THREE YEARS, THREE NAMES
Written by: Neil
“King of Pain” by the Police begins to play and the Hong Kong crowd starts to boo loudly. They've all ready
had enough of the Commissioner's antics and he still has a match to go tonight. He walks out from the back
with his Captain Howdy hand in hand, white and black sharp pinstripe suit and acting like he owns the
damn place. He hobbles on down to the ring where the ring is all set-up for something special to happen.
The ring mat has been draped over with a red sheeting and there is a table with some sort of object on it,
covered over with a white cloth. Commissioner Butcher steps into the ring and collects the microphone
from Freddy Ferdinand before ushering the fat ring announcer back to his seat.
Franks: Well this is kind of awkward for Violation 101, Ray. This wasn't exactly scheduled. What could this
Quadros: Maybe he's come out here to profess his “love” for the Chinese people, Carl. He has enough
enemies as it is. A billion more can't hurt right?
The Butcher: Good evening, Hong Kong. Thank you for the always great ovation. No, really, I mean it from
apparently the bottom of my cold, hating heart. It's so easy to hate a guy calling the shots, isn't it? I'm sure
you all hate your boss or your demanding father or even your oppressive government but you probably
don't voice it. So I'm glad to at least give you all a platform to release your anger and frustration with your
miserable lives and stand here as a target of your vile, foreign phrases. Just remember, I call the shots. And
it was my decision to bring PWA here, so think about that before you open your mouths so surely.
Booo! Hiss! Hate! You suck! Yadda, yadda you get the point. The Commissioner deflects the comments as
he walks over to the table with the hidden object on it.
The Butcher: Three years gone, just like that. Amazing. Of course, I was asleep for one of those years but
you get the point. Three years since PWA opened it's doors. So many names have come and gone that it all
seems a bit fuzzy in my aging, scarred, and concussed brain. Names and faces, names and faces. Legends
and losers a like.
Most don't matter but some...some went the extra mile to be great. We should really recognize those
people that aimed for greatness. We shouldn't forget the ones that stepped into this ring and showed how
they are premiere. The best of the best. These certain few should be enshrined.
The Butcher: I feel compelled to finish something my lovely wife attempted to create while she was
Commissioner. One thing that she thought the PWA was really missing was a Hall of Fame. And you know
what, three years in, I'm starting to agree with that. If it wasn't for Ryan Shane interrupting her when she
was about to name names, we'd all know who the Inaugural Class of 2010 would have been by now. But
what do we expect from Ryan Shane? Antics we saw from him last week in the World Title match. Believe
me, Ryan Shane will NEVER wrestle for this company again.
Franks: It's about damn time someone said that!
Quadros: Come on now! You're going to let him walk around as the most talented free agent on the market
and do nothing about it? We're no longer Premiere without Ryan Shane!
The Butcher: Still yet, Ryan Shane's big mouth aside, the opportunity to create the Hall of Fame was there. It
was there until Captain Howdy shut the damn door by attacking my wife and ending her creation.
Hong Kong explodes into a cheer for Captain Howdy for whatever damn reason! They apparently love
lunatics who wear lime green!
The Butcher: Cheer him all you want, Hong Kong. By the end of the night Captain Howdy is going to have
the imprint of his own cane impression stamped in his forehead.
The Butcher: But enough of that lunatic. I'm here to introduce you to the first member of PWA's Hall of Fame
which will be celebrated at Point of No Return 3. Next week I will introduce you to the next two members of
the 2010 Class. So, if you are ready, I will unveil the first inductee.
The Commissioner shhh's the crowd but they aren't listening. He grabs hold of the cloth over what can only
be assumed is a bust of the first inductee's image. He toys with the crowd, nearly pulling off the cloth only to
The Butcher: May I present to you the first inductee into the PWA Hall of Fame.....
He yanks off the white cloth as the image of a masked Terminus, the Evan Andrews variety, is shown!
The Butcher: TERMINUS!
Franks: Oh! Terminus is the first inductee into the PWA's brand new Hall of Fame!
Quadros: What the hell did he ever do to deserve this honor? That should be my face up there.
The Butcher: Roll the damn tape...
Up on the PWA-tron we get to see images of Terminus battling Jostrodomus in a Butch Match for the PWA
World Heavyweight Championship. Him hanging Jason Sandman at Point of No Return 1. Terminus pinning
Captain Howdy at Playtime's Over to retain the title belt. Battles with Nighthawk, Freya Kane, Brad Kane,
and JJ Biggs.
While the video plays, the Commissioner sneers at the bronze bust of Terminus before looking out towards
the crowd again.
