Battleground 25 : Riot in Manchester (show)

[ManMountainFierce]

Dateline: West Virginia, February 2020.



The Storyteller: We open to those “County Roads” where the hollers interconnects with the state highway. James is walking. Not just walking, but walking without a purpose, other than to get the hell out of the house that has become overran with children and their friends and all sorts of nonsense that he does not want to deal with right now. He doesn’t care whose tablet needs charged. Now don’t think that James isn’t a family man. He’s the embodiment of family man. He would do anything for his children, his sweet, sweet daughters. He’d batter the father of a classmate in response to their lack of consequences for kicking his daughter. That’s not what happened per say, not really; but the judge disagreed. James isn’t an overtly violent, that’s just not in his nature, that is if you don’t count the time, he ordered a six-piece McNuggets and only received five. Fair is fair, and that location had a habit of screwing over customers, and a lesson needed to be taught; but alas West Virginia does look poorly upon public displays of corporal punishments. James has given his world to ensure that his family is taken care of and happy. James’s days of competition were over. He’d got comfortable with his life. He didn’t miss the grind. He didn’t miss the shenanigans and tomfoolery perpetrated by carnies and clowns. He didn’t miss the flying, the hotels, the rats, the waking up in vomit or food scraps; that often not belonged to his fluffy friend with an accent that most Hillbillies, like himself, would find hilarious and downright charming. Ah yes, his old friend. His old stablemate. A man he has betrayed, fought, reconciled and made a name as constant in the sport. It was a mere twenty-three hours prior when a message on James’s phone popped up. Something about looking for James for months and the old gang is back together doing what they do best, but the puzzle needed its last piece to be complete. It needed a certain hillbilly to make it whole again. His first response was, of course, “who dis” and “wrong number”, but his old friend was relentless told him to think about it. So, James thought. He then took a walk. He walked. He walked up the holler, and across the creek, and through a thicket to a cellar that had his still. Now twenty-three hours later James is walking again. He thought about it. Drank about it. Smoked about it. Forgot about it. And now he is walking home again. Through the thicket, across the creek and back down the holler. James pulled out his phone and just stared. Stared at the text. Stared at the possibility of going full gear again. Then and only then did he decide, with five words that are assuredly going to make for an interesting conversion when he gets back home.



James Fierce: Fuck it, Suit, I’m in.

[anthonycaffrey]

The fans in the arena boo as the cocky veteran known as Anthony Caffrey appears on their screen. He is behind his personal bar, fixing himself a beverage with a frilly umbrella. He puts the finishing touches on and looks up at the camera.

“Here’s a toast.”

Caffrey holds his glass up to the camera.

“A toast to American dentistry, for producing a better smile than any Englishman could ever muster.”

He smiles at the camera. Fans boo, but they quickly realize the segment has been prerecorded. He laughs after gulping down a few sips and setting his drink back down on the bar. He wipes his mouth and stares down, lost in a set of thoughts.

“Fuck, it’s really not the same. I’m sending this in to be played at some point throughout the night, and y’know? I haven’t been outside in three days. I’m beginning to lose my fuckin’ mind here. All I have are my thoughts to keep me company! I’m even looking up how to make my own friggin’ bread! And worst of all, I’m beginning to deplete my stash of booze. This sucks.”

Caffrey grabs the tiny umbrella and begins to twirl it in his hand. It’s clear that this is not the first drink he’s had this evening.

“You see, I’ve got this problem.”

He stops and reconsiders his words, shaking his head until he settles on what he actually means.

“Well, no. It’s not a problem. For anyone else in the world, it’d be a problem. For me, it’s a motivation. And no, I’m not referring to a drinking problem.”

He empties his glass down his throat and places the umbrella back in.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be satisfied.”

He looks up from the drink, focusing on the stationary camera he’s set up.

“Ever since I lost my Undisputed Championship, I’ve felt empty. I’ve felt like a part of me was missing. At first, I thought I just needed to tend to my competitive spirit. I needed to light a fire and get back going. And so despite lucrative offer on the table from SWAT, I went to the AWF. I fought a few strong competitors...but that wasn’t enough for me.”

Caffrey shakes his head.

“You see, I’ve always wanted to be The Best. Not one of the best… I’m talkin’ numero uno, top dog, that sort of thing. And you know, I have an International Championship match against 110% Syberus. And for some reason… I’m just not excited right now.”

He puts his hand up to the camera.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to kick Sybbie’s ass and pick my championship off of his limp carcass. Everyone knows that. You’d make more money betting on how many of his ankles I break -- which again, depends entirely on how much he’s shined my title.”

Caffrey breaks his train of thought.

“Do me a favor while you’re shinin’ my championship, would ya, Sybbie?”

He pulls something out from underneath the counter and sprays it into the air as a demonstration.

“Shine my championship, and then hit it with some Lysol when you’re done. I don’t want a single trace of your bottom-feeding ass left behind on my title. The way that you and Valentine kiss each others’ asses, I would goddamn guarantee that you aren’t following proper social distancing procedures.”

Caffrey laughs to himself a little too loudly, shaking his head as he chucks his spray back under the bar.

“Sybbie, everyone knows I’m taking your championship. I know you know it too. I’ve been calling your number for over a month now. And ya know what you’ve done, every single time? You’ve ignored it, avoided it, and tried to run from it. This match was announced almost a week ago, and I haven’t heard one word from your camp since then. Nothin’. For someone who has so much to say, you’ve gone awfully fuckin’ quiet.”

He cups his hand to his ear.

“Nope. Still nothin’. It’s dead quiet, just like the crowd in your match against Timeless. A freakin’ championship match and they have to cut to two brainless morons fighting each other during it to keep people’s attention. But hey, bigger issue on the table: how the fuck did Timeless get an International title match before me, when I displayed my technical superiority over him by beating him the show before?”

Caffrey goes back to his drink, before realizing that it’s empty.

“Shit.”

Caffrey reaches under the bar, opening a minifridge. He grabs a bottle and pops its top before he continues speaking.

“I mean, just look at these cards lately. Trent Jones getting a World Championship match? Hell, when was the last time CSK was even relevant? Then you have Eddie D and… again, Trent Jones getting International Championship matches before me when I clearly eliminated Syberus from our rumble? What the hell?”

He still believes he eliminated Syberus from the Rumble, even though it clearly isn’t the truth.

“And looking up the card… looking up at the main events, you have our humble commissioner, Zoran Sainovic, fighting in a Manchester Street Fight, a “Great Pit of Carkoon Death” match, and a Blanket Fort deathmatch.... interesting.”

Caffrey takes a few seconds to look down and think, knowing that he has to pick his words carefully. The alcohol does not allow him to do so.

“It’s almost like Zoran Sainovic doesn’t care what happens to the rest of the card. It’s almost like ze self-absorbed commissioner can’t help but broadcast his name in the brightest lights he can while not giving a shit about anyone underneath him. Hey Commish, I have a question for ya! Let me knock on your office door, right here!”

Caffrey obnoxiously knocks on the wood of his bar. It becomes blatantly obvious that this has been what’s really on Caffrey’s mind.

“Mr. Commissioner, Mr. Commissioner, a question for ya: whatcha gonna do after the Rumble? When I dump your ass to the floor and take the X-Crown Championship back to Philadelphia, what are you going to do? Are you still going to try to book yourself at the top of the card, or are you going to be able to share and play second fiddle to the best wrestler in your fucking company?”

The crowd watching along in the arena takes a break from booing Caffrey to cheer him popping off at the commissioner.

“Ya know, I take back the almosts. You don’t care about anyone other than you. You don’t care about this place, do ya? We’re still wrestling in front of crowds, for fucksake! Wake up! The entire world is going into quarantine and all you give a shit about is your little international tour and being ze king of your castle! Zoran, I’ve got some tough news for you: in case you forgot when you signed my contract, you signed a fuckin’ emperor. At Riot in Manchester, you’re going to watch me eat Syberus’ lunch. In April when the XHF Rumble rolls around in Italy, I’m going to eat yours.”

A well-read scholar making a drunken point, Caffrey bites his thumb at Zoran.

“There’ll be no blanket forts, Legos, or Star Wars pits, Zoran. I don’t care if there’s five or thirty five guys still in the ring when you enter last. I’m still going to be in there, and I’m going to elbow you in the face. Then when you lay there on the mat chewing on your teeth, I’m going to put you in my ankle lock just so you can realize how I’m the best wrestler in the fucking federation today.”

Caffrey has been intensely death-gripping the bar as he rips at the X-Crown champion. He realizes this and recoils back a bit, loosening his grip and smiling his sinister smile.

“I appreciate the championship match, Commish. I appreciate the opportunity to bring home the championship that is rightfully mine and the chance to wrap it around my right shoulder. You can be damn sure I will stop at nothing to bring it home. To paraphrase a fellow great, when it comes to my match tonight… well, that whiny little bitch 110% Manchild ain’t got shit on me.”

His Denzel Washington impression leaves something to be desired as he bangs on his right shoulder like a gorilla beating against its chest. He means every word he says.

“However…”

Caffrey downs another large gulp of his beer, almost spilling it out of his mouth as he’s giddy at his own thought. He reaches up with his other hand, pointing a single finger up to make a statement.

“...I have two shoulders.”

He bangs on his left shoulder.

“And yeah, I can hear my dear friend Mongo somewhere in the distance bitching and moaning that the X-Crown is actually twenty one championships... but all I need is one. One championship for each shoulder. Oh… and to win the Anzac Cup with the partner I’ll announce soon, and then after that probably take the XHF Tagteam Championships too… well damn. I’m going to need more shoulders.”

Despite the joke, there is no laughter. The former AXW Undisputed Champion comes out from behind the bar and walks up to his mounted camera. He bends over to make himself eye level with it, locking on with a straight focus.

“I can hear you bitching that I’m being unrealistic. I’m not. You don’t carry a company with a 305 day world championship reign unless you have my ability. You don’t spend three hours in last year’s Rumble unless you have my intelligence. You don’t carry an undefeated streak into April unless you have the drive and determination to walk into one of the best wrestling companies in the world, declare that you’re already better than everyone in it, and then back it up week after week. Despite all of the crisis and chaos in the world, there are three things you can count on: death, taxes, and Anthony Caffrey holding a championship. The only question you can have at this point is ‘not when will Anthony Caffrey hold a championship again’… as my drought ends in Manchester… but instead you should be asking, ‘how many championships is Anthony Caffrey going to hold at once?’”

The booing from the live crowd watching Caffrey talk is loud and boisterous. The scary thing is that he’s absolutely capable of following up on everything he’s saying. He reaches back for his bottle and takes another sip, taking a wobbly seat on the stool behind him.

“But hey, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sure those English idiots watching this in Manchester are having a field day right now.”

The crowd only boos Caffrey louder as he rolls his eyes. His segment gets partially cut off by the booing.

“...reason we had an American Revolution, after all. We Americans revolted against the British, but besides the accent, man… they’re the ones who are truly revolting.”

Caffrey shudders. The booing does not stop.

“...when I joined SWAT, I promised I would be SWAT’s Savior. That promise is just as true as the day I made it. In fact, after the show, besides our lovely, truly lovely commissioner, I’ll be the only one outside of the Society of the New Breed to hold a championship. The fans should be kissing my feet and thanking me for sparing them from another one of Syberus’ bitchfits. I’ve wondered now for months if you’re a good guy like I was told when I arrived, or if you’re a bad guy… but in reality… you’re just a guy. Well, not even a guy. You’re a whiny little manchild who’ll whine and cry that it’s unfair that you were even booked in this match. Go ahead, we both know you’ll do anything other than give me the credit and acknowledgement I deserve. That’s fine.”

Caffrey gets back up and grabs the camera. He holds it directly in front of his face.

“Syberus, I’ve had your number since the moment I almost broke your ankle at No Man’s Land. You can repress the memory all you want, but we both know you bled all over my ring because you made the mistake of getting on my bad side. I offered you peace and understanding multiple times. All you had to do, all you had to do you giant moron was just give me my championship. Now I’m coming to collect, and for being such a giant pain in my ass the past few weeks, I’m also collecting on an idiot tax. The tax is one ankle -- left or right doesn’t matter to me, but the look of dread that’ll come over your face when you realize you’re trapped, the crying out in pain, the rapid tapping, and the screaming to the referee that you submit will help me paint the world a powerful picture. When I hold my International Championship high above my head, maybe… maybe just maybe the rest of SWAT will get what the rest of the XHF already knows.”

Caffrey finishes his drink and smiles his sinister smile.

“I… will rule… again.”

Caffrey covers the lens with his hand, sending it to black. The crowd boos as the segment cuts.

[SWAT Team]

Andrew Fulton: Up next we have a couple of upcoming stars here in SWAT. So let's get into the ring for our next match.

Frank Salazar: This match is scheduled for ONE fall with a 20 minute time limit.

Audience Killer Looper by Dir En Grey blast over the sound system.

Frank Salazar: Hailing from the planet of Ultra and weighs in at 200 pounds here is Ultra Kira

Jeremy Tucker: Can somewhere tell me where the Planet of Ultra is?

Andrew Fulton: Maybe it is one of the moon's on Jupiter. I do not know?

Jeremy Tucker: I thought you knew everything.

Andrew Fulton: Okay, this one I am baffled.

Jeremy Tucker: Where are we signing people from these days, other planets now?

[Ultra Kira is in the ring as they await his opponent. ]

Frank Salazar: Being accompanied by his manager Javier Nunez and he weighs in at 219 pounds from South Los Angeles here is El Combatiente.

[The Game by One Blood blast over the sound system as El Combatiente and Javier make their way down to the ring. Javier is in his ear discussing a possible game plan.]

Andrew Fulton: Javier looking sharp this evening.

Jeremy Tucker: Maybe you should take dressing lesson from Javier. The two are now in the ring as the two are looking across at each other. Javier steps out of the ring.

The bell sounds.........

