As the anthem comes to an end, everyone in the entire arena cheers and claps. The entire arena is filled with men and women from the United States Armed Forces. Fireworks go off in the ramp entrance, the X-TRON and the rafters. A shower of red, white and blue fills the entire arena with the crowd still standing on their feet. Then One by One by Alterbridge begins to play as General Manager JENSEN KENT makes his way out to the arena. He stands at the entrance with a nice blue pinstripe suit and an American Flag tie.
JENSEN: Good evening everyone. Welcome to Thursday Night Anarchy! We are coming to you live from the Basrah Stadium here in Iraq. Tonight is a special night because we are dedicating this night to our men and women who have been here fighting for our freedoms for so long. I want to be the first to salute you. To say thank you. And to say that I hope you all get home safe to your families. Thank you.
Everyone begins to clap as JENSEN stands at attention and salutes the men and women in attendance.
JENSEN: Now before we get on with the show, Please focus your attention to the X-TRON once again as our video crew has prepared a video to honor you fine folks in attendance and those who couldn't make it tonight. Enjoy.
JENSEN walks to the back as the video begins to play.
The lights go out, and the words "If you ain't cheating, you ain't trying" appear on the X-Tron, then disappear, replaced by the sneering face of ACE VINCENT. Mel Gibson's voice is heard throughout the arena:
"YOU SHOULD JUST SMILE AND BLOW ME!"
"The Flame" by Chimaira hits with a thunderous breakdown, and the crowd showers him with boos.
ACE saunters out from behind the curtain slowly, looking around at the crowd and smirking. He is wearing a black and white plaid button down shirt and a pair of blue jeans, along with a pair of black boots in case he needs to curb stomp STEVE JASON at some point this evening. Behind him is BREE BENZ, who is dressed like a hooker as usual, and is wearing a sundress that stops just past her vagina.
They walk down to the ring, and BREE grabs the camera, ready to motorboat it as she usually does, but ACE stops her and shakes his head.
ACE: These motherfuckers are booing us. They don't get that privelage anymore.
BREE shrugs and follows him into the ring.
He saunters to the opposite side of the ring, then climbs the ropes and faces the crowd as a king would face a group of peasants. ACE throws his arms back and the crowd boos him, but all it does is make him smile more. This is truly a man who enjoys being a dickhead.
ACE drops down and grabs a mic, then looks around at the crowd and waits for them to stop booing.
ACE: Say what you want about the way the match went down, because there is absolutely no contesting the manner in which it ended. ACE VINCENT came away with the victory and the contract, and JAYZON WILLIAMZ was carried out of the arena on a stretcher!
The crowd boos him.
ACE: So I beat one has-been, only to find out that I'm going to be facing another in STEVE JASON. I thought that the XWF was where the most elite talent in the world resides!
The crowd boos again.
ACE: Seems to me that the majority of your roster is made up of legends who haven't done shit in years!
The crowd begins to chant "Sting-er! Sting-er! Sting-er!"
ACE: Calm down, slumdogs!
The crowd scream insults back at ACE and BREE, but the two of them just laugh.
ACE: Let me ask you this: why would any of these guys be proud to call themselves legends, considering how many of them are already in the hall? This place has only been open for evelen years, and somehow it's produced twenty-five people who are worth being called legendary? That's fucking ridiculous! That term has been thrown around in this place more than Tyger Lilly!
ACE and BREE both yell "Ohhh snap!" as the crowd continues to boo them.
ACE: For one so called legend, tonight is a very special night! Tonight is Steve Jason's birthday!
ACE tucks the microphone underneath his armpit and begins to clap. The crowd follows suit.
ACE: Well I can promise you all one thing: this is going to be one birthday that SJ will never fucking forget!
BREE continues to clap and cheer, though the crowd has stopped.
ACE: Steve's favorite insult to direct towards me is to call me a frat-boy and to insinuate bold things in regards to my girlfriend's sexual history. Most people would be irritated by this, but Bree and I are going to choose to embrace it. I'm going to give you a frat boy, and along with that, the antics of one. And Bree, well she's going to be a monster slut and we're going to manipulate a few people into doing a few things they normally wouldn't do. So, in the words of an Alpha Sigma Theta, I'm gonna fuck your shit up, bra!
