CONTENT

DREAM WRESTLING: SLAUGHTER XXX - 12/30/2009

Posted by Webmaster

Slaughter XXX

30 Dec 2009

Eastern Kentucky Expo Center, Pikeville, Kentucky (seats 7,000)

 

Asses in the Seats

We go backstage where Mark Zylbert is sitting. A knock on his door startles him.

"Come in."

In walks the tall Travis Williams.

"Travis, my new head of talent relations, how are you?"

Mark stands up and shakes his hand before sitting back down.

"Pretty good Mark. Look, I wanted to just drop by and let you know, you do a great job, but I plan on putting asses in the seat."

Zylbert smiles.

"I like the way you think Travis. Asses in the seats means more money for me. More money for me is always better."

"Yea, I guess so. Anyway, to start with, I have an interesting idea for our champions..."

Mark clears his throat and points at the camera man.

"Oh yea."

Travis turns and walks over, pushing the camera man out of the room.

"Not for your eyes buddy."

The door slams in his face and we fade to the DREAM logo.
 


The logo explodes and we go live ringside. As the camera pans, Jason Whiteside welcomes us.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the last Slaughter of 2oo9! I'm your host, Jason Whiteside, and tonight we come off an amazing pay per view that happened this last Sunday!"

The camera land son Jason who is his excited usual self.

"We are live from the Eastern Kentucky Expo Center in Pikeville, Kentucky! Lets go ahead and get this shindig started!"

We head up the ramp tot he stage where pyrotechnics begin to explode, welcoming us to Slaughter.

ENTER: Mike Polowy

Mike Polowy is seen walking backstage in street clothes. Behind him comes a DWF interviewer.

"Excuse me, Mike, Mike... Can I have a word with you?"

Polowy stops and turns around, snarling at the man.

"What do you want?"

The interviewer fidgets with his collar and raises a wireless microphone to his mouth.

"You're not booked tonight, I'm sure the fans at home are wanting to know, what is Mike Polowy doing here tonight, and how are you feeling after that crushing defeat at Season's Beatings by Cancer Jiles?"

He raises the microphone up for Mike who just stares at him blankly.

"How I am feeling? How am I feeling? How should I feel? Huh? Tell me that!"

As he replies, he gets more and more aggressive towards the interviewer.

"I just lost one of the biggest matches of my career, and you're asking me how I'm feeling?"

Polowy yanks the microphone away from the interviewer and pushes him back. He raises it to his own mouth and steps closer to the obviously scared, unknown, interviewer.

"How the hell would you feel?"

He points the mic at the interviewer.

"Well, I gue..."

"IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW YOU'D FEEL!"

Polowy takes a moment to let it sink in he just paid a small tribute to another famous wrestler, who is no longer in the business.

"What's done is done, and I have to move on. I do have a purpose here tonight, and you're holding me up. We're done with this."

He tosses the microphone to the interviewer and walks out of the picture. The interviewer stares at the camera and shrugs with confusion on his face as we fade.

Rob DeVille vs Dark

"Welcome to Slaughter, as DREAM is prepared to showcase it's first match of the night. Dark is set to take on Rob DeVille in what should be an extremely talented showdown between the two."

Both men, Rob "The Razor" DeVille and Dark made their entrances during the commercial break.

"Both men look to be ready for this match, so lets get the bell sounding."

The referee calls for the bell

DING

As the bell sounds, the two men circle the ring.

"Dark and Razor step into the collar and elbow tie up, oh man!"

Rob throws a boot instead, preventing the lockup.

"Razor tosses the boot into the midsection as Dark doubles over in pain and out of breath!"

Rob raises him up, and fires the chest of Dark with a knife edge chop.

"Oh man, I think I smell his chest hair burning!"

Another kick to the midsection by Rob to Dark.

"He hooks the head, he lifts him up!"

Rob walks backwards a few steps and drops Dark down on his head.

"Oh my, what a brainbuster by Razor. He floats over to the cover."

As he rolls over and hooks both legs, the referee is in position.

"ONE...TWO...NO!"

Dark barely got the shoulder to roll up.

"Dark almost lost this one near the start, which would have not been in his best interest!"'

Rob looks at the referee who gives him a small space between his index finger and thumb showing him how close he truly was.

"I am not sure that Razor is too excited about the count..."

Rob shoves the referee away, showing frustration. He lifts Dark from the canvas and takes him back into the corner.

"Razor throws in some hard kicks to the chest area of Dark!"

Rob Irish whips Dark into the other corner, and charges in.

"And he is met with a boot to the face!"

As Rob stumbles out, Dark spears out from the corner and levels him with a stiff clothesline!

"HOLY SHIT! He just turned Razor inside out with that clothesline!"

Both men lay on the canvas, as Dark is taking this break to catch his breath after the onslaught of Rob from earlier in the match.

"The referee starts his count..."

ONE

TWO

THREE

"Both men are still motionless!"

FOUR

FIVE

"Dark is starting to slide towards the ropes!"

SIX

"Razor is starting to stir!"

