(Cut to the ring, where Tony Fatora stands) TONY FATORA: Th' following contest is scheduled for one fall!

(CUE UP: "Sunny Day" - Zug Island. The fans applaud politely as Jack Owyns pushes his way through the curtain and darts down the ramp, sliding into the ring and playing to the crowd to build head.)

TONY FATORA: Introducing first... He hails from Seattle, Washington... He weighs in at two hundred and thirty-seven pounds... He isssss JAAAAAAAACK... OOOOOOWYYYYYYNNNNSSSSS!!!

DT: Folks, this match will give us a glimpse of two very promising young stallions new to Empire Pro Wrestling. Jack Owyns has made a name for himself on the independent circuit and certainly brings the pro experience edge to this match.

DM: This guy's got a big head, I think. He talks a big game, and did you see what he said to his opponent?

MN: what'd he say?

DM: He says to him, 'Someone like YOU can never beat me-'

(The arena goes dark.)

DM: -Whoa!

(Cue up: "God Is God" - Juno Reactor, faint at first, accompanied by a distant image of a dark-smoking village. The volume slowly rises as the chant ends, breaking into a thunderous explosion of pyro as the main riff of the track thuds through the arena. With an Iraqi flag draped over his shoulders, Tariq Ismail strides slowly through the curtain, posing with arms wide and a corner of the flag in each hand to hold it open behind him, oblivious to the heat the maneuver draws. Then wrapping the flag about himself again, he stalks to the ring and vaults in, neatly folding it and handing it to the timekeeper.)

TONY FATORA: And his opponent! He hails from Mosul, Iraq! He weighs in at two hundred and forty pounds! Thisssss isssss TAAA-RRRRRIIIIIIQ... IIIIIIS-MAAAAIIILLLLLLL!!!!

DM: -But yeah. That comment by Owyns was totally racist against Arabs, and this Ismail guy looks pissed already.

MN: Uh, Dean, I think you're reading too deeply into it-

DT: Regardless of your sympathies you have to admit that Tariq Ismail looks focused and intense here tonight. His amateur resume is impressive, but can he overcome the experience edge of Jack Owyns here tonight?

DM: He'll beat the bigotry out of 'em!

(SFX: *DING* - Bell rings.)

DT: Owyns and Ismail circling to begin... Looking for openings... wait a minute, Owyns stepping back and waving his hand dismissively at Ismail!

DM: BOO! Kick his ass, Tariq!

MN: Man, this kid's cocky! He really does think Tariq can't beat him!

DT: Owyns grinning as he starts to circle again - ISMAIL JUST SLAPS HIM IN THE FACE AND KNOCKS HIM DOWN!

MN: That was a slap?!

DM: That's a MAN'S slap! Caught him right on the point of the chin and took him DOWN! This guyis NOT going to take Owyns' sh*BEEP* lying down!

MN: Whoof, you're telling ME!

DT: You can see the anger in Owyns' face as he gets up again... throws a punch but Ismail blocks it! Jab to the gut by Ismail, and a rising elbow to the chin knocks Owyns into the ropes! Whip, and there's the BOOT TO THE TEETH by the man from Mosul to take Owyns down!

DM: Ismail's supposedly a master of mat technique, but what we're seeing here is much more brutal, more like a cage fighter than an amateur wrestler.

DT: Owyns beginning to rise - Oh, Ismail just RUSHES him and hooks him in a big neckbreaker, taking him down! Now Ismail bringing him to his feet again - pushes into the corner and just hammers him with right and left jabs!

MN: Whoa, he's just OWNING Owyns!

DM: Look at how efficiently he's going at it. This guy has the precision of a machine, Dave Thomas, and right now he's dismantling Jack Owyns' upper body and neck.

DT: Ismail with the big jabs - oh, Owyns rakes the eyes to escape! Ismail stumbling backwards now, and Owyns comes out of the corner with the clothesline!

DM: Cheap! CHEAP!

DT: As Ismail comes to his feet Owyns runs to the ropes... comes back with the spinning heel kick and takes the bigger man down! Now Ismail rolling to his feet... Owyns with the Russian leg sweep takes him off his feet!

