[CUE UP: “Phenomenon” by Thousand Foot Krutch. Once the music hits the speakers, Frankie Scott emerges to immense amounts of booing and hissing. He ignores the fans, instead staring straight ahead and focusing on Barb hanging from the pole.]

TF: The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL! It will be a BARB-ON-A-POLE MATCH! Introducing first... from Atlanta, Georgia... weighing in at TWO HUNDRED FORTY-TWO pounds...

FRRRRAANKIEEEE SSSSSSCOTTTTTTT!

[CUE UP: “Redeemer” by Marilyn Manson. The house lights gradually dim into blackness. Strobe lights circulate around the arena. Omega emerges, ending the boos for Scott and encouraging some cheering, though many fans are still confused by the crazy bastard.]

TF: And his opponent, from the great state of Missouri... weighing in at TWOO HUNDRED NINETY-FIVE pooounds... he is......

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-MEEEGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

[Omega enters the ring, ignoring Scott and walking straight towards the turnbuckle that holds the pole that holds Barb. He looks up at her and pleads with her to come down off of the pole.]

DM: Never turn your back on an opponent! 

DT: Scott with forearm shots against the back of Omega as the bell rings. Pushes the big man off of the ropes, whips him across the ring. 

MN: Finish him off, Frankie!

DM: That’s not going to happen, Mike. It’s far too early and Omega is far too crafty. He ducks a clothesline. Off of the opposite ropes. High Impact Clothesline from Omega! Omega picks up Scott and applies a headlock, cinching it and trying to slow down his much-faster opponent. 

DT: Scott with some elbows that break the headlock. Arm ringer to Omega. He rings it once more. Into a wristlock behind Omegs’s back. Omega with a back elbow that forces Scott to release the hold. Omega off of the ropes, but Scott hits him with a Drop Toe Hold! And he applies a Single Leg Boston Crab.

DM: Sound strategy, there. If he can injure Omega’s leg, he can slow him down when he tries to get up to capture Barb.

MN: I can’t believe you two morons refer to that steel chair as Barb. You’re not supposed to justify the beliefs of crazy people!

DT: Omega pushing up with his massive arms. Now he’s crawling towards the ropes. He grabs the bottom rope and the referee tells Scott to let go. But that doesn’t stop him from kicking the back of Omega’s knee repeatedly! He drags him back into the middle of the ring and picks him up.

MN: Collar-and-elbow tie up. Scott, though smaller than Omega, outclasses the crazy idiot and pushes him into the corner! Knife edge chop! Another! If you ask me, Scott oughta try punching some sense into Omega! Maybe he can help the guy out!

DM: Well, you just got your wish Mike. Big lefts and rights from the Phenom. Irish whip from one corner to the next… no! Reversed into a short-arm clothesline! And Omega drops an elbow on Scott! Another! 

DT: Omega is dead set on winning Barb back for once and for all! Omega picks him up. Hooks him for a sidewalk slam. 

MN: Frankie Scott with some quick elbows and breaks the hold. God, that man is fast! Dropkick! Omega getting back to his feet. But another dropkick sends him back down! Thattaboy!

DM: The Phenomenal One clearly the faster of the two. But Omega is as resilient as he is crazy.

DT: Scott whips Omega off of the ropes. Back elbow sends him to the mat. Picks him back up. 

MN: Technically-perfect Russian leg sweep! 

DM: What Frankie Scott is trying to do is hit Omega with a few big moves early-on so he can climb up the pole and retrieve Barb. He is off of the ropes… Rolling Senton Splash! That’s the type of move that can stun Omega for long enough for Scott to climb the pole. 

DT: Frankie Scott climbing up the turnbuckle. Omega holding his abdomen, trying to get to his feet. Omega gets to his feet.

MN: Dammit, Frankie, hurry!

DM: Frankie Scott has a decision to make. If he doesn’t think he can get to Barb in time, he can at least use his height for an aerial maneuver. Cross body block!

DT: Caught by Omega! Turned into a Powerslam! That’s a game-changer!

MN: Oh, please. 

DM: Omega smartly going over to the turnbuckle. He is looking up at Barb as if she is summoning him. He begins to climb. This might be it… but never count Frankie Scott out!

DT: Frankie Scott is up to his feet. He dropkicks the turnbuckle, shaking it and forcing Omega to fall legs-split on the turnbuckle! 

MN: Ha ha! I love it! Barb is forced to watch as Omega’s balls are CRUSHED! 

