World Heavyweight Title: The Phoenix
Intercontinental Title: Johnny Maverick

The Final Countdown

[The Scene opens up backstage, and the fans start cheering when they see Scott Nash Strader enter the picture on the ADCtron. Scott looks at a door, and opens it up peeking inside. He smiles out of the corner of his face, and Rob Robinson sits behind a little black desk. He doesn't look pleased to see Strader. Scott walks in, and sits down right in the front of him. He props his boots up on the desk of President Robinson. He sneers that Strader sneer, and Robinson still looks displeased. He motions at Strader's feet.]

President Robinson: Listen, thats where the interns sit for their interviews. Get your damn feet off my desk.

[Strader laughs and puts his feet done on the ground. He leans in.]

SNS: Robinson, I'm here for one thing, and one thing only. Matt Engel. AT the PPV.

[ Robinson shrugs. ]

President Robinson: Are you on crack? I told the world Viktor Stone has the title shot last Friday.

[ SNS looks confused. ]

SNS: That's funny, because the only fax I ever got from the PWA to tell me what was going while I was stuck in the hospital and physiotherapy was a list of the champions. How nice that its someone your managing... Trying to screw me out of my rightful shot?

[ Robinson leans back in his chair and puts his hands together. ]

President Robinson: One thing I pride myself on is not being Chamelion, so fine. You want your shot, you can have it. When and where?

[ Strader sits back and looks at Robinson for a few seconds. He stands up and starts walking out the door. Robinson yells at him. ]

President Robinson: So when and where?

SNS: I'd thought I'd go tell the fans.

[ The crowd erupts as Strader leaves the office. ]

President Robinson: Man those Strader's piss me off...

Scott Nash Strader vs "The Celtic Fury" Jacob Figgins

[An old nylon-string guitar begins playing lonely notes over the loudspeakers and the sound echoes as if it's residing deep inside of a sewer. When the first drum beat hits, building the anticipation, a series of black lights illuminate the stage and vapor dances in its glow. After about forty five seconds, the classical guitar is interrupted by Randal Blythe's growling vocals.]

--Our father, thy will be done!--

[The classical guitar is replaced with distorted electric guitars tuned to drop D, playing the slow and droning "Vigil" by Lamb of God. The lights surrounding the curtain flicker in a constant strobe and Duff Côte d'Ivoire emerges from the back wearing long, black leather jacket. Beneath this, he wears a black tee shirt, blue jeans, and combat boots, and his PWA Grizzly Beer title over his shoulder.]

Bennett: What's this all about now?

Rayne: Obviously Duff is on his way to the ring to check out his competition for London's Burning.

Bennett: I guess he doesn't want another flub like what happened with Flynn a few weeks ago.

--I have denied--

--This life its worth--

--I will not be the victim--

[He glances around to the crowd and the smirk turns into an arrogant, toothy grin.]

--Show me how it hurts to rot from the inside out--

--This vigil burns--

--Until the date our fires overtake you--

[He walks around the ring in long strides. He surveys his surroundings again before sitting down at ringside with Bennett and Rayne, dropping the belt on the table in front of him.]


Duff: How's it hanging, gentlemen?

The lights in the venue dim as a hand becomes visible throwing the entrance curtain open. And out comes the Celtic Fury receiving a mixed reaction from the audience as "Battle Song" blares into the speakers.

Hear the sound of swords fulfill the night
Feel the winds of death on your skin
See the arrows fly, flaming in the sky
Hear the screams of men, as they die

At the top of the entrance aisle, Figgins turns his back to the audience outstretching both of his arms and leaning back. Finally he spins on one foot and spits energy drink onto the aisle infront of him. Letting his arms fall back down to his side he began his trek towards the squared circle

We won this battle with might and fearless hearts
We came and we fulfilled our prophecy
So now we shall march back towards our kingdom
With heads up high and glimmering eyes
we returned with our glory

Eric Emerson: Making his way to the ring... Weighing in at 267 pounds...He is the Celtic Fury...JACOB FIGGINS!

Silence now falls upon this blood red field
Vultures feasting with the flesh of dead bodies
"This is a great moment for all of us
but now its time to head back home victorious"

The lights returned to normal and Figgins raised his head letting the audience's eyes grace him. Looking from left to right, a smirk crawled across the features of Figgins as he runs up the ring steps and walks along the apron taking a swig of his energy drink before putting the bottle down next to the southeast turnbuckle. He leaned against the ropes outstretching his arms once more and spraying a light mist onto the floor outside the ring.

We won this battle with might and fearless hearts
We came and we fulfilled our prophecy
So now we shall march back towards our kingdom
With heads up high and glimmering eyes
we returned with our glory

Finally entering the ring, via the top and middle ropes, Figgins turns on one foot and extends his arms for a final time acting as if it was a privilege to the audience to watch him perform in the squared circle and within the venue itself. Dropping his arms he takes off his ring jacket and throws it outside of the ring to get prepared for his upcoming bout. Suddenly the arena lights dim, as noise starts erupting over the p.a. . A voice booms through the arena.

"Why don't you ask me what it’s like to feel like a freak?"

At that the front entrance erupts in pyro's and fire as Scott Nash Strader and his sister/manager Vanessa Strader step out from behind the curtain.

~ Hey, do ya love me. I'm untouchable darkness
A dirty Strader river to get you through this
Hey, do ya love me I'm a devil machine
Get into my world all american dream ~

Strader looks around as the crowd starts pumping to the rhythm of the music.

~ In the mouth of madness
down in the darkness
no more tomorrow
down in the hollow ~

Eric Emerson: Making his way to the ring... Weighing in at 295 pounds...From Houston, Texas...SCOTT NASH STRADER!

SNS begins his descent down to the ring, slapping a few of the fans hands on the way.

~ In the mouth of madness
down in the darkness
no more tomorrow
down in the hollow ~

Strader pulls himself up into the ring and runs over to the right corner turnbuckle and leaps up pumping his fist in the air.

