"The Fixer" by Pearl Jam fills the arena, and the crowd comes alive immediately. Jaymz Watkins emerges from behind the curtains, wearing a Silversun Pickups t-shirt, a serious look on his face. He does high-five as many extended hands as he can, though, as he makes his way to the ring.

Jack: Watkins and Black contract signing incoming! Jaymz looks pretty damn determined right now.
Denrol: Well, even with the power of his "Five Magics," there's way too much going on right now for him to try to ignore.

Jaymz rolls quickly into the ring, where chairs and a table have been set up, the WWA Title match contract resting upon it. Jaymz climbs each turnbuckle in turn and plays to the fans, before extending a hand out for a mic. He gets one and looks around at the crowd as his music dies down.

Jack: I'm sure Jaymz has a lot to say right now.

Jaymz: How quickly things change, huh? We're embracing each other after I win the Bourbon Street Brawl and handle Randy Cross's second Trial, and all of a sudden Cross is cast aside and I've got an even bigger problem on my hands: Communion.

The crowd boos the newly-formed stable.

Jaymz: I don't fear these men, per se, and I don't fear the plans they have for me. I am scared, though. I'm scared of what they want to do to everyone and everything else. I'm not looking down upon all the other men in the WWA, or upon all of you great people, but I'm not sure if any of you know what these maniacs are capable of doing, and are willing to do. These people want to burn down everything precious in this business and piss on the ashes.

More boos.

Jack: He's right, unfortunately.

Jaymz: I've got a match next week against Lucas Black for his WWA Title, but who knows how ready I'll be for it, because I've gotta think about Rage in the Cage, where I'll be facing Kash and Copeland, the ones who have been causing so much of my suffering lately. They want me to find a partner, but... I don't think I want to.

The crowd murmurs in confusion.

Jack: What?

Jaymz: Yeah, I know that sounds weird, but... I don't want to drag anyone else into this mess. These men have already made my life a living hell, and, worse, they've even hurt the person I love the most, my wife Nikki. And now they want to destroy me once and for all before they move on to the rest of the WWA, and I just don't want to bring someone else into it. The guys here have their whole bright careers ahead of them, and I don't want them to risk that by entering a fight that may be impossible to win. Hell, I shouldn't even be doing this. But I've gotta try! And I need all of you out there to help me do it!

The crowd cheers a bit, unsure about what Jaymz is talking about.

Jaymz: I want you all to gather your strength, bottle up your love, and help me unleash Five Magics on all of them! We'll finally take down Lucas Black, and at Rage in the Cage, we'll -

The lights in the arena dim, and "Lux Aeterna" by Clint Mansell begins to play. From behind the curtain three hooded men, certainly members of Communion, emerge, slowly making their collective way to the ring. The crowd's boos are VICIOUS.

Jack: What do these maniacs want now? Jaymz has one of the biggest matches of his career on the horizon next week, and yet they still interrupt!
Denrol: They don't care one bit, Jack. Jaymz's other matters mean nothing to them unless they could cause Jaymz more suffering.
Jack: Lucas Black could certainly do that!

They enter the ring slowly, before standing before Jaymz in a triangular formation. They remove their hoods as the lights regain their brightness and the music dies out. Kash is in the front with Intrepid and Copeland behind him.

Jack: RJ Stone is conspicuously absent here.
Denrol: I'm sure he's getting ready to defend his US Title against Varga.

The crowd REALLY shows their hatred of these men. Kash has a mic and damn sure uses it.

Kash: You want to face Copeland and I alone, Jaymz? I mean, are you really that stupid? Hell, you might as well blindfold yourself and wrestle in a potato sack. You are a fool.

Boos.

Kash: You're really digging your own grave making a decision like that, but if that's your decision then it will be so! I certainly can't say it doesn't impress me, you standing up for the entire WWA and its fanbase, with nobody to protect you. Slightly impressive. Barely impressive. But I'll bet you didn't think of what would happen if you were defeated, did you? What will happen to all the WWA roster? The fans around the world? Your defenseless wife?

The crowd boos even louder at this, and Jaymz scowls. Kash eyes him for a moment, before moving over to and looking at the contract on the table. He reads it for a moment before taking up the pen and messing with what's written. Jaymz doesn't mask his confusion, and the crowd murmurs. Finally, Kash looks back up at Jaymz.

Kash: All that this act of foolish heroism has done for you is make things worse. I had planned on simply allowing you to wrestle your match next week, as I believe simply facing the champion is suffering enough. You changed my mind, so I upped the stakes. I don't think the champ will mind, but you, on the other hand, may not enjoy this addendum. Ladies and gentlemen and Jaymz, I now introduce Jaymz's opponent next week, the WWA Champion... LUCAS BLACK!

Flashing red strobes engulf the arena, leaving the assembled crowd in staccato, jerking movement. Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones echoes throughout the small venue. Lucas Black, with short hair as black as night, steps from behind the curtain, clad in black leather pants, black boots and black elbow pads. The WWA World Championship Title rests regally on his waist.

I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black

The flashing red strobes change to flashing black light as Tiffani, clad in black leather, steps from behind the curtain to stand at his side. He places his black gloved hands on his hips and glares at the assembled masses, the worms that writhe beneath his notice.

I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back

As he moves toward the ring, Tiffani falls into step behind him, head held high. His lips curl into a morbid grin as he moves ever closer to the ring.

I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black

The worms boo and hiss, spewing their blind judgments. But then the cattle always hate their predators.

Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black

Lucas enters the ring nimbly, hopping over the top rope and slowly advancing on his prey.

Jack: Lucas Black is here and he's sizing up Jaymz Watkins like a piece of meat.
Denrol: That's the predator in him. Everyone is a just potential prey to someone like Lucas Black.
Jack: Once they both sign this contract, Jaymz Watkins will have his chance at the WWA World Championship right here on Underground next week.

Lucas slowly paces the ring, a microphone in hand, never removing his stare from Watkins. Watkins stands tall, despite his less-than-desirable situation. Lucas raises the microphone while circling Watkins.

Lucas: Do you have any idea what you've walked into, Jaymz? The Trials that you've endured to this point have been absolutely nothing compared to what you're about to face. I'm going to hurt you, Jaymz. I'm going to hurt you terribly.

Lucas continues to circle him, his penetrating blue eyes slicing through Jaymz' flesh. Tiffani remains outside of the ring, carefully positioning herself on the opposite side of the ring from Kash, her lips drawn tight. For his part, Kash keeps a close eye on her, as well, distrust evident in his glare.