SEVEN

"Dark is at the ropes!"

EIGHT

"Razor is starting to roll to his knees, as Dark is pulling himself up with the ropes."

NINE

"Dark is fully up, as Razor is seconds behind him!"

Rob stumbles towards him, and swings.

"Dark blocks the right and throws a nasty haymaker to the jaw of Razor!"

Another haymaker by Dark.

"Razor looks to be out on his feet!"

Dark scoops up Rob and places him on his shoulder as he goes back into the corner.

"Dark runs out, and slams Razor to the canvas with a running powerslam!"

Dark hooks a leg, as the referee slides into position.

"ONE...TWO...NO! Razor kicks out before the hand hits for three!"

Dark grabs the hair of Rob and brings him back to his feet.

"Dark takes him back into the corner!"

Dark starts to throw in kicks to the midsection, as Rob starts to go down lower and lower to the canvas.

"Dark is stomping the hell out of Razor here. This DREAM rookie had no idea what he was getting into when he was set to face Dark in his debut match!"

Dark grabs up Rob, and sends him into the ropes.

"Irish, as Razor returns, he ducks the clothesline!"

Rob hits the ropes and returns with a flying heel kick to the jaw of Dark.

"He may have knocked Dark out with that heel kick!"

Rob crawls over to cover Dark.

"Razor hooks the leg!"

Dark is not moving as the referee leaps over and slides into position.

"ONE...TWO...Dark gets his foot on the ropes! THREE!"

Razor starts to celebrate as the referee stands to his and notices the foot on the rope.

"The referee is calling off the bell! Razor does not even realize it yet!"

Rob is jumping around the ring screaming!

"The referee is trying to inform him that the match is not over!"

Rob runs to the turnbuckle and points to himself, trying to get a good response from the crowd, but the fans are laughing at him.

"This cat is clueless, and Dark is back to his feet!"

Rob starts to wonder where the bell is and his music, so he jumps down off the turnbuckle!

"Razor is met with a stiff kick to the gut, head hooked!"

Dark lifts him up and jumps up, slamming Rob's head down into the canvas with a brainbuster!

"Dark just hit his nasty brainbuster finisher, and has the legs hooked!"

The referee slides into position.

"ONE...TWO...THREE! DARK WINS IT!"

Dark hops to his feet as the referee raises his arm in victory.

"Razor's neglecting to listen to the referee is the reason he lost this match!"

"Binge and Purge" by Clutch starts to play around the arena, as BR Ellis comes out and slides into the ring as the Chicken Chokers celebrate Dark's win here tonight.

"We shall be right back to the last Slaughter of 2oo9 after these messages from our sponsors! STAY TUNE!"

As they fade out BR and Dark are still celebrating in the ring!

Guess Who?

The show cuts to the outside of the Kentucky Expo Center, where a large group of fans are still waiting to get into the arena. Several people run past the camera, chatting excitedly to each other.

Fan #1: "He's over here, c'mon, hurry up! We can get his autograph!"

Fan #2: "I thought he quit DREAM months ago! What is he doing back here!?"

The camera pushes through the crowd, eventually getting a glimpse of a tall man dressed in a dark suit, however as he turns around to face the camera another fan steps in the way and his identity is obscured, as the scene cuts back to the inside of the arena.

A Meeting of Sorts

Simon Kreed, better known to the wrestling world as Psymon, is seen walking through the backstage arena. Other DWF personnel and active roster members watch as the newest, ever-controversial wrestling star walks toward his locker room. Even though he isn’t on the card for the evening, the DREAM administration put together last minute efforts to accommodate Psymon of his own locker room.

"The Monster" walks in front of the door to his locker room, looking at his moniker that is etched in a plague that’s bolted to the door. He gives his crooked little smile, opens the door and, much to his surprise, sees someone from his past, sitting at a roundtable with his signature pewter Thermos and pewter shot glasses. The man is Japanese, with shoulder length silver hair, gray eyes, and is dressed head to toe in black. There is a black marble cane resting against the round table, topped with a platinum dragon’s head.

Psymon can’t help himself but to flash his lopsided grin. "Iwakura Sensei."

Psymon and Iwakura Kenji met after Psymon had a match in Chicago back in 1999. Kenji was managing one of his students in a match, while Psymon had an embarrassing loss. Kenji stopped by Psymon’s locker room, told him that he saw potential in the young wrestler, and would take him under his wing.

Even though Kenji seldom travels to the United States, he will fly to the States occasionally to support Psymon. Psymon is like a son to him, and he will never stray from him.

Kenji is looking up at him, smiling. "Hello, Simon. Have a seat."

Psymon sits down across from his Sensei. He helps himself to a shot of sake. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise." He looks at his only American student, and there is a frown on his face. "I thought you were going to retire from wrestling. You even told me so."

"I’ve considered it, but I’d miss it too much."

"I thought you were happy in mixed martial arts. You even moved to Japan to get away from the misery of the United States so you can protect your family."

"And I have."