Andrew Fulton: The two circle each other trying to figure the other one out. The two move in, as Kira catches El Combatiente with an elbow strike to the side of his head. Then Kira connects with a quick elbow strike to the bridge of El Combatiente’s nose. Kira once again connects an elbow right to his chest. Kira kicks El Combatiente right in his knee. Kira races in the ropes but EC catches him with an arm drag.

Jeremy Tucker: El Combatiente quickly catches Kira with a senton splash, he goes for the quick cover.

1

Andrew Fulton: A quick count out. El Combatiente waits for Kira to get to his feet as he does he springboard off the ropes and catches Kira with a dropkick. He races once again into the ropes as he catches Kira with a moonsault as he goes for another a cover.

1

2

Jeremy Tucker: Kira kicks out. El Combatiente pulls Kira up as he knocks Kira back down with a snap suplex. He quickly drops a legdrop across Kira’s chest. El Combatiente double stomps right across Kira’s stomach. He pulls Kira to his feet as he picks Kira up and connects with a side suplex. El Combatiente races to the outside and climbs the top ropes, as he waits for Kira to get up, he comes flying off, but Kira catches him and tosses him with an over the head suplex.


Andrew Fulton: Kira jumps up in the air and comes down with a knee across his chest. He pulls El Combatiente to his feet as Kira connects with a hard elbow strike to the back of his head. Kira picks up El Combatiente and connects with a hard German suplex, as the suplex ends up putting El Combatiente right in the corner. Kira walks over and start a throwing hard rights and lefts to his head. Kira lays in some mud hole stomps. Kira pulls El Combatiente and lays in a few knee strikes to various parts of his body.

Jeremy Tucker: Kira steps back and lays in a few kicks to different body parts he jumped to his feet and connects with a roundhouse kick right to his face as it knocks him right to the outside of the ring. Kira jumps to the floor, but Javier walks over to Kira.

Andrew Fulton: I do not know if I were Javier I would not get involved.

Jeremy Tucker: Kira pulls El Combatiente to his feet as he connects with a t bone suplex right into the steel steps. Kira rolls back into the ring.

Andrew Fulton: Javier checking on El Combatiente, wait a second Kira drops back to the floor. He pulls him to his feet as he sends El Combatiente face first into the ring post. He quickly rolls him back into the ring. Kira steps back into the ring asshe catches El Combatiente right into a Boston crab.

Jeremy Tucker: Javier is worried. Kira is pulling back, he might tap out, he is reaching for the ropes. El Combatiente continues to reach for the ropes, and he finally does. Kira connects more punches to various parts of his body. He pulls him to his feet as he places him on the top ropes. He goes up, but he tries to pull him off the top ropes but he blocks it. He kicks Kira in the left knee and then in the right as he drops face first to the mat. He gets himself ready as he comes off the top ropes and catches Kira with 450 splash. He goes for the cover.

1
2

Andrew Fulton: Kira kicks out. El Combatiente pulls Kira up as he grabs the neck and he climbs the top ropes and comes crashing down with a tornado ddt. He goes for the cover.

1

2

Jeremy Tucker: Kira just kicks out. He rolls out underneath the bottom ropes. El Combatiente races into the ropes as he goes flying over the top ropes and comes crashing down on Kira. He pulls Kira up and rolls Kira back into the ring.

Andrew Fulton: He is on the ring apron, he springs off the ropes as he tries to connect with a splash Kira gets the knees up. Kira gets to his feet he pulls El Combatiente to his feet as Kira tries to throw him into the corner but he reverses it as Kira goes hard into the corner. El Combatiente races in as races in attempt for a stinger splash but Kira moves at the last minute as he catches his right shoulder on the top ring post. Kira waits for him to turn around and he jumps up and hooks his arm and catches him with a fujiwara armbar.

Jeremy Tucker: This does not look good for El Combatiente, Javier is going crazy he is banging on the mat. Kira is pulling back on the arm, El Combatiente trying to reach the bottom ropes.

Andrew Fulton: Javier jumps up on the ring apron as the ref tells him to get down, El Combatiente reaches out as he finally gets to the ropes. Kira gets to his feet as he races over and grabs Javier by his throat.

Jeremy Tucker: This does not look good for Javier.

Andrew Fulton: El Combatiente tries to sneak in behind but Kira catches him with an Ultra Kick. El Combatiente has been dropped to one knee. Kira looks down at him as he springs to the ropes in attempt for an Uruto Zudzuki as Kira attempts a diving headbutt but El Combatiente ducks at the last minute.

Jeremy Tucker: El Combatiente quickly grabs Kira’s neck as he climbs up to the top ropes and catches Kira with a slice bread. He goes for the cover.

1

2

Andrew Fulton: Kira just kicks out. El Combatiente pulls Kira up and dropkicks in the back as Kira goes right into the ropes. He races into the ropes but Kira quickly gets to his feet and catches him with a hard knee strike to his head. He picks him up and connects with a death valley driver. Kira connects with a diving headbutt. Kira pulls him to his feet as he picks him up for a possible sleeper suplex but El Combatiente floats over and dropkicks Kira right in Kira back.

Jeremy Tucker: Kira hits the second rope, as El Combatiente races into the ropes and connects with a 619. Kira falls back as he races to the top ropes and he comes off and catches Kira with a frog splash, as he goes in for the cover.

1

2

3


The bell rings...

Frank Salazar: The winner of the match El Combatiente.

Andrew Fulton: Javier jumps in the ring shaking his clients hand, well done Javier, that was YOUR win!

Jeremy Tucker: His win? A hard fought win for El Combatiente tonight.

[Venom 🕷]

We cut to the back where we find the winner of the previous match El Combatiente stands alongside his manager/interpreter Javier in front of a black back drop with XHF Network and SWAT written all over it. Next to Javier is a table with an open laptop on it.



Javier: Are we rolling?



The camera nods and Javier turns and starts the laptop and a video feed appears and Nelly Angel appears on the screen.



Nelly: Yes Javier, what can I do for you?



Javier: I want you to interview my client.



Nelly: Are you serious?



Javier: Yes.



Nelly: Really?



Javier: Yes.



Nelly: Why me?



Javier: Honestly I have done a terrible job researching this company and with the social climate the way it is I had to run with what I know and what I know is you as an interviewer in our first run in the XHF.



Nelly lets out a large sigh before nodding his head.



Nelly: Ok, I guess I can do this.



Javier: Of course you can, it’s your job.



Nelly: It’s not, but how’d the match go tonight?



Javier leans into his client and whispers the question.



El Combatiente: Fue genial Después de la semana pasada dudaba de mí mismo, pero esta semana superé esa duda y aproveché la ocasión.

(It went great. After last week I was doubting myself, but this week I overcame that doubt and rose to the occasion.)



Javier: He said it went great. There was never a momento of doubt that he would dominate whatever that was he fought in the ring tonight. Some people may have lost faith but I never did and I proved everyone wrong with that commanding victory tonight.



Nelly: I don’t think he said any of that.



Javier: I’m the interpreter here, leave that part of the job to me.



Nelly: Sorry, but I took a bit of Spanish in my day and learned a bit in the first run of the XHF and I’m not sure he said most if not all of what he said.



Javier: Next Question.



El Combatiente: ¿Qué está diciendo?

(What is he saying?)



Javier holds up his hand to stop his client and waits in uncomfortable silence until Nelly finally gives in and asks his next question.



Nelly: Your last match was a tough one that you yourself said put doubt in your mind. How has that helped you tonight and set you up for the future?



Again Javier leans over and whispers into his clients ear the question asked by Nelly.



El Combatiente: Mi último partido realmente me ayudó a darme forma no solo para este partido, sino para todos los partidos que tendré en el futuro. No estaba lo suficientemente preparado la semana pasada y el óxido realmente mostró. Aprendí de eso preparándome el doble de lo que estaba antes y sin dejar que la duda continúe apareciendo en mi mente. La esperanza es que esta noche me pondrá en el camino correcto para continuar con mis formas ganadoras.

(My last match really helped shape me for not only this match, but all the matches I will have in the future. I was not prepared enough last week and the rust really showed. I learned from that by preparing twice as much as I was before and not letting the self doubt continue to creep into my mind. The hope is tonight will put me on the right path to continue my winning ways.)



Javier: He said last week was pure luck by my opponent and tonight is proof of that. At the end of the last match it was clear my opponent was exhausted and I made one small mistake and he was able to take advantage. I learned from that by not making that mistake again. Tonight, though, I could have made every mistake in the book and still won because I was facing a far inferior opponent. I barely even broke a sweat in my commanding defeat of that robot, wrestler, hybrid thing I fought tonight.



Nelly: Now I’m 99 percent sure that he didn’t say that.



Javier leans over and whispers to his client again.



El Combatiente: Ultra Kira fue un oponente increíble que me dio todo lo que pude soportar. Tendría suerte de vencerlo nuevamente si nos enfrentamos a mañana.

(Ultra Kira was an incredible opponent that gave me all I could take. I would be lucky to beat him again if we faced tomorrow.)



Javier: He said that Ultra Kira is the biggest joke he’s ever been in the ring with in his career. That includes the lazy fat guys who came to his gym to try and learn wrestling because they thought they could do what they saw on television. If he had to face Ultra Kira again tomorrow he would dominate him again just like he did tonight.



Nelly: I didn’t even ask a question.



Javier leans over again and starts to whisper.



Nelly: What are you saying?



Javier ignores Nelly and continues to whisper to his client.



Nelly: HELLO! Did you mute me? Why am I even here?



El Combatiente: Me encanta aquí en SWAT. Este lugar me ha recibido con los brazos abiertos y me ha hecho sentir como en casa. Espero tener una buena carrera larga aquí.

(I love it here in SWAT. This place has welcomed me with open arms and has made me feel like home. I hope to have a nice long career here.)



Javier: He said he cannot stand it here at SWAT. It is far inferior to the XHF he fought in years ago. He will dominate here and move on to the next company that can help him gain exposure and titles. He in fact hates it here so much he cannot wait to leave and doesn’t want to hear any more questions from you.



Nelly: I haven’t asked you a question in like 5 minutes anyway.



El Combatiente: Adiós Nelly, espero tener una batalla contigo algún día. Podríamos derribar la casa.

(Farewell Nelly, I hope to have a battle with you someday. We could tear the house down.)



Javier: He said you are the worst interviewer and he hopes to never come in contact with you.



Nelly: No he did…



Javier shuts the laptop before Nelly can finish and turns to his client and directs him off camera as we cut to the next scene.

[thejerseydevildiva]

Act 1: Blood is thicker then water



I believe family first. Blood is thicker than water. I grew up like that, and I want to continue to keep that goal in my heart. Just family first! Just honesty, integrity, and respect. All of that. I live by the code of those things. If you do that you'll be fine.
Cory Hardrict

The scene opens on what appears to be an old warehouse somewhere in New York. The streets were almost empty and the sun had long since set. The night had come on fast, and the stars seemed dull against the bright lights of the city. The restaurants were now closed for the night, except for the clubs that still remained open. A black BMW soon pulls up, and stops across from the massive warehouse, and soon the doors open and we see Joanne, Reno and Rude step out.

Reno: Are you sure he's in there?

Joanne: I've had the place watched for the last two days... They have him in there.

Rude: Do you think they broke him?

Joanne: I don't think so.  He's a lot of thin's but he's no snitch!

Reno: How are we going to do this?

Joanne: I'll go in first.

Rude: Are you sure?

Joanne just smiles as she moves ahead of them, moving with super human speed. She moves silently in shadows, hearing voices coming from somewhere deep within the vast warehouse. She creeps along the tall stack of boxes and old machinery as she spots her brother tied to a chair wit three big guys standing in front of him. He was bloodied, and beaten with a bruise on his left eye. Blood had caked around his nose, but he was still awake and spit in one of the guy's faces and is hit hard with a hard right. Scarpaci laughs as he spits out blood once again.

Scarpaci: Who taught you how to hit? You're grandma?

One of the other guys hit him as Joanne watches as growl escapes from deep in her throat. The lights start to flicker off and on, as Scarpaci spits more blood out as the lights go out and the sound of growls, and blood splattering against the ground, mixed with the sound of screams, and growls. Soon it goes silent, and the lights come back up an we see Joanne standing in front of Scarpaci as Reno and Rude run into the room.

Scarpaci: About time you got here.

Joanne: It's good to see you too. Are you alright?

Scarpaci: Yeah. They beat the holy hell out of me, but I didn't give them anythin'.

Reno unties Scarpaci, as Rude helps him to his feet.

Joanne: I knew you wouldn't.  Come on lets get to you the hospital.

Scarpaci: I'll be fine.

Joanne sighs, as she looks around at the mess that had been created.

Rude: What's wrong boss?

Joanne: I have to get cleaners in here... Go on and take Scarpaci home, I'll be there shortly.

Reno: Are you sure boss?

Joanne: Yeah. I'll be alright. When you get home get him cleaned up, and give him some of the wine out of that one bottle in the fridge.

Rude: Are you serious?

Joanne: Right now it's not a good idea to take him to the hospital or anywhere for that matter...

Rude: Right. But are you sure you want to give him THAT?

Joanne: Yeah. If anythin' ever happened to him my father would never forgive me.

Reno: That's true.

They head out as Joanne looks around, hearing a moan coming from somewhere behind her. She smiles as her high heeled shoes click along the cement floor. she soon comes across a man dressed in a dark suit bloodied and coughing up blood.

Joanne: Well, well well look at what I have here. I missed one.

The man tries to say something but once again coughs up blood. Joanne stands on his neck, and all that is heard is a loud crack. Joanne smiles once again, as she walks away.