Lucas: May 22nd, Jaymz. May 22nd will be a terrible night for you. I'm not going to be satisfied with merely beating you in this ring. I've already beaten you twice. I've already fed on your suffering twice over, but there's a deeper well of suffering that you're capable of. I want to taste those deepest depths of pain and anguish, Jaymz.

The fans chant for Jaymz Watkins, willing their strength to him against the impossible odds stacked against him in the ring.

Crowd: LET'S GO JAYMZ!  LET'S GO JAYMZ!  LET'S GO JAYMZ!

Lucas smiles and stops his pacing, instead moving within inches of Watkin's face. Their eyes lock.

Lucas: I want to see the horror in your eyes when I peel the flesh from your body in long, sticky strips. I want to hear your screams when I methodically snap each bone in your body, snap, pop, crack. I'm going to open your gut and pull the meat from your ribs, Jaymz. But I'm going to do it slowly. I'm going to pull back the flesh of your scalp and I'm going to relish each and every moment of carving my initials into your exposed, bloody skull.

Jack: I – I think I'm going to be sick.

Lucas tilts his head slightly.

Lucas: Your so-called "Fifth Magic" will be nothing more than a sacrifice to me, Jaymz. I will stain this ring with your blood, leave clumps of your bloodied, torn-out hair scattered around the arena, and little seeping chunks of your flesh will rain down on these maggots that cheer for you. These fans will weep at the terrors that I visit upon you, and then I will strangle their children with your intestines.

Jaymz swallows hard, fear finally making itself evident on his face, and Lucas takes a casual step back. Still smirking, Lucas moves to the table, looking at Kash's addition to the contract. Somehow, Black's grin grows even larger, even sicker, and he doesn't hesitate for a nanosecond in signing his name to the contract with a confident flourish.

Lucas: Here it is, Jaymz. This is your chance to capture the WWA World Title. But at what cost? Just how much are you willing to suffer to prove that you are a failure?

Lucas backs away from table, leaving wide berth for his potential challenger.  Jaymz stands for a moment, eyeing the masses assembled against him, the Communion and the WWA Champion.

Jack: Talk about being in the lion's den.
Denrol: Agreed. Jaymz Watkins is in a dangerous situation right now, and there's really no way out of it other than surrender or going right through the middle.

Jaymz looks around the venue, hearing the cheers of the fans, urging him on, declaring their faith in his Five Magics. Jaymz swallows hard and raises the microphone, his eyes locked on Kash rather than Lucas.

Jaymz: I'm your huckleberry.

The fans explode into cheers as Watkins signs his name to the contract, not even looking at Kash's scrawled alteration. Lucas nods and removes himself from the ring quickly. Kash keeps a cautious eye on Tiffani as she and Lucas head toward the curtain, Tiffani keeping just as close of a watch on Kash. Kash finally turns back to Jaymz, who has forced aside the fear from his countenance.

Kash: If you're my huckleberry, Black is going to smash you into huckleberry jelly next week, and he will join us in slathering you on our toast. Your "normal" match next week has been turned into something much more delicious, Jaymz. Let's just say... I know who's going to be the Last Man Standing.

The crowd explodes again, this time into a chorus of boos. Jaymz's eye twitches, but that's the only evidence of a reaction from him.

Jack: Oh, my God! Watkins, Black, WWA Championship, Last Man Standing!

Communion makes their exit, and Jaymz stands in the ring, his eyes following closely behind them. When they finally leave through the curtains, Jaymz drops back into one of the chairs near the table. He sighs heavily before lowering his head.

Jack: I think Jaymz understands his situation now...
Denrol: I think he understands the odds he's up against. My hat's off to him for his bravery, but I don't envy his situation, that's for sure.
Jack: Well, as sucky as it is for Jaymz, it's still main-event-on-a-pay-per-view-level match next week, on the free WWA webstream! It's going to be absolutely sick!

Jack: Earlier today, two rookies faced off in Colby Korver and KHAOS, in what turned out to be a fairly one-sided contest. We join them now, after KHAOS has just rolled to the outside, with Korver on the attack.

KHAOS rubs his head and shakes the cobwebs out, walking along the guardrail, while Korver slides out of the ring behind him and hits KHAOS with a forearm across the back, throwing KHAOS to the mats. The referee shouts at both men to get in, but Korver instead picks up KHAOS and drives him back-first into the apron. KHAOS groans and slumps to his knees and Korver measures him up, takes a step back and then nails KHAOS in the head with a devastating running knee smash!

Jack: Boom! Headshot!
Denrol: My God, you are just so lame.
Jack: What? He calls that knee the Headshot!
Denrol: So you’re both lame, then.

KHAOS is laid out and Korver wastes no time in rolling him into the ring, going for the pin quickly.

One!

Two!

And KHAOS kicks out, if barely. Korver, looking fresh and smelling the victory, stands back and leans into the ropes for a second, contemplating KHAOS as he laboriously climbs back to his feet. As KHAOS stands upright, putting his hands up in a boxing guard, Korver grins and does the same, moving in on KHAOS. Korver throws a quick jab that catches KHAOS and as he stumbles backwards, Korver throws another jab, and another, sending KHAOS reeling into the ropes. As he bounces out, Korver kicks him in the gut and shoves KHAOS’ head between his legs and hoists KHAOS up and DOWN with a powerbomb that rattles the ring!

Jack: And the power game is in play.

Korver picks KHAOS up and whips him into the ropes, meeting him with a furious arm lariat as he bounces back, turning KHAOS inside-out, to the wild cheers of the crowd. Korver gets back to his feet and poses a little for the crowd, clapping his hands at them. KHAOS, meanwhile, has barely gotten back to his feet as Korver is on him again, tossing KHAOS into the corner with a vengeance. KHAOS goes down hard and sits down on his butt, while Korver goes to the opposite corner and then charge at him, leaps and hits a sweet hesitation drop kick that throws KHAOS’ head into the bottom turnbuckle pad. KHAOS rolls out of the corner and Korver tries for another pin, hooking the far leg.

One!

Two!

Th-

KHAOS kicks out, or rather rolls his shoulder out, at the last second, making Korver sigh and bang the mat. Rolling away from KHAOS, Korver stands up and anxiously waits for KHAOS to get back to his feet. KHAOS, meanwhile, looks disorientated and concussed, wobbling back and forth with his back to Korver, trying to grab the ropes for stability, until he finally turns around into Korver and…

Jack: See-Kay-One!
Denrol: Oh, wow, that’s got to hurt.

Korver roars, sensing that it’s all over, and then drops down on top of KHAOS, hooking both legs.

One!

Two!

Jack: If KHAOS kicks out of this one, I’m buying you dinner, Denny.

Three!

Ding! Ding!

Trudeau: Here is your winner of the match… COOOOOOLBY KOOOORVEEEEERRRR!

