The former WWA Champion returns for the rebirth, can he cap his return by winning Best of the Best?
New York, NY
Jack: Let’s kick things off here on Underground with some sin..sin…sing…
The video feed comes to a slow, as the screen locks onto an image of the WWA entranceway. We here Jack’s commentary continue to sputter, when suddenly, it all stops.
Voice: For a long time, I thought about nothing but the breakdown and rebuilding of the WWA in my image.
The voice belongs to Kade Williams
Williams: For one year, I waged a war that tore the WWA in two, as my Damned shook the world. When it was over, lives were changed. Dave Harley was retired – a status his body pretends now pretends is otherwise but behind his eyes the truth remains. Jack Griffiths was run out of the WWA, shown as the coward I swore to you all that he was. Phil Flaws had no choice but to turn to me to lead the WWA, because he realized I wouldn’t stop until I had spread my message and driven into the minds of every WWA superstar, similar to a crown of barbed wire being hammered into their skulls. As commissioner, I began the process of shaping turning things around and I hired a variety of wrestlers who could push the envelope. One of them went by the clever moniker of Trendkiller.
A pause.
Williams: This Trendkiller quickly showed that I had a keen eye for talent and found himself headed towards the main event scene. I allowed myself a moment of triumph, as the naysayers who warned my about his presence and what it would do to the WWA were wrong. He left shortly before the WWA closed, seeking new competition. The man I thought would lead us into a new golden era had vanished – poof – into thin air.
The screen switches to an image of Trendkiller standing inside a cage during Ultimate Glory II.
Williams: Imagine the surprise when I snuck into New Orleans unannounced and entered myself into the Bourbon Street Brawl. I didn’t want to win, I just wanted to have a good time and feel the adrenaline rush of competing once more. I was having a blast, the best night I’ve had in a long time, when suddenly it all stopped.
Another pause.
Williams: This man pictured before you also chose to make a return that night and made an impact alright. Ask Mal Somers – a man that I never liked but came to respect. Sure, I’ve had my fun in the past at Somers’ expense. He still likely feels pain in his shoulder from the time I handcuffed him to a cage and lifted it up. But it was always just wrestling – we never crossed the line where lives were endangered. During the Bourbon Street Brawl, I heard the sirens, saw the screams, and felt the coldness. I watched as Mal Somers was loaded into an ambulance because a man I brought into the WWA wanted to hurt someone and make an impact.
We cut back to the WWA entranceway.
Williams: The blood of Mal Somers is on my hands, because of what you did, Trendkiller. Sometimes we all need reminders of what we do and the risks involved. Trendkiller, this is yours. Someone has to stop you before you become unstoppable. Rachel Beckett and Vaughn Babb might try to hold me back, but I’m coming for you…I’m coming to fight. You want your chance to see your name in the bright lights, this is it. At Rage in the Cage, I’m going to get retribution for what you’ve done. One way or another.
The video starts up again, but without audio.
Williams: Trendkiller, you have drafted your death certificate. It is time to embrace your destiny.
The audio switches over and Jack and Denrol’s commentary begins as though nothing ever happened.
Jack: These youngsters are showing a lot of ability thus far.
Denrol: This is the WWA, brother, this is where the elite come to compete!
The crowd looks around as the lights begin to circle back and forth waving a spot light around the arena.
Denrol: What the hell is this?
Jack: I am not sure, Maybe a new Arrival?
Suddenly a tapping sound can be heard.
Shaman: Hello Hello, shut off the damn music this isn't about entertaining you jack offs!!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOO!!!
Shaman: Boo hoo yourselves ya whining bunch of plebians!
The crowd hushes a bit as a few cheers are actually heard.
Denrol: Never really seen this side of Shaman.
Jack: This is a strange moment indeed.
The spotlight searches the entrance area and then scans upwards as Shaman is seen sitting on some scaffolding. He stands up and looks around.
Shaman: Very interesting indeed isn't it Jack.
Jack looks at Denrol.
Denrol: Well answer the man.
Jack: Well I merely thought....!?
Shaman cuts him off quickly.
Shaman: Shut your hole Jack you are nothing in my eyes.
Shaman walks back and forth on the scaffolding as he looks at the crowd.
Shaman: For years i have walked back and forth amongst the backstage locker rooms being the pawn of many jokes and stupid matches. In fact I created one of the best matches in WWA history, The Himalayan Pit match.
The crowd roars its approval and Shaman cuts them off.
Shaman: I don't care if you like it or not. It is simple fact really. You folks abandoned me years ago and if you like me fine, if not i don't really care either way.
Shaman points to the ring. He simply stares at it.
Shaman: I want to show you something. Bring out the accused!!
Slowly a hooded man is brought out by several men dressed in black luchadore hoods. They push the man into the ring and Shaman grins.
Shaman: Remove the man's hood.
The man's hood is removed to reveal Motherboy the WWA Corporate guy.
Shaman: Ahhh yes Motherboy almost thought you had gotten away with screwing me over back in 2006. Well I have some news for you, but I want you to explain yourself to this crowd you had caused to abandon me.
The crowd hushes as Motherboy gets handed a mic.
Motherboy: Shaman you won't get away with this....!?
Shaman cuts a thumb over his throat.
Shaman: Don't waste my time and this crowd's time, Gentlemen get rid of him.
A black van backs up near an open area as Motherboy is being dragged to it struggling. Shaman pulls out a pink slip of paper.
Shaman: Oh yes Motherboy I have retrieved a piece of paper from your mail this morning. It states you are hereby being released from WWA employment due to unfavorable practices involving direct business procedures. Wow sounds serious could it be someone you screwed over finally has the last laugh??
