Above & Beyond II

[FGA Office]

Kevin Clement: This has been one HELL of a night!

Evan Grayson: It ain't over yet...I don't think...

Clement: No, it is not...we still have that Scramble Tag Team title match for the Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Champions...

Grayson: But first, I guess we've got two idiots on video chat who wanna talk to us first.

Clement: Those two idiots happen to be the newest members of Frontier Grappling Arts' exploding tag team division, fresh off a victory at FRONTIER vs. FGA II!

Grayson: They're idiots who might be good at what they do, then.

Clement: Madman Szalinski, and Graham Clauson...the Shoot Kings, joining us live...

Cutting from a pan of the Baltimore audience the scene fades into a scene set on some kind of concrete balcony, somewhere in a commercial strip. A logo in the corner reads "Live Via Satellite". Madman Szalinski, standing at the railing's edge with his custom GFC UnCommonwealth Championship title belt over a shoulder, stops running his fingers over his blue and red lucha mask to point out at something on the street below, giving us a good view of his blue Mario shirt (with the caption "Down Since '85" as he yells excitedly.

Szalinski: Aw! He's gonna hit 'em! Brawl in the Denny's parking lot! Can't have nothin' nice in the city no' more, man...

Graham Clauson, in a white Cheap White Foam shirt and matching white bandana over his head, snaps his fingers and points to the empty lawn chair adjacent to his in the camera's shot.

Clauson: Sit your ass down before somebody sees you...we got work to do.

Madman mumbles the entire time he takes his seat, with a two-way audio system set up (through the arena's PA system and a small screen at the top of the ramp, as well as Madman and Graham tuning in live to the show via a nearby laptop on a TV tray) so that the commentary team can speak with the Shoot Kings, and the conversation can be heard (and seen) by all. Even when Szalinski sits down, he continues ranting out loud seemingly to no one.

Szalinski: Probably a bunch of damn WARPED fans, too...stupid anarchist crap. Just like ya boys Johnny B. Blayzed and Chathstick...if there's no structure of order and law, there's no type of position for you to claim in order to be better than anybody else, which ruins the point of professional wrestling and government in general...I've about had it with these idiots, man. I wish you'd just let me throw something at 'em. I really do. This chair's made of recycled Tupperware lids. Couldn't hurt that bad.

Clement: Can you guys hear me?

Clauson: Loud and clear.

Graham sits up straight, with Madman finally going silent.

Clement: Thank you for giving us a moment of your time.

Clauson: Yeah, we're both scheduled in a couple of singles matches tomorrow night for FRONTIER in Phoenix, and our manager Brydon - who is in Baltimore right now meeting with FGA's people finalizing our deal - advised that we ask not to be booked to compete so soon for FGA. We didn't like it either, but it looks like we won't get to show some of FGA's more...how shall I say this...

Szalinski: Insipid fuck tandems.

Graham pauses, only to shrug and continue. The crowd boos briefly when they learn the Shoot Kings will not debut tonight at Above & Beyond II, but quiet their disappointment and allow the interview to continue.

Clauson: Insipid fuck tandems what we can do in tag team competition. Not tonight, at least.

Szalinski: So we thought we'd take a few minutes to check out what happens tonight...get a good idea of what we bit off here in FGA.

Clement: I'm sure a lot of people are wondering this right now...what are you guys intending to do in FGA?

Graham and Madman look at each other, and nod in perfect synchronization. Continuing this, they turn back to the camera.

Clauson: Whatever we wanna do.

Szalinski: Whatever we gotta do.

Clauson: We've never held a Tag Team championship in our two years.

Szalinski: But honestly...we're still doing pretty darn good!

Szalinski nods, while Graham smirks a little bit.

Grayson: After all that pro-FRONTIER talk, it's a bit gutsy for you two to be coming here, isn't it?

Szalinski: Not really. You notice how I did one thing that Chandler Scott failed to do? I showed respect. We BOTH showed respect...and respect has been shown to us. I never said that I held anything against FGA. I merely showed my pride for FRONTIER, as their Commonwealth Champion. We knew from the second we got to Monroe and met everybody in person that we had to try it out. I mean...you guys do seem to run right in our backyard! We're America's team. We're the dream team. Straight off the Ohio River...two guys with everything you should ever need to succeed in the pro wrestling business. Graham, tell 'em.

Clauson: You got this guy right here...

Clauson points to his partner, pretending to be shy and modest briefly before smiling, refraining from making any type of cocky smirks or gestures.

Clausom: A veteran of TWELVE YEARS, nine of them full-time on a touring pro circuit. The first day he had his driver's license at sixteen, he drove his brothers and girlfriend from Parkersburg, West Virginia all the way to Frostburg, Maryland to get paid ten bucks to job the curtain-jerker match - AFTER HE GOT OUT OF SCHOOL AND TOOK THREE FINALS EXAMS, WHICH HE PASSED!

Szalinski: I got honors in History, I might add. Hey, I got a question...why'd you take Charleston off the schedule? Put it back on. Somebody. I'll pay for it. I got the money.

Almost like he is ignoring his partner, Graham ventures onto his next point.

Clauson: Twelve years. Over a dozen titles. Not even old enough to run for President. And he's indestructible. Break his leg? He'll keep going. Break his face? He'll just get a mask. Break his pancreas? He'll take his insulin shot as he walks through the curtain! That's who this man right over here is. And he's just half of this team...

Szalinski claps slowly, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Szalinski: Thanks, Graham. You know, for the rookie of the team, this man here ain't so bad either. While I was trained by two well-accomplished wrestlers who happened to be my family, Graham was trained by two well accomplished wrestlers, one well-accomplished MMA/cage fighter who is also homosexual, both of whom still train wrestlers and fighters to this very day. The Armed Forces wanted to send their guys to him for "combat conditioning", which is the hell that he put us both through on camera when Graham debuted in FRONTIER. He might only have three years of the road under his belt, but he's had as much wisdom as a man can get without the corresponding experience. And his body isn't jacked up like mine is. He can do a backflip off the top rope and actually land it. He can fling you onto his shoulder and carry you around the ring. I gotta be smart, pick the quickest route from standing toe-to-toe and you-on-the-mat. Graham Clauson once wrestled a sixteen man tournament and won it - FOUR MATCHES IN ONE NIGHT - and them wrestled a FIFTH match, going to a time limit draw in a title match with the world champion! If you dare call me the brains of the Shoot Kings, then have the respect to call this n**** right here the Brawny Man, because that is what he is, my friends!

Clauson: And that's how we work together. Two men, tougher than a Mongol's leather jacket! One man a road warrior since the days of 1.50 a gallon! The other genetically risen for combat! Friends through hell, friends through heaven, we are a team if there ever was one!

Both men lean forward, Graham first, pointing into the camera to enunciate their words through volume.

Clauson: You wanna know what we're doing in FGA? We're wrestlers, here to wrestle, because we're hungry and we hear that it's open season for tag teams around here. We came to get our limit and whatever else we can stuff in the bag.

Szalinski: Basically, FGA is our Coin Ship, and we're about to ransack this motherfucker for each and every piece of gold that we can get our hands on. We said it before, and we'll say it again. We're the REAL super brothers of professional wrestling...

Clauson:...and we don't need no super star to go right through you.

Szalinski: Hope that answers your questions, gentlemen.

Madman leans back, calmly reaching into his pants pocket, cupping but not removing the item. Graham continues to lean forward, waiting to speak again. He raises a hand to interrupt Kevin when he goes to end the interview.

Clement: Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen...

Clauson: Excuse me...we'll handle this part. Unlike most people, we like to actually finish what we start.

Graham lifts his fingers up to mimic a pistol in his hand. Madman, now putting a cigarette into his mouth, turns to see Graham and quickly lights it with a Zippo, then gets his opposite hand out to mirror.

Clauson: Ladies and gentlemen...your newest tag team in Frontier Grappling Arts...and future Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Champions...the Shoot Kings.

Both men point their "pistols" at the camera.

Clauson: Shoot's over.

With static, the scene cuts away and back to the arena.

[FGA Office]

Scramble Match for the Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Championship
(c) The Murder vs. The Usual Suspects vs. Bad Attitude vs. Weather

Cruz: The following match is a fourway scramble rules tag team match for the Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Championship!

Huge pops!

Cruz: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your guest commentator for this match...

This is an unexpected development. The crowd buzz, wondering who it will be. It's silent for a moment... and then Deerhoof's "Super Duper Rescue Heads !" hits the speakers.

Cruz: Laurel! Anne! HARDAAYYYY!

The young lady herself appears to big cheers, dressed in her usual flamboyant manner, with her GFC World Tag Team Championship belt around her waist. She interacts with the fans as she dances down towards the booth - shaking hands, high fiving, giving out hugs. She pauses by a teenage girl in the front row wearing a shirt for Laurel's stable, The Asylum, and gives her very Parisienne cheek-kisses before taking off her feather boa and draping it around the young fan's neck with a wink. Then, finally, she takes her place at the commentators' table.

Clement: Welcome to the booth, Laurel.

Hardy: Thanks! Nice to be here, Kevin an' Evan.

Clement: What brings you here for this match?

Hardy: Oh, you know, just a fan of... well, one of the teams in this thing.

Heather Halliwell and Wayne Carruthers appear from the curtains as their entrance song plays throughout the venue.

Hardy: Oh, an' here they are!

Standing on stage, Halliwell tosses her jacket onto the floor before she makes her way down the aisle as Carruthers follows suit. After embracing the fans near the guardrail along the way, both Halliwell and Carruthers make their way into the ring as Heather slides underneath the ring ropes while Wayne hops onto the apron before climbing into the ring.