Trudeau: At this time, weighing 216 pounds. He is WWA's Hellbilly from Hot Springs. He is...the one known as...INTREPID!

'Must Kill' by Cavalera Conspiracy begins playing and not even a second after that the entrance begins flashing with a quick burst of white strobe light and Intrepid comes out quickly, but stops on the other side of the entrance curtain. He stares out into the crowd grooving to the beat of the music, glaring at them through the eyes of his mask. He suddenly thrusts his arm into the air.

Denrol: Well, it seems that Intrepid is appearing alone for tonight’s match.
Jack: I don’t think Chris would complain all that much to this Joe.

As soon as the crowd reacts, Intrepid runs down the entire aisle all the way to the ring. He dives onto the ring apron and slides into the ring on his stomach. When he reaches the opposite side of the ring, he pushes himself into a standing position. He stands there in anticipation nodding to the referee that he is ready to go. There is an odd-looking fan with a baseball cap and dark sunglasses standing nervously along the barricade behind where Intrepid is up in the ring.

Jack: Uh, I’m not sure that things are exactly kosher at ringside.
Denrol: What are you mumbling?
Jack: You don’t see that sore thumb standing behind Intrepid out there?
Denrol: Jack, need I remind that these are ‘Professional Wrestling Fans’?

The lights fade and a combination of gold and white lights beat to the music of ‘Breathe’ by Fabolous. Intrepid stands in the center of the ring watching the entrance curtain but no one comes out. Suddenly the ‘sore thumb’ that is ringside tosses off the baseball cap and sunglasses that he is wearing to reveal that it is Chris Bagwell.

Jack: See…I told you that…
Denrol: Oh, shut up Jack!

Chris hops over the barricade and grabs the chair the timekeeper was sitting on and as the crowd begin to become aware of what is happening the begin cheering. This causes Intrepid to go onto the defense as he switches his stance and begins scanning the nearby crowd. Just as he turns to face the incoming Bagwell, he is met with a chair shot to the head that sends him down to the mat in a crumpled mess.

Denrol: Yeah, that’ll do it folks.

Chris stands seemingly victorious over the fallen Intrepid, clinching the timekeepers chair and breathing heavy from the adrenaline rush. The crowd is alive with excitement as they cheer Bagwell for finally getting some payback on Intrepid. Everyone’s adrenaline rush is crushed as ‘Must Kill’ begins to blare from the P.A. system again. Chris spins on his heels to face the entrance curtain and the referee jumps in to snatch the chair from his hand. Chris is so fixated on the entrance that he doesn’t acknowledge the referee or the supposed Intrepid that lay beneath his feet.

Jack: Ok, now I am confused.
Denrol: Just now?

Another Intrepid pops out from behind the entrance curtain with a microphone in his hand. He swaggers a few feet away from the entrance as the music dies out and then raises the microphone to speak.

Intrepid: Hello there Chrissy…I see you’ve met my good twin. Uh, well maybe not good twin…let’s just say twin.

Bagwell turns to look back at the fallen Intrepid and then back to the one at the entrance with a small amount of confusion and a growing amount of anger as he visibly grips the ring ropes.

Intrepid: You see Chrissy, I figured since you flat ignored me last week that you must’ve been up to something so I sent out a precaution…and low and behold, I was right!

The crowd is no longer in their shock of seeing two Intrepid’s and are jeering and insulting what has to be the original Hellbilly.

Intrepid: I am obviously not only a psychic and a prophet but I most certainly must be an excellent motivator. You ask why a motivator Intrepid? Well, funny you should ask Chrissy…allow me to explain.

Jack: This guy is a grade A nut job.
Denrol: No arguments here.

Intrepid: I am an excellent motivator as I have been able to instruct and convince to you that you need to repent and come back to the self-serving and prideful warrior that you used to be. And, it has been working or else you wouldn’t have come out here tonight a chop down a perfectly innocent stand-in on my behalf. Well, uh…maybe not perfectly innocent, but you get what I am saying.

Chris doesn’t bother to turn to look at the Intrepid he mowed down a moment ago. He keeps his eyes locked on the true Intrepid down at the entrance.

Intrepid: Well all know and understand Chrissy that a Heathen wouldn’t do something like what you had just done…they are all goody goody and upstanding and all that. Anyways, if you don’t trust as you technically can’t see my lips movin’ to determine whether or not I am lyin’ here…go on over and take off his…err, my mask to find out.

The crowd erupts at the prospect of removing the mask but they are cheering mainly out of curiosity in finding out who Chris had clobbered with a steel chair. Bagwell turns away reluctantly from who he now thinks the true Intrepid is to look down upon the fallen one. He walks over and kneels down to remove the mask.

Intrepid: Go on honey…we ain’t got all night!

With that little bit of incitement, Chris yanks the mask off to reveal that the Intrepid he had thumped with a steel chair was actually one of RJ Stone’s bodyguards. Half of the crowd erupts in laughter and the other in jeers toward the true Intrepid.

Intrepid: I’ll make sure to send you the bill for his Hazard Pay…but we have other fish to fry sweet pea. Referee…please restrain this man as he is obviously unstable…I would like to enter the ring for our match!

The referee reluctantly moves to intercept a furious Chris Bagwell and remands him to his corner so the true Intrepid can officially enter the ring. Gary Trudeau steps into the ring as well to announce both competitors in this match.

Trudeau: Ladies and Gentlemen…in this corner, weighing in tonight at 227 lbs. and hailing from Newark, New Jersey…’The Rajah of Ratings’ Chris Bagwell!

The crowd cheers the man who had just been recently humbled to encourage him to get his head on straight in order to return the favor.

Trudeau: And in this corner, weighing in tonight at 216 lbs. and hailing from Hot Springs, Arkansas…’The Hellbilly Deluxe’ Intrepid!

The crowd is decidedly opposed to Trudeau even finishing his introduction of Intrepid and assails the ring with their verbal offense. Trudeau exits the ring as the referee readies both men for their match. When he is satisfied that they are prepared he calls for the bell to begin.

Ding, Ding!

Denrol: The old double trick.
Jack: You should know you were the master of it.
Denrol: Of course and nobody did it better than I did.
Jack: Could it be that you remember Father Denrol?
Denrol: Just one of the many.

Intrepid and Bagwell lock up as Bagwell quickly turns. He spins and grabs Intrepid's arm and releases grabbing the waist and hitting a bridge suplex slamming Intrepid down onto this back. Bagwell does not release as he rolls to the side and lifts once again into a German suplex. Bagwell gets up quickly and turns himself around pulling Intrepid back to his feet.