Motherboy has a look of shock on his face as he is being tossed into the van and the doors shut as all the men get into the van and it drives out the back area through a loading door. Shaman grins sadistically as he walks back and forth again.
Shaman: You see a man can wait years to get revenge on someone who screwed him. Yet I have more to address here.
Shaman starts to climb down the scaffolding and steps to the entrance. He then looks at the ring.
Shaman: There are going to be changes and these changes are going to happen now. I am not going to be somebody's easy go to guy. Nor will I be someone's stepping stone. You beat me in the ring fine, but understand I may get back up and crack you with a cheer or a Desert spike from out of nowhere. It is time for a new Shaman to step forward. I have always professed to do it by any means necessary.
Cracking his head from side to side he stares forward.
Shaman: Nobody is going to be safe. The biggest and baddest to the weakling fans like yourselves. Cross me and I will simply do something regardless of the outcome. This is not your regular guy anymore. This isn't the Got Blood Shaman or the Native American Bad Ass you have come to know. It is the evolution of a new theme about me.
Shaman grins and looks around as he simply looks at everything. His eyes scan over the crowd as he smiles.
Shaman: I have a guarantee for everyone. From here on out, people are gonna bleed!
Shaman throws down the microphone and stares out at the booing crowd.
Jack: A promise of violence from Shaman. What does that hold in store for RJ Stone tonight?
Jack: Earlier today we had Intrepid taking on Roscoe Shame. Intrepid came in ranked sixth in the WWA with a record of 3-5, while Roscoe Shame was participating in his first match in the company. We join it already in progress.
The two men are battling outside the ring; Intrepid is trading kicks with Shame's punches. The referee remains on the inside of the ring, continuing his count for both men. It's currently at five, and progressing pretty slowly. Shame grabs hold of Intrepid's mask and slams him head-first into the steel steps.
Jack: Ooh, a nice move there by Roscoe Shame. Now he's rolling into the ring...
Denrol: And rolling right back out. He wants to continue the punishment on the outside.
Shame lifts Intrepid high over his head in a gorilla press and then drops him; his forehead connects again with the steel steps and he goes down. The rookie lifts Intrepid to his feet and powerslams him onto the floor, and then rolls back into the ring, staying there this time.
Denrol: Clever move by the rookie... forcing Intrepid to recover from that somehow and roll himself back into the ring.
And with the count at five, Intrepid is only just starting to show signs of life. He grabs hold of the ring apron, shakes his head vehemently to try and get the cobwebs out of it, and as the referee's count reaches nine, he narrowly scoots into the ring.
Jack: Intrepid just barely avoided losing by count-out there. But that's about it.
Shame grabs hold of both of Intrepid's legs, and as the crowd cheers him on, he tries to apply the Sharpshooter. But when it comes time to turn Intrepid around into it, the veteran puts up tremendous resistance, pushing back with his arms to prevent Shame from turning him over. With a great shove, he pulls his way out of the move.
Jack: Intrepid manages to prevent the Sharpshooter, and can he take advantage now?
Intrepid uses the ropes to get to his feet, and drops Shame with an elevated dropkick. Quickly, he pulls himself up to the nearest top turnbuckle.
Denrol: What's he up to?
Jack: PHOENIX SPLASH BY INTREPID! But Shame moved out of the way, and Intrepid eats canvas!
Shame gets to his feet and quickly applies an Ankle Lock to Intrepid. Intrepid screams in agony as he tries desperately to get to the ropes.
Jack: Intrepid's in a world of hurt now! Can he reach the ropes?
He can't, but he does the next best thing: He pushes with his arms and rolls forward, sending Shame stumbling in front of him. Intrepid wastes no time in hooking Shame's arms...
Jack: JUDGMENT RENDERED! Intrepid hits Judgment Rendered on Roscoe Shame! And here's the cover!
One!
Two!
Three!
Ding, Ding!
Intrepid's arm is raised in victory by the referee.
Trudeau: Here is your winner... INTREPID!
Jack: Intrepid gets the win, but Roscoe Shame...
Denrol: ...has got nothing to be ashamed about?
Jack: Damn, stole my joke.
Jack: Well it's certainly been an exhilarating night thus far, only a few days removed from the 2010 Bourbon Street Brawl.
Denrol: And I'm receiving word right now that Wallace Coleman is waiting backstage with the runner up to this year's Bourbon Street Brawl, the self-proclaimed Rajah of Ratings... Chris Bagwell!
Jack: Wallace, it's all yours!
The cameras cut to the backstage locker room area where the five foot six former ESPN broadcaster stands aside the slightly taller, six-foot-two Chris Bagwell. Bagwell wears a tired look in his eyes while sporting an old school Platinum Wrestling t-shirt.
Coleman: Thanks guys! Ladies and gents', I'm joined right by one of the hottest stars in the World Wrestling Alliance. A man who walked through our doors only a few weeks ago and has already set the tone for his promising career by being the runner up in our prestigious Bourbon Street Brawl! Chris Bagwell, glad to have you here.
Bagwell: Waldo, is it? Thanks for the introduction - it was a bit unnecessary to say the least.
Coleman: I--err--uh, it's actually Wallace.
Bagwell: I'll write that down.
Coleman: Chris, you were pit up against nine other WWA superstars, some of whom have quite the decorated history. But despite the odds, you managed to last until the very end. What kind of statement do you think that sends the rest of the locker room?
