The show opens to a jam packed arena in Trenton, New Jersey. Pyro blasts all over the place and the fans go freaking nuts. We head to John and Randy, who are prepared to call all the action tonight.

JC: What a night it's going to be, folks. For the first time ever, Shadow has a shot at the SFT World Heavyweight Title.

RW: We will also witness the last match of Mike Zybala as he takes on Megan the Monster and the randomly appearing former three time SFT Champion Aj Nin Red Rum.

JC: Can't forget about the huge special challenge tag team match of Blood Money versus Nirvana and Annika Reizeger. This is one stacked show...

Suddenly, the lights cut out and the StrikeTron cuts to static.

JC: What's this?

RW: It seems as if we're having a bit of technical difficulty...

A dark gold light pulses with each of the following lines as they are spoken slowly over the sound system.

"This fire..."
"Burn this city..."

The lights cut back on as the crowd buzzes.

RW: Well what the hell was that about?

JC: ...Let's just get on with the show...

The Lion versus Nigella Helms-King
(Singles Match)

JC: Let’s get this show started.

RW: Yeah!

JC: First match, Nigella Helms-King makes her debut appearance in the ring.

RW: Not true… Remember, Nigella was formerly known as Sophia DuBois, a former Intercontinental Champion and Flesh and Bone Champion.

JC: You are very right, sir. How could I forget such a thing?

RW: Her opponent is Lion, who has been rather absent of late.

JC: But he’s here tonight.

RW: In fact, he already waits in the ring for Nigella.

“Dynamite” by Christina Aguilera hits and the lights fall to a dim white. A single spotlight lands on the stage.

Dancing ‘til the morning on a velvet sky
Racing to the top with golden rays of light
I never felt so free and yet so dangerous
The night was electronic painted red with lust

Nigella steps out into the light and quickly throws her arms out in triumph. She moves her head up and down to the music as she slowly makes her way down the ramp toward the ring.

Amanda Summers: Please welcome to the ring, weighting in at 119-pounds hailing from Colts Neck, New Jersey… She is The Child of the Stars… NIGELLA HELMS-KING!

All around me that a change is bout to happen
The energy igniting has become my inspiration
If you take a deeper look you'll find the information
I'm only just a figment of controlled imagination

Nigella quickly slides into the ring and leaps to her feet. She cracks her neck and the lights slowly return to normal. Amanda makes a quick exit as the Lion charges toward Nigella.

JC: And it begins!

RW: I think this is a great match to start of Everything Ends.

The referee calls for the bell and the two lock up in the center of the ring. Lion grabs Nigella by the hair and tosses her into the ropes. She bounces back quickly and narrowlly slides in between Lion’s legs.

RW: Wow. That little girl is quick.

JC: I think she would take offense to that statement.

The Child of the Stars wastes no time and pushes Lion into the turnbuckle. She rushes away only to return seconds later with a dropkick to Lion’s back. Lion falls to the mat. She gets him to his feet but Lion fights back, nailing her in the midsection with a hard right. She backs off. Lion hits a hard clothesline and she falls to the mat. Lion picks her up by the hair and she struggles to fight back.

JC: Ow.

RW: Hair pulling is not cool.

JC: Lion with a beautiful suplex there.

RW: That seemed to knock the wind out of Nigella real quick.

Lion bounces off the ropes and lands an elbow onto Nigella’s chest. He lifts Nigella to her feet. Like a blast of lighting, Nigella grabs his arm, twists and holds him tightly in an armbar. She growls and throws him into the ropes. He returns to meet boot to the face. He falls back, hitting the mat.

JC: Wait, what, who is that?

RW: What, where?

JC: On the ramp… Coming down to the ring…

RW: I haven’t the slightest idea.

A young girl comes running down the ramp in blue jeans and a t-shirt wearing a backstage pass around her neck. Nigella turns to look and is shocked and distracted by what she sees. She throws her arms at the girl climbing into the ring.

JC: This is a wrestling match… Hello?

RW: I guess some things cannot wait.

JC: Well, it’s gonna cost Nigella this match if she’s not careful.

The two girls begin yelling back and forth at one another, exchange words.

RW: Hold on, I know that girl…

JC: Who is then?

RW: That’s Paige… Nigella’s friend.

JC: Oh! Yeah… No idea.

RW: Shut up, this could be good.

Lion sees what is happening, how distracted Nigella is and reaches up, taking her down with a sudden rollup pin. Nigella fights and fights, throwing her arms and feet around as Paige watches in horror.

1…

2…

KICK OUT!

JC: Good God, that would have been bad.

RW: Nigella managed to break free just in time.

Nigella turns back toward Paige, screaming at her and throwing her hands on her head. Lion comes at Nigella but Nigella is quicker and nails him in the face with a left. He falls back, grabbing at his nose and Nigella continues to scream Paige.

RW: Can someone please tell me what the Hell is going on here?

JC: I have no idea.

Nigella throws out her hand toward Paige, telling her to wait. Nigella turns her attention back toward The Lion. She spins around and slams her elbow into The Lion’s face. He drops, grabbing his face.

JC: Oh, look, someone remembered this was a wrestling match.

RW: Very interesting move.

JC: So graceful.

RW: Yes, very.

She returns quickly and hits the Starlight Drop on The Lion. She goes down the cover.

1…

2…

3…

JC: Nigella got the three. Nigella won.

RW: Even with that very pretty distraction standing in the ring.

Winner = Nigella Helms-King

Nigella stands and goes back to Paige. They scream at one another as Nigella’s music begins to play. Nigella pulls away and grabs the microphone from Amanda.

Nigella Helms-King: Are you out of your mind, Paige? What are you doing? You can’t come down here…

Paige: This couldn’t wait any longer.

Nigella looks at Paige with confusion.

JC: What is so important…

Paige grabs Nigella by the face and pulls her toward her. They meet lips. They kiss in the center of the ring. The fans erupt in cheers. Nigella looks shocked as the two kiss, but she quickly falls into it, kissing Paige as much as Paige kisses her.

JC: Oh.

RW: Whoa.

JC: I. Have. No. Words.

RW: Good. We don’t need any.

The World watches as the two girls passionatly kiss in the center of the ring. Lion sits up, leaning up in the turnbuckle and stares at the two, shocked, confused and amused. The fans keep cheering. The girls keep kissing, ignoring the fans, cameras and thousands of people watching them on their television screens. One of them finally opens their eyes and pulls away.

RW: Yes, we’ve been watching this whole time, ladies.

The two look at each other and the fans around them. They laugh and quickly exit the ring. Nigella pulls Paige by the hand up the ramp and they disappear into the back.

JC: That was the best start to a pay-per-view, ever.

RW: Uh huh.

We are preparing for the epic triple threat match when the lights cut out once more. Static again on the StrikeTron.

RW: Is anyone going to fix that?

JC: *sigh*

Again a dark gold light pulses with the following lines:

"This fire..."
"Burn this city, burn this city..."

Just as suddenly as it began everything returns to normal. JC and RW exchange glances of curiosity.

RW: Well uh... Yeah.

Mike Zybala versus Aj Nin Red Rum versus Megan the Monster
(Triple Threat Match)

JC: Our next match is about to begin…

RW: This is the Fans Bring the Weapons Match featuring some of SFT’s Hardcore legends.

JC: It is also the end of an era.

RW: That it is. This is Michael Zybala’s match here in the Towers.

JC: Very sad day, but I’m sure it will be an amazing match.

RW: His two opponents stepped up to face him, to give him the send off he should get.

JC: Yes. Megan the Monster and Aj Nin Red Rum agreed to this match and now we have finally come to it.

Amanda Summers: This match is schedule for one fall, no disqualifications, no holds barred… It is a Fans Bring the Weapons Match!

“Straightjacket” by Alanis Morissette hits and the arena grows dark. Two gold sparklers burst from the stage and a smoke fills the entrance way.
Something so benign for me construed as cruelty,

Such a difference between who I am and who you see.
Conclusions you come to of me routinely incorrect,
I don’t know who you’re talking to with such fucking disrespect.

Megan jumps out from behind the curtain and onto the stage. She throws her arms up and spins around. The crowd explodes in cheers as gold lights flash through the arena.

Your way’s making me mental,
How you filter as skewed interpret.
I swear you won’t be happy ‘til,
I am bound in a straight jacket.

Amanda Summers: Making her way to the ring first, weighting in at 125-pounds, hailing from Liverpool, England, she is the Queen of Hardcore… MEGAN THE MONSTER!

She races down the entrance way, cutting through the white smoke and slides into the ring. She slides into the ring and quickly stands. She spins around in a circle in the center of the ring and jumps up and down. She throws up her arms then swiftly brings them down sending two gold fireworks out from above the ring.

Grand dissonance,
The strings of my puppet are cut.
The end of an era,
Your discrediting’s lost my consent.

She moves her neck from side to side and waits for her opponents. She looks over the odd assortment of weapons laying around the ring and in the hands of the fans.