Joanne: In just a few days Frostbite and I will be facing off against Doomsday and Lucifer. Two people that I have no clue of who they are. I've never heard of them in any company that I have ever been in but Frostbite seems to know them all to well. But I do know that Frostbite and I are a team. He's one of the only people I can trust. Ever since he showed up in SWAT and joined with the KGB it has been a great fit so far. Now that Pesci is out of the way, everythin' is better than it ever has. But if you think that Frostbite and I are goin' to lose to you two think again. I'm not goin' to let you two get off that easy.

She walks around the room, with her high heeled shoes still clicking on the floor as she checks on the bodies that were laid out on the now bloodied floor. Her eyes glow red as she looks around, and begins to laugh.

Joanne: Doomsday, a DC wannabe? Or is it just  a name like everyone else wants to use in companies? I've herd the name more than once but it doesn't who you are or who uses the name. You're all the same. I've managed to win almost every match that I've been in, and this one won't be any different. I plan on winnin' this match no matter what you throw at us.

She takes out her phone and dials a number, and soon its picked up on the other end.

Joanne: Hey it's me. I need to have someone come and clean this up... Yeah it's... It's a blood bath... How many? 5 at least that are still in one piece. Alright I'll head out.  How much do I owe you? I'll have it wired.

She soon hangs up, and heads for the front door with her high heels clicking along the cement.

Joanne: At least that problem is taken care of. I just have to worry about the match that is comin' up. But then again... Why should I worry? I have one of the best partners in SWAT at the moment, and I know between Frostbite and I we can beat the two of you, and show you why the KGB is the best of the best in SWAT. Wat are you goin' to do when the two of us stand toe to toe and we start puttin' you through hell and back? I mean how long do you think you're goin' to last against the two of us? You're not goin' to. When everythin' is said and done you two will be left broken, battered, bruised, bloodied, and humiliated. We are the Mafioso and we get paid to kick your ass! See you soon, and good luck, you're goin' to need it.

She smiles as her eyes glow red once again, before going back to their normal color as she closes the door behind her with the scene fades to black.

[Deleted]

---

H A Y D E N  C A L L A H A N | "The Highest in The Room"

vs Colin Trentwood (#1) | B A T T L E G R O U N D  T W E N T Y - F I V E

---

Ultra Kira... finished. Without a shadow of a doubt, I always was going to walk out the winner. I wouldn't say I dominated my performance, but I did... I did more than just dominate, I fucking decimated the prick. Have you finally come to your senses yet, SWAT? Has "ze commissioner" finally came down from his ego trip yet and given the real stars some firepower? Not a fucking chance. Why the fuck would he? And I thought he was going to be your hero, your knight in shining armor considering the damsel in distress is the reputation this place built upon the entirety of the network.

I mean, take a look at all these challengers he hands himself ever since winning the X*Crown Championship. Has any of them ever earned that opportunity? Has anyone ever come close to beating him? No, because he picks people he knows that can lay down for "ze commissioner". What is he waiting for? What does he need to prove? Oh, you beat a few people in a match based around LEGO - one of them being an XHF Legend. That's enough clarity for ol' Zoran Sainovic, isn't it?

Absolutely fucking pathetic. But I guess it's anything to make sure you're the champion heading into the Rumble, am I right?

But as we fade from my anger to the old hag for biased picking...  I need to pick my focus onto Colin Trentwood...?

I mean, seriously, who the fuck is this guy?  This kid hasn't been seen since January and yet you want me to give this man the jobber treatment? Are you having a fucking laugh, SWAT? I am now SICK to bastard death of being given the weak shit you pick out of your asshole instead of giving me people who actually fucking matter to this roster. Give me REAL FUCKING TALENT. Not the shit you find down the toilet bowl, I'm not going to be treated like this. Whether I've to wait for The Rumble or I'm actually given something fucking good within the upcoming month until then... By the month of May, you're going to realize how fucking real Hayden fucking Callahan gets.

You're going to see that you're wasting away good fucking talent.

You're going to regret that very decision when I come for "ze commissioner's" head.

This isn't a warning, this is a fucking THREAT. And believe me, I always live up to my own threats.

Callahan out.

---

[King Syberus]

[ The camera opens on 110% Syberus looking... drained. Worn. Weary. We meet him slumped over, almost comatose at the lack of energy he's displaying. He looks like a defeated man, beaten and bested. A man that knows he can't carry on, as much as he'd want to. For all the will in the world, for all the percents our SWAT International Champion could bring to the party. Maybe, just MAYBE, this is a step too far even for him. He has bags under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow. The look of a man that's had a few sleepless nights recently. A man haunted by his past, his buried demons, tossing and turning at night in a swea- oh, no wait, he's just been trying to sit through Anthony Caffery's promo. ]

[ We pan out and the object Syberus is slumped over is the TV with Caffery's face on it. For some reason, it's still talking. And of course pausing every five seconds for a line of narration to make the promo seem longer. Talking and talking and talking. Every word is agony to Syberus who feels his will to live wilt away with every fucking syllable. ]

110% Syberus: Oh. My. God. Just STOP.

[ Syberus looks down at the screen in disbelief as Caffery only just gets to the part where he talks about his other federation again. ]

WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING?? JUST STOP.

I get it. I understand what generation of wrestling you've found yourself in. A generation where “quality over quantity” is an alien concept. A generation taught to speak for 20 minutes because your opponent spoke for 15.

But just... STOP. 

Caffery, let me explain why I haven't been responding to your jibes about me over the past few weeks.

It's because I wasn't even aware you've been making them.

Do you honestly think I have nothing better to do in my life that sit through your shit? Let me make this perfectly clear. You are terrible. No no, seriously. Shut the fuck up and read my lips. You are absolute dog turd. I gave you a shot, I listened to your first few bits when you arrived here in SWAT. And I quickly came to the conclusion that you lack even the remotest semblance of any entertainment factor at all. Hence, I stopped listening. Now I skim over your shit. Is his promo longer than it needs to be? Probably. Is he still doing the cringe-ass pauses at every opportunity to soak in the crowd response? Yep. Anybody interested in what he has to say?

[ 110% Syberus looks around at the mountains of human corpses in the world not laid waste by Coronavirus you understand but by shooting themselves in the fucking head rather than read another carbon copy Caffery promo. ]

110% Syberus: Nope. 

You understand I've been in this business for nearly 20 YEARS. I debuted in the UWA in 2002. I've seen your type over and over and over in that time span. You just happened to be one of the only guys in the fed at the time that can string two thoughts together in plain English, so you get the belt thrown on you. Thus begins your oblivious reign of supposed greatness.

But Caffery. Listen very closely.

[ The camera zooms in close. God he looks like shit. This is what you've done to him Anthony. ]

110% Syberus: You. Are Not. Good.

Note, that I didn't say “I'm gonn beat yo' ass!!!” because truth be told, I probably will but I've lost to Paul Soutter in my time and his finisher is a pumphandle slam, so I've always been a bit of a glass cannon. No, I said you aren't good. You aren't worth listening to. You aren't entertaining. You aren't original. You aren't even interesting. Nothing that you do or say is worth spending a single second on. So I don't bother. 

You say you're the best, you say you're here to dominate SWAT, it's a crime you aren't already the champ, etc. etc. You chip in a few lines about your accolades in other federations. And you do it over, and over, and over again. You write the same fucking script every time. You haven't had a single fresh thought since you stepped into SWAT. 

That's why I don't give a shit about you, that's why I haven't been listening to your promo's, and that's why after I'm done turning you into a picasso in Manchester I'm not going to spare you another thought for a long long time.

You say you're confused by the booking in SWAT, welcome to the party by the way, because lesser wrestlers got title matches before you. Don't you get it Caffery? There's a reason others got title matches before you. THEY AREN'T LESSER WRESTLERS. They just don't talk as long. 

Each and every person who's had an International title match before you has at LEAST been capable of some original thought. Sun and Tux aside, who in their day are a match for 110% Syberus. But those other guys, don't get me wrong they aren't great. Their entertainment quality is a little off, Eddie's delivery is getting there. But bottom rung on the ladder to competency in this business is “can you do something different from one promo to the next?” You've failed that basic premise and think you should have been at the front of the queue. Laughable.

I'm gonna take a second to do something that I'm really trying not to do these days and say that if you'd been around in Hardkore World's heyday? 

Sweet Jesus you'd be passed around that locker room like a syringe full'o roids.

Lucifer Jones would have torn you to shreds.

Andrew Karnage would have broken you in half.

Dan Stein would have taken your head off your shoulders.

RHIII would have tied you in knots.

Kilroy Evans would have... I can't even describe...

Point is there was a level of wrestler on that roster, not just in the main event but in the build up, fighting tooth and claw over the American Heavyweight and West Coast titles. And that locker room went all the way back to the IWA, and the IPW and UWA before it. And to the very first iteration of SWAT where Syberus and Adrian Tanner ruled the tag team division.

All those guys, and more, would kick the living fuck out of you and you know what? In the build up to it they'd be a riot. They'd be funny. They'd be sharp. They'd bring something different to the TV screen week after week. And it wasn't always just about dropping the ha ha's. Stein and Karnage could be stern and cutting while Rising Sun and Kilroy had you laughing your ass off. Point is, the Society of the New Breed were forged in this uber-generation of quality depth. In the face of that, to hear that you were a world champion is a mockery, and shows how far this business has fallen. I can't even equate the level to which you DON'T have what those guys had.

And you see, THAT'S what SWAT is trying to heal. Me and the management of this company far from see eye to eye on most things. But the one thing we agree on is the direction we want this business to go.

You don't even understand that before we came back to SWAT, Jonnie Valentine and 110% Syberus weren't even friends. Our last interaction in this business was me beating him in a match for control of a company he'd run for 27 years! But the Society of the New Breed has a tradition, also spanning longer than you've even laced your boots for, of stepping forth and being the bastion of quality that wrestling needs. In the darkest of times. If you're what wrestling considers to be world title material right now then these are very dark times indeed.

So, Caffery, let me leave you with this.

You claiming to have injured my ankle is pathetic when I still went on to eliminate a bunch before it took two guys to take me out of the royal rumble. I've won every match since. So you've done nothing to me.

Everything you believe you have accomplished in this business is trash. I've held 34 championships.

You are boring as fuck and I really don't want to have to listen to you.

[ Syberus hoists the International Championship belt over his shoulder. ]

110% Syberus: If you want to accomplish half of what your delusional mind apparently believes is possible for you to accomplish here in SWAT, you need to get better.

I'll say that again, you need to get better. A lot better.

Because right now, you aren't good. And I'm not even talking about your wrestling. Let me make that abundantly clear. I'm talking about you. Your product, your promo style. Your delivery. You. It's boring repetitive garbage that goes on for too long and you need to get better because every time you say you were undefeated in AWF you're just making the AWF look like shit.

I hope this has helped.

[ The camera fades. ]

[Colin Trentwood]

We fade into the smiling face of Colin Trentwood dancing down the corridor backstage. People get out of the way, he just looks like something they'd rather not deal with. 

Colin Trentwood: "Wooooo Hayden Callehan! You sure have a wrestler-ey sounding name dontya! Complete with first name-that's-not-quite-a-first-name! Was it given to you at birth by your smart mark parents on the way back from an ROH house show or did you spin the wheel of wrestling generic indy names?? And your production quality is full of ZING! All the flashing lights and moving images and font formatting."

Wait, what?

Colin Trentwood: "I'm Colin Trentwood! The Zwingliest, zwangliest wrestler in town! To beat me you have to have more than a sleeveless t-shirt and Japanese shin pads. You have to match me for razzle! Match me for dazzle! Match me for jingle and jangle!!!"

He does a spin and throws glitter out of his pockets then produces a bunch of flowers from his sleeve.

Colin Trentwood: "I'll check your moveset later but I'm sure it's got a lot of "modifieds" in there and the proper lucha names for basic American wrestling moves. Until then buckle up sam! You've got a date with destiny! A date with Colin Trentwood! I'm Colin Trentwood!"

He pulls a fire extinguisher off a wall and activates it spraying powder everywhere and laughing.

Colin Trentwood: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! Woooooooo I'm Colin Trentwood!! You never know what I'm going to do next!! What about you, Hayden McGeneric Indy Guy Callahan? Do we know what you're going to do next??"

He suddenly stops laughing and the camera zooms into his face. Void of all joy now. An empty seriousness comes over his features.

Colin Trentwood: "Do we?"

[Deleted]

---

H A Y D E N  C A L L A H A N | "Do I Look Like A Fucking Joke To You?"

vs Colin Trentwood (#2) | B A T T L E G R O U N D  T W E N T Y - F I V E

---

Colin.

It's so nice to see you're still alive... to some extent. It's so nice to know that you're here, and you're willing to show up. I was worried sick, I thought I'd have a night off and trust me... I don't like having nights off.  It's the feeling of knowing that your opponent might not show up after training for this match, it sucks, wouldn't you agree? But here's the problem, you're not someone I'd waste my fucking time with. Not even to fucking train for.

But why, you might ask?

Fucking look at you, Colin. LOOK at yourself. Do you really think that at some point in your career you'd make it somewhere and be somewhat of a success? I can fucking tell you... You're never going anywhere with your life. You're never going anywhere with your career. Just answer me this, WHO fucking signed you to here? WHO fucking allowed you to come into SWAT and actually COMPETE. Colin Trentwood, you have no right to be a wrestler after what I've seen from you. You have NO RIGHT to even speak after what I've seen from you. You should never be allowed to even compete in SWAT after I'm fucking finished with you.

You should have stayed away, Colin, you should have fucking stayed far away.

"I'm Colin Trentwood! The Zwingliest, zwangliest wrestler in town!"

Shut the fuck up. Shut your fucking mouth you fucking knock-off Bill Cosby with your "zwing and zwang."

I'd love to say that you make my three-year-old daughter laugh but I wouldn't even dare put her near you, let alone watch your promos. You want to break the fourth wall? You couldn't even hurt me greatly with it. All you did was make fun of "moving pictures" and "formatting", all you did was tell me how my name sounds... wrestler-y? Calling my own parents "smart marks"? I don't know who the fuck you are but if you even DARE talk about my parents again. I'll cave your fucking head in, as if I'm not going to already. I'm going to show you what it's like to compete with a great fucking talent, and I did have a good think about this but I'm not going to make this about five or six seconds...

