[This is where we find Tyrone Walker. He's pissed by the way.]

SLAAMMM!!!

[With the door now shut we have ourselves a bit of a standoff. The room and it's contents are of no concern except for the other man who stands across the room from Walker and goes by the name of 'The Only Star' Eric Dane.]

Walker: What the #&%@ dude?!?

[Backing off absolutely none, the newly debuted Dane cracks a smile that you'll grow to know and loathe before giving his explanation.]

Dane: Back off, hotshot, you'd have probably figured out a good way to lose that one anyway.

Walker: (grumble)

[Deadly silence is all Walker can muster as his mind tries to decipher what exactly has just happened.]

Dane: You need to take a good long look at what you're even doing in this business, Ty, because as it stands you're not accomplishing a damned thing other than a weekly paycheck!

[Walker blinks. The fire inside him subsiding a bit as the commentary from Dane hits a button. It hurt a little, it was the truth of course. Walker's head droops a little as he stares down at the floor trying to think of something to say in order to counter point.]

Walker: The hell, Dee, I been on a roll here.

[He brings his eyes back to contact with Dane's.]

Walker: Or least I was before you came along. Heh.

[Eric's smile smears away as he runs a hand through shoulder-length blonde hair.]

Dane: You're running through guys who this time last year you wouldn't even have wrestled, asshole.

[Walker pauses as the next counter point from Dane hits him. This one ringing even more truer than the first, cutting even deeper. He thinks back to a year ago when he was damn near the top guy in the World Wrestling Alliance. He was the National Champion, he was on top and he was getting over on the best of them. But... Bringing himself back to the now and he looks back on all the scrubs he's run through so far. His defiance towards his old friend continues to crumble as he retorts sarcastically.]

Walker: Heh. I'm pacing myself.

[Eric blinks in disbelief.]

Dane: Pacing yourself? Did you say, pacing yourself?

Walker: Taking my time. Picking my spots. Pacing myself. I think that's what I just said, yep.

[Walker's rage has pretty much subsided, but his sarcastic nature is starting to come forth as he stands now defiantly with that cocky ass grin spread across his face.]

[Eric nods his head, and backs off toward the door.]

Dane: Yeah, well, I'm not here to "pace" anything. As a matter of fact, I'm done with this conversation. I'm going to walk out that door and one of two things are going to happen. Either you'll sit here stewing in your juices and let AJ and Cindy convince you that your the greatest thing since Sliced Bread, at which point I walk my happy ass back into retirement, or you'll walk out with me and we'll go take care of some business tonight.

[The Only Star lets it set in for a second before reaching back and pulling the door open. He turns his back on Walker and makes to walk out the door.]

Walker (eyebrow raised): What business do you have in mind?

[Clearly interested he takes a step toward Dane's direction.]

[Finally Eric drops his attitude, slaps an arm around the shoulders of Tyrone Walker, and the two of them walk off down the hallway.]

Dane: Just a little bit of...

[Back to the booth.]

MN: Curiouser and curiouser...

DT: So it would seem. Looks like Tyrone Walker has fallen in with a rather shady character in this Eric Dane fellow.

MN: I'll say. That guy's shifty.

DT: In any case, it's time we moved on to our next match of the evening, as we get to see the self-proclaimed Emperor in action!

MN: Woohoo! All hail Emperor Marx, foos!

DT: Jonathan Marx has been making quite a splash in the wrestling world, but he's had a run of bad luck thus far here in EPW. Tonight he looks to turn it around against Cliff Young.

MN: Marx has gonna have a fire under his ass for this one, let me tell you right now.

DT: Let's go to the ring!

[The image of blood drips over the live feed of the entranceway on the 'Tron for those live in attendance, and over the live view of the entranceway for those at home watching on television. The opening drumbeats of Black Label Society's "We Live No More" begin playing, and mist pours out from behind the entrance curtain. About 40 seconds into the song, when the vocals enter over the guitars, Cliff Young walks out from behind the curtain with Jesse White in tow. Cliff, sporting his black leather biker jacket over his tights, walks slowly down the ramp towards the ring while Jesse follows suit. Cliff rolls into the ring, and Jesse hops up onto the apron. Jesse steps over the top rope and into the ring while Cliff runs the ropes for a few seconds. The two meet in the middle of the ring, and then Cliff turns his back to his friend, dropping to a knee while his extends his arms out to the side. Jesse raises his fists into the air, and the two pose as flashbulbs go off all through the crowd. "We Live No More" begins dying down, and Cliff gets to his feet, sliding his jacket off and handing it to Jesse. Jesse steps over the top rope and to the ringside floor as Cliff is checked out by the referee for foreign objects.]

DT: This looks set to be a good match, with both men putting in strong showings at Black Dawn.

MN: Yeah, and both lost, so they have something else in common.

DT: Hey, Mike, you want me to tell either of these men that you called them losers.

MN: Well they are…

[CUE UP: "Only Happy When It Rains" by Garbage. Marx walks calmly to the ring, his eyes fixed on Young as he goes through the ropes. The ref checks him for anything illegal, and the match begins]

DT: Collar and elbow here, Marx pushing Young back to the corner. The ref’s asking for the clean break…Marx with a chop to the chest, and a whip in to the other corner.

MN: Marx sure looks determined here, doesn’t he?

[Marx follows up his offence, doubling Young up and planting him with a double arm suplex, rolling over to lift Young off the mat. He whips him off the ropes again, catching him with a drop toehold on the rebound]

DT: Marx setting something up here… MARXISM!!! MARXISM ALREADY?!?

MN: Can Young hold on? We’ve seen it before….

DT: Young’s fighting it…. YOUNG TAPS OUT!!!

[SFX: *DINGDINGDING* - Bell rings]

MN: Aww, man. I didn’t even have time to have a nap.

DT: Sorry for my colleagues lack of professionalism, but Marx picks up the win regardless with that EXCRUCIATING STF. Looks like Marxism is alive and well after the disappointment of Black Dawn.

MN: I thought we were done with the squashes.

DT: So did I, but Marx was just fired up in a big way, and I guess Cliff Young wasn't ready for it.

MN: I'll say.

DT: So, um... I guess we're going to move on, then.

MN: I'm down.

DT: This next match has the potential to be a slobberknocker! At Black Dawn, Adam Benjamin defeated Karl Brown to become the new Intercontinental Champion, but he faces some VERY stiff opposition in Troy Douglas tonight!

MN: Douglas should be fighting for the World Title tonight, but he was screwed out of his shot by Beast and Cameron Cruise-missile!