Bagwell: Let me clear something up, Wally. I'm not entirely sure where you learned to conduct interviews - be it 'How to Make an Ass Out of Myself 101' or 'How to Get My Teeth Knocked Down My Throat 215' - that point is irrelevant. The point that is relevant, however, is the fact that you're continuously harping on what I wasn't able to accomplish in the Brawl.
Coleman: I did not mean any disrespect...
Chris raises his hand, motioning to Coleman to keep his lips closed.
Bagwell: I wasn't finished.
Coleman nods his head in compliance.
Bagwell: The kind of 'statement' I made in Bourbon Street Brawl means absolute shit paired with the fact I didn't walk out the winner. So I'm going to go ahead and null that question from this conversation. What I do want to talk about is this overzealous chump you guys call Intrepid.
Wallace acts as though he's going to add in a word, but Bagwell glares his eyes. Needless to say, Coleman keeps quiet.
Bagwell: You see, there has got to be something in the drinking water around these parts because this is the third time I've been dealt with this little prick's antics. To be honest, Walter, I'm getting a little sick and tired of it.
Coleman: I'm not sure if you're aware, but Intrepid voiced a number of complaints on WWA-Online.com regarding the window manufacturer for the store in New Orleans because of the fact the window never broke.
Bagwell: And you're telling me this... why?
Coleman: Does that irritate you in the least?
Bagwell: The fact that he wishes he could've done more damage to me than he did? Nahh - that doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that I marched my ass down to New Orleans and I was cracking nine other guys heads against the concrete when he decided to get himself involved. If the WWA security staff did their job, you would've opened this interview by saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen, your WINNER of the 2010 Bourbon Street Brawl..."
Coleman: Well you certainly bring up a valid point, Chris.
Bagwell: God help me if I see that little...
Coleman: ...that little what?
Bagwell: Excuse me.
Bagwell shoves Wallace Coleman out of the way and begins power-walking down the hallway. As the camera pans out, it reveals Intrepid and D.Filed stepping out of one of the locker rooms. Intrepid peers down the hall and notices Bagwell.
Jack: It looks like Bagwell is about to cash in on his revenge!
Denrol: I think Intrepid might've spotted him!
Bagwell quickens his pace to a light sprint. Intrepid, quickly realizing Bagwell's intentions, takes off in the opposite direction just as Bagwell gets within arm's-length. In doing so, he also shoves D.Filed into Bagwell.
Jack: Intrepid is getting away!
Denrol: But I don't think D.Filed is going to be so lucky. Intrepid just shoved her into Bagwell's arms!
Bagwell glares at the woman. But he places her out of the way. He turns to go after Intrepid, but he's vanished. Bagwell sighs in frustration.
Jack: Intrepid got away this time, but for how much longer?
Jack: Looks like we have something about to happen here right now.
Denrol: If it’s what I think it is, then this is going to be good.
“Descent" by Fear Factory starts playing over the loud speakers as a black suited man named Varga comes out from the back with a slow, deliberate walk as the fans start booing very loudly. He looks around at the arena with disgust for a moment. Then he starts walking to the ring.
Falling victim from neglect
Designed thoughts and intellect
Forgotten and displaced
The crux of my dismay
I feel nothing
I am nothing
I feel nothing
Nothing
Varga looks at the fans with disdain before reaching the ring. Varga then climbs into the ring and continues to look on with disdain before smiling deviously and revealing that he has a microphone with him.
How deep I descend?
Until I reach my end?
How deep I descend?
Deeper into this abyss
Weighted down and sinking fast
Life did not offer me
More than false destiny
Varga looks out at the fans, almost disgusted that he has to be in the same building with such filth before starting to plot out what he is going to do in the match. You can almost see the wheels in his skull turning as he gets focused for what he is about to say. The music stops playing and he waits for the fans to give him the proper respect before speaking.
Jack: This guy’s been all over the world and now he’s in the WWA!
Denrol: And he’s got a microphone too. This should be good.
Varga: I’m sure all of you troglodytic fools are wondering just who in the hell I am. For those of you sad, pathetic fans who have been living under a rock my name is Varga and I am the best wrestler that has ever stepped foot in WWA. None of you pathetic parasites nor the scum that is currently infesting the backstage area are even remotely in my league.
The crowd starts booing as Varga looks around at the crowd with disgust.
Jack: He sure knows how to make friends fast.
Denrol: I think I know who my new favorite wrestler is.
Varga: You fans are nothing but the worst scum walking the face of the Earth. Every time I walk into a filthy, dingy arena like this one I get violently ill because it’s filled with you scumbag fans. Wrestling fans are the most inhuman vagrants walking the face of the earth. There are nothing but illegitimate bastard children and pornographers in this audience right now.
The crowd’s booing only brings a smile to his face. He seemingly takes great pleasure in pissing off the fans and revels in their hatred.
Denrol: This is awesome!
Jack: Stop it!
Varga: However, being the savior of WWA that I am, I am here to show you people just who is the best wrestler in the world today is. I don’t come out here bragging about stuff like a lot of these other useless, pathetic mesomorphs that infest this roster like cockroaches do. When I’m through with my reign of terror here in WWA, all of your so-called heroes and legends that are back there will be worshipping a new God and that God’s name is Varga.
This only makes the booing grow louder. He looks around at the crowd, first left and then right, before getting an annoyed look on his face.
Varga: Boo all you want but you damn well know it’s going to happen!
This only makes the crowd heat grow even more and it almost seems to give Varga more power as he continues to spew out his
Sermon of Hate.