I'm going to pick you apart... limb for limb... and I'm going to fucking keep the match going until you cannot compete anymore. I'll put you onto your head, over and over again, until you are completely fucking paralyzed. I'm going to fucking embarrass you, Colin, and when I'm done with you... Your own mother wouldn't recognize you when you're lowered into your own grave.

Colin Trentwood, you've dug your own grave.

Now... You're a fucking dead man.

Rest in fucking peace... You piece of shit jobber.

---

[SWAT Team]

Jeremy Tucker: Ladies and Gentlemen this next match is…

[Jeremy Tucker’s mic goes dead and so does Andrew Fulton’s. The two look up as Trent Jones' face shows up on the big screen; he is dressed in a suit with no sleeves. In his mouth is a big pinch of chew and he has on a cheap ass looking headset. Standing next to him is some homeless looking fellow. The dirty man has a cheap headset on as well.]

Trent Jones: As we get ready for the biggest night in SWAT History the night Trent Jones becomes champion… I figured I would give you, a gift and call another match… next to me is long time homeless man Randy Bison. When he isn't calling matches he is begging for tea and crumpets or what you people over here do.

Randy Bison: If I do this, you're paying me right?

Trent Jones: Yeah don't worry man I got you.

"Something For You" by David Rolfe begins to play through the PA System as all the lights don a golden shade as the circulate around the stage area.

DIRTY, SEXY, SLINKY THING
POWER OVER ALL WITH THE LOVE YOU BRING
SPINNING, FROM YOUR, MIND CONTROL
SHUFFLING AROUND THIS DEEP DEEP HOLE

That's when the man himself appears as he comes through the curtain, pausing at the top of the stage with a evilish smirk on his face whilst he looks out to the vast majority of fans in the building booing him. He just soaks it all in before making his way down to the ring. Hayden slides onto the ring apron and looks out to the crowd, flipping both middle fingers out to the many that boo him.

YOU ARE THE ONE
MAKES ME SCREAM AND SHOUT
I'VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU.
I CAN'T COMPETE
WHY YOU STILL HOLDING OUT
I'VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU!

He enters the ring through the middle ropes and stands in the middle of the ring, a singular golden spotlight shining down on Hayden as one finger is raised and his head is lowered. Hayden looks back up at the heated crowd and just smiles before heading into his corner.

Frank Salazar : Introducing now, hailing from South London, England. Coming in at 5’11 and 210 pounds .... "The Miracle of South London" HAYDEN CALLAHAN!!!

Trent Jones: My money's on this little guy from South London. I wonder if South London is like being born in South Detroit.

Randy Bison: There is no such thing as south Detroit you idiot. Journey just used it in the song because it fit. I am not even from the USA and I know that.

Trent Jones: Yeah I am the idiot yet I am rich and you smell like Last year's nut sack.

"24K Magic" by Bruno Mars kicks in and soon after Colin Trentwood pushes through the curtains with a huge stupid smile on his face, making idiotic expressions to the crowd and trying to pump them up. He wears a sequined jacket to match his sequined
tights on his way down to the ring.]

[Soon after rolling into the ring he hops up on the ropes and plays to the crowd some more. He throws his sequinned jacket off and gets ready for the match to start.

Frank Salazar : Introducing now, hailing from The Madison, Wisconsin. Coming in at 5’11 and 206 pounds .... COLIN TRENTWOOD!!!

Trent Jones: Damn this guy is even smaller. I didn't realize this was a jr high school match. Well my money is on the Kid from the South something. Because nothing good comes from Wisconsin.

Randy Bison: How much am I getting?

Trent Jones: Well I am paying by the minute so hopefully this is a quick match.

**Bell Rings***

Trent Jones: Hayden fellow locks up with the Wisconsin kid whose name I already forgot… Hayden quickly pokes the eyes of…. Shit what is his name…

Randy Bison: Was it Martin?

Trent Jones: No you idiot… its starts with a C.

[While Trent tries to think of his name, Hayden Callahan uses the eye poke to get quick leverage and throws Colin Trentwood down. Hayden quickly drops down on Colin and starts throwing punches to the face. Collin goes to block and Hayden Callahan delivers a killer blow to the mid section. He stands up as the fans boo Hayden Callahan.]

Trent Jones: The fans here hate the Southside kid but that won't stop him from kicking Colin… holy shit I remembered his name. Hayden and Collin are both back to their feet and they are locked up together.

Randy Bison: Colin is his name Trent!

Trent Jones: I already figured that out, Oh shit Callahan just used some type of DDT but let's face it I don't really care what it is called. Callahan is not going to stop, he is on the attack and looking to take care of Colin.

Randy Bison: Will I also get a free Meal for calling this match with you?

Trent Jones: Damn for a homeless guy you sure are needy you act like you haven't had a meal in… Oh shit… Callahan delivers a roundhouse that may have just knocked Colins teeth out. Randy at this rate you and Colin will have a matching mouth.

Randy Bison: I have most of my teeth you prick.

Trent Jones: Lets watch our language asshole. So Callahan is in the driving seat and he is running this Colin over. Callahan is just playing around now and then he kicks him with a hookish looking kick… that my smart phone says is called a …. Damn it ad.

[Trent holds up his phone as an add for the latest farming game plays]

Trent Jones: That move is called, Sacrificial Lamb, thanks for your help Randy… oh shit you don't live in America so you don't have an Obama Phone… my bad.

Randy Bison: I really don’t like you.

Trent Jones: Yeah well when you leave your smell is going to last longer than Colin is going to last in this match. Damn!!!!! Hayden Callahan just delivered what looks to be called Lucid Dreams. Colin may just be dead laying in the ring right now. Callahan is going to win this big time today and walk out with a “W”. Hayden looks at Colin and decides he wants to subject this Willy Wonka looking freak to more pain. I am sure Randy you can relate to more pain am I right?

[While Randy Is crying from the mean comments Trent makes. Hayden Callahan stands Colin up and delivers his Dead By Daylight finisher and Colin’s body just bounces as Hayden Callahan goes for the cover.]

……….1…………..2………………..3

Frank Salazar : The Winner of the match via pinfall is HAYDEN CALLAHAN!!!

Trent Jones: Hayden Callahan don’t take this wrong I hate you just like I hate everyone here in SWAT but congrats on beating this creepy Colin.

Randy Bison: Where is my money

Trent Jones: What? You sucked bad but here is a Mexican Dollar this like a million Euros or whatever you call your money.

[The two start arguing as Trent Jones punches Randy in the mouth knocking him out and a few of his teeth]

[mosler]

[Meanwhile... the streets of Manchester are empty.]

“I tell you - I was perfectly happy to have an empty arena match, but I’ve never had an empty city match before.”

[The commissioner of SWAT strolls past shop windows with signs apologizing to their customers. Ma and Pa convenient stores that will probably go tits up over the looming economic meltdown created by this virus. Even though it means losing their jobs, they put the common interests ahead of others. Not SWAT. A few blocks away they have an arena full of the coughing dead. Zoran tried to do the right thing, but some jerk promised Syberus a European leg would go down in this industrial shithole, and we wouldn’t want the shareholders to go back on their word. Fuck.]

Zoran Sainovic <on cellphone>: No one to breathe on me. Don’t give zat a second zought, Rose. It’s completely deserted. I had some really choice Manchester United material too. Zey would have lynched me. Ze kicker, after describing ze world’s laziest, overrated, over paid, relying on past glory more zan ze monarchy team... I zen say I was zinking of Man City, turning ze other half of ze crowd. Ze 20% less loutish side. So I’m disappointed zat ze shit show was everything I expected, but fortunately because Paul is an Anti-draw since spending a year selling for Frostbite, I can go another week without catching zis virus.

[Spotting the camera, Zoran turns his back to finish his conversation. His time is more important than yours.]

Zoran Sainovic: I know you were looking forwards to seeing England, but Manchester isn’t England. It’s more Pittsburgh, know what I mean? You’re far better off working from home. Enjoy ze calm while it lasts. If as many of ze boys catch zis as I expect, we’re going to be doing a lot of hiring in May. How is Oliver holding up? Well, put him on. No problem. <upbeat and energetic> Ollie? I hear you’re home from school, you lucky dog. Ah, zese kinds of zings happen all ze time. Zey make a bigger deal out of it zan it is. If everyone stays inside, it cuts zings down and gives zem more time to come up with an antidote. Zat is all. If touching sick people was going to make us sick, do you think I’d be kicking Paul Soutter in ze testicles three times tonight? Fine – for you I’ll make it four times. What a slave driver. Four times? I don’t want zat Aussie jerk to enjoy it! Exactly. Zat’s more like it. Just kick back, watch some films, and look after your Mom. You’ll be out with your friends before you know it. Want anything from England? Bad teeth? You want bad teeth? It’s apparently what zey’re well known for – so if you want ze kind of smile zat makes girls run away, zese limey bastards have it. I will hook you up! I’m sure I can get it zrough customs. Ok. You too, pal. <pause> Rose? Yeah, Phil is on camera, and if I leave him alone long enough he’ll start getting artistic with ze frame and focus on my feet. Takes all sorts. We’ll finish ze Rumble subcontracts on Monday. You too. Stay safe.

[Click. Putting away his phone, Zoran looks over his shoulder – just in time to keep Phil from zooming in on his feet. Dirty look. Zoran Sainovic puts his game face on. That means lighting up a cigarette... and then putting a sanitary mask over it. He’s still puffing away. What a fucking beast.]

Zoran Sainovic: SWAT. Funny running into you here...

So lets keep zis brief. I’ve had two X*Crown title defences. One was against ze KGB, and ze other against ze Society of ze New Breed. Ze defence against Frostbite saw interference by both Bruno, and my opponent tonight. Ze defence against Marty, required me to change ze match’s location to another continent to prevent his buddies from getting involved.

Half of the federation belong to zese two groups.

Neither looks like they can win a match without gang interference.

Prove me wrong.

So tonight... ze KGB and Society of ze New Breed will not be allowed at ringside for matches zey aren’t involved in. Zey show up and interfere? Zey can pick up zeir walking papers at ze door.

[He is clearly only making this ruling to protect himself against reprisal from both injured parties, still it’s the closest thing to a fair call The Commish has made since getting the job.]

Zoran Sainovic <looking down>: Zat’ll affect ze International title match too.

<flinch> Caffrey.

You know, I consider you ze reason I won the X*Crown? Politics.

My pitch was zat SWAT wasn’t really part of ze XHF Network, having doubled down on isolationism, and only sent small fries to compete. <nodding to emphasize points> Why to hear me spin it, ze most active federation in ze coalition was so hard done by, we didn’t feel zat WE belonged. <snort> So either I dismantled Death Trap, Maverick and Lio with my god given talent... OOOOOOOOOOR I quilted Mongo into giving me a fast count.

[Shrug.]

Zoran Sainovic: Either way... zanks buddy.

See ze reason zat Matei and Hollywood don’t step foot into interpromotional events? I chalk zat up to you. I’m not saying zey couldn’t beat you, its more a question of professionalism. You were zis companies’ first taste of ze XHF. You destroyed Frostbite. <chuckle> Congratulations on zat. Only rather zan recognize zat it might not be ze biggest accomplishment on earth, you used it as a platform to be...well... you. Impressive rant about how badly SWAT sucks. Maybe it was your way of welcoming us into ze fold. <bemused squint in eye> Knowing you better, zat certainly seems like you being positive and inviting. At ze time, we didn’t know you, so we just took it as insult to injury. How could we trust our best workers with such uncouth savagery?

So because of your being an excellent ambassador, ze right man for a first contact job, with a radiant personality without compare - I now hold ze keys to a kingdom zat exists outside your usual discord. <double take> ...And a crown to match it.

Believe it or not, Caffrey, I’m your BIGGEST supporter. Hell, your only supporter.

I don’t have ze power to stop zis stupid international tour zat is going to get someone killed. I answer to shareholders, sponsors, <eyes narrow> accountants. Ze buck doesn’t stop with me, <aside> even if it leaves with me. <back> My contributions are more in ze smaller details – like working out ze details on your lucrative contract. First thing I did, when Pesci was out ze door was sign a WORLD CLASS talent in Anthony Caffrey. My advisors all wanted cheaper talent. We could sign TARRASQUE, Maverick AND ze LGBQT for ze same money we’re giving zat cocky asshole Caffrey, THEY SAID. My response? You’re offering zose other assholes too much! We could sign FAR more talent zan zat for what we’re giving Caffrey... but zey couldn’t tie his shoes.

At ze SWAT rumble, I had my hands full ENDING Radu Matei’s career. My appearance in ze rumble was only brief...

So when I watched ze replay... you can only IMAGINE how disappointed I was, when you didn’t win. I had MONEY on you. ...And worse? <shakes head in disappointment> Ze way you got eliminated?

I zought when Pesci was axed, we could finally end zat chapter of mafia wrestlecrap. <the rage is real> Instead… I got a guy named Toni wearing cement shoes. What ze fuck, Caffrey? How could you LET yourself be put in zat position?

You wonder why you’re in your current spot? Maybe I need to spend MONTHS rebuilding you after zat indignity. Ze flipside is, you might need to get revenge on a dozen people to save face, every time you lose a non-singles match. <chuckle> What a team player.

So Toni...

You question why ze X*Crown is ALWAYS ze main event? I expect zat from ze rest of ze SWAT rubes, but you should know what zis belt means.

You complain why you aren’t main eventing? <deadpan> Maybe wait for your forth show with ze company.