DM: I think we're seeing the experience of Owyns coming into play here. That cheap shot gave him an opening and he's keeping the pressure on, trying to keep Ismail off his feet.

MN: That was a nice legsweep, too.

DT: Looks like Owyns is keeping the pressure on here... waiting a moment for Ismail, then springs to the top turnbuckle - MISSILE DROPKICK BUT ISMAIL CATCHES HIM AND POWERSLAMS HIM DOWN! MY GOD what a counter!

MN: OW!

DT: Holding his back, Owyns pulls himself up with the help of the ropes, but Ismail doesn't let him get away! Stiff elbow to the head, then hooks him up - OH, there's the big Northern Lights suplex, held for the pin! One - TWO - No, Owyns kicks out!

DM: That was a close kickout - and a VERY textbook suplex.

DT: After only a second's waiting Ismail hits the ropes... as Owyns comes to his feet Ismail NAILS him in the face with a knee lift and fells him like a tree! Now pulls him up again - SNAP suplex! And there's another snap suplex, and Jack Owyns is in a mess of trouble here!

MN: Ismail looks pretty PISSED. He's just screaming at Owyns to get up!

DM: He wants to PUNISH the kid!

DT: As Ismail shouts at Owyns the nbW star gets to his feet, wobbling... Ismail up behind him, and whooooOOOOAA HUGE back suplex drops Owyns RIGHT on his neck!

DM: OUCH! Owyns is just getting dismantled by Tariq Ismail here!

DT: Cradling Owyns' head, Ismail pulls him to his feet... then snaps him into the ropes, and catches him with the DDT to drill Owyns' skull into the mat! Keeps the facelock on and wraps his legs around Owyns in a grapevine front facelock!

MN: Man, he's got him trapped!

DM: This hold's going to be hell on Owyns' head, and see how Ismail's kind of off to one side so he's trapping Owyns' arm on that side between himself and Owyns' own body. The only problem is that Owyns could use his other arm and his legs to push towards the ropes. See, like he's trying to do right now.

DT: You can hear Owyns groaning in pain as he tries to struggle towards the ropes... but Tariq releases the hold and YANKS HIM INTO THE CENTER OF THE RING BY THE HAIR, then flips him onto his back and... locks his legs around his head! What the hell sort of hold is THAT?

DM: That's a figure four necklock, Dave Thomas! Ismail's got Owyns on his back to cut off his movement and is using this hold to tear at his neck and cut off the flow of blood to his head! It could be over!

MN: Crush his head! Crush it crush it!

DT: Owyns fighting it... looks like he's fading fast! The referee lifts Owyns' arm now, but Owyns says no! But he's fading fast... Official lifts the arm, and no response!

DM: That's one!

DT: The official lifts that arm again... it's down twice, and Ismail is just laughing!

MN: One more!

DT: Again the arm... falls - NO, OWYNS GETS THE ARM UP!

DM: I THOUGHT HE WAS DONE-

DT: -OH, Ismail releases the hold and SMASHES Owyns in the face with the edge of his boot!

DM: That's direct enough.

DT: Now Ismail yanking Owyns to his feet... Owyns with a burst of vigor throws a few punches and stuns the bigger man!

MN: Looks like he's getting back into this...

DT: Owyns to the ropes... going for a clothesline but Ismail DUCKS it! Owyns rebounds off the opposite ropes, but Ismail SPEARS him halfway there and slugs him in the face repeatedly, and Jack Owyns is BLEEDING from a cut under the right eye!

DM: MAN, he hit him THAT hard?!

DT: Looking out to the crowd, Ismail pulls Owyns up and wings him into the ropes... Owyns DUCKS in desperation, comes back with a CLOTHESLINE, but Ismail ducks, Owyns comes back, Ismail CATCHES HIM WITH A JUMPING SNAP FISHERMAN'S DDT AND OWYNS MIGHT AS WELL BE DEAD!!!

DM: HE CALLS THAT THE JIHAD!!! IT'S OVER!!!

DT: ISMAIL ROLLS OVER FOR THE PIN!

ONE -

TWO -

THREE!