The Butcher: Sadly, the proportions of this bust's head isn't large enough to fully appreciate the enormous
ego of Terminus but this will have to do. The resemblance is quite uncanny though. Whoever made this did
a good job. I mean, just look at the eyes and the cold, burning stare. It ALMOST sends shivers down my
spine. So lifelike. So real. And you know what? Just like Terminus, the bust as well just stands there and
does nothing while I'm in the ring with it. What a great piece of work.
Franks: Are you kidding me? The Commissioner is still going to stand there an insult Terminus in this great
The Butcher: I almost feel compelled to push the damn thing over and see if it shatters just like Terminus'
will normally does against me. Should I?
The Commissioner puts his hand on the mask of Terminus and starts to rock it backwards a little bit until the
bust is about to tip over.
Franks: No! Don't do it!
The Butcher: Oh!...Oh!...Oh!
The Commissioner starts laughing as he takes his hand off the bust and lets it settle back on the table,
The Butcher: No, I'm not going to do that but it sure would make an interesting experiment. Unfortunately,
we're cutting costs around PWA and re-molding another Terminus just wouldn't be the same. Every one
would know it is just an imitation like the goof we have running around here currently in some replica
merchandise mask. No, we only need one. It's all the world and PWA can truly handle anyway.
Quadros: Ha, it's so true!
The Butcher: Sorry I didn't give you fair warning about this, Terminus. I'm sure you would have loved to
have made some sort of statement but I'm sure you'll find a microphone to voice your worthless opinion on
the matter some time this week. In the meantime, get your speech writer in order and tissue box on hand
because the formal inductions will happen at Point of No Return 3. I hope to see you all there. Enjoy the rest
of the show. I know I will.
“King of Pain” begins to play one more time as the Commissioner waves at the bust of Terminus before
rolling out of the ring with his cane. As he heads backstage, the Hong Kong fans continue to let him know
what they think about him.
Franks: Well this came as a surprise tonight, Ray. Terminus is the first person inducted into the PWA Hall of
Quadros: Yeah and next week we get to hear who the next two names are. I'm pulling for you, Carl. I'll
pulling for you like I always am!
Archangel vs. Va'aiga ©
Written by: Donnie
“The Light that Guides Us Home” by Demon Hunter begins to play as the lights in the arena go out. The
song transitions into “Not I” by Demon Hunter as a spectacular burst of white sparks rain down from above
the soundstage, illuminating the stage where Archangel is now standing stoically, the large hood of his
cloak hanging down over his face. He quickly raises his arms and white sparks shoot out down the entrance
ramp one after another. Once the chain of sparks reaches the bottom of the ramp, the lights slowly begin to
rise as he makes his way methodically to the ring. Climbing up the ring steps, he steps in between the
ropes and walks over to a neutral corner, bowing his head against the top turnbuckle and saying a silent
prayer. Once finished, he unclasps the cloak from his neck, folding it neatly in the corner of the ring and
turning to await his opponent.
Franks: Archangel looks ready to for a fight tonight as he awaits the arrival of the champion.
Quadros: And the crowd is just eating him up, how I hate it.
The chanted intro to "All Mighty Booyaa" by The Booya TRIBE sound round the arena as Va'aiga walks
down through the crowd., head bowed, his face shadowed by the hood his boxing style entrance robe.
Va'aiga steps over the guardrail and throws back the hood of his entrance robe.
Franks: And here comes the champion to a huge ovation from the crowd.
Quadros: Yeah, they just seem to eat him up, and I totally don’t understand.
Franks: It’s because he’s a class act, and pardon my French, but a total bad ass.
WEST COAST LUV!
PLAY Y'ALL HUH?
COMIN' THRU YA!
With his heavily tattooed face revealed, Va'aiga walks slowly across to the ring, handing his robe to an
attendant before stepping through the ropes and walking inside. Va'aiga then climbs one of the corners
and throws the Shaka Sign high for the crowd.
Franks: And we’re underway with the two big men, this should be a good match up.
Quadros: Only of tear each other limb to limb. God I hope so. When do we finally get a new champion?
Franks: Just call the match down the line for once, please.
Both men are in the ring, circling each other as the bell rings. Finally, they lock up, both large men pushing
each other back and forth, tugging at one another. First Archangel pushes Va'aiga in the ropes, but Va'aiga
bounces back quickly and sends Archangel into the ropes, until finally they realize this is going to end at a
stalemate and they break the lock up.
Franks: The test of strength does nothing for either men, but build the tension.
Quadros: Where was the low blow? I mean really, that would’ve kick started this match.
