WWA: Underground
March 27, 2010 - Episode #110
Live from the Urbandale Centre in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada



Chapter I
Watkins Calls Out The New God


“Sirius/Eye in the Sky” by Alan Parsons Project suddenly drifts into the arena, and the crowd immediately bursts into raucous cheering. Almost immediately Jaymz Watkins enters through the curtains, mic in hand, attired in his gear with a Buckethead t-shirt. Continuing the trend of late, he is dreadfully focused, nearly no hint that he had ever felt joy in his life.

Jack: I don’t think I need to speculate on Jaymz’s feelings tonight.
Denrol: Even with a week to digest what happened at Retribution, I’m sure Jaymz is still pretty damn pissed off.
Jack: I’d bet my life that he has something to say about Copeland right now.
Denrol: And we may not be able to air what he says.

Jaymz slaps hands with a few fans, but instinctively. His focus remains on the ring, where he mounts the apron and climbs through the ropes. His music fades out, but the crowd is still thunderously cheering for him. He looks out across the fans in attendance, the focus on his face slowly fading into a mixture of sadness and exhaustion. He raises the mic, pauses, contemplates, and raises it again.

Jaymz: Well, I don’t know how you guys would have seeded Copeland in your New God March Madness bracket, but I can bet it wouldn’t have been a one seed. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even been invited to the NIT.

Boos.

Denrol: Why does he insist on talking that way, even after all that’s happened? Why wouldn’t he get serious?
Jack: That’s just the complexity of Jaymz, I suppose.
Denrol: He’s just insane, to be honest.

Jaymz: I picked Kansas, by the way. My plan tonight, however, isn’t to go on and on about this, so I’ll just come right out and say my piece. I’m calling you out, Copeland.

The crowd cheers madly as Jaymz lowers the mic and leers at the entrance ramp. After a few moments, “Psychosocial” by Slipknot begins to play, and the crowd transforms into a living mass of pure hatred. The curtains part, and Copeland makes his way out to the stage without a mic, wearing dirty slacks, muddy boots, and a beat-up hooded jacket, hood down. His face is covered in a crazy beard and his face is heavily scarred for God knows what reason, but the cold eyes remain the same. A TON of trash begins to fly at him from the crowd, and he bats away a carefully-aimed beer bottle. The two men stand there, eyes locked.

Jack: If ever the term, “powder keg,” was appropriate, it would in this situation.

Denrol: Jaymz’s hatred alone may be enough to tear this arena apart.

Jaymz slowly raises the mic to his lips again.

Jaymz: If anyone here had told me that you were the one who had been trying to ruin my life for all of this time, I would have laughed at them. And yet here you stand before me, the agent of my suffering. Why, Copeland? Why would you do all of this to me and the ones I love?

He waits for Copeland’s response, and the crowd has grown almost deathly quiet, save a small smattering of chatter and boos at the corners of the arena.

Jack: This is a question that has been on everyone’s mind for months, nearly years.
Denrol: Only now, they have a face to which they can pose the question.

Copeland clearly has no intention of answering Jaymz, expressed by the fact that he has no mic and makes no move to retrieve one. The crowd begins to grow restless, as does Jaymz.

Jaymz: So you’ve been so talkative for all this time and now, with the world finally seeing you for what you are, you clam up? Unacceptable.

Jaymz launches the mic at Copeland, and it nearly beams him in the head, but Copeland barely moves to avoid it. The crowd begins to boo again, and Copeland, after a moment, picks up the mic from where it has landed. Jaymz grabs another from the timekeeper. Copeland finally breaks his gaze with Jaymz, and looks around the arena, drawing even more boos. He raises the mic.

Jack: Here we go…

But he stops, and lowers it again. More boos, and Jaymz makes no effort to hide his fury.

Jaymz: REVEL! LAUGH AT ME! SAY ANYTHING, YOU SACK OF SHIT! I WANT TO HEAR YOUR ROTTEN VOICE!

Copeland again has no reaction, only staring at the man he’s tormented for so long. After a long, tense moment, as the crowd grows more and more restless, the arena bathing in the hatred emanating from the men before them, Copeland drops the mic with a THUMP, raises his hood, and gets slowly down to his knees. There, he clasps his hands together as if in prayer. The crowd begins to boo again, and Jaymz furrows his brow.

Jack: What’s he doing?
Denrol: Focusing his power?

Suddenly, the lights in the arena dim, and a figure makes its way out through the curtain and onto the stage. It’s difficult to see anything, but he’s clearly wearing a robe with the hood up. The crowd murmurs, unsure, scared. He stops at Copeland’s side, and places a hand on his shoulder, which causes the kneeling American Psycho to get back to his feet and move behind the hooded man.

Jack: Who is this?
Denrol: I’ve got a suspicion that Copeland may have been just the Muscles of the New God. I believe that’s the Brain.