Jack: Bagwell with the offensive now.
Denrol: Bagwell is playing off a bit of anger there.
Jack: Only because he was bamboozled.
Denrol: Bambooz...what the hell is that?
Jack: Something my grandfather used to say.
Denrol: Back in the 1800's get a new line.

Bagwell sends Intrepid into the ropes, but Intrepid ducks under the clothesline and comes off the ropes with a shoulder block knocking Bagwell backwards. Intrepid hurriedly accelerates the attack. Bagwell right as he recovers is nailed with a spinning neck breaker. Bagwell comes down hard on the mat holding his head. Intrepid steps forward grabbing Bagwell and hoists him to his feet once again.

Denrol: See how fast momentum can change during this match?
Jack: Both competitors here are very talented.
Denrol: Bagwell is pretty good and Intrepid has the tenacity to spoil a match.
Jack: Amongst other things.

Intrepid stands Bagwell up and slaps him across the face. Bagwell quickly kicks Intrepid in the midsection. Stepping forward Bagwell grabs Intrepid and executes a release suplex. Intrepid hits hard as Bagwell spins quickly and drops a knee down into Intrepid's back.

Jack: Bagwell back on top here.
Denrol: Doesn't seem to me either man has the upper hand.
Jack: Both men are about equally talented.
Denrol: Only one man is talented and that's me.

Bagwell drops down and locks in a chin lock from behind on Intrepid. Intrepid not moving very well here as he reaches up trying to break the fingers loose. Bagwell leans back as he lets out a slight grunt applying pressure. Intrepid reaches back and slaps at Bagwells forearms trying to move and get some space or looseness on the hold.

Jack: Once locked in is difficult to get out.
Denrol: That style move works very effectively trying to wear down your opponent.

Intrepid kicks his feet out toes stretching and barely catching the bottom rope. The referee pats Bagwell's shoulder and points at the ropes. Bagwell sees this and quickly pulls Intrepid to his feet. Intrepid spins quickly exchanging a few lefts and rights as Bagwell comes firing back on him.

Denrol: Both men exchanging blows here.
Jack: The upper hand still seems to be Bagwell.
Denrol: Of course , I bet you kiss a picture of the man at home.
Jack: I do not.

Intrepid blocks a punch from Bagwell then hits one and then two of his own staggering Bagwell. Bagwell quickly counters by kicking Intrepid in the midsection and executing a perfect DDT. Bagwell rolls to the side and the positions himself to hook the leg as the referee drops for the count.

One..

Two..

Jack: No way Intrepid kicks out at the very last second.
Denrol: Experts and technicians know when to gain enough time to recover.
Jack: Well then Intrepid is the epitome of luck.

Bagwell sits there astonished for a moment as he slowly turns and gets to his feet. He reaches down and lifts Intrepid t his feet and simply pushes him into the corner. Bagwell drops to one knee and drives a shoulder into Intrepid's midsection over and over again. He then slowly stands up and drivers an elbow into the side of the head of Intrepid and walks out of the corner and way as he turns looking at Intrepid.

Denrol: If Intrepid is going to beat Bagwell he doesn't need to practice being a punching bag.
Jack: Intrepid looks a little worse for wear here.

Bagwell charges and leaps splashing down on Intrepid. Bagwell quickly follows by grabbing a hold of Intrepid and sends him across the ring.

Jack: That has got to be it Bagwell in full control here.
Denrol: I have seen many things happen in these types of instances.

Intrepid is whipped hard into the corner. Bagwell runs at him to deliver a corner clothesline but is met with a drop toe hold by Intrepid and Bagwell eats the top turnbuckle.

Denrol: See told you Intrepid was playing possum.
Jack: Unbelievable.

Intrepid shakes the cobwebs off quickly as he gets back to his feet.

Jack: Intrepid is still feeling the beating.
Denrol: Yes, but he is also in control.

Intrepid grabs Bagwell and lifts him up onto the top turnbuckle. Intrepid then climbs up onto the second turnbuckle and grabs Bagwell's arm.

Denrol: Oh we are going high impact here.
Jack: This could be a devastating move for Intrepid.

Intrepid turns around on the turnbuckle with Bagwell's arm over his shoulder then leans forward quickly yanking the still disoriented Bagwell off the top turnbuckle and slamming him onto his back.

Denrol: That took as much out of Intrepid as it has Bagwell.
Jack: Both men took a hard landing there.
Denrol: This could turn ugly.
Jack: Being either man who hate each other this is ugly.

Intrepid rolls over to his stomach and flops an arm over Bagwell as the referee drops down for the count.

One..

Two..

Thr....

Jack: No Bagwell gets his arm up just in the nick of time.
Denrol: Intrepid can hardly believe it.
Jack: But neither man is getting up very quickly.

The referee begins the count again as both men are down.

One..

Two..

The referee raise a third finger as the crowd joins in. Bagwell drags himself to the ropes and begins using them to pull himself up.

Four..

Five..

Intrepid up on his hands and knees as Bagwell uprights himself on the ropes. The referee steps over and says something to Bagwell who nods and turns around. Intrepid charges in, but Bagwell is waiting this time. Bagwell pulls down the top rope as Intrepid sails out over it and onto the floor hard.

Denrol: Heading to the outside here could be the leverage one of these guys need.
Jack: Outside the ring is a whole new battlefield.
Denrol: Yes didn't I just say that?

Bagwell rolls out of the ring heading towards Intrepid. Intrepid senses the approach and waits till the very last second and low blows Bagwell dropping him to his knees. Intrepid gets up and points to his temple as he looks down at Bagwell. Intrepid reaches down and grabs Bagwell lifting him to his feet. He spins slinging Bagwell into the corner ring post. Intrepid looks at the referee about to begin the count. He rolls in and then back out of the ring.

Denrol: Keeping the count off balance he can work outside all night.
Jack: Not a safe place to be.

Denrol: Of course not it is a place usually for the most dangerous of players in the game.
Jack: The list could be huge.

Intrepid walks over to Bagwell looking down at him as Bagwell is trying to recover. Intrepid stands Bagwell up and pulls him towards the crowd yelling to them that he is a Heathen just like them. He hoists Bagwell and drops him across the barrier. Bagwell comes down hard onto his chest. Intrepid reaches down and grabs Bagwell dragging him back to his feet and pushes him into the ring.

Denrol: Complete and utter control by Intrepid here.
Jack: The only control Intrepid can gather I suppose.
Denrol: Because the man hides behind a mask does not mean he is guilty.
Jack: And you would know all about that eh?