Manny Cruz: Introducing... At a combined weight of 391 pounds! The team of Wayne Carruthers and Heather Halliwell... WEATHER!

Showered with cheers, Heather makes her way onto every corner of the ring, pulling herself up onto the turnbuckles and pointing at various members of the audience. Meanwhile, Wayne poses toward the direction of the hard camera, shooting his arms out to the side as he clenches his hands into a fist, much to the admiration of the crowd, before returning his arms nearby his waist. After Halliwell completes her round of poses, she and Carruthers give each other a high-five and a hug before having a short discussion to finalize their match strategy.

The drumbeat of "F#$k Tha Police" by dope fades in over the PA and the entire venue is on their feet trying to boo as loud as they can. Smoke from the fog machine is creating a faint haze at the curtains when slight feedback from the sounds of an electric guitar screeches over the system and the lyrics begin.

"F#$k tha police, comin' straight from the underground!"

Marx and Tryon step out from the entrance and stand in front of the smoked out curtains with the ever-present Tiffany Lawrence Michaels appearing between them. Both men are dawning dark hooded sweatshirts that obscure their face over their singlets and of course their ever annoying valet is wearing one of her skimpy outfits. The Usual Suspects stare out into a sea of middle fingers and begin making their way to the ring as the fans closest to the aisle began yelling obscenities at them. The two men pause at the base of the ring apron and allow their valet to take center stage as she climbs on to the apron, locks her arms around the top rope, and leans back as she faces the crowd allowing her ample assets to tighten up her revealing top. It's the only time during the entrance that some male fans give a slight applause. Both men hop up onto the ring apron next and enter through the ropes.

Clement: While Weather have the singles accolades and the personal beef with Dom Harter, these two men have been proving themselves incredibly effective as a unit... technically undefeated, but you know they'd love to avenge that draw with Bad Attitude.

Speaking of whom... “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold hits the speakers, which is met by boos that echo throughout the arena. When the heavy starts after the intro, Adam Stryker appears from behind the curtain, wearing his ring attire and the Untouchables tee. He raises his arms, enjoying the heat from the crowd. Michael Tomkins then appears wearing matching attired, but with a studded leather jacket with “Bad Attitude” emblazoned on the reverse side. He turns around to reveal the Tag Team slogan, stepping backwards as Stryker lowers his arms and begins to head to the ring. Tomkins turns around and the two bump elbows together and exchange words.

Cruz: At a combined weight of 445 pounds. Representing The Untouchables, they are the team of “The SoCal Switchblade” Adam Stryker and “The Raise-The-Bar Superstar” Michael Tomkins..... BAD ATTITUDE!

As they approach the ring, both men stop and sit on the apron, looking around the crowd, laughing at their heated response. “You Suck!” begins to be chanted throughout the arena as the two stand up and Tomkins throws his jacket to the floor. They both enter the ring through the middle rope and head to opposing corners. They then feign to climb, before turning and switching sides. When they reach the turnbuckle, they once again feign a climb before heading to the centre of the ring. They meet each other with a double fist pump.

Grayson: Clearly still bad blood between Bad Attitude and The Usual Suspects...

Clement: Chris Tryon's mouth is very good at getting him and his partner into trouble, and men like Stryker and Tomkins aren't the kind to let things slide.

Hardy: Jason Marx is an alright guy, though. I dunno why he teams with a cuntbag like Tryon.

Clement: Because, for his big mouth and all his rough edges, Tryon is an extremely talented wrestler.

Finally, The Murder's music hits, and Malcolm Drake and Dom Harter stalk down towards the ring. While Dom smiles his evil smile at the six athletes in the ring, Drake stomps along with his head bowed, flinching away from the hands stretching out to touch him, and occasionally snapping at someone who gets too close. As he reaches the apron he smacks himself with a hard double facepalm then rolls in and stares at the other teams with such anger that his gaze might disintegrate them. Dom glances at Malcolm for a moment, then adds his own intensity to the stare.

Clement: And here they are, they FGA Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Champions, and some would say, the most dangerous team in wrestling.

Grayson: I'm pretty sure Bad Attitude would disagree.

Hardy: Eh, both those teams are alright at being dangerous. They're like... six out of ten. Maybe seven on a good day.

Grayson: Remind me - who did The Murder beat to win those titles?

Hardy: Yeah, but only in a regular rules match. In a no-DQ? I'd have slaughtered 'em.

Without taking their evil gaze from their opponents, Drake and Harter unhook their titles and pass them to the ref. Then, from the corner of his eye, Drake notices who's on commentary and his expression gets even darker, if that's possible.

Hardy: Aaw, look, he remembers me!

As the referee pats down the teams for weapons, Drake's attention is focused on the booth. He's leaning over the top rope, spewing invective in Hardy's direction. She leaves the table and starts walking towards him, also mouthing off. Drake starts to step through the ropes, until Harter puts a hand on his mentor's shoulder and persuades him to focus his attention on the tag teams across the ring from them. After a reluctant moment Drake does so, and Harter warns Hardy to fuck off or else. With a smirk, she takes her seat at the booth again.

Clement: So basically, Laurel, you're out here to screw with Malcolm Drake.

Hardy: Watch him, Kevin. Keep an eye on him. Teams like The Murder need to be kept in check. There needs to be a failsafe in wrestling to stop people like that having their wicked way.

Grayson: And let me guess, you are that failsafe?

Hardy: Well, not just me.

The bell sounds as Harter immediately runs over, grabs an unsuspecting Halliwell by her hair and drags her through the ropes and into the ring to boos from the crowd.

Clement: And to the surprise of nobody, Harter and Halliwell start this off! They obviously still have a lot of issues with each other.

Grayson: 'Issues' is arguing about the toilet seat. These two run quite a way beyond 'issues'!

Hardy: Did you see PDW Legendary, where her an' Riley beat the holy green shit outta Dom? That was amazing.

After barking insults at Halliwell, Harter runs into the corner and slams her head into the top turnbuckle. He then turns around and delivers a series of hard shoulder thrusts to the midsection; each shoulder thrust nearly knocks the wind out of the Pretty Little Texan. As Harter stands back up, he sees Halliwell doubled over in pain. Harter likes what he sees, so he begins to taunt her to boos from the crowd. He adds insults to injury by slapping her upside the head, inciting the crowd even more. But the boos turn back to cheers as Halliwell stands up and catches Harter with a right hand. She then connects with another right hand... and another. But her offense is brought to a screeching halt with a thumb to the eyes; the crowd boos. Harter goes over into the corner, where Drake has draped his leg across the top rope. He runs over and slams Halliwell's face against the sole of Drake's boot. The crowd makes even more noise as Harter tags in the Head Crow.

Clement: The Murder on fire to start this thing off, just absolutely brutalising Heather Halliwell!

Hardy: Wish they were literally on fire.

Grayson: What was that?

Hardy: Oh, nothing.

Drake sizes up Heather before delivering a series of elbow strikes to the face. He then places her in a side headlock and begins to rake her eyes across the ring. She stumbles over into the Bad Attitude corner. But they want no part of Drake as both Tomkins and Stryker hop down from the apron. Drake nods his head. He makes some mention to them about cowardice before taking Halliwell from out of the corner and whipping her into the ropes. When Halliwell comes back, Drake throws a lariat. But Halliwell ducks and runs into the ropes. When Halliwell comes back, Drake goes for a yakuza kick. But Halliwell catches his foot and then counters with an inverted atomic drop to cheers from the crowd. While Drake is doubled over, she brings Drake over towards her corner and tags in Wayne Carruthers.

Hardy: Uh-huh! What time is it? It's panda time!

The crowd cheers as Carruthers gets in and delivers a series of right hands to the face of Drake. He then takes Drake and goes for an Irish whip. But Drake reverses, sending Wayne into the ropes. When Wayne comes back, Drake bends over to set up a back body drop. But Carruthers counters by grabbing Drake by his hair and throwing him down with a mat slam. The crowd cheers. Drake gets up holding the back of his head in pain. But Carruthers knocks him back down with a clothesline. Drake gets back up, but Carruthers knocks him right back down with another clothesline. The crowd cheers. As Drake gets up, Carruthers grabs him and sends him into the ropes. When Drake comes back, Carruthers takes him down with a big back body drop. The crowd cheers as Drake rolls to the outside. But while Carruthers can be seen yelling at Drake to get back into the ring, Harter comes up from behind and nails him with a clothesline from behind, knocking him down.

Grayson: Stomp on one crow, another descends. The Murder are almost supernaturally good at covering each other's backs.

The crowd boos as Harter puts the boots to Carruthers. Harter picks him up, runs into the corner and slams his head into the top turnbuckle. He turns Carruthers around and delivers four haymakers to the midsection. He then lunges forward, choking Carruthers with both hands to boos from the crowd. The ref gives him until the count of five to break the hold.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR...

Harter appears to make a clean break. That is, until he cheapshots Carruthers with a right across to the jaw. The crowd boos, but Harter pays them no mind as he brings Carruthers from out of the corner. He whips Carruthers into the ropes. But instead of bouncing back, Carruthers hangs onto the ropes. Harter sees this, so he charges over at Pro Wrestling's Panda Bear. But Carruthers ducks and counters with a fireman's carry, dumping Harter over the top rope and to the floor to cheers from the crowd. Drake then slides back in and goes for a running lariat. But Carruthers grabs the top rope and then pulls down, sending Drake tumbling over the top rope and to the floor. As The Murder slowly help each other up on the outside, Carruthers runs into the ropes. When he comes back, he charges forward and connects with a suicide dive into a flying forearm smash, knocking both men down to cheers and applause from the crowd.

