We congregate here....we understand the consequences for our actions.....we strive for victory.....we die, only if we have to....

The live feed kicks in: Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love....or so you thought. Running straight across the borderline of a franchise, we meet dead on with the dark underbelly of society. Here we meet, Viking Hall, the brutal battleground of UWWF: Liberation.

The camera pans through the sea of UWWF: Liberation fans, which brings us straight to the balcony. The official first meeting place of Liberation each and every week. Tony Lockton and Cody “Mother Fuckin” Prime stand in their usual place, behind them sits in plain view, the Liberation banner.

T.L: Welcome to Liberation Television, folks. Boy, do we have a show for you!

C.P: Fuckin’ right, we have the contract signing for the match that will take place at the pay per view, motha fucka!

T.L: That’s right! Clarkson......G-Man....the signing...followed by a prelude to their confrontation. An exhibition bout!

C.P: That’s right, bitch. We also have Dante versus Rogue for da National championship!

T.L: Before we get too far ahead of ourselves, we have some footage that was taped earlier today. We haven’t seen this yet either, folks, so let’s see what exactly this is.

C.P: Awww....fuck!

The scene slowly creeps in from pitch black to the bright white hospital room. The camera view turns to the right to see the chemical dependant, Janus. Laying prone in a hospital bed, he sits up. Bandages cover his forehead, his eyes show no expression of his feelings on the inside. The door swings open with a slight audible creaking.

Faust makes his way to the foot of the hospital bed, peering over his fallen “friend”.

Faust: You look rough.....real rough....

Janus shrugs, leaning his head against the left side of the railing that surrounds the bed.

Janus: (raspy) Rough? ROUGH?!

Faust waves his hands, motioning for Janus to chill out.

Faust: Listen, Janus. I’ve got a plan....

Janus: Proceed.....

Faust exhales deeply.

Faust: Revenge will be yours....believe me.....so here is what we’re going to do.....

His speaking trails off, fading out along with the picture.

T.L: Well....that was interesting....

C.P: Even more so than that....we have the fuckin’ war committee’s hand picked bout coming up right now!

T.L: That’s right, folks. Nightmare, Mortiis Magnus, and the Reverend Karl Lennox. This seems to me like someone has it out for Lennox.

C.P: It looks more to me to be the hands of Faust playing the fuckin’ cards with this one.

T.L: Who knows, he has the power to make the decisions. But, who knows. You’d think he’d publicly announce the death warrant for Lennox.

C.P: Either fucking way, it’s happening. Let’s get to the fuckin’ ring right fucking now!

The bell sounds and Lennox stands nervously in the center of the ring. He backs up so neither of the two can attack him without him seeing. Lennox glances to the left to see Nightmare, then to the right at Mortiis Mangus. Lennox rushes to the left and tries to gain the upper hand with an attack on Nightmare, the Street-Fight champion. Lennox hits Nightmare across the chest with an unsuccessful closeline attempt. Nightmare only stumbles backward a bit, Lennox backs up quickly. Magnus blindsides Lennox from the side with a sprinting version of a big boot to the side of the head. Lennox drops down to the mat and Nightmare quickly scoops him back up. Nightmare with a back hand chop to Lennox’s chest, SLAP! Lennox grabs his chest with a wince. Lennox comes back at Nightmare with a stiff left handed punch to slow Nightmare down. Nightmare backs up again and Lennox comes at him with a running start. Nightmare sidesteps and pushes Lennox into the turnbuckle! Lennox hits his sternum off the turnbuckle post and stumbles backward into the clutches of Nightmare again! Nightmare lifts Lennox up into the air for a belly-to-back suplex, but he doesn’t drop him immediately. Mortiis Magnus comes up from behind and he hooks Lennox by the neck....

T.L: This doesn’t look pretty for the Reverend....

C.P: He better fuckin’ pray that they don’t kill him.

Nightmare drops down with synchronized timing with Magnus, folding Lennox in half with a back-suplex neckbreaker combination. Nightmare grabs Lennox’ legs and pull him toward the ropes, then he slides to the outside. Magnus grabs the top rope and pushes Lennox to the outside with his feet. Lennox falls back into Nightmare’s clutches. Nightmare leads Lennox to the guardrail, picking him up into a gorilla press. Nightmare holds Lennox up there for a good ten seconds before he drops him jaw and throat first across the steel guardrail. Lennox hits and immediately pops up, holding his jaw in extreme pain. Nightmare turns him around and levels him with a short jab to the side of the jaw! Lennox falls to the floor and curls up to hold onto his wounded jawbone. Magnus lifts his leg over the top rope and exits toward the downed Reverend. Meanwhile, Nightmare searches under the ring for a weapon to complete this street fight. Nightmare pulls out a table and sets it up as quickly as possible. Magnus pulls Lennox up and he places him in a side headlock to lead him around the ringside area. Mortiis Magnus throws a few punches to Lennox’s head to stun him before they meet Nightmare and the table. Nightmare steps back, leaving Magnus to dart Lennox head first off the top of the table. Lennox leans against the top of the table, drooling a noticeable amount of blood across it’s top. Magnus pulls Lennox backward thus turning him around, so that he is facing him. Magnus grabs Lennox by the arm and gives him a force-fed knee to the midsection. Lennox huffs for air in a hunched position leaving himself open for Magnus to hook him around the waist. Nightmare steps up closer while Magnus lifts Lennox into the air.....Magnus holds Karl Lennox up while Nightmare pushes Lennox off....the two men send Lennox crashing down onto the table! The table breaks in two - leaving Lennox with only one place to land....the cold, unforgiving concrete floor! The Reverend Karl Lennox’s body bounces off the concrete and immediately tenses up.

T.L: Oh...my...god...

C.P: They’ve just fuckin’ killed him. Fuck it, let’s just end the shit right now.

Lennox’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he starts to convulse slightly. Magnus steps back away from the rubble covered victim of his and he laughs! Nightmare kneels down and grabs the almost unconscious Reverend by the head. Nightmare struggles for a bit, but he manages to pick up the dead weight of Lennox. Nightmare slings Lennox over his shoulders and steps over to the apron. Easily, Nightmare tosses Lennox through the middle rope and back into the ring. Magnus goes underneath the apron of the ring and searches, while Nightmare goes into the ring. Nightmare pulls Lennox up and merely flops him over into the turnbuckle for now. Just until he feels he’s done toying with this man’s life.

T.L: If that referee has any feeling for human life at all, he’d end this right now!

C.P: He’s probably fuckin’ thinking....better him than me, pal. HAH! I know I am for fucking sure....for fucking sure!

