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A camera catches up with KB sitting backstage drinking a beer.


KB shakes his head with a smile as his face is still covered in blood and glass. "I told you Nakamura... I told you, I told the rest of the locker room, and I even told YOU Damion... I'm a one man army in this place, the King of Death Match Tournament is just my warm up!"

KB throws the empty bottle against the wall as it shatters. "My only regret is the NWC World Chump isn't still in the tournament. Yea I've heard you Akira and you go head and keep that attitude while you're surrounded by your little 'UNION'.. Just one chance is all I need to take The Surgical Specialist out of the game."

KB stands up off the equipment box picking bits of glass from his face. "It doesn't matter if you're UNION, PWA, hell you can be a Free Agent looking to put a foot in the door! Everything BURNS! This building, that ring, the fans, and even this pissant holding the camera! I'm going to burn it all to the ground and take my place on a throne of broken bodies, shatter dreams, and smoldering ash! PWA will be mine, I will be King of The Death Match, and every last one of you will be drug kicking and screaming into the Heathen Era..."

KB has a look of disgust as he points at the camera man, "What the Hell is that?"

KB snatches the camera and points it at the young cameraman and focuses on the kid wetting himself. "Come on kid, that's no way to act around your future Heathen King..."

The cameraman runs away and KB turns the camera back to him. "And it's all just getting started.." The camera goes black as the sound of it being tossed into a dumpster ends the video.

The video opens with Rhett Holiday in his black three piece suit and a bright green tie. He sits in a booth at the back of a Bar with some very familiar pictures on the wall behind him. He is sitting in The Beaten Dog.

"Nice hole in the wall establishment. The floorboards and the walls holding stories and secrets of the patrons that have graced this place with their presence for decades. Each chip in the wood is a brawl, each stain on the tables and floor an act of incident or passion, only they know. But I'm not here for a history lesson. I'm here because you should be here... Nemesis... This place is much like you so it's fitting you treat this place as a home away from home..."

Holiday takes a drink of the Rusty Nail sitting in front of him. "Imagine my disappointment when I came through those doors, ordered your drink, and proceeded to sit in your corner, but you were not here.. I've been watching you Rex.. You won't ever have to worry about putting forth effort to find me because I will find you."

Holiday takes a puff from his cigar as he stands to approach the bar. Leaning against it on his right elbow the camera picks up the trashed scene behind him with a broken TV, glasses broken and thrown everywhere, liquor bottles shattered in the rack, chairs and stools overturned, and the bartender slumped over the bar clutching her arm silently sobbing.

"It's time to pay the Devil his Dues Nemesis.. You've been running on borrowed time long enough and he sent The Chosen One to collect.."

Holiday then reaches back and brushes the hair away from the bartenders face, her makeup streaked down her young blushing cheeks.

"Or do you need more incentive?"

The camera fades to black.

After the main event ended the aMx are seen walking towards the back and are stopped by announcer Linda Miles.

Miles: gentlemen. Could I have a word.

Ecks: You can have what ever you like sweetheart.

Mj1: horale! Take it easy B! I just won an exciting match up girl. You can buy my mask at hot topic for 14.99 B! Go get yourself aMxed up!

Miles: ummm, no it's okay. Anyways, it seems that you have beaten Snow with that crazy roll up of yours, how does it feel to be back?

Mj1: yo let me tell you sumpthin B, I can get crazy in that ring, I beat him fair and square like he wanted and now I want me a title shop B.

Ecks: Shot! He wants a shot! At the title! He deserves one man! Give the Mysterious one a shot at the belt Pantherman!

Mj1: for reals B! I beat your mang fair and square mang! Give me a chance at that belt B!!!

Ecks: yeah Cobra! We want a shot at your gold too sucka! I will never forgive you for what you did to Janie Ecks, we the aMx do not forgive or forget! Maybe a few chair shots to the noggin ought to wake them up too.

Mj1: I am comin for your belt Pantermang! OGC and the WTHIT is comin!!! And if you don't understand, then here. HORALE! VENGO POR TU CINTURON! CABRON! ARRIBA LA RAZA!!!

Scene fades to black

(Tiger Fury is sitting in a chair slumped against the wall in the Medical Aid area of the PWA Arena. He has cuts all over his chest and his fist tape is bloodied. As a cameras approaches his for comment he sits upright and looks into the camera.)

Fury: What you saw out there tonight was two men putting it all on the line. I promised that I would come out on top and that’s exactly what I did. The new NWC champion Akira Wyld was pinned in the ring tonight in a match that he signed for. That makes me the number one contender for that title, Akira! You can get in front of the camera and talk all you want about the odds being in my favor or this being my type of match. The FACT is that when it was all said and done I walked out of the ring with MY hand raised and you left knowing that there’s someone out there who can take that title from you in the blink of an eye!

Akira, take pictures of yourself with the belt for memories sake and then shine it up REAL nice because the next time we meet, in any arena across the country, I’m taking the NWC championship with me! You’re good, but I’m great! You’re yesterday’s news and I’m what’s happening right now! You’re the champion....but not for long!