Denrol gives Jack an annoyed look he turns his gaze back towards the in ring action. In the ring Bagwell is slowly beginning to get back to his feet as Intrepid takes his time stalking his pray. Intrepid grabs Bagwell quickly dragging him to his feet. Bagwell quickly ducks under and rolls around and quickly hooks in a Full Nelson on Intrepid. Bagwell locks it down tight on the struggling Intrepid.

Jack: Whoa Bagwell countered and could win this.
Denrol: Intrepid is struggling, but seems that Bagwell has an advantage here.
Jack: Bagwell with a look of pure hatred and concentration at the same time here.
Denrol: I thought it might be a slight case of constipation.

Intrepid stands up on his tip toes gaining just enough leverage to bend his arms. He ducks and rolls forward causing Bagwell to go over him. Intrepid quickly jumps to his feet and dropkicks Bagwell in the back causing Bagwell to roll forward again.

Denrol: Intrepid with a quick momentum changer again.
Jack: Intrepid may be getting frustrated here.

Intrepid hurries to the corner and runs up onto the ropes and does a back flip into a frog splash onto the downed Bagwell. Intrepid rolls over slowly as he holds his sides getting back to his feet. He turns and looks at Bagwell and reaches down grabbing him. He lifts Bagwell to his feet and lifts him up and executes a sitting pile driver.

Jack: Wow haven't seen one of those in years.
Denrol: Whatever works in the time of need.
Jack: Intrepid may have this won.
Denrol: Do not count your chickens...
Jack: Before they hatch I know.
Denrol: Don't ever interrupt me.

Intrepid gets back to his feet looking down at Bagwell. He lifts Bagwell again and simply scoop slams him.

Denrol: What has Intrepid got planned here?
Jack: Nobody knows for sure, but Intrepid.

After dropping Bagwell to the mat, Intrepid wraps one leg around Bagwell's prone neck. He then locks the hold on with his other leg and reaches to hold onto Bagwell's neck with his arms. While doing this Intrepid securely rolls over onto his stomach then performs a forward roll forward to land on his back.

Denrol: Some kind of submission hold.
Jack: Looks like some sort of Mixed Martial Arts hold.
Denrol: That obvious Jack?

As Intrepid rolls forward landing on his back, this also pulls Bagwell up off the mat and throws him over onto his back. With the led sleeper hold still locked in, Intrepid cinches his legs in even tighter. He lifts into the hold clamping his calf and thigh muscles into Bagwell carotid arteries, slowly causing him to pass out.

Jack: Bagwell's struggling here.
Denrol: Unfortunately I think it's a little too late.
Jack: So close Bagwell.
Denrol: He is mere inches from the rope.

The referee slides in to lift Bagwell's arm to see if he is out.

Denrol: Bagwell is just about out.
Jack: The life is leaving his face.

One…

The referee lifts the arm again and checks again as he lifts the arm.
 
Two…

Bagwell is unresponsive as the referee lifts the arm one more time.

Three...

The referee signals for the bell as he stands up.

Ding, Ding!

The referee turns and raises Intrepid's arm in victory.

Denrol: Valiant effort by Bagwell, but he just came up short in the end.
Jack: That is right, but Bagwell and Intrepid is far from done I am sure of it.
Denrol: That you can cash a check on.

Jack: This afternoon, Chris Conway faced Erik Ennis in a one-on-one match, and we join them now, with Ennis having trapped Conway on the mat with his excellent amateur wrestling.

Conway lays face-down on the mat by the corner, roaring like a bull in distress as Ennis whirls around on top of his back like a spinner-wheel. Conway snorts and tries to get back to his knees, but Ennis pulls on his leg and trips him up and over into a grapevine pin!

One!

And Conway kicks out with authority, sending Ennis flying straight up into the air, to get caught and entangled in the ropes. Ennis desperately tries to wrench free, but as Conway slowly stands up with his back to the amateur wrestler, Erik Ennis’ struggle grows fainter and fainter, as he realizes he’s in a lot of trouble. Conway turns around and leans in close to Ennis’ face. Then a smile slowly appears on his face and he unwraps the ropes from Ennis’ arms.

Denrol: Stupid! Why’d he give up an advantage like that?
Jack: Sportsmanship?
Denrol: Oh come on!

Ennis smiles a thanks to Conway, and extends his hand, but is rewarded instead by an overhead chop to the top of his head, something that brings him to his knees. The crowd laughs at him. Ennis’ knees are very wobbly as he tries to stand up, and he looks around for Conway – too late, as Conway has gone to the opposite corner and now charges Ennis with a massive full-body spear that sends Ennis flipping end-over-end over the ropes and into the barricade on the outside! With a thunderous crash, Ennis goes down and the crowd roars in anticipation!

Jack: An amazing display of strength and agility from the massive Conway.
Denrol: And some amazing aerial ability from Ennis. Sniggers.

Conway puffs his cheeks as he rolls to the outside and brutally picks up Ennis with a couple of stiff elbows to the head, that makes the already wobbly Ennis stumble and as he rights himself, Conway throws a roundhouse kick to his ribs that doubles him over. Conway grabs Ennis and throws him back into the ring, then follows close behind. With Ennis laying on his back in the middle of the ring, Conway bounces off the ropes and then runs at the prone amateur wrestler, leaps into the air and…

Jack: Argh! A four-hundred and twenty-four pound splash on poor Erik Ennis!

Conway simply stays put after the splash and the ref drops for the count.

One!

Two!

Ennis rolls his shoulder out, but that is all he can manage. Conway climbs back to his feet, watching the still-prone Ennis and shakes his head.

Conway: Welcome to the big leagues, punk!

Propping Ennis up, Conway throws his arm in the air and the crowd responds with a roaring “BOOMSTICK!”. Conway runs at the far-side ropes, bounce off them and with a running power clothesline that is not only from hell, but has also brought with it demons, devils, la chupacabra and Cliff Richard’s liver, turns  Ennis inside-out twice over and throws him to the canvas with a resounding thud!

Jack: Boomstick! An enormous, thundering, exploding Boomstick!
Denrol: This one’s over.

Conway sits down on Ennis’ chest and counts with his fingers in the air, along with the referee.

One!

Two!

Three!

Ding! Ding!

Trudeay: Here is your winner of the match… CHRIS “SUUUUPER TITAN” COOOOONWAAAAAAYY!

We see the curtain twitch. Suddenly, someone is thrown through it and lands in a heap on the aisleway.

Jack: What's this?
Denrol: Is that Coleman? 

It most certainly is Wallace Coleman. He looks a little shaken as he scrambles to his feet and backs away from the curtain.

Jack: What's got him so spooked?
Denrol: It can only be...

Dave Harley steps out from behind the curtain. He has a steel chair to hand and looks incredibly pissed. As he moves toward Wallace, he makes a dart towards the ring. Harley chases, caching him and tossing him through the bottom rope and in to the ring. Harley follows, snatching a microphone.  

