FPW and The Secret of the Ooze

[Jim Houston]

MW: Welcome ladies and gentlemen to FPW and The Secret of the Ooze. I'm Mike Watson joined as always by Steven Deville. What a show we have tonight.
SD: Indeed we do, mostly because of the greatest wrestler in the world today, Marcus Allen Jones, finally defeating his most credible challenger Azazel.
MW: That result will certainly be up for debate, but we have a number of amazing matches for you and it started right here with a Free-1 rematch.

Match 1: Jerry Bishop v Clutch McCloud: Number One Contender for the FPW Championship (written by Mason/Queendom):


“The Comedian’s Gallop” begins and the fans began to cheer as Jerry Bishop emerged onstage. He smiled as he took in the cheering crowd before bending over into a deep bow. He jogs down to the ring, high fiving fans. He stops to pose for a picture with a young boy holding a Friendmigos sign, then jumps onto the apron and climbs into the ring.



Mike Watson(MW): “A hero’s welcome tonight for the comedian Jerry Bishop.”



Steven Deville(SD: “You mean the Jester. Calling someone a comedian implies that they’re funny, that people laugh at their jokes. People laugh at a jester, and I’m laughing at the fact that Jerry thinks he has a fighting chance against Clutch.”



MW: “No matter which way you say it, this is a big match for both men. A future title shot is on the line, with the winner advancing to face the FPW champion at our next show. Both of these men defeated our current champion, who will be in action later tonight, in the Free-1 tournament, earning them this match.”



A single spotlight shone on the stage before “This Fire Burns” started to play. Clutch McCloud emerged from behind the curtain and threw his arms in the air to pump up the crowd. He nodded at them as they cheered, them made a motion signifying a title around his waist. “My time” he says, staring down the ramp at Jerry Bishop. Jerry shrugged, and the cameras picked up him saying “we’ll see about that.”



Clutch began walking to the ring. He high fived any outstretched hands, but there were noticeably fewer then there were for Jerry. Clutch didn’t seem to notice or if he did notice, he didn’t care. He climbed onto the ring apron and jumped over the ropes and into the ring. He walked into the opposite corner from Jerry and waited for the introductions to finish.



“The following contest is scheduled for one fall! And the winner will go on to face the FPW champion next month.” Dasha Banks said. “Introducing first, from Kansas City Missouri, the Jester, Jerry Bishop!”



The crowd cheered, and Jerry raised his arms and waved to acknowledge them.



“And his opponent, from Saint Louis Missouri, the King, Clutch McCloud!”



Clutch nodded at the crowd who cheered for him. Once Dasha had left the ring, the ref called for the opening bell and the two began to circle each other.



MW: “Let’s talk strategy for this match Steven. What is each competitor going to have to do to win here tonight?”



SD: “Clutch is going to want to use his technical ability to keep Jerry in one place. I'd advise focusing on a specific limb and targeting it throughout the match. Jerry on the other hand is going to want to do the opposite, use his speed and maneuverability to outpace Clutch. This has all the makings of an instant classic.”



Clutch and Jerry locked up in the middle of the ring. They fought against each other for a moment before Clutch’s power won out and he forced Jerry into a side headlock. But this was only a means to an end, he immediately transitioned into a hammerlock, wrencing on Jerry’s shoulder. Jerry struggled his way closer to the ropes, but Clutch pulled him back into the center of the ring, increasing the pressure on his shoulder. Jerry cried out before twisting his arm free, trapping Clutch in a wristlock. Clutch was clearly surprised at his opponent’s escape, and that allowed Jerry to quickly tighten the hold before he could defend. But as soon as he realized the situation he was in, Clutch once again began to fight out.



Realized that his hold on Clutch was loosening, Jerry had to think quickly. He switched his grip on Clutch’s arm and whipped him to the ropes. He ducked the attemped clothesline and pulled Clutch to the mat with an arm drag on the rebound. Clutch got back to his feet within seconds and swung at Jerry. Jerry ducked under the punch and wrapped his arms around Clutch’s waist, then attempted, but failed, a German suplex; comedically overselling the effort it took to try and lift the larger man off his feet. The crowd laughed at Jerry’s antics, then laughed harder as the camera caught a glimpse of Clutch’s confused face. Jerry released his grip and backed up, a big grin on his face. Clutch turned around and stared at him, a look of confusion still plastered on his face. Jerry just shrugged, then motioned Clutch to come forward.



SD: “Did the clown seriously think that we would find that humorous?!”



MW: “I thought it was funny, and it sounds like the fans did as well.”



The two locked up again, and Clutch took control with a side headlock once again. He wrenched on Jerry’s neck for a moment before Jerry backed him into the ropes, then took several steps into the center of the ring, and propelled Clutch off of him and into the far ropes. Jerry dropped down, forcing Clutch to jump over him on the rebound. Clutch rebounded again and Jerry leapfrogged over him. But Clutch managed to hit the brakes and stopped himself behind Jerry. As Jerry turned around, Clutch pulled him into a fireman’s carry takedown, dropping him to the mat. With Jerry flat on his back, Clutch went right back to the arm, grabbing it and twisting it back. Jerry struggled to escape, but nothing he did worked. Eventually Clutch tried to apply just a little more pressure by leaning in closer, and Jerry was able to trap him in a headscissors, pulling him off his arm. Clutch quickly escaped, twisting his body before going into a headstand, then dropping back to his knees and pulling his head free. Jerry rolled back to his feet at the same time Clutch stood up fully.



They stared at each other in silence for a moment before duling chants of “Je-rry Bish-op” and “CLUTCH!” began to fill the arena. Jerry closed the distance, leaping in and landing two quick strikes, a shot to the face and a kick to the leg, before stepping back out of Clutch’s reach. Jerry looked out to the audience and called out “count it!” then repeated the action, this time scoring two shots to the gut before getting out of range of any retaliation. As each strike landed, the audience called out “ONE-TWO” then cheered as Jerry escaped. This repeated twice more, with the crowd counting each of Jerry’s strikes and cheering when he got away without Clutch being able to hit back. Jerry smiled broadly as he heard the crowd enjoying themselves, then stepped in and went for another kick. But this time, Clutch was ready and caught the kick, then tossed Jerry aside with a dragon screw.



SD: “Clutch showing incredible fortitude withstanding that flurry of offense from Jerry Bishop.”



MW: “I don’t actually think Jerry was trying to deal damage to Clutch there, I think his main priority was giving the fans something to enjoy”



Jerry retreated to the corner and used the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. But Clutch didn’t give him a chance to rest, pulling him out of the corner and whipping him to the ropes, catching him with a discus lariat on the rebound. Jerry was knocked off his feet and flopped to the mat, and Clutch dropped into a cover.



MW: “First cover of the match here by Clutch McCloud!”



1!..Kick-out!



Clutch didn’t waste any time following the kick-out, grabbing Jerry’s arm and bending it back behind his head. He then added more pressure by grabbing the wrist and twisting it as well.



SD: “Can we just take a moment to point out that I was correct in what Clutch’s strategy would be? Since the opening bell, he has been laser focused on that arm. If he keeps this up, I’m sure this match will be over in no time.”



MW: “Don’t count out Jerry Bishop just yet, he’s shown incredible resilience in the past.”



But Clutch wasn’t going to give Jerry a chance to show off that resilience, increasing the pressure on the joints. Jerry began stomping on the mat, encouraging the crowd to clap along, which they quickly began to do. Soon the arena was filled with rhythmic clapping as Jerry began to rise to his feet.



With Jerry about to escape his hold, Clutch changed tactics. He uncurled the arm he’d been cranking on and passed it across Jerry’s chest, grabbing the wrist with his other hand. He spun Jerry around and pulled him in, looking for a ripcord lariat. But Jerry ducked under the lariat and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Clutch’s other arm and pulling him down into a crucifix!



1!...2!.Kick-out!



Both competitors rolled back to their feet and faced each other in the middle of the ring. They both ran at each other, Jerry knocking Clutch off his feet with a clothesline. But as Jerry continued running, Clutch kipped up behind him! The crowd cheered at this show of athleticism, while Jerry, oblivious to this action, hit the ropes and rebounded. He had no time to react to seeing Clutch on his feet before he was knocked off his feet by a clothesline from Clutch! And as Clutch ran to the ropes, Jerry kipped up! Clutch used the ropes to stop himself and turned around. Expecting Jerry to be flat on his back, Clutch was caught off guard seeing Jerry smiling back at him. “Surprise!” Jerry said, before running forward and clotheslining Clutch over the top rope and outside the ring. Jerry looked out, smiling and waving to the crowd as they laughed and cheered.



SD: “Jerry needs to pay attention to this match, he could have pressed his advantage, instead he’s being distracted by the audience.”



MW: “If this match was any less important, I’d disagree with you, but the stakes are too high here tonight.”



Clutch rolled back into the ring and ran at Jerry. Jerry was clearly expecting some form of strike, and was unprepared for Clutch to leave his feet and catch him with a hurricanrana. To his credit, Jerry tried to get right back to his feet, rising to his knees as Clutch ran past him and hit the ropes. But Jerry wouldn’t rise any further than his knees, as Clutch rebounded and connected with a shining wizard! Jerry flopped to his back and Clutch dove in for the cover.



1!...Kick-out!