The lights come back up, and Copeland has his head bowed. The hooded figure grabs up the fallen microphone, and after a pause he speaks. It is the very voice that has been heard across arenas for months, the very voice associated with Jaymz’s suffering.

The New God: Here I am, Jaymz.

Jack: The hatred in this arena, from all of these parties involved and from all the people in this building, is nearing riot levels.
Denrol: This man is really taking his life into his hands here tonight. I’d stay in the shadows if I were him.

The New God: My influence is stronger than you know, Master Watkins. All it takes to snare a pawn as powerful as Son Copeland is to know where to look, and what to say. Words are the most powerful ally, Jaymz, and my words are nigh invincible.

Boos and boos. Jaymz continues to glare at the men before him, eyes burning with rage.

Denrol: But who is he. damnit?!

The New God: The wait is finally over, for all of you. Surrender your vision to me, Jaymz, and Ottawa, and everyone viewing around the world. Feast your eyes upon…

With one swift motion, he tosses his head back and the hood falls, revealing his face.

The New God: YOUR NEW GOD!

The crowd goes to a level of insane that has arguably never been reached in the history of wrestling. Jaymz is dumbfounded.

Jack: JESUS CHRIST!
Denrol: OH FUCK! IT’S RANDY CROSS!

The Painmaker raises his arms as if to embrace the air around him, and more trash flies toward him and Copeland. It’s so bad now, somebody’s SHOE actually hits him in the thigh, and that’s after other shoes have already flown at him.

Jack: Randy Cross has been torturing Jaymz all this time! Randy Cross is the New God!
Denrol: Randy Cross is The Destroyer!

Copeland’s head has still not risen in this time, even after being struck with debris from the audience’s explosion. Jaymz can only stare, unmoving, confused.

Cross: Wrestle your match tonight, Jaymz, and rest up for next week, because in Ontario, your Final Trials will commence. Amen.

He drops the mic and he and Copeland exit. Jaymz’s vision follows them, but he still makes no effort to move, blankly staring. The crowd continues to boo at a ridiculous level.

Jack: Oh, my God…
Denrol: Your NEW God.
Jack: The speculation over the New God is over, but what are the Final Trials?
Denrol: Only God knows. The New God, of course.
Jack: An historic night already tonight. Welcome to Underground.

Chapter II
Andrews & Kash Backstage


Backstage at the Urbandale Centre, Tiffani approaches what passes for the buffet table these days, gathering up a room-temperature bottle of water.

Jack:  There's Tiffani, manager of Lucas Black, the reigning WWA World Champion.

Tiffani turns and finds Kash standing about six feet away, looking at her with his head cocked.

Tiffani:  Kash ....

Kash pauses for a moment before returning the terse greeting, and when he does, it's with a smirk.

Kash:  Beast ....

The fans love that.  Tiffani's eyes narrow.

Tiffani:  Good to see you've given up the makeup.  You were starting to look a little effeminate.  Or at least moreso than usual.
Kash:  I'm glad you think so, creature.

Again, the fans are happy to hear someone call Tiffani names. Tiffani snarls in response.

Tiffani:  The name is Tiffani.  Don't you dare to forget--
Kash:  No, it isn't.

Tiffani stops short, scanning him warily at that last comment.  Kash points casually at her chest.

Kash:  That's Tiffani.

He then raises his hand to point in a circular motion around her face.

Kash:  I don't know who you are.  I know Tiffani's aura, and this is all wrong.

Kash crosses his arms, still studying her.  She clenches her jaw and begins to back away.

Tiffani:  Stay out of things that don't concern you, Wiccan.  There are plans in motion that you want no part of.  There are forces involved here that you can't comprehend.

Kash almost breaks out into laughter at that.

Kash:  Beast, I've stared into the very heart of darkness and walked away with a smile. Don't believe for a moment that you can intimidate me.

Kash waves his hand dismissively.

Kash:  Run along now.  But tell your masters, whoever or whatever they may be, that I'll be watching.

Tiffani's face clouds with rage.

Tiffani:  Go to Hell.

With that, she turns and storms away, leaving Kash with a smirk.

Kash:  You first, beast.

Chapter III
Beckett Backstage


Backstage, Rachel Beckett and some WWA security personnel are walking past various WWA wrestlers when she suddenly stops. She gazes to her right and sees Intrepid watching a rerun of the “Gomer Pyle.”  She walks a bit further, past John Grant shadowboxing.

Beckett: I think I’m starting to get the hang of this wrestling business.

She turns and walks directly into a janitor carrying a ladder.

Beckett: Oh my gosh, I’m so sorr—what the hell?!?

The camera gazes up at the janitors face. We quickly realize what Beckett is what the hell’ing about.