Varga: You people should respect me. The moment I walked into this building I was the best wrestler to ever step foot in a WWA ring.Now that I think about it, I look around at the WWA roster an I see a bunch of guys who would kill to have a tenth of my wrestling ability. There’s Eddie Van Dorn and Jack Griffiths, Mister Jevon White, Roscoe Shame, Jaymz Watkins, John Grant, Chris Conway…I mean, who in the hell are these guys? And isn’t that sad, pathetic human being known as Chris Bagwell supposed to be dead?
Jack: Bagwell was rumored to have died in GCW last year.
Denrol: Varga sure knows where to twist the knife, doesn’t he?
Jack: I’ve heard that about him.
These comments only seem to instigate the fans to boo him even more which just makes him want to make them hate him more than they do already.
Varga: Those are your heroes, a bunch of pathetic panderers of filth. Sinners and alcoholics when not on camera who spend more time indulging in illegal drugs and pleasures of the flesh than being the heroes that you people expect your snot nosed, ugly children to look up to. They make me sick and so do all of you WWA fans, or as I call you, the mongrel race.
Massive booing after the ‘mongrel race’ comment. He then decides to turn his attention to some of the individuals more like-minded and similar to him that are in the WWA. However he hates them too and isn‘t afraid to share his feelings to the filth in the audience that, in his mind, infest the arena like cockroaches.
Denrol: This is a man that children can look up to and be proud of.
Jack: He’s a megalomaniacal sociopath is what he is.
Denrol: He’s going to be a champion that children all around the world can idolize and model their lives after.
Jack: If he doesn’t get killed first, that is.
Varga: And then there’s the villains, the heels, the men that all of you serfs and vagrants are supposed to hate. Jay Price, Scotty Carnage, Trendkiller, RJ Stone, Denrol, Copeland, Dave Harley, a man I’ve faced once before named Intrepid, and a man named Shaman who was begging me for mercy in GCW when he knew I would have none…they are the men you all love to hate. I will make all of you people hate me more than all of those jobbers combined. I want all of you to hate me because I feel that I need to be the forefront of everyone’s attention at all times and I think I can do that better as a bad person than as a good person, as you fools can tell.
Jack: But that doesn’t make any sense.
Denrol: It does to me.
This brings a smile to his face.
Varga: As you can tell, I left one person’s name off of the list and for good reason. Lucas Black, I am putting you on notice right now. You may be the best in WWA right now but the measuring stick around here just changed. You will be knocked off of your pedestal and a new age will begin…the Age of Varga.
More booing from the audience which makes him even happier. That happy look however soon fades into a look of hate and disdain.
Varga: So enjoy it now because soon, very soon, this place is going to be as dark as the deep, dark, dank dungeon that I call my own heart. The WWA is going to be shaken to it’s very core as it crumbles before my feet and I sit on my throne with all of you worshipping me like the God I am. Your souls will be mine…
He turns and glares at the nearest camera.
Varga: …And your careers will die at my hands.
His music hits as he tosses the microphone down and leaves the ring. The audience boos him all the way out as he heads to the locker room where he probably won’t be welcomed in with open arms by the WWA wrestlers. Once he‘s backstage, his music fades out.
Jack: Some interesting words from Varga here tonight.
Denrol: This guy’s heat factor is already off the charts. He basically trashed both the fans and every wrestler here.
Jack: I have a feeling he’s doing some sort of mind game. He is known as being an evil puppet master, manipulating and playing mind games.
Denrol: But can he follow that up in the ring?
Jack: Earlier today we had Jay Price battling Trendkiller. The rookie Price was looking for his first win in the WWA after an 0-2 start, while Trendkiller made his return to the company at the Bourbon Street Brawl.
Denrol: And let’s not forget that Trendkiller, though he’s a massive individual, isn’t just a big, lumbering giant who uses his size to hide the fact that he can’t wrestle. He’s about as good a technical wrestler as there is.
Jack: We join the match already in progress.
Trendkiller is just now Irish-whipping Price off the ropes, and when Price comes around, the big man wraps his arms around him. Price counters with several punches to the side of Trendkiller’s head, forcing him to release his grip, and Price bounces himself off the ropes this time, catching Trendkiller with a flying forearm. The big man staggers, and Price shoots off the ropes again, but this time Trendkiller absorbs the impact and grabs Price as before, hitting him with a devastating belly-to-belly suplex.
Jack: Holy crap, Price was about suplexed out of his boots!
Denrol: Yup, when someone THAT size suplexes you, you feel it! Trendkiller’s been beating Price up all match, and I think it’s about to pay off. He’s going for the cover!
One!
Two!
Jack: Price kicks out just in the nick of time!
Trendkiller gives the referee an angry look, but the referee verifies that, in fact, it was a two-count. Lifting Price to his feet, he sets him up for a fallaway slam, and hits it.
Jack: Price hit the ring with a tremendous amount of force after that fallaway slam, and Trendkiller’s in control here.
Dragging Price into the center of the ring, Trendkiller applies an Elevated Camel Clutch, and Price screams in agony, trying mightily to struggle out of it. The referee checks to see if he wants to submit, and Price yells out “NO!” Turning his face, Price does the one thing he can think of—he bites down hard on the fingers of Trendkiller’s right hand, while at the same time he grips Trendkiller’s legs with his hands and jerks downward with all his strength. Finally, he’s able to pull free, and with no hesitation, Price drops Trendkiller with a Russian legsweep.
Denrol: Great counter by the rookie!
Jack: He managed to escape that submission hold; I thought he was done! Now can he come back in this match?
