-- Live from Montreal, Quebec -- 7:00 pm Eastern Time -- The Moldson Center -- FHW proudly presents --
i feel nothing, longing for something, relax take a moment to take your clothes off show me what your made of, drugs, to sooth me
(We bust into a montage of clips from FHW's past events..We view scenes of FHW's early beginnings of President Brown walking into VP Inglis's locker room & then hearing a single gunshot fire out.. We see a scene of the legandary Devine Rights being taken off from the top of the firkntron by Archangel as he plummets into the chest of the now-dead man. We see a scene of dastardly intentions from long ago as we see the limo of one Nino Brown & his clansmen. We see scenes of gore & blood, scenes not unforgotten by the memoirs of the FHW all beldned in nicely with Staind's Suffocate...)
all alone, leave me here i'm dying, all alone, just kick me in the face, all alone, all alone & trying, all alone, i suffocate
(More clips suddenly splash upon the firkntron as fireworks begin to stream up, but not bewildering the fans.. We see quick shots of Scorpion & Brian Lash going hardcore in one of there famous Ladder matches. We see a brutal scene of Archangel & Demon falling down with a ladder right on top of Archangel himself. We see Dre taking down an old FHW jobber with a violent hurricanrana, we see Sabotage getting blown halfway across the ring from an exploding barbed wire death match.. We see Insomniac looking out toward the fans & spraying a strange green mist from his mouth...)
i'm not gifted, slightly twisted, try hard; try harder just to see if i can push you any further, drugs, to soothe me
(...Another clip opens up, this time revealing a shot of Scot Lamont hammering the Backdoor Man in the back of the head with a beer bottle in a barroom brawl.. We see the Mounty powerbomb someone over a stareway at Spring Break.. We keep going & reveal a shot of Crusader holding the world title well above his head.. We go into a shot of Flashback in a fist fight with Demon.. We clip to show Crusader standing boldly at the first Last-Man-Standing.. We continue on...)
all alone, leave me here i'm dying, all alone, just kick me in the face, all alone, all alone & trying, all alone, i suffocate
(We fade into a scene of Nicolaus McOwen taking on Archangel with Scot Lamont at his corner, that turns into Archangel raising the hand of Crusader after a well-fought victory which molds into Tremere doing a screwjob to Demon & Archangel, finally finnally finnishing with Crusader preforming the End of the Road & then a final cut of Archangel kneeled down in front of Crusaders grave... Fade to black...)
-- Forever Brain Damaged--
Peter Roberts: Folks, we're coming off of last Fridays event & GOOD GOD what a show it was! Non-stop action, non-stop adrenaline! NON-STOP ADRENALINE PUMPING ACTION! It was incredible! Alot of interesting things happened, and even more of a gurantee is for this week! God only knows what in the hell can happen in the world of the FHW, god can only tell us that it's gonna be damned FINE.
Fred Estridge: This is gonna be a hell of a show! HELL! Scot Lamont runs the place, how can it NOT?!
Peter Roberts: ...no idea, but your right about the hell of a show part! ...I mean good god, Briggs has come back & Briggs has come back with a name, he's fighting another re-arrival to Firk'n Hardcore Wrestling, a man souly known as Tempest & this one's gonna be a brutal way to kick things off! both of these men have been working there asses off lately & it'll be unique to see this one...
Fred Estridge: BAH!
Peter Roberts: ...after that Edmon Payne gets to make his in-ring debut against none other than Stu Price in what should be a very exciting matchup...
Fred Estridge: Don't use Exciting & Payne in the same sentence, it scares me more than a little.
Peter Roberts: ...After that little one, Searching for Skillz will be meeting up to face off against the European Foundation, currently formed from Lamont & O'Reilly, this one should be a dandy indeed.
Fred Estridge: If the Scot's involved, i'm there!
Peter Roberts: ...then immediatly following that one, the Insomniac gets the chance of a lifetime to prove himself as he steps up to the plate against the one, the only, the phenom.. the Fallen One, ARCHANGEL... Now this is going to be a match to be talked about, ALOT of respect & ALOT of talent on the line, it's gonna be a bloodbath...
Fred Estridge: ...or a sleeper.
Peter Roberts: ...then Demon & Flashback meet yet AGAIN in what has been a heavily fueled fire since FHW - Forever... Folks, HELL is brewing...
Fred Estridge: Not really...
Peter Roberts: ...and it's time...
Fred Estridge: fun like a biscuit.
Peter Roberts: err, wha?! IT'S TIME TO GET HARDCORE!!! ...and the firkntron is already lighting up!
Fred Estridge: ...should be interesting.
(The firkntron reveals a shot of the lamontmobile limo...)
Peter Roberts: Scot Lamont's just arrived at the arena in a long stretch tartan limo.
Fred Estridge: Yeah Lamont really travels in style.
Peter Roberts: He certainly does look at the arrogance he didn't even tip his driver.
Fred Estridge: Don't concern yourself with the little people, the boss doesn't have time for drivers.
Peter Roberts: Wait a second I think I recognise that little person. That Limo driver, it's Lee F'n' Todd.
Fred Estridge: Scotty, my god Scotty don't just sit there Peter help the boss. That limey bastards sick he could really hurt someone. And what would FHW be like without Scot.
Peter Roberts: Too late Lee just grabbed Lamont and hit him with the F*ck U. If you ask me FHW would be all together more pleasant without these two.
Fred Estridge: He's jumped back in the Limo and he's gonna run Lamont over, somebody stop this. He's about to make a tartan rug out of my God.
Peter Roberts: I just heard gun fire, I just heard gun fire, someone just got shot. Please god don't let this be fatal.
