[Fade…To…]

[Darkness...]

H...
W...
F...

It's judgment day.

[BOOOOOM!!]

[‘Crazy Train’ by Ozzy blasts off, and the fans in Seoul go nuts for Saturday Suicide...]

Tim: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to SATURDAY SUICIDE!!!

[The fans scream, and various signs are visible...]

Tim: I’m Tim Miller--

Jeff: And I'm Jeff “Some call me a prick, some call me an asshole, but I'm taller than every single man in Seoul"

[Crowd gives Jeff a mixed reaction.]

Jeff: ...Robinson!

Tim: You know not every Asian person is short, right?

Jeff: Oh Tim, that's just an old wives tale...

[Then the lights? Yeah...they go out right about now, as the crowd goes into hush. They know whats coming, the match that just played out, and they know by looking at their official HWF Program that the time has arrived for the final match of the card. The lights stay out, as two familiar spot lights in the rafters light up the ring, and than slowly move up to the entrance ramp...as a mans hand appears on the big screen...he's slowly playing a guitar, the first few lyrics of "Metallica's No Leaf Clover"...the fans begin to cheer as the slow part of the song fades into the heavier part, and with a quick striking motion of the guitar, fireworks EXPLODE from every which direction around the ramp. Gold, white, blue, red, the fans close enough are forced to look away as the flames, and pyro are just a little to intense for some of them to look at. Smoke begins to pour out where the wrestlers come out of, obscuring the view of anyone that might come out...finally the smoke begins to fade a bit, and you can make out a figure....a large man standing there, arms out stretched....you know, like a CROSS. Though he's been absent from recent weeks of programming, the fan's instantly know how to react. Under his mask, the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION grins. From his back pocket, Cross pulls out a microphone, and gives the crowd a mock half bow. Basking in the ...."appreciation" the fan's show him.]

Cross: Please please folks, with all this love, I'm liable to get an ego.

[Of course they play to him, this is the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION.he knows how to play a crowd. Grinning under his mask, Cross once again bows, and gives the mock "please please, this is just to much" hand motion, much like someone who would try to quiet a standing ovation.]

Cross: So indeed the King HAS returned. Lord and ruler of all that is the HWF. From that ring, to the Elite shirt that retarded kid in section 5b is wearing. Sure, I've been gone, for about two weeks. Since Lost Cause. But hell, did I not earn it? I did happen to beat out the rest of my ELITE...and that is no small feat. In fact, I'd hold that accolade in higher regard than winning King of Violence. Then, of course I beat Michael Trey, Shawn Collins, Dylan O'Riley...AND Alex Sikes..sure sure, I know you're all going "Who"...so let's just focus on the fact that out of the Elite I proved to be t.he most Elite...and considering that I just beat three of the greatest wrestlers EVER...and a handful of guys that you don't care about...well...let's do a little math.

[Cross counts off to seven on his fingers.]

Cross: Seven wrestlers. One night. That's how many people I defeated to retain my world heavyweight championship...and according to logic.that should put me at about JUNE until I should have to defend this belt again...but since that won't fly with some of the brass, I just took my two weeks of vacation...because quite frankly, there is NO ONE left for me to beat. Stephen Sharp? Done. Shawn Collins? Done. Michael Trey? Done. Dylan O'Riley? Done. Simon Tyrell? Done. Jayson Chambers? Done..Who is there left to beat? WHO is there left for me to take on? No one...NOT A DAMN PERSON LEFT IN THIS WORLD IS LEFT FOR ME TO BEAT? Roll Lance Sterling out of the dust...I'll fucking crush him. Roll out J.Simon Rykopathe and I'll embarrass him. Gavin Coens? Buck Williams? Jayson Starr? Extream? ROLL OUT YOUR LEGENDS...bring them on, and I'll show you why there has never been one better. Why there will never be a better World HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION.

[Cross pauses for a moment, looking around the crowd.]

Cross: But..

[he begins to nod his head]

Cross: But things have to change.and I just don't meant the World Title division..but the WORLD TAG title division. My first announcement tonight, as HWF's CHIEF Policy Officer..is to announce that this tag gauntlet match for the pay per view...Sucks. Just flat out, I've never seen anything so terrible in my life. I can already see us giving away free tickets to this pay per view, so once again...the King returns to make things right...and I'm officially adding Scott Anderson and the X-Symbol Jimmy Jett as the FINAL tag team to this match. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

[The fan's seem a bit annoyed by the sudden shift of his speech, but still respond with all those heart warming boos that he's come to love so much.]

Cross: But what I really want to announce...is the next number one contender for MY world heavyweight championship. Now, last week we had Drake Pearson announcing a contender to MY belt in Jon Fuller...UH-HUH...no way...Elite do NOT fight Elite. We're not just a group of wrestlers Pearson, we're a brotherhood, and that's why we CAN'T be beaten. You're pathetic attempts to destroy us from the inside out WILL NOT work. Understand that Drake? I swear to god you try and pull another move like that again, I'll have you busted down to wrestling Dreamwalker in dark matches before Fallout. Don't think I can't Pearson, don't think I won't.

[The fan's respond with boos, and Cross just rolls his eyes.]

Cross: But we DO need a number one contender...we do need someone to face at the pay per view. That's why next week on ELITE Saturday Night Suicide, we'll be having a NUMBER ONE CONTENDER's battle royal. Featuring the cream of the crop we have to offer in the HWF. The very tip TOP of talent that we can bring to you...the "loyal and loving fans". Whoever WINS this battle royal will face me, LIVE ON ELITE PAY PER VIEW at Holy Night three..

[The fan's actually respond with cheers to this announcement. ]

Cross: And with that, I will leave you all as I look forward to facing "whoever" win MIGHT win next weeks battle royal...so people enjoy tonights main event as Jon Fuller and Jimmy Jett DESTROY Michael Trey once and for all...

[And though he does seem to be in good spirits...the smile underneath his mask...the one unseen by everyone but him..would suggest that perhaps something is up with next weeks.."main event".]

[We’re outside the arena. Back entrance. Silently, snow falls to the ground. It’s a calming sight, even here in the state of Texas. As the night air passes by, and the Christmas season wraps us all within, you can’t help but notice a jet-black stretch limo roll onto the scene.]

Tim: Who’s this?