“Waiting to Die” by (hed) PE hits and Aj Nin Red Rum slowly walks out from behind the curtain. He looks over the crowd, ignoring them for the most part.

Amanda Summers: Next to the ring, weighting in a 245-pounds… AJ NIN RED RUM!

He steps into the ring and looks at Megan then the weapons surrounding the ring.

The opening for “10,000 Fists” starts to play but switches quickly to “Man in a Box” by Alice in Chains. Mike Zybala appears before the curtain wearing a New York Wrecking Crew t-shirt and wrestling tights. He runs to the end of the stage, drops to his knees and bows to the fans. He does this again on the other side.

Amanda Summers: And last to the ring, weighting in at 147-pounds, hailing from Buffalo, New York… He is the Z-Man… MIKE ZYBALA!

He jumps into the crowd and crowd surfs all the way to the ring. He is dropped off next to the ring steps and grabs a two-by-four from the outside. He climbs inside and looks at his two opponents.

The bell rings and Aj Nin Red Rum wastes no time. He charges at Mike but Mike sends him head over stomach with a shot to the midsection with the two-by-four. Megan grabs the two-by-four from Mike unsuspectingly and tosses it away. Mike is surprised. Mike and Megan lock up in the center of the ring. Megan takes control and sends him down with a spinning DDT.

JC: Megan the Monster has taken quick control of this match.

RW: No question.

JC: Let’s see if she can hold onto it.

She bounces off the ropes but Aj Nin trips her and she lands face first. Mike gets to his feet and goes after Aj Nin, hitting with a fireman’s carry. He bursts into action and lands a leg drop onto Aj Nin’s neck. Megan jumps to her feet and an incredibly powerful clothesline. Zybala flies back, becoming tangled inside the ropes. Aj Nin gets to his feet and takes Megan from behind. He suplexes her straight over the ropes onto the outside. Aj Nin Red Rum wastes no time and kicks him the stomach.

JC: Michael is defenseless right now.

RW: He's all wrapped up in those ropes. He can't do anything right now.

JC: Megan is still out cold on the outside.

RW: She doesn't look like she'll be stirring anytime soon.

Aj Nin Red Rum finds a discarded chair in the ring and uses it without malice. He slams it against Zybala's head.

RW: Oh, that was a horrible sound.

JC: Imagine how it felt!

He hits the chair against Michael's head again. Zybala is done. He lifts the chair again, but Megan grabs it before Aj Nin Red Rum can land it. The two fight over the chair and Megan comes out the winner after a kick to Red Rum's stomach. She hits him in the head with the chair. He manages to stay standing, but in a horrible daze. She throws the chair on the mat below him. She throws him down head first onto the chair with a spinning neckbreaker.

JC: Oh!

RW: Ow, I think you mean.

JC: Where did she come from? With that?

Megan leaps to her feet and looks at Zybala as he hangs from the ropes in a daze. She charges at him like mad and clothes him right over the ropes to the outside. She slides out of the ring and grabs a broom stick from a fan. She quickly straddles Zybala and uses the broom stick to choke Zybala. He tries to fight, kicking and throwing his arms around. Megan growls, pressing harder.

JC: Is this how friends really treat each other?

RW: In SFT, this is a test of true friendship.

JC: Beating the shit out of each other.

RW: Yup.

Aj Nin Red Rum gets to feet slowly, his face starting to bleed from a gash on his forehead. Megan finally stops choking Zybala and stands. She turns around to be met by a flying body - the body of Aj Nin Red Rum. The two fall to the mat in a heap.

RW: Wow.

JC: Aj Nin just took out Megan the Monster and himself with that flying crossbody.

RW: All three of them are down and out.

The fans cheer and scream, waiting impatiently for someone to get up. Zybala is the first to move, getting to his feet using the barricade. On his way up, he grabs what appears to be a piece of lumber. He uses it on the back of Aj Nin Red Rum, breaking the board in two. He throws it away and lifts Aj Nin to his feet. Zybala tosses Aj Nin into the barricade and lifts Megan to her feet by the hair. He hits a left to her face then slams her face into the barricade. He does it again. And again. He goes for one shot, but Megan puts her arms out, stopping it. She spins around, sending an elbow to his face. He falls back. Megan grabs him by arm, throws him away and pulls him back into her knee.

JC: That girl doesn't know how to stop.

RW: Why would she?

Megan throws Michael into the ring steps and he crashes against them. She quickly throws his shoulder into the turnbuckle. Zybala stands in a daze and Megan hits him with a punch to the face. Michael answers with a punch to her face. An exchange of punches quickly ensues, driving the two into the announcers table.

RW: Too close. Too close!

JC: We're getting a front row seat, up close and personal with us.

Megan pins Michael against the table, driving a knee into his midsection. Micheal recovers though and spins Megan around, sending her head hard into the table. He throws her on top of the table. JC and RW flee.

JC: We should have seen this coming.

RW: Totally.

Zybala jets back to the ring and climbs up the turnbuckle. He throws his arms up, popping the fans but in this time Aj Nin slides into the ring, chair in hand. Aj Nin jumps and hits the chair into Michael's back. Michael falls limp over the ropes. Aj Nin grabs Michael with all his might and throws Zybala off the turnbuckle, right into the announcers table onto Megan. The table breaks, crumbling to the ground taking Michael and Megan with it.

JC: Oh dear God!

RW: Holy. Shit.

JC: If either of them are alive... I will very surprised.

Holy shit chants fill the arena as Aj Nin Red Rum stands on the turnbuckle, beating his chest, covered in blood. He jumps down and goes to the outside, going straight toward Megan and Zybala. He lifts Michael to his feet while giving Megan a few stomps to the ribs. He drags Michael to the ring-bell and throws his head into the bell. Michael begins to bleed.

JC: Oh, good, more blood.

RW: Always pleasant.

Aj Nin throws Michael into the barricade and he falls flat against the ground in a bloody mess. Aj Nin charges, sending a knee into his face and begins a mess of stomps. Megan finally begins to stir.

RW: Megan is up.

JC: and she has no clue where she is right now.

She stands in a daze as Aj Nin continues to assault Michael with knees and stomps. She turns around and sees a street sign held out toward her. She grabs it and goes for Aj Nin but he sees her coming. He throws out a boot and sends the sign straight back into Megan's head. She falls back, the sign her in the face. Aj Nin Red Rum jumps and lands a leg on the sign, driving it into Megan the Monster's face. He pulls away the sign. Blood is trickling from her face.

RW: Everyone bleeds now.

JC: It's a party!

Megan rolls onto her stomach, fighting to recover. Michael gets to his feet and goes over to Aj Nin Red Rum. He grabs him, turns him around and tosses him back into the ring. Michael goes under the ring and slides out a table. He throws it into the ring and quickly follows after. He starts to set it up but Aj Nin Red Rum stops him, grabbing him and throwing him down with a body-to-body suplex. Aj Nin Red Rum sets up the table now as Megan drags herself to her feet.

RW: A table now.

Megan digs around under the mat now and pulls out a ladder.

JC: And now a ladder.

RW: This is about to get very interesting.

She throws the ladder in, aiming it directly at Aj Nin's feet. It takes him down and he lands face first onto the ladder. Michael gets to his feet and lifts Aj Nin Red Rum to his feet. He throws him into the turnbuckle. Michael hits him with a flying clothesline. Megan steps into the ring and starts to set up the ladder a few feet away from the table. Zybala turns his attention to Megan and charges at her. Megan quickly ducks, spins around and sends him into the ladder with a standing dropkick.

JC: Mike, meet ladder. Ladder, meet Mike.

RW: Megan is using that ladder to her advantage.

She picks up the ladder and sets it up again. Aj Nin comes out of the corner and grabs Megan from behind. He pulls her by the hair and tosses her into the ropes. She comes back and ducks under his attempt of a kick. She returns a second time and hits him with a spinning elbow.

JC: We saw that once before this evening…

RW: Like mother, like daughter.

JC: You’re right.

RW: Megan is now the only one left standing in the ring now.

Megan grabs Mike and lifts him to his feet. She rolls him onto the table and heads up the ladder. She is quickly stopped by Aj Nin who hits her with an ax handle smash. The two begin exchanging weak punches as Mike rolls off the table. He joins the exchange, each wrestler trying to take the advantage over the other two. Mike takes advantage and knocks Aj Nin Red Rum’s and Megan the Monster’s head into each other.

RW: Ha. That’s Michael for you.

JC: Very clever move there.

Mike throws Aj Nin into the turnbuckle and rolls Megan onto the table this time. He heads up the ladder. It does not take long for Megan to roll off the table though and she dashes up on the ladder. Mike and Megan meet at the top and start throwing punches at each other, fighting for control. The ladder rocks back and forth, threatening to fall.

JC: I can’t watch.

RW: I can.