Crowd: PANDA! PANDA! PANDA! PANDA! PANDA!

Hardy: Do I have to be impartial?

Clement: No...

Hardy: Fantastic. C'MON WAYNE! YOU CAN DO THIS, MATE!

But the fans' cheers turn to boos as Chris Tryon runs along the apron, leaps off and knocks Carruthers down from behind with a diving spinning heel kick. He gets up and mocks the “panda” chants to even more boos from the crowd. Marx can be seen telling him to get back on Carruthers. Tryon reluctantly does so. He picks up Carruthers and rolls him back into the ring. But as soon as Tryon climbs up onto the apron, Carruthers gets up and lunges through the ropes, doubling Tryon over. Carruthers then grabs Tryon and goes for a vertical suplex back into the ring. But Tryon slips down from behind and quickly rolls up Carruthers with an O'Connor Roll.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Carruthers kicks out. The momentum sends Tryon stumbling over into the ropes, where Harter reaches up and blasts him in the head with a forearm shot. The crowd boos as Tryon drops to the canvas.

Hardy: Knock him out, Dom. And Chris, if you could manage to knock Dom out at the same time? That'd be great. Cheers.

Grayson: You know they're not even listening to you, right?

Hardy: I've been working on psychically implanted suggestions in people's heads.

Grayson: And does that work?

Hardy: I dunno. Do you feel at all inclined to go and get me a beer?

Grayson: No.

Hardy: Then I guess it doesn't.

Carruthers heads over to Tryon, drags him away from the ropes and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Tryon kicks out. Carruthers picks him up, wrings his arm, brings him over towards his corner and tags in Halliwell.

Clement: Halliwell back in, and what a roll she's been on lately. You know she'd love to add the Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Championship to her trophy cabinet.

Grayson: Assuming there's any room left in there...

The crowd cheers as Halliwell gets in, takes Tryon by the arm and delivers an arm wringer herself. The crowd cheers as she tags Carruthers back in. She holds out Tryon's arm as Carruthers climbs up onto the top turnbuckle, jumps off and connects with a diving double ax handle smash across the outstretched arm. The crowd cheers as Carruthers takes the arm, wrings it and tags Halliwell back in. Carruthers holds out the arm as Halliwell climbs the turnbuckles. But once she reaches the top, Tomkins runs over and shoves her off, sending her crashing to the floor to boos from the crowd.

Grayson: Bad Attitude finally in this thing!

Clement: Drake accused them of cowardice, but one might say they've simply been waiting for an opportune moment.

Hardy: Yeah, I am not a fan of Adam Stryker in any way, shape or form, but I'll give him this: the guy ain't a coward.

Enraged, Carruthers lets go of Tryon, runs over and delivers a shoulder thrust through the ropes onto Tomkins. He then grabs the top rope and jerks back, slingshotting Tomkins into the ring to cheers from the crowd. As Tryon heads back out onto the apron, Carruthers mounts himself on top of Tomkins and hammers away with right hands to the face. He then picks up Tomkins and whips him into the ropes. When Tomkins comes back, he goes for a cross body block. But Carruthers catches him in mid air to cheers from the crowd. He then hoists Tomkins up across his shoulders, setting him up for the Cleveland Steamer to cheers from the crowd. But just then, Marx runs into the ring, grabs Carruthers from behind and delivers a German suplex to boos and applause from the crowd. As Tomkins rolls out of the ring, Marx scurries over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Harter breaks up the pin with a stomp to the back of the head. The crowd boos.

Hardy: Urgh. Where does that tenacious little bastard keep coming from? He's more like a cockroach than a crow.

After taking Carruthers and tossing him through the ropes and to the outside, Harter turns his attention back to Marx. But it's too late as Marx is up and meets him with a series of right hands. He then takes Harter and goes for an Irish whip. But Harter reverses, sending Marx into the ropes. Drake knees Marx in the back to boos from the crowd. As Marx stumbles away from the ropes, Harter runs over and knocks him down with a lariat. The crowd boos as Harter makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Tryon drags Harter off of Marx.

Clement: Very near fall! I think that would have been it if Tryon hadn't been able to make the save.

Harter slaps the canvas in frustration. When he gets up, turns around and sees Tryon, his eyes widen with anger while Tryon's widen with fear. Tryon quickly runs over slides to the outside. But Harter isn't about to the let the thorn in his side get away. So he heads to the outside and gives chase around the ring. After going around two ring post, Drake hops down from the apron to block Tryon. But Tryon quickly rolls back into the ring. After Harter rolls himself back in, he runs after Tryon. But he runs right into a clothesline from Carruthers to cheers from the crowd. Carruthers makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Harter kicks out. Carruthers picks up Harter and goes for an Irish whip. But Harter reverses, sending Carruthers into the ropes. When Carruthers comes back, he knocks Harter down with a cross body block to cheers from the crowd.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Drake breaks up the pin with a stomp to the back. The crowd boos.

Clement: Drake coming to the aid of his partner! Again, that might have been it!

Grayson: I was starting to wonder where he'd gotten to.

Hardy: Probably doing something unspeakable somewhere.

Grayson: Hey, know what I'd love to see? The Murder vs Bloodbath & Beyond in a last team standing or I quit match. Let them see who the sickest puppies really are.

Hardy: Ooh, yeah, that sounds awesome. I mean, I dunno if I'd bother watching, like. But I would still like for it to happen.

As Harter rolls to the outside, Drake picks up Carruthers, places him in a side headlock and then rakes his eyes along the top rope to boos from the crowd. After Carruthers stumbles into the corner, Drake comes from behind and delivers a back rake. The crowd boos as Carruthers arches his back in pain. He then takes Carruthers and slams his head into the top turnbuckle. After turning Carruthers around, Drake lunges forward and gouges his eyes to boos from the crowd. While Carruthers groans in pain, Drake turns and looks right at Hardy at ringside.

Hardy: Yeah, hi Malcolm. You alright there, buddy?

Grayson: If you want Weather to win, maybe you should stop pissing off Drake while he has Carruthers on the ropes?

Hardy: You don't have faith in Wayne to bounce back from this?

Grayson: Just saying.

Meanwhile, the ref scurries over and gives him until the count of five to break the hold.

Ref: ONE.... TWO.... THREE.... FOUR....

Drake reluctantly lets go. He then delivers a flurry of right hands that send Carruthers slumping down in the corner. He turns to look at Hardy for another angry moment, and she blows him a kiss. He snarls but turns his attention back to the match. After delivering a series of facewashes to Carruthers, Drake runs into the ropes. But he gets tripped up on the outside by Tryon. Drake immediately turns around and kicks at the bottom rope, hoping to connect with Tryon's mouth. But while Drake is distracted, Marx steps in, turns Drake around and unleashes a series of knife-edge chops that echo throughout the building.

Hardy: See? I didn't even have anything to do with that.

Marx takes Drake and whips him into the ropes. When Drake comes back, Marx throws a clothesline. But Drake ducks and runs into the ropes. When Drake comes back, Marx throws him down with a belly to belly suplex to cheers from the crowd. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Harter goes to break up the pin with an elbow drop. But Marx rolls out of the way, causing Drake to get hit with the elbow to cheers from the crowd.

Hardy: HAH! That is the best thing ever! I am officially a Marx mark now. Tryon's still a cuntbag, though.

Clement: That certainly was impressive on Marx's part, showing off his veteran awareness.

As Harter gets up, Marx runs over and knocks him down with a clothesline to cheers from the crowd. Drake gets back up, but Marx knocks him down with a running clothesline, too. The crowd cheers. Marx then nails Harter with a right hand, then Drake, then Harter, then Drake, then Harter, then Drake. Marx then grabs The Murder by their heads and slams them together with a double noggin knocker to cheers from the crowd.

Hardy: Aw, Jason, this is beautiful. I could watch this all day. I need this on DVD so I can snuggle up under a blanket and just watch this sequence over and over, with ice cream and red wine.

While The Murder are dazed, Marx goes to head into the ropes. But Tryon steps in and tells him that he says this, Marx tries to reason with Tryon, but Tryon refuses to listen. Marx shakes his head as he heads out onto the apron. After taunting The Murder, Tryon then runs into the ropes. But when he comes back, The Murder throw him down with a double front spinebuster to boos from the crowd. Tryon can be seen arching his back in pain before The Murder puts the boots to him. This causes both Marx and Carruthers to get back in and fight them off to cheers from the crowd.

Clement: I had a feeling it'd only be a matter of time before Tryon and Marx's issues got the better of them, and it's just cost them badly! They were in control of this thing!

Grayson: And Marx and Carruthers now unlikely allies!

While Harter & Marx and Drake & Carruthers are battling against the ropes, Bad Attitude sneaks back into the ring. Tomkins runs over and dumps Harter & Marx over the top rope. Stryker then does the same to Drake & Carruthers. The crowd boos as Bad Attitude slowly turns around and sees Tryon trying to get back up to his feet. They rub their hands in anticipation as Tryon has no idea what's behind him.

Clement: I would not like to be Tryon right now.

Hardy: Would you ever like to be Tryon?

Clement: Touche.

When Tryon turns around, he's quickly met with a double kick to the midsection. Bad Attitude proceed to deliver clubbing shots to the back to boos from the crowd.

Hardy: I've been on the receiving end of shots like that from Stryker, an' lemme tell ya, they'll smack the air right outta your lungs.