You give me flack for keeping zese dates going, in light of ze pandemic? I’m trying to cancel them. You’re ze one trying to pull one together. How is zat going by ze way? I have to say, as ze BIGGEST draw in ze XHF, I’m a little hurt you hadn’t reached out to me to drag your squad to victory against Team Steele. Leave ze best free agents up in ze air, while making booking suggestions. Questionable.

As for your title shot tonight – you’re welcome.

See... Syberus is ze SWAT equivalent of you, Toni... before you graced us with your presence. Mean spirited. Black hearted. Rotten to ze core. You know what grows 10%? A tumour! Syb was zat toxic locker room cancer zat lived to tear opponents down in a way where zey’d just as soon swallow a 45-calibre bullet zan lace zeir boots back up. Zey aren’t wrestling him, zey are wrestling with getting out of bed in ze morning – crushed by ze waves of depression zat can only come from a man who will do ANYTHING to win an argument.

Pairing you two up is literally ze only match I can zink of where I don’t feel bad for your opponents. You spent more of your title match promo calling ME out zan addressing ze champion! Which is such a Syb thing to do. You two are perfect for each other! If ze XHF bothered to tell us about zeir voting ballot, you two would be an award-winning program! Zis is ze feel bad match of ze year!

Pure hate. And you don’t even know each other.

My god, it’s going to be beautiful.

[Lifting his mask, Sainovic removes the cigarette... only to immediately light up another one. He might have a problem.]

Zoran Sainovic: I was going to slow burn it, but when you entered your name in ze rumble, Toni – I could see you were looking for a real challenge. <eyes narrow> Good luck tonight.

<double take> See SWAT... the XHF is having zeir annual Rumble for MY X*Crown. Toni is one of ze great SWAT talents who has thrown his name in to take it from me. A reminder... ze deadline to enter ze rumble is in a few short days, so any SWAT wrestler who wants to enter, do so now. I will take your silence as an acknowledgement of my clear superiority, as well as you all being lazy tards. Do not be concerned about reprisals SWAT Nation... I won’t book you into oblivion if you challenge me. I’ve already rewarded Toni with a title shot.

I can honestly say, if I somehow lose ze rumble... probably politics... I hope zat Toni Caff is ze man to win it. <flinch> ...Because I have his number. <nod> And Toni, if you zought LEGO, blankets, Star Wars, and fucking Manchester were sketchy, you don’t want to know what ridiculous shit I have dreamt up for you!

Why aren’t you challenging MY belt tonight, Toni? Because only a total asshole would completely exhaust ze champion going into a big inter promotional event... putting his own interests over the well being of ze company.

Right, Paul?

[Yes. It was all a Soutter burn.]

[Shaking his head in disgust, the X*Crown champion turns, walking off into lonely Manchester. A landscape that is slightly less shitty than usual, for lack of British people.]

[Jonnie Valentine]

(Shot opens on Jonnie Valentine's cosy cottage he maintains in Stratford on Avon, England. The sound of wood chopping fills the air until the shot pans to logs being placed on a tree stump, then chopped in half, repeating over and over. 110% Syberus comes walking up the path until he finds "Bankable" Jonnie Valentine sitting in a chair on the porch)


110% Syberus: Nice place.


"Bankable" Jonnie Valentine: Thanks. The taxes are killer though. 

(chop)

110% Syberus: Probably paid for my last shoulder surgery though.  


Jonnie Valentine: Oh, glad to help. 

(chop)

110% Syberus: What's this then?


Jonnie Valentine: Training for my big match. Chopping wood. It clears your mind. Works your upper body and stamina.

(chop)


110% Syberus: Ah. Why's Greg doin it then?


Jonnie Valentine: (shrugs) He asked. 


(A shirtless Greg the assistant, wipes his sweaty brow]


Greg The Assistant: (breathing heavy) Just a few more, sir? Then maybe I can start on lunch?


Jonnie Valentine: Sorry old friend, this is Trent Jones, Mr Pay Day Loans were talking here. We got to be ready. 


Greg The Assistant: (trying to get his wind back) Right again...sir. 


[Greg goes back to chopping wood]


110% Syberus: Greg's the best. 


Jonnie Valentine: I know, I don't deserve him. (cups his hands and says loudly to Greg) I don't deserve you, Greg! 

(chop)

110% Syberus: I was looking forward to lunch though, what's he making? 


Jonnie Valentine: Frittatas.

(chop)

110% Syberus: Oh, lovely. 


Jonnie Valentine: Yeah. 

(chop)

110% Syberus: You think all this will get you ready for Trent Jones?


Jonnie Valentine: Not sure. He's not much of a wrestler. I think his wear down move is the stomp. 

(chop)

110% Syberus: He is undefeated.

Jonnie Valentine: There's a first time for anything. Like Trent Jones actually having sex instead of humble bragging about all the STDs he thinks he has that are probably just hepatitis complications.

(chop)

110% Syberus: He says he earned his nickname, Mr Bones from his gang.


Jonnie Valentine: Well prison gangs will call you all kinds of things after they pass you around. I earned my nickname because I am the most bankable person not only in this company, but in this business. I earned my nickname because not one person in Manchester bought their ticket to see Trent Jones, they're coming to see Jonnie Valentine wrestle in England for the first time in 18 years. When his stupid music "White Trash Renegade" plays and Trent Jones steps out wearing his black cargo pants and white tank top that says Mr Bones on it, look around to see if anyone else is wearing that tank top?

(chop)

110% Syberus: Dear God, I should hope not. 


Jonnie Valentine: They won't be. Because who would advertise that they wish they follow an antisemitic ex-con who wants everyone to believe he's riddled with syphilis? 

(chop)

110% Syberus: Can't you just pretend he has VD? It would make him so happy. 


Jonnie Valentine: I can't. I'll believe he drinks too much and I'll even entertain the idea that he told someone he was going to take out the trash, because that's a pretty pro wrassler thing to say. But in a business full of works, I don't believe he has shoot sex. 

(chop)

110% Syberus: Do you at least believe he has working sex?


Jonnie Valentine: Not really. But the fact he even thinks he can take my SWAT World Championship sort of irks me. It's like if someone was thinking about your wife.

(chop)

110% Syberus: Right. Where is your wife by the way?


Jonnie Valentine: I dunno. But Jones can bring his kick stomping, his viagra, and his supposedly disease ridden 'little guy' to Manchester and I'll give him his first loss just like the "gang" gave him his first hickie. I'm not just doing it for me, I'm doing it for the t-shirt vendors so their kids don't starve to death while Dad is trying to sell Mr Bones tank tops. Imagine Zoran trying to get Trent Jones booked on Jimmy Kimmel? He'd probably pass out on White Claws and pee the green room couch. 


110% Syberus: Best case scenario. 


Jonnie Valentine: Now let's go get us some fritattas! Greg?


Greg The Assistant: Hmm?


Jonnie Valentine: We're ready for lunch. 
 

Greg The Assistant: Ok. What about all this wood? 


Jonnie Valentine: Who cares? We have central heating. Throw it out I guess


Greg The Assistant: Oh, ok. 


[Greg heelies into the cottage to make frittatas]


110% Syberus: No one like him. 


Jonnie Valentine: He's the best. 

[SWAT Team]

(The show returns from spots for Britain's Bureau for Tourism, SWAT's streaming service along with Satan's Disciples in a beer commercial before returning to ringside where ringsiders hold signs that say "Joanne Cannelli + Frosty= Frostbite!," "Satan's Disciples are winners!," "KGB Rules!," and "Raise Hell Satan's Disciples!" before fading to ringside where Jeremy Tucker and Andrew Fulton are joined at the broadcast table with Team Fairtex who are wearing headsets.)

Jeremy Tucker: "Welcome back to Battleground coming to you live from the great city of Manchester, England which is home to that great soccer dynasty Manchester United. Not to mention it's great rugby team and home to International Champion 110% Syberus. Right now we're joined by Team Fairtex, Tong and Phantam Fairtex the 2017 Anzac Cup winners."

Andrew Fulton: "You mean the SWAT World Tag Team Champions and future two time Anzac Cup Champions and XHF Global Tag Team Champions Tong and Phantam Fairtex Team Fairtex."

Tong Fairtex: "Now that's a real introduction for a tag team of our calibre and status and it's an honor since nobody even asked us to do commentary for a long time."

Phantam Fairtex: "That's right so everyone should be honoured for us being here. Speaking of which it's been quite a while since I was here when I did a photo shoot and then walked the catwalk during fashion week in London."

Andrew Fulton: "Hey it's always an honor and pleasure for you being there."

Jeremy Tucker: "I'm sure you have plenty of things on your schedule with your title defence tonight and the Anzac Cup. Shouldn't you be in your locker room preparing for your championship defence against The Society of the New Breed team of Tuxedo Mask and 'Golden God' Rally Jackson."

Tong Fairtex: "Look we already warmed up for our title defence and we have our wrestling gear on as you can see and we're going to be totally prepared for 'Golden Gut" Rally Jackson and Tennessee Tuzedo."

Andrew Fulton: "You call them what they are Tong."

Phantam Fairtex: "High five Andrew."

Anfdrew Fulton: "Oh yeah."

(Phantam and Andrew Fulton high five.)

Jeremy Tucker: "Getting to this match. Satan's Disciples have been both wanting to settle the score with Frostbite for turning against them and lying about promising a title shot at your tag titles which you backed up with your own words."

Phantam Fairtex: "If you're looking for a denial that we said what we said. Too bad. You see we keep our word to any competitor and that includes those two twin tower wannabes. Anyone thinks we're afraid to defend our titles against any competitor is wrong and that includes Satan's Disciples."

Andrew Fulton: "You tell him Phantam."

Jeremy Tucker: "Joanne Canelli's been acting more erratic and bizarre lately. When she was defending her title against the victorious 'Lucky' Linda La Fey Joanne looked like she was afraid of something and if it wasn't for The Hired Killers Linda would have been champion."

Andrew Fulton: "Linda was cheating and The Hired Killers were just making sure that didn't happen."

Tong Fairtex: "That's right Andrew. Our wives were making sure that Linda wasn't cheating. Joanne needed back up and our wives were there to watch her back. Besides, she gave them the night off for a job well done."

Jeremy Tucker: "Right now we're going to the ring to really find out who was really carrying who as Fank Salazar makes the ring introductions."

Frank Salazar: "This contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first from Boulder, Co. He comes in at 6ft. and weighs in at 225lbs. He is a member of The KGB and accompanied by KGB bodyguard Bruno. He is 'The Cold Hearted Bastard.' Please welcome .... Frostbite."

(Seek and Destroy" by Metallica plays as we see lotus's flying on the tron. A few seconds later days turn to night as the image fades and another of a huge of a huge nuclear explosion as you see tanks firing in the air and right after that image we see soldiers in unison and that image fades out and another image of a nuclear explosion as you see nothing but ashes and dust of a city. The lights in the city grow dark for a few seconds as it comes back a blue light as seen up the show of the steps as two individuals are seen up there wearing KGB wear with their heads down. They slowly raise their heads we see the intensity in the blue eyes of Frostbite accompanied by Bruno. They take a walk down the steps as most ringsiders boo him but some reach out and touch him as they touch his hands and broad shoulders cheering him. Bruno remains outside the ring as Frostbite removes his KGB shirt.)

Frank Salazar: "Now introducing his tag team partner. She hails from The Jersey Shore and comes in at 5'11" and weighs in at 165lbs. Please welcome 'The Jersey Devil' Don Joanne Cannelli."

(The houselights go down, as pink and blue spotlights go over the crowd. As the spotlight comes to a stop at the back of the entranceway, as "Courtesy Call" by Thousand Foot Krutch begins. A picture of the Italian Flag with the words "Full Blooded Italiand" is written underneath it soon changes to mob hits, newspaper clippings from the just recent to the late 1900's, but soon changes once again, to the shots of the Mafioso, sitting in a lage office, and in limos, and in arenas of times since past. The spotlight focuses on four figures standing at the back of the ramp. Joanne and her bodyguards. They make their way down the ramp with Joanne in the middle with Reno and Rude on either side, and Scarpaci following behind talking amongst themselves ignoring the crowd among them. When they reach the ring Reno holds open for her as she slips inside only to follow behind and stand in the middle around her. She removes her jacket, and hands it to one of the guys, before they head out of the ring.)

Frank Salazar: "Now introducing from The Depths of Hell and Portland, Oregon respectively. They come in at a total combined weight of 720lbs. Please welcome Doomsday and Lucifer ...Satan's Disciples."

(The ringsiders roar as "Killing in the name of" by Rage against the Machine plays and Satan's Disciples come to ringside with rage and anger in their eyes. They eye Team Fairtex and Team Fairtex ignores them.)

Jeremy Tucker: "Looks like they place a bull's eye on you."

Tong Fairtex: "As if, that's nothing new. Seriously all champions have bull's eyes on their backs. Look we said we would give those crybabies a rematch and yet those two dumb asses act like they don't appreciate our generosity. That's why they need Frostbite more than Frostbite needed them. Hell he's the brains behind them."

Andrew Fulton: "That's what I've been saying all along."

Jeremy Tucker: "The bell rings and this match is underway. Frostbite starts off against Doomsday and both eye each other before locking up."

Andrew Fulton: "Frostbite takes Doomsday down with a fireman's carry and rides him into the ropes. Frostbite pats him on the shoulders before getting up and backing off."

Tong Fairtex: "You see how he respects his former running buddies."

Jeremy Tucker: "For now but history proves otherwise. Doomsday dares Frostbite to engage him in a test of strength which he does. They lock up and slam their bodies into the other and Doomsday easily overpowers Frostbite who counters again with a fireman's carry takedown into an armbar."

Phantam Fairtex: "You see Jerry that's smart wrestling. You take the big man off his feet and keep him there and Frostbite's maintaining control of the armbar and puts further pressure by wrenching it back. Doomsday slowly gets back to his feet and counters with a series of forearms before whipping frostbite into the ropes. He ducks a clothesline and connects with a dropkick and what a powerful dropkick that was. Hell that was better than whatever his next moniker is Valentine."