Zybala takes control and simply shoves Megan off the ladder. She flies from the top of the ladder right to the outside where she lands with a thud. Megan the Monster lays on the outside motionless. Holy shit chants start again. Michael looks down at what he did to Megan as Aj Nin Red Rum comes up the other way. Michael just waits for him, screaming at him. The two meet at the top and punch and shove at each other. Michael manages to gain control again and grabs Aj Nin. He lifts, weakly at first, but finally manages to get Aj Nin to come off the ladder. The two come down and crash through the table.

RW: Oh. My. God. Michael just suplexed Aj Nin Red Rum through that table…

JC: From the top of the ladder.

The ref quickly checks on the two of them as they lay in the mess of the broken table. Michael pops up suddenly and looks around him. He sees Aj Nin lying next to him and goes for the cover, locking Aj Nin’s leg.

1…

2…

3…

JC: Michael has done it! Michael has won.

RW: He has defeated both Megan the Monster and Aj Nin Red Rum in this Hardcore battle.

JC: He’s the only one left standing, too.

RW: Amazing. Absolutely amazing.

JC: Mike Zybala gets to leave SFT knowing he fought a hard battle and came out the winner.

RW: It only goes to show how good of a wrestler he is.

Mike gets to his feet and the ref holds up his hand. Megan the Monster manages to sit up, leaning up against the barricade and looking over Mike. She just stares at him and smiles, clutching her head. Aj Nin doesn’t move.

Amanda Summers: Your winner… MIKE ZYBALA!

EMTs come down to the ring and quickly attend to Aj Nin and Megan, but Megan pushes them away. She starts walking up the ramp, looking at Michael in the center of the ring the whole time. Michael turns toward her and throws his finger out at her. She points her finger out at him, smiling.

Winner = Mike Zybala

We come back to JC and RW at ringside, preparing to call the United States Championship.

JC: Ladies and gentleman, you're in store for a hell of a match coming up here in just a minu--

Lights off. Cue static.

RW: God dammit.

"This fire..."
"Burn this city..."

Everything returns to normal.

RW: So we're just going to pretend that that doesn't keep happening eh? Great staff.

JC: This is getting old.

Mikey Genocide* versus Nico Sutton
(United States Title Match)

"Crank That Calvary" by I Set My Friends On Fire hits the speakers to a small array of cheers. Out from the back walks Mikey Genocide with a bottle of water in hand and the United States Title around his waist. He raises his other hand in the air with a cocky smirk on his face as he walks down the ramp. He tosses his bottle into the crowd and sprints the remainder of the way sliding into the ring.

"Whatever You Like" by T.I. plays on the speaker system as the lights black out, white money symbols dance around the entrance ramp as Nico wakes his way to the top iof the ramp. Nico slowly heads down the ramp walking from side to side on his way down flipping stacks of money into the crowd. The fans aren't really into it because it's actually Monopoly money.

Nico gets to the ring and slides in. He instantly charges at Mikey Genocide and goes for a clothesline. Mikey ducks. The opening bell sounds. Nico hits the ropes and goes for a cross body block, but Mikey catches him. Mikey throws him up on his shoulders and goes to hook his legs, but Nico drops down behind Mikey. He puts his arms around Mikey's waist in an attempt at a German suplex, but Mikey blocks.

Mikey counters by going behind Nico and wrapping his arms around Nico's waist. He attempts a German suplex, but Nico blocks with his leg. Mikey goes from the waist to a full nelson, then turns him around in a cravat. With a grin on his face, he drops down with a cravat crusher! The fans errupt as Mikey goes for the cover. Unfortunately for the United States Champion, the challenger kicks out.

Mikey gets to his feet and stalks behind Nico, just waiting for him to get up. When Nico is up, Mikey hits the ropes. As Nico turns around, Mikey goes for the Genocide Effect, but Nico backs away. The champion lands flat on his back and Nico walks over to the champion and goes to pick him up. Mikey swings his legs up and wraps them around Nico's neck, then grabs Nico's arm and feeds it through this lock.

Nico struggles to get out of this dangerous submission hold. When he fails, he tries to use his body weight to push down on Mikey and get his shoulders to touch the mat. He succeeds and the referee goes to count, but he only gets a two count out of this. The challenger starts to fade as he is mere inches from the ropes. The referee raises Nico's arm once and it drops. He raises his arm twice and it drops. The third time he raises Nico's arm, it drops and lands on the middle rope.

The referee yells for Mikey to release the hold. He counts to four and Mikey finally releases the hold, throwing Nico onto his back. Mikey rolls onto his hands and knees and starts pounding on the mat with his fists. He screams out and gets the fans pumped. He waits for a moment as Nico staggers to his feet. When Nico turns facing away from the turnbuckle, Mikey runs and uses the middle rope as a springboard, turns one hundred and eighty degrees, then catches Nico's head, delivering a single knee falling facebreaker, otherwise known as the Genocide Effect!

Mikey Genocide covers Nico Sutton and the referee drops down to count. His hand hits the mat three times and "Crank That Calvary Boy" starts to play to the fan's delight. Mikey holds his championship high in the air as the scene fades to the backstage area...

Winner = Mikey Genocide

Nigella Helms-King walks down the hallway, obviously to the World around her. She turns a corner to see a large group of people standing in her way. She has to get through these people to make it to her locker room. She pushes her way through the people, fighting and struggling passed them all; some of the fans, some of them staff but most of them unimportant to her.

She nods her head, smiling at them as she pushes her way through. She starts to get hot and starts rubbing at her chest. Breathing seems to be difficult for her. She manages to make it through the big group of people, but not unharmed.

JC: What’s wrong with Nigella?

RW: Your guess is good as mine.

Nigella darts off around a corner and slams right into a wall. She falls to the concrete floor, clutching her chest, breathing heavily – not really breathing at all. Tears start to fall. She begins rocking back and forth as she draws her knees into her chest.

RW: Is she dying?

JC: I don’t know…

Johnny Fierce comes around the corner and spots Nigella on the floor, crying, shaking and trying to breathe. He looks at her curiously.

Johnny Fierce: Um, hello.

Nigella looks up him, shocked, even more panicked.

Johnny Fierce: Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?

Nigella can only shake her head no violently.

Johnny Fierce: You sure? You’re looking pretty bad… I mean, like what’s the deal?

Nigella Helms-King: Please… Please, leave me alone.

Johnny Fierce: Kid, I don’t think…

Nigella Helms-King: You think nothing.

Nigella gets to her feet after a struggle and meets eyes with Johnny. She still clutches at her chest and a face ridden with pain.

Nigella Helms-King: You saw nothing. This never happened. Thank you.

Nigella Helms-King takes off running down the hallway, grasping at her chest and having no real direction. Johnny just stands there, confused, his head tilted to the side. He shrugs and walks away.

JC: What just happened?

RW: I think that’s what we call a panic attack.

JC: What?

RW: Yeah, you heard me right.

Josh Konnely* versus Myris
(Intercontinental Title Match)

The toll of a bell struck three times reverberates around the cavernous interior of the Sovereign Bank Arena as the sound of the assembled crowd grows in anticipation of what is to come, and the familiar form of Amanda Summers squeezes between the ring ropes to stand in the centre - microphone in hand and bedecked in a flowing black evening gown.

"The following match, scheduled for one-fall is for the SFT Intercontinental Championship!"

Two men - John Cartwright and Randy White - are sat arguing with each other as the camera focuses on their announcing table. With one a little faster to react than the other, Cartwright nudges his co-commentator with an elbow and flashes a dazzling smile. "Ladies and Gentlemen around the country and around the world, this promises to be a special one right here."

White nodded, "These two have traded some heavy verbal blows this week - Konnely's insinution that his opponent's a cold-blooded killer devoid of Humanity and the latter's claim that the Intercontinental Champion hasn't even understood the message."

"Messages don't mean squat now," Cartwright interjected. "All that matters is the gold on the line, and the Ring in front of us. Squared Circle has a tendency to sort out these squabbles …"

Randy nodded enthusiastically, "Hopefully not too quickly."

Amanda Summers' eyes scan around the throng of people almost spilling over the restraining barriers at ringside. "Introducing the contestants …"

The arena's strobe lighting and sound system scratch to life as "Head like a hole" begins to play and the assembled eyes turn towards the StrikeTron in anticipation of the appearance of the challenger for the Championship. After several moments the crowd's excitement diminishes to murmurs of confusion as the theme continues to play without any sign of an opponent. The murmurs grow more excited again as some of the faceless patrons on the far side begin to part like a sea of Humanity.

Aided by suitably burly men with large arms and foreheads, Myris pushes his way through the crowd to the point where he can negotiate the restraint barrier and enter ringside. He pauses for a moment to regard the fractious atmosphere unique to the Pay-Per-View experience before rolling sliding beneath the bottom rope and climbing too his feet. The arena is suddenly pitch black and the strange message appears on the screen once again, "This fire... Burn this city, burn this city..." When the lights return, Myris is bewildered and the show goes on. Peeling the skin-tight shirt from his chest he scrunches the material in his hands and unceremoniously throws it at the black-and-white striped form of the assigned official for the match, Walker Lawrence.