Beckett: Damnit Kade! Get the hint – we have moved on! You and the WWA are broken up!
Kade: Listen bitc…ma’am. Hear me out. I’m the “Destiny.” I can take the WWA back over the top, broth…sister.  You need to give me that chance. Let’s get past this Lucas Black joker and get the belt back where it belongs, on the savior of the broken, the beaten, the Damned. Let’s take this thing into the next generation! Kade Williams headlining all over the world! Let’s get out of this bingo halls, these community rec centers, these small college gyms. Let’s get back into the arenas, the stadiums, the worldwide venues that have served the WWA so well. You can’t get back there with Jaymz Watkins and John Grant carrying the ball. You need “Mr. Pist” to reign down upon the WWA with his unique brand of justice – served out, one Code of Silence at a time.
Beckett: You done?
Kade: No! I’m done when I say I’m done! pause I’m done. Psych! Look at who you’ve got on your roster? Harley? Retired him! Griffiths? Retired him! Somers? Embarrassed him and ripped his damned arm out of the socket! Copeland? Crowned him with a barbed wire crown. Stone? Molded him into the future world champion he is becoming. Intrepid? Eh, I caught him touching himself once, with some sheep in the room. Very disturbing. My last two years in the WWA, one man beat me – once. A foul, dark-skinned villain known as Armaan. But that was fine, because I came back stronger and single handedly pinned Dave Harley and Damian Thorne in Ultimate Glory. You need me!
Beckett: Okay…I’ve made this very clear, I’ve thought. You are a cancer upon the WWA. Everytime you show up, the backstage morale crashes. You thought the Damned saved the WWA? No, it closed it. Your reign as champion, though better than Eddie Van Dorn’s, wasn’t a bright spot on WWA history. You snuck into Retribution and posed as the “New God,” but we both know that wasn’t you. It was a fascade—a chance you saw for an opening. Your match with Watkins was top-notch, but he had you. I know it. I can’t deal with having a sneak on the roster who goes behind my back constantly. So, once again, the answer is no. Now, please leave. On your own. I’d hate to have you tazed, again.

Williams gazes into her eyes. He sizes her up, before deciding that he will take the easy way tonight.

Williams: Okay…okay. Tonight, I’ll do it your way. But the peaceful road back is getting old, fast. Maybe I need to make a bigger bang. he gazes down Beckett, eyeballing her Yeah, real soon.

Kade walks towards the exit.

Beckett: Ewwwwww.
Williams: WWA, Kade Williams will be back and on top of the fucking mountain again!!

The door closes, as he leaves.

Beckett: I need a martini.

The door opens  again.

Williams: Bitch!

It slams shut.

Chapter IV
Blood Money Inc. Vs Job Squad


Jack: Ok, so now we have a match between Blood Money Inc….
Denrol: Worst name ever!
Jack: … versus the Job Squad of Tim Powers and Mr Internet, and after their loss at Revolution, Blood Money Inc. need to get back on track.
Denrol: Definitely, however, I think Powers and Internet will make a very stern challenge.
Jack: You really hate Kash don’t you.
Denrol: Yep.
Jack: Then you will be thrilled now because we are going to pre recorded comments from Kash and Keru no Akiro now, god it feels like 1992 all over again.

We cut to a backstage area where we see Kash dressed in a very … frilly white shirt with black pants, sitting, or rather posing, on a black couch.

Kash: Ladies and gentlemen dramatic pause of the WWA, the time has come.  My true colours will be revealed tonight in a delicious bath of crimson, of rouge … dramatic pause again … of scarlet.  World Wrestling Alliance, enjoy your first look at me, your new Canadian Dream, in all my twilight glory.

Kash slouches back on the sofa and the camera pulls back, revealing behind him a Keru no Akiro that we haven’t seen before.  Dressed in the same Ann Rice style white shirt and black pants, Akiro is resting his hands on the sofa, smiling a sinister yet romantic smile.

Akiro: Job Squad, prepare yourselves for your date with Blood Money Incorporated, for it is a night you will remember for the rest of your lives.

And with those … few words, we fade back to Jack and Denrol, who are sat aghast.

Denrol: In the name of God, what the f…
Jack: No need for words like that, I think we all share the sentiment.  We're supposed to have our match next..

The lights dim down and some soft piano music starts to play over the PA system.  Anyone with a lighter in the audience uses it to see what is going on. Kash and Akiro comes through the crowd and enter the ring. The two men stare at each other.

Denrol: If they are going to kiss, I don’t want to be here.

Both men are incredibly pale, in a Lestat tribute way, with bloodshot red eyes and darkened lips.  Kash is staring at his partner and they seem to be having a conversation through either telepathy or through a series of subtle eye movements worked out in advance.  Before we can work out what is going on, Kash breaks away, motioning for the microphone.  In the background, more soft piano music plays, almost subliminal.

Jack: Kash has the microphone, no, sorry, now Keru no Akiro does.

Holding the mic up, Akiro takes a deep dramatic breath.

Akiro: Good fucking God, will someone kill that music and turn up the goddamn lights!

Kash leans back in the turnbuckles, smiling at his partner.