Fred Estridge: My god, O' Reiley was on the roof he shot Lee square in the collar bone, The cars careering out of control. My god he just hit the Scot get help out there now. Get help out there now.
Peter Roberts: This war has gone way too far, we had a hit and run and an attempted assassination damn it.
Fred Estridge: We've just got word that no one was seriously hurt. We'll give you an update as we get it. Both men are said to be on the way to the hospital right now.
(The firkntron fades...)
Fred Estridge: It's all fun & games until somebody blows somebody elses head clean OFF.
Peter Roberts: Good god folks, good god things are starting to get crazy here in the land of Firk'n Hardcore. It's hell I tell you. Hell 'n a half. It's half hell back to back with the heavens on the bad side of heck going on strong!
Fred Estridge: Just say no.
Peter Roberts: ...and what a stacked card we have folks, we'll bring you to the Tempest & Briggs match after this short commercial break...
Peter Roberts: ...and we're back & ready for more action... Now this should be a fantastic match, Tempest against the Lost Souls newest member, Johnathon Briggs.
Fred Esteridge: Briggs should just quit now while he's still breathing.
Peter Roberts: So you actually like Tempest?
Fred Esteridge: Not particularly, I just liked how he laid out everybody on the last Ricochet.
Peter Roberts: Errr.. Whatever.
Fred Esteridge: Well we're set for a very exciting match-up here.
Peter Roberts: That's right; Tempest gets ready to take on Johnathon Briggs.
Fred Esteridge: No, Johnathon Briggs gets set to take on Tempest. That's what it should be.
Peter Roberts: Look it really doesn't matter, because here come Tempest now.
("Wait and Bleed" plays over the PA system as flames erupt from the stage and ramp. Tempest walks out slowly & methodicly as The crowd gives him a reasonably large pop. He gingerly walks down to the ring... "Ladies & Gentlemen, the following match is schedueled for one fall... Currently making his way to ringside... Standing 6’5" and weighing in at 310 pounds…formerly Representing the Lost Souls…The former Infamous Champion... …HE…IS…TEMPEST!" ...He climbs into the ring and raises his hands high, holding his arms over his head.. Receiving an even greater ovation from the crowd....)
Fred Esteridge: That's right, right there is the man who single handedly took out Flashback and Archangel.
Peter Roberts: Single handedly?? Sure him and his trusty bell.
(Raw by Staind plays on the FHW's PA
system as the lights go out. Two pyros go off on the top of the
ramp at the same time as the FirkTron shows the name
Johnathan Briggs. The lights go back on and Johnathan Briggs
walks down to the ring. "…
and his opponent, standing at 6’3” and weighing in at
280 lbs, from
Boston, Massachusetts, representing the Lost Souls, this is his
in-ring RETURN since injury, he is JOHNATHAN BRIGGS!!!!" ...enormous obvation as he steps into the
ring... The bell rings...)
Fred Esteridge: Well here comes his opponent right now, Johnathon Briggs, he looks focused, he is ready to fight, you can see it in his eyes. he's ready to get his ass handed to him.
Peter Roberts: Fred will you just shut up! Why don't we just call the match. that's what we're paid for.
Fred Esteridge: You get paid to do this!
Peter Roberts [rolling his eyes]: And the match begins.
Fred Esteridge: Johnathon Briggs starts it off going for a quick clothesline, but Tempest ducks it and turns around and hits Briggs with a clothesline of his own knocking him down to the mat.
Peter Roberts: Tempest begins to stomp away at Johnathon Briggs, as he bounces of the ropes and lands a leg drop right on Briggs's neck. He grabs his neck in pain. Tempest picks Briggs up.
Fred Esteridge: Back breaker! Ouch those hurt.
Peter Roberts: And you would know from all your years of experience in the ring right Fred?
Fred Esteridge: Err. I wouldn't say that, but it sure does look like it hurts. You can see Johnathon Briggs writhing on the mat, reminds me of your wife last ni... look a wrestling match!
Peter Roberts: Well thanks Fred. back to the ring, Tempest is in control early in this match. He sends Briggs to the ropes, and goes for a kick to the stomach, but Briggs counters the move and hits a lariat, Tempest hits the mat hard. Johnathon goes for a quick cover.
One.
Fred Esteridge: HA! That wasn't even close! I'm telling you he's going to have to do more damage then that to put away Tempest.
Peter Roberts: They both get up, but Briggs is a little quicker, and hits a dropkick. He's brought momentum to his side, and brings Tempest to his feet. Powerbomb by Briggs!!
Fred Esteridge: He's going for another pin!
One.
Two.
Tempest kicks out, that's my boy! YOU SUCK BRIGGS!!!
Peter Roberts: Fred when you get the chance look up objective in the dictionary. Briggs measures him and goes for a leg drop. Tempest manages to roll away, and Briggs crashes to the mat. They both slowly get up. and begin trading blows. Tempest ducks and elbows Briggs in the stomach, and now a knee to Briggs' face! Finally a face buster, and Briggs goes down.
Fred Esteridge: Very good come back by Tempest there. Wait, Tempest is going to the top ropes. He jumps off the top rope; he lands a flying elbow on Johnathon Briggs. Tempest goes for the cover.
One.
Two.
Thr.
kick out! Dammit ref lets call this one the way it should be!
Peter Roberts: Tempest looks pissed. and so does Fred. He throws Briggs up and over to the outside.
Fred Esteridge: It's about time we got some action here, maybe we'll see some blood! Tempest goes up to the ropes once again. missile dropkick!
Peter Roberts: NO!! Briggs ducked and Tempest smashes one of the Spanish announcers, right in the face!