Lawrence has the professionalism to limit his reaction to a frown as Amanda's voice is amplified many times over and rolls across the Arena, "The challenger - From the town of Stirling, Scotland and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-two pounds, Myris!"

The crowd have only a few seconds to register their approval or disapproval (though more of the latter than the former) before Shatter sphere's "Never back down in the face of anger" rages through speaker grilles and amplifiers and plunges the majority of the arena into pitch blackness. A single yellow spotlight overhead illuminates the very centre of the entryway as two coruscating trails of flashes leap into the air behind stage pyrotechnics to almost obscure the StrikeTron in a thick pall of smoke which hangs in the air.

"Introducing his opponent, weighing in at two hundred pounds - He is the reigning SFT Intercontinental Champion; Josh Konnely!"

Stepping through the miasma the reigning Champion sets a pace as he advanced on he ring with a scowl set deep in his powerful features. Unhooking the Championship from around his glistening waist and literally shoving it into the chest of the Referee Konnely begins to stretch and without taking his eyes from his opponent or his hand from the top rope, prepares for the imminent showdown.

Recovering from his rough treatment and folding the arms of the Intercontinental belt behind the Championship plate, Lawrence holds the title above his head and quickly shows it to every side of the now-pulsating Sovereign Arena and the crowds of Trenton, New Jersey.

Handing the title to the timekeeper at ringside, the Referee brings both competitors together and exchange the token formality of reminding them that climbing the turnbuckle, using the ropes, closed fists and outside weaponry or interference are disqualification offences. His experience and the competitive nature of both men has already ensured none of his orders will be honoured.

Both Myris and Konnely drive together as soon as Lawrence has cleared between them - powerful arms and steely muscles forcing a powerful grapple with neither man willing to give any ground. Myris' slightly greater weight slowly forces his opponent towards the ropes and despite Josh's best efforts he is momentarily distracted as his back presses against the ring's edge. His head turning to spot the ropes he receives a stiff fist to the temple which breaks his concentration and allows Myris the chance to push against the ropes and send Konnely to the other side in an Irish whip.

As the Champion returns Myris leaps from the mat and delivers a perfectly-executed dropkick that sends Konnely to the mat clutching his ribs and snarling in a mixture of choking and frustration. The challenger does not idle and delivers a series of hard kicks to the solar plexus of his opponent eliciting a strangled grunt of pain and more swearing with each one. The crowd roar their approval as the Scot roughly pulls his opponent to standing - hooking his arm around Konnely's neck and lowering his head in preparation to hoist him into the air.

The Intercontinental Champion has no intention of accommodating his opponent and breaks the suplex with a hard knee to the gut, sending Myris sprawling and giving Josh precious moments to recover his composure. Using his forearm to hold the Referee back from interceding he pins Myris' calve down with one foot and with the other places all his weight on the prone knee in a step-on stomp. Ignoring the pained look on the Challenger's face the Champion delivers a solid kick to the rear of the same knee.

Dragging Myris to the turnbuckle Konnely roughly shoves him up against the post and begins a flurry of angry blows - trading hard right-hand shots with the Challenger's face despite hands held up to guard and after a half-dozen the Scot slides down to the mat - all he can do to break the cycle. Roughly dragging him to his feet Myris is sent across the ring in a whip, receiving a stiff kick to the targeted knee with such harsh force that the Challenger is spun forwards to land on his back.

The aggressiveness of the Intercontinental Champion comes quickly now - a series of snap suplexes, an Irish whip followed by another kick to the knee and a single-leg Boston Crab which while insufficient to claim a submission stretches and pulls at the damaged knee of the challenger in ways that are certain to shorten the match.

The Challenger is not without his spirit and he trades punches and kicks with Konnely on even terms though the stiffening knee is now causing great difficulty in his manoeuvrability. Suplexes and impact moves begin to dull his mind and the turning point in the match seems to have been reached. It is with more than a little arrogance that after delivering a hard Neckbreaker, the Champion roughly pulls Myris into a headlock and looks set to deliver the Kohntempt.

A fist between the legs drops the Scot and Konnely to his knees, gasping for air and at the mercy of the body-wide paralysis of the low blow. Sucking in great lungful of air the Intercontinental Champion can only watch as the Challenger climbs to his feet unsteadily, and backs off - with a limp - to the far ropes. Waiting with the glazed eyes of a man operating on instinct and not reason Myris takes off on an impressively even run all things considered and reaches out for Josh's neck as the Champion stumbles to his feet still in great pain.

The Warning Shot is delivered with a devastating impact that causes the mat to bounce both competitors upwards. Drawing on what reserves he has the Scot crawls over to the prone Champion and pulls a leg towards him.

The Referee is there instantly, a hand rising in the air once, twice, but not a third time - Konnely's leg jerking from Myris' weakened grasp. Such is the nature of these moves that both wrestlers come to their "senses" at roughly the same time - Josh rising to his feet with the use of the turnbuckle post, and Myris with the top rope. The crowd are a constant din and roar interspersed with the black-and-white garbed man circling the two competitors. Shaking his head as if shaking the cobwebs clear the Challenger is quick enough to catch Konnely almost upon him in a lunge.
With incredible discipline and agility the Intercontinental Champion rises up - caught in a suplex that brings him crashing to the ground. Myris does not release the lock however, and struggles to his feet to deliver a second, and third snap suplex that drives the final molecule of oxygen from Josh's lungs and stretches his bruised ribs beyond their tolerance. Moving in to the cover Walker Lawrence slides to the mat; once twice, but not three times.

Frustration evident on his features the Scot brings Konnely to his feet, and feeling his knee loosen slightly - or himself become accustomed to the damage - pushes himself off against the ropes and breaks into a sprint towards the Champion; leaping into the air Myris lands in the prime location to inflict the Fate in Motion and finish the contest.

Unfortunately Josh is also keenly aware of the prime location and in a devastating counter brings Myris down to inflict a power bomb. Head and neck bounce against the mat and what marbles the Challenger had regained were scattered to the ring."

Somewhat rejuvenated by the counter the reigning Champion climbs back to his feet, and delivers a series of stiff kicks to the same knee targeted throughout. Pushing Myris over on to his front, Konnely picks up a prone leg, and wrapping his own around it as well as taking hold of the foot executes a textbook Cross Knee-lock.

The dark colours and turgid sounds that float through Myris' vision are replaced by the clarity of pain as his body is racked with a hot agony that clears the promised concussion and brings him grunting and groaning to reality. Cruciate and Anterior ligaments stretch and pull painfully as the Challenger desperately looks to the ropes that are too far out of reach to have any chance of reaching.

As if not distraction enough, Referee Walker Lawrence fills the entirety of the Scot's vision, constantly asking the same question repeated a dozen times. "Do you want to submit son? Just say the world - tap out or say it and I'll end this. Give me a sign if you need to son …"

"No!" Myris roars as he grabs a handful of the Referee's striped shirt and pulls him forward until both men are an inch apart. He cries in agony loudly in the face of Lawrence who seems to baulk at the agony this far close; as if the Challenger is somehow using the official as an outlet for the stress and pain of a joint being extended beyond its limits.

Concerned at whatever his opponent was indulging in, Konnely leaned forwards but still unable to see over Myris' head. Loosening the hold to lever himself upwards with a free leg Josh caught a glimpse of Walker Lawrence flailing and the Scot's own free leg to his jaw in a crunching impact that saw him tip backwards to the mat.

A raging well of pain tore through his entire leg whenever his knee was forced to move and it was obvious to the Challenger that he could not go on for any length of time. Dragging himself to the ropes and using their elasticity to get back to a standing base Myris could see Konnely somehow regaining his composure and despite the impact to his jaw, the radiating fury that was etched into his features. Stretching his arms out the Scot leaned back first against the top rope and hung there - his chest rising and falling rapidly.

The Intercontinental Champion spat a bloodied, shattered tooth from his mouth and the very sight of it land against the mat only served to double his fury. Setting his eyes on the Challenger resting against the rope Josh took off on a sprint, stretching his arm out a few scant metres from the source of his anger in an effort to send Myris over the top rope and out of the very Ring.

Such was the speed of the sprint Josh had no time to see the Scot drop to the mat at the last possible moment before impact, but was aware of two powerful arms locking around his neck and pulling him downwards in an irresistible arc. His throat fell forwards but only as far as the elasticity of the top rope would allow and when his neck was released by Myris he sprang upwards in a mockery of the laws of physics to fall backwards and to the mat, gasping for air.

The Challenger ignored the agony the move inflicted on his damaged joint and quickly pulled himself - ironically with the help of the ropes - to standing. As a wounded animal might Josh had managed to rise to one knee, frantically swallowing and gasping as his friction-burned throat and damaged ribs combined to deny him the air to stand.