ACE drops the microphone then smiles as he points at the camera.
ACE: I've got your number tonight, Steve. You better watch your back!
The camera cuts backstage and we see XWF interviewer Steve Sayors stood in front of a black Anarchy banner. He is heavily flanked by a gang of burly security personnel and fearful perspiration trickles down his temples. He clutches a microphone close to his mouth but it shakes erratically as his hands tremble with dread. He shuffles nervously and keeps glancing anxiously at someone or something off camera...
SAYORS: Well folks, tonight we have a special treat for you all; a world exclusive first time interview with one of the most exciting up-and-coming superstars on the XWF roster...
There is audible heavy breathing off camera. Sayors eyes continue to dart back and forth uneasily to the left of the frame
SAYORS: Ladies and Gentlemen, this man is revered as one of the most notorious, bloodthirsty felons of our time... and he has continued to plough a channel of violent psychosis right here in the XWF by winning his first two matches in style... even against opponents the calibre of reigning World Champion Zach Rizza. Tonight, for the first time ever we get inside the mind of... JUSTIN ZANE!
Sayors gestures with his free hand and the camera pans to the left to reveal the hulking, brooding figure of Justin Zane. He looks at Sayors with a wild, unhinged glare as he looms over him with intimidating menace. He emits a rabid snarl as the security guards step forward
JUSTIN ZANE: Call off your dogs, Sayors! Im not here to cause trouble... do you honestly think Id waste my time and effort on an insect like you?! Im here to seek absolution for my sins; not to brawl with a weatherman wannabe and a swarm of steroid munching hooligans!
Sayors motions towards the lead security officer and he begrudgingly steps to one side. Reluctantly, Sayors turns back towards Justin Zane
SAYORS: W-w-well, err... Justin, we all know about your chequered past; a lifetime spent in and out of correctional facilities. And we all know about your murderous rampage of violent lunacy and your search for redemption. But what we dont know is why you have chosen the XWF. What made you decide to pay your debts inside the ring instead of behind bars where you belong?!
JUSTIN ZANE: Steve, Ive TRIED to redeem myself in the conventional way; I spent sixteen years locked away in a grim mausoleum of solitude having my fractured psyche meticulously re-programmed... and it got me nowhere. Sure, I learnt to feel remorse for my crimes but these strange conflicting emotions of sorrow and repentance have reduced me to the tormented wreck you see before you. So I decided to break free from my shackles... I decided that Id had enough of hiding myself away, dead to the world... I decided that the only way I could assuage my guilt was to stand my ground and fight! And where better to prove my mettle than right here against the legendary warriors of the XWF?! Where better to show those who reviled me that Im a changed man; a productive member of society?! Where else can I purge myself of the violence that engulfs me but inside the squared circle?!
Sayors appears unimpressed and indignant
SAYORS: Right...?! Well, weve all witnessed your journey towards salvation thus far; your debut win against Peter Gilmour and your victory over Nick Ryan and Zach Rizza on last weeks Anarchy. But this Sunday at Rage in the Cage you face the biggest challenge to your unbeaten run yet as you take on not one, not two but FIVE of the XWFs best and brightest! Justin, with such insurmountable odds stacked against you I have to ask; is your quest doomed to failure? Has your own road to redemption been blocked already?!
JUSTIN ZANE: ... Best and brightest?! Do you honestly think that Justin Zane gives a crap about faded glories?! I dont care if my opponents have more experience than me OR if theyve won every championship belt under the sun; nothing has prepared them for the havoc I shall wreak! Centurion, Trent Gein, Daniel Malcolm; sure, these names are all synonymous with greatness... but do you seriously think Im going to be intimidated by a string of meaningless statistics and a series boastful, exaggerated anecdotes about past triumphs?! You see, in my life I have witnessed some truly horrific sights; seen and experienced foul, heinous acts... if I can come through these unscathed and emerge a better, stronger person then there is NOTHING I cant accomplish! Thats why I want all five of my worthy opponents to take a long, hard look in the mirror and ask themselves this; HOW ARE ALL YOUR PRECIOUS ACCOLADES GOING TO SPARE YOU FROM MY VENGEANCE?! I dont care how hard you fought to earn all your ill-gotten gains, none of it compares to what Ive had to go through to get to where I am today! I have shed more blood and sweat than you, endured more suffering and anguish than you... the battles I have fought are more terrible and appalling than even the most nightmarish hell you could possibly imagine...
