[Cut to the parking lot of the Jeter Mansion. The camera zooms in and out of rows of vehicles until it finally rests on a rusted, faded blue and black 1977 Firebird. In the front seats two people the PJG has become quite familiar with, Jackson Kinkaid and the mother of his child, Vickie. Jackson is dressed for work in his black "SECURITY" shirt while it appears Vickie just got off of work, still dressed in a form fitting black shirt with "Vickie" on a nametag.

They both sit quietly starring out the windshield, the camera not quite sure what it has stumbled in on between the two. Finally Jackson breaks the silence.]

JK: I'm really glad you and Alexa could make it tonight, Vickie. It really means a lot to me. It's a big night and I know you really don't like me doing this stuff...

V: You right. I don't. But...

[She looks over at him and their eyes meet for the first time.]

V: You've been so good with me and Alexa, especially after I went and did that stupid thing with your old boss...

You didn't need to pay off my debt with your Wrestle Bowl winnings--

JK: Vickie, I--

V: Shhhh... Jackson I know why you did it and both Alexa _and_ myself thank you. You didn't need to do it, but you did. So many other guys out there would have just taken the money and bought themselves a new car or something without even a second thought.

JK: [mockingly hurt] Are you saying something about my baby? Just because she doesn't quite run like she used to--

[She pauses for a moment, a bit of a smile growing across her reminiscing lips. She shakes her head lightly.]

V: No silly. It just reminded me...

It reminded me of why I fell in love with you back then.

JK: Only back then?

V: Jackson...

[Pause.]

V: Jackson, you definitely are persistent.

JK: Is it one of my better qualities?

[She nods slightly.]

V: But seriously Jackson... I have to get some things off of my chest and if I don't do them now... who knows, right?

[Vickie pulls a few strands of hair from her face and wraps them around her left ear.]

V: When I first found out about Alexa, things between us were in such a bad place. Back then, I knew that there was only one thing that you lived for and that was whatever drugs you were trying to shove into your arm. I knew I could never be number one in your life. Hell, I couldn't even be number two. That was held by your job.

I was sure that you were going to end up dead in an alley somewhere or in some shootout on the news. I figured I should just save you and Alexa the pain of knowing...

[She pauses for a moment, trying to hold it all together.]

V: And I was wrong to do that to you Jackson. Alexa needed a father in her life and I should have trusted that deep down you were the man that I always knew you could be. You've come so far Jackson and I'm so proud just to have someone as strong as you in my life. I don't know of anyone else who could make a better father for Alexa.

[Jackson smiles, his eyes locked on hers.]

V: But... I have to be honest with you Jackson. After what that James Rice guy did to you a few weeks ago, I'm beginning to get a little worried. You fought so hard to escape from that life, but like that, you were so close to being pulled back in.

I don't think I can take that again... Not when Alexa was just getting used to having a fath--

[He grabs hold of her hand and squeezes it.

JK: Vickie... You don't have to worry about a thing. In a matter of weeks, I'll be the champion here and I would have gone through that James guy and his little freak to do it. And once I'm through with them, _no_ _one_ will have to worry about them again.

V: That's partly of what I'm afraid of. If you do get into that match, one of two things are going to happen. Either he'll hurt you so badly that you might be tempted to fall back into your old habits...

Or you'll beat him... and I don't know if that guy you will become to do it scares me even more...

[Jackson goes to say something, but can't quite find the words. He brings her hand up to his lips and kisses it gently.]

JK: ...

...

...

We'll make it through this time...

I promise...

[Fade.]

[We immediately cut backstage to the crafts table where "Barbed Wire" Ken is shoving grape after grape into his mouth in front of an audience of one: PJG Royalty, Riley Brooks. Riley, clad in his black and white striped shirt, watches this car wreck as Ken's cheeks begin puffing out. A stream of drool falls from the corner of Ken's mouth and onto his jacket and he holds up ten fingers. Wiping his mouth, Ken spits the grapes back into the bowl catching each one as they fall.]

RB: Aww gross!

[Having seen enough, Riley walks out of frame.]

BWK: Tell Tim I want to see him...

[Staggering into the scene from stage right is Donovan O'Reily, can of swill in hand. Looking famished as usual, he immediately sets about throwing together a sandwich while addressing BWK.]

D'OR: A whopping ten grapes, eh? I could only ever fit nine. That's impressive, Ken!

BWK: You're damn right it is. Wanna see something else impressive?

DO'R: ... I guess. But if you pull your dick out I'm going to pop you one.

[Ken grins and holds a banana to his crotch as Donovan puts the finishing touches on his sandwich. Stuffing nearly the entire thing in his mouth, Donovan motions for Ken to lead the way. The pair swiftly rounds the corner and come to a dead stop. You'd stop too, you scared bitch. Feast your eyes on the Nihilist War Mongrel himself, Kian Konga. Konga stands, head tilted, blood shot eyes open wide, his four-fingered hand clenched around one of the bars. Eyes bugging nearly out of his head, O'Reily damn near chokes on his meal before spitting it up. Ken pats him on the back.]

BWK: Step right up....Come see the abominable.

DO'R: Jesus creeping shit, man! I'd heard the rumors but I thought they were just... rumors!

BWK: It's a pretty easy gig, man. The cage is locked, all I gotta do is stand here and watch him. I got a few minutes...What do you think we should do with him?

DO'R: I don't know about you, but I'm going to grab a stick!

* Crowd Laughter *

[Donovan quickly runs off screen while Ken watches him leave. Digging into his jacket pocket Ken pulls out the set of keys that James Goodwin-Rice handed off to him during their meeting. Quickly Ken unlocks the padlock on the door and shoves the keys back into his pocket as O'Reily returns with a tree branch. Immediately, Donovan pokes the branch through the cage's bars, jabbing it into Konga's arm. Kian turns towards him and snarls threateningly, an act which Donovan finds downright riotous, laughing up a storm before poking the stick towards the savage beast's face.]

BWK: Oh, man, you got him right in the eye!

D'OR: I fuckin' know, right!

[Donovan laughs some more before peeping Kian's feeding bowl.]

DO'R: What's that in his bowl?

[Indeed, Kian's doggy dish is filled with a rather odd, golden brown substance.]

BWK: That's what's left of that bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue I stole from James' room when he gave me the keys. He's drunker than you tonight, O'Reily....I wonder if he's a violent drunk...

D'OR: Heh. You gonna sick him on Copeland?

BWK: No... I'm gonna sick him on you.

[Ken rips the open padlock off of the cage and opens the door. O'Reily doesn't stick around to get his comeuppance and takes off down the hall. On pure instinct and hate, Kian Konga gives chase. Ken watches gap-mouthed.]

BWK: O'Reily! Stop running, motherfucker!

[Ken starts to run after Kian.]

[We fade backstage to a dimly lit locker room. In one corner Michael Kane sits silently, his fists taped, already in his wrestling gear. His face and body is bruised beyond belief and his head is shaved bare. His eyes are empty and he just stares ahead, seemingly oblivious to the camera.]

"Hey, fucko, over here!"

[The camera swings around at the sound of the gravel throated voice, only to find Jim Burns inches away, igniting a cigar. As usual he's dressed in only the finest Hawaiian shirt money can buy and his driving cap. He exhales a huge cloud of smoke into the camera. His face, too, is bruised and cut. What in the hell have they been doing all this time?]

JB: Yeah, it's me again, goody for you assholes. Now I know there's been silence on the airwaves from Casa de Burns, and there's good reason for that... you see, the boy here...

[He motions to his grandson.]

JB: ... he fucked up. He was doing so goddamn well and he fucked it up... he let that motherfucker Ronan Benedict get into his goddamn head and he let his emotions get the better of him. No fuckin' way... I've worked too hard for too long for the boy to let his emotions get the better of him... goddamnit, I thought I had him straight and he had to go and pull that stunt the other week.

[Burns sighs, chewing on his stogie. After a moment, he chuckles.]

JB: ... although I gotta admit it was damn entertaining watching him get smashed to pieces. I damn near about came, although the boy got an asswhipping when I got my hands back on him. Sum'bitch tore up the grill on my hummer too.

Anyway, that's all water under the bridge... I've been puttin' this boy's nose to the grindstone this week and we're gonna give it another go...

[He turns back to Michael, yelling.]

JB: You hear that cocksucker? No more of your shit! You get in there and you fuckin' hurt people! That's what you do... none of this crying about your goddamn cunt of a mama or your cripple daddy! You get in the fuckin' ring and you break them and offer them to me as a fucking sacrifice!

[Kane barely acknowledges Burns presence, instead sitting on his bench and flexing his fingers.]

JB: Yeah, that's more like it... you're a fuckin' killer boy, you're not an emotional crybaby... and that's a lesson that Donovon fuckin' O'Reily, Clayton Priest, and Andy James are gonna find out in a few minutes... they're up against a monster of my own creation... this man? This is me playing God!

Now get the fuck outta here jagoff... I've got nothin' further to say.

[And with that, Burns shoves the camera away, and we fade to...]

[A pool of water. A familiar guitar lick, takes on a darkly sinister glint with the addition of a rapid fire drum beat.]

"I see a red door and I want it painted black!
No colors anymore I want them to turn black!
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue!
I could not foresee this thing happening to you!"

[The screaming, wrenching vocals cause the water to ripple and shake! Blood red begins spreading from the center and out... And then black until the water is like ink!]

"I look inside myself and see my heart is black!
No colors anymore I want them to turn black!
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue!
I could not foresee this thing happening to you!"

[The shot holds on the inky substance for longer than you'd expect and then cuts a long pan of a beach from a speeding car. As it goes, each car parked along the road changes from whatever color it was to black.]

"I look inside myself and see my heart is black!
I see a red door and I want it painted black!
I see my red door and it has been painted black!"

[A shadow races along, as if behind the car, devouring the serene beach.]

"I see a red door and I want it painted black!
No colors anymore I want them painted black!
Like a new born baby it just happens evry day!
I see my red door and it has been painted black!"

[The music slowly comes to a close and we fade into the PJG Arena.]

CA: WELCOME TO BLOODY PARADISE, EPISODE EIGHT! Our lineup has changed a little so bear with us, folks. You'll get all the matches you came to see, just in a different order!

[A keyboard key is held down. High pitched. Then the gruff voice of DMX hits.]

DMX: Uh-huh (Y'KNOW?)

[BUH-BUMP-BUMP hits the beat. He barks. Yeah. Barks, mother fucker.]

DMX Uhnh..

[The lyrics kick in.]

## Take it for what it's worth, my birth was a blessing
## Sent to live and die, on earth as a lesson
## We each have a star, all we have to do is find it
## Once you do, everyone who sees it will be blinded (WHAT?)

[HUGE spotlights shoot out from the entry way highlighting a sillhoutte in the entry doors which slide open.]

## They'll tell you that you're bright, and say you have a future
## When you turn your back, same cats'll try to shoot ya
## Niggaz ain't shit, I can live on both sides of the fence
## Forget what you do, when you talk, see what you really meant (aight?)
## That's what I thought, them niggaz was bluffin (uh)
## They talk all day but say, nothin (uh)
## It gets so dark (WHAT?) haze so intense

[The man starts walking out and the spots cut out, replaced by lights from above. The man is tall and thin. Trim. Cut like an adonis. He's perfectly chiseled all over. Gorgeous smile revealing amazing white teeth. This is the kinda face that stars in movies and wins awards. Who is this? Why, the "Riverside Thrill Machine" Chris Colton, of course.]

## Since this first rain it's like it's rained ever since (WHAT?)
## Never got paid for a rhyme but I flow (whoo)
## Never got a plate on time but I grow (whoo)
## Live your life, STAY on the line but I go (UHH)
## Went from doin crime to bein kind cause I know

[He's got his trade mark green Ray Bans nestled in his bleach blonde hair. He's got that California golden sun God tan. It's no bottle orange dye either!]

## I'm gon' live forever, I'm never gon' die
## Only thing I fear is that I'm never gon' fly
## Carry my weight but I'm never gon' cry
## Shit I tell y'all niggaz straight cause I'm never gon' lie
## I'm gon' live forever, I'm never gon' die
## Only thing I fear is that I'm never gon' fly
## Carry my weight but I'm never gon' cry
## Shit I tell y'all niggaz straight cause I'm never gon' lie

[Colton has quickly made his way down to the ring, enjoying the lights and the crowd and the attention but ready to get to the point already.]

## What is about who I am that makes me unforgettable (HMM)
## What it is about what I've done that makes it so incredible (uhh)
## "More money, more problems" -- well the fame was worse (uh-huh)
## I reached out for love and what came back was thirst (WHAT?)
## Blessed with the curse (uh) niggaz don't hear me
## Niggaz don't hear me, Y'ALL NIGGAZ, don't hear me (uh)

[He has a mic and the music fades down.]

Chris Colton: So, after my primetime exploits on the last Bloody Paradise.. the Thriller decided to do some research. I went to the library, and I got books. I got on the Internet. I even went to some hospitals and did a little one-on-one interaction.

[Take that for what you will.]

CC: And, in my new persona of Riverside Thriller, PhD, I discovered something.

[Sure it has something to do with the anatomy of women.]

CC: There are eight bones in the wrist. And Donovan, here's the question I have.

[The crowd wants to know it, too. They don't know what they want to know yet, but they do!]

CC: Which ones did I break?

[PPPPPPOPPPPPPP!]

CC: Was it the hamate? No, no.. flip that around, and it sounds like a quiet evening at home with Andy James.

[It's a cheap laugh, but the crowd's eating it up.]

CC: How about.. the capitate? Nah.. that sounds like what almost happened to me a couple weeks ago when I had that unfortunate incident with Timothy Jeter's swimming pool.

[Now the crowd turns to the boos.]

CC: Which should not be confused with many.. fortunate incidents I've had in Timothy Jeter's swimming pool, when Timothy Jeter wasn't at home.

[But not anymore.]

CC: The trapezoid? Wait, though.. isn't that a shape? Yeah.. I looked that up in a geometry book. Kinda looks like Helga Von Butch's head.

[More popping from the crowd.]

CC: It coulda been the trapezius. Honestly, that sounds more like a fun place to have sex than anything else.

[And.. again.]

CC: Maybe it was the pisiform. That sounds like something right up your alley, O'Reily.

[And now, a humor pop.]

CC: Couldn't have been the triquetrum, because I'm pretty sure that's something Jackson Kinkaid is taking right now.

[That doesn't sit well with the crowd.]

CC: There's always the scaphoid.. but that sounds like something Andrea Kristian found out she had on her last visit to the gynecologist.

[PPPPPOPPPPP!]

CC: So.. finally, I settled on the lunate.

[Why, might you ask? Because. I couldn't find any funny play on that one. So, that had to be it. Yeah.]

CC: But then I realized.. it doesn't matter, Donovan. I know why you're mad. I know why you're so upset with me. I know why you called me a pussy on The Bleeding Edge. I mean, besides the fact that I obviously have a lot of first-hand knowledge of said object. It took me a while to figure it out, Donovan, but it finally dawned on me. You're mad at me, because when I broke your wrist, I robbed you of the only pussy you're ever gonna get!

[Ok... it's so cliché here, it's almost too obvious. But... MASSIVE F'N POP!]

CC: Just listening to you talk, I can't help but think about pussy.

[And now, neither can anyone else.]

CC: You talk about Buddhist monasteries.. I think about all the fun the Thriller had during one whacked-out weekend in Kathmandu. You talk about spraying graffiti on the Sistine Chapel? The Thriller thinks about the time he almost created an international incident when someone close to the Pope walked in on him getting busy with a couple of secretaries from the Vatican. And I don't think you could call what I was doing graffiti.. but it was definitely spraying.

[Yeah.. I don't really have anything else here. The crowd just has to PPPPPPPPPPPPPPOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!]

CC: Anyway. My reasons for being here have never been in question. I was here until I found the person responsible for the attack on me a few months ago, and I was here until I settled the score.

[Colton simply grins out at the crowd now.]

CC: The next time Josie Saito pops up on the screen, and something else pops up and gives you some ideas, Donovan... let that serve as a reminder.

[Now, the grin abruptly vanishes.]

CC: Score settled.

[Just Got Wicked (Romper Stomper Remix) by Cold hits up to a small recognition pop and out walks Timothy Jeter from the back. He gets a larger pop once everyone know exactly who it is!]

TJ: Chris.

[Timothy's tone of voice confuses Colton. Timothy rushes to the ring and steps through the ropes, giving a cursory nod to Colton before acknowledging the crowd. He then turns back to The Thriller.]

TJ: Listen... I've gotta ask you one more time, maybe the response of these fans will change your answer...

[Chris gets a look of knowing on his face. He smiles in that, "you bastard" kinda way.]

TJ: Please... Sign a deal. We both know you can hang here! You've proven it more than once. You're great at everything you try and-

[Chris holds up a hand and stops Jeter.]

CC: Tim.. you know if I was going to work for any jisatsu promotion, it'd be yours. We go way back. But as I've said before.. I'm not a jisatsu wrestler. Can I do it? Yeah, I've proven that. But do I want to, on a nightly basis? No.

[He pauses. The crowd lets out a deflation pop.]

CC: So, as tempting as it may be... I'm gonna have to say no.

[Jeter nods and sighs.]

TJ: All right, I was afraid you'd say that.

[Colton quirks an eyebrow.]

TJ: I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Chris.

[Mixed pop, bordering on heel heat!]

TJ: I can't have you injuring my roster, not without the security of knowing you're a marketable member of it yourself.

CC: Listen, I can dig. I said I was done anyway. You wanna escort me out so nobody else tries and "recruits" me?

[Timothy frowns.]

TJ: Listen, I'm sorry. This is business. You're my friend and this my business. You know which comes first, but not at the expense of the other. You settled your score... I just think you're walking away from a chance to be the best you've ever been.

[Timothy takes a manilla envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Chris.]

TJ: Take this. If you change your mind, if you start seeing the look _I'VE_ seen in your eyes lately... We'll talk. All right?

CC: Yeah. All right.

[They shake, share a hug to a big pop and Fame hits again.]

CA: Well, there goes a man I hope we eventually see in a PJG ring.

TM: I hope he walks out and doesn't come back!

CA: I thought you liked him now?

TM: Meh, he's a nice enough guy, sure. But he doesn't belong here! Maybe if he signs the contract he can change my mind, I kinda doubt he will though!

CA: Well, next up- Hold on, we've got BWK, Kian Konga and Donovan again!

[We cut back stage and Donovan O'Reily has obviously been caught by Kian at least once, he's got a black eye and looks like somebody slobbered on his cast! No doubt Kian trying to bite through it like the mental kid who wanted to eat the cardboard cereal box to get at the prize back in kindergarden!]

CA: I see Donovan, where are Ken and Kian?

[O'Reily walks along pushing himself forward trying to get along that much faster. We hear a howl and he grimaces, cursing to himself. He looks down the hall and grits his teeth. The camera pans... It's Chris Colton and Timothy Jeter! He starts heading right their way.]

TM: Oh yeah!

CA: Oh crap!

[Donovan marches up and Jeter jumps between them as he sees Donovan.]

