Post by Press1269 on Feb 20, 2020 14:48:32 GMT
PHILO: Wow, Flaming Youth just sent a pretty clear message to CJ O'Donnell that those two have some unfinished business.
CHARISSA: It comes at an opportune time, don't you think?
PHILO: Sure, Press is the champion and O'Donnell's the #1 contender, but like Youth pointed out, that could all change tonight.
CHARISSA: Correction! It will change tonight!
PHILO: Well folks, this is what we've all been waiting for. It's been one hell of a show, and the anticipation has been worth the wait, but now it's time!
CHARISSA: Time for Stevie Harris to finally make his claim to the throne, and wrest that Heavyweight Championship from that fool Press.
PHILO: Charissa, you might be right, but on the other hand, we have a champion who is determined to shut down any of the nay-sayers, and ensure that after tonight there will be no doubt on who it is that is the TRUE PAW Champion.
CHARISSA: Whatever you say, Philo. Stevie All The Way is my story, and I'm sticking to it.
PHILO: Christ! Somebody get Alex Blake back out here so I can try and get some unbiased commentary. Rhonda, by all means, take it away.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this is your Main Event of the evening, and it is for the Pure Amusement Wrestling Heavyweight Championship!
The crowd instantly begins to buzz, when 'The Riverbed' by Gallows blasts out over the speakers. The beat really begins to kick in when Stevie Harris steps through, a scornful expression on his face to accompany the wooden crutches under his arms. The fans already begin booing at the sight of the crutches, and he scowls before slowly making his way down to the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing first, the challenger, standing at six foot two, and at a weight of 230 pounds. He hails from St. Louis, Missouri, and is the enigmatic leader of the I'm With Stevie Movement. This is STEVIE HARRIS!!!
Stevie continues to make his way down to the ring, eyeing as many of the faces in the crowd as possible. A few BombTrax fans stand up holding signs, and he spits in their direction, jawing back and forth before finally shuffling along. When he finally reaches the ring, he tosses his crutches in, and rolls under the bottom rope. He pops back upright, grabbing his crutches, and leans heavily against them shaking his head at the crowd.
PHILO: I have it on good authority that Stevie Harris is cleared to wrestle here tonight! What the hell is the meaning of this?
CHARISSA: Obviously he's still injured after that train wreck of a match at the St. Patrick's Day Super Show, where that overgrown Yeti maliciously tried to hurt Stevie on purpose, and furthermore, stole the championship!
PHILO: We must have been watching two different matches, cause that's now how I recall it at all.
Before any more debate can be had, the opening chords to 'Strangle Hold' by Ted Nugent pumps through the PA, and red strobe-lights begin to flicker all around the ring and ramp way, finally settling on the entry way where the silhouette of the massive Press can be seen standing in the curtain. Words flash up on the big screen above the stage, as the crowd continues to buzz in anticipation.
WITH THIS PASS
I CAN GO ANYWHERE I WANT!
At the chorus of the song he bursts through the curtain, and thrusts his black chair with the words "Press Pass" high up into the air with a grimace spread across his face. The PAW Heavyweight Championship rests comfortably around his waist, as he scans the crowd. He raises one black gloved fist into the air, and the fans make the place go deafening.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And introducing his opponent, he stands at six foot eleven, and weights in at 365 pounds. Hailing from right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, he is one-half of The BombTrax, and the current PAW Heavyweight Champion! THIS IS PRESS!!!
Press drops his fist to his side, confidently making his way down to the ring. When he reaches the end of the ramp, he throws his chair in under the bottom rope, hops up on the apron, and enters the ring by swinging his leg up and over the top rope. He knocks his head to the left & right to get out the kinks, and then throws his fists high into the air all the while letting out an animalistic growl. The crowd goes wild as he stalks over to the corner, and nonchalantly leans into it, staring straight ahead at Stevie Harris, who's eyes never left him once for an instant.
PHILO: Man-O-Man, can you feel the tension in this building? It's about to reach a fever pitch in the crowd, and it's going to explode!
CHARISSA: It's pretty obvious by this stare down between these two, that they DO NOT like each other. I just hope Stevie isn't robbed of this opportunity because of his injuries.
A-Ref steps over to Harris, who finally turns his gaze away from Press so that he can berate the official. He points at his leg and the crutches, and shakes his head 'No'. A-Ref throws his hands out at his sides, and continues with his questions, until Stevie finally calls for a mic.
PHILO: Looks like Stevie's going to explain this situation.
CHARISSA: DON'T WORRY, STEVIE, WE'RE WITH YOU!!
PHILO: Jesus, pipe down! You're supposed to be impartial.
As Philo tries to reign Charissa in, Stevie takes a microphone from one of the Tech's at ringside, and hobbles out to the center of the ring. Press has not moved, still staring daggers into the skeletal man. Stevie regards Press with a disgusted expression, and then holds the mic up to his face.
STEVIE HARRIS: Is this not what you wanted, big man?
Stevie indicates his busted leg with his hand, and the crowd boo's at the implication. Press just smirks, and twirls his finger in the air for Stevie to get on with it. After a few more seconds of staring, Stevie raises the mic once again.
STEVIE HARRIS: Well, I hope you're happy with yourself, Press Jones. You got all these people riled up for a return championship match, one of the most anticipated matches in our companies short history, knowing full well that I wouldn't be ready to compete. YOU!
Stevie points his finger in Press direction, a snarl coming to his lips.
STEVIE HARRIS: You did that, pulling the strings of your pet, Moo-Nin, so that you could avoid having to face me at my best. No, no, no, that wouldn't do at all. Cause you know, deep down in your heart, that you don't have what it takes to come out here and take me on when I'm at one hundred percent. Not if you want to remain champion, you pretender God.
Press bristles at the disrespect shown to Munin, and comes out of the corner for the first time, his smirk erasing to one far more dangerous. Stevie holds up a crutch, eyes burning dark as coal.
STEVIE HARRIS: That's right. Show these people what you're made of. Bang those powerful fists off the cripples skull, and prove to them what a big man you really are.
Press pauses, his face flushing red with fury, and he shakes his head as he turns around to face the corner, staring out at the crowd to keep from doing something he might regret. Stevie Harris' grin could light up a highway at midnight as he watches the champion make this mistake. He abandons one of the crutches, chokes up on the other, and rushes across the ring to nail the big man. The crutch hits with such force that it splinters apart, wooden shards flying in a million directions, and Press is sent torpedoing over the ropes to crash land on the concrete floor.
PHILO: THERE WASN'T A DAMN THING WRONG WITH STEVIE HARRIS! I KNEW IT!
CHARISSA: Get him Stevie!
A-Ref tries to berate Stevie, but the official is completely ignored as Harris bails out of the ring after the champion. He reaches down, unsnapping the straps holding the belt around Press' waist, and yanks it out from under him. The crowd's boos intensify, and Harris casts the arena another grin, holding the belt up over his head. Press slowly begins to make his way into a push up position, when Stevie folds up the belt, and then brings it crashing down onto the back of Press' skull. He remains on his knee's beside his fallen victim, bringing the belt up, and then back down again, again, and again until finally the face plate is covered in blood.
PHILO: This sadistic son of a bitch has to be stopped!
CHARISSA: Technically the match hasn't even started, Philo! There's nothing anyone can do.
Harris reaches down and gouges his thumbs into the open wound on the back of Press' head, and then reaches up and slaps his body with the bloody imprint, covering himself with the blood of his enemy like warpaint. The crowd's boos grow louder, except for the straggling I'm With Stevie supporters.