SAYORS: But were talking about the cream of the XWF here! Is there nobody in this match that earns your respect?!
JUSTIN ZANE: Why should I respect any of them, Steve?! What have they done to earn my reverence?! Have any of them given themselves over to a life of crime and insanity, had their psychological mindset systematically destroyed under the cruel regime of a madman before risking their lives in order to escape to a world of paranoia, self-loathing and hardship?! Well, I have... and that makes me a tougher proposition than all five of those assholes combined! And if you wont take my word for it... then you better go ask Nick Ryan what he thinks about Justin Zane! Nick, last week on Anarchy I left you in a broken, bloody heap... and when my hand was raised in victory and I looked at the approving faces of the crowd do you know what I was feeling? I was RELIEVED, Nick! You see, I have come to realise that the only way I can ever make myself a better person, the only way I can ever be rid of the demons that stalk the dark recesses of my mind is by transferring all that inner torment and pent-up rage into physical carnage! My personal genesis began when I escaped confinement... it continued with Gilmour and then you and Rizza...and this Sunday history shall repeat itself live on pay per view! When I hit you with The Mark of Redemption, when I lock you and those other so-called "superstars" in The Shock Collar, when I smash all your faces into the canvas with the sole of my foot... you will know that I am Justin Zane by name... and just insane by nature!
He begins to shake uncontrollably and his eyes roll back into his head. He begins to snarl and foam at the mouth as his limbs flail wildly in some kind of schizophrenic trance
SAYORS: YOU ARE A SICK MAN! Security, please escort Mr. Zane from the premises!
The security team approach Justin Zane but he quickly snaps out of his psychotic episode. He cackles maniacally as he spits in the face of the lead security guard who lunges at him in anger. Quickly, he reaches for the Anarchy banner draped over the back of the set and tosses it towards the oncoming group of security officers
JUSTIN ZANE: LIGHTS OUT!!!
The banner unfurls in the air and cloaks Steve Sayors and the entire security staff in black cloth. Temporarily blinded, they stumble over each other and fall to the fall in a crumpled, writhing black mass. Zane laughs as he delivers a short, sharp kick to the bulging black cloth before quickly fleeing the scene. We hear a muffled struggle beneath the cloth as Sayors and the security guards try to get back to their feet.
PALMER and HOLCOMB immediately begin to brawl, and PALMER takes HOLCOMB down. The two continue to brawl on the mat, rolling around and smacking each other in the head. Both men get up and PALMER knocks HOLCOMB down with a big clothesline. PALMER begins to stomp on HOLCOMB. He picks HOLCOMB up and tosses him into the ropes, but HOLCOMB smacks PALMER with an elbow. HOLCOMB sets PALMER into the corner and begins to lay elbow shots into him. PALMER gets his foot up and boots HOLCOMB in the face. HOLCOMB stumbles backwards, and PALMER runs, hitting HOLCOMB with a running neck breaker. PALMER gets to the ropes, and stands, taking a breather. HOLCOMB slowly gets up, but PALMER walks over and boots HOLCOMB in the side. HOLCOMB rolls onto the ground, holding his ribs. PALMER rolls out of the ring and looks under the ring. HOLCOMB gets up and leaps out of the ring onto PALMERS back, causing PALMER to fall to the ground. HOLCOMB picks PALMER up and tosses him onto the barricade. HOLCOMB walks over and grabs the International Title, which is on display right by the time keeper. He walks over and slams the International Title onto PALMERS head. PALMER falls over to the other side of the barricade. HOLCOMB leaps over the barricade and picks PALMER up. He tosses PALMER over to the ring side of the barricade and then steps over the barricade himself. HOLCOMB tries to pick up PALMER, but PALMER reaches and elbows HOLCOMB in the groin. He rolls HOLCOMB into the ring and picks him up. PALMER now smiles at the crowd and hits the xMOSHx!! HOLCOMB looks like hes on a mental vacation. PALMER goes for the cover.. 1… 2…3! This one is over
WINNER: RJ PALMER
Backstage, a limo pulls into the arena and parks. The door opens slowly, and out steps STEVE JASON! The crowd erupts as THE STINGER emerges from the car, dressed in a plain white shirt, black padded vest and black cargos and boots.