Price bounces off the ropes and hits a leg-drop across Trendkiller’s chest. He then quickly applies a Triangle Hold.
Jack: Triangle Hold applied by Price, but already Trendkiller’s powering out of it.
Trendkiller gets a hand in between each of Price’s legs and his own neck, and just uses his power to force them apart. Both men scramble to their feet, and Trendkiller runs at the cornered in a Spear attempt. Price leapfrogs over it, however, and Trendkiller rams his head into the second turnbuckle pad. Immediately, Price goes for a German Suplex with a bridge.
One!
Two!
Three!
Ding, Ding!
The referee raises Jay Price’s hand in victory, but he promptly pulls his hand free.
Trudeau: Here is your winner, JAY PRICE!
Jack: Jay Price gets his first win in the WWA in a great match!
Standing in the ring is Rachel Beckett, basking in the love of the crowd, which is VERY lively. As the din begins to die down, she raises the microphone up to her lips.
Beckett: Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming to the ring the winner of the Bourbon Street Brawl, and the new Number One Contender for the WWA Championship... JAYMZ WATKINS!
The fans go totally apeshit as "The Fixer" by Pearl Jam blasts forth from the arena's speakers. It doesn't take long for Jaymz to make his way out to the stage, and he's nigh unrecognizable. His hair has been cut short, his face is clean-shaven, the works. Quite simply, he looks better than he has in months. His ring attire is mostly the same, however, with striped leather pants, biker boots, and a t-shirt, this time for Blue Oyster Cult. He leaps in the air and pumps a fist, clearly energized by the electricity of the crowd.
Jack: Whoa, he looks way different! And he has a fever, it would seem. And the only prescription is... MORE COWBELL!
Denrol: For Chist's sake, knock that shit off. A highly-talented band's legacy has been utterly trashed by that stupid sketch and it gets more depressing every time I hear it or about it.
Jaymz high-fives basically everyone he can reach, and probably would have climbed into the crowd if there was the time for it. One guy in a Giants hat extends both arms and Jaymz actually leans in and hugs him before rolling into the ring. Ms. Beckett applauds also as Jaymz climbs and celebrates on each turnbuckle in turn. Finally, he turns and finds the microphone extended to him, which he takes. Ms. Beckett moves back and into a corner so as to respectfully give Jaymz the floor.
Jaymz: Listen, I really don't have a lot to say tonight, guys and dolls. I tried to let my actions speak for me at the Bourbon Street Brawl, and I hope -
Huge crowd cheering cuts him off. He lowers the mic and smiles. Ms. Beckett applauds with them.
Jack: A really gutsy performance from Jaymz last week, to be sure!
Denrol: I'm in agreement there, honestly.
Jaymz: ...And I hope we all made our voices heard in that respect. Well, I know those of you here tonight weren't the ones there last week, but you get the idea. And I know you all want to cheer for me for all my daring-do and stuff, but that's a load of horse-hockey. The real MVPs are each and every one of you, both here and around the world. You're the ones who are awesome.
Jaymz gets on his knees and bows to the crowd, who all LOVE it, cheering like mad.
Crowd: Jaymz is awesome! *clap*clap*clapclapclap*
Jack: Indeed he is, folks!
Jaymz: gets back up So I'm Number One Contender now? glances at Beckett, who nods Well, that's pretty much the shit. Just be aware, Jack Griffiths and Lucas Black, that I respect the hell out of both of you, but neither one of you should grow too attached to that WWA Title, because I'm going to be coming for it, very soon.
Massive cheering.
Jaymz: Now, about the Trials...
Cheers cease instantly and are replaced by boos.
Jaymz: Yeah, those. These aren't as easy as they look, folks. I know I'm two-and-oh right now with them, but it hasn't been a cakewalk. But you guys have all made it a lot easier, what with your adoration and love, so for that I must thank each and every one of you personally.
Cheering again.
Jaymz: It's your affection that's keeping me afloat through all this, and I love it. Don't stop! Together, we'll beat this madness, I promise you that. Randy Cross and Copeland had better -
"Hey Man, Nice Shot" by Filter cuts off all of the mirth in the arena, as hatred begins to spew at the stage in anticipation.
Denrol: Who's surprised, honestly?
Randy Cross, mic in hand, and Copeland exit the curtains to raucous booing. Cross is actually grinning, and Copeland continues to have no readable emotions. Jaymz's smile doesn't falter, even though Ms. Beckett's does.
Cross: So you did it, Jaymz, you cleared the Second Trial! How wonderful!
Boos.
Cross: What? I'm congratulating your new Number One Contender! That's not something for you all to boo! His accomplishment must be noted!
Booing intensifies.
Cross: It should be noted, because it will be the last accomplishment you accrue, Jaymz. You beat my giant, and you survived in the pit, but if you think you can actually beat me you are sorely mistaken! I'm through playing games; the Third Trial is the beginning of the end of you! And you will all cry when your so-called "hero" is lying in a pool of blood at my feet! "The World Needs a Hero," eh? Well, [I'm] the hero! You will all fall in line behind -
At this time, Ms. Beckett has gotten a mic for herself, and she cuts Cross off quickly.
Beckett: Listen, Mr. Cross, I understand that you've got a lot of influence, and that you're the "New God" and all, but I'm afraid I must intervene.
Cheers. Cross's smile leaves almost instantly.
Cross: Silence, whore! I don't believe I gave you permission to speak!
Beckett is stunned for a moment as the crowd boos heavily, but she recovers quickly, an eyebrow raised.