As The Murder, Marx and Carruthers get up on the outside, Bad Attitude takes Tryon and whips him into the ropes. When he comes back, Bad Attitude goes for a double clothesline. But Tryon ducks, runs over towards the ropes and delivers a slingshot plancha, knocking down all four men on the outside to cheers from the crowd.

Grayson: Tryon just knocked down his own partner along with The Murder and Carruthers!

Hardy: Eh, that's just one of the standard risks of tag team wrestling.

Back in the ring, Bad Attitude surveys the damage on the outside. After figuring that the coast is clear, they raise their arms in the air to boos from the crowd. But the boos turn to cheers as Halliwell comes from out of nowhere with a dropkick from behind, sending Stryker stumbling through the ropes and to the floor. Tomkins snaps out of his celebratory trance and sees Halliwell back in the ring. So he runs over and attempts a clothesline, but Halliwell ducks. When Tomkins turns around, she knocks him down with a dropkick to cheers from the crowd.

Hardy: Let's go, Heather, let's go! Let's go, Heather, let's go!

As Tomkins gets up, Halliwell grabs him and whips him into the ropes. When Tomkins comes back, she bends over to set up a back body drop. But Tomkins stops and counters with a kick to the face. The crowd boos. As Halliwell stands up and holds her mouth in pain, Tomkins runs back into the ropes. When he come back, Halliwell knocks him down with a spinning heel kick. With Tomkins laid out, Halliwell steps through the ropes and begins to climb the turnbuckles to cheers from the crowd.

Clement: I think we all know what she's looking for, and if she hits it, we'll surely have new champions!

Hardy: First round's on me if that happens.

Once Halliwell climbs up onto the top turnbuckle, she flips off and connects with the Yellow Rose to cheers and applause from the crowd. She hooks the leg.

ONE!
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TWO!
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The Murder picks her up from off of Tomkins, runs across the ring and throw her shoulder-first into the ring post. The thud from the impact can be heard through the building. The crowd boos as Halliwell slowly slips through the ropes and falls to the floor.

Hardy: Urgh. So close!

Clement: Yes... but you can't take your eyes off your opponents in a match like this, and with six to keep track of, that might be the biggest challenge!

Back in the ring, Drake marches over, picks up Tomkins and whips him into the corner. Harter then runs across the ring and connects with a running double knee strike to the chest to boos. Tomkins crumbles from out of the corner. Drake then pulls up Tomkins and whips him into the ropes. When Tomkins comes back, Drake turns him inside out with a lariat. The crowd boos as he makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Marx pulls Drake off of Tomkins to cheers from the crowd.

Grayson: You know, it's weird hearing how much more the fans like Marx than Tryon. Still kind of a disconnect to see such different guys teaming together.

Clement: But it clearly works for them.

Grayson: Oh, no doubt.

Marx picks up Drake and nails him with a right hand. Drake responds with one of his won. Marx delivers another right hand. Drake comes right back with one of his own. Before Marx can deliver another punch, Drake rakes him across the eyes to boos from the crowd. He then quickly plants Marx with a DDT to boos from the crowd.

Clement: Yet another cheap shot by The Murder! What is the ref doing!?

Grayson: Maybe The Murder are holding his family hostage...

Hardy: I honestly wouldn't be surprised at them pulling something like that.

Drake heads across the ring, turns around and sets up for a punt kick to the head. As Marx slowly turns over and gets up on all fours, Drake goes to kick his head 10 rows into the crowd. But Drake is cut off by Tryon, who knocks him down with a springboard dropkick to a mixed reaction from the crowd. Drake gets up, but Tryon knocks him down with a spinning back kick. Drake gets back up, but Tryon knocks him down with a dropkick. As Drake gets back up, Tryon delivers three forearm strikes before sending him into the corner. Tryon runs into the corner, hops onto Drake and goes for a monkey flip. But Drake holds onto the ropes, sending Tryon back-first onto the canvas to boos from the crowd. Drake then picks up Tryon and whips him into the opposite corner. The crowd boos as Harter takes the tag rope from the top turnbuckle pad and chokes Tryon from behind with it. While Tryon is getting choked out, Drake sets up for a running yakuza kick. As Drake takes off, Carruthers blindsides him with a clothesline to cheers from the crowd. Carruthers picks up Drake, scoops him up across his shoulders, runs and delivers the Cleveland Steamer to cheers from the crowd. He then gets up and runs into the ropes. When he comes back, he connects with a senton to cheers from the crowd. Carruthers turns over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Harter dives over and shoves Carruthers off of Drake to boos from the crowd.

Grayson: Things are getting brutal here, and tempers are flaring!

Clement: Each of these teams desperately wants to be the champions, Evan!

As Drake rolls to the outside, Harter picks up Carruthers and whips him into the corner. Harter runs across the ring and goes for a running double knee strike. But Carruthers moves out of the way, sending Harter crashing and burning in the corner to cheers from the crowd. Meanwhile, Drake slowly pulls himself up on the commentary table, trying to shake off Carruthers' assault. His eyes lock with Hardy's and narrow.

Hardy: Don't mind me. You've got a match to be getting on with.

Drake mumbles something barely coherent, but it sounds like a threat of very serious physical harm on Hardy if she leaves that seat. Suddenly he spits in her face! She slowly wipes the phlegm off herself, and flicks it in his direction, but he's moved out of range and gone back to the match.

Hardy: You see that? That is disgusting. That has to be a health and safety violation.

Grayson: I'd just like to point out that Laurel Anne Hardy is barefoot, and the soles of her feet are filthy from this arena floor.

Hardy: I'm pretty sure that whatever diseases are on this floor are nothing compared to the ones inside Malcolm Drake. Guy goes around spitting on people... that's the kind of thing I'm talking about with The Murder. They think they can do what they want, when they want, where they want, and everyone's too frightened to retaliate. Well The Asylum will retaliate with the force of a nuclear bomb if The Murder step out of line.

As Harter slowly pulls himself using the ropes and turns around, Carruthers charges over and sends himself and Harter over the top rope and to the floor with a Cactus Clothesline. As Carruthers gets up on the outside, Marx knocks him down with a running clothesline. He then takes Carruthers, rolls him back into the ring, rolls himself back in and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Carruthers gets his shoulder up. Marx picks up Carruthers and goes for an Irish whip. But Carruthers reverses, sending him into the ropes. When Marx comes back, Carruthers goes for a back body drop. But Marx slips down from behind, grabs Carruthers and hits a release German suplex to cheers from the crowd.

Clement: Marx has really been impressive in this match.

Hardy: You know what, I could happily live with him being the champion, if it wasn't for his choice of partner.

When Marx gets up, Drake runs over and throws a roaring elbow. But Marx ducks and counters with a capture suplex to cheers from the crowd. But as Marx gets up, he turns right into a running double knee strike from Harter, knocking him down to boos from the crowd. Harter picks up Marx, hooks his arms, and plants him with Spin The Black Circle. The crowd boos as he turns Marx over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Tryon breaks up the pin with a guillotine leg drop across the back of the neck.

Grayson: Say what you like about his choice of partner, he just saved his ass right there![/b]

Tryon rolls Harter off of Marx and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Drake breaks up the pin with a punt kick to the head, nearly sending Tryon's teeth flying to the outside.

Clement: And Drake just saved the titles for The Murder!

Drake picks up a dazed Tryon, wraps him up from behind and then delivers the Mors Omnibus to boos from the crowd. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Carruthers breaks up the pin with a jumping body splash to cheers from the crowd.

Hardy: Man, it's so hard in these big multi-person matches to follow where everyone is and what they're doing.

Clement: Marx and Halliwell, by far the most experienced people in this match, have been doing great on that front. But their opponents are all a lot younger and seem to have a lot more energy...

Grayson: Watch it! Are you calling Heather old?

Clement: What? No!

Carruthers picks up Drake and whips him into the corner. He runs across the ring and connects with the Ass Attack to cheers from the crowd. He then takes Drake and whips him into the opposite corner. Carruthers runs across the ring and connects with another Ass Attack. The crowd cheers. He then takes Drake and whips him back into the previous corner. Carruthers runs, jumps and goes for another Ass Attack. But Drake falls from out of the corner, causing Carruthers to connect with nothing but turnbuckles to boos from the crowd.

Grayson: OUCH!

Hardy: That'll shake your tailfeather!

As Carruthers stumbles from out of the corner, Tomkins slides into the ring and clotheslines him over the top rope and to the floor. Tomkins steps back and raises his arms in the air to boos from the crowd. But he steps backwards right into a punch to the back of the head from Harter, doubling him over. Harter then hoists him up and plants him with Goodnight To The World. The crowd boos as he makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Harter pulls up Tomkins' head to boos from the crowd.

Hardy: Oh, come on!

Harter lifts him back up and plants him with another Goodnight To The World. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THREE!

Cruz: Here are your winners and still the Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Champions, THE MURDER!

Drake slowly enters the ring and snatches one of the belts off the referee, while Harter accepts the other.

Hardy: Motherfuckers. Well, they did it... not sure they'd have done it without all those eye-pokes and back-rakes and stuff, mind...

Grayson: Well, a win is a win, and the record books will show that The Murder were successful in their first defence against three of wrestling's top teams!

Harter shows off his title to the assembled irate wrestlers at ringside, pausing on Halliwell to smile his sick smile at her, while Drake leans over the ropes and thrusts his belt in Hardy's direction. She responds by holding up her own title and displaying it to him. The stare between the two is so intense it could melt tungsten.

Marx and Tryon exchange not-entirely-calm words with each other while Tiffany tries to cool both them down. Stryker shoulder-barges past Carruthers and helps Tomkins out of the ring.

