The scene cuts in abruptly, allowing us a glimpse of the jam-packed insides of Viking Hall. From several different sections of the arena, varied chants break out. ”WE WANT BLOOD!” clearly echoes out from underneath the less audible chants, which brings out a huge charge of energy from many of the fan’s lungs. The camera briefly pans over the fans, before we make our usual stop – the balcony of Viking Hall. Standing behind their table, Tony Lockton and Cody “Mother Fuckin” Prime exchange a few hushed words, before Tony acknowledges the camera pointing in his immediate direction. Cody Prime whirls his arm into the air, flipping a beer can over his shoulder, while Tony rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak.

T.L: Welcome to round number two, folks!

C.P: If you love hardcore fuckin’ action, we got it for y’all tonight!

T.L: Cody, you’ve got that right.

C.P: In a few short fuckin’ moments we’ll hear from the president of the UWWF, the man who brought you this fuckin’ tourney….Maddog! That’s right, bitches!

T.L: Tonight, we won’t waste your time with our talking, we want you to witness the most hardcore action in the United States….better yet…..the most hardcore action in the world!

C.P: True ‘dat, Ton-alone-playin’-wit-his-bone!

T.L: Excuse me, Cody, can you speak English?

C.P: No time to fuckin’ explain, we gotta head backstage, fucka!

The scene quickly fades from the commentary booth, bringing us into the direct proximity of President Maddog. A unfamiliar man stands next to Maddog with a microphone, nodding at someone that lurks behind the camera.

Man: I welcome you all to the show, but let me cut right to the point. Here, next to me is a man that has quite a bit to say. So, I won’t keep him waiting any longer, people. Here you go, sir.

The man immediately forks the microphone over to Maddog, who seems to be fully of energy tonight. He adjusts the front of his suit jacket, then puts the microphone up to his mouth with his left hand. He clears his throat, as his right hand bursts up and he runs his hand along his tied back dreadlocks, resting his hand on the back of his head.

Maddog: Through these past few days, seeing each competitor try to intimidate their counterpart with threats of malicious tactics, I just had to laugh to myself. As you all know, I’m quite partial to the current champion that has rough through any and all competitors that have stepped into his path. Shit, you know him, he’s Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson! Stumbling across Acid’s last little cluster-fuck of unbearable and barely comprehendible vocal blunders, I nearly fell asleep. There is only so much you can say to defend your own insecurities and Acid just gave Clarkson a book full of new ways to drive the stake into his cowering heart.

Maddog moves the microphone away from his mouth slightly, allowing himself to chuckle a bit before proceeding.

Maddog: Acid, I’ll respectfully put all the bullshit aside for the moment to shed some light on the subject. Stepping into this tournament, a lot of people probably wouldn’t have even predicted that you would make it past the first round. Well, Acid, you’ve shown us all that you have a spark inside you. I wish you luck, Acid, because you’ve actually got some determination inside of you. But with all respect thrown to the side, Clarkson is out for your blood and I fully stand by his ideals.

Maddog steps back and lowers his head.

Maddog: Now, I’ll quit prolonging the event that you’ve all been waiting for. Sit back and watch, as the competitors tear eachother apart! Make me proud, boys!

Maddog nods at the camera, as the scene cuts to the ringside area for our first bout of the evening.

The ring ropes will be removed, allowing the wrestlers free reign to do whatever they wish, as barbed-wire 2x4s line the apron of the ring - wrapped in barbed-wire (similar to the fencing used at the top of maximum security prisons except with barbed-wire instead of razor-wire).

Hardcore Timmay makes his way around the outside of the ring, looking to enter the ring soon enough. Nightmare doesn’t wait for his entrance to come out from the back, running around the corner of the ring toward his opponent. Timmay turns around and the two meet face to face, trading a few early punches. The ring announcer points to the action with a growling response of, ”The action starts early, folks! Here on the outside of the ring!”

C.P: If that wasn’t fuckin’ obvious, I don’t fucking now what is.

Meanwhile - Timmay lands a knee to Nightmare’s stomach, which he tries to follow up with slamming Nightmare head first against the heavy section of barbed-wire wound around planks of wood and secured to the apron. Nightmare manages to block the blow by thrusting his foot up and holding himself away from the wire. Nightmare drops his leg and immediately throws his left arm back and clips Hardcore Timmay in ribs with a back-elbow. Timmay staggers backward, but Nightmare grabs both sides of his head and bashes him up against the wire! Nightmare keeps hold of Timmay’s head and begins pulling him back and forth across the wicked barbs. Seconds of raking pass, then Nightmare pulls Timmay away from the wire and turns him around. Nightmare holds onto Timmay’s wrist and takes a few steps back to irish-whip him a few feet forward into the railing! The railing shifts back a few feet, as fans lean over the railing with their weapons ready for either man to use. Nightmare steps forward and leans over the rail slightly, stretching out his hand to acquire one of the fan’s utensils. Nightmare grabs onto something and pulls it toward him, bringing out three inch wide, two inch thick piece of wood, which takes several seconds to slide over the railing – due to the length of the wood being nearly eight feet long. The camera moves in close, allowing us a glimpse of this weapon, revealing that it’s not any ordinary length of wood – along the wood we can see the ends of screws jutting outward.

T.L: That could be very dangerous, Cody.

C.P: Shit, you think I’m fuckin’ dumb or somethin’? I stepped on a screw once and that sucked just as much as your momma….

Nightmare places nearly eight foot long section of thin wood with screws protruding through it’s middle against ring-post, making sure it can stand in place without falling first. Timmay grabs onto Nightmare’s boot and tries to get up, but Nightmare assists him with a tug upward with both hands clenched onto the sides of Timmay’s skull. Nightmare steps to Timmay’s side and starts leading him forward and forcefully drags him into a heavy forehead-first thrust against the end of the screw-infested length of plywood! After Hardcore Timmay hits the plank of plywood, it topples over along with Timmay, who nearly lands stomach first against the tips of the screws! Nightmare uses his leg to turn Timmay over, revealing a somewhat large circular wound near Timmay’s right eye from where a screw had caught him with it’s jagged exterior. Blood starts welling up in the wound, soon dripping rapidly across the concrete floor. The beads of blood drop to the floor like raindrops, which seems quite disturbing in all actuality. Nightmare wastes no time in dragging his wounded opponent upright with a violent tug, lifting him into a fireman’s carry. Nightmare spins Timmay around in a circle, aiming Timmay’s head in the direction of the ring, where barbed-wire thicket bustles outward and off the apron. Nightmare lifts Timmay’s upper-body slightly in order to position him, before he finally drops Timmay across the middle of his face against the thick accumulation of ragged and alarming barbed-wire! Timmay gets caught up on the wire, struggling to pull himself away, seemingly causing more damage to himself with each tug of the barbs that have carved their way into several patches of open flesh. Nightmare takes initiative to help Hardcore Timmay, pulling him away from the barbed-wire with enough force to rattle that entire section of barbed-wire. Nightmare grabs onto Hardcore Timmay’s wrist in order to back up slightly to pull Timmay forward with an irish-whip. Timmay limps quickly in the direction of the railing, as the momentum turns him around, forcing him to hit the railing with his spine!

T.L: Timmay is in trouble, folks.

C.P: No fuckin’ way, we didn’t just see Nightmare rape the poor bastard!

Nightmare uses the space between himself and Timmay near the railing to gain some momentum with a running start in his direction. Timmay doesn’t even see Nightmare coming at him like a freight train, which results in a closeline that propels Hardcore Timmay over the railing and into the sea of roaring fans. Nightmare climbs the rail, as fans stretch their arms out to give the combatants a wide variety of home-made contraptions for the wrestlers to inflict pain on one another with. Nightmare reaches out and grabs the handle of a kendo-stick, which has a light tubes filled with the sparkling contents of nearly thousands of thumb-tacks! Nightmare glances at the weapon that he had just pulled away from some young lad, which lights his face up with a hint of sadistic pride. Nightmare lifts the contraption up with one arm and swings it from his side to crack it across the top side of Timmay’s scalp! BOOM! As the light tubes shatter across the side of Timmay’s head, the thumb-tacks glimmer in the lights above, showering down into the crowd. Nightmare moves his arm upright to glare at the jagged shard of glass still intact along the side of the kendo stick that is gripped between his fingers, while Timmay staggers further into the sea of fans. Nightmare drops the kendo stick and takes a few quick steps forward, initiating a short sprint. Short sprint meaning, Nightmare approaches Timmay from behind with his arm stretched out stiffly. The fans step back to create a semi-circle around the two combatants, as Nightmare drills Timmay with a force that drives Hardcore Timmay to the floor. Timmay hits the floor, rolling over onto his spine with a look of agony on his mug. Nightmare wastes no time in pulling his opponent back up to his feet, only to drag him back toward the guardrail. Nightmare and Timmay reach the rail in a quick fashion, which brings Nightmare to hurl his bloodied opponent over the railing and back into the ringside area. Fans around Nightmare stretch their arms out to display an arsenal of deadly weapons that are locked between their claws.