~ i'm demon speeding
i'm demon speeding
i'm demon speeding
i'm demon speeding ~

Strader jumps up and down and waits for the bell to ring.


The referee ref gives the cue for both men to meet in the middle. As they step to the middle of the ring, you can see the big height difference between the two men. Strader smiles and nails Figgins with a big time right hand. The crowd reacts with a pop as SNS starts to unload on the smaller Jacob. Figgins quickly drops down, causing SNS to miss a haymaker and nails a dropkick to the knee. Strader stumbles back as Figgins tries to get on the offense by firing punches and chops. He gets Scott to the ropes and goes for the flipping dropkick, but SNS uses both hands to send Jacob down to the mat.

Bennett: SNS is a very big man with amazing cruiserweight like speed. But in a match like this he is wisely using his size to get the upper hand.

Rayne: Well, when you’re 6’10” and facing a guy 6’3”, it’s almost a given. But will it be what wins the match for him. I mean…it’s not like he has been on a roll in the past few months.

SNS picks up Figgins and whips him into the corner, Scott rushes in and drives his knee into the midsection of Jacob. Quickly lift Figgins up on the top turnbuckle. Scott fires a few shots at Jacob before joining him on the ropes. He hooks him up in a double arm underhook before leaping back and riving Jacob’s head into the mat. Over Rye Drive!!! Jacob shakes a little as SNS floats over for the pin.




Jacob gets the arm up as SNS looks down with disgust. He picks Figgins and fires a few kicks to the stomach, before backing into the ropes. Strader comes off looking for the big boot to the side of the head, but Jacob dodges. SNS planets his foot and with blinding speed springs around for a clothesline. Figgins catches the arm and leaps up, nailing a picture perfect leaping armbreaker. Jacob backs up before leaping in the air and driving a knee into the back of SNS’ neck. Scott holds his neck as Jacob sits him up and quickly hooks in a Dragon Sleeper, leaning back trying to apply as much pressure as possible.

Bennett: Figgins is showing off that European technical background he has by targeting one body and working on it. By driving a knee into Strader’s neck and then syncing in that Dragon Sleeper, Jacob is cutting SNS’ air intake short. Size isn’t a factor if you can’t breathe.

Rayne: Oh really…did you come up with that all by yourself. And for the record, lack of air can pretty much stop anybody.

Figgins stands up, still keeping the hold on. In one quick motion, Jacob drops SNS’ neck right across his knee, before letting him hit the mat. Jacob steps back and is measuring SNS up. Strader gets to his knees and out of nowhere Jacob nails a swinging neckbreaker. Strader’s neck bounces up off the mat as Figgins looks to stay on the attack. Figgins hits the ropes and comes off with a rolling senton. Jacob follows through and hops up before hopping up on his feet. He steadies himself and leaps in the air, splashing onto SNS with a standing moonsault. Jacob quickly hooks the leg.




SNS powers out, still showing signs of strength as Jacob rolls off of him. Figgins goes for a soccer kick, but SNS catches his legs and lifts him up over his shoulder. Jacob starts to fire his knees into the chest of Strader, trying to make him let go.

Rayne: Figgins is in a bad spot and Scott is looking to make him pay. Jacob is firing knees and elbows but the bigger Strader is not flinching one bit.

Jacob finally nails a good elbow shot, right around the ears of SNS. Scott loosen his grip. Jacob with a knee to midsection, he steps back and sends another knee right to the temple of SNS. Not hitting hard enough to kill, but hitting hard enough for him to take Scott off his feet.

Bennett: What a crushing shot to SNS!!!

SNS rolls under the bottom rope to the outside, trying to put space between him and Figgins. Figgins, not trying to waste a moment runs towards the ropes and leaps over with a Tope suicida. Scott at the last minute moves out of the way, causing Jacob to hit the floor. SNS shakes the cobwebs out of his head and leaps on the guardrailing, before twisting off, nailing Jacob with a crossbody splash. SNS picks up Jacob and flings him into the ring apron. Jacob staggers back, right into the waiting arms of Strader. And Scott promptly locks in a waistlock and send Jacob up and over the guardrailing with a high release German suplex. Jacob is in a pile of chairs and Security is trying to clear everyone out as Scott walks over to him. The ref is yelling at both men to get into the ring as Scott yanks Jacob over the railing back to ringside. SNS rolls Figgins back into the ring and slides in after him. Figgins is quickly back up to his feet and is coming off the ropes as SNS is up on one knee. Jacob jumps and seems to hang in the air for a moment before nailing SNS square in the face with a dropkick. SNS falls back into the seated position and before he can do anything, Jacob plants a boot dead into the jaw of SNS.

Crowd: OHHHHHHHH!!!!!

SNS doesn’t move for a moment. Jacob steps back and nails another kick to the jaw. SNS still doesn’t move. Jacob stomps his feet before hitting the ropes and coming at SNS full speed. But out of nowhere, SNS is up and grabs an unsuspecting Jacob and spins him around in a tilt a whirl backbreaker. But instead of letting Jacob drop off his knees, He holds him there and stretches him over the knee. Strader flashes a grin before driving his elbow into the chest of Jacob, making him flip over onto his stomach. SNS catches his breathe for a moment before grabbing Figgins by the neck and picking him up. Scott begins to back Figgins into the corner with a number of strikes. Elbow to the chin, chop to the chest and a kick to the mid section. Scott pushes him into the corner and starts to fire lefts and rights until the ref steps in the break things up. SNS shoots a look at the ref and as Scott turns back towards Jacob and is greet with a quick thumb to the eye. Figgins with a kick to the midsection and yanks SNS’ head in between his legs. He cradles SNS up for that cradle piledriver. Figgins tries to hold him up for a long time, but the weight is a little more then he can handle. So he just drives SNS’ head into the mat. Once again putting some impact on that neck. Jacob once again slaps SNS into a Dragon Sleeper.

Rayne: Figgins is being smart and targeting that neck. I mean I’ve never seen a neck go through that much work since…

Bennett: Don’t say it…

Rayne: Fine…but I’m saying…Riona can definitely…

Bennett: And SNS is trying to fight out of the hold.

