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Aggression 74: Indianapolis, Indiana - 9/24/13


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
[MUSIC UP: “Quiet” by Smashing Pumpkins.]

[CUTTO: Impulse standing with the Aggression graphic rolling behind him.]

[CUTTO: Malcolm Joseph-Jones snarling at his opponent.]

[CUTTO: Point of View walking towards the ring.]

[CUTTO: Cameron Cruise yelling in triumph as he tosses The First into the water outside Pac Bell Park.]

[CUTTO: Adrian Willard clotheslining an unnamed opponent nearly out of his shoes.]

[CUTTO: Rezin smiling with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. ]

[CUTTO: Aaron Jones staring at the camera.]

[CUTTO: The Dirk Dickwood Project looking down at the camera.]

[CUTTO: A graphic showing an old style map with the words “The Empire” across a giant swath of land.]

[CUTTO: Eli Flair flashing a devilish grin.]

[CUTTO: Muse smiling cheerfully.]

[CUTTO: Boogie Smallz glaring at the camera.]

[CUTTO: Lesbian Siegel and Caitlyn Daymon talking.]

[CUTTO: Christian Light standing on the second rope, arms raised.]

[CUTTO: Animezing Dragons holding up the tag team titles.]

[CUTTO: “Triple X” Sean Stevens standing in the entrance.]

[CUTTO: The First, holding the EPW World Title and staring into the camera.]

[CUTTO: The map, this time a tracking line heads from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma toward a dot marked Indianapolis, Indiana. When the line hits the dot, AGGRESSION 74 bursts onto the screen in red letters.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Hail to the Chief

[Fade in on DAN RYAN standing at center-ring with a microphone as fans in the sold out Banker’s Life Fieldhouse in Indianapolis cheer and chant his name. Ryan quiets them with a motion of the hand]

DT: Welcome to Aggression everyone. EPW President Dan Ryan has come to the ring unannounced. This is not on our program for tonight’s event. Your guess is as good as mine as to why he’s out here.

MN: Don’t we pay you to have a clue? They oughtta call you “CLUELESS” Joe Jackson. All shoes, NO CLUES.

DM: When Dan Ryan shows up with a microphone, you know something big is on the horizon...

[Crowd chants begin to die down]

RYAN: Thank you, Indiana! [cheers] Thank you for the warm reception, thank you for buying a ticket, and for keeping Mike Neely employed.

MN: I live to serve.

RYAN: You didn’t expect to see me here tonight – I didn’t expect to be here. But things change, circumstances change, and when an opportunity arises...I’m first on the scene. Now if you’ve been watching EPW a while, you know we’re not all about the SHOCK and AWE. We don’t need to make you [BLEEP] your pants every week. We just deliver the BEST F[BLEEP]KING PRODUCT out there. The biggest names, the best athletes, and all that jazz. Gimmickry for the sake of ratings isn’t exactly my thing but...

DT: He’s got my interest piqued...

RYAN: But tonight is different. Some big announcements will be made that are going to shock you, have you on the floor, maybe send a few old-timers into cardiac arrest. Who knows?

MN: Somebody get Joey Melton his defibrillator!

RYAN: What I do know is this: in just a few moments, we’re going to make this year’s WRESTLEVERSE the BIGGEST show in EPW history, and that’s no bull[BLEEP].


RYAN: Rather than tell you about it myself, I’ll leave the honor to our INTERIM EPW PRESIDENT...


MN: Say it ain’t so, Dan!

RYAN: [smiling] That’s right. Those of you who pay attention to DEFIANCE know that the company is going to be on a tour of Japan for the next few months or so. This of course means I’ll be out of the office for a little while. So without further ado, let me introduce you to the man who will be taking my place until Wrestleverse. He’s a guy I’ve certainly had my run-ins with...

DM: Guy? That rules out Lindsay...

[Somebody in the crowd yells out “HORNET!”]

RYAN: Hornet? No, try again.

[Someone else yells out “GUNS!” “MELTON!” “STEVENS!” “BEAST!” “ICE TRE!”]

RYAN: [laughing] No, don’t try to guess this one. It still has me scratching my head. F[BLEEP]k it. Bring him out here...

[Crowd rises and looks to the entrance]

[CUEUP: “Young Lust” by Pink Floyd]





[From the top of the entrance ramp walks out a man wearing a silver suit with black shirt, no tie, top button undone, blonde-hair tied back and a GAS MASK! He stops, removes the mask, and launches it into the crowd. It’s CASTOR V. STRIFE!]


DT: Oh...my...

DM: This is surreal.

MN: What the HELL is he doing in EPW?!

DT: Mike, Dean...I’m speechless.

DM: That is one face I never thought I’d see show up here.

[Castor climbs up onto the apron and leaps over the top rope. He immediately gets up to the top turnbuckle and throws his arms out for the big reaction. Dan is clapping with a sarcastic grin on his face, as Castor is handed a mic]

[Crowd continues to cheer as the camera closes up on his face, smiling, surveying the crowd before he brings the mic to his mouth]

CASTOR: My people...

[Cheering continues]

CASTOR: Yes, it’s true. There were no hanging chads, no rigged voting machines. You are MY people, and I am YOUR President until Wrestleverse! [cheers] And all it took were a couple of good old-fashioned backroom deals. Let me explain...

MN: This oughtta be good.

CASTOR: Dan and I are betting men. And over the years, through our many battles, I boldly told him that not only would he never hit me with a Humility Bomb, but that if he DID happen to catch me, I would show up in EPW. [cheers] And I was doing well on that until ULTRATITLE last year, when the bastard finally got me. [cheers]

RYAN: [nods] I did get you...

CASTOR: Yes, well, not to be outdone, I told him we’d UP THE STAKES. If I beat him Dallas on ESEN, he would have to make me President of EPW for an entire month. Dan, you gave me the fight of my life, but on that night I was the better man. We are men of our word, aren’t we?

DT: This is unbelievable...

CASTOR: Tonight, I stand before you, far removed from where I’m best known, against all odds and expectations, as interim PRESIDENT of EMPIRE PRO WRESTLING!


DM: For so long, it was no secret in this industry that Castor Strife belonged to one organization here in the ESEN network. This is no longer the case, and he is HERE in EPW for the first time!

CASTOR: I will make myself available, in all my splendor and wisdom, to the entire EPW roster until Wrestleverse. Speaking of which, my first order of business is to pick and announce the VENUE for EPW’s biggest event. [looks at Dan] Can I tell them?

RYAN: It’s your show, buddy...

CASTOR: Anywhere I want? [Dan nods] Excellent. Well then...this year, WRESTLEVERSE V will be taking place...[scratches chin]...at MADISON SQUARE GARDEN in NEW YORK!

[HUGE BOOS! Castor looks surprised and suddenly notices the Indiana Pacers banners hanging from the rafters]

CASTOR: Oops. Forgot where I was. Sorry Indiana, this one is a victory that New York can savor. Call it East Coast bias. But I have some OTHER news that you might like better. In the time since I signed on the dotted line to be here and “RUN THE SHOW” while Dan is off in the Bahamas, I’ve been thinking about the pay-per-view main event.


CASTOR: The First will be defending his EPW World Heavyweight Title against my dear, DEAR friend IMPULSE. What a colossal matchup! But I couldn’t help but think that it needed something else. These two have been in main events across the country for TOO LONG. Time to share the spotlight, gentlemen. So I’ve decided that a BATTLE ROYAL should be held on next week’s Aggression. The final two left standing in that match will then face each other at Aggression 76, where the winner will be given a place in the World Title match at Wrestleverse. THREE MEN – ONE BELT!


CASTOR: Now as somebody who has filmed his share of threesomes, I can tell you that they typically do NOT go swimmingly. Always somebody feeling left out. So I’ve decided...this should be a four-way-dance.

RYAN: Who’s the fourth man going to be?

CASTOR: You want to know, Dan?

RYAN: I’m DYING to know.

CASTOR: I’ve got the perfect person in mind for such a spot -- [huge grin] --- ME.


DT: WOW! Castor Strife has just inserted himself into the main event at Wrestleverse! This is HUGE!

DM: What a battle that’s going to be! First, Impulse, Castor, and we still have a fourth man on the horizon!

CASTOR: Dan, you stepped up. You not only put up the money to sign me, you CHALLENGED ME. Could I come to EPW and achieve what I have everywhere else? From Ultratitle to NFW, to A1E and PRIME, the name Castor Strife has been associated with DOMINANCE. I am the undisputed most dominant force in this industry since a man named Dan Ryan burst on the scene. So now I’m in your backyard to prove one more time that there is NOTHING and NO ONE like me in the world today. You asked me, point blank: Can I come to EPW and WEAR THE CROWN? [smiles; eyes widen] We’re going to find out at Wrestleverse.


RYAN: That’s going to be a hell of a match, maybe the biggest in our history. But I should warn you about something. You and I have had our beef – that’s over now. I’m happy to do business with you. But understand something, Castor. EPW is the company I built. I put blood into this place – literally. If you use this LIMITED power I’m granting you, to compromise in any way this organization that means everything to me – so help me God, I will come after you guns blazing. We understand each other?

[Castor steps forward, stares down with Dan for a moment. A few seconds pass before Castor smiles and extends a handshake to Dan. The crowd pops big!]

[CUEUP: “Young Lust” by Pink Floyd]

DT: This is one of the biggest and most shocking moments in EPW history! The reigning Ultratitle champion and one of the biggest names in the industry, Castor Strife, has been given the KEYS TO THE COMPANY leading up to Wrestleverse V in Madison Square Garden, where he’ll compete in an epic showdown with EPW World Champion THE FIRST, Number One Contender IMPULSE, and a soon to be established FOURTH COMPETITOR!

DM: When you talk about The First, Impulse, and Strife, these are the three guys at the top of everybody’s rankings. We’ve heard the arguments for some time now – who is the best? Well it was thought impossible to answer! Castor was exclusive to one company, First was here, and Impulse was the common link. Now they’re all under one roof, signed to a match, and the winner will walk out of Wrestleverse as the EPW World Champion!

MN: I pooped. That’s all I’m gonna say.

DT: And on that disgusting note, we’re going to commercial break. Back with more after this!

[Fadeout on a shot of Castor peering out over the ropes at the EPW crowd]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
James Haughton v. Aaron Jones

DT: I don't know how to react to the big announcement to lead off the show, guys.

DM: Well, things are about to get really interesting, obviously.

MN: This is just the sort of thing Dan Ryan would do, giving any shmuck a chance to win the most prestigious championship we have just for winning a battle royal.

DM: You know, technically Neely, you could even enter and win a chance at the World Title.

MN: This is just the sort of thing Dan Ryan would do, giving any hardworking underpaid underdog story the chance to win the most prestigious championship we have... and just for winning a battle royal!!

DT: Gimme a break. Let's go up to Tony Fatora.

[CUE UP: The theme from Terminator 2: Judgment Day. The fans give a warm greeting to JAMES “JUDGMENT” HAUGHTON as he steps through the entry-way and onto the stage, beating his fist against his open palm three times before throwing aside his jacket and bolting for the ring.]

TF: Ladies and gentlemen, the following exhibition contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first… hailing from London, England, and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-four pounds… making his Empire Pro debut here tonight… JAMES… JUDGMENT… HAUGHTON!!

DT: Getting our first up close and personal look of James Haughton right now, sliding into the ring and giving the fans a look at his signature gesture, pounding the mat three times!

MN: Thank you, Mr. Haughton, for demonstrating your ability to count! Good to know the Brits still have a passable education system over across the pond...

DM: Maybe you could try showing some respect, Mike! This man came a long way to bring a decent sense of fairness to the sport of professional wrestling!

DT: He’s here to bring the hammer of justice down on those who try to desecrate the dignity of the ring, and that’s a cause I’m sure many of us can get behind!

MN: Yeah, count me out… the “dignity” is fine, if you ask me!

[CUE UP: “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant. The Indianapolis crowd gives a VERY welcome reaction to AARON JONES as he steps out onto the stage, making his way down the ramp and accepting all of the high-fives being offered by the ringside fans.]

TF: And the opponent… hailing from Indianapolis, Indiana, and weighing in at one-hundred and sixty pounds… PLEASE WELCOME… AARON… JONES!!!

DT: A true hometown welcome for Aaron Jones! He looks excited to be here tonight to compete in front of his friends and family! Could this be the night he earns his first victory?

MN: Ugh, I don’t know who I hate worse in this…

DM: Many had doubts on how long Aaron Jones would last when he first made the plunge into professional wrestling… but with every match, this young man has shown more and more improvement!

DT: He’s been building confidence, experience, and fan support, but who’s to know how great of a challenge his opponent will bring tonight!

[Jones reaches the ring and slides in under the ropes. The official, Bryan Weatherby, makes the checks on both men, who are patient and compliant with the formalities. A few moments later, he directs them to their corners and gives the signal to the timekeeper.]