Suddenly, a dozen slumdog children rush up to him with official STINGER photographs that they'd like him to sign!
SLUMDOGS: Oh STEVE JASON, we love you so much! Would you please sign my pictures so I can feed my family with all of the ruppees I will make when I sell it!
STEVE smiles, then makes sure to sign all of the pictures the children hold in front of him. As they run away, they smile and sing his praises in Hindi.
SJ: Heh. Cute little buggers.
SJ grabs his bag, then begins to walk towards the entranceway, but stops and feels his back pocket.
SJ: ...the hell? My wallet? They took my goddamn wallet!
SJ frowns and storms off after the kids, who have already vanished.
We cut to a video which says "Recorded Earlier" on the bottom right of the screen. The screen is black and then we fade into a shot of a cemetery somewhere in Beijing, China. There is a lot of fog so we can barely make out the tombstones and other graves in the cemetery. While the camera pans around, we can hear some evil music playing in the background to give this a evil, eerie mood. The camera continues to pan around as the fog becomes less and less thick. We then see Peter Gilmour standing above a grave which is covered with a black cloth. Peter is in a dark black cloak with a hood covering his eyes. His head is down and his hands are clasped together. It seems like Peter is in a trance but he moves his hands a bit and then begins to speak.
PETER GILMOUR: Ah, the cemetery. A place I like to call home. I come here most of the time to pray for the fallen soldiers who risked their lives to save America. But other times, I pray for the souls of my friends and family who have passed on. Life is a funny thing. We never take it for granted. It's kind of like my time here in the XWF. When I first started, I was happy to be in a new federation and ready to show my skills with the best this fed had to offer. I didn't make any friends so I felt a little out of place. But over time, I gained the respect of some of the wrestlers in the back and even was part of two of the greatest factions in the XWF, THE DYNASTY and the N.O.W. Each member of those groups taught me the ins and outs of the business. I learned under great men like Trent Gein and my dear friend Famine of the Vile, a man who is sorely missed. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him. He was the true face of evil. I wanted to be just like him. Be the next demon of the XWF. A long time ago, I cemented my legacy as the most evil and violent man ever. I was a 3 time Deathmatch Champion, a former 2 time World tag Team champion. I inflicted fear and pain into every opponent who stepped foot into my ring. My ring, was my yard so to speak. Everyone who entered, were trespassing. I put my body on the line every night. Spilled tons of blood and broke almost every bone in my body. The people loved it. They cheered me on to becoming a champion. Those were good times.
Peter thinks for a minute as fog begins to roll in.