PHILO: This guy is sick!
CHARISSA: Ok, ok...lathering up in another person's blood might be taking it a tad far.
PHILO: A TAD! You have got to be kidding me.
Stevie stands now, staring down at Press with what almost appears to be a euphoric smile, before grabbing the big man under the arms, and heaving with everything he has. Harris struggles to drag Press over to the steel steps, and grunting in discomfort, hoists the dead weight up into a seated position on the top step. He then takes Press by the arm, lowers his head, and pulls the big man up onto his shoulders in an epic show of strength. Knee's buckling, he carries the champion, fireman style, over to the edge of the ring, and dumps him down onto the ring apron and beneath the bottom rope into the ring. Stevie swiftly slides in and rolls Press to the center of the ring. He comes up to his knee's and points for A-Ref to call for the bell.
PHILO: Come on? Don't do it A-Ref!
CHARISSA: I don't think Stevie's going to leave him much of a choice.
A-Ref hesitates, shaking his head in disbelief, when Stevie Harris pops up to his feet, and snarls at the official to ring the bell. A-Ref backs up into the corner, but quickly points to the time keeper who chimes the official start of the match. Stevie steps back over to Press, who hasn't moved, and drops down with a lazy cover.
PHILO: This is nothing short of highway robbery.
A-Ref moves into position, and reluctantly lifts his arm in the air to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...At the last possible second Press' shoulder rolls up off the mat, sending the capacity crowd into a frenzy, and Stevie Harris into shock. The surprised expression doesn't last long as it turns to that of a wild man, as Stevie hops up to his feet, and chases A-Ref clear out of the ring. He thrusts his fists up into his hairline, shaking his head 'No' as he slowly turns back to face Press, who has returned to a prone position. With a growl, Stevie dives onto the big man, sitting down right beside him, cradling his head, and then driving in bare knuckled fists repeatedly in the man's face.
PHILO: Stevie Harris has fucking lost it, and is beating the holy hell out of a semi-conscious PAW Champion!
CHARISSA: Well, let's not act like this is a surprise. Anyone who didn't see this coming is blind. Stevie Harris has made claim to this throne, and he's going to take it by force.
PHILO: Does that mean throwing every rule out the window? Intimidating officials? Faking injuries?
CHARISSA: By whatever means necessary, Philo.
PHILO: This isn't south Harlem, and Stevie Harris is no Malcolm X. No matter how much you crazies who have joined his movement might think he is!
Harris finally relents with his piston like rights, and he sits beside Press, who is now busted open across his forehead as well. Stevie shakes his head, and then lays his body across the champion, exhausted from the repeated activity. A-Ref drops to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...Again, at the last possible nano-second, Press rolls the shoulder up. Stevie doesn't even bother with berating A-Ref this time, as he immediately moves back into a seated position. His movement is jerky, like someone who is irritated beyond belief, as he grabs Press by a fistful of hair, and slips himself into position to apply his patented sleeper hold. Once locked in, he burns holes in A-Ref to keep vigilant watch on Press.
PHILO: Well, folks, this one's all but over now. Stevie Harris has The Gallows locked in, and poor Press hasn't even had a chance to get up off the mat. He's bleeding from both the front, and back side of his head, and even if he somehow manages to keep his fist in the air, I think A-Ref should just call it.
CHARISSA: I agree, Philo. Damage has been done. Just go ahead and call the match, and award Stevie Harris the PAW Heavyweight Championship!
Philo shakes his head in disgust, while back in the ring, A-Ref hovers over Press asking the incoherent man if he want's to give it up. After not receiving any verbal answer, A-Ref takes Press by the wrist, and lifts the big man's arm into the air. When he releases his hold, the arm limply falls to the mat.
1...
A-Ref repeats the process, and again, the arm hit's the mat.
2...
A-Ref does the same one more time, but this time, just as the arm is about to hit the mat, it pauses in it's descent. A-Ref, more surprised than anyone, leans in close when Press' eyes shoot open. A-Ref takes a startled step back, and Stevie Harris looks at him to try and figure out what's going on, while the crowd begins to clap. Press takes his balled up fist, and shakes it along with the clapping of the crowd, and Stevie Harris eyes go wide in disbelief. The Wolf tightens his grip, if that were even possible, when Press begins to roll over onto his stomach, with Stevie in tow. He rolls a few more times until finally reaching the ropes, but he doesn't stop, dumping right out onto the floor. Somehow he gets his legs underneath him, lifting Stevie right up into the air as he continues squeezing the sleeper.
PHILO: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Press is at ringside, on his feet, with Stevie Harris hanging on to The Gallows for dear life!
CHARISSA: I don't think anyone can believe it. He should be out cold!
Press takes a few stutter steps away from the ring, before reaching down to grab Stevie by the legs, lifts them up on either side of his body, and then thrust backwards to crash into the ring apron. When Stevie's spine hits, he lets out an audible cry of pain, releasing The Gallows, allowing Press to fall forwards onto his hands and knee's. Press reaches up and cradles the back of his head with one hand, bringing his palm around in front of him to see his own blood covering it. When he pushes back up uncertainly to his feet, his face is a mixture of pain and absolute rage.
CHARISSA: Oh, shiiiittttttttt.......
Stevie, hanging on to the ring apron to keep himself upright, looks up at the towering figure as Press slowly turns to face him. Recognition sparks in Stevie's eyes like a light bulb going off, and he swiftly makes a move to try and slide into the ring. Suddenly Press is there, grabbing Stevie by the waist of his jeans, and with one swift motion, yanks him right back out to ringside. Stevie doesn't even get a chance to bring his hands up before the bear wades in with rights and lefts, knocking him back into the ring post. Trapped, Stevie does his best to duck and cover as Press continues to unload on him.
CHARISSA: Where is A-Ref with the count!
PHILO: I think he's just as shocked as the rest of us!
Somewhere between the haymakers, Stevie jabs his thumb up into Press' eye, momentarily causing the big man to blindly cease his attack. Seizing the brief reprieve, Stevie lunges at Press, only to get caught in a tilt-a-whirl that ends up with him lying stomach first on Press' shoulder. He looks around in a bit of a panic, before the big man walks him over to the nearby guardrail, and launches him about ten foot into the air only to come crashing down face first into the unforgiving steel.
PHILO: JESUS CHRIST! Stevie Harris just earned some frequent flier miles!
CHARISSA: How is this big bastard still on his feet!
Blood drips down Press' face as he reaches down to retrieve Harris, revealing that the Madman is now busted open himself. He takes Stevie by the wrist, and leans far back before whipping him as hard as he can towards the steel steps. Stevie explodes into the steps, sending the top section skidding across the floor, his body crumpling into a seated position beside the bottom half.
PHILO: This....this is getting serious. The more violence Press produces, the angrier he seems to be getting. The sight of his own blood has sent him out of his mind!
CHARISSA: Even more reason for A-Ref to assert himself!
PHILO: How can you expect the official to try and get in the middle of these two lunatics! They are trying to kill each other!
Press stalks forwards, reaching down to pull up Stevie Harris, who in desperation, sends a kick right into the big man's groin. Press drops to one knee, holding his crotch in surprise and anguish, when Stevie draws his foot back once more, and boots the big man right in the face. This sends Press down onto his back, but instead of following up, Stevie just leans back against the steel steps to try and recover some strength.