Fred Esteridge: He also managed to break the table in half when he landed.Briggs wastes no time and gorilla presses right on the concrete. LETS SEE SOME BLOOD!!
Peter Roberts: Uh Fred. I know I said objectivity, but aren't you rooting for Tempest?
Fred Esteridge: Blood is much more important than who wins. ignorant fool.
Peter Roberts: GOOD GOD!! Briggs with a piledriver into the steel steps... and Tempest's forehead is gushing blood.
Fred Esteridge: Briggs is the MAN! Finish him off!
Peter Roberts: Johnathon Briggs picks Tempest up again and is going for the Double Trouble on the outside.
Fred Esteridge: Wait! Tempest counters with a tilt-a-whirl DDT! What a move. a bloody Tempest slams Briggs into the railing.
Once!
Twice!
Three times!
BRIGGS IS BLEEDING TOO!!! What a match.
Peter Roberts: Nobody seems able to dominate this match. Tempest throws Briggs back into the ring. Using the ropes for leverage, he jumps over and lands on top of Briggs. he goes for the pin!
One.
Two.
Three.
No! Briggs barely got a shoulder up!
Fred Esteridge: A frustrated Tempest gets him up, and sits him on the turnbuckle. looks like the FLAT-LINER!!
Peter Roberts: He's behind Briggs and.
Fred Esteridge: Tempest goes for it. but what the hell?!? Briggs held on to the ropes! Tempest goes flying to the mat!
Peter Roberts: Tempest is down, and Briggs flies from the turnbuckle. with a knee drop flush on Tempest's gash.
Fred Esteridge: What a bloody mess... I love it!
Peter Roberts: Briggs is setting Tempest up for the DOUBLE TROUBLE in the center of the ring. Tempest is fighting it and barely manages to save himself with a backdrop.
Fred Esteridge: Briggs is down. and Tempest is on his knees, they both are taking a toll from this match.
Peter Roberts: They both reach their feet at the same time, they begin to trade blows repeatedly smashing each other, landing every shot in the face. Briggs ducks!
Fred Esteridge: Around goes Tempy with a 180. and whats this! Briggs grabs him and executes a German Suplex!
Peter Roberts: The ref hits the mat and starts the count
One.
Briggs can't hold his bridge! Both their shoulders are on the mat!
Two.
WHO THE HELL IS HE COUNTING FOR!!
THREE!
It's over. It's over! The ref says Briggs won
Fred Esteridge: What a travesty. wait a sec, down to the ring comes another ref. what the hell is he saying?
Peter Roberts: Both referees begin talking, while the wrestlers lay there fatigued. What's this. it seems they have reached a decision. IT'S A DRAW! Both men had their shoulders down. what a controversial call!
Fred Esteridge: You can't end a match like this! It's just not right!!
Peter Roberts: Apparently it is! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, unbelievable! Briggs withstood the raw power of TEMPEST, and we still don't know who actually won the DAMNED MATCH?! I don't think this is the last we've heard from these two! ...jesus, we have word from the hospital right now.. we're running a feed on the firkntron...
(The firkntron lights up & we see a doctor on the scene standing in front of the camera...)
Doctor: 'allo, I am 'ze doctor 'ja? ...I have looked over 'ze how do you zay, Lee F'n Todd? I have looked after 'eem & have found he was only slightly scarred, 'ze bullet side-slapped him & left a light scar on 'zee lefter armer oui? You follow? ..ok, so 'zat's it.. Now I must go eat food & dine like a millionai... Hey, what 'ze?!
(...just then we see an image of Avalanch & the crowd is going nuts.. We watch as he pulls Todd up off of the bed...)
Peter Roberts: What in the HELL IS AVALANCH DOING THERE?!
Fred Estridge: I don't know, but i bet it won't bide well with Todd! This is gonna be messy!
Peter Roberts: WAIT! NO! NO! NO! AVALANCH JUST POWERBOMBED LEE F'N TODD THROUGH THE DAMNED TABLE! THROUGH THE DAMNED TABLE! Good god folks, that is NOT right! NOT RIGHT AT ALL! GOOD GOD! Get a medic...
Fred Estridge: There in a hospital.
Peter Roberts: THANK GOD!
(the firkntron fades to black...)
Fred Estridge: hehe, that doctor had a funny accent...
Peter Roberts: Yes, yes he did & now it's time to get on with the night folks as we bring to you the next match of the evening... This epic battle between Stu Price & Payne... This one should be... err... Interesting to say the least. errr wait, the firkntron just lit up again...
(Firkntron lights up...)
Peter Roberts: And what have we got here? It looks like we're going backstage to the U.K. Crew's locker room. Sure enough, the acclaimed Firk'n Tron shows that which Peter Roberts has so perfectly described. Stu Price, notorious lackey and member of the U.K. Crew is finishing lacing up his wrestling boots when there is a faint rap on the door. He looks up, a mixed look of anxiety and confusion evident upon his face. He picks up a nearby ghetto blaster and slowly approaches the door. Another rap at the door sounds, though this one is slightly louder. Stu reaches out with one hand and quickly flips open the door, while preparing to swing the music projecting weapon with the other. His weapon begins its descent to crash unmercilessly upon the figure awaiting in the doorway, but then it stops. Within the doorway is a gorgeous and curvacious red head wearing only a kimono. Her voluptuous form fills out the skimpy purple kimono with ease.
Peter Roberts: Yes I do. I believe that you...
Frank Estridge: Holy cow! Look at her! Look at the size of watermelons! Why the hell is my name FRANK?! ...And her legs...do they go all the way up?
Peter Roberts: That's a question that only Stu might be able to tell you in a moment. She's whispering in Stu's ear...and he's smiling. Where are they going? Where's she taking him? What about his match with Edmund Paine...it's supposed to be next?!