Rayne looks at Bennett, like he wasn’t gonna say anything bad. While that happens, back in the ring, Figgins lifts up, looking to go for another knee neckbreaker. Somehow, SNS is able to fight and fight until he is able to reverse the hold into an inverted DDT. He lifts Figgins up for an inverted suplex and drapes him hard on the ring ropes. Jacob is just hanging there as Scott climbs the turnbuckle, SNS leaps from the top turnbuckle driving his elbow into the back of Jacob, causing him to flip into the ring. Strader pulls himself up, using the ropes and is waiting for Jacob to move. Strader wraps up Figgins while he still is on the ground, Scott hooks his feet under his arms and Figgins up, slamming down him down on the ground two to three times.

Bennett: Cherry Whiskey Bomb from the former PWA TV Champion and it looks like SNS wants to makes sure Figgins stays down this time.

Rayne: Well, I can say this…that move can serve no other purpose then upgrading Figgins’ face. And believe me, it needs updating.

SNS drops down for the quick pin.





Again, Figgins’s being pulled up by SNS. SNS fires him into the ropes. Jacob comes off the ropes and SNS bends down for the back body drop. Figgins stops in his tracks and starts to fire shots at Strader. Strader is down on knee, trying to cover up from the shots. The bigger man quickly leans back and yanks Figgins face first into the turnbuckle. Scott sits up and turns towards Jacob. SNS is back on his feet and grabbing Figgin. Figgins, quickly drops to one knee and nails the low blow. The ref, who is out of position, runs over to check on SNS. Figgins waits a second before using the ref as a springboard to take SNS down with a springboard DDT.

Bennett: The best men know how to use everything around them in order to win. That is a sign of a great wrestler.

Rayne: That is not the sign of a great wrestler. A great wrestler would have had this match wrapped up already!!!

Scott Nash Strader is holding his neck as Figgins is sizing him up. Jacob starts dropping elbows to the back of SNS’ neck, with each blow, you can see Jacob is getting ready to wrap this up. Jacob lifts SNS up and fires him into the corner. Jacob runs in at full speed, but stops as someone moves through the crowd and hops over the guardrailing. As Jacob walks over to the ropes and yells at the figure, the crowd realizes it Duff Côte d'Ivoire. And that is all the time that SNS needs.SNS grabs Figgins, but Jacob quickly counters and goes to Irish whip SNS into the ropes, but SNS counters. Scott yanks Jacob in and lifts him up in a Gorilla Press Slam, but instead of dropping Jacob behind him, he brings him down into a backbreaker. Strader floats over for the pin.


Rayne: And SNS brought him down with all his might with that one.




Eric Emerson: And the winner of this match…SCOTT NASH STRADER!!!!!

[Duff rummages under the ring subtley, stands up, and rolls into the ring before blindsiding Figgins, and beginning his rapid barrage of shots with a baseball bat, wrapped in barbed-wire. The fans have a mixed reaction, some of them cheer, others boo, some even litter the ring. But Duff continues his assault. He looks to the crowd with a smirk and takes a few more whacks, just enough to draw blood from Figgins' prone body, before dropping the weapon outside of the ring, and demanding the microphone from Emerson.]

Duff: Now, Figgins, I don't know you and you don't know me, but now you, and everyone in this arena, and everyone around the world, know what to expect come our match at London's Burning. You see, this title, the belt that I hold, it has this special rule with it, that says that I can pick whatever kind of match I want to defend it in while I hold it. In the years I've spent in this business, I've had many match concepts come about, and many of them are incredibly sadistic, brutal, and just inhumane. And I had this grand idea, a match that will no doubt make the main event look like a pile of puke, and a match that will surely make your name household and legendary. Not because of the outcome, but because you were the first victim of it.

It's called 'Blind Man's Buff'. And the rules and regulations are as follows: you and I, Fig-Newton, will begin the match in the ring. We will be blind-folded by the referee, and the only way to win is to knock your opponent out until the count of ten.

I know what you're thinking -- well, if you're still awake. You're thinking that this is so basic, so dull, that there's no way it would make the main event, a flaming cage match, look bad. Well, Jacob, that's where you get presumptive, and frankly, I hate presumptive people.

[Duff kicks Figgins in the ribs, but he doesn't respond in any way other than grabbing his midriff and looking pained.]

Duff: The last few tidbits you'll need to know about this match is that the ring ropes will not be very forgiving, and it will be incredibly difficult to pull yourself up, or steady yourself with them, because they will be replaced by barbed wire.

[The crowd cheers, excited at the prospect of blood.]

Duff: And finally, there will be weapons scattered about the ring. Any kind of weapons. You can, in fact, go out and grab the chair right out from under a fan's ass and use it against your opponent. If you can navigate your way out of the ring, and to a chair, anyway. So, there you have it, Jacob. You and I will go head to head on October 17, 2008, in the first ever Blind Man's Buff match. Have fun preparing for it, bud!

[Duff smirks again and exits the ring, walking to the back with his chin high and his belt slung over his shoulder.]

We cut to President Robinson?s office, with Robinson on his cell phone.

President Robinson: That's right! 12 cases, and I want them here in an hour!!

He listens for a moment, his brow furloughing.

President Robinson: Look, I don't care what my probation officer said. 12 cases! YooHoo! 1 hour! Do I make myself clear??

As Rob shuts the cell phone, the office door bursts open and the now infamous referee from last week's world title match marches in. Robinson calmly pockets his cell and scratches his chin.

President Robinson: I prefer people to knock.

The ref points back towards the door, seemingly in the direction of the ring.

Referee: Did you not see what that son of a bitch Chamelion did to me in the ring last week!? You do not go putting your hands on an official! I want some actions taken!

The ref's cheeks are bright red and he glares at Robinson, waiting for an answer. Robinson shrugs.

President Robinson: You're right. No wrestler should ever touch a ref in a match and I do not much care for Mark, so what do you suggest??

The ref smiles widely at being asked his opinion.

Referee: Fire him!?

Rob rubs his chin.

President Robinson: ?Tempting, but while the B.O.D. did put me in charge, Sommers technically still owns the PWA. I can't fire the owner, much as I'd like too.

Growling the ref offers an alternative.

Referee: Fine him then, big time!?

Rob laughs.

President Robinson: Ok, let's say I fine him 25,000. That money goes back into the PWA, so effectively right back into his pocket.

Grunting in frustration, the referee cusses.

Referee: Then why did you ask my opinion??

President Robinson: ?Thought you had some unique ideas. What is your name, by the way? I've only been in charge a few weeks and didn't much care to pay attention before hand.

Referee: ?Davis, Daniel Davis. Why??

Rob stops and blinks, eyeing the man up and down a bit.

President Robinson: ?Familiar name.?

Rob shrugs.

President Robinson: No matter. I can't fine or fire Sommers, and as much as I hate to admit it, his reasons seem justified. You have not exactly been impartial in his matches over the last few months.

Davis: What are you talking about? I've called every match as I seem them, that's my job. But it's not his job to beat me up like he did! I want something done about this.

Rob goes to reply when the door opens again, we only hear the sound of it, as the camera is still focused on Rob and Davis. Davis takes Rob's lack of reply as a sign to continue.

Davis: I mean it Robinson! Take him off the active roster or put him in some handicap matches! Anything to put that ass Chamelion in a tough situation! I want retribution against him for what he did to me.

Rob nods just once, and then speaks, but he talks to the presence behind Davis.

President Robinson: ?You have anything to add to this, Mark??

Davis tenses, slowly turning as the camera pans back to reveal Chamelion, with his arms folded, looking squarely at Davis with his Cheshire Grin in place.

Chamelion: Oh yeah I do. Davis, is it? I have no idea what or who has been pulling your chain for you to be a thorn in my side, but it'?s going to come to and end real fast.

Davis turns full on Chamelion.

Davis: No one's pulling my strings, Sommers. I just don?t like you.

Shrugging, like he's never heard that before, Chamelion smirks.

Chamelion: You're not the first. But you've all but admitted you've been unfair and biased, and like I said. That ends very soon. (past Davis, Chamelion looks to Robinson) Did you get the message today, Rob??

Rob nods, sighing somewhat reluctantly.

President Robinson: I did and it's official now.

Chamelion's grin widens.

Chamelion: Good!

Davis looks at them both.

Davis: What's official??

Chamelion answers.

Chamelion: Simple really. You see, I've had it just about up to here with you (puts his hand over his head) and while you think you deserve retribution, I'm the one who got screwed out of my world title. So, next week at London's Burning, you're going to be in the ring.

Davis interjects.

Davis: I'm not officiating any match your in, Sommers.

Shaking his head, Chamelion laughs.

Chamelion: Didn't say youd be officiating my match, Davis.

He shrugs.

Davis: I'm not going to referee any match for you then!?

Chamelion: Didn't say you'd be refereeing at all, kiddo. See, I took my case to the B.O.D. and pointed out enough evidence that they decided to grant my request. As an official contracted PWA employee who signed the waver to be in the ring during a wrestling match, you are qualified and legally able to not only officiate.but to wrestle.

Davis?s eyes widen, his face goes ashen.

Chamelion: Yeah, it's sinking in. Next week, at London's Burning, you and I are going to settle our differences inside that ring in a match. And kiddo, I'd best be going to get my will and testament in order.

Chamelion pauses, as he pats Davis on the shoulder.

Chamelion: Got it??

Chamelion spins on his heels and walks out the door and Davis turns panicky to Robinson.

Davis: He can't do that!

President Robinson: Unfortunately for you anyway. He can.

Davis just stands there flabbergasted and Robinson turns to answer his ringing cell phone as we cut back to the ring.

We find ourselves backstage at PWA Chaos. Roadies and techies are seen busily preparing for the next match as others wait to clean up from the current one. From one side of our view enters El Rey de Corazones wearing black denim jeans and a royal blue silk shirt, open at the collar and the PWA Tag Title draped across one shoulder. And of course, his black and silver mask. He appears to be searching for something. As he passes one of the workers he stops to speak with them.

Corazones: ¿pardone usted?

Roadie: Excuse me?

Corazones: ¿Puede alguien demostrarme hacia la caja privada para el sexo y la violencia incorporados?

Roadie: Huh? Sorry Beaner, I don't speak no gibberish. I gots work to do.

Leaving El Rey the worker heads toward the arena entrance. Still looking lost, Rey turns toward a technition wearing a headset.

Corazones: ¿Mi grupo tiene un área donde puedo mirar la demostración?

Removing the headset the man answers in a huff.

Techie: What!? I'm real busy here.

Corazones: ¿Puede usted darme direcciones al asiento reservado?

Techie: No Habla Espanish, pardner. But if you got a match you can wait over there.

Pointing toward a waiting area with some vending machines near the Arena Entrance the Techie takes off to do whatever he was supposed to be doing. El Rey shakes his head and moves toward the area where we see a member of the janitorial staff getting a candy bar out of the snack machine.

Corazones: ¿Puede usted ayudarme encontró mi asiento? El lugar reservado para la pesadilla y sus amigos.

Looking up, the maintainence man scratches himself and spits into a trashcan.

Janitor: You're in America, speak American!!

Grumbling to himself the man storms off with his Butterfinger bar the man leaving Rey on his own.

Janitor: Damned Ferriners!! Stealing our jobs, from good hardworking folks. You can all just go to hell as far as I'm concerned.

Corazones: ¡Cristo!! ¿Qué un hombre tiene que hacer para conseguir una cierta ayuda alrededor de este lugar?

Female Voice: People tend to ignore those who are actually in need. Meanwhile, maybe I could help.

He turns around and his face lights up with a big grin. Walking up to the soda machine is an attractive young lady wearing country casual complete with cowboy boots and a black Stetson.

Corazones: ¡Mi Montaña Rose!!

Montaña: ¡Mi Casanova!

They hug for a long moment then step apart again.

Corazones: ¡Es grande verle, otra vez!!