TJ: Hey! Back up, Donovan. I'm not-

DO'R: Shuddup, Boss man, I ain't gonna hit your special friend. I'm "injured."

[His words deny violence, but the tone in which he says them and the way he stares at Colton imply MURDER! Colton just has a smile on his lip and a chuckle on his breath.]

CC: Don't look so Sour, Puss. You aren't ever going to see me again. You can go back to being King Of The Dung Heap without anyone rolling your sorry ass down the hill for the hell of it.

[Donovan is the one laughing now. He speaks louder than he needs too.]

DO'R: Oh, the witticisms never stop, do they! Do you hear that though? That's not the sound of thunderous applause, no, you see I'm distracting you because a train is coming.

[Colton looks at Timmy like, "he huffing ether again?" and Jeter just shrugs and shakes his head.]

DO'R: Here's a hint!

[Donovan suddenly throws himself to the side and KIAN KONGA SLAMS INTO CHRIS!]

CA: HOLY SHIT!

[Konga and Colton roll, fighting to get control of the fight! Kian gets the advantage of suddenly Donovan it laying boots to Chris and Timothy is yelling at him to stop, but there's no stopping him!]

TM: Oh my God! This is the coolest thing ever!

CA: Kian is a bullet! He'll tear apart anything in front of him!

[And there's BWK! He shoves Jeter aside and dives into the fray on top of Kian! He pulls him up off Colton and jumps on his back, piggy back style! Which is funny to see because he'd about half a foot taller than Konga!]

BWK: SOMEBODY GET THE CAGE! I GOT HIM! I GOT HI-

[Kian flips Ken over while Colton is being choked by Donovan's unbroken arm, the cast on the broken wrist grinding across his forehead!]

BWK: AAAACK! HE'S GOT ME! HE'S GOT ME!

[Timothy screams for security!]

CA: What a wild situation! And this is all before our first match!Jesus!

TM: WOW, Ken can _run_!

CA: He should be an Olympian!

["Barbed Wire" Ken gets up and high tails it away from the man he's been chasing. Kian's predator instincts take over and he shoots off after Ken! Timothy jumps in himself now pull O'Reily back!]

TJ: YOU HAVE A MATCH! GET OUT THERE!

[Donovan spits down at Colton who jumps up and Timothy switches who he's holding back all of a sudden. All the hate and murder Donovan had in his eyes earlier now appears in Chris'.]

DO'R: NOW the score is settled, bitch!

[Donovan turns and you can hear "I Live In A Car" by the U.K. Subs blasting through the PA. We follow Donovan to the entry way about fifty feet away and he steps out into the arean to a massive heel pop!]

CA: Here comes the former Suicide Soldier champion, Donovan O'Reily!

[The scaffold is a pretty simple set up. It's two mini scaffolding towers set up at opposite corners of the ring and a long wide platform that's been lowered from above on top of them and secured from there.]

TM: This is going to be fun!

CA: A first in PJG!

[Donovan thinks little of his recent encounter and instead goes straight to climb the scaffold and get his position set.]

DK: And next to enter...

[The eerie organ entrance to "Bring Her Down (to Crippletown)," by Rob Zombie, echoes through PA as the arena lights are cut to nothing. The big screen next to the aisle lights up with a series of x-rays showing a compound fracture of a thigh bone, shattered vertebrae, and an arm broken in three place, with a washed out picture of Michael Kane's face in between each image.]

DK: ...weighing in at 240 lbs., from St. Louis, Missouri,...

[The curtains part with little flourish, and out storms the 5'10" dynamo himself, head down, paying no attention to the disdain of the crowd. Kane is wearing short, ankle high wrestling boots, black trunks, and a gray, zippered hoodie that's pulled down over his face. He lingers for a moment at the entranceway, head down, flexing his fingers slightly. From behind him steps one Jim Burns, puffing away on a large cigar, a devil grin on his face. This evening Burns is dressed in slacks, an Hawaiian t-shirt, and a light gray driving cap. The paragon of fashion this one is. He barks at Kane to move, shoving him in the back.]

DK: M I C H A E L . . .
. . . K A N E !

[As his name is called, he makes his way down the aisle, sidestepping any outstretched hands, and steps into the ring, high stepping between the barbed wire net. He hops up onto the turn buckle and grabs onto the scaffolding, beginning to climb. Burns takes his time on the way to the ring, jawing with the fans and nearly coming to fisticuffs with a particularly rowdy youth, but satisfies himself with knocking over his drink before going over to Kane's corner.]

CA: He looks... Better than the last time we saw him, that's for sure!

TM: He better win or I expect Granpa is gonna kick his ass again!

[A brief moment of silence over the audience and then over the loudspeakers blares the opening chords of Sevendust's "Face to Face" kick in.]

DK: "Coming to the ring ... hailing from Norfolk, Virginia ... standing six-feet, one inch tall ... weighing in tonight at two-hundred and forty-two pounds ... here is ...

C L A Y T O N . . .
. . . P R I E S T !

[And with that, out steps the man who was just introduced, a somber, apathetic expression upon his face. His head is shaved with a close cropped fade style trim, with a very thinly shaved beard as well to match. Otherwise, he has thin eyebrows, light green eyes, and a strong jaw. His body isn't overly bulky, but he's got a solid, muscular, stocky build. He wears a pair of black trunks with red trim that reach about mid-thigh, as well as a pair of black kneepads and black wrestling boots to finish off his attire. The only other thing that adorns his body is black tape around each of his wrists.]

CA: It's strange to see Kane and Priest in a SCAFFOLD match.

TM: Two world class grapplers? Yeah.

[He makes his way toward the ring at a slow, almost methodical pace, his eyes constantly focused on the ring ahead of him. Not even looking for if his opponent is in there yet, his gaze truly is focused upon the wrestling ring itself, ignoring the crowd completely, no matter what they say or what they do. As he reaches ringside, he stands by the ring apron and just stares at the mat for a moment, breathing steadily. Finally, after a long pause, he then walks along the apron and starts to climb up himself. before he's to the top...]

# IT AIN'T A LIVING THING IT'S A NO FUCK GIVING THING
BRING THE PAIN
AND I'MMA LEAVE WITH THE RAIN
INSANE WHEN I LEAVE THIS BITCH
I GOT THE WHOLE WORLD SCREAMIN' OUT
"YOU AIN'T SHIT! #

[Those few lines of Twiztid's "Rock the Dead" play, and then it cuts to "Toxic" by Britney Spears. Immediately, the members of the James Clam stampede -- there is no better verb considering the amount of mass involved -- through the entranceway and into the aisle, each one of them wearing the same masks as they were before, ranging from paper grocery bags to ex-Presidents. Each girl is wearing the same bicycle shorts and sports bras as before, only now they're betting the over on the sheer strength of these spaceage fibers as they gyrate around.]

# Baby, can't you see, I'm calling
A guy like you should wear a warning
It's dangerous, I'm falling #

[HUGE HEEL POP! Britney Spears is the HATE!]

# There's no escape, I can't wait
I need a hit, baby give me it
You're dangerous, I'm lovin' it #

[ANOTHER HUGE HEEL POP! The man of the hour makes his first appearance in front of the crowd: and he's wearing some kind of leisure suit, complete with the enormous collar. The shirt is lime green, the jacket and pants some kind of dark suede. He's also wearing his trademark red bandana and a bright gold medallion. He struts through the entranceway with his shoulders thrown back and his head tilted up, Andy's in his element. He immediately flips off the crowd with both hands, and then catches up so he can get a piece of the James Clam.]

# Too high, can't come down
Losing my head,
Spinning round and round
Do you feel me now? #

[Andy, and the mob of transfat surrounding him, dance their way down the aisle. The girls tearing at his suit. The jacket is the first thing to go- the girls tear off his sleeves first, and then one of them manages to get the jacket. Andy doesn't seem to mind- he's trying to step in time to the music, and for a man of his size and demeanor, he's got some moves.]

# With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride
You're toxic, I'm slippin' under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
But you know that you're toxic
And I love what you do
But you know that you're toxic #

[Having shredded his jacket and thrown pieces of it into the crowd, the girls begin working on the dress shirt. Andy and company have made it to the top of the aisle- the girls have removed his shirt, revealing a white shirt with "FUCK OFF" written on it in black marker.]

# It's getting late to give you up
I took a sip from my devil's cup
So lonely
It's taking over me #

[Andy suddenly stops and raises his hands in the air, he waves the dancers forward and they start pulling at his pants in a not-so-subtle way. Andy restarts dancing, to a large (mostly heel) mixed pop. His pants are soon off, and underneath he's wearing a pair of old denim cut-offs that go down a little past his knees with a pair of red wrestling tights pulled up over them -- the symbol for infinite tastefully displayed over his groin in bright yellow, the phrase "NICE ASS" across his very large ass.]

# With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride
You're toxic, I'm slippin' under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic #

[James walks around the ring as the dancers leave and the music fades. He grabs ahold of the scaffolding and shakes it. It doesn't so much as budge and with that he begins climbing up.]

TM: Guess he's worried about the integrity of the structure.

CA: I was too, actually!

[Andy reaches the top and scrabbles his way over the edge, his fat getting in the way for a moment. Then he stands.]

CA: And there they stand, Trent. These four men, each planting their feet as firmly as possible with every carefully placed footstep, will fight for their lives to stay atop that scaffold twenty five feet from the floor of the arena!

TM: But more important than their lives... they fight to advance to tonight's main event for a shot at the title on Episode 10!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

CA: And there's the bell. Kane charges O'Reily who's already been ravaged tonight at the hands of Kian Konga.

TM: And with that mongrel on the loose, who knows who else might be massacred!

CA: Forearms to the face of Donovan O'Reily while Priest and James are just trying to maintain their balance at the moment.

TM: Don't look down!

[But the warriors can't help periodically looking down at that barbed wire net looming beneath them. Finally Priest sidesteps his way around Kane and O'Reily on that narrow platform, grabs Andy James by a tuft of hair and forces the overweight grappler's head down hard into his right knee.]

CA: Kane lifting O'Reily...

TM: UP!



...



*THUD!!*


CA: And that big bodyslam rattles the scaffold!

[Everyone, Kane included, stretch out there arms wide to gain some sort of balance and keep from falling.]

CA: Kane following up with a knee dropped across the forehead.

TM: Andy James fighting back!

[Indeed he is... a knee lift to the mid-section and a wild punch staggers Clayton Priest.]

CA: James raking Clayton's eyes, now dropping to a knee......




CROWD: "OOHHHHHHHH!"

CA: LOW BLOW!

TM: With his testes up in his mouth, Clayton Priest crumples to the scaffold. James not wasting time....



*THUD!!*


TM: THE FAT MAN SPLASH!!

[Pop!]

CA: Yes, a big splash by Andy James and Clayton Priest is in trouble James to his feet trying to dump Priest off the scaffold with his boots. A kick! Another!

[Meanwhile, on the other end of the platform, Michael Kane is trying to roll O'Reily off the edge. Donovan has a firm grasp though. Kane begins to pry at his fingers, intermittently striking Donovan's lower back with an elbow.]

CA: James continuing to lay the boots to Clayton Priest and getting a bit winded in the process.

TM: Fat bastard.

[Andy takes a quick breather, walking to his left, allowing Priest to gather his wits and work to one knee, also breathing heavy.]

CA: Priest is up... and....

TM: A submission hold!?

CA: He's locking some sort of Sitting Surfboard Chinlock on Michael Kane, saving Donovan O'Reily in the process.

TM: [shouting] Clayton, you can't win this one with a submission buddy!

[But Priest has this gem locked in beautifully. Kane lets out a yelp of agony, as O'Reily crawls toward safety. Little does he know the post he's reaching for is not part of the scaffold, but rather Andy James' leg.]

CA: Andy turns...





*SMMAAAAACK!!!*


[Crowd gasp!]

TM: WHAT A BOOT!

CA: A thunderous kick to the face from Andy James and blood flies from O'Reily's lips.

[First blood pop! O'Reily spits out more blood, but somehow barely seems fazed by the kick. He fights to his feet and James is flabbergasted. Reaching back for a big right hand...]

CA: The blow is blocked by O'Reily who fires back with a big shot of his own!

[Pop! Another one staggers the big man!]

TM: Look at Michael Kane. His neck's and maybe his back too are about ready to snap in two!

[But just as Trent speaks up, Priest breaks his nasty submission hold and stands with a determined look in his eye. HUGE POP!]

CA: LOOK AT DONOVAN O'REILY UNLOAD ON ANDY JAMES! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT!

[Donovan lands shots to the jaw, the abdomen, the side of the head, the ribs, the chest and everywhere inbetween. Andy is trying to cover up but also trying to maintain his balance.]

CA: James about to tumble off the platform!

TM: NO!

[Somehow, Andy plants a foot, his girth jiggling, and launches toward O'Reily with a headbutt...]


*Thud-Thud!*

CA: Both men hit the deck!

TM: Priest working another submission hold now... a full nelson locked in tight. I don't get his gameplan.

CA: Clayton Priest does things his way. He prides himself on that, however unconventional, er... conventional... er... well, you know what I mean.

[James and O'Reily both struggling a bit, but Donovan is up first. James resting on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Suddenly...]




*THUD!!*


[POP!!]

CA: KANE TO HIS BEHIND AND PRIEST'S JAW CRACKING ON HIS SKULL!!

TM: LOOK OUT!

[Priest stumbles backward....




... and LOSES HIS FOOTING OVER THE SCAFFOLD EDGE!!!]


CA: Clayton Priest is elimi-

TM: NOT YET! NOT YET!

[Major appreciation pop!]

CA: Woah! With an amazing display of strength, grit, and an iron will Clayton Priest has hung onto the scaffold with one hand!

[Dangling precariously, 20 feet in the air over a barbed wire net, Clayton's visage shows little fear, if any. He reaches up with his other hand and begins pulling himself up.]

TM: Michael Kane can't believe it.

[Neither can James or O'Reily. As Priest swings one leg back up over the edge, all three men charge forth and begin laying in the boots.]

CA: Priest grabs ahold of Kane's right leg, holding on for dear life...

[Kane tries to shake him loose but instead falls backwards and inadvertantly pulls Clayton up the rest of the way!]

CA: And it looks like he's safe... for the time being anyway.

[And now O'Reily and James are back at it! A palm strike catches Andy square to the nose... another! Some blood begins to trickle.]

CA: _Stiff_ shots from PJG's first Suicide Soldier champ. Reeling off anoth-

[Heel pop!]

TM: Got 'em in the eye!

[An eye gouge from James stops the assault. Andy takes a step back and...]


*SMACK!*


*GASP!*

TM: Timberrrrrrrrr!





.....





CA: A wild lariat sends O'Reily off the platform!






*CRASH!!*

CA: INTO THAT BARBED WIRE NET!!! HE'S GONE!

TM: Andy James eliminates Donovan O'Reily!

CA: That lariat wasn't pretty but it did the trick and we're down to three.

[James, careful to keep his balance, stares down at Donovan O'Reily who is sliced to ribbons beneath him on the barbed wire. James shouts obscenities to O'Reily... then to the crowd while shooting the bird to all the jeering fans. Quickly the attention is usurped...]

*THWAP!*
*THWAP!*
*THWAP!*
*THWAP!*
*THWAP!*

CA: Clayton Priest and Michael Kane with a brutal exchange of knife edge chops!

[Their chests redden as Andy James watches in the distance, letting his opponent's wear each other down.]

CA: Now a boot to the knee by Michael Kane.

[Priest clutches his knee before being lifted....



.... _way_ up ....]

TM: Uh oh!





*THHUUUDD!!*


[POP!!]


CA: SITOUT POWERBOMB!!!

[The scaffold rattles like a mofo and Andy James nearly falls off, but is able to maintain his equilibrium. Kane back up, stepping back...

waiting...]



*Smack-THUD!*

CA: DROPKICK!

[Yes, just as Priest sits up, he's smack down on his back on the receiving end of a seated dropkick.]

CA: Andy James taking an opening!

[Andy picks up Kane and ...]

TM: He's just strangling him! Niiiiiice.

[James just throttling Kane who's arms flail. Finally Michael lays in with a fist to try and break the choke, but Andy is unrelenting.]

CA: Kane needs to get out of there and fast!

[Desperately, Kane throws a boot up that awkwardly catches James in the ribs. Another that connects to the hip! Finally one to the junk!]

CA: ANDY JAMES GETS A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE! RIGHT IN THE GROIN!

[And James staggers back. Kane catches his breath and Priest is up to his feet. Kane comes up and...]

CA: He's locking in a crossface chickenwing!

TM: What is it with these submission holds?

CA: NO! James powers out.

[Kane re-gathers himself and turns back to face James, and out of no where...]




*SMACK!*










*CRASH!!*


[BLOODLUST POP!!!]

CA: STEP-UP ENZIGUIRI AND KANE'S IN THE NET!

TM: Two men! Andy James has eliminated two men!

CA: And now it's down to he and Clayton Priest.



*THUD!!*



CA: PRIEST FROM BEHIND WITH A BULLDOGG!!

TM: This is a different Clayton Priest we're seeing tonight. Very aggressive. Showing tremendous determination.

CA: And now?

[Now he's locking on a figure four leg lock! Crossing up the legs and dropping back, the glare in his eyes is intense.]

CA: Twenty five feet in the air! Figure four! Andy James screams out in pain!

TM: The crowd ain't used to this.

[There is an awkward vibe in the air as this submission is applied so far above their heads. They want blood. They want violence. They get technique.]

CA: ANDY JAMES IS REVERSING IT!

[And now the crowd, almost against their own will, gets into it. James, using all his weight and strength to try and roll it over. Priest fighting with all he has left _not_ to let it happen!]

CA: Who will win out?! Who has more intestinal fortitude?!

TM: Andy James! Andy James! He reversed it! I didn't think the fat man had it in him.

[And now it's Priest who winces, his teeth clenched, neck straining. But very quickly...]

CA: James releases it...

TM: He's no submission specialist. He wants to go for the kill.

[Andy to his feet. He drags Clayton up... Powerbomb position........]

CA: Could it be? Jamestown Massacre!?!? COULD HE END IT!?

[Hoisting him up.......






... and ...




...]

CA: NO!

[Priest, sitting on top of James shoulders, grabs the head and neck, scoots his legs and and in one fell swoop....



**SMMAAAACK!!!!**



[POP-AROO!!]

CA: INCREDIBLE FACEBUSTER!! WHAT IMPACT!!

[Andy hits the scaffold face first and immediately rolls to his back, his hands cradling his face. When he removes them, his nose -which was trickling blood earlier - is now _gushing!_]

CA: Clayton Priest is fierce tonight, folks...

TM: BUT ANDY JAMES IS STILL FIGHTING! HE'S GETTING RIGHT BACK UP!

[Running his foul mouth like _he's_ the one who hit the move, James stands and faces Clayton. Priest is stunned!]

CA: Trying to get James up...

[Picking him up in Samoan Drop position, James' weight is just too akward...


.... both men _fall!_...



*THUD!*

James hits the scaffold....]

CA: AND PRIEST FALLS OFF!!