Clement: Tension flaring up all over the place it seems, but the fact is The Murder are still the champions!

Grayson: And as FGA's tag division continues to heat up, I am very excited to see where all these teams go from here!

[FGA Office]

November 2011, it all started...

January 2014, the next stage begins...

[FGA Office]

Finals of the Frontier Lions Cup

Sean Sands vs. Chaths

As the opening beat of "We Can Make The World Stop" by Glitch Mob hits, the crowd begins to cheer as they await for the very liked face that is Sean Sands. The black curtains are opened and most of the fans can see a man standing behind them. Sean Sands, with his regular in-ring attire, steps out from behind the ring curtains and looks out at the crowd, smiling.

Cruz: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. And it is the Finals of the Frontier Lions Cup. Introducing first, from Cincinnati, Ohio... weighing in at 209 pounds, SEAN SANDS!

He does not stand at the top of the ramp for long, quickly making his way down the ramp. He high fives a few fans along the way and eventually pulls off his t-shirt and either tosses it into the crowd, or hands it to someone in the front row.

Clement: Sean Sands has made it to the finals. He defeated Johnny Blayze in the quarterfinals, then defeated the hometown favorite Kevin Hardaway in the semis. Sands has put on great performances tonight. But does he have anything left in the tank? Can he walk away with the Frontier Lions Cup?

The lights in the arena go of as the opening seconds of “Nibiru” by Ab-Soul begins to fill the venue. “Fuck I’m doin’ talkin’ ‘bout pineal glands? Fuck I’m doin’ talkin’ ‘bout pineal glands? Ancient ways of Sumerians. Ain’t nothing wrong with a righteous man. Uh, this is my Anunaki flow. Oh, this be my Anunaki flow. Yo, I got that Anunaki flow. You are now on Planet X. I’m the God, show your respect. Hiiipower.” The lights come on to reveal Chaths standing at the top of the ramp with his hooded, sleeveless trench coat on and his hood covering his face. He holds his handmade tonfa with his right hand.

Cruz: And his opponent, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Weighing in at 205 pounds, CHATHS!

Making his way down to the ring, Chaths slowly surveys the arena as the crowd boos. He uses the steps to enter the ring, stopping at the top step to face the people that hate him. He removes his hood to reveal a dastardly smirk before entering the ring through the top and second rope. He silently goes to his corner and removes his coat, handing it to a stagehand. Chaths then places his tonfa in his corner. Hopping up to take a seat on top of the turnbuckle, he patiently waits for the match to start.

Clement: Chaths dominated Alison James in the quarterfinals. He then bested Johnny Karma in a back and forth contest in the semis. He is clearly the fresher of the two. But will he overestimate Sean Sands? Will he leave himself open with a mistake? Both of these men are vying for the Frontier Lions Cup. Both men want to become the next #1 contender for the FGA Heavyweight Champion. Who is going to win? We'll find out right now!

The bell sounds as both men circle the ring. They then make their way towards the center of the ring and lock up. After jockeying for position, both men shove each other back. They then lunge forward, locking back up. After jockeying for position, they shove each other back again. After circling the ring, they run towards each other. After jockeying for position, Chaths moves Sands into the corner. He presses Sands up against the corner. But Sands switches position and presses Chaths up against the corner. After a bit of a struggle, Chaths switches position, turns and pushes Sands up against the ropes. But Sands turns and pushes Chaths up against the ropes. The ref then scurries over and gives both men until the count of five to break the hold.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR... FIVE.

The ref then gets in and has to break it up inside. Chaths then pushes Sands, causing the crowd to boos. But the boos turn back to cheers when Sands shoves Chaths into the ropes. Chaths then comes back and piefaces Sands to boos from the crowd. But the boos turn to cheers as Sands slaps the taste out of his mouth. While Sands is yelling at him, Chaths connects with a quick spinning back kick to the midsection, doubling him over to boos from the crowd. He then grabs Sands, runs and slams his head into the top turnbuckle. After turning Sands around, Chaths delivers a series of shoulder thrusts to the midsection. He then stands back up and delivers a knife-edge chop that echoes throughout the building. After pulling his arm back, Chaths throws another hard chop to the chest. He then delivers a series of rapid chops, followed by a delayed knife-edge chop that echoes throughout the building.

Clement: Chaths just lighting up Sands' chest with those chops.

Grayson: That's what he gets! You think you can slap a man like Chaths and get away with it? He's lucky Chaths didn't rip his hand right off. And you know he can, too.

Clement: Judging by the company that Johnny Blayze keeps, I wouldn't doubt it.

Sands begins to stumble from out of the corner. But Chaths doesn't let up. He grabs Sands from behind, runs and slams his head into the adjacent top turnbuckle. After turning Sands around, he delivers a series of elbow strikes to the head. He then steps back and mudhole stomps Sands down in the corner. After stomping away at Sands' chest, Chaths chokes Sands with his foot to boos from the crowd.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR...

Chaths lets go. He reaches down, grabs a handful of Sands' hair and whips him into the opposite corner. Chaths runs across the ring. But Sands ricochets from out of the corner and knocks him down with a running clothesline to cheers from the crowd. Chaths gets back up, but Sands knocks him back down with another clothesline. The crowd cheers. As Chaths gets back up, Sands grabs him and goes for an irish whip. But Chaths reverses, sending him into the ropes. When Sands comes back, Chaths bends over to set up a back body drop. But Sands hurdles over him and runs into the ropes. When Sands comes back, Chaths turns and leap frogs over him. Sands continues to run into the ropes. When Sands comes back, Chaths goes for a hip toss. But Sands blocks it. Chaths goes for another hip toss but again, Sands blocks it. So Chaths punches him in the midsection, doubling him over. He then drapes his leg across the back of Sands' neck and performs a backflip. But once Chaths lands on his feet, Sands takes him down with a neckbreaker to cheers from the crowd. He makes the cover..

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chaths kicks out.

Sands picks up Chaths and places him in a side headlock. The ref asks Chaths if he wants to give up, but Chaths refuses to quit. So Sands cinches in the hold, causing Chaths to groan in pain. The ref asks him if he wants to give up. But again, Chaths refuses to quit. He then shoves Sands off of him and into the ropes. Before Sands can even bounces back, Chaths nails him with a knee to the midsection. The crowd boos. He then takes Sands, delivers an irish whip and follows him across the ring. Again, before Sands can even bounce back, Chaths delivers a knee to the midsection. He then takes Sands and tosses him through the ropes. After reaching through the ropes and pulling Sands' upper body between the middle and top ropes, Chaths grabs him by the wrist. He then proceeds to nail Sands with repeated kicks to the face to boos from the crowd. While Sands is still doubled over, Chaths lets go and runs into the ropes. When he comes back, he connects with a front dropkick to the side of the head. The crowd boos as Sands falls through the ropes and down to the canvas. Chaths drags him away from the ropes, makes the cover and presses his forearm across his jaw.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Sands kicks out.

Clement: Chaths gets a two count. But he was able to use those lethal feet to kick the hell out of Sands.

Chaths picks him up, only to snapmare him over and deliver a stiff kick to the back. He then nails Sands with a stiff kick to the chest, knocking him down. Chaths then leaps up and delivers a jumping knee drop. The crowd boos as he makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Sands gets his shoulder up.

Chaths picks up Sands and whips him into the corner. Chaths steps back before running across the ring and delivering a cartwheel into a twisting enzuigiri. The crowd boos as Sands crumbles from out of the corner. Chaths turns around and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Sands gets his shoulder up.

Clement: A nice athletic move there by Chaths. But again, it only gets two. You have to admire the guts of Sands.

Grayson: I'm shaking my head over his stupidity, actually. Just stay down.

Chaths picks him up, only to snapmare him over and apply a neck crank. The crowd boos as Sands can be seen cringing in pain.

Clement: Chaths now trying to snap Sands' neck in two.

The ref asks Sands if he wants to give up. When Sands refuses to quit, Chaths gives a quick jerk to the neck, causing Sands to groan in pain. The ref asks Sands if he wants to give up. But again, Sands refuses to quit.

Clement: Sands tries to fight off the pain. But how much can he take?

Grayson: Not much moore by the looks of things.

Sands slowly turns over and begins to battle his way back up to his feet. Once he's up to a vertical base, Sands delivers a series of elbows to the midsection, breaking the hold. He then turns and nails Chaths with a right hand.... and another... and another. The crowd cheers. But the cheers turn to boos as Chaths stops the comeback with a mongolian chop. He then runs into the ropes. When Chaths comes back, Sands knocks him down with a spinning heel kick to cheers from the crowd. He makes the cover.

Clement: Sands caught him with the kick! This could be it...

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chaths kicks out.

Sands picks up Chaths and whips him into the corner. He then runs across the ring, but he runs right into an elbow to the face. The crowd boos. As Sands stumbles back, Chaths darts from out of the corner and knocks him down with a front dropkick. As Sands turns over and tries to get up to his feet, Chaths comes up from behind and delivers a front dropkick to the back, sending Sands stumbling through the ropes and out onto the apron. The crowd boos. As Sands tries to pull himself up using the ropes, Chaths runs over and delivers a shoulder thrust through the ropes, followed by a headbutt. He then turns Sands around, climbs up onto the middle ropes and applies the Bite of the Dragon to boos from the crowd.

Grayson: There it is!

Clement: Chaths has that illegal submission applied. But he can't hold onto it forever...

The crowd continues to boo as Chaths pulls back, causing Sands to groan in pain. The ref gives Chaths until the count of five to break the hold.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE.... FOUR....