DM: Frankie Scott would be smart to capitalize. 

DT: Looks like he is going to capitalize. He climbs up, grabs Scott’s head. Neckbreaker from the top-rope! 

MN: Get Barb, Frankie!

DM: Omega holding his neck, struggling to get to his feet, using the ropes to help him up.

DT: Frankie is up top, reaching for Barb…

MN: Dammit, Omega! Omega is climbing up behind Scott!

DM: Omega with some headbutts to the back of Scott’s head…Wow! Picture-perfect belly-to-back superplex! 

DT: A move like that often stuns both men and that appears to be the case here as well. Omega first to his feet. But here comes Scott. He charges at Omega… back body drop to the outside!

MN: Dammit, Omega, keep it clean! There are kids watching!

DM: This is the best chance Omega will probably ever have to get Barb! He is going for the corner, now climbing up the turnbuckle. This might be it, guys.

DT: Omega reaching for Barb… but here comes Frankie Scott!

MN: Yeah baby!

DM: Scott is just so much faster than Omega. He climbs up the other side of the turnbuckle.

DT: Both men on top of the turnbuckle now! Exchanging rights and lefts! 

MN: Push his crazy ass of the turnbuckle, Frankie!

DM: Frankie Scott with a forearm shot. Another. An eye gouge. And a headbutt sends Omega down to the mat! If we were awarding points, Scott would be up by a hairpin right now!

DT: Amazing maneuver! He performed that move faster than I can call it! The Phenomenal One jumps onto the top-rope and springboards into a Frog Splash on Omega! 

MN: That’s why Frankie Scott deserves Barb.

DT: Frankie Scott going back up the turnbuckle. He reaches up the pole. He has his hand on Barb! He’s untying her… er—he’s untying it! 

MN: Make Omega bleed, Frankie baby!

DM: Amazingly enough, Omega is getting to his feet! 

MN: Who gives a crap! Frankie Scott has Barb! 

DT: Scott sees that Omega is slowly rising to his feet. He waits for him to stand. And he jumps off of the turnbuckle with Barb!

MN: YES! YES! GET HIM!

DM: Omega with a fist to the gut of Scott that stops him in mid-air! Scott drops Barb.

MN: I CALL FOUL!

DT: Omega hooks Frankie’s head… inverted DDT! Now he’s walking over to Barb. He picks her up and smiles. He’s having a conversation with her!

MN: I swear to God… if Omega starts making out with her or something worse… I am quitting EPW.

DM: Apparently Omega and Barb are discussing ring strategy or something. But whatever they are doing, it is giving Frankie Scott enough time to come to his senses. He slowly gets to his feet. Omega really has to use Barb for what she is—a steel chair wrapped in barbed wire—or Frankie Scott is going to figure out a way to win this one!

DT: Scott with a dropkick to the back of Omega’s knee that sends him down! Barb falls to the side. And Scott picks Barb up!

MN: BLOOD! BLOOD!

DT: Scott swings the chair down at Omega! But Omega sees it coming and rolls out of the way. He quickly gets to his feet as Scott chases him with Barb! He ducks a chairshot. Scott swings again but Omega ducks! The chair hits the turnbuckle and bounces back and hits Scott in the face!

MN: Barb just cheated! That’s manager’s interference!

DM: Looks like Scott was pierced by one of the barbs! He is checking his forehead for blood and sees it. Omega picks up Barb. Looks like he is apologizing to her or something. Scott turns around… and Omega swings Barb at Scott! 

MN: Ducked by my man, Frankie Scott! Frankie with a kick to the gut of Omega! He drops Barb. Hooks him for the Phenom Drop! Yes! Yes! ON THE CHAIR! Do it! Do it! 

DT: But Omega is kicking his legs! He breaks the cradle. He reverses! Back body drop… no! OMEGA WITH A SPINEBUSTER BOMB ON BARB! 

DM: Omega could win this right now if he’d take the time to pin Scott. But he is too busy cradling Barb in his arms, apologizing for using her as a weapon! Finally, Barb accepts the apology or something… because he’s going for the cover!

…one…

…two…

…three—no! kickout! 

DM: Omega waited too long to make that cover!

MN: You are SO biased! Did it ever occur to you that it was the Phenomenal One’s resilience that saved him? Hmm? 

DT: Omega picks up Scott. Hoists him up into a reverse fireman’s carry. Time for The End! But Scott is firing back with elbows! TORNADO DDT! …ON BARB! 