TM: Wooooow! James wins! James wi-

[POP! James shoots his arms in the air like he's won the superbowl, but they don't cheer for him. The pop is in apprciation of Clayton Priest, who once _again_ has held onto the edge.]

CA: UNBELIEVABLE!

[There's no bell... James, confused, looks to the edge to be certain Priest has fallen and doesn't see him... he continues his celebration as...]

CA: Clayton Priest is climbing UNDERNEATH the scaffold to the other side!!!

[The big tubby veteran is now jumping up and down, he's so thrilled. He's talking smack at the speed of light.]

TM: WATCH OUT ANDY!

CA: PRIEST FROM BEHIND... DROP TOE HOLD!











*CRASH!!*







*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*


CA: JAMES INTO THE NET! Priest grappled his way into a win on a SCAFFOLD match!

[We cut back stage all of a sudden. We see the grinning face of Ranma Kurotsuki.]

RANMA: Paging one Andy James and Clayton Priest!

[We pull back and see he's in a button up silk shirt, black pants and in his hand? A huuuuuge fan of hundred dollar bills! He slaps it into the open palm of his other hand.]

RANMA: So, here's the deal. Tim gave a bounty on the best match way back at Episode 1. He gave Jackson Kinkaid, Johnny Royle and Donovan O'Reily a grand between them... Me? I gotta one up him!

[He laughs.]

RANMA: So I made a little withdrawel and here I hold three thousand dollars!

TM: "Little?" The way he says that makes my stomache turn.

RANMA: I can hear you, Munson!

TM: Eep!

RANMA: And you know who it's for? It's for the two of you. But not half and half. Clayton, you get your reward for winning in the main event. This? This is a special bounty for tossing bodies off of a Scaffold!

[POP from the crowd, even though it's heels getting money.]

RANMA: And why would I do this you ask? Because this is going to be the best place to wrestle... In America. Oh, and Andy, I won't presume to tell you to not buy ANY alcohol with the money... You know I'm Edge, you don't need a lecture, but for the love of GOD buy a few hundred yards of burlap and cover up those God awful James Clam dancers, man!

[He laughs and gets another BIG POP! We cut to another scene.]

[The scene opens to the halls of the mansion, where we find Moira Faith. Moira wears a black leather skirt, knee length, and white silk button up blouse with long "poetic" sleeves. As she rounds a corner, heading towards her office, she stops as she spots Ashlyn Summers, standing before the door. Ashlyn wears a white, tank top and black, pleated mini skirt. She also wears a pair of black boots, her hair falling down her back in curls. As she spots Moira, a frown crosses Ashlyn's lips.]

Ashlyn: Just the woman I was waiting for. I know that we haven't been formally introduced but I'm Ashlyn Summers.

MOIRA: I'm Moira Faith. It's good to meet you. Call me Moira.

Ashlyn: Okay...Moira. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I have to ask what in the world is going on around here? It's one thing to sign a match for me to fight Talia Wichzini, considering our history. But I have to wonder what exactly you're playing at, by allowing the stipulations to be of _her_ choosing.

[Ashlyn places her hands on her hips.]

Ashlyn: Call me paranoid or whatever, but this practically reeks of favoritism. And I'd honestly expect a woman, in your position, to be above such things.

[Moira smiles and moitions to her office.]

MOIRA: Why don't you take a step into...

[She pauses, as if resisting the urge to say "web" or "lair" and then continues.]

MOIRA: My office?

[Moira steps forward as Ashlyn steps back and then Faith opens the door and holds it for Ashlyn. Ashlyn eyes her warily, almost as if expecting a trap. When everything appears normal, she finally enters.]

Ashlyn: Fine. So, are you going to explain what this is about? Like I said, I'm not against facing Talia. Hell, I'm looking forward to it more than anything. But I can't understand why she's getting this luxury.

[Ashlyn takes a seat across from Moira's desk and crosses her legs. Moira lingers behind her, just within Ashlyn's peripheral vision.]

Ashlyn: I won't beat around the bush. I know your reputation. And I'm hoping that this whole thing is some sort of mistake...or oversight. And not a blatant attempt to screw me over.

[Moira steps behind Ashlyn completely, Ashlyn's head darts back only to catch Moira on the other side of her, standing in front of a large trophy. The Spirit of KOKORO, that she won recently in Japan.]

MOIRA: No, it's not about you. It's about her. This tournament match is very big. You see, I expect Myra will win tonight and go on to the finals at Burn, Bleed, Ascend.

[The finals of the Widow's Web tournament take place at Episode 10 of Bloody Paradise, now apparently called Burn, Bleed, Ascend.]

MOIRA: And if Talia is to face Myra, I think that I'll have to find something... Explicetly special for them to fight in. I'm sure Talia will inspire me with her choice. And if you were to win...

[Moira turns.]

MOIRA: Wouldn't you like to be truly prepared for Myra?

[Ashlyn nods.]

Ashlyn: More than you know. It's no secret that Myra and I have tangled in the past. And I would be the first to admit that she's had my number each time. So, yeah, I'd love to be completely prepared to face her. But how's any of this supposed to help me do that?

[Moira laughs. She walks around her desk and takes a seat. She leans forward with her finger tips resting together.]

MOIRA: Because for one if I hadn't let Talia pick the stipulations for your match, she would have walked into that ring and used that flaming branding iron and tough as you may be... You'd just been in a tough match. She would have hurt you, again. How does this prepare you for Myra? It gives you a chance to fight her at all.

[Moira then laughs again.]

MOIRA: Besides, whatever Talia comes up with... It should shame what most of these people think of as hellish matches. Just like anything I'll come up with for the Widow's Web finale. The Torture Room at Two Bloody Nights? My creation. And for this? I'll have to top it, if I can.

[Ashlyn eyes Moira for a moment before shaking her head.]

Ashlyn: Fair enough. At least I know where you stand and the....logic behind your decision.

[Ashlyn stands to her feet and faces Moira.]

Ashlyn: Thanks for your time. It's been...enlightening.

MOIRA: Opening eyes is what I do. Absolution will evelope us all, Ashlyn, those who see it coming will be worthy... And those who are blinded, will be washed away in their own blood.

[Moira smirks leans back folding her hands together in her lap as she does. Ashlyn folds her arms across her chest and studies Moira's face.]

Ashlyn: I'll keep that in mind. [she pauses for a moment] It's been...enlightening.

[She turns and exits, shaking her head.]

MOIRA: Yes, it was.

[Fade to black.]

[Cut back to the parking lot of the Jeter Mansion. There we find the resident PJG wrestler and part-time security guard Jackson Kinkaid patrolling the rows of cars. Dressed in his black "SECURITY" shirt, he seems lost in his thoughts. Finally he wanders by a large, chromed out Harley, sitting directly on the sidewalk leading to the entrance of the Mansion.

An older man, about 5 foot 11 and about 260 pounds sits on the bike smoking a cigar. The white smoke snakes its way through his bushy black beard and the grime covering his face. To the PJG and SJSG regulars they know this man dressed in a leather vest and demin shorts well... he is Tsubasa Black. Jackson approaches him.]

JK: Excuse me sir but you can't park there.

[Black looks at Kinkaid for a moment and then goes back to smoking his cigar.]

JK: Look sir, if you could just move your motorcycle over to where the rest of the cars are, it would be greatly appreciated. You do realize that this is a sidewalk, don't you sir?

[Black says nothing but takes another puff. After a few more moments he finally looks at Kinkaid.]

TB: You're on the roster aren't you?

JK: Yes sir. Now could you please move you motorcycle?

TB: You're that druggy guy, ain't ya?

[Kinkaid freezes for a moment, desperately attempting to keep his tempter in check.]

TB: Maybe that's the reason.

[With that, he takes another puff.]

JK: Maybe what's the reason?

TB: Maybe the reason why you are even talking to me right now. Don't you know who I am kid?

I'm Tsubasa Black. And nobody talks to me that way.

You got it kid? Especially not some ex-junkie Gaijin!

Now why don't you go and make yourself useful and go and get me a beer. I got big business tonight.

[Jackson grits his teeth.]

JK: Mr. Black... you can park around back with the other wrestlers. There are plent—

TB: Now why would I do that boy? My big match tonight is gonna be right here. Now hurry up and get the next Suicide Soldier Title his beer! You Americans are good at carrying shit that ain't your's!

[Black shoves the cigar back in his mouth. Kinkaid's eyes flash suddenly as he realizes he just stumbled upon Barbwire Ken's opponent for the 'Unsanctioned Title' match. A devilish grin soon crosses Kinkaid's face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ten dollar bill.]

JK: Mr. Black, I'm sorry I didn't full understand your situation. Look, I can't leave my position out here and get you that beer, though I would love to. But I can pay for that beer AND I can stay right here and watch your bike for you. It's the least I can do for you sir.

[Tsubasa smiles and stands up, taking the money from Kinkaid's hand. He drops the cigar to the ground.]

TB: Glad you smartened up kid! Maybe Tobikuma is wrong, you foreigners might make good pet monkeys after all! I'll take you up on that. Just make sure nothing happens to my choppah.

[With that, Black walks into the Mansion. Once he's gone, Jackson pulls out his cell phone and dials a number.]

JK: Hey... Can I speak to Tommy? Yeah, Tommy it's Jackson Kinkaid over at the Jeter Mansion. I have another vehicle for you guys to tow. It's a black Harley on the sidewalk by the entrance. Yeah, some guy just left it here... good. Get here and get this piece of shit out off here ASAP. Thanks man. Later.

[Jackson shoves the cell phone back into his pocket, bends over and picks up the cigar. He eyes it for a second and then thrusts it into the seat of the motorcycle, leaving a rather large burn hole in it.]

JK: Sorry Black but this just isn't your night...

[Cut back to the ring. Multiple tables are set up outside the ring.]

[The lights flicker for a bit, as the voice of Hattori Hanzo is heard through out the venue... most notably, a quote from "Kill Bill: Vol. 1" in Japanese...]

"For those regarded as warriors, when engaged in combat the vanquishing of thine enemy can be the warrior's only concern.

Suppress all human emotion and compassion.

Kill whoever stands in thy way, even if that be Lord God, or Buddha himself. This truth lies at the heart of the art of combat. "

[And with that, "Ego, the Living Planet" by Monster Magnet kicks in as the man known as Shinran emerges from the back. He definitely doesn't look like your 'normal' masked wrestler, as he packs a lot off muscle onto his frame, not to mention he looks as evil as all bugfuck thanks to his unforgiving black skull-designed mask. Wearing a black vest, black pants, and a black belt with a winged skull designed as the belt buckle, Shinran stalks his way to the ring.]

# I talk to planets, baby! I talk to planets, baby! I talk to planets, baby! I talk to planets, baby! #

[Yes, those are the only lyrics. Shinran adjusts his his forearm guards (which have iron bracelets at the wrist) before entering the ring... just as "Ego, the Living Planet" degenerates into nothing but tortured screaming.]

DK: Making his debut in PJG tonight... This is S H I N R A N !

[Suddenly, the crowd grows ravenous for ice cream as the time-honored ice cream truck theme, the instrumental to "Do Your Ears Hang Low" begins. However, they are about to be sorely disappointed, for what is about to be served up is anything but two scoops of sugary goodness, no!]

DK: Now entering the ring ...

[A mixed reaction emerges from the crowd as they suddenly remember whose theme song is currently blaring from the loudspeakers.]

DK: ... from Shits and Giggles, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 242 pounds, here is MR. U.N. FRIENDLY!

[And suddenly, the good humor man from Hades enters the arena! 'Tis not a pleasant sight at all, dear viewer: A short, fat bastard garbed in a eerie yellow smiley face mask (with complimentary faux bullet hole in the forehead) with Good Humor vendor hat sewn on, a white short sleeved collared shirt, white pants, black boots, and a black elbow pad on his right elbow pad enters the arena holding two two-gallon tubs of freezing cold ice cream. He pauses for a moment, basking in the fan's reaction before asking in the most annoying, goofy voice imaginable ...]

FRIENDLY: WHO WANTS ICE CREAM?!

[Friendly raises both tubs into the air as another mixed pop rises from the crowd. He then lowers the tubs and does a goofy stroll towards ringside. Inside the ring, he once again raises his tubs of ice cream, and, you guessed it, the fans give him another mixed response as his music fades out.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

CA: Jimmy Ching signals for the bell, back for the first time since getting his face boiled by Kian Konga. He's looking pretty good though, despite still needing some surgery on his face. But here we go with the debut of Shinran against Mr. U.N. Friendly.

TM: This should be interesting.

CA: The two men approach the center of the ring. Shinran is a good bit taller, but the two of them are about equal weight. Eye gouge by Friendly starts things off. He twists Shinran's arm... and takes him down with a short-arm clothesline.

TM: This is starting a bit too slow for my liking though. There should be blood in the first minute.

CA: Well Mr. U.N. Friendly doesn't move very fast to begin with.

TM: Yeah.

CA: Friendly pulls Shinran to his feet, but Shinran fires off a quick headbutt to the face - stunning the much shorter man.

TM: No blood though.

CA: He snaps off a _hard_ roundhouse kick to the leg. And another, looking to weaken Friendly, and take away his agility. A third. Friendly shoves him away.

TM: But Shinran shoots right back in. He smells blood, even though it's still beneath the surface.

CA: But Mr. U.N. uncorks a _nasty_ right hand! And then fires off one to the gut. He backs Shinran into the ropes and sends him across. But Shinran bounces back and floors him with a lunging headbutt! And now Shinran's going to town viciously stomping away at Friendly's leg.

[Looking to avoid the onslaught, Mr. U.N. Friendly rolls out of the ring to the floor.]

TM: Damnit!

CA: What?

TM: He just narrowly missed falling through one of those C4-laiden tables at ringside!

CA: Shinran follows out behind him, and helps him back to his feet. Rear waistlock applied...


*BOOOOOOOOOOM~!*


CA: THROWING GERMAN SUPLEX SENDS FRIENDLY INTO ONE OF THOSE C4 COVERED TABLES!

TM: And NOW we got us some damn blood! About fucking time, too!

CA: How can you see that amidst the smoke and rubble?

TM: I can't see it right now, but I know it's there!

CA: Despite falling on the back of his head and neck from that throw, Mr. U.N. Friendly is pulling himself to his feet. Shinran is there to help him the rest of the way, though.

[The masked ice cream man is on very wobbly legs!]

TM: And inflict more punishment and bloodshed in the process.

CA: Shinran grabs him by the arm, Irish whip- no! He instead levels Friendly with a short-arm clothesline!

[But rather than let go of the arm, he maintains his grip, pulling Friendly up to his feet once more.]

CA: Irish whip now... RIGHT AT ANOTHER TABLE- NO! U.N. Friendly stopped his forward momentum just time!

TM: But here comes Shinran to finish the job!

CA: Friendly turns... and he hoists Shinran onto his shoulders!


*BOOOOOOOOOOM~!*


CA: SAMOAN DROP RIGHT THROUGH ANOTHER TABLE!

TM: Except Friendly caught almost as much of that explosion as Shinran did!

CA: Friendly finally rolls over for a lateral press, and here's Jimmy! Jimmy Ching with the first count of this match. It's a good thing he has gloves on over there, with all that charred and splintered wood scattered around.
















ONE!
















TWO!















[Shoulder up!]

CA: No! Shinran is still very much alive in this contest!

TM: And he's gonna' rally back to win it, too!

CA: Friendly slowly climbs back to his feet, and up onto the ring apron. He sizes Shinran up, and jumps!


*THUUUD!*


CA: Fist drop off the apron to the skull of Shinran! And another cover!
















ONE!
















TWO!

















THR--

[Kickout!]

CA: But again Shinran manages to evade defeat, this time with a little more determination than before. Friendly peels him off the ringside floor and out of the rubble. Sends him into the ring, and climbing up onto the apron himself.

[Friendly then moves towards the ringpost, and starts slowly climbing up towards the top.]

CA: U.N. steadies himself on the top turnbuckle... and he leaps!


*THUUUD!*


TM: But Shinran moved out of the way of the guillotine legdrop!

CA: Shinran to his feet. Both men have already lost a lot of blood, but my guess is this match is far from over.

[Shinran now helps Friendly to his feet.]

CA: And Shinran goes right back to the legs from earlier, looking to weaken them some more and eliminate any more possible aerial assaults from his opponent. Irish whips Friendly into the corner, and there goes Shinran after him!


*SMAAACK!*


CA: Running kneelift with great impact! He hoists Friendly up onto the top turnbuckle, climbs up with him...


*THUUUD!*


CA: AND TAKES HIM DOWN WITH A TOP ROPE HURRICANRANA! Great agility for a man that size! But he doesn't go for the pin, instead targeting the legs once more.

[Satisfied that Friendly is sufficiently weakened, Shinran then heads out to the floor.]

TM: He's looking under the ring for something, hopefully another exploding table! There it is!

CA: He slides it into the ring, before following right behind it. Mr. U.N. Friendly has been trying to climb back to his feet meanwhile, but that knee looks pretty wobbly.


*THUUUD!*


CA: Implant DDT by Shinran drops Friendly back down again! But still he doesn't go for the pin!

TM: Nope! He's got something else in mind, something that goes BOOM, hahaha!

[Shinran picks up the table, and leans it up against a corner.]

CA: While at the same time letting Friendly climb back to his feet once more. FRIENDLY CHARGES HIM! SHINRAN sidesteps him, AND FRIENDLY PUTS ON THE BREAKS JUST IN TIME! He may be slow, but that was probably a good thing in this case!

TM: Or not!

CA: SHINRAN SIZES HIM UP!

[Friendly turns to face him.]


*SMAAAAACK~!*


CA: OH _FUCK_!

CA: IRON CHOP!

TM: THAT KNOCKS FRIENDLY BACK!


*BOOOOOOOOOOM~!*


CA: AND HE FALLS RIGHT BACK INTO THAT EXPLODING TABLE!


CROWD: "PEE JAY GEE! PEE JAY GEE! PEE JAY GEE!



PEE JAY GEE! PEE JAY GEE! PEE JAY GEE!



PEE JAY GEE! PEE JAY GEE! PEE JAY GEE!"


CA: And _now_ Shinran hooks a leg for the cover!















ONE!


















TWO!


















THREE?!

[Shoulder up!]

CA: NO! Somehow, someway, Mr. U.N. Friendly managed to roll the shoulder up just before the three!

TM: But Shinran is up and out to the floor again, looking for another table!

[He pulls another from under the ring, and leans it up against the ring apron.]

CA: Shinran back inside now, and pulls Friendly up to a vertical base. Irish whip... Friendly off the far side, lumbering along... Shinran with a boot to the gut, slips behind Friendly...

TM: Setting up for another German maybe?

CA: Could be. But Friendly breaks free of the hold! Turns, and... AND THROWS A HANDFUL OF THUMBTACKS RIGHT IN SHINRAN'S FACE!

TM: ...They both wear masks!

CA: He has eye holes!

TM: ...Does he?

CA: You're right! He doesn't! Oh well!


*SMAAACK!*


CA: CLOTHESLINE WITH SPRINKLES! Both men over the top rope and down to the floor!

TM: For two heavier guys, these two are going at it full speed!