Akiro: Jesus, I mean, what the fuck has Beckett got us doing?  Makeup, frilly shit clothing, piano music, we aren’t no fucking Cullen family and this ain’t Twilight!  Will someone throw me a damn drink!

A few bottles of water fly into the ring and Akiro catches one, opening it and emptying it over his head, trying to wash away the makeup.

Akiro: Jesus, fuck, what the hell am I doing here?  You know, I only came back to the WWA to help out that weird fucker in the corner, and look what I got dragged into!

The crowd make some noise in appreciation.

Akiro: Well, this shit is getting old already, so Kash man, I’m sorry, I’m gone already, you know my reasons.

And with that, weirdly, Akiro throws the microphone down and exits the ring, walking out the back with not a word to anyone.  Kash walks forward and picks up the microphone.

Kash: First of all, can I have a round of applause for my apparently former tag team partner!

The crowd all cheer at his request.

Kash: He had a good point though, didn’t he?  I mean, what the hell do I look like?  Halfway between Tom Cruise and a Rocky Horror porn star, Jesus.  Anyway, like I said, he does have a point, and that is what we came here to do, make a point.  You see, “Ms Beckett”, the bitch in the back, she is the one with the business ideas, and she came to us pre Retribution and she gave us this ridiculous gimmick to wear today, and you know what her logic was?  “Twilight is one of the biggest things on the planet right now, so we are going to tap into that market.”  For pities sake, masturbation is one of the biggest things on the planet but we aren’t going to tap into that market with a tag team based on that, are we!

The crowd don’t quite know what to say.

Kash: Anywa…

Kash's next comments are cut off as we suddenly cut backstage.

Chapter V
Grant & Hendrick Backstage


Backstage, we see Hendrick, RJ Stone’s head of security, walking the corridor.  "Eariler Tonight" appears in the corner. He’s wearing an all-black suit and sunglasses, and is carrying a baton.  He sees someone blocking his path and pulls up short, and the camera pans back to reveal that it’s John Grant.  John is wearing a black-and-white DV T-shirt and his wrestling gear, and wears the U.S. Title belt around his waist.  Considering the fact that the bodyguard has jumped the wrestler on two separate occasions, John looks downright chipper—he’s even smiling.

Jack:  Oh, boy, this is going to be an explosive confrontation.
Denrol:  You’ve got that right.  Grant’s got a score to settle with Hendrick, and then some.

Grant:  I was wondering if Richie would ever let you off his leash.  You know, you don’t look so tough when you’re by yourself, and don’t have the opportunity to jump me from behind.  You’re just another two-bit mercenary thug-for-hire, a glorified rent-a-cop, and what’s funny is, Richie even knows it.

Hendrick doesn’t reply verbally, he just gives a barely perceivable roll of his eyes, as if to say, “Are we done here?”

Grant:  Here’s the thing, though.  I can actually understand why Richie would hire four guys to watch his back at all times.  If I could barely step out of bed every morning without pissing someone off, I’d want protection, too.  But you—you’ve taken it to a whole ‘nother level.

Grant doesn’t explain how, and seems happy to leave the comment hanging for awhile.  Finally, as much to get this conversation over with as anything else, Hendrick replies.

Hendrick:  In what way?

Grant:  Oh, you do have a tongue, after all.  I’ll tell you ‘in what way’—by starting to interfere in Richie’s matches, by beating people down before and after his matches without provocation.  Hell—I would have been more than happy to leave Richie alone backstage for the time being and just let my wrestling do the talking.  But when you, Richie and the rest of the Hit Squad beat me down after I won my title last week—not even giving me a minute or two to celebrate—you crossed the line.

With that, Grant gets right up in Hendrick’s face, looking ready to beat the hell out of him right there.  Very slowly, Hendrick takes off his sunglasses, places them inside his jacket, and stares daggers right back at Grant.

Jack:  Man, look at the rage burning just beneath the surface of John Grant.
Denrol:  It’s a common enough thing when he’s dealing with RJ Stone or one of his flunkies.

Hendrick:  Two things.  One, I’m just doing my job.  And two, you’d better get out of my face before I hurt you—again.

Grant doesn’t back down, and Hendrick takes a step back just far enough to swing outward with his baton.  But Grant catches it with his right hand, and a hard slapping sound is heard on impact.  Wresting control of the baton away from Hendrick, Grant wastes no time in drilling Hendrick right between the eyes with it, and Hendrick goes down like a felled tree, unconscious.

Denrol:  HOLY SHIT!
Jack:  He did NOT just do that!  John Grant making it clear that he’s had all he can stands, and he can’t stands no more!

For his part, Grant looks almost shocked that he was able to do that.  Then he grins, and looks down at Hendrick, straddling his body while remaining standing.