Clutch paused for a moment with a disappointed look on his face. But he soon rose to his feet, and seeing Jerry’s arm extended, delivered a powerful stomp to the limb. Jerry cried out and sat up, only to be driven back down by a stomp to the chest. Recognizing the sequence of attacks, the crowd started chanting “RAN-DY OR-TON” Clutch paid no attention to them and instead drove his boot into Jerry’s thigh. Jerry made to sit up and grab his leg, but Clutch caught him while his arms were extending and stomped on his other arm. A few boos were heard, but not many. Clutch grabbed Jerry’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. He passed the arm over his head and stood next to Jerry, maintaining his grip on his wrist. He began repeatedly driving his elbow into Jerry’s upper arm. Jerry cried out and tried to turn in and fight back, but Clutch just pulled him into a front facelock. He slung Jerry’s arm over his head before reaching down and grabbing hold of Jerry’s leg. He then pulled him up and over with a fisherman’s suplex and bridged into the pin.



1!...2!.Kick-out!



Clutch stood up and tried to grab at Jerry’s arm again, but Jerry kicked out and caught him in the face, forcing him to take a step back and prompting cheers from the crowd. Jerry took advantage and rolled to the apron. He began using the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. Clutch ran forward to try and knock him off the apron, but Jerry drove his shoulder into his midsection, immediately halting his momentum. With Clutch doubled over, Jerry launched himself over the top rope and into the ring, driving Clutch’s head to the mat with a slingshot DDT! The crowd cheered as he quickly rolled Clutch into the center of the ring and hooked his leg.



1!...2!..Kick-out!



MW: “Jerry getting close to the victory there!”



Leaving Clutch flat on his back, Jerry ran to the corner and began to climb the turnbuckles. He looked out to the cheering audience and gave them a big smile, glad to see that they were having a good time. He checked over his shoulder to make sure Clutch was still in place. Then, after bouncing on the rope a few times, launched himself into a moonsault. Clutch rolled out of the way and Jerry landed on his feet, stumbling slightly. Seeing this, Clutch threw himself forwards, driving his shoulder into the back of Jerry’ knee and bringing him down with a chop block! A portion of the crowd cheered Clutch’s move, but the boos from before were much louder now. Clutch rose back to his feet and dragged Jerry back into the middle of the ring. He forcibly extended Jerry’s leg and began driving his knee into the thigh. He did this several times, each one eliciting a cry of pain from Jerry.



SD: (chuckling) “I think Clutch has a new target.”



It seemed as though Steven was right, as Clutch stood up and locked in a spinning toe hold, continuing to inflict pain on Jerry’s leg. Despite crying out again, Jerry refused to tap out, and Clutch was forced to relinquish the hold. Instead, he dragged Jerry by his leg closer to the corner. Leaving Jerry sprawled on the mat, Clutch climbed to the top rope. Instead of looking out to the crowd as Jerry had done, Clutch immediately jumped off and landed a diving knee drop to Jerry’s leg. Jerry screamed in pain as Clutch transitioned into a pin, hooking the injured leg.



1!...2!..Kick-out!



MW: “Jerry fighting through the pain to stay in this match.”



Following Jerry’s kick-out, Clutch tried to go right back to working on Jerry’s leg, only for Jerry to twist his body and bring Clutch to the mat with a drop toe hold. Jerry rose to his feet and limped to to the ropes, leaning into them to support his weight. Clutch didn’t stay down long, rising back to his feet and running at Jerry. Seeing him coming, Jerry pulled down the top rope and sent him outside the ring. The crowd cheered as Jerry bought himself a bit more time with this move. He walked away from the ropes and supported his own weight in the middle of the ring. Clutch slid under the bottom rope and ran at Jerry, only to be met with a dropkick. Jerry stood up quickly and stepped forward, still limping. He bent down and locked in a front facelock. He lifted Clutch slightly, but had to put him back to, grabbing at his back. Realizing he couldn’t lift Clutch, Jerry whipped him to the ropes and bent down, ready to deliver a back body drop. But as Clutch came off his rebound, he jumped onto Jerry’s back, hooking his legs under Jarry’s shoulders and delivering a sunset flip powerbomb! He used his legs to hold Jerry's shoulders to the mat.



1!...2!..Kick-out!



SD: “I thought that was it!”



Based on the crowd response, they did too. As one, they rose to their feet and cheered as Jerry continued to fight. Clutch, refusing to let the crowd distract him, stood back up, grabbing ahold of Jerry’s leg again as he did so. He set up Jerry’s legs as if he was going for a figure four, but instead of stepping through to finish the submission, he stepped around, standing with his feet parallel with Jerry’s shoulder and pulled his leg back, snapping the knee against the leg that was crossed over.



MW: “My god!”



Clutch backed off as the ref dove in to make sure Jerry wanted to continue. But as soon as Clutch saw Jerry wave away the ref, he went right back in, pulling Jerry to his feet. Jerry managed to create some separation by dropping to his knees and driving his head into Clutch’s chin with a jawbreaker. But as Jerry stood back up, Clutch knocked him back to the mat with a jumping spin kick. “You just won’t stay down will you, Jerry?” He said as he backed into the corner, waiting for Jerry to stand up again. After a few moments, Jerry did begin to rise on unsteady legs. He limped forward a step as he returned to a fully vertical base. Clutch ran out of the corner, looking for a brouge kick, but at the last possible second, Jerry ducked and sidestepped! Clutch turned around, and Jerry pulled him to the mat with a snapmare, then ran to the ropes, rebounded and delivered a punishing penalty kick! Clutch fell back onto the mat while the crowd cheered at seeing Jerry connect with the Touchstone Takedown. Jerry winced and hesitated for just a moment before diving into a cover!



1!...2!..Kick-out!



Jerry stood back up and kicked out with his bad leg a few times, working the feeling back into it. As Clutch began to rise to his feet, Jerry ran past him and hit the ropes, running back in and knocking Clutch back down with a rolling elbow. Before Clutch could fall fully, Jerry grabbed him and locked in a side headlock, then ran forward and delivered a bulldog! The fans cheered, but this time it was Jerry who refused to be distracted, climbing to the second turnbuckle and waited for Clutch to stand up.



MW: “Jerry’s hit somewhat of a second wind at this late stage in the match.”



SD: “But how long is it going to last? Clutch has been relentless in targeting Jerry’s limbs throughout the match. The longer this match goes, the more it has to favor Clutch.”



With Clutch having regained his footing, Jerry jumped from the turnbuckle and caught him with a blockbuster! Wasting no time, Jerry immediately locked in a cover, hooking both of Clutch's legs.



1!...2!..Kick-out!



Jerry sat up, disappointment etched on his face.



MW: “Jerry’s disappointment is almost tangible. He's come so close to putting away Clutch, but no matter what he throws at him, Clutch keeps kicking out.”



SD: “The way I see it, Jerry’s still got one shot he hasn't tried against Clutch.”



But Jerry wasn't ready to go for the Last Laugh just yet. As Clutch began to get to his knees, Jerry rolled to the apron and pulled himself up using the ropes. Holding onto the top rope, he bent his knees slightly, prepared to spring. Clutch had stood up and now turned to face Jerry. Jerry jumped onto the top rope and was about to launch into a springboard forearm smash when Clutch kicked out his leg, causing him to fall into the ring! The technically sound Clutch quickly capitalized, locking in a kneebar on the injured leg! Jerry screamed in pain as Clutch tightened the submission.



SD: “Just ring the bell ref, this one's over. Clutch has picked apart that knee, and now he's going in for the kill.”



It seemed like Steven would be right. Jerry tried hard to work his way closer to the ropes, but he only made incremental progress before he stopped due to the pain. Dueling chants of “TAP!” and “NO!” broke out among the crowd. Jerry refused to go down easily. Using his free leg, he began kicking at Clutch. A lucky strike caught Clutch on the jaw and caused him to loosen the hold slightly. Jerry took full advantage, scrambling closer to the ropes before Clutch halted his progress by re-tightening the hold. “Give up Bishop!” Clutch yelled. But still, Jerry didn't tap out. Instead, he used his forearms to drag himself within reach of the ropes.



Right when Jerry was about to grab the bottom rope, Clutch abandoned the hold and pulled him to his feet. He made to whip Jerry to the ropes, but Jerry grabbed his wrist, turned around and pulled him into a straightjacket position! Jerry let out a big laugh, and the crowd laughed along as he drilled Clutch’s head to the mat with the Last Laugh!



SD: “I told you! I said Jerry had one last move in his arsenal, and there it is!”



Jerry hooked a leg for the cover.



1!...2!.. Clutch kicked out at the last possible moment!



The crowd, who had been cheering loudly a moment ago, were stunned into silence for a split second before cheering broke out from another portion of the audience.



MW: “This crowd is shocked that this match is continuing, and if I'm honest, so am I! Jerry Bishop connecting with the Last Laugh has led to the end of many matches, and I was expecting this one to be the same.”



SD: “But Clutch McCloud is on another level than Jerry Bishop. It’s going to take more than that to put him away.”



Running out of options, Jerry was forced to think quickly. He pulled Clutch to his feet and whipped him to the corner. Jerry followed him in and went for a forearm smash, but Clutch sidestepped out of the corner. Jerry collided with the turnbuckles and bounced back. Clutch meanwhile ran across the ring and hit the ropes. Jerry turned around, straight into a Technical Foul from Clutch! Tired, Clutch didn’t even hook one of Jerry’s legs for the cover, he just dropped his body weight on him.



1!...2!...3!



The ref called for the bell, and Clutch rolled off of Jerry.

