this bullshit once and for all!”

Styles turned and began to hobble away from the mess backstage as Blake and Cal were each calmer. They stood about six feet away from each other, security still in the midst of their paths, and said nothing. Blake wiped the blood from his nose but it did not stop the bleeding. Cal wiped the blood from his mouth but never took his eyes off of Blake.

“Someone clean up this mess!” Alex Styles barked out the order as he left the scene. "And someone get me some ice, damn it!"

There was nothing more that anyone had to say. Blake and Cal were going to finally collide but it would be in three weeks’ time. Security, stage hands, and medics were all watching the two as they prayed another fight did not break out. Another fight did not break out. Instead, Blake and Cal seemed somewhat satisfied as they stood there in silence. Had they gotten what they had each secretly wanted?