PHILO: I don't know that these guys know what quit is! Love or hate him, Stevie Harris might be the most tenacious S.O.B. I've ever seen.
CHARISSA: That's what I've been trying to tell you, Philo! Everyone eventually gets on the Stevie bandwagon. Hey, look! That idiot A-Ref has finally come out of his stupor, and decided to do his job.
A-Ref approaches the edge of the ring, looks down at the two bloodied and beaten men, shakes his head, and starts the count.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: As much as I think this match started out to be a travesty, I'd also hate to see it end on a count out.
4...
5...
CHARISSA: Exactly! The powers that be should have known that normal rules couldn't contain these men. They aren't 'normal'.
6...
7...
PHILO: Stevie just reached up to the ring post, and pulled himself to his feet, and Press is using the ring apron to gain his!
8...
9...
Both men look across at one another, and then heave themselves into the ring to break the count. They come up to their feet at the same time, both staring daggers, while the arena around them explodes into cheers.
PHILO: Folks, we are witnessing two of the most popular, destructive, and violent men in our business, and they are proving why right here tonight!
CHARISSA: It's true, Philo, and you can only find them on PAW!
Stevie and Press start towards one another for a lock up, but Harris swiftly ducks out from under the grasp of the bigger man to end up behind him. When Press turns, Stevie begins hammering with right hands, throwing the injured champion off balance, but unable to knock him down. Stevie drops back towards the ropes for added spring, and comes sailing back for a clothesline, but instead walks right into a massive spinebuster.
PHILO: Christ Almighty! That shook the damn ring!
CHARISSA: Oh, No! Stevie!
Press slips over to fall on top of Stevie for a cover, and A-Ref drops down into position.
1...
2...
Thre...Stevie's shoulder shoots up off the canvas at the last possible second, and Press falls off of him, shaking his head. The big man pushes up to his feet, reaching down to pull Stevie up with him. He holds the groggy Harris up by a fistful of hair so that he can look him in the eyes, says something probably not pleasant, and then jerks his head down, tucking it between his legs into a powerbomb position. The crowd comes to their feet.
PHILO: It looks like Press is ready to end this thing!
CHARISSA: Come on, Stevie! You can't let it end like this!
Press hoists Stevie up into a seated position across his chest, and almost immediately Stevie starts hammering right hands down into the big mans lacerated skull. Press staggers a bit under the pressure, fatigue setting in from blood loss and the action from earlier. Stevie continues his assault until he's able to slip out of Press grasp to land on his feet in front of him. Once firmly on his feet, he sends a swift boot to Press midsection, doubling him over, fires towards the ropes for added momentum, and rebounds back to deliver a swinging neckbreaker to the champion.
PHILO: Jeez! Did you see the torque on that! I'm pretty sure the neck isn't supposed to twist that way, and I'm absolutely positive it isn't supposed to be slammed to the mat like that.
CHARISSA: And that quick this thing has turned around.
Stevie doesn't bother with a cover, getting up to his feet to stand over the fallen champion. He reaches up and wipes some of his own blood from his eyes, and grins out at the crowd before stuffing the bloody fingers into his mouth. The crowd sends out a mixed reaction when that same hand reaches down to his belt buckle, and he starts the process of unfastening it. A-Ref begins to warn him as the belt comes free, and in one swift motion he yanks it from his body. He folds the belt to where it's a manageable strap, and turns his attention back to Press.
PHILO: Come on! This is not necessary!
CHARISSA: Maybe not to you, but Stevie Harris intends to whip this dog into submission!
Stevie lifts the belt high over his head, but just when he's about to bring it crashing down on the big man's back, A-Ref reaches up from behind and snatches it out of the Madman's hands. Stevie pauses for a second, a look of rage crossing over his face as he slowly turns to stare at the official. A-Ref looks as surprised as Stevie at the belt in his hands, and he makes a mad dash to exit the ring. Stevie gives chase, swiping at A-Ref over the top rope as he lands safely on the outside.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is cussing up a storm, and A-Ref is just trying to protect himself.
CHARISSA: That fool has no right to interfere in this match! If he wants to disqualify him, fine, but don't get in the way of a masterpiece!
PHILO: Well, Stevie better turn around, cause Press is getting to his feet.
Press groggily stands, rubbing his neck, and trying to figure out what's going on. He spies Stevie, still berating A-Ref, and takes a few steps back to get a good running start. Just about the time that Harris starts to turn back towards the center of the ring, Press takes off into a sprint, throwing his boot out in front of him to connect squarely in Stevie's face. Harris is struck with such impact that he cuts a back flip, landing on his stomach.
PHILO: SUDDEN STOP!!! That's how he won the PAW Championship, and it looks like he's going to do it again!
CHARISSA: THIS IS A TRAVESTY!! GOD DAMN YOU REF!
A-Ref tosses Stevie's belt to the side, and belly slides back in the ring with his arm already raised.
1...
2...
Thre...
PHILO: HARRIS KICKED OUT!! That man is tougher than a two dollar steak! Jesus!
CHARISSA: I can't believe it! We're still in this thing, and LOOK! Reinforcements!
The fans boo loudly as Lola emerges from the curtain, power walking towards the ring. When she reaches ringside, she hops up onto the ring apron, and immediately starts screaming at Press and A-Ref. Press, still in disbelief from the kick out, looks over to where Lola has A-Ref tied up in an argument. He pushes himself up to his feet, and starts over to where the fiery woman is berating the official. The champion points back up the rampway, indicating to her to get the hell out, while the fans begin to come alive at what's happening in the ring.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is somehow getting back up to his feet, and he's fishing for something in his jeans!
CHARISSA: That Sudden Stop must have knocked him loopy! This isn't the time or place for that, Stevie!
PHILO: No, LOOK! He just pulled brass knucks out of his waist band!
CHARISSA: Ooooo Goody! An equalizer.
Stevie doesn't waste anytime pandering to the crowd as he slips the knucks onto his right hand, and signals Lola to get the big man's attention. She immediately starts pointing back into the ring, simultaneously grabbing A-Ref by the collar of his shirt so that he can't return to the action as well. Press gives Lola a dumbfounded look, and then turns back to where he left Stevie laying prone, only to find a fist full of metal crashing right into his jaw. Press collapses to the canvas, and Stevie swiftly stuffs the knucks back down into his jeans, and then drops for a cover. Lola let's go of A-Ref, and then drops down to the floor.
PHILO: This is fucking ridiculous! Stevie Harris didn't have to do that!
CHARISSA: Oh, yes, he did, Philo! That man deserves to be champion!
PHILO: WAIT! LOOK! Flaming Youth is running down to the ring!
A-Ref turns around, stares at the pin attempt in confusion, but then drops down to make the cover anyways.
1...
Youth reaches the ringside area right behind Lola, and grabs the woman by the hair of the head on his way to the ring.
2...
He bounces Lola's skull off the ring apron, and releases her, as he slips half his body under the bottom rope to grip A-Ref's foot.
Thre...Before A-Ref's hand can come down for the final count, Youth yanks the official under the bottom rope and to the outside of the ring. A-Ref starts to berate him, but Youth holds his hands up to placate him, and then indicates with his fist that Stevie Harris had used brass knucks.
CHARISSA: That little bastard has no business being out here at ringside! Much less putting his hands on an official.
PHILO: Oh, yeah right, and Lola has all the right in the world to be out here to help Stevie cheat.
