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RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!! Ferraro: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with no time limit, and it is for the undisputed Old Line Wrestling Imperial Heavyweight Championship! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!! Ferraro: Introducing first, the challenger! BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! Ferraro: Weighing in at 256 lbs! He is a former IWA Heavyweight Champion, former CAL World Tag Team Champion, and a former CAL World Champion! Hailing from Wildwood, New Jersey, he is… JJJJEEEFFFFF… AAAAAAAAAAAAANNNDDDRRREEWWWSSSS!!!! # C’MON GET UP! # Conarri: Stern Shamrock once termed this man on his way out to the ring the King of the Bittermen. Bob Masters termed him the most self-destructive force on the face of professional wrestling. Kai Scott, however, called him the best survivor he’d ever seen, and surely, Andrews’ presence in this match, not a month after having been quietly released, supports Kai Scott’s point of view. # You better back up off this sucker punch # Stanton: You know, Andrews and Avarice are so alike that they scare me. But where Avarice is cold blooded and calculating, Andrews is a tornado of sheer rage. And… BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! [Leslie is drowned out by the crowd as Andrews steps out onto the ramp. He raises one fist in the air…] FFFOOOOOOOOSSSSHHH---BBBOOOOOOMMM!!!!! [A pair of pyros rocket up behind Andrews as he raises that fist, exploding overhead.] # So just flush it down # Conarri: And Andrews, amazingly, looking more muscular than ever. Tracie introduced him at 256, and I’d like to remind our fans that Andrews spent the majority of his career at 221, dropping down to 207 in the year 2002. Styles: Yeah, I’m thinking that the rage and the build are related. [Andrews also sports black long tights. On the right leg, his last name is emblazoned in jagged red letters. On the left, emblazoned in silver, is his occasionally used moniker… “The Man”. Over his shoulders, he’s thrown the distinctive ratty leather jacket he used to wear during his “Low Man Immortal” days.] # Cataract scratch we don’t like play that # [Andrews is nearly radiating with fury as he stomps down the ramp, ignoring the fans and the thrown garbage.] Conarri: After the CAL closed, Andrews’ career, for lack of a better word, nose dived. He formed a trios tag team with Ultra Raptor and Yaz Illika – the latter of course now goes by Yoshikazu YAZ, and the former unmasked, and later simply quit OLW citing poor treatment by staff as the reason. After the breakup of the Andrews/Raptor/YAZ team, Andrews just quietly fell off the radar. # They always said to # [As he nears ringside, Andrews stops. Although the general response is highly negative, a group of fans in the front row, totally maybe six, have taken to bowing. Grinning, Andrews stops his storm to the ring to go greet these fans, exchanging high fives, and even letting a female fan reach over the guardrail and hug him.] # …fiction addiction # Stanton: He’s the definition of a cult favorite, Jeff is. What he did to get this title shot was so disgusting that I’ll actually be routing for Avarice. But he has fans who think he’s, well, “The Man.” Styles: He’s got other wrestlers that think he’s the greatest! Hey, there’s three ways to do things – the right way, the wrong way, and the Jeff Andrews way! Which is wrong, but awesomer. # Cataract scratch we don’t like play that # [Andrews leaps onto the apron and, despite his added size, springs over the top rope lightly, landing with a crash. Flinging himself off the ropes, he leaps to the top rope and throws one fist in the air.] BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! # When it rains it pours we tug of war within # [The music fades.] Ferraro: And the opponent. Conarri: Here we go. Tonight could be the last hurrah for this man as OLW Champion. Styles: Don’t sell him short yet Ceet. If he can overcome Andrews, he can overcome anyone in War Games. Stanton: Styles is right. But it’s been a long nine months for Avarice as champion. In any case, let’s see what history has in store. [The lights fade and the fans roar. On the big screen…]