MN: God dammit!

DM: Frankie Scott smartly wasting no time, knowing how resilient Omega is. He gets Omega up… Phenom Drop on BARB! Cover!

…one…

…two…

…three…

TF: And your winner…. FRRAAAAANNNKKIIIEEE SCCCCCOOOOOTTTT!!!!!

DT: What a match! Frankie Scott won this one! I wonder if this marks the end to the war these two have waged over the past few months?

MN: Time for Frankie Scott to move onto bigger and better things. Omega was simply a stepping stone for the Phenom! 

DM: Scott picks up Barb and is looking at it, perhaps trying to decide what to do with it. The fans are booing hysterically. He rolls his eyes at them then throws the chair—er, Barb—down on the mat. 

MN: See? What’d I tell you? Frankie Scott is moving on!

DT: Listen to these fans! They HATE this man!

MN: Idiots..

[We open up backstage where we find "the former ESCAPE ARTIST" Erik Black and "the ex-RAGING RUSSIAN" Ivan Dalkichev, otherwise known as the Sickle and Hammer of the Crimson Calling, standing together in the locker room with an unassuming bottle of water in between them.]

EB: Well, 'Van... we've been plotting this over the course of many months. But the moment has finally come! You ready?

ID: Ready as I'll ever be, 'Rik.

EB: Let's do it...

[Black twists the cap off of the bottle as Dalkichev draws out a small vial of clear liquid. He uncorks it and pours it in... and halfway through the act, they are startled to hear someone clear their throat. Spinning around with the evidence behind their backs, they find the mastermind of the Crimson Calling, NATHAN FEAR, standing in the doorway of the locker room with his arms folded over his chest and a confident smile on his face.]

NF: Well, gentlemen... it's about time!

EB: Hey, Boss! You're back from the can! Hey... you look kinda dehydrated. Care for a bottle of water?

[He winks to Ivan as he offers the innocent looking bottle of water.]

NF: Why, thank you, Erik. I was feeling a tad parched in my excitement.

[He takes the bottle, but doesn't drink from it right away. Erik and Ivan watch it intently in his hands before they realize he doesn't have any intention of drinking.]

ID: So, uh... bottoms up?

NF: In a moment. Right now, I'd like the two of you to sit down and listen to what I have to say.

[They exchange a glance, shrug, and pop a squat on the bench.]

NF: Gentlemen... as you well know, you go into that ring tonight against mystery opponents. Neither of you know what you are about to face... except that you know that I have organized this challenge for the both of you. You see, in light of our lackluster showings as of late, I've decided to take the Crimson Calling in a new direction...

EB: ...oh yeah?

NF: Indeed. I'm very excited about this new prospect, and how it will carry out my ultimate vision for a FREE, COMMUNIST America!

ID: Uh, sorry, couldn't hear you so well cause your throat is scratchy. You should take a swig of that...

NF: Well, that'd be nice, except I don't really have any intention of tripping on ecstasy tonight.

[Erik and Ivan look in stunned silence as Fear lobs the water bottle over his shoulder and into the trash.]

NF: You really think you two had me duped? Don't be so shallow. Of COURSE I've known about your moronic scheme this entire time. You think if you can get me in a state of mind where I might ACT crazy... I might get recommited to the asylum. I'm sorry, gentlemen, but that's not going to happen. The Crimson Calling CANNOT succeed without my leadership, and besides that, I assure, I'm NOT crazy.

[Enraged, Erik pops to his feet.]

EB: Alright, I've had ENOUGH of this! You've done nothing but HOLD US BACK since you returned, all the while thinking you were the one keeping us going, and I can tell you right now, this bull**** is OVER WITH!! Binding contract or not, I'm not doing ANOTHER DAMN THING you tell me to do until I know who it is I'm wrestling out there!

[Fear lets out an evil chuckle, clearly not threatened by Black's outburst.]

NF: You want to know who you're up against, Erik? Very well. YOUR opponent will be none other than... IVAN.

[Black looks stunned as the two of them look down at the perplexed Dalkichev. Ivan rises to his feet.]

ID: Well wait... who's MY opponent then?!

[Fear pauses a moment as he tries to digest Ivan's obvious gap in logic.]

NF: YOUR opponent, Ivan... will be ERIK.

[The Crimson Calling look at each other again, now noticeably confused.]

EB: What the hell is THIS?! You're making us fight EACH OTHER??!