Grant:  Didn’t know I could do that, did you?  You may be a former Blackwater operative, Hendrick, but I’m a trained professional wrestler, and I’m not the pushover you take me for.  Now, let’s see—I’ve already got a match tonight, and next week… so I guess I’ll make this challenge for the April 10 show in Lafayette, Louisiana.  You and me, non-title.  Richie and the Hit Squad banned from ringside.  And if you or your boys try anything between now and then, you’ll have it repaid tenfold.

Then, looking down at Hendrick’s fallen body, Grant adds something.

Grant:  I guess I’ll have to wait until you wake up to hear your answer.

With that, Grant turns to face the camera.

Grant:  Chris Bagwell, I hope you’re as hyped up for this match against Extreme Carnage as I am!  After that, I’m in a fightin’ kinda mood!  Let’s do this thing!

Chapter VI
Grant & Griffiths Vs Extreme Carnage


Jack: Well we are sorry about going to that video, we were ordered to by management.
Denrol: Looks like that match isn't going to happen.
Jack: Since one team just totally broke up moments ago, I guess not.
Denrol: Well we do have some match highlights to show.
Jack: That we do. Eariler tonight we saw John Grant tagging with the debuting Chris Bagwell to face the team of Dave Harley and Scotty Carnage, aka Extreme Carnage.
Denrol: It started off with Grant and Bagwell running hot, but like most flash fires, that started to burn out.
Jack: We pick up with Carnage and Harley in control, with the rookie bagwell in serious trouble.

The video begins as Bagwell is dropped on his head with a brain buster by Harley. The crowd boos as he covers.

One!

Two!

Th-

Grant comes in and breaks up the cover by kicking Harley on the back. The Extreme Machine glares at grant as the ref orders the US Champion out of the ring. Meanwhile bagwell rolls onto his stomach and starts to get up, only for Harley to drop an elbow to the back of his head.

Jack: The debuting Bagwell in a world of hurt hear. Most places would ease you in with some simple matches against no bodies. Bagwell is in the ring with a former WWA Champion.
Denrol: He better get a tag in soon, or this will be over quickly.

Harley tags in Carnage, who starts delivering a series of kicks to the fallen Bagwell. He picks Bagwell up and whips him into the ropes. Bagwell comes bouncing back and Carnage back drops him, but Bagwell lands on his feet. Carnage doesn't even get a chance to turn around as Bagwell hooks him with a full nelson and suplexes him.

Jack: That came out of nowhere.
Denrol Here's Bagwell's chance.

Bagwell takes advantage and tags in Grant, to the cheers of the crowd. Grant comes in, picks up the rising Carnage, drops him with a snap suplex. Harley comes in to help his partner, only to taken down with a standing dropkick from Grant.

Jack: Grant is on fire here.
Denrol: He certainly is.

Grant lifts  Carnage up and whips him into the corner. Grant races in and nails carnage with a shoulder block. Carnage groans in pain as Grant climbs up and starts delivering a series of punches to Carnage's head.

Crowd: One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!

Grant drops down and let's Carnage collapse to the ground. Grant turns around, only to be kicked in the midsection by Harley. Harley quickly hooks Grant, lifts, and drops him with a jackknife powerbomb.

 Jack: HARLEY BOMB! HARLEY BOMB!
Denrol: That's got to be it.

Harley smiles as he stands over the fallen champion. But out of no where comes Bagwell, who clotheslines Harley out of the ring.

Jack: Harley didn't see that coming.
Denrol: Aggressive move by the rookie. He may regret that down the line.

Bagwell grabs the fallen Carnage. He lifts Carnage up, swings him around, and drops him to the mat with an urange, even falling to a seated position as he does so.

Jack: That's Bagwell's finisher, he calls it the Torn Identity.

With carnage out of commission, Bagwell rolls to the outside, where Harley meets him. The two brawl on the outside, as the ref yells at them both to get to their corners. Meanwhile in the ring, both legal men are out cold.

Jack: Two finishers and both Grant and Carnage are down for the count.
Denrol: The ref would be calling for the double knock-out right now, but he's busy with the other two.

As the fighting on the outside continues, the crowd gets to their feet and tries to help Grant up with stomping and clapping. The noise does seem to start to revive Grant, who crawls to the ropes. But Carnage also begins to move.

Jack: The first man up here will be at a great advantage.
Denrol: Through it looks like we could end with a draw in that regard.

Both men get to the ropes and use them to pull themselves up. They turn and start to walk towards each other, but suddenly Carnage runs forward and tries for a dropkick. Yet, Grant grabs his legs and let's Carnage crash to the mat. The crowd explodes in cheers as Grant turns Carnage over, right into an elevated Boston crab.

Jack: Lion Tamer from Grant!
Denrol: Carnage needs Harley's help.. stat!

Harley does see his partner in trouble and tries to slide in, but Bagwell holds him back. In a matter of moments, Carnage starts tapping.

Ding, Ding

Grant releases the hold as "Hell's Bells" by AC/DC starts to play over the PA system. Harley sighs and pulls his partner out as Bagwell slides into the ring.