"Now you’re back in the United States."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Psymon looks at his Sensei for a moment, then answers. "To sign a contract with DREAM. It would be tedious to fly to the United States from Japan on a weekly basis."

"You’re not booked tonight."

"I’m aware of that."

"But you needn’t wrestle anymore. Despite that you don’t make as much money as you would in mixed martial artist, your wife, Yuriko comes from a wealthy family."

"True."

"You don’t have to kill yourself in wrestling matches. In the twelve years you’ve paved your way into wrestling, plus Yuriko’s multimillions, you can retire happily."

"Again, true."

"Then why go back wrestling? You could end up like me, or worse. You would be useless as husband and father. And what would little Kaneda think if he sees his father in a wheelchair?"

"That won’t happen."

"You don’t know that. You can’t know that."

Psymon lets out a sigh. "What is this, a meeting or a lecture?"

"Me beating some sense into you verbally. Look, Simon, I love you. You’ve been like a son to me, and I’d hate to see you throw your life away because you’d miss wrestling too much."

"And I love you too, Sensei, but wrestling is in my blood. It’s always been my passion, my primary sport. A sport that I’ve wanted to do since I was seven years old. I’ve been doing this sport so I don’t walk down the Monster’s path, and you know how much pain and suffering I can make if I lose my mind. Mixed martial arts will always be there, as my secondary sport, but it doesn’t trump my passion for wrestling."

Iwakura Kenji lets out a sigh, and downs his shot of sake. He helps himself to another, and stands, erecting to his full five feet, seven inches. "Wrestling was my passion too, until Alexander Rosewater caved my head in with a coal miner’s glove. But I understand where you’re coming from. You’re still young, but you started young, and those twelve years will eventually catch up to you. It may not seem like much, but when you start at seventeen, it means a lot.

Iwakura Kenji reaches over and grabs his cane. Psymon stands up, faces his Sensei, and they both bow. "Take care, Sensei."

"Same yourself." He pointed at the pewter Thermos with his cane. "That’s your gift, as usual." He helps himself out of Psymon’s locker room.

Psymon watches his Sensei leave. He sits back down at his roundtable and drinks more sake.

The Cochrane Effect

We catch up with Mike Polowy banging on Mark Zylbert's door.

"Open the damn door Zylbert, we need to talk."

He finally gives up, punching it one less time. As he turns around, Adrien Cochrane is standing right there. The two stand eye to eye for a moment.

"Mike."

"Adrien."

"Look, Mike, I know you're most likely real upset about the title loss at the pay per view. I just wanted to say, if you need someone to talk to..."

Mike holds his hands up.

"Hold it right there, Cochrane. You keep that psycho babble homo stuff to yourself. I don't need anyone but myself."

Adrien gathers himself, getting a more determined look on his face to help diffuse the ticking time bomb.

"Look, Mike, it's OK to be upset man."

Polowy leans back and comes back pushing Adrien.

"I told you, I don't need your damn help. Now move on before I put my foot up your ass."

Adrien stands back up and gets closer to Mike.

"You need to quit taking out your problems on people trying to help. You may just end up lashing out on the wrong guy."

Mike scuffs.

"Who's that? You? Give me a break."

"You know what, Mike, it just may be me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Polowy bucks up to Adrien, stepping in to where the two men are touching noses.

"Polowy! Cochrane! What the hell is going on here?"

Mark Zylbert walks up behind them, then between, splitting the two.

"I don't know what the issue is, but this is not the time, nor the place."

Mike stops and adjusts himself.

"You know what, Mark, you have a point."

He pokes Adrien in the chest.

"Watch your back, Cochrane. You just made the dumbest mistake of your life."

Adrien gets even more serious.

"We'll see about that."

We fade.

Varga vs. Casey Pierro-Zabatol

"Welcome back, folks. As always, Jason Whiteside is here bringing you the action. Now, for our second bout of the night, looks like we have the debuting Varga matched up against a returning Casey Pierro Zabotel."

Just then "Trust Me" by Jim Johnston starts playing over the loud speakers as Varga comes out from the back with a slow, deliberate walk. Almost immediately after recognizing him, the fans start booing louder and louder. Varga looks back at them all with disdain before reaching the ring. He then climbs into it and continues to glare at the onlookers in the seats before smiling deviously. Varga walks to a back turnbuckle and rests, awaiting his opponent.

"Looks like Varga will join us first, and I’ll tell ya what, he’s not too adored by the fans already. Surely, a number of these watchers know him from his work for other venues."

CPZ's theme song "Fire It Up" by Thousand Foot Krutch plays over the PA system as the lights in the arena begin to darken. A lone spotlight shines on the entrance ramp as CPZ emerges from the backstage area and throws his arms into the air. He views his surroundings and begins to slowly make his way down the aisle with the lights slowly coming back on as the one spotlight follows him.

"If Varga wishes to make the quick impact in DREAM that he would like, he’ll have to get over a strong competitor in CPZ tonight, coming back to DWF after about a three month absence. This could be a very exciting match up!"