NF: That's right, Erik. You see, our cause is running a tad low on budget... and I've decided that the Crimson Calling will switch from a tag team act to solo. But I want to make sure I invent in the proper talent. That's why I'm putting the both of you, my finest creations, head to head, to determine which is the stronger. The winner will continue to work under ME as the leading proponent in my mission, while the other... well, you'll manage on your own, somehow.

ID: Oh man, this is BULL****!! You can't break up the CHRONIC COLLIZION!!

[Fear SNEERS at the sound of their self-given name.]

NF: You are the CRIMSON CALLING, and I won't remind you of that again!

EB: There's no way we're doing this, Boss. You can't turn 'Van and me on ourselves. We've been through too much together to be ENEMIES at this point.

NF: You don't have a choice. The two of you are fighting for your CAREERS. Resist my commands, and the closest you two will get to a wrestling ring will be by helping set it up before the show!

ID: Oh man, this can't be HAPPENING!!

[Ivan suddenly spins around and runs to the row of lockers, tearing his open and digging through it.]

EB: Whoa, 'Van! Relax!

[Dalkichev spins around and is suddenly brandishing GEEZER!! Frantically, he searches himself for a lighter.]

ID: This is too much to process! I just need to quick hit to get things rolling again...

NF: Put that DOWN, you fool!

[Fear grabs ahold of the front of the apparatus, and a tug-of-war commences.]

EB: Hey, careful with that! That's a priceless object!

[The struggle continues, until Fear's grib suddenly GIVES WAY! By accident, he yanks on the slide, sending a cloud of ash into the air which spreads out over his face in an ugly gray blot. Panicked, Fear COUGHS and tries to fan his face using his hands.]

NF: ACK!! MY EYES!! THERE'S ASH IN MY EYES!! SOMEONE, GET ME EYEDROPS!! HURRY!!

[Seeing the opportunity at hand, Ivan hands over the same vial of ecstasty used to lace his water. Fear, without thinking, takes it and empties it out over his eyes. Black, knowing full well what a straight hit of ecstasty in the tear duct would do to a person, looks on with his mouth hanging in awe. Fear rubs the liquid in his eyes until they become clear enough for him to see again. He blinks a few times and looks around at his surroundings, pupils now dilated and the cunning, wolf-like smile on his face now a strange smirk.]

NF: Oh my... thank you... I was having quite a fright there.

EB: ...you okay, Boss?

NF: Oh quite, Mr. Guevara! By the way... did I ever tell you how FRAGRANT you look?

EB: ...fragrant?

[Grinning madly, Fear grabs Erik by the shirt and draw him close.]

NF: OH YES!! I can SMELL the way you LOOK, my friend!

[Fear releases him and looks around at the locker room in wonder.]

NF: By Marx's beard, everything in here is so... BEAUTIFUL!!

[Erik and Ivan again exchange a glance and nod, passing an entire conversation without so much as opening their mouths.]

ID: Say, Boss... you want to visit the ring? If you think this place looks great, you should see what it's like out there.

NF: Oh yes, THAT I MUST DO! Excuse me, gentlemen... the PEOPLE await!

[Ivan and Erik watch in stunned silence as Fear, grinning at everything he lays eyes upon, bolts out of the room. Dalkichev looks delighted.]

ID: Oh man, it's working! IT'S WORKING!!

EB: Yeah, yeah... get your head screwed on straight, bro, and pack that damb bong!

ID: Oh, right...

[The two get to work as we cut back to the guys at commentary, shaking their heads in astonishment.]

DT: I'm not sure I have ANY comment on what we just witnessed, other than it was very ODD.

DM: It's gonna be a fun time backstage with Nathan Fear tripping on ecstasy and wandering around... I'm almost bummed that I'm going to miss it!

DT: Well, let's not forget about the fun time we'll be having out HERE watching this monumental event this evening! We're only a couple matches into the show, and--

[Houselights go to black. IMMEDIATELY. The capacity crowd SQUEALS in a splendid cocktail of emotions ranging from surprise to exhiliration to fear.]

DT: NOW what?!

[A feint shade of CRIMSON cuts through the black as a prominent red line slices across the EmpireTron. Then, BOOMING over the PA is the intoxicated DRONE of a low-tuned electric guitar, sending waveforms down the line on the screen that PULSE with seismic force. It undulates in time with the sluggish opening riffs of Sleep's "HOLY MOUNTAIN", and red lights slowly begin fading in over the stage.]

