DT: Well ladies and gents, up next is probably one of the most anticipated matchups of the evening…

MN: That’s right, we’ve got Christian Sands taking on Jonathan Marx and Karl Brown. All three men were quite vocal this past week, let’s see how they do in between the ropes.

[The arena is bathed in darkness seconds before "Rainmaker" blares out, causing a cascade of green and white lights to flicker across the arena in time to the music and pyro to explode from the side of the stage. With the first words, Karl Brown steps through the curtains, looking around at the crowd. He high-fives fans either side of the aisle, stopping for autographs along the way, as he walks to the ring. Circles the ring once, then vaults over the top rope, standing on the second rope, arms aloft, saluting the fans on each side of the ring, before waiting in the centre of the ring for his opponent.]

MN: Karl Brown’s made his way down to ringside…

DT: He’s got great talent, Mike.

MN: Yeah but is he talented enough to stay alive against Marx AND Sands?

DT: We’ll see…

["Only Happy When It Rains" by Garbage cues up and Marx walks his way out from the back. He eyes up Brown, who is waiting casually in a corner of the ring, but the two do not engage each other.]

DT: Marx is a great technician, he could go far in ANY tournament.

MN: Yeah, but he’s also a di…

DT: FAMILY SHOW…

MN: … distinguished gentleman. 

DT: Good call Mike.

[The haunting strains of "Dark Machine" by Paul Oakenfold cue up, and the lights in the arena go out; the GlobalTron lights up with an image of Christian Sands gazing down from a distance, his face illuminated as if by car headlights through a window. After the first fourteen seconds of the song, a red strobelight kicks in. Smoke machines begin blowing a drifting mist horizontally across the ramp as Christian Sands emerges, striding down the ramp with the mist curling about his feet. He vaults into the ring over the top rope and stretches his arms briefly before boosting himself up to a turnbuckle, seating himself there facing inward to await his opponent.]

MN: Damn, Christian Sands is NOT a man I would want to mess with.

DT: He’s being picked by many to go incredibly far in this tournament, if not win it all. 

MN: THAT remains to be seen.

[Just as Christian’s music dies out, the bell rings and all three men start to circle each other. Sands looks over to Brown, then makes a motion towards Marx. Brown nods, and the two men lock arms, as if going for a double clothesline on a surprised Marx. However, Sands instantly pulls Brown back towards him and nails him with a short arm clothesline. The fans boo heavily for Sands’ sneakiness, but he looks out to them, brushing off his shoulder. He smirks slightly, and waits for Brown to get to his feet. Karl gets up holding his back and Marx is quick to use the opportunity to his advantage. Brown turns around just in time to catch a dropkick to his face. As he hits the mat hard, Sands and Marx each grab one of his legs, performing a devastating wish bone. The fans boo heavily.]

DT: Ouch, and Karl Brown isn’t doing to well in the early goings…

MN: That’s because he’s in the ring with two of the better technical wrestlers in our business.

DT: That’s an excellent point, Mike… but Brown is no slouch in that department either.

MN: Yeah, but right now, I don’t think he can argue with me.

[Sands backs off, letting Marx drop an elbow hard into the inside of Brown’s thigh. Karl holds his leg, but Marx performs the move once again.]

DT: Marx is opting for the legs here, Mike.

MN: He knows how to work them… that’s for sure.

[Sands makes a motion that he wants some of Brown, and Marx is much obliged to let him join the melee. As Marx holds off, he turns his back for a second, thinking that Sands is going straight for Brown. When he does this, Sands rushes up behind him and tosses him back with a release german suplex. Some fans in the crowd laugh as Sands gets up smirking, but most of the crowd is booing his heelish actions.]

DT: Sands is playing a dangerous game.

MN: He’s walkin’ that razor’s edge, Davey. But then again, that’s often the best way to go!

[Brown is up by this point, and approaches the smirking Sands from behind. He grabs Christian’s hand, attempting to swing him around. When Sands turns, he immediately goes for a clothesline. Brown ducks, using this to set up a quick T-Bone suplex. Sands bounces off the mat and Brown is quick to pursue.]

DT: Brown on the offensive here.

MN: Sands is such a smartass, this might just come back to haunt him.

[Brown is quick to grab Sands around the waist, where he promptly sends him over backwards in a release german suplex of his own. The fans erupt for Brown’s efforts.]

DT: Brown just tossed Sands halfway across the ring!

[As Sands comes crashing down next to Marx, he is immediately locked up in a figure four leg lock. The fans applaud the application of the move by Marx, and he cinches it in as hard as he can.]

DT: Marx applies a figure four! Brown and Marx are actually working together!

[Brown drops an elbow across Sands’ chest, then another. He is about to drop another one, when he suddenly dropkicks Marx in the face. The impact of his boots against Marx’s face makes a sick smack. The fans applaud Brown’s move.]

MN: There ya’ go, two birds with one stone.

[Marx releases the hold and grabs his face in pain. As soon as he gets to his feet, he and Brown lock up. Brown takes Marx face first to the mat with a drop toe hold, then floats over into a side headlock. Sands is quick to join the fray, and applies a headlock to Brown as well. All three men are linked together in the center of the ring…]

DT: Headlock on Marx… no… on Brown!

MN: Triple whammy… hell yeah! Who wants noogies?

[Marx works his way up to his feet, then throws an elbow into Brown’s midsection. He fights off the hold, then bounces to the ropes. On his return, he performs a double ddt that takes down both Brown AND Sands. The fans applaud the move, and Marx is the first to his feet.]