CA: Friendly back to his feet, prying Shinran off the floor as well, and positioning him on the apron. He climbs up too, and is now making his way to the top turnbuckle once more!

TM: That knee's still a bit wobbly, but he's doing pretty well despite it!

CA: Shinran's now starting to rise to his feet-

TM: Exactly what Friendly wants, I imagine!

CA: Friendly has him, a knee to the back of the neck, oh no!

[Friendly leaps off the top turnbuckle, keeping his knee to the back of Shinran's neck - driving him down off the apron.]


*BOOOOOOOOOOM~!*


CA: CALF BRANDING THROUGH A FUCKING TABLE! SHINRAN WENT THROUGH IT FACE-FIRST!

TM: FUUUUCK YEAH!

CA: And once again, U.N. Friendly took much of that explosion as well! Both men are down, but he's slowly climbing back to his feet, and pulling Shinran up as well!


*THUUUUD~!*


CA: Suplex on the floor! Adding insult to injury! He pulls Shinran up once more, and up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry!

[BIG FACE POP!]

CA: But Shinran somehow manages to slip out of it and land on his feet! He's exhausted, but still fighting! He shoves Friendly away from him, and grabs that table leaning against the ring apron. Friendly turns... OH SHIT!


*BOOOOOOOOOOOM~!*


CROWD: "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"


TM: DEATH VIA FLYING EXPLODING TABLE~! I LOVE IT!

CA: HE JUST _THREW_ THAT TABLE AT MR. U.N. FRIENDLY, WHO TOOK IT RIGHT IN THE FACE! LOOK OUT FANS NEAR RINGSIDE, BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS DANGEROUS!

TM: More importantly, Shinran isn't done just yet!

CA: No he's not, as he peels Friendly out of that rubble. He slips on a double underhook, Friendly barely able to stand! Shinran lifts him up!

[Almost upside-down, in fact.]


*THUUUUUD~!*


CA: THE PURGE! THAT'S GOT TO BE IT!

[Jimmy Ching drops down for the cover.]

















ONE!




















TWO!





















THREE!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

CA: Shinran decimated the promising U.N. Friendly in his debut! What a way to start things off for the skull faced man in PJG!

TM: Friendly must not have realized what kind of an opponent he would be facing here tonight! He tried but he just wasn't prepared!

CA: Well, now we have a VERY interesting tape from earlier this week! We've all wondered about this and asked the question, "What are they doing here!?" Now maybe we'll get some answers!

[We fade up on a nice dinner table. There's three settings and it seems to be at a home rather than restaurant. There's a nice centerpiece of flowers and multiple bottles on the table. Three set of hands work silver ware eating what looks to be a very well prepared meal. There's a steak and baked potato on one plate, some sort pasta dish with a cream sauce and obvious chunks of chicken in it and the scraps of an octopus stirfry on the third. It's obvious the meal is winding down for two of the people, though the plate of pasta is nearly half full.

The hands eating the steak set down the knife and fork and pick up a maroon cloth napkin. We pull back a big and see Timothy Jeter wipining his mouth. He takes a sip of red wine and smiles.

Next to him, eating the chicken pasta dish is Ranma Kurotsuki. He's got his own glass, though he drinks apple cider instead of wine and seems more interested in the third diner than his meal.]

TIMOTHY: Thank you for having this meeting with us. I'd like to cut straight to the chase, because there's no need for us to sit here and regale you with your own accolades. After all, by the time we did all that, the dessert would be ruined. So,... What will it take for you to sign your name to a contract, Ms. Browne?

SIERRA: (smiling) You've given me tickets to the show, Timothy. And I appreciate the flattery, but why would PJG want me? I'm an athlete. I'm not the type to want to staple dollar bills to somebody's implants. Bit barbaric for me.

[Ranma speaks up before Timothy can reply.]

RANMA: You're not just an athlete. You're a true warrior.

[Ranma's charming smile turns up a notch.]

RANMA: And trust me, I understand shying away from... scars, the blood, but in the end what Jisatsu is really about? To me? To Timmy boy?

[He leans forward.]

RANMA: It's the reaction of the crowd. And we all know you'll get that. Good, bad, as long as they're loud, you know you're the best. And there aren't any fans louder than our's. You saw Wrestle Bowl, I'm sure?

[Sierra nods. Timothy picks up from Ranma, cutting the handsome Japanese man off.]

TIMOTHY: Well, then you saw that our boys were so popular that SPW's fans were booing their own men in the finals! We _are_ the hottest ticket going.

[Ranma cuts in again, building the excitement in the air.]

RANMA: And you should be here. Because you're the hottest thing going. UWF? They're dying. SPW? Bloated fools so self-indulgant and undisciplined we stormed their house and beat them in their own game. Who else is there? I'll tell you who. Number one. Us. All three of us.

[The two men pause, giving Sierra a chance to mull it over.]

SIERRA: So, how would you envision using me. As you mentioned, my brand is important to me. I'm not reinventing myself as a garbage wrestler. I'm not becoming some knife-wielding maniac

[Tim chuckles.]

TIMOTHY: I wouldn't dream of it. Well, maybe a nightmare. I think that's the point, really, though. We have too many of those. Myra Benedict, Talia Wichzini, Jacob Cross, Kian Konga... This Shinran character... They're crazy, but they're good.

[Ranma sips his drink.]

RANMA: But Clayton Priest, Michael Kane, Misaki Ishikawa... Well, they may be crazy too, but they've got something in common. They're not garbage wrestlers. They don't wield any knives except the edges of their hands. Much like you.

TIMOTHY: And I promise you, blood and guts is only the facade. I'm not a blood and guts, kind of guy. The truth of Paradise is that it's about doing whatever it takes to win.

[He takes one last bite of his steak, letting Ranma pick up that thread.]

RANMA: For some it's knives and crowbars. For others it's shoulder locks and suplexes. If you sign with us, we'll make sure you can focus on your strengths.

SIERRA: Well, you are smart, the two of you. I like what you're doing. And I don't like it. I'm not just a gloryhound. You can talk to my ego. We all know it's big. It's so big that I already know that I'd be the best woman you have on the roster. Let's talk money. Let's talk appearances. Let's talk health benefits. What do you think about that? You can't promise to keep me safe from someone like Talia. If I were to sign being able to walk afterwards is very important to me.

[Timothy nods his head in agreement.]

TIMOTHY: Of course. There's always the risk of serious injury in this business, I know myself, I wrestled for years, Ranma still wrestles professionally-

RANMA: At a higher level. Closer to yourself, Sierra. I'm sure you're familiar with the Power of Pride tournament and the level of competition I've beaten to get to the third round.

[Timothy eyes Ranma a little annoyed.]

TIMOTHY: The point being, we take care of everyone. I have deep pockets, Ranma's got a very successful promotion in Japan... There's not shortage of backing to take care of our family and that's how I view this. Now, one thing above and beyond that, that I can do is 'look out' for you, in the booking room.

[Before any complaints can be lodged Timothy continues quickly.]

TIMOTHY: Now I don't mean weak opponents. I mean in the match types you'd be booked in. Natalie Olson came to us after her first match, which was... A shock to her. She didn't realize what she was signing up for and the next time out I made sure she had something tamer. And she's been quite successful. In fact the only thing that's stopped her in PJG is a visa.

[Timothy's disappointment with that issue is clear.]

RANMA: You see, we're looking to appeal to everyone. Which means we want our name everywhere. So therefore unlike a place like SPW, we don't limit what you want to arrange for yourself on your own and we have working relationships with my own promotion SJSG in Japan and recently KOKORO, which I'd bet Dalbello has told you about. We've nearly reached one million dvd sales in under half a year. Everybody is talking about PJG. You've gotten quite the buzz among our fans as well.

[The camera catches a thoughtful look on Sierra's face... And we fade to black.]

[Cut backstage to somewhere within the halls of the Jeter Mansion. The camera zooms through the hallway before ending up in front of a halfway open door. The camera peers into the room to find a 3 and a half year old girl playing with a pink pony on the bed while her blond mother sits on the other side of the bed, frantically digging through her purse. If one couldn't tell by now, they are none other than the love and child of one Jackson Kinkaid, Vickie and Alexa. Vickie, still dressed in her black waitress uniform, finally pours the contents of the pursue out all over the floor before shaking her head.]

V: Honey, are you sure you didn't take mommy's cell phone? You know mommy's cell phone is not a toy right?

[She drops to the floor and starts sifting through the lipsticks and various odds and ends she's has gathered over time. Alexa never looks up but continues playing with her pony.]

A: No mommy. Me and Pinky don't like cell phones. Tommy at day care says that people get tumors in their head when they use them.

Mommy... what's a tumor?

V: It's a bump that grows on your body honey.

A: Kinda like my nose?

V: No honey. The car!

[Vickie springs up suddenly, finally remember where she saw it last.]

V: I must have dropped it in the car with Jackson. Honey...

[She runs over to the bed and tries to get her daughter's attention but it seems to be a harder task than usual.]

V: Honey, mommy has to run downstairs really quick to get her cell phone. I would take you with me but since the wrestling has started downstairs I don't want you to see all that.

A: Why?

V: Cause it's adult stuff honey. Besides it's super boring and not as cool as Pinky is! So mommy needs you to make a super _BIG_ promise to her. Can you do that honey?

A: Uh huh...

V: Mommy needs you to promise that you won't get off of this bed until mommy comes back. Can you do that honey? Can you stay right here and not move for mommy?

[Alexa jumps up onto the bed and slams her hand into her forehead, causing her to fall back giggling.]

A: Yes sir mommy! Hehehehe...

V: Honey why did you do that? You'll hurt yourself!

A: Daddy likes when I do that! He says I'm his little soldier girl!

[Vickie shakes her head lightly and picks up her car keys from the floor.]

V: Alright honey, I want you to remember, _no_ getting off the bed. Period.

A: Uh huh...

[With that Vickie scurries out of the room so quickly that the door does not close fully after her. After a few moments, Alexa has returned to the wonderful world of her pink pony when the door to the room slowly begins to open.]

V: Hello little Alexa.

[As the door opens further, the form of a young woman can be seen.

"Poison Bliss" Myra Benedict.

Myra is dressed appropriately for battle tonight, sporting her maroon sports bra, matching medium-length shorts, and maroon wrestling boots on her feet. She also wears a black elbow pad on her left arm, maroon fingerless gloves on both hands, and black knee pads. Her wavy, dark brown hair with its natural red highlights falls down around her shoulders, framing her scarred face. A small knife sits smugly in her right boot, while she holds her prized Bloodhorn crowbar and sickle combination in both hands. She sets the weapon down to lean against the wall, as she approaches Alexa - kneeling down beside the bed and Alexa atop it.]

PBMB: What are you doing in here all by yourself, hmmm?

[Upon seeing Myra, the little girl's face brightens.]

A: It's the pretty lady! My mommy had to get something from the car so she told me to stay right here. Mommy says that good girls do what the mommy says and I wanna be a good girl.

[She clumsily wipes some strands of hair from her face.]

A: What are you doing here? Do you live here with my Daddy?

[Myra chuckles lightly, while shaking her head no.]

PBMB: No, little one. Your daddy and I just work here.

[Rising up from her kneeling position, Myra sits down on the bed beside Alexa - never once turning her gaze away from the little girl.]

PBMB: But why do you want to be a good girl, little Alexa? It's oh so much more fun to be a bad girl. That's how you can get whatever you want.

[Alexa looks at the Poison Bliss for a moment, a look of confusion on her face.]

A: But when I'm bad, mommy doesn't let me get anything. Like the other day, there was this stupid boy at daycare and he wouldn't let me sit on the pink chair. Everyone knows the pink chair is mine and he wouldn't let me sit there. He made me so mad!

[Myra's face now seemingly brightens some, hearing this.]

PBMB: Tell me, what did you do about it, hmmm?

A: I took the teacher's ruler and hit him in the head. He started crying and then the daycare lady put me in time out. And then Mommy was reaaaaally mad at me. She said bad girls don't get ice cream or get to watch T.V. or anything! I don't think it's fair but Mommy says I have to listen or else.

[Alexa pouts just a little bit. Myra crosses her legs indian-style, so that she's fully facing Alexa. She gently rubs the little girl's head soothingly.]

PBMB: It's okay, Alexa. Your mommy is wrong. And your daddy is too. You don't have to listen to them anymore. You don't have to listen to _anybody_ anymore. If you want to watch TV, you go right ahead. Especially if they're watching it first. But tell me, sweetie...

[Don't you hate her right about now?]

PBMB: What should I do to Josie tonight, since she made me mad a few weeks ago?

A: Did she try to take your pink chair too?

[Myra smiles ever so sweetly. Mind games own. She then speaks in terms Alexa can understand.]

PBMB: No, but she made fun of me.

A: She's not nice! She sounds like this other girl at daycare, Mandy. Mandy wouldn't let me play with her Barbie so I...

[She pauses for a moment, almost looking for reassurance. Of course Myra gives it to her.]

A: So I took her Barbie when she wasn't looking and I pulled the head off and left it in her lunchbox. When she saw it she screamed so loud! And then the daycare lady yelled at her for yelling and then yelled at her again for breaking the Barbie and then again for lying about it!

[Suddenly Alexa face goes serious.]

A: But don't tell my Mommy! No one knows and I'll get in trouble.

[Again Myra shakes her head no.]

PBMB: Of course not. I promise.

[Alexa grins widely.]

A: I like you! No matter what Daddy says!

[A fiendish smirk now spreads across Myra's lips, pleased by Alexa's revelation.]

PBMB: Well I like you too, Alexa.

A: Daddy says that you are a bad girl that likes to do bad things to people and that I shouldn't talk to you. That's why you have that scar. But I like you. I think you're pretty.

[The smirk now widens into a grin of Myra's own, as she pats Alexa's head.]

PBMB: Now that we're such good buddies, you can call me Myra, okay?

A: Myra is a nice name!

PBMB: Now what should I do to Josie for being mean to me? She needs to learn a lesson like you taught Mandy.

A: Umm... how about... you take Josie favorite Barbie!

[Alexa sits up on to her knees, almost bursting with excitement that she is being asked to make a plan with her new best friend.]

A: But instead of taking the head off... since you are an adult and can play with the stove... you turn on the stove and light her Barbie's hair on fire!!

[Standing up fully on the bed now, Alexa starts bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.]

A: Do you like that idea?

[The fiendish smirk returns to Myra's lips, as she slowly nods her head in agreement.]

PBMB: Oh, I love it. Very good, Alexa. You'd make a great member of my club. I'd come to you for ideas all the time. We could do whatever we want all the time, and be two bad girls having fun. But most importantly of all, it would be our little secret. Wouldn't you like that?

A: Uh huh! I like it a lot Myra! We are super secret best friends!

[Suddenly the door to the room opens fully as Vickie enters the room. She freezes for a few seconds, not quite sure she understands what is going on. Alexa begins jumping up and down on the bed calling her mom over.]

A: Mommy! Mommy! This is my new bestest friend Myra!

[Vickie approaches the bed cautiously, eyeing the strange woman speaking to her little girl. Never taking her eyes off of Myra, Vickie reaches out to Alexa.]

V: Are you ok honey?

A: Uh huh! Myra and I were making plans!

V: Excuse me Miss, but I don't think we've met. I'm Alexa's mother.

[Myra turns to face the "intruder".]

PBMB: So I see.

V: Now I don't mean to seem rude but exactly what are you doing here?

[Myra chuckles.]

PBMB: Keeping your daughter company. And like she said, making plans.

[Vickie picks up her daughter off of the bed and nervously looks around the room.]

V: Well thank you for that. It's hard to find a babysitter these days you know.

[Myra now stands up to her feet, face to face with Vickie.]

PBMB: Indeed. But I'm going to go get some ice cream. Would Alexa like some?

A: OH YES! PLEASE MOMMY!!

V: Now Alexa you know the answer to that question. You are grounded for what you did at daycare yesterday. So no ice cream for you. Only girls who play nice get ice cream. [turning her attention to Myra] Isn't that right?

[Smirking, Myra shakes her head no.]

PBMB: On the contrary, bad girls should get ice cream, too. Because it's so much more fun to be bad. So I'll bring some ice cream back for her.

[Without saying another word, Myra walks past Vickie - only stopping to pat Alexa on the head again, before disappearing out the door. Seconds pass as Vickie watches the door, not exactly sure what her next course of action should be.]

V: You know something honey, I think we should go for a walk outside.

A: But Myra is coming back with ice cream! If we leave, we will miss her!

V: Yeah... it's okay honey. Ms. Myra will understand...

[With that Vickie scurries out of the room, with her daughter in tow. Cut.]

[Backstage the Jeter Guest House. More specifically, the room set aside for the medical staff. A young woman sits atop the examination table, her legs hanging over the side.

"Twilight Angel" Sonya Benedict.

Having the night off tonight, she's dressed casually - in a short-sleeved black Arch Enemy t-shirt, fishnets under that covering her arms, blue denim jeans, and black boots on her feet. Her long black hair with its small pink streak hands straight down her back. In front of her stands the medic, who's just finished checking on her wounds and stitching them back up.]

SB: All done?

[The medic nods.]

M: For now, yes. But try not to break the stitches.

SB: I'll do what I can, but no promises. Sometimes things happen that are out of my control.

[There is a knock on the door, and a staffer enters the room.]

S: Excuse me, Sonya, but Mister Jeter has requested to speak with you in his office.

[Sonya glances at the medic one more time, then hops off the table.]

SB: Did he say what this is about?

[The staffer shakes his head no.]

SB: Alright, I'll head over there now.

[The staffer makes his exit, and Sonya follows him out. The view stays in toe with her, as she heads down a hallway, and then turns down another. At last she stops at a door marked "PJG Co-Owner: Timothy Jeter". After knocking once, she opens the door and steps inside.]

???: Possible infection. Now... that's _quite_ the issue.

[The camera pans over to find Talia Wichzini sitting behind Timothy Jeter's desk. She's dressed in a black tanktop and black pants, comfortably reclining in the co-owner's big leather chair. Seeing her former rival from years past sitting behind the desk, Sonya is quite surprised, to say the least.]

SB: What are you doing in here, Talia?

TW: Well, to be honest, it's time I got my... _business affairs_ in order, and I'd rather do it in a fashion that represents who I am rather than... I don't know, acting like everyone else around here.

[She cracks her knuckles idly.]

TW: It's all a bit of a... reach, isn't it?

[Sonya closes the door behind her, and leans up against it - folding her arms across her chest.]

SB: Well, I wouldn't exactly call hijacking the co-owner's office a good idea, but how do you figure?

TW: Because, my dear- we have unfinished business.

[A look of realization enters Sonya's face, as she is reminded of Talia's proposition to her a few shows ago.]

SB: So we do...

TW: ...in or out?

[Sonya lets her arms drop down to her sides, as her eyes are fixed on Talia's - gauging her former rival's sincerity. And seriously considering the aforementioned proposition.]

SB: I'm in.

[She finally steps away from the door, and towards the desk. She doesn't sit down, but instead just stands there - gazing across at her the other woman.]

SB: Although I've got to admit, I'd never have expected something like this from you. But I'm willing to give it a shot. Doesn't mean I trust you quite yet, but we can work on that.