Harley: Last week was supposed to be my swan song. The culmination of one of the most decorated careers in WWA history. I was to be celebrated and sent off in style. But time and time again the WWA lets me down.

Crowd: CRAVEN MOORE! CRAVEN MOORE!

Harley: There's no point chanting your heroes name. He's not here. Craven Moore thought he could gatecrash my party and ruin everything. Well, to an extent he did. But really, all Moore has done is made my send off far more grand that it could possibly be. Think about it. Rage In The Cage XII, Dave Harley stood in the centre of that cage soaked in the blood of Craven Moore. One last bow, one final bloodbath, Craven Moore defeated.

Crowd: BOOOO!

Harley: So Moore, if you thought you'd ruin things for me by showing up last week, you're mistaken. I understand why you did it. Let's face it, Craven Moore is some forgotten relic of WWA's past. A nobody. Who'd pay to see his retirement if it wasn't linked to my own? You've jumped on the Harley bandwagon, but be prepared for a wild ride, old friend.

Harley turns away from the camera and sees Wallace cowering in the corner of the ring.

Harley: You not going to interview me, Wallace? Nothing to say, WALLACE?

Jack: He's got his name right.

Harley: You know, there's one other thing that's been bothering me. Somebody let Craven Moore in to the building last week. It wasn't Beckett or WWA security – I've already spoken to those losers. Somebody else. Someone on the inside let Moore in and let him ruin my night. Somebody who was trying to humiliate me.

Harley stares down at Coleman.

Harley: Isn't that right, Wallace?

Jack: He can't seriously be suggesting...
Denrol: Makes perfect sense to me.

Harley unfolds his steel chair.

Harley: Take a seat, Wallace.

He obliges, nervously.

Harley: We're gonna play a little role reversal now. It's time for Dave Harley to interview Wallace Coleman. Feel free to forget my name.

Harley clears his throat.

Harley: So Wallace, last week was Dave Harley Appreciation Night. Did you enjoy the celebration.
Coleman: Y-Yuh-Yes.
Harley: Speak up, Wallace, the world is listening. So, you enjoyed the show. The well choreographed entrance, the touching tribute by Scotty...you saw that, right?
Coleman: Yes.
Harley: It's just, I have a sneaking suspicion that you let Craven Moore in to the building and set me up. Is that true?
Coleman: What? No. I never...
Harley: Admit it! Own up, you little worm! You tried to ruin my retirement, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?!

Harley pushes Coleman out of the chair. He picks it up and folds it in half, waving it over Wallace who cowers on the mat.

Harley: Come clean, Wallace. Don't lie to the Extreme Machine.
Coleman: It wasn't me, I swear to God!
Harley: God can't save you now, Wallace. It's the Devil's Day. This is going to hurt.

Harley raises the chair over his head. The lights cut out.

Jack: What? A power shortage?
Denrol: Someone pay the bill, I need to see Wallace get smacked!

CRAXXT!

Denrol: See? I missed it!

The lights come back up. But it's not Wallace Coleman laid out on the floor. It's Dave Harley. And stood over him? Craven Moore.

Jack: It's Moore! Craven Moore is here!

Moore points to Harley as he speaks to Wallace. Wallace nods and covers Harley. Moore gets to his knees and counts.

One!

Two!

Three!

Jack: Wallace Coleman just pinned Dave Harley!
Denrol: This isn't even a match. He can't just pin him like that.

The crowd goes wild as Wallace Coleman gets to his feet and has his arm raised by Craven Moore.

Jack: Last week he ruined the retirement, tonight Craven hands Harley a humiliating defeat.

Craven Moore celebrates over the crumpled body of Dave Harley as 'Voodoo Chile' by Stevie Ray Vaughan plays over the PA.

The scene cuts backstage, where Jevon White is standing in front of Rachel Beckett's desk.

Beckett: I understand you are upset Jevon. But this is the reality of the situation. Denrol is a color commentator. Not an active wrestler. I can't give you the match you want.
White: Miss Beckett, this is insane. He gets to just sit there and going after me week after week, but I can't respond?
Beckett: I'm afraid not. Unless Denrol physically attacks you, I can't make any match.

White sighs and nods. He leaves the room. But the moment he steps outside the office, he runs right into Shaman, who is standing by the door.

White: What the...
Shaman: Hello Jevon White. Just the man I was looking for. Got a message for you.
White: What message?

Suddenly Shaman nails White with a lariat. White tries to quickly get up, only for Shaman to kick him square in the head.

Jack: What is going on here?
Denrol: Oh boy, this is classic.

A dazed White cannot defend himself as Shaman lifts him up and drops him headfirst onto the concrete with a Desert Spike. A dull thump can be heard as White collapses to the floor, out cold.

Jack: I can't believe Shaman just did that. Why? WHY?

In response, Denrol breaks out into laughter. Shaman leans over White and whispers to him, just audible enough for the camera to pick up.

Shaman: You mess with one of us; you mess with all of us. The Franchise Players ride again.

Shaman chuckles as he walks away. The camera zooms in White's face. White's eyes are open, but it's clear nobody is home.

Jack: White is out cold here, would you stop laughing?
Denrol: No. keeps laughing
Jack: Franchise Players ride again. What the hell does that mean?
Denrol: You'll see Jack. You'll see.

As "Tip The Scales" by Rise Against blares through the PA the crowd roar in anticipation.

These machines feed on the tears of broken life’s and dying dreams

From behind the curtain Jack Griffiths appears, dressed ready for a fight he high-fives a few members of the audience before breaking into a sprint for the ring.

We’re throwing wrenches in the gears
Our lifes will not be lived in vain

He slides into the ring where he pops up to his feet and throws up a devil's horn symbol to the crowd before taking off his t-shirt and throwing it into the crowd.

When this is all said and done
We spent this life on the run
Judged by the company we keep

Trudeau: Ladies and Gentlemen…first out tonight, weighing in at 205 lbs. and hailing from London, England. He is “The Uncrowned Champion” Jack Griffiths!

Denrol: I don’t care for Nancy Boy’s new moniker.
Jack: As I am sure we are of your old and tired one.

Trudeau: His opponent tonight, weighing in at 355 lbs. and hailing from Dallas, Texas…He is “The Great Southern Killer of Trends” Trendkiller!

"The Great Southern Trendkill" by Pantera plays over the PA, positively bursting the eardrums of anyone unfortunate enough not to wear ear plugs, the visceral shriek of Phil Anselmo streaming into the venue. A strobe flashes behind the curtain and as the cloth slides to the sides, revealing Trendkiller in silhouette against the flickering light. He raises his arms and strides forth. As the primal shriek of Phil Anselmo fades into the first verse, Trendkiller makes his way down to the ring, steps in over the top rope and stalks in the ring, raising his arms in the air from time to time.