MN: What that hell is THIS all about?!

DT: I was about to ask the same thing myself, Mike! It looks like the Crimson Calling's regular entrance, but this isn't their regular music!

[As soon as the drums, bass, and vocals proceed into the song's DEVASTATING groove, a PYRO rocks the stage...]

**BOOOM!!!**

DM: WHOA NELLY!!

[...and the crowd SQUEALS AGAIN in excitement! As the smoke clears, standing there on the stage, with their arms VALIANTLY held out toward the heavens, are "THE ESCAPE ARTIST" ERIK BLACK and "THE RAGING RUSSIAN" IVAN DALKICHEV!! After a moment to allow the audience to take in their glorious entrance, the two bump fists and stride down to the ring side by side.]

DT: It's THEM after all!! The Crimson Calling!

MN: Formerly the CHRONIC COLLIZION!!

DM: Oh no, I wouldn't say that! By the look of things, this is formerly the Crimson Calling, and PRESENTLY the CHRONIC COLLIZION!!

DT: Are you certain?

DM: Well, I mean, LOOK at them!

[The dynamic duo make their way down the ramp slapping hands with the ringside fans. No longer are they wearing their custom-made Crimson Calling-themed ring apparel. The hulking, nearly seven-feet tall Dalkichev sports a pair of knee-length shorts and a sleeveless "CC" logo t-shirt, while the wiry Black comes wearing a loose-fitted pair of jeans and a garish flower t-shirt. They've retained their black and red color scheme, but otherwise dress nothing semblant of Nathan Fear's vision of elite wrestling machines. Both look unshaven, and equally red-eyed. Erik even comes brandishing his favorite stainless steel "water pipe", Geezer.]

DM: They even brought that BONG with them to the ring!

MN: Please, Dean! "WATER PIPE." Think headshop talk.

DM: What do YOU know about "headshop talk"?

DT: Nevermind that now, guys... it looks like the newly rechristened Chronic Collision are asking for a mic before they step into the ring!

[Tony Fatora hands Dalkichev a mic as both men roll into the ring. The Russian-American giant waits for the crowd to quiet down before beginning to speak.]

ID: PEOPLE OF BALTIMORE... hear now the GOSPEL of the SONIC TITAN, sent down from the HOLY MOUTAIN!

DM: What the HELL is he babbling about?

ID: For it is written in the CHRONICLE OF THE SENSIMILLIAN... BURN-TOF-FER-ING-RE-DEEEEEMS-COM-PLEEEEEETES-SMOOOOKED-DE-LIIIII-VERANCE!!

MN: Somebody call back those paddy wagon guys... I think they forgot one.

[While the crowd murmurs in confusion, Erik taps his partner on the shoulder and retrieves the mic.]

EB: My apologies if my partner is coming off a tad VAGUE at this point. See, he's a tad over-exhilerated in light of our newfound FREEDOM.

[Erik takes in a deep breath and savors it, as if the word brought him pleasure.]

EB: FREEDOM. Such a beautiful word, isn't it? And it's the very thing Ivan and I wanted to talk about to you people here tonight.

[Ivan leans in the corner as Erik paces up and down the length of the ring.]

EB: You see... for the past several months, the Boss has been beating this idea of "revolution" into our brains. I think we can all agree it was nothing more than idealist gibberish said to us as a means of inspiration... but even so, both Ivan and I clung to the idea. Eventually, we realized that revolution was EXACTLY what we wanted... only not by Nathan Fear's defintion. Mr. Fear taught us to fight the power. So WE DID. He's gone, and now we're FREE. FREE to do WHATEVER THE **** WE WANT TO.

[He reaches into his pant pocket, wryly arching an eyebrow to the camera.]

EB: I'm going to show you all right now just what the CHRONIC COLLIZION!!'s definition of "revolution" is!

DM: What's that he's pulling out of his pocket...?

DT: Oh no, IT'S A JOINT!!

MN: OH MY GOD!! SOMEBODY, SHOOT HIM!! SHOOT HIM!! DOESN'T ANYBODY HAVE A GUN?!

DM: God, I hope not... talk about making a bad situation worse!

[Black holds it up high enough for the entire capacity crowd for everyone to see, including the camera for millions across the globe to witness. He earns a decidedly mixed reaction, ranging from a few cheers from the younger generation of wrestling fans to complete shocked silence from others.]