CHARISSA: She's just lending moral support, and there's nothing wrong with that. Don't try and twist this around, Philo. She didn't break up a pin attempt!
PHILO: No, she just aided Stevie Harris in hitting the champion with a pair of Brass Knu....OH DAMN!
While the announcers were arguing, and Youth was trying to explain things to A-Ref, Stevie noticed the other half of the BombTrax on the outside of the ring. Stevie gets up to his feet, hits the opposite side ropes, and then comes flying in with a dropkick through the middle and bottom rope, catching Youth right in the chest, and sending him sailing down to the concrete. Once outside, he helps Lola up to her feet, and then shoves her in Youth's direction, giving her a menacing look that said to keep him occupied. He then turns his attention to A-Ref who starts to back peddle, until Stevie grabs him, and then manhandles him back into the ring.
CHARISSA: Now, see! That's a great leader. Stevie Harris has taken control of the action inside and outside of the ring, and we can finally get back down to business.
PHILO: Whatever, the man is king of the cheap shot, and nothing more.
CHARISSA: We'll see.
Stevie gets a fistful of Press' hair, and helps the big man up to his feet, before booting him in the breadbasket to double him over. Stevie tucks the champion's head between his legs, and grabs a handful of Press' leather pants by the waist.
PHILO: Stevie's going for the Feast of Crows, BUT PRESS JUST RAISED UP AND SENT STEVIE UP AND OVER TO THE MAT!
CHARISSA: Damn it, why won't this guy stay down!
Press is still out of it despite the save, and stumbles to fall chest first against the ropes, letting them hold him up so that he can try and shake the cobwebs. Suddenly Lola is back up on the ring apron, and she rushes across throwing her boot out to catch the big man right in the temple. Press stumbles down to one knee, holding his already injured head as Stevie pulls himself up to his feet from the other side of the ring. Lola screams for Stevie to come and take the advantage, as A-Ref tries to get Lola to vacate the area. Just then, Youth appears on the ring apron, and clubs Lola across the back, inadvertently sending her over the top rope, and into the ring.
PHILO: Oh man, I have a bad feeling about this!
Stevie comes rushing in at Youth, but the high flyer hops up to the top rope, springboards up and over Stevie, and comes down into a roll that ends with him back on his feet inside the ring. Stevie spins around and snarls, ready to make another charge, when he's taken by surprise by Press, who shoves him into the corner. Lola pops back up to her feet close by, and dives onto the big man's back before he can take any advantage, while Youth stalks forwards to help his partner.
PHILO: Well, there you have it! This is about to turn into a clusterfuck!
CHARISSA: All because Youth felt the need to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.
PHILO: The same could be said about Lola, Charissa! Neither one of them have a need to be here right now, but Youth wasn't going to sit back and watch his partner get double teamed.
Youth grabs Lola by the leg, and yanks her free of Press, spinning her around, and sending her sailing into the opposite corner. Meanwhile, Stevie Harris comes fighting out of the corner, and he and Press begin trading fists, while Youth rushes over to nail Lola with a big splash. A-Ref runs around the center of the ring, jumping up and down, trying to get the combatants to break it up, but soon realizes he's lost complete control of the match. He bails out of the ring, and signals for the bell. It rings out loud and true, and the fans begin to boo, but remain glued to the action still going on in the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this match has been thrown out by the official, and has been deemed a Double Disqualification!
The bell continues to ring as Youth backs up and then goes for another Splash, but Lola rolls out of the way so that he lands chest first into the turnbuckle. When he turns around, she fires in chops that rock the high flyer, and he settles back into the corner only to be pummeled again.
PHILO: All hell has broke loose here in Purity!
CHARISSA: Which is exactly what these damn BombTrax wanted!
PHILO: Come on, Charissa! Lola was the first one down to the ring, so I'd say this is Team Stevie's fault!
CHARISSA: Whatever! You have such little vision for interpreting true genius.
Press begins to gain the upper hand in the fist-o-cuffs, and drives Stevie back into the corner, while Lola does the same thing to Youth in hers. Press takes Stevie by the wrist, and whips him hard to the opposite side, not realizing his partner and Lola are occupying it. Stevie crashes into Lola, who in turn crushes Youth in the turnbuckle. Harris comes stumbling back out to the center of the ring, and Press rushes at him with a clothesline. At the last second, Stevie sidesteps the big man, and Press steam rolls into Lola, inadvertently crushing his own partner into the turnbuckle once again. Press steps away from the train wreck to turn back towards Stevie, and catches a boot to his midsection for his trouble. Stevie then tucks Press' head between his legs, grabs the big man's waistband, and then abruptly sits down into a piledriver.
PHILO: FEAST OF CROWS! But it's already too late! The match has been thrown out!
CHARISSA: DAMN IT! Why couldn't he have pulled that off just a few minutes ago!
Stevie gets up to his feet, snarling down at the champion, before spitting on his back in disrespect. Just as he's about to turn and check on Lola, Youth shoots out of the corner, twists his body, and throws his boot forwards with a massive Super Kick that sends the Madman thundering to the canvas.
PHILO: SLOW BURN TO STEVIE!
CHARISSA: Who does that pipsqueak think he is?!?
PHILO: I don't know, but he better not turn around!
Youth does a little dance over the prone Stevie Harris much to the fans delight, but it distracts him from the fact that Lola is positioning herself behind him. When he turns around, she boots him in the midsection, hooks his arms, and then drops him face first down into the mat.
PHILO: CHERRY COLA! Jesus, this is fucking nuts!
CHARISSA: Alright, Lola, now get Stevie back up...and lay the boots to these losers.
Before Lola can do anything, Security hit's the ring amidst a torrid of boo's from the crowd. She throws her hands up in front of her as they back her up into a neutral corner, while doing the same to Press who was getting back to his feet.
PHILO: Well, it looks like no more shenanigans tonight.
CHARISSA: Where were they when The BombTrax were cheating!
PHILO: I'll remind everyone that this was a 'Double' DQ, thank you very much.
Press nods at 4Loco, and grabs Youth, dragging him over to the edge of the ring before bailing out. A-Ref hands him his PAW Championship, his own dried blood still on the face plate, as he helps Youth onto his feet. The BombTrax begin gingerly making their way up the ramp, the fatigue from the match catching up to Press now that the adrenaline was wearing off. They had made it halfway up the ramp, when Stevie Harris voice paused their exit.
STEVIE HARRIS: You didn't beat me, Press Jones! Let me make that clear! If it hadn't been for your idiot partner getting in our business, this night would have belonged to The Movement. But as it stands, the false God will parade his carcass in front of the masses once again as the PAW Heavyweight Champion, while the better man is left to languish on the buffet of disappointment that this organization has provided. Well, I will not feast, Press Jones! I can assure you that, just like I can make certain that your reign on this earth is on borrowed time!
The BombTrax have reached the stage now, and Press stares down into the ring at Stevie, who points at him and continues to preach to the fans despite his mic being cut off. He shakes his head, until Stevie Harris comes to a halt, and gives his attention back to the big man. Press swipes his face with the palm of his hand to remove some of the blood and sweat from the match, and then raises the PAW Championship high over his head. This simple action almost sends Stevie into a new tirade, but he pauses when Press points to himself and then Youth, and then extends that same finger to the ring to point out Harris and Lola. Stevie just stares for a minute, and then casts his skeletal grin at the champion, nodding his head in ascension. The camera zeroes in on that smile, before flashing the PAW logo, and then fades to black.