Franks: You’ve been watching too much of Tony Field and JJ Biggs. These two are going to fight to a clean
winner, what a novel concept anymore.
They both circle each other some more, until finally Va'aiga makes the first move. Charging at Archangel
with a clothesline, but Archangel ducks and lets Va'aiga run past, then rebound off the ropes. When he gets
back in range Archangel nails a standing drop kick, sending Va'aiga back to the mat. Va'aiga quickly
climbs back to his feet, only to have Va'aiga nail him with a double armed DDT and quickly follow it up with
a Dragon Sleeper.
Franks: Archangel goes for the early submission. I don’t think he’s worn down Va'aiga near enough for that
work this early.
Quadros: Yeah, I mean come on, where’s the pain, the blood. I want to see these two beat the hell out of
Archangel locks it on hard but Va'aiga quickly scoots to the ropes, grasping at the middle rope until he has
it in clutches. Referee Sasha Brown calls for the break, but Archangel holds then neck of Va'aiga in his
clutches, wrenching. Sasah Brown starts to count ….1 ….2 …3 …4 …Archangel lets go of the hold, but
grabs Va'aiga by the hair and drags him into the middle of the ring where he Irish Whips him into the ropes,
and then hits him with a spinning German suplex. He quickly covers Va'aiga. Sasha Brown counts.
Franks: An early pin…
…1 …2 ..Kick out!
Franks: And Va'aiga kicks out of the early pin.
Quadros: You act surprised.
Franks: Not surprised, just excited.
Quadros: I don’t see what’s so exciting about it. It’s way too early in the match for a pinfall. This isn’t a Jose
Archangel gets to his feet and quickly goes to the top turnbuckle, not climbing to it, but leaping to it. He
stands there, waiting, perched. Just as Va'aiga gets to his feet he comes flying off with a missile dropkick,
but Va'aiga side steps it, grabbing at Archangel’s chest, causing him to slam to the mat with more force.
With Archangel on the mat, Va'aiga mounts him and starts to hit a flurry of forearms, one after another,
dishing out extreme punishment to the masked skull of Archangel.
Quadros: Finally, some violence and something to cheer about. Va'aiga is tearing the masked man to
Franks: Those are some viscous forearms he’s taking there. The referee needs to stop that before it goes
Quadros: Nah, she needs to let it go. This is what the fans want to see.
Va'aiga climbs off of Archangel and grabs his mask, pulling him to his feet, Then he grabs Archangel in his
arms and sends him crashing down to the mat with a high angle body slam. Va'aiga then bounces the back
rope, and then nails a falling headbutt on Archangel before making a cover.
Franks: And we got another pin attempt.
…1 …2 …Kickout!
Quadros: And a kick out, we got another kick out, too, don’t forget Carl.
Va'aiga starts to put the boots to Archangel, laying viscous kicks on him before pulling him back to his feet
once again. He the motions to the crowd, who start to chant “Boo Yah”. Then Va'aiga nails the Maori Drop,
and drops to his knees with a non-chalant cover. The referee counts.
Franks: Va'aiga tries for the W!
…1 …2 …Kickout!
Quadros: He got too cocky with that lazy pin attempt. What does he have to be cocky about?
Franks: He’s the champion, he’s got plenty to be cocky about. But I do think you’re right, that lackadaisical
pin may have cost him there.
Quadros: Finaly, business is about to pick up. We have JJ Biggs coming down the ramp to put a little
interest in this match.
Franks: What the hell is he doing out here?
The crowd starts to reign down their displeasure and boos at this point, Va'aiga gets to his feet and looks
around, only to see JJ Biggs stalking down to the ring. Va'aiga walks over to the ropes and starts to shout
something in Maori. Just as Biggs is almost at the ring he’s cut off by Trinity, who runs up behind Biggs at a
dead sprint, grabs his head and slams him head first into the apron. Trinity then grabs Biggs and throws
him toward the guard rail, sending him crashing over the guard rail and into the crowd. Trinity takes
pursuit, hopping the guard rail going after JJ Biggs.
Franks: Trinity cuts Biggs off at the past and is taking this brawl into the crowd.
Quadros: Damn her, I wanted to see our next champion tear Va'aiga limb to limb in the ring.
Franks: You really just don’t get it, do you?
Quadros: Get what?
Franks: Nevermind, this could get interesting in the ring. Archangel is back on his feet, but Va'aiga is
oblivious to it.
Meanwhile, back in the ring, Va'aiga is focused on the brawl outside the ring, debating whether or not to
get a piece of Biggs himself. Just as Va'aiga finally turns around he’s met with a kick to the gut followed by a
Death Valley Driver.
Quadros: Smart move, take advantage of Biggs coming to the ring. I like it.
Archangel then grabs Va'aiga by the hair, tucks his head, and hits not one, not two, but three powerbombs
in a row before releasing on the fourth.
Franks: FALL FROM GRACE! And now he’s going to finish him off….
Archangel goes to the top rope, motions to the crowd, then comes flying off with a picture perfect shooting
Franks: THE ANGEL’S PSALM!!! This should be all over now as he goes for the pin.
Archangel makes the cover. Sasha brown counts.
…1 …2 …3!
Franks: And we have a winner. What a huge victory by Archangel defeating our Heavyweight Champion.
Quadros: Ehh….I’m still not too terribly impressed.
Archangel climbs to his feet as Sasha Brown raises his hand in victory. “The Light That Guides Us Home”
starts to play. Just as Archangel starts to climb out of the ring he stops as he notices something. Standing at
the top of the ramp, looking down at him and clapping is “The Legend” Derek Daughtery.
Quadros: That’s Derek Daughtery, the old mentor of Tony Field and the manager of Dysfunction. What’s he
doing out here? I don’t get it..I like it..but I don’t get it.
Franks: I don’t know, but can you sense the tension? If I had to guess, I’d say there’s a history between
these two men, but what could it possibly be?
Archangel stops in his tracks as he stares up at the man. Daughtery motions to take the mask off, before
disappearing off the stage and leaving Archangel all to himself.
MAELSTROM'S INVISIBLE FRIEND
Written by: You
Maelstrom: These are faster than I remember ole' chap.
The former world champion proclaims to the air as he races around a corner backstage on his rascal.
Maelstrom: Give me the slow one why don't ya, ya sum bitch!
He darts around another corner apparently trying to catch up with someone or perhaps no one at all. He's
on a straight away again but no one is in sight. He slows down a bit as he passes by a table filled with drinks
and snatches one on the go.
Maelstrom: This'll teach ya!
He turns the corner again, this time with his arm reared back and lets the soda fly.
Maelstrom: Sum bitch!
He notices a Mexican woman breastfeeding a baby. He puts on the breaks and comes to a skidding halt
scaring the breast milk right out of her!
The Latin woman looks at him confused for a second.
The woman smiles removing the baby from her breast revealing that it was nothing more than a cabbage
patch doll. She stands from the seat and inches towards Maelstrom.
Maelstrom: Sum bitch! He tricked me!
Maelstrom peels off while the woman walks away holding a large wad of cash.
Maelstrom: Come back here you sum bitch! You paid her!
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
Written by: Donnie
The door to the staff locker room opens and Tony Field and his bodyguard, Frankie Bones step in. They look
around the room, everyone looking back at them, unsure of Tony’s intentions.
Tony Field: Get out, everyone but Upshaw. Me and Mr. Upshaw have some business to take care of.
Everyone starts to quickly file out of the locker room, not giving it a second thought sensing the foul mood
Field is in. Upshaw tried to bolt for the door as well, but Bones catches him by the shirt, pushing him against
the wall. Field just laughs and smirks.
Tony Field: Have a seat, Steve, we need to talk.
Referee Steve Upshaw eyes Tony up, the fear behind his eyes obvious as he slowly takes a seat.
Steve Upshaw: Wh..what’s this about?
Tony Field: Like you have no clue? Think about last week? What did you do at Violation 100?
Steve Upshaw: I…I..I referee’d your match…
Tony Field: And you screwed me. I had that match won with that school boy roll up. You were slow to the
mat, slow with the count. That was a three count, and you were too stupid to even count it. THEN you want
to stand there in the ring and argue with me. You fucking distract me long enough for Terminus to pin me.
AND THEN you are quick to the mat and quick with the count? Now you’ve taken months of planning and
putting the pieces in the right position, and you throw it right out the window.
Steve Upshaw bit his bottom lip, nervous, scared, but he knew he had to stand his ground.
Steve Upshaw: I…it was a clean count both ways. And I didn’t force you to argue the count. Mr Field, in all
due respect, it was you who lost your temper and cost yourself the match.
Tony laughs and he motions to Frankie, who pulls a paper out of his pocket.
Tony Field: Well it would seem certain people don’t agree with you.
Tony hands the papers over to Upshaw, who looks at them in disbelief.
Steve Upshaw: This…this isn’t right….
Tony Field: What’s not right? You failed to do your job correctly, and apparently Wren Chesney agrees.
After all she, that is her signature signed off at the bottom suspending you indefinetly.