Trudeau: Your winners of the match... Chris Bagwell and John GRAAAAAANT!

Jack: For the second time, Grant has defeated Carnage in tag team action.
Denrol: That's going to gnaw on him for quite awhile.

Bagwell and Grant fist bump in the center of the ring as the music plays.

Jack: A win for the rookie and it's a big one.
Denrol: Not every day you score a victory over a former WWA Champion.

The video ends.

Chapter VII
Adams Backstage


Nick Adams is sitting in the back, polishing up some boots, and seemingly off in his own world. He's humming
a random tune, completely unidentifiable, and behind him, there's a huge piece of paper with the words, "Shoe Shining: $10 per shoe". He pauses for a second.

Adams: Yannow, it's kinda' weird that everybody gave me their boots besides Stone, Intrepid, and Black. Easiest three hundred I ever made.

He goes back to making music, but he's whistling, "Dixie" this time. Yes, "Dixie". Of course, for those of you that aren't familiar with the phrase to which this is alluding, we'll give you time to stare and be confused...

... and we're back.

Denrol: Is this guy serious?
Jack: Well, he's gotta' relax somehow, and he might as well make some money off of it.
Denrol: Sure. And shining shoes is...

A knock suddenly comes on the door. Nick pauses and looks over.

Adams: Who is it?

A vaguely familiar voice comes wafting through the door.

Voice: Land Shark.

Adams puts his face in his hands. When he looks up again, there are streaks of shoe polish on his forehead.

Adams: That old bit? Fine, I'll play along.

He gets up and walks to the door. Upon opening it, a hand holding a six-pack of Land Shark Lager appears.

Adams: I must admit, that's a new twist. Don't mind if I do. I don't have a match tonight, so I can take a break from polishing anyway. Why don't you come in and join me?
Voice: Well, if you insist.

Through the door walks Eddie van Dorn. There is some cheering, but most people are probably just looking at him in confused silence. After all, he is wearing a rather prominent neck brace.

Jack: Former holder of many WWA titles, Eddie van Dorn, making an appearance here tonight. Though on the subject of appearances, his isn't very good right now. Although the last time we saw him, he was hung from the old WWATron by Copeland. That was over a year ago.
Denrol: You have to admire Copeland. He does thorough work.

Adams opens a bottle of the beer.

Adams: It's good to see you again. How's the neck?
EVD: Can't complain, I guess.

Eddie opens his own bottle and drops a straw into it.

EVD: I kind of feel like a kid again, drinking everything through a straw and all. Makes me wonder why they don't make like adult juice boxes.
Adams: Boxed wine already exists. And has a bad reputation.
EVD: I don't give a damn about a bad reputation. I just want convenience. Especially now. But anyway, how have you been doing lately? Are you still going to try taking another crack at the big belt? *slurp*

Adams shrugs.

Adams: Well, seeing as I now have a losing record, and I threw away my rematch on a three-way match, I think I'll pass. For now, I'll leave the fight over that particular title to Black and Stone.

Eddie looks crestfallen.

EVD: You mean by not going to Retribution I missed a magic show?
Adams: No, Black AND Stone.
EVD: Oh. Anyway, I suppose I should stop beating around the bush and get down to why I'm here in the first place. We need to discuss...

Eddie turns stiffly at the waist to look at the camera.

EVD: Oh no, you don't. Everyone will know soon enough, but now is not the time. Beat it, lens jockey.
Adams: You heard the man. But first, because a promise is a promise.

Adams makes the goofiest grin and pose that he can possibly muster, and the fans are caught between laughing and cheering. Especially since it looks like Nick is in half-blackface, making the moment even more silly.

Adams: Okay, that's your photo op for the night. Now you can go.

The camera turns around and heads out the door, but as the scene fades, voices can still be heard.

EVD: What was that?
Adams: Well, you see, when I was still champion...

And then the scene actually fades back to the commentators.

Chapter VIII
Main Event
Griffiths & Watkins Vs Shaman & Intrepid


Jack: Its Main Event time Denrol, excited?
Denrol: Not really!
Jack: Well Jaymz Watkins is already in the ring, waiting for his partner!

Suddenly "Tip The Scales" by Rise Against blares through the PA the crowd roar in anticipation.  
 
These machines feed on the tears of broken lifes 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.

Trudeau: Introducing first, from London, England weighing in at two hundred twenty pounds, JACK GRIFFITHS!
 
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; he then turns to Watkins and the two men discuss tactics.

Jack: Now we are just waiting for their opponents.

Trudeau: At this time, weighing two hundred sixteen 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 ramp begins flashing with a quick burst of white strobe light and Intrepid comes out quickly holding 'the' chair but stops on the entrance ramp as Virtue and D.Filed follow closely behind. 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. Virtue looks up at Intrepid and screams “Heathen!”  
 
Crowd: BOOO!

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.