CHARISSA: It comes at an opportune time, don't you think?
PHILO: Sure, Press is the champion and O'Donnell's the #1 contender, but like Youth pointed out, that could all change tonight.
CHARISSA: Correction! It will change tonight!
PHILO: Well folks, this is what we've all been waiting for. It's been one hell of a show, and the anticipation has been worth the wait, but now it's time!
CHARISSA: Time for Stevie Harris to finally make his claim to the throne, and wrest that Heavyweight Championship from that fool Press.
PHILO: Charissa, you might be right, but on the other hand, we have a champion who is determined to shut down any of the nay-sayers, and ensure that after tonight there will be no doubt on who it is that is the TRUE PAW Champion.
CHARISSA: Whatever you say, Philo. Stevie All The Way is my story, and I'm sticking to it.
PHILO: Christ! Somebody get Alex Blake back out here so I can try and get some unbiased commentary. Rhonda, by all means, take it away.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this is your Main Event of the evening, and it is for the Pure Amusement Wrestling Heavyweight Championship!
The crowd instantly begins to buzz, when 'The Riverbed' by Gallows blasts out over the speakers. The beat really begins to kick in when Stevie Harris steps through, a scornful expression on his face to accompany the wooden crutches under his arms. The fans already begin booing at the sight of the crutches, and he scowls before slowly making his way down to the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Introducing first, the challenger, standing at six foot two, and at a weight of 230 pounds. He hails from St. Louis, Missouri, and is the enigmatic leader of the I'm With Stevie Movement. This is STEVIE HARRIS!!!
Stevie continues to make his way down to the ring, eyeing as many of the faces in the crowd as possible. A few BombTrax fans stand up holding signs, and he spits in their direction, jawing back and forth before finally shuffling along. When he finally reaches the ring, he tosses his crutches in, and rolls under the bottom rope. He pops back upright, grabbing his crutches, and leans heavily against them shaking his head at the crowd.
PHILO: I have it on good authority that Stevie Harris is cleared to wrestle here tonight! What the hell is the meaning of this?
CHARISSA: Obviously he's still injured after that train wreck of a match at the St. Patrick's Day Super Show, where that overgrown Yeti maliciously tried to hurt Stevie on purpose, and furthermore, stole the championship!
PHILO: We must have been watching two different matches, cause that's now how I recall it at all.
Before any more debate can be had, the opening chords to 'Strangle Hold' by Ted Nugent pumps through the PA, and red strobe-lights begin to flicker all around the ring and ramp way, finally settling on the entry way where the silhouette of the massive Press can be seen standing in the curtain. Words flash up on the big screen above the stage, as the crowd continues to buzz in anticipation.
WITH THIS PASS
I CAN GO ANYWHERE I WANT!
At the chorus of the song he bursts through the curtain, and thrusts his black chair with the words "Press Pass" high up into the air with a grimace spread across his face. The PAW Heavyweight Championship rests comfortably around his waist, as he scans the crowd. He raises one black gloved fist into the air, and the fans make the place go deafening.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: And introducing his opponent, he stands at six foot eleven, and weights in at 365 pounds. Hailing from right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, he is one-half of The BombTrax, and the current PAW Heavyweight Champion! THIS IS PRESS!!!
Press drops his fist to his side, confidently making his way down to the ring. When he reaches the end of the ramp, he throws his chair in under the bottom rope, hops up on the apron, and enters the ring by swinging his leg up and over the top rope. He knocks his head to the left & right to get out the kinks, and then throws his fists high into the air all the while letting out an animalistic growl. The crowd goes wild as he stalks over to the corner, and nonchalantly leans into it, staring straight ahead at Stevie Harris, who's eyes never left him once for an instant.
PHILO: Man-O-Man, can you feel the tension in this building? It's about to reach a fever pitch in the crowd, and it's going to explode!
CHARISSA: It's pretty obvious by this stare down between these two, that they DO NOT like each other. I just hope Stevie isn't robbed of this opportunity because of his injuries.
A-Ref steps over to Harris, who finally turns his gaze away from Press so that he can berate the official. He points at his leg and the crutches, and shakes his head 'No'. A-Ref throws his hands out at his sides, and continues with his questions, until Stevie finally calls for a mic.
PHILO: Looks like Stevie's going to explain this situation.
CHARISSA: DON'T WORRY, STEVIE, WE'RE WITH YOU!!
PHILO: Jesus, pipe down! You're supposed to be impartial.
As Philo tries to reign Charissa in, Stevie takes a microphone from one of the Tech's at ringside, and hobbles out to the center of the ring. Press has not moved, still staring daggers into the skeletal man. Stevie regards Press with a disgusted expression, and then holds the mic up to his face.
STEVIE HARRIS: Is this not what you wanted, big man?
Stevie indicates his busted leg with his hand, and the crowd boo's at the implication. Press just smirks, and twirls his finger in the air for Stevie to get on with it. After a few more seconds of staring, Stevie raises the mic once again.
STEVIE HARRIS: Well, I hope you're happy with yourself, Press Jones. You got all these people riled up for a return championship match, one of the most anticipated matches in our companies short history, knowing full well that I wouldn't be ready to compete. YOU!
Stevie points his finger in Press direction, a snarl coming to his lips.
STEVIE HARRIS: You did that, pulling the strings of your pet, Moo-Nin, so that you could avoid having to face me at my best. No, no, no, that wouldn't do at all. Cause you know, deep down in your heart, that you don't have what it takes to come out here and take me on when I'm at one hundred percent. Not if you want to remain champion, you pretender God.
Press bristles at the disrespect shown to Munin, and comes out of the corner for the first time, his smirk erasing to one far more dangerous. Stevie holds up a crutch, eyes burning dark as coal.
STEVIE HARRIS: That's right. Show these people what you're made of. Bang those powerful fists off the cripples skull, and prove to them what a big man you really are.
Press pauses, his face flushing red with fury, and he shakes his head as he turns around to face the corner, staring out at the crowd to keep from doing something he might regret. Stevie Harris' grin could light up a highway at midnight as he watches the champion make this mistake. He abandons one of the crutches, chokes up on the other, and rushes across the ring to nail the big man. The crutch hits with such force that it splinters apart, wooden shards flying in a million directions, and Press is sent torpedoing over the ropes to crash land on the concrete floor.
PHILO: THERE WASN'T A DAMN THING WRONG WITH STEVIE HARRIS! I KNEW IT!
CHARISSA: Get him Stevie!
A-Ref tries to berate Stevie, but the official is completely ignored as Harris bails out of the ring after the champion. He reaches down, unsnapping the straps holding the belt around Press' waist, and yanks it out from under him. The crowd's boos intensify, and Harris casts the arena another grin, holding the belt up over his head. Press slowly begins to make his way into a push up position, when Stevie folds up the belt, and then brings it crashing down onto the back of Press' skull. He remains on his knee's beside his fallen victim, bringing the belt up, and then back down again, again, and again until finally the face plate is covered in blood.
PHILO: This sadistic son of a bitch has to be stopped!
CHARISSA: Technically the match hasn't even started, Philo! There's nothing anyone can do.
Harris reaches down and gouges his thumbs into the open wound on the back of Press' head, and then reaches up and slaps his body with the bloody imprint, covering himself with the blood of his enemy like warpaint. The crowd's boos grow louder, except for the straggling I'm With Stevie supporters.
PHILO: This guy is sick!