Chaths reluctantly lets go. As Sands tries to pull himself up on the apron using the ropes, Chaths runs into the ropes. When he comes back, he charges forward, dives and connects with a busaiku knee, knocking Sands off the apron and to the floor. The crowd boos.

Grayson: Down goes Sands!

Clement: Sands just got sent flying off that apron and landed hard on the floor...

Chaths crouches down and waits patiently for Sands to get back up. As Sands begins to get up on the outside, Chaths runs into the ropes. When Chaths comes back, he charges forward and goes for a suicide dive. But Sands counters with a pele kick, knocking Chaths back into the ring to cheers and applause from the crowd.

Grayson: What!?

Clement: Pele! Pele! Sands counters the suicide dive with a Pele!

Sands rolls back into the ring and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chaths gets his shoulder up.

Sands picks up Chaths and whips him hard chest-first into the corner. As Chaths stumbles back, Sands runs into the corner and goes for the Lip Buster. But Chaths catches his leg and throws him down with a dragonscrew legwhip. The crowd boos.

Grayson: Great counter by Chaths.

Clement: He appears to have had the Lip Buster well scouted...

Chaths then grabs a hold of Sands' legs, hooks his arms around then and leans back, catapulting Sands into the corner. Luckily for Sands, he lands safely on the middle ropes. When Chaths gets up and turns around, Sands steps up onto the top turnbuckle and goes for a moonsault. Chaths moves out of the way. But Sands lands safely on his feet. Chaths then turns and runs at him. But he runs right into a spear to cheers from the crowd. He makes the cover.

Clement: Sands busts out the spear and nearly snaps Chaths in half! This could be it...

ONE!
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TWO!
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THR-NO!

Chaths gets his shoulder up to boos from the crowd.

Grayson: PHEW!

Sands picks up Chaths and whips him hard into the corner. As Chaths stumbles out, Sands runs over, leaps up and plants him with Face Meets Mat to cheers from the crowd. He turns Chaths over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THR-NO!

Chaths gets his shoulder up to boos from the crowd.

Clement: Again, Chaths just barely, and I mean BARELY gets his shoulder up.

Grayson: He got the shoulder up. That's all that matters...

Sands picks up Chaths and goes for an irish whip, but Chaths reverses and sends Sands into the ropes. When Sands comes back, Chaths bends over to set up a back body drop. But Sands counters with a Fame Asser to cheers from the crowd. He turns Chaths over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THR-NO!

Chaths gets his shoulder up to boos from the crowd.

Clement: Again, Chaths gets his shoulder up.

Grayson: Chaths isn't about to let this match slip away that easily...

Sands picks up Chaths, goes over and slams his head into the top turnbuckle. After turning Chaths around, Sands climbs up onto the middle ropes and punches him while the crowd counts along.

Crowd: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR.....

Chaths grabs Sands, runs from out of the corner and delivers an inverted atomic drop to boos from the crowd. While Sands is doubled over, Chaths nails him with an axe kick to the back of the head, knocking him down. He turns Sands over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Sands gets his shoulder up.

Chaths picks up Sands and unleashes a combination of right and left slaps to the face. He follows up with a spinning back kick to the midsection that knocks Sands down on all fours. Chaths then leaps up and delivers a jumping double foot stomp to the back of the head, knocking Sands down to boos from the crowd. He turns Sands over, makes the cover and presses his forearm across his jaw.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THR-NO!

Sands gets his shoulder up to cheers from the crowd.

Clement: He got the shoulder up!

Chaths picks up Sands and delivers a European Uppercut. While Sands is dazed, Chaths runs towards the ropes. He goes for a handspring back elbow. But Sands counters with a backstabber in mid-air to cheers and applause from the crowd.

Clement: What a counter by Sands!

Sands turns Chaths over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chaths gets his shoulder up to boos from the crowd.

Grayson: Come on, Chaths, get up...

Sands picks up Chaths and goes for an irish whip. But Chaths reverses, sending Sands into the corner. Chaths runs across the ring and connects with a corner yakuza kick to boos from the crowd. He then whips Sands into the opposite corner. Chaths runs across the ring and connects with another corner yakuza kick. The crowd boos. Chaths takes Sands and whips him back into the previous corner. He charges across the ring and connects with yet another corner yakuza kick to boos from the crowd. As Sands slumps down in the corner, Chaths steps through the ropes and walks across the apron. After climbing up to the top turnbuckle, Chaths leaps off and connects with a coat-to-coast flying front dropkick to the face; boos and applause can be heard throughout the crowd.

Grayson: Yes! Yes! Yes! It's over, Kev....

He then drags Sands away from the ropes and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THRE-NO!

Sands gets his shoulder up to cheers from the crowd. Chaths looks up at the ref in disbelief.

Grayson: I can't believe it, either!

Chaths picks up Sands, brings him over and sits him down across the top turnbuckle. After climbing up to the second turnbuckle, Chaths goes to grab Sands. But Sands swats his hands away before nailing him with a barrage of right hands to the face. He then shoves Chaths off the turnbuckle and to the canvas to cheers from the crowd. After Sands stands up, he flips off, going for the Sands Drop. But Chaths rolls out of the way, causing Sands to connect with nothing but canvas. The crowd boos as Sands clutches his leg in pain.

Clement: Sands missed the Sands Drop! And it looks like he hurt his leg...

Grayson: Aw, poor guy.

Chaths gets up and crouches down. He waits patiently for Sands, waiting for the right moment to pounce on him. As Sands slowly gets up, Chaths runs across the ring and goes for a flying shoulderblock. But Sands ducks out of the way at the last second, causing Chaths to collide into the corner. The crowd cheers.

Clement: And nobody's home as Chaths flies right into those turnbuckles!

As Chaths stumbles back, Sands leaps up and brings him down with the Sands Attack to cheers from the crowd. He makes the cover.

Clement: Sands Attack! He's got it...

ONE!
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TWO!
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THRE-NO!

Chaths gets his shoulder up to boos from the crowd. Sands covers his face in disbelief.

Grayson: Thank you. Thank you!

Clement: Chaths barely got his shoulder up there!

Sands snaps out of it. He picks up Chaths, brings him into the corner and sits him down across the top turnbuckle. After climbing up onto the middle ropes, he grabs Chaths, lifts him up and plants him with a brainbuster across the top turnbuckle to cheers and applause from the crowd.

Grayson: No!

Clement: Chaths goes down and he looks all but out of it!

As Chaths lays on the canvas, Sands steps through the ropes and begins to climb the turnbuckles. Once he reaches the top, he flips off and connects with the Sand Drop. The crowd cheers as he makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THREE!

"We Can Make The World Stop" blasts over the PA to cheers from the crowd.

Cruz: Here is your winner and the 2013 Frontier Lions Cup winner, SEAN SANDS!

The ref helps Sands up and raises his arm in the air to cheers from the crowd.

Clement: Sands has done it! Sands has won the 2013 Frontier Lions Cup! What a win!

Sands hobbles across the ring before climbing the ropes and raising his arms in the air to cheers from the crowd.

[FGA Office]

(We cut backstage and see the FGA Heavyweight Champion, Chris Q, standing in the center of the shot looking directly into the camera. He is wearing his trademark black suit and sunglasses. The expression on his face is very serious. The camera pulls back and we see the shine of the championship belt resting on his shoulder. Q takes a deep breath and exhales before he begins to speak.)

Chris Q: Tonight is a very significant night for the legacy of Chris Q. This is a very important title defense for me, because I need to prove that I can overcome two challengers and retain my title. In my mind, I know I will do what I always do and destroy the competition. But I hear my critics. I know they feel differently. People always want to hate the perpetual winners. Nobody wants to see a dynasty repeatedly win the championship again and again. Well that’s just too damn bad, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

(Q pauses for a moment.)

Chris Q: I always get asked the same questions. “Why are you in this business, Chris?” Or, “What’s important to you?”

(Chris smiles for a second and then lifts the FGA Championship off his shoulder. He holds the belt right in front of the camera.)

Chris Q: This. This is what’s important to me. The FGA Championship is the only thing that matters to me in life and that’s why I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep it. If you don’t realize this about me by now, you’re never going to get it. The FGA Championship is the best friend I’ve got in the entire world and it is the only friend I need. My opponents tonight don’t understand this. It’s already been established that the title doesn’t mean as much to A.J. Fairchild as it does to me. And Bob Pooler wants to win the belt for all the wrong reasons. The FGA Championship doesn’t belong to a group or stable of men. This championship should be held by the very best in Frontier Grappling Arts.

(Q throws the title back over his shoulder before he continues.)

Chris Q: Bob Pooler and A.J. Fairchild are nowhere near the best in this company. Honestly, neither of them even deserve to be in the discussion. I have gone fourteen and two during my run, and I have never been legitimately pinned. My opponents can try to discredit my record all they want, but nobody will ever accomplish what I have in this organization. And as long as the critics keep talking shit and potential challengers keep emerging, the Chris Q party will rage on.

(Chris scowls at the camera before walking out of the shot. The scene fades to black.)

[FGA Office]

[The scene cuts to the backstage area of the Du Burns Arena on a tight shot of “The Tenacious Little Bastard” walking down a hallway. As soon as he turns a corner to the left, we hear the shrieking sound of a woman’s voice.]

“THAT’S HIM OFFICER!!! HE’S THE ONE!!!”