Nightmare bends over and slaps Lennox across the face, Lennox lifts up his head and spits in Nightmare’s face! Nightmare grabs Lennox by the throat and pulls him up into a choke-lift! Lennox dangles his feet down, because he is desperate to touch the ground at this point! Lennox throws his thumb into Nightmare’s eye and Nightmare drops him. Magnus comes out of nowhere and he rocks Lennox with a trash can full of goodies! The contents of the trash can fly out onto the mat: mostly pieces of broken glass, thumb-tacks, and several singapore canes wrapped neatly in barbed-wire! Lennox falls to the mat and he scrambles to a singapore cane! He picks it up, but Magnus steps on the end to prevent him from gaining access to such a weapon. Magnus stomps his left foot down across Lennox’s fingertips and Lennox let’s out a yowl of pain. Magnus twists his foot back and forth across the fingers that are now being crushed under his weight.

T.L: You can almost feel the pain yourself for this poor sap!

Nightmare grabs the trash can and scatters the remaining four inches of broken glass and tacks from the bottom of it. The center of the ring now sparkles in the spotlight from the shards of glass and the golden hue of the razor sharp tacks! Magnus steps back when Nightmare approaches the area. Nightmare grabs the cane and swings it down across Lennox’s back, “AWWW!” - the only audible noise escaping the vocal chords of Lennox at this time. Magnus kneels down to peel Lennox’s shirt from off of his back to expose the bare flesh. Mortiis Magnus shreds the shirt and tears it away, then throws it in any which direction. Nightmare swings the cane across Lennox’s now exposed back! The barbs cling to Lennox’s flesh, Nightmare loves every second of Lennox’s discomfort. Nightmare pulls the cane upward, but the wire is still holding on to the skin! Nightmare then starts raking the wire covered cane back and forth to inflict more bodily harm, if it wasn’t enough already. Blood begins welling up in the wounds and Nightmare sees this and finally decides to pulls the cane away for good. Nightmare throws the cane over the ropes to the outside, where it bounces to the railing. Several fans reach desperately to grab it and soon succeed, cheering for more blood. Nightmare grabs onto Lennox’s hair and drags him back up into a standing position. Lennox falls forward slightly, but he is caught by the hands of Magnus. Magnus pushes Karl Lennox back into Nightmare’s clutches. Nightmare hooks Lennox from behind for what looks to be a belly-to-back suplex..no...he lifts him up into the air for a torture rack! Nightmare energetically steps over to the center of the ring. He bends his knees, then hops up into the air with Lennox still positioned over his shoulders. Nightmare shifts Lennox’s body in mid-air....Nightmare flips Lennox right into a modified version of the Death Valley Driver - driving his already damaged skull into the combination of broken glass and thumb tacks! The pile of “shrapnel” scatters as Lennox’s body rakes over it, most of it sticking into his exposed and already bleeding flesh. Nightmare sits up while turning his head to see Lennox twitch in the pile of sharp objects. Magnus stands over Lennox, who stares back up at him blankly. Lennox’s eyes show a huge amount of pain and Magnus knows it, but he shows no remorse. Magnus exposes a sinister smile that is followed by one of the most dastardly things we’ve ever seen on Liberation Television: Magnus spits a black mist down across Lennox’s face! The mist paints Lennox’s crimson face entirely black, his eyes closed shut tightly. Magnus steps back and throws his head back along with his arms out to the side - laughing hysterically. Nightmare laughs as well, as he crawls through the broken glass and tacks. A few inches away from Lennox, he stops. Nightmare then slowly places his palms in tacks and broken glass, he then lifts them up and licks the dripping blood away.

C.P: What a sick fuck!

Nightmare crawls the rest of the way over to Lennox, who is now not moving at all - except his chest pumping up and down from breathing. Nightmare places his palms on Lennox’s chest for the pinfall, ONE.......TWO........THREE. The bell sounds,

T.L:Nightmare and Magnus have proven some sort of sick point to someone tonight. Quite frankly, I’m not impressed at all.

C.P: Fucking a......that was heinous!

While Lockton and Prime discuss the unneeded brutality of the former Nocturnal Breed members, medics hit the ring. Several of them help place Lennox on a stretcher, he is quickly wheeled out of the ringside area. Magnus and Nightmare exit through the crowd, through a path made by the fans in order to stay out of the way of these two sadistic individuals.

T.L: No doubt about that. But, we have more things to get to tonight and we’re going to be cutting it close with time tonight.

Revelations: 420 appears via big screen to the rabid UWWF fans filling the arena and steals a cheap pop from all the pot heads in attendance. Then the lights go out and the cheers get louder. They start flashing violently and smoke begins pouring out to the aisle. A deep mysterious voice mixed with special effects echos through the arena....

VOICE: The time has come..... that a unrecognizable factor rises from the cloudy mist. To do what, you ask? To regulate....pure and simple..

C.P.: That's right bitches! There's your cloudy mist right fucking there! Now it's time to regulate!

T.L.: Where's the unrecognizable factor!?

Thunder begins echoing. With the lights flashing the way they are we are unable to see clearly into the mist but one thing IS clear; something or rather someone lurks towards the ring. The smoke engulfs the ring entirely making it even harder to see, but now the lights remain on.

C.P.: I CAN'T FUCKING SEE WHO IT IS!

T.L.: WHO THE HELL IS THAT!?!

Waiting and anticipating for the smoke to clear our man sits patiently. Finally the smoke disapates but the mans(we assume) identity remains concealed by a hood. Now in plain view the man confined to a wheelchair has an odd looking way of getting around. It appears to be custum made like a recliner and is electic, very pimp-daddyish.

C.P.: Who is this guy? T.L.: How's he gonna get into the ring?

With ease, the large figure stands up holding a cane. He walks the steps into the ring and begins circling around staring out into the crowd. He recieves a mic.

MYSTERY MAN: UWWF... I stand before you high, and I am here to bring UWWF up as high as me! If you like being sober then your ass don't belong around here ANYMORE because I'm here to STAY! Wait wait wait... I'm getting ahead of myself. You guys don't even know who your dealing with yet.

Removing the hood and throwing it into the wild crowd a mystery man he is no more.

C.P.: SMITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTY!!!!!

T.L.: I thought he retired?!