PETER GILMOUR: But it seems nowadays, those days are long gone. The self-proclaimed "Xtreme Icon" has not been performing to his own standards. I've been losing to guys I know I could beat. Guys like ACE VINCENT, that old fart NICK RYAN, hell even legends like CENTURION and TRENT GEIN. Some say I haven't had a quality win in over a month. And I will agree. The last person I beat was some scrub that couldn't cut it anymore. Maybe I've lost my edge. Maybe I am not the "monster" everyone perceives me as being. *shrugs* You may be right. But let me tell you all something. I still have a ton of gas left in the tank. That ring is still my yard and I'll be damned if I let anyone near it. Nobody enters my yard but me. All who enter, are trespassing and they will be dealt with accordingly. Now let me get to someone who has really pissed me off lately. I'm talking about you DAMIEN BATES, the self proclaimed "Demon child" of the XWF. What a joke! He thinks he is the devil's favorite son and that he is the true face of evil. I will admit that DAMIEN has the same qualities of what it takes to become a monster. A few weeks ago he proved it to me by beating me and then tieing me up to a cross upside down and then covering me in blood. The smell made me want to puke. It was all in his plan to please his "master." But I got my revenge on him. Over the next few weeks, I waited for my chance to strike and I did when DAMIEN lost to JAYZON WILLIAMS the Xtreme Champion. But as always, he has to use his little tricks and escaped leaving me and JAYZON in the ring surrounded by fire. I vowed to put an end to DAMIEN'S evil ways and last week I got my chance. Sure, Damien and his "Master" who turned out to be some old fossil named DEMON TED SOUL, viciously assaulted me and left me lying in the parking lot. It seemed like you and your "master" had put me down for good eh DAMIEN? Guess what? IT DIDN'T WORK! I got revenge on your pitiful attack and laid you both out with a steel chair. And now it seems our faithful GM JENSEN KENT has given me what I wanted and that is a match with you DAMIEN. But this isn't any ordinary match. At RAGE IN THE CAGE, it will be me versus you in a FIRE CAGE MATCH. Now since you have never been in one of these matches, let me school you. There will be a 15 foot high steel cage surrounding the ring. The top of the cage will be lit on fire and every so often the next level of the cage will light on fire, then the last until the entire cage is set on fire. This match is one of the most barbaric in history. I have been in one of these and it's not pretty. You have to have the will to survive. The heat of the cage can cause you to pass out but it can also be used as a weapon. You can get badly burned in this match DAMIEN. You could have severe burns and see your flesh ooze and melt away. But don't be scared DAMIEN. I will not hurt you too bad. I will just throw you into the gates of hell and watch as your body melts like ice cream on a hot summer day. You claim to be the devil's favorite demon? Well guess what, the devil doesn't think so. He has anointed me his favorite son and at RAGE IN THE CAGE, I will end your career and put an end to this foolish nonsense of you bring darkness into the XWF. I am the TRUE face of evil DAMIEN, not you! Your little games are over. You will cease to exist after I'm done with you. This is my match DAMIEN. My playground if you will. You will enter the gates of hell a man. But when you leave, and boy, I will not let you leave, you will be nothing but ash after the fires of hell consume your damned soul and I will be the one with his hand raised in victory. And if your "master" DEMON TED SOUL decides to get involved, well, *laughs wickedly* I got a special surprise for him. Let's just say you're "master" is a fraud and the real "master" will show his face on Sunday night. So DAMIEN BATES, this Sunday night, we will enter the gates of hell. But I assure you of one thing. YOU will not be coming out alive. SO IT IS WRITTEN! SO SHALL IT COME TO PASS! AND SUNDAY NIGHT DAMIEN BATES, SO SHALL MY WILL....*lifts cloak and rolls eyes in back of his head* BEEEEEEEEEEE DOOOOOOOOOONE!
PETER laughs wickedly as he steps off the tombstone. We then see a flash of lightning hit the tombstone and engulf into flames. The camera closes in, not too close, and we see the inscription saying DAMIEN BATES scrawled on it. We see PETER laughing as he heads off. The fog is following him to a remote part of the graveyard which is not surrounded by tombstones. PETER goes over and stands in the middle of the field. He puts his hood back on and we see a mysterious man in black approach him. PETER just nods his head as we see another flash of lightning hit the ground right where Peter and the mystery man are standing. The ground engulfs into flames and forms a pentagram. Peter and the mystery man are laughing like crazy now.
PETER GILMOUR: SEE YOU IN HELL DAMIEN!
PETER laughs once again and rolls his eyes in back of his head as the mystery man smiles wickedly. We fade out with a shot of the fog rolling in and encompassing both PETER and the mystery man then the flames mysteriously vanish and PETER and the mystery man are nowhere to be seen.
STEVE JASON reaches his locker room door, and just as he turns the handle, he spots BREE BENZ walking towards him without ACE VINCENT by her side.
SJ: This can't be good.
BREE walks up to him and flashes him.....a million dollar smile.
SJ: You've got three seconds to tell me why you're here, or beat it.
BREE: I just wanted to come by and wish you a very happy birthday. CENTURION has been running around and making sure that everyone knows.