Winner: Clutch McCloud



“The winner of the match, and advancing to face the FPW champion next month, Clutch McCloud!” Dasha Banks said.



“This Fire Burns” began to play, but Clutch couldn’t bring himself to stand and celebrate. He just continued to lay there in the ring.



MW: A highly competitive match between two of the best in FPW tonight. Clutch and Jerry played a back and forth game tonight, an absolute war of attrition. In the end, it all came down to both men’s finishers. Jerry was unable to put away Clutch with the Last Laugh, giving Clutch a chance to nail him with the Technical Foul.”



SD: “And with that move, Clutch ended this match. But we have plenty more matches coming your way in just a few moments!

Backstage, we see Graeme Baker standing with a collection of weapons, checking each of them over before choosing which he's going to bring to the ring. He slings the last few inside a trash can and nods before turning to Grimm and Karlson, The Renegades.

GB: Good luck out there. I'll make sure to watch you take out The Queendom and earn another shot at Sevren and Orton.
JG: And you know where we are if you need us later.
GB: I've got everything I need right here. Go get ‘em.

*Deville and Watson set up the next match.*

MW: It’s time for a rematch of sorts as James Saturn and his allies, the Renegades John Grimm and Elizabeth Karlson, will be taking on the three women of the Queendom, Artemis Evans and her cohorts, Thea Donovan and Myra Lopez.

SD: Saturn lost fair and square, I don’t see why this “rematch” as you call it is even necessary! The Queendom outsmarted Saturn, and all’s fair in love and wrestling!

MW: To remind the Freedom Fighters at home, Evans *did* win the match last time around, but thanks to a DQ-interference run from Lopez and Donovan. Which to me isn’t exactly fair and square.

SD: Fine, fair and triangular, let’s just get this match going! Can’t wait to see what the Goddess of FPW has up her sleeve tonight!

MW: She doesn’t wear sleeves and triangular doesn’t- never mind.

*Evanescence’s “My Last Breath” hits the speakers and the Freedom Fighters cheer James Saturn’s arrival. He bounces on his toes for a moment before jogging down the ramp high-fiving fans all the way down the ramp, his arms outstretched the whole way. The Charismatic Killer climbs into the ring and points out into the crowd toward a fan with a sign that reads “#JusticeForJames”. He looks back up the rampway as he waits for his partners with an assured smile on his face.*

MW: Saturn looking for a little retribution here tonight, and with the Renegades backing him up I can imagine he feels pretty confident right now!

SD: The Renegades aren’t Saturn’s friends, they’re a team who happen to like him, so they agreed to back him up tonight. The Queendom is a unified unit! No way they’re losing this one!

MW: “Unified unit”?

SD: It’s called “alliteration”, look it up.

*The music changes to Reignwolf’s “Hardcore” and the crowd’s cheers are slightly mixed with boos as the lights go out signaling Elizabeth Karlson’s entrance. The spotlights pulse as the masked figure of Karlson slinks her way to the ring, paying no mind to the fans. The music and lights crescendo until a single spot as the Black Death removes her mask and stands alongside Saturn.*

MW: Karlson has expressed her eagerness to confront the Queendom and now she’ll get her opportunity.

SD: She’s just bellyaching, Watson, she feels threatened by superior athletes so she’s lashing out at them.

*The music changes once again to 45ACIDBABIES’ “Treebarkboy” marking John Grimm’s entrance, and the few boos during Karlson’s entrance are replaced by cheers. However, Grimm doesn’t come out for quite a while.*

MW: What’s, uh, what’s going on here? Usually Grimm’s ready and raring to go, this is highly unusual for him.

SD: Maybe he chickened out? Got cold feet? Turned yellow? Backed off?

MW: How many more of those do you have?

SD: Just enough, Mikey, just e- Hey, what’s going on here?

*Watson and Deville cut short when they see Artemis Evans leading out Myra Lopez and Thea Donovan, who are dragging a battered and bloodied John Grimm, onto the stage. Evans nods and the Black & White Queens drop Grimm at the top of the ramp. The Queendom smile out into the crowd and bask in the boos and the music changes to “Hammer to Fall” by Sturm und Drang.*

MW: This is- this is obscene! Evans, Donovan, and Lopez, they’ve just laid waste to John Grimm before the match even started!

SD: Be still, my beating heart, for I have seen a lovely sight like none that e’er has been! The Queendom hath brought justice to this fool, and now to take the ring which they shall rule!

MW: ...weirdly beautiful, Steve, but this should be grounds for disqualification!

SD: DARE YE NOT SPEAK VILE AND TOXIC WORDS AGAINST YON LADY FAIR!

*Medics attend to Grimm and Saturn holds back a frothing mad Karlson as the Queendom enter the ring. Evans motions for a mic.*

AE: So, looks like you’re down a partner there, Jim Boy. Damn shame, too, we were just trying to help him to the ring after he fell down those stairs. ...five times... Johnny just insisted he help you out tonight, but he passed out on the way to the ring, so we got him as far as we could.

*At this point the referee is holding both Karlson and Saturn at bay.*

AE: How about this? We’ll pick a partner for you! Someone just as dumb as you are to try and take us down. *turning to the stage* Hey, Strawberry Shortcake! Clown Junior! Get your punchline of a butt down here!

*After a moment, “The Entertainer” hits over the speakers, but Berry Bishop is notably less happy-go-lucky than usual. She still goes through her motions and dances to the ring, but her expression is almost stoic as she climbs into the ring, eyes up the Queendom and confers with Saturn and Karlson. She assures them that she can do this; Karlson expresses doubt but Saturn eventually assents and offers a hand to Berry, which she accepts. Berry extends her hand to Karlson, who gives her a passive fistbump. Berry and Karlson stand on their corner, Lopez and Donovan in theirs, allowing Saturn and Evans to start the match as the referee calls for the bell.*

Match 2: The Queendom v James Saturn, Elizabeth Karlson and Berry Bishop (written by Jerry/Berry):

MW: And we’re finally underway!

SD: And I was having such a happy night, why did Girl Bishop have to get brought into this?

*Evans and Saturn circle each other looking for openings. The two lock up with Evans getting the better of it pulling Saturn into a waistlock. Saturn reverses into a waistlock of his own and pushes Evans into his corner. As he does this, Karlson tags herself into the match. Saturn is surprised but lets off as Karlson immediately wraps into the waistlock, grabs Evans’ wrist, and spins her into a short-arm lariat. Karlson keeps hold of the wrist and stomps on Evans before hitting her with a wristlock armbreaker. Evans writhes in pain as Karlson moves towards Evans’ legs. Still nursing her arm, Evans leaves her legs vulnerable, allowing Karlson to wrap her into an Indian deathlock. Evans hollers in pain and pulls herself out of enemy territory towards the middle of the ring before Karlson breaks the hold.*

MW: Smart move by Karlson focusing on taking out Evans’ vertical base!

SD: I’d like to find out more about her horizontal base!

MW: I’m going to be sick...

SD: What? I meant like what her interior decorating is like! Shelves, rugs, bedspreads, horizontal things in her home base!

MW: Doesn’t make it better.

SD: Well, look who’s getting the better of it in the ring!

*Karlson climbs the turnbuckle and looks for a double stomp onto Evans, but as Karlson launches Evans leaps up into a cutter, dropping Karlson to the mat. Evans staggers but gets to her feet and pulls Karlson into a snap DDT. Still favoring her leg, Evans hobbles a bit. Karlson gets up and Evans connects with a jumping neckbreaker. Evans regains her footing and positions herself for a Code Red. She connects and covers Karlson’s arms with her legs.*

1!
No!

*Karlson kicks out and Evans makes her way to her corner for a tag.*

MW: The Huntress’ legs weren’t able to keep Karlson’s shoulders down, Evans looking to get out of this one for the time being!

SD: She’s playing it strategic, Watson, keep your opponents on their toes, and you don’t get to call this ravishing beauty “the Huntress”, you have to earn that! Now it looks like the White Queen is stepping into battle!

*Evans tags in Lopez who comes in and chop blocks Karlson’s legs from under her. She pulls Karlson back to her feet into a backstabber. Karlson falls towards her corner where her partners are raring to go. As Karlson gets up Lopez runs the ropes and looks for a codebreaker. However, Karlson catches Lopez and hoists her onto her shoulders into a rolling fireman’s carry. Karlson rushes to a neutral corner and calls for a double-stomp which connects. Karlson covers.*

1!
T- No!

*Lopez kicks out and Karlson reaches towards her corner. She dives and tags the nearest hand, which happens to belong to Berry Bishop. Berry comes in and runs the ropes looking for a disaster kick. Lopez counters with a spinning leg lariat, dropping Berry to the mat. Lopez taunts the crowd, saying this little “payasa” can’t get the job done. This provides Berry with an opening to spin Lopez around into a monkey flip towards the Queendom corner, tagging in Thea Donovan whether she meant to or not. Donovan comes in hot with a lightning-quick superkick. Berry drops down, and Donovan pulls her back up into a reverse DDT. She follows up with a flurry of short-arm lariats, 8 in all, dropping Berry cold to the mat.*

1!
2!
Th- No!

*Berry kicks out just in time. The crowd cheers as Team Saturn survives. Donovan nods and plans her next form of attack.

MW: Berry’s not going to give up that easily!

SD: Maybe she should, the Black Queen could put her lights out at any moment!