SMITTY: So heres the deal. I said last week UWWF needs new leadership inside the ring... AND out of it. And as badly as UWWF needs a new Champion, you guys don't want me as champ. And even more, I'm not here for the belt. I said last week I'm NOT returning to ring action, I'm retired. But all you pussy's in the back who come out here every week are a DISCRACE to the UWWF's lecacy. A discrace that I CANNOT and WILL NOT allow to go on anymore! Oh no, I'm here to make right all the wrongs that have been choking the life out of this once great federation. I can't do that by simply kicking ass, but rather, coming out here every week and delivering like no other. I could beat every single competitor in this federation but that would just pale in comparission to the role I am going to take on. I mean Empire really sucked this place dry and it is a tribute to Faust's determintation and dedication to put on great shows that he kept this bitch running considering the sub par talent that has taken over since Empire sold out. Well that much workload cannot fall on just one mans shoulders... So here I am. If your negledgable of what I can do get out from underneath your rock and join the program because I am here and I am here to stay! Recognize game before game recognizes you!

Smitty drops the mic and exits back to his luxury wheelchair-recliner and rolls his way back out of sight.

The two men make their way out the ring, the beginning has been sped up due to shortness in time. The bell sounds, Rogue and Dante circle the ring.

Rogue ducks under a collar and elbow tie-up from Dante, Rogue comes up from behind with a dropkick. Dante shuttles forward and comes off the ropes right at Rogue. Rogue ducks another attempt, this time an attempt at a closeline. Dante charges into the ropes and comes back off again, this time he plants Rogue to the mat with a big boot to the jaw! Rogue hits the canvas with force, popping back up into a sitting position. Dante slowly walks over, sending a kick to the middle of Rogue’s forehead. Rogue flattens across the canvas, but Dante won’t give up his attack. He lifts his leg, stomping his heel down into Rogue’s midsection.

T.L: Dante is making this easy for himself, just keeping Rogue grounded.

C.P: He’s gotta keep him fuckin’ grounded. If he’s smart, Rogue won’t have a chance to use his superior hightflying skills here.

Dante peels Rogue up off the mat and gets him back up to his feet in a hurry. Dante grabs Rogue by the arm and sends him off running into the turnbuckle with an irish-whip. Rogue has no decision whether or not he’ll crash into the turnbuckle. The ring post shudders as Rogue hits sternum first across the turnbuckle! He stumbles backward and clutching his chest. From behind, Dante winds up and he sends Rogue back down to the mat with a lariat! Dante moves in and gets Rogue up to his feet. Dante sends the breathless Rogue into the ropes again. He lowers his upper-half, but once Rogue comes toward him - Dante4 is met by a forceful dropkick to the top of the head. Dante stumbles backward, but Rogue dropkicks him again! This time Dante hits the canvas and it gives Rogue time to hobble over to the turnbuckle. He slowly ascends the top rope, trying to position himself just right for the high flying maneuver.

T.L: What the?

C.P: It looks me as if someone is ready to fuck some shit up!

T.L: Who is that making their way through the crowd?

C.P: I can’t fucking see!

From the crowd emerges Rogue’s former foe, Bonez!

T.L: Those two have had a sour attitude toward each other in the backstage area, before Bonez disappeared for a while there.

Bonez quickly leaps over the railing, as Rogue tries to get up into a standing position. Before you know it, Bonez is up on the apron. Bonez quickly runs and pushes on the back of Rogue, sending Rogue into a falling somersault. Rogue’s body flips in the air and he comes down across his lower neck and upper back! Curtis “Bonez” Schmitt comes through the ropes and he picks up his fallen archrival. Bonez then synchs Rogue tightly and drives him into the mat with the “Bonez Bomb” - Fisherman’s suplex - at this time it was more like a fisherman’s buster. Rogue is down for the count after the high force “Bonez Bomb”, but Bonez isn’t down. He reaches into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a wad of cash. Bonez flips out one bill from the wad, then places the rest back in his pocket. Bonez moves toward a camera man on the apron of the ring, he pulls on the bill with both hands expanding it outward. He smiles as he exposes the one hundred dollar bill, then he proceeds toward Rogue. Bonez jumps down to his knees and he lifts Rogue’s head. Bonez chuckles then sends a right handed closed fist to the middle of Rogue’s forehead to keep him dazed. Bonez proceeds in the act of shoving the one hundred dollar bill right into the gullet of Rogue. Rogue struggles and coughs as Bonez forces the dollar bill in his mouth. Curtis “Bonez” Schmitt then stands up and leans over Rogue. Bonez opens his hand and sends the palm flat across Rogue’s face. The referee holds Dante back as this act occurs, then call for the bell seconds later. As Bonez exits the ring, Dante angrily pushes the referee to the side and exits the ring.

C.P: Fuck no, he’s sending a goddamn message. Rogue, if you didn’t understand it..here it is. Bonez is ready to kick your fucking ass! He rubbed that money in your face to show you how fucking powerful he is. What are you going to do about it?!

T.L: Speaking of powerful men, Mario C will get some airtime next!

C.P: What does the “C.” stand for? Cock? Cold?

T.L: I”m not sure, Cody. But, I am sure it’s neither of those.

C.P: Alright, bitch, let’s get the show on the fucking road.

The scene cuts in to the office of our vice president, where he can be sitting across the room behind a cluttered table. The BOYZ come into view, slowly strolling toward their boss. Mario C. mutters something and the two take a look at each other in confusion. Mario turns and we notice the cell phone in his hand, within a few seconds he flips the phone shut. Mario C. turns toward the BOYZ and slaps his hands on the table.

Mario C.: Where is it?

The two huge men look at each other, then JAZZ lifts up a somewhat large black briefcase. JAZZ flips the case onto the table with the locks facing Mario C.

Mario C: Alright now. Is it all here?

JAZZ and AWOL both shake their head with the answer intended to be “yes”.

Mario C: OH YA!

Mario C. flips the suitcase open and fumbles through several large stacks of money. He lifts up a bundle of it, flipping through it. He puts the money back in the case and closes it, snapping the locks close.

Mario: Thanks, it’s greatly appreciated. Now, go find me that man.....

The two start toward the door as he are brought back to the balcony of Viking Hall.

T.L: I guess it was some sort of business deal...

C.P: Fuck, anyway......we’ve got the contract signing on it’s way!

T.L: I’m excited to see what happens next!

C.P: Let’s fucking see what’s going to go on here.

A small child’s voice, a young girl with a slightly British accent in fact, is heard over the arena’s sound system. The fans hush, as a video sequence featuring both G-Man and Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson’s most famous bouts is played over all of the arena’s monitors and the big projected monitor over the entrance.

Girl: A newly crowned champion.....defiant....the true heart of Liberation....

A slow motion clip of G-Man is shown, with him raising the championship belt high over his head with a UWWF: Liberation banner hanging in the background.