CHARISSA: Ok, ok...lathering up in another person's blood might be taking it a tad far.
PHILO: A TAD! You have got to be kidding me.
Stevie stands now, staring down at Press with what almost appears to be a euphoric smile, before grabbing the big man under the arms, and heaving with everything he has. Harris struggles to drag Press over to the steel steps, and grunting in discomfort, hoists the dead weight up into a seated position on the top step. He then takes Press by the arm, lowers his head, and pulls the big man up onto his shoulders in an epic show of strength. Knee's buckling, he carries the champion, fireman style, over to the edge of the ring, and dumps him down onto the ring apron and beneath the bottom rope into the ring. Stevie swiftly slides in and rolls Press to the center of the ring. He comes up to his knee's and points for A-Ref to call for the bell.
PHILO: Come on? Don't do it A-Ref!
CHARISSA: I don't think Stevie's going to leave him much of a choice.
A-Ref hesitates, shaking his head in disbelief, when Stevie Harris pops up to his feet, and snarls at the official to ring the bell. A-Ref backs up into the corner, but quickly points to the time keeper who chimes the official start of the match. Stevie steps back over to Press, who hasn't moved, and drops down with a lazy cover.
PHILO: This is nothing short of highway robbery.
A-Ref moves into position, and reluctantly lifts his arm in the air to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...At the last possible second Press' shoulder rolls up off the mat, sending the capacity crowd into a frenzy, and Stevie Harris into shock. The surprised expression doesn't last long as it turns to that of a wild man, as Stevie hops up to his feet, and chases A-Ref clear out of the ring. He thrusts his fists up into his hairline, shaking his head 'No' as he slowly turns back to face Press, who has returned to a prone position. With a growl, Stevie dives onto the big man, sitting down right beside him, cradling his head, and then driving in bare knuckled fists repeatedly in the man's face.
PHILO: Stevie Harris has fucking lost it, and is beating the holy hell out of a semi-conscious PAW Champion!
CHARISSA: Well, let's not act like this is a surprise. Anyone who didn't see this coming is blind. Stevie Harris has made claim to this throne, and he's going to take it by force.
PHILO: Does that mean throwing every rule out the window? Intimidating officials? Faking injuries?
CHARISSA: By whatever means necessary, Philo.
PHILO: This isn't south Harlem, and Stevie Harris is no Malcolm X. No matter how much you crazies who have joined his movement might think he is!
Harris finally relents with his piston like rights, and he sits beside Press, who is now busted open across his forehead as well. Stevie shakes his head, and then lays his body across the champion, exhausted from the repeated activity. A-Ref drops to make the count.
1...
2...
Thre...Again, at the last possible nano-second, Press rolls the shoulder up. Stevie doesn't even bother with berating A-Ref this time, as he immediately moves back into a seated position. His movement is jerky, like someone who is irritated beyond belief, as he grabs Press by a fistful of hair, and slips himself into position to apply his patented sleeper hold. Once locked in, he burns holes in A-Ref to keep vigilant watch on Press.
PHILO: Well, folks, this one's all but over now. Stevie Harris has The Gallows locked in, and poor Press hasn't even had a chance to get up off the mat. He's bleeding from both the front, and back side of his head, and even if he somehow manages to keep his fist in the air, I think A-Ref should just call it.
CHARISSA: I agree, Philo. Damage has been done. Just go ahead and call the match, and award Stevie Harris the PAW Heavyweight Championship!
Philo shakes his head in disgust, while back in the ring, A-Ref hovers over Press asking the incoherent man if he want's to give it up. After not receiving any verbal answer, A-Ref takes Press by the wrist, and lifts the big man's arm into the air. When he releases his hold, the arm limply falls to the mat.
1...
A-Ref repeats the process, and again, the arm hit's the mat.
2...
A-Ref does the same one more time, but this time, just as the arm is about to hit the mat, it pauses in it's descent. A-Ref, more surprised than anyone, leans in close when Press' eyes shoot open. A-Ref takes a startled step back, and Stevie Harris looks at him to try and figure out what's going on, while the crowd begins to clap. Press takes his balled up fist, and shakes it along with the clapping of the crowd, and Stevie Harris eyes go wide in disbelief. The Wolf tightens his grip, if that were even possible, when Press begins to roll over onto his stomach, with Stevie in tow. He rolls a few more times until finally reaching the ropes, but he doesn't stop, dumping right out onto the floor. Somehow he gets his legs underneath him, lifting Stevie right up into the air as he continues squeezing the sleeper.
PHILO: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Press is at ringside, on his feet, with Stevie Harris hanging on to The Gallows for dear life!
CHARISSA: I don't think anyone can believe it. He should be out cold!
Press takes a few stutter steps away from the ring, before reaching down to grab Stevie by the legs, lifts them up on either side of his body, and then thrust backwards to crash into the ring apron. When Stevie's spine hits, he lets out an audible cry of pain, releasing The Gallows, allowing Press to fall forwards onto his hands and knee's. Press reaches up and cradles the back of his head with one hand, bringing his palm around in front of him to see his own blood covering it. When he pushes back up uncertainly to his feet, his face is a mixture of pain and absolute rage.
CHARISSA: Oh, shiiiittttttttt.......
Stevie, hanging on to the ring apron to keep himself upright, looks up at the towering figure as Press slowly turns to face him. Recognition sparks in Stevie's eyes like a light bulb going off, and he swiftly makes a move to try and slide into the ring. Suddenly Press is there, grabbing Stevie by the waist of his jeans, and with one swift motion, yanks him right back out to ringside. Stevie doesn't even get a chance to bring his hands up before the bear wades in with rights and lefts, knocking him back into the ring post. Trapped, Stevie does his best to duck and cover as Press continues to unload on him.
CHARISSA: Where is A-Ref with the count!
PHILO: I think he's just as shocked as the rest of us!
Somewhere between the haymakers, Stevie jabs his thumb up into Press' eye, momentarily causing the big man to blindly cease his attack. Seizing the brief reprieve, Stevie lunges at Press, only to get caught in a tilt-a-whirl that ends up with him lying stomach first on Press' shoulder. He looks around in a bit of a panic, before the big man walks him over to the nearby guardrail, and launches him about ten foot into the air only to come crashing down face first into the unforgiving steel.
PHILO: JESUS CHRIST! Stevie Harris just earned some frequent flier miles!
CHARISSA: How is this big bastard still on his feet!
Blood drips down Press' face as he reaches down to retrieve Harris, revealing that the Madman is now busted open himself. He takes Stevie by the wrist, and leans far back before whipping him as hard as he can towards the steel steps. Stevie explodes into the steps, sending the top section skidding across the floor, his body crumpling into a seated position beside the bottom half.
PHILO: This....this is getting serious. The more violence Press produces, the angrier he seems to be getting. The sight of his own blood has sent him out of his mind!
CHARISSA: Even more reason for A-Ref to assert himself!
PHILO: How can you expect the official to try and get in the middle of these two lunatics! They are trying to kill each other!
Press stalks forwards, reaching down to pull up Stevie Harris, who in desperation, sends a kick right into the big man's groin. Press drops to one knee, holding his crotch in surprise and anguish, when Stevie draws his foot back once more, and boots the big man right in the face. This sends Press down onto his back, but instead of following up, Stevie just leans back against the steel steps to try and recover some strength.
PHILO: I don't know that these guys know what quit is! Love or hate him, Stevie Harris might be the most tenacious S.O.B. I've ever seen.