Beckett: Oh, well I don't believe I need that, Randy. I believe you're in an arena being utilized by Mr. Babb, and seeing as I function as his voice to the WWA, by association it's [my] arena also. So I think [you] are the one who needed permission.
Cross scowls hard at this as the crowd cheers. Copeland still doesn't react.
Beckett: Mr. Babb and I have sat back and let you have your fun with these "Trials," for Jaymz, which are interesting but equally insane. Well, there's two problems we've noticed. One, Jaymz has done nothing to you directly, and yet you torture him like this. What's the deal? I think we're [all] wondering that at this point.
Cross: He is the example! I took the greatest of the human beings in this company, the shiningest beacon of good, and I turned him into a snarling demon in my court! He was the face of my power, and when he broke away, treachery of the most epic magnitude, I vowed to make him the example of my wrath! What other explanation would you require, woman?
Beckett: Fair enough, I suppose, but as for the other issue we found... Well, the WWA [is] a company, and like all companies, we must play to our strengths to make a profit. Jaymz Watkins is undeniably one of the best and most beloved men we have here -
Cheers. Jaymz beams.
Beckett: - and you have basically eliminated him from our plans every week. We don't know what to schedule for him out of fear of you coming in and ruining it. Now he's the Number One Contender, and that fact has led Mr. Babb and I to make a huge decision. We're putting the kibosh to your Trials for the time being.
Massive pop. Cross is furious.
Beckett: However, we've created a Trial of our own, for Rage in the Cage, one that will please all parties, I expect. It will be Jaymz Watkins Versus Copeland, in a STEEL CAGE MATCH!
MASSIVE pop. Cross basically throws a tantrum. For the first time, Copeland shows emotion, in the form of a sly smile. Jaymz smiles, too.
Beckett: Now, I thought you'd react that way, Mr. Cross, having control taken away from you, so I had another idea. Next week, Copeland will be in a match. To return the favors that you've given Jaymz as of late, we won't reveal who it is yet. If Copeland wins, the cage match will not happen, and you are free to continue the Trials as you've planned. So, I guess you'd just better hope he remembers what he's doing next week.
<b>Cross</b>: Oh, that's foolish. Copeland will rip whomever it is apart as he's done so many times before, both here in the WWA and in the Hell of Pittsburgh. Why even schedule the match at Rage in the Cage, honestly?
<b>Beckett</b>: We'll see next week, won't we?
Cross: I suppose we will. to Jaymz This elation of yours will be short-lived, Jaymz Watkins! The pain you will endure will be the stuff of legend!
Jaymz raises the mic.
Jaymz: What can I say? It's not easy being the hero. But do your worst, New God. You know, in the end, at my hands, you'll be getting it right back.
The crowd cheers like mad. Cross and Jaymz lock eyes and remain that way. Copeland continues to smile. Ms. Beckett is smiling now, too.
Jack: What a huge announcement! If Copeland loses next week, he'll face Jaymz at Rage in the Cage... Appropriately in a cage!
Denrol: That match will not be for the faint of heart, that's for damn sure. It may be one of the bloodiest battles we've ever seen.
The camera cuts backstage, to a nearly empty corridor. Jack Griffiths rounds the corner and starts heading towards the camera.
Jack: Its good to see Griffiths up and about, but he isn't in action tonight. Per doctor's orders, he should be at home resting.
Denrol: You are truly naive. If you'd ever wrestled and weren't a total slug, you'd know that you can't just switch off - you need to be around wrestling whenever you can be. That's why all these old fossils always pop in.
Jack: When is your latest comeback going to be? What will this be, Denrol: the Return, part 46?
Almost halfway down the corridor Griffiths stops and looks down, the camera pans down to what he is looking at; revealing a shoe box. Griffiths stoops down and picks it up. On the top of the box, just visible to the cameras is Jack's name.
Jack: What's that? Who is leaving things lying around for Jack?
Denrol: Who do you think, genuis? Do you even watch these shows?
Griffiths opens the box and takes out a Polaroid picture as he looks at it he turns white with shock; he looks in the box again and his eyes fill with sorrow. He places the Polaroid back in the box and furrows his eyebrows, casting the box aside Griffiths walks off with the sorrow becoming anger, the contents of the box spill on to the ground.
Jack: What was in the box?
The cameraman approaches the items. There is a Polaroid picture, of which only the back is visible and what appears to be a decapitated doll.
Jack: Is that...?
Denrol: Another symbolic gesture? It certainly seems that way.
The camera man reaches out, and turns the Polaroid over, after a few moments of readjusting the camera, the screen is filled with the image of a small girl in a summery dress with a daisy chain around her neck but her face has been scribbled out.
Jack: That... thats... Samara isn't it?
Denrol: Unfortunately for Jack, it is. And it appears that, following last weeks daisy burning, Black is only just getting started with the mind games!
#2 Shaman Vs #3 RJ Stone
Jack: The main event is upon us and it promises to be an incredible match.
Denrol: Shaman is the biggest man in the WWA, and RJ Stone is perhaps the most devious.
Jack: This match will determine the number one contender to John Grant's US Championship.
Denrol: In light of the heated exchanges that he's had with John Grant, I'm sure that this match is very important to RJ Stone.
A metal version of “Lux Aeterna” comes on over the PA. As the eerie piano beginning ends the song kicks into full gear, RJ Stone stalks out on to the entrance. Hendrick enters next, clad in a black suit, the rest of the security team follows behind Hendrick and they fan out behind RJ. He glares out at the audience, a cold, predatory look on his face.