DT: Bell sounds, and the match begins with Jones and Haughton coming right at each other… here goes Aaron around back -- NO! James Haughton catches him, and manhandles him right into a headlock! Haughton, putting some HARD knees into the ribs of Jones!

MN: Apparently, he doesn’t want anybody sneaking back there!

DT: Headlock takedown puts Jones to the mat, and Haughton squeezes down on the head of Aaron Jones! But Jones, spurned by his hometown fans cheering him on, tries to fight his way out it! He gets himself off his back… but here’s Haughton, releasing the hold and getting to his feet… ELBOW DROP across the back of the head!

DM: “Judgment” isn’t holding anything back with those strikes… a true old-school European type!

DT: Aaron Jones looking rattled after that blow to the head, and now James Haughton wrangles him back to his feet… there’s the Irish Whip, and Aaron Jones is in motion… off the ropes -- NO!! He hangs onto the top and stops himself from running right into a DROPKICK by Haughton!

MN: He didn’t JUDGE that last move all too well, if you ask me…

DT: Haughton off his feet, and Aaron Jones sees his window… he comes sprinting forward, and a RUNNING DROPKICK of his own puts James Haughton to his feet! Jones back up, and he keeps moving… off the ropes as Haughton gets back up… CROSS-BODY BLOCK takes him to the mat and on his back!

Crowd: *POP!!*

DT: The referee is there to make the count!



Haughton kicks out!

DM: But Aaron Jones is on a roll! He’s already gone for the first pin attempt in this match! If he can keep up his momentum, he could see his first true victory as a professional wrestler here tonight!

DT: And here in front of his hometown of Indianapolis!

MN: Oh gag me…

DT: But let’s not rule out James “Judgment” Haughton too soon, as he makes a spirited recovery and gets to his feet! Jones is right there, and the two go into the lock-up… Haughton overpowers, putting Aaron right into an arm wringer! Tension on the shoulder… and a LEGSWEEP puts Jones on the mat!

DM: Haughton came into this match with a weight and strength advantage, and it certainly shows! Jones just can’t hang with him when they tangle up!

MN: Too bad Empire Pro doesn’t have a flea-weight division…

DT: Jones fighting back to his feet, but Haughton wrangles him right back into another headlock… backs into the ropes for a bounce… BULLDOG puts Jones face-first on the canvas! “Judgment” rolls him over, hooks the leg for the pin!



NO! Aaron Jones gets the shoulder up!

DM: There’s certainly no quit in Aaron Jones tonight! He’s showing he can hang in there, and he’s got plenty left in the tank!

DT: I get the feeling “Judgment” has plenty left too, as he now gets Aaron Jones back to his feet for -- wait, Jones DROPS DOWN and HOOKS THE LEG --

Crowd: *POP!!!*





DM: Aaron Jones nearly snuck away with the win, but James Haughton wasn’t about to be caught snoozing!

DT: Haughton visibly unhappy as he gets to his feet, and BOOTS Aaron Jones right in the chest before he can rise! James Haughton mounting him now… and lays a few FOREARMS into him for good measure! That’s downright punishing!

DM: I can only guess that “Judgment” thought that small package attempt was just a little too sneaky for his liking!

DT: If he’s worried about people getting sneaky in that ring, then Aaron Jones should be the least of his concerns in that regard! In any case, Haughton has Jones thoroughly dazed now as he pulls him to his feet… there’s the whip to the ropes… Jones comes back and gets POWERSLAMMED HARD into the canvas!

MN: NOW we’re gettin’ into familiar territory: Aaron Jones taking yet another beating of his life!

DT: Haughton has the leg hooked! Could it be over?



Kickout by Jones!

Crowd: *POP!!*

DT: Haughton with Jones up again… locks him up, and hooks the leg… OVER HE GOES with the Fisherman Suplex! Clinches in for the pin!



THR -- NO!! Jones with another kickout!

Crowd: *POP!!*

DM: Aaron Jones is showing a lot of fight right now, even with James Haughton showing him a rough beating!

DT: Nevertheless, James “Judgment” Haughton looks to be ready to finish this one for good! He beats his palm thrice with the fist, signalling the end! Aaron Jones, looking weary, gets to feet, seemingly unable to hear the crowd trying to warn him… he turns around, and Haughton pulls him right under his arm --

-- NO!! JONES BURSTS FORWARD with all of his strength and BULL RUSHES James Haughton into the turnbuckle!

DM: He tucked the shoulder down and landed it right in the gut! James Haughton has had the WIND knocked out of him!

DT: Haughton is stunned, and the fans are ECSTATIC as Jones sees an attack of opportunity… SAVATE KICK --



DT: Jones off balance… and Haughton spins him around -- James Haughton DROPS HIM INTO THE KNEE with THE JUDGEMENT!!

Crowd: “OOOohhh..”

MN: Well THAT sucked the life out of this crowd!

DT: Haughton rolles Jones onto his back… makes the cover!





[Aaron Jones pops the shoulder a half of a second too late, and James Haughton comes to his feet pumping his fists in victory.]

TF: Here is your winner…


DT: A solid win for James “Judgement” Haughton in his debut, although a bit of a disappointment for Aaron Jones, who I felt came within a hair of winning this one!

MN: Alas, like so many sports athletes from right here in Indianapolis, he CHOKED yet again!

DM: Haughton is definitely a force to be reckoned with… he proved that here tonight! Jones had a lot of momentum behind him, but it just wasn’t enough!

DT: However, if he keeps at it, I’m sure sooner or later, Aaron Jones’ perseverance will pay off in a big way! Tonight, however, belongs to the balanced scales of “JUDGMENT”!

DM: Have a look at this!

[The camera catches James Haughton and Aaron Jones shaking hands in the ring after the match, mutually showing respect after a hard-fought battle on both sides.]

MN: Oh, would these two just get a room already?!

DT: Tonight, James Haughton learned that Aaron Jones is one of the good guys! Who will the hammer come down upon the next time this man steps into the ring? Time will tell, but for right now, we’ve got to take a commercial break! Don’t go away!


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Cruise Control

[FADEIN: The First pacing back and forth in his dressing room. Muse sits near the camera on the phone.]

MUSE: Freedman’s not answering his phone.

FIRST: Of course he isn’t, Castor Strife’s here and he’s got everyone freaking out. The whole company is on the brink of madness…EPW just feels so toxic a place to be now…I’ve been usurped by a gambling debt of Dan Ryan’s…This is a joke…A sick joke…

MUSE: I can go hunt down Freedman if you want.

FIRST: Please do…Get him, and get him to know that I need to get some answers, I want to know what’s going on with my belt, if Castor can really just book the main event of Wrestleverse and put me in a four way match without my consent…Folks are going to pay around here…I’m not taking this laying down.

MUSE: I’ll let Freedman know the score.

[Muse walks out of the room.]

FIRST: Castor and Impulse…You two want to now tangle me up in this web…I don’t get stuck in the spider’s web…I burn the thing to the ground…I’m not going to be playing any games…Folks want to change the rules around here…That’s fine…I’ll play by whatever rules they put down and I’ll still win…

[The door opens]

FIRST: Back so soon?!

[First turns, but instead of Muse, Cameron Cruise is standing before him. First winces and the two men stare daggers at each other.]

CRUISE: You mean MY belt, remember?? Or did you forget about me too??

See, the thing is First, I haven't forgotten about you OR what you did that night. Nevermind the jokes, the bottom line of it all is that I'm still here, and I'm not going away any time soon. Wrestleverse is a nice little memory for the two of us, and I plan on making this another one. You're up against Castor, Impulse, and one other guy that's to be decided through a Battle Royal. Perfect way to prove things once and for all. I'm in this Battle Royal, and then I'm going to see you, Castor and Impulse at Wrestleverse and take what should ALREADY be mine...BACK. In the meantime, get used to not having the Gold around your waist...it's gonna happen LEGALLY...real soon.

[Cruise smirks and backs out of the room, First balls his hands into fists and seethes. FADEOUT.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Dirk Dickwood Presents v. Point of View

[CUE UP: “When The Going Gets Tough” by Billy Ocean. Dirk Dickwood leads the way down the ramp, his arms raised as he embraces the surrounding jeers and boos of the crowd. Right behind him, the grinning and bouncing figure of Cecilworth Farthington and the massive, looming mountain of a man that is Hank. Farthington’s cadre of personal trainers in their ominous anonymity file silently behind the group as they make their way to the ring.]

DT: Here come your King of the Cage winners, the unusual and enigmatic team of Dirk Dickwood Presents.

MN: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I really like these guys. Glad to see them back around these parts. True professionals, a really rare trait in EPW.

DM: Professionals?? Have you been watching the show? These guys have been practically AWOL since they overcame the odds and won King of the Cage!

MN: So has your relevancy. You don’t hear me complaining about that, do you?

DT: The fact of the matter is, gentlemen, that whether you love them or you hate them, when Cecilworth Farthington and Hank are focused, they are an incredible challenge for their opposition. And let’s not forget the perpetual X-Factor, Dirk Dickwood!

MN: And the Y-through-Gamma Factors. Top of the line staff of trainers, that is. I’ve been thinking about giving them a call.

DM: Self-conscious about your gut?

MN: Why don’t you ask your mother?

[CUE UP: “Point of View” by Blink-182. Beachy, Murray and Bronte Lakes make their way down to the ring, Lakes with an iPhone 5 in hand, filming Beachy and Murray as they preen and pose, stopping by to give a few pointed soundbytes to Lakes’ phone. Lakes turns off the phone and makes her way to an EPW camera, shouting “You’ll have to WAIT to hear THAT gem! Poor 99%ers!”. Poses galore continue as POV practically treats the entrance ramp as their own personal catwalk.]

DT: Point Of View making their way down to the ring…eventually. Say what you will about these up-and-comers, but one thing you HAVE to say about them is that they’ve got the goods to back up their mouths.

DM: They are truly AMAZING athletes…one would have to wonder how high they could climb if they’d put down the cameras and focus more on their training.

MN: Dirk Dickwood would take these guys to the next level. You can take that to the BANK.

DT: It looks like Farthington and Beachy will start things off, referee Pat Jones signals for the bell and we’re off!

[Farthington and Beachy circle around the ring quickly before locking up. Farthington with a quick headlock onto Beachy, which Beachy counters into a rear hammerlock. Farthington reverses to a hammerlock of his own, which Beachy counters by backflipping and connecting with a Russian Leg Sweep. Farthington gets up to a leg, Beachy with a stiff kick to the chest of Farthington, followed by another and another. He runs off the ropes and attempts an early Shining Wizard, which Farthington ducks underneath, sending Beachy crashing to the mat.]

DT: These two seem to be wasting no time here, flying hard and fast in a flurry of offense from both sides!

DM: Each man playing to the strengths they have – Beachy is one of the premier high flyers in EPW, and Farthington has guile and ring-savvy for miles.

DT: Farthington takes advantage of Beachy’s fall and places a few well-aimed stomps into his ribs. He picks him up, attempts a suplex – NO! Beachy lands on his feet! Roundhouse kick – NO! Farthington ducks! Single-leg takedown by Farthington, and he’s going for some sort of modified Boston Crab Ankle Lock combination here! Beachy SCREAMS out before somehow getting to his back and shoving Farthington back with his free leg! Both men in neutral corners now, eyeing each other warily as the crowd begins to buzz!

[Both men are a bit more tentative this time, waiting for the other to make a first move before locking up in the middle of the ring once again. Farthington whips Beachy into the ropes, missing with a clothesline and dropping to the ground beneath Beachy’s second run across the ring. Beachy leaps up and hits a springboard cross body, leading to a count of one-and-a-half. Both men trade kicks to the quads before Beachy connects with a kick to the back of Farthington’s head, leading to a two count. Farthington is groggy as he gets up.]

DT: Beachy wants to press his advantage here, he’s got Farthington locked up and he’s pushing him into the corner. Blind tag from Hank! OHHHHH!! VICIOUS right hand to an unsuspecting Beachy, and he crumples like a Jenga tower!

MN: Dickwood wouldn’t have let him make that sort of mistake.

DM: People like to give Hank a bad rap, but that was great strategy by the big man. He saw his partner was in trouble, he knew he had a limited window to act, and now DDP’s got the advantage!

DT: Farthington’s eyes are a bit foggy, you can be sure he’s glad to have a bit of a rest here. Is he – he’s actually going over to his trainers! Is one of them squirting a bottle of Gatorade in his mouth?

MN: Refreshing! Hey, you! Come over here! These bums don’t give me nothin’!

DT: Hank is just a mammoth out there. Picking up Beachy like he was a girl at the beach, he’s got him over his right shoulder now – SPINEBUSTER! Going for the cover here, aaaaand no! Kick out at two.

DM: Beachy’s going to need to find a way into his corner soon, he’s simply overmatched by Hank here.

DT: Hank’s got Beachy back on his feet, throwing HAMHOCK right hands into Beachy’s face! Irish Whip here, Hank ducking for a back body drop – DESPERATION KICK by Beachy there! And – whoa, no. That only seems to have angered the big man!

MN: Beachy keeps trying to kick Hank in the legs, but Hank’s getting angry about it!