CHARISSA: That's what I've been trying to tell you, Philo! Everyone eventually gets on the Stevie bandwagon. Hey, look! That idiot A-Ref has finally come out of his stupor, and decided to do his job.
A-Ref approaches the edge of the ring, looks down at the two bloodied and beaten men, shakes his head, and starts the count.
1...
2...
3...
PHILO: As much as I think this match started out to be a travesty, I'd also hate to see it end on a count out.
4...
5...
CHARISSA: Exactly! The powers that be should have known that normal rules couldn't contain these men. They aren't 'normal'.
6...
7...
PHILO: Stevie just reached up to the ring post, and pulled himself to his feet, and Press is using the ring apron to gain his!
8...
9...
Both men look across at one another, and then heave themselves into the ring to break the count. They come up to their feet at the same time, both staring daggers, while the arena around them explodes into cheers.
PHILO: Folks, we are witnessing two of the most popular, destructive, and violent men in our business, and they are proving why right here tonight!
CHARISSA: It's true, Philo, and you can only find them on PAW!
Stevie and Press start towards one another for a lock up, but Harris swiftly ducks out from under the grasp of the bigger man to end up behind him. When Press turns, Stevie begins hammering with right hands, throwing the injured champion off balance, but unable to knock him down. Stevie drops back towards the ropes for added spring, and comes sailing back for a clothesline, but instead walks right into a massive spinebuster.
PHILO: Christ Almighty! That shook the damn ring!
CHARISSA: Oh, No! Stevie!
Press slips over to fall on top of Stevie for a cover, and A-Ref drops down into position.
1...
2...
Thre...Stevie's shoulder shoots up off the canvas at the last possible second, and Press falls off of him, shaking his head. The big man pushes up to his feet, reaching down to pull Stevie up with him. He holds the groggy Harris up by a fistful of hair so that he can look him in the eyes, says something probably not pleasant, and then jerks his head down, tucking it between his legs into a powerbomb position. The crowd comes to their feet.
PHILO: It looks like Press is ready to end this thing!
CHARISSA: Come on, Stevie! You can't let it end like this!
Press hoists Stevie up into a seated position across his chest, and almost immediately Stevie starts hammering right hands down into the big mans lacerated skull. Press staggers a bit under the pressure, fatigue setting in from blood loss and the action from earlier. Stevie continues his assault until he's able to slip out of Press grasp to land on his feet in front of him. Once firmly on his feet, he sends a swift boot to Press midsection, doubling him over, fires towards the ropes for added momentum, and rebounds back to deliver a swinging neckbreaker to the champion.
PHILO: Jeez! Did you see the torque on that! I'm pretty sure the neck isn't supposed to twist that way, and I'm absolutely positive it isn't supposed to be slammed to the mat like that.
CHARISSA: And that quick this thing has turned around.
Stevie doesn't bother with a cover, getting up to his feet to stand over the fallen champion. He reaches up and wipes some of his own blood from his eyes, and grins out at the crowd before stuffing the bloody fingers into his mouth. The crowd sends out a mixed reaction when that same hand reaches down to his belt buckle, and he starts the process of unfastening it. A-Ref begins to warn him as the belt comes free, and in one swift motion he yanks it from his body. He folds the belt to where it's a manageable strap, and turns his attention back to Press.
PHILO: Come on! This is not necessary!
CHARISSA: Maybe not to you, but Stevie Harris intends to whip this dog into submission!
Stevie lifts the belt high over his head, but just when he's about to bring it crashing down on the big man's back, A-Ref reaches up from behind and snatches it out of the Madman's hands. Stevie pauses for a second, a look of rage crossing over his face as he slowly turns to stare at the official. A-Ref looks as surprised as Stevie at the belt in his hands, and he makes a mad dash to exit the ring. Stevie gives chase, swiping at A-Ref over the top rope as he lands safely on the outside.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is cussing up a storm, and A-Ref is just trying to protect himself.
CHARISSA: That fool has no right to interfere in this match! If he wants to disqualify him, fine, but don't get in the way of a masterpiece!
PHILO: Well, Stevie better turn around, cause Press is getting to his feet.
Press groggily stands, rubbing his neck, and trying to figure out what's going on. He spies Stevie, still berating A-Ref, and takes a few steps back to get a good running start. Just about the time that Harris starts to turn back towards the center of the ring, Press takes off into a sprint, throwing his boot out in front of him to connect squarely in Stevie's face. Harris is struck with such impact that he cuts a back flip, landing on his stomach.
PHILO: SUDDEN STOP!!! That's how he won the PAW Championship, and it looks like he's going to do it again!
CHARISSA: THIS IS A TRAVESTY!! GOD DAMN YOU REF!
A-Ref tosses Stevie's belt to the side, and belly slides back in the ring with his arm already raised.
1...
2...
Thre...
PHILO: HARRIS KICKED OUT!! That man is tougher than a two dollar steak! Jesus!
CHARISSA: I can't believe it! We're still in this thing, and LOOK! Reinforcements!
The fans boo loudly as Lola emerges from the curtain, power walking towards the ring. When she reaches ringside, she hops up onto the ring apron, and immediately starts screaming at Press and A-Ref. Press, still in disbelief from the kick out, looks over to where Lola has A-Ref tied up in an argument. He pushes himself up to his feet, and starts over to where the fiery woman is berating the official. The champion points back up the rampway, indicating to her to get the hell out, while the fans begin to come alive at what's happening in the ring.
PHILO: Stevie Harris is somehow getting back up to his feet, and he's fishing for something in his jeans!
CHARISSA: That Sudden Stop must have knocked him loopy! This isn't the time or place for that, Stevie!
PHILO: No, LOOK! He just pulled brass knucks out of his waist band!
CHARISSA: Ooooo Goody! An equalizer.
Stevie doesn't waste anytime pandering to the crowd as he slips the knucks onto his right hand, and signals Lola to get the big man's attention. She immediately starts pointing back into the ring, simultaneously grabbing A-Ref by the collar of his shirt so that he can't return to the action as well. Press gives Lola a dumbfounded look, and then turns back to where he left Stevie laying prone, only to find a fist full of metal crashing right into his jaw. Press collapses to the canvas, and Stevie swiftly stuffs the knucks back down into his jeans, and then drops for a cover. Lola let's go of A-Ref, and then drops down to the floor.
PHILO: This is fucking ridiculous! Stevie Harris didn't have to do that!
CHARISSA: Oh, yes, he did, Philo! That man deserves to be champion!
PHILO: WAIT! LOOK! Flaming Youth is running down to the ring!
A-Ref turns around, stares at the pin attempt in confusion, but then drops down to make the cover anyways.
1...
Youth reaches the ringside area right behind Lola, and grabs the woman by the hair of the head on his way to the ring.
2...
He bounces Lola's skull off the ring apron, and releases her, as he slips half his body under the bottom rope to grip A-Ref's foot.
Thre...Before A-Ref's hand can come down for the final count, Youth yanks the official under the bottom rope and to the outside of the ring. A-Ref starts to berate him, but Youth holds his hands up to placate him, and then indicates with his fist that Stevie Harris had used brass knucks.
CHARISSA: That little bastard has no business being out here at ringside! Much less putting his hands on an official.
PHILO: Oh, yeah right, and Lola has all the right in the world to be out here to help Stevie cheat.
CHARISSA: She's just lending moral support, and there's nothing wrong with that. Don't try and twist this around, Philo. She didn't break up a pin attempt!