TW: My dear sweet soldier, you keep thinking in black and white, The gold that I will take shall be a symbol for the cause.

[Sonya doesn't quite seem to "get" it.]

SB: What cause?

[Talia gets up and moves towards Sonya.]

TW: What I do and what I acknowledge has no name,

[Talia fingers a belt loop on Sonya's pants.]

TW: I am not your family. You know that. You don't want to be my...

[She suddenly nips at Sonya. But Sonya doesn't flinch, or slip into a fighting stance. Instead, she remains calm.]

TW: ..._friend_.

[Sonya simply nods her head, agreeing with Talia's statement. No words need to be spoken.]

TW: I am something... _else_.

[Talia leans in close to Sonya.]

TW: You've known that, haven't you?

[Sonya chuckles.]

SB: Since the first time you drew blood when we fought, yes. That's one thing I know quite well, I think. But what's next?

[Talia smiles.]

TW: Now, we get to do what comes naturally.

SB: You mean fighting? Or taking that a step further, and winning?

TW: Winning is petty.

_Destruction_ will be much more satisfying, don't you think?

SB: It depends on the person, really. If we're talking about someone like Helga Von Butch, for example, then fuck yeah. But if it's someone I consider a friend, then no. Other than that, I'm all for it.

[Cut back to ringside.]

[Out in the parking lot sits a pretty evil looking black Shelby GT500 convertible. Clad in his tattered black leather jacket, Barbed Wire Ken climbs out of the driver's side with the Suicide Soldier Championship in his hands. Patches of his black hair spike out through various holes cut in a backwards Jersey Devils ball cap. Ken's demeanor; he looks annoyed at best. He shuts the door and walks to the rear of the car. The trunk is open. Laying the belt down on top, Ken reaches inside and removes a case of Full Throttle Blue Demon. In doing so, he snags the sleeve of his jacket on something.

BWK: Shit...

[It's a strand of barbed wire that's come off its spool, grabbing a hold of Ken like an octopus. Looking down, his hands are full. Panic crosses his eyes, he's trapped. Instead of putting down the case of Blue Demon, his first instinct is to yell.]

BWK: HEEEELLP!!!!

[His voice echoes in the parking lot. Suddenly, he smirks.]

BWK: Hey, waitress - Little Help!

[After a few moments, a woman dressed in a black form fitting shirt and slacks, with the name "Vickie" on a name tag on her chest. She eyes Ken carefully as she approaches him, a look of "Good lord, how am I the only other person in this parking lot right now?"]

BWK: Hey, Vickie, right? Yeah I know you, you were Jackson's girl.

Vickie: Um... I'm not anyone's girl. Jackson and I have a history but... wait... do I know you?

BWK: Yeah, I know, right. Like when is he gonna get the hint - I'm all caught up here, think you can help me out? Don't worry about ripping the jacket, I do this all the time.

[Obliging, Vickie carefully tugs on the sleeve of the leather jacket. Ken is free. Closing the trunk, Ken puts the case of energy drinks and the championship belt next to the car. He smiles at Vickie.]

BWK: Hey thanks a lot. That's what I call service.

Vickie: (rolling her eyes) Don't mention it.

[Vickie starts to walk off.]

BWK: Hey...What are you doing tommorrow?

[Vickie turns back and looks at Ken suspiciously.]

BWK: Me, you, and Alexis should go to Chuck E. Cheese. Alexis can play some games, win some prizes, and me and you can eat some pizza and watch the band. Those guys can fuckin play!

Vickie: Who? The puppets? What are you talking about?

[She shakes her head almost in disbelief that she's still talking to him.]

Vickie: And her name is Alexa, not Alexis.

BWK: Well that's a stupid name. But yeah, kids love that shit. What do you say?

Vickie: Umm... As tempting as that sounds, thanks but I think we'll pass.

[Ken looks offended.]

BWK: You don't want to see a smile on your little girl's face for once? What you been with that gymnast so long you forgot what it's like to get {trumpet noise}?

Vickie: That's really none of your fucking business.

BWK: When you two lay together at night does he put one hand on the bed and kick his legs around in the air like he's on a pommel horse?

Vickie: ....

[Silence as Vickie's eyes just watch BWK in amazement... if not contempt, then as if she didn't believe someone could actually be so... strange.]

BWK: I bet your thinking up in that little pea head of yours right next to "Table 9 needs 2 cokes... That Jackson is _Really_ gonna do it this time" for you and your daughter. "He's finally going to make it all better." Well, Vickie, Jackson may have won at Wrestlebowl, but that's really only because I wasn't in that final match. I don't lose title matches. And tonight... Because we're back here in Paradise where the guys in the striped shirts are as blood thirsty as the two guys tearing each other apart... That little fantasy of the three of you, white picket fence, two car garage, dental insurance... That comes to an end!

Vicke: Wait a second. I know you. You're one of the guys Jackson is facing tonight!

[Ken drops his jaw in mock surprise.]

BWK: Hey, question for ya, how do balloons taste?

Vickie: What?

BWK: I bet...

[CROWD POP!!]

[Before Ken can say another word, Jackson Kinkaid, black "SECURITY" shirt and all steps into the scene. He eyes Ken angrily as he takes a step closer to him.]

JK: I could have sworn we've had this discussion already, Ken. Don't you remember... something about you not being the funny guy you try so hard to be day in and day out.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure we talked about that already. So then why are you here trying to be that funny guy again out here with my lady?

Vickie: Jackson, dont. I can handle this.

JK: No Vickie. I'll handle this. See, Ken here was just leaving because he needs to rest up for our Three Gates of Hell match later tonight. Now don't you Kenny?

[Ken smirking...]

BWK: (laughs) "Your lady?" You should have heard what she just said before...Jackson, I have 3 matches that I'm going to win tonight - You know where I'll be...And I don't "rest" until I get what I want.

[Ken turns to Vickie again.]

BWK: My offer still stands...If Alexa doesn't like video games and pizza my hotel has a pool and a baby-sitting service. You don't have to stay with this charity case....You can come be with a champion...A dual champion.

[Ken picks up his belt and switches his focus back to Jackson.]

BWK: And that's a lot more impressive than Wrestle Bowl.

[Ken turns and walks away. Jackson quickly reaches out and grabs the shoulder of Ken's jacket, whipping him back around.]

JK: Look here you little shit. Where do you come off--

[Vickie jumps inbetween the two, abruptly separating them.]

V: Take it easy Jackson. He's so not worth your time.

BWK: (smirking) You wanna hit me Jackson? Over this slut?

**SSSSLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!!**

[CROWD POP!!]

[With one quick move Vickie slaps the taste out of Ken's mouth! Jackson pulls her back behind him as he chuckles lightly to himself. Ken is in shock!]

JK: Dual Champion? Three matches tonight? Get off of it Ken. NO ONE... especially in the PJG offices recognizes you as champ. Just because you are the one who found that title in the trash doesn't make you the champ, it just makes you a trash digger like O'Reily. Kinda like just because you have your dojo boys run all around you during a match doesn't mean they actually like or respect having _anything_ to do with you your ass.

So I hate the one to burst your bubble-- wait a second... who am I kidding. I _love_ it! You ain't having three matches tonight. Number one, you aren't making it all the way to Erik tonight because that is gonna be _MY_ spot!

Number two... I'm sick and tired of you having these bullshit matches in the parking lot with these nobodies you like to fly in for a sandwich and a few dollars. It's a joke... and worse off, it's a disgrace that you even _claim_ it's for the Suicide Soldier Title.

[Ken rubs his jaw.]

BWK: I'm not a joke, Jackson. And I'm not Myra Benedict, Jacob Cross, or Kian Konga - I'm not theatrics... I am a real live threat. I've only lost once since coming to Paradise, and that's your fault. Jeter might not be sanctioning this belt right now, but that's alright because the way I see it, if stepping in the ring with you is all it takes... Then I'll be leaving here tonight with a belt that he is sanctioning. You can bleed me, Jackson, but you can't beat me.

[Ken turns to Vickie once again.]

BWK: And if you ever put your hands on me again, it won't be tips you'll be counting at the end of the night, it'll be your teeth.

[Jackson takes a step closer to BWK, just to make sure he hears all of the next part, as he drops his voice into a bit of a whisper.]

JK: I sent your boy packing Ken. Tsubasa Black? Is that who you were waiting for? I had his bike towed just to make sure this little farce of your ends tonight. Not too many people have to know right now Ken. So do yourself a favor... and leave while you still have a chance.

[Ken's smirk turns into an outright scowl.]

BWK: You'd like that wouldn't you, Kinkaid? But it's like I said I've got 3 matches to win tonight, and one opponent you've just made unavailable. Why don't you take Black's place tonight then, Jackson? And you might want to keep your family close by, so you have someone to call you an ambulance, because I don't think you're going to make it to Three Gates of Hell.

[Ken shrugs off his jacket. Jackson smirks to himself and then turns to his lady.]

JK: Vickie, why don't you go upstairs and check on Alexa?

V: [worried] Jackson, don't do anything stupid. Remember what we talked about earlier...

BWK: Aww, you're leaving?

[Kinkaid ignores Ken and starts to lead her away.]

JK: Don't worry babe. I'm not gonna do anything that I regret.

[A few moments pass as Vickie realizes there's no talking Jackson out of it. She nods slightly and starts to head past BWK back to the Jeter Mansion.]

BWK: That's right go heat up some spoons and tie off, sweet heart, Jackson'll be right up.

[Ken rears his hand back.....

***SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!***

and WAFFLES Vickie HARD right on the ass!]

JK: YOU SON OF A BIT--

[Without warning Jackson SPEARS Ken to the ground!]

CA: Well, I guess this is now our Parking Lot Brawl match!

TM: Ken looks like he's trying to get out of the parking lot real fast!

CA: He's out from under Kinkaid and running! He's done a lot of running tonight!

TM: Practice!

CA: :Laughs: Yeah.


[FACE POP!]

CA: HEY! That's Rally Jackson!

[Ken catches a clothesline and falls down, Jackson Kinkaid skids to a stop and drops with punches to Ken!]

CA: Rally grabs Kinkaid and just DDT'd him!

TM: Isn't this a different match!?

CA: Um, well,... there's a referee! Seems to be all official like now!

TM: Only in PJG!

CA: Rally with a pinfall!






ONE! No!

TM: Not even a one count! What is he thinking!?

CA: Trying to catch Kinkaid by surprise no doubt!

TM: Jackson knocks Rally off the top of him with an elbow and digs for a handful of gravel! THROWS IT IN RALLY'S FACE!

[Jackson nips up and starts kicking Ken right in the ribs!]

CA: Kinkaid fighting dirty! No doubt a throw back to his olden days!

TM: This is blood for blood and by the gallon. These are the old days, the bad days, the all-or-nothing days. They're back! There's no choice left. And I'm ready for war!

CA: Uuuh...?

TM: ...Sin City quote?

CA: Oh yeah, okay... Thought you were flipping out on me.

TM: Not yet!

CA: Jackson Kinkaid stomps on Ken, just refusing to let him up! But Rally is back up and looks pissed about the dirt in his face! He walks up behind Kinkaid and...




[LAUGHTER POP!]

TM: Drops to one knee and ASS PUNCHES Kinkaid!

CA: :Laughs: Look at the look on Jackson Kinkaid's face!

["Jacare" grins and rolls out of the way of a swift knee! Kinkaid charges Rally and Rally hops to his feet snapping off a high left kick!]

CA: WOW! That was incredible! Here comes Ken! He grabs Kinkaid and... Hits a bulldog!

TM: Now grinding Jackson's face into the dirt! RALLY!



*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!*

[FACE POP!]

CA: SOCCER KICK! He about decapitate Ken! He grabs Ken and trying to power bomb hi- OH FUCK!

TM: Half way up he just DROPPED HIM!

[Ken lands piled on his head and the crowd goes nuts!]

CROWD: "YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!



YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!



YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!"

CA: Rally with a cover!





ONE!



-Broken up by Kinkaid!

TM: Kinkaid pulls Rally up and whips him into a car!

CA: Running yakuza kick connects! Smashes his face into the hood of that car and now throws him over it!

[Rally rolls over the hood and off the other side. Jackson hops up and walks across the hood to the horrendus sound of the hood flexing in and out of place.]

TM: Ooooh, glad that's not my car!

CA: Your van?

TM: My UNCLE'S van! Leg drop off the ca- No, senton off the car hood, excuse me!

CA: Jackson goes for a cover this time!






ONE!







TWO!




[Kickout!]

CA: Still too early!

TM: Here comes Ken back into the fray! Where did he get that barbed wire? Not that I'm upset!

[Ken has a strand of barbed wire and he's wrapping it around his fist.]

CA: Punching Jackson in the head! And the other Jackson too! Busts them both open!

TM: All right! Crimson!

CA: Ken picks Kinkaid up and grabs him in a waist lock. Belly to belly suplex!

TM: Nearly hit that truck! Ken stands over Kinkaid, bad mouthing Vickie some more, now that's low!

CA: OH FUCK!

TM: BEHIND KEN!











[ULTRA POP! Blood shot eyes and a messy afro! Rising over the side of the truck's bed! Then the wirey body frame covered in scars!]

CA: IT'S KIAN KONGA!

TM: HE LEAPS ONTO KEN'S BACK!

CA: KONGA BITING AND GNASHING HIS TEETH AT KEN!

[Ken slams his back into the truck shattering the side window!]

CA: Kian doesn't come loose though! Rally dives in to cover Kinkaid!

TM: What a cheeky bastard!






ONE!









TWO!






[POP!]

CA: Broken up by KONGA! He saw Kinkaid and leaped off Ken's back, now biting the man who attacked James Goodwin-Rice!

TM: He rips Kinkaid up and slams him into the truck, now trying to shove his thumbs through Kinkaid's EYES!

[Rally and Ken look at Kinkaid... Then each other... Then Kian... Then each other... And grin!]

CA: Rally and Ken squaring up while Kian takes care of their third opponent!

TM: Smart!

CA: Rally snaps off a kick but Ken moves out of the way!

TM: Ken doesn't quite dodge that one!

CA: A leg kick knocks Ken to the ground as he tried to move out of the way!

TM: What sportsman ship!

[Ken offers Rally a hand from the ground. Rally kicks him in the teeth!]

CA: He still had the barbed wire wrapped around that hand!

TM: It's the thought that counts?

CA: Not in sportsmanship it's not!

TM: Oh.

CA: Rally straddles Ken and... Slapping him with his own hand!

RALLY: Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!

CA: Ahh, the classics!

TM: I knew you were a bully!

[Meanwhile Kinkaid has reversed Kian Konga and is dragging his face all along the metal frame of the truck!]

CA: What do you mean were?

TM: ...Uuuuungh...

CA: Jackson opens the truck door and shoves Kian's head in-








*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNK!*





CA: Konga just out of the way of that door smashing his head like so much melon!

TM: He's got a hand full of glass from the broken window and throws it in Jackson's face!

[With Kinkaid covering his face, Kian takes advantage and throws him over the side of the truck and into the back, climbing after him!]

CA: Kian grabs Kinkaid's head and jumps onto the cab... OH!







[NEVER SEEN THAT BEFORE POP!]

CA: TORNADO DDT!

TM: Rally Jackson meanwhile pulls a now throughly bloodied Ken to his feet and whips him into the truck's grill!

CA: He pulls Ken back off and scoops him up, slams him to the ground!

[Rally climbs onto the hood of the truck and quickly jumps off!]

CA: DOUBLE FOOT STOM- Oooh, Ken moved! Rally's knees buckle out from under him!

[Ken looks in the back of the truck and sees Kian. He shudders and grabs his barbed wire off his hand and stretches it out!]

CA: Ken grabs Jacare's hands and is tying them behind his back!

TM: With barbed wire!

CA: Yes, with barbed wire! Oh, now he's grabbing his legs! THE MUMMY!

TM: But Rally can't tap out with his hands tied up!

[So... The boston crab finisher may have been rendered useless by Ken's very own design!]

CA: He can still verbally submit!

[Or not!]

TM: Kinkaid is trying to crawl out of the tail gate of the truck, but Kian keeps pulling him back by his leg... He's like a cat playing with a mouse!

[The tail gate has been replaced by one of those net things in the back. Jackson grabs onto it and when Kian pulls again he holds tight!]

CA: Kian stands and- OOF!

[MALE SYMPATHY POP!]

TM: Jackson goes LOW on Kian!

CA: Boot right to the tender area! AGAIN! Now he rolls over and is crawling out of the back of that truck!

[He drops down onto his feet and heads for where Ken has Rally tied up!]

CA: Ken has a decision to make! Let go of Rally or face an angry Jackson Kinkaid!

[Ken grips tight to Rally, indecision clear on his face! He then leans back all he can!]

TM: Going for the win! Jackson walking slow!

CA: Regaining his strength with every step though!

TM: Here he comes!



[HEEL POP!]

CA: KEN DUCKS! Jackson just missed his head with a yakuza kick!

TM: OH!




[FACE POP!]

CA: He doesn't miss the spinning heel kick! He's driving knees from the ground into Ken's ribs!

[HEEL POP!]

TM: Thumb in Jackson's eye!

CA: Ken up and grabs him, northern lights suplex!

[Ken stands up and dusts his hands off as if "that's it" and all he has to do is pin somebody now!]

CA: Ken arrogantly kicks Kinkaid now that he's down! And a foot on the chest cover!





ONE!












TWO- Kickout!








*CREEEEAK!* *RRRRRRRRRRR!*

[Ken slowly raises his head. Back to the truck he points behind him and looks to the ref, Jonesy Sawyer. Sawyer gulps and nods. Ken looks resigned to his fate before he glances over his shoulder...


KIAN KONGA POP!]

CA: KEN OFF LIKE A BAT OUT OF HELL! KIAN LEAPS OFF THE HOOD OF THE TRUCK AND CHASES HIM!

TM: MAN Ken is fast!

CA: Hey! Jackson is up and- He's pulling Rally up, Rally's hands are still tied behind his back! He tries a kick but nearly lands on his own ass!

TM: Jackson with a knee to the gut! Pulls him in!



[SIIIIICK POP!]

CA: THE ADDICTION! THE COVER!










ONE!










TWO!











THREE!


TM: Jackson Kinkaid moves on to the main event!

CA: What a fucking crazy match! I guess we'll have some extra barbed wire for next time since they never even went to the RING!

TM: No bell?

CA: :head set rustle, yelling off mic: HEY, match is over! Kinkaid won!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DK: Your winner! JACKSON KINKAID!

[FACE POP! We cut backstage.]

[Fade in. We are backstage, where we see "Battle Princess" Misaki Ishikawa in frame... then out of frame. Then back in frame, then out of frame. A few more times. Then we pan back and see her performing squats, warming up for her match. Rocko wanders aimlessly near by.]

ROCKO: Miss Misaki, are you sure about what you're going to be doing here?

MISAKI: Sure, Rocko... I mean, I beat the filthy large woman last time out, I just have to staple money to her. As far as the other girl... well, I just have to staple seven of those things to them, right? I can do that.