_DING_DING_

"Casey is quick to start the match here, hitting Varga with a running clothesline!"

Varga hits the matt with force and rolls while painfully clutching his back. CPZ yanks him up by the head and whips him into the ropes. On the return, CPZ bends forward preparing to flip his opponent, but Varga counters stopping dead in his tracks and delivers a punt to the face.

"Whoa! What a shot there on an unsuspecting CPZ! Varga really caught him off guard with that viscous kick to the head!"

Taking the opponent with his opponent’s hands over his face, Varga runs and bounces off the ropes to gain momentum then hits Casey with a falling clothesline. He lifts CPZ up with himself.

"European uppercut by Varga! Zabotel is down again."

Varga drops and starts choking CPZ out with his knee. Flailing his arms trying to free himself, CPZ lands a lucky right hand hard to Varga’s face and sends his opponent back. CPZ jumps to his feet. Varga pulls himself together quickly and charges.

"Boot to the gut by Casey… A good looking Northern Light’s Suplex there! CPZ picks Varga right back up. Whip to the ropes... OH, what a powerful dropkick by Zabotel! He’s looking good so far."

CPZ bends to bring his opponent back to his feet, but an anticipating Varga grabs him into a headlock. Varga slowly and carefully rises to his feet, still applying the pressure of the headlock and making sure not to break the hold.

"Well just as I opened my mouth about an upper hand, looks like Varga is going to try and take some wind out of Zabotel’s sails with a tight headlock. Wait, now he’s twisting it… an inverted headlock! That does not look comfortable for CPZ… with the two of them smack dab in the middle of the ring, things are suddenly not looking so good at all for the returning DREAMer."

With one swift motion, Varga drops down to one knee while shooting the other into the back of his opponent.

"Inverted headlock backbreaker by Varga! What a maneuver!"

CPZ writhes on the matt in pain. Varga runs off the ropes, bounces, and leaps up.

"HUGE KNEE DROP! Varga goes for the pin…"

1…

2 - KICKOUT!

"A quick two count by the ref there, Varga responds with a furious kick to the ribs of his still downed opponent. Varga picks CPZ up and whips him into the ropes… CPZ slides through Varga’s legs coming back and sweeps Varga’s feet out from under him! Both are up fast, Zabotel delivers a right hand. Another! Another!! Anoth- NO, blocked by Varga! He went for one too many, right there. Varga returns his own, but Casey ducks! Side Russian legsweep by CPZ! A pin of his own!"

1…

2.. KICKOUT!

"Varga’s not going to be beaten with that one. Both competitors are back up again. CPZ throws another ri – EYE POKE by Varga. Zabotel’s got a hold of his face once again. He’s stumbling around the ring a bit… Varga snaps off a fireman’s carry sending CPZ down."

Varga follows up immediately with a barrage of foot stomps all over CPZ’s body.

"Wow, this isn’t looking good for the Multi Sport Athlete. Varga is relentlessly sending boot after boot down upon his opponent. BOOT TO THE FACE! Varga just crushed CPZ’s jaw with that last stomp!"

CPZ rolling holding his face in agony, skirts to the edge of the ring and exits underneath the bottom rope. Varga runs in the opposing direction and comes back charging off the ropes. He drops into a slide, holding onto the ropes above him, and connects with a strong slide kick to the back of CPZ’s head as he stumbled around trying to gather himself.

"Zabotel just got nailed in the back of his head right there, sending him crashing into the barricade! Varga’s now outside the ring, as well, and the ref begins to count them both…"

1…

"Varga grabs a hold of Casey. Boot to the gut by Zabotel!"

2…

"Snap Suplex on the hard floor! Varga’s out cold!"

3…

"CPZ isn’t getting back up, either. He seemed pretty out of sorts after smashing into the barricade. That move must’ve taken the last of his power… and it looked like he came down pretty hard and withstood some strong impact on the floor, too."

4…

"Looks like Varga’s starting to stir… Casey, too. Now Varga’s on his feet. For someone who seems so hurt each time he gets hit with a move of any kind, Varga sure has some impressive recoveries."

5… Instead of pushing himself up, CPZ reaches under the ring and grabs something. He slowly pulls out a hockey stick, but keeps it close enough to the apron such that the ref can not see it.

6… Just as Varga takes a step up toward the ring, CPZ hooks the stick around the only foot on the ground and sweeps Varga out. On his ungraceful fall downward, Varga nails his head on the edge of the ring.

7… CPZ throws the stick back under the ring and scurries closer to his fallen opponent to make it appear as if he could’ve swept him with his own arms.

8…

"Somehow Varga went down just as he was looking at getting back in the ring! Zabotel is now up! He better get in there before the ref gets up to 10."

9… A red faced, furious Varga tackles CPZ down off the side of the apron before he can enter the ring.

10!!!

_DING_DING_DING_

"Count out! Both competitors have been counted out and disqualified from being outside the ring for an entire ten count! Looks like they don’t care one bit, though. Varga and CPZ are going at it like the bell never rang! Rights and lefts… look at them go at each other! This is craziness! We need to take a break! We’ll be right back!"