Frank Estridge: Jealous Petey?
Peter Roberts: What me? Of course not. Why should I be jealous of Price? There are lots of available good looking girls out in the world.
Frank Estridge: I wasn't talking about being jealous of Price...I was thinking more along the lines of you being jealous of that extremely hot woman. She's going somewhere private with Price, and you're not!
Peter Roberts: Shut up Frank. As a matter of fact, I find most of Price's actions repulsive. He's a despicable human being.
Frank Estridge: Not your type is he? Oh, it looks like things are going to get juicy now.
(The red head leads Stu Price into another non descript locker room. In the middle of the room sits a cushioned four-legged table with a thick white towel laying atop of it.)
Red Head: Hi Mr. Price. Now that you've followed me here, I owe you an introduction. My name is Celina Contois. I am here to provide you with services soon to be rendered. What I need for you to do is to go undress and come back wearing only this towel...and make sure that the towel is around your waste, not your head.
Frank Estridge: Woo hoo! I can't stand Price the prick, but man-o-man...what I'd give to be in his place right now.
Peter Roberts: That was fast...Price is back already wearing nothing but the towel and a smile.
Frank Estridge: They don't call him the minute man for nothing. Business is about to pick up Petey...Price is laying on the table and getting comfortable.
Celina Contois: Okay Mr. Price. Now what I want you to do is just relax and enjoy the sensations you're about to experience.
(Celina's hands glide gracefully over Stu's bare back before they proceed to dig into the large clumps of muscle in his back. Stu lets several groans of exhileration escape his lips as Celina continues to work her magic upon his aching muscles.)
Celina Contois: Did you want me to work your glutes Mr. Price?
Stu Price: Heh, of course love. Rub me hard baby...rub me to the bone. Wait. Before you go much further, why are you here?
Celina Contois: I was hired to gove you a full body rub-down...and maybe a little extra if you're good.
Stu Price: I like the sound of that...but what's the catch? Who hired you?
Celina Contois: I'm not sure of the client's name, but he said that he was a man within this company. As for the catch, well there aren't any...though there are a couple of strings attached...but they can easily be undone.
Stu Price: Oh, what do you mean?
(Celina removes the towel covering Price's bottom (which is promptly covered with a black censor bar), fetches a bottle of rubbing oil, and uncaps it. The camera zooms in on Celina's hands as she turns the bottle over and tries to squeeze some of the contents of the bottle out. When the bottle's sides do not give, she uses both of her hands to squeeze the bottle. Several globs of thick oil empty from the bottle and land in a set of much more masculine awaiting hands. The hands clap together quickly, smearing the oil about their entire surface. The masculine hands dive in towards Price's awaiting buttocks and begin to massage each cheek vigorously. After several moments of observing the intense rubbing of Mr. Price's rear-end, the camera slides back up to refocus upon a smiling Celina, skipping the male massuer completely.)
Celina Contois: As I was saying Mr. Price. There are several strings attached to this transaction...but they're the ones keeping my kimono on. You can untie them if you like?
Stu Price: I like! I like! Aww...that feels great. You've got strong hands, darling.
(Celina moves deflty around the table and stands several feet in front Stu Price. She undoes the sash keeping her kimono together and shrugs it off, allowing it to fall to the ground(of course, the nudity is covered up by black censor bars once again). Price's jaw drops wide open as he absorbs the site before him. It isn't long though, before Stu's face screws up in confusion.)
Stu Price: If you're here...then who's rubbing my ass?
Peter Roberts: Who could it be?
Stu Price: PAINE!?!?! I'm going to rip your f***ing eyeballs out!!!
Frank Estridge: Bwahahaha! That was classic...but creepy. Remind me never to let Paine sit beside me.
Peter Roberts: And Edmund is out of that room like a flash of lightning with a naked Price in hot pursuit. No wait, Price just picked the towel up off of the floor and wrapped it around himself. He's back in pursuit of the fleeing Paine! Where do you think that this chase will end up Frank?
Frank Estridge: Knowing our luck, right in front of us.
Peter Roberts: Sure enough, here they come! Paine's bolting to the ring with Price close behind.
Frank Estridge: Hehe...behind.
Peter Roberts: Paine's in the ring and Price is entering the ring too, albeit carefully.
Frank Estridge: Yeah, he wouldn't want his towel to slip and reveal how small his penis really is.
Peter Roberts: Paine has exited the ring as fast as he entered and now he's got a mic.
Frank Estridge: Before Paine says anything, I want the world to know that Price gives new meaning to the term "small package".
Peter Roberts: Nice Frank.
Frank Estridge: I bet that's a packaged delivery you'd like to get up your male slot, eh Petey?
Peter Roberts: Paine has something to say.
Edmund Paine the II: Mr. Price! There has been a grave mistake here. I have had no intention of facing you in the squared circle tonight. That was just a ruse to get your attention. Over the last several weeks I have been trying to help you and your fellows LeeTodd and Tumbler, feel welcome in America. Unfortuantely, my attempts have been met with little success. It was made evident by your actions that you do not care highly for singing telegrams...and the cake mishap-well, that was just that. My "reliable" sources claimed that they only served the best cake in town with the finest entertainment. While the cake may have tasted good, I'm sure that it spoiled in your mouths as that beast of a man emerged from that which you were eating from. I swear, that is the last time I ever trust a Scotsman! Reliable source-Bah! I've observed all of you and I can see that nobody here respects you. You are not treated with the dignity and respect true athletes of your calibre deserve. I recognize your elite U.K. Crew as being an example of excellence. Please calm down Mr. Price. Some day, you shall look upon this evening and laugh. I meant nothing other than to make you feel relaxed and at peace. I apologize for all that has befallen you recently that has been my fault. I only want to help you. I say, let's go to the back and we'll have a discussion of what I can do to make reparations for the grief I've caused you.