Konnely could feel his vision swimming and he struggled to gain control of his own body. With every great breath the pain subsided a little and the mat became a little clearer in his eyes. Glancing upwards he saw the blurry form of the Challenger's boot as it pressed against his upright thigh and felt an utterly devastating impact against his jaw that brought the flash off the overhead Arena lights and then the blackness of nothingness.

The Stand Off was over.

Myris did not so much pin Josh as fall on top of him - his knee no longer willing to support his weight and his body no longer willing to stand. He was only dimly aware of Walker Lawrence as he slid down to his knees and brought his hand upwards as if slowed by time or the concussion rapidly setting in on him.

The hand rose once, twice and a third time. Somewhere in the periphery of his hearing bell answered the third touch with three tolls of its own.
A voice boomed over the sound system, reaching even Myris through his stupour. "Here is your winner, and the new Intercontinental Champion - Myris!"

The Scot rolled over to his side, coughing, and smiled. He felt something cold and spied something shiny thrust into his hands and though his eyes could not focus on the writing or the design the contrast of gold upon black and the smaller green upon blue identified it as the Intercontinental Championship. Lacking the energy to move, let alone speak, his fingers tightened around the Belt.

It was all he could do to make it his.

Winner = Myris

The sounds of "Head Like a Hole" are cut short - as is Myris' Championship celebration - as the lights go out yet again. This time, the StrikeTron is engulfed in an image of fire. Myris looks up, puzzled, and begins to yell things towards the back. Bass suddenly hits over the PA.

"This fire is outta control..."
"I'm gonna burn this city, burn this city..."

JC: Are we finally going to get some answers?

"This fire is outta control..."
"I'm gonna burn this city, burn this city..."

Myris snatches the microphone from the ring announcer. Myris: Come on out here, I'm not one to play games.

"This fire is outta control..."
"I'm gonna burn this city, burn this city..."

RW: Grrrrr.

"This fire is outta control..."
"I'm gonna burn this city, burn this city..."

An explosion occurs on stage as "Burn This City" by Lil' Wayne cuts into full swing. Myris glares towards the back when suddenly, he appears.

RW: No fucking way!

JC: It's SHAWN WALSH!!!

Walsh wears a pair of dark blue jeans and a hooded Ecko sweatshirt. He poses on stage with his hands on his hips, receiving a chorus of cheers from the surprisingly welcoming crowd. Myris stares wide-eyed, wondering how this man is even back and moreso, what he wants from him. Walsh lets off a smirk as he pulls a microphone from his back pocket. He allows the cheers to die down a moment before raising the mic to his mouth.

Shawn Walsh: I'll bet none of you thought you would ever see this gorgeous mug again?

Crowd cheers.

Shawn Walsh: You're probably wondering why I'm back aren't you? Well everyone has their price, and Shadow made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

...More cheers. Walsh chuckles a bit before resuming.

Shawn Walsh: Now I'm not here to waste time. Let me cut to the chase.

Walsh points at Myris.

Shawn Walsh: You.

He laughs.

Shawn Walsh: We're no strangers, are we?

Myris shakes his head.

Shawn Walsh: Look buddy, I don't like you. I've never liked you. And becoming a dual champion? It makes me sick. These people have been subjected to your verbal diarrhea week in and week out for far too long now... But don't worry, that's all about to change. I'm back... And my first target is you. I'm back to save SFT. I'm back to rid it of useless jerkoffs like you. Myris, get ready... I've been on the shelf for a year now... I'm coming at you full force.

Myris snarls.

Myris: Listen here you--

Walsh raises a finger to silence him.

Shawn Walsh: Ah, ah, ah. Hit the music.

"Burn This City" by Lil' Wayne resumes as Walsh looks up toward the ceiling, outstretching his arms in crucifix position to resounding approval from the crowd.

Blood Money versus Annika Reizeger & Nirvana
(Tag Team Match)

Du Hast starts up as Blood Money make their way out to the ring, to cheers and boos but mostly boos. Neither of them seem to mind much. Twilight content to concentrate on the match while TK Money goes about heckling the crowd and throw money at them as if they were beneath him. A look of disgust and animosity on his face.

RW: The most hated men in SFT are entering the ring.

Hurt by Johhny Cash hits as Nirvana along with Annika Reizeger come to the ring. Both are cheered but neither pay much attention to the crowds.

The bell rings and TK and Nirvana start it off. TK with a punch to the face as that gets Nirvana angry, he retaliates back with a clothesline, he tags in Annika who jumps off the ropes in a flying guillotine leg drop that nails TK squarely, she covers him 1…..2……kickout!

RW: Don’t think this match will end that soon.

Annika with a knee across TK’s head, she tries to pick up TK to attempt a quick scoop slam but TK grabs her ankle and pulls her in he falls on her, trying to get a quick pin but only gets a 1 count. As Annika quickly gets up she gets nailed with a drop kick, TK with a lariat again as Annika is getting up. TK quickly tags in Twilight, Twilight waits for Annika she gets up only to be met with a boot to the face. Twilight kneels next to her, whispering something that cannot be heard. He gives her a light kiss on the cheek, she catches him with an uppercut!

JC: Wow

Annika now crawling and clawing her way to tag in Nirvana. Nirvana gets in and hits Twilight with a devastating mafia kick. He then rakes the eyes of Twilight as Twilight now in obvious pain and discomfort. Nirvana with a DDT he covers Twilight 1…………2……………….kickout!

RW: Theres some willpower for you ladies and gent, refusing to let it end.

Nirvana has a look of shock, he cant believe it. He grabs Twilight and nails his Lucretias Death 1, he covers confident it is over. 1………………2…………………….kickout!

JC: Dude that is incredible.

RW: Yeah Twilight just will not let go of this match.

Nirvana is shaking his head. Twilight gets up slowly, Nirvana tries a spinning heel kick but misses as Twilight clotheslines him and tags in TK. TK now with a snapmare followed by a snap suplex. TK grabs Nirvana and hits an Impact DDT, he covers Nirvana as the ref counts 1…………..2……….kickout!

JC: Nirvana kicks out!

TK tries an Impaler and nails it, as he is again covering Nirvana, Annika steps in and breaks the count. TK tags in Twilight but so does Nirvana, now Twilight and Annika square off again. Twilight smiles at her and he just stops. Annika not quite sure she takes a step back. Twilight does not move for several moments, just staring at her. Nirvana from behind with a double axe handle. Annika with her Tsar Bomba she quickly covers him 1……………2…………………..3!

RW: That’s it, Annika and Nirvana win, in what was an usual ending to an usual match.

JC: And quite fitting for an unusual ppv and end of the year.

RW: True dat.

Winner = Annika Reizeger & Nirvana

Annika and Nirvana exit the ringside area victoriously and Blood Money get out of the ring with smiles on their faces. They walk over to the announcer's table and snatch the microphone from in front of Randy White.

Twilight: You know what, TK... we lost again. That's okay. We're not here to win or lose. We're here to play the game.

TK Money: John, ask us what's next for Blood Money.

JC: What's next for Blood Money?

TK Money: We want our Tag Team Titles back. Obviously we won't get a title shot now, but we will if we win another tag team match.

Twilight: At Breakdown, we issue an open challenge to any team. Even if Nirvana and Annika want another piece of Blood Money, we will take them out.

He throws the microphone back to Randy and they walk away after high fiving.

RW: That was weird.

"NEVER BACK IN THE FACE OF ANGER!"

JC: What?!

RW: What's this? We're expecting the Hardcore Championship match next, but that is Josh Konnely's music. He faced off with Myris earlier, why is he coming back out here?

"In The Face Of Anger" by Shattersphere continues to play and Josh Konnely walks out on the stage dressed now in a suit and tie, with dark sunglasses on. He strolls confidently down the aisle to the ring, where he climbs up the ringsteps and into the ring.

JC: At least he isn't wearing that disturbing face paint anymore.

RW: Yeah, right?

Josh reaches into an inside pocket of his jacket, and produces a microphone. He clears his throat before he begins to speak.

Josh Konnely: I told you all earlier this week that Everything Ends, the truth would be revealed. You all remember me saying that? Well, since I have come to Strike Towers, I have been hiding a secret. This show is indeed called Everything Ends, and I am here to put an END to that secret. The timing could not be more perfect, really.

Josh Konnely: In my short time here, I have won the Television, United States, and Intercontinental Championships. None of this meant a damn thing to me, as I have said before and in all likelihood will say again. But despite everything I did, people still could not spell my name right. Imagine what a pain in the ass that is when the paychecks come in. There has been all kind of speculation and questions into that name. The most common spelling is C-O-N-N-O-L-L-Y or C-O-N-N-E-L-L-Y. To the best of my knowledge, the spelling that I use is not a surname carried by any living person.

Josh Konnely: Well, there is a reason for my name and the spelling of it. I would have thought that all these "brilliant" people in SFT would have figured it out without any prompting or coaxing. Obviously I thought wrong. To my benefit, really. It allowed me to keep my secret safe a little while longer. But as I said, it is time I put an end to the secrets and the deception. JOSH KONNELY, as I spell it, is an anagram. It is a perfect anagram of my REAL name, the name I was BORN with.