DT: He’s got his massive hands wrapped around Beachy’s head! What’s he got planned here! Gets him into position and – OHHH! HUUUUGE SITOUT POWERBOMB! Cover!

1! Hook of the leg!


3…..NO! Beachy finds a way to kick out!

DM: That move would’ve finished a lot of guys off, a real testament to Beachy that the match is continuing here.

DT: Those expressive hazel eyes of Hank telling the story here – he thought he had this thing won! Wait a minute, the crowd’s reacting to something here, but I don’t think it’s the match…is that?

MN: Gary Freedman?

DT: What’s Gary Freedman doing here?

DM: He’s got a lot of history with team DDP already, remember…he pulled them from their rematch against the Animezing Dragons!

DT: Hard to tell what his motivations are right now – he’s not betraying any sort of emotions right now. He’s simply standing there on the entrance stage.

[Dirk Dickwood is the first of his group to notice Freedman, to which he replies with a flash of a panicked look before stepping away from his corner and barking at Freedman. Farthington, his faculties mostly restored, notices Freedman as well and looks extremely concerned. Hank doesn’t say a word, but he sees how worried Dickwood and Farthington are and begins to walk over to his corner, his beautiful hazel eyes reminiscent of Lenny from “Of Mice and Men” after being berated by George. Freedman is expressionless and gives no reply to Dickwood’s repeated shouts. Dickwood, confused, finally turns his attention back to the match when his eyes grow wide with alarm and he begins to shout loudly for Hank to turn around as Beachy has slowly crawled his way to his own corner and is reaching for the outstretched arm of Murray.]

DT: The entire team of Dirk Dickwood Presents lost focus for a brief window there, and Jason Murray is mere inches away from entering this match! Hank finally realizes what is being shouted at him and he turns around! Lumbering over as quickly as he can – THE TAG IS MADE! Jason Murray is in the match and a BIG shoulderblock through the ropes sends Hank staggering back! Murray leaps over the top rope – dropkick to Hank! Hank looks stunned! Here’s the cover!



3……..NO! Hank shoves Murray off of him! He looks rattled now!

DM: Now is Point of View’s chance – team DDP is totally unorganized out there!

DT: Another dropkick by Murray! He’s got all sort of momentum right now – so fast to the ropes – LIONSAULT! Another cover!



3………….NO! Again he powers out! Murray wasting no time here, he’s got Hank turned over – STF! STF! He’s looking for the submission here!

[Hank yells out in pain as Murray cinches in the STF. Hank slowly starts crawling towards his corner, desperate to reach the ropes or his teammate or ANYTHING to break out of the agony. Realizing the danger his team is in, Dickwood hops up on the apron and starts yelling at Pat Jones. Jones heads over to argue with Dickwood, giving Farthington a window to reach through the bottom two ropes and rake the hell out of Murray’s eyes. Murray releases the hold and rolls on the ground, holding his hands to his face. Dickwood, seeing this out of the corner of his eyes, hops back down with his hands up, just as Bronte Lakes reaches him and decks him in the mouth. Jones motions for them both to cut it out as Farthington re-enters legal position, staring a hole into the back of the referee. The instant the referee turns, Farthington slaps Hank on the shoulder and enters the match.]

DT: Blatant tomfoolery there by team Dirk Dickwood Presents, and you have to think Dirk had what was coming to him!

MN: Are you kidding? He’s a PROFESSIONAL. Bronte’s number one goal is YouTube subscribers. You be the judge of who is right – and I’ll pick the guy racking up the big bucks for his clients.

DT: Farthington enters the ring quickly here and hooks Murray – WORTHLESS! Jason Murray is out cold from that signature fisherman’s suplex! Farthington holds on for the cover here!



3! Dirk Dickwood Presents has done it!

[“When The Going Gets Tough” blares over the speakers as Farthington guffaws his arms up in victory. Hank looks over to Dickwood to make sure it’s OK to celebrate, and after a nod, he lifts up his treetrunk arms and cheers as well. Boos rain down from the very rafters of the building. Dickwood gives a cold hard stare up the entrance ramp, locking eyes with a still-expressionless Gary Freedman.]

DT: Dirk Dickwood Presents has picked up the victory here and proven why they ARE, the Kings of the Cage. Still, quite an impressive showing from Point of View, and we're sure they'll have PLENTY to say about this matchup. We’ll be back with more Aggression after this!


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Gold Prices at All Time Highs!

[FADEIN... on some heavy double doors. On the bottom of the screen, the words "Earlier today" faded in and out, and the doors suddenly swung open. Daylight poured in, followed quickly by Impulse, carrying two bags, and Calico Rose, carrying a plastic container with a handle on top. The fans in the arena cheered at the sight of the Marathon Man and the Party Host.]

IMPULSE: I don't think anyone really expected them to play as well as they did for as long --

[He stopped talking as a pair of uniformed IMPD officers stood to greet them.]

ROSE: Ummm... we gave at the office?

OFFICER #1: You're Randall Knox, correct?

IMPULSE: That's me, sir. What can I do for you?

[The second officer flipped through a small notepad.]

OFFICER #2: We have a warrant here for your arrest, you've been charged with possession of stolen goods.

IMPULSE: Oh, come now. That's ridiculous. You can search me, there's not a stolen good anywhere on my person.

OFFICER #2: For what it's worth, Mr. Knox, I think this is a frivolous charge. My kids watch this show and I know what kind of man you are: you said you were gonna return Mr. Nadalny's property and that's good enough for me, but...

IMPULSE: But you still have a job to do. I understand completely, officers. I don't have a problem with that at all. But the thing is, I don't have it.

[They looked at each other.]

Mr. The First and I need to have a little conversation first, before we can return his belt.

OFFICER #1: So...?

IMPULSE: So, someone else in the arena has it.

[The two police officers looked at each other.]

OFFICER #1: I hope you don't mind if we take a look through your bags?

IMPULSE: Not at all.

ROSE: Um, can I go?

OFFICER #2: What's in the container, honey?

[Rose braced the container on one arm while she unhooked the top with her other and held it toward the officers so they could look in.]

OFFICER #1: What's that smell?

OFFICER #2: Is that...?

ROSE: Peanut butter fudge, freshly made for the boys and the staff. Go ahead, have some.

[They hesitated, but reached in and each took a square.]

OFFICER #1: That's really good.

ROSE: Thank you. Made it myself. Listen, this stuff does need to get refrigerated before it melts. Am I good to go?

[The two officers looked at her: besides the fudge, the only thing she had was a shoulder bag that was clearly too small for a title belt. They nodded that she could go. Rose smiled, kissed Impulse on the lips, and walked away from the camera.]

IMPULSE: All right, officers. If you don't mind, could we do this away from the doors, maybe somewhere where I could put the bags down somewhere other than the floor? People track stuff in all the time.

OFFICER #2: Of course, by your leave, Mr. Knox.

[Impulse and the officers walked toward the camera, while, in the background, Calico Rose had put the fudge container on the ground, unhooked the 'middle section' that the police apparently missed, and withdrew something shiny and belt - shaped. She slung it over her shoulder, reconnected the fudge, and continued to walk away from the police to the cheers of the crowd.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Boogie Smallz v. The Wolves of the Sea

[MUSIC UP: “Wolves Of The Sea” by Alestorm. The Wolves of the Sea make their way to the ring as the crowd cheers them.]

MN: I just want to make it clear that I PROTEST this match, Boogie Smallz is being forced into a handicap match because EPW’s management has an axe to grind against the man, this is unfair, it’s unconstitutional!

DT: I’m not exactly sure the founding fathers were worried about wrestling Neely.

MN: They should have been! If Washington had been more on the ball, we wouldn’t have Castor Strife running around calling the shots here!

TF: The following contest is a handicap match set for one fall, making their way to the ring, weighing in at a total combined weight of 451 pounds. SYD MORGAN! JAMESON MURDOCK! THE WOLVES OF THE SEA!! [Pop!]

[The Wolves hit the ring, both men throw their arms in the air and the crowd cheers more for them.]

DT: It might be two on one, but the Wolves still have their work cut out for them, Boogie Smallz is no push over.

DM: He defeated four men to win the IC Championship…A two on one might be going easy on him.

[MUSIC UP: “Black Superman” by Above The Law. Boogie Smallz stands on top of the rampway for a moment before taking off on a full dead sprint for the ring!]

DT: Tony just barely got out of the ring as Boogie is now hammering away on Morgan and now he grabs Murdock and TOSSES HIM OUT OF THE RING!

MN: What a smart move by Boogie, he knew this match was a set-up and he got the jump on his opponents before the bell, great call Boogie!

DT: Boogie demanding the bell to ring…[Bell rings] Boogie lacing in a series of jabs to the face on Morgan! Morgan staggers…Boogie hits the ropes…DECKS HIM WITH A CLOTHESLINE!! THE COVER!!




DT: Boogie glares at the ref as he grabs Morgan and gets him to his feet…SNAP SUPLEX by Smallz!

DM: The champion being just relentless in his attack here, he knows he has to finish this match quickly before the numbers take their toll.

MN: He knows this company is out to get him and he has to get them first! This match is a sham!

DT: Murdock back on the apron as Boogie now locks in a chinlock on Morgan. Boogie pulling Morgan far away from his corner as he continues to crank on his neck.

MN: Make these fake pirates suffer for accepting the role of hired thugs of EPW management Boogie, take them down and show Dan Ryan what for!

DM: What about Castor Strife and his shocking arrival on the scene as acting President?

MN: I’m sure he’d have veto’ed this match if he’d had the chance! Castor’s on the level, not like Ryan and company!

DT: Morgan hammering away on Boogie with elbows, he’s shaking Boogie free…Morgan off the ropes…KNEE BY BOOGIE DROPS HIM! Boogie runs over and cheap shots Murdock! That brings Murdock into the ring and the ref fights to get him back out…BOOGIE CHOKING AWAY ON MORGAN WHILE THE REF IS DISTRACTED!

MN: Boogie just played that idiot like a fiddle, what a good plan!

DT: The ref finally gets Murdock out of the ring and now giving Boogie the five count to break the choke. Boogie lets go and he whips Morgan into the corner…CHARGE BY BOOGIE!! NOBODY HOME!! Boogie crashes and burns and Morgan has a chance to make the tag!

DM: He had better make that tag, Boogie has given him an opening and he’s better use it or he might not get another one.

DT: Morgan crawling towards the corner, Boogie dives at him…TOO LATE!! THE TAG IS MADE!! Murdock in and he’s unloading on Boogie with lefts and rights…Murdock sends Boogie into the ropes…DROPKICK RIGHT ON THE BUTTON! HE COVERS!!




DT: Boogie scampers back to his feet…Gets rocked by a back elbow! Murdock staggers Boogie with another right…A tag to Morgan and they whip Boogie into the ropes…FLAPJACK!! A COVER BY MORGAN!!




DT: Boogie back up and rubber legged, he’s lashing out at Morgan with rights and lefts but he’s catching nothing but air…Morgan stinging him with a jab over and over…Boogie with a wild swing of a clothesline misses…Morgan gets behind him…Morgan runs him into the ropes…ROLLS HIM UP!!




Boogie powers out and scrambles to his feet…HIP TOSS BY MORGAN! Boogie rolls to the floor and slaps the apron in frustration.

MN: He should just walk out, this whole match was a set-up from the jump, he should just grab his belt and get out of here!

DT: Morgan climbing the ropes…He’s going high risk…OFF THE TOP TO THE FLOOR CROSS BODY!! BOOGIE SIDE STEPPED!!!

DM: Morgan went for the win there and he came up empty.

MN: He came up maimed is more like it!

DT: Boogie grabs him and slings him back into the ring, Smallz stomping away on him now and Boogie putting the boots to Morgan…Boogie backs up…HE JUST TURNED AROUND AND BLASTED MURDOCK IN THE FACE WITH A BIG BOOT!! A CHEAP SHOT BY SMALLZ ON THE MAN ON THE APRON!

MN: More like a smart shot, now he can’t get run-in on!





[“Black Superman” by Above The Law plays as the crowd boos. Boogie storms out of the ring, grabbing his belt as he walks to the back.]

TF: Here is your winner…BOOGIEEEEE!!! SMALLZZZZZ!!!!

DT: Four men to win the title, and two more men tonight, Boogie is on a roll and I wonder if anyone is going to be able to step up and stop him?

MN: I doubt it, EPW is going to have to pay this man the big bucks or they are going to have a locker room full of cripples in short order!

DT: We’ll be right back with more fans, don’t go anywhere!


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Fort Knox is Empty

[FADEIN: The First in his locker room. Muse sitting in the background chewing gum. Kenny Lombardo walks into the room.]

FIRST: You don’t have my belt, so I take it something went wrong.

LOMBARDO: Well the police searched Impulse and didn’t find the belt…

FIRST: They…Didn’t…Find…It…Are you kidding me Kenny? You’re telling me the police who have a sworn duty to uphold the law just turned a blind eye to the criminal acts of Impulse? That’s fine, he can play his game for now, but Gary Freedman has promised me I’m getting my belt back by the end of the night. Be it by Impulse being thrown in jail, or suspended or whatever needs to be done, he will be forced to give me back my property.