Peter Roberts: Paine has dropped the mic and is leaving ringside while Price is just staring at him in what looks like a combination of disbelief and anger. How's the U.K. Crew going to take this news that they have a new ally? Do they want Paine as an ally?
Frank Estridge: Hey, with Stable Wars coming up, every man counts...and in Paine's case, chicks like him count too.
Peter Roberts: Price is finally leaving the ring and I think that we're getting ready for our next match.
Fred Estridge: Hey Petey, wanna hear something weird?
Peter Roberts: What?
Fred Estridge: I sware my name was just Frank...
Peter Roberts: that is weird.
(Suddenly, without warning, Meet the Creeper begins to play. Insomniac steps out from behind the curtain and slowly makes his way down the ramp. A huge smile graces Insomniac's normally hateful face as he approaches the ring. He stops halfway down the ramp and raises his arms above his head while blue & white pyro's flash behind him further up the ramp."Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Making his way to the ring, hailing from the City that Never sleeps... He weighs in at 220lbs, and stands 5'10" tall, he is the former Hardcore Champion, Former Tag-Team Champion and the current Lightweight Champion... He is an FHW LEGEND... HE IS THE INSOMNIAC!!!"The crowd roars in approval as Insomniac slides gracefully into the ring)
(The lights go dim and Unforgiven II begins over the PA system. The crowd jumps to their feet in anticipation. As the music reaches its climactic tones, Archangel and Gabriel push the curtain aside and step out into the arena. They stand atop the ramp momentarily and look around at the thousands of cheering fans. A video of Archangel's greatest matches and title belts plays on the Firk'n Tron as he and Gabriel slowly walk to the ring... "...and his opponent, currently making his way to the ring, the former IC Champion, the former WORLD champion, the former EVERYTHING champion, weighing in at 285lbs and standing at 6'7", from Paradise, PA, ARCHANGEL!!!" Archangel makes his way into the ring, followed closely by Gabriel. Upon entering the ring, Archangel stands on the top turnbuckle, and stands there, his head thrown back and his arms outstreached. He then jumps backwards into the ring, takes off his signature black trenchcoat and hands that to Gabriel who sits it neatly onto a chair beside Peter Roberts The fans roar loudly as the bell rings)
Peter Roberts: And we're off as Insomniac jumps the bell and delivers a vicious kick to Archangel's stomach. Arhangel looks unfazed by the smaller man's attack!
Fred Estridge: Insomniac is going to have to come up with some more inventive methods of attack to hurt the big guy.
Peter Roberts: I think he heard you Fred. Insomniac off of the ropes...he's picking up steam...and he launches himself at Archangel with a CROSS BODY BLOCK but Arhangel catches him mid air! Archangel hoists the hardcore legend up and drives him hard into the mat with a POWERSLAM!
Fred Estridge: Nice hardcore legend...Insomniac is arching his back in pain. We're thriy seconds into the match and Sleepless Beauty is hurting already.
Peter Roberts: Archangel helps Insomniac up and IRISH WHIPS him into the turnbuckle. Archangel follows him in, but Insomniac moves out of the way...Archangel stops himself too. The two men stare each other down...BITCH SLAP by Insomniac on Archangel.
Fred Estridge: Insomniac seems to have a deathwish. There are three things you don't do in FhW; number one- don't piss in my coffee; number two- don't poop in my coffee; and number three- don't bitch slap the guy that's done everything in this federation.
Peter Roberts: That's right Fred. Archangel doesn't look too happy with Insomniac...they're chest to chest jawing each other out. Look at Insomniac, he's right in there...he doesn't even seem to be intimidated!
Fred Estridge: Sleepless reminds me of a bitchy midget dog.
Peter Roberts: Insomniac shoves Archangel, but he doesn't budge. Archangel shoves Insomniac and he flops onto his back. Archangel with a quick ELBOW DROP but it doesn't connect as the smaller man quickly moves out of the way. Archangel to his feet...and he's met with a SPINNING SIDE KICK to the face!
Fred Estridge: That's more like it! Insomniac has drawn first blood and the fans are starting up in a feeding frenzy! They smell blood!
Peter Roberts: Archangel doesn't look too impressed. He touches his fingers to his nose, looks at the blood, and tastes it. He's grinning at the hardcore legend.
Fred Estridge: Maybe Archangel likes the fact that Insomniac is a "hardcore" legend...I think Archy has been surfing the porn sites a few too many times.
Peter Roberts: That may be true Fred, but there's no lust in his eye. Collar and elbow tie up...Archangel has the advantage...SIDE HEADLOCK by the big man. Insomniac is screaming in pain as he pushes Archangel into the ropes and tries to get loose. Insomniac pushes Archangel...Archangel doesn't let go and drives Insomniac's face into the mat with a BULLDOG! Archangel helps Insomniac up, locks him up from behind...
Fred Estridge: Ah, we've got a little Cocksure action going on here now...
Peter Roberts:...and sends Insomniac flying backwards with a RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX! Insomniac hit the back of his head hard on the mat and he looks dazed as he gets to his feet slowly.
Fred Estridge: Archangel is rolling as he cinches Sleepless up again from behind...this is going to be good...
Peter Roberts: Oh my God! What a devestating move that was! Archangel just launched Insomniac backwards again with another RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX...but this time, Insomniac crashed into the turnbuckle! Archangel is just standing there examining the carnage he has created.