(An enlarged view of Harter’s surroundings reveals four figures in his path; Tiffany Lawrence Michaels, Joey Davis, and two police officers. Tiffany is frantically jumping up and down, obviously playing up the situation to the cops. One man is a short, portly fellow with a freshly shaved head while the other is a slender Hispanic officer with a mustache. After Harter gathers himself after the initial shriek, he questions his audience.)

Dom Harter: The one, what? What the hell are you on about?!

Tiffany: That’s the man who assaulted me two weeks ago!

(Both officers eye Harter with suspicion, and cautiously widen their stance in case of resistance.)

Portly Officer: Is that true, sir? Are you the man who assaulted this woman?

(Of course Harter remembers the vicious backhand slap across Tiffany’s face during the FGA vs. Frontier show. He squinted his eyes a bit, focusing on Tiffany’s cheek; a slight bruise still exists, but the swelling is completely gone.)

Dom Harter: I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. I barely even see a bruise. Knowing this stupid bitch, she probably ran into a glass patio door thinking it was open.

(Harter makes a slight backpedal move just to gauge the officer’s reactions. When he sees them tense, he pauses.)

Joey: Not so fast you HOOLIGAN!!! Being the quick thinking lawyer that I am, I took a picture of the aftermath of your VICIOUS assault on your poor virtuous victim.

(Joey pulls out his iPhone3, yes I said a 3 – he’s not a very successful attorney you know – and holds it up where you can see a large swollen bruise on the face of Tiffany on the screen.)

Joey: I also submitted a request to the FGA office, and they sent out the actual video of your ruthless, vicious thrashing of my client. How could you, you… RUFFIAN!!!!

(Dom bows up in anger. How dare this waste of human flesh address him as though he were filth.)

Dom Harter: Listen here, lardass...

Hispanic Officer: DON’T MOVE!!!

(The officers begin moving towards Harter with their hands loosely placed on their weapons if the worst were to happen. For a moment it appears as though Dom entertains the thought of dropping these two and unleashing unspeakable horrors on Tiffany and her cousin. He lets out a scoff in disgust and as his chest deflates the officers place their hands on him and turn him to face the wall. The Hispanic officer begins to cuff Harter as his cohort reads the Miranda Rights.)

Portly Officer: Dominic Harter, you’re under arrest for the assault and battery of Tiffany Lawrence Michaels. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law; you have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney you will be appointed to you; do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?

Dom Harter: Sure…

Tiffany: OH, PLEASE KEEP HIM AWAY FROM ME. I HAVEN’T HAD A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP SINCE THAT HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE OF A NIGHT!!!

(Tiffany is obviously pouring it on for effect, drawing a sneer from Harter. As the officers begin leading him away, the fat scumbag cousin of hers places his arm out as if to protect Tiffany from Dom.)

Dom Harter: Awful brave when I’m in cuffs, aren’t you...who are you?

(As they pass the duo, Harter suddenly jerks toward them.)

Dom Harter: BOO!

(Joey drops to the floor, curling up into a fetal position causing Dom to chuckle in amusement. As he stands up, we can see a fresh wet puddle forming in his crotch region. The officers begin leading Dom toward the glass doorway that leads out into the parking lot. A quick cut happens with the camera to a close shot of the exit. We pan to the right on a black Wayne Carruthers “Panda Enthusiast” t-shirt.)

“Let me get that door for you officers!”

(Backing out we see Chris Tryon wearing the new Carruthers t-shirt, with a shit-eating grin on his face.)

Tryon: Hiya Dom…

(Harter stops walking, notices the smugness on Chris’s face, and quickly puts everything together. Now shaking with rage he begins trying to wrestle himself free. The officers are holding on for dear life, for Tryon’s life.)

Dom Harter: YOU SON OF A BITCH!!! YOU DID THIS, DIDN’T YOU?!?!

(The officers are struggling, but they continue to press on as Dom thrashes like a rabid dog. As soon as they exit, Tryon begins to gloat.)

Tryon: I told you, Dom… I’d end the Murder one way or the other. Oh…and officers, if he continues to resist… *cups his hands to his mouth* YOU CAN ALWAYS USE THE TASER!!!

(End transmission.)

[FGA Office]

MAIN EVENT
Three Way Dance for the FGA Championship
(c) Chris Q vs. Bob Pooler vs. A.J. Fairchild

Cruz: The following contest is a Three Way Dance. And it is for the FGA Heavyweight Championship. Introducing first, already in the ring... A.J. FAIRCHILD!

“Unleashed” blasts out of the speakers as the curtain is pulled back and out steps Pooler. Cellphone flashes illuminate him in an almost strobe light affect as he stands there soaking in the energy. He smiles as he hears the boos from the crowd.

Cruz: And his opponent, now residing out of Boston, Massachusetts by way of Montreal, Quebec, Canada..... weighing in at 218 pounds..... BOB POOLER!

He makes his way down to the ring as he recoils from the hands of those closest to the guard rail. He rolls under the bottom rope and stands up in the corner, a smirk on his face as he stretches his arms across his chest and awaits the start of the match.

Clement: Bob Pooler is looking to "reclaim" the Murder's "stolen property" from Chris Q. But if you ask me, he, much like Dom Harter, is doing Malcolm Drake's dirty work.

Grayson: Oh stop it. I see you trying to cause dissension. The Murder all have minds of their own. But let's be clear about one thing. Bob Pooler has the skillset to beat Chris Q. Can he? Will he? I don't know. But Pooler is the toughest man Chris Q has been in the ring with since Chris Bond.

"The Earths Rotation Around the Sun" begins blasting through the speakers. From the top of the entrance way, Chris Q emerges to an extremely negative reaction. Embracing the negativity from the audience, Chris Q makes his way to the ring while getting into the faces of a few fans.

Cruz: And their opponent, from Lone Oak, Texas.... weighing in at 241 pounds..... he is the reigning..... defending..... FGA Heavyweight Champion..... CHRIS Q!

Clement: Love him or hate him, Chris Q continues to get it done in the ring. he mows down the competition. He successfully defends his championship. And he continues to get the job done.

Grayson: But will his time run out tonight against the likes of Bob Pooler?

When he gets to the ring, Chris Q slides under the bottom rope and slowly gets to his feet. The fans continue to boo as Chris looks out into the crowd with a cocky smile across his face. Chris Q once again yells at the fans as the music dies down.

Clement: Here we are ready for main event action. We do know that one of these three men will have a date with the Frontier Lions Cup winner, Sean Sands, down the road for the FGA Heavyweight Championship. But which of these three men will exit the ring tonight as champion?

Grayson: The smart money is on the Big Bad of FGA. Bob Pooler could very well give him a run for his money. And A.J.... oh who am I kidding.

Clement: Stranger things have happened.

Grayson: Not THAT strange...

The bell sounds as Pooler darts over, jumps up and delivers the 5-7-5 to Fairchild. The crowd boos as he makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THREE!

Cruz: A.J. Fairchild has been eliminated.

Clement: And just like that, A.J. is out of here. And then there were two...

The crowd boos as Pooler stomps Fairchild underneath the bottom rope and out of the ring. He then turns back towards Chris Q, who is still staring at him from out of his corner. Both men slowly make their way towards the center of the ring and lock up. Pooler quickly places Q in a side headlock. Q tries to shove Pooler off of him. But Pooler keeps the hold of tight. He then transitions into a standing switch, dropping Q down with a drop toe hold. He quickly rolls across Q's back and applies a front facelock. The ref asks Q if he wants to give up. But Q refuses to quit. After battling his way back up to his feet, Q uses his strength advantage to move Pooler into the corner. As Q has Pooler pressed up against the corner, the ref goes over and gives both men until the count of five to break the hold.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR...

Pooler slowly releases the hold. As Q slowly stands back up, he lunges forward with a haymaker. But Pooler ducks out of the way.

Clement: Pooler wisely moves out of the way.

Grayson: I can't blame him. I wouldn't want to get punched by Chris Q, either.

Q turns around and sees Pooler making his way back towards the center of the ring. After Q exits the corner, he heads over to Pooler and tries to initiate a lock up. But Pooler ducks, goes behind and applies a waistlock from behind. But after an elbow to the face, Q drops to his knees and throws Pooler off of him. Pooler rolls up to his feet. As Q gets back up, Pooler goes for a running clothesline. But Q ducks, sending Pooler into the ropes. When Pooler comes back, Q knocks him down with a standing shoulderblock. As Q runs into the ropes, Pooler kips back up to his feet. When Q comes back, he knocks him down with a running shoulderblock. As Q runs into another set of ropes, Pooler kips back up to his feet. When Q comes back, Pooler leapfrogs over him, sending Q into the ropes. When Q comes back, Pooler looks over his shoulder before performing another leapfrog. Q continues to run into the ropes. When Q comes back, Pooler knocks him down with a running clothesline. Q gets back up, but Pooler throws him down with a deep arm drag. Q gets back up, but Pooler throws him down with another arm drag. He quickly transitions into a shoulderlock, causing Q to grit his teeth in pain.

Clement: Pooler now with the upperhand.

Grayson: This is what Pooler needs to do. Outrun him, use his agility and keep Chris Q off his feet.

The ref asks Q if he wants to give up. But Q tells the ref to “fuck off.” After battling his way back up to his feet, Q uses his free arm to grab Pooler by the hair. As he pulls Pooler's hair, he moves The Murder member into the corner. After pressing Pooler up against the corner, the ref goes over and gives both men until the count of five to let go.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR...

Q slowly lets go of the handful of Pooler's hair. As Pooler slowly lets go of Q's arm, Q lunges forward with another haymaker. But again, Pooler ducks and scurries towards the center of the ring.

Clement: And Pooler again scurries to safety. Scared much?