Jeff: Probably that schmuck Pearson trying to act like he actually means something around here.

[As the limo creeps to a stop, we can now see that the licence plate reads “HWF”. Suddenly, the fans in the arena erupt as the limo door swings open and a rather familiar looking man clad in an impressive business suit, exits the vehicle, closing the door behind him.]

Tim: It’s Chambers!

Jeff: Oh, for fuck’s sake…

[The fans begin chanting his name as Jayson smiles, looking toward the arena and walking to the rear entrance. He reaches out with his hand on the door handle, taking a deep breath.]

Chambers: Here we go again…

[Swinging the door open to an empty hallway, Chambers steps inside and removes his trade mark baby blue glasses. It isn’t until now that we realize he still walks with a very bad limp – primarily from his past knee injuries and the attack he received from Cross in what could have been Chambers’ last match…]

Chambers: Home sweet home… or something like that…

[We fade to ringside.]

Tim: This is truly a special moment for the HWF! After losing the World Title to Cross and being jumped and thrown around like a rag doll by the so-called World Champion, we never knew if we’d see Jayson Chambers again. But last week he shocked the world. Chambers may not be in the ring ever again, but you can rest assured, his presence WILL be felt!

Jeff: Will you shut up about this kid already?

Tim: Jeff, whether you like it or not, this KID is one of the best competitors to EVER step into an HWF ring.

[Jaden is seen walking down one of the back corridors of the Municipal Arena. He takes a sharp turn around a corner and ends up in front of a door that holds the name plate 'Violence Fetish' upon its front. He pushes into the room only to stop dead in his tracks. The camera peers over his shoulder where we see none other than Fallout advocate Shawn Collins, sitting in a chair.]

Shawn Collins: Oh, shit. Hi!

[Shawn gets up from the chair, and wanders around the room. He picks up his bag, and peers out of the door.]

Shawn Collins: Can't be too cautious, you know? Had to hide in here for a bit. Hope you don't mind.

[Jaden cocks an eyebrow, not appearing at all impressed with someone invading his and Spanky McKay's dressing room. A thought suddenly occurs to him. He rushes over to a blue duffel bag sitting on the floor beside a set of lockers and opens it in a rather quick manner to reveal the HWF tag team title belts. Calmer now, Jaden looks back at Collins and speaks in a very dry tone.]

Jaden Pierce: What do you want?

Shawn Collins: Just hiding out. Suicide's become a rather hostile show to hang around, if you haven't noticed.

[Jaden nods, a grin spreading over his face.]

Jaden Pierce: I'd like to think that I somehow have added to that atmosphere of hostility. But really, there must be a better reason.

[Jaden takes a step towards Collins now.]

Shawn Collins: Speaking of which... good job with that. Glad to see that the Elite are getting a run for their money. It's always good to know that some of the guys on this show aren't afraid to step up to the plate when it comes to them.

[Shawn extends his hand.]

Jaden Pierce: Right. Thanks, I think.

[Jaden looks at Collins' outstretched hand and then peers around the room, half expecting an ambush of some sort. Satisfied no one is going to get the jump on him, Jaden extends his hand and shakes Shawn's.]

[Shawn looks at the tag titles in the bag.]

Shawn Collins: What's the deal with those?

Jaden Pierce: Well, isn't it customary for the tag team champions to have the tag title belts?

Shawn Collins: You seem rather protective, mate. I'm not going to take them from you! But, are you going to take Pearson's advice, or what?

[Jaden gives a slight shrug.]

Jaden Pierce: I really don't know what I'm going to do. Spanky wants to keep them, he says fuck Pearson and this board policy crap. But at the same time I know how much it would anger Scott Anderson to have our reign legitimized.

[Collins smiles.]

Shawn Collins: I'm sure Anderson would love it. Say, you haven't given him a birthday present yet, have you? You should probably think about that. As for me, I've got some errands to run. Keep up the good work.

[Jaden nods slightly, another smile appearing on his face.]

Jaden Pierce: Thanks Collins... But don't go getting beat up now.

[Shawn furrows his brow, and rolls his eyes.]

Shawn Collins: Ta!

[Takes a look outside, and runs into the hallway.]

Jaden Pierce: Ta?

[He shakes his head and turns to close the door, just as Spanky McKay pushes through it and into the room, holding a couple bottles of water.]

Spanky McKay: Was that Shawn Collins I just saw running out of here?

[Jaden nods.]

Jaden Pierce: Yes it was. And we need to chat.

[The scene fades out.]

[We cut back to ringside, where Cean Glace and Gaston Cyrano are already in the squared circle, jaw-jacking to the fans whilst 'Earache' by Headshot fades out.]

Tim: Team Varia are already waiting in the ring, hot off a big win over All Girlz last weekend.

Jeff: Big win, schmig win. They still got their asses handed to them by Violence Fetish afterwards!

['I Just Want You' The familiar chords of Ozzy swallow the arena as the darkness falls. The words 'Nobody's Unbeatable' fall onto the HWF-Tron as Triston steps through the curtains along with Void. The duo, known as the New Era, make their way to the ring slowly and slide under the bottom rope. Once inside the squared circle, Triston goes to each side and raises his arm whilst Void steps up onto the second turnbuckle and signals to the cheering fans...]

Tim: I'm surprised to see Triston in the ring... It's the first time he's actually stuck around for a match in weeks.

Jeff: Although he doesn't look entirely happy about it.

[Suddenly, Team Varia rush their opponents and catch them off guard with some big time blows to the back. They back them against the ropes and then simultaneously whip them off into the ropes opposite, bending over in preparation for a couple of back body drops! However, both Adams and Void stop just short, with Triston kicking Cean Glace upright and then hammering away with a barrage of rights before clotheslining him over the top rope and quickly following! Meanwhile, Void stops in front of Gaston Cyrano with arms folded, before eventually, Gaston lifts his head to see where his opponent got to, only to be drilled with a bicycle kick straight to the jaw!]

Jeff: Hah! Void played Cyrano just like a pianist plays a piano!

Tim: Not quite how I would have put it, but you're right there...

[Void wastes little time in nailing Gaston with some boots to the back of the head, before dragging him up and into the corner and continuing the assault with some big time elbows. He then whips Gaston off into the corner opposite and charges after him, only to have Cyrano hit the corner and spring forwards from it, using the momentum to nail Void with an almighty clothesline!]