[Red strobe lights begin to scatter across the arena. Nine inch Nails’ “Dead Souls,” the trademark of the champion, sounds slowly, pulsating, getting louder with every passing second.] Ferraro: Hailing from Wessex, England, now residing in Manhattan, weighing 270 pounds; accompanied to the ring by Her Grace the Duchess of Wessex, Marissah Whitely-Lancaster, PhD; he is a former Coalition of Affiliated Leagues World Heavyweight Tag Team Champion; he is the leader of The Iconoclasm, the Commissioner of Old Line Wrestling, and the reigning AND undisputed Old Line Wrestling Imperial Heavyweight Champion…he is the “Evolution of Essence,” the “Shatterer of Dreams,” and the “Destroyer of Worlds”…AVARICE! # Someone take these dreams away # [The Duchess enters the arena first, a red spot light drawing her along. She is in a long silk dress as always, this time done in black; her lipstick is black, as are her finger nails; only the dreaded Blood Amulet in silver marks any contrast to her apparel.] Conarri: I can’t remember if Andrews has had the “privilege” of having “joined” her Blood Amulet. I hope for his sake it won’t happen tonight, if not. Stanton: I gotta get a hold of where she gets her clothes from. [The Champion is next.] # They keep calling me # Conarri: And there he is…and no matter what I, or anyone in OLW thinks of him, he has ruled for nine months, and his physical acumen is as sharp as day one. The man’s record speaks for itself also. He has held eleven championships in six federations. Stanton: The fans are all on their feet. Many cheering. Styles: As they should. But damn Jeffro is just as cool. Shit. [A separate spotlight trails him as he enters; crimson coloured sparks flood behind him in a waterfall. His attire does not betray the magnitude of the night before him: his usual black trunks with gold hilt of sword emblazoned on the back; black leather gloves up to his elbow, and high black leather boots with three straps around them to fasten them to the leg. On his waist his OLW Imperial Championship; its platinum and diamonds reflect what light hits it from the spotlight.] # The figures from the past stand tall # [The Duchess is first into the ring who stares daggers through Jeff Andrews, who ignores them completely. Avarice onto the ring apron and removes his title, and as the lights raise…] Conarri: ANDREWS NOT WAITING with a spear RIGHT through the second rope and onto the floor below!! [The referee is stunned by Andrews’ assault and orders the bell rung. He quickly grabs the Imperial Title and holds it aloft in the air for all to see, and then hands it to Tracie Ferraro for safe keeping. The count also begins as Andrews picks himself off the ground and continues the attack.] Styles: Andrews is a tough son of a bitch and for what went down earlier tonight, there’s going to be hell to pay. Stanton: For each competitor. Conarri: Absolutely right guys, and Avarice has gotten himself up, but Andrews is on him again! [Jeff dives back atop of Avarice, pummeling him with fists to the temple; the champion tries to cover up, and manages to turn the tables, rolling atop of Andrews, he now smashing angry fists to the face of his opponent. Andrews manages to get out of it as both men separate, the referee admonishing them to get into the ring.] Conarri: The champion swings, BLOCKED by Andrews, who retaliates! [Avarice gets a fist to the mush, stunning the Englishman, allowing Andrews to hurtle him into the steel steps.] Stanton: Ouch. Styles: I’m already loving this. [The fans at ringside yell encouragements at both men, inciting them to hurt each other more. Andrews taunts Avarice to have at him, as the latter peels himself from off the steps to charge in with yet another blow attempt. Andrews levels a boot to the stomach, and attempts an Irish whip.] Conarri: Andrews, Irish whip…whoa no reversed by Avarice, sending Andrews stiff into the barrier. [Avarice charges in with a full head of steam, only to be backdropped into the front row of seats!] RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! Conarri: THIS is quickly getting out of hand here! [Charlie Strembatel has had enough and has exited the ring, ignoring any pretense of a count-out, and begins waving his arms in the air wildly and yelling at the two to start the match properly.] Styles: Charlie’s wasting his breath. Stanton: Like you do oxygen. Styles: Baby why you gotta be like dat. [The fans at ringside have scampered aside as the Champion lays in a heap of chairs. Andrews measures his timing and once again DIVES, this time over the barrier and on to Avarice again.] Conarri: Holy CRAP. Stanton: The hatred is just boiling over. Styles: There’s no hammerlocks or take-downs. Just pure beating the holy SHIT out of each other. [More punches, more blocks, as Andrews manages to stumble to his feet, being kicked backwards by Avarice; Andrews returns however with a diving ax handle to the cranium. Jeff grabs Avarice by the trunks and hurls him back over the barrier and onto the ground. Marissah shrieks in the background and lobs