EB: I'm going to SMOKE THIS JOINT right here in the ring, LIVE ON PAY PER VIEW, to show all of YOU, the fans of Empire Pro, what "REVOLUTION" means to us!

MN: SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!! Get that man OUT OF THE RING!!

DM: Relax, Neels... he isn't hurting anybody!

MN: What he's doing is ILLEGAL!! He's going to give all these fans a CONTACT HIGH!! WHAT THEN?!

DT: I'm surprised the production crew hasn't cut away... ladies and gentlemen at home, we apologize if you are offended by what you are seeing. This was NOT a planned event for tonight, and I'd just like to remind you all, that Empire Pro is in no way affiliated with, supportive of, or condemning to the substance known as marijuana.

[Black pops the joint into his mouth and draws his lighter.]

EB: In OUR humble opinions... revolution is this very act: coming out on Live TV and doing something that this nation FORBIDS.

[He lights the end and takes a strong drag, sure to inhale. His voice comes out in a tight whisper as he holds it in.]

EB: revolution... is coming out and shocking the entire world, to show you all what we are and what we represent...

[He lets it out, coughing violently for a few moments and suddenly regaining his composure.]

EB: Revolution... is...

[He lingers on the word for a moment.]

EB: ...okay, I forgot what my point was.

DM: Pfft.

[Erik hands the joint off to Ivan, who smokes it to himself in the corner.]

EB: I guess that all we can say to you people is that whether you love us or hate us for who we are and what we represent... we are HERE on this bright blue planet with all of you, and if you try to hold us DOWN... we will REVOLT.

MN: Come on, when did potheads switch from "peace and love" to "fight the power"?!

DT: Regardless, this could be a new chapter in the careers of the CHRONIC COLLIZION!! With the ever self-sabotaging Nathan Fear out of the picture, can these two ascend to tag team greatness once again?

[Black raises the mic again.]

EB: Anywho... TONIGHT, the Boss intended for Ivan and I to fight each other in order to decide a successor. After mulling it over a bit, the two of us came to an equal conclusion, which was **** THAT ****. Therefore, unless two other "mystery opponents" make themselves known tonight... I'm sad to say that you fans are without a match tonight. Sorry to crash the party, yo.

MN: Damnit, at the very least, I was looking forward to these two boneheads beating the crap out of each other!

[To everyone's surprise, music hits the PA. The driving notes of "You Fail Me" by Converge blast harshly over the speakers as the spotlight and two unknown men emerge from the curtain.]

MN: What is THIS now?!

DT: Looks like someone else decided to crash the party! Who are THESE two athletes?!

DM: Wait a sec, I think that guy on the right is STEPHEN WALTZ!!

MN: WHO?

DM: ...you know, Stephen Waltz? Former EPW star from years back?

MN: My mind is drawing a blank here, Dean-O.

DM: That's not surprising...

[The two strangers, clad in long black tights and wearing matching sleeveless black leather coats, pompously stride down the ramp, sneering beneath sleek sunglasses. In the ring, the CHRONIC COLLIZION!! exchange a look and shrug.]

DT: You know, now that you mention it, Dean, I think you're right! That's Stephen Waltz, and the other looks to me like the controversial CLAPPER!!

MN: Now I'm sure you guys are just making up names...

DM: Well, I haven't forgot that asshole. As for what these two former EPW stars who have come back after years of obscurity are doing here tonight at Wrestleverse, I can only begin to guess! All I know is that this looks like a really, REALLY sad attempt to repackage a couple of wash-ups as a tag team!

[Stephen Waltz calls for a mic as the two enter the ring and confront the former Tag Team champions, calling for a cut in the music. Waltz raises the mic, arrogantly looking back at the other team standing before them.]

SW: Alright, Black... I think we've all heard ENOUGH out of you! You come out here and talk a bunch of crap about "revolution" and "freedom"... but who cares about any of that? These people want to see some TAG TEAM ACTION, and they're going to get it from the NEWEST and HOTTEST tag team to hit Empire Pro... the WAR ANGELS... feautring myself, "THE FALLEN ANGEL" STEPHEN WALTZ... and my partner, "THE GOD OF WAR" FRANK ARES!!

DT: Huh.

[The two of them pose to a mostly uninterested crowd. Black and Dalkichev look clearly unimpressed. Regardless, Waltz hands the mic over to Ares.]

FA: So do the two of you even remember how to FIGHT... or do you just come out and bore everybody to death with incoherent stoner ramblings?