Fred Estridge: He's not anymore. He's left the ring and he's gone to the outside. He's looking under the ring and he's got a table. He's bringing out a table!
Peter Roberts: Archangel sets up the table on the outside...but wait, if Insomniac is still inside the ring then...
Fred Estridge: Woo Hoo! The actions about to get hardcore!
Peter Roberts: Insomniac is up and he's watching Archangel as he pulls out a second table. Insomniac runs, bounces off of the far ropes, and sends himself soaring over the tops ropes with a SPINNING PLANCHA right into an oblivious Archangel!
Fred Estridge: Great move by the hardcore legend. Risking it all is what Insomniac does best.
Peter Roberts: Both men slow to their feet...Archangel tries to floor Insomniac with a killer CLOTHESLINE but the small man ducks. Quick kick to Archangel's midsection...and another...and another. Three lighting fast kicks to Archangel's stomach and he's bent over. Insomniac climbs onto the outside ring apron. He jumps onto the ropes and MOONSAULTS off of them...
Fred Estridge: Straight into the table!
Peter Roberts: Oh my God! Insomniac just missed the moonsault! Archangel wastes no time and is sets up the second table. He fishing out a third table and he's pushing it into the ring. Archangel picks up the hardcore legend's shattered body and places him onto the table. Archangel is back in the ring...I don't like the looks of this...
Fred Estridge: I do! I do!
Peter Roberts: Archangel picks up the third table and climbs up the turnbuckle. Oh my...he's up on the top turnbuckle holding onto the table...he looks kind of unbalanced up there.
Fred Estridge: It doesn't matter because what goes up must come down...and here comes Archangel.
Peter Roberts: Oh My GOD! He didn't just do that did he?
Fred Estridge: I take back all of the rotten things I've ever said about Archy . I now love him. Archangel just dove off of the turnbuckle with the table in hand and landed upon the corpse of Insomniac! All that's left is Archangel and a table-and person sandwhich that's bound to keep you up all night! This is great!
Peter Roberts: Archangel is resilient...he's back up. He sorts through the carnage and fishes Insomniac out. He picks him up by the scruff of his neck and tosses him back into the ring. Archangel follows him in and picks the unconcious form of Insomniac up again.
Fred Estridge: He's signalling for the end! He's calling for the Last Rights!
Peter Roberts: He's lifting the Insomniac up for that devestating crucifix powerb... NO! NO! He gets him up to head level & INSOMNIAC BRINGS HIM BACK DOWN TO SIZE WITH A HURRICANRANA! GOOD GOD! GOOD GOD! He escapes the clutches of the Archangel! Good god almighty! Good god almighty! Unbelievable! Insomniac now cinches Archy in for a dragon sleeper! THE SIGN OF THE BEAS... NO! NO! Archangel pushes off of him & both are up... Insomniac runs at Archangel who ducks a clothesline.. Insomniac bounces off the opposing ropes & comes back into Archangels grap who lifts him up! CRUCIFIX POWERBOMB! THE LAST RIGHTS! THE LAST RIGHTS!
one...
two...
three...
Peter Roberts: THAT'S IT! That's IT! Archangel has just bested Insomniac, but Insomniac was only inches away from pulling off an upset, unbelievable folks! Absolutly unbelievable!
Fred Estridge: BAH! 'twas boring for a pro like me to watch...
Peter Roberts: BORING!? Are you drunk?! Archangel's leaving the ringside, bloodied & bruised, Insomniac's now following... ..and who the HELL IS THAT?!
Fred Estridge: BAHAHA! It's a midgit version of Insomniac! It's gotta be the UK Crew... The midgit has a microphone! The midgit has a microphone!
Midgit Insomniac: Hey pussyfoot! Hey tiny! Hey LITTLE MAN... You want this belt...... ....bitch?!
Fred Estridge: BAHA! He said BITCH!
Peter Roberts: Insomniac does not look impressed.
Midgit Insomniac: Come 'n get it!
(The midgit runs at Insomniac, Insomniac sticks his hand out as the midgit runs into him & Insomniac holds him back by the head as the midgit throws punches wildly in every which way...)
Fred Estridge: This is classic! Baha, I love it!
(...Insomniac turns around with the midgit still swinging rapidly, which makes it impossible for him to see Tumbler driving down in a golf cart from behind, and nailing him with a golf club to the back of the forehead.. The midgit dives into the audience...)
Peter Roberts: Good god, it's indiana midgit!
Fred Estridge: No time for love docta' jones!
Peter Roberts: ...Good god... Tumbler just picked Insomniacs lightweight title off of the canvas once again & now he's driving off, leaving Insomniac half-dead on the ground... Good god. Good god. We bring you back to a commercial...
Peter Roberts: ...and we are back folks, and already something is happening again...
(The firkntron lights up to another hospital scene where Flashback is placing a video into a VCR.. He steps out of the way & we see Lee Todd with duct tape over his mouth & his hands & feet binded by ropes.. The doc is out cold as well...)
Flashback: Enjoy this little best-of video I made for you Todd...
(The camera turns to the video player where we see Todd getting thrown out of the Last Man Standing match over & over & over again...)
Peter Roberts: GOOD GOD!
Fred Estridge: I'm starting to like Flashback!
(The firkntron fades to black.)
Peter Roberts: ...we have word that Seamus O'Reilly has been taken into custody for the attempted assasination attempt on Lee Todd, he'll be back out within a day, no worries folks! The next match is about to get underway...