*Donovan pulls Berry back up into a torture rack position and laughs at Saturn and Karlson. As Donovan looks to hit the torture rack bomb, Berry manages to spin herself around and bulldog Donovan to the mat. Dazed, Donovan staggers up, but Berry catches her into an exploder suplex. Berry tosses Donovan towards Saturn’s corner and follows up with a shining wizard as Donovan gets to her knees. As Donovan regains her footing Berry connects with a headscissors takedown throwing Donovan towards Saturn and Karlson, who are both reaching for the tag. Berry tags in Saturn who comes in and takes Donovan by the wrist and goes “Old School” with a ropewalk chop. Donovan staggers to her feet only to be met by an enzuigiri from Saturn. Saturn runs the ropes and hits a flurry of clotheslines on Donovan before mounting the turnbuckle looking for the Saturnsault. He poses triumphantly at the top of the rope, face to the crowd.*

MW: Justice delayed might not taste as sweet, but justice delivered satisfies regardless!

SD: This isn’t justice, this is Saturn and his goons somehow exploiting the Queendom! This can’t be the end!

*Evans climbs through the ropes to help the Black Queen, but Elizabeth Karlson lunges through to meet her, despite Berry’s attempts to hold her back. Karlson and Evans grapple each other to a standstill. Simultaneously, Myra Lopez climbs back through the ropes and heads towards Saturn. Berry somewhat reluctantly climbs through the ropes and grabs Lopez. She lifts her up and connects with a spinning sitout spinebuster.*

MW: The Berry Buster! Incredible!

SD: Girl Clown has moves like that?! Unbelievable!

*Saturn leaps from the turnbuckle and hits the Saturnsault onto Thea Donovan, he makes the cover.*

1!
2!
3!

*Winners- James Saturn, Elizabeth Karlson, and Berry Bishop*

MW: Incredible victory here for James Saturn, he picks up the win he should have had last time around!

SD: He got lucky, that’s all! The Queendom weren’t planning on Berry Bishop working so well with Karlson and Saturn.

*Saturn rolls out of the ring as his music plays. He points out towards the crowd and high fives people on his way back up the ramp. Meanwhile, Elizabeth Karlson and Artemis Evans are still trading blows. Berry Bishop removes herself from Myra Lopez (after making sure she was okay) and gets between Karlson and Evans. Berry tries to tell Karlson that the match is over and that they shouldn’t be fighting anymore. Karlson snaps back that Evans deserves much worse than what she got. Evans counters that neither Karlson nor Berry were good enough to get the job done on their own. Berry turns her attention from Karlson and stands between the two as all three women size each other up.*

Backstage, Jim Houston stands in his office with the lead official, who will be in charge of the Championship match later in the night.

JH: You know I have total faith in you as our top official.
O: Yes sir, I've always known that. You've always treated me with a lot of respect and I appreciate it.
JH: That's why I gave you this match. Marcus and Azazel… well, they need someone who can make sure they have the match they should have, if you understand me properly.
O: Um… I'm not sure I do.
JH: This match is one of the biggest in FPW history. A hated champion up against a beloved challenger who's swept everyone aside to finally get the chance to claim his title. I'd hate for the match to be anything less than fair.
O: I'll call it right down the middle like always.
JH: I know that. What I'm saying is that I'd hate for there to be a… less than satisfactory end to this match. Nobody wants this to end with a disqualification or a count out.
O: So is this a no DQ match?
JH: Officially, no it’s not. But let's just say that those two stipulations are… Last resorts today. I want a clean finish to this one.
O: So you don't want me to make any counts?
JH: Not unless absolutely necessary.
O: What about interference? Weapon use? I can't stand by and let that go.
JH: I have a plan to make sure that nobody gets involved where they shouldn't. As for weapons… just try your best to make sure they aren't used before you end the match prematurely. Do you understand what I'm asking?
O: I think so.
JH: That you, Steve. I know you need to get ready and I've got a few people I need to see, so I'll let you be on your way.

The official leaves as Houston stands there with a satisfied smile on his face.

Match 3: Hardcore Championship: Graeme Baker v Tommy Storm: Traditional Japanese Deathmatch (written by Baker/Renegades):



The feed comes back in with a view of Watson and Deville as a ring crew works on setting the ring up for the stipulation match ahead. Watson looks both excited and nervous while Deville looks to be slightly upset.



MW: And here we have it, for some, themmost anticipated match of the night, as the winner of our Hardcore Battle Royale, Tommy Storm, challenges Graham Baker for his Hardcore Title! This match has been said by some to be a match of the year candidate, how do you feel about those odds, Deville?



SD: I...don’t think Tommy Storm deserves this opportunity, regardless of what he’s won. Tommy Storm’s a low rent competitor, and his poor performance in the Free-1 shows that. I don’t think he has a shot here tonight, especially in a match as brutal as this.



MW: Surely you can’t be serious. Storm showed in the end of the Free-1 how competent he is! He has a good chance to dethrone Baker here, i’m sure of it!



SD: ...we’ll see about that.



‘Walk’ by Pantera plays as Tommy Storm steps out on the stage, crossing his arms an X twice as pyro goes off before he holds his hand up in a rock-on symbol. He shouts ‘let’s fucking go!’ before he walks down the ramp, focused and serious. He slaps hands with some of the fans, before settling in the ring against the turnbuckle, now exposed, and admiring the surroundings. The exposed canvas, barbed wire ropes, and exposed turnbuckle prove to be frightening, but he shrugs and focuses ahead on the ramp as staccato machine gun fire rings out.



Suddenly, Graham Baker appears, DNA playing, his jacket held open. His belt gleams in the light, and he walks down the ramp, slapping hands as the lyrics play. He steps up onto the ropes, keeping wary of the barbed-wire, and instead climbs up to the top rope and rolls down, facing off with Storm and pointing both finger-guns at him before he settles into the corner. He and Storm stare one another down while the referee takes the belt and Baker lays his jacket over the turnbuckle. The bell rings a moment later, and Baker circles Storm carefully while Storm does the same. Baker offers a hand, and the two shake hands to a slight pop from the crowd, before they lock up.



MW: Mutual respect from these two men before entering into this brutal match. We’ll see how long that lasts.



SD: I don’t know why Baker’s showing respect to a man like Storm. Baker’s the Free-1 champion, the Hardcore champion, and a proven competitor here in FPW. Storm is...a renegade, nothing more.



MW: Baker’s got a bit of that renegade spirit himself, so maybe it resonates with him?



SD:...Perhaps.



Baker manages to get the advantage early, and forces Storm toward the corner, before he slaps him across the face. He pulls back, and Storm looks to be irritated, before he invites Baker for another lockup. The two lock up, and Storm gets the advantage this time, shoving Baker into the corner and chopping Baker across the chest before he slaps him in the face and spits in his face. The respect from earlier thrown out, the two enter into a third, more fierce lockup that sees both jockey for control before Baker manages to get control and drop Storm with a brutal snap German suplex! While the hit would be painful normally, against the exposed plywood it’s especially brutal, and Storm writhes in pain.



Baker stalks Storm, before he rolls through to the top rope, climbing up quickly and going to double-stomp Storm’s arm into the plywood-but Storm rolls out of the way! Baker rolls to try and recover, but Storm lays him out with a spinning back-fist as he tries to get back into an offensive position! He yanks Storm back to his feet, and smashes him with another back-fist, and another! He goes to whip him into the turnbuckle, but somehow, Baker stops short and controls his momentum, running up the turnbuckle-and flips into a Hurricanrana! Before he can pull through, however, Storm controls the rotation, and pulls Baker up into a powerbomb-POWERBOMB OVER THE ROPES AND TO THE ARENA FLOOR! The crowd pops huge as Storm poses in the ring while Graham Baker tries to recover, pulling himself up to his knees.



Storm moves quickly for a man of his size, going to the top rope and going for a dive to Baker, but Baker manages to roll out of the way and Storm hits the ground flat! Baker grabs Storm’s wrist, whipping him into the corner and threading his arm through the barricade, before hitting a vicious dropkick to Storm’s arm! Storm writhes in pain, but Baker adjusts his arm again and drills a few stiff kicks to Storm’s chest, in a similar fashion to Azazel in their Free-1 match! Baker takes a step away as Storm recovers, breathing heavy, while Baker climbs to the top rope. He points both hands at Storm, finger-guns brandished...BEFORE HITTING STORM WITH A MISSLE DROPKICK, SENDING HIM THROUGH THE BARRICADE! Baker hits the ground, and quickly gets back to his feet, pulling Storm’s arm back through the rungs and hoisting Storm up onto his shoulders. He places Storm back down on the apron, and goes to pull himself up, but Storm manages to fight back to his feet and drill Baker in the head with an elbow, sending him back down to the ring floor!



MW: A clear back and forth contest between Storm and Baker! Neither man’s been able to get the advantage quite yet, and much of the action’s taken place outside the ring-but let’s see how it goes from here!



Storm yanks Baker back to the ring apron, and grasps him in a waistlock-BEFORE DRILLING HIM WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX TO THE APRON! Baker writhes, and Storm shoves him back in the ring before rolling under himself. He yanks Baker up and blasts him with an elbow shot to the head, whipping him to the barbed wire, but Baker manages to stop short! He goes for a springboard lariat, but his form is loose and Storm manages to catch him, pulling him up-POWERBOMB INTO THE EXPOSED TURNBUCKLE! Baker writhes, and Storm rests for a moment, his arm aching, before he picks Baker up again. Struggling, he goes to throw Baker up for a powerbomb and powerbomb him into the barbed wire-BUT BAKER TURNS THE POWERBOMB INTO A ‘RANA! Storm is caught on the barbed wire as Baker gets a running start-dropkick into the barbed wire! Storm cries out in pain, and Baker responds with another dropkick to the chest, entangling Storm with the wire, before he yanks Storm off with a great force, picking him up in position for a Dragon Suplex-BRIDGING DRAGON SUPLEX ONTO THE EXPOSED PLYWOOD! TOMMY STORM CRIES OUT IN PAIN AS BAKER BRIDGES INTO THE PIN!!



ONE!



TWO!!



THR-NO!!! STORM KICKS OUT, DESPITE HIS PAIN! Baker rolls back to his feet, and goes to strike Storm with a falling dropkick, but Storm knocks Baker’s legs out from beneath him with a low clothesline! Storm goes to waistlock Baker, and tries to drill him with a German of his own, but Baker flips away from it and hits Storm with a high-kick to the head! Baker takes advantage and goes to lift Storm into a Fireman’s Carry, getting in position for the P-51 Driver-BUT BAKER’S BACK SEIZES AND HE DROPS STORM! Baker drops to the ground for a moment, feeling his back, and Tommy Storm takes advantage, drilling Baker with a brutal kick to the head before he wraps his arm around Baker’s throat! He goes for the Blackout, kneeling to put pressure on Baker’s neck, trying to lock the sleeper in while Baker fights! He takes a moment to elbow Baker in the back repeatedly, trying to cause him to give in, but as he breaks the hold Baker manages to get a hold of Storm’s wrist! He drills Storm in the head with a brutal dropkick, then a headkick, keeping wrist control, before he swaps to Storm’s already-injured arm and hits it with a pele kick! He releases his grasp for a moment as Storm shakes his arm out, and Baker grabs it again and armdrags Storm to the ground! He climbs to the middle rope quickly as Storm tries to recover, his head hitting the plywood-DOUBLE STOMP TO THE ARM OF TOMMY STORM AGAINST THE PLYWOOD! Storm cries out in pain, falling to the ground with his arm clutched against his chest, and Baker scrambles on top of Storm and hooks his leg for the pin!



ONE!



TW-NO! STORM KICKS OUT! Storm tries to press the advantage and land a few hits on Baker, but Baker grabs Storm’s injured arm and bridges through into the Emergency Landing!



MW: Emergency Landing to the injured arm of Tommy Storm! If Baker extends this, the match might be over!



SD: It will be over! Tommy Storm doesn’t have the perseverance to fight through the Emergency Landing! He will tap out!



MW: I wouldn’t be so sure of that!



Baker tries to extend the Emergency Landing and bridge all the way through, but Tommy Storm struggles against it, drilling Baker in the stomach with a series of elbows from his free arm! He manages to yank Baker back to his feet and pull him into a powerbomb position-BEFORE HE POWERBOMBS BAKER INTO THE EXPOSED TURNBUCKLE ONCE AGAIN! HE YANKS HIM UP, AND POWERBOMBS HIM INTO THE BARBED WIRE ROPES! Graham Baker is stuck on the ropes, and Tommy Storm takes advantage, drilling Baker in the face with a superkick and sending him further back! Baker cries out in pain, and Storm takes a few steps back, resting, before he copies Baker’s finger-gun motion and-CANNONBALL TO GRAHAM BAKER AGAINST THE BARBED WIRE! The crowd pops loud as Baker yanks Storm back off of the barbed wire, planting him back into the mat with a Sit-Out Powerbomb! He rolls through the powerbomb into a pin!



ONE!



TWO!!



THR-NO! BAKER KICKS OUT AGAIN! Storm looks incredulous, as he and Baker bleed over the plywood. He thinks of how to capitalize, and pulls Baker up for another German Suplex, but Baker manages to avoid the suplex by flipping through it, stunning Tommy Storm as Baker manages to hit a brutal Springboard lariat to the throat of Tommy Storm! He hits the ropes again, springing-LIONSAULT ONTO TOMMY STORM!



SD: A lionsault from Graham Baker! We’ve never seen him pull out that move before!



MW: Baker’s keeping us on his feet with his adaptive offense!



Baker hooks Tommy Storm’s leg!



ONE!



TWO!!



THR-NO!



Storm kicks out, and this time Baker looks incredulous. He pounds on the plywood, and plays to the crowd as their cheers intensify. He salutes his respect toward Storm for a moment, before rolling out under the bottom rope. He grabs a garbage can from under the ring, and puts a collection of chairs, a few kendo sticks, and a bag of tacks, dumping them in the ring, before setting a table up outside the ring. He climbs back in the ring, and grabs one of the kendo sticks, smashing it against the turnbuckle as Storm gets back to his feet, bleeding from his barbed wire wounds. Baker rushes forward and hits Storm across the back with a loud WHACK! before smashing the kendo stick across the back of his neck. He picks Storm up to a knee, priming the kendo stick against his face and going for a wild swing-but Storm ducks the hit and takes out Baker’s legs! Storm is quick to get to his feet and arm himself with a kendo stick of his own while kicking Baker’s away! He goes for Baker’s back, laying in with a few stiff shots from the stick before he breaks the kendo stick with one final brutal strike, dropping the splintered remains.



MW: Baker and Storm breaking into the weapons collection, this is really starting to look like a hardcore match now!



Storm goes for the bag of tacks, throwing it across the floor and spreading tacks out in a cone. He drops the empty bag, and picks Baker up in a powerbomb position, preparing to powerbomb him onto the tacks-but BAKER REVERSES THE POWERBOMB INTO A ‘RANA ONTO THE TACKS! Baker falls to his knees, clutching his back and falling just short of the tacks while Storm looks up, crying out in pain as the tacks sink into his back. He cries out and rips his t-shirt and singlet down, exposing his chest and the remaining tacks still gleaming on his back. Baker gets back to his feet first as Storm gets to his knees, enraged, but Baker hits the springboard first and-THE THIRD SPRINGBOARD LARIAT OF THE MATCH, SENDING TOMMY STORM FLAT ON HIS BACK WITH A THUD! Baker rolls through, and pulls Tommy Storm up and blasts him with a series of elbows, knocking him toward the ropes, but Storm responds with a brutally stiff elbow of his own, knocking Baker silly. Storm pulls Baker up for another powerbomb, but Baker hits him with another three rough elbows to the head! Storm drops Baker again, but he and Baker collide in the middle of the ring next to the tacks, with Storm throwing a backfist while Baker throws a lariat, both men spinning away from each other and falling to their knees. The crowd cheers while Storm and Baker, bloody and bruised, get back to their feet. Both men go for chairs, but as Storm holds his in an offensive posture, Baker unfolds his and drops it down. He rolls out of the ring, grabbing two beer cans from two front-row fans and rolling back in. Storm unfolds his, sitting down in it, while Baker does the same. Baker offers Storm a beer, and he takes it, and the two clink cans before downing the contents. Baker shakes his head, and slaps Storm across the face.



SD: What the hell is going on here?



MW: A bar fight. Both men are of hardcore backgrounds, it’s a harder test of strength then what we usually see.



Storm shakes his head, and responds in kind with a slap across the face. Baker shakes his head, and slaps Storm. The two trade blows back and forth for a few moments, before Baker elbows Storm, causing Storm to get to his feet and elbow Baker. Baker hops up, and the two trade elbow blows back and forth, before Baker takes advantage of Storm’s damaged arm and slams it down, kicking Storm in the gut and planting Storm’s arm on the chair! He closes the chair on Storm’s arm, kicking him in the face and climbing to the top-BAKER DOUBLE STOMPS THE ARM OF TOMMY STORM THROUGH THE CHAIR! TOMMY STORM IS WRITHING IN PAIN, AND BAKER LOOKS TO LOCK IN THE EMERGENCY LANDING!



MW: Another attempt at the Emergency Landing! This might be it for Tommy Storm!



Baker extends the arm and goes for the Emergency Landing, but as he tries to lock it in, Storm repeatedly struggles, getting Baker into a position where he can land a few stiff kicks to the back! Baker releases the hold as his back spasms again, but Storm keeps a hold of his arm! He yanks Baker back to his feet-Spinning Back Kick! Storm hits Baker in the face with a flurry of strikes, and as Baker gets close to the ropes, Storm hauls him up into a powerbomb position! Storm runs toward the ropes-Baker executes another hurricanrana and throws Storm over the ropes, but Storm is smart and hangs onto Baker, sending both men through the table at ringside! Baker lands back-first, and cries out in pain while Storm lays motionless on the ground. Baker is the first up to his feet, but Storm gets up with a quickness, and throws a clothesline toward Baker but Baker manages to avoid it by dropping flat. He grabs Storm’s leg in a Deathlock and stomps on it, sending it repeatedly into the ring floor, before Baker manages to haul Storm back onto the ring apron. Baker stomps on his leg one final time, and slowly climbs to the top rope. He aims both fingers at Storm like guns-AND DOUBLE STOMPS STORM IN THE CHEST WITH A MOONSAULT ROTATION! HE HOOKS STORM’S LEG, CRYING OUT AND POINTING HIS FINGER IN THE AIR.



ONE!



TWO!!



THRE-AT THE LAST SECOND, TOMMY STORM KICKS OUT! BAKER LETS OUT A CRY OF FRUSTRATION, AND PULLS TOMMY UP WITH A STRUGGLE, GOING FOR THE GROUND ZERO! HE HITS THE BUCKLE BOMB WITH DIFFICULTY, WEAKLY, AND FALLS TO HIS KNEES!



MW: What the hell?



SD: Baker’s taken too much offense to his neck and back, that Buckle Bomb may have been all he had left!



Storm falls off the turnbuckle, collapsing, and Baker uses all his strength to hook his leg and lay on top of him.



ONE!



TWO!!



THRE-NO!!!! TOMMY STORM KICKS OUT ONE MORE TIME! GRAHAM BAKER LETS OUT A CRY OF DESPERATION!



MW: Absolutely incredible! Despite all the damage that these men have done to one another, they’re still managing to continue!



SD: I’m...surprised to see Tommy Storm doing so well, but pleasantly so. Let’s just see if he screws it up toward the end or not…



Baker slowly gets to his feet as the fans cheer his name, and he looks down at Storm. He holds his back for a moment, before he goes to pull Storm back to his feet. He blasts Storm with a stiff elbow, and another, but as he goes for a third Storm responds with a brutal kick to the gut, before he drops Baker with a sloppy Exploder suplex. Baker writhes in pain once again, but tries to get back to his feet, only to get leveled by a clothesline from Storm. Storm collapses at the end of the clothesline, and both men lay flat on their back in the ring. A duelling ‘Tom-my Storm’ ‘Gra-ham Baker’ chant breaks out in the crowd, louder and louder as each man manages to get to their feet. Baker weakly gets up, and as Storm goes for him, Storm swings an elbow toward Baker, but Baker dodges it, responding with an elbow of his own.



Baker goes to pick Storm up and drop him on the tacks once again, but as he lifts him, his back gives out and Storm manages to land on his feet while Baker sits on his knees. Baker looks up at Storm, who’s dazed, bloodied, and bruised, but focused. Baker points two finger guns at Storm, before turning them into two middle fingers. He spits a glob of blood in Storm’s face, and barks ‘do it’. Tommy Storm wastes no time, pulling Baker up for The Eliminator, and drops him into the DDT with all of his effort.



SD/MW: Eliminator!



MW: This one’s gotta be over.



Storm drops Baker with the Eliminator, and goes for a pinfall on the injured, wounded Baker.



ONE!



TWO!!



THREE!!!

Winner: Tommy Storm

The bell rings, and Tommy Storm goes back up on his knees, shocked. He looks down at Baker in amazement as the referee pulls Storm to his feet and holds his hand up, handing him the Hardcore title. Storm holds the title high and screams out ‘let’s fucking go!’ celebrating on all four corners while Baker pulls himself back to his feet. Baker looks at the plywood, stained with blood and sweat, and looks over to Storm as Storm looks back to him. The two shake hands as Baker gets to his feet, and embrace. Baker taps the title shield, and says to Storm ‘I’ll be back for that.’ Storm nods in response, and smiles, saying ‘anytime’. Baker rolls out of the ring and walks back up the ramp while Storm holds his title up to the four corners of the arena, celebrating...

Jim Houston walks through a door, smiling to himself, but walks straight into Dasha Banks. He stops with a surprised look and a hint of guilt on his face.

DB: Mr. Houston, earlier you said you had a plan to ensure tonight's main event was a fair contest. Can you let us know the details of that plan?
JH: No I don't plan on releasing that information at this time. All I will say is that tonight we will see for certain who the better man is out of Azazel and Marcus Allen Jones.
DB: Of course, you and Marcus have had quite the clash of personalities over the past few months, especially since he won the title. Is that going to cloud your judgement tonight?
JH: Dasha, as much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you on that one. I have a lot to do and we have a very big match coming up. I promise I'll speak with you soon and I'll fully explain everything that's happening tonight.

Match 4: Tag Team Championships: Jack Sevren and Bobby O v The Invaders (written by Baker/Renegades):


MW: And here we are! The Invaders seek to reclaim their tag titles with their rematch clause against Bobby Orton and Jack Sevren. Knowing the lengths they went to to defeat Clutch McCloud and Russ Bolt at the last show, we can only imagine what kind of brutality a tag title match like this will bring against rivals like this.



SD: I have to admit, Watson, The Invaders are still my favorite team but i’ve been quite a bit impressed by Sevren and Orton in recent months. I’m still rooting for my home team, so to speak-after all, the Eagles might’ve won the bowl, but why root for them when the Pats win all the time?



MW:...What?



SD: Nothing, don’t worry about it.



As if on cue, the lights in the arena go down as ‘Killing In The Name Of’ plays. The Invaders step out from the crowd, with Dario posturing to a camera nearby and making a belt symbol around his waist. The two enter the ring and pose to the crowd while they soak the boos in from therein. They have little time to celebrate, however, as Orton and Sevren come out to ‘This Means War’ moments later. The two teams stare one another down, before The Invaders lock eyes and decide they’re tired of waiting. They slide under the bottom rope and both immediately lock up with and put fists to Orton and Sevren, with Haych managing to suplex Sevren into a nearby barricade while Dario lands a vicious kick to the jaw of Orton. He drags Orton back to the ring, rolling him under, while Haych carries Sevren back and pulls him up for a Terminator-HITTING HIM WITH A POP UP POWERBOMB INTO THE APRON! Sevren slumps to the ground, and the referee chides The Invaders, but Orton demands that the match begin, now freshly fired up. The referee hesitates...before ringing the bell for the match while the timekeeper collects the belts.



MW: An explosive start for this much anticipated match, but did we expect anything different?



SD: The Invaders are merely using their force early on, nothing to be ashamed of!



Haych enters the ring as Sevren pulls himself up on the ropes to get into position if Orton needs him, but Orton and Haych have a vicious staredown before both launching forward at once. Haych goes to grab Orton, but Bobby’s quick and manages to slam Haych down with a brutal clothesline. As Haych leaps back to his feet, Orton goes for another clothesline, and hits it! He goes for a superkick as Haych gets back up, but Haych grabs his foot, and pulls him up for a powerbomb! He runs Orton toward the corner, but at the last minute Orton manages to escape, and claps Haych with a brutal superkick to the back of the leg! He goes for another to Haych’s head, but Haych drops, scoops Orton up-Gorilla Press Slam! Orton squirms for a moment but Haych plants a boot on his chest, drawing a line across his throat. He picks Orton up for another powerbomb, running toward the turnbuckle-and throwing Orton into the turnbuckle with a buckle bomb!



MW: Brutal buckle bomb and slam combo from Haych, and Sevren doesn’t look to be too good for combat right now!



SD: The Invaders sliced and diced the battlefield, they’ve got tihs one down to a science!



Orton cries out in pain, and looks to Dario, who crouches in the corner. He smiles viciously, and goes to tag Dario in-only for Sevren to knock Dario’s legs out from beneath him! Haych looks furious, but he has little time to respond as a reinvigorated Bobby Orton nearly kills him with a shotgun dropkick into his own corner, rolling back-AND HITTING ANOTHER TO HIT HAYCH’S HEAD INTO THE TURNBUCKLES! HE PULLS HAYCH OFF THE CORNER AND GOES FOR A PIN!



ONE!



TW-HAYCH KICKS OUT! Haych gets back to his feet quickly, powering through Orton’s attempt to grab him with a suplex and responding by clotheslining Orton to the ground in a mimic of what Orton had done to Haych. Haych goes to work on him with stomps, and then heads after Sevren and Dario, but Sevren’s managed to get away while Dario was recovering on the ground. This opens Haych up for another strike from behind, but as Orton goes for another kick, Haych manages to grab his leg and powerslam him into the mat. He lets out a roar, and looks to Sevren in the Double-Oh Sevren corner. He rushes over with a fist raised, but Sevren manages to dodge the kick, bouncing down-and delivering a kick to the head of Haych, sending him back! Sevren climbs to the top rope, and, despite the pleading of the referee, delivers a brutal Tornado DDT to Haych! He rolls out of the ring shortly after, while Orton crawls over and puts a hand on Haych’s chest to cover him, unable to hook the leg for the moment!



ONE!



TWO!-NO! Haych kicks out again, and Orton rolls off, using the ropes to get back to his feet! As he does so, however, Dario grabs him from behind and elbows him in the head, knocking him loopy for a moment. Dario drills Orton with a roundhouse kick from the ropes, and gives Haych just enough time to catch him with another Gorilla Press Slam and throw him down to the mat! Haych finally manages to tag Dario in.



MW: We see some excellent work from both teams here, but The Invaders are just slightly ahead of Bobby and Jack here!



Dario taunts Bobby Orton as he lays on the ground, spitting on him as he circles him before asking for a microphone. One of the young lions at ringside hand him one, and he looks down at Orton.



Dario: See this? This is your Tag Team Champion for the next two minutes, so enjoy it while it lasts!



Dario tosses the microphone aside, and lifts Orton up to one knee. He takes a running start, and kicks him directly in the face with a brutal roundhouse kick. Orton drops to the ground, but Dario’s not done yet, lifting him back up and repeating, but with a superkick. For a third time, he picks Orton up with his foot, looking him in the eyes, and goes for a final superkick-but Bobby rolls out of the way! Orton makes a running leap to his corner, catching a hot tag from Jack Sevren to a major pop from the crowd! Dario beckons Sevren in, and rushes in with a running superkick, but Sevren throws his leg down and chops him across the chest. He does it again, hitting Dario with three brutal chops before yanking him back into he and Bobby’s corner! He chops Dario repeatedly, and brutally, before hitting the ropes-another Tornado DDT to Dario! He hooks his leg for a pin.



ONE!



TWO!!



TH-DARIO KICKS OUT! Sevren motions that the count was to three, but the ref’s having none of it and motions for the two to get back to their feet. Dario takes advantage of Sevren’s distraction and rolls him up!



ONE!



TWO!!



TH-SEVREN KICKS OUT! Dario takes advantage of his confusion, however, and hits the ropes as Sevren gets back to his feet, moonsaulting into a tilt-a-whirl DDT! He goes for another pin on Sevren!!



ONE!



TWO!!



TH-NO! SEVREN KICKS OUT AGAIN!! Dario looks to be frustrated, and goes to pull Sevren up, but Sevren quickly gains leverage by kipping up and keeping a hold on Dario’s wrist. The referee watches closely as Sevren goes to whip Dario into the corner, but Dario turns it around and whips Sevren into the ref, knocking the referee over! Haych and Dario stare at one another, and both men hit the ring to pull Sevren up to his feet while Bobby Orton tries to run in, but is quickly thrown to the outside by a clothesline from Haych! Haych batters Sevren, getting him up for the Terminator while Dario climbs to the top rope-only for Orton to rush to the ring, clibming up on the apron, leaping-MASSIVE ELEVATED RKO TO HAYCH! Haych drops and rolls out of the ring, while Dario, who’s mid-flying senton, lands in the arms of Jack Sevren! Dario looks perplexed, and concerned, while Sevren pulls all his strength in and switches Dario into position for a Tombstone Piledriver-AND HITS IT!



MW: The tombstone piledriver! Jesus, what a move.



SD: Not like this!



Sevren goes for the pin as the referee regains his bearings, seeing the hooked leg!



ONE!



TWO!!



THREE!!!

Winners: Jack Sevren and Bobby O

The bell rings, and Double-Oh Sevren have once again defended their tag team championships! The two fall to their knees in the middle of the ring while the referee hands them their belts and holds either man’s hand up. They let out cheers while Dario rolls out of the ring to meet with Haych, both men cursing and seeming despondent as they exit the ring and the champions celebrate...


Match 5: FPW Championship: Marcus Allen Jones v Azazel

MW: And now for a match I think we've all been waiting for. Marcus Allen Jones, the man who stole the belt from Azazel, who manages to keep it month after month thanks to questionable tactics goes up against Azazel, FPW’s unstoppable phenom. Marcus was the first man to defeat Azazel but it was anything but clean. Can our talented champion overcome his greatest test or will Azazel finally reach the promised land?
SD: I don't even know where to start with what you've just said. Marcus has promised that he'll silence his doubters tonight and I for one am fully backing him. I'll let his actions speak louder than my words.

The lights go down and Azazel’s music begins to play. He emerges onto the ramp and the fans cheer loudly. He raises his burning torch but this torch is different. As he raises it, the letters MAJ can be seen burning. Azazel slowly walks down to the ring, ignoring the fans as the chant his name. He climbs the steps and places the torch in the corner before sitting cross-legged as the fans’ chants wash over him.

After a long pause, ‘Cult of Personality’ begins to play. The fans boo heavily as Marcus slowly strides onto the ramp, holding up the belt as he stares down at Azazel. Forgoing his usual backflip, he stars his walk down to the ring, the belt held aloft just like Azazel’s burning torch. As he reaches the ring, he pulls out the usual piece of paper, which simply reads ‘Undisputed’, before climbing into the ring. He walks up to Azazel and crouches down, holding the belt right into Azazel’s face, but Azazel is completely unmoved. The official forces Marcus back and takes the title, calling the two men together. Azazel, however, remains in his seated position in the corner.

Shrugging his shoulders, the official calls for the bell and Marcus beckons Azazel towards him. Azazel, however, remains seated. Marcus talks trash, calling him over again, but Azazel doesn't move. Marcus feigns some kicks and tells Azazel it's time to get shown up, but Azazel still doesn't move. The ‘A-za-zel’ chants become deafening as Marcus shrugs his shoulders and runs towards the corner. Azazel quickly pulls himself up using the top rope but Marcus doesn't stop, instead stepping up and backflipping off Azazel, landing in an Ospreay pose, sending a message to his opponent. Azazel responds in kind, kicking Marcus hard in the head as the fans explode with cheers once again.

Azazel makes a quick cover, 1-2-no! Marcus barely gets a shoulder up. Azazel then springs into action, pulling Marcus up by the waist for a deadlift German suplex, connecting but then rolling through and pulling him up again, connecting with a second. He then pulls Marcus up and hits a combination of kicks, with Marcus ending up slumped against the turnbuckles in the corner. Azazel backs away and connects with a running high knee, dropping down and pulling Marcus out of the corner in a suplex position. He lifts him before dropping him on his head with a brainbuster, making another cover, 1-2-no! Marcus again barely kicks out.

MW: By God Azazel nearly has this one won.
SD: No! Marcus wasn't ready!
MW: Marcus tried to play mind games with the mind games master. He's paying the price, and the price might be the FPW Championship.

Azazel then backs away, stalking Marcus as he slowly pulls himself up. Marcus holds his head, a remnant effect of the concussion he suffered a couple of weeks prior. Marcus turns and Azazel runs at him, aiming for The Night, but Marcus drops down and rolls out of the ring, leading to loud boos from the fans. Marcus tries to catch his breath but Azazel has other plans. He runs to the corner and slingshots over the ropes, connecting with the Nephilim and sending Marcus down. The fans stand as Azazel goes after Marcus once more, lifting him up and driving him back-first into the guardrail.

Azazel then connects with a series of hard kicks to the chest as Marcus has nowhere to go. After five, Marcus slumps down and Azazel pulls him up again. He connects with five more kicks, only for Marcus to slump back down again. Once again Azazel pulls him up and connects with more kicks, the final one being a lot higher to send Marcus over the guardrail and into the front row. The fans scatter as Azazel follows Marcus, the official trying to force him back towards the ring. Azazel connects with forearms to Marcus, who staggers back and heads away down the aisle. Azazel follows, connecting with a kick to Marcus’ back which sends him down to his knees.

SD: This match is totally out of control.
MW: What did you expect? I like that the official is giving them this leeway. Azazel finally gets Marcus one on one and he's going to make him suffer.
SD: Houston gave the official these instructions. He's responsible for this!
MW: I think you'll find Marcus Allen Jones is responsible for the karma that's getting dished out right now.
SD: Karma? Are you- no… wait a minute. This can't be good.
MW: Azazel has just placed Marcus Allen Jones’ head on a chair here.

Azazel backs away and runs at Marcus, driving his knee into the back of the champion’s head. Marcus collapses to the floor and doesn't move. Azazel looks around him and sees a mercy table set up by the wall. He moves over to it and sweeps all of the Kerch off the table, dragging it over to Marcus’ limp body. Lifting him dead weight, Azazel pulls Marcus onto the table, driving the back of his head into it to make sure he doesn't move. Azazel then looks around again, before his head rises. The fans near by cheer loudly as they realise that Azazel is looking up to the balcony above them.

SD: No! He can't!
MW: I think he can!
SD: If Azazel does this… Marcus, you need to move!
MW: Azazel is heading up to that balcony. We need to get a camera up there. And yes, there he is. What a reception from these fans.
SD: They're to blame for this. Them and Houston. Azazel can't- oh, thank God.
MW: Wait a minute. That's The Invaders. And they're pulling-
SD: What are they doing here?
MW: The Renegades! The Guardians of Strong Style! The Friendmigos! They're fighting off The Invaders. Haych and Dario are being driven out of the arena.
SD: But now who's going to save Marcus?

Azazel takes a look down to Marcus, who still lies prone on the table below. He climbs steadily up onto the railing of the balcony and turns to face the fans, his back to the main arena. The fans cheer in anticipation before Azazel jumps, moonsaulting off the balcony and onto Marcus, driving him through the table and onto the floor below. The fans explode, the FPW arena louder than that its ever been before.

MW: Azazel has just sacrificed everything! Surely this match won't go on much longer than this.
SD: I've got to go…
MW: Steven? What are you…

Deville leaves the announce desk and sprints over to the Marcus, who still lies in the wreckage of the table. Deville checks on him as the official checks on Azazel, who is clutching his midsection and has a cut on his left arm. Realising that Marcus can barely move, Deville tries to lift him, only for the official to order him away. Deville ignores him, pulling Marcus up and trying to help him away from the scene. He pulls him back towards the ring as the fans boo, but Azazel, seeing what's happening, manages to make it to his feet. He takes a staggering run at Deville and connects with The Night to the back of his head. Deville drops to the ground, Marcus dropping to all-fours without his support. The fans cheer once again.

MW: Well it seems like… it seems like I'm on my own here for this one. I can't condone Azazel attacking my broadcast partner, but I can't condone Steven Deville trying to get involved in this match. How on earth do these two men continue after what we've witnessed. Azazel dived maybe twenty feet from that balcony to drive Marcus through a table. Both men are clearly suffering from the impact of that move. But neither man will quit here, I can guarantee that.

Azazel pulls himself up and grabs Marcus by the back of his neck, forcing him back towards the guardrail. He throws Marcus into it before running at him, aiming for a running knee. Marcus, however, manages to get under the knee, and dump Azazel over the rail and back to ringside. Marcus takes a few moments to recover before climbing back over the guardrail himself, unable to stand at first. He pulls himself to his feet at the same time as Azazel. The two stare each other down for a few moments before staggering towards one another and exchanging forearms on the outside. Azazel begins to get the upper hand before Marcus manages to get a thumb into his eye, causing Azazel to stagger away.

Marcus then connects with a superkick followed by a dropkick to the back to send Azazel head first into the ring post. Azazel spins away and drops to his knees as Marcus runs at him and connects with a shining wizard. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, Marcus remains down before pulling himself up, a little of his cocky swagger returning as he begins to get the upper hand. He staggers as he gets to his feet, but he pulls himself up onto the apron, stalking Azazel. Azazel manages to get to his feet only for Marcus to run along the apron and go for a shooting star jump, ending with a DDT to Azazel. Marcus then springs up, adrenaline coursing through him, and showboat for the fans, who mostly boo him.

Marcus then pulls Azazel to his feet, rolling him back into the ring before climbing up to the top rope. He looks down at Azazel for a moment before connecting with a perfect phoenix splash, holding for his first cover of the match, 1-2-no! Azazel gets a shoulder up. Marcus then manages to make it back to his feet, albeit unsteadily, before lifting Azazel. Marcus pulls him in for a suplex and looks for a falcon arrow, but Azazel drops down behind Marcus, pulling him in for a German suplex. Marcus, however, manages to land on his feet and he pulls Azazel towards him, looking for the wheelbarrow facebuster. Azazel, however, rolls Marcus through and leaps into the air, connecting with a standing double stomp as the fans cheer the impressive sequence.

MW: These two men are certainly giving it their all. I don't think you'll find many people who don't claim these are the most talented two wrestlers here in Freedom Pro Wrestling. Not everyone may like both men, but they have to be respected for their pure ability. Add to that their pure hatred of one another and this match is like nothing we've seen here before.

Azazel stalks Marcus as he gets to his feet, before connecting with a lightning-quick roundhouse kick and running at the ropes to connect with a no-handed springboard moonsault. Azazel then holds for the cover, 1-2-no. Marcus kicks out and tries to get quickly to his feet, only for Azazel to catch him with a spinning kick to the gut. He pulls him in for another brainbuster, but Marcus this time manages to drop down behind Azazel to counter, hooking his arms around Azazel’s arm and leaping up, managing to get both legs around Azazel’s neck and taking him down with a headscissors. Azazel manages to roll back to his feet but Marcus runs at him and connects with a running dropkick to send Azazel down into the corner.

Marcus then runs at him and connecting with a running shooting star press, before rolling through and leaping up onto the top rope, turning in mid air to face Azazel and coming down with another shooting star press. He holds for the cover, 1-2-no! Azazel gets a shoulder up. Marcus can barely believe it, but he tries to make it to his feet to hit the killer blow. He pulls hi self up on the ropes but he staggers back to one knee before finally making it up. He then stands behind Azazel, pulling him and trapping the arm as he looks for Six Stars. Azazel, however, elbows his way free, connecting with a hard kick to the back of Marcus’ head before dropping him with a Saito suplex.

MW: This match is so back and forth that I can't possibly call a winner. I know who my partner would be pulling for right now, but even he would surely not be certain that his golden boy has this match won. All it will take is one killer blow from either man, and Azazel seems ready and poised for his.

Azazel crouches in the corner, ready to run at Marcus. Marcus pulls himself up to his feet and staggers into the path of Azazel, who runs at him, only for Marcus to somehow cut him off with a Pele kick. Azazel staggers into the ropes and Marcus leaps up, connecting with a reverse rana. With Azazel on one knee and seemingly out of it, Marcus runs at him again and connects with a Canadian destroyer, making a cover, 1-2-no! Azazel somehow managed to kick out at the very last second. Marcus’ face is covered with shock as the official confirms the two count. Marcus, trying to give Azazel no time to recover, pulls Azazel up and sets up for the Six Stars again.

Marcus pushes Azazel for the ripcord, but Azazel dodges the bicycle knee, stepping to the side and connecting with another roundhouse kick. He manages to maintain wrist control of Marcus, holding his arm and grasping his other before connecting with a devastating Kamigoye knee. Azazel falls onto Marcus for the cover, 1-2-no! Marcus this time somehow manages to kick out. Azazel then backs away, again stalking Marcus for The Night. Marcus takes an age to pull himself to his feet, and fans building up their cheers in anticipation of what they know is about to happen. Azazel runs at Marcus and goes for The Night, but Marcus just collapses, his head barely dropping under Azazel’s knee.

Azazel turns and looks back at Marcus who is lying face-down on the canvas. He takes a moment of calm, his eyes closed, before opening them into the greatest show of intensity many of the fans have ever seen. They cheer loudly as Azazel drags Marcus to his feet and forces him into the corner. Azazel then forces Marcus up to the top rope and climbs after him. As he stands in front of Marcus, he hooks an arm over Marcus’ head and pulls Marcus’ arm over his head to set up for a superplex. Azazel then showcases his strength, pulling Marcus up into a vertical suplex position. Marcus, however, somehow finds the energy to drop down, switching his body position in mid-air and grasping Azazel’s waist, pulling him off the top rope and into a top rope German suplex.

MW: What have we just seen? A top rope German suplex from a man who looked completely out of it moments ago! I think Azazel was looking for a top rope brainbuster, a move which not only would have ended this match, but which could surely have ended Marcus Allen Jones’ career. But now it's Marcus who's connected with the big move. The question now remains whether that was his last burst of energy or if he's got anything left in the tank to even make a cover.

Both men lie motionless in the ring as the fans stand and make as much noise as they can. The official looks down at both men but, as per instructions, doesn't make a count. With the fans going crazy, Marcus and Azazel both slowly inch their way towards the ropes after what would surely have been long enough for a ten count. Each man pulls themselves up slowly, first to their knees, then to one knee and finally to a vertical base. Neither man looks at all steady and both are breathing incredibly heavily, but they both turn and realise that each is in the same position as the other. Staggering slowly to the middle of the ring, the two men move towards one another, ending forehead to forehead, their eyes displaying their deep dislike for one another.

As one, they begin to exchange right hands, the fans responding to the intense flurry with a flurry of noise. After exchanging for a long time, both men stagger backwards. Marcus finds a burst and runs at Azazel, who ducks his attempted lariat and connects with a hard spinning kick to the head. Marcus staggers and Azazel pulls him in for another brainbuster, but Marcus manages to reverse into a small package, 1-2-no! Azazel barely manages to break out. Marcus quickly makes it to his feet and pulls Azazel in for Six Stars once again, but Azazel again manages to reverse, grasping the leg as Marcus tries to connect with the bicycle knee. Azazel shoves Marcus back, and he ends up staggering into the corner. Azazel runs at him and aims for a boot to the face, but Marcus ducks, rolling through and waiting for Azazel to turn before running at him.

MW: The Night! Marcus Allen Jones just hit Azazel with The Night! These fans may not like it but… wait… why isn't he making the cover?

Marcus stands over Azazel, smirking at him as the fans reign down boos on him. Marcus then pulls Azazel slowly up to his feet, grasping the wrist and holding him in position for Six Stars. He shoves him and then leaps up, connecting with the bicycle knee. Marcus the drops to his knees, hooking the far leg for the cover and smirking as the fans boo him, 1-2-no! Azazel kicks out and the arena explodes once again. Marcus can't believe it, his mouth agape in shock. Marcus looks down at Azazel, who hasn't moved since his shoulder came off the canvas. He then spits in his face before climbing through the ropes and up to the top turnbuckle. He looks down before beginning a slow clap, which the fans boo even more. He leaps, yelling something inaudible as he connects with a perfect 630.

MW: Well that's it. The Mark Out Moment. Marcus Allen Jones with the back press, leg hooked… one………. two………. thre-no! Azazel kicked out again! He barely lifted his shoulder but it's enough. Azazel lives in this match!

Marcus can't believe it again. He yells at the official before pulls Azazel’s head towards his own and yelling at him to stay down. He looks around for a moment before pulling Azazel to his knees. Marcus then backs away before starting to tune up the band, the fans again booing him before he steps towards Azazel and connects with a vicious superkick to send his opponent crashing to the mat. Marcus then completes the Mark-treal Screwjob, locking in the sharpshooter. Themofficial checks on Azazel and asks him if he wants to quit. Azazel doesn't respond. The official asks again but again Azazel doesn't respond. One more time the official checks on Azazel, warning him about what he'll have to do if Azazel can't give him any sign of consciousness, but again Azazel isn't able to respond. The referee then calls for the bell, forcing Marcus to break the hold. The fans boo as Marcus drops to his knees, calling for his title.

Winner: Marcus Allen Jones.

MW: Well these fans may not like it, I may not like and Azazel sure as hell won't like it, but Marcus Allen Jones has retained his championship. Azazel is defeated cleanly for the very first time and the question remains: is there anybody on this or any roster who can take the FPW Championship from Marcus Allen Jones?

Marcus pulls himself up to his feet and calls for a microphone, staggering as he collects it.

“I did this……… by myself……… I didn't need………. The Invaders……… I didn't need……… anybody. So……… fuck you Azazel……… fuck you Clutch McCloud……… fuck you all……… and most importantly……… fuck you Jim Houston…….. and still Freedom……… Pro……… Wrestling……… Champion……… this guy!”