JC: What is he saying?

RW: Just be quiet and listen.

Josh Konnely: And that name, for those of you that are a little slow on the uptake, is... KYLE... JOHNSON.

The SFT fans in the crowd murmur in confusion, as the name is not familiar to the spectators.

Josh Konnely: You people here do not know that name. But you know the name, Strike Towers, don't you? All this time you bought into this fresh young newcomer act. The promising rookie star Josh Konnely that was good but not good enough to beat "insert opponent's name here." During this charade I have seen some of you figuratively drop down to your knees and bow in praise of my talents, convinced that I was the "future" of Strike Towers as the lovely Ms. Helms-King put it.

Josh Konnely: Well now the truth is out there. My cards are on the table. I have been here for years, and I have listened to all the talk that I wasn't good enough, all the disrespect. I'm the man all you in the back have loved to hate. I created the Ge-Straight Alliance. I created Robin Gallant and Alan Black. And most importantly, I am the creator of "The Superior One" Kyle Murphy!

The crowd cheers at the naming of the legendary Kyle Murphy.

Josh Konnely: Yeah, I get a lot of love from you people now that you know that. No doubt, though, there are people in the back pulling their hair out and destroying their monitors and cursing my very existence. Yes, Josh Konnely, your hero and your future, is truly the man you all love to hate. Kyle Murphy is an excellent ATHLETE. It was ME that turned him into one of the greatest WRESTLERS of all time.

Josh Konnely: I ask you this now, SFT. Do you still think I am incapable of producing something entertaining? Am I still boring or redundant or played out? Because I sure had all of you going. You hopped on that rumbling Josh Konnely bandwagon. I see you all jumping off now that you know the truth. The truth that I am the mastermind behind THE SUPERIOR ONE. The truth that I am now and have always been the source of THE STANDARD.

Josh Konnely: I know you are all asking yourselves why. Why the elaborate ruse? Why would Kyle Johnson emerge from the shadows as Josh Konnely, even at times outshining his very own star? The answer is simple: respect. For years I have orchestrated the dealings of Kyle Murphy and witnessed the lack of respect shown to him. The lack of respect for the man I have guided to thirteen World Championships. It really pissed me off, plain and simple. Thus the emergence of Josh Konnely: the Park City Punisher. The Butcher of Bridgeport. I would extract my revenge by mine own hand. I have done that, and I will continue to do that. I will break bodies and spill blood until you ALL learn to respect TRUE GREATNESS.

Josh Konnely: That having been said, I give you without further ado, the soon to be SIX-TIME Hardcore Champion. The legend... the future Hall of Famer... KYLE MURPHY.

Johnny Fierce* versus Kyle Murphy
(Hardcore Title Match)

JC: And we're getting ready for our hardcore match.

RW: This should be amazing...

"Mutherfucker Of The Year" by Mötley Crüe hits the loudspeakers and gold pyro erupts at the stage area. Kyle Murphy walks out with the SFT Championship around his waist. He walks down the ramp to ringside, where leaps to the top of the steps, then walks backward to the middle of the apron. He raises his left arm before stepping through the ropes and into the ring. From there he goes to the far corner and climbs to the second rope. There he removes the SFT Championship from around his waist and raises it over his head. The crowd roars its approval, and Murphy steps down off the second rope. Handing the belt to the referee, he holds up his right arm and prepares himself for a fight.

JC: There's the challenger, Kyle Murphey.

RW. I think he has a really good chance at winning the belt.

Re-Education (Through Labor) hits the air as Johnny Fierce enters onto the ramp. He stands at the top with his Hardcore Championship around his waist and takes a brief look around at the arena and fans. He raises his arm and gives himself a quick slap on the back of the neck before jogging down towards the ramp. He loosens up his arms a bit and slides through the bottom rope. He walks to his corner, hands his belt off to the ref and uses the ropes to stretch a little as he readies for his opponent.

JC: And here comes the hardcore champion, Johnny Fierce!

RW: I'm calling it right now, Fierce is losing that title tonight.

Fierce hands the ref the title and as the ref shows it to the crowd Kyle takes the initiative and rushes Fierce, kicking him in the gut. Kyle immediately tosses Fierce to the outside as the ref calls for the bell to start the match. Kyle follows Fierce to the outside and slams Fierce's head into the railing. Murphy then grabs Fierce's head and slams it into the ringside steps and sets Fierce up against the steps.

JC: What's he going for?

RW: Should be painful.

Murphy backs up and then runs full force with an attempt at a spear on Fierce right into the steps, but Fierce moves and Murphy slams into the steps, busting himself open. Fierce shakes his head and gets up, groggy from the headshots he took earlier. Fierce then sees Murphy on the ground, and starts stomping on him. Fierce picks up Murphy and slams his head on the steps and then starts looking under the ring. Fierce pulls out a trash can, 2 chairs, and a table, as Murphy tries to stand up, his face filled with blood. Fierce grabs the trash can and slams it on Murphy's face. Murphy falls over and Fierce picks up the table and slides it into the ring. Fierce picks up Murphy and rolls him into the ring also. Fierce then tosses the 2 chairs into the ring, and rolls in.

RW: This has bad written all over it.

Fierce sets up the table and comes over to Murphy, who hits a lowblow on Fierce. Fierce doubles over, and Murphy quickly gets up and hits the Pride of Oedipus on Fierce, through the table. Both men are laid out on the mat as the crowd starts a holy shit chant.

JC: If Kyle Murphy had a little more steam, he'd be the new hardcore champion right now.

RW: He needs to just roll on top of Fierce right now.

Murphy crawls over Fierce, bleeding still, and lays on top of him for the pin.

1...

2....

Fierce gets the shoulder up and Murphy rolls off of him. Both men start to slowly get up, and each of them goes for a steel chair Murphy gets up first, with chair in hand. He comes over to Fierce, who tosses his steel chair at Murphy's head. Murphy blocks the shot with his steel chair, and Fierce quickly gets up and applies a triangle choke with the chair in use somehow, and Murphy quickly taps out as the chair is pressed against his throat.

JC: Oh my god, that's it.

RW: That was a very dangerous position to be in, and I don't blame Murphy for tapping.

JC: There could've been a lot of trouble had Murphy not tapped on that. And your winner and still Hardcore Champion is Johnny Fierce.

Winner = Johnny Fierce

Johnny Fierce releases his grip on Murphy and snatches the Hardcore Championship from the referee. As he holds the title with one hand, he looks down at Murphy, who is coughing. Johnny shakes his head and walks over to his adversary. The referee begs Fierce to back off, but Fierce pushes him out of the way. Fierce drops the title on the mat and extends his hand to Murphy. Murphy reluctantly grabs it and Fierce grips Murphy's arm with both hands, pulling the XCW legend to his feet. Murphy is shocked as Fierce raises his hand high in the air.

RW: That's a great show of sportsmanship from the Hardcore Champion.

JC: Yes, it is. Why is he apologizing to Murphy?

RW: Maybe for the whole chair to the throat deal?

Murphy gives a strange glare to Fierce as he picks up the title and walks towards the ropes. As Fierce gets to the ropes, he stops and turns. An evil grin from ear to ear is on the face of Fierce as a man jumps over the guardrail behind Murphy and slides into the ring. The man turns Murphy around, hoists him upside down, cradles the leg, and plants him with a tombstone piledriver.

JC: OH MY GOD!

RW: Aj Nin Red Rum just gave Kyle Murphy his signature Dead Weight!

The crowd instantly turns from applause to disproval. Johnny Fierce claps and he walks to the center of the ring. He and Aj Nin shake hands as Aj Nin unzips his black jacket, revealing an EOR t-shirt.

JC: You know what that means...

RW: Evil... Over... Rule.

Fierce then picks up a microphone from the mat and he raises it up.

Johnny Fierce: Blood Money... we accept!

"Re-Education (Through Labor)" by Rise Against starts to play as we head to the backstage area. There we see Intercontinental, Tag Team, and Television Champion Myris standing with World Heavyweight Champion and Tag Team Champion Radiant, who is seated quietly and taping his wrists.

Myris: Do you know how important tonight is, Nick?

Radiant: Yes, I know.

Myris: This isn't just the most important night of your life. It's the most important night in SFT history. This night... defines what we have fought all these years for.

Radiant: Yes, I know.

Myris: When you go out there, you fight not just for yourself... but for all of us. When you go out there, you fight for me... you fight for Megan... you fight for Walsh... you fight for Gust... you fight for Strike Fantasy Towers.

Radiant: Yes, I know.

Myris: You seem pretty calm and content. Are you ready? I don't think you're ready!

Radiant bursts to his feet and gets in Myris' face. Myris can see the fire in his tag team partner's eyes and he smiles, then backs away.

Myris: Naw... you're ready...

Myris steps back and Radiant picks up his SFT World Heavyweight Championship, then walks past Myris, who nods in approval...