SJ: Right? Where's ACE then? Hiding behind this door?
STEVE throws his locker room door open, quickly takes a peek inside, but sees no one.
BREE: Like I said, I'm just here to pay my respects to a legend. ACE doesn't know where I am.
SJ shakes his head in annoyance.
BREE: So why don't we stop dancing around the issue and just relieve a little bit of this sexual tension right now?
Bree leans in to kiss Steve Jason, but he holds up a hand.
SJ: Ohhhh, no! I've seen what happens to the guys that kiss you.
BREE recoils and SJ puts a hand on his door.
SJ: They get herpes.
SJ enters the room and slams the door in her face. A loud crash is heard from the other side, and BREE begins to giggle. SJ's voice can be heard through the door.
SJ: What in the hell? Is this butter? Did you butter my floor?
BREE opens the door and the camera peeks inside. SJ is lying on the floor, trying to get up, but failing because of all the butter on the floor.
BREE: Happy birthday, STEVE! This is just the first of many presents that ACE and I have set up for you tonight!
SJ: I suppose you told those kids to steal my wallet as well? Give it back or else!
BREE laughs, then runs away as SJ continues to try and get to his feet.
SJ: Goddamn fratboy bastard!
The scene switches back to the ring where JASON MUDD is, standing in the middle of the squared circle. Dressed casually, in a pair of jeans and a loose button up short, JASON MUDD looks out across the crowd while his entrance theme, "You're Going Down" by Sick Puppies fades out.
JASON MUDD: Go on, the lot of you. You know you want to point, laugh, and say I told you so. A couple of weeks ago, the mass majority spoke... and low and behold, whether it's because a pregnant chick wants to bang him, an old fart ones to be him, or a retarded teenager doesn't even really know who STEVE JASON is... he won, advanced. He knocked me out of the tournament. So go on, laugh it up.
And the fans do just that! JASON lets them have their moment, even cracking a grin when the fans start a "STEVE JASON KICKED YOUR ASS!! (CLAP! CLAP! CLAP CLAP CLAP!) STEVE JASON KICKED YOUR ASS!!! (CLAP! CLAP! CLAP CLAP CLAP!)" chant.
JASON MUDD: Yeah, he did. The Stinger proved me wrong, and that's fine by me. Just gives me reasons to improve my game and not only be the XWF's Premier Asshole, but be the best that this business absolutely has to offer. No one is perfect in this game. Not me, not KIERAN KING, not certainly not STEVE JASON.
JASON MUDD starts walking around the ring, rubbing the back of his neck.
JASON MUDD: But let's stop focusing on the loss of last week. I'm no longer in the Universal title hunt currently so the tournament means absolutely jack shit to me anymore. Whether it's STEVE JASON or ACE VINCENT, I don't give a rats ass who ends up with the Universal championship now. No, you see, instead I have something else to focus on. Because I'm involved. I'm in the mix. Yeah, that's right. The World fucking Championship at Rage in the Cage.
The fans give a pop at the mentioning of the triple-threat match.
JASON MUDD: Some may say that JASON MUDD here is settling for second best; however, that is not the case. Your Premier Asshole sees this match as an opportunity, not a replacement or substitute from what was taken from him. I see the World Championship as a means to the ultimate end and one hell of an achievement to start off with in this business. Look at how many great men in this business have started their career off with the World championship and gone on to do great, great things. BIGG RIGG, JEM WILLIAMS, even your beloved STEVE JASON. What do they all have in common? They are multiple World champions, they are multiple Universal champions, and mots of all? They all three are LEGENDS in this business and are three of the most commonly associated names with the X-Treme Wrestling Federation.
JASON MUDD grins, looking out at the crowd.
JASON MUDD: You know what? That sounds like one hell of a way to start a Legacy in this business, right there, at Rage in the Cage by snagging up the World championship; however... I can't say that is just the only reason that I'm excited for this match.
JASON MUDD looks at the ground for a few seconds, then lifts his eyes. Within a second his glance turns serious, his blue hues staring daggers through the crowd.