Steve Upshaw: But..but..I need the money. I have a mortgage, I have a family…
Tony Field: Should’ve thought about that before you screwed me in your match. You go fucking live in a
shelter for all I care. I feel no sympathy for a cheat like you.
Upshaw starts to lose his temper.
Steve Upshaw: A cheat like me? I called the match down the line. You’re the one who can’t win a match
without some kind of cheating antics….
Tony starts to get angry, but manages to keep it under control.
Tony Field: You know what, Stevie-Boy…when you’re homeless, can’t put a roof over your head, food on
your table…and you’re pretty little wife isn’t happy, maybe I’ll just stop by and let her take a ride on the
Tony Field express.
This was the last straw for Upshaw, he was tired of being pushed around and bullied. He stands from the
chair and clocks Tony in his jaw. Frankie Bones grabs Upshaw and throws him across the locker room,
knocking over a row of lockers. Tony grabs his jaw and just laughs.
Tony Field: So easy to provoke. And too stupid to figure out that’s what I was reaching for.
Tony stalks over to Upshaw, lifts him up off the tipped over lockers, and starts to bang his head repeatedly
into the lockers, before throwing him into the concrete wall. Field just laughs as Upshaw hits the wall with a
sickening thud and lands on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Tony Field: Did you see his head bounce off that wall?
Frankie just laughs as they make their way toward door.
Frankie Bones: It wasn’t bad, but I’ve seen better.
Written by: Paul
Inside the locker room of Captain Howdy, the good Captain gets himself ready for the match he has tonight
with The Butcher and Maelstrom. As he finishes lacing up his boots he feels someone is watching him. He
looks up and sees a person he hasn’t spoken to in months.
The Angel: Do not be afraid my child. No violence shall befall you.
Captain Howdy smiles.
Howdy: Despite what you may choose to believe, not everyone is afraid of you.
The Angel: Yes they are. Some just hide it better than others, but that is not what we must concern
ourselves with now. What is of concern is what must be done tonight. Tonight the existence of James Cortez
Howdy: It’s good to know that we are at an understanding.
The Angel: Then prepare to bath in the blood of the damned.
Written by: Okori
As Nighthawk sits on the chair in his locker room lacing up his boots, the door yawns open and in walks
Johnny Red. Clad in his wrestling gear and even having slipped on his ring jacket Nighthawk remains
completely silent, the only sign he's alive are his hands lacing up his boots.
Johnny Red: "Nighthawk a comment on tonight's match with Trinity."
Nighthawk: "Last week, I proved I could go hit for hit with Brad Kane. Tonight I will show you well.....
something else. Goodnight, Trinity. May sleep give you the courage to go on."
Lewis Murphy vs. Slade ©
Written by: Tyler
The lights go out, and for a few seconds, no noise can be heard. Suddenly, the silence is shattered by the
opening riffs of AC/DC's "Big Gun". Once the drum kicks in, strobe lights go off all over the building, and
teal colored pyrotechnics explode near the entry. The lights come up, and there, emerging from behind the
curtain, wearing his standard blue jeans, black leather vest, boots, black MMA fighting gloves, black
bandanna and sunglasses, Slade appears ready for a hard day of work more than a wrestling match. His
lips curl into a small smirk as he scans the crowd before making his way to ringside. He wipes his feet on
the side of the ring apron before stepping over the top rope and warming up like a boxer, throwing jabs
and moving around the ring. He slips off his sunglasses, bandanna and vest, tossing them aside.
Franks: I think this next match up has a lot of potential.
Quadros: You think everything has a lot of potential...
Franks: I guess I’m just optimistic then...
A familiar tune begins to play over the loud speakers as Lewis Murphy appears at the top of the ramp with
a smile on his face. Wasting little time, he darts towards the ring , slides under the bottom rope and takes a
standing position in his corner.
Franks: It’s been a couple of weeks since we seen Murphy compete here, but he sure looks fired up!
Quadros: Yeah, but his opponent is the current Premiere champion...he’s going to have to bring more than
normal to the table tonight!
The bell rings as the two meet in the center locking up in a test of strength that Slade easily wins, forcing
him into the corner. Slade cocks his fist back and goes to hit Lewis, only to force his hand against the
turnbuckle as Murphy uses his superior speed to evade! Slade turns around and finds himself on the
receiving end punches to the mid-section.
Quadros: The size difference is really showing here, Slade can’t even keep up!
Franks: Yeah, but if Slade lands even one move, it could end the match. That’s just the difference in power.
Slade tries to free himself by throwing a right hand at Lewis, only to miss yet again as Murphy rolls out of
the way and counters with a dropkick to the back of Slade’s leg, bringing him down to one knee. Murphy
bounces off the ropes to gather momentum before sending Slade back first into the canvas with a dropkick
to his chin.