Tim: Good Lord! What a shot!

[Meanwhile, on the outside, Triston Adams has been pummelling Cean Glace, before then attempting to whip him into the steel stairs. However, Glace reverses, sending his opponent into them hard, before he quickly hops back up onto the apron and calls for the tag. Gaston does just that, before lifting Void up and delivering a backbreaker, before holding Void on his knee whilst Cean climbs to the top rope. He then flips off backwards, coming down with a HUGE moonsault on top of Void which sends him tumbling off of Cyrano's knee!]

Jeff: That was a pretty nice move! These Team Varia guy's aren't half bad given the right opportunity...

Tim: They are capable of being deadly when focused.

[Gaston exits the ring, as Cean begins to choke his opponent with his boot, using the ropes for extra leverage, only to have referee Harry Sullivan stop him. He tries to give Glace a warning, but the Team Varia member is too busy dragging Void back upright and into the corner, nailing him with several shoulder tackles to the mid-section. He then pushes Void down into the depths of the corner, kicking at him to make sure he stays there, before heading towards the opposite side of the ring and signalling towards the fans... They boo in response as Cean charges across the ring and leaps at his opponent in search of a bronco buster! However, Void reaches out and grabs him with both hands around the throat!]

Tim: Glace looking to cause a little embarrassment there, but it seems to have backfired!

Jeff: I can't believe he went for a bronco buster? The last time I saw one of those was a good couple of years ago, when...

Tim: Stop right there Jeff... I don't think our World Champion would appreciate you bringing that up, and you're not exactly in his good books already.

[Void stands back upright and then lifts Cean Glace up into the air, still choking the life out of his smaller opponent, before then powerbombing him into the canvas. He then makes the tag to Triston Adams, who has just returned to the apron, before Triston launches himself over the top rope and catches Glace with a leg drop, before then making the cover...]

[One...]

[Two...]

[Kick out!!!]

Tim: Close count there, but Team Varia are still in this one...

Jeff: Yeah, but they need to do something if they're gonna win, and fast!

[Triston drags his opponent back upright and forces him against the ropes with some more punches, before then attempting to whip him off into the ropes opposite. However, Cean somehow reverses, causing Adams to collide with Gaston Cyrano's out-stretched knee, before he walks forwards and is wiped out with the Espionage Savat kick! Glace makes the tag, and the duo then stomp away at Triston with all they had. Gaston then pulls him into standing head scissors position, before they flip Adams into the air and slam him hard into the canvas with a Double Powerbomb!]

Tim: Gaston making the cover now... One... Two... Thr---NO! Triston Adams somehow kicks out!

Jeff: Dumbass should just give up now...

[Sullivan forces Glace out of the ring, as Cyrano grabs Triston by the hair and drags him upright. He immediately hooks his opponent up and then lifts him into the air, looking to deliver a hanging vertical suplex! However, Adams wriggles free and lands behind Gaston, clubbing at his back with some forearm shots before lifting him up and hitting a back drop! He then rolls over towards his corner and makes the tag to Void once again, before Void lifts Gaston up into an elevated bear hug position, whilst Triston Adams then goes to bounce off the ropes behind him. However, Cean Glace has dropped off the apron and moved around the ring. He grabs Triston by the boot, tripping him up and dragging him out of the squared circle before then taking him down and out with a Requiem of Spirit (Crucifix powerbomb) straight onto the unforgiving floor!!]

Tim: Triston Adams has just been broken in half!!!

Jeff: And how!

[Meanwhile, back in the ring, Gaston begins to battle out of the bear hug with some shots to Void's head, before he eventually breaks free and then lands in front of his opponent. Cean Glace slides back into the squared circle and grabs Void's head from behind, driving him straight into the canvas with reverse DDT! Gaston follows up with a falling head butt, before Team Varia signal for the end, dragging Void back to his feet and whipping him off into the ropes. They wait for the big man to come back before lifting him into the air and then sending him crashing down into the canvas with a devastating Double Spinebuster! Cyrano drops down and makes the count, whilst Cean checks that Triston Adams won't be breaking the count...]

[One...]

[Two...]

[Three!!!]

[DING DING DING!!]

Tim: And Team Varia win it, using that double spinebuster once again!

Jeff: They sure d... Hey! It's the All Girlz!!!

[Sure enough, Amber Benson and Salene Scott charge down the ramp and slide into the ring, immediately attacking Team Varia whilst they celebrate!]

Tim: This must be in revenge for their defeat last week!

Jeff: Who cares?

[The All Girlz quickly take the advantage over the worn out Team Varia, knocking Gaston Cyrano out of the ring before setting Cean Glace up for a double team manoeuvre. However, Syphon and Dimitri then hop over the safety barrier and slide into the ring, looking to regain some momentum after their decimation at the hands of Violence Fetish on Wednesday Fallout!]

Tim: This is carnage!

Jeff: More like a-

[They wipe out Amber Benson with a double clothesline, before turning their attentions towards Salene Scott. Dimitri fires away with a series of European uppercuts, before then taking her down with a snapmare. Syphon runs and jumps onto the second rope, using it to springboard back and nail Salene Scott with a beautiful dropkick! However, from out of no-where, Team Varia re-enter the ring armed with steel chairs! Cean Glace cracks his chair over Syphon's head, dropping him in an instant, whilst Gaston drives his rim-first into Dimitri's gut. Cyrano drops the chair and then nails Dimitri with a DDT straight onto it!]

Tim: Team Varia gaining some revenge for the vicious attack on their manager, Mr. Aran last week!

Jeff: Revenge is supposed to be a dish best served cold, and it doesn't get colder than a winter's night in Texas!

[All Girlz, Triston and Void are literally out cold at ringisde as Gaston and Cean quickly escape from the ring and awkwardly run up the entrance ramp.  The crowd boos as they reach the top.  The boos augment as Mr. Aran makes presence on the ramp.  He anxiously raises a mic to his mouth.]

Mr. Aran:  Oi, listen up Syphon and Dmitri!  Ive got something to tell you.  I want everyone in this building to know that after experiencing your finishing move at last weeks Suicide, it is not as effective as it looks.  Yeah, I may have been resting at home for a few days, but that's because Im a manager not fit to wrestle, and a manager who has never been provoked the way you two provoked me last week! 

[More boos from the crowd as Syphon and Dmitri stand innocently in the ring.]

Mr. Aran:  Yeah that's right, Team Varia aren't afraid of you really, and knowone has a reason to be.  Your finisher is a great piece of eye candy, and Team Varia congratulate you for your success in deceiving the crowd with this spectacle of a move.  But a spectacle is all it is.  When you hit it on an opponent it is as blunt as anything.  I know I shouldn't be offering advice to a rival tag team but I think you should question yourselves over whether you want a piece of eye candy, or whether you want an act of power that threatens the life of your opponents.

[Syphon and Dmitri enrage in the ring, having to listen to the pathetic lies coming from Mr. Aran.  Syphon whispers in Dmitris ear and they both smirk,  Dmitri walks to the outside of the ring and collects a steel chair from near the announcers table.  He also grabs a mic.]

Jeff:  Well, ladies and gentleman, both myself and Tim are absolutely astonished that Syphon and Dmitri would degrade to a team that relies on weapons to take care of a situation!  Its just not right!

Tim:  You better shut your mouth Jeff!  I did not agree with you at all.  Where did you get that from?  Whether they use weapons or not, Syphon and Dmitri are a very impressive tagteam.

Jeff:  Yeah Tim, visually impressive.  Its all eye-candy.  Can you believe it, Mr. Aran has rightfully informed us that S and D are not a threat after all.  Its just an illusion! 

[Whilst Dmitri is collecting the steel chair, Syphon drags the lifeless Void over to the turnbuckle.  Team Varia question Mr. Aran over whats going on whilst standing on the entrance ramp.  Syphon sets Void up on the turnbuckle, and then climbs onto the apron, quickly turning around to signal to Dmitri who then places the steel chair on the floor.  Dmitri then lifts up the mic.]

Dmitri:  Mr. Aran you've talked you trash, so allow my tag partner  Syphon to provide you with an example of a typical groundbreaking stunt.  One of many that we enjoy executing.  The type of stunts we enjoy using on pathetic and annoying tag teams like yours Mr. Aran!

[Mr. Aran narrows his eyes as Syphon sticks his finger up at him from the top rope.  Then, Syphon jumps up, springboards off the rope sideways, hooks Void and hurricanrannas him, making Void collide with the steel chair on impact.  Mr. Aran furies on the entrance ramp and looks disconcertingly at his team.  Void lies lifeless in the ring. Cean shakes his head and he and Gaston exhaustadly walk backstage, leaving Mr. Aran standing with his eyes fixed on the ring ,breathing heavily.]

Tim:  Oh my, what could possible be on the mind of Mr. Aran now.  You can see it in his eyes.  A man that's wanted victory, and wanted dominence.  But right now, on his path to the tag team titles  he has something he didn't think he'd ever have!  And that's a rival.  An equally enthralling tagteam that are also after the tag team titles at Holy Night.   Syphon and Dmitri have literally come from nowhere, yet they are impressing. Mr. Aran knows it, and he's not liking it one bit.

Jeff:  …

[Commercial.]

[Backstage. Jimmy Jett lounges on a big black crate, probably for storing cables or midgets or something. Jett has a small dish of nachos in hand and next to him stands Jason Roberts, a microphone in his hand. Roberts pauses for a few seconds, looking out of the corner of his eyes as Jimmy casually finishes another nacho.]

Jimmy: Hey, you got the thumbs up and the red light on. That means talk.

[Roberts nervously laughs before turning more serious and beginning the interview.]

Roberts: Jimmy, last week you pulled off what many have called an upset victory over Michael Trey in a flaming tables match.

Jimmy: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, Roberts, riddle me this. How many former World Champions do I have to beat before it's not an upset anymore?

Roberts: Err. Anyway, this week you're going up against Michael Trey again, however, this time you have a partner in Jon Fuller.

[Jimmy finishes another nacho before continuing.]

Jimmy: Yeah, two against one, ya gotta love that, don't ya? You see, tonight's the night we put Trey back in retirement. This last run started out fun. I mean, the Lights Out moonsault one more time was good for a few shits and giggles, but it's gotten kinda stale. How many wins has he had since he returned?

Roberts: Well he did survive six opponents at Lost Cause including a pinfall.

Jimmy: That's not a win, moron. Cross put his ass through a flaming table. Just like I did last week. You see, Trey has done nothing more than tarnish his legacy since his return. Oh, and I use the term legacy loosely. Someone needs to remind him that it's time to pack his bags and go back to doing whatever the hell he was doing when he wasn't in our business.

Roberts: Someone?

Jimmy: Yeah by someone I mean, Jon Fuller and myself.

Roberts: Hmm. and where exactly is Jon Fuller right now?

[Jimmy looks up at Roberts and shakes his head a little in disbelief. Jimmy then casually eats another nacho before he continues.]

Jimmy: Don't even go there Roberts. Fuller is where he is and he's doing what he's doing. There's really no point in trying to put some rift between the two of us, we're tighter than a twelve year old's cunt. Oops, sorry. Forgot we're in Texas. Make that eight year old's cunt.

[Loud boos are heard as Jimmy finishes off the last nacho. Just then, a man approaches, carrying a six-pack of Zima.]

Jimmy: Mmm. just what I needed.

[Jimmy looks down at the pack and notices one of the bottles is empty, a rose sticking out. Jimmy picks up the bottle and looks at it for a second, his eyes catching something in the cardboard package. He reaches down and picks up a piece of paper, which had been curled around the outside of the bottle. Jimmy looks at it a second, a serious look on his face. Finally, he begins laughing a little. Jimmy turns over and glares at Jason Roberts who was trying to read the note as well.]

Jimmy: Fuck on outta here, Roberts.

[Roberts disappears as Jimmy leaves out an almost silent "damn" before digging into his pocket and sliding out a cell phone.]

[The scene is dark. We see a little green light comes on somewhere in the darkness. It rises and falls, rises again and we hear something.]

Voice: You there? Hey, you there?

[Another green light comes in from the left side of the screen, and the two lights seem to bump into each other.]

Voice 2: You ass, we're in the same room.

[The lights come on, and we see Shawn Collins on the left with Sean Sterling on the right both holding walkie talkies. Shawn wipes his forehead, and Sean wiggles his walkie talkie around.]

Sean Sterling: I don't think this fucking thing works.

Shawn Collins: What? I just got new batteries today!

Sean Sterling: Were they Energizer?

Shawn Collins: Duracell.

Sean Sterling: No wonder the fucking thing isn't fucking working... You have to go with the Energizer. It has the bunny.

[Shawn breathes hard, almost like a soldier from all those overly melodramatic war films. Sean's too busy beating the walkie talkie to bother with dramatic effects.]

Shawn Collins: So, what'd you get Scotty baby for his birthday?

Sean Sterling: Nothing special. I baked him a little cake with a special ingredient dropped in for flavor. How about you?

Shawn Collins: Put Buckley's in his Thermos.

Sean Sterling: It tastes awful. And it works.

Shawn Collins: Yeah, man. I was really worried about him actually. He seemed to have a little cough going on. Hopefully, this'll all work out. He'll be thanking me tomorrow! You watch and see!

Sean Sterling: Well, the flu is going around right now. Poor Scotty might not have gotten his injection. I mean, God forbid him getting sick. What would we do without him?

Shawn Collins: Well, we definitely wouldn't be having this much fun, now would we?

Sean Sterling: Abso-fucking-lutley.

[As the two snicker to themselves, the sound of a door cracking open from off camera is heard. All at once, Sean, Shawn, and the Camera direct their attention to the doorway... only to see Void standing there with his head tilted to the side.]

Void: Hey, what are you two doing here?!

Sean Sterling: Voidy! Hows life been treatin' you, fuckhea-- erm... buddy?

Void: You guys shouldn't be here. Should you?

Shawn Collins: Take it easy, mate. We're just planning a little surprise for your boss, Mr. Anderson, that's all! In fact...

[Shawn looks at Sean. They both nod.]

Shawn Collins: ...we wanted you to be a part of it! It IS his birthday after all. Right, Sean?

Sean Sterling: Exactly! And whats better than a nice surprise for Mr. Anderson? Nothing!

Void: Well, I guess... what did you have in mind?

Shawn Collins: Well, step right this way sir and we'll tell you exactly what we have in store for Scotty...

Sean Sterling: And turn off the fucking camera, would you?

[We cut to the ring where StreeX and Devin Dash are already waiting for their match to start.]

Jeff: Wow! I didn't even notice these two were there already.

Tim: The mysteries of the HWF.

Jeff: Are you patronizing me?

Tim: Not purposely.

Jeff: Good, because I don't have any lewd comments about your mom ready at the moment.

[The referee signals for the bell and things are immediately under way. Both men move to the center of the ring and begin exchanging punches. StreeX immediately gains the upper hand, Irish whipping Dash into the near corner and following in with a huge splash. StreeX backs off as Dash stumbles out. StreeX nails Dash with a standing drop kick which takes him up and over the top rope.]

Tim: And it's all StreeX here in the early goings.

Jeff: How do you do that?

Tim: Do what?

Jeff: The 'Streex' thing.

Tim: The StreeX thing?

Jeff: You did it again!

[StreeX moves to the outside now, despite protests from the referee. He moves to grab Dash, but is surprised by a quick sucker punch. Dash then grabs StreeX by the head and bounces his face off of the canvass. StreeX takes a few steps backwards, grabbing his nose, and is clotheslined by Dash. He goes down to the floor on the outside. However, by now inside the ring, the referee has reached a count of EIGHT! Dash quickly rolls in to break the count and then back out once more. When he rolls back out StreeX is right on him, nailing a forearm blow to the head and then dropping Dash to the outside with a sharp DDT. StreeX collects Dash and rolls him back in under the bottom rope. StreeX goes for the cover.]

[ONE! TWO!! NO!!!]

Tim: Almost! StreeX almost had it.

Jeff: S-t-r-e-e-x. Damn it! I can't do it!

[Dash gets his foot on the bottom rope just in time to break up the three count. StreeX brings Dash back up to his feet, then up and over with a vertical suplex. StreeX then drags Dash towards the corner and moves up to the second turnbuckle, seating himself on the top. He leaps off, making for an elbow, but misses as Dash moves out of the way. Sensing this is his chance to capitalize, Dash gets up and springboards off of the ropes with an elbow of his own that finds its mark. He then grabs StreeX and locks him in a boston crab.]

Jeff: Where the hell did that come from?

Tim: I'm not sure, but Devin Dash has an excellent chance of winning it here if he can get StreeX to submit!

Jeff: You did it again!

[StreeX fights back however, pulling and clawing his way towards the ropes. Slowly but surely he makes it, prompting the ref to call for a break in the hold. Dash holds on to it up until a three count, but eventually does let go. He however launches right into stomping on StreeX and backing him into a corner. With StreeX in the corner and prone, Dash continues his stomping regime. But StreeX fights back, pulling himself up the ropes and to a level playing field once more. He then shoves Dash backwards and right into the referee who in turn falls to the canvass. StreeX takes this opportunity to nail a soccer kick low blow to Dash that drops him to the mat. The males in the crowd give a collective gasp as a man hating dyke screams out, "THAT'S THE STUFF!"]

Tim: Oooh, that looked painful.

Jeff: Poor little Devin. Big Devin looks like he's in a lot of pain!

[StreeX now moves in on Dash, as the referee makes his way back to his feet, and locks him up, bringing him into the air, and dropping him right on his head with a brainbuster suplex. StreeX goes for the cover.]

[ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!]

Tim: And StreeX wins this one in a fairly decisive manner, but with a little help from a low blow.

Jeff: Yes, Streex wins!. Ah damn it, I give up.

[StreeX jumps to his feet, celebrating the victory, as his music blasts out over the arena.]

[With the sound of "Happy Birthday to You" fading, the scene opens in the Elite locker room. As Anderson receives pats on the back and the fans send their usual boos, there comes a knock on the door.]

Scott Anderson: You over there...yeah you, go see who it is..

[The Average Joe office worker near the door, goes to the door and shouts...]

Office worker: Who is it?

Sean Sterling: Sean Sterling. Now open the door, fuckhead.

[Cross yells at the office worker.]

Cross: Well who is it? If you don't tell me in the next second, I'll use my power as CHIEF POLICY ENFORCER to dock your pay...