abusive words at Andrews, who simply ignores the taunting.] Conarri: She’d better watch herself, we all know what that man is capable of. [Andrews climbs over the barrier himself, and pushes past Strembatel, and stalks Marissah, who has the gall to get right into his face.] Stanton: Go on Marissah, teach the son of a bitch a lesson. [The two argue, Jeff nodding his head as if to take her threats and abuse seriously.] OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH. Styles: Damn did I just see that? Conarri: Her shoving, or attempting to shove Andrews…yeah… [Jeff returns her shove, gently, causing her to stumble a bit backwards, and then pulls back with his fist, about to strike. Fear fills her eyes momentarily until he laughs and relents; noting that Charlie has returned to the ring along with Avarice…and the count is reaching seven.] Conarri: Andrews doesn’t want to lose the Heavyweight Title on a count out…Avarice is still looking ripe for the pickings though, resting on the ropes after being dismantled by the chairs and the fans at ringside. [Andrews saunters up and seeing the Champion winded, lays into him with a stiff chop to the midsection.] Styles: Chopping is an art form. I really think so. And that was a MASTERPIECE. Stanton: Woooooooooo. [The Champion grasps his chest in pain as Andrews lifts his head up and winds into him again with another slice. The sound of hand on skin reverberates across the arena.] Conarri: Andrews is just slicing into Avarice. [Jeff turns his back momentarily to point at Avarice, grasping his red chest.] BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [The moment is all Avarice needs as he out of nowhere straightens himself up in the corner; his facial expression changes, his chest heaves.] Styles: Jeffro turn aroundddd… [Avarice unloads with a massive chop of his own, square into Andrews’ chest. Jeff retaliates with another of his own, Avarice then aims and hits another chop…Jeff once more with a heavy blow, but it is Avarice who turns the tables at last and smacks Andrews with a European uppercut, stunning him.] Stanton: I think Avarice has had enough for now. [Jeff staggers backwards, and turns back around still stunned, as Avarice reaches around his skull and sticks his head under his chin, driving the top of his skull into Andrew’s chin.] Conarri: That’ll loosen a few teeth as Avarice drops to his knees with that jawbreaker. [Upon landing on his knees, he is quick to jam a swift elbow to Jeff’s midsection, and then rise back up with another uppercut to the jaw. Avarice then charges forward with his arm and shoulder against Jeff’s waist, and drives him into the corner. He delivers stiff shoulders to Jeff, as the referee begins his five to get the two men out of the corner. Avarice uses to four before he’s ordered out.] Conarri: Charlie giving Avarice an earful about keeping in that corner…and OH my… [Avarice smacks Andrews in the face with a slap, which causes Marissah to applaud loudly outside. Andrews is miffed to say the least, and charges in.] Stanton: Avarice with a little game here…nice drop toe hold to get Jeff down, too. [Jeff does fall with said drop toe hold. Both men back up, Avarice with a hip toss, sending Jeff down, back to his feet however, and is knocked down with a drop kick. Andrews rolls out of the ring and slams the canvas, as the fans at ringside shower him with boos.] BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [Marissah takes the time to head towards Jeff and to shout more unkind words. Jeff raises his middle finger to her, which gets some cheers, but Marissah, always the lady, flips the bird right back.] Stanton: Fight the power, sister. Styles: Taunting Andrews might not be too bright though. [Avarice seeing his chance…] Conarri: The Champion NAILS Andrews with that baseball slide. And he’s not going to let up for one moment…he SLAMS Jeff into the barrier. [Andrews is slammed repeatedly head first into the ringside barrier, but as Avarice goes for another one, he is elbowed in the face; Jeff then lashes out with a huge clothesline, taking his opponent down.] Conarri: Nice turn around by Jeff, and he…LOOK at him he’s just kicking the crap out of Avarice!! Styles: Better watch the count stillll… [Indeed Andrews is hammering Avarice with stiff boot shots to the head and back, as Avarice scrambles to escape the onslaught. Both men hear the count reaching past five, and dive into the ring simultaneously; Jeff being faster though, he takes the Englishman down with a double axhandle to the head.] Conarri: Jeff wit his speed advantage taking out the slower Champion, and now a BLATANT choke hold…we’re not seeing too much damn wrestling! Styles: But we are seeing a damn FIGHT. [The ref calls for a break of the choke, but Andrews is relentless, pushing the ref to his limit, before finally releasing. Avarice, gasping for air, is kicked in the head by the rising Andrews, and is picked up and hurled to the ropes, where he’s taken down with a tremendous powerslam, driving the air out of Avarice.] Conarri: High impact move by the challenger!! Pin!! ONE! TWOOO…