JASON MUDD: The World championship is a joke right now, a disgrace of a title. The things I've mentioned about the belt are the way things use to be. The World Championship was a strap that people could base their entire career around, second only to the Universal Championship. Even at times it rivaled the top title in the business with the fierce competition that month in and month out gave their blood, their careers, and their lives to try and obtain. Not anymore. The title is a fucking disgrace and that's because of one man. ZACH RIZZA!
JASON MUDD shakes his head, looking disappointed. The fans boo JASON MUDD for slandering the current World Champion's name.
JASON MUDD: ZACH RIZZA can barely make it out of a match alive, let alone allow himself to be seen as a true, fit World Champion in this business. Since the guy won the title, which must have been on a fluke, has he even won a match? Has he even managed to remotely make his opponents feel like he is some form of competition in this business? To me, it surely seems not! The incompetent fuck not only is an idiot, but he lacks the capability of standing tall in this ring. He lacks the qualities to be a leader, to be on the forefront of carrying this business on his back. He lacks the ability to be a champion.
JASON MUDD cracks a sarcastic, egotistical grin.
JASON MUDD: ZACH RIZZA, let me have the honor Sunday night, at Rage in the Cage, to take that burden of the World Championship off your shoulder and let you whither and die like your career already has. Let a real man take your place as World Champion so that you can go disgrace yourself to an eighteenth X-Treme Championship run, lose a couple more years off your life, and just be the "BIG TYME" you're not. STEVE JASON may have topped over me, but by no means are you a STEVE JASON in this business, ZACH RIZZA. You're in a league all of your own, far, far below the rest of the competition that's out there. ZACH...
At that point, JASON MUDD gets cut off as ZACH RIZZA's entrance theme, "REAL BIG" begins to play. ZACH RIZZA doesn't look all to pleased by the words of JASON MUDD, making a straight line to the ring and sliding in under the bottom rope, slinging the World championship around with him. He's instantly to his feet, his theme dying off, and in JASON MUDD's face! The fans are going NUTS! JASON MUDD lowers the mic and puts his face just inches from RIZZA'S, both men staring the other down. JASON MUDD begins talking trash right to RIZZA's face, the crowd unable to hear the damaging whispers. RIZZA'S glare intensifies but he slowly backs off, looks at the World championship and turns around. JASON MUDD stands his ground and brings the microphone slowly to his lips, his dead gaze on the back of ZACH RIZZA.
JASON MUDD: That's what I thought, 'Champ'... don't worry. Sunday night, you'll be Champless, just as you're balless and nothing but a fucking coward.
That sets RIZZA off. JASON MUDD doesn't have enough time to react! Out of no where, RIZZA turns... RIZZALINER! IT CONNECTS!!! RIZZALINER TO JASON MUDD!!! IT NEARLY TAKES JASON'S HEAD OFF! JASON MUDD flips from the impact of the RIZZALINER to his throat and is out cold. The mic flips from his hands and lands on the ground, RIZZA picking up his World championship again and looking down at RIZZA! RIZZA picks up the microphone as well, looking down at the unconscious JASON MUDD.
ZACH RIZZA: Ahhh, finally... JASON MUDD at his best. Laying on the ground, knocked out, and most of all... not running his damn mouth! JASON... say all you want, but I just proved my point. All I need is a split second and three more to end you at Rage in the Cage. No escape, no running JASON. Remember it, JASON... three seconds. One... Two... Three...
ZACH RIZZA drops the microphone on the back of JASON MUDD's head, but he doesn't budge! He is OUT! ZACH RIZZA looks down at one of the contenders for his championship belt Sunday night, raising the gold in the air as "Big Time" begins to play again. Celebrating, ZACH RIZZA isn't aware of JAYZON WILLIAMZ as the other contender for his belt runs out and slides into the ring. Standing, JAYZON WILLIAMZ measures up ZACH RIZZA, waiting for the champion to turn around. RIZZA finally does to exit the ring when... Kick to the stomach...
187! 187! 187! RIZZA IS OUT! The world championship is flung from his shoulder as the 187 connects, JAYZON standing over, bending down to speak heavy trash to ZACH RIZZA! Picking up the mic dropped on JASON'S head, JAYZON wastes no time.