Franks: Lewis Murphy is really impressive here tonight.
Quadros: The match is still early, and for some reason I just don’t think he’ll be able to hold up this assault
Slade quickly gets back up to one knee as Murphy bounces off the ropes again, ready to try the same
thing. This time, however, Slade pops to his feet and catches him in his arms, drilling him to the mat with a
massive spinebuster and making the cover...
But Murphy hasn’t received enough damage yet and kicks out before two. Murphy staggers back to his
feet after having the wind knocked out of him, and finds himself on the receiving end of several hard right
hands by Slade, sending him backwards against the ropes! Without missing a beat, Slade backs up a bit
and charges at Lewis who drops down, taking the rope with him and sending Slade over the top, crashing
hard onto the floor below.
Quadros: Impressive counter there, Murphy showing amazing ring presence.
Franks: Yeah but Slade is already getting back up, it looks to me that all he did was manage to anger the
Quadros: What a beast! Just what does it take to hurt this man?
Surely enough, Slade gets back to his feet as Murphy springboards over the top rope and into the open
arms of Slade, sending both men back to the padding below. The referee begins to count...
Both men begin to stir, but Murphy is to his feet first.
Slade finally gets back up and grabs Murphy as he attempted to slide in the ring, and lifts him high up over
Before Slade can drop Murphy across the barricade, he manages to wiggle free and drop behind the big
man, before sending a well placed drop kick into his spine, sending him tumbling over the barricade and
into the fans below.
Murphy quickly slides back into the ring as the referee checks on him, stalling his count and allowing Slade
the time needed to raise back up, finding himself surrounded by crazy fans. Not wanting to get into an
altercation, Slade quickly hops over the barricade and hides towards the ring, only to be hit in the back by
a full dish of Nachos, getting cheese all the back of his head and neck in the process.
Angered, Slade turns around and begins to walk towards the fan, only to be kicked in the back once more
by Lewis and a beautiful baseball slide, sending him chest first into the barricade.
Now covered in cheese and in danger of losing the match, Slade quickly recovers his composure and slides
into the ring just before the nine count, but ends up on taking a few boots to his chest courtesy of Lewis in
Quadros: Slade has to be getting pretty pissed off now...
Franks: Why? Somebody just bought him dinner, he should be happy!
Slade grabs the top rope and pulls himself to his feet, back against Lewis who now has his arms wrapped
against Slade and is attempting a German Suplex. Slade holds onto the ropes and blocks the suplex, before
elbowing Lewis in the jaw and forcing him backwards. Murphy continues running backwards and bounces
off the ropes, building momentum as he charges at Slade only to be driven into the mat thanks to a bicycle
Quadros: That’s a Big F’n Boot.
Franks: Something tells me this match is just about over...
Slade bends down and picks Murphy up, placing his head firmly between his legs before elevating him
high above his hand and bringing him back down with The Final Trip! Slade slumps down and covers
Murphy, hooking the leg.
Quadros: There it is! The final trip! This match is over.
Slade smiles as he gets back to his feet, the referee raising his hand high into the air.
Quadros: He never fails to disappoint....
Franks: He is the premiere champion after all...
DON'T HATE ME, HATE YOURSELF
Written by: John
*Jack Gaither sits alone inside of his locker room, and he's about to give the Hong Kong a rare look into his
true feelings regarding his future. From the looks of things, the normally "happy-go-lucky" personality that
the Morgantown native is known for showing is replaced by a stoic and focused expression.*
JACK GAITHER: I usually don't like to get in front of a camera and address my audiences on a live show, but
there's some things that I need to get off my chest. Actually--ya know what? A part of my camera time here
isn't something that's coming from a format sheet or cue card; you're gonna have the opportunity to see a
shoot--a shoot that's coming from my heart to you tonight.
*Jack points to his PWA Light Heavyweight Championship belt, which fits comfortably on his left shoulder.*
JACK: Recently, Nighthawk came out on stage and told a stunned audience that he doesn't deserve to be
known as "The Best in the World." I'm proud of him for what he did, because he's trying his damndest to
motivate himself for perhaps the biggest Light Heavyweight Championship match in PWA history. If I was
in his shoes, I would've done the same thing. Yet, I have to say something about him: he's a damn good
wrestler who knows a lot about wearin' people down one body part at a time, and if Nighthawk CAN beat
me at Point of No Return, then he truly deserves to be called "Best in the World." Even if Nighthawk loses,
however, he will ALWAYS be "The Best in the World" in my eyes--because he was so damn motivated to
take me on fair and square like a true champion. Now, I have some motivations of my own.