[First stands up and glares at Lombardo]

FIRST: See people think they can get away with pulling stunts like this on me…Stalker does it because he knows he can run away, coward that he is…The man spent his whole life wanting a title shot and then when he got it, he never used it…He feared me that much…Impulse tried and lost…He knows he can’t hang with me…So the two of them have a little fun at my expense…Well…Tonight Impulse is going to find out that his actions have consequences…Serious and painful consequences.


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Have a Nice Daymon

[The shot opens up backstage right as ROCKO DAYMON emerges from the locker room, signalling a dull roar of approval from the fans in the arena watching the live feed on the EmpireTron. Clad in his silver robe and trunks and looking ready for action, he starts for the ring at a bold clip with a face full of fire and determination. Waiting on him is KENNY LOMBARDO, ready with a mic and a few questions to ask.]

KL: Rocko! Do you have a minute?

[The former World Champion doesn’t stop, but instead slows his pace so the reporter can keep up with him.]

DAYMON: What’s up, Kenny?

KL: Rocko Daymon, you’re moments away from the next match in your return campaign to Empire Pro. What’s going through your head right now?

DAYMON: Only the task in front of me… Flair and Light, in the Triple Threat. To win, I have to expect anything, and withstand everything. The world already knows I can push my limits, and bring out the very best in my opponents… but now I must show them that I when it comes to those clutch moments in matches, I’m the man that finds a way to win.

KL: And will that happen tonight, at Aggression 74? Will we see “The Undying” Rocko Daymon score yet another victory?

DAYMON: I don’t make guarantees, Kenny… because unlike some others out there, I don’t pretend to know everything. Anything is possible once that bell rings… but I’m prepared to redefine everything that was ever known to be possible. This isn’t a return campaign, Kenny… this is simply the beginning of things to come. I’ve spent twelve years in the ring so far, but my legacy is still being written…

[The journey takes them through the staging docks, where there’s a heavy level of traffic among ring personnel, officials, security, press, and other backstage crew members. Daymon keeps walking, and people seem to clear the way for him. Kenny, meanwhile, has to weave in and around other people to keep up.]

KL: And some would say it’s quite a momentous time and place to continue writing it!

DAYMON: You couldn’t be more right on that. With Sean Stevens out, and for once, Stalker preoccupied with playing his games with somebody else, my Mission is finally free of distractions. My mind is clear, and my Path is clear. All I need to do is continue forward, and prove why I am still the Paragon of professional wrestling excellence.

KL: And will that “path” carry you to the World Heavyweight Title?

DAYMON: That’s the hope… and a win here tonight, over two very talented athletes, will hopefully bring me one step closer. But we have take it one step at a time… and my next step is here tonight.

KL: But like you said… anything is possible. That being the case, what happens if you DON’T make it one step closer tonight, and walk away in defeat?

DAYMON: …don’t look back.

KL: You mean, there’s no looking back once you’re already going?

DAYMON: No, I mean don’t look back. We’re being followed…

[Kenny suddenly stiffens up in surprise, and tries his best to hold his head in place, but can’t quite help but glance slightly over his shoulder. The camera keeps fixated on the two men still in motion, but spies a faceless figure in a gray hoodie following them about fifteen paces back.]

KL: Is that… who I think it is??

DAYMON: We’re about to find out. This way…

[Rocko leads them into a hallway that takes a sharp turn, and as soon as they’re around the corner, he gets into a ready position. Seconds later, the pursuer comes around the corner, this time brandishing a tire iron that must have been earlier concealed. Not anticipating Rocko positioned up against the wall, they’re easily swept to the floor as soon as the wrestler tackles them. As they struggle on the floor, the reporter calls for security.]

KL: CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE! We’ve got an interloper!

[A mob of men in security shirts jump into the scene, pulling the writhing individual away as Daymon rises back to his feet and dusts himself off.]

KL: Is it him?! Is it STALKER?!


[Two of the security enforcers hold the assailant by the arms as Rocko steps forward and lifts up the hood.]

DAYMON: ...hello, Caitlyn.

[Rocko’s estranged ex-wife gnashes her teeth like a rabid bitch.]

CAITLYN: You bastard! You DARE show your face in this company again! All you do is ABANDON everything!

[Coming into the frame next appears the EPW Commissioner GARY FREEDMAN, looking surprising and somewhat annoyed by what he’s finding.]

FREEDMAN: Caitlyn Daymon?! I must say, I can hardly believe it! Mr. Ryan fired you a year ago! Boys, please remove her from the arena at once…

[Rocko holds up a hand, and the guys in Security shirts stop.]

DAYMON: No need, Gary… I think I’d like to have a talk with my wife.

FREEDMAN: Mr. Daymon, I know this is a personal matter for you, but the boss gave me explicit orders… that if I ever see her backstage up to know good, I’m to get rid of her immediately.

DAYMON: If it gets you in hot water, then I’ll personally take it up with Dan. Just give me a minute here, and then you can escort her off the premises.

FREEDMAN: ...fine… but don’t dawdle. You were supposed to be making your way to the ring, remember?

[The commissioner and the security agents leave the area, releasing hold of Caitlyn and leaving her standing before Rocko, who doesn’t look pleased to see her again.]

DAYMON: Well, Cait… I’m speechless. We’ve always had our problems, but now I find out you’re sleeping with my enemy? I thought that splitting up, I’d be giving you the freedom to live your own life in a way that made you happy… but now I see that all I’ve really done is allow you to become devoured by your own bitterness.

CAITLYN: Yep, you were wrong. How does it feel, Rock? I guess you should be used to it by now! But that’s not what really hurts…

[An evil smile forms on her face.]

CAITLYN: ...it’s what HE has in store for you… THAT is what will hurt!

DAYMON: Stalker?

CAITLYN: You’ve had it wrong about Jason for years! You couldn’t FATHOM his genius! All those years you’ve wasted trying to better yourself… trying to be something you could never quite reach… and all the while, he was walking without fear through darker places than you and I could ever imagine. And once you’ve finally been BROKEN by what he has in store for you… there will be no coming back.

DAYMON: I doubt that very much. In fact, I doubt he has anything in store for me.

CAITLYN: Whatever would give you that stupid idea?

DAYMON: Because I don’t think you have any idea either.

[Caitlyn’s demeanor shifts as Rocko lands on the truth.]

DAYMON: I don’t think you’ve talked to him since Dan threw the both of you out of this place after you screwed a talented and respectable young athlete out of the Intercontinental Title. Maybe you think it’s all part of his master plan… but at the end of the day, Caitlyn, all you were was just another means to an end for him. He didn’t care about you… he never did. He used you for his own gains… gains which he never cashed in on. And ever since then, you’ve been alone, fumbling for something to latch onto and give you hope.

[She breaks down into a mess of tears and falls into him. Rocko’s eyes roll, and his uncomfortable gaze catches Kenny, who is looking all kinds of awkward.]

CAITLYN: Oh, Rocko, please! Please take me back! I’m begging you, Rocko! I’m NOTHING without you! I just want what we used to have! Take me back, please! PLEASE!!

DAYMON: Caitlyn…

[He pushes her off, practically having to pry himself free from her grasp.]

DAYMON: You’re not making this any easier for either of us. There’s no going back to what we used to have… and that’s just the way it is. I’m sorry. My life belongs to the ring now. I only wish you could understand this and move on…

[He motions for a couple security guards to approach.]

DAYMON: See that she gets her hotel safely…

[Still unable to get ahold of herself, Caitlyn is dragged away kicking and screaming. Rocko looks slightly pained as he watches her leave, but steels himself as he turns back toward the ring. Kenny approaches him, not sure of what to say, but holds up the mic anyhow.]

DAYMON: Well, Kenny… so much for having a clear mind.

[Rocko marches out of the shot, and the feed fades to black.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Christian Light v. Rocko Daymon v. Eli Flair


DT: I’ve been looking forward to this one, Dean, as I know you have!

MN: You know what I’ve been looking forward to?

DM: I’m afraid to ask.

MN: That little blonde cutlet coming out here with the short skirt and the tall boots.

DT: I’m fairly sure she could pound the crap out of you, Mike.

MN: Does that cost extra?

DT: You’re hopeless… let’s hear from Tony.

TF: This next contest is a triangle match with a sixty minute time limit, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…

[The lights went out. The fans buzzed.]

TF: From Garden City, New York…

[Fans roar in anticipation. Lighters come on. Cell phones come out for the nonsmokers. Those by the entrance turn their attention to the ramp way, hoping for an early peak at the entrance. But aside from slight movement, there's nothing.]

[Nothing that is, but air raid sirens.]

[Sirens and the flash of blue spotlights panning around the audience in a quick, nervous motion.]

[Sirens, spotlights, and the sounds of machine guns firing off rounds.]

[And its at this point that a tall man steps onto the top of the ramp way.]

[A tall man with a blonde flat top haircut.]

[And at that moment, simultaneously with the guitar riff of Disturbed's "Indestructible" blaring from the speakers, all four or five of the small blue spotlights make one sudden motion to the man standing on the ramp way, hands on his hips and a smile adorning his face.]

TF: Weighing in at two hundred and seventy one pounds… The Last Nighthawk… CHRIIIIIIIISSSSTIAAAAANNNNNNNN… LIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!

[Christian starts to make his way down the aisle extending his hands as far out as he could on either side. Dressed in a short-sleeve black T-Shirt with a white silhouette on the front, and the caption ‘EVERYONE FOLLOWS THE LIGHT’ underneath, Christian doesn't have to worry about shirt pull as most of the fans on the aisle reach out and slap hands with him.]

[As he reaches the ring from the aisle, Christian hops up to the apron of the squared circle and climbs in. Immediately Christian hits the nearest middle turnbuckle and raises both fists in the air.]

DT: This man has made quite an impact so far here in EPW, he’s proven himself to be a capable wrestler as well as an honorable one, and these fans have embraced him as one of their favorites!

DM: He’s talked, in the leadup to this match, of making an impact here tonight. While I disagree with his assertion that he ‘has’ to win here to have a future in EPW, I will say that while he does have all the tools to make it to the top, he’s still missing that one defining moment. Getting a victory tonight over two former World Champions in Rocko Daymon and Eli Flair would certainly put his name on the map.

MN: But let’s not forget the fact that he’s still just some generic big man with no pop or sizzle.

[The music dies down. Christian takes off his T-shirt and throws it into the crowd. Hopping down from the second rope, Christian stretches out in the corner awaiting the match to begin.]

DT: You don’t really believe that, Mike.

MN: Oh yes I do.

DM: Alright, Mike – then who do you like in this match?

MN: I don’t really like any of ‘em, but I’ll throw my hat in with Flair since he brings the eye candy.

DT: She’s going to hit you, and I’m going to laugh.

TF: AND HIS OPPONENT… From Seattle, Washington…

[The fans immediately started to cheer even louder than before for the former World Champion. CUE UP: “At the Well” by Neurosis as the EmpireVision video wall shows off various highlights of a Hall of Fame level career.]

TF: Weighing in at two hundred and thirty four pounds… He is… THE UNDYYYYYYYING… ROCKO… DAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYMONNNNNN!!!!!

[Slowly and deliberately, Rocko Daymon stepped out of the entryway in his silver robe, pumping his fist to a massive pop. He allowed himself no more than ten seconds to soak in the reaction he was receiving – including respectful applause from his opponent – before he made his way toward the ring, slapping hands along the way.]

DM: Rocko Daymon has certainly proven that he hasn’t lost a step since Unleashed, winning the four – way at the last Aggression, and I have to think that getting another victory here tonight over an established veteran – albeit EPW newcomer – like Christian Light, to say nothing of the King of Extreme, would put Rocko right where he wants to be: in contention for the EPW World Championship.

DT: Many people out there have been pushing for Rocko to receive a title shot at the upcoming Wrestleverse, pointing out that he was forced to relinquish the belt several years ago due to injury and that he was never defeated for it. Rocko Daymon, however, is the kind of man who would disagree with those fans, insisting on earning his shot all over again. You have to respect that.

MN: Is it the same respect you’d have for a woman who would be sucking face with the man who actually ended her husband’s title run?

DT: That’s low, Mike.

DM: Caitlyn Daymon hasn’t been seen since Stalker was fired following his defeat of Impulse in the steel cage match; and I say good riddance to bad rubbish.

DT: Rocko taking off his robe before he gets into the ring, and a respectful nod toward Christian Light. Both of these men are known for their wrestling ability, how will their opponent fit into the mix?

TF: And their opponent… from Bronx, New York…

[CUE UP: “All Along the Watchtower” by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. The fans maintained their volume as the lights dimmed.]