JAYZON WILLIAMZ: I fuckin' told you, RIZZA! Bitch, I got your number! That championship belt is fuckin' mine at Rage in the Cage, ya hear me? Nothin' you or this bitch as JASON MUDD can be doin' about it either. Why? Because I'm fuckin' JAYZON WILLIAMZ! That's why!
JAYZON walks around the ring for a few seconds, stops by ZACH RIZZA and stomps on the back of his head a few times, but RIZZA doesn't react much, out from the heavy hitting 187. He walks back over to JASON MUDD and looks down at him, he having not moved an inch since getting taken out from the RIZZALINER minutes ago!
JAYZON WILLIAMZ: And you, little bitch? You ain't your Uncle in this business. Better watch your fuckin' mouth if you know what's good for you. You ain't got a place to fuckin' stand on in this crowd and all you're gonna end up is fuckin' without a career if you keep this up. You're right, ZACH RIZZA is no STEVE JASON in this business, but lemme tell you this... STEVE JASON is no JAYZON WILLIAMZ. That World title's mine.
JAYZON WILLIAMZ smirks as he drops the microphone and looks out at the crowd. JAYZON WILLIAMZ goes to turn and leave the ring when suddenly out of no where... JASON MUDD is to his feet! His eyes are enraged! He must have recovered some time ago and was waiting, staking out his pray!
JAYZON WILLIAMZ doesn't see it coming! JASON MUDD turns JAYZON around, grabs the back of his head and lifts his knees up to JAYZON'S face and chest, falling back... DIVINE INTERVENTION! DIVINE INTERVENTION! JASON MUDD rocks JAYZON WILLIAMZ hard and now it's the Legend's turn to be knocked out! Blood is pouring from JAYZON's face took, his lip busted wide open from the contact of the knee to his face!
JASON MUDD is slow getting to his feet, the adrenaline wearing off and he holding his head, still apparently feeling the affects of the RIZZALINER! Looking fierce and pissed off, JASON mutters a few last words of trash talk to both JAYZON and RIZZA, both men out cold. Pointing at the World championship that's on the ground, JASON holds up one finger, then two, then three, signaling the three-second count that will lead to him being the new world champion!
"You're Going Down" by Sick Puppies plays again as JASON drops to his back and rolls out of the ring, still holding his head. The damage has been sat before Sunday night unfolds... and is only a taste of things to come! ZACH RIZZA! JAYZON WILLIAMZ! JASON MUDD! World title on the line! Backstage, STEVE JASON is storming towards ACE VINCENT'S locker room. He stops when he gets to the door and sees that there's a note with his name on it taped at eye level.
STEVE leans forward, then reads the note out loud.
SJ: I'm wishing you another year, of laughter, joy, and fun, surprises, love, and happiness, and when your birthday's done, I hope you realize deep in your heart, that you are just a flake, and if you've read this entire poem, your head's about to ache...
A GIANT BOXING GLOVE SUDDENLY EXPLODES OUT FROM BEHIND THE NOTE, NAILING STEVE RIGHT IN THE FACE!
He stumbles backwards, still conscious, holding on to his nose. Somehow, he was able to back up a few inches before the boxing glove came out, surely saving himself a trip to the ER.
SJ: That's it! Where is he? I'm going to kill him!
SJ hears ACE's music playing over the PA.
SJ: He's headed to the ring!
SJ runs towards the entrance so fast that he loses the cameraman! ACE and BREE are in the ring, watching replays of the pranks they've pulled on STEVE JASON earlier in the night!
ACE: Oh, what great fun!
ACE is smiling from ear to ear, as making another person's life miserable on their birthday gives him great satisfaction.
ACE: So who wants to see what STEVE JASON has in his wallet?
BREE makes an "O" face, then reaches inside of her cleavage and pulls out a small, black wallet and hands it to ACE. He opens it up, and pulls out a bunch of Australian notes, then raises an eyebrow when he looks at them.
ACE: They have a fucking cowboy on their money?
ACE shows it to BREE, who verifies it.
ACE: I wonder how many Aboriginee babies this guy stole!
The crowd stays silent because they don't get it.
ACE: Who wants some money?!
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