Jack: I don’t think you folks at home need us to point out the obvious size difference here tonight.

Griffiths suddenly rushes TK as the referee is drawing them to ready for the match.

Ding, Ding!

Before TK can position himself Griffiths shoves him back into the ropes. Griffiths moves off to the side, takes aim then delivers a low thrust kick at TK’s legs. His legs come out from under him and fall wholly onto the ropes as Griffiths rounds the front of him.

Denrol: Griffiths with a surprise advantage
Jack: I am not sure there is any other way to start

Griffiths telegraphs a spinning heel kick and as he is about to deliver TK grabs Griffiths leg. Griffiths hobbles a moment on his other leg as TK begins to smile but his smile is short-lived as Griffith’s hops and spins to perform an Enziguiri to the back of TK’s head. TK lands on his stomach and Griffiths on his knees.

Jack: Chopping the big man down to mat!

Griffiths hops back onto his feet and begins stomping down TK’s right arm and then the hand. TK quickly responds, attempting to roll away and Griffiths follows him quickly grabbing the top rope and jumping up into the air. He uses the momentum on the way down, placing both feet out in front of himself shoving TK out under the bottom rope and onto the floor mat below.

Denrol: Wow! Seriously?
Jack: I guess so…

The crowd explodes after Griffiths sends TK to the floor and TK violently puts punches both fists underneath himself. He pushes up only to meet and incoming Griffiths as he comes over the top rope landing on TK in a splash.

Jack: Griffiths is really taking to TK early.

At this point TK isn’t a very happy camper as he has had the better taken out of him in two circumstances. TK gets a lucky roll as the two men struggle for position and the referee scolds them both before beginning his count as he his able to get both hands under Griffiths. TK sits up with the smaller man in hand and thrusts Griffiths away from him and into the ring steps with a crash.

Denrol: And with that clang…
Jack: …the match slows down.

With Griffiths crashing into the steps, this stops the referee’s very brief count as he begins now only scolding TK as the large man stands up ringside. He just glares at the referee who decides to stop yelling and just start counting. TK laughs and shakes his head as he finishes his walk over to a groggy Griffiths, collecting him by the hair.

Denrol: That referee sure is a complainer tonight.

TK doesn’t even bother allowing the referee to begin complaining as he sends Griffiths in the hard way by his hair. TK rolls in quickly realizing that Griffiths already is using the momentum given him to get onto his feet. TK pops down an elbow and kicks himself onto a knee, and then in another motion has himself onto his feet.

Jack: Even though he is big, he knows how to make that body work to his advantage
Denrol: I’m not sure I want to know.

Griffiths is up onto his feet facing the ringside fans and uses their faces to alert him of the oncoming danger. He spins on his feet but is too late as TK delivers a very stiff running clothesline, which nearly sends him back onto the floor. Griffiths holds onto the ropes as he rolls over and as best as he can brings himself around, sliding in on the mat, through TK’s legs.

Jack: Uh-oh!

Griffiths doesn’t get a chance to exploit the opportunity window that he afforded himself as TK drops instantly onto Griffiths’ chest, shoving the air from his lungs. The crowd groans at the understanding of the fact that a large man just dropped with all of his weight onto Griffiths’ chest. However, his shoulders drop to the mat and the referee takes the opportunity to count.

One…

Two…

Griffiths pops his shoulder up and TK rolls off, dragging the man to his feet. TK bends Griffiths down so he is bent facing forward and he reaches around Griffiths’ body lifting him up, spinning him out in front. TK kneels down, drops Griffiths down back first across his knee, and holds him there.

Jack: Oh yeah, that hurts!
Denrol: How would you know, you’ve never been in a ring.

TK slides him off and onto the mat while remaining a hold of Griffiths arm as he stands. TK comes back down just as quickly after pulling Griffiths arm through his leg as he lands a leg drop across the shoulder and neck of Griffiths. TK rolls Griffiths up for a pinfall attempt as the referee slides in for the count.

One…

Tw~

Griffiths gets a shoulder up and without any hesitation or even show of frustration TK stands up pulling Griffiths with him. TK grabs Griffiths into a belly to belly waistlock, lifting him up and pivots 180 degrees, driving him into the mat back first. Griffiths has a look of utter pain as the air is driven from him again. TK remains driven and now begins to smile once again.

Denrol: Sweet mercy, that has got to hurt.

Without much of a pause, once again TK drags Griffiths to his feet and continues by pulling up onto his shoulder but snaps to life and squirms away, pushing TK forward who spins quickly on his feet as Griffiths runs up the large man. The crowd explodes as Griffiths uses TK as a makeshift ramp and when he reaches the top, Griffiths kicks back, locks onto TK’s head and pulls down administering a vicious DDT.

Jack: The pendulum is now back the other way.
Denrol: I will admit that was kinda funny…even for Griffiths.

TK is temporarily motionless and Griffiths lie on his back catching his breath, using up the count the referee is administering to them both. When he notices TK starting to move, Griffiths pops up to his feet instantly and runs in the opposite direction.

Denrol: There…you see! Finally, proof that Griffiths is a coward!
Jack: You might want to rethink that Denrol.

Instead of turning to rebound off the ropes, Griffiths hits the ropes at full speed chest first. Using the sudden push backward, he flips back into a handspring pushing up from the mat to spin him into a backwards somersault. TK is up onto his knee as he turns to meet one Jack Griffiths stuck in sudden reverse. Griffiths nails him with a nasty body attack and both men are back on the mat. Griffiths continues rolling out and pops back onto his feet.

Jack: Using his whole body as a weapon.

Griffiths wastes no time as he climbs the turnbuckle and takes aim before launching off, tucking into a forward somersault. Griffiths opens up after spinning 450 degrees and is met by TK playing possum. TK kneels up to deliver a closed punch to the ribs of the downward moving Griffiths.

Denrol: Allow Me….and now the pendulum swings back the other way.
Jack: Cute.

TK stands up, popping his hip out to send himself crashing onto the back of Griffiths with an elbow. He stands again, taking aim he hops up only to come crashing back down with a knee to the small of Griffiths back.

Jack: Working on that back again.

TK yanks Griffiths to his feet and quickly flings him at the ropes and as Griffiths returns TK hooks him and rolls Griffiths up onto his shoulders in a sitting position. TK jogs out into the middle of the ring and then drops to seated position pulling Griffiths off forcibly slamming him on his back. The larger veteran rolls away from the smaller one like a man on a mission.