*The audience cheers as they see this interview play itself out on the big screen.*
JACK: Now my friends, this is gonna be the shoot you've been wantin' to hear. It seems to me that I've been
looking through the pages of wrestling magazines including PWA's "in-house" publication and The
Wrestling Insider and reading all kinds of crap from people who haven't gotten the message and given me
the proper credit where it was due. Ya know something, it took me TWO YEARS before I could finally call
myself a recognized champion again, but in order to call myself the Light Heavyweight Champion, I had to
change my wrestling style and--most importantly--the way I conduct myself in and out of the ring. Long
time ago, I was always wanting to take on everything, yet someone once said I couldn't do that--that I had
to take every match I worked in one step at a time. I've adopted a Japanese philosophy that doesn't stress
winning or losing--but postive work ethic and self-awareness, and I'm gonna continue with my new
philosophy until the day I die. Now on the other hand, there are people within the wrestling industry who
think of me as a "pretentious prick" for retraining my mind to think that winning isn't everything.
*Jack's voice starts to raise with each statement.*
JACK: Let me ask you something: have you ever wrestling a match with one arm? Have you ever worked on
the night your wife was mortally injured in a car wreck, only to rush over to the hospital to find her DYING?
Have you ever lost two wives, your parents, your brother or sister, and a colleague in such a short period of
time? THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH! YOU DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW ME AT ALL!
*Now the former quarterback's voice is at a pitch that most kids would hide from should they get into
JACK: You don't know my story, and quite frankly, you don't give a fuck about me period. I've had people
step into the ring against me and get pinned, yet they bitch and moan and whine and say "God dammit,
why can't I be as good as THAT guy Gaither!?" Ya know what, you're not as good as me because you don't
UNDERSTAND that self awareness and strong work ethic prevails over winning and losing every fuckin'
week. I used to be LIKE you--bitching and moaning after losing matches, yet looking back, I can take pride
in knowing that I busted my ass out there every single night I've been employed with this company. My
message to you is this: don't hate me because you can't beat me. Don't hate me because I've worked
through pain and suffering. Hate yourself--because you pack up and go home after losing to me fair and
square. That's what cowards do for a livin'--they waste their own life because they didn't have the courage
inside their heart and soul to win the big one. That's all I'm gonna say.
*The crowd cheers as we cut back to Carl Franks and Ray Quadros, and their facial expressions tell the
story of what they just saw.*
RAY QUADROS: I...I-I-I...no words man...no words...
CARL FRANKS: *sigh* Yeah...I had a feeling this was coming for weeks...fans, we've got more coming
right up including our main event.
RAY: Yeah...but I can't believe what Jack...just said...
TRUST IS EARNED
Written by: Blake & Andrew
~ Glen Watts is shown inside his locker room, taping his wrists in preparation for his match against Jack
Gaither when knocking can be heard at his door. Without looking up, the masked man raises his voice to
make himself heard to the person outside the entrance. ~
Terminus: Yeah...It's open.
~ Adrian Carmichael steps through the doorway, running his hands down the front of his custom made suit.
Watts stares through his mask at Carmichael, his disdain clear. ~
Carmichael: Do you have a moment?
~ Watts glances up at the clock on his locker room's wall, and then shrugs his shoulders. ~
Carmichael: I wanted to apologize for Mr. Lane's actions earlier. He can be a bit confrontational at times.
~ Watts shakes his head and chuckles softly as he continues to tape his wrists.~
Terminus: You could say that...Then again, I wasn't in the best mood myself, so that didn't help matters.
Guess I should have thanked you for stepping in before things got ugly between us. Is that why you're
Carmichael: Partially. May I?
~ Carmichael motions to the seat next to Watts and, without waiting for a reply, unbuttons his suit coat and
Carmichael: There are two things that I'm very good at spotting, Mr. Watts. Bullshitters and talent, and I
must say you have me quite intrigued.
~ A slight smile appears through the mask of Terminus as he rips the last bit of tape from from his wrist and
slowly glances in Adrian's direction.~
Terminus: You don't say...
~ Watts shifts position so that he can stare intently at the other man. ~
Terminus: Well, I guess that brings up the question of why you're so intrigued. Think I'm one of the career
BS artists that you're so adept at spotting?
~ Carmichael slides his suit coat off and drapes it behind him on the back of the chair, rolling up the sleeves
of his dress shirt, revealing a small tattoo on his forearm. He chuckles softly as he leans forward, resting his
elbows on his knees. ~
Carmichael: Not in the slightest. You've found yourself in a not so unique position, Glen. In fact, it's much the
same position that my young wrestler, Archangel has found himself in. On Tony Field's shitlist.