[Ivan taps Erik on the shoulder and hands over the joint. Dalkichev takes the mic.]

ID: ...FOOLS. We have travelled LEAGUES through the ENDLESS DESERT in search of the HOLY LAND!! We have SEEN the MOLTEN FIRE flow up to ZION, and the RAYS OF THE NEW STONER SUN have given us KNOWLEDGE beyond your own feeble intellect! And you DARE stand before US in DEFIANCE?! BLASPHEMERS!!

[Erik nods, even though Waltz and Ares look at each other in confusion. Angrily, Ares raises the mic.]

FA: Look, morons... you want "mystery partners"? Well, here we are! We're going to make an IMPACT with our debut by kicking your asses!

[Black takes the mic from Ivan.]

EB: You guys want to go? Well, I'll see your offer and DOUBLE IT. In fact, I'm going to be so bold as to state that by the time Ivan and I finish this joint, the both of YOU will by lying motionless on the mat!

[Black throws the mic aside and the two teams split to their respective corners to get prepared. A ref appears from the entry-way and comes to the ring, making a few quick checks.]

DT: Looks like we're going to have a match after all! I see junior official Andrew Gardell on his way down to the ring to do the refereeing for this match...

DM: It's time to see if these "War Angels" can live up to their own hype! We've seen a lot of new tag teams make their debut tonight, but these two returning superstars have the chance to pull a solid win over former tag team champions! The CHRONIC COLLIZION!! might have turned a new leaf, but let's not forget that these guys haven't won a match in a LONG time!

MN: And they WON'T, either! These War Angels look AWESOME! I mean, come on, they wear their sunglasses INDOORS!! Who does that anymore?

DM: I was about to ask, who DOESN'T do that? It's been a wrestling cliche since the 80's!

DT: Gardell's made his checks, and this one is ready to go!

[The bell rings with Ares standing in the ring, looking back at the looming Ivan Dalkichev, standing like an indestructible and slightly smirking tower.]

DT: "The Raging Russian" Ivan Dalkichev starts things off for the CHRONIC COLLIZION!! Frank Ares might have his work cut out for him on this one, as he charges head-first at the nearly-seven-feet Eastern powerhouse! Ares ramming FORWARD--but Dalkichev SIDESTEPS, catching him into a waist lock!

DM: Quick move for such a big man! Ares is struggling to free himself, but those python-sized ARMS of the enormous Dalkichev are hard to break out of! Here's Ivan, using that POWER to lift Ares OFF THE MAT--RIGHT INTO A DOCTOR BOMB!!! OH MAN!!!

DT: Frank Ares bounced nearly a FOOT off the mat upon impact! I've seen that move used as a FINISHER by some, but Dalkichev just whipped it out of NOWHERE and put Ares prone on his back!

MN: Ouch...

DM: Dalkichev back on his feet, makes the tag to Erik Black, who courteously passes him that joint, which is already burned past the halfway point! Black still out on the apron... but he VAULTS OVER THE ROPES AND NAILS ARES across the STERNUM with a rolling elbow drop!

DT: Here's Erik Black with the PIN...

ONE...

TWO...

NO!! Broken up by Stephen Waltz, who just begins to ASSAULT "The Escape Artist"!

DM: Gardell is ordering Waltz out of the ring, but self-proclaimed "Fallen Angel" isn't quite finished yet! Now he's getting Black to his feet, and he runs him to the ropes... and THROWS HIM OUTSIDE--OH WAIT!! Black caught ahold of the TOP ROPE before he could take a painful spill to the outside, but Waltz didn't seem to catch it!

DT: Waltz playing up to the fans... and he turns RIGHT INTO A RUNNING LARIAT FROM IVAN DALKICHEV!!

MN: He's not the legal man!

DM: Well, neither is Waltz! When you step into that ring without being tagged in, it's open season!

DT: Erik Black is back on the apron as Dalkichev peels Stephen Waltz off the mat... the two catch eyes, and they seem to know what to do! Dalkichev whips Waltz into the ropes... going for the BACK BODY DROP--AND HERE COMES BLACK, SPRINGBOARDING THE ROPES!!

DM: ZZZOOOOOH MYY GAAAWWDDD, WHAT A POWERBOMB!! Stephen Waltz has been LAID OUT and is NOT MOVING!!

DT: Dalkichev passes the joint over to Black... there doesn't seem to be much of it left, but I think these two are ready to put this one away! Dalkichev is bringing the legal man, Frank Ares, back off the mat, and here goes Erik Black to the top rope! 