Girl: A force.....a single man.....a legacy emerges to take back what he may think is rightfully his.....

“The King of Hardcore” Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson is shown in slow motion over the monitor now, the clip of his first accolade upon UWWF’s return - the end results of the Ultimate Hardcore Cup finals. His face bloodied, his body bruised, and his pride beaming through all negativity.

Girl: A former champion, who’s intentions are unknown ,wades through the rest of the sea of combatants....[small pause].....Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson will accept his number one contendership position....[pause]. Jeremy Clarkson, the savior of an entire revolution, will be pitted against.....

The monitor fades in from black to a picture of G-Man, his head lowered and darkness surrounding him. A mist floats in from behind him, as the camera zooms outward to see the glimmering, golden and diamond embedded masterpiece that is: THE ULTIMATE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP BELT - wrapped around G-Man’s waist.

Girl: [repeating what was said a few seconds ago] Pitted against, the current UWWF: Liberation Ultimate Heavyweight champion in all of his dignity. The new era has begun and he is the one that leads it.....he is our savior now....for the true....for the innocent....for us....he is not only the champion.....he is G-MAN.

The girl’s voice lightly fades into static, similar to an old time record player skipping along. Fading in lightly to obscenely loud, “Cryptorchild” by Marilyn Manson gears us up to the entrance of the man that made UWWF: Liberation what it is today, he is Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson! The curtains ruffle a bit before Curtis “Bonez” Schmitt struts out from behind them. He turns around, while holding the curtain, leading the way for the challenger, the number one contender: Jeremy Clarkson. Clarkson walks into the camera’s view and doesn’t even show any recognition toward the fans, he just keeps his head forward and keeps on walking. Bonez follows a few feet behind him, shouting of accomplishments achieved in UWWF: Liberation by himself and Jeremy Clarkson. The two make their way around the ring, making their way up the ring steps, then through the ropes. Clarkson heads straight for the table set up in the center of the ring, where a new face stands at the end of the table. The new face, you ask? A cleanly shaven, twenty-five year old man wearing a black suit - sporting a microphone in his hand. The camera zooms in on the man’s hand, notably a large platinum ring that displays the initials “UWWF”. The camera zooms out, just as the man exchanges words quietly with Clarkson and Bonez. The man extends his hand to Clarkson for a friendly handshake, but Bonez butts his nose in and takes the shake instead. Bonez knows Clarkson, he knows that Clarkson would never shake that idiot’s hand, not in a million years - so I doubt Clarkson took any offense to Bonez’ “respectful” gesture. The man nods his head up and down as Curtis Schmitt chuckles out a few words. The two stop mid-sentence in their conversing, their faces turn toward the entrance ramp as “I Hate Everything About You” by Three Days Grace hits the speakers.

T.L: Here comes the man, the champion.....the new savior of UWWF: Liberation as some may call him....here he is folks, G-Man!

The camera comes up close to the curtains, G-Man pounces through with his arm held high in the air, the championship belt secured around his waist. He tilts his head back and cracks his neck while hopping up and down with his arms held up high. The fans jump up and chant, “G-MAN! G-MAN!”. He takes a step down the ramp, then looks in the ring at the two men once known as the Purveyors of Perfection. He takes a deep breath and continues to the ring.

The young suit clad man raises the microphone, glancing back and forth between Clarkson accompanied by Bonez and G-Man. He holds the microphone up to his mouth and confidently speaks up.

Man: First of all, let me introduce myself to you all. I am Kirk Richardson, a newly appointed spokesman for the higher powers in the UWWF: Liberation ranks. I am here tonight to present to you, the signing for a contest that has been waiting to happen since G-Man and Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson both were signed on the UWWF: Liberation roster at the same time. Now, folks, we have a chance to bring that to you.

The fans are anxious to see both men sign the dotted line. Kirk Richardson lifts his hand up to the pocket of his suit-jacket and pulls out a pen. The pen drops from his fingers onto the table, right into the official contract itself.

Kirk Richardson: Before I continue any further, I have been ordered by my superiors to have former tag-team champion, Curtis “Bonez” Schmitt, escorted away from ringside. I apologize, Mr. Schmitt, I’m not the one calling the shots. [hesitant laugh] If it were up to me, Kirk Richardson, I’d love to keep you as company inside this very ring right now...but....I must do as I’m told by the “big guys” back at headquarters. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Schmitt, I hope you have a lovely night.

Six muscle-bound men wearing black suits and black sunglasses enter the ring, soon surrounding “Bonez”. Bonez reaches over to grab the mic, but two of the men at his sides grab him. He begins yelling, “What is this shit? I’m part of this show! I’m part of the spotlight!”, then he stops. The two men pull him back and turn him around toward the ropes, he then steps through. He glances into the ring one last time at the same level as them before he hops down. Soon, the six men surround Bonez again while he walks around the ringside area and finally toward the back. The men disappear and our attention goes back to the ring. Kirk Richardson straights his tie, clears his throat, then continues speaking.

Kirk Richardson: Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we’ve got business to do men. In order to make this signing as simple as possible, the superior faculty of UWWF: Liberation representatives made it a direct order to remove Curtis “Bonez” Schmitt from the premises. They just want to make sure their [muttered slightly] investment......[cough]...I mean to say, champion is safe from the possible threat of an attack by two men of such a high caliber. Who wants a crippled and useless champion? Nobody, am I right?

G-Man turns to Kirk Richardson while tossing the championship belt over his shoulder, then sarcastically laughing in a manner such as, “Ha.........ha........ha”, spaced perfectly for everyone to know that the joke wasn’t very funny and/or intelligent for that fact.

Kirk Richardson: O-kay, now. To explain the legal ramifications of this document, I’ll just put them in simple terms for you. By reading, understanding, and signing this document - you acknowledge that by any means necessary that you will be required to fulfill the stated obligations. The obligations being: competing against one another at the next UWWF: Liberation pay per view under any stipulation that may fit the scenario. The only unclear information provided to you in the document is the stipulation of the-said future contest. Rules for the contest may be altered at any time by Company Owner and President S., Maddog, Faust - call him what you will, you all know him by some name. The only other employee that may alter those decisions is: Vice President, Mario C. Now, if you will, Mr. Clarkson please glance through the document and sign on the last page on the dotted line.

Clarkson picks up the contract and flips right to the back page and tosses the booklet of paper back down onto the table. Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson picks up the pen and quickly places his signature on the page.

Kirk Richardson: Now, Mr. Manix, please follow the same instructions as explained to Mr. Clarkson.

G-Man grabs the paper with his right hand, shifts it around to fit his viewing. He quickly signs the contract and slides it over to Kirk Richardson. Richardson then picks the contract and hands it off to one of the men that helped escort Bonez from the ring.

Kirk Richardson: Thank you for the time, gentlemen. Good luck with your future and have a wonderful night. Also, I’d like to thank the fans in attendance, the viewers at home, and anyone I have forgotten to mention for sitting through this ridiculously long legal binding.

Kirk Richardson quickly exits the ring, leaving sight with the brute in the black suit.

C.P: My fuckin’ lord....why go through so much trouble?

T.L: When two men like these two go up against each other in a manner such as this, the higher ups like to play their hand in it as well. With a feud like this, between Clarkson and G-Man, precautions need to be taken very seriously. Especially when it comes down to that championship being put on the line.

C.P: Blah, blah, and blah. Enough fuckin’ lingo and bullshit talk....we still have G-Man and Clarkson standing in that very fuck’n ring. Do you understand what that means?

T.L: One heck of a stare down at this second...

Clarkson and G-Man glare at each other with the table standing between them, obviously for a reason. You can see it in their eyes, these two rivals are ready to rumble. Neither of the men show any form of fear, anxiety, or even the slightest bit of excitement...only pure hatred for one another. G-Man turns his head to the crowd with a glimmer of heroic nature in his widened eyes. His right hand slaps the championship belt, that is slung over his shoulder. G-Man turns his head back over to Jeremy Clarkson and he points at him and mutters something, only for the two to hear. Clarkson reacts angrily by flipping the table over onto his top to the right side. He takes two steps forward and clocks G-Man right across the jaw with his bare knuckles! G-Man shudders and stumbles backward, followed by him dropping the belt down to the mat. From the outside, a referee pulls the table under the bottom rope and out to the ringside area. Meanwhile, Clarkson moves forward and grabs G-Man by the arm, sending him into the ropes with an irish-whip. G-Man comes off the ropes and ducks under a closeline attempt by Clarkson. The champion, G-Man, comes back off the ropes and Clarkson ducks under and lifts him up around the waist and spins him around. Upon picking G-Man up, Clarkson drives him down to the canvas right onto his back with a spinebuster! The referee quickly slides under the bottom rope and moves the championship belt out of the way. He jumps back up to his feet, immediately waving his hand as a motion for the bell to sound.

T.L: It has begun!

C.P: Fucking right! And.....it’s only gettin’ started, motha fucka!

“DING! DING! DING!”, the bell chimes - echoing throughout the arena. Clarkson now proceeds to pull G-Man up to his feet and he leads him over to the turnbuckle. Clarkson give G-Man a turnbuckle smash, then turns him around and leans G-Man back first against the ropes. Clarkson winds up with his right fist tightly closed and slung back. “The King of Hardcore” Clarkson takes a wild swing at G-Man, but G-Man ducks and turns the situation around by throwing Clarkson into the buckle. G-Man swings a few quick right jabs, then those blows are followed by an irish-whip. Clarkson rushes across the center of the ring toward the other corner with G-Man behind him in quick pursuit. Clarkson almost hits the buckle, but he stops himself with his arms and he lifts his body up. Clarkson swings his body over G-Man’s and he lands on his feet, directly behind G-Man. Clarkson hooks G-Man around the waist and attempts to lift him up for a german suplex, or for what it may seem. G-Man winds up with his arm and swings a back elbow, Clarkson drops down to duck and barely misses the elbow! G-Man’s body swings around and Clarkson immediately hooks him around the waist. Clarkson tightens his grasp and he sends G-Man to the mat with a release over-head belly-to-belly suplex! The crowd stays silent over the succession of moves.

T.L: These two are ready to rumble. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when these two meet to determine the champion at the pay per view.

C.P: No fuckin’ doubt!

Clarkson and G-Man slowly get up to their feet, once they both see each other they begin to circle in center ring. The two move in closer as the circling persists, then Clarkson makes a sudden attempt at a collar-and-elbow tie-up. G-Man runs forward and ducks his head to dodge the lock-up, then he turns around and goes low with a sweeping kick. G-Man’s leg hits directly behind Clarkson’s kneecap, knocking him flat across his back. G-Man then gets up to his feet, runs off the ropes, then jumps high and drops his elbow across Clarkson’s chest. After the elbow drop, G-Man makes a quick lateral press attempt. ONE.........TWO......Clarkson kicks out hard. G-Man’s body rolls off of Clarkson’s chest. Clarkson makes his way back up fairly quickly and he meets G-Man with a kick to the midsection. G-Man hunches over and Clarkson quickly snaps him down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker! Clarkson rises up to his feet again, leaning over G-Man. He points down with his fingers moving in a taunting motion, “Is that all you’ve got, G-Man?”.

T.L: The former champ is trying to get a rise out of G-Man.

G-Man gets up to his hands and knees, but that’s as far as Clarkson will let him get. Clarkson boots him across the side of the head, then proceeds to fully pull him up. Clarkson then grabs G-Man by the head, leading him fairly quickly over to the ropes. Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson slings G-Man through the middle rope to the outside! The fans rise to their feet as G-Man lands on the floor and begins struggling back up to his feet.

C.P: I knew the fuckin’ ring couldn’t contain these two tonight!

Clarkson jumps down off the apron, then moves in on G-Man. G-Man turns and sees G-Man, which leads him into a crouched position. Clarkson his about to grab onto G-Man, but G-Man darts forward with his shoulder extended. G-Man’s shoulder clips Clarkson in the gut, which stuns him momentarily. G-Man grabs hold of Clarkson’s hair and he sends him head first into the top of the guardrail. CRANG! The rail creaks on the impact of Clarkson’s head! G-Man winds Clarkson’s head back again, but this time Clarkson blocks it by placing his foot across the bottom of the railing. Clarkson then pulls away and he turns around to look G-Man square in the eyes. G-Man winds up by Clarkson grabs him by the shoulders and swings him around, catching him back first against the rail. Clarkson grabs G-Man’s arm and forces him into a short-arm closeline, but them being so close to the rail.....G-Man is knocked directly over the rail into the sea of amazed fans. The security rushes in quick and isolates the situation by giving G-Man and Clarkson a good six feet of room on each side. Clarkson leaps over the rail and picks up a steel chair, but he has a hard time trying to fold it up. This momentary pause gives G-Man enough time to grab hold of a chair of his own, then he gets up. Clarkson finally gets the chair folded, but G-Man sends the chair soaring through the air. THWACK! The chair bounces off Clarkson’s head and he falls against the railing in a heap.

C.P: G-Man fuckin’ rocked him!

T.L: Well, he threw that chair with force, folks. Most men would have been done right there!

G-Man grabs Clarkson and leads him through the crowd into the concession area of the arena. Clarkson tries to pull away and G-Man puts him in line with a jab to the side of the head. G-Man grabs Clarkson by the shirt and the back of the wrestling gear then flips him over onto a table covered into t-shirts. Clarkson lands in the middle of the table, then bounces off -knocking all the merchandise off with him. G-Man climbs up on to the top of the table and he waits for Clarkson to get back up. G-Man grabs a chunk of Clarkson’s hair and pulls him up onto the table, as well.

T.L: I wonder where this is going....

C.P: It’s fuckin’ obvious where this is goin’....

G-Man bends Clarkson over and hooks him around the waist, readying him to drive him through that piece of wood. G-Man hunches his back over....he tries to lift up...Clarkson flips G-Man over his shoulders and down across the concrete floor with a back body drop! Clarkson falls down to his knees then rolls off the table, he stumbles over to the stairway, which leads to a balcony section of Viking Hall. G-Man isn’t moving very much at all at this point, while Clarkson finds his way to the railing of the balcony. He kicks his legs over the rail and perches himself on the approximate edge. Without much hesitation, Clarkson leaps off the balcony! He plummets quickly, heading downward with his elbow extended, but G-Man has gotten up! G-Man steps out of the way and slams Clarkson’s back, just before Clarkson crashes through the table! On impact, the table has now become thousands of small wood shards - littering the arena floor. G-Man drops down to his hands and knees, crawling over to Clarkson. G-Man goes for the cover...nothing.....he looks up and the referee pulls him up, away from Clarkson. He waves his finger in G-Man’s face, “There’s no way in hell I’ll let this end out here. If he can get back up and continue, I’ll let the match continue in the ring. The only way I’ll end this match is if it’s in that squared circle!”. G-Man backs up respectively to see if his fallen opponent can continue. While he stares on, a figure emerges from behind him. The six foot, five inch substance abuser known to you all as Janus is revealed to be that figure.

C.P: What the fuck is he doing here?

Janus is still dawning his blue colored hospital gown, splattered in what is now brownish dried blood. The heavy coating of bandages still cover his forehead...the only distinguishing feature about him is his eyes. The under area of his eye is black, due to his lack of sleep - but his pure hate musters it’s way through the bloodshot nature of the whites of his eyeball.

T.L: He doesn’t look happy, that’s for damn sure!

C.P: He’s out for some fuckin’ revenge!

Janus steps forward, touching the tips of his bare feet against the wrestling boots of G-Man. G-Man feels the bump of Janus’ toes and he turns around, expressing a look of shock upon his glance at Janus. Janus nods his head at G-Man, then pushes him to the side with brute force. G-Man steps forward, but Janus has already passed him, obviously going over to Clarkson. Clarkson starts to sit up, but Janus gives him an extra added boost and he lifts Clarkson up. Clarkson leans over Janus’ shoulder, then Janus leads him toward the ring - both men stumbling a bit through the small pathway paved by security. G-Man rushes through the fans, who part seconds before he gets too close. G-Man makes it to the rail and hops over.

T.L: I don’t understand.....

G-Man gets in the ring and stands in the center, ready for what may step in his path. His arms cross over his chest as he watches on: Security members push the rail open, Janus and Clarkson walk right through into ringside. Janus seems to lightly roll Clarkson under the bottom rope and he leans against the apron, taking several heavy breaths. Clarkson reaches up and grabs onto the ropes and pulls himself up to a vertical base! Clarkson staggers away from the ropes and right toward G-Man, stopping about three feet away from him. The ref stands between both men and he turns to Clarkson, “Are you sure you want to continue?”. Clarkson pushes the ref away, leading up to a collar and elbow tie-up right off the bat! G-Man pushes the halfway wounded Clarkson across the ring and into the corner. G-Man holds Clarkson there, but he makes the clean break before the referee chimes in. The fans show appreciation for the gesture with a round of claps that come from several points of the building. Clarkson moves forward, as if he were going to lock up again. G-Man extends his arms out to accept the tie-up, but Clarkson goes low! Clarkson dives down and hooks his arms around G-Man’s legs, spinning him into a amateur style double leg takedown! Clarkson shoots his upper body over G-Man’s chest, then flips G-Man onto his stomach. Clarkson hooks in a front chancery, G-Man struggles to get free but Clarkson has him synched in too tightly. G-Man pushes his body forward, but that’s where Clarkson wants him! Clarkson uses G-Man’s push to force him right into a full blown underhook with his right arm and he flips G-Man onto both shoulders. The ref slides his hand in to check the shoulders as he counts, “ONE!....TWO!”, G-Man’s shoulder raises slightly to break the count! Clarkson, still holding onto the chancery, flips G-Man over onto his stomach then he starts standing up. G-Man grabs onto each of Jeremy Clarkson’s legs and he hoists him over onto his shoulders. G-Man swings Clarkson’s upper body toward the lower half of his back, but Clarkson manages to maneuver himself out of the possible takedown! Clarkson then pushes G-Man from behind, sending him into the ropes. G-Man comes back off the ropes......the mat shudders......LARIAT CARE OF CLARKSON!

T.L:G-Man starts up to his knees....kick to the ribs....followed by another....two more.....

Clarkson takes his time in getting G-Man back up to his feet. Clarkson reaches and grabs G-Man’s left arm and short-arm whips him in....Clarkson raises his arm....

T.L: Short-arm closeli......no! NO!

From the short-arm whip, Clarkson manages to somehow hook G-Man in a Cobra Clutch! G-Man swings his free arm wildly, while Clarkson wrenches into the submission hold! G-Man staggers toward the buckle and Clarkson let’s him freely walk over. G-Man jumps up and tries to catch his feet on the middle rope, but a split second before he reaches the ropes -Clarkson pulls him away! Clarkson waves his body to and fro to add tension to the hold, which seems to be wearing G-Man down. After several moments of wearing G-Man down with the hold, Clarkson finally pulls G-Man down into a sitting position. Clarkson uses this time to catch his breath, unknowing to the fact G-Man is slowly inching his way back up into a standing position. Clarkson turns his head to the side to spit on the mat, G-Man makes the move!

C.P: Fuckin’ a! G-Man, the fuckin’ champ, booked it up to his feet! I can’t fucking believe it!

G-Man forges forward with Clarkson wearily holding on from behind. G-Man gets far closer to the buckle then before, kicking his legs up. Clarkson manages to hold him up in the air for a second or two, but G-Man brings his weight down to land his feet onto the middle rope. G-Man uses all of his leg strength to push himself backward into Clarkson! As G-Man’s full push is felt by Clarkson, Clarkson falls backward with G-Man landing all of his weight on top of him!

T.L: Clarkson was forced to release that desperation submission hold that could have possibly won him the contest if G-Man had been worn down more!

C.P: A great fuckin’ showing of athleticism by both fuckin’ wrestlers, Tony.

T.L: That is the very first time I’ve ever heard you say anything like that!

C.P: I aim to please.....but....both men are still down!

Both men lay fairly close to each other, still on the mat. The referee moves in and raises his hands in the air extending one finger, “ONE!”, the ref waits a few more seconds....“TWO.......THREE............FOUR”. Both men take in all the oxygen that their lungs will allow them. On the outside Janus slaps his hands against the apron, then stops for some apparent reason. He limps over to the time keeper’s table, pushing the bell keeper out of the way, and finally picking up a steel chair. As he walks back over to the apron he folds the chair up, then tosses it over the top rope and into the ring. The chair lands next to Clarkson, who then decides to pick it up with his almost limp hand. He starts rising up to his knees, using the chair as a crutch to stand. The ref is about to yell “seven”, but both men have now emerged! Clarkson turns to G-Man and raises the chair up. Clarkson swings the chair like a baseball bat...G-Man ducks the blow! Clarkson swings the chair around and brings it up over his head, G-Man then kicks him in the gut and tears the chair away from him. G-Man kicks Clarkson in the gut, doubling him over, then he hands him the chair and placing it right in front of Clarkson’s face. G-Man quickly rushes into the ropes and gives a diving jump......

T.L: DROPKICK INTO THE STEEL CHAIR! HE JUST SENT THE CHAIR INTO CLARKSON’S KISSER!

Clarkson falls backward with the chair landing over his face, his hands fall flat to his side. G-Man makes his way over and picks up the chair, moving toward the buckle. G-Man tosses the chair down about seven feet away from the buckle, then he goes over to Clarkson. G-Man leans down and pulls Clarkson up to his feet, but Clarkson is so dazed that he can hardly stand. G-Man pulls Clarkson along by the hair, while he walks backward - forcing Clarkson to move forward with his movement. G-Man gets to the buckle and rests his shoulders against the turnbuckle covers. G-Man takes a second before he hooks Clarkson around the waist. G-Man pushes downward then uses his strength to pull Clarkson upward into a powerbomb position. The crowd is roaring now, “POWER-BOMB! POWER-BOMB!”. G-Man nods his head up and down, then he takes a dashing head start with Clarkson on his shoulders. He gets close to the chair laying on the canvas and he starts to release Clarkson.....Clarkson somehow wiggles free!

T.L: Wha....how.....I’ve never.....

As Clarkson falls backward he pulls G-Man’s head down....Clarkson lands knees first on the chair and driving G-Man face first onto the steel chair with an X-Factor style move! G-Man’s face bounces off the chair with a thud and he comes back up to his feet, then falls straight to his back. His hand extends upward to his face as he lay there, his fingers move around his forehead then he moves his hands. He blinks uncontrollably for a few seconds, just before we see blood beginning to trickle from a gash opened in the middle of his forehead! Clarkson stands up with the chair in his grasp and he waits for G-Man to make his move! G-Man rolls over and gets to his feet, walking over to the ropes with his back to Clarkson. G-Man leans over the top rope and wipes his forehead with his right hand, while Clarkson runs at him from behind! Clarkson has the steel chair above his head already.......THUD! The chair bounces off the back of G-Man’s shoulders and head, sending him falling to the ring onto his hands and knees. Clarkson lowers the chair, holding it with one hand, then grabs G-Man’s shirt with his free hand. Clarkson pulls G-Man down onto his back, keeping him in place with a stomp to the midsection. Clarkson slowly strolls over to the turnbuckle, climbing through the ropes to the apron. While still holding onto the dented chair, he starts climbing the buckle. He gets to the top and looks down at G-Man, who is still holding onto the fresh wound on his forehead. Clarkson takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, leaping from the top rope with an Cactus Jack style elbow drop with the chair securely propped under his extended arm! Clarkson’s weight comes crashing down onto the chair, landing directly across G-Man’s sternum and head area. Clarkson flips the chair out of the way before he goes for the lateral press. The ref shakes his head in disbelief, dropping down into position for the count. “ONE!.........TWO!......THR..”. G-Man’s body shudders, kicking out just before the three count!

C.P: Holy.....fucking.......shit......man...

T.L: I.....I’ve never seen any man like these two in the ring right now. Sure, Faust....Maddog.....whatever you deem to call him...has had some great hardcore bouts in the past....but I’m not sure if his bouts even hold a candle to this one!

Clarkson moves away, favoring his ribs as scoots backward into the ropes. He then leans against the bottom rope to tend to his ribs for a few seconds. G-Man shakes the cobwebs loose, then starts back up to his hands and knees. He crawls in a dazed fashion toward the middle of the ring, where the ref is standing. G-Man extends his hand up and grabs the ref’s pants, the referee doesn’t pull away....THE REFEREE HELPS G-MAN BACK UP! Janus slides into the ring on the left side of Clarkson, where he proceeds to help Clarkson to his feet. The referee yells, “Get out! Now! Let’s make this a clean bout for god’s sake!”. The ref stands his ground, but Janus turns to him after helping Clarkson and yells in a bold, raspy tone - “Fuck you, Foyer! You helped him up...I’m just evening the fucking odds. You should steer clear, old man. You’re supposed to be unbiased, yet you show your colors here now. Mind you, feeble minded sheep, you are disposable!”. The ref’s facial expression shows a dumb-founded glare, acknowledging the truth behind his words. Janus turns back to Clarkson, moving to the side and going back out to the floor. G-Man and “The King of Hardcore” Clarkson see each other, the hate and anger is still there - still fresh in their minds. Limping, the two come together, lock-up. G-Man throws on a side-headlock, Clarkson pushes G-Man off and into the ropes. G-Man scurries with a lag in his step into the ropes and rebounds off toward Clarkson. Clarkson drops down to his stomach to avoid collision - G-Man hops right over him and stops his momentum with sternly planted feet. G-Man sends a short elbow drop across Clarkson’s back, then he flips him over. “ONE!”, the referee bellows with the slap of his hand. “TWO!”, the palm of the referee’s hand hits the canvas again. Clarkson throws his right arm up with force, pushing his body and shoulder off the mat before the three count can be completed.

As this happens, a figure wearing a helmet with the insignia reading “Arch Angels” upon it to disguise his face. He slowly makes his way to ringside and he leans up against the apron.

C.P: Who the fuck is that?

T.L: I’m thinking it’s that ghost from G-Man’s past! I think it’s ANGEL X

The man in the helmet is soon followed by the one and only Curtis “Bonez” Schmitt, who settles himself on the opposite side of the ring.

T.L: This doesn’t look good at all for G-Man!

Inside the ring, both men have made it to their feet. G-Man takes a stumbled dive forward with a closeline, but Clarkson will not go for it. Clarkson ducks under and he raises G-Man up and onto his shoulders with a fireman’s carry. Clarkson shifts G-Man’s weight over onto one shoulder then flips him right down into a death valley driver! G-Man hits the mat and almost looks to be knocked out! Clarkson wearily rises up to his feet, standing on shaky legs. Clarkson grabs G-Man by the head and pulls him forcefully up to his feet. Clarkson then walks away to pick up the heavily dented steel chair, which he puts right down at his and G-Man’s feet. G-Man stumbles at Clarkson, but only meets a kick to the midsection! Clarkson bends G-Man down and hooks him around the waist. The fans can’t believe it when Clarkson gets G-Man hooked and lifted into the air.

C.P: DONE! FUCKING, DONE!

Clarkson doesn’t hesitate to jump into the air and land down on his knees, driving G-Man’s head into the steel chair with the hangman’s ddt!

T.L: G-Man’s head must be ringing after that!

C.P: Like I said, HE’S FUCKING DONE!

The man in the helmet pulls himself onto the apron and leans over to the ropes to observe these final seconds in the match. Bonez jumps up and peers over at the man in the helmet, not showing whether he approves or disapproves of the behavior. Meanwhile, Clarkson pulls the steel chair out from under G-Man’s shoulders, tossing it to the side. Clarkson doesn’t even bother to hook the leg, making the cover over G-Man. The referee leaps down and slaps his hand across the mat -“ONE! TWO! THREE!” The bell sounds as the referee lifts up Clarkson’s arm in victory. Just at that second Bonez makes his way into the ring! The referee cautiously retreats to the outside, while Bonez circles the ring, making his way slowly over to the man in the helmet. The “Arch Angels” label sparkles under the light from the arena, bringing our attention to him. He reaches his hand up and he proceeds to toss a handful of money toward Bonez, who catches the floating bills in midair. Bonez nods his head as he walks over toward the center of the ring, where G-Man and Clarkson are. Clarkson crawls back a few feet to let Bonez do his own bidding. Bonez drops to his knees and extends out his hand at G-Man’s head, thus holding out one of the bills. Bonez slides the currency across G-Man’s forehead, sopping up all the accumulated sweat away. Bonez then pulls G-Man’s mouth open and crumples the bill into his mouth, to show him he is not respected among those ranks at all. Bonez pushes G-Man’s head down to the mat and gets back up to his feet. Bonez helps Clarkson up and he tries to walk him over to the ropes. Bonez steps through the ropes, but Clarkson only gets halfway, before he turns around. Slowly, Clarkson walks over to G-Man and he snatches the money from G-Man’s gullet. Clarkson clutches the bill in his palm as he walks towards Bonez and finally makes his exit.

T.L: One hell of a bout! One hell of an odd ending....we are cutting it close to credit time here folks!

C.P: G-Man’s day was not fuckin’ today, I’ll tell ya that!

T.L: Obviously, Cody.

C.P: Fuck, we’ve got word from the back...fo sho!

Faust stands in the dimly lighted back parking lot of Viking Hall, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot tapping impatiently. He moves his arm to glance at his watch, his eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

Faust lifts his head, the camera moving from the frontal view of Faust toward the direction of the muttering. Slowly stumbling in Faust’s way, you know who it is already....the loveable, track marked, mutilated, and ego-driven crackhead, Janus! He makes his way over, scratching under the sleeve of his blue hospital apparel.

Faust: Well, Janus, you may be one more step closer to where you want to be. Do you think you can try a little harder next time? I mean, you did get his attention, but I think you could have done a whole hell of a lot better. Sure, he dropped you like a sack of potatoes and got away but that could have been prevented. Take it from me, Janus, you need to be more serious.

Janus lowers his head, peeking through his snarled hair at Faust.

Janus: S...s...s..s.....serious? I am serious, Fausss..sss.....Faust.

Faust shakes his head and sighs, thinking of how utterly useless this man really is.

He’s going to get his ass handed over to him, some time or another. Better now than later, right? Oh yeah, he’s off his fucking rocker. He deserves every ounce of pain he receives. As I’ve always thought, some are made to succeed and others are made to fail. He on the other hand was created for the amusement of others, to be tormented and beaten. Oh, G-Man took it to him at the last show.....I can’t wait to see what happens to this scabbed up, crackedhead retard when he steps in Clarkson’s way next week in that ring. One week away from the pay per view.....against Clarkson....and in the same night an unprovoked attack on G-Man. Of course, G-Man will be well informed of when this will take place. It’s brilliant, Maddog....er.....Faust.....you’ll have one less idiot off your hands. Good thinking......good thinking....

Faust: G-Man put you in the hospital last week. Instead of standing up against him and a referee to declare justice, do yourself a favor and just kill him. You need to rethink your motives for revenge, Janus. First off, next week....take him out of the picture....soften him up for Clarkson.......oh.....speaking of Jeremy “Repent” Clarkson......

Janus mumbles to himself, chuckling slightly. A blank look crosses his face, then he snaps out and peers back up at Faust.

Janus: W..w......w.....wh....wha....what about C..C....Clarkson?

Faust taps him on the shoulder with the palm of his hand.

Faust: Next week, Janus, to prepare for the upcoming pay per view extravaganza...you’ll be prepping Clarkson to take on the champion....your foe...your enemy....your savior....G-Man. Just to make sure Clarkson is in tip-top shape and ready to fully do some damage, he’s all yours.

Janus stutters under his breath with a nervous grin.

Janus: M..m....m....me and..and....and...Clarkson....next week....you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Faust: Sorry, Janus, I’m not.

Faust turns his back to Janus, walking away into the darkness of the Philly streets. The camera focuses in on Janus, standing there in his nice little blue outfit in the cold night’s air. He looks bewildered....

Janus: But, Faust.....the doctors say that I’m not ready to wrestle...until....I....aw....aww.....fuck it.....I need a fix.....

He looks up at the sky, as the scene begins to fade to black. His voice can still be heard as the copyright comes onto the bottom right corner of the screen.