Radiant* versus Shadow
(SFT Title No Holds Barred Match)

The Sunday evening had passed quickly for Trenton, New Jersey as the matches and hours advanced and the sky beyond the Arena's walls darkened to give way to the stars. Inside the crowd had roared its approval and entrances and results and booed loudly at upsets and the appearance of heels but nonetheless lived for the competition vicariously.

All good things came to an end however, and the evening's ultimate match was scheduled to begin shortly. From her position at ringside Amanda Summers checked her watch and then the clipboard held in her hands - noting the ten or so minutes left until the Main Event was scheduled to begin and giving herself until then to have run over the information a dozen or so times. She absent-mindedly noticed the black-and-white shirt of Referee Able Rosetti as he chatted with the Time Keeper and made a visual inspection of the Ring.

It was only as a ripple of excitement from the crowd quickly climbed to a deafening roar - a mixture of heartfelt booing and enthusiastic cheering - that Amanda glanced up, her eyes widening as her gaze fixed on the imposing figure of the SFT's owner, and supreme authority Shadow beginning the long walk from beneath the StrikeTron to the Ring itself. A quick glance at Rosetti and the Time Keeper and the confused looks exchanged between the three confirmed that this was not scheduled.

"He's the owner," Able said with a shrug of his shoulders. "He can do whatever he wants - better make with the microphone."

The crowd noise continued to rise in a crescendo as those that were looking elsewhere - waiting for the opening chords of Korn's "Shoots and ladders" to play - took notice of the frenzy and added their voices to the cacophony. Fumbling for her microphone and exchanging a nod with Rosetti as the Referee made his way into the Ring Amanda's voice boomed over the roar of the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is a No-Holds Barred match for the SFT's World Heavyweight Championship!"

Amanda stole a glance at the owner as he paused before the ring, his eyes the only feature truly visible beneath the Luche Mask obscuring his face and his gaze focused entirely on the mat ahead. "Introducing the Challenger; from Cairo, Egypt weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds - He is the owner of the Strike Fantasy Towers, Shadow!"

The words had barely filtered across the Arena when the roaring opening of Rush's Tom Sawyer crashed through the speakers to roll over the crowd and the Ring. As if Shadow's early entrance had somehow set the tone of all things to follow his opponent duly appeared seconds later - The World Heavyweight Championship held in one hand and an elbow pad, along with a folded steel chair in the other as if Radiant had not even finished dressing though paused to arm himself. A mixture of irritation and concentration marred the Champion's features as he pulled the remaining pad up to the elbow; tugging it into position and running a hand through his unruly hair.

Amanda rushed the microphone back to her lips, "And his opponent! Weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds from Royal Oak, Michigan he is the reigning World Heavyweight Champion - Radiant!"

The World Champion walks only seven or eight feet closer to the Ring before gripping the rim of the chair in both hands and crashing it against one of the restraint barriers with as much force as he can muster; letting go at the point of impact and watching the metal bend and contort and clatter to the ground. Returning his eyes to Shadow, whose own gaze did not follow the chair but remained on the Champion, Radiant begins to kick the buckled chair down the walkway until it slides to a stop touching the Ring's apron with him a short distance behind.

The chair is sports a bizarre customised paint scheme - a dark red background onto which a blazing yellow sun rages brightly.

The Referee - little more than a spectator in a match without a single rule - turned to the Time Keeper and with a sharp hand signal calls for the bell, which obliges almost immediately with three ringing chimes. Whereas a less experienced official might have been keen to keep what little role he had in the match consistent Rosetti retreats to the turnbuckle with the slightest of shrugs, under no illusion as to what awaits both men.

Taking a hold of the battered chair Radiant enters under the top rope and regards Shadow with an unwavering stare that the Challenger matches utterly. The crowd's roar begins to quieten audibly as the Arena anticipates the first blows between these two icons - the ultimate metaphysical conundrum; the irresistible force meeting the immovable object. Flexing his arms the World Champion raises the steel chair upwards and cocks his head slightly as if challenging Shadow to match his move.

The owner of the company however, takes absolutely no action other than to match the stare he is receiving with an equally baleful glare. Radiant keeps the weapon above his head for a few more moments as if waiting for the Challenger to make a move - any move - to counter. As if finally growing impatient and deciding to elicit a response the Champion swings the chair in a lazy side-arc.

It is perhaps the attacker who is most surprised when the chair meets skull and not the fresh air that the Arena - Time Keeper, commentators, crowd and World Champion - expected. With the expectation of the Challenger dodging the power of the blow is not what it might have been and sends Shadow staggering backwards rather than to the mat. The older man clutches the side of his head where the impact struck, his eyes as intense as they had been since his unannounced entry.

After several moments of obvious shock, Radiant's own gaze travels to the crimson dripping from the crumpled seat of the chair, and in a flash of anger he hurls the weapon from the Ring and claps his hands together - gesticulating at Shadow as if to demand an explanation. "Is that it old man? Is that it? All these bright lights and all these people and you're going to do what? Take a few chair shots and pass out?"

The World Champion takes a few steps forward to where the owner has lowered himself to sit on the second rope, bracing against the turnbuckle as he stems the weeping wound on his temple with a hand. Squatting at the knees, Radiant places his hands on either side of Shadow's head on the top rope and shrugs his shoulders. "Is that it? My World Championship on the line and the Mad Hatter doesn't want to finish his own Tea Party? What a pathetic end to your legacy--"

Radiant's head snaps back as a closed fit slams into his exposed jaw with such force as to send the World Champion to the mat in a single backwards movement not unlike a statue toppling. Levering himself up from the ropes Shadow circles the younger man as if simply enjoying the spectacle of Radiant shaking his head vigorously and blinking repeatedly as his vision clears slowly - eventually tiring of the sight and delivering a vicious kick with the flat of the foot to the temple.

Approving of the instant reaction of the World Champion who rolls on to his front and coughs violently the owner inflicts a second, third and fourth kick to the chest and leg with each successive kick following the previous more quickly until the blows rain in a flurry and all Radiant can do is pull himself into a ball to avoid the worst of the damage.

From his vantage point at the turnbuckle, Referee Rosetti shakes his head sadly.

Face twisted from impassive scowl to enraged snarl the Challenger drags the unsteady Champion to his feet and presses him against the nearby ropes. Hauling Radiant by the arm with such force as to fall to the mat himself Shadow delivers a hard Irish whip of such power as to send the younger man over the top rope to land on the minimalist safety matting back-first with a muted thud.

Quickly scrambling to his feet and wiping away at the blood now coating one side of his face, the owner pauses only long enough to crane his neck and double-check the prone Champion before bouncing himself off the same ropes and clearing himself over with a well-timed leap and bringing himself down on Radiant's back with an outstretched leg.

Grimacing with the pain of the impact on the attacker the Challenger rolls slowly to the side, and climbs to one knee before taking a handful of hair and pulling the murmuring face of the Champion up from the mat. "Are you enjoying the Party? We're just getting started …"

Letting Radiant's face return to the floor, Shadow stalks away to tear the upper component of the nearest set of Ring steps away from its lower and drag the larger piece towards the World Champion.

Reaching forward and taking hold of the younger man by the shoulders the Challenger pulls Radiant backwards until his upper chest and head rest on the stairs and form a crude metal pillow. Turning to the side and shouting for the Ring Bell, Shadow receives it from a quickly compliant Time Keeper and takes a moment to feel its heavy brass weight in his hands.

Jumping up to the Ring apron in a single fluid leap and taking the bell in hand the crowd roar their approval as the very definition of a veteran pushes off from the apron and brings the brass piece down to drive across the exposed forehead of the Champion whose flesh is torn apart under the stress and who jerks violently under the impact and rolls off of the stairs on to his side facing the Spanish announcers' table.

Wheezing as he struggles to regain the breath knocked from his lungs by his own impact Shadow climbs to his feet and sets off around the Ring in search of the original chair wielded by the Champion against him. As if bizarrely revived by the attack, Radiant crawls forward on all fours - his eyes blinking constantly as red begins to colour his vision from the gaping wound on the forehead. He palms at the horrified form of Amanda Summers who leaps from her seat and over the stumbling World Champion but is not quick enough to avoid a grasping hand which leaves an ugly red street on an otherwise beautiful dress.

Trying to use the empty chair as leverage to stand, it falls forwards under Radiant's weight and collapses under him. As if all his effort is spent Radiant slumps to the floor, his head lolling from side to side and still shaking vigorously.

Despite a single complete circuit Shadow seems no closer to finding the chair when he spots a number of fans in the very front row of the crowd seemingly engaging in a tug-of-war for the very item in question; their fingers stained red with drying blood - his own drying blood. Without giving them much in the way of a choice or time to comply the Challenger swiftly disarms the suddenly compliant fans and tests the chair as if he might check a baseball bat by tapping it against the nearest turnbuckle.