Andrew Fulton: "It sure was Phantam. Frostbite tags in Joanne as Lucifer tags in. Crybaby Lucifer is demanding that Frostbite tags back in and Joanne chop blocks the back of Lucifer's knees since the dimwitted referee isn't being taken seriously as if that's not obvious. Joanne starts kicking and stomping the back of that knee."

Tong Fairtex: "Satan's Disciples are trying to make this a handicap match and that's not right. They wanted a tag team match and that's what was signed on the contract for this match. If they wanted a handicap match that should have been stipulated but they wanted a tag team match and that's what they got. If they can't comprehend that even if they are veteran wrestlers they should get out of SWAT."

Jeremy Tucker: "Obviously they have no intention of doing so. Joanne continues to work on that leg kicking and stomping on it before leaving the ring and returning with a baseball bat. She smashes Lucifer's leg with a baseball bat repeatedly and follows up beating Lucifer's back."

Tong Fairtex: "Joanne's the smallest competitor in this match and she's using her mafia skills to her advantage. Bruno's also the only true protection that she has besides Frostbite at the moment and us if Satan's Disciples tries to go after her when the match is over. Doomsday charges in and clotheslines....No I restate that....Cheapshots Joanne from behind."

Andrew Fulton: "You said it Tong. Doomsday was daring Frostbite to come in and retaliate as the referee finally restores some order like he actually knows how to do it. Doomsday leaves the ring as Lucifer sets up Joanne and he running powerbombs her out of the ring....Incoming mob boss!"

(They abandon the broadcast table as Joanne crashing into it destroying the broadcast table.)

Andrew Fulton: "Doomsday just pointed to you and warned that was going to be your fate."

Phantam Fairtex: "Yeah concentrate on the match Doofus Dickhead! Frostbite charges across the ring and he clotheslines Doomsday off the ring apron as he deserves to be. He continues to work on Lucifer's leg and cinches in a single legged Boston Crab. He's proving who's the real man of the three."

Jeremy Tucker: "Joanne recovers enough and the look in her eyes is frightening."

Tong Fairtex: "Excuse us."

(They go over to Joanne and calm her down."

Jeremy Tucker: "Doomsday recovers enough and angrily goes after Team Fairtex who stand in front of Joanne who's being helped back to her corner by Bruno. All three are daring the other to make a move while Frostbite continues to work on Lucifer's leg before reapplying that single legged Boston Crab."

Andrew Fulton: "The no brained referee finally leaves the ring to get between them and orders Doomsday back to his corner. Lucifer finally reaches the ropes but Frostbite pulls him away and attempts to cinch in a figure four only to roll him up into a small package for a close two count."

Phantam Fairtex: "That's what Satan's Disciples wanted an that's a cheap victory over their former running buddy. Now we would never and I mean never ever do that to opponents and never will. Team Fairtex does their business in the ring and we settle our issues in the ring."

Jeremy Tucker: Need you be reminded that you needed to take a bunch of shortcuts and screwed Satan's Disciples out of the championship victory on a technicality."

Tong Fairtex: "You keep on harping on something that we promised we would do an that's grant a rematch to those crybabies Satan's Disciples. So what more do you want from us."

Andrew Fulton: "Oh nothing much except for your tag team championship belts. Frostbite tags in Joanne and he holds Lucifer down as Joanne launches and flies off the top turnbuckle and connects with a flying elbow drop to Lucifer's chest. Lucifer powers out sending Joanne out of the ring again into Bruno's arms. Now which side is showing true chivalry."

Jeremy Tucker: "Yeah KGB doesn’t know the meaning of honor and respect. Bruno slowly rolls Joanne carefully back into the ring as Doomsday tags in. He clotheslines Frostbite off the ring apron and baseball slides Bruno into the security guard railing. He bellows and beats his chest as he looks wildly at Joanne."

Andrew Fulton: "Joanne's helpless and Doomsday's determined to cripple her for life and end her career, he attempts a powerbomb but Joanne tries to counter with a hurricanrana and Doomsday tries countering with a piledriver but Frostbite charges into the ring and chop blocks Doomsday as Joanne hurricanranas Doomsday."

Phantam Fairtex: "Now that's the way you operate as a team in a match unlike Satan's Disciples. You save each other and tag in and out frequently unlike Satan's Disciples who enjoy committing wardrobe malfunctions to opponents."

Jeremy Tucker: "On to something different. Did you know your bitter rivals in the XHF Global Tag team Championship rankings LGBTKO have just entered into the Anzac Cup."

Tong Fairtex: "is that true Andrew?"

Andrew Fulton: "Oh that's so true Tong."

Tong Fairtex: "Really Jeremy. We had those two freaks beat. We dominated them and we had those XHF Global Tag Team Championships in our grasp but they found a way to deprive us of a victory and Bloodied Fox and Ryan Young are going to pay."

Jeremy Tucker: "Actually it's Bloodied Fox and Eric Harding, Jr."

Tong Fairtex: "Is that true too?"

Andrew Fulton: "Definitely."

Tong Fairtex: "Oh that's more than a laugh since Bloodied Fox whined and complained about us accusing them of using the Freebird rule. He was acting like a whining and crying bitchy brat and then for the prestigious Anzac Cup he teams up with this Eric Harding, Jr. So who was right in this case. Who made the call on that one Andrew?"

Andrew Fulton: "Oh it was you oh great mystic psychic."

Tong Fairtex: "That's right Andrew. Let's see them try to cheat their way in the Anzac Cup since they aren't going to be wrestling in the AWF. They won't be wrestling in J-Rok. They are going to be wrestling in SWAT. Our turf. Our house. Our territory. Syndicated Wrestling and Tradition and that's what we represent and that's tradition. This year we plan on recapturing our Anzac Cup."

Phantam Fairtex: "Yeah since we lost to Triple V and his circus grinder monkey Anonymous due to his daddy threatening the referee and then Timeless teamed with somebody he hated so much only because former owner Joe Pesci asked him to. Yet what happens his partner screwed him and ran away and hasn't been seen since. So it's open and we're going in it to win it all."

Jeremy Tucker: "Well what do you think of Gorgeous Greg's La Famiglia tag team?"

Phantam Fairtex: "We saw their matches and they could make a good match since Gorgeous Greg's experience as a tag champion will help them."

Jeremy Tucker: "Getting back to this match. Joanne attempts an armbar but Doomsday's arm is like an oak tree branch and he pulls free easily. Doomsday picks up Joanne by the throat and screams threats into her face before turning to Frostbite and doing the same to him. He turns towards you and does the same before choke slamming her. He retains his grip and he screams at her again while at the same time Frostbite pulls Lucifer off the ring apron and DDT's him on the hard concrete floor."

Andrew Fulton: "Doomsday roars and choke slams her again as Frostbite gets back to his corner. Doomsday attempts to clothesline him but Frostbite dodges and head butts him in the eye and smashes Doomsday's head repeatedly into the turnbuckle. Joanne waits and leaps up and applies a tight guillotine choke."

Jeremy Tucker: "Joanne attempts to tighten that choke even more but Doomsday struggles to stumble around and counters with a vicious running buckle bomb into the corner."

Phantam Fairtex: "Nice cheap counter but as for the stumbling and struggling part that's always been their career without Frostbite's wise guidance."

Andrew Fulton: "Again he attempts to cripple and maim her wrestling career. Doomsday attempts to tag Lucifer who's still barely conscious which also describes their careers. Joanne slowly makes her way to her corner and tags in Frostbite as Doomsday tackles her and what the hell he just committed a wardrobe malfunction intentionally."

Phantam Fairtex: "That's both disgusting and despicable and unchivalrous. Satan's Disciples should be disqualified just for doing that."

(Phantam Fairtex gets up and goes over to Joanne.)

Jeremy Tucker: "Where is he going."

Tong Fairtex: "He's just helping defend Joanne's honor and fixing her wardrobe malfunction. What Dimwit's Day did was like I said despicable and disgusting and he's giving his hoodie to her so she can finish the match. Chivalry still isn't dead."

Jeremy Tucker: "Well he slips it on and talks to her as Doomsday goes up to them and both have words and get into each other's faces as they both talk trash."

Andrew Fulton: "Joanne slips back into the ring and Doomsday follows her and she makes a leaping tag from halfway across the ring which is amazing for a woman of her size. Frostbite comes in and spears Doomsday before mounting sand grounding and pounding him while screaming and bellowing at him. He whips Doomsday into the corner but he counters with a running big boot out of the corner. He bounds into the ropes and he clotheslines Frostbite as Lucifer gets back onto the ring apron."

Andrew Fulton: "Doomsday tags in Lucifer who charges in and dropkicks him. Lucifer bounds into the ropes and clotheslines him again and then diving dropkicks Frostbite before making the cover for a close three count, he sets up Frostbite and he pile drives him before making the cover again for another close three count."

Jeremy Tucker: "Lucifer mounts and he grounds and pounds Frostbite screaming and shouting as Doomsday urges him on. He opens up a can of whoop ass and then sets Frostbite up for a suplex but Frostbite counters and suplex's Lucifer and he makes the cover for a close three count. Frostbite mounts and he returns the ground and pound and then opens up a can of whoop ass of his own."

Andrew Fulton: "One brawler returning the favor to the other. Frostbite drops a series of vicious elbows to the chest and makes the cover for another close three count."

Jeremy Tucker: "Frostbite charges and he spears Lucifer before going to the top rope and waits for him to get up. He flies off the top rope but Lucifer catches him by the throat but Frostbite counters with a series of vicious elbows to escape the hold. Frostbite bounds into the ropes but Lucifer counters with a spinebuster."

Andrew Fulton: "Lucifer tags in Doomsday again and they whip him into the ropes but secretly tags in Joanne who mounts the top rope and she executes a slingblade on Doomsday as Frostbite gores Lucifer. Joanne leaves the ring and grabs a chair and starts smashing Doomsday's back with it."

Tong Fairtex: "That's called payback Jeremy. Doomsday assaulted her and she's fighting back like a mafia Don should. He assaulted her and she's allowed to fight back you know."

Jeremy Tucker: "You're right about that but it was by accident."

Tong Fairtex: "So if someone did that to you it would be an accident too?"

Jeremy Tucker: "Joanne just left the ring to bring another chair in and she places the one chair under Doomsday's head while placing the other on top. She mounts the top turnbuckle and flies off Mongolian Stomping his head. She struggles to turn him over and makes the cover....One....Two...Thr...No! Lucifer breaks it up."

Andrew Fulton: “Joanne uses the chair and smashes Doomsday's head repeatedly. Keep at it Joanne and avenge the assault on your ring attire. She sets up Doomsday for a pedigree on the chairs but Doomsday back bodydrops her."

Jeremy Tucker: "Both seem slow to get up and Joanne makes her way to her corner as does Doomsday. Joanne makes the tag first and Frostbite charges in as Doomsday tags in Lucifer. They start brawling in the middle of the ring and Lucifer gains an advantage but Frostbite regains the advantage."

Andrew Fulton: "So far it's been mostly between Frostbite and Satan's Disciples while Joanne has been safe from further humiliation by Doomsday. At least Phantam stepped up to save her ring attire. Frostbite whips Lucifer who reverses it sending Frostbite into the ropes and he flying lariots him."

Tong Fairtex: "You know brother it's time that we show Satan's Disciples that we keep our word of honor and a little gospel preaching."

Phantam Fairtex: "Oh yeah brother Tong. Let's show him the punishment for wardrobe malfunction attempts."

Jeremy Tucker: "Well Team Fairtex just left and Tong leaps up onto the ring apron. The referee warns him to get off the ring apron and he does but as the referee turns back to the action he leaps back onto the ring apron. Doomsday charges but Tong superkicks him hard and he barely stays on the ring apron."

Andrew Fulton: "Tong suplex's the bigger Doomsday off the ring apron and Tong is slow to get up. Meanwhile Frostbite wedgies Lucifer and hotshots him into the ropes and Phantam executes a jumping stunner off the ring apron snapping Lucifer's throat while Frostbite executes a stunner of his own."

Jeremy Tucker: "Frostbite picks him up again and executes a second stunner before making the cover...One...Two...Three!!!!"

Frank Salazar: "Your winner at 30minutes. Frostbite and Joanne Cannelli."

Jeremy Tucker: "Once again Frostbite finds a way to screw his old allies Satan's Disciples out of another attempt at a match victory and shot at Team Fairtex with the help of Team Fairtex."

Andrew Fulton: "Come off it Jerry. Didn't Team Fairtex promise repeatedly to give Satan's Disciples a title shot. Win or lose they gave their word and they always keep their word which is always golden as is their title reign."

Jeremy Tucker: "We'll see if they actually do that. Right now let's take a break and we'll be back with more great SWAT action after these messages."

(The scene slowly fades to commercials.)

[Trent Jones MR Bones.]

It is a few days later and Trent is lying in his bed. He looks like hell and he feels like shit. He has a cold wash rag on his head. He hears a knock at the door. Layton cook comes in and he is looking at Trent and he starts gagging. He exits the room quickly and he comes back in wearing a towel over his face and clothespin pinching his nose.

Layton gags, “Dude you smell like hell. I think you should go to the hospital man, I know you are worried you're going to miss your match. But I am legit worried, If you think it's Corvid then you need to get looked at.” Layton bends over and tries to not puke once more. “Look, you get on a plane sick with Covid and flying is all in bad taste getting so many people sick.”

Let's face it two people with mental issues are not the best judge of character but something has to be done. Layton hands him a cell phone. “Call brother lets get an ambulance here.”

Trent shakes his head, “Dude no fucking way, I am about to become SWAT World Champion and Jonnie Valentine is going to be eliminated from the top of SWAT… dude it burns so bad… But I will get looked at after the match and I am world champion.”