ROCKO: No, I mean... you had help from Angel Saito last time, and she still had her way with you a few times. Aren't you a little worried about this? She's bigger than both of us put together!

[Misaki stops her squats to glare at Rocko.]

MISAKI: Look, this is all a speed game, and she's _not_ going to catch me. Besides, even if she does... she's got to do it seven times. All I have to do is make sure STAR Omoi stays out of my way, and I'll be fine.

[And she returns to the squats.]

ROCKO: But what if she goes after you first? You've got a lot to worry about...

[Misaki grins, continuing the squats.]

MISAKI: That's what I've got _you_ for, cupcake! If I'm focusing on one and the other's coming my way, you just let me know!

ROCKO: But... I... but... how am I going to do that?

[Misaki stops, standing full and shaking her legs loose.]

MISAKI: You'll figure it out. Let's get moving.]

[Misaki walks off-screen, with Rocko following behind. Fade.]

[All ready in the ring is a woman in a black, backless singlet with long flowy legs that is tied behind her neck at the top. Covered in little white stars. Large black hair, like an 80's do kind of. Pretty, but not drop dead gorgeous. She's STAR Omoi. With her, giving her adive and massaging her shoulders are Sonya Benedict and Sora Kawaii of KOKORO and obviously PJG fame!]

CA: This young woman is debuting tonight, she's only been training for about four monthes.

["I Like Fucking" by Bikini KILL kicks in, ushering Helga Von Butch and her newly appointed manager, Winslow Arbuckle, through the entrance curtain to a round of boos.]

DK: Coming down the aisle accompanied by her manager Winslow Arbuckle...

*BOOOOOOOOOOO~!*

DK: She hails from Des Moines, Iowa and weighs in tonight at 222 pounds...

H E L G A V O N B U T C H ~ !

CA: Helga is sporting some unique gear this evening.

TM: She certainly is. In fact, she looks all geared up for her recently signed Penalty Box Deathmatch with Sonya Benedict.

[Indeed she does. As well as her usual scowl, Helga sports a full set of Hockey pads, "Fuck Canada~!" jersey and a protective pond hat. Winslow, for his part, has a pair of razor sharp skates flung around his neck and waves a hockey stick over his head.]

CA: I wonder if the two of them are even aware of the stipulations for _this_ particular match. Hockey equipment really isn't going to fly in an Unlucky 13 Deathmatch.

TM: Oh, I'm quite certain they are. Winslow may be a lot of things, but he's a shrewd business man above all else. You can bet that he's got his charge as prepared as she's ever been in her life.

CA: I can't believe she's suddenly taking orders from this slimy MAN.

TM: Wrestling is a game of wins and losses, Christina. And, as of yet, Helga's not seen the win column. Obviously she thinks that Arbuckle's tutelage will propel her to the top.

CA: We'll see.

[Helga enters the ring and sneers at her opponents while Arbuckle chats up the referee, no doubt trying to get some manner of unfair advantage.]

TM: I'm excited for this one! The last time we had an Unlucky 13 match, things got VERY bloody!

["Koi no Dokuyaku" by GO!GO!7188 begins to play over the public address, as "Battle Princess" Misaki Ishikawa strides from the entrance, twirling her staplegun in her hand. She is dressed a little more conservatively this episode, sporting a sleeveless black shirt with several layers of pink starts, diagonally cut off starting from the ribs on the right down to her hip on the left. She is also wearing shiny pink shorts, black kneepads, black shinpads, and wrestling shoes. Rocko follows closely behind, carrying Misaki's taser baton while eating a handful of peanuts from the jar that he is carrying. Misaki has dyed her hair again, as it is now mostly pink with black streaks throughout. She calmly hops into the ring, then raises the staplegun to the air and fires off six staples, which cascade down to the canvas. She smirks as her music fades out.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

CA: Time to get things started, as Helga and STAR are handed a staple gun, Misaki brought her own! PJG official Jack Ching has several dollar bills in his breast pocket, and will hand them to anyone who asks.

TM: So... to make sure he has enough, he'd have to have.... what.... at least 19 bucks, right?

CA: Something like that, yeah.

TM: To hell with reffing this. Just go to the strip club now!

CA: .... I think we pay him a LITTLE bit more than 19 dollars per night, Trent.

TM: WHAT? I only get -

CA: Enough of that. STAR Omoi and Misaki Ishikawa are looking at one another now, and I can't see what they're saying, but... now Misaki is nodding. Looks like we have a mutual agreement between the two smaller women here. They both rush toward Helga Von Butch at the same time, and start hammering her, using those staple guns!

TM: Don't think that's quite the point of the staple gun, but, hey. Whatever works.

CA: But THAT is! Only a a few seconds into the match here, but the two new faces have managed to take down Helga, and both grab dollar bills from Jack Ching. Misaki takes the left arm, STAR takes the right, and-

*KAH-CHUNK!* *KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: The first two dollar bills are down, and STAR Omoi and Misaki Ishikawa are tied at one!

TM: That was quick.

CA: They're going for two more bills, but Helga isn't having that. Before Jack can give them the money, Helga shrugs off STAR and backhands Misaki, sending both sprawling to the mat. Blood tricking down from both of Helga's biceps.

TM: Lot of good those hockey pads did.

CA: Yeah. Hockey goalies have pucks flying at them. It's not like Alexander Ovechkin skates up, drops the stick, grabs a staple gun and tries to attach the puck to the goalie

[Helga lets out a little scream, glances down at her arms, kind of smirks, then immediately dives onto the nearest body, which happens to be STAR Omoi's. Helga peppers Star with several vicious lefts and rights, drawing blood from her lower lip with just the fists. Helga puts her hand out, and Ching quickly places a dollar bill in it, which Helga then affixes to STAR's right shoulder.]

*KA-THUNK!*

CA: One apiece!

TM: Look at Misaki Ishikawa though! Sneaking up from behind!

CA: Ching hands her a dollar bill, and while Helga has her back turned to focus on pounding STAR, Misaki quickly staples a dollar bill to Helga's back!

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: Two for her now!

TM: Thou shalt not tug on Superman's cape! Helga turns around and looks pissed!

CA: When doesn't she?

[Misaki takes off, trying to use her speed to counter Helga's brute strength. It's a successful strategy until Misaki trips over STAR Omoi, who's just now beginning to crawl to her feet. Helga immediately falls to the mat with a headbutt for Ishikawa, forcing the diminutive woman to grab her forehead in pain.]

TM: Can't imagine that's comfortable.

CA: Probably not, but it leaves an opening over Misaki's ribs, and Helga quickly staples a dollar bill to the spot, giving her two for the match.

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: STAR is hanging back watching, but listen to Sonya and Sora Kawaii shout their encouragement from ringside!

TM: Hey, anything that will soften up Von Butch for her match with Sonya, I'm sure Sonya's all for that.

CA: STAR uses that staple gun as extra weight again and rains down lefts and rights on the back of Helga's head, with the rights having considerably more effect thanks to the staple gun. Misaki manages to squirm out from under Helga now, takes off running into the ropes, springs off them with a VICOUS flying knee!

TM: What is Rocko, Misaki's manager, doing with the jar of peanuts?

CA: I have no idea. I don't know if he's trying to get her attention, or he's cheering her on.... whatever it is, it's unlikely she can hear it over this crowd!

[The crowd is indeed roaring as Helga rolls out of the ring to the floor, and as it happens... it happens to be right where Sonya Benedict and Sora Kawaii are standing. Sonya's face still looks a little beaten up, but it's obvious she's smiling. Misaki rolls out of the ring to continue to attack Helga, but she stands back and watches as Sonya starts laying into Helga with several kicks, landing everywhere from her head to her shoulders and her stomach. As she kicks Helga, the dollar bills are shaken loose!]

CA: Sonya getting some revenge for Helga's recent actions, but check out Winslow Arbuckle! When did he grow a pair?

TM: He's got that hockey stick!

[Helga's manager has crept up behind Sonya Benedict, and he swings the hockey stick with all his might.... and still barely taps Sonya on the back. It stings a little, but it's clear it caused no real damage. She turns to face him, and Winslow drops the hockey stick and high-tails it around the ring. Sonya chases him for a second, but Sora holds her back and gets her to refocus on Helga.]

CA: Winslow Arbuckle got the heck out of there, but check out STAR Omoi! She's getting brave!

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: While Misaki Ishikawa was watching Sonya attack Helga, STAR crept up behind Misaki with a dollar bill in her hand and quickly attached it to Misaki's right calf!

TM: They were working together to take down Helga Von Butch, but it's every woman for herself here! I think that means we're all tied at two, right?

CA: Yep, everyone has two dollar bills, but it looks like Misaki might have a few more coming! She put a quick knee into STAR's gut then rolled her back into the ring. STAR's stumbling around a little bit, and Misaki grabs ahold - DDT!

TM: I think she'd get a pinfall right here!

CA: But pinning isn't the way to win this match. Instead, Misaki grabs two dollar bills from Ching, and immediately staples one of them to STAR Omoi's left arm.

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: She takes the other, places it over the business end of the staple gun, and whips STAR Omoi into the ropes. Misaki's holding that bill in place, but still has her hand on the trigger, and-

Crowd: "OOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!"


*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: STAR Omoi rebounded off the ropes and ran straight into that staple gun, and as she did, Misaki Ishikawa pulled the rigger, firing a staple into STAR's waist, just above her pelvis. Ishikawa takes an early lead in this, with only three dollar bills left to go!

TM: Yeah, but guess who's awake now?

[Indeed, Helga Von Butch has rolled back into the ring. Rocko tries to warn Misaki by violently shaking that jar of peanuts, but Misaki can't hear him. A few seconds later, it doesn't matter.]

CA: Helga immediately grabs Misaki, pulling her to her feet by her hair. Lifted up from the stomach, lifted over her head.... brutal gutwrench powerbomb by helga Von Butch, and I have to think that will be good for at least one or two dollars.

TM: Ching already has them out, and Helga grabs one and staples it to Misaki's left... um... left...

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: They're called breasts, Trent. A few other things, too, but I know you've never actually seen one naked before. It's ok.

[Trent is speechless. You would be too.]

CA: Helga now fiddling with the staple gun, placing a dollar bill over the end of it, and sets it to where the dollar bill is facing up. What is she doing? She's pulling Misaki into a standing headscissors.

[The stapler is wedged near Helga's thigh and Misaki's shoulder!]

TM: Oh, this can't end well for Ishikawa.

CA: CRADLE PILEDRIVER! RIGHT ONTO THE STAPLE GUN!

CROWD: "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!


HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

CA: Helga checks to make sure the staple gun went off, and it did! That dollar bill is firmly implanted in Ishikawa's shoulder, and she's bleeding profusely from that wound!

TM: But Helga's not finished, and she wants to spread the love.

CA: STAR Omoi was just recovering from running into Misaki's staple gun at high speed, but now Helga drops the staple gun to the mat and grabs STAR... simple snap suplex!

TM: But right next to the gun!

CA: Without even unhooking the suplex, Helga reaches for the gun and fires off a staple into STAR Omoi's ass!

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: See, Trent, that's how you handle delicate parts of the body. Just say it.

TM: She didn't grab a dollar first, though.

CA: You think she cares? She gets up... seems to realize she didn't use a dollar that time.... and quickly corrects her mistake.

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: She staples a dollar bill to STAR's left thigh, as Sonya and Sora wince in sympathy pain for STAR outside.

[Helga sees this, and seeing both of her opponents are down right now, she rolls out to take care of a little business. She simply walks up to Sonya Benedict as Sora backs off carefully. The two jaw at each other for a second, then Helga spits on her...]

CA: Brown Mist! That's it ... I'm gonna hurl now, for real.

TM: Helga chews tobacco during her matches, and she just spit tobacco juice all over Sonya Benedict, Sora Kawaii and a few of our PJG fans sitting a little too close.

CA: As if there wasn't worry enough about infection!

[Sonya does the honorable thing. She doesn't even wipe her face off. She just sort of grins, and then, with a lightning quickness that Helga doesn't possess, Sonya reaches down, grabs the hockey stick Arbuckle dropped earlier and thrusts it into Helga's gut!]

CA: We have two matches now... Helga against Misaki and STAR in the ring, and Helga against Sonya outside!

TM: Doesn't seem fair to Helga.

CA: Sonya going to town with that hockey stick, which I'm sure is not what Winslow Arbuckle had in mind when he brought it to the ring! But Helga fights back, several clubbing right hands to Sonya's already puffy face!

[They brawl outside for a minute, until Helga gets a run up to attack Sonya, who moves deftly out of the way and trips Helga, smashing her face into the ringsteps. Sonya gets up, now wipes her face off, then rolls Helga back into the ring.]

CA: Helga is down in the ring thanks to Sonya Benedict, and Misaki Ishikawa and STAR Omoi are down thanks to Helga Von Butch.

TM: All three are bleeding profusely now, from the staple holes and from getting beaten down by each other.

CA: But the two smaller women are now moving, slowly, toward the fallen giant in the middle of the ring!

[STAR and Misaki approach Helga from either side, and Jack Ching hands them each a dollar bill. They both weakly attach a dollar to Helga, with STAR pinning hers to Helga's right thigh, and Misaki's going down on Helga's stomach.]

*KAH-CHUNK!**KAH-CHUNK!*

[STAR grabs another, and attaches it to Helga's right arm.]

*KAH-CHUNK!*

CA: So, if I'm right.... Helga and Misaki both have five dollars now, and STAR just added her fourth! Misaki goes to get another, but STAR punches her in the face, knocking her over!

TM: She's been behind the whole match, and if Misaki gets her sixth, she probably won't be able to come from that far behind!

CA: Rocko still shaking that stupid jar of peanuts! Misaki seems to hear it now, though! She walks over and leans outside to Rocko and snatches the jar from him. STAR Omoi rushes her from across the ring, and runs RIGHT INTO THAT JAR!! Glass is shattered all over the place! A few shards got stuck in STAR, and a few more in Misaki!

TM: STAR definitely got the worst of that, though, and Misaki takes immediate advantage.

[Misaki drops down, grabs a dollar, and quickly staples it to STAR's right cheek.]

CA: That's six! One more, and Misaki Ishikawa wins this match!

[STAR struggles to get away from Misaki now, as Misaki gets another dollar bill. She puts it on STAR's leg and grabs the gun, but STAR kicks Misaki in the gut with her other leg, buying her some time. Eventually, Misaki's speed and agility allows her to catch STAR.]

CA: Misaki Ishikawa on top of STAR now, and the smaller girl can't force her off! Misaki's going to win this. The dollar's in her hand!

TM: Look at Von Butch!

[Across the ring, Von Butch has climbed to the second turnbuckle, a rare occurrence for her. She has... THE SKATES FROM ARBUCKLE!]

CA: Oh fuck! Those are basically GIANT razors!

TM: Off the ropes she goes!

[SUPER BLOODY POP!]

CA: Misaki defends with her arm, but it's sliced open like a taun taun!

TM: ...beautiful!

CA: Helga drops the skates and demands a dollar!

*KAAH-THUNK!*


TM: That's six for both Helga and Misaki, and it stops Misaki from getting the seventh on STAR!

[Misaki rolls off STAR, who is now fully energized. The landing from the dive knocked the wind out of Helga, and she immediately jumps on top of Helga, attaching a dollar bill to her stomach in the process!]

CA: Helga seems out of breath, and Misaki is just rolling around in pain after that diving skate attack! Could STAR Omoi pull off a huge upset?

TM: Arbuckle's up on the apron!

CA: And he's picked up that hockey stick, the one he tried to attack Sonya Benedict with and the one Sonya used to work over Helga. He throws it in, and it hits STAR in the back!

TM: And boy is she pissed!!

[STAR gets up off Helga and launches herself into the ropes, knocking Arbuckle to the floor. She quickly dives back on Helga, grabs another dollar bill, and tries to attach it.]

CA: STAR going for her sixth dollar now... but Helga's fighting her! She grabbed STAR around the wrist, and is using her strength to redirect the staple gun!

TM: But she has no dollar! Star does, in her other hand, but Helga can't get it without taking her hand off STAR!

CA: Helga headbutts STAR! That stuns her enough to grab the dollar from STAR's hand! Helga finishes turning STAR's staple gun around, and squeezes the trigger!!!




*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

DK: YOUR WINNER! HELGA VON BUTCH!

CA: The managerial services of Winslow Arbuckle made all the difference for Helga tonight as she's victorious!

[The camera cuts to Timothy Jeter heading towards his office. He goes to open the door but it gives resistance. He looks upset and shoves harder.]

TIMOTHY: Fucking Ken, that bastard better not have nailed my door shut... After the last time...

[He stands back and goes to kick it when suddenly... the door swings open ominously to a darkened office. Jeter slowly steps through and out calls a voice.]

???: You have... _shunned_ me.

[Jeter's face goes slack and a bit pale. He looks across the room to his desk. The small desk lamp is on and illuminates the person who spoke. Talia Wichzini sits behind Jeter's desk, dressed in black, feet up. She looks content with everything despite the venom laced in her voice.]

TIMOTHY: I don't know what to do...

TW: There is nothing we can do to fix this... there is nothing.

TIMOTHY: Nothing? I've tried. What do you _want_?

TW: What do I want? _Respect_. For a place that purports itself to
be... _"paradise"_, it truly is nothing but.

[Wichzini gets up, and slowly advances on Jeter. Timothy takes a sudden step backwards and falls in a large backed chair.]

TW: I've given you time and effort, and you've given me a puppet as a response.

TIMOTHY: She was hired to cater to your needs! I don't understand how to make you happy, obviously.

[Jeter is cornered, and Wichzini produces one of her trademark straight razors.]

TW: What... do you think the penalty will be?

TIMOTHY: Penalty...? Why can't I do right by you!?

TW: Moira Faith is... admirable, but she'd do better in the ring-

[Wichzini hauls off and slaps Jeter soundly.]

TW: Why?! Why?! Why?! Why?! You threw me to the wolves, you son of a bitch! Put me in the middle of a scandal and _made jokes_ about it, and then pawned me off to Moira Faith! Did you _think_ I would disregard that?!

[Wichzini snaps the razor shut and shoves Jeter out of the chair, knocking it over with him, leaving him in a jumble. She turns to face him..]

TW: The Witch... has had _enough_. This facade is done. My children have babbled enough in my absence. Skin has been shed. And now I confront you... "sir", as I _truly_ am.

TIMOTHY: You're crazy. The witch... You're more like the morning star, but I saw through your facade a long time ago. You wanna know why I really wanted to hire somebody to deal with you? You scare the shit out of me!

TW: You speak... of the Devil?

_Now you see her_.

[Timothy begins to shiver on the floor of his office.]

TW: .._stand_.

[He tries to move backwards, but Talia's foot comes down on his pant leg. He stares up at her and slowly sits, he pulls his leg and she lets it move... But just barely. He gets his feet under himself and pushes up. Never once do his scared eyes move from her eyes. He stands there, trying to move away, but all his does rock back and shift; the proximity making him very, very uncomfortable. Talia adjusts Timothy's pants during all the squirming.]

TW: This isn't... how it _should_ be, you know that, don't you?

TIMOTHY: Tell me then... H-how should it be?

TW: As a businessman and a visionary, I do love you, Timothy.

[She flicks his belt buckle playfully.]

TIMOTHY: What're you doing!?

TW: Keep it down, my husband's probably watching.

TIMOTHY: Y-your _husband_?! You're married!?

[Talia claps a hand to her mouth mockingly.]

TW: Isn't it great?!

[She quickly turns sour.]

TW: _He's already here._

[Timothy looks around as if searching for another figure in his office and then suddenly turns back to her, afraid of it being some trick.]

TIMOTHY: What do you mean by- By, uh, here? Here here? He's on the property...? You just mean he's around, right?

TW: He'll speak up.

[Talia leans in close.]

TW: ..._trust me_.

[Timothy freezes, his eyes shutting of their own volition.]

TW: But... until that day, let us come to an understanding between us. Let Moira Faith play the den mother for the rest of the girls here... personally, I'd rather deal with you and you alone. It gives everything a true sense of legitimacy rather than... dealing with socially maladjusted tarts, wouldn't you say?

TIMOTHY: Me and you...? Alone...?

TW: ...consider it the ultimate adventure in... _business_.

TIMOTHY: Adventure...? I doesn't sound like much of an adventure.

[Talia rolls her eyes and pulls out a book of matches, hastily lighting one and tossing it at Jeter. Timothy smacks it out of the air and then steps on it on the floor.]

TIMOTHY: Adventures are supposed to be fun!

TW: No. This is fun.

[She tosses another match at him. And another. And another. Timothy looks exasperated putting out the other matches, starting to get more upset than afraid.]

TIMOTHY: For you! Where does this leave me?

[Talia drums her fingers on her hips for a bit.]

TW: ...we aren't connecting, are we?

TIMOTHY: It's kind of hard! Things are a little one sided here, Talia.

TW: _Fine, then_. If you do not stop acting like a child and _listen_ to me, I am going to cut your goddamned tongue out and then paint this ramshackle office with your various fluids and internal matter- red, brown, yellow, and otherwise. Once I am done, I will take pictures and send them to your mother to show her what a dear, sweet boy her shiftless ass of a son has become.

Keep whining.

_Please_.

[Timothy's building fire dies as he's reminded what a psychopath he's dealing with and you see his eyes glance down to where he knows her straight razor is.]

TW: Good. I see that we have finally decided to work together.

So!

[Talia claps once.]

TW: The stipulations for my match with Ashlyn Summers are are these...

[Talia leans down and begins to speak to Jeter quietly, before throwing a harsh look at the camera.]

TW: _Shut that off._ We are professionals here, after all. No eavesdropping...

_Please_.

[She winks. Cut back to ringside.]

[We fade to the insides of the mansion. Haruka Matsumoto, valet of Josie Saito, makes her way through the corridors. The petite, young woman wears a cropped, white, tank top and boy-cut, fatigue shorts. She also wears a pair of black boots, her long auburn hair falling down her back. She strolls along, rounding a corner, when her eyes go wide in terror at the sight of Nina Grimsson.]

[Nina, dressed in a loose fitting black and white camouflage miniskirt, a black "Slayer- Hell Awaits" long-sleeve T-shirt, black fishnet stockings with the left knee ripped out, and black engineer boots, stares right into Haruka's eyes with a menacing smile. Her long, black hair worn down and straight, she carries her trusty motorcycle chain in her right hand, routinely slapping it against her left palm.]

Nina: Well, well, well. Weren't you just the little busy bee in my match with your mistress last week.

[Haruka backs away slightly, her eyes nervously moving from Nina to the motorcycle chain, before she turns on her heels and decides to get the Hell out of dodge. With the quickness of a cobra, Nina strikes with her left hand, grabbing a handful of Haruka's collar, halting her escape. She then slowly shakes her head.]

Nina: Uh uh, missy. You aren't getting away that easily. First you have some explaining to do for me. Then, I need to decide if you ever get to eat solid foods again.

[Haruka stares back at Nina, a pleading look in her eyes.]

Haruka: Please...no...it was mistake...

[Nina rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed.]

Nina: Oh, I see, Haruka. So the katana just slipped from your hands and hit me in the head?

[Nina then throws a vicious knee into Haruka's ribcage, doubling her over and sending her to the floor on her knees.]

Nina: Don't bullshit me, Haruka. I am clearly not in the fucking mood. It may be bad for you regardless, but I promise you, the more you lie, the worse you're going to get it.

[Grabbing her ribcage with one hand, Haruka raises her other hand as she is slow to her feet. There's water in the young woman's eyes as she shakes her head.]

Haruka: Please...mistake...beg you...it was...not choice...

[Nina shakes her head, feeling somewhat sorry for her victim.]

Nina: Look, I don't like having to do this, but you're forcing me to. So stop lying to me, dammit!

[Haruka is now sobbing violently, tears running down her face.]

Haruka: No...lies...promise...

[She bows her head, wiping tears from her eyes.]

Haruka: Please....I...no harm...to you...

[As Nina nears, Haruka suddenly spins and kicks her in the stomach, knocking her backward. The Japanese girl whirls around to face Nina, the fearful look long gone and replaced by a hateful glare.]

Haruka: You really are a stupid, little bitch to even try to put your filthy hands on me!

[With that, Haruka shrieks and races towards Nina, pouncing on her and immediately trying to use her nails to gouge her eyes. Nina manages to deftly get her hands up in Haruka's face, pushing her back from her. She then takes a fighting position and cracks a half smile.]

Nina: Well, some truth finally comes out at last. Now let's see what you've got, Haruka.

[Haruka glares at Nina, taking a fighting stance as well, fists raised.]

Haruka: Oh, you'll definitely see that. You'd better just hope that you can handle it!

[Haruka charges and lashes out with a kick, catching Nina in the chest. Pushed back by the impact, Nina backwards rolls, landing in a crouching position, motorcycle chain at the ready.]

Nina: I can see your mistress hasn't trained you for shit, Haruka. You're going to have to do much better then that. Now try again.

[Haruka narrows her eyes, glaring at Nina.]

Haruka: [her tone incredulous] You want more? Shiori was right about you. You really are dumber than a box of rocks!

[Haruka shrieks again and thrusts forward, smashing her heel into Nina's face. Once again, Nina is driven back, blood now dripping from a gash under her eye caused by Haruka's boot. Channeling Bruce Lee, Nina reaches up, wiping a bit away with her fingers then tasting it. She now stares down Haruka with murder in her eyes.]

Nina: I always knew Megumi was the more talented of the two, but judging from what I've seen from you, I had no idea the gap was so wide. Now try again, and this time, come at me like you mean it, you little cunt!

[Haruka smirks at Nina, her eyes full of disgust.]

Haruka: You trailer park piece of trash. I'll show you exactly what a big mouth can get you.

[Haruka rushes forward and lashes out with another kick. This time, however, Nina skillfully manipulates her motorcycle chain and catches the kick with cat-like quickness. Haruka's eyes grow wide in shock.]

Nina: [Smiling menacingly] Like I said. Shitty instruction, fittingly used on a shitty pupil...

[With that, Nina whips Haruka all the way around 180 degrees, viciously slamming her into the wall. Haruka crumples to the floor in a heap, allowing Nina the chance to quickly mount her. Haruka begins to struggle under Nina's weight, raising an arm and driving her palm under her chin. With Nina momentarily stunned, Haruka grabs a handful of her hair and snaps her head back before driving a knee into the back of Nina's head. Nina regains her hold then looks down at Haruka, an evil, vicious smile forming on her lips.]

Nina: Play time's over now, Haruka. And I promise you, your mother is going to cry when she sees what I've done to you.

[With that, Nina begins throwing repeated punches into Haruka. Rapid. Merciless. Unyielding. Haruka attempts to shield herself, throwing up her arms, but she can offer little resistance to Nina's assault. A blast catches her full in the mouth and the Japanese girl can immediately taste blood. Another blow catches her in the temple, stunning her. Seeing that her target is stunned, Nina uses this opportunity to wrap the motorcycle chain around her hand.]

Nina: And now the real fun begins...

[And once again, she opens up on Haruka, pounding on her mercilessly. After what seems like an eternity, Nina finishes and takes a moment to get a look at her now bruised, swollen and bloody right hand as well as admire her handiwork. Haruka is laid out, her breathing slow and her face a mess of blood and gore. Her eyes are blackened and swollen, her lips cracked. And her voice a mere choked whisper as she looks up at Nina.]

Haruka: Hate...you...forever...

[Nina shrugs her shoulders, her malicious smile never having left her face.]

Nina: You're breaking my heart over here, Haruka. But don't worry. Your mistress will be sharing this fate with you soon enough. My only regret is that I won't be there to see the look on her face when she sees you.

[Nina then stands up, and after placing a couple of vicious kicks and stomps to Haruka's ribs, she heads on her way down the hall. Haruka's head rolls to the side, her eyes glazed, as she is left unconscious.]

[Fade.]







WILL INSERT THE MYRA BENEDICT/JOSIE SAITO MATCH HERE ASAP

[The scene opens to a dimly lit studio basement apartment. The television serves as the only source of illumination, but it's enough to give us a clear enough view. There is a small kitchenette in one corner, a heavy bag and a fully stocked weapons rack in another. The television sits in the middle of the floor atop a small TV stand, while a card table fills the third corner - with a few small crates around it serving as seats. The final corner is occupied by a bedroll and boxes of clothing. Yep, everything seems perfectly normal in Myra Benedicts basement studio arpartment. However, the person resting on the bed roll is not who you would normally expect to see, although given the events of last show, not terribly surprising. That being Myra's new love interest, "Heavy Metal Hero" Erik Grimsson. Dressed in a pair of blue University of Michigan sweatpants, a black "Venom- Witching Hour" longsleeve t-shirt, and white athletic socks, Erik lies on his back on top of the bed roll and it's blankets, hands behind his head. As his shirt slides up ever so slightly, the camera gets a view of the medical on his abdomen from his encounter with Andrea Kristian and match with Kian Konga.]

VOICE: That's a hell of an injury. And you're really going to compete again at Episode 8?

[the voice is not the voice you'd expect, but it is female. Very recognizable it's The Voice of PJG, Christina Areya. She sits on one of the crates, legs akimbo wearing a loose pair of jeans and long, oversized Motorhead jersey. Her chestnut brown hair is pulled back in a pony tail and hidden beneath a backwards black baseball hat with no logo on it.]

CA: We know you're tough, but is the Paradise title that important to you?

[Erik seems to actually think hard about the question for a second or two, then simply shakes his head.]

Erik: Nope. Not really.

[Christina laughs.]

CA: Why take the fight at Episode 8 then? It's one thing to be sore after a match, it's another to be stabbed! Nobody could honestly say a bad word if you couldn't compete. And even if you don't care about the tournament, you wouldn't even be eliminated yet. You'd have one more shot.

[Again, Erik just shakes his head "no".]

Erik: That's so totally not the point though. It's the fight that I'm going there for, not the tournament or the belt. Not to mention, even though I didn't win last show, I built up a ton of momentum there, especially by stopping Kian Konga. I guess it's just like how I always say I may not win, but you'll know I was there. It's like, if I back out of this match now, I wouldn't be able to say that anymore, and everything that I did last show means nothing.

[Christina looks at him with more than a touch of admiration.]

CA: I can't say I think it's the smartest thing ever, but sometimes you just have to do what's... right. Or what feels right. In your case it's staying true to that warrior nature. I guess, uh...

[She smiles, a bit falsely.]

CA: That's why you and Myra Benedict get along so well?

[Erik can't help laugh a bit at this.]

Erik: Dude, let's face the facts, I've never been brightest guy in the world, so I guess this makes sense for me. But yeah, it's something that I just kinda have to do, but also that I want to do. And I guess, yeah, that probably has a part in me and Myra being drawn to each other. So that's pretty badass, too.

[Christina giggles.]

CA: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, it's just... "Badass" isn't usually how you hear most people describe a relationship. I think that's why I-people like you so much though. You're so... honest. About who you are, how you feel. You make no bones about it and if people don't like it, you're not a hard man to find. Unless Andrea Kristian is around.

[Again, Erik laughs as he cringes on the bed a bit.]

Erik: Oh dude, you just had to go there, didn't you?

[He now looks down to his stomach and the bandages. Christina's eyes follow the same direction.]

CA: I'd run away too.

Erik: I'm so hoping that part of my life and time in this industry is over. But, we'll see. But now that Myra's with me, I'm not too worried. But you know, there was just no way I could have ever brought myself to get physical with her. I mean, it would have totally been unmanly to do that. As far as the honesty goes, well, I guess there's just like no good reason not to be. I mean, why lie about who I am and how I feel? I'd just be lying to myself and there's no point in that. And I guess that's kind of how I feel about this match. If I didn't show up and fight, I'd kinda be lying to myself in a way. I don't know, Nina or Chad could probably word it better then I could.

[Christina nods.]

CA: I think you said it just fine. I wouldn't mind never seend Andrea again. Not like we don't have enough psychos. No offense to your girlfriend.

[Erik slowly nods his head.]

Erik: It's okay. I know she's not on too many people's christmas lists. Especially not my ex and close friend, Angel Saito's. But, what can I say? I guess sometimes, stuff just happens. That's really the only way I can make sense of Myra and me falling in love. I would have never thought in a million years that she would have the least bit of interest in someone like me. And in fairness, I'm sure lots of people probably consider me to be one of those psychos.

[Christina stops and thinks about that one, caught by surprise.]

CA: Well, you may have a point there. I guess... Well, I guess anyone who steps into a PJG ring has a bit of crazy in them. I'll just add that gone-is-gone as far as I care with Andrea Kristian, whether it's via pink slip or crowbar. You brought it up though, how do you deal with the fact that she's hurt someone you care about the way she did to Angel?

[Erik takes a deep breath and exhales. Even though he guessed Christina might ask this, it is still quite clear that he will have a hard time answering it.]

Erik: I'll admit, I don't like it all. In fact, I hate it. But, I guess I'm just kind of stuck. Meg and Myra never hit it off and have been at each other's throats since they first met. They want to fight one another, and while I hated what Myra did to Meg, Meg has also done some horrible things to Myra. But, they're both big girls, they can make their own decisions, and although I hate it and I'd love to make them stop, it's not my place to get involved.

[Christina nods sadly.]

CA: It must be very hard for you to be stuck between the two. You'll have to excuse me if I hope Angel gets a chance to kick her ass in the ring.

[She laughs. Erik laughs a bit as well.]

Erik: Hey now, come on. We don't want to say mean things about my girlfriend.

[Christina doesn't reply to that, instead changing the subject.]

CA: Moving on to a subject I know you like a lot better... Any predictions who you'll be fighting in the main event? Any preference to who you'll fight in the main event?

[Erik thinks about it for a second, the gears really grinding. And once again, he quickly shakes his head.]

Erik: To tell the truth, I don't have a clue which ones I'll end up facing. Which is fine by me, though. I've never been big on big match preparations, watching tapes, or any of that useless crap. Whoever makes it, I'll be ready for.

CA: So no preference either? No one you think would be an especially good fight? You've all ready faced off with Andy James, Jackson Kinkaid and Clayton Priest, would you want to fight them again or would you rather test your mettle against someone new?

[Again, Erik shakes his head.]

Erik: Nah, no preferences. Any of these guys will be great, tough fights, so I'm not too worried about that. No matter who I'll be standing across from, I think it'll be a total blast. Although, I guess if I could have a say in something, I'd put some C4 in this thing, so that way there really could be a total blast.

[Christina laughs.]

CA: Yeah, okay, you're definitely one of the psychos around here, Erik. Do you have anything else you wanna say to all the fans?

[Erik thinks it over and nods his head affirmatively.]

Erik That they're the craziest, coolest, most kickass fans out there. And I can't wait to see them all, and of course you, the beautiful Christina Areya, at Episode 8.

[Christina blushes furiously all of a sudden and kicks Erik in the stomach, without thinking! Oh man, she really IS _that_ girl, isn't she?]

CA: Don't say that ab-! OH! CRAP! I'm so sorry!

[Erik cringes and almost folds in half from the pain, but is laughing too hard to make any face in discomfort.]

Erik: Ungh! Don't worry about it, it's totally cool. And I may have deserved it a bit. But regardless, it is the truth.

[Christina keeps blushing, this time NOT hitting him in the stab wound.]

CA: Well, thank you, just don't tell Myra you think so.

[She chuckles nervously.

Again, Erik chuckles at this.]

CA: That's strangely reassuring. Best of luck in the main event and I guess now it'll be back to... Uh, me and Trent! Hello future me!

[Erik now points to the camera.]

Erik: You're the man, Munson!

[With that the camera fades and we're back ringside.]

## CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES ## THIS IS MY LAST RESORT

[Without warning, the drums and electric guitar of Papa Roaches, "Last Resort" fills the air.]

## SUFFOCATION, NO BREATHING
## I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF I CUT MY ARM BREATHING
## THIS IS MY LAST RESORT

[A stir begins to be heard within the crowd.]

DK: On his way to the ring... he weighs in tonight at TWO-HUNDRED and THIRTY-FIVE POUNDS... and he hails from BROOKLYN, NEW YORK... here is...

JAAAAAACKSON KIIIIIINKAID!!!!

[Just on cue, a man in his late twenties steps through the curtain to the back. Dressed in a pair of worn jeans, steel toed boots and a sleeveless black t-shirt, the word "SECURITY" on the front. Kinkaid pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning the crowd before him.]

## Cut my life into pieces
## I've reached my last resort, suffocation, no breathing
## Don't give a fuck if I cut my arms bleeding
## Do you even care if I die bleeding
## If I took my life tonight, chance are that I might
## Mutilation out of sight and I'm contemplating suicide

[Eventually Kinkaid's eyes settle on the ring before him as a stone look overtakes him. With his skin still a bright pink from the burns he suffered thanks to one Myra Benedict, he walks down the aisle, never allowing a fan to distract him from the chaos he's about to release for his little girl.]

## Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind
## Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
## Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind
## Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine

[Once he reaches ringside he is about to enter the ring, but pauses suddenly. He looks to his tattooed shoulder, the name of his little girl embedded within his skin. He touches his shoulder quickly while nodding his head. With that he steps across the rampway and into the ring.]

CA: That little girl could get Jackson Kinkaid through hell, I think.

TM: We'll find out, won't we?

CA: Good point!

["Cumin' Atcha Live" by Tesla thunders over the PA as Erik Grimsson heads to the ring, payphone in his taped, thumbtack lined right hand. Along the way, he slaps hands with the fans, taking care not to accidentally stick them, and paying special attention to the females in attendance. As he gets halfway to the ring, he stops, takes a moment to stare down his opponent, then charges the ring.]

DK: His first opponent... E R I K . . .
. . . G R I M S S O N!

[A brief moment of silence over the audience and then over the loudspeakers blares the opening chords of Sevendust's "Face to Face" kick in.]

DK: "Coming to the ring ... hailing from Norfolk, Virginia ... standing six-feet, one inch tall ... weighing in tonight at two-hundred and forty-two pounds ... here is ...

C L A Y T O N . . .
. . . P R I E S T !

[And with that, out steps the man who was just introduced, a somber, apathetic expression upon his face. His head is shaved with a close cropped fade style trim, with a very thinly shaved beard as well to match. Otherwise, he has thin eyebrows, light green eyes, and a strong jaw. His body isn't overly bulky, but he's got a solid, muscular, stocky build. He wears a pair of black trunks with red trim that reach about mid-thigh, as well as a pair of black kneepads and black wrestling boots to finish off his attire. The only other thing that adorns his body is black tape around each of his wrists.]

TM: Priest looks like he's in the best shape of these three.

[He makes his way toward the ring at a slow, almost methodical pace, his eyes constantly focused on the ring ahead of him. Not even looking for if his opponent is in there yet, his gaze truly is focused upon the wrestling ring itself, ignoring the crowd completely, no matter what they say or what they do. As he reaches ringside, he stands by the ring apron and just stares at the mat for a moment, breathing steadily. Finally, after a long pause, he steps into the ring where the ropes would normally be.]

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

CA: Time to start the main event of the evening!

CROWD: "LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!


LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!


LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!


LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!"

ONE GUY: "LET'S GO CLAYTO-OOWW!"

[The crowd laughs and one fan rubs the back of his head where the fans next to him smacked him in the back of the head.]

TM: Well, we know who their favorites are.

CA: I have a feeling you're rooting for Priest?

TM: Oh yeah.

CA: All three men look haggerd from the journey it took to get here. Erik didn't wrestle tonight, but Jackson and Clayton both did!

TM: Erik has said since the first match between these three he would have let Jackson settle the score with Priest without getting involved had he known, it'll be interesting to see if that costs him any oppurtunities here.

CA: It looks like he is offering Kinkaid first shots on Priest and both men seem to agree, they square off and Jackson throws the first punch! He rocks the jaw of Clayton Priest!

[Priest wobbles, but fires right back. It quickly escalates into an all slug fest.]

CA: Priest tries to whip Jackson to the outside of the ring, but Jackson slides to the mat and jumps back to his feet!

TM: Priest catches him with a wicked left cross though and stomps the side of his knee!

CA: Priest snaps him to the mat with a Fujiwara armbar! He leans back... He's got Jackson's other arm! He's sitting up- What the fuck?! I've never seen a submission like that!

TM: It looks damn effective!

[Priest is on his knees, back to back with Jackson. Priest has his elbows locked with Kinkaids and slowly works his own hands closer and closer until he steeples his fingers and locks the grip together. Jackson screams out in pain...



FACE POP!]

CA: I guess Erik just lost his patience and is now driving his thumbtack lined knuckles into Priest's wide open forehead! Priest trying to duck his face out of line, but it's not working for him!

TM: He finally gives up the hold to cover up-

CA: He has a leg! Single leg trip on Erik! He spins around the leg- But Grimsson kicks him off!

[Clayton falls forward and...


Right...


To...


The...


Edge...


Stops himself! Heel pop!]

CA: Close call for Clayton Priest! He turns just in time and catches Erik with a drop toe hold! ERIK HANGING OVER THE EDGE!

[The Heavy Metal Hero is gripping the wire between the barbs, holding himself up and out of a face full of spider net!]

TM: Clayton tying up his legs, going for an STO!

CA: Jackson up to stop him!

[Jackson reaches over Clayton's head and grabs his nostrils like a bowling ball, dragging him up and off Erik! CORNHOLE THAT BITCH POP!]

CA: He wraps him up, reverse DDT!




[SHOCKED POP!]

TM: Jackson stomps on the back of Erik's head!

CA: Wow! Kinkaid not here to make friends, that's for sure!

[Jackson kicks Erik again, but Grimsson stays half on the mat and out of the barbs!]

TM: After winning Wrestlebowl, maybe the taste of sucess is a motivator! It did get his old boss off his back!

CA: Kinkaid back on Clayton, standing leg drop! Quick cover!




ON- Kickout!

TM: Still too early, but Jackson had a much tougher night so far!

CA: Indeed! It's too his advantage to get it over with! He stands and Clayton getting up, knocked back down by an elbow drop! Jackson rolls Clayton over to the corner and pushes him against the corner post!

[Jackson jogs across the ring, turns and begins a sprint...



HUGE POP!]

TM: That'll break some ribs!

CA: Basement drop kick smashes Clayton between two boots and the cold steel ring post!

[Erik finally gets himself up from his predicament now that he's had a second without getting attacked.]

CA: Erik charging at Jackson, Jackson sees him coming!



CROWD: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

*SNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!*

CA: BACK BODY DROP!

[That's the sound of all the strands of barbed wire going tight as Erik's body lands in them from a good eight feet up!]

TM: ...amazing!

CA: That's gonna have his back ripped open something good! Jackson kicks Priest as he begins to stand and maintains control of this match up!

TM: Side head lock, going for a bulldog, but Clayton trips him up!

CA: It's not smart to put a man like Clayton Priest in a side headlock, it just lets him have your back! He slides over and back into a Fujiwara!

[The crowd boos! Erik starts to roll himself toward the apron.]

TM: Look at the way all those barbs stick to his skin, tugging at it like little hands!

CA: He's sitting now and pulling on the ring apron to get out without causing more damage! Blood is running down his back from so many different places!

TM: Priest shifting positions again, bringing his legs across Jackson's body.

CA: Changing to a crucifix position, maybe trying to get into his signature No Escape seated crossface armbar.

[Erik rolls onto the apron and gets a loud pop! Clayton looks over and suddenly spins back to just the Fujiwara.]

CA: Priest ready for Erik to come after him, and come after him he does!

TM: Priest with a kick! Erik avoids and tries to circle the grappler, but Clayton spins right along with him!

CA: And as he does he's wrenching Jackson's arm at all sorts of awkward angles! You can hear the pain increasing with each new direction Priest moves!

[Priest keeps Erik at bay with kicks aimed at Grimsson's knees. Erik's timing keeps getting a little better and a little better.]

TM: Nearly got past the feet that time!

CA: Erik dives in- OH!

*CRAAAAAACK!*

CA: He eats a kick in the face to do it! But now he's on top of Clayton and pounding him in the face! And somehow Priest continues to hold Jackson's arm!

TM: His shoulder must be killing him by now!

CA: Clayton working his legs beneath Grimsson, gets his feet on Erik's hips and shoves him off, now Erik is back to square one!

[The crowd reacts all of a sudden with a BLOOD LUST POP!]

TM: Oh wow!

CA: Holy shit! Erik does NOT want to take another kick to the face so lightly, he's got a nasty cut on his right cheek!

[Erik has one of those "Oh yeah!" moments.]

CA: Erik has something up his sleeve- Oh ho! The pay phone!

[Grimsson grabs the pay phone from his corner and comes back swinging it like a flail!]

TM: That's got Clayton's attention!






*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!*

[Disappointment/You Nearly Killed Him Pop!]

CA: Erik swings it up over his head and Clayton abandons Jackson's arm to avoid his chest getting caved in!

TM: That was a hair from hitting him, his ribs are probably still tender from that drop kick into the ring post!

CA: They'd be a lot more tender if a payphone smashed them with that much force!

[Priest is up and dodges another swing of the payphone!]

CA: Close call! Another swing barely misses!

TM: Priest backing up quickly!






[HUGE POP!]

CA: Priest realizes he's on the edge of the ring and barely catches himself!





*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!*

TM: ERIK CATCHES HIM TOO!

CA: Payphone to the chest! Priest windmilling! INTO THE SPIDERNETS HE GOES!

[FACE POP!]

TM: Erik drop his pay phone aside and... Dives after him! HEADBUTT!

CA: Jackson Kinkaid up and shaking his arm, trying to get the blood flowing from the shoulder on down!

[He pauses to take a look around and notices he's alone in the ring, he scans around until he sees Clayton and Erik in the spider nets. He grins, continuing to work the arm.]

TM: He's about to do something, big, I can see it in his eyes!

CA: OH SHIT!








CROWD: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"








[FLASHBULBS ALL OVER!]







*SNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!*



[FAAAAACE POP!]


CA: THE ADDICTION, SHOOTING STAR PRESS, OFF THE EDGE OF THE RING! ALL THREE MEN IN THE SPIDER NETS!

TM: The crowd is going insane!

CROWD: "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"


CA: That was beyond insane! That was Jisatsu!

[All three men are tangled in the barbed wire net, the frame housing this net is bent out of shape and the sag all most to the floor, making the tangled mess all the worse.]

CA: They may need to be helped out of there before the match can continue.

TM: Just a pile of twisted limbs and torn flesh tied together in cold steel and blood!

CROWD: "KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!



KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!



KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!



KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!"

CA: Well, we know who the crowd's rooting for now!

TM: Until Grimsson does something equally crazy of course.

CA: Of course.

[Jackson starts to move and the crowd EXPLODES!]


CROWD: "KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!


KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!


KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID! KIN-KAID!"


[Jackson tries to plant his foot on a strand of barbed wire but it suddenly snaps and he nearly falls back into the pile. Instead he catches himself by placing his hands on Priest's chest and Erik's back.]

CA: Jackson moving slow, this is the result of this being his second match tonight! But he doesn't wanna go into the ring empty handed, he's pulling Priest out of the wire as well!

TM: Why do that crazy move and then not even try and win with it!?

CA: Good point!

[He rolls Clayton up onto the mat and shoves him away from the edge, giving himself room to climb up. He immediately sprawls across Clayton's chest into a cover!]

CA: ONE!














TWO!
















THREE-


[HATE POP!]

CA: Priest rolls the shoulder up! Kinkaid looks absolutely shocked!

TM: Devastated!

CA: But he hooks the leg and tries again!









ONE!













TWO!










THREE!





[?!]




TM: No! Out again!

[MURDEROUS HATE POP!]

CA: Wow! What determination by Clayton Priest! I'd say what heart, but he doesn't have one!

TM: No, he's just all willpower! A driving hatred fuels that man!

CA: Jackson must be wondering what he'll have to do to pin a man like Clayton Priest!

[Kinkaid drags Clayton up and lifts him onto his shoulders.]

CA: Kinkaid drops down and drives Priest's head into the mat with a Samoan driver! He makes the pin again!








ONE!










TWO!

NO!


[DOUBLE THE HATRED POP!]

CA: How did he DO that!? If there were ropes I think Jackson would kick them! Instead he gives Riley an exasperated look!

[Riley looks back like "What can I do?"]

TM: Clayton with a roll up- No! Not a roll up!

CA: He rolls Kinkaid over and wraps up his leg! Twists into a leg grape vine with a heel hook!

[Heel pop!]

TM: Kinkaid is in pain now! He may not be able to hold on!

CA: Here comes Erik though! Grimsson standing! What a bloody mess! His hair is more orange than blonde! Slicked to his head...

TM: ...And a giant grin on his face!

[THE MONSTER IS RIGHT BEHIND YOU POP!]

CA: Erik up into the ring and now he's standing over Clayton! Priest, looks up! Erik looks down!

TM: ...and the blood dripping down onto Priest!

CROWD: "HE'S GONNA KILL YOU! HE'S GONNA KILL YOU!


HE'S GONNA KILL YOU! HE'S GONNA KILL YOU!"

CA: Priest tries to roll, but he's tangled up in Jackson's legs! Erik on top of him! All hard right hands!

[Jackson kicks himself free and grabs his ankle in pain.]

CA: Erik pulls Clayton up and starts with shots to the body! Putting his head down and really digging into Priest's ribs!

[The crowd starts counting off the brutal rib shots!]

CROWD: "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!"

TM: The energy just disippated from Clayton and he collapses!

CA: Two iterations of the Rib Wrecker! Eight shots in toal, he may have broken one of Priest's ribs-





[WHAT THE FUCK!? HE'S STILL MOVING HEEL POP!?]

TM: Priest goes low! He shoves Erik over and grabs his leg!

CA: Priest is an animal! He's getting dragging Erik around...

[Clayton kneels down and begins trying to get a grip on both men at once. RESPECT POP!]

CA: He's got a dragon sleeper on Kinkaid and a halfcrab on Erik Grimsson! Priest really showing his level of skill!

TM: Jackson's trying to work free, but that's the same arm Clayton worked over so vigorously with the Fujiwara not that long ago!

CA: Very true! And Erik is just... Well, let's be honest, Erik Grimsson's batteries have to be on low. Last show he fought Kian Konga to a stand still and this just might be the straw to break the camel's back!

TM: Speaking of broken backs... Look at the ANGLE he's at!

CA: Jackson trying to bridge out of this! But with that hurt arm it'll be hard to break the hold!

CROWD: "LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!"


ONE GUY: "LET'S GO CLAYTON!"


CROWD: "LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!"


ONE GUY: "LET'S GO CLAYTON!"


CROWD: "LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!"


ONE GUY: "LET'S GO CLAYTON!"


CROWD: "LET'S GO ERIK! LET'S GO JACKSON!"


CA: Well, there's ONE Clayton Priest fan!

TM: That's at least two.

CA: Jackson on the tips of his toes, that may be releiving some of the pressure! But if he doesn't get out of the hold eventually he'll have to tap out, or pass out!

TM: The second being more likely I think. Not many "quitters" in PJG.

CA: Fuckin' A, right!

[Jackson pushes up with one foot and lifts himself off the mat! The crowd roars in approval!]

CA: Oh! Now THERE'S A way to get out of this without relying on his arm! Kinkaid has leg strength in spades! Most of his offense uses those legs to push off with!

TM: Do you really think he can backflip out of that!?

CA: We'll see! He tries again! OH SO CLOSE! Clayton shifted his weight forward to stop him, but no Erik Grimsson is trying to scramble out from behind him! He leans back to stop that and-











[MUDDA FUGGING FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE POP!]

CA: JACKSON OVER! HE'S REVERSED THE HOLD! Now Priest is in a dragon sleeper! Erik's leg falls free! Kinkaid turning!

[Jackson gets his back to the corner post, puts a foot up on the second turnbuckle bolt and pushes off!]

CA: TORNADO DRAGON SLEEPER DDT! THAT HAS TO BE ALL! He makes the cover!





[Erik Grimsson crawls on top of Jackson's back! Pushing down to hold Clayton there!]


ONE!












TWO!











THREE!



TM: Wait, did they BOTH pin him!?

CA: Uh, I don't know!

*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

CA: Uuuh.... Let's get an announcement!

[Riley runs to the edge of the ring and calls to Darrin Kanto to toss him the ring mic. Darrin does and Riley turns it on.]

RB: It is my decision that since both Erik Grimsson and Jackson Kinkaid pinned Clayton Priest... BOTH MEN ARE DECLARED THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH!

[EXTREME THERMAL NUCLEAR POP!]

TM: Can he fucking do that!?

CA: Head referee! He can call it however he sees fit! What does this mean for the tournament!? What does this mean for the title match!?

TM: Wow!

CA: I think we have something backstage, let's go there!

Voice: The wise philosopher Bertrand de Jouvenel once said, “A society of sheep must in time beget a government of wolves". To know and to understand what that great man once said is to know and understand what it means in relation to this very company. For all I see are cleverly disguised sheep..

[The camera opens to a clear, clean shot of a man sitting against a delapidated wall. His greasy, long dishwater blonde hair slithers down his shoulder, his back, and strands cover the man's face as he scowls slightly downward. For this man rarely lets his eyes read the cmaera lens. For this man.. is Jacob Cross.]

[As relaxed as he seemingly can be, Cross has his legs crooked at the knees, his hands resting upon them. His body shows no sign of upset, or worry, or agitation. But it is there. It is in his voice.]

Cross: All I see are children dressed as men.. men displayed as fools.. fools crowned as kings.. wallowing in their own self-indulgences and self-delusions. I see sheep stumbling slowly down these barren halls.. pandering to the vices they so undenyingly cannot keep in control.. whether it be to the hypodermic needle..

..or for familial respect..

..or for the need to make their master happy..

..or the needing and longing to be "loved" by the masses.

[The beast from Arcadia, Michigan lets out a disgusted sigh? Or perhaps a coarse chuckle?]

Cross: I see a society of sheep lacking authority.. lacking a true shepard. For as much as dear Timothy thinks he has these confines under control.. those cast without a blind eye see through the visage. Those with the mental fangs of the canine see all for what it is truly worth. And _we_ see a company in drastic need of change.. in drastic need of a systematic shock.

No longer may we sit idly by and watch as fools like Kian Konga make a mockery of the fragility of man.

No longer will we mute ourselves while fools like Christian Copeland and Andy James spit rhetoric fit for a group of prepubesecent boys during school recess.

No longer will we lurk in the shadows as our mouthes salivate.. desperate for the flesh of the prey.

And no longer will Paradise Jisatsu Group be a landscape where all is fair in love and war.. where the mantra of kill or be killed is duly expressed yet hardly demonstrated.

[Motionless. Almost featureless. A mask of a mask of a mask.]

Cross: Erik.. Kian.. it all started with you.. but take heed in the fact that you were only puppets.. the fodder for which this wonderful revolution will be built upon. For it is in your blood scribbled across two contracts.. contracts ironclad and unavoidable.. that allow the gates to your pens to be swung open..

..and allow the wolves to be unleashed upon the weak.. and the _fake_..

[He definitely chuckles that time.. finding some humor in that term as it relates to this company. A chuckle that abruptly ends.. as Cross' voice grows cold and bitter.]

Cross: For it is said that a society of sheep must in time beget a government of wolves.. and gentlemen.. ladies.. and all those in between?

The pack leader has arrived..

..and he is set to feed.

[With that ominous message the camera starts to fade to black... Only for it to come back up as "Barbed Wire" Ken goes running past! Jacob follows him with his eyes.]


O/C: Grrrroooooowwwll....

[Cross turns and smiles an enigmatic smile.]

CA: KIAN KONGA!

[And with that Kian comes flying at Jacob Cross and the two clash! The Nihilist War Mongrel and the Beast of Arcadia throw vicious punches back and forth! Cross getting an immediate advantage because of his size and the fact he hasn't been running all over the property all night!]

TM: Oh shit! This is like a dream come true! Again!

CA: Knee lift, by Cross, but Konga rakes his face with those long nails! He does it again! Cross blindly slams Kian's head into- THROUGH the wall!

TM: Kian fires back and catches him with an elbow to the gut-







[RUINATION! RUINATION! RUINATION! POP!]

CA: Konga has him up on his shoulders!

TM: RUINATION!

[Cut to black. Copyrights.]

Jesus.

This is so good... I can't even come up with any glib, stupid funny shit to say.

Damn. If anyone reads this card and still doesn't think PJG is the best thing going in e-w... they need to quit e-w.

Mitchell... you're the fucking man. Colton promo was hysterical and even though you had little interest in writing the Helga/Misaki/Omoi match, you did an awesome job. Loved it.

All the Ken stuff on this show was money as well. Him hitting on Vickie was fantastically funny stuff. We need Kinkaid/BWK sometime in the future.

Great stuff all around, even with the missing Benedict/Saito match

Jeter is a fucking PUSSY!

Awesome, awesome card all around, though. Great matches and great on-cards.

WHERE THE HELL IS MY MATCH?! :)

Neal

Good stuff.