The Phone Call

William Peters is shown in his office, watching the Slaughter broadcast on a large, flat-screen television. With a chuckle, he switches the television off and walks towards his desk, shaking his head.

"You know, I amaze even myself sometimes... I've done a lot of great things lately, I've gotten this place back to one hundred per cent, I've installed a few lieutenants to keep an eye on the talent, and now I think I've earned the right to kick back-"

Peter sits down in a large leather office chair behind his desk, and places his feet on the surface of the desk. He slides his hands behind his head and leans back, grinning.

"-And just relax."

There is silence for a moment, until Peters' cell phone suddenly starts to ring, startling him and sending him off balance in his chair. He clutches at the desk and gasps in lungfuls of air, before blinking several times and answering the phone.

"What... WHAT!? He's here!? Already!? But... he wasn't meant to show up until next week, dammit! NEXT WEEK!"

Peters pauses and listens to the speaker on the other end of the call, his face turning a deep shade of beetroot. Finally he sighs in exasperation.

"Send him to my office now... I'm sure he'll soon find that I'm much less of a pushover than Zylbert was. And make sure he has a security pass, I don't want him having my more troubles with the security guards."

Peters savagely presses the "End Call" button on his phone and throws it onto the desk, before running a hand through his hair.

"If it isn't one thing, it's another..."

Official Contract Signing

The show cuts back to ringside where William Peters is seen standing in the ring with a mic in hand. There is a long table set up in the ring with a chair on either side. The ring has red carpet covering it as cameras flash in the audience. Peters paces back and forth a bit, looking a little bit nervous. The fans are silent in anticipation of what is about to happen, as this is not something normally seen every week. Peters raises a hand and the mic to his mouth as he begins to speak.

"At Seasons's Beatings, we saw the return of a very vile man, who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Maybe he isn't all dark and demonic, but the turmoil he caused was just the same. And while the exact reasoning behind his attacks remains to be seen, we have decided to offer this man a contract. So without further adieu, I bring to you Greg "G-Man" Manix!"

'I'm The Man' by Belly starts to play and the crowd boos. From the back walks Greg Manix with a huge smile on his face. He has on a sideways cap with the beak to the right side, a black G-Unit shirt with baggy G-Unit jeans. He has a pair of sick Lugz boots on his feet as he starts to walk down the aisle. A few fans try to get their hand slapped, but Manix pulls his hand away and gives them a few choice words. Manix comes to the ring steps and jogs up them before throwing one leg through the ropes. He stops to beak and taunt the fans a few more times before he gets into the ring. He walks over to Peters who extends his hand for a handshake. Manix just looks at it and laughs. Peters hesitates a second then raises the mic.

"Greg, let me be the first to welcome you to DREAM wrestling. It is my pleas.... "

Manix grabs the mic from Peters.

"That's enough out of you. Go sit your ass down and get the papers ready."

The crowd boos as Peters looks like he is getting angry, but then does as he is told.

"Shut your damn mouths and open your ears. For two years now, the wrestling world has been missing something. And that something is ME! After the Invitational, I swore I would never wrestle again. I was done, sick of the screw jobs and turmoil that come with this business we like to call a sport. But then I flipped on my television, and what did I come to see? The same company that launched my own personal federation, SCW, to success as the DML3. But despite that, am I thankful? Hellz no!"

The fans boo again at the lack of respect Manix is showing.

"Not many people know this, but SCW outlasted DREAM itself. We became bigger over time, only for the head men to grow jealous of their own minor league outshining them. So after we won in a little inside competition between the owners, how did they repay us? They gave us thirty days to relocate our offices before they would be permanently shut down. As the due date drew close, the roster started to grow weary and lost interest in the company. I saw the downfall coming, and left Dave Jacobs to run the company literally into the ground."

Manix lowers the mic and talks to Peters, who seems to be almost ready for him to sign his contract.

"Just about ready huh? Ok, just let me finish. So you see, I am here to make sure that DREAM fails. Just as DREAM gave SCW it's dying blow, I too shall be the blow that sinks DREAM. And my first plan to accomplish that is to take your little poster boy Doozer and crush him, take his title, and then erase him from the history of DREAM. And it all started at Season's Beating, and will continue here tonight when I ink that contract."

Manix walks over to his chair and takes his seat.

"Let's see what you got for me Peters."

Peters passes the contract across the table and Manix picks it up and starts reading. He slams it down on the table after a moment or two and raises the mic again.

"This won't do. Fifty percent creative control? I want one hundred percent."

Peters takes the contract and changes the percentage.

"Good, plus that dollar amount is pretty small. You best triple it."

Peters looks shocked as he thought the offer was a good one. He changes it however.

"Now that is a start. I also want to be released from any responsibility of any bodily harm I may cause anyone on the roster."

Peters asks for another mic, finally having enough of these demands.

"Manix, remember you interrupted my PPV. It's not like I asked you to come to DREAM."