“Dude your dick is sick and you smell like death, at least take a shower.” He steps back farther from Trent as he pukes up a little into the towel. “Listen fucker I just puked from your smell - either you call or I am calling for you.”

Trent becomes angry. In his head he pictures himself watching his match take place without him. Hell, for a minute, he pictured Eddie D filling in for him and that caused his anger to rise. He had battled Eddie and gained some respect but he was still 95% trash to Trent. But that's better than the 100% trash that is Valentine. Trent didn't come to SWAT to make friends he came to win money - and Titles mean more money. He needed the paper, the Ryders needed a full rebuild of the club house once he was off house arrest at the group home.

Trent can see the title fading and he looks at the belt display case he built. Trent reaches for the phone and deep down he knows it is over. The battle is over, not on life but to get the SWAT title and stand where he belongs.

Trent dials 9-1-1…

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

“Yeah I think junior has the Covid”

“When did this start? Has he left the country in the last 14 days”

“Well about 3 days ago he got sick, he was coughing and went really limp. He wasn’t standing up and he just wanted to lie around. Yes we have traveled all over Europe”

“What is his relation to you?”

“He is my own flesh. What do you want me to say… my little, well he's not that little, but he is my Junior.”

“How big is he?”

“Well he is about 8”

“OK does he respond to you when you talk to him?”

“Well I don't talk to him much, hold on let me try, Hey buddy do you want to get up?”

Trent looks under the cover at his penis.

“No he is not answering, he looks very crusty… and he is very hot.”

“He is warm to the touch?’

“You want me to grab him and shake him a little?”

“No I am sending an ambulance and let's get him to the hospital.”

Trent hangs up with 9-1-1 and now knows he isn't making it to the title match for sure.

“Want me to call SWAT?”

“Fucking call them and you are fired!! I am going to this and I am going to win this title.”

The scene cuts to the paramedics running in the house and they rush into the bedroom. They look confused as they look around the room. They look at Layton and then Trent. “Where is the child at?”

Trent looks at them confused, “What you talk about, it's me that is sick?”

“We were told a child that Trent Jones Junior an 8 year old male was not responding... I don't understand.”

Trent quickly tossed the covers off of his body. They have to censor his penis but Layton Cook runs out of the room and the paramedics have a puzzled look on their face.

“Look, I don’t have time to play ….my penis has the Covid virus.”

Both paramedics laugh and also gag at the same time.

“It's not funny assholes!! I fucked this bitch and later that day my dick was coughing and on fire!”

“Sir we gotta take you to the hospital but I am sure your penis isn't Covid positive.”

****** Later at the hospital******

Trent Is laying in the room and a Male doctor walks in.

The Doctor looks at Trent, “Hello, I am Doctor Brandon and I am here to see what is going on with your Penis area. I want you to know that I understand you think that your penis has Covid but I am guessing it's some form of infection. I am guessing that you are not the first person to catch Covid in just the penis area. So this person you had sex with was a new person?”

Trent isn't sure if he wants to share the whole story with the doctor or not, it's embarrassing and he really just wants to be healed so he could go win a title. Trent Takes a deep Breath.

“So I was out looking for a slumpbuster…”

“A slumpbuster?”

“A slumpbuster is where you find an ugly chick to stop a slump. So I am not allowed to drink but I went to the bar because, let's face it, bitches in the bar at noon are fucked up people. They don't make good choices so I used my charm. I found that table of women and sat with them. I quickly created a draft order… you know, I rated them the ugliest to least ugly. I found the best looking one. She was a 5 on the day drinking scale but on a normal scale a 3….at best. But at the end of the day she was not hot. So I used that Mr Bone charm. I insulted her and then slowly built her back up and, lets face it, she wanted to fuck. So I went back to her place, she was feeling Mr. Bone. Hell she was rubbing all over him.”

“So walk me through the sex did you use a condom for this random hook up?”

“Why bag it? She can’t make babies anymore so it was just a fun fuck. So I got her to take her panties off and I was not eating no 3… So I tried to just shove it in.”

“Hold on I don't need that much detail but in all my years I can say I don't recognize this smell or this look of dried off-white paste.”

“So let's not destroy the good story, I don't know her name let's just call her “Jill.” So Jill is screaming it hurts, but I spent like 30 minutes getting here and I am not throwing away that time. So I quickly look for something, she is dry but I am not spitting on it and again I am not licking that dried up waffle. So she has no lube or oil, but I can improvise and I found something in the fridge. I grabbed it and I popped the lid and I shoved Mr. Bones into the Jar.”

“….God I am afraid to even ask….What did you use as a lube?”

“So I used Mayo, I spread the mayo all over my big sausage and that mayonnaise was expired I think because that shit smelt bad, I mean it covered up the smell of her dried up vagina. So I was stroking in the mayo and the smell was getting stronger. But my dick was getting ready to end its slump. So I walked over to her and that smell, ugh It's like I can still smell it. It was so slimy and ...ugh... that smell. It was rancid from the start, but it was time to hit this shit and bounce. Well, to be clear, I meant stick and go not that butt stuff. So I shoved it in and the Mayo went from cold to warm to down right hot and slimy. We bumped uglies for about 20 minutes and she complained it was hurting once more. I pulled out and I had not busted my nut. I reached in and grabbed a handful of the slimy mayo and I tossed it onto her deflated titties and I noticed that the mayo on my penis is more of a light brown with what looks like blood in it.”

Trent stops for a second, “you know when you mix your ketchup and mayo together on your burger you get that color sauce that's what I am talking about.”

The doctor almost pukes.

“So I started using the deflated bags and the mayo and after a while I busted my nut and it was over. I had to leave before her youngest son and husband would get home. So I had to dress without showering. But I did not want to be a dick so I put the mayo jar back in the fridge. I came home and a few hours later and it started coughing and burning. So I spent the next 3 days in bed.”

“So that smell is the Mayo and sex dried on you, I have to say that smell does now remind me of the time my daughter had head lice and we covered her hair in mayo as it a natural way to remove the bugs but that smell gets worse over time… She slept for maybe 10 hours and that smell was bad your talking about the days of Mayo that was heated up in sex drying. Look I think we need to run some strong antibiotics and you should reach out to the lady and let her know she should get looked at and that she should throw out the mayo.”

Trent laughs at the idea her husband is eating a sandwich that is made from that mayo. Hell he even rubbed some of the mayo on his hand back in the jar.

“Are you currently taking any medication?”

“No I stopped them... “

Trent was ready to bounce and head overseas to get his title. It was time to get the fuck out of the hospital. But Trent was going to have to wait for the drugs to kick in first. Trent laid back and the image of the belt hanging in his trophy case was showing his first SWAT title. He smiled knowing that in just a few days he would destroy Jonnie V and win the title. Trented hated the one lines that Vinnie and his friends spit all day. The guy sucked on the microphone and he was going to suck in the ring. Trent was going to roll him and this was that start of his bad week over.

“The fucking slump is over, I have blown a title shot and didn't finish of Eddie D but now I caught my nut and now its all about winning the belt. You see I fucked an ugly chick and now I am going to screw over a shitty wrestler. It's time to take out the valentine trash, SWAT has let valentine run through March but It's time that shit comes to an end. You had your moment as champ but now it's time the new era starts.”

Well after a shower that was much needed that smell was so bad. Who would have known that rancid mayo would make for bad sex lube.

**** Live****

Trent Jones is outside of the arena. He had a huge smile on his face. He is wearing a bright red hoodie that says killin it on the front and on the back is Mr. Bones. Trent looks better after the mayo infused std Covid 19 dick scare. He walks in the back area and in the food area he looks at the mayo in the condiment section. “Maybe later I will need you.”

Trent's music hits as the Next SWAT World Champion walks to the ring. He steps in the ring and grabs a Microphone.

“Valentine I watched your little Valentine court, truthfully I was blown away by how bad of a job the world champion of swat is on Camera… So your average at best in the ring and your complete shit on camera. No Wonder the network does not promote you much. Then I watched you and your all male camping trip or whatever that was chopping wood and you mocked my Gang name… at least I am not playing Boy Scouts with a bunch of guys. I am glad you were concerned with the Covid 19 scare… don't worry the STD I got was from a female so you won't have any chance of catching it. So you and the boys at Suck-A-Little-Wong camp are all safe. So you and the boys are safe but I did see that the World Health Organization has recommended that you not toss each other's salads. Lucky for all your boys they all suck as well so they can't catch your trash.”

Trent smiles as he talks more.

“Its only a matter of time till we get to the big match of the night. The night Trent Jones becomes the Champion in SWAT. Look around as the times are changing… newcomers are here in SWAT and we are going to make SWAT great for the first time in its shit history. People like Valentine will become the show opener and even people like Eddie D will walk all over this fool. I already took out one big legend here in XHF and Valentine. I struggle to call you a legend but I guess compared to the other trash here in SWAT you are a small step above them. Now to be clear I would be more worried about facing Greg the Assistant than I would be to face Jonnie. FIrst I win the SWAT title and then we file a lawsuit against Mayo for not having a warning to not be used as a sex lube. Fans tonight I promised you I will end your suffering by watching the shit show Valentine boy scout camp and court shows.”

Trent drops the microphone and heads to the back

[SWAT Team]

Jeremy Tucker: Coming up fans is a match I've been looking forward to all night. The bruiser Eddie D takes on the hardcore psychopath the Psychotic Goth.

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth doesn't shy away from violence, hell, he bathes in blood with Vampira. It arouses him, Jerry.

Jeremy Tucker: Ok, gross. Eddie D says he is not afraid of anything Goth has planned and promises blood will be spilled.

Andrew Fulton: Promises, promises.

Cave by Muse blares and Eddie D walks out with baseball bat as a black and white montage video playing on the screens of him weight training and hitting his favorite moves on people, flashing up in negative to the beat of the music. A fan holds out a UK flag and Eddie D grabs it out of his hand]

Andrew Fulton: Good, I've been wanting to do that to that bugger all night.

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D believes he and Psychotic Goth have a lot in common but he says he will destroy the 20 year veteran due to the love of battle and bloodshed.

Andrew Fulton: Warriors respect warriors, Jerry. Almost a little touching.

Jeremy Tucker: Not really.

Andrew Fulton: Oi, I said almost.

[Eddie D threatens a couple rude fans, tears up opponents fan posters on his way to the ring, has vicious one liner for an "ugly" fan, he walks confidently and slowly to the ring.]

Frank Salazar : The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30 minute time limit, Featuring first, hailing from Vernon, California, USA. Coming in at 6’ and 303 pounds .... THE BIG DEAL.... EDDIE D!!!

Eddie D raises his hands to accept the praise he feels he is due, but the Manchester crowd erupt in a chorus of boos and jeers.

The crowd roars and blows their air horns as Evil green mist bellows out of the ring entrance as a woman screams and Psychotic Goth laughing maniacally as "Welcome To Your Death" by Annihilator plays and Vampira leads Psychotic Goth to ringside in chains while holding Psychotic Goth's homemade weapon. He ignores the ringsiders and stops at the ring for Vampira to unlock the chains and Psychotic Goth rubs his wrists hard as he climbs the ringsteps and enters the ring and stands in his corner.

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth getting a big reaction here in the UK. The fans remember him from the absolute wars he waged in Hardkore Britain in 2006.

Andrew Fulton: That's right he held the Hardkore Britain Tag Team Championships multiple times with Brian Warrior, and held the Hardkore Tri-Counties Championship.

Psychotic Goth slowly takes off his trenchcoat and jewellery before he lowers his head and raises his arms before throwing his head back revealing his pale handsome gothlike looks looking and snarling like a demonic maniac crazed and intimidating as he is given his homemade weapon and he caresses it before placing it in his corner for Vampira to hold until it's time for Psychotic Goth to use it.

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth hoping to treat his fans to a big win here tonight over the former IWA World Heavyweight Champion Eddie D, and is insulted that Eddie believes him to be a stepping stone.

Andrew Fulton: He was still covered in blood while watching that backstage. Who's blood is that, Jerry? I hope it's cat blood for our sakes. Not the cat's obviously.

Frank Salazar : Introducing now, hailing from The Depths of Hell. Coming in at 6’5 and 235 pounds ....accompanied by Vampira .....The King of Goths .... PSYCHOTIC GOTH!!!

[The Manchester Arena lets out an earsplitting pop and air horns honking as Goth yells out in an ancient dialect. Tommy Milligan signals for the bell as Vampira and Frank Salazar leave the ring]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth and Eddie D lock up in a collar and elbow tie up. Both men jockeying for position early here.

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D getting the better of it due to his thickness and strength.

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth pulls him down into a front chancery. He locks his hands together and pulls up on Eddie's head.

Andrew Fulton: One way to beat a big man is to cut off his air.

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D slips his head out, does a go behind and grabs him with a hammerlock.

[The Manchester fans boo Eddie as he wears down Goth's arm with the chicken wing. Eddie mouths off to some fans flipping him the bird in the front row, and Goth uses the distraction to do a go behind and grab a hammerlock of his own. The crowd cheers]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth cranking up on that bent arm of Eddie D, forcing him into the corner.

Andrew Fulton: Goth rolls Eddie into a kimura armlock with a bodyscissors.

[The audience pops. Tommy Milligan checks in but Eddie shakes his head, refusing to quit. He kicks his toes into the mat in pain and frustration]

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D now using that superior strength and slip his arm out, and he grabs Goth in a front facelock.

Jeremy Tucker: Both men known for their brawling, but proving to be pretty capable on the mat as well.

[Eddie uses those sculpted arms to create a vice for Psychotic Goth's head and neck, Vampira screams in an ancient dialect on the outside and slams her hand on the mat]

Jeremy Tucker: The crafty veteran Psychotic Goth is able to twist his body around to escape, but Eddie just locks his arm around the front of his chest with a reverse chinlock.