T.L: It looks like Timmay is in a bad situation.

C.P: Fuck, bad ain’t the word, mang. If we were in a fuckin’ prison, Timmay would be Nightmare’s lil’ whore.

While Nightmare scans his eyes over the array of weapons, as his eyes lock onto one particular object that isn’t visible in our view with the camera. This gives Timmay enough time to pull his ragged ass of the floor, hoping to get some kind of advantage to bring him back in the runnings to go to the third round of this tournament. Timmay staggers back toward the railing, as Nightmare comes into view. The fans around Nightmare lean forward to look at him while adding a cheer, as he holds up the likes of an electric drill with a wad of steel wool taped around the drill’s bit! Timmay leans over the railing with a weak thrust of his arm to blast Nightmare with a right hook. The feeble jab is blocked by Nightmare’s forearm, followed by Nightmare lifting his free arm up over his head. With a quick drop of his arm, Nightmare sends the tip of his elbow down across the middle of Timmay’s forehead. Timmay falls backward, dropping into a sitting position. Nightmare leans his upper body over the rail, soon climbing back into the ringside area with ease.

T.L: My god, he’s not going to use that is he?

C.P: Ton, chill da fuck out!

Nightmare places the drill on the floor next to Timmay, grabbing him by both sides of his head to pick him up to his feet. Nightmare grabs the back of Timmay’s neck and holds onto a piece of his shirt, while he swings him forward and lobs him up onto the apron of the ring. With the whip, Nightmare manages to lift Timmay somewhat off his feet, rolling him directly onto the circular billows of barbed-wire! CHRING! The wire rattles, as Timmay’s body violently rolls across the wire, catching each piece of exposed skin that touches it’s razor-sharp barbs. Nightmare turns around and acquires the drill one more time, following this procedure up by climbing into the ring. It takes a few minutes for Nightmare to return to the squared circle, as Timmay staggers toward the opposite direction of his opponent. Approaching quickly from behind, Nightmare stretches his free hand out and grabs Hardcore Timmay by the shoulder, turning him around. Upon turning Timmay around, Nightmare drops him to his knees with a swift stomp to the gut. Timmay leans forward and places his hands on Nightmare’s hips to hold himself up. Nightmare uses his free hand to pull back on Hardcore Timmay’s head, exposing his already bleeding forehead. Nightmare raises the drill up, as he pulls the trigger and we hear the drill start up. Timmay struggles to free himself from Nightmare’s grip, but Nightmare drives the bottom of the drill’s handle down into the middle of Timmay’s head, which stuns him further. Nightmare quickly uses his advantage to turn the drill-bit in the direction of Timmay’s forehead, moving in closer. The steel wool spins wildly as it approaches the flesh of Timmay’s forehead, soon making direct contact. Hardcore Timmay’s scream can be heard in the back of the arena, allowing each and every person in the building to know that he is in extreme pain.

T.L: Could Nightmare be any more brutal?

C.P: Have you seen Clarkson in the fuckin’ ring? Seriously, bitch, it could be a whole fucking hell of a lot worse.

The wool rips at the soft tissue of Timmay’s forehead, which soon begins swelling significantly. Nightmare pulls the drill away from the targeted area and drops the drill to the floor, showing everyone the damage he had caused. Pulling Timmay up to his feet, Nightmare holds him in a near side-headlock lifting up on his head to parade him around the rail for everyone to catch a glimpse of. Timmay’s forehead has been reduced to a bloody mess, swelled and irritated by the steel wool. The areas not covered in blood have now become infected with a bright red pigment.

T.L: I’m sure that couldn’t have felt good in any way.

C.P: No fuckin’ doubt, you fuckin’ moron.

Nightmare drags Timmay along, soon making their way up the ring-steps. From the steps, Nightmare bends Timmay over and grabs him by the back of the neck. Using his other hand, Nightmare grabs onto Timmay’s lower back and flips him forward into the barbed-wire. As Timmay flips over the top of the barbed-wire, he soon comes down across it with his back, catching him quite extensively. Nightmare cautiously climbs over the wire and enters the ring, glaring at his opponent, who is now stuck along the bales of barbed-wire. He waits a few moments before he makes his way over, pulling on Timmay’s head. He lifts him up and tugs forcefully, ripping him away from the barbed-wire – fabric, flesh and all. Timmay huffs for air, putting his arms back to hold onto his damaged backside, while Nightmare leads him toward the turnbuckle. With a quick swipe of his arm, Nightmare sends Timmay’s head clashing against the exposed ring-post, dropping him flat across his back. Nightmare walks over to the edge of the barbed-wire, pointing to one of the ring crew members. The man walks over, as Nightmare instructs him to follow his orders. Without any objection the crew member steps against the railing and points to a fan, who has a somewhat large box with a lid. The crew member looks at Nightmare, who nods with agreement. The ring crew member takes the covered box away from the fan and goes back over to Nightmare, hoisting the box over the barbed-wire to allow Nightmare to grab it. After grabbing the covered box, Nightmare makes his way toward the center of the ring and finally removes the lid of the box, revealing a sheet of plywood covered in Christmas ornaments of all colors, the solid steel toys known as jacks, and a vast array of different size mouse traps! Nightmare puts the board down gently, to keep the mouse traps from triggering.

T.L: This doesn’t look good for Hardcore Timmay at all, Cody.

C.P: Look at that fucka, he’s still layin’ flat on his fuckin’ back. Ain’t nothin’ he can do to win now, son.

It only takes a mere few seconds for Nightmare to approach his downed opponent, only to drag him back up to his feet to inflict more damage in his direction. Pulling his spaghetti legged opponent toward center ring, Nightmare has to use a fair amount of his strength to drag Hardcore Timmay further. They reach the center of the ring and Nightmare positions Timmay near the board covered Christmas ornaments, mouse traps, and jacks is laying.

T.L: This could be the end for Hardcore Timmay!

C.P: He didn’t have a fuckin’ chance from the start, mang. Good thing that this no talent fool didn’t step into the ring with Clarkson, otherwise he’d be visiting the hospital…or the fuckin’ county morgue!

Nightmare lifts Timmay over his head and hooks him by the arms, pulling him forward, resulting in Timmay being slid off Nightmare’s shoulders toward the canvas. Nightmare uses his weight to bring Timmay down with more force. Cameras flash around the arena, as Nightmare sends Timmay’s body collapsing down across the board with heavy impact. Timmay hits the canvas and immediately sits up, revealing the shining fragments of broken ornaments, jacks, and two mouse traps clinging to the flesh on his backside. Nightmare lunges forward and plants a vicious stomp with the bottom of his boot directly across the middle of Hardcore Timmay’s forehead, forcing him to fall back down onto the debris that are now scattered across the edges of the board and the canvas nearby. Nightmare circles around Timmay, leaning down at his side to pull him up into a sitting position from behind. Nightmare grabs Timmay’s throat and hoists him up to his feet, soon grabbing his arm and quickly swinging around his backside. Nightmare uses a tight grip to lock on a form of the katahajime choke (used by Taz). Timmay has no struggle left in him, as Nightmare stays upright. Seconds later, Timmay’s entire body goes limp, which gives the referee a hint to check in on him. It takes no longer than a few seconds before the referee calls for the ending of the bout!

Nightmare holds onto the choke for another ten to fifteen seconds, as the referee pleads with him to release Hardcore Timmay. Nightmare shows his sadistic smile at the referee, as he releases Timmay from his clutches, dropping to the mat to fall flat on his face. The referee immediately dives down and makes sure that Timmay is still breathing. Nightmare reaches into his attire and pulls out a small container of some sort. He untwists it’s lid and puts it up to his mouth, dumping a clear liquid into his mouth. He steps forward, dropping the container to the mat, while he pulls out a lighter from his pocket. Nightmare bends his legs and points his head in the direction of Timmay and the referee, sparking the lighter in front of his face, as his mouth starts to open. WHOOF! The liquid ignites, as Nightmare sprays it from his mouth…the burst of fire shoots down across the referee and Timmay’s backs, licking them quite extensively. The referee flips to the side and covers his head, rolling back and forth to put out any remaining pieces of burning fabric that may occupy his shirt. Timmay shows life now, rolling over onto his back, easily extinguishing the splattered, burning remnants of the liquid. Nightmare glares at the two downed men, as he tilts his head back and laughs wickedly.

C.P: Fuck the referees. Fuck Timmay. Nightmare just wants to let us all know how fuckin’ much he appreciates this federation.

T.L: He’s showing us exactly why he should be admitted into a mental institution.

C.P: Eh, I could care fuckin’ less. ‘Cause he won’t be livin’ much longer after Clarkson gets a hold of him for what his punk-ass did last fuckin’ week.

T.L: Oh my lord!

Just as we get the feed from the backstage area, all out chaos has erupted. The cameraman tries to focus the camera, after dodging Jeremy Clarkson and Nightmare, who just forged by.