(One flows through the PA system as red pyro and flames erupt from the stage. "Lost Souls" flashes across the Firk'n Tron as Demon emerges from behind the curtain. The crowd gives him a huge pop as he thrusts his hands into the air as flames burst once again from the stage. "Introducing first the challenger...currently making his way towards ringside, weighing in at 280 pounds and standing a commanding 6'10".he is the master of the Demon Driver.a Lost Soul.HE IS DEMON!!" Demon walks down the ramp to the ring, eyeing the fans as they cheer about him.)
("And his opponent..." Final Destination by NiN begins to sound throughout the arena and in the center of the ring the name FLASHBACK appears in green lights. "...currently making his way to the ring from Montreal, Canada... He weighs in at 245lbs & stands 6'4" tall... He is the FHW WORLD CHAMPION...HE IS...FLASHBACK!!!" The crowd roars in approval at the mention of his name, and roars even louder as he walks from out of the back. Dressed in black and green, Flashback walks slowly down to the ring as the crowd continues cheering. He removes the belt draped across his shoulder, kisses it and then hands it to a nearby stagehand before entering the ring. He then slides into the ring as the bell rings, beginning the match.)
Peter Roberts: What a contest this is going to be. Flashback is a great champion. He's very consistent and always puts out at least a hundred and ten percent when he performs.
Fred Estridge: Can't you get away from talking about sex?
Peter Roberts: Eh...what?
Fred Estridge: I thought so...
Peter Roberts: Err...and his opponent tonight is Demon, a...
Fred Estridge: A beast of a man that drools far too much for my liking. the guy is beyond loony and still probably plays with dolls.
Peter Roberts: Heh...from what I've heard Fred, you still play with dolls too.
Fred Estridge: Hey! I don't play with dolls, I fornicate with them...and besides, me and your mom have a great relationship.
Peter Roberts: What the Hell! My mother's been dead for over three years now!
Fred Estridge: Ah, that explains why she's so stiff and cold...I thought that she was just frigid.
Peter Roberts: You take that back you sick bastard!
Fred Estridge: Heh...it's taken, it's taken...let's get to the match. It doesn't look like we've missed much.
Peter Roberts: Both men are jawing each other and are in each others face.
Fred Estridge: Well, it's more like Demon is yelling at Flash's hairline and Flash is having a domestic dispute with Demon's tit. Peter Roberts: Flashback is backing away from Demon. He runs at the ropes, bounces off and connects with a RUNNING DROPKICK...but the big monster is still standing!
Fred Estridge: Still standing?! The big lummox didn't even budge let alone stop talking to himself. Demon has finally found somebody with whom he can carry on a conversation with...unfortunately that person is in his own head!
Peter Roberts: Flashback tries again and hits Demon with a STANDING DROPKICK! It looks like Demon has taken notice of what's really going on.
Fred Estridge: Demon is looney. He's a straight out basket case...the creme de la creme of the nut bar crop.
Peter Roberts: Flashback off the ropes again, he comes back this time with a CLOTHESLINE but Demon grabs him by the arm and flings him over the top rope and onto the concrete floor! Oh my God!
Fred Estridge: Flashback landed pretty hard on his ass, but judging by the lard content stored there, he should be okay.
Peter Roberts: Demon is following Flashback out as the champ has taken to the crowd.
Fred Estridge: The champ is running like a coward and Demon is in hot pursuit.
Peter Roberts: Oh no! That poor young man...he just in the way of Demon and Demon unmercifully punched and booted him in the head! He looks to be unconcious!
Fred Estridge: Just goes to prove...don't screw with big scary guys like Demon. They'll rip your head off and eat it for breakfast.
Peter Roberts: Where's Falshback gone? We've lost sight of him in the crowd.
Fred Estridge: So has the slobbering monster. Ha! There he is! Nice shot by the chump!
Peter Roberts: Flashback just came barrelling out of the crowd wielding a steel folding and cracked Demon over the head with it! The big man is down to one knee, but he's starting to rise again!
Fred Estridge: Flash with another shot...this is getting violent! And another! Open him up Flash, open him up real good!
Peter Roberts: Flash with two more harsh chairshots to Demon's head and the big man is down on all fours.
Fred Estridge: I bet that position turns you on, doesn't it? Kind of submissive, isn't it?
Peter Roberts: Shut up Fred. There's no need to express your secret fantasies while we're on the air.
Fred Estridge: Bitch.WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Peter Roberts: Flashback just whalloped Demon with five more shots to the back and finally the Demon is down!
Fred Estridge: He's not moving Petey. I think he's dead.
Peter Roberts: Flashback has Demon up and he's towing him back towards the ring. There's that fan that was earlier beaten down by Demon! He jumps on Demon's back and starts pummeling him as Flash just sits back and watches!
Fred Estridge: Bwahahaha! Demon's getting the snott kicked out of him by a f...Oh sh*t!
Peter Roberts: My God! It's almost as if Demon just awoke from a slumber. Demon just shrugged the fan off of his back and turned on him. Demon has mounted the fan and is punching him repeatedly in the upper chest and face! Oh my GOD! The fan is covered in his own blood! He's nothing more than a bloody pulp! Somebody should get Demon off of him!
Fred Estridge: Serves him right. Folks, for those that plan on attending live shows, a word of advice for you: don't ever get in the way of a rampaging superstar.
Peter Roberts: Flashback runs at Demon who's still pounding away on the fan and SPEARS him from behind. The two tumble to the ground in a mixed up heap. Flashback is up to his feet first and is heading back towards the ring. The mad monster Demon is chasing Flahback back to the ring. Both men jump the guardrail and enter the ring, one after another.
Fred Estridge: Yeah but as Demon entered the ring, Flash started laying on the boots to his noggin'.