PHILO: No, she just aided Stevie Harris in hitting the champion with a pair of Brass Knu....OH DAMN!
While the announcers were arguing, and Youth was trying to explain things to A-Ref, Stevie noticed the other half of the BombTrax on the outside of the ring. Stevie gets up to his feet, hits the opposite side ropes, and then comes flying in with a dropkick through the middle and bottom rope, catching Youth right in the chest, and sending him sailing down to the concrete. Once outside, he helps Lola up to her feet, and then shoves her in Youth's direction, giving her a menacing look that said to keep him occupied. He then turns his attention to A-Ref who starts to back peddle, until Stevie grabs him, and then manhandles him back into the ring.
CHARISSA: Now, see! That's a great leader. Stevie Harris has taken control of the action inside and outside of the ring, and we can finally get back down to business.
PHILO: Whatever, the man is king of the cheap shot, and nothing more.
CHARISSA: We'll see.
Stevie gets a fistful of Press' hair, and helps the big man up to his feet, before booting him in the breadbasket to double him over. Stevie tucks the champion's head between his legs, and grabs a handful of Press' leather pants by the waist.
PHILO: Stevie's going for the Feast of Crows, BUT PRESS JUST RAISED UP AND SENT STEVIE UP AND OVER TO THE MAT!
CHARISSA: Damn it, why won't this guy stay down!
Press is still out of it despite the save, and stumbles to fall chest first against the ropes, letting them hold him up so that he can try and shake the cobwebs. Suddenly Lola is back up on the ring apron, and she rushes across throwing her boot out to catch the big man right in the temple. Press stumbles down to one knee, holding his already injured head as Stevie pulls himself up to his feet from the other side of the ring. Lola screams for Stevie to come and take the advantage, as A-Ref tries to get Lola to vacate the area. Just then, Youth appears on the ring apron, and clubs Lola across the back, inadvertently sending her over the top rope, and into the ring.
PHILO: Oh man, I have a bad feeling about this!
Stevie comes rushing in at Youth, but the high flyer hops up to the top rope, springboards up and over Stevie, and comes down into a roll that ends with him back on his feet inside the ring. Stevie spins around and snarls, ready to make another charge, when he's taken by surprise by Press, who shoves him into the corner. Lola pops back up to her feet close by, and dives onto the big man's back before he can take any advantage, while Youth stalks forwards to help his partner.
PHILO: Well, there you have it! This is about to turn into a clusterfuck!
CHARISSA: All because Youth felt the need to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.
PHILO: The same could be said about Lola, Charissa! Neither one of them have a need to be here right now, but Youth wasn't going to sit back and watch his partner get double teamed.
Youth grabs Lola by the leg, and yanks her free of Press, spinning her around, and sending her sailing into the opposite corner. Meanwhile, Stevie Harris comes fighting out of the corner, and he and Press begin trading fists, while Youth rushes over to nail Lola with a big splash. A-Ref runs around the center of the ring, jumping up and down, trying to get the combatants to break it up, but soon realizes he's lost complete control of the match. He bails out of the ring, and signals for the bell. It rings out loud and true, and the fans begin to boo, but remain glued to the action still going on in the ring.
RHONDA ARMSTRONG: Ladies and Gentleman, this match has been thrown out by the official, and has been deemed a Double Disqualification!
The bell continues to ring as Youth backs up and then goes for another Splash, but Lola rolls out of the way so that he lands chest first into the turnbuckle. When he turns around, she fires in chops that rock the high flyer, and he settles back into the corner only to be pummeled again.
PHILO: All hell has broke loose here in Purity!
CHARISSA: Which is exactly what these damn BombTrax wanted!
PHILO: Come on, Charissa! Lola was the first one down to the ring, so I'd say this is Team Stevie's fault!
CHARISSA: Whatever! You have such little vision for interpreting true genius.
Press begins to gain the upper hand in the fist-o-cuffs, and drives Stevie back into the corner, while Lola does the same thing to Youth in hers. Press takes Stevie by the wrist, and whips him hard to the opposite side, not realizing his partner and Lola are occupying it. Stevie crashes into Lola, who in turn crushes Youth in the turnbuckle. Harris comes stumbling back out to the center of the ring, and Press rushes at him with a clothesline. At the last second, Stevie sidesteps the big man, and Press steam rolls into Lola, inadvertently crushing his own partner into the turnbuckle once again. Press steps away from the train wreck to turn back towards Stevie, and catches a boot to his midsection for his trouble. Stevie then tucks Press' head between his legs, grabs the big man's waistband, and then abruptly sits down into a piledriver.
PHILO: FEAST OF CROWS! But it's already too late! The match has been thrown out!
CHARISSA: DAMN IT! Why couldn't he have pulled that off just a few minutes ago!
Stevie gets up to his feet, snarling down at the champion, before spitting on his back in disrespect. Just as he's about to turn and check on Lola, Youth shoots out of the corner, twists his body, and throws his boot forwards with a massive Super Kick that sends the Madman thundering to the canvas.
PHILO: SLOW BURN TO STEVIE!
CHARISSA: Who does that pipsqueak think he is?!?
PHILO: I don't know, but he better not turn around!
Youth does a little dance over the prone Stevie Harris much to the fans delight, but it distracts him from the fact that Lola is positioning herself behind him. When he turns around, she boots him in the midsection, hooks his arms, and then drops him face first down into the mat.
PHILO: CHERRY COLA! Jesus, this is fucking nuts!
CHARISSA: Alright, Lola, now get Stevie back up...and lay the boots to these losers.
Before Lola can do anything, Security hit's the ring amidst a torrid of boo's from the crowd. She throws her hands up in front of her as they back her up into a neutral corner, while doing the same to Press who was getting back to his feet.
PHILO: Well, it looks like no more shenanigans tonight.
CHARISSA: Where were they when The BombTrax were cheating!
PHILO: I'll remind everyone that this was a 'Double' DQ, thank you very much.
Press nods at 4Loco, and grabs Youth, dragging him over to the edge of the ring before bailing out. A-Ref hands him his PAW Championship, his own dried blood still on the face plate, as he helps Youth onto his feet. The BombTrax begin gingerly making their way up the ramp, the fatigue from the match catching up to Press now that the adrenaline was wearing off. They had made it halfway up the ramp, when Stevie Harris voice paused their exit.
STEVIE HARRIS: You didn't beat me, Press Jones! Let me make that clear! If it hadn't been for your idiot partner getting in our business, this night would have belonged to The Movement. But as it stands, the false God will parade his carcass in front of the masses once again as the PAW Heavyweight Champion, while the better man is left to languish on the buffet of disappointment that this organization has provided. Well, I will not feast, Press Jones! I can assure you that, just like I can make certain that your reign on this earth is on borrowed time!
The BombTrax have reached the stage now, and Press stares down into the ring at Stevie, who points at him and continues to preach to the fans despite his mic being cut off. He shakes his head, until Stevie Harris comes to a halt, and gives his attention back to the big man. Press swipes his face with the palm of his hand to remove some of the blood and sweat from the match, and then raises the PAW Championship high over his head. This simple action almost sends Stevie into a new tirade, but he pauses when Press points to himself and then Youth, and then extends that same finger to the ring to point out Harris and Lola. Stevie just stares for a minute, and then casts his skeletal grin at the champion, nodding his head in ascension. The camera zeroes in on that smile, before flashing the PAW logo, and then fades to black.