TF: Weighing in at two hundred and ninety six pounds, and accompanied to the ring by the Manager of Champions, Poison Ivy…

MN: That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

[Spotlights panned the crowd, specifically staying away from the entryway. The chant had already begun, of “EEEEEELI… EEEEEELI…”]


[All at once, the spotlights converged on the entryway, where Eli Flair stood with his arms folded, casting an intimidating shadow on the ramp, c lad from neck to ankle in his black leather trenchcoat. His hair was mostly out of his face but hung down in wet, greasy strands. Next to him, Poison Ivy stood with her Singapore Cane over her shoulder, her blonde hair in two equal length braids, and John Lennon – type sunglasses perched on her nose. She wore a fitted T-Shirt with a picture of OJ Simpson in court on the front and the caption ‘STILL A BETTER LOVE STORY THAN TWILIGHT’ printed underneath, a loose fitting short black skirt, fishnets, and her ever – present combat boots.]

[They held the post for nearly a minute before making their way to ringside, ignoring every fan on every side.]

DT: Speaking of a man who has stated his desire to make a mark, Eli Flair has threatened to ‘nuke the mountain,’ when it comes to how he’ll climb the ladder here in EPW, and, after reviewing some of his matches from years past, I have to believe that if he’s found his motivation, making a mark will be the least of his concerns.

MN: That’s right, sweetheart, come to Daddy.

DM: Someday she will, and you won’t like it.

DT: Eli Flair… he just took off his coat and dropped it on the floor, he’s slid under the bottom rope to greet his opponents – RIGHT HAND TO ROCKO DAYMON’S FACE! Christian Light moves in, but Eli hits him with a reverse elbow! Ring the bell!


DM: Rocko and Christian weren’t ready for that, and it could cost them!

DT: Eli with another right hand to Rocko Daymon, and he spins and gives one to Christian Light! Rocko! Christian! Eli with a boot to Rocko’s stomach, and a DDT just dropped him down! Christian with a boot, but Eli catches his foot and takes him down with a single leg snapmare!

MN: Single leg snapmare?

DT: How would you describe it?

DM: I’m certainly at a loss.

DT: Eli drags Rocko to his feet, and sends him into the ropes… Baseball swing! He nearly took his head off! Rocko rolls to the outside to get his bearings, and Christian Light with a clubbing forearm from behind between the King of Extreme’s shoulder blades! Flair is rocked!

DM: I’ve followed his career semi – regularly, he recovers from being ‘rocked’ pretty fast. Light needs to stay on him.

DT: Another forearm! Christian Light hooks him from behind, and a bridging suplex – Eli blocked with his foot on the bottom rope! He broke the hold on his left arm and just hiptossed Light into the ropes! Eli Flair is on fire!

MN: Don’t give the psychopath any ideas!

DM: Flair has never been one for technique, he’s a straight up tunnel – visioned brawler as a general rule. Let’s see Light and Rocko turn that to their advantage.

DT: Eli Flair just pulled Christian Light to his feet, and he’s got him set up for the Fallen One reverse DDT! ROCKO DAYMON WITH A MISSILE DROPKICK FROM THE TOP ROPE! ELI LOST HIS GRIP! He dropped Christian Light and stumbled forward a few steps, and Light with a swift recovery grabs him by the leg at the knee and rolls him up! ONE… TWO… Kickout! Eli rolls quickly to his knees, but he’s met by a right hand from Rocko! Another from the other side from Light! Rocko! Light! Rocko! Light with a scoop! Danger Strike! These fans are cheering for Christian Light!

MN: Wow, these fans are fickle.

DT: I think it’s more the fans are cheering for all three men to do well, Mike.

DM: Poison Ivy certainly isn’t cheering, she’s pounding her hand on the mat to get Eli Flair back into this one.

MN: I’ve got something she can pound.

DT: Really? We’re going there?

DM: Ut – oh… what have we here?

DT: Eli Flair on the mat with his hand on his forehead, and we’ve got Rocko Daymon and Christian Light in a staredown over him! Who’s going to go for the pin? Will the other man allow him to do so?

DM: Whoever goes for the pin is going to get attacked, that’s a no – brainer. These two men are predictably circling each other, each sort of daring the other to make the first move.

DT: ELI FLAIR WITH THE FIRST MOVE! HE JUST SWEPT ROCKO DAYMON’S LEG! Christian Light hooks him from behind! T-Bone Suplex! Light scrambles over with the cover, ONE… TWO… THREEKICKOUT! Kickout by Eli Flair! Light back to his feet quickly, and he scoops Flair… Irish Whip… Side slam by Light! Flying Headscissors by Rocko Daymon! He holds on and hooks Light’s leg… ONE… TWO… TKICKOUT! Daymon sets himself up just behind both Flair and Light… and Light is rising to his knees!

DM: I can see Rocko’s strategy and it’s a good one, but if Light is up before Flair, he’s in trouble.

MN: What’s the strategy, genius?

DT: Light with one foot on the mat, and Rocko off the ropes! Bulldog just dropped him, face first to the mat! Rocko up again and a wild roundhouse kick to the side of Eli Flair’s head! Rocko with a huge shout to the fans!

DM: And they respond in kind!

MN: Booooo!

DT: Daymon is in control here, he scoops Eli and sends him into the ropes! Discus punch! Eli falls to his knees with the forward momentum, and a reverse snapmare just put Eli’s back to the mat! Christian Light is still pulling himself up against the ropes, and Rocko setting Eli up!

DM: He looks pretty uncertain.

DT: Don’t tell me…

MN: It’ll never work.

DT: ROCKO WITH A GRUNT OF PAIN… OR VICTORY! HE HAS ELI UP WITH THE BRAIN ROCKER! NAILED IT! COVER! ONE… TWO… Christian Light pulled him off! POWERBOMB! Rocko rolls into the ropes, and Light with a cover on Eli Flair! ONE… TWO… THREEKICKOUT! KICKOUT!

DM: All three of these men still have plenty in the tank, this match could continue for quite a while.

DT: Christian Light with a scoop, and he sent Eli into the ropes… Eli reversed, but he can’t follow up, he falls to his knees and Light passes right over him! Light on the rebound… Eli with a straight right hand into his abdomen! Light stopped in his path! Eli struggles to his feet, has Light by the head and neck, and just sent him over the top rope!

MN: The dish is all bothered now, I think she’s in heat.

DT: Eli and Rocko both on their feet and they turn toward each other simultaneously… Rocko with a punch… ELI BEATS HIM WITH A RIGHT HAND WRAPPED AROUND HIS THROAT! LIFTOFF!

DM: He’s holding him up there, and Rocko’s face is turning red, he could easily hit Flair with a boot to the face but I think his strategy is currently occupied with attempting to breathe.

DT: CHOKESLAM! Eli Flair just spiked Rocko to the mat, and the former EPW World Champion slid into the corner! Flair takes a second to suck in a breath, and he’s right up on him! Hook of the head, FALLEN ONE! He hit that reverse DDT with authority! Christian Light has a hand on the bottom rope and he’s pulling himself up!

MN: Not fast enough!


DM: Light’s on his feet!


DM: He’s just pulled himself through the ropes, and he’s got the back of Flair’s head in his sights!


DM: Light broke up the pin!


MN: Methinks, a bit late.

DT: Let’s get the official word from Tony Fatora!

TF [V/O]: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this bout as a result of a pinfall…

[SFX: HUGE fan pop. In the ring, Christian Light pounds his fist into the mat while Eli sits up and glares at him.]


DT: Christian Light was a split second too late to break up that pinfall, and it goes to the King of Extreme! Rocko Daymon is stirring ever so slightly after those shots to the back of the head.

MN: More importantly, the dish is climbing into the ring… show Poppa what you’ve got working… darn, she’s wearing shorts underneath the skirt.

DM: You have no respect for women.

MN: Anyone who claims to is just trying to sleep with one.

DT: Poison Ivy on the outskirts of the staredown between Eli Flair and Christian Light… Light offers a handshake!

[The fans buzzed as Eli stared at his hand.]

MN: Just smack him and get it over with, Flair.

DT: I don’t think he will.

MN: Have you seen this guy’s resume?

DT: Eli Flair has been one of the most ruthless competitors in the history of this industry, but, with the exception of the instances where he’s had a personal vendetta he’s kept his violence confined to the space between the bells. I don’t think he’s going to attack Light here.

DM: He’s looking awfully hard at his hand.

DT: Eli walks past him!

MN: HAH! I love this guy’s attitude sometimes.

DT: And he has a clap on the shoulder for Light! A sign of respect after all!

DM: Sorry, Mike… looks like you won’t get your post – match brawl after all.

MN: There’s always our supposed World Champion and the boy scout who’s got his belt.

DT: We’ll be right back.


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
If This Segment Lasts For More Than Four Hours, Call a Doctor

DT: We’ll be right back. Wait a second…. Is… Is that Team VIAGRA in the crowd?

[The trio best known as Team VIAGRA are currently weaving through the sea of cheering EPW faithful. Each wears their ring gear. Tony Davis is wearing a “Have You Seen My Friend?” t-shirt, with the pictures of Dirk Dickwood Presents on it. Jack Harmen is currently handing out leaflets with a toll free number for fans to call in case they spot Dirk Dickwood. And Mary-Lynn Mayweather is busy screening calls.]

HARMEN: Call the hotline! Have you seen Dick? Have you?

[Harmen looks into the camera.]

HARMEN: Have you seen Dick?

DT: We’re gonna get sued.

MN: Woulda happened by now!

[Team VIAGRA makes their way to ringside and hops the barricade. Harmen grabs a microphone, under the pretense that he stops saying the word “dick” so much. Viagra climbs in, looking worried.]

HARMEN: Folks! My name is Jack Harmen, and I am offering a cash reward to the first man who finds Dick!

MN: ME! I’ve got a big--!

DM: --Seriously?

MN: It’ll give you nightmares.

[Behind him, a LARGE cloth backdrop unfurls from the rafters. It’s of Dirk Dickwood Presents, holding the EPW Tag Team Championships. Mary-Lynn Mayweather leans in and whispers something. Tony Davis chuckles.]

HARMEN: Is that why I got arrested at that playground?

[Harmen tilts his head to the side and spins to another corner of the ring.]

HARMEN: Wait, weren’t you fired?

[Mary-Lynn mouths “So were you.” Harmen ignores her.]

HARMEN: ANYWAY! I want to make sure EPW’s Dick hasn’t been shot in an alley, or run over with a car, or has temporal grade amnesia and somehow is sucking other dicks for money.

[At this point, the EPW production crew has shut off Jack Harmen’s microphone. Jack tries to speak into it, but nothing happens. He taps the microphone’s top twice. Nothing. He reaches out and GRABS the EPW cameraman. SCREAMING, he continues. Tony Davis takes a few steps close, backing him up with his arms crossed.]


[Harmen’s mic turns active.]


[Harmen smiles. He lets go of the cameraman and paces the ring.]

HARMEN: BETTER! Now. There are TWO Jack Harmen’s that EPW should NEVER ask to see. ONE, the VENGEFUL, WRATHFUL hand of GOD and JUDGMENT that BATHES in the blood of the guilty and innocent alike, for SPORT, which Ted knows now ALL TOO WELL not to cross.

[Harmen laughs.]

HARMEN: And the BORED Jack Harmen.

[Jack yawns.]

HARMEN: Throughout my career here in EPW, I haven’t been viewed as a threat. Sure, I bring the RUCKUS, but I don’t bring the WIN.

[Harmen smiles. Tony Davis wrings his hands.]

HARMEN: At Aggression 75, the Lunatic will go crazy. In a sea of chaos an anarchy, the master of the unexpected will shock the EPW faithful. I, Jack Harmen, will outlast EVERY other man in that ring, have my hand raised, and gain my shot at the EPW World Heavyweigh—

[Tony Davis reaches in and grabs the mic.]

TONY DAVIS: Dude. What about me! I can totally win this!

[Harmen snatches the mic back.]

HARMEN: You can’t even win Publisher’s Clearing House.

[Davis mutters something about it ‘being rigged’ before kicking the canvas.]

HARMEN: I am in my ELEMENT in these CLUSTERFUCKS. I have made a CAREER out of SHOCKING the world, defeating DOZENS of other legends on my way to establishing my OWN legacy. In 2001, I defeated 39 other men on top of a SCAFFOLD, and was the last man STANDING forty feet above the ENTIRE arena.

[Harmen looks up at the rafters. The lights shine off him in such a way to silhouette him.]

HARMEN: Everyone looked up to me that night.

[Back to Normal]

HARMEN: In 2005, I tag teamed with another man, eliminated 19 other teams, and IMMEDIATELY turned on that SUCKA and made him EAT MY SHOE on my way to the World Heavyweight Championship, ELSEWHERE. In 2007, I took on an ENTIRE federation to climb a ladder and SECURE my shot at the big gold belt.

[HARMEN makes a motion of the belt around his waist.]

HARMEN: At Aggression 75? I get that chance one more time. And it’s a chance I’m going to steal from ALL your favorites. Malcolm Joseph Jones? SORRY! It’s just NOT your time. Boogie Smallz? Everyone hates you, so TAKE A NUMBER. Eli Flair?! Ha, ELI! My main man. Get ready for a little ULTRATITLE payback. Seriously. How have you not disappeared in the wind like a statue made of sand?

[Tony Davis mouths the word “Magic.”]

HARMEN: In just a few short days, in just a few moments, Jack Harmen will become the number one contender to the EPW World Heavyweight Championship…

[The camera zooms in on the Lunatic, his eyes wide, his smile wider.]

HARMEN: May God have mercy on all your souls.

[Harmen drops the mic. “Work It” by Ylvis begins to play Team VIAGRA pose.]

DT: Jack Harmen with plans to take the EPW World title shot offered at Aggression 75.

DM: Could be a serious threat. We all know what he did in the Ultratitle. He’s told us what he does in these types of matches.

MN: Doesn’t matter! He’s a JOKE here, and until he proves otherwise…

DT: For all intensive purposes, Jack Harmen’s legacy in EPW may have truly begun this evening.

MN: The universe starts with a BANG, not a whimper.

[As Mary-Lynn Mayweather climbs out of the ring and begins to talk to fans in the front row, Tony Davis KICKS Jack Harmen in the gut.]

DT: EQUALIZER! Tony Davis just caught his brother in law with that Tiger Driver!

MN: Well, THAT was unexpected.

DM: Is that ‘bang’ enough for ya?

DT: And now Davis is in Harmen’s face. He’s grabbing the microphone that Harmen dropped.

DAVIS: Seriously Jack? You don’t even give me a CHANCE? You don’t think I can WIN? I don’t even deserve a MIC SPOT?! You don’t think I can BEAT YOU, DO YOU!?

[Davis smiles.]

DAVIS: Well, just did.

[Davis reaches down and lifts a groggy Harmen to his feet.]

DT: Harmen is on spaghetti legs. The only reason he’s standing is his forehead is resting against Davis’.

DAVIS: You will treat me as a threat. As will EVERYONE else. Kay Bro?

[Davis backs off, and Harmen FACEPLANTS in the center of the ring. MLM slides in, and tries to lift the deadweight of the Lunatic off the canvas.]

DT: Jack Harmen is not a man to easily forgive. To see his brother in law do this?!

DM: It may be the end of Team VIAGRA.

MN: I’m pretty sure they’ll rise again.


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX

[We return to our three hosts at the commentary, Dave looking dapper as always, the Show Stealer slick and reserved, and Neely suffering yet another obvious bender.]

DT: Interesting to see Jack Harmen and Tony Davis out here, but it seems Harmen is throwing his name in the hat in that big battle royal next week.

DM: Harmen is a guy who has really really made a HUGE name for himself all over the wrestling world, but has been content to kind of take it easy here, for lack of a better phrase. Can you imagine a First vs. Impulse vs. Castor Strife vs. Jack Harmen main event at Wrestleverse?

MN: That's a dream matchup absolutely anywhere.

DT: Well folks, Aggression 74 draws toward a close, but we’ve got the main event coming up here in just a few short moments! The EPW Television Championship will be on the line in a battle for GREATNESS!

DM: You couldn’t find a more polarizing pair of athletes in today’s sport. In one hand, you’ve got the champion, Malcolm Joseph-Jones, the powerhouse driven for greatness, and then the challenger, Rezin, the scrapper driven toward destruction. Oil and water… enough said.

MN: This gonna be like watching a big, brutish kodiak bear fight a slick and slimy electric eel! My money’s on the eel, of course, because if a bear is dumb enough to fight an eel in the water, then it deserves to get it’s ass shocked!

DT: Well, we’re far removed from any bodies of water here in this arena. This battle will be taking place in a good ol’ fashioned wrestling ring, where the greatest tales of conquest and glory are told! Let’s go there now!

[A perched shot of the arena shows the ring cleared and ready for the final match. A stylized graphic flashes over the screen -- “EPW TELEVISION TITLE CONTEST” -- with the associated belt displayed beneath the text.]

[CUE UP: “Legalise Drugs & Murder” by Electric Wizard.]

[The house lights in the Bankers Life Fieldhouse dim out to wash the arena under a veil of black as a bubbling bong soundclip ushers in monolithic doom riffage through the PA. Spotlights hit the stage as REZIN steps out through the curtain, clad in a sludge-smudged yellow Indiana Pacer’s jersey bearing his namesake on the back and the number zero. Setting his bucket of sludge down before him, he takes a moment to stand with his arms outstretched to take in the reaction. The fans of Indianapolis give the native son a heated and angry reaction, with passion. His face curls in sick delight before he picks up the bucket and starts down the ramp to the ring.]

DT: Here arrives the challenger himself, REZIN, and the wrestler once known to this state as “Erik Black” is clearly getting NO LOVE from his fellow Hoosiers here tonight! It’s almost as if they don’t accept him as one of their own!

DM: Like a black sheep among his own flock. Or a black GOAT is more like it…

MN: Is THIS how these ignorant corn-fed hicks treat their own?! I’m absolutely appalled! They should be lauding this man as a HERO, because he’s practically their ONLY claim to professional wrestling fame!

DT: At least until Aaron Jones starts winning matches, and after earlier tonight, I don’t suspect that’s far off… but in the case of Rezin, I’d say he’s getting the very reaction a man of his nature and attitudes deserves, hometown credibility or not! He is not a point of pride for this state… he’s a mark of shame!

DM: Right up there with John Dillinger and Jim Jones, as far as I’m concerned…

MN: Hey, Dillinger was a stud! I don’t care what anybody says… grape Kool-Aid straight-up ROCKS!

DT: I dunno who they should put in the nuthouse first, Neels… Rezin, or YOU!

[Rezin sets the bucket down at the top of the steel steps in its usual place, slaloming a few times before it in ritual fashion before slithering under the ropes to enter the ring. He takes a few moments to crawl on his hands and knees before rising up and standing with his arms out again, soaking in the hate from his local fans with a sick sort of love.]

[CUE UP: “Best of the Best” by KU.]

[The reaction shifts to overwhelming cheers as purple and yellow lights fill up the arena. As soon as the lyrics begin, MALCOLM JOSEPH-JONES promptly strides through the curtain, EPW Television Title wrapped proudly around his waist, foregoing the posturing and showboating as he confidently advances toward the ring at a clip that suggests he’s ready to get to business. His attention never goes to the crowd, even as they reach out for a high-five or a brief touch of greatness… his fixation is solely on the ring.]

DT: And out next is the Television Champion himself, EM-JAY-TWO, and the Indianapolis fans are making it no mystery who their giving their support to!

MN: Buncha traitors… when did people start liking Malcolm Joseph-Jones! Right when he was starting to get COOL, too! These morons ruin EVERYTHING for me…

DM: While many were turned off by his rather blunt and unfriendly disposition when he first arrived at Empire Pro, Malcolm Joseph-Jones has slowly but surely gained the support of the fans with his stalwart conviction toward achieving greatness. Since he defeated Anarky to win the Television Title, he’s made it clear that he’s working toward building onto this company’s legacy by representing himself as nothing less than the best professional wrestling has to offer.

DT: He may not be the most fan-friendly of athletes, but there is perhaps few men who embody the very competitive nature of this sport like MJ2. It’s not just the size, or the strength… but the substance! He’s got -- wait a second, he’s got REZIN’S BUCKET! He did not even HESITATE going for it as soon as he reached the ring!

DM: And he’s bringing it in with him!

MN: Uh-oh… I don’t like where this is going!

[The crowds cheers excitedly as MJ2 takes to the ring with the sludge bucket in his hands and a look of fierce determination in his eyes, crossing the ring to where Rezin is standing. Rezin, caught up in telling a ringside fan to shut their trap, almost doesn’t see him in time, but turns his head right as MJ2 lifts the bucket to douse him in his own filth before he clears over the ropes, eyes bulging and mouth agape. He gets tangled on the bottom rope and wipes out on the floor, to the amusement of the crowd. MJ2 sneers down at him before dropping the bucket, unclasping the championship belt, and taking only the briefest of moments to circle around and slap the gold-plated face, working up the crowd.]

DT: Oh, WOW! Rezin nearly got a taste of his own bad medicine, courtesy of Malcolm Joseph-Jones!

DM: It’s the least that sick punk deserves for slinging that crap around everywhere!

MN: That would be a stupid move! MJ2 would only get himself disqualified before the bell even rung!

DT: The rules are a bit murky when it comes to slop being used as a weapon, no pun intended… but still, given the sludge bath that MJ2 experienced at our last even back in Oklahoma City, I’d say he’s fully in the right to even the odds!

DM: In any case, the official Pat Jones is moving the bucket out of the ring and handing it over to the timekeeper, safely AWAY from the ring! Rezin looks like he’s trying to protest, but Jones won’t hear any of it!

DT: That a way, Pat! Put your foot down, and keep this match as CLEAN as possible! Again, no pun intended…

[After the music cuts, both competitors, the official, and the ring announcer Tony Fatora converge in the ring. The official separates both men who stand within a foot of each other, the champion, shouldering the belt, glowering down, and the challenger sneering back up at him.]

TF: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is our MAIN EVENT, for the EMPIRE PRO TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!

[Small pop at the belt’s mention, and Fatora gestures toward the bastard clad in black.]

TF: Introducing first, the challenger… competing in his hometown of Indianapolis, Indiana… he weighs in at two-hundred and twenty-eight pounds… he is “the Escape Artist”... REEEEEZZZIIIIINNNN!!

[Fans JEER LOUDLY at the mention of their local shame. Fatora gestures toward the pulverizer clad in purple.]

TF: And the opponent, hailing from Jackson, Mississippi… tipping the scales at two-hundred and sixty-nine pounds… he is the reigning TELEVISION CHAMPION of EMPIRE PRO… MALCOLM… JOSPEH… JOOOOOOOOONNNNNNESSSS!!!

[The champ earns a supportive pop, but neither man breaks their gaze from the other. Jones splits them up and redirects them to the corners before taking the Television Title from MJ2, holding it up toward all four sides of the arena in standard fashion, and handing it off to the timekeeper.]

DT: These two look like they’re chomping at the bit to tear into each other!

DM: And I’m chomping at the bit to see what happens once that bell rings!

DT: The referee Pat Jones makes his final checks on both contenders, who haven’t stopped looking at each other! Looks like we’re ready to go! There’s the cue for the bell!


DT: Here it is! Both men out of the corners, coming to the center of the ring… Malcolm Joseph-Jones going right for the tie-up, but Rezin slips behind, nipping the champ’s calf with a quick kick on his way back!

DM: All that did was add to MJ2’s anger!

DT: A sneer on the champion’s face as he lurches forward again, shooting low this time! Rezin leapfrogs over his head! Another kick to the leg, this time connecting right behind the leg! The goat bastard is keeping his distance, using his speed to evade the powerful arms of MJ2!

DM: We’ll see how far it gets him!

DT: MJ2 clasps his hands and TEARS through the air with a swinging hammerblow right in Rezin’s direction, but the challenger rolls aside, dodging him again! Rezin’s got a sick smile on his face, taking delight in the champ’s frustration!

MN: This is all part of his genius strategy! Rezin will just keep running circles around MJ2, messing with his head and getting him to boil over! Then, when he’s blind with rage, he’ll make his fatal mistake!

DM: Or he’ll rip his head off… still, I suppose any strategy couldn’t hurt his chances in this contest.

DT: He seems to be feeling good about his chances right now, but we’ve only just begun! MJ2 keeps up his pursuit, looking ever more aggravated… he’s finally got Rezin trapped in the corner now! Rezin, trying to slip past -- but MJ2 CATCHES HIM with a big palm to the chest, shoving him back into the turnbuckle and pounding him in there with a quick shoulder block!

DM: That should take some of the smog out of his smokestack! The Television Champion has him right where he wants him now!

DT: MJ2 has him by the arm… and there’s the Irish Whip! Rezin to the opposite corner -- no, he instead SPRINGBOARDS to the TOP ROPE! MJ2 coming up after him -- but Rezin DIVES OFF and catches him with a quick missile dropkick, sending the defending champion to the mat!

MN: HA! I think he needs to get the prescription in those lame goggles changed, because he did NOT see that coming!

DT: Nonetheless, MJ2 works back up to his feet, looking even MORE angry! Rezin, meanwhile, looking to capitalize as he runs himself off the ropes… and a LOW dropkick brings Malcolm Joseph-Jones to his knees just as he was standing up!

DM: This is where Rezin can be dangerous! MJ2 has the size, but he may not have the speed or agility to keep up with this offense… unless he can do something to turn it around!

DT: Rezin won’t have that happen any time soon as he takes MJ2 by the head and puts a couple HARD elbows into his ear, before hoisting him up and leading him over to the corner! He’s got the head hooked under the arm now… looking for the TORNADO DDT as he boosts himself off the second rope and COMES AROUND -- NO!! Make that a TORNADO ATOMIC DROP, courtesy of EM-JAY-TWO!

MN: Oh man… it really HURT having to watch that!

DT: The Indianapolis crowd is absolutely loving the sight of their hometown shame tip-toeing across the ring in pain, clutching that tender area beneath the legs! MJ2 sees the opening, as he bounces off the ropes for momentum… Rezin turns around -- D’OHH-MY-GAWD WHADDA LARIAT BY THE CHAMP!!

DM: MJ2 hit him with such force, it practically turned the challenger inside out and back to outside IN!

DT: Rezin struggles to get up and staggers around, in an absolute daze! Walks right into the arms of Malcolm Joseph-Jones… and the champion HURLS HIM THROUGH THE AIR AND ACROSS THE RING with the BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!!

Crowd: *POP!!*

DM: People on the East Coast will be calling us up, reporting SHOCKWAVES from that slam! The POWER of the Television Champion has finally been unleashed, and now Revin is getting PULVERIZED!

MN: Hey, before you get carried away, allow me to remind you that it ain’t over yet!

DT: Or it may be over right now, as MJ2 goes for the pin!



Rezin gets the shoulder up!

MN: See what I’m saying?! You guys see a few big slams, and you think it’s game, set, match… but there’s more to the Escape Artist than meets the eye!

DT: Rezin’s desperately trying to drag himself to the ropes, his eyes wide in panic and his face stretched in pain! But the champion, back on his feet, denies the escape artist any hope of getting himself out of this jam as he drags him back into the ring by the heel! MJ2 has him up now… grabs him by the NECK -- OH MERCY, WHAT A CHOKEBREAKER!!

DM: That nearly broke Rezin in HALF! The Television Champion is making this look too easy!

DT: That move put Rezin back on the mat, motionless… and now the champion, Malcolm Joseph-Jones, in impressive form tonight, doesn’t hesitate in rolling him over onto his back and hooking the leg!



No! Rezin squirmed over to his side at the last moment as squeaked the shoulder up! He always just seems to scrape by!

DM: Seems to me someone’s gonna have to scrape him up off the canvas if MJ2 keeps driving him into it!

DT: The champion leaves his opponent to slowly recover as he goes to the corner, and the audience begins to get riled up as he bends his legs and gets in position to charge! We could be looking at the SPEAR here!

DM: Malcolm Joseph-Jones isn’t wasting any time here tonight! He’s showing the entire federation he isn’t kidding around when it comes to defending his title, by sensing the weakness in this challenger and going right for the kill once the opportunity is there!

DT: Rezin almost to his feet… and HERE COMES EM-JAY-TWO out of the corner… but NO! Rezin just ROLLED to the side at the last possible second! MJ2 nearly collides with the turnbuckle before putting on the breaks!

MN: It’s like some phenomenal instinct told him it was coming!

DT: That, or he happened to hear the train coming down the tracks, and wasn’t TOO high to realize he was standing on them! MJ2 regaining himself, coming out of the corner, but Rezin meets him with a quick SWEEP kick that cuts out the challenger’s leg -- OH!! And puts him right in place for a VICIOUS BUZZSAW KICK to the side of the head as soon as he dropped to the knee!

Crowd: “BOOOO!!!”

DT: The sound of Rezin’s heel hitting MJ2’s face resounded through the entire Banker’s Life Fieldhouse, and with the champion lying hurt on the mat, the challenger finds a moment to regain his wind after turning the tables in timely fashion!

MN: And just like that, the tides turn! I WARNED you guys about counting out the old goat bastard!

DM: Okay, Neels, I’ll give you that… but even if this filthy wretch COULD find a way to capitalize off this, he’s far from out of the forest!

DT: MJ2 attempting to get up off the mat, but Rezin spots his recovery, and quickly runs off the ropes for some speed… and a SOCCER KICK to the champ’s head puts him back to the mat, buying the challenger more time to set up his next scheme!

DM: Looks like his next one involves a bit of aerodynamics, cause he’s making for the corner!

DT: Indeed, Dean… Rezin boosting himself up to the TOP rope, while Malcolm Joseph-Jones lies groggy on the mat, still trying to clear up his head! Rezin DIVES OFF… and CONNECTS WITH THE GUILLOTINE LEG DROP from ALL THE WAY UP TOP!! The goat bastard, back on his feet, quickly bucks for his hometown crowd!

Crowd: “BOOOOOO!!!”

MN: What is THIS, Indianapolis?! More like IGNORANT-apolis!

DT: No love for Rezin tonight, even for his own people! FINALLY, he gets around to rolling MJ2 onto his back, and he makes his first cover in this match!



KICKOUT by Malcolm Joseph-Jones!

DM: There were few doubting that one!

DT: The champion is trying to galvanize himself and make a comeback, but the challenger Rezin keeps him to the mat with some uncompromising bare-heeled kicks to the head! Looks like he’s cowing him near the edge, and Rezin has something on his mind here as he grabs the top-rope… quick springboard off the second -- and DOWN COMES THE KNEE across the HEAD of EM-JAY-TWO!!

DM: Strike after strike to the head of MJ2… this can’t be good for the champion’s longevity! He’s got to find a way to shut down this fast and furious offense of Rezin before it starts to take a toll!

MN: The toll’s being taken right now, gentlemen!

DT: Malcolm Joseph-Jones is holding his head, desperately trying to get up! He’s completely defenseless to the whims of the goat bastard on the mat, but he’s trying hard to bring his vision back into focus and shake off the force of those legs raining down on him! Rezin, meanwhile, is in the midst of hatching a new scheme, rolling out the apron on MJ2’s blindside!

DM: He’s grinning like a bloodthirsty goblin, and the Television Champion is none the wiser right now!

DT: MJ2 back on his feet, turns around… here’s Rezin, VAULTING over the top -- LANDS ON THE SHOULDERS, and DOWN GOES THE CHAMP after the REZINRANA from the APRON!! Rezin’s GOT THE LEGS HOOKED! Does he HAVE HIM?!



NO!! MJ2 powered out at the last second, but Rezin is edging dangerously close to finishing off his all but brief reign as Television Champion!

MN: If that derails the stupid MJ2 hype train, then so be it! Maybe he can go back to being awesome when the fans start hating him again!

DT: A quick double stomp with two dirty heels across the forehead of MJ2 keeps him on the mat. Here now… Rezin reaching down and REMOVING the athletic goggles off of the head of Malcolm Joseph-Jones! Pat Jones telling him to return them, but his commands are completely ignored, as Rezin brazenly puts the goggles over his OWN head and turns to the crowd, puffing out his chest, in what I can only guess this to be a sad mockery of the current champion!

Crowd: “BOOOOOOOO!!!”

DM: This kind of insult isn’t going to fare well for him down the road… although I doubt he has the capacity to realize that!

MN: It’s all about sending a message, Dean-O!

DT: I don’t know if this is a message, or just a clear way of kick a man while he’s down… in the rhetorical sense, I mean. Rezin’s been kicking him ENOUGH while he’s down in the literal sense! In the meantime, the Television Champion trying to push himself off the mat again… he isn’t going to take this lying down forever!

DM: Rezin’s been smart to keep his distance and pick the champ apart with painful strike thus far… but now he’s just plain acting arrogant, grinning like a devil as he stalks around behind MJ2 like a jackal ready to strike!

DT: The goggles come off and get tosses aside… Rezin picks his position and GETS READY for the deathstrike! MJ2 almost up, still looking groggy as he holds his head! Let’s hope none of those strikes dealt any concussive damage!

MN: But all that other good damage is still fair game! STAND UP, MJ2! Let’s pop that fat pimple of a head for once and for all!

DT: Malcolm Joseph-Jones, back on his feet… he turns around, and Rezin hops forward with the DAMASCUS HEEL --


Crowd: *POP!!*

DT: ALL OF THE COLOR leaves the already pasty face of the Goat Bastard as he stands staggering on a single toe, his mouth agape in horror! MJ2 rises up and SHAKES THE FINGER! NOT TONIGHT! ELBOW to the exposed leg, and Rezin collapses!

MN: Oh no, it’s his PURPLE POWER reserves!

DM: No, Neels, it’s called the will to be GREAT!

DT: MJ2’s chance to retake this match is at hand as Rezin struggles to his feet… and the champ lands a KNEE STRIKE to the mid-section with such force, it LIFTS the challenger off his feet, and right into his grasp! MJ2 follows through with FLUID FORM into a DEVASTATING GUTWRENCH POWERBOMB!!

Crowd: *POP!!!*

DM: I don’t think he’s FINISHED!

DT: MJ2 right back up, hands clasping the neck of the Escape Artist, who has nowhere to run now! The Television Champion pulls him back to his feet, and tosses him HARD into the turnbuckle! There’s the Irish Whip before Rezin has a chance to react… and he connects HARD AGAIN, this time with the opposite turnbuckle!

DM: He’s literally getting whipped from pillar to post in there!

DT: The challenger, staggering as he leaves the corner -- BUT EM-JAY-TWO CHARGES IN and BULLDOZES HIM TO THE MAT with a TITANIC running lariat! That was like watching him get run over by a FREIGHT TRAIN!

MN: Oh man, this can’t be good… come on, Rez! Bite and scratch… get desperate! Gouge his eyes out!

DM: Good luck getting past the goggles!

MN: DAMN! I knew there was a reason I hated those, other than the goofy look!

DT: The Television Champion, Malcolm Joseph-Jones, stands tall and dominant in the ring, the capacity crowd here tonight roaring around him, as his opponent struggles to rise at his feet! MJ2 will help him up to his feet once again… wait, Rezin trying to fight back this time!

DM: Now he is desperate! Alas, those elbows to the abs have some affect, stunning MJ2 in place!

DT: Rezin breaking free and running to the corner… he’s goes to the TOP ROPE in no time! Off the top with the MOONSAULT --


Crowd: *POP!!*

DM: Normally spontaneous in those situations, Rezin’s efforts to make a quick turnaround have been shot down by the champion!

DT: Rezin is MOTIONLESS on the mat, and MJ2 wastes no time making the pin, hooking the leg!



THR -- NO!! Rezin BARELY twists through and gets the shoulder up in time!

DM: By wits alone, he’s still hanging in there, but the champion is losing patience! I think he’s ready to put this one away!

DT: Malcolm Joseph-Jones, back to his feet, promptly goes to the opposite corner and gets ready to charge, waiting for Rezin to slowly pull himself to his feet before he OBLITERATES him with the spear! The Indianapolis crowd is BUZZING in anticipation!

MN: These people are SICK! He’s one of their own, and they cheer on his demise?!

DT: Rezin is fumbling with the ropes, looking absolutely dazed, FOR ONCE without the help of some illegal substances! On his feet with his back to the champ, and Malcolm CHARGES FORWARD --

-- BUT NO, Rezin SEES HIM at the last moment and BAILS FROM THE RING like a bat out of hell!

MN: PHEW, that was close!

DM: I don’t know if that was pure instinct from a savvy, hardened veteran, or just idiot luck… but Rezin dodged a MASSIVE bullet there and kept this match going for a little longer!

DT: MJ2 put on the brakes before his momentum could bring him crashing into the corner, but now he looks to the outside as Rezin fumbles back off the floor and onto his feet, moving around the ring! Where the hell is he going?!

DM: I’m not sure, Dave… but if he’s trying to run away, somebody should tell him the locker room is the OTHER way!

DT: His eyes are wide and rolling wildly as he approaches the timekeeper’s table, and now Malcolm Joseph-Jones drops out of the ring in pursuit! Rezin has something else on his mind, shoving the timekeeper off of his chair… but he pushes the CHAIR aside too, and grabs his BUCKET OF SLUDGE!!

MN: YES!! Don’t let this fool humiliate you again, Rezin! Win this on YOUR terms!

DT: Rezin, with that bucket by the handle, turns around -- but THERE’S MALCOLM JOSEPH-JONES, grabbing him by the shoulder to pull him away from there!


DT: Rezin lets go of the bucket, but gets his HAND in there! Now he bucks MJ2 off and spins around…



DT: OPEN-HANDED SLAP to the face of the champ, leaving a BIG BLACK HAND-MARK right on the side of his face! The Television Champ looks absolutely FURIOUS!!

DM: He should NOT have done that!

DT: Rezin with hook -- BLOCKED by MJ2, who straightens the arm and nearly BUSTS the goat bastard across the steel ringpost with a whip! Rezin on the ringside floor, but Malcolm-Joseph Jones gets him right back up and slides him back into the ring as Pat Jones reaches the count of six! Joseph-Jones about to follow… but thinks of something else, turning back to the BUCKET OF SLIME!

Crowd: *POP!!*

MN: WHAT?! No… NO!! Don’t even THINK about it!

DT: He’s got the bucket by the handle and brings it with him up to the apron… but before he can go back inside, Pat Jones stands on the other side of the ropes, preventing him from getting back in as long as he’s got that foreign object! Jones is being FIRM right now, telling him to keep that disgusting thing out of the ring!

MN: Finally, the referee does something RIGHT!

DM: Credit to Pat Jones for trying to keep things clean, in any case!

DT: MJ2 looks angry and disappointed, and the fans sound the exact same… but he sets it down anyway and complies!

DM: That’s the way, Malc! Keep your emotions in check, especially when there’s a job to do! There will be plenty of time to even the score once you’ve won the match and successfully defended your title!

MN: What a coward! He could have covered Rezin in his own waste and made a statement!

DM: I think he’d rather make a statement by putting that scoundrel’s skull right into the mat!

DT: Malcolm Joseph-Jones is back in the ring, leaving the bucket on apron and near the turnbuckle so that it’s at least out of the way…

DM: Still, that distraction gave Rezin a chance to recover!

DT: Rezin still trying to get to his feet as Malcolm Joseph-Jones bears down on him, wiping the muck left on his face only moments ago! Rezin sees him coming and QUICKLY lands a low shot to the abs again to leave him reeling for a second! And like that, he’s up and off, and bouncing off the ropes… Rezin on the return, hops up for a FLYING DAMASCUS HEEL --


Crowd: *MEGA-POP!!*

MN: DAMBIT AGAIN!! He was just about to KICK HIS HEAD OFF, and that big purple buffoon just dipped the shoulder and RAN RIGHT THROUGH HIM!!

DT: Malcolm Joseph-Jones is an UNSTOPPABLE FORCE tonight! Now he’s ready to FINISH THIS OFF! Rezin gets lifted back to his feet… the Television Champion hooks the arm… hooks the LEG… going for the GREATNESS BUSTER --

-- but he DROPS HIM!? Wait, WHAT HAPPENED?!

DM: It looked like Rezin got his HAND in his face, or at least near it!

DT: Hold on… yes, I think he did! MJ2 is struggling with his goggles, trying to wipe a black SMUDGE left there by the challenger’s filth-soaked hand! It’s so thick, it’s blocking his vision!

MN: I thought he used those to HELP him see!

DT: MJ2 struggling with his goggles as Rezin struggles to his feet… finally, the champion just says to hell with them and rips them off his head! Back to Rezin, who’s back is turned, to finish the --



Crowd: *GASP!!*




THREE!! I don’t believe it, HE GOT HIM!!


[CUE UP: “Legalise Drugs and Murder” by Electric Wizard. The audience is stunned as Rezin rolls off of Malcolm Joseph-Jones before he can burst to his feet in rage. Rezin is beaming a maniacal smile and cackling with maddened glee.]

TF: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match…

...and NEW Empire Pro Television Champion…

Crowd: “BOOOO!!!”


DT: An UNBELIEVABLE turn of events! Fans… I’m simply SHOCKED right now!

DM: I think most of the people in this arena are feeling the same, Dave! Everybody thought Malcolm Joseph-Jones was moments away from making his successful title defense after a rather dominant performance… but Rezin somehow managed to claw his way back from the brink of defeat and steal the EPW Television Belt right out from under him, all in a matter of seconds!

MN: Hey, I TOLD YOU guys not to count out a man when he gets desperate! Now everybody BOW to the new champ!

[Pat Jones raises Rezin’s arm in victory and hands him the EPW Television Title, which he promptly rips out of his hands and pines over in his extreme show of gloating. The Indianapolis crowd pelts him with a rain of garbage, both verbal and literal. Meanwhile, Malcolm Joseph-Jones, at the brink of his rage, gets to his feet and walks over to the far side of the ring…]

DT: Malcolm Joseph-Jones isn’t finish here, folks! He’s going to the ropes… HE’S GOT THE BUCKET OF SLUDGE!!

MN: Hey now, there’s no need for that! The match is OVER!!

DT: MJ2 isn’t letting that punk scamper out of here with the last laugh! Rezin sees him, and he’s trying to get out of there! Malcolm has him cornered… he’s got the bucket up, ready to dump it on him…

...but Rezin pulls PAT JONES IN THE WAY!!

Crowd: “BOOOOOOO!!!”

DT: GOOD GOD, no! The senior official of Empire Pro was just SOAKED in the SLUDGE, and the new Television Champion BOLTS from the ring like a felon fleeing the scene of a crime!

MN: HAHAHAHA!! Yet again, the Escape Artist GETS AWAY!!

DM: There wasn’t anything MJ2 could do to stop himself there! Pat Jones was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time!

DT: A bitter finish to tonight’s events for the defeated Malcolm Joseph-Jones and the senior official… but for Rezin, a profound victory! After years of struggle and strife, Erik Black has FINALLY achieved his first major accomplishment in singles competition!

DM: Outside of holding the record for being on the receiving end of a superkick…

DT: What’s going to happen now that the belt is in Rezin’s tainted grasp? Will he follow through on his plan to DESTROY the belts one by one? Or does this being a dark chapter of sorrow in Empire Pro’s title division?

DM: Don’t doom and gloom on us now, Dave… just remember, Rezin got away by the skin of his teeth here tonight! And if I know the now former champion as well as I do, then I strongly feel that Malcolm Joseph-Jones won’t be so quick to move on…

MN: He won’t be moving on to ANYTHING, Dean-O! If anything, he’ll be moving DOWN the ranks after this embarrassing loss!

DT: Time will tell if that’s the case… but for tonight, Rezin’s name has been permanently stained in the EPW record books!

[Walking back up the rampway, the grinning Rezin holds up the Television Title, the face of the belt stained with his fingers. Back in the ring, Malcolm Joseph-Jones glares at him forebodingly, pointing at him and drawing a thumb across his neck.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
My Precious

[CUTTO: Gary Freedman striding down the aisle to the ring, a bit smile on his face. He climbs in, then stands in the middle of the ring.]

DT: Well tonight has certainly been a busy night for EPW and EPW management, Castor Strife has shown up and put everyone on notice, and we still have the controversy around the EPW World Title Belt to be resolved here.

FREEDMAN: We’re going this issue over the EPW World Championship right now I’ve had enough of First’s whining and Impulse’s evasiveness. So boys…Get out here and let’s get this settled.

[MUSIC UP: “Happy Birthday” by the Birthday Massacre. The crowd boos loudly as The First walks to the ring. First in an all-black three piece suit. Face painted in the Kefka motif.]

DT: The EPW World Champion looking none too pleased as he walks towards the ring.

DM: Not to defend the guy, but he did have his property stolen from him.

MN: I wish he’d have a lot worse happen to him also. Guy just gets on my last nerve.

[First hits the ring with mic in hand.]

FIRST: Since everyone else in this company loves government names…Well I decided to get made up tonight in honor of our new leader, Mr. Palazzo. Gary…I really don’t know what sort of weight you carry with this company anymore, but let’s see if you can do something for once and get me back my title.

[Freedman and First have a stare down that’s interrupted by “Revolution Baby” by Queen V.]

DT: Some people consider Impulse to be the rightful Champion after their match at Unleashed, and a good number of these fans are letting Freedman and The First know it!

MN: Please. I might not be the biggest fan of The First, he's loud and obnoxious and overrated in every way--

DM: Sounds like someone we know, right, Dave?

MN: Yeah, The First.

[Dave and Dean wisely remain silent.]

MN: But the fact remains, the boy scout here did not beat The First for the title. So I think we can agree that anyone who claims he's the rightful champion is... well... stupid.

DT: At any rate, he certainly deserves another shot at it.

MN: Just gonna ignore what I say, huh, Burgerman? Nice. Hey, where's the eye candy?

DM: More importantly, Impulse is walking to the ring without the World Title belt!

MN: More importantly? Where are your priorities?

DT: Impulse under the bottom rope, and he's face to face with The First! Gary Freedman standing in between the two men, and he looks very nervous about it!
DT: First is complaining that Impulse doesn’t have his belt.

MN: Ha, the boy scout is still sticking it to him, I love it!

IMPULSE: Evasiveness, Gary? The title belt was delivered to my hotel room, I wrapped it up for the flight home and immediately told the world that I somehow had it, and that I'd be returning it to The First here tonight. Where's the evasiveness?

FIRST: Where's my belt!

IMPULSE: Your belt is here in the building, The First. And it's been taking quite the tour tonight amongst the people. How many of you got your picture taken with the belt tonight?

[A cheer went up from the crowd, at least a few hundred. The First looked enraged, and started shouting something away from the microphone about 'unworthy people touching his belt.']

IMPULSE: Untie your panties, The First - you're leaving the arena tonight with your title belt. All I did was, since it's been such a long time since this company had a Champion it could be proud of, I gave the Empire's fans a moment with the World Title belt that they could take home with 'em.

[He smirked.]

IMPULSE: It's called 'giving back to the people who buy the tickets that pay our checks, The First... You might want to try it.

FREEDMAN: Impulse, I understand where you’re coming from…But the fact is that Stalker pulled this little stunt and he gave you the belt , now I’m not a big fan of The First, but he is EPW World Champion, and he has a legal right to have his belt…So I need it back here now or you’ll face severe consequences.

DT: Freedman laying down the gauntlet here!

MN: Defy him Impulse! Castor and Ryan got the power around here, this middle management pencil pusher can’t do anything to you!

IMPULSE: You want it, Gary? Cally, you here?

CALICO ROSE [V/O]: On my way, RK!

[CUTTO: The top of the lower level, where Calico Rose is standing with the EPW Title belt over her shoulder next to a large security guard. The fans are cheering all around her and she's taking her time getting to the ring, shaking hands and stopping for pictures, etc.]

DT: There’s Calico Rose! She’s in the crowd and she has the EPW World Title over her shoulder! First is beside himself in the ring.

FIRST: Get security over to her now! I don’t want any of these pathetic Colt fan vermin trying to steal my belt and selling it on Ebay!

[After a good two minutes of pictures, cheering, and complaining from The First, Rose has made it to the barrier at the front row. The security guard she was with steps over first, then helps her to ringside. She eyes The First warily and enters the ring on Impulse's side, handing him the title belt. Impulse glares at The First who is pacing back and forth.]

DT: Now it’s the moment of truth. Is Impulse really going to hand the belt back?

[Crowd yelling know. Freedman staring daggers at First to not lunge for the belt. First standing there with a scowl on his face as Impulse slowly walks towards the two men.]

VOICE: We have a visual on the suspect! Moving in!

[Four men in black suits, white shirts and black ties rush towards the ring.]

DT: What the heck?! Who are these guys?!

MN: I paid my taxes dammit! I’m legit! Don’t come this way!

[The four men hit the ring, Impulse looking ready for a fight.]

MAN: Sir, just turn over the belt and nothing will happen.

IMPULSE: Are you kidding me? Who are you supposed to be?

MAN: We’re federal agents.

[The man pulls out a badge and shows it to Impulse, who looks at it, laughs, and drops it to the mat, handing the belt toward Gary Freedman.]

MN: Oh boy, I know a guy who did that and they sent him to Gitmo! Impulse is pushing his luck!

DT: I’m not thinking these men are on the up and up myself.


DT: Two of these men just rushed Rose! She punches one of them in the face and Impulse now with a kick to the other Freedman bailing from the ring as the action continues. Two of the men swarming Impulse, one of them trying to pry the belt away from him…Impulse lets go of the belt and hip tosses one man, the other throws the belt into a corner as Impulse now hammers him with forearms! Impulse ripping the jacket off this stooge and now unleashing kick after kick on him…Another man runs at him…SUDDEN IMPACT!! [pop!] Knocks him silly! The man he was beating on staggers towards him. Impulse grabs him by the shirt collar and throws him to the mat!

MN: He ripped that Wal-Mart ten dollar shirt to pieces!

DM: And I think we’ve gotten to the bottom of who these guys are.

DT: You’re right Dean, the fallen thug has a “Burns Wrestling Academy” T-Shirt on, these are those goons that got kicked out of Unleashed! This was a set-up by First the whole time!

DM: Impulse isn’t looking too pleased about this at all! He turns towards The First who is begging off. WAIT ONE OF THOSE GOONS HAS A CHAIR!! HE CHARGES IMPULSE!! SUDDEN IMPACT!! IMPULSE KNOCKED HIM COLD BEFORE HE COULD USE THE CHAIR!

DM: Impulse fighting off a gang here!

DT: Impulse turns back to The First…GREEN MIST!!! Impulse grabbing his eyes…First grabs the belt off the mat….FIRST BLASTS IMPULSE IN THE HEAD WITH THE BELT!! [Boos!] Impulse laid out by that belt shot! First stumping around the ring with the belt in his hands.

DM: This was a trap from the start, First had his minions ready and waiting to pounce as soon as the belt got to the ring.

MN: This dirtbag can’t do anything by himself, I’m stunned his didn’t have his woman handle this whole ordeal.

DT: First in the ring celebrating having gotten back his EPW World Title belt while Rose tends to the fallen Impulse and First’s goons are slowly scraping themselves off the mat. Castor Strife is here. WrestleVerse will feature a four way for the title, this whole company has been turned for a loop. Aggression 75 can’t be any bigger, you have to tune in, we’ll see you all then next time!

[First yelling at the camera “It’s mine! Nobody’s taking it from me!” as he holds the belt. Burns Academy students still laid out on the ground as Rose continues to tend to Impulse as we FADE TO BLACK.]


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