Peter Roberts: That's right...Flashback helps Demon up and grounds him once again with a picture perfect DDT. Flashback is up, runs at the ropes, bounces off and comes back with a LEG DROP across the back of Demon's neck. Flashback mounts the back of Demon and starts punishing him with elbow shots to the back of the head and neck!
Fred Estridge: How the Hell does he do it! Demon just sat up with Flash on his back...after more than a half dozen chairshots...and now he's up with Flash on his back. Flash is trying to get loose but Demon has his legs.
Peter Roberts: Demon runs at the turnbuckle and crashes back first into the ringpost! Flashback's back is hurt and he's down on the ground in the corner.
Fred Estridge: Demon picks the injured Flash up and traps him with a BEARHUG! Smart move by Demon. Not only is the freak applying pressure to Flash's sore back, but he's also squeezing the life out of him.
Peter Roberts: The ref is checking on Flashback...Flashback is fading...the ref counts one...two...no! Flash got his hand up in time! He's rallying! Flashback leans back as far as he can and starts punching Demon in the face. Demon shrugs the shots off and reapplies teh pressure as Flashback yells in pain! The ref is checking on him again...one...two...th...no!
Fred Estridge: Once again, Flash manages to save himself from going down in defeat to the most screwed up of the Lost Souls. Flash is leaning back again in Demon's arms...poke to eye! Bwahaha! Flash just thumbed Demon's eye and caused the big man to let him go.
Peter Roberts: Flash can't capitalize and he falls to the floor as Demon stumbles backwards blindly. Flash is getting up...Demon charges him and throws out a boot...but misses!
Fred Estridge: Flash just ducked out of the way as Demon tried to kick him...but now, Demon is caught up in the ropes!
Peter Roberts: Flashback grabs the top rope and starts jerking it up and down!
Fred Estridge: For all the ladies watching at home hoping to get a piece of Demon later...its not going to happen. Demon's slodier isn't going to be taking to the field of battle anytime soon.
Peter Roberts: Demon has been crotched royally! Flashback pulls Demon off of the ropes and tows him to the corner. Flashback jumps to the top of the turnbuckle, hooks up Demon and launches off with a TORNADO DDT!
Fred Estridge: Flash just planted Demon's face hard into the mat.
Peter Roberts: Flashback is up again and he's taking Demon with him to teh same corner...same drill...another TORNADO DDT!
Fred Estridge: Demon has been busted open finally! There's a pool of blood forming on the mat around his face! Yes...There is a God!! More blood!
Peter Roberts: Demon looks out of it...Flashback is going back up to the top turnbuckle...what's he going to do this time? WAIT! WAIT! Plague just came from over the gaurdrail, what in the HELL IS HE DOING HERE?! NO! He's just pushed Flashback off of the TOP-ROPE! He's just pushed Flashback off of the top-rope & the reff is yelling & screaming at him!
Fred Estridge: How did Flashy get from the hospital to here in time anyways?!
Peter Roberts: The magic of media, but what in the HELL is Plague doing DAMMIT?! The reff's screaming at Plague & FROM BEHIND! Tumbler just clotheslined the REFF, DONT TELL ME! NO! Tell me NOT PLAGUE! Tell me it's not TRUE! WAIT! Demon's firing in with rocketing fists towards both men! A vicious onslaught of punches sends them both falling down... but NO! Tumbler nails Demon with a low blow & Plague hiptosses him over onto his back... Tumbler then runs at Plague who grabs him in perfect sync & POWERBOMBS him on top of DEMON! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, double teaming the poor downed Demon! Flashback's staying off in his respective corner...
Fred Estridge: Things just got a little more firked up.
Peter Roberts: This is atrocious! Plague just RIPPED Demon down with the OUTBREAK! THE OUTBREAK DAMMIT! Plague is grinning from ear to ear, he smiles... and WHAT IN THE HELL?! Tumbler just ripped him a new one with a violent kick to the guy followed up with an evenly flowing DDT! YEOUCH! Tumbler hops to the top-rope & RIPS HIS SHIRT OFF! He's got that hardcore title around his waist! He's got that hardcore title around his waist dammit!
Fred Estridge: This is going to hurt.
Peter Roberts: The reff is up & calling for the bell! Flashback's going to win because of DQ! Good god folks... Tumbler's setting up for a frog splash with that bel... What in the HELL?! What in the HELL?! Insomniac just hopped on the apron & links up Tumbler from behind.. He's got him from the top-rope from the apron & NO! HOLY CHRIST 'N SHIT 'N SUCH! Insomniac just gave Tumbler A RAZORS EDGE OFF OF THE TURNBUCKLE! OFF OF THE APRON & ONTO THE STEEL STEPS! JESUS MERFY! ...WAIT! Here comes Lee Todd & Stu Price... Flashback's already taking off through the crowd, ALL HELL IS BREAKING LOOSE!
Fred Estridge: Doesn't it always?!
Peter Roberts: Avalanch, & Briggs are jetting toward ringside, and we have footage of Flashback backst... WHAT IN THE HELL?!
(We see backstage footage of Flashback putting a big lock up on Tempests locker room... We see him smile as he lights a match...)
Fred Estridge: It's time for a bonfire?!
Peter Roberts: Flashback drops the match & a line of gasoline goes right underneath the DAMNED DOOR! Smoking is seeping through the bottom of the DOOR! Smoke is seeping through the bottom of the door! GOOD GOD! GOOD GOD!! FOLKS, we're out of time! CALL A MEDIC DAMMIT! CALL A MEDIC! GOODNIGHT!
(fade.)
-- Writing Credits
Marm -- Flashback vs Demon, Insomniac vs Archangel
Flashback -- Jonathon Briggs vs Tempest
Kenny -- Slacker