Grayson: Scared? What, he's supposed to stand there and let Chris Q punch him? The corner is the last place Pooler wants to be in a match like this.

Q heads from out of the corner. He motions for a lock up. But he quickly kicks Pooler in the midsection. He then grabs Pooler and whips him into the corner. Q runs into the corner, but Pooler nails him with an elbow to the face. As Q stumbles back, Pooler goes to make his way from out of the corner. But Q grabs him by his throat and shoves him back into the corner. Q then lunges forward with a shoulder thrust. But Pooler counters with an knee strike to the side of the head. Pooler goes to make his way from out of the corner. But again, Q grabs him and shoves him back into the corner. Before Pooler can escape to safety, Q lunges forward, nearly driving the air right out of Pooler.

Clement: And now, Pooler's got nowhere to go.

Grayson: Uh oh...

Q stands up and unleashes a series of combinations to the midsection. As Pooler begins to cover up his torso, Q proceeds to deliver a series of clubbing forearms to the sides of the head. While Pooler appears dazed, Q begins to mudhole stomp him down into the corner. While Pooler is down in the corner, Q chokes him with his foot while pulling down on the top rope. The ref gives him until the count of five to break the hold.

Ref: ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR...

Q lets go. He reaches down, grabs a handful of Pooler's hair and pulls him back up to his feet. A headbutt to the bridge of the nose sends Pooler stumbling from out of the corner. But Q is right on his tail. He takes Pooler and whips him into the ropes. When Pooler comes back, he goes for a cross body block. But Q catches him in mid air and delivers a rib breaker. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Pooler gets his shoulder up.

Q picks up Pooler and headbutts him again, sending him stumbling into the ropes. As Q approaches, Pooler throws out a kick to the midsection. But Q catches the foot and drags him away from the ropes. He then spins Pooler around. When Pooler turns back, Q knocks him down with a falling clothesline. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Pooler gets his shoulder up.

Clement: The champion now beginning to throw his weight around the ring and out-muscle Pooler.

Grayson: Which is exactly why Pooler was trying to stick and move earlier on.

Q picks up Pooler, only to throw him back down with a scoop slam. He goes to reach down and grab Pooler by the hair. But Pooler rolls back and nails him with a kick to the face, sending Q stumbling back into the ropes. After Pooler turns over and gets up, he charges at Q. Q ducks the oncoming charge and dumps him over the top rope. But Pooler lands on his feet. When Q turns around, Pooler nails him with a shoulder thrust through the ropes. While Q is doubled over, Pooler grabs him and drags him halfway through the ropes. While Q is doubled over through the ropes, Pooler runs across the apron and connects with a high knee lift, knocking Q back into the ring and down to the canvas. Pooler quickly steps back into the ring and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chris Q kicks out.

Pooler rolls to the outside, grabs Q by his beard and drags him halfway out across the apron. After turning him over, most of Q's upper body hags off the apron. After sizing Q up, Pooler runs over and connects with a running European Uppercut. Hen wraps his arm around Q's neck, drags him into position, and then plants him on the outside with an apron-hung DDT.

Clement: And down goes Chris Q after the high impact DDT!

Grayson: That is what, at least a good three feet he got DDT'd from? That has to sting.

Pooler picks up the champ, rolls him back in, rolls himself back in and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chris Q gets his foot on the bottom rope.

Pooler then gets up, drags Q away from the ropes, drops back down and hooks the leg.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chris Q gets his shoulder up.

Pooler picks up Q and whips him into the ropes. When Q comes back, Pooler knocks him down with a spinning heel kick. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chris Q gets his shoulder up.

Pooler picks up Q, only to nail him with a spinning back kick to the chest. He then grabs a hold of the champ, lifts him up and plants him with an implant DDT. He turns Q over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chris Q gets his shoulder up.

Clement: Pooler with yet another nearfall. But the champ keeps getting his shoulder up.

Grayson: Chris Q has had a deathgrip on that belt since he won it back from Dom Harter in June. He's not ready to give it up just yet...

Pooler picks up Q and whips him into the corner. He then runs across the ring and connects with a hangtime corner dropkick, sending Q crumbling down to the canvas. Pooler makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Chris Q gets his shoulder up. Pooler can be seen repeatedly slapping the canvas in frustration.

As Pooler picks up Q, Q grabs him by the hair with both hands and quickly hits a kneeling jawbreaker, sending Pooler stumbling into the corner. Q gets to his feet and runs into the corner. But he runs right into a boot to the face. After stumbling back, Q shakes off the kick and runs back into the corner. But this time, he runs right into an elbow to the face. After stumbling back, Q charges back into the corner. But this time, he runs right into a European Uppercut. As Q stumbles back, Pooler quickly steps through the ropes, springboards onto the top turnbuckle and goes for a flying cross body. But Q counters with a powerslam. He hooks the leg.

Clement: What a counter! This could be it...

ONE!
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TWO!
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TH-NO!

Pooler gets his shoulder up.

Q picks up Pooler and whips him into the corner. Q charges into the corner, but Pooler quickly slips between the middle and top ropes, causing Q to connect with nothing but the turnbuckles. Pooler then leans back, nailing Q in the face with a seesaw kick. As Q stumbles back, Pooler slips his upper body between then ropes, turns around and connects with a springboard flying european uppercut. He makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THR-NO!

Chris Q gets his shoulder up. Pooler looks over at the ref and holds up three fingers.

Clement: Pooler now getting frustrated with the fact that he can't put the champ away.

Grayson: I'd be frustrated, too. These aren't exactly love taps he's throwing at Q, either.

After grabbing a hold of Q, Pooler goes for a running bulldog. But Q shoves Pooler off of him and into the ropes. When Pooler comes back, Q lifts him up, turns and throws him down with a spinebuster. He rolls across Pooler and hooks the leg.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Pooler gets his shoulder up. Q can be seen pulling at his beard in frustration.

Q picks up Pooler and whips him hard into the corner. Pooler “Flair Flips” in the corner and smacks his head on the top of the ring post. Pooler falls back, trapping himself in a Tree of Woe.

Grayson: Oh no! Pooler is trapped!

Q sees this, so he charges over and connects with a baseball slide to the face, knocking Pooler down. He then drags Pooler away from the ropes and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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TH-NO!

Pooler gets his shoulder up.

Clement: Pooler gets his shoulder up in the nick of time.

Q picks up Pooler, lifts him upside down and then plants him with a cradle piledriver. He turns over and makes the cover.

ONE!
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TWO!
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Pooler gets his shoulder up.

Q picks up Pooler and sets him up for another piledriver. But Pooler counters with a standing double leg takedown. He quickly hooks his arms around Q's legs and leans back, catapulting the champ into the corner. As Q stumbles back and turns around, he turns right into the Equilibrium. Pooler turns him over and makes the cover.

Clement: Pooler may have it here.....

ONE!
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TWO!
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THRE-NO!

Chris Q gets his shoulders up. Pooler covers his face in disbelief.

Grayson: Both of these men do not want to give this match up!

After circling the ring, Pooler stops and crouches down as he sees Q slowly picking himself back up. When Q turns around, Pooler goes for Dr. Teeth. But Q ducks underneath it. When Pooler turns around, Q scoops him up across his shoulders for The Compactor. But Pooler slips down from behind and shoves Q into the ropes. When Q comes back, Pooler throws out Dr. Teeth. But this time, Q catches his foot. But Pooler counters with an enzuigiri that drops Q down to one knee. While Q is dazed, Pooler gets up, steps back and goes for Dr. Teeth. But again, Q catches his foot. After standing back up, Q spins Pooler around. But Pooler uses the momentum to clock Q with a Roaring Elbow. Q falls down like a cut tree before Pooler falls on top of him and hooks the leg.

Clement: Pooler just clobbered Chris Q with that Roaring Elbow.

Grayson: He may have it......

ONE!
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TWO!
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TH-NO!

Q gets his shoulder up. Pooler gets up on his needs and places his hands on his hips. He shakes his head in disbelief.

Pooler picks up Q and whips him into the corner. Pooler runs across the ring and goes for a corner swinging clothesline. But Q catches him in mid air and throws him down with a standing side slam. As Pooler rolls away from the corner, Q turns around and begins to climb the turnbuckles. Once he reaches the top, he backflips off for a moonsault. But Pooler gets his knees up, causing Q to crash down across them.

Grayson: Oh!

Clement: Pooler gets his knees up just in time and he masks the champ pay!

Q bounces off of Pooler's knees. He turns over and curls himself up in pain. Pooler turns over and slowly pulls himself up using the ropes. He turns around and sees Q slowly picking himself up. When Q turns around, Pooler runs over and goes for the 5-7-5. But Q blocks it, hooks his arms around Pooler's legs and leans back, catapulting him into the corner. After Pooler stumbles back, Q grabs him and brings him down with the Cracker-Jack. He then picks up Pooler, lifts him up across his shoulders and plants him with The Compactor.

ONE!
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TWO!
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THREE!

"The Earths Rotation Around the Sun" blares throughout the arena to boos from the crowd.

Cruz: Here is your winner and still the FGA Heavyweight Champion, CHRIS Q!

Chris Q gets up and gets handed his FGA Championship belt. Chris Q raises the belt in the air to boos from the crowd.

Clement: Chris Q once again picks up the victory! He outlasts both Fairchild and Pooler to retain his FGA Heavyweight Championship! But when will Q be knocked off the top of the mountain? Does Sean Sands have what it takes the topple the Big Bad of FGA!? We'll find out in due time. For Evan Grayson, this is Kevin Clement. Goodnight, everyone....