Montaña: It's great to be seen. I noticed you are now sporting a shiney gold belt.

Corazones: Sí, Jonathon Wehali y mismo son los campeones de la etiqueta. Tan pronto como encontremos la caja del cielo para el sexo y la violencia nos incorporó puede sentarse y alcanzar.

Looking around briefly Montaña Rose motions off to the right.

Montaña: Oh, yeah, I think I saw a sign pointing toward the reserved seating that way. If we hurry we can make it in time to catch the match between Nightmare and Jethro.

Arm in arm they walk off toward the sky boxes and we fade back into the show in progress.

Nightmare vs. Jethro Hayes

Eric Emerson: The following match is set for one fall...

The house lights dim as smoke begins to boil up from the entranceway.

Eric Emerson: Introducing now... standing at 6'9" and weighting in at 280 pounds...

A pulsing beat hits the air as "The Great American Nightmare" by Rob Zombie begins to play as a group of ravishingly beautiful women in hot pants and cropped
halter tops rise from the smoke, moving in a sensuous provocative manner to the music. The arena lights begin to strobe in synchronicity to the music as
the opening guitar riff hits its crescendo, the huge monitors flashing in counterpoint.

~Dig deep down from Planet X, yeah~
~Thirteen ghosts in the devil's head~
~Step right up and feel the fire~
~Hardcore love of the never dead~

Eric Emerson: He hails from Los Angeles, California... he is Jonathon Wehali... he is...

Spotlights pan through the stadium, scanning through the air. Suddenly the entrance explodes with a spike of red pyros as the monitors begin showing highlights
from Nightmare's previous matches. Icons and champions go down to his kicks and strikes. Superstars and legends tap out to his submission holds. One after

another faces famous, infamous, and unknown are shown, each being driven into the canvas headfirst. The footage then burns away to a single word suspended
in darkness: NIGHTMARE. It then shatters, the monitor going black.

~Call me the American nightmare~
~Call me the American dream~
~Call me your soul corrupted~
~Call me everything you need~

Eric Emerson: NIGHTMARE!!!

As a shower of red pyros rains down upon the stage, Nightmare steps through the entrance. Red war paint marks his face.

~Yeah, motherfucker~
~Yeah, who do you love~
~Yeah, motherfucker~
~Who do you love, yeah~

Nightmare scans the crowd like a general surveying his troops. His gaze then settles upon the ring. Making his way forward he slaps hands with the fans.
Trailing behind Nightmare are his manager Akira and his bodyguard Dhamballa.

~Black boots stomp and penetrate, yeah~
~Lust and death gone in your head~
~Rat pack mind degenerated~
~Thirteen ghosts sing the body red~

Arriving at ringside, Nightmare selects a lovely young woman out of the crowd, placing his signature Gargoyle sunglasses upon her head then posing with
the fans before turning to once again view the ring.

~Call me the dark intruder~
~Call me the haunted sea~
~Call me your Monster Zero~
~Call me anything you need~

Once at ringside Nightmare springs onto the ring apron, grabs the top rope, and flips over the top.

~Call me the American Nightmare~
~Call me the American dream~
~Call me your soul corrupted~
~Call me everything you need~

Nightmare walks to the center of the ring and pumps his fist into the air. The four corner posts of the ring erupt into an explosion of red pyros as the
song fades out, the stage once again in darkness as the dancing girls return to the back.

~Yeah, motherfucker~
~Yeah, who do you love~
~Yeah, motherfucker~
~Who do you love, yeah~

Nightmare takes his place in his corner to await the beginning of the match as Akira and Dhamballa take their stations outside the ring.

Eric Emerson: Introducing his opponent for this one fall match...

The cranking of a tractor is heard throughout the arena and the video entrance of Jethro Hayes begins playing over the big screen. Cows moo, on the screen cows are shown in a green pasture. Pigs are oinking, on the screen pigs run around in mud within a fence. The scene on the screen goes to rolling hills, showing combines in the field harvesting crops, tractors harrowing the ground preparing for the new crop; semi trucks are hauling off the harvested crop. A man walks up the 3 steps and opens the door on the cab of his John Deere tractor, he is wearing a John Deere trucker hat, and is missing a few teeth, evident by the grinning face he turns to the camera, he waves at the camera; it is part of a family video. He climbs on into the cab of the tractor; along with the cranking of the tractor on the screen, the beginning of Thank God I'm a Country Boy by John Denver begins to play over the speaker system.

~Well life on the farm is kinda laid back
~Aint much an old country boy like me cant hack
~Its early to rise, early in the sack
~Thank God Im a country boy

The curtains are pulled back by two people and the front of a John Deere 4720 tractor is seen in the backstage area, smoke boiling up from the muffler.

~Well a simple kinda life never did me no harm
~A raisin me a family and workin on a farm
~My days are all filled with an easy country charm
~Thank God Im a country boy

When the words "kinda laid back" are heard, the tractor begins moving forward slowly down the ramp the tractor is moving at about 3 miles an hour.

Eric Emerson: "From Lean Ox, Ga; weighing 315 pounds and standing at 6' 7"... Jethro Hayes!"

With the mentioning of his name, Jethro toots the tractor's horn inside the cab and waves to the crowd, he revs the tractor's engine slightly in response to the crowd.

~Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
~When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
~Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
~Thank God Im a country boy

The tractor arrives at the bottom of the ramp and Jethro stops the tractor, toots the horn while reving the tractor to full power; then he shuts the tractor off. Jethro climbs out of the tractor to a huge pop, he waves and climbs down. Jethro is wearing overalls with a yellow John Deere shirt underneath, brown Wolverine boots, and a John Deere hat.

~When the works all done and the suns settlin low
~I pull out my fiddle and I rosin up the bow
~The kids are asleep so I keep it kinda low
~Thank God Im a country boy
~Id play sally goodin all day if I could
~But the lord and my wife wouldnt take it very good
~So I fiddle when I could, work when I should
~Thank God Im a country boy

He touches a few fans hands on his way to the ring steps. He climbs up the steps and gets into the ring He walks to one corner and waves to those fans.

~Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
~When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
~Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
~Thank God Im a country boy

He walks to another corner and waves to those fans, nodding along with the music.

~Well I wouldnt trade my life for diamonds and jewels
~I never was one of them money hungry fools
~Iid rather have my fiddle and my farmin tools
~Thank God Im a country boy

He walks to the third corner and waves to those fans with thumbs up in the air, still nodding along with the music; he mimics playing a fiddle.

~Yeah, city folk drivin in a black limousine
~A lotta sad people thinkin thats mighty keen
~Son, let me tell ya now exactly what I mean
~Thank God Im a country boy

Reaching the fourth corner, he takes off his hat and throws it into the crowd; shaking his head he prepares for the match.

~Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
~When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
~Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
~Thank God Im a country boy
The song fades away slowly with the chorus repeating while it dwindles into silence.

Bennett: This is half of a preview for the Londons Burning PPV here.

Rayne: Really? Hadn't noticed.


Jethro and Nightmare stare at each other across the ring and nod in respect for each other as they walk towards the other. As a show of mutual respect, they shake hands before locking up. Neither man gets an advantage and break the tie up; stepping back, they nod and lock back up.

Bennett: What a great show of respect from the rookie and veteran.

Rayne: Boring if you ask me.

Jethro using his weight advantage gets Nightmare into a side headlock before being pushed into the ropes and breaking the hold He bounces towards the opposite ropes, Nightmare charges at the rebounding man and Jethro ducks a clothesline attempt hitting the ropes once more. As he rebounds, Nightmare turns and both men hit each other, but neither go down. They go for a show of strength in the middle, but Jethro quickly is overpowering the smaller man with his 50 pound weight advantage. Nightmare seeing that he can't overpower the hick breaks his left hand out of the hold and is behind Jethro with a twisted wristlock, sweeping the legs out from under Jethro who goes to a knee. Nightmare then comes back around to the front of Jethro putting him into the submissive role of the show of strength; Jethro begins to power up using his right hand to swing at Nightmare. Wehali ducks the first blow, but Jethro is able to catch him with the second and now the third blow, he is rocking Wehali backwards into the ropes. Jethro takes the advantage by whipping Jonathon into the ropes following up with a shoulder block tackle to the mat. Jethro makes a cover, even though it is early in the match.

ONE!-- Wehali kicks out immediately.

Rayne: Way to early to take Nightmare out of the match.

Bennett: Never too early to try and get a pin. But probably just like you were finished too early last night with that lovely lady?

Rayne: Uh, no idea what you're talking about... call the match.

Jethro is up and off of Wehali allowing the veteran to get back to his feet. Jethro teases going for another show of strength, but Wehali is quickly behind the redneck and has him hooked up into a full nelson. Jethro shakes his head and tries to whip Wehali off of his back, but to no avail; Wehali begins to wear the country boy down; Jethro to one knee. With his face turning red from the effort of trying to remove himself from the full nelson, Jethro drops to his other knee, his eyes begin to roll up into his head. The ref walks over and raises Jethro's hand into the air.

ONE!- The arm falls like a rock to the bottom of a lake.

TWO!-- The arm is limp and drops heavily.

Bennett: Wehali with a great move and hold to wear the big man down.

Rayne: Dumb hick.

THR-- The arm remains in the air, supported by Jethro as he shakes his head. His face is still red as he stands back up to first one knee then the second. As his eyes roam over the ring, looking for an escape, he notices where he is at and pushes back with his legs causing Wehali to hit hard into the corner. The hold is broken and Jethro stumbles forward falling to one knee and gasping for breath. But he is up quickly and turning around to meet Nightmare toe to toe with right hands, backing him into the corner; Jonathon is reeling and now back in the corner. Jethro slaps his chest palm down causing the co tag champ to wince in pain at the meatiness of Jethro's palm. Jethro grabs the left wrist of Wehali and Irish whips him towards the other corner, but Wehali reverses the whip and now Jethro is heading into the corner chest first. He bounces back out of the corner and Wehali goes for his finisher, the Requiem for the Fallen, but Jethro is alert enough to block the finisher with a few quick jabs to Nightmare's ribs. Standing up vertically, Jethro plants a boot into Jonathon's midsection and goes for a ddt, but it is blocked by Wehali who pushes the redneck down to the mat.

Bennett: Neither man getting an advantage for long here in this match.

Rayne: How observant you are and imagine, you get paid for that.

Nightmare goes to the feet of Jethro for an ankle lock, but Jethro places a boot into his face preventing the tortuous hold, Jonathon falls back as Jethro manages his feet and charges. Both men go for a clothesline and both go to the mat having connect with their clothesline; they lay there for a second before both begin to get to their vertical base. They turn and face each other and lock up for the third time in this match. Wehali goes for another wristlock, but Jethro leans into the move, hooking Wehali up into a three quarter nelson, slamming him down to the mat. Bouncing off the ropes, he jumps high up into the air going for a leg drop, but Wehali moves out of the way just in the nick of time and Jethro lands on mat, grabbing his leg in agony. Hitting the ropes for himself, Wehali comes back with a dropkick, hitting Jethro in the chest and making the redneck fall on his back. Wehali goes for a cover.

ONE! TW-- Jethro kicks out before the count of two can be finished and Jonathon is looking impressed with this newcomer.

Bennett: Wehali is seeming to be impressed by Jethro here.

Rayne: I think this match is going to come down to who ever can hit their finisher first.

Wehali pulls Jethro up to his feet, but Jethro wraps him up into a small package pin attempt, Wehali rolls on through and now both men are in the ropes. They both break the hold cleanly and stand up facing each other yet again in this match. Both wrestlers hit a right hand and begin to duke it out with fists.

Rayne: Not a smart move by Wehali throwing fists with that bulky country boy.

Bennett: But Wehali is holding his own against Jethro, and Nightmare now has the advantage.

Jethro is backed up into the corner and Jonathon climbs up the turnbuckle raining down right hands onto the temple of Jethro. Jethro places his hands around the waist of Jonathon and pushes him off of him and Wehali stumbles backwards in the ring.