Stalking back towards the Time Keeper's table the older man tightens his grip on the chair as his eyes fix on the World Champion who has managed to climb to a single knee, his eyes glassy and stare vacant - seemingly concentrating on the task of simply not falling back to the mat unceremoniously. Snarl widening to form a foreboding grin Shadow sprints forward and as if pitching a ball rather than swinging a steel chair he twists at the waist to deliver a devastating blow.

While his chair does indeed strike Radiant across the back it is at the momentary point before impact the owner becomes grimly aware of a chair a scant inch from his own face offered by the World Champion in a bizarre double-exchange. Managing to do no more than close his eyes both men drop to the mat with a dull thump; their chairs clattering to the ground impotently and more than a little dented for their trouble.

Quickly dropping between the ropes to the floor Able Rosetti does what little he can as the official, moving between each man and checking them for a response - any response or any sign of life beyond the shallow rise and fall of their chests.

The crowd's approval is obvious and the rapturous applause and encouragement is an intense and rolling sound that seems to fill every aspect of the Arena and the city of Trenton beyond. That this match is so personal seems to matter a great deal more than the World Championship that rests on its outcome.

Pressing his hands against the announce table in front of him, Radiant's fingers find their way to his eyes and slowly wipe at the crimson obscuring his sight. Every thought that occurs in his head takes concentrated effort and he is only dimly aware of what his happening around him. It is the roar of the crowd beyond the haze and the shining - blinding - button of gold that seems to be held by a faceless shadow beside the table that reminds him why he is lying prostrate, and bleeding on a cold floor.

The foremost Shadow, the Challenger, manages to sit up against the Ring apron, his head hesitating between leaning against the Ring behind, or falling forwards to rest above his chest. His flowing locks are now sticky and twisted by the wounds to his head. As if the simple act of turning it takes great effort the owner of the company finds the eyes of the World Champion and locks his gaze to them.

Both men seem if not invigorated then at least roused by the knowledge that both still draw a breath to scowl and with the support of a restraint barrier and the Ring respectively, climb to their feet. Radiant sprawls slightly and falls against the Time Keeper who drops the World Championship to the floor in his urgency to extract himself from the younger man's bloody grasp. As if the shining gold plate is all that can be seen by his concussed sight Radiant pushes the Time Keeper away and scoops up the Title.

Back resting against the barrier, the World Champion raises the Belt upwards - asserting his possession, asserting his success and over all other things his dominance. He does not flinch as Shadow stumbles forwards, his hands held limply by their side and using the announce tables for support as the older man closes the distance between the two and comes to a stop at Radiant's side.

Shadow exchanges his glance first at the World Title, and then the World Title Holder. As if considering to which he felt was the priority and his reason for this match and to be. As if reaching a decision, he delivered a swift knee to Radiant's gut, causing the Champion to double over in agony and drop to one knee with a wheezing cough.

Awkwardly stooping to retrieve the Belt, and once more considering its famous front and the proud history that followed the physical representation of the company's very best, he folded the arms of the Title behind the faceplate and gesturing Rosetti over, roughly shoved it into his chest. Shadow had held that Championship before and as owner he had a direct influence over almost every person ever to claim it as their own - for however short and sweet or long and grandiose their reign. This match was not about the Championship.

It was about his company - his legacy - and his Party. The chairs arranged at the table, the tea and the tales of the Cheshire Cat and Alice's adventures with the Queen of Hearts. All allegory; all metaphors for the Mad Hatter's wrestling dream turned corporation turned millstone. To those that had made the threat to finally end a reign become burden and perhaps had the ability to do so but still had to overcome the old man's propensity to survive.

Shadow glanced down in time to watch a flash of yellow metal drive into his ribs, forcing him to take a stuttering step backwards in agony. The eyes that matched his were drowsy but lit by an anger that he had been expecting but yet to truly see. If he had not been overcome by wracking coughs and the pain of winding he would have smiled.

Radiant reached out and snatched the Championship back from Rosetti, his speech slurred but the swearing making it a poor idea for the Referee to argue. Still struggling to master the complexities of walking without staggering he folded the Belt outwards and fixed it around his waist where, in his opinion, it belonged.

Shaking his head as a powerful nausea overcame him momentarily the Champion retrieved the yellow chair from the mats and folded it out to stand upright despite the warping of the metal making it unlikely to support the weight of a person to sit. Despite its fragility it remained intact as Shadow was pulled to his feet and unceremoniously pushed down to sit in the chair. He lolled instinctually, saliva pulling at the corner of his mouth as blood, sweat and tears mingled in their agony on his face.

Radiant rolled under the bottom rope, staggering to his feet with the aid of the top rope and regarding the Arena with a wild snarl. He leaned over the rope, his eyes darting from person to person amongst a crowd of thousands. He could see those that were wildly excited and cheering his efforts while wearing T-shirts baring his slogan and image. Others booed, or looked on in tense silence garbed in black clothing emblazoned with a leering reptile's visage.

He cried out nonsense words to every one, rational thought gone. Pulling the World Championship from his waist he thrust it upwards towards the Arena lights in a challenge to every single individual present and watching from beyond the State of New Jersey. They whistled and they jeered - they clapped and squealed but not a single one of them understood. Not a single one of them understood anything.

Shadow's slippery, bloody fingers fumbled in the waistline of his tights, his eyes lidded and barely opened under the powerful urge to fall into unconsciousness. He had passed beyond the intellectual musings of a man and into the domain of the animal - of the instinct and the deep desire. Feeling the touch of cold metal against his hot skin the fingers of his right hand pushed inside brass knuckles that like the creaking chair he sat on, seen better days.

Like him perhaps, they had seen better days.

With a supreme effort that very nearly proved too much the Challenger levered himself up from sitting, stumbling forwards as to splay his arms outwards against the apron to stop from falling to the floor. Reaching up for the first rope, pulling, and then reaching for the second Shadow managed to ascend the apron and lean over the top rope with a heaving chest, and gleaming brow.

Radiant heard sections of the crowd roar their approval before he saw his opponent, and a moment of paralysis afflicted him. A single genuine doubt began to rise in his mind as if this was no mere man but somehow a Demon given strength beyond what a normal man should be able to stand. His mouth slightly agape he did not feel any stronger until his eyes fell down to glance the Golden Belt still held in his limp hands.

Bloody fingers closed tightly across the plate and the Champion felt a surge of pride - He defended this and he had brought them to this final point. Transferring the Title to one hand and stretching both arms out in a silent, unsteady challenge he glanced at the Challenger.

Shadow spat the blood that had filled his mouth to the Ring mat, and simply nodded his head. His lacerated lips stretched to form a thin smile as the World Champion stalked forwards with the ultimate prize of the industry held aloft in his left hand and ready to strike. Shadow felt the rush of wind and the momentary breeze that cooled his features and diminished his pain as a shadow rapidly fell over his vision.

Brass Knuckles and a Championship Belt exchanged a silent greeting as one passed the other and both struck the bleeding temples opposite. Caught utterly by surprise the head of the Title Holder was forced back as far as the shocked neck beneath would allow; the bleeding body of Radiant spending a few moments rigid before relaxing in only the way unconsciousness could cause as every muscle and sinew was pushed beyond tolerance and surrendered.

The World Champion crashed to the mat, utterly spent.

Shadow had been somewhat prepared for the blow of a cruelly sharp metallic edge driven into the side of the skull but knowing what was to come did not lessen the impact trauma and though his head did not snap back - braced by the knowledge of the attack - the colour of his eyes virtually disappeared to be replaced by bloodshot white as they rolled upwards towards the forehead. The one remaining hand holding the top rope released its grasp in a single jerking movement and without any way to retain his balance the Challenger teetered backwards and fell upon and through the yellow chair obediently standing beneath him with a terrible crash.

Shadow's final thought was of Icarius - the brilliant young man who flew too close to the Sun.

The crowd fell silent as the full devastation of the scene became clear. Able Rosetti took only as long as was necessary for him to see the trickle of blood from the corner of Shadow's mouth, and the shallowness of the breaths Radiant drew into his chest to signal for the Emergency Medical Technicians. Sighing loudly and wiping at the perspiration on his own forehead the Referee made a three sharp pulls of the air with his hand.

Three chimes echoed through a virtually silent Arena as the match was brought to an end. Radiant would retain his World Championship but he had not defeated the Challenger. Shadow would be carried from the Arena, and from the hospital and eventually Trenton and the State of New Jersey without the SFT World Championship but Rosetti would not raise the younger man's hand in victory and so he was not defeated.

A ripple of applause began to pass through the people, quickly building into a reverberating, rolling appreciation that brought people from their chairs to standing and those standing to lean over the restraining barriers. Manoeuvring between the scene of carnage Technicians and Staff Doctors stabilised and treated. Commentators in dozens of languages regarded the incredible sights that the Pay-Per-View had generated and the dedication and suffering of the Human Soul displayed on World-Wide television.

None remarked on the irony that despite the titanic blows traded by Shadow and Radiant, It's the little things that kill.

Winner = Draw