The cameraman distances himself from the mayhem, allowing us a view of the current situation: Clarkson nails Nightmare from behind, assaulting him with a series of closed rights to the back of the head. Clarkson turns Nightmare around and grabs him by the back of the head, slamming him against the door that stands near the left of them a few feet to the side. THUD! Nightmare’s head thuds off the door, but Clarkson only pulls him back against the far wall to gain a bit of room. Clarkson charges Nightmare forward again, this time forcing him to collide with the heavy wooden door with his shoulder, breaking it wide open. As the door flings open violently, Clarkson pushes Nightmare through into the room, driving him into a rolling motion to the floor. Jeremy Clarkson dashes into the room and begins stomping Nightmare, hitting him anywhere that he can manage. Nightmare tries to crawl away, but Clarkson drops him flat onto his stomach with a kick to the back of the skull. Clarkson steps over Nightmare and dashes over to a nearby table, where he grabs hold of his infamous tool of destruction - A STAPLE GUN! With the staple gun in hand, Clarkson makes his way back over to Nightmare, leaning over immediately. Clarkson, wasting no time, turns Nightmare over and reaches quickly into his pocket. Pulling out a wad of cash, Clarkson places two bills against Nightmare’s forehead and proceeds to staple a few hundred dollar bills against his flesh! Thrusting the back of Nightmare’s head back down against the concrete floor, Clarkson drops an unfolded piece of paper onto his chest. The note reads, “Final judgment will be your final nightmare.” Clarkson snorts back some phlegm and soon spits down on Nightmare’s face. He snickers slightly, as he turns around and exits the room, while security bustles into action – knowing they are already too damn late to prevent anything. Clarkson shoves past the guards, as we come back to the balcony to converse about the next bout.

T.L: Well, folks, Clarkson has proven his point that he is the most dangerous and unpredictable wrestlers on the planet today!

C.P: True ‘dat, brotha. If he could, I’m sure he would have killed that sack of shit without any hesi-fucking-tation.

T.L: I wouldn’t doubt that, Cody. Not at all!

C.P: Well, shit-brick, let’s get on wit’ the show.

T.L: What did you call me?

C.P: Shit-brick. Now, shut it, ‘fore I introduce you to tha’ back of my hand.

As the camera zooms in, we can see black tarps covering the “anonymous” weapons for this contest in each corner of the ring. Inside the squared circle, both Van X and Hall stand near the center of the ring. Only a few inches separate the tips of their boots, as their eyes lock on one another. Hall’s face grows with a form of anger, which only brings Chris Van X to an attempt to aggravate Hall. A short smile grows on Chris’ face, exposing his teeth, turning his head to the side to chuckle to himself. Hall steps forward, closing the somewhat small gap between them. The referee sees the two move in for a potential lock-up, so he waves his hand to call for the bell to begin this classic bout.

Chris Van X and Derrick Hall lock-up, showing their true intensity with a back and forth struggle. Hall pushes Chris back slightly, allowing him enough room to duck around, catching Van X in a rear waist-lock. Hall tries to lift Chris Van X up off the mat for a maneuver of some sort, but as he lifts up, Van X sends a fierce back elbow against Hall’s jaw! Hall’s hands unlock around Van X’s waist, dropping him back down to his feet. Chris doesn’t waste any time in turning around, WHAM! Hall drops to his stomach after Chris Van X nearly breaks his way with a roaring elbow variation. Chris Van X takes a lunging step forward and jumps into a full blown stomp against Hall’s spine. Derrick Hall shudders under the impact of Chris’ boot, but it doesn’t seem to stop him from trying to get back up. Chris Van X assists his opponent, tugging him back up into a standing position. Chris swings his arm around Hall’s neck and tugs him in closely with a side-headlock. Chris lifts his arm and drops it, tightening the headlock and wrenching on Hall’s neck. Hall puts his hands on either side of Chris Van X’s hips and pushes off, sliding his head free from Chris Van X’s heavy grip. Hall follows through with the shove, sending Chris into the ropes with authority. Chris hits the ropes and turns around, only to be caught with a high, stinging spinning heel kick to the center of his chin. Chris drops the canvas, as Derrick Hall takes a few deep breaths before tipping up and landing on his feet. Derrick Hall leans over to grab Chris’ head, pulling him a few feet away from the ropes. Hall side-steps and backs into the side ropes to gain a hint of momentum, before he flips his body into the air. From the somersault, Hall extends his legs out for a leg-drop, but Van X narrowly avoids the blow. Hall slams his legs against the mat, while Chris Van X charges in his direction with a diving body-tackle. Chris mounts Hall and pulls his head up, swinging his right arm back with force. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Chris Van X’s closed fist slaps against Derrick Hall’s forehead, allowing the fans to the hear the impact of the blows with sickening claps of Chris’ knuckles across Hall’s flesh. Chris slams one more closed fist against Hall’s head, before standing up and turning toward the corner. He rushes over to the corner, where he rips the black tarp away from the objects that had been set up prior to the bout.

T.L: I can’t believe this…..

C.P: I have never fuckin’ seen anythin’ like this in my fuckin’ life. Never in professional fuckin’ wrestling have I ever seen this….

Exposing the object beneath the tarp is exactly what Chris Van X has done, receiving a huge gasp from the crowd – who don’t know what to think of this. Beneath the tarp, the glimmering stainless steel table is exposed, showing us a variety of ten black handles. The camera on the apron peers over the top rope, giving us an up close view of several butcher knives, large forks (two-prong barbeque forks), and the studded, jagged form of a cheese-grater! Chris Van X rubs his hands together, biting his bottom lip with anticipation, as he steps forward. His hand juts out and grabs onto the cheese-grater, pulling him in, as he turns around quickly. Derrick Hall gets to his feet and takes a running start at Van X, who drops forward onto his knees. From his knees, Van X puts his arm up and clips Hall across the stomach with his clenched fist, doubling him over almost immediately. Chris stands up and turns Hall around, grabbing onto his wrist and taking a back step. Chris Van X whips Hall into the ropes and takes a swipe at him with the cheese-grater. Hall ducks under the cheese-grater, coming back toward the ropes. Hall jumps up and lands on the middle rope, springing himself backward with quickness. Chris Van X attempted to move in on Hall, but Hall completely switches the situation around with a cork-screw cross-body attack. Hall sends Van X to the mat in a heap, which slows Chris Van X down significantly. It takes several seconds for Van X to even attempt a lift of his head, but when he finally does – Hall is waiting above him. Hall has the cheese-grater in his hand, swinging it behind his leg, as he jumps into the air. Derrick “Demon Hunter” Hall uses no mercy, as he drops all of his weight onto his leg with the cheese-grater sternly pressed underneath the back of his knee. ”HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”, the fans cheer in unison, after seeing Derrick Hall crush the shining stainless steel cheese-grater against the middle of Chris Van X’s forehead! Hall rolls over and flings the cheese-grater to the side, which has several dents along it’s side. The camera zooms in on Chris Van X’s face, which is now welling in crimson speckles. A chunk of flesh hangs loosely from a dime size wound from the ridges of the cheese-grater, as blood pours down the sides of the wound. It doesn’t take long before the blood is streaming down over Chris’ eyes. Chris winces slightly, as he wipes some of the blood away from his forehead, sitting up. Hall cuts Van X off and pulls him up to his feet, catching Chris with an arm-wringer. From the arm-wringer, Hall tries to short-arm whip Hall into his clutches, but Chris Van X avoids being caught with any of Hall’s maneuvers by ducking low and using one arm to spear Hall to the canvas. Landing on the back of his head, Hall flops against the mat, as Chris Van X pushes himself back up to his feet. Without any hesitation, Chris Van X goes right over to the dented piece of metal, picking it up, then returning back over to his downed opponent. Chris Van X drops to his knees to lift Hall’s head up, immediately slamming the jagged slits of steel against the middle of Hall’s head. Back and forth, Chris Van X swipes the cheese-grater, as the anger on his face grows widely.

T.L: This isn’t a wrestling match, folks, it’s going to be a bloody brawl!

Chris pulls the cheese-grater away and reveals several thin, winding wounds that extend up toward Hall’s hairline. The wounds begin swelling, as blood begins pouring downward. Chris throws the cheese-grater to the side, blasting Hall with a stiff closed left jab to the wounded area, following up by pulling him to his feet. Hall seems a bit dazed, which gives Chris the definite advantage. Chris Van X drags Derrick “Demon Hunter” Hall along the ropes toward the turnbuckle, where a black tarp covers a as of yet unknown object. Chris sends a send knee into Hall’s midsection, pushing him up against the ropes – in order to tie him up for a few seconds. With Hall against the ropes, Van X grabs the closest end of the tarp and removes it from the corner. The crowd roars, seeing a plywood board with razor-wire wrapped cinder blocks stacked on top of it.

C.P: Ah, shit, yo! Ya’ see that?!

T.L: Someone could very well be in for a week’s stay at the local hospital tonight after this…barbaric atrocity.

Chris Van X turns to Hall, giving him a kick to the gut for good measure, before he pulls him in close enough to slap on a tight front face-lock. Chris maneuvers his dazed opponent within range of the shining razor-blade coated blocks of concrete. Chris Van X quickly clamps Hall inside, lifting him into the air for a vertical suplex. Hall tries to pull himself free, but Chris Van X turns in a full circle and drops down. Van X drills Derrick Hall against the razor-wire tangled cinder blocks with a devastating brain-buster! Hall’s head slams viciously against the blocks, as his body flips to the side due to the blocks having absolutely no give at all. At the same time, Chris Van X also met the stinging agony of the razor-wire and the thudding pain of colliding with the gritty cinder blocks. Upon immediate contact with the wire, Chris Van X pulls his back away from the wire, sitting upright. Wincing in pain, Chris Van X winds his arms back to indicate that the razor-wire had in fact done it’s grizzly job. The camera view changes, zooming in on Chris’ backside, as blood begins pooling through the tears of his shirt.

T.L: I don’t know how much more either of these two can take!

C.P: Pain is the name of the game, mang.

Chris Van X pulls himself off his knees, weakened by blood loss and lack of energy. Tilting his head down, Van X looks at Hall’s nearly broken body, dripping rivulets of blood on his opponent’s chest. Hall opens his swollen eyes, seeing Chris Van X hovering over him, but he is unable to do anything at this point. Chris Van X lifts his foot and drops it down onto Hall’s gut, as Hall nearly vomits from the blow. Stiff coughing comes from Hall, while being pulled up by his hair by Chris Van X, who quickly bends him over to wrap his arms around Hall’s body. He locks his fingers and opens his eyes wide, mustering enough strength to pull Hall up onto his shoulders, positioning him for a powerbomb! Using all of the strength he can muster, Hall grabs onto Chris Van X’s head and uses his leg strength to tip backward. Van X has no time to react to the counter, giving Derrick Hall a chance to even the odds – taking Van X to the canvas with a frankensteiner into a pinfall! ONE!………TWO!…….NO!….. Just before the referee was about to raise his hand to slap the mat for the final time, Chris Van X uses a high kick-out! With the forceful kick out by Van X, Hall wearily stumbles forward and nearly takes a direct fall onto the razor-wire coated cinder blocks! He stops himself by grabbing onto the two sections of the top rope, only to pull himself forward into a jump. Hall leaps up and manages to land on the top rope with both feet, immediately using the momentum to springboard backward into a twisting somersault! Chris Van X tries to roll out of the way, but there is no way to avoid Hall’s body assault! Derrick “Demon Hunter” Hall’s back slams down across Chris Van X’s chest, knocking his remaining air out of his exhausted lungs. Hall rolls over and tries to push himself up, but he can’t muster enough strength and falls flat onto his face. Chris Van X winces, as he crosses his arms over his chest with agony, trying desperately to get back up to his feet. Chris scoots across the mat to toward the ropes, where he uses one hand to hold onto the middle rope. Chris struggles heavily, but he actually gets back up to his feet! Taking several staggered steps in Hall’s direction, he leans over and grabs onto the back of Hall’s neck. After a few unsuccessful tugs to pull Hall up, Chris Van X decides to use both hands. It takes several seconds, but Chris Van X wearily drags his opponent back up to his feet! Chris grabs onto the back of Hall’s tights and tries to swing him around, but Hall drops down, tripping Chris Van X up. Van X stumbles forward and dives through the top and middle rope, landing on the apron. Not knowing exactly where he is, Chris Van X rolls to the right – falling flat across his back on the ringside floor with a thud. Chris grabs a handful of the apron and wipes some of the accumulated blood away, catching a glimpse underneath the ring – his determination is indication enough that he had seen an object of his liking.

Chris Van X found a large section of plywood underneath the ring along with a bundle of nearly thirty light tubes, which he bridged between the apron of the ring and the guardrail. After unwrapping a length of tape from around the bundle of light tubes, Van X spread the individual tubes along the board, furthering it’s potential for disaster. Now back in the ring, Van X struggles to pull several of the strands of razor-wire free from their tangled mess among the cinder blocks. After two minutes, Van X has freed a nearly eight foot length of the wire, staggering over to the ropes. He slings the razor-wire over the top rope to send it falling on top of the section of plywood board.

T.L: Can Chris Van X capitalize! Can he do it?!

Van X turns away for the ropes, peering over at his opponent with an obvious sense of determination. Staggering forward, Chris Van X finally pulls Derrick “Demon Hunter” Hall to his feet for possibly the final time in this contest! With a short-arm pull, Van X doubles Hall over with a quick side knee thrust to the midsection. Hunching over, Hall struggles to stand upright, but Van X thwarts any further doings by pulling Hall’s head down and bringing him between his legs to lock him into position. Within seconds, Chris Van X has his arms wrapped around his opponent’s stomach, clasping his fingers together tightly. With a violent roar, Chris Van X pulls upward, bringing Derrick Hall off of his feet and into position for a powerbomb! As Hall is brought into the air, Chris Van X starts into a staggered sprint toward the ropes, heading in the direction of the bridged plywood death trap that lurks just beyond the reach of the ropes. Nearly falling, Chris Van X nearly bounces into the ropes, halting himself with somewhat of a hop. Bringing his arms down, Chris Van X sends Derrick Hall plummeting off his shoulders – due to the hasty stop, Hall is ejected forward. Barely clearing the top rope with the back of his head, Hall plummets down beyond the apron, crashing down across the plank of plywood scattered with light tubes and length of razor-wire! BOOM!

C.P: Holy fuckin’ shit!

”HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”, the crowd chants as they rise to their feet, aiming a shocked expression in the direction of Derrick Hall, who is now laying broken on the ringside floor of Viking Hall. Chris Van X, holding onto the top rope with one hand, topples over, sliding backward far enough to rest his back against the turnbuckle. Gasping for air, Chris Van X grabs onto turnbuckle with both hands, trying desperately to climb it.

T.L: What the heck is he thinking?

C.P: Obviously, he’s not fuckin’ thinking. He had this mu-fucka won…

T.L: Chris Van X may have this win under his wing!

C.P: Both these fuckas deserve a shitload of respect, bro, seriously.

The referee has made his way to the outside of the ring to check in on Derrick Hall, who is covered in broken glass, blood, and splinters of wood. Meanwhile, Chris Van X perches his weary legs on the top rope, crouching down to keep his stability. Van X tries to stand up, but only makes it about half-stance, using a weak push to send himself off the top rope with his elbow extended out. The push may have not been enough, as he plummets toward the arena’s floor….

T.L: My lord…

THUD! Van X hits the floor with heavy impact, catching the edge of Hall’s chest with his attempt at a massive flying elbow…the referee turns his head, disgusted by the gore that sits before him. His arm flings wildly into the air, calling for the bell! The crowd lets out a vindictive hiss, as he rushes around the outside of the ring to acquire a microphone. The referee timidly waits for the crowd to lower their vocal level, as several medical personnel make their way toward the battered bodies of Chris Van X and Derrick Hall.

Referee: I apologize for my actions, but as an official of this federation…I can’t allow this to go on any longer…(nearly breaking down)…I’m sorry…there may have been a decisive winner…but…I…I’m unable to make that decision…so…Chris Van X…and Derr…Derrick Hall will both be going on…

The referee hands the microphone back over to the man at the table, slowly lower his head as he walks toward the aisle. He seems quite disoriented, mumbling to himself along the way. Meanwhile, the medics are helping both of the combatants to their feet, only to have one of the medics shoved to the floor by Chris Van X. Visibly irate, Chris Van X begins yelling in the direction of the referee, but he stumbles to the side only to have another medic save him from falling to the floor.

C.P: Both of ‘em probably won’t fuckin’ cut it. If they go up against my man, Clarkson..they be fucked.

T.L: There is more brutality coming, folks. So don’t touch that remote!

C.P: Speakin’ on that, the promising factor of this tournament is the literally unknown wrestler to the UWWF, Danny fuckin’ Polar is gonna try to test is luck once again.

T.L: Polar will go up against Titan and Cyrus! This should be a promising bout in the tournament. All three want this so bad that they can taste it! I can’t wait!

C.P: The Asylum is being set-up right fuckin’ now and I’m damn sure this is going to be talked about for years! Fuckin’ years!

T.L: Let’s get to the specialized steel cage, so we can finally see who will advance into the further horizon of this brutal tournament.

C.P: A-fucking-men……

The scene cuts to the ringside area, where the announcer is standing near the entrance to the steel cage. The fans whistle and cheer, waiting for this brutal bout to start. The announcer clears his throat, peering down at a piece of paper, almost shaking.

Announcer: I regret to inform you all, Cyrus will not be competing here tonight. Thus, Cyrus has been eliminated from the Ultimate Hardcore Cup. We apologize for his sudden emergency and wish him the best of luck. Thank you all and please enjoy Danny Polar versus Titan right inside our very ring!

The crowd seems confused, as the two competitors in this contest make their entrances. It doesn’t take long for the two men to enter the steel cage, knowing they have one less man to worry about tonight. Titan circles around the outer edge of the ring, while Polar stretches his arms and legs, readying himself for a war.

The bell sounds out of nowhere, surprising the fans, but allowing the wrestlers to realize that winning is their only thought.

Titan and Polar keep the ground on opposite sides of the ring, yet still meeting eye to eye to share a competitive glare. The bell tolls, which seems to spark Polar’s enthusiasm – as he sprints toward Titan. Titan steps forward, colliding with Polar – locking up tightly. Polar tries to thrust the big man toward the side of the cage wall, but Titan plants his feet and pushes back. Titan lifts his leg and takes a huge step forward, using his upper-body strength to push Polar backward. Polar loses his balance, being caught off-guard by the shoving force behind Titan, which allows Titan to keep pushing him backward. Polar tries to stop himself, but he can’t stop in time! Titan puts a great measure of his strength into a forward thrust, slamming Polar’s back up against the chain-link fencing of the steel cage! Polar lifts his hands and pushes up on Titan’s chin, forcing him to look upward. With that being done, Polar sees and opening and goes low to slam his shoulder against Titan’s midsection. Treading his feet, Polar manages to push his opponent toward the turnbuckle, spearing him spine first up against a huge bushel of cacti! Titan lets out a ferocious groan, as Polar steps back to lift his leg. With the lift of his leg, Polar stuns Titan with a kick to the gut, doubling him over nearly a second later. Danny Polar moves in and steps to Titan’s side, double under-hooking both arms. Polar tries to pry Titan off the mat, but Titan lifts up from his bent position – managing to pick up Polar off the canvas!

T.L: Both Titan and Polar want the win in a bad way, folks.

C.P: Fuckin’ right, Titan’s showing that right now.

Titan lifts Polar up and he immediately stomps backward, as Polar still holds onto his opponent. Polar tries to let go, but Titan crashes his shoulders up against the cacti before he even has a chance to get free. Titan lifts his arms and drops Polar off of his shoulders, as Polar slides his body across the cacti , only to fall flat across the tops of his shoulders to fold onto the canvas. Titan walks toward the center of the ring and turns around, taunting Danny Polar to get back up and give him his best shot. It takes several seconds for Polar to regain his full composure, seeing his opponent standing in the center of the ring. Polar doesn’t hesitate to take a running start for the second time in the night, this time Titan lifts his giant leg and tries to take Polar’s head off with a big boot! Polar sees the foot coming up and he quickly ducks under and avoids the powerful big boot to the jaw, coming up from around Titan’s back. Polar hooks him around the waist, which brings Titan to send a back-elbow. Polar ducks and releases, which spins Titan around in his direction. Polar uses this as an opening to hook Titan around the waist to send him to the canvas with a powerful belly-to-belly slam! From the slam, Polar scurries into a mounted position over Titan, blasting him across the face with a series of closed rights. Titan lifts his arms to block the blows, so Polar ceases his assault and stands up. After standing back up, Polar backs away to let Titan get to his feet. Titan slowly gets back up, as Polar tries to make his move on his somewhat weary opponent. Polar sends a kick in Titan’s direction, but somehow Titan catches the leg and pulls Danny Polar in closer. From the tug, Titan scoops Polar up onto his shoulder and rushes toward the side of the cage. Titan makes sure to slide Polar forward a few inches before he rams him straight forward against the steel cage with the middle of his face. Titan swings around in a circle and starts barreling in the opposite direction toward the other side. Just a few feet away from the side of the cage, Polar forces himself off of Titan’s shoulder and gives him a huge push from behind. The push ensures us that Titan has no way of avoiding full contact with the cage, CHING! Titan collides with the steel cage, staggering backward toward his opponent. Polar takes a few quick steps forward and hooks Titan around the head with a loose side-headlock. Leading Titan toward the turnbuckle, outfitted with a pile of barbed-wire covered bricks. Polar sees the bricks and immediately jumps up and dives forward, pulling Titan’s head down with his weight. Polar uses no regard for his own well-being, as he lands flat across his tailbone on the barbed-wire bricks, along with Titan’s face! Titan hits the bricks and jolts up to his knees, falling flat onto his back without any further action. Titan puts his hands up alongside his head, as the camera zooms in on his forehead, which has a small gash opened up now. A hint of blood begins dribbling from the edges of the wound, as Polar moves back in. Polar wastes no time in working his opponent over, lifting his leg up over Titan’s head and coming down with a leg-drop across Titan’s throat. Titan shudders under the leg-drop, giving Polar the indication that his blow had some damage-points. Polar gets back up and leans over to pull Titan back up to his feet, turning Titan to face him. Polar grabs onto Titan’s arm and tries to whip him toward the side of the cage, but Titan manages to pull him forward. Titan ducks slightly, lifting Polar into the air and onto his shoulders. Titan spins in a semi-circle, holding onto Polar’s head and legs tightly with each hand, as he drops backward with a canvas rattling version of a samoan drop! Titan pushes his shoulders against Polar’s chest, as he lifts Polar’s leg up with his closest arm. The referee jumps down, ”ONE……..TWO….”…….Polar manages to kick out from underneath the big man, Titan’s weight!

T.L: Back and forth, these two are tearing one another apart!

Titan gets to his feet and allows Polar to get up under his own will. Upon reaching his feet, Polar shakes the cobwebs loose after being nearly planted through the canvas, allowing Titan to gain a slight advantage. Titan moves in with a short sprint, but Polar sees it coming and manages to duck under. Polar turns around quickly after ducking a heavy closeline attempt, shoving Titan from behind. Titan is driven forward, smacking his head across the chain-link fence that has been entwined with barbed-wire! CHING!

T.L: That’s gotta sting!

C.P: Shut it, skippy.

Titan locks his fingers in the links of the fencing, while Polar approaches with a stiff jab to the top of Titan’s shoulder. Titan shudders slightly, releasing his grip of the fence while turning in Polar’s direction. Polar winds his fist back to blast Titan once again, but Titan steps forward and lifts his knee up, sending a forceful knee to Polar’s stomach! Danny Polar doubles over immediately, expelling a trail of spit from his mouth from the blow! Titan grips both sides of Danny Polar’s head with his hands, pulling him backward to stand him upright. After forcing Polar upright, Titan switches positions of his hands, grasping the back of Polar’s neck with one hand. Titan steps forward to add his full weight behind a forward pull to bring Polar forward, both struggling on their own behalf. Without any way to prevent it, Polar connects face first with the side of the cage, rattling it heavily with his facial features. Titan pushes his palm against the back of Polar’s neck to hold him in place, smashing his face against the links, as he puts his other arm up, placing his forearm over the back of Polar’s cranium. Titan pushes roughly against the back of Polar’s head, keeping him restrained and in a form of pain only felt by him. Polar grabs onto the side of the cage and grips tightly, to the point where his knuckles turn white, as he pushes his head away from the cage. Titan has a hard time holding Polar back, which gives Polar and opening to drop down to his knees and roll out of the way of Titan. Titan turns to Polar and lifts his leg to stomp him, but Polar rolls forward and grabs him by the ankle, swiping his leg around the backside of Titan’s. Titan waves his arms around to balance himself or catch the side of the cage, but he soon hits the canvas with force – as Polar sweeps his leg out from underneath him! Polar scurries to his feet and starts climbing the side of the steel cage, slowing down as he reaches the middle of the cage. He looks down and sees his opponent rising to his feet, glaring up at him from the mat. Titan mutters to himself, as he rushes over to the side of the cage and begins climbing up right after Polar. Polar tries to hurry, but his exhaustion sets in and forces him to stop and take a breather before continuing. Titan catches up after a few moments, nearly able to grab onto Polar’s ankle from his position. Titan doesn’t bother, showing us his true intentions – allow Polar to reach the scaffold, to possibly send him plummeting to his demise. The two continue their scaling of the cage, both struggling to grasp the scaffolding that has been set up over the top of the cage.

T.L: We may have overdone this one, folks. These two are going to battle on the top of the scaffold, nearly fifteen feet above the canvas!

C.P: Kill ‘em whitey!

Titan on the right side, Polar on the left, both hold onto the pieces of metal holding the scaffold together. Titan grabs onto the bar with one hand and uses his legs to shove himself forward, he finally lifts himself up enough to rest his upper-body on the scaffolding! Polar struggles, as he puts both hands on the heavy section of metal, doing a pull-up to hoist himself upward enough to lift his leg and place the sole of his boot along the ledge of metal. From here, Polar manages to get himself onto the scaffold, but his opponent is already waiting!

T.L: Polar looks to be in danger!

C.P: Dangah! Dangah, Will fuckin’ Robbinson!

T.L: My lord, Cody, how much did you drink tonight?

C.P: On the crunk-o-meter, I’d rate this fuckin’ buzz at…..six and a half…..

T.L: And that means?

T.L: Enough buzz to last me until after the show, bro-ham!

Titan stomps Polar, who is on his hands and knees, dragging him onto the scaffold to further add some damage to the situation. Titan flips Polar onto his back and grabs him by the throat, proceeding to lift him up to his feet. Seeming a bit weary on his feet, Polar struggles to keep himself standing, but he has no choice in the matter due to Titan’s grip on his throat. Out of desperation, Polar swings his leg back and brings it forward, which seems he is going for a low blow! But, Polar doesn’t low blow his opponent, he kicks him directly in the kneecap! Titan releases the choke and stumbles backward, giving Polar enough time and room to dive toward him with a forearm extended. With the divng forearm in full effect, Polar hits Titan across the head with his arm like a club, knocking him flat across his back. Polar pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, hoping to reach his feet in time to capitalize on Titan. It’s too late though, by the time he reaches a half-stance, Titan is already back up. Polar moves in forward to throw a few calculated punches, but somehow Titan lifts his huge leg up. WHAM! Titan completely demolishes Polar with a big boot to the chops, knocking him flat on his back onto the scaffolding! Titan raises his arms with a roar of intensity, showing his defiance over Danny Polar.

T.L: Titan has the definite advantage over Polar at this point.

Titan leans over and pulls Danny Polar off the scaffold like rag-doll, under-hooking Polar’s arm with one of his own. Titan pulls Polar in the direction of the scaffold’s edge, which brings the entire crowd to their feet. Peering up at Polar and Titan, the fans don’t utter a single chant or word, giving this moment it’s due time. Titan tilts his hip in and leans forward, trying to lift Danny Polar up off his feet to flip him over the side of the scaffold! Upon nearly being lifted up and over the side of the platform, Polar reverses Titan’s obvious hip-toss attempt, turning at an angle that gives him a strength advantage over Titan. With a turn and twist of his hip, Polar manages to lift Titan up off his feet, flipping him over the side of the scaffold! Titan waves his arms in the air, as he plummets down toward the canvas! BOOM! The canvas nearly rips wide open with the impact of Titan’s fall, which brings Polar a spurt of energy. Polar holds his arms up and roars loudly, knowing he has Titan close to defeat.

T.L: Polar has potential and he’s shown us that he has what it takes to be the next hardcore icon!

C.P: Shit, he ain’t showed us that much.

Danny Polar steps toward the edge of the scaffold, allowing the first half of his wrestling boots to hang over the edge. His head lowers, as he peers down at Titan, laying nearly lifeless on the mat below. The referee looks up at Polar with awe in his eyes, knowing that Polar may attempt some high-risk maneuver that could end his career or potentially hurt him. As we all watch on, Polar leans over the side of the scaffolding, peering down at his downed opponent in the form of Titan. Titan slightly kicks his leg, but it does nothing to prevent the future collision with Danny Polar from up above. Polar swings his arms up and takes a leap from the edge of the scaffold!

T.L: He’s going to commit suicide, people!

C.P: No, dipshit, he’s going to collapse that poor mu-fuckas chest cavity!

Polar flies down from the top of the scaffold with unbridled force in the form of a swan-dive, which nearly shatters Titan's chest plate upon Polar's collision! Polar uses his arms to lift himself, barely able to do so. He places both hands along Titan’s wrist, holding him down, as his chest rests against Titan’s. The camera zooms in on Titan’s blood coated face, as the count can be heard. ONE…………TWO…..

T.L: It looks like it’s over, Cody.

The referee’s hand slaps the canvas for the final time, THREE! Polar lifts himself onto his hands and knees and rolls over the top of Titan’s hand to fall across his back on the mat. Lifting his head wearily off the mat, the referee approaches him with a stern face. The referee then helps Polar off the mat, grabbing him by the wrist to thrust his arm into the air in victory. Polar closes his eyes and raises his other arm, letting everyone know that he is the victor and he will be going to the next round. The fans show their appreciation for his hard fought victories thus far by giving him a healthy round of applause and a chant of, ”POLAR! POLAR! POLAR!” Polar drops to his knees, as we cut back to the balcony to meet with Cody Prime and Tony Lockton.

C.P: Shit, these two fuckers had one hell of a battle.

T.L: Two men giving it their all, just to be claimed the most hardcore man in wrestling today.

C.P: I’m damn sure that I’d do the same fuckin’ thing, bro.

T.L: Well, Cody, it has come down to our final bout of the night. Next, Jeremy Clarkson and Acid will meet for the second time in their careers inside the confines of a UWWF ring.

C.P: I hope Clarkson bitch slaps that son-of-a-bitch for bein’ so goddamn foolish, son.

T.L: These two have recently battled with words, back and forth. One claiming to be the true champion and the other holding the rights to be called a champion with the championship belt.

C.P: You said it yer-fuckin’-self, Clarkson has the belt to prove that he’s the champ.

T.L: I expect this match to be an all-out war between these two heated foes. Acid does hold one victory over Clarkson, but some may say that it is more than tainted. Can Acid overcome the odds to defeat the man who is known to us all as the most hardcore man to ever step foot inside the Ultimate World Wrestling Federation?

C.P: Not if Clarkson has any goddamn say in the matter. Let’s get this fucker over with, so Clarkson can rub Acid’s fuckin’ nose in it.

T.L: Folks, let’s enjoy this classic main event bout at the Ultimate Hardcore Cup version two. Clarkson. Acid. Two finely tuned hardcore athletes hoping to walk into the finals, yet only one will be allowed to do so.

Barbed-wire replacing the ropes, adding a little fuel to the fire with live light bulbs pulsating while the arena is darkened...only to have one man strung up by the throat.

The screen cuts to a small video snippet, featuring the past confrontations between the “King of Hardcore” Jeremy Clarkson and his opponent for this evening the promising, yet deranged man known to the world as Acid. From the final frame the clip, the screen fades into the darkened arena. From the view, the camera points down at the center of the ring, as the darkness is interrupted suddenly by thousands of bright white light bulbs lighting up around the ring.

Standing on opposite sides of the ring are the oppents, Clarkson and Acid! The referee knows that he doesn’t have to even check with each man to see if they are ready, so he calls for the bell…

T.L: We’re off to a quick start of this contest, folks. We don’t want to disappoint anyone with any delays, let’s get straight to the action!

C.P: Let’s fuckin’ do this!

The two Liberation superstars approach one another, familiar with one another’s presence inside the squared circle due to a previous contest not that long ago. Acid mocks Clarkson with a snicker, quickly stepping face to face with Clarkson. Snapping his arm back stiffly, Clarkson unleashes a healthy right jab to the chin of Acid, which sends him reeling backward several feet. Clarkson moves in on his stunned opponent, adding a few kicks to the stomach for good measure. As Acid huddles over, Clarkson swoops in and grabs onto his neck, bringing him to the canvas with a high swinging neck-breaker. Clarkson immediately rolls onto his knees and stands up, leering over his downed opponent – obviously trying to send out the message that he is the UWWF Ultimate heavyweight champion for a good damn reason. Acid is about to lift his head up, but Clarkson decides to bring him back down with a stomp to the middle of the forehead. Soon, Jeremy Clarkson brings his opponent back up to his feet and attempts an irish-whip, which is avoided by a slide underneath the bottom rope to the outside from Acid. Acid raises his middle finger and flaunts it in Clarkson’s direction, but Clarkson doesn’t seem to be bothered by this at all. He merely walks across the ring and views his opponent’s trek across the side of the ring from near the ropes. Clarkson sighs, as Acid reaches underneath the apron of the ring to pull out an object of his choosing. It takes several seconds to pull out the weapon, which seems to be a thumb-tack laced baseball bat. Acid rolls underneath the light-bulb strung barbed-wire ropes, getting quickly back up to a standing position. Clarkson moves in to try and get the first blow in, but Acid clips him across the middle of the knee with the tip of his boot. Clarkson ducks down, as Acid capitalizes with a swift and powerful swat across Clarkson’s back with the tack studded baseball bat! Clarkson raises his arms awkwardly, as he takes a few steps forward. Acid raises the bat into the air to make an attempt to please the fans, but they don’t seem to want to respond to him. He shrugs, as he tosses the bat to the canvas and turns Clarkson around. Clarkson dives down quickly and takes Acid to the canvas with a quick double-leg takedown, followed by a mounted position. Clarkson pulls Acid’s head upright with one hand, while he swings the other back and begins a quick assault of jabs against the center of Acid’s forehead. After several more blows, Clarkson stands up and backs away from Acid, pulling him up by the head with force. Clarkson places his hand on the back of Acid’s neck and squeezes, as he tries to force Acid into a running start toward the illuminated bulbs that have been strung along the zig-zagged sections of barbed-wire. Acid lifts his leg to stop himself, but it the ropes reveal a little give, staggering him chest first against the ropes. Clarkson holds onto Acid’s head from behind with one hand and uses his free hand to club the muscle on the side of Acid’s neck. Acid shudders slightly, as Clarkson quickly shifts to the side and hooks him around the side of the neck. Clarkson tries to wrap his leg around Acid’s and proceeds slowly to try and bring him to the canvas, but Clarkson’s attempt backfires, as Acid grabs onto the top section of barbed-wire and holds on! Clarkson falls flat across his back and lands on his neck, which seems to have taken a slight effect on him – as he lifts his hands to hold onto the back of his skull.

T.L: This looks to be a back and forth match up and I’m sure this one will go the extra mile to give these hardcore fans what they paid to see!

C.P: Seriously, fucker, I think it would be fucking expected especially with Clarkson taking control of his ring.

Acid looks over his shoulder, as he falls back to drop an elbow across Clarkson’s chest! Immediately after the elbow, Acid rolls over onto his knees and grabs hold of Jeremy Clarkson’s head, pulling it up slightly off the mat. Acid proceeds to bash Clarkson wildly across the face with his closed fist, only stopping to pull him up to his feet. Acid looks toward the far turnbuckle, seeing the noose dangling down from a pole suspended by a fifteen foot high pole secured to the ring post. Acid’s intentions are quite clear, as he eagerly pulls Clarkson in the direction of the noose. Acid pulls Clarkson’s head back by gripping a handful of his hair, he tries to sling Clarkson’s head forward against the exposed ring post. Clarkson lifts his leg and plants the bottom of his boot on the middle of the post, pushing his weight back to avoid the action. Clarkson shucks to the side, turning to face Acid, dropping low with a double-leg takedown! Clarkson crawls over Acid and mounts him, blasting him across the side of the head with vicious rights. Acid places his hands up over his face and blocks the blows, using one arm to underhook Clarkson’s left arm – trying to roll. Not expecting Acid’s actions, Clarkson is knocked off balance and Acid rolls him over onto his back, reversing the situation. Acid lowers his head with force, blasting Clarkson in the bridge of the nose with a headbutt!

T.L: Impressive efforts by Acid!

Acid hurries to pull Clarkson up to his feet once again, slapping on a side headlock. Acid bends his knees and jumps up and forward, making an attempt to bulldog Clarkson. But Clarkson has enough time to step forward and catch Acid around the waist with both arms, suspending him in mid-air to prevent the bulldog! Stepping somewhat to the side, Clarkson raises Acid up a bit higher for what looks to be a belly-to-back suplex near the ropes, but just at the last second he sends Acid dropping crotch first over the top section of barbed-wire ropes! Acid howls in agony, as Clarkson adds a few last second blows to the back of his head with a closed right fist. Acid tries desperately to free himself, but Clarkson has already picked up the trusty, heavily dented steel chair and swings it above his head. The crowd watches on, as Clarkson proceeds to swing the chair downward with a ferocious swing – CRACK! Acid flops forward, leaning his stomach against the barbed-wire ropes and holding onto either side of the ropes with both hands. Still nearly upright, Acid tries to pull himself up and over the ropes, but Clarkson helps the situation with a quick and precise closeline to the back of Acid’s neck! The closeline flips Acid back into the ring, where Clarkson approaches quickly. He grabs onto the top rope and holds on with both hands to help keep himself steady, while he lifts his boot and unleashes a series of full-force stomps to Acid’s kidneys. Acid struggles to push himself up onto his hands and knees, which only makes it easier for Clarkson to drag him back up to a vertical base. Clarkson turns Acid around, but gets caught by surprise with a thumb to the right eye! Clarkson’s hand shoots up over his face to protect it from any further damage, but Acid takes advantage of the situation very quickly. Acid grabs onto the back of Clarkson’s head with both hands and forces him to drop head first into the barbed-wire ropes, knocking the top of his head off a light bulb that clunks across Clarkson’s head forcefully – soon emitting a loud pop with a small short burst of sparks from the light-bulb’s socket! Clarkson falls to his knees, as Acid continues to forces Clarkson’s forehead against the barbed-wire ropes! Acid wastes no time in grating the “King of Hardcore” Jeremy Clarkson’s face across the thick accumulation of razor-sharp barbs! Soon, the camera switches views, aiming in at the ring: With each rake of Clarkson’s head against the ruthless spines of the barbed-wire, rivulets of blood begin to bead down from Clarkson’s face.

T.L: Acid is trying to show Clarkson up at his own game!

C.P: I’ll bet you a twenty-spot that Clarkson comes back and puts Acid to shame by lynching his loony ass here in Viking Hall. What-do-ya-say?

T.L: I don’t bet, Cody, I’m an honest man.

C.P: So are you sayin’, Cody fuckin’ Prime ain’t honest, bitch?

T.L: I may have thought that, but I’m quite sure that I never uttered that out loud.

C.P: Good, bitch, you’re lucky.

Clarkson thrusts both of his hands up and holds onto the ropes, as he pushes his body back to prevent any further damage. Acid pushes forward, but Clarkson manages to stun him with a back elbow to the ribs. Clarkson wastes no time in punishing Acid for his actions, grabbing him by the throat and launching a fresh wad of spit directly in his face to insult him. ”You call that hardcore, mother fucker?! I’ll fucking show you hardcore!”, Clarkson growls at Acid, as he releases his grip around Acid’s throat. Acid stumbles backward, but Clarkson brings him back forward with a short-arm whip with a duck under to lift Acid up onto his shoulder. Acid’s upper-body dangles over Clarkson’s back, but this situation is ended quicker than expected, as Clarkson sends Acid plummeting down across his head, landing him directly across the highest length of barbed-wire! Acid springs up off the wire and staggers backward, just as Clarkson reaches his feet once again. Acid tries to spin around to face Clarkson, but by this time it’s too damn late for anything on his behalf. Clarkson hooks him around the waist with both arms and locks his hands together, lifting Acid up and over his head, connecting with a quick and furious german release suplex! The force behind Clarkson’s suplex folds Acid in half, landing with most of the impact across his neck! Folded in half, Acid struggles to flip over, but his energy is running far too low to even complete his intended actions. Clarkson marches over and grabs onto both of Acid’s legs and pulls, forcing Acid to slide backward and directly onto his stomach. Clarkson leans toward the ropes and waves his hand at one of the ring attendants, which brings forth a man carrying the likes of a silver staple gun! The man lobs the staple gun over the ropes and Clarkson catches it with ease, positioning the staple gun in his hand before he crawls over Acid’s back and sits down on the small of Acid’s back. Lifting Acid up into a camel-clutch set-up, Clarkson uses one hand to tilt Acid’s forehead backward to target the tender flesh of Acid’s slightly bruised forehead. Clarkson lifts the gun up to show the fans, before he brings it down and injects the small steel projectile into Acid’s forehead. Clarkson slides the staple gun to the side a few inches and pulls tightly on the trigger, injecting yet another shining piece of steel into Acid’s forehead! Trickles of crimson begin sliding down each side of the staple, slowly running down the sides of Acid’s nose and down toward his cheeks. Clarkson still holds onto the camel-clutch set up, but lowers the staple gun to dig for an object in the pocket of his apparel. Clarkson whips out a piece of paper, unfolding it, then placing it against the center of Acid’s forehead, nearly between his eyes. The camera view switches, but the letters printed on the piece of paper aren’t visible yet, due to Clarkson’s hands being in the way. With one quick jab of the staple gun against Acid’s forehead for a third and final time, the staple holds the dangling piece of white paper on Acid’s forehead. The camera zooms in, ”Bad Acid Trip” , this gets a small rise out of the fans.

T.L: Very…interesting.

C.P: This bitch ain’t even worth a dolla-dolla bill…let alone a fuckin’ piece of cardboard!

Clarkson releases Acid’s arms and drops him flat across his face, tossing the staple gun near the ropes. Clarkson gazes over toward the turnbuckle, where a piece of lead pipe is secured against the ring-post – tilting inward to hang in over the turnbuckle. A length of rope sways back and forth, catching Clarkson’s attention – as he reveals a sadistic grin, with his eyes darting down at the noose that has already been secured in length of rope. Clarkson’s intentions are obvious, but it could be far too soon to even make an attempt at finishing off his staple coated foe. Clarkson stands near Acid’s head and he leans over to pull Acid up, who then grabs onto Clarkson’s hips and uses him to pull himself up slightly. Clarkson laughs at Acid, as he tries to hold himself up on his own will but staggers back slightly. Clarkson winds up and takes a clumsy, unfocused swing toward Acid….Somehow Acid has managed to lift his arm up to block the blow with his forearm, allowing him to snap a quick jab to Clarkson’s chin. Clarkson fires back, which sparks a chain of back and forth closed fist exchanges, which adds emphasis toward the tension mounted between these two UWWF: Liberation superstars. Back and forth the punches go, until Acid throws in a dastardly low kick that catches Clarkson’s in the family jewels. Clarkson hunches over and grunts angrily, but it doesn’t stop Acid from capitalizing with a front face-lock followed by a swift drop back to complete a stiff, calculated d-d-t! Clarkson’s body flips over and he lands on his back, leaving him open for Acid – when he finally brings himself back up to a standing position. With Clarkson’s chest wide open, Acid dives down and sends the tip of his elbow crashing down across Clarkson’s chest cavity with heavy force. Jeremy Clarkson shudders under the impact and Acid takes advantage of his stunned opponent by picking him up off the mat. Acid throws a right jab to the side of Clarkson’s cranium to keep him stunned, then he drags him toward the corner, where the noose hangs down at a low level. Acid reaches out to grab the rope, but Clarkson pulls back and wraps his arms around Acid’s waist and hooks the leg with one arm. Clarkson lifts up on Acid’s body and drops backward, blasting Acid’s beaten carcass to the mat with a belly-to-back suplex! Clarkson rolls over onto his stomach and gets up to his hands and knees, catching a few needed gulps of fresh air. Acid kicks his leg slightly, as Clarkson forges up to his feet, but goes directly over to the ropes to exit the ring. Clarkson makes his way around the ringside area and flips the apron-skirt up onto the apron and scans the under region of the ring. He goes underneath and pulls out a table, folding it’s legs out immediately, flipping it into a standing position. Clarkson steps over to the railing and pulls it closer to the ring, in order to lift up the table and bridge it across the both the apron and the top of the railing. After placing the table to his liking, Clarkson rolls back into the ring and goes after Acid, who is half-way up to his feet. Clarkson starts to sprint in Acid’s direction, which catches Acid’s undivided attention, glancing up at his galloping opponent. Clarkson takes a giant swing with his arm and tries to knock Acid out of his boots with a stiff closeline, but Acid ducks under and turns around to hit Clarkson in the back with a drop-kick! Clarkson dives forward and lands directly in the barbed-wire, as the light from the illuminated bulbs jingle from side to side.

T.L: Both men are determined to destroy one another and go onto the next round of this truly brutal tournament.

C.P: Clarkson’s my dog, he’s goin’ all the fuckin’ way for a second-time, baby!

Acid comes up from behind and peels Clarkson away from the ropes and sends him charging toward the unpadded and fully exposed ring-post! Just as they approach the buckle, Clarkson puts his leg up and catches his boots on the ropes, preventing Acid from ramming his skull into the heavy steel ring-post! Clarkson side steps and grabs Acid by the back of the head, slamming Acid’s head against the post without any remorse! THUD! Acid falls flat onto his ass, as Clarkson looks down at him and smirks, as blood dribbles down from his lip onto his teeth. Clarkson leans over his opponent to try and pick him up, but Acid suddenly swings his leg up and catches Clarkson with a boot to the chops! Clarkson stumbles back and this gives Acid enough time to get back up to his feet to charge at Clarkson without any further thought about it! Clarkson looks up, just as Acid hits him by the legs and forces him to take a gander at the ceiling with a body-tackle! Acid kneels over Clarkson and winds his right arm back and swings, Clarkson throws his arm up and blocks the blow just in the knick of time! Using his superb ground fighting skills, Clarkson puts his arms up and wraps them around Acid’s head to lock on a tight amateur-style headlock, flipping Acid onto his back with ease. Acid struggles to free himself, but the more he struggles, the tighter Clarkson applies the maneuver. Acid’s face starts to turn a bright red, as he struggles to free himself, but Clarkson won’t have any of it. Clarkson uses his left shoulder to keep Acid against his back on the mat, while he frees his right hand and takes an over-head swing to connect with a tight closed fist to the top of Acid’s head!

T.L: That’s a bad spot to take a shot at, but it seems to have done the trick.

C.P: Damn straight, bitch!

Clarkson releases his submission fully, standing back up with his arms spread out in a taunt to Acid. ”Is that all you’ve fucking got?!”, Clarkson adds, as he allows his opponent to pull himself back up to his feet. Acid closes both fists and approaches Clarkson, who offers him to take a free shot. ”Better make it good, because it’s your last fucking shot, tough guy!”, Clarkson mutters at Acid with a slight grin on his face. Acid fakes a left, swinging his right arm with force, Clarkson is staggered back from the stinging closed fist to the chin! Clarkson shakes the cobwebs loose, then steps forward to collide with a collar-and-elbow tie-up with Acid.

T.L: The technical side of these wrestlers has shown through during this main event bout, which surprises me.

C.P: Don’t worry, somebody’s gonna be hung later, so that’ll ruin all your little wet dreams of a scientific death match on this broadcast, beyoch!

Acid uses his advantage to shove Clarkson inches away from the ropes. Acid shoves Clarkson’s shoulders back, breaking the tie-up to catch Clarkson in a bear-hug. Swinging around in a semi-circle, Acid lifts Clarkson up and slams him across the barbed-wire ropes with a belly-to-belly suplex! The ropes nearly collapse, leaving Clarkson hooked along the wire – the barbs digging deeply into his flesh. Acid, who fell to his knees, stands back up and leans over Clarkson – pushing his head back to open his forehead up for a few blows. Holding onto Clarkson’s jaw with one hand, Acid swings back the other and blasts him with several forearm shots to the side of the head! Acid steps back and huffs in a deep breath, thrusting his arms out to show his defiance. Acid takes one step forward, opening his mouth to speak…but he is interrupted with a kick to his “lower region” by Clarkson. Clarkson struggles to free himself from the barbed-wire, standing up on his own two feet with barbed-wire clinging to the middle of his back and his right forearm. With his left hand, he grabs hold of the barbed-wire and rips it from his flesh, splattering blood across the canvas. Wincing slightly, Clarkson grabs Acid by the head and slings him into the wire! Acid’s upper-body goes through the middle section of barbed-wire, but he is caught up near his waist. Leaning through the ropes, Acid tries to back up to get away from the ropes, but the barbs prevent him from furthering his actions. Meanwhile, Clarkson had backed up several feet – spitting a concoction of blood and saliva on the mat, before he gets a half-spring in Acid’s direction. He comes around the side of Acid and leaps over the ropes, grazing the wire with his legs, coming down with his elbow out. It only takes a second for Clarkson to come crashing down across the back of Acid’s head with his elbow! Clarkson’s weight forces Acid down, tearing the barbed-wire loose from it’s position, ramming Acid’s chest and stomach against the apron. Clarkson had fallen to the floor from his high-risk elbow, but he is already on his hands and knees. He takes a moment to breath, facing his head to the floor, while drops of blood drip down onto the floor. After about a minute of breathing, a small puddle of blood has accumulated on the floor beneath Clarkson!

T.L: This is sick…absolutely disgusting..

C.P: I fuckin’ told you that Clarkson was gonna take it to this fool. Now what ya got to say about that, huh?

Nearly two minutes pass without movement from Acid, with Clarkson slowly climbing back into the ring. Just as Clarkson stands up and plants his feet on the mat, Acid tries to push himself up. Struggling fully to free himself, Acid is grabbed from behind by Clarkson, who pulls him up to his knees. Clarkson pulls the wire away from Acid’s body and drags him through the now downed ropes, slamming his forearm across the side of Acid’s head to keep him at least somewhat dazed. Barely able to stand now, Acid is drug along by Clarkson, soon meeting a forehead full of steel ring-post care of the “King of Hardcore”! Clarkson pulls Acid’s head back again, THUD! Again, THUD! A third and final smash against the steel ring post nearly knocks Acid unconscious! The blood continues to stream away from Acid’s forehead, giving Clarkson the motivation needed to reach up and grab the swaying noose with one free hand. Clarkson pulls Acid toward the noose and flips the rope over his head, letting go of Acid to use both hands to tighten the rope. Acid sputters, as the noose tightens across his throat, seemingly giving him a second wind to fight back…

T.L: I don’t know if I can watch this anymore…this…this is too much!

Acid tries to pry his fingers between his throat and the tightening rope, but he can’t manage to get his fingers wedged inward. He struggles his hardest, but Clarkson wastes no time in pulling the rope upward from his stance on the apron of the ring, soon lifting Acid high enough of the mat that his feet are barely able to graze the canvas. Kicking his legs violently with quick and panicked breaths, Acid now realizes that he has lost all hope of becoming the winner of this tournament. Clarkson makes his way through the ropes and stands in front of his dangling opponent, nodding at his dirty work. Blood cakes Acid’s forehead, nearly shutting out any sign of strangulation from the twine. With one desperate swing of his leg, his body swings forward, as his leg swings out even further in hopes of hitting Clarkson. But, Acid’s hope of getting one last shot in has failed, as his boot misses by a good four inches, as Clarkson laughs at the sight of his hopeless combatant. Clarkson turns around and makes his way toward the center of the ring, where a official referee awaits him to raise his arm high in victory over a bitter foe in the form of Acid. Clarkson pulls his arm out of the middle-aged official, sidestepping to show his own signs of glory with both arms raised in the air and a defining advantage of being the only man to actually win the Ultimate Hardcore Cup on his side. Jeremy “The King of Hardcore” Clarkson’s entire front side is shown on the screen, giving those who may face him in the continuation of this tournament in further rounds that his win last year was by no mean’s a fluke!

T.L: As Cody had predicted, Clarkson takes home a hard-fought victory over the Renegades’ own deranged masochist, Acid.

C.P: Fuckin’ right, bitch!

T.L: Folks, the brutality will continue into the third round and I’m sure it will be a treat for all of you gore loving freaks out there!

C.P: Plus, ya’ll get to see my face again real fuckin’ soon!

T.L: As a reply to that comment, I hope you have a good night and return next week to see who is the most hardcore!

C.P: Shit, that’s it?

T.L: Yup, wave bye-bye to the people, Cody.

[ The copyright flashes on the bottom of the screen, forcing us again to flicker out of pure mayhem into idiotic infomercials to promote products that have no real use in your home or any real significance to anyone with half a brain. ]