[The office worker looks intimidated.]

Office Worker: uh...uh...its...uh...some...uh...du...du...dude...named Sea...Sean...Sterling.

[Cross and Anderson look at each other with a puzzled look...]

Cross and Scott Anderson: Sterling?!

Scott Anderson: What could he want?

Cross: I don't know, let him in...

[With that said, the office worker opens the door.]

[Sean stands at the doorway, smirking that oh-so-'wonderful' smirk of his. In his hands, he holds a nicely decorated cake with 'Happy Birthday, Scotty!' iced in cursive on the top.]

Sean Sterling: Hello, hello, hello! How is everyone on this fine evening?

[Scott Anderson looks at Sean Sterling.]

Scott Anderson (in a cautious voice): We are doing just fine Mister Sterling. And what brings you to our small party?

Sean Sterling: Firstly, let's cut the formal shit. Shall we? I'm Sean. You're Scott. No misters. Now that that's out of the way...

[Sean held out the cake.]

Sean Sterling: A gift. Nothing special.

Scott Anderson (in a cautious voice): How nice of you. Johnny would you mind....

[Johnny Thunder takes the cake from Sean Sterling and takes it to a table. He takes the knife there and cuts the cake into pieces for people to eat. Thunder then starts putting pieces of the cake in the plates and starts serving them out. It's not long before the entire room full of guests has a piece of the cake. Before Anderson takes a bite...]

Scott Anderson: This is not poisoned or anything?

Sean Sterling: I would never. Poisons not my style. If I wanted to kill you, I'd sneak up on you with a knife and stab you in the back of the head. Poison? Bah.

[Sarcasm, or so one would hope. Scott looks to Sean, still cautious, before dropping the fork down toward the piece of cake...]

Scott Anderson: Okay everyone lets see if Sean Can Cook...

[With that said, everyone in the room begins to eat their piece of cake.]

Scott Anderson (chewing): Hmm...not bad. Kind of taste tangy. Is it some wango tango cake or something?

Sean Sterling: Oh no. It's a family recipe. I call it... Pisse pour Vous.

[Scott Anderson immediately getting the punchline quickly spits out the piece of cake in his mouth and drops the plate onto the floor. As does the rest of the Elite...]

Scott Anderson: UGHHHH...someone quickly get my thermos of lemonade...

[Anderson scrambles around the room looking for his thermos to rinse his mouth. He finally finds it sitting on the coffee table and grabs it. He opens it up and quickly fills his mouth with his lemonade. But Anderson quickly spits that out of his mouth too....as Collins spiked it earlier with Buckley's without Anderson's knowledge.]

Scott Anderson: ARGGGGHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!?! WHO FUCKED WITH MY THERMOS?!

[Meanwhile Sterling hands a note to Cross.  Cross takes it and reads it outloud...]

Cross:  Dear Cross...It is the order of the board of directors that you put the HWF Title on the line against Shawn Collins next week on Suicide or face stiff penalties...Have a nice day, Drake Pearson...

[Cross crumples the paper and tosses it on the floor.  During the chaos, Sean simply sneaks out chuckling under his breath. Things begin to settle down as Anderson practically almost vomits due to the Buckley's in his Thermos. 'It tastes awful. But it works.' Words to live by.]

Johnny Thunder: Boss...? You okay...?

[We open in the backstage area to a shot of Dynamite Newton walking down the hallway. He still looks a little bruised from the beaten he got from StreeX and his goons last week. Suddenly from out of nowhere StreeX stands in front of Newton.]

Jeff: That is a little un-character like for StreeX. He doesn't normally stand toe to toe with Newton.

[StreeX just stares at Newton. Newton looks around trying to find the Career Killaz hanging out somewhere. When he turns back StreeX bitch slaps Newton and turns and runs.]

Dynamite: You aren't getting away easily this time.

[With that said Newton chases down the hallway after StreeX. Half way down both Career Killaz step out and Newton runs into them. Surprisingly Newton runs into them and they hit the floor. Newton stops and delivers a kick to each of them. He then goes after StreeX again. Running out into the car park we see StreeX speeding away in a pick up truck.]

Dynamite Newton: FUCK!

[Newton runs over to the nearest car and smashes the window. He jumps in and out of the view of the camera's he starts it up and takes off after StreeX.]

Tim: Newton has a match against Johnny Thunder soon. He can't leave the arena

Jeff: Oh pipe down. Thunder would of tore him apart anyway..

[Backstage, Michael Trey and Chris Davison stand, leaning against a wall.]

Davison: So... you're just going to take on the entire Elite, hunh?

Trey: Very funny. It's not like there's much I can do right now, Chris. Anderson nailed me with that whole no-title-shot clause Sharp had... as interesting as it may be to see the Elite in-fighting for the World Title, I really wanted that shot. And now I'll have to wait... who knows if I'll ever get it.

Davison: And so you're taking on two guys at once why?

Trey: It's not as though I WANTED the handicap match.

[Davison just sort of smirks. Trey pauses and nods his head in concession.]

Trey: Okay, I sort of wanted a handicap match, but I'm just saying that Anderson's going to do just about anything to shut down this resistance. If it means spending two Elite to take me down, then he'll do it.

Davison: If I remember right, that won't be quite enough to take you down.

Trey: "If you remember right..." If you remember right, I can kick your ass too.

[Davison just shakes his head, smiling. A tech comes down the hallway and sticks his head out from behind a corner.]

Tech: Mr. Trey, Mr. Anderson would like to see you.

[Trey turns to Davison and pats him on the back.]

Trey: Duty calls. I'll catch you later.

[The houselights dim as White Zombie's 'Thunderkiss 65' begins to blare ever so loudly from the arena's PA system. Instantly the lights turn on and begin to flicker in a strobe light like fashion as Thunder makes his way from the back trough the curtains. At the very same time the HWF-Tron also comes to life and begins to flash highlights from various Johnny Thunder matches from the HWF of old. Once Thunder makes his presence felt to the crowd with both arms raised in the air, he begins to make his way down the aisle and into the ring ignoring the entire crowd and their overbearing response to his presence at the very same time. Once inside the ring, he signals for his music to be cut with the ever popular slash across the throat gesture. As the music finally dies down, Thunder leans both arms onto the top rope and stares at the entrance way eagerly awaiting his opponent.]