(SFX: *DINGDINGDINGDING*)

TONY FATORA: Here is your winnerrr... TA-RIIIIIIQ... IIIIIS-MAAAAIIIILLLLLL!!!

DM: And welcome to EPW, Jack Owyns…..

(CUE UP: "Dark Machine" - Paul Oakenfold. The crowd begins to boo uproariously as the lights dim, hiding Ismail and Owyns’ exits and also signaling to all just who's on his way to the ring. And indeed, as the mist begins to drift across the ramp, Christian Sands pushes the curtain aside and emerges to even louder derision from the crowd. The big man, draped in a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey, faded jeans, and a pair of brown hiking boots, pauses at the head of the ramp and smirks a bit before striding briskly towards the ring. He already carries a mic.)

DT: And now here comes Christian Sands, mic in hand, as it seems he's got something to say!

DM: I'll tell you, Dave Thomas. I was surprised to see this guy back as quickly as he was. Here I thought Sands was gonna be on hiatus for some time!

MN: Man, did you see how he got in Big Loafy's face last time?! I hope he kicks that guy's ass!

DT: It does seem like Sands has his eyes set on Beast. With Lindsay Troy holding the World Heavyweight Championship, could Sands be looking to ease back into the singles competition in which he made his fame?

MN: I hope so! Maybe he'll even take the strap back!

DT: Either way, it should be interesting to hear what he has to say...

(The music fades out as Sands stops in the center of the ring, facing the hard camera. He looks out at the crowd quietly before lifting his microphone.)

SANDS: There's been a lot of talk flying around regarding the sabbatical I went on after Russian Roulette. Let me set the record straight right now. Until Black Dawn, my name is not on the active Empire Pro Wrestling roster and I won't be competing in the ring, so you people will have to look to Lindsay Troy for your technical masterpieces for the time being. And you'd damn well better show her the respect she deserves. I knew all along that it was Lindsay behind the Dis mask and I encouraged her to keep at it, because we both knew that wrestling fans are misogynists and wouldn't accept a woman as champion unless she proved herself. Surprised, assholes? I was in on it from the beginning and now that Troy's holding the title I made famous I've got her back all the way through.

(He pauses to let the crowd boo, then continues.)

SANDS: Now as to why I came back. It just so happened that after Russian Roulette I went up to my cottage up north to relax, but I couldn't resist. I tuned in to Aggression and what did I see but Beast bitching and moaning until Dan finally gave in and let him have another lease on life. So I made a few calls and here I am.

Here's something to think about, Wescott. The only reason you're worth anything in this company is because I dragged you into stardom by the balls. Until you ran into me you were just some guy from A1E with shaggy blond hair and an entrance theme about blowjobs, but that changed pretty damn quick. I dragged you kicking and screaming to two of the best matches this federation has ever seen and when you came out of it you were finally someone worth looking at.

But you've still never made it to my level.

Dan's given you the chance to take back what you percieve as yours, but what about me? I was the man who made the Empire Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship into a belt that actually meant something. If anyone deserves another chance to go after that title it's me, the man who built this federation through his own blood, sweat, and tears.

You're good, Marcus, but you're never going to be as good as me - and you, I, and Dan all know why.

You don't have what it takes to go to any lengths necessary to WIN.

You got lucky against me at Unleashed, but from what I can see your luck's starting to run out. You've continually failed to secure victory when the tools to do so have been handed to you on a silver platter, and it doesn't look to me like that's going to change any time soon. The truth is you aren't man enough to develop that killer instinct, that do or die attitude that makes a champion into a legend - and by extension you aren't good enough to make use of the second chance that Dan pitched at you.

I have a challenge for you, Marcus.

I WANT you to prove me wrong. I didn't go through all the trouble of making you a star just to watch you piss it all away. You're supposed to be Beast, not Adam Benjamin.

I'm going to be watching you very closely, Marcus. If I have the inclination I might just decide to test you a little... see how well you've taken Dan's advice to heart. If at all.

Good luck, tiger...

("Dark Machine" kicks in again as Sands tosses the mic away, departing the ring with a smirk.)