Denrol: We might need to have some respirators at ringside from now on.
Jack: With a guy that size slamming you around, you bet.

TK pulls his large frame vertical again, latching onto the fallen Griffiths and returning him upright as well. Griffiths isn’t looking so well as he is clearly struggling for air but in true form he is not allowing TK’s work to be without effort. Although struggling to make Trendkiller’s work harder, it isn’t slowing him down that much.

Jack: Griffiths’ struggle might very well be in vain.

Griffiths is lifted up over TK’s shoulder so that Griffiths is facing upwards and his back is held over TK’s shoulder. TK then runs out holding onto Griffiths torso, falls forward, spiking Griffiths headfirst onto the mat. The crowd is yelling for the referee to do something, he moves in and is shot a glance from TK as he moves behind the crumpled mess of Griffiths. TK wraps his arm around the neck of Griffiths and locks on a body scissor for an extra measure. He cinches in the choke hold and leans back adding pressure the small of Griffiths back that he had worked on earlier.

Denrol: Honestly, I’m sure this is necessary at this point.
Jack: So, does that mean you care?

Griffiths doesn’t really seem to be home as he face begins to flush red. He doesn’t put up a struggle and the referee clearly views this as a submission. The referee gives it one more second before calling for the bell and then finally stands up signaling the timekeeper. The crowd is raucous in their disapproval of the large veteran who unlocks from the unconscious Griffiths but then he uses both feet and launches him under the bottom rope and onto the floor mat below.

Ding, Ding!

Trudeau: Ladies and Gentlemen…here is your winner by submission, Trendkiller!!!

The referee raises the arm of Trendkiller, yanks it loose, calmly strides over to the ropes, steps over, and hops onto the mat. As Pantera begins screaming through the P.A. he just continues to stride down the aisle without really that much reaction until he reaches the entrance curtain. Once there, he rips it from its hinges and steps through into the backstage area.

Jack: Griffiths fought a good fight but it just wasn’t enough to pull it his way tonight
Denrol: We might not be sure that TK wasn’t just toying with him, but after tearing the entrance curtain down Griffiths could have had if the ring were just a little bit bigger and the…
Jack: Are you done?
Denrol: Did you seriously just interrupt me?

Griffiths slides from the ring, wearily high-fiving a few fans before heading to the back.  After the grueling fight that he's endured, he's caught entirely off-guard when one of those fans jumps the rail and plasters him with a flying roundhouse kick to the jaw.

Jack: What the--?

The wayward fan throws his baseball cap to the side and the crowd bursts into boos. Tiffani then slinks from the back, a microphone in hand.

Jack: Lucas Black.  I should have known.

Lucas grabs hold of the guardrail and delivers a powerful stomp to Jack's head, followed by another, and another, and another.

Jack: Lucas Black has been making Jack Griffiths' life miserable for the past several weeks with unprovoked attacks and mind games.
Denrol: Remember, Griffiths was warned about this way back when he first challenged Black.
Jack: I don't think Jack expected this kind of treatment.

Tiffani: You should have listened, Jack. We told you that there would be consequences.

Lucas pulls Jack up by his hair. Griffiths staggers, still stunned by the attack. Black spits in his face and kicks him in the gut. Griffiths bends over, allowing Lucas to drape a leg over Griffiths' head and drive his head into the floor.

Jack: Guillotine face driver right onto the floor!
Denrol: Believe me, that thin little mat on the floor offers no real protection from the concrete underneath.

Tiffani: We told you that there would be a price to pay for your challenge. 

The fans are disgusted and they express their displeasure with boos and hisses.  Lucas pulls Jack up again by his hair, rolling him into the ring.  He then snatches up a folding chair and tosses it into the ring as well.

Jack: Lucas Black is bringing a chair into this now.  I really think he's done enough damage. This is wholly unnecessary.
Denrol: Sending a message to potential challengers is never unnecessary. Take it from a champion.

Tiffani: We warned you that you were reaping the whirlwind.

Black follows into the ring, delivering several hard stomps to Griffith's head for good measure. He pulls Jack up once again, this time moving behind him.

Jack: I'm not sure what he's up to, but this can't be good.

Black hooks Griffiths' arms and turns the opposite direction, resulting in Griffith's head now bent between Black's shoulder blades.

Denrol: And they're right over that chair.

With a wicked grin, Black drops, forcing Griffiths' head viciously into the steel chair.

CRAXXT!

Jack: That's the Malediction! 
Denrol: Technically, it's a reverse underhook DDT, but Lucas Black does it exceptionally well.

The fans boo, enraged by Black's utter disregard for decency.

Jack: This is just terrible.  What kind of a man is Lucas Black anyway?
Denrol: He's the WWA World Champion, that's what kind of man he is.

Lucas pulls Jack up by his hair again, and looks him in the face, apparently not satisfied with what he sees. He steps behind Jack, hooks the arms and drops him with another Malediction onto the chair.

CRAXXT!

Jack: Oh, that's twice!  

Again, Lucas stands, grabbing a handful of Griffiths' hair.  He looks into that face again and shakes his head.  He pulls Griffiths up the rest of the way, and once again drives his head into the steel chair with a Malediction.

Jack: Three Maledictions in a row on that steel chair! Someone stop this!
Denrol: Jack Griffiths was warned. He deserves every moment of this.

Lucas stands again, and rolls Jack over. His lips curl into a morbid grin at the sight of the blood that now cascades from Griffiths' head.

Denrol: He wasn't going to be satisified until he drew blood.

Lucas stands over Griffiths, the disapproval of the fans deafening in the small venue.  He reaches into his pocket and brings forth a stringy, dusty, matted little brown mess.

Tiffani: Pay attention, Jack.  If you can still focus at all, look at what Lucas has in his hand. Look real close, Jack. This is a lock of Samara's decaying, dirty hair. And it's all your fault, Jack. You brought this on yourself, on your wife, and on the dirty corpse of your dead child. 

With that, Lucas drops the lock of filthy hair on Jack's heaving, blood-stained chest.

Tiffani: This is just getting started, Jack.  

Tiffani's voice grows dark and deep, like the gleeful predatory growl of a rabid wolf.

Tiffani: Samara's desecration and the depradations that follow are on your head. The unrest of her soul, the harrowing events that will befall her defenseless little body are your own damn fault.

Tiffani laughs slowly, while Lucas removes himself from the ring. Together, the slip through the curtain and out of the venue.

Jack: I – I don't know what to say.  That's not really a lock of Samara's hair... is it?
Denrol: I wouldn't underestimate Lucas Black and Tiffani. I have a feeling that Jack Griffiths isn't going to like what they have in store next.