(The scene fades to black.)

***The scene opens backstage at the PWA Arena. Akira Wyld is seated in a makeup chair, facing a lighted mirror. The NWC World Championship belt is folded on the table nearby. Akira is gingerly peeling a bloodied bandage off his forehead while looking in the mirror. He winces as the bandage reopens a scalp wound, causing a tiny rivulet of blood to trickle down his brow. He frowns and slams his hand on the table. He turns sharply toward the camera and points to his healing head wound.***

WYLD: “Do you see this? Do you see this right here? I’m a busy man. Being NWC Champion... being the FACE of this industry... comes with a whole apple cart of responsibilities and time commitments. This week alone, I’ve had three MAJOR press interviews with nationally recognized wrestling news outlets. I’ve had two photo shoots for PWA merchandise. I’ve had a full body computer scan for an action figure. And I’ve had to do it all... with this DAMN blood-soaked bandage plastered to my head!”

***Wyld grabs the gore crusted wrap in one hand and shakes it at the camera before throwing it across the room in disgust.***

WYLD: “And do you know WHY I’ve had to wear that bandage? Do you know WHY I had to spend the night in the hospital with 76 staples holding my scalp together? Do you know why AKIRA WYLD, the finest in-ring technician the world has ever seen, and YOUR world champion... had to walk around wrapped up in gauze and medical tape like a mummy, covered with punctures and lacerations and contusions? It’s all because of that SOCIOPATH Tiger Fury and the damned PWA King of Deathmatch Tournament! Last week at Assault I entered the ring as the standard bearer for an entire industry. After a hard week of traveling the world, representing PWA across three different promotions...I came home this dirtball organization to proudly stand for all that is right and just in professional wrestling. I came back to Assault to walk down that ramp and put on a world class wrestling clinic for an undeserving arena of inbred, ingrate fans! I came to that ring in good faith with my chest out and my head held high... because that’s what champions do! And how was I rewarded for my bravery? How was I repaid for the sacrifices I made for company and industry? I was dragged through twenty minutes of pure, barbed-wire-wrapped hell by a man who should be IN PRISON for the horrors he’s unleashed on this sport!”

***Wyld stands and wrings his hands as he paces back and forth in front of the camera.***

WYLD: “Tiger Fury is an ANIMAL. He’s a disrespectful, unhinged monster who has no business being in the ring with Akira Wyld! And that joke of a tournament? I’m done! Good riddance to a bad idea from an underhanded hack! I stood tall for two rounds in that... that... MOCKERY of a wrestling tournament, and that’s two more than you blood thirsty, subhuman, scabs deserve! A real champion doesn’t wrap himself in barbwire! A real champion doesn’t stoop to relying on fluorescent light tubes and broken tables and wire-wrapped baseball bats to win his matches! ‘The King of the Deathmatch’... Akira Wyld is too GOOD for bingo hall garbage match trophy like that anyway! Why should I put my health and my safety on the line for some tin-foil and duct tape false crown like that? I’m too good... and Nakamura Yamasaki is too good! The Union has bigger fish to fry... so Tiger Fury, the floor is yours. You and those other idiots have fun killing each other for Damion Black’s amusement! And when you’re ready to wrestle a REAL technician... when you’re ready to face a TRUE standard bearer of this sport... look me up and we can have a proper rematch to settle our score... one that doesn’t rely on spilling blood for sadists.”

***Wyld reaches over and snatches up the title belt.***

WYLD: “Of course... when we fight again it won’t be for THIS title you understand... see, this title is for MEN... not animals. You’re nothing but a savage lowlife... last week at Assault proved that. So enjoy your tainted victory... and stay in your lane big man... shorten your career wallowing in barbed wire with the hardcore garbage wrestlers. The WORLD CLASS champions like me have more fitting competition on their horizon.”

***Wyld stops pacing and throws the title over his shoulder.***

WYLD: “Speaking of competition... a couple weeks ago... Robert MacElroy and Kevin Starr made the fatal mistake of thinking they got one over on the Union. At the end of Assault, our esteemed PWA Heavyweight Champion and wrestling’s eternal party host thought they finished the get standing tall. Well now that Nakamura and I are free from that ridiculous sham of a tournament... we can refocus on our most pressing goal. And that’s making MacElroy and Starr and anyone else who thinks they can hang with the greatest faction in wrestling history pay! At Assault we are going to show those two trumped up , overrated losers what happens when you stand in the way of the working man. This week at Assault, the Union begins the next phase of its master plan... and PWA gets one step closer to being OURS. In one night, the Union is going to break both of the men who have held the PWA Heavyweight Championship, proving once and for all that the NWC World Champion is the true standard bearer for this company... for this sport... for this way of life! Natural...Hard Man... this weekend you two are going to pay your union dues!”

***Wyld reaches up to brush his silver hair out of his face, and smears a huge streak of blood from his scalp wound across his forehead.***

WYLD: “Dammit!”

***End scene.***