"If I remember correctly, you did tease my name when you opened before any contact had been made. So in a round about way you asked for this to happen. So you can either comply, or these talks can be made through my lawyer."

'We Made You' plays and the fans get on their feet as Doozer makes his way out from the back. He has the newly united DREAM title on his waist as he stands at the top of the ramp with a mic in hand. He waits for the cheers to die down a bit before speaking.

"That isn't any way to talk to your boss Manix. I'm also not very fond of the way you have been downplaying DREAM either."

"First Doozer, let's get something straight. NO MAN is my BOSS! I do what I want when I want to do it. And.."

"Oh, shut up! You get something straight. You were the one who made the vital mistake by attacking me and Lupin Cy at Season's Beatings, and I intend to make you pay for that mistake."

"And what are YOU going to do, Doozer?"

"THIS!!"

Doozer drops the mic and starts running down the ramp. Manix tosses his chair to the mat and gets ready to fight when Peters interjects himself into the mess.

"STOP!! STOP RIGHT NOW!! This is my show and my promotion and I won't be having either of you ruining any future main events. Now Doozer, you get back to that dressing room. And Manix, we will finish these talks in a more secure location. Now GO!"

Both Manix and Doozer drop their mics, but continue to yell at each other as Doozer slowly walks backwards up the ramp. The show cuts to commerical break.

Call Me Mr. Paradine

We cut to a view of the ramp, showing the Slaughter set. Suddenly, "Epic" by Faith No More starts to blast over the sound system, and smoke fills the entryway. A figure emerges at the top of the ramp, a man dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses, apparently the same man from earlier in the evening. Smirking he steps into view, and the crowd erupts in a mixture of cheers and boos as Nathan Paradine glances around, surveying his surroundings. He walks towards the ring and climbs up the steel stairs, before ducking underneath the top rope. He steps into the ring and looks around again, taking his sunglasses off his face and tucking them into his breast pocket as "Epic" dies away. He calls for a mic and the timekeeper obliges him, and he grins before speaking.

"Home sweet home, eh? Nice to see that DREAM hasn't changed all that much in my absence... The same guys are still in the main event, the same politics are still taking place backstage, and the same inbred, uneducated fans are still cramming into arenas every week to see the likes of Doozer and Cancer Jiles throw eggs at unsuspecting wrestlers. Quite frankly, it makes me more than a little sick to my stomach-"

A chant can be heard; "You Got Egged!"

"But I digress, it is nice to be back... Especially since I've gone through, uh, "official" channels this time. I suppose you all thought the stuff I went through last time I was here was funny? Maybe it made you laugh a little bit? Well, don't expect that this time around. I'm here to do what I do best, and that is wrestle and collect my paycheck. And if a few skulls get cracked in between, well, that'll just make my day."

More chants, this time "You Suck" can be heard amongst the "You Got Egged" chants.

"AND, I would also like to mention the conditions that led to my return to DREAM... for those of you who have been living under a rock for the last several months. Following a disagreement with an old acquaintance, I found myself engaged in a back and forth battle for dominance that resulting in someone very close to me getting hurt. Now, since my previous employer refused to accept responsibility for what happened, I made the decision to contact William Peters and negotiate a new deal, a deal which is mutually beneficial to both of us. Now I can understand that several members of the roster will feel threatened by my return, I mean I AM the greatest wrestler ever to grace the squared circle, but I can assure you all that I intend on getting on harmoniously with the rest of the roster. In order to accomplish this, I have constructed a small set of rules that everyone in DREAM should start to follow..."

Paradine points towards the entrance, where the large video screen is displaying his first rule.

"Rule number one! If you encounter me in a narrow corridor, you need to step aside and allow me to pass! Rule number two, wrestlers and staff must use disinfectant and wash over all urinals and toilet bowls used, in case I am forced to use a public toilet in the arena sometime! And finally, rule number three... From now on, a degree of respect must be upheld. You will all refer to me as "Mr. Paradine". Not Nathan, not Nay-Nay, not even N-Para. I am Nathan to friends and family, and Mr. Paradine to everyone else! That goes for all of you fans as well!"

The boos continue as Paradine grins.

"You're all so accommodating. Just remember, I'm Nathan Paradine, and I'm the best DREAM has to offer. That isn't going to change, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. The sooner you all accept that, the happier we'll all be."

"Epic" resumes playing, and Paradine flings the mic down and exits the ring. He walks back up the ramp, ignoring the jeers and taunts of the ringside fans, before disappearing behind the curtain backstage.

A Special Message From Jimmy Riley

"Did you have a good Christmas, DREAM fans?"

The boos over the pre-taped segment are almost instant, because, well, it's Jimmy Riley. He's got the usual smirk on his face, with a vague Christmas set design behind him.

"But, if you're like me, you've got that one person you just haven't been able to get a gift for. So I've searched, and...let me be honest, I've got the perfect gift, right here!"

Jimmy reaches off screen, and pulls in front of him...an empty jar?