Trudeau: Ladies and gentlemen, now making his way to the ring, weighing in at 244 pounds, from Fresno, California,RJ Stoooone!
He slowly makes his way down the aisle, his eyes full of grim determination. He pays no attention to the fans slathering him in boos. He slides under the bottom rope when he reaches the apron. The security team surround the ring, one man for each side. Once in the ring, RJ slowly moves over to the closest turnbuckle and climbs up onto it. He stares a hole in the fans, his arms hanging at his side. He hops down after a few long moments and proceeds to sit down in the corner and coldly stare off into nothingness.
Jack: RJ Stone is in the ring now.
Denrol: Both of these men are such excellent competitors.
Jack: I don't know about that. I mean, yes, they're both very talented and Shaman is one of the most accomplished men in the WWA, but as human beings ...
Denrol: This is not a popularity contest, Jack.
Stillborn by Black Label Society blasts over the PA system as Shaman steps through as blue and red lights highlights his form eerily as if his eyes are glowing he razes his gaze towards the ring. Shaman steps forward swinging his arms back in forth in a boxers fashion. He then stops and cracks his neck back and forth as he raises his arms up, to the boos of the crowd.
Jack: Shaman promised bleeding eariler tonight, let's see what happens here.
Shaman walks slowly towards the ring his eyes staring at nothing but the ring. His gaze as if in a trance as he makes his way to the ring. He reaches up and grabs the ropes. He stands on the outside as he pulls himself up. He then simply steps himself over the top ropes and walks to the center of the ring and looks around at the ring itself. He then raises his arms high into the air and yells as loud as he can. A war cry from the huge Native American. Shaman turns himself around and advances on RJ, eager to dive headlong into his newest battle.
Ding, Ding!
Jack: Shaman's not wasting any time here tonight.
RJ kips to his feet, but Shaman is already on top of him with a haymaker that sends RJ back-first into the corner turnbuckles.
Denrol: I swear Shaman's fists are like sledgehammers. I've been on the receiving end of them too many times.
The big man follows up with a fist to RJ's gut and a right cross to the jaw.
Jack: Looks like Shaman has some boxing skills.
Shaman shuffles his feet to a different stance and attempts a left hook, but RJ gets an arm up to block it.
Denrol: He does, but RJ has trained extensively in boxing. In fact, he's a former Golden Glove champion.
Shaman shuffles back and throws a few jabs, but RJ bobs his head, deftly avoiding the blows.
Jack: That first hit shocked him a little, but it looks RJ has shaken off the cobwebs.
RJ defaults to his instincts, throwing a few jabs of his own to force Shaman back. Shaman shuffles back with a grin, and RJ moves out of the corner. RJ begins to bounce on the balls of his feet, moving in a tight circle around Shaman, testing him with small jabs. Shaman chuckles.
Denrol: Shaman really shouldn't be taking RJ lightly.
As if to prove Denrol's point, Stone catches Shaman with a sudden and powerful kick to the knee.
Denrol: Not just boxing champion, but also kickboxing champion.
Shaman staggers a moment but is quick to change the pace by wrapping a large hand around the back of RJ's head and pulling him over his hip and landing in a side headlock.
Jack: Nicely executed. Shaman changed the game there by taking RJ to the ground.
Shaman cranks down on the sitting side headlock while RJ feels around for a way out. Of course, the fans hate side headlocks and make their opinion known by booing both men.
Denrol: This is Shaman's way of testing his opponent. I suspect that he wanted to see just how good of a striker RJ Stone really is. Now he wants to see what kind of technical skills the man has.
RJ pulls himself up to his knees beside Shaman, struggling to get himself into position. He plants one hand on the canvas, kicks his legs out and up before coming back down, slamming his knee viciously into Shaman's kidney. Needless to say, Shaman lets go.
Jack: A little unorthodox, but certainly effective.
Shaman and RJ both roll to their feet and size each other up for a moment. Shaman shoots in, but RJ steps to the side and gives Shaman a push into the ropes. On the rebound, RJ leaps up, planting a hard elbow into Shaman's jaw. Shaman staggers.
Jack: It always amazes me to see the kind of punishment that Shaman can take without falling down.
Denrol: RJ looks a little surprised, too.
RJ returns to his feet in a hurry, but doesn't let up on the offense. He delivers a swift roundhouse kick to Shaman's knee. Shaman staggers only slightly, but RJ follows it up with yet another kick to the knee using the opposite foot.
Jack: Looks like RJ Stone has decided to focus on one part of his opponent.
Denrol: It's a tried and true tactic. When facing an opponent bigger than yourself, bring them down to your level.
Shaman reaches out suddenly and grabs hold of RJ's arm, slinging him to the ropes.
Denrol: And Shaman's seen that tactic enough times to know not to let it continue.
RJ returns with a full head of steam, ducking under the clothesline attempt. Rebounding from the opposite ropes, RJ takes to the air, but is met by a rather prepared Shaman. Shaman snatches him out of the air and plants RJ into the mat with a ring-shaking powerslam.
Jack: The wily veteran certainly has control of this match.
Shaman pulls RJ up from the mat. He applies a front face lock and takes RJ over with a snapmare suplex.
Denrol: Now we can see Shaman becoming more confident. He's got RJ's measure and he believes that he knows how to dismantle his opponent.
Shaman stands again, dragging RJ up with him. This time, he throws RJ across the ring with a belly-to-belly release suplex.
Jack: Look at just how far RJ went flying with that one!
Denrol: Shaman is one of the physically strongest men ever to have been part of the WWA. But don't count RJ Stone out yet.