Tim: Well, here’s Johnny Thunder but I don’t think we’ll be seeing his opponent Chris Newton... Not after what happened earlier between him and StreeX.

Jeff: So what’s Rolston waiting for? Award JT the victory already!

[Apparently, Thunder has the same idea and demands that Nigel Rolston announces him as the winner. Rolston lifts the mic, about to do just that when all of a sudden, ‘Zero’ by the Smashing Pumpkins begins to play over the PA! Both men look confused, as out walks the Hardcore Champion Jon Fuller, decked out in ‘Jon-Tastic’ t-shirt but missing the Hardcore Title. He arrogantly strides down the ramp, ignoring the boos along the way, climbs the steel stairs and steps through the ropes, before then walking over towards Nigel Rolston and snatching the mic away from him...]

Jon Fuller: Now, now Johnny... I can see how disappointed you are at not having an ass to kick tonight, and how you feel like you’ve just been robbed. As your good friend, I know that this wasn’t what you wanted to happen. And that’s why, I’ve just been talking to Scott Anderson and we’ve agreed that it’d be a great idea if we find you a replacement opponent!

Tim: A replacement?!?

Jeff: Shhhhhhh!

Jon Fuller: So, without further ado, let’s bring him on out here... Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a warm welcome to... Hostile Man!

[Just then, the slow riffs off Black Sabbath's 'Hostile Man' come onto the speakers and the crowd cheers loudly. You hear a low, distorted voice say..]

'I...am... Hostile Man...'

[Then there's five drum beats, followed by a hard-hitting beat that comes on faster than the normal 'IronMan'. As the music rocks the venue, Hostile Man walks out from the back looking somewhat confused. In his hand is a microphone and he wastes little time in using it...]

Hostile Man: Hold on a second Jon... I’m not scheduled to be wrestling tonight. I’ve not even had a chance to prepare or anything, so what’s the deal?

Jon Fuller: The deal is, if you refuse to face JT, I have it under the authority of Scott Anderson that next week you’ll be facing Savahanna Moore in a Bra and Panties match.

Hostile Man: I see... So this is just another example of how you Elite are screwing up this great company? Well, since I guess I have no choice in the matter, I think I’m just going to have go down to the ring and teach good ol’ JT a lesson he’ll never forget then!

[With that, the fans give a large pop as Hostile Man drops the mic and then rushes down the ramp, sliding into the ring. He charges straight towards Johnny Thunder, ducking an attempted clothesline and instead nailing Jon Fuller, knocking him through the ropes and out of the squared circle! Hostile Man then turns around and nails JT with a picturesque dropkick, before he hops back to his feet, taunting Thunder to do the same!]

Tim: It looks as if this match is most definitely on!

[However, just as Hostile Man is set to follow up, Fuller reaches into the ring and grabs him by the foot, stopping him in his tracks before raising his mic...]

Jon Fuller: Oh, and one more thing... I’m the special guest referee!

[Johnny Thunder clubs at Hostile Man’s back, taking him by surprise as Mr. Jon-Tastic releases his grip, smirking...]

Jon Fuller: Now bare with me here folks... This is my first time refereeing, so I might be prone to a few mistakes here and there...

Tim: Gimme a break... How obvious is it that Fuller and Thunder have planned this out from the beginning?

Jeff: I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about...

[He removes the ‘Jon-Tastic’ shirt to reveal referee’s attire underneath, before sliding into the ring and watching whilst Thunder backs Hostile Man into the corner and then hammers away with a volley of punches. He then grabs him by the arm and whips the HWF’s resident Super Hero off into the corner opposite, before running after him in search of a body avalanche! However, HM lifts his boot into the air, catching Thunder hard in the jaw, before then hopping up onto the second turnbuckle and quickly taking him down with a flipping neckbreaker, as the fans go wild!]

Tim: Well, at least Hostile Man isn’t going to go down without a fight...

Jeff: Geez, will you stop being so pessimistic? Fuller could turn out to be a fantastic referee!

Tim: I think there’s about as much chance as you having something constructive to say.

Jeff: Ouch man... That hurt.

[Hostile Man immediately follows up on the attack, putting the boots to Thunder before then dragging him back upright and nailing him with some stiff chops to the chest. He then whips him off the ropes and catches JT with an overhead belly to belly suplex on the return, before dropping down to make the cover. Fuller goes down with him and slowly starts counting...]

[1...]

[2...]

[Kickout!!]

Tim: That was a slow count dammit!

Jeff: Looked fine to me.

[Angered, Hostile Man shoots to his feet and begins to shout at Jon Fuller. However, the Hardcore Champion points to his referee shirt and makes sure HM knows who is in control, before suddenly, JT comes from behind and takes Hostile Man by surprise with a Russian leg sweep! Boos rise up from the *** fans, as Thunder then begins to choke his opponent with his boot, before Fuller pats him on the back, pointing to a big-chested blonde sitting in the front row. Thunder tells him to go for it, as Mr. Jon-Tastic winks back, before hopping through the ropes and walking over to her...]

Tim: Now what the hell is this?

Jeff: Hey, can you blame the man? Fuller has some mighty fine good taste if you ask me!

[Fuller leans on the safety barrier and begins to chat with the women, despite the fact that she doesn’t seem at all interested, whilst meanwhile, Johnny Thunder takes the opportunity to also exit the ring and grab a steel chair! By now, the fans are booing viciously as JT slides back into the squared circle, where Hostile Man is just about upright once more. Thunder raises the chair into the air, looking to clean his opponent’s clock, but then Hostile Man suddenly lashes out with a stiff boot to the gut, causing JT to drop the chair! He then quickly hooks the Elite member by the head, before falling backwards and driving him head-first onto the steel with an even flow DDT!! The HWF’s resident Super Hero slides the chair out of the ring and calls out to Fuller, who is completely stunned to find Hostile Man making the pin!]

Tim: Go on then... Get in and count!

[Fuller looks around at the audience baying for his blood, before reluctantly sliding back inside the ring and hesitantly making the count...]

[1...]

[2...]

Jeff: Foot on the rope! Foot on the rope!

Tim: Because Fuller just put it there, the bastard!!

Jeff: Hey! Watch the language Timbo... That’s the number one contender for the World Title you’re talking about there!

[Fuller signals to the timekeeper the two count, as Hostile Man gets back to his feet looking extremely pissed off. He grabs Fuller by the shoulder and spins him around, before shouting in his face. Fuller tries to explain that JT’s foot was on the rope, but Hostile Man doesn’t listen, instead repeatedly shoving Mr. Jon-Tastic backwards until he is backed into a corner, begging for mercy. However, from out of no-where, Johnny Thunder rolls HM up from behind in a schoolboy, before reaching his legs out backwards and placing them on the ropes for extra leverage! Fuller, fully aware of this small fact, immediately drops down and starts to count...]

[1...]

[2...]

[Thre---Kickout!!!]

Tim: I don’t believe this... Now Fuller’s counting fast!

Jeff: First he counts to slow, then he counts to fast... I think you need to lower your standards and just accept Mr. Jon-Tastic for the bang-up job he’s doing.

[Both Thunder and Fuller look shocked, and waste little time in grabbing Hostile Man and dragging him back to his feet. They then proceed to pound away at the HWF’s resident Super Hero, before whipping him off the ropes and going for a double clothesline! However, Hostile Man somehow manages to duck the shot before jumping onto the second rope and springboarding backwards to take both Elite members down with a moonsault!]

Jeff: Hey!! He can’t do that to an official!!

[With the fans going crazy, Hostile Man waits for both men to get back up, scooping Fuller up onto his shoulders and then taking him down with a Death Valley Driver!! Mr. Jon-Tastic rolls out of the ring, just as Hostile Man turns his attention to Johnny Thunder, nailing him with a barrage of martial arts kicks and chops! JT falls back against the ropes, desperately trying to block the shots, before Hostile Man then whips him off them and takes him down with a Samoan Drop on the rebound!]

Tim: Hostile Man is somehow cleaning house!

Jeff: But that dumbass just took out the referee! What chance does he have of winning now?

[With Thunder down, Hostile Man then points towards the corner before beginning to scale it. The crowd are on their feet as he slowly stands upright, measuring JT up, before then launching himself into the ring and crushing Thunder with the Anger Management (Shooting Star Press)! He stays on top, hooking the leg, just as Chuck Bullard Jr. runs out from the back, sprinting down the ramp and then instantly making the count as he slides into the ring...]

[1...]

[2...]

[Thre---KICKOUT!!!]

Tim: I don’t believe it!! How did Thunder kick out?

Jeff: He’s an Elite member! What did you expect him to do?

[Unfazed, Hostile Man then gets back to his feet and signals to the crowd for the Total Hostility, whilst Thunder staggers back upright. He turns around, just as HM swings his boot towards JT’s head, only to have him duck the shot! Surprised, Hostile Man is then caught with a boot to the gut, before Thunder quickly hooks the HWF’s resident Super Hero up, looking for the ThunderKiss! However, before he can lift Hostile Man into the air, his opponent fights back with some elbow shots, breaking free of his grip. He then swings for a clothesline, only to have JT duck the shot, before then lunging back towards his opponent and nailing him with a Superkick!]

Tim: Good Lord, what a shot!

Jeff: C’mon Thunder... You can’t let this masked freak beat you!

[Hostile Man then drops down, but instead of making the cover, places Thunder in an Ankle Lock! Thunder screams out in agony, as he desperately tries reaching out and grabbing hold of the ropes, only to be dragged back into the ring... Chuck Bullard asks him if he wants to tap, when all of a sudden, he’s nailed with an elbow drop to the back of the head...]

Tim: What the hell? Fuller is back in the ring!

Jeff: Thank God!

[Hostile Man releases his hold and goes to confront Mr. Jon-Tastic, but is immediately greeted with a kick right between the legs! Boos arise, as Fuller then pulls HM in and quickly flips him into the air, before bringing him down with the J-Bomb! He stands over his arch nemesis, seething with rage, whilst Johnny Thunder crawls on top and makes the cover. Without hesitation, Fuller drops down and makes the count...]

[1...]

[2...]

[Thre---KICKOUT AGAIN!]

Jeff: What the fuck?!?! He kicked out of the J-Bomb!

[The fans are going wild, as Thunder and Fuller stare at one another. Angrily, JT begins to put the boots to Hostile Man, whilst the Hardcore Champion jumps through the ropes and grabs the fallen chair from earlier on. He quickly slides back inside and begins to repeatedly crack the chair down against Hostile Man’s back! He then shouts at JT to drag him upright, and Thunder does just that, pinning HM’s arms behind his back as Fuller lifts the chair into the air and then brings it down hard against Hostile Man’s skull!]

Tim: Somebody needs to stop this carnage!

[Blood begins to seep through Hostile Man’s mask and drip onto the canvas, as Thunder then scoops his limp opponent up once again whilst Fuller positions the chair on the mat. JT then nails Hostile Man with the ThunderKiss straight onto the steel, before hooking the leg and making the cover. Fuller quickly drops down and makes the unnecessarily fast count...]

[1...]

[2...] 

[3!!!!]

Jeff: What a well-deserved win!

Tim: Are you kidding? This wasn’t a match. It was a massacre. At least mercifully, it’s over now...

[‘Thunderkiss 65’ plays over the PA once again as Fuller raises JT’s arm into the air and helps him celebrate, all the while staring down at the near unconscious Hostile Man with pure hatred burning in his eyes. EMT’s come out to check on the Super Hero’s condition, whilst the two Elite members exit the ring and make their way up the ramp, ignoring the loud booing as he went...]

[We cut to the backstage area as Saturday Suicide comes to a close. Walking amongst the camera crew, writers and road agents, is Jayson Chambers. Obviously not in the best of moods tonight, Chambers looks stressed – that is, until he looks forward to see none other than Elite member and HWF executive… Scott Anderson. With a smile on his face, Chambers walks towards the exit of the arena, but pauses to look towards Scott and offer a few words.]

Chambers: Yo… Scotty…

[Anderson turns slowly, looking perturbed as he glances towards Jayson.]

Chambers: Happy 30th…

[Chambers smiles and pushes the door open, leaving Scott Anderson alone with his own thoughts… the old bugger that he is.]

Nigel Rolsten:  AND THEIR OPPONENTS….