DM: I think I know what's coming up next!

MN: Somebody STOP this! This isn't a sanctioned match!

DT: I don't think that matters any more, Mike! Black POSING for the fans with that joint in his mouth, and Dalkichev sets the dazed Ares onto his shoulders in the Electric Chair position! Dalkichev leads him to the corner... and BLACK COMES OFF THE TOP, CRUSHING HIM INTO THE MAT WITH A ROCK BOTTOM FROM NEARLY SEVEN FEET STRAIGHT UP!!!

DM: Oh man, it's OVER!!!

DT: Erik Black hooks the leg for the cover...

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

[The bell tolls as "Holy Mountain" hits the PA again. Gardell raises the arms of the CHRONIC COLLIZION!! in victory as Erik Black takes a final drag off the joint and tosses the roach onto the fallen bodies of the War Angels.]

DM: After a long drought where they were faced with nothing but frustrating loss after loss, the team of Erik Black and Ivan Dalkichev have finally TASTED VICTORY, and they couldn't have done it a better way! They made short work of the debuting War Angels!

MN: That was a fluke! Those guys had no business even being in the ring!

DT: I'm not so sure, Mike! We could be seeing a new streak of dominance in these tag team pioneers! With their manager gone, who knows what the future holds for these two? Wait a second, I'm getting word from the back!

MN: What? WHAT? Nobody ever talks to ME through my earpiece!

DM: Of course, Mike. They just give it to you to make you feel important.

DT: We've got an UPDATE on the status of Nathan Fear, and... well, let's just get a camera back there and see what's going on.

[Cut backstage in the commons area as the camera comes around the corner and into the ring, just as we hear something heavy being knocked over. Immediately, we see several staff and talent pushing themselves back against the far wall, flabberghasted expressions looking at the other side of the room. The camera pans over, and there, now wearing only a pair of whitey tighties and seemingly covered in slime, is NATHAN FEAR at the peak of his trip.]

NF: MORE!! MORE!! MORE!!

DT: Oh NO!!

DM: Oh yeah! Looks like Fear's finally gone off the deep end!

[Fear hunches over a vending machine he somehow managed to tip over on his own power and effortlessly kicks through the plexiglass front, raiding the machine of its wares.]

NF: MUST HAVE MORE!! IT IS MY LIFEFORCE!!

DT: What the hell is he DOING?!

MN: I dunno, I guess he's got a massive sugar rush...

[In horror, the EPW employees watch as he takes several bags of red hots and smothers them across his chest, leaving a bright red glaze which seems to please his wild eyes. Frantically, he continues to cover himself in candy until he's coated in a layer of red, until he finally stands upright and addresses the crowd watching him with his arms pumped straight into the air.]

NF: I AM A CRIMSON GOD!! I HAVE COME TO LIBERATE ALL OF YOU!! FOLLOW ME, MY CHILDREN!! SALVATION LIES JUST BEYOND THESE WALLS!!

DT: I... am at a COMPLETE loss of words right now!

DM: Here comes the calvalry, at last!

[Coming into the room is a stern-faced and clearly irritated Empire Pro CEO LINDSAY TROY, followed by a pair of large men in white clothes, one of which carries a straight jacket. She points at heavily drugged man causing a scene.]

TROY: There he is! He's already destroyed two concession stands! I'm trying to manage a show right now, so if you can get him out of here and take him back where he came from, I'd appreciate it.

[Nodding, the orderlies approach the wild-eyed Fear, who bats them away in a panic.]

NF: NO!! THEY'VE COME BACK FOR ME!! YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, CAPITALIST PIGS!!!

[Cackling, Fear throws a handful of smashed red hots into one of the orderly's faces. The other manages to jump on him from behind and secure his arms. Fear struggles, but his effort is wasted as the two men force him into the straight jacket and carry him off. We cut back to the boys at commentary.]

DT: Ladies and gentlemen... I've just been told that Nathan Fear is being removed from the arena, and taken away via ambulance. Apparently, there's some question as to where his sanity is, but I think we can all say he was under the influence of something else entirely.

DM: Looks like the Chronic Collision finally came through with their plan. Fear's back in the nuthouse, and the two are back to their old stoner ways.

DT: But right now, we've got more action to get through here tonight at WRESTLEVERSE!! It's been one HELL of a ride thus far, and we've barely scratched the surface.