Jack: Just waiting on Shaman now!
Denrol: Hold that thought, here he comes.

“Stillborn by Black Label Society” hits and Shaman walks down the ramp, he ducks under the top rope and enters the ring.

Trudeau: And his partner, weighing in at three hundred thirty pounds, SHAMAN!!

The referee glances at each time as they figure out who is going to start the match, eventually Griffiths and Shaman step aside leaving Watkins and Intrepid to start the match.

Ding, Ding

Watkins comes straight out fighting, nailing Intrepid with a huge clothesline knocking the masked one off of his feet but without thinking he immediately hoists Intrepid back to his feet.

Jack: Watkins starting strong.

As Watkin’s goes for a suplex however, Intrepid hooks his leg around Watkin’s preventing the suplex before falling backwards-nailing Watkins with leg hook downward spiral.

Denrol: Intrepid has other ideas though!

Intrepid quickly shuffles away before turning back towards Watkins and nailing him with a dropkick to the temple just as he is getting to his feet; dropping him down to his chest again.

Jack: And Intrepid looking to make a tag here!

Intrepid tags in Shaman, before himself leaving the ring.  Shaman grabs Watkins by the hair and drags him back to his feet. Turning he looks around the ring. Watkins staggers a bit as Shaman releases him and then steps forward grabbing Watkins by the throat pushing him to the corner.  
 
Jack: What is Shaman thinking here?  
Dernol: I am not sure, but doesn't bode well for Watkins!  
 
Shaman steps in and drives an elbow to the side of Watkins's head. He repeats this a few times and then steps backwards several paces and flies back towards Watkins executing a flying shoulder block high on Watkins’ torso.  
 
Jack: That looked like it decapitated Watkins
 
Shaman leans against the ropes and grabs Watkins as he runs forward leaping up into the air executing a running bulldog on Watkins.

Jack: Watkins getting brutalised here!

Shaman covers.

One!

Two!

Suddenly breaking the pin come Griffiths flying from the top rope.

Jack: Griffiths knew he was too far away to get across the ring in time so he broke that pin with flying elbow.

The referee immediately runs over to Griffiths and demands that he leaves the ring, which he duly does, however, as he is exiting the ring Intrepid jumps into the ring.

Jack: Intrepid attempting to steal a beat on Watkins and Griffiths here.

Seeing Intrepid, Griffiths tries to get back into the ring but is stopped by the referee.

Jack: EVERY time!

Griffiths pleading with the referee is unable to stop Intrepid lifting Watkins up before, together with Shaman nailing a double DDT.

Denrol: Divide and conquer, the key to any tag match!

Realizing that he is actually causing the beating, Griffiths backs away, and as the referee turns Intrepid is just able to roll underneath the rope and out of the ring.

Jack: That’s just unfair!

Shaman covers again.

One!

Two!

Th…

The referee stops counting, noticing Watkin’s foot on the bottom rope.

Denrol: Bah, Watkin’s was beat there, until Griffiths ran around and put his foot on the rope.

Ducking down to avoid the referee’s gaze, Griffiths returns to his corner.

Jack: Is it just me or does Watkin’s look distracted?
Denrol: You do remember what happened earlier right? Randy Cross is the New God.

Now back on the apron, Griffiths starts trying to fire up the crowd to urge Watkins to the corner.

Denrol: Pitiful attempt there from Griffiths, Watkins is done for.

Not wishing to waste anymore time Shaman picks Watkins up for the Desert Spike, hoisting him above his head.

Denrol: Its all over now!

Just as Shaman is about to drop Watkins on his head, Watkins is able to flip out and leap towards Griffiths making the tag.

Jack: Griffiths is in the match for the first time!

Rather than getting into the ring though Jack climbs to the top rope and as Shaman turns around he is met with a huge flying knee, knocking the big man down but not for long!

Jack: Shaman gets right back up, and Griffiths is stunned!

Griffiths runs at Shaman, jumping and grabbing the Native American’s head before planting him with huge Implant DDT! But Shaman shrugs it off again.

Jack: HOW?

Not letting Shaman get to his feet this time, Jack kicks him in the head, which buys him just enough time to scale another turnbuckle, where he waits, and as Shaman stands Griffiths jumps turns through 90 degrees and kicks Shaman sideways into his corner.

Jack: Blind tag by Intrepid!

Intrepid, unnoticed by Griffiths, tags himself in before himself climbing to the top rope. As Griffiths turns, he sees Shaman slumped in the corner but is momentarily confused by the sight of Intrepid standing on the top rope above Shaman, but before he can think he is met by Intrepid’s shoulder.

Jack: Bench Ruling!

Intrepid covers.

One!

Two!

Griffiths kicks out, and as he stands he is met by a punch to head, staggering him but allowing Intrepid time to stand, where he waits for a second, allowing Griffiths to his feet. Which proves costly as Griffiths is able to kick Intrepid in the gut and leap towards Watkins tagging in the recovered man.