[Tommy Milligan gets in position checking to see if it's a choke as Eddie D shakes his head, Eddie flattens his body out to put all 300 pounds of pressure on the back of Goth's neck. The fans start clapping faster and faster]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth feeding off of this crowd's energy and has worked his way to his feet.

Andrew Fulton: He lands an elbow into Eddie D's doughy midsection to escape the reverse chinlock.

Jeremy Tucker: Goth grabs Eddie into a headlock. He flips him over into a side headlock takedown.

[The audience applauds and Psychotic Goth grinds his forearm into Eddie's temple while locking his hands together tight]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth trying to press Eddie's shoulders to the mat, and he does.

Referee: 1...(Eddie D rolls him into a cradle)

Referee: 1...(Psychotic Goth kicks out)

[Both men roll up to a vertical base and The Manchester Arena gives Psychotic Goth another round of applause]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D moves in for the kill, but Psychotic Goth takes him over into a Japanese armdrag. Another armdrag.

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth going back to the arm with a stepover armbar.

[Psychotic Goth pulls on Eddie's wrist and hand as his arm is wrapped around Goth's ankle. Vampira applauds on the outside and cackles]

Jeremy Tucker: Tommy Milligan checking in but Eddie D refuses to quit. He's finally able to reach over and grab the rope.

[Milligan forces Psychotic Goth to break the stepover armbar. Goth grabs the rope and uses it for balance as he stomps Eddie's shoulder and elbow]

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth wisely going for the big man's arm here.

Jeremy Tucker: Goth pulls him up into another headlock. Eddie D tries to push him off into the ropes, but Psychotic Goth hangs on tight.

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D instead counters with a kneebreaker atomic drop.

[The fans boo as Psychotic Goth clutches his knee and crumples to the mat. Eddie D scoops Goth up and slams him hard to the mat]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D back in control now and twists Goth's arm into a wristlock.

Andrew Fulton: The Big Deal now raining elbow strikes to Goth's shoulder. Oi, he's gonna break it off if he ain't careful.

[The Manchester fans start clapping and honking their air horns chanting "GOTH!! GOTH!! GOTH!!" Psychotic Goth plants his feet and reverses the wristlock until he has Eddie's arm twisted]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth drops down into a code red armbreaker!

[The crowd comes to life with a big pop! Eddie D holds his arm underneath and kicks his toes into the mat]

Andrew Fulton: Goth pulls him up and shoots him into the ropes. He flies at him with a cross body block, but Eddie D catches him! Uh oh.

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D drops Goth's stomach across his knee with a gutbuster.

[The cheers turn to jeers as Eddie D tries to shake some feeling into his arm. He pulls Goth up by his long hair and irish whips him into the ropes]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D goes for a spinebuster but Psychotic Goth reverses it into a tornado DDT!

[The Manchester Arena roars as Goth holds his midsection. Eddie D raises to his feet but Psychotic Goth takes him up and over the ropes with a clothesline to the floor!! Both men lie on the floor as Vampira is beside herself]

Andrew Fulton: Here we go! I think we're done with wristlocks now.

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth pulls himself up by the apron. He gets a running start at Eddie, but Eddie belly to belly suplexes him over the railing out into the audience!!

Andrew Fulton: There. Now Goth can be with these bloody people he loves so much.

[Goth lies out in the front row amongst the scattered chairs and crushed beer cups. Vampira screams in an ancient dialect, but Eddie D makes a kissy face at her, getting boos from the crowd]

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth now up and trying to defend the honor of his lady, but Eddie D grabs his head and rolls him into a swinging neckbreaker that catches the back of Goth's head on the railing!!

[The Manchester Arena lets out a collective "OH!!" at the sound of Goth's head hitting the steel guardrail. Eddie D steps over the guardrail into the audience and threatens the fans until they clear a path around him]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth grabs Eddie in a bearhug, then runs him backfirst into the railing!

[Eddie D arches his back in pain, and Psychotic Goth steps over the railing back into the ringside area]

Andrew Fulton: Hey, what's going on? Me monitor's on the fritz

Jeremy Tucker: If you would turn around, you would know it's because Psychotic Goth is choking Eddie D with our TV cables!

Andrew Fulton: Nah, it's that bloody IT guy. He hates me.

Jeremy Tucker: Everyone hates you. Meanwhile it seems Psychotic Goth has a laceration on the back of his head from that neckbreaker on the railing.

[Goth pulls back on the electric cords as they strangle a desperate looking Eddie D. Eddie back elbows Goth in the face to escape]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D smashes Psychotic Goth's face into the guardrail! He steps over the railing and begins choking Goth using the top railing.

[The audience boos. Eddie D then places his knee against the back of Goth's head to put more pressure on this throat on the guardrail]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie pulls Goth over the railing back into the ringside area. He scoops Goth up, but Psychotic Goth slips off his shoulder and rams Eddie shoulder first into the ring post!!

[The Manchester Arena lets out a collective "OH!" Eddie clutches his shoulder and drops to his knees. The air horns taunt his pain]

Andrew Fulton: This is the rough one we were promised.

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth pulls him up and rams him facefirst into the cornerpost!!

[Eddie D lays sprawled out on the arena floor with blood trickling down from a small cut on his forehead. Vampira checks the blood coming out of the back of Psychotic Goth's head, then licks it]

Jeremy Tucker: Eww.

Andrew Fulton: Oh crikey, that's romantic.

Jeremy Tucker: Those two creep me out. Psychotic Goth pulls Eddie D's head into his legs and pulls him up into a piledriver on the concrete!!

[Eddie D lies on the floor with blood running down the top of his head. Psychotic Goth rolls Eddie D back into the ring and grabs a chair]

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth is going to cave in Eddie's head with that chair!

Jeremy Tucker: Tommy Milligan steps in and prevents him from using that chair, threatening him with a disqualification!

[The crowd boos as Tommy Milligan argues with Psychotic Goth. Eddie D takes advantage of the distraction and mule kicks the chair into Goth's face!! The crowd lets out an "OH" at the sight of the frame of the chair bent from the impact]

Jeremy Tucker: Oh come on, that's a disqualification! Throw him out of there.

Andrew Fulton: You do no such thing, Tommy! He was merely defending himself.

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth now busted open on the front of his head, as well as the back. Eddie D takes his boot laces and rakes them across the cut, making it wider.

[The Manchester Arena rocks with boos as a bleeding Eddie D sits on top of Goth, hammering him with punches, opening the cut even more. He sneers at the fans and mockingly licks the blood like Vampira had earlier]

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D in his element, I tell you.

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie pulling Goth up and toying with him with some more punches. But Psychotic Goth responds with a knife edge chop to Eddie's chest!

Andrew Fulton: Eddie with a snap jab, but Goth answers with another blistering chop! Eddie with another Dusty like jab, but Psychotic Goth whacks him with another knife edge!

[Eddie D pops Goth with another jab, but Goth gives him a big chop and The Manchester Arena gives him a big "Woo!" Goth backs him into the corner and then irish whips him into the opposite corner as Goth runs into the ropes]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth hits him with The Devil's Whip lariot!

Referee: 1...2...(Eddie D kicks out)

Jeremy Tucker: Goth grinding Eddie D's bloody face back and forth across the canvas, leaving a gruesome stain.

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth wipes some of the blood out of his eyes and irish whips Eddie into the ropes, but Eddie catches him in a bearhug!

[The audience jeers. Eddie D locks his hands together and puts pressure on Goth's lower back while using his massive chest to constrict Goth's breathing. Vampira pounds on the mat to get the crowd to clap faster and faster]

Jeremy Tucker: Tommy Milligan checking the arms of Goth, but he keeps it up.

Andrew Fulton: Goth starting to punch his way out of the bearhug. Those knuckle shots opening Eddie's laceration up wider.

Jeremy Tucker: Goth is free of the bearhug. He irish whips him, but Eddie reverses it and shoots Goth in the corner. He follows him in with a big back elbow that just squashes Goth!

[The boos get louder. Eddie D is on his hands and knees as a steady drip of blood rains down the canvas. He rubs the shoulder that was smashed into the corner post]

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D gets to his feet and twists Goth's arm. Goth whips his now blood stained hair back, and reverses the arm twist.

Jeremy Tucker: Goth is using Eddie's aching twisted arm to run up the ropes, and is now tight rope walking along the top rope!

[The Manchester Arena roars at Psychotic Goth's balance and Vampira screams in an ancient dialect. Goth then comes down with a forearm smash to the ball of Eddie's shoulder]

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth is clearly softening that arm up for the Goth Torture Rack.

Jeremy Tucker: Goth steps through the ropes out on to the apron. He pulls on the top rope and slingshots himself on to the middle of the top rope, then flips into a senton!! Purgatory Plunge!

Referee: 1...2...(Eddie D gets his shoulder up)

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth traps his arm and rolls into a koji clutch!

[The fans cheer wildly as Goth clasps his hands together and uses his leg to peel back to the head of Eddie. His trapped shoulder is clamped down between Goth's leg and arms. Eddie shakes his head refusing to tap as blood runs down Goth's screaming face]

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D rolls over and is able to grab the bottom rope.

Jeremy Tucker: That probably saved the match. Psychotic Goth pulls Eddie up and irish whips him into the ropes, he dips down for a backdrop, but Eddie catches him with a kneelift.

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D hooks him and then lifts him up into a suplex, then drops him headfirst into a brainbuster!

Referee: 1...2...(Psychotic Goth gets his foot on the bottom rope)

[The crowd breathes a sigh of relief and then honk some air horns. Eddie D argues with Tommy Milligan that it was a three count]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D sitting his shin across Goth's throat while he's arguing with the referee, come on, Tommy!

Andrew Fulton: He's just trying to get his point across to Milligan. He's a bit thickheaded, that one.

[Vampira calls attention to the choke. Tommy Milligan notices and then starts laying in the five count. A bleeding Eddie D acts bewildered while getting in all the damage he can before breaking at four]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D continuing to argue with Tommy Milligan about the choke. Psychotic Goth sneaks up behind him and hits him with a low blow!

[The Manchester Arena cheers while Eddie D tips over like a redwood tree. Psychotic Goth pulls him up and tries pick him up, but Eddie hammers him with forearm smashes until he gives up]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth catches him from behind with a schoolboy roll up!

Andrew Fulton: He's bloody got the tights!

Referee: 1...2...(Eddie D gets his shoulder up)

Jeremy Tucker: Goth ties up their legs and snaps back into a russian legsweep! He floats over into a pin.

Referee: 1...2...(Eddie D kicks out)

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth steps up onto the second rope. He hops off but Eddie D catches him, and drills him into the mat with a spinebuster!

[The audience jeers and Eddie lays next to Goth, bleeding; trying to catch his breath. He pulls Psychotic Goth up into a full nelson]

Jeremy Tucker: Eddie D locks those fingers together and pushes Goth's chin into his chest. He whips him from side to side, preventing him from getting his balance.

Andrew Fulton: Tommy Milligan checks in but Psychotic Goth refuses to give up. Eddie then drops down into a full nelson bomb!!

[The Manchester Arena boos loudly. Eddie D pulls Goth up and starts laying in to him with rights and lefts, backing him into the corner]

Jeremy Tucker: A bloody Psychotic Goth, feeding off the energy of these fans is now fighting back, punching his way out of the corner!

Andrew Fulton: He scoops the big man up and drops his face on the turbuckle! Eddie staggers back into an enzuigiri! Black Death!

[The crowd comes to life, and Vampira pounds on the apron. Psychotic Goth wipes some of the blood out of his eyes and climbs to the top turnbuckle, waiting for Eddie to get to his feet. When he does, Goth jumps off with a flying superman punch]

Jeremy Tucker: Demon Strike!

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth struggles to lift the 300 pound Eddie D up on his shoulders with a fireman's carry. He spins him around into an airplane spin, then drops him into a death valley driver!!

Jeremy Tucker: Wheel of Misfortune! Goth grabs Eddie's legs and turns him over into a boston crab. He intertwines both legs with his own and then bridges backwards, locking Eddie's arms!

Andrew Fulton: The Goth Torture Rack!

[The Manchester fans leap to their feet and honk their air horns as Goth has Eddie D bent in half, putting pressure on both his arms and legs. Eddie screams as he bleeds a large pool of blood under his face]

Jeremy Tucker: Psychotic Goth now adjusting the GTR by releasing the arms, and clamping his hands under Eddie's chin.

[Tommy Milligan checks in with Eddie as he tries to hold on. Psychotic Goth rocks back and forth yanking Eddie's head]

Andrew Fulton: Eddie able to inch his way over near the ropes, and has grabbed the bottom rope. Milligan now forcing Goth to release the GTR.

Jeremy Tucker: Goth now pulling Eddie D up into a suplex, but Eddie blocks it with his leg. He responds with a suplex of his own, then drops him into a brainbuster!

[The cheers turn to jeers, and Eddie D slowly gets to his feet, with his hurting arm close to his body. He grabs Psychotic Goth with his good arm and drops down into a stone cold stunner]

Andrew Fulton: The Headache From Hell!

Referee: 1...2...3!!!

[The Manchester Arena rocks with boos as "Cave" by Muse plays and a blood drenched Eddie D lays on the mat, clutching his elbow and forearm. Vampira rushes into the ring to revive Psychotic Goth]

Frank Salazar: "THE WINNER OF THE MATCH...EDDIE D!!!"

Andrew Fulton: Psychotic Goth targeted that arm and tried to cash in with the GTR but switching it to that chinlock may have allowed for Eddie to get to the ropes and save the match for himself.

Jeremy Tucker: A huge win over the former Hardkore Britain Tri Counties Champion in front of this Manchester crowd, which should rocket Eddie D up to the top of the rankings.

[Eddie D rolls out of the ring, still gingerly favoring his left arm. Tommy Milligan tries to raise his good arm in victory but Eddie snatches it away. Vampira shouts threats from the ring, as a bloody Eddie staggers up the aisle]

Andrew Fulton: Eddie D came, and he conquered Manchester tonight!
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