Jethro charges, but is booted in the midsection and Jonathon nails him with the Black Crush; quickly followed by the Requiem for the Fallen.

Rayne: Wehali is going to do it, first finisher of the night and my man pulled it off!

Bennett: Lets see if Jethro can kick out.



Eric Emerson: Ladies and Gentlemen, winner of the match... Nightmare... Jonathon Wehali!

Nightmare gets his belt from a ringside tech and places it over his left shoulder. Jethro stands up and faces Wehali; the two men shake hands before Jethro leaves allowing Nightmare to enjoy the spotlight.

Bennett: Great show of sportsmanship from both men.

Rayne: Yeah yeah.

The lights in the arena die as a burning PWA logo fills the ADC-Tron.

Rayne: What...this again?

The burning logo falls off-screen, and a silhouette of a man appears. Rain pours behind him, on him, as fog surrounds, and a quick flash of lightning merely illuminates his mask-clad face.

Man: ...last week was my one and only gift to you all...a chance to see if the wrongs I have come to right would be done without have failed...all of you...

Another flash of lightning, revealing more of his mask: white, with a large, slanted black X on the outside of either eye.

Man: ...those who continued their treachery did so willingly...those few who are truly pure of heart, the one who will feel the least...they failed to prevent the wicked...

The man disappears into the fog, backing into it, shaking his head to either side.

Man: disappoint me...

The lights return to normal, revealing a dummy hung from the rafters, a noose around its neck, swinging above the entrance stage.

Rayne: There's...there's an MoA shirt on that!!! And a replica of the PWA World title!!!

Rayne: That's supposed to be Matthew Engel!!

A few moments of silence pass, and the man's voice comes back over the PA system.

Man: ...rapture...

As soon as the word ends, the dummy catches flame from seemingly nowhere. Members of the ring crew and backstage hands rush to it with fire extinguishers going, as the burning effigy of Matthew Engel finally falls, the rope holding it snapping from the flames.

Rayne: Uhhh...yeah...I'd say it's time for a break...

Showtime vs Duff Cote d'Ivoire

Eric Emerson: Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first, the PWA Television Champion...Marcus Ambrose...Showtime!

Rayne: This guy just keeps getting the lucky breaks, you know. Last week he was saved by the time limit and this week his title isn't on the line.

Bennett: Good point, but where is he?

Eric Emerson: Showtime!

Rayne: Good try, Eric, but I doubt the problem was that he didn't hear you.

The camera cuts backstage to Showtime laying in a heap, a lead pipe on the ground next to him.

Rayne: What the hell was that?

Bennett: I'm not sure, but he's obviously not going to be competing tonight.

Come with Me interrupts the announcers and the fans all rise as one to their feet as Chamelion comes out, attired in a nice green dress shirt and black slacks. He walks confidently down to the ring, walking up the steps and slipping into the ring between the top and middle rope. Walking to Emerson, he motions for the mic and then waves Emerson out of the ring. As the fans wild mixed cheers and boos echo through out the arena, Chamelion taps the mic once and then speaks.

Chamelion: In the last few weeks, the PWA has been targeted by an unknown group, affectionately known as The Talent is a Lie. First, they hacked into the official PWA Web site, and then just a week ago, the ADCtron displayed a second video, specifically targeting my brother and myself.

He pauses, and a grin begins to spread across his lips.

Chamelion: I would be worried, maybe, if not for the fact this faction for lack of a better word, is a day late and a dollar short. The voice spoke that Raizzor and I are fraudulent, that we rule over title reigns and our friends. The voice spoke in a present tense, as if recent events went over their heads and they have not been keeping track. I mean, I lost my position of power to Robinson, Raizzor hasn't even been in the ring for a long time except for Manitoba Mayhem and not in power for quite some time. So, it seems to me this scare tactic loses a lot of its punch by being two steps behind the times.

He shrugs, the grin still in place.

Chamelion: So, who ever you are, and whatever you're after you're barking up the wrong tree. If you're bidding to get the Sommers out of power, you're too late. If you're trying to make some sort of major impact, you're not impressing me. I mean, shit, I get mentioned by name on a video promo? I'm more likely to mark out, pun not intended, at the attention then worry about what you have planned.

He winks.

Chamelion: Of course, there is the fact that I finagled a match at London's Burning with that referee, Danny? I mean, Daniel Davis, but that was a deal struck with the B.O.D. which ironically didn't get mentioned in the video at all, go figure.

A moment's pause, and he grins.

Chamelion: Now here's the kicker to all of this. When I commented about the voice being behind the times, I didn?t deny its claims of the power I possessed and utilized. Yes, it's true, I ruled over the titles and reigns and the talent here in the PWA, because it was effectively my job. I lined up the matches, chose the contenders or the matches to decide them, and sometimes hand picked different superstars to get a good position. That's the job description of being the boss! So.. Voice in the Dark, as it were; you take your pot shots all you want, you try to get the bandwagon started, and see where it takes you. I own the PWA, but due to the BOD, I'm not in charge. Want me out of office, already done. Want me out of the ring? Never going to happen. Want to get the world against me? You're about half way there. Just in the end, when this little game of yours comes to a head? I'm not going to be shocked or scared of what or who you are. I'm the most Devious Son of a Bitch in this business today, kiddo and you can't touch me. GOT IT??

Chamelion grins wickedly and drops the mic at his feet, sliding out of the ring and walking back up the ramp, slapping hands with the fans along the way, as the camera pans back down to our announcers.

Riona Langly & Matthew Engel vs. Viktor Stone & Hunter Sullivan

As we return from commercial break, Sullivan has already entered the ring while Viktor Stone’s theme begins and the crowd cheers as Stone makes his way to the ring. Both men converse as Riona’s music starts. She walks out, but stops half way to the ring, and waits. When Engel’s music hits, the arena reacts with a mixed chorus of cheers and boos and Engel all but ignores them. He steps next to Riona, and they stride to the ring together and once inside, Engel holds his World Title up for all to see, eliciting more reactions before he hands it off to the ref who then gives it to the Emerson on the outside to put next to the bell. All four become intensely focused as the bell rings. The match begins with Engel and Sullivan. A lock up and Engel takes control, whipping Sullivan into the ropes and catching him with a knee lift that turns Sullivan over, crashing to the canvas. Engel works over Sullivan for a few moments with some ground technical maneuvers, driving some respect into Sullivan. However, as Engel goes to throw Sullivan into the corner and follow with a forearm, Sullivan ducks and wraps Engel up for a small package and a two count. Quickly up, Sullivan catches Engel on the rise with a well placed drop kick and then ties Engel up with an arm bar, wrenching back!

Engel manages to grab the ropes and the ref forces the break. Sullivan then rolls over and tags in Viktor, and the crowd reacts now that the Champion and Challenger stand face to face in the ring. Engel, favoring his arm, ducks the attempted lock up by Stone and instead floats behind him and hits a reverse neck breaker. Engel then takes the reprieve and tags in Riona Langly. Riona stuns the crowd as she scurries to the top rope and tries for a leg drop, but Stone rolls away and Langly hits solid canvas. Shaking his head, Stone tags in Sullivan and Sullivan quickly goes to work on Riona. Seeing Riona roll away, holding her leg, he attacks it feverently, bashing away with the heel of his boot to her knee, trying to injure it before their match at London’s Burning.

Between Sullivan and Stone, the team manages to corner Riona for a good full five minutes, each taking turns to wear down Riona’s vertical base. A few times, however, Riona strikes back, still showing her tenacity and on a failed double clothesline attempt, Riona ducks only to come back and hit a spinning heel kick with her bad knee, but takes both Stone and Sullivan down. The crowd screams and cheers, as Riona crawls to her corner before either man can react and a hot tag sends Engel back into the match, on fire.

Engel then cleans house, sending Sullivan to the outside and then he and Stone go toe to toe, bringing the house down with their exchange. Meanwhile, on the outside, Sullivan pulls Riona to the floor and he goes to whip her into the steel stairs, but she reverses it and he hits full tilt. Sensing her chance, Riona charges in, but Sullivan dodges the attack and Riona slams her already hurt knee into the steel steps and she falls, grabbing hold. Meanwhile, Stone kicks Engel in the gut and lifts him up onto his shoulders as Sullivan pulls himself up onto the apron, sees Stone lifting Engel up and hi jumps the ropes and leaps forward, hitting a springboard shin kick on Engel. Stone uses the momentum of the kick to jackknife Engel forward and he rolls over Engel for the 1-2-3!

Winners: Viktor Stone and Hunter Sullivan.

Backstage, President Robinson is sitting in his office when Scottie Snow comes in.

Scottie Snow: Rob, did you see what happened to Showtime?

President Robinson: Did I see? Yeah, I think I saw.

Scottie Snow: Well, do you think he'll be ready for London's Burning?

President Robinson: Ready for... Scottie? Are you serious?

Scottie Snow: What do you mean?

President Robinson: Scottie, this was a gift that got handed to you. Showtime took a serious beating days away from a title defense. A title defense against YOU!

Scottie Snow: Yeah, funny how that worked out.

President Robinson: Funny, yeah. Anyway, you know I take care of my clients. I may be the President now, but I'm also your manager. And as your manager, I insist you take advantage of this gift from above!

The arena lights dim, as noise starts erupting over the p.a. . A voice booms through the arena.

"Why don't you ask me what its like to feel like a freak?"

At that the front entrance erupts in pyro's and fire as Scott Nash Strader and his sister/manager Vanessa Strader step out from behind the curtain.

~ Hey, do ya love me. I'm untouchable darkness
A dirty black river to get you through this
Hey, do ya love me I'm a devil machine
Get into my world all american dream ~

Strader looks around as the crowd starts pumping to the rhythm of the music.

~ In the mouth of madness
down in the darkness
no more tomorrow
down in the hollow ~

SNS begins his descent down to the ring, slapping a few of the fans hands on the way. Vanessa Strader follows Scott closely behind.

~ In the mouth of madness
down in the darkness
no more tomorrow
down in the hollow ~

Strader pulls himself up into the ring and runs over the to right corner turnbuckle and leaps up pumping his fist in the air as Vanessa stands behind him.

~ i'm demon speeding
i'm demon speeding
i'm demon speeding
i'm demon speeding ~

Strader jumps down

Rayne: How could he not know that Viktor Stone had the title shot now?

Bennett: He was laid up, recooperating. You just heard Robinson made no plan to actually tell him he didn't have the ppv spot.

Vanessa grabs the microphone from Emerson and hands it over to microphone.

SNS: You know, when I got hurt by Engel, the PWA offices told me they would keep me updated on what was going on. But while I was away, a power shift happened. So of course, I wasn't informed about the last Chaos; just shipped the list of Champions. That's not very professional.

Vanessa motions for the microphone.

Vanessa: That's right Scott. That's not professional at all. Of course, what would you expect of a AOWF affiliate.

The crowd gives somewhat a mixed emotion.

Vanessa: Kind of makes you wonder if the site hacker has a point.

Vanessa hands the microphone back over to Scott.

SNS: President Robinson was able to correct his error, by telling me I can have my shot whenever. I've made my decision, and I'm claiming my shot at the world title!

Rayne: Wonder when and where it is...

Bennett: Where he can hurt Virus.

Vanessa: Ladies and gentlemen, coming up, on October 17, Scott Nash Strader will enter the main event against challenger Viktor Stone and PWA champion Matthew Engel!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd erupts in cheers, as Strader stands in the ring smiling ear to ear. He takes the microphone back from Vanessa. Scott walks over to the ropes facing the stage and stares at it like he's looking at someone.

SNS: Engel. I know you're back there somewhere. Heed this warning. I'm coming. Viktor Stone isn't your only problem now. London will burn bright, sunshine.

Demon Speeding starts up again and the Strader duo head to the back as the credits roll.