Jack: Watkins is back in!

Watkins rushes towards Intrepid but is met by a kick before being hoisted up and around onto Intrepids back, who then drops to a seated position.

Denrol: He calls that Judgement Rendered.
Jack: And he’s rendered this match over!

Intrepid covers.

One!

Two!

Griffiths turns, shocked at the speed of the move, is unable to help this time.

Three!

Ding, Ding

Trudeau: Your winners, Shaman and Intrepid!

Jack: Another victory for Intrepid.
Denrol: He's on quite the roll.

Jack checks on his fallen partner as Intrepid and Shaman roll out of the ring.

Jack: Well it's been another great edition of Underground. We will see you next week when-

The crowd begins to shout a warning to Watkins and Griffiths. What the crowd is getting vocal about is shown as RJ Stone and two members of his security team have hopped the guard rail and are entering the ring unbeknownst to the two fan favorites.

Jack: What is he doing out here? He had nothing to do with this match!

Shaman and Intrepid jaw at Griffiths and Watkins from outside of the ring. Shaman has had enough and finally walks away. Intrepid stays though, keeping their attention on him. RJ gestures to his two guards to stay outside of the ring and RJ stealthily slides under the bottom rope like a cobra.

Denrol: I’m surprised he doesn’t have his two cronies go in there with him.

Watkins is the focus of RJ’s attack. Stone dives forward and cuts the bigger man’s knees out from under him with a vicious chop block. The fans cheer as Griffiths is on Stone in a flash, but their cheers quickly turn to boos when Intrepid is on Jack as fast as Jack attacked RJ.

Jack: What is this? Why are these two helping each other?
Denrol: I guess psychopaths and sociopaths are perfect for each other.

Intrepid pulls Griffiths off of RJ and throws him into the corner, delivering some nasty kicks into his ribs. RJ picks Watkins’ ankle and drives his knee into the leg he chop blocked earlier. Jaymz screams with each brutal knee.

Jack: I may sound like a broken record here, but what is the point of this?
Denrol: I think these two are tired of being lone wolves. Strength in numbers, after all.
Jack: But Stone already has FOUR men following him around everywhere! Two of them are out here now!
Denrol: Five is more than four, Jack.

Griffiths has succumbed to the kicks and Intrepid hooks him up for Double Jeopardy. He quickly runs up the ropes and plants Griffiths face first with his signature move. Jack remains motionless on his face, but Intrepid picks him up by the hair and talks some trash into his face. Meanwhile, RJ has lifted Jaymz up and put him in a muay-thai clinch. He drives successive knees into Watkins’ head over and over before lifting Jaymz into a fireman’s carry with a small effort of strength. He swings Jaymz out behind him and bends Watkins’ neck like a slinky on his shoulder with Catharsis.

Jack: This is getting hard to watch, Jaymz Watkins and Jack Griffiths just were involved in a grueling tag team match and now these two hyenas are picking at the scraps.

RJ is quick to move again and drops down to hook a Koji clutch on Jaymz. The cobwebs are immediately cleared from his head as the searing pain in his neck from the hold washes over him. Watkins bellows in pain as Intrepid drops Griffiths on his head with Justice Rendered on the other side of the ring. Jack rolls over onto his back and doesn’t move while Jaymz still thrashes around in RJ’s Seeing Red.

Denrol: All right, all right….You two have made your point, let him out of that hold before you cause some permanent damage. I’m all for making a statement, but this is ridiculous.
Jack: I’m in agreement with you there. That new submission hold RJ Stone has added to his arsenal looks absolutely excruciating!

Watkins’ struggles have ceased and his eyes have closed. But RJ continues to snarl and wrench on the hold. When the crowd’s boos are at their peak, RJ lets it go and he and Intrepid stand in the middle of the ring. The two of them raise their arms in the air to more boos and some empty cups and water bottles entering the ring. No music plays and the two men in the ring continue to look down on their fallen foes for a moment. They look out at the raucous crowd before rolling out of the ring and making their way up the ramp with the two men from RJ’s security team in tow.

Jack: Have we just seen a new alliance born here tonight?
Denrol: I think we have, and with those two snakes putting their heads together a lot of people could be in trouble.
Jack: Well, I would hope that these two have some retribution for this disgusting attack. I also hope that Griffiths and Watkins are okay.
Denrol: Oh they’ll bounce back, don’t worry about that. And if they get their hands on these two heads will roll.

The camera focuses on RJ and Intrepid standing at the top of the ramp, they raise their arms in the air one more time and the show slowly fades to black.

Next WWA: Underground
March 13, 2010

Main Event
Non-Title Match
Black vs Grant

Stone Vs Adams

Intrepid vs Conway

Shaman Vs Price
Show Produced by Joe
Griffiths/Watkins Vs Shaman/Intrepid by Jack
 (c) World Wrestling Alliance 2010