Shaman stalks RJ, even as RJ attempts to pull himself up using the ropes. Hendrick moves close to check on his employer. Shaman keeps a watchful eye as he pulls RJ away from the ropes.
Jack: RJ's security detail hasn't become an issue in this match yet, but that could change at any moment.
Shaman sends RJ to the ropes, but RJ refuses to rebound, instead wrapping his arms around the top rope to stop his momentum. Shaman smirks and charges forward, arm extended. RJ drops suddenly, pulling the top rope down and sending Shaman tumbling to the outside.
Denrol: Out he goes to the cold floor below.
Jack: Quick thinking by RJ Stone.
RJ moves quickly to intercept the referee, certainly complaining about some kind of unsportsmanlike behavior. It's enough to keep the referee's attention on him.
Jack: And here they come.
The security detail swarms over Shaman, Hendrick in the lead, with swinging batons. Shaman tries to cover up, but the metal batons rake at his left knee and batter his head and neck. The security team throws in a few kicks and stomps for good measure, like a flailing mass of metal and boots.
Denrol: They are all over him!
Jack: Shaman is just being brutalized out there and RJ has the referee entirely distracted. Why are wrestling referees always so gullible, anyway?
Denrol shushes Jack quickly. RJ surreptitiously signals his team while now asking for the referee's opinion on any number of physical ailments. Hendrick signals the others and they collectively cease the attack. They pull Shaman up and roll him into the ring. The fans boo.
Jack: It looks like RJ is ready to get back to the match.
Shaman, despite the beating that he has just endured, begins to sit up. RJ moves the referee aside, somewhat unceremoniously, and rushes forward, swinging his leg around in a brilliant shining wizard. Shaman takes the kick solidly to the temple and drops to the mat.
Denrol: Nicely executed! That will ring anyone's bell.
RJ doesn't waste a single moment. He rolls to his feet and begins stomping away at Shaman's head, using the ropes for balance. The referee attempts to intervene, but no one really listens to the referees anyway.
Jack: Stone is all over Shaman right now.
Denrol: He's smart enough to know that leaving Shaman a little breathing room is an invitation to disaster.
Speaking of breathing room, RJ pulls up on Shaman's arm, forcing him over to his side. Quickly, he places the back of his knee against the back of Shaman's head. Concurrently pulling the lifted arm away and holding Shaman's neck in place with his knee, RJ kneels in deep.
Jack: I haven't seen that one before.
Denrol: Technically, that's a Stepover Armbar with a Neck Submission. Also sometimes referred to as a Strangle Hold Gamma. Right now, Shaman's neck is being stretched beyond its limits and his chin is digging into his chest.
Shaman grunts under the pressure and RJ keeps it up. The referee steps in to check on Shaman, who adamantly refuses to tap.
Denrol: RJ Stone is one of the best submission wrestlers in the WWA and this is just one example of how good he really is.
Jack: If he was so great, he wouldn't need a security detail, would he?
RJ continues to crank on the hold, but Shaman's resolve only grows stronger. In a tremendous display of power, Shaman roars and shoves RJ across the ring with his lifted arm.
Jack: Amazing! Shaman is such a powerhouse!
Shaman stands slowly and rubs his neck, RJ remains on the canvas, splayed out and breathing heavily.
Jack: It looks like that may have been it for RJ Stone.
Denrol: Don't bet on it.
Shaman approaches RJ, pulling him up from the mat by his hair. RJ suddenly springs to life, wrapping his arms around Shaman's neck and upper body, pulling him head-first into the canvas. In the blink of an eye, RJ swings his legs over and locks in his devastating submission finisher.
Jack: Seeing Red!
Denrol: I knew it!
Shaman grunts at the intense pressure on his neck, but refuses to quit. RJ yanks and pulls for all he's worth, every muscle in his body straining to force the indomitable Native-American to submit.
Jack: Stone really has that locked in. I'm not sure how Shaman can possibly get out of this.
Shaman tries to roll away, but Stone has just enough leverage to keep him grounded. Shaman slowly and inexorably pushes himself up, a little at a time, pulling RJ up with him, until he reaches his knees.
Jack: Look at Shaman go! He's going to power his way out of another one!
Shaman's face passes from red to purple and he falls face-forward, cinching in Stone's finisher even tighter. The referee steps in, looking for submission, but gets no response. RJ continues to pull on Shaman's neck, putting every ounce of himself into this one moment. Finally, the referee calls for the bell.
Ding, Ding!
Jack: That's it! The referee has put a stop to this fight!
Denrol: Shaman is out! RJ Stone couldn't make Shaman give up by any means. He had to take the big man completely out to win this match.
Trudeau: Your winner of the match... RJ STOOOOOONE!
RJ rolls away from Shaman, exhausted. He slides from the ring slowly and shrugs away the security detail as they try to support him.
Denrol: RJ Stone insists on walking out of this match on his own two feet.
Jack: And he's walking out as the new Number One Contender to the US Championship, currently held by John Grant.
Denrol: The US Title scene is about to get seriously dangerous.
Next WWA: Underground
May 1, 2010
Main Event
WWA United States Championship
Grant [c] Vs Stone
Black & Vargas Vs Griffiths & Steele
Bagwell Vs Watkins
White Vs Copeland
Show Produced by Joe
Intrepid Vs Shame by Eddie
Price Vs Trendkiller by Eddie
Shaman Vs Stone by Andrew
"Chapter III" By
"Chapter VI" By
"Chapter IX" By
Produced by Joe Stock