Styles: Two and a half, you need to do a lot more to get a win, especially in this match. But Jeffro’s taking it to Avarice. [Andrews doesn’t let up though and knows he must do more. He drops a big elbow on the back of his foe’s neck, and then another, and measuring Avarice, waits for him to rise before charging in and hitting a swinging neckbreaker. Avarice grasps his neck and is pinned again!] ONE! TWO…. Conarri: Another near fall, but Avarice still kicks out, and Jeff wants to dismantle him. Stanton: Marissah is doing a lot of pacing on the outside. [Andrews then attacks the legs, with vicious stomps, and grabbing up both legs whilst Avarice is on his back, splits them apart forcefully in a snap, holding on to the left leg, and then dropping all his weight down with an elbow to the knee socket.] Conarri: Jeff Andrews picking away at Avarice’s knee, and the Champion is being taken to the woodshed thus far…Avarice though trying to use that free leg to attack Andrews! [And that is exactly what Avarice does, using that other leg to strike atop Jeff’s cranium, mashing his thigh and calf muscle into Andrews, causing the hold to be broken. Jeff rolls off, cradling his head, gets to his feet, but is taken down by a leg sweep, and Avarice rolls over himself and grabbing one of Andrews’ legs, cinches in a grapevine ankle lock!] Conarri: ANKLE LOCK! ANKLE LOCK!! [The fans burst to their feet as Avarice hooks in the deadly submission hold. Avarice’s face strains as he pulls back, as Jeff yells in agony.] Styles: Jeff is near the ropes but he needs to get there soon!! [As Charlie Strembatel checks if Jeff wants to submit, the Duchess has hopped up onto the apron and is busy at work untying a turnbuckle pad.] Stanton: GO Marissah go, hurry the hell up girl. Conarri: LOOK at this Avarice is stooping low here. Styles: HE’s not stooping low, only his wife is. And she’s a babe. [Marissah has done her work just as Jeff grabs a bottom rope. Charlie orders the hold broken and it is, just before five, pushing Avarice back. Jeff winces and pulls himself up using the ropes, but Avarice charges past the ref, careful not to exert too much pressure on his legs, and hooks in a belly-to-back suplex.] Conarri: Avarice with a superbly executed suplex, and Andrews landed awkwardly on that one. [The Englishman wastes no time picking Andrews up and getting him up in a double underhook slam.] Styles: The Imperial Champion is beginning to take toll on Andrews, I can feel it! Stanton: And he hasn’t used that exposed turnbuckle…yet. [A quick pin fall only gets two, and Andrews is grabbed up again, and is Irish whipped, but somehow he reverses it, sending Avarice into the ropes. Jeff drops his head for a backdrop, but Avarice jumps over top, and he reaches in and…] Conarri: DREAMS OF…NO!!! [The fans assembled en masse at the arena jumped out of their seats briefly, as Avarice looked to have the cobra clutch locked on, but Jeff instinctively mule kicked his way out of it.] Conarri: Avarice falls to his knees and…oh wait… Styles: OH YEAH he spotted that exposed buckle. Pay back might be a bitch for Marissah’s conniving…but damn she’s hot. [Jeff’s expression turns to one of anger as he turns to Avarice who is still on his knees, and hits him with a knee lift to the jaw. He quickly picks him up and holding Avarice’s trunks, drives him into the corner with the removed pad, and commences to ram Avarice’s forehead into the metal.] Conarri: Each blow is going to take Avarice out of this match MORE AND MORE!! Styles: COME ON REF stop this…this BRILLIANCE. DAMMIT!!! [Charlie steps in again and orders a break, and when he does, Jeff lets go of Avarice’s head, and the camera catches crimson slowly trickling down – and the Champion simply collapses on his own weight onto his back.] Conarri: Jeff with a WICKED GRIN now as Avarice is laid almost FLAT OUT! Styles: He can end this…maybe?? Stanton: Avarice is bleeding heavily into his eyes… [Jeff mounts the top ropes slowly as once more the fans rise…] Conarri: A THOUSAND flashes go off…SENTON BOMB!! [Jeff rolls off as his back slams into Avarice’s midsection, already sore from the mule kick. Jeff crawls back slowly and hooks a leg!!!!] ONE….
TWOOOOOOOO….
THRRRR…. Conarri: KICK OUT!! Stanton: Not yet, not enough…Marissah looked like she was about to pass out. [Andrews hits the mat in frustration as he holds up “two fingers” to Charlie, who indicates that the shoulder was indeed off the mat before three.] [Undeterred, Jeff runs off the ropes and drops a leg over Avarice’s throat, and then without much difficulty, drags Avarice over to the rope and drapes his neck over the second. Jeff again hurtles off the far ropes and comes crashing down onto Avarice’s frame.] Conarri: ANOTHER devastating attack by Andrews…Avarice is still bleeding and his throat must be suffering gravely! [Jeff, feeling his confidence rise, stands back momentarily, and after several moments Avarice rises to his feet, resting against the ropes. Jeff launches forward but is backdropped over the top rope…right onto the canvas. He smacks Avarice in the back of the head with an elbow, causing Avarice to stumble forward and about.] Conarri: Jeff can capitalize here in a big way!! [And indeed Jeff does as he launches off with a springboard clothesline.] Styles: CAUGHT in mid air by the Champion…BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX! [Jeff crumples to the canvas as Avarice, somehow gets back to his feet immediately; his chest heaves, he wipes the blood off his forehead, and lets out a yell.] Stanton: Watch. [Avarice seeks out Jeff and with his black boot, begins to drive and drag it across Andrew’s face, grinding it and twisting the skin on his face.] Conarri: That’s going to leave a mark… Styles: Understatement, Ceet. Look. [Andrew’s skin was sufficiently marred to cause the crimson to erupt.] Stanton: Get out the amulet! [Avarice is content with the damage done and kicks Andrews hard in the ribs, causing him to roll out of the ring. Avarice follows, ignoring any counts, and is met with a stiff right hand, which he blocks, and then begins to smash stiff fists to the head of Andrews, before leveling him with a haymaker to bloodied spot on his forehead.] Conarri: The CHAMPION explodes with offense…and I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, hate the son of a bitch all you want, but he wears the gold for a reason. [Jeff is down on his back as Avarice grabs his legs and wrapping his arms around them, slingshots Jeff up and into the steel steps!] Conarri: AMAZING FEAT OF STRENGTH! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! [Hearing the count reach high, Avarice doesn’t hesitate to grab Jeff up and toss him into the ring, following suit immediately. Jeff, bleeding, wobbling, is an easy target for…] Conarri: DESTROYER OF WORLDS!! Stanton: He’s got it right in the middle of the ring!! Styles: YESSSS!! NOOOOOOO! [The fans are at attention and count in unison with Head Referee Charlie Strembatel]: ONE. TWO.
THREEE… Conarri: KICK OUT. ANDREWS KICKED OUT!!! Stanton: JEFF IS THE MAN. Styles: DAMMIT!! I mean YES!! I mean…DAMMIT!!! [The Andrews marks erupt in cheers as Avarice marks boo harshly, as Marissah yells obscenities at the referee.] Conarri: Avarice has to regain his composure here, but Jeff is still laying on that mat…he’s hurt. Styles: They’re both hurt. Stanton: And no matter who wins here, War Games is going to be a hell of a ride for either of them. [Avarice shakes his head and walks over to the turnbuckles and begins to ascend slowly. He measures his target, and jumps.] Conarri: FLYING ELBOW to the sternum! Styles: PIN HIM!! I mean…DON’T!! DAMMIT!! [Marissah shrieks at Avarice to pin Andrews, but he ignores her hysterical pleas, to mount the corner turnbuckle again. He holds his arms aloft in the air, and jumps again, connecting, again. Andrews quivers on the mat from the shock of 270 pounds crashing down on his body.] Conarri: My God it’s over. Stanton: He’s STILL not going for it!! [Indeed the “Destroyer of Worlds” has not had enough as he picks himself up and climbs the turnbuckle again. Marissah runs over and slams the apron, as the two begin to exchange words.] Conarri: Looks like there’s some dissention here between husband and wife!! Styles: Come on woman shut up! Stanton: You should take your own advice. Styles: Les why don’t you OW. [The bickering seems to go on and on until…] Conarri: ANDREWS KIPS UP!!! Styles: WHAT?? [Avarice spots his arisen foe, who still appears to be on jelly legs and goes for an aerial assault….to no avail.] Conarri: SUPER KICK!! SUPER KICK!!!! [Andrews timed his kick with exact precision Rolex would be proud of, knock Avarice into the middle of next week.] Styles: PIN HIM! NEW CHAMPION!!! Erm…KICK OUT!! COME ON AVARICE!! DAMMIT!! [Jeff looks down at Avarice, laid flat out, but shakes his head “no.” He picks up the near motionless Englishman and slaps on a reverse full nelson, and with a mighty shout, lifts him and drives him down with…] Conarri: ANDREWS DRIVER!!! Styles: THREE!!! Stanton: Oh God that can shatter the neck. [Andrews rolls over with a pin.] ONE.
TWO…
THREE……… Conarri: KICK OUT. He’s NOT DONE. THE CHAMPION IS NOT DONE!! Styles: He’s the ETERNAL CHAMPION REMEMBER!!! [Jeff, breathing heavily, grabs Avarice up and smacks him harshly in the head. Avarice with a wild swing connects with air, and is rolled up in a school boy!] ONE……. TWOOOOOOO……….. THREEEEEEEEE…………… Conarri: ANOTHER ESCAPE by Avarice. Styles: JEFFRO COME ON BUDDY!! [Once more Jeff hurriedly – as much as possible – stands to and grabs Avarice by the head; a kick to the midsection and Jeff locks in a standing headlock, and looks to go for a bulldog.] Conarri: BULLDOG coming…no! Stanton: Avarice pushes off! Styles: Jeff off the ropes with a CLOTHESLINE!!! Stanton: Avarice DUCKED IT! Conarri: DREAMS OF AVARICE! [The fans erupt as the cobra clutch of the Champion is applied, blood still pouring down from both men’s foreheads. The considerable head damage Jeff has suffered makes the move all the more deadly.] Stanton: He’s got it hooked in VERY WELL this time around – Jeff is fading fast!! Styles: YESS!!! I mean…NO!! DAMMIT! [The referee is down to one knee, asking Jeff if he wants to submit. The Champion yells and applies an increasing amount of pressure. Jeff has no reply, and is nearly out.] Conarri: If he checks that arm three times and gets no reply… [The ref checks once. It falls.] ONE! [He checks a second time. Same result.] TWO! Conarri: MY GOD LOOK! [In the ring stands a man standing behind where the two are locked in combat. He rebounds off the ropes and hurls his leg in the air, directly at the back of Avarice’s cranium.] SMACKKKKK!!! [And connects perfectly.] Styles: WHAT A MOV…I MEAN…AM I SEEING THIS!? [Everyone’s jaw in the arena is nearly agape, beholding the man who just nailed Avarice into next week. Avarice dropped the hold and is now on his back, cradling the back of his head, where Andrews is on his hands and knees, violently shaking his head to try and get his bearings back.] Stanton: KAI…SCOTT!?!? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!! [The president of OLW glares darkly down at Avarice. A kendo stick dangles lazily from his right hand as he [Strembatel, distracted, he too in shock, comes to and naturally, signals for the bell.] DING DING DING!!! BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! [In the ring, Kai is standing over Andrews, who is slowly beginning to get to his feet. Avarice is now near the ropes, as Marissah has arrived to try and console him.] Ferraro: Here is your winner, as a result of a disqualification…and STILL, UNDISPUTED Old Line Wrestling Imperial Heavyweight Champion…the “Destroyer of Worlds,” AVARICEEEEEE! BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! [The ref is handed the title, who subsequently moves to where Avarice is on the canvas, and hands it to him. Avarice rolls out of the ring and onto his feet, as Marissah screams with glee that the title has not switched hands to the man she deplores.] Conarri: The Champion RETAINS! No War Games for Jeff… Styles: And no title either. But I think he has his hands full with someone else!! Stanton: Why the HELL did the Prez do that?? [Andrews, the rage that’s becoming his personal trademark, lurches to his feet and starts towards Scott – but Scott, without turning to look at him, extends that kendo stick to its full length, the tip right under Andrews’ chin. With slow, measured steps, Scott uses the kendo stick to back Andrews into the turnbuckle.] Styles: When neutral evil kicked lawful evil in the head and bitched out chaotic evil… Kai Scott is the most dangerous motherfucker in the game, bar none. [Still pinning Andrews in the corner – Andrews’ fury has faded enough that he’s looking at his former tag partner with amazement rather than hate – Scott twitches his left hand, calling for a microphone.] Conarri: This is… Scott: …You stupid fuck. I told you Max would win… [Lowering the kendo stick and simply dropping the mic, Scott steps directly out of the ring. Jeff wipes the blood off his forehead with a hand and smears it on his trunks as he continues to watch before slowly stepping out of the ring himself.] Conarri: Fans, Avarice is still the champion, and this means Andrews will NOT get a chance to repeat as the winner of War Games. But don’t think the bad blood between these two men is nearly over. And if Kai Scott’s back to being actively involved in wrestling… Stanton: It means Bad Things. Conarri: Well said. |