"This is a rare commodity, right here. Now, I know you're sitting in your Barcalounger, sipping on your cheap beer, asking, 'Jimmy, what's in dat thar jar?' That's a good question, and I'm going to answer it."

He grins, motioning to the jar.

"This is quality, grade-A...dignity. See, in this jar right here...is what little dignity remains of one Adrien Cochrane."

The fans cheer at the mention of the returning DREAM/WfWA star.

"Now Adrien, you know as well as I do, that all you do, is play the field. You ride the fence, and that's not going to fly anymore! You're standing in very delicate territory, between that traditionalist...'Appalachian Wrestling' outfit, and the newest, hottest territory of the World Wrestling Alliance...DREAM Wrestling Federation."

The fans, as much as they dislike Riley, DO like the promotion they paid to see, and cheer for that.

"It's as simple as this; there's a war brewing, and you're sitting on both sides of it from my point of view. So this jar, right here, it represents what little dignity you have left, after doing this same thing for so long. Your dual-citizenship is gonna run out real soon, Cochrane. I'd start planning on making a decision..."

Jimmy frowns, shaking his head as he puts the jar back off screen.

"...Before I have to make it for you."

Colt and Brent Brodas vs. The Grady Bunch

"It's time for this special edition of Slaughter, main event of the evening. This is the last match for the 2009 year for DREAM. So lets try and send DREAM out with a BANG!"

Colt Brodas charges through the curtain to a chorus of fans he doesn't feel are deserving of seeing his matches. They just simply don't pay enough, but a good match he will have. Colt leaps into the air and does a spin kick at the entrance as Brent stalks in behind him. Colt taunts the fans more so by ignoring their insults as he shows a spark in his step getting to the ring. Brent is close behind.

Once ringside Colt climbs onto the side of the ring and up the corner, showing off his tattoos and admonishing his opponents abilities. Brent meanwhile is center of the ring, fight stance, ready to rumble.

"Colt and Brent, the Brodas Brothers look to be ready to impress the staff here in DREAM. With recent addition of Travis Williams to the staff, Mark is not the only one that can give these two men and the Grady Bunch a chance at the Tag Team Champions, eGG Bandits!"

Lyric to 'I Want It All' by Queen kicks in.

It can't be, can it?

YES! -- Terry Spruhen, with beautifully sparkled Chocolate Vest, struts out with lips perched and fluffing out his Perm. Falls to his knees, swiping his forehead twice with cocksuredness, until finally the big man comes out more subdued and stands beside the kneeling Spruhen, arms relaxed.

Spruhen pops up, walking well-ahead of Borchard. Talking and more talking to anybody who will listen. Reaching ringside, Spruhen is already engaging the Official in words while Borchard has methodically pulled himself up onto the apron and stepped over the top rope rather effortlessly. Spruhen folds his vest, neatly. Slides into the ring near the post and sits in the corner, grinning like a damn fool as Borchard rests his arms on the top rope and you know.-- just know, he's ready.

"Jared and Terry are truly all business. When I state business, I mean that they are here to collect that W and celebrate on New Year's Eve with the winning purse!"

Jared and Terry start a rock paper scissors game for the chance to start the match. Meanwhile, Brent is ready! As Jared and Terry match Paper, and then Rock, Brent dropkicks both men from behind.

DING

"Brent does not look to be waiting on them to decide, as Terry falls out the ring, leaving Jared and Brent to start this match."

The fans pop at Brent's excitement to give them action, as Jared and Brent circle the ring.

"Collar and elbow tie up by the two men. Brent pulls him in with a headlock."

Brent has Jared, grinding in hard with his headlock, keeping the head low.

"Jared has the hair of Brent, grabbing a handful of it!"

Jared forces Brent back against the ropes.

"Two hard elbows on the midsection, and Jared shoots Brent off!"

On the return, Jared lays Brent to the canvas with a back elbow to the chin.

"Jared grabs up Brent and makes a tag to Terry!"

As Terry enters the ring, they shoot Brent off into the ropes.

"Double team coming up here!"

They grab him by the upper chest, and slam him back down.

"Oh my, Brent is differently without air in his lungs at this exact moment!"

Jared exits the ring, as Terry covers Brent cocky.

"One, Two, OH MAN, Colt makes the save with a stomp to the back of the head!"

As the referee takes Colt back out, Terry grabs up Brent and throws him into his corner.

"Terry is trash talking Colt, taking the referee's eyes off the cheating!"

Jared is choking Brent with the tag rope, as the referee tries to keep Colt out the ring.

"TURN AROUND REFEREE!"

Terry charges the corner, as the rope is let loose, and Terry nails Brent.

"HARD CORNER CLOTHESLINE! TAG!"

Jared reenters the ring, as Terry and Jared both give a knife edge chop on Brent.

"They both have an arm, they bring Brent back out a few feet!"

They slam him back into the corner with force.

"The Grady Bunch are without a doubt a well oiled team!"

Jared starts to lay in stomps on Brent, as the referee forces Jared off.

"While the back is turned, Terry gives Brent a hard forearm to the side of the head of Brent!"