~ Carmichael glances knowingly through Terminus's mask at Watts with a wry grin on his face. ~
Carmichael: Now tell me, Glen. Exactly how far are you willing to go to make Tony Field hurt?
~ Terminus remains silent for a moment after this question is asked of him, and he closes his eyes while
considering his response. When they open, they contain a look of cold certainty as he gives his answer in a
flat tone of voice. ~
Terminus: At this point, Adrian, I think I can honestly say that I'm prepared to go to any place that's needed
inside of myself, and beyond that point to make Field, and by extension Rochelle, pay for what they've
done. I'm willing to do whatever's needed...I'm willing to do whatever it takes.
Carmichael: (smiling) I was hoping you'd say that.
~ Carmichael leans forward towards Terminus, looking at the resolve in his eyes and, himself, deciding if
he wants to open the can of worms he is contemplating opening. ~
Carmichael: I have something that may interest you. Something that would give you a decided...Shall we
say...Edge against Field at Point of No Return. But I need to know something...Two things, actually. The
first, your eyes have already told me. The second is whether or not I can trust you.
~ Glen leans back against the wall and folds his arms across his chest as he stares in the direction of
Carmichael as if to assess his sincerity and judge his character before giving his reply. ~
Terminus: OK...Now I’m intrigued. How do I go about earning your trust?
Carmichael: Your character and your actions already tell me a lot, Glen. The fact that you hate Field is more
than enough for me. My employer, however, isn't as easily swayed. Would you consider yourself a man of
your word, Glen?
~ The masked man nods his head ~
Terminus: Yeah. When it comes right down to it, that's the only thing a person really has...
~ Carmichael chuckles quietly. ~
Carmichael: Funny. That's the exact same thing he said to me when I asked him the same question.
~ Carmichael rubs his hand over his beard and exhales deeply before continuing. ~
Carmichael: If that's the case, all I need is your word and I'll vouch for you.
~ Terminus glances at Carmichael with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, but sees the conviction
apparent in the other man's expression and nods his head. Carmichael reaches into his pocket and pulls out
a small USB drive, holding it up in front of him. ~
Terminus (staring at with curiosity): What's that?
Carmichael: Right here is the most comprehensive scouting report on Tony Field ever compiled. Not only a
full scouting report on his strengths, weaknesses, injuries both undisclosed and disclosed, but also his
training regimen, right down to his habits on the days of his matches. Training videos, match
videos...Everything you could ever want to know about Tony Field...
~ Carmichael slides the flash drive back in his pocket. ~
Carmichael: And it’s yours...All I need is your word.
~ Glen goes wide -eyed as he stares at Carmichael. ~
Terminus: How...How did...!?
~ Carmichael smiles a knowing grin. ~
Carmichael: That, Glen, is what I need your word on. If I give this to you, you will know how I came about
this and who I am employed by and make no mistake, he is not someone whose bad side you wish to be on.
~ Terminus stares at Adrian for a moment, with his focusing upon his face, and then on the tattoo that
appears on his forearm. Glen's eyes remain fixed upon that, before he glances up and opens his mouth to
speak, before stopping himself and limiting his reaction to a simple nod of his head.~
Terminus: You have my word, Adrian.
~ Carmichael reaches back into his pocket and pulls out the flash drive, handing it over to Terminus, who
takes it almost in disbelief of his good fortune.~
Carmichael: Use it wisely, and remember...You don't want to cross my employer. That isn't a threat,
Glen...It's a warning.
~ He stands and grabs his jacket, draping it over his shoulder and starts to leave before pausing at the
Carmichael: Your last name's Watts, right? I used to know a Watts...He was a great man...A man of
character. You remind me a lot of him.
Termiinus: Yeah...My last name is Watts, Adrian. And...and, that's really good to know.
Carmichael: Good luck son. You're going to need it. For all his faults, Field is one hell of a wrestler. Don't
underestimate him...Otherwise it'll be the last thing you do.
Terminus (nodding): I understand.
~ Adrian turns to leave, but stops at the sound of Glen's voice calling his name. ~
Terminus: Adrian...Thank you again.
Carmichael: Don't think you're getting off easy. This isn't the mob, but we'll be calling on you sometime to
return the favor. Go take care of Field...After that, I'm sure we'll have business to discuss.
~ Carmichael turns and walks out of the locker room, leaving Terminus standing, staring at the doorway
both calmer and more confident than he was just a few minutes earlier. ~