DT: Great double ddt by Marx there.

MN: I’m likin’ the pace of this match, Davey.

[Brown rolls backwards as Sands rolls to the side, and Marx rises to his feet. Marx approaches Brown, laying into his chest with some well placed chops. Brown is worked back to the ropes, and Marx uses the opportunity to go for a tie up. He then performs a go behind, and segues that into an octopus hold. The fans applaud, but Sands isn’t phased by their appreciation. He bounces to the far ropes and comes flying in with a vicious spear to the rips of Karl Brown.]

DT: OHHH… spear by Sands!

MN: And Brown is on the mat after that one.

[Marx gets a pissed look on his face and immediately ties up with Sands. After a few moments of struggle, Sands comes out on top and executes a go behind. He goes for a chicken wing suplex, and bridges for the pin. The referee counts. 1….2…kickout by Marx.]

DT: I thought he had him on that one!

MN: That’s not a move you see everyday…

[After kicking out, Marx gets to his feet slowly. In an instant, he is immediately taken down with a hard armbar. Sands wrenches back as hard as he can, and Marx cries out in extreme pain. As he does this, a recovering Brown gets up and applies a dragon sleeper to Sands. This forces him to release the hold on Marx who is holding his shoulder weakly.]

DT: Brown’s got the dragon sleeper on Sands here!

MN: I don’t know how Sands is going to get out of this one.

[Marx backs up and decides to take a breather from the action, still slightly nursing his arm and shoulder. Brown continues to put pressure on with the dragon sleeper, and after a few moments, the ref checks Sands’ hand. It goes down once. Twice. On the third, Sands reaches up and holds it in the air. He starts to edge towards the nearest corner, which is not too far away.]

MN: Sands trying to break the hold…

[Instead of just getting to the ropes to force the break, Sands (still in the dragon sleeper), uses the turnbuckles to walk upwards, then flip over Brown. Stunned, Brown isn’t quick to turnaround, and Sands uses the few split seconds to grab him by the wrist and execute a cobra clutch bomb… also known as the Sandblaster. He goes for a cover. 1….2…. 3! But Brown’s foot was on the ropes before the referee’s hand hit the mat.]

DT: Can you believe that??? What an excellent move by Sands!

MN: I’ve never seen anything like that…

[Marx sees his opportunity and walks over the downed men. He then seizes it by flipping the downed Brown over and applying a bow and arrow submission, which causes Brown to scream out in agony. Sands backs off slightly, assessing the situation. Then after a few moments, he starts to slowly climb the nearest set of turnbuckles.]

DT: What is Sands doing???

MN: He’s goin’ up top ya’ dope.

DT: I see that… but wha…

[Before Thomas can finish his sentence, Sands comes flying off backwards with a beautiful moonsault that connects solidly on Brown and Marx. The fans applaud Christian’s move, and he uses his last bit of energy to cover Marx. 1….2….kickout by Marx.]

DT: A MOONSAULT FROM SANDS!

MN: Damn, that boy can fly too? What CAN’T he do?

[All three men slowly get to their feet, but Sands and Brown are the first up. Brown comes charging towards Sands, and at the last second, he ducks, lifting Karl up onto his shoulders with a fireman’s carry. Brown struggles slightly, and Marx uses this to his advantage by kicking Sands’ legs out from under him, causing him to fall face first. Brown’s weight falls squarely across Sands’ back and head, almost like a vicious DDT. All three men lay motionless for a few seconds, but after a few chants from the crowd, they start to stir. Marx uses the ropes to pull himself up, and Brown is soon to follow. Sands scoots backwards, attempting to gather his thoughts. Brown and Marx tie up, and this time Marx performs the drop toe hold.]

DT: Who can tell where this one’s gonna go, Mikey?

MN: Don’t look at me, man.

[As Brown’s face smashes off the canvas, Marx sets him up and applies his patented STF. Brown starts to scream out in pain, and raises his hand in the air. He refuses to tap however, and this only forces Marx to apply the hold even harder. Some chants for Brown start up on the outside.]

MN: He’s got the stf locked on!!! It’s over for Brown baby!!! 

[Sands looks over the situation, and just as we think Brown is about to tap, he breaks up the submission with a sharp kick to Marx’s ribs. Marx holds his side, then gets in Sands’ face.]

DT: You’ve gotta’ wonder why he did that, Mike…

MN: I’m guessing he wants Brown in the second round? I don’t know, he was so close to tapping out….

[While Marx is shoving Sands and yelling in his direction, Sands points behind Marx towards Brown. When Marx turns around, however, he sees that Karl is still laying in pain on the mat. With a surprised look on his face, he is quickly forced to the mat by a Sand Blaster at the hands of Sands. Christian then drops down on top of Marx and hooks the leg. 1….2….3!!! The fans boo at Sands’ tactics. Christian, however, smirks, then rolls out of the ring, pointing to his head.]

DT: Can you believe that?? Sands has got to be one of the slyest individuals this side of the Mississippi!

MN: He’s SMART, Thomas. Who would have thought the ol’ “hey look over there” tactic could be applied today?

[Brown rolls off of the apron, holding his neck, but smiling slightly as he walks to the back. The camera focuses on Marx’s face as he starts to regain his bearings. A look of frustration crosses his features, and his stare is soon directed straight to the entranceway, where Brown and Sands just left. Cut to commercial.]

WINNERS: CHRISTIAN SANDS AND KARL BROWN