Jared takes Brent out to the center of the ring, and sends him into the ropes!

"As Brent returns, he ducks the clothesline of Jared!"

Jared stumbles around and catches a round kick to the side of the head, as both men crumble to the mat!

"Brent needed this time to catch a breath or two, and Jared just saw a few stars!"

Colt starts to stomp the apron and clap his hands.

"The fans are starting to cheer on Brent to make the hot tag!"

Brent starts to slide on his forearms towards Colt.

"Brent is on the move, but very slow...Jared is starting to crawl towards Terry!"

As both men are about equal, Jared is able to make the tag before Brent can reach Colt.

"Terry gets the tag, as he dashes in between the ropes after Brent!"

As Terry reaches Brent, he jumps up and dives at Colt making the tag.

"COLT IS LEGAL!"

Terry throws a punch at Colt who has yet to enter the ring, but it is blocked.

"Colt nails a right of his own, as he hops over the top rope and nails him with a modify sidekick type move!"

Terry hits the canvas, as Jared charges towards Colt.

"Colt ducks a clothesline, Jared turns around, PELÉ KICK!"

Jared stumbles back, and falls forward.

"Colt just knocked Jared completely loopy, and probably gave him a mild concussion!"

Brent enters the ring, as both members of the Brodas have a member of the Grady Bunch in the corner.

"They have them mounted!"

Brent and Colt start to slam their fist into the faces of Terry and Jared as the fans chant.

ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN

Brent and Colt hop down off the middle ropes.

"The fans are going nuts. They send both men into the center!"

Terry and Jared collide in the center of the ring. Terry hits the canvas, and Jared goes to the outside on the apron.

"The referee is trying to get Brent out of the ring!"

Brent and Colt are ignoring the referee as they celebrate in the ring.

"The referee has Brent and is forcing him back, as Terry starts to get to his feet!"

Colt hits the ropes as Jared slams clubbing forearm to the back of the head and neck of Colt. He stumbles forward, as Terry decks him.

"HALF DOLLARS ARE SPEWING ALL OVER THE RING!"

Terry and Jared try to eliminate all the evidences of the loaded punch.

"The referee is still busy with Brent! He needs to turn around!"

As they remove the half dollars from the center of the ring and Colt, Jared rushes Brent, sending both men over the top rope.

"Terry covers Colt, hooking both legs!"

As Terry covers Colt, the referee slides into position.

"ONE...TWO...THREE! The Grady Bunch has stole this victory!"

"I Want It All" by Queen starts to blast all over the arena, as Jared rolls back into the ring and they start to celebrate their debut win.

"I am sure The Brodas will want this looked at closely! As they were robbed here tonight. I cannot believe this has happened like it did!"

The music of The Grady Bunch ends suddenly!

First Day @ Work

The sounds of "Back Against The Wall" by Cage The Elephants starts to play around the arena.

"I think this could mean just one thing! The newly titled Head of Talent Relations, Travis Williams is on his way out here!"

As Travis comes out in a black suit, black shirt, white tie and no face paint, the crowd is speechless.

"He has a microphone in his hands, lets hear what he has to to say to the crowd here tonight and the guys in the back!"

Travis signals for his music to end, as the fans chant, WELCOME BACK, WELCOME BACK!

"First off, I want the DREAM fans and the WRESTLING world, to know that DREAM will be the hottest place in 2o1o and I will make SURE OF THAT!"

The crowd pops with excitement.

"Mark wants me to follow his led, but I say, I am not some foolish greenhorn who follows anyone! I make my own paths, no matter what the outcome is. So Mark, either follow me or stay the hell out of my way. I am sure Cancer and Doozer would love to give you another egg shower with a special request from me!"

The fans cheer again, as Travis laughs.

"I am so not use to this from you people. I am usually booed to death! Before you guys in the ring exit to end the final Slaughter of 2oo9, I have a huge announcement for next week!"

The Grady Bunch and Brodas all look directly at Travis with drool on the side of their mouths.

"I have always found tag team wrestling a corner stone of the wrestling world, and since we have so many new teams, I am going to setup the first match for 2o1o. So pay attention!

The Grady Bunch
vs
Brent and Colt Brodas
vs
ChicKEN Chokers
vs
Billy and Bob Wilson"

The crowd pops huge as does the two teams in the ring!

"However, this match is no normal four way! Elimination style no DQ Tag Team Match. The way you are eliminated is the way you are ranked in the tag team division. So the winners will be the first team to receive a tag team title shot 2o1o. That match will take place the following week on Slaughter's XXXII. So guys, get your shit together, because I am making things happen FAST IN DREAM for 2o1o!"

Travis drops the microphone as Cage The Elephants' "Back Against The Wall" plays again, and he walks back to the back.

"YOU HEARD IT GUYS AND GALS! A major four team battle already announced for Slaughter XXXI!"

The camera moves back to Jason Whiteside.

"It's been an exciting night, but we must call it a day. Until next week, I am Jason Whiteside wishing you a great new years!"


TAGS: