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The lights go out in the Thomas and Mack Arena for a second or two as the drum beats to Queens of the Stone Age’s “Misfit Love” plays throughout the building, with gold-lighted spotlights shine upon the walkway as well as the entrance. Some of the audience didn’t know who or what to expect, but those who are hardcore fans and go to the site every day knew what was going on. As the introduction filled in with more distorted guitar over the drums, the man known to the wrestling world as Benjamin Biggs strutted through the entrance with a grin, knowing the reaction he would get once the audience got a glance at his face. And as predicted, the fans cheered huge for the younger Bayani Brother.

Dave Dymond: We're getting started with Benjamin Biggs tonight, OG! The SHOOT Project fans love Benjamin Biggs,they just love a winner.

Other Guy: So why exactly ARE they cheering for Benji, Dave?

Dave Dymond: I have a feeling we’ll get a chance to see why.

Benjamin Biggs, wearing casual clothing including an expensive-looking pair of jeans and a nice-looking jacket with a plain-colored t-shirt underneath, stopped at the beginning of the walkway down to the ring and absorbed the positive reaction from the crowd, deeply inhaling and exhaling with a grin. He continued his long-strided strut down to the ring as he slapped the hands of those he could reach. Once he reached ringside, he hopped onto the ring apron and springboarded himself from the top rope into the ring with a somersault, showing off just a little, landing on his feet like an Olympic gymnast. He took a microphone from his pants’ back pocket and stopped in the middle of the ring, getting a feel for the aura of the crowd. Once the music stopped and all you can hear is the fans cheering, the building went back to their normal house lights and Benjamin could get a better look at the crowd. He looks over to the timekeepers’ table and grins like the Cheshire Cat.

Benjamin Biggs: Hey, Sam.

The crowd laughed and cheered, the camera getting a shot of Samantha Coil giving a short wave and a smile to her friend. The hardcore fans got a kick out of it, knowing about his huge crush on Samantha during his early run in the Project. Then, Benjamin yelled at the top of his lungs.

Benjamin Biggs: WHAT’S UP LAS VEGAS!?

Getting the cheap pop, the crowd once again popped huge.

Other Guy: Oh here we go…

Dave Dymond: Cut the guy some slack. It’s his first night back… you can tell he misses this.

Benjamin Biggs: I love your love, peeps. I really do. You know I’ve been a way for too long, mainly because I really didn’t wanna work anywhere else. Because I knew I wouldn’t get the same love from the fans in the North Atlantic or the South… not even Japan. It’s you peeps… and it’s SHOOT… I’m SHOOT Project forever, baby, you can count on THAT!

Of course this got a great reaction from the crowd.

Benjamin Biggs: I can go on and on about how I miss you fans, how I miss Sam, how I miss Scott Kamura and Tony Lorenzo and Kendrick at the timekeeper’s position, and the peeps in the gorilla position, and Dave Dymond and the Other Guy… well not much the Other Guy, but there’s still SOME love for you, brotha.

The crowd laughed. Even the Other Guy chuckled at Benjamin’s response and rolled his eyes.

Benjamin Biggs: I’m just messin’ with ya, bro. I could do all this, share my love and whatnot, but I wanna get straight to the heart of the matter… get down to business, if you will. You see, I originally came down here to tell you a little story about a match that I had here almost a last year ago to this date… if I’m not mistaken, it was a four-way match… Greg Allocca was there… Loco Martinez… some other fucker who I can’t remember… and there’s probably a good reason why I can’t get his name off the tip of my tongue. Anyways, I won that match... and the prize that came with that match. You see, I was awarded a shot at ANY Triad belt that I so chose to go after… and seeing as how there’s only ONE Triad title active, I was going to challenge Adrian Corazon for the Iron Fist title tonight… and hell, I might as well, you know. And if I do fight him, I’ll wear goggles like the basketball players use so that the mace won’t get directly into my eyes.

The crowd popped for that one, referring to how Corazon won the Iron Fist title last week.

Benjamin Biggs: But then I realized why go after the Iron Fist title… when I can go after the World title. I mean, that’s still vacant, right? And I remember getting my hands on some not-so-secret information… and if I remember correctly, that not-so-secret info was a first draft of the World title tournament brackets. And I don’t have the brackets with me or anything, but I remember seeing that whoever won the Eli Storm/Michael Collins match later on tonight would get a shot at someone… my memory is foggy at the moment. It wasn’t Real Deal… it wasn’t OutKast… it wasn’t even my brother… oh wait… that’s right. It was me.

Benjamin smiled, gloating that he’s in the tournament with a grin.

 Benjamin Biggs: And when I first showed my brother, pointing out he wasn’t in it and I was… I can’t lie… I bragged. And when I mean bragged, I mean I BRAGGED. But when he congratulated me on a long overdue reward, it just wasn’t fun anymore. Now if my Benji-senses are correct, then this goes out to Collins and Storm… may the best man win. Because the best man will only have a SLIGHTLY increased chance of defeating me. Not a significant difference, mind you, but enough where it will give me a challenge.

Other Guy: He’s got a lot of balls, don’t he?

Dave Dymond: He’s confident in his abilities, OG.

Benjamin Biggs: Now I don’t wanna sound like a prick, but I’m going to be giving everything I’ve got to win this tournament. I’ve sat at home for months… and I was on the freakin’ active list. And when SHOOT closed, I was working odd jobs to make ends meet. No more working the counter at porn shops… no more barista work, making people their double fuckin’ mochachinos… no more semen donating… no more waiting to get back in the wrestling scene. I’ve had my ups and I’ve had my downs while I was away from this ring. There have been times where I would have given it up… given it all away… for one person. But I’ve come to my senses, and to that, I say FUCK that. Now that I’m back in SHOOT, I’m back with a motha-fuckin’ vengeance.

Benjamin pauses, getting more emotional from when he started out.

Benjamin Biggs: To Corazon… when the time is right… I’m taking your Iron Fist title… and I will knock you fuckin’ SENSELESS. To Michael Collins and Eli Storm… whoever qualifies, it won’t fucking matter. Because I will fight you until I either win… or until I die… because NO ONE is stopping me from going to the top. No one is stopping me from cementing my legacy… no one is stopping me from being the best of the SHOOT Project. And to ANYONE who steps into MY WAY, I wish you good luck in advance. Because I won’t be so nice when I kick your fuckin’ FACE in.

Benjamin drops the mic, signaling he’s done. “Misfit Love” picks back up again, with Benjamin loosening up from his riled-up speech, waves to the fans, and jumps over onto the apron and hops onto the floor, walking with the same long-strided strut back to the entrance.

Other Guy: He’s definitely talkin’ it, Dave, but can he walk it?

Dave Dymond: From what we’ve seen in the past, he can. But he has a LOT of competition on his hands if he wants to challenge the newly-crowned Iron Fist title and anyone in that tournament who has the same drive and determination he does. We’ll wait and see if this new-found determination and raw emotion will be his edge in climbing the proverbial ladder to the top.

Other Guy: That said, let's get to some action for tonight, man!

Dave Dymond: Yep. Starting off, we've got newcomer Michael Collins taking on former SHOOT Project World Champion Eli Storm. This is a pretty big match for the two of them, being that this is their entrance into the World Championship tournament. Do you have a pick, OG?

Other Guy: I'm not touchin' a prediction with anything, Dymond. Let's get to the action.

The bell rings three times to get the attention of the fans, and the camera shot goes to Samantha Coil, standing in a spotlight in the middle of the ring, holding the microphone.

Samantha:  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to SHOOT Project: Revolution!  This is your first match of the evening, and is a QUALIFYING match for the upcoming 16 Man Tournament to crown a NEW SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Champion!”

The crowd cheers loudly, as “Not Without A Purpose” by Street Dogs starts to play. The fans rush to the ramp, and reach out, as Michael Collins emerges into the aisle.  Michael Collins paces to the ring, a determined and focused look on his face, and he quickly rolls under the bottom rope, and heads to the corner.

Samantha:  “Introducing first, in the corner to my right, making his SHOOT Project debut tonight, hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada by way of Dublin, Ireland, he weighs in at 230 pounds, this is…MICHAEL COLLINS!”

Michael Collins nods curtly at the warm reception from the capacity crowd in the Thomas and Mack Center.  Michael Collins’s music fades, and is replaced by “Just Like You Imagined” by Nine Inch Nails. 

Another spotlight hits the entranceway, and illuminates Eli Storm, who is standing at the head of the runway.  There is a mixed reaction from the Las Vegas fans, with some boos, some cheers, and some silence. The man known as “The Incredible One” walks down the aisle, climbs into the ring, and heads towards the corner.

Samantha:  “And NOW…introducing in the corner to my left, hailing from Calgary, Alberta, Canada, he weighs in at 220 pounds, this is “The Incredible One” ELI STORM!”

Storm raises both arms over his head as Austin Liman enters the ring, the house lights dim as Samantha makes her exit from the ring, and the bell sounds to start the match...

Dave Dymond:  “This should be good, OG.  We have two men who are trying to get into that World Title Tournament.”

The Other Guy:  “Yeah, plus Michael Collins is going to want to make a big statement in his debut...and here he goes!”

Michael Collins charges at Eli Storm at full speed, and then launches himself into the air, and flies at Eli Storm, connecting with a flying forearm smash!  The Incredible One is caught totally by surprise, and hits the mat at full speed, flattened by the impact of the running punch from Michael Collins. Michael Collins quickly pulls the shocked Storm to his feet, locks him up, and then fires him backward through the air with a snap suplex.

Michael Collins dives on Storm for the quick cover!

ONE!

TWO!

Storm kicks out with authority, but is obviously overwhelmed by the onslaught from Michael Collins. Both men scramble to their feet, and in desperation, Storm reaches out, grabs Collins by the back of the head, and fires up a knee smash into the face of Michael Collins. As Michael Collins instinctively puts his hands over his face, Storm reaches out, grabs him around the wrist, and pulls him in, flattening Collins with a brutal short-arm clothesline.  As soon as Michael Collins hits the mat, Storm backs up, and then begins to violently stomp on the midsection of the newcomer, over and over again. As soon as Michael Collins appears to be softened up enough, Storm backs up, measures him off, and then leaps into the air and nails Michael Collins with the spinning elbow smash. Eli Storm quickly makes the cover, and hooks the leg...

One...

Two!

Right before the count of three, Michael Collins lifts his shoulder from the mat, as the fans cheer the close call.

Dave Dymond:  “That was a close one!”

The Other Guy:  “It was, but it’s also going to take a lot more than a few boots and an elbow smash to put Michael Collins down in a match that has this much riding on it.”

Storm pounces on Michael Collins, and pulls him to his feet.  Storm locks Michael Collins up, and fires him quickly backwards with a suplex.  Michael Collins hits the mat at full speed, and bounces with the impact.  Storm locks Michael Collins up again, and pulls him to his feet.  Storm grabs Michael Collins by the wrist, and throws him into the ropes. 

Michael Collins comes off, and Storm springs at Michael Collins with an elbow…but Collins ducks! Michael Collins puts one hand on Storm’s shoulder and spins him around, and then starts firing rapid-fire right hand closed fist punches directly to the face of “The Incredible One.”  Eli Storm’s head snaps back violently from the impact of the shots from Michael Collins. Finally, Michael Collins grabs one of Storm’ flailing arms, and pulls him in quickly with a short clothesline.  Storm hits the mat. Michael Collins circles around behind Storm and crouches, waiting patiently, as Storm slowly gets to his feet.  The fans are clapping their hands and stomping their feet, as Storm slowly stands up.  Michael Collins slaps a half nelson on Eli Storm, and propels him backwards, with a back suplex!

Michael Collins rolls over for the cover…

One!

Two!

Storm sharply kicks out. 

Dave Dymond:  “Michael Collins is showing us those flying Irish fists of his.”

The Other Guy:  “Hey is it me, or are we getting overrun by Irishmen again?  Killian Reilly, now Michael Collins...all we need is Hornswaggle now.”

In keeping with his Irish heritage, Michael Collins flips Eli Storm over, and locks him up in a good old-fashioned Boston Crab! Storm bellows in agony, and starts to thrash around trying to pull free from the submission hold.  Michael Collins has the hold sunk in, and is applying full pressure.  The fans are on their feet, cheering in suspense, wondering how long Storm will be able to hold on.  Storm looks to his left, and measures how close he is to the ropes.  The Incredible One digs his fingernails into the mat, with his free hand and starts to pull himself, inch by inch towards the ropes. Michael Collins does his best to stay in place, but Storm slowly drags the two men over to the ropes, inch by painful inch.  Finally, Storm reaches up, strains, and grabs the bottom rope.  

Liman orders Michael Collins to break the hold!

As Storm lies prone on the mat, holding his back, Michael Collins leaps into the air and fires an elbow drop into the already tender back of Eli Storm! 

Michael Collins makes the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Storm kicks out.  Michael Collins shakes his head, and then pulls Storm to his feet.  Storm shocks Michael Collins with a quick uppercut to the midsection, knocking the wind out of him.  Michael Collins doubles over, and Storm hoists him into the air, over his shoulder, and down…into a Muay Thai style jumping knee!

However, Storm then collapses, holding his back!  It’s obvious that Storm should not have picked Michael Collins up after being in the Boston Crab.  Storm slowly gets to his feet, holding his back, and starts to pick Michael Collins up, but Michael Collins reaches up, loops his hand around Storm’s neck and rolls him up in a surprise small package pin attempt!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Storm kicks out with all his might, breaking the small package up, as both men go sprawling. Michael Collins and Eli Storm both get to their feet and the same time, and stumble towards each other. Michael Collins boots Storm in the stomach, and then scoops him up, sending him crashing back into the mat with a powerful bodyslam, staying on him for the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

Storm kicks out.

Dave Dymond:  “Collins shows us that despite his tendency to brawl, he is a smart wrestler…his last few moves have all focused on Storm’s back.”

The Other Guy:  “I guess the way you stop a technical wrestler like Storm is to take his back out.  He can’t be nailing you with any fancy moves if he’s in too much pain to pick you up.”

Michael Collins now gets to his feet, and pulls Storm up to his feet as well. Eli Storm takes a step back, and takes a wild swing at Michael Collins.  As he does so, Michael Collins ducks, and picks up Eli Storm in perfect position across his shoulder for a Samoan Drop!

BAM!  Michael Collins powers Eli Storm backward to the mat with the move he calls “The Irish Car Bomb” and he makes the cover...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

“The Devil From Dublin’s” theme music starts to play as Austin Liman grabs Michael Collins by the arm and raises his hand in victory. Eli Storm curses in frustration, rolls under the bottom rope and stumbles up the aisle.  Storm is holding the back of his neck, from where he absorbed the majority of the impact of the devastating finisher by Michael Collins.

Samantha:  “Ladies and Gentlemen, HERE IS YOUR WINNER, AND ADVANCING INTO THE WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT: MICHAEL COLLINS!”

Dave Dymond:  “A huge win for Michael Collins as he moves on to the World Title Tournament.”

The Other Guy:  “That’s one hell of a way to make a debut Dymond!  Looks like we’ll be seeing more from this guy.”

Cutting backstage, we see a security guard look toward a banging fire exit door with caution, one hand on his holstered pistol as he opens it ever so slightly, but even before it's open an inch, it's ripped wide open and a huge figure bursts in through the door, pushing the security guard to the ground and roaring, tugging at his shirt and trying to bite his face as a second figure calmly walks in behind and closes the door.

The figure casts his attention to the ground, quirking an eyebrow in surprise. He wants to say something, but finds himself at somewhat of a loss for words. This isn't exactly an everyday occurrence in his life. Plucking up some plight of courage, he licks his lips and pats the mauling figure on the shoulder, slightly.

O.K. "Hahahaha! Caught you offguard, eh?"

Standing up, he pulls the security guard up by his hand, flexing his bicep.

O.K. "What's ze matter vith you, Dillon? Zey got you pushing too many pencilz?"

Laughing, Osbourne turns back to Ray and shrugs his shoulders.

O.K. "All in good fun, eh?"

Willmott half-smiles.

Ray Willmott: ...Sure, sure. Heh. Right you are, Oz.

They walk on together, along the corridor.

Ray Willmott: ...Got any plans for tonight?

Narrowing his eyes a little and inhaling deeply, the Englishman has to think about what to say.

O.K. "Well, I didn't come all the way to LAS VEGAS, NEVADA...

Osbourne pauses as he can hear the fans in the arena cheer at the mention of their hometown before continuing with a smile...

O.K. "...for shits and giggles, you know? Yeah, I'm gonna do something, probably go out there and speak to the fans and try to get some answers about what the Hell's going on around here. How about you, man? Anything planned?"

Willmott doesn't face Osbourne, and just keeps his sights set ahead.

Ray Willmott: ...I have something to say. Last week wasn't easy. I'm here to make sure I never have to go through that again!

Patting his friend on the shoulders, Osbourne smiles.

O.K. "Fuck Ron, man. He's trying to make a name for himself by being a rotten bastard. Don't let him get to you... Hey, do you think we should find him and give him a piece of our minds?"

Ray Willmott: ...Ron will have more than enough to deal with, by the end of this night, I promise you that!

Laughing, Osbourne swings his kitbag over onto his other shoulder as the two walk along.

O.K. "Hey, who'd you draw in the World Title brackets?"

Willmott smirks, nodding his head.

Ray Willmott: ...Corazon, you?

O.K.  "I drew Jester Smiles. You know, it used to be an insult to say a wrestler was nothing but a clown, but this guy takes the fuckin' biscuit. Haha."

Pausing for a moment, Osbourne remains glued to the spot and causes Ray to stop and look back.

O.K. "That's right, man... if you beat Corazon and Ron beats Ainsley Lake, you two should meet in the next bracket... That'd work out nicely..."

Willmott manages a chuckle.

Ray Willmott: ...I wouldn't put much stock in him getting past the first round after tonight. See Oz, I'm not content to just stop at causing Barker pain, I'm going to mentally alienate him from his ambitions. I'm going to give him a taste of his own medicine, force him to watch his dreams dissolve and his fantasies subside. Last week, he put thoughts into my head that should never have been there. This week, I'll put fists into his face that are more intentional than you can imagine!

Laughing aloud as the two start walking once more, Osbourne notices a determined swagger in Ray.

O.K. "That twisted fuck deserves it. Look what he did to Chris Lee in the last run, wrapped him right around his little finger. You've got to nip this in the bud before he messes you up. You want me there, just in case things don't go to plan?"

Ray stops, and holds Oz on the shoulder.

Ray Willmott: ...No Oz. This is something I need to do alone. Ron Barker wants to try and play the same head games with me, he's tried with others? What he doesn't get is that I know him, just as well as he knows me, and tonight ... I'm gonna exploit that son of a bitch in ways the motherfucker won't believe possible!

Nodding his head, Osbourne acknowledges his friend's sincerity and reassures him by patting the hand on his shoulder.

O.K. "That's cool, man. I understand. But you know I'm always there for you, right? There's not too many of us from the other side of the Atlantic and we need to stick together. We nearly got this all sorted out before SHOOT closed last time... remember that? We had a name and everything... Haha... Point being, if the large and brown hits the fan, give me a shout, yeah?"

Willmott nods, smiling.

Ray Willmott: ...I understand and I appreciate. But I promise you, this will be the longest night in Barker's life. He put Lee and his family through turmoil. Tonight, i'm going to take Barker and the only two things he cares about in life, his anatomy and his face, and take them to places, that even hell itself, begs for mercy from!

O.K. "Hold on, are you facing Ron... TONIGHT?! Right here in... LAS VEGAS?!"

Again, Osbourne pauses to hear the crowd cheer before continuing.

O.K. "I just thought you wanted to catch him in the canteen or something. I'm losing track here..."

Willmott chuckles.

Ray Willmott: ...And ask him out for a cup of tea and a chat, to sort out all our problems, eh?

Osbourne joins Ray in a rare moment of laughter.

O.K. "You cheeky fucker. Seriously, I'm losing track of what's going on... so it's not even the World Title qualifier, it's just you getting to grips with the evil little shit, right?"

Willmott smirks.

Ray Willmott: ...Well, you could look at this fight as ... say ... the loser is the one least likely to qualify, because his body has been mangled in various sick and sadistic ways! It's me and Barker one and one, and I intend for him to remember that, before it's all said and done!

Osbourne points up as the two can hear the fans cheering Ray's statement of intent.

O.K. "I think they like that idea, man! As I remember, taking one on the chin from you was NO fucking joke... I dread to think what it'd be like to take an angry punch from you... Fuck me, that concept is two milliseconds from a broken jaw, you know? He's going to be a mess by the time you're done with him. I can't wait to see this... and neither can a PACKED Thomas and Mack, right here... TONIGHT!"

Laughing as the fans pop again, Osbourne pats Ray on the back.

O.K. "Good times, my man. Good times."

Willmott looks around and smiles, hearing the adulation from the capacity crowd.

Ray Willmott: ...What about you, Oz? What have you got planned tonight?

Osbourne smiles and nods his head.

O.K. "Well, last time I was here, I stayed out in the foyer and met the fans there, but tongith I'm going right out there and, apparently, I'm going to get a personal welcome from Jason fuckin' Johnson himself. Should be fun!"

O.K. "Well, I dunno if he's gonna introduce me or just hype me up at some point, but the point is he's going to be saying something about ME and that's a good thing, right?"

Willmott smiles.

Ray Willmott: ...That's good. It's about time you got the chance to show what SHOOT's been missing since the relaunch! I can imagine Jason only has good things, to say!

Raising his eyebrows and tilting his head to one side, Osbourne sighs.

O.K. "I hope so, man... Look, I have to go and sort some stuff out, but I'll pop by your changing room later on, yeah?"

Willmott nods in acknowledgement.

Osbourne pats his buddy on the shoulder and heads off down the corridor.

O.K. "Later, man!"

Folk Implosion's "Natural One" seeps over the in-house speakers as the crowd quickly realizes who is on his way out. They begin to boo unmercilessly.

Dave Dymond: Well, it looks like one half of our main event is going to come out here and grace us with his presence.

Other Guy: What's the problem, Dave? Not a big Ron Barker fan?

Dave Dymond: Not in the least. It ain't no joke, folks. This isn't some act. Ron Barker is nothing but a complete jerk to everyone he's ever met.

Other Guy: He ain't so bad, Dave. You need to just chill the fuck out.

"Ravishing" Ron Barker steps into the ring and smiles as the crowd continues jeering. He walks over to Samantha Coil and grabs the mic from her hand. He waits a moment for the boos to die down but it doesn't seem to be happening.

Ron Barker: Is this how it's going to be, Vegas? Is this how you're going to treat your next champion?

The boos intensify as Barker rolls his eyes.

Ron Barker: Ok, ok... fine. I see how it is. Anyway... I'm not here for you people so you might as well stop wasting your energy. See, I know you're expecting me to come out here and get my ass handed to me by that limey Ray Willmott... but that can wait. I want to talk about someone who's much more important at this exact moment.

Dave Dymond: More important than Willmott? What's more important than his match here tonight?

Other Guy: Well if you stopped talking, maybe we'll find out!

Ron Barker: I don't know or care if it's common knowledge at this point... but I used to be an addict. I'm not proud of it, but I did have my demons. I know what it's like to cure every problem with another drink or another hit... but I'm proud to say in front of all of you here tonight that I have been fortunate to overcome!

The crowd, still not a fan of "Ravishing" Ron Barker despite his admittance, continue to boo.

Ron Barker: No, no... I don't need your support. There is, however, one man who does. I extended the invitation to him last week and he stood me up like I'm some kind of cheap prom date. Well, I know he's in the back here tonight... so let's do this now. CADE SYDAL... come on out! I've got something I want to say to you!

The crowd begins to cheer wildly as "Broken Bones" by nonpoint rocks the Thomas and Mack Center. Cade, wary of Barker's invitation, slaps a few hands on his way into the ring while never taking his eyes off of him. Cade climbs the ring and enters through the ropes while Barker keeps a distance.

Ron Barker: Hey man... how you been? I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last little while, dude. Where've you been?

Ron leans the mic towards Cade so he can speak but before he can say a word, Ron takes the mic away.

Ron Barker: You know what? I don't need an explanation. With your past, it's probably safe to assume that you were coked in out some alley somewhere.

The crowd "ooohs" while Cade doesn't look too impressed. Barker sees this and slightly smiles.

Ron Barker: Now, now... I'm not here for that, man. I'm here to see how you're doing! See, I've been where you're at and I wanted to offer my services and help you get this monkey off of your back. Last thing we need in this sport is another crackhead bringing the rest of us down.

Cade just shakes his head in disgust.

Ron Barker: What? You disagree? You think that somehow you've got this all under control and that you're clean now? Come on, Cade... I'm not like these morons here tonight.

The crowd begins booing.

Ron Barker: I know you, Cade. We used to be tight back in the day. Who would have known that a former SHOOT Project Champion would fall so far from grace that he's two steps away from being just another junkie begging for change for another fix.

Cade, starting to take offense, balls up his fists and takes a step towards Barker. Barker puts his hands up as a sign of peace.

Ron Barker: Easy, killer... let's not get crazy here. I'm just pointing out that you've changed, man. These people put all their support and shit behind you and you let them down like you're some kind of failure! What ever happened to you? What got you down so much that you've resorted to huffing glue out of a paper bag or whatever it is you do these days?

Cade tries to ignore the barb as Barker tries to look into Cade's eyes with a grin on his face.

Ron Barker: What's the matter, Cade? Hitting a nerve? I'd be surprised you had any of those left after all the shit you've done to yourself. Do you even HAVE feelings any more? I'd be surprised if you did. Granted, emotions just get in the way of business... but there's one feeling you shouldn't lose... and that's shame. You should be ashamed for what you've become. And in case you've forgotten, let me remind you.

Dave Dymond: Uh oh... I don't think this is going to end well.

Other Guy: Shut up, man! This is going to be great!

Ron Barker: You're nothing but a washed up junkie. You need these people to give a shit about you so you can go out there and buy that next hit. Pathetic, Cade. You're fucking pathetic. You should do us all a favour.. overdose. Take enough of whatever shit you're hooked on and melt that little brain of yours so we can see you in the paper as another dead wrestler.

Cade balls up his fists again and moves closer to Barker who takes a few steps of his own back into the corner.

Ron Barker: What are you going to do? Hit me? Go for it. I fucking dare. Hit me if you think I'm talking shit. Come on! Take those little fists of fury of yours and hit me!

The crowd begins to cheer wildly at the prospect of this as Barker sticks out his jaw. Cade, looking to the crowd for support, rears back as if he's going to hit him! Barker braces himself.

Dave Dymond: Barker's gone too far now! Cade's going to show him a world of hurt!

Cade, with a look of pure anger in his eyes, hesitates for a moment before finally... putting his fist down? He shakes his head for a moment as Barker relaxes and just begins to laugh to himself. Cade turns around and makes his way to the ropes.

Dave Dymond: What is Cade doing? Is he leaving? No! Hit that smug prick right in the mouth!

Other Guy: Maybe Ron was telling the truth, Dave. Maybe Cade has got nothing left!

Ron Barker: Yeah... that's right. Leave! We don't have room for junkies like you here in SHOOT!

The camera shows Cade walking to the back, ignoring the fans who reach their hands out. We then cut back to Ron Barker.

Ron Barker: Tough love, Cade. That's what this is. Tonight, Ray Willmott is going to experience first hand what it's like. Put down the smack long enough to pay attention. It just might be in your future!

Ron Barker tosses the mic towards Samantha Coil as "Natural One" begins to play once more. Barker exits the ring as the crowd voices their disapproval towards him.

Dave Dymond: What an absolute all-around jerk! Cade Sydal is trying to get his life back on track and Ron Barker just rubs it all back into his face!

Other Guy: Well you heard what he said, Dave. It's tough love. We'll just have to wait and see what Cade does with this.

The scene fades in, and by the looks of the jester logo at the bottom right hand corner, it's TIME FOR LUNCH!

No, no. No it's not. Smiles Cam. It's time for SMILES CAM! Okay, boys and girls, let's see if we can find out what the scene is today. The camera fades in to the Thomas and Mack Center, specifically, the parking lot-esque area. Jester turns the camera to himself, showing his gorgeous, man pretty face, green and purple mardi gras mask and all.

Jester Smiles: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another edition of SMILES CAM, this week, LIVE at the Thomas and Mack center in BEAUTIFUL Las Vegas, Nevada, home of Siegfried and Roy, Sinatra, and whores. Lots and lots of whores.

But we're not here to talk about whores. We're here to talk WHORES!

Jester looks down for a minute, confused.

Jester Smiles: No, no, no. We are NOT here to talk about whores. We're here to interview a LEGEND in this business. A SHOOT Project hall of famer.

Ladies and gentelmen.....

Jester takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He then opens them very fast and has a look of happiness on his face. Happiness or insanity, one of the two.

Jester Smiles: TERRY FUNK!!

Jester again sighs.

Jester Smiles: No, not Terry Funk. NOT TERRY FUNK! I'm looking for Donovan King. Where he at?

As the camera turns around, it begins to bounce with Jester's footsteps, panning across the parking lot, looking for Donovan King. The sounds of a car pulling up are heard, prompting the camera to swing to the left and then to the right, where it finally settles on a cab.  Stepping out of the cab is none other than the vic…the latest guest of the Smiles-Cam, Donovan King.  He is dressed low key, with a black baseball cap pulled tightly over his face and sunglasses on.  He pulls the duffel bag he carries with him out of the back seat.

Jester Smiles: BUSTER KEYTON!! MR. KEYTON, OVER HERE!!

Donovan stops, instantly recognizing the voice.  He doesn't turn around, just drops his head, shaking it in the most defeated manner he knows how.  Slowly he turns to come face to face with...the Smiles-Cam.

Donovan King:  What...da fuck...do you want?

Jester Smiles: Oh, Donny, don't be so coy. Wait, isn't that a type of fish? It's a type of fish, isn't it?

Donovan stares at the ground for a long moment, a little bit unsure of if he's even got it in him to respond.

Donovan King:  ...I think you mean cod.

He instantly hates himself for answering.

Jester Smiles: Why are you talking about fish? This is a WRESTLING interview. Look at this guy....talking about fish......this guy.....youuuu.....

Donovan stares at Jester for a long moment.

Donovan King:  I ain't got time for your bullshi-

Suddenly a bullhorn rises from off camera and is BLASTED in Donovan's face. Donovan goes to cover his ears, and then goes to hit Jester, but gets blasted AGAIN!

Jester Smiles: And that's for the F-Bomb that I missed! NO CURSING!

Donovan grows infuriated, but tries to control himself.

Donovan King:  I asked you once.  What da...

He stops, glaring at Jester's bullhorn.

Donovan King:  What is it, Clown?

Jester Smiles: You don't want SHOOT very much, do ya? This is SMILES CAM! This is where I make you a STAR, baby!

Donovan sighs, walking past Jester after he slings the duffel bag over his shoulder.

Donovan King:  I oughtta beat the...

He sighs.

Donovan King:  I oughtta tear you up, Clown.  I ain't in the mood for you today.

He continues to walk towards the arena.

Jester is heard scoffing off camera.

Jester Smiles: You mean like you did in the Revolution Championship match?

Donovan stops in his tracks.

Donovan King:  The...only thing dat's savin' you, Clown...is dat I'll probly lose my job if I give you da beatin' you owe.  I'm givin' you every warnin' I can, man.  Your stupid s--

BULLHOOOOOOORN!

Donovan King:  ...I hate you, Clown.

Jester Smiles: I get that a lot. So, Donny Boy, are you aware that the pipes, YES, the pipes, are calling?

Donovan King:  What pipes is you talkin' about?

Jester Smiles: I'm talking about your new gimmick. Donovan "The Plumber" King. I mean, come on. The Plumber King? SOLID GOLD!

Donovan King:  Why the fuck do you do this?

He freezes.

Donovan King:  Shit.

Suddenly, from off camera, the lawyer ninja that keeps showing up in Smiles Cam, well....shows up. WITH A SUPER SOAKER!!! He begins to spray Donovan King with green paint, all over his face and shirt, making Donovan a green mess! He then throws down a smoke bomb and disappears.

Jester Smiles: YOU PEOPLE CAN'T SAY THESE THINGS ON TV!!

Donovan looks down at his shirt and then looks at Jester.  He looks back down at his shirt and then back to Jester.  Donovan's body is tense, shaking with anger.  Suddenly, however, the fury simply...disappears.  Donovan then looks at Jester and...chuckles?

Jester Smiles: So....not expecting that.

Donovan can't stop laughing now, dropping his duffel bag to the ground.

Donovan King:  HA HA HA HA...oh man...HA HA HA HA...now I know why dey call you Clown, man!  You funny as...'ey...can I say hell?

Jester Smiles: Yes, mainly cuz, right now, you kinda scare me.

Donovan reaches over and slaps Jester on the shoulder, grinning.

Donovan King:  Nah, man!  We cool!  People been tryna ack like we was gonna fight after that Revolution Championship match we had wit' dem other people but man...dey ain't got a clue!

Jester Smiles: Yeah....THEY have no clue.....I....get what's going on...yeah.....totally....

.....yeah.

Donovan King:  Look at us, man!  We even play offa each other!  You correctin' me and sh...stuff!  Man, I ain't even know.  I thought you was jus' some annoyin' cat wit' clown make up on or somethin' when I first seen you.  Now I see you here...and I get this green s...stuff on me...like I was on Double Dare!

Donovan laughs again.

Donovan King:  C'mon, man.  I'm on Smiles-Cam!

Jester Smiles: Yes....yes you are......

Sooo, do you want me to have the ninja spray you again, or...what?

Donovan King:  Nah, man, nah.  Dat was classic, I ain't wanna do too much.  I'm here, dis is history in the makin', man.  Axe me anything.

Jester Smiles: Well, I do have ONE question I want to ask you.

Donovan pops his neck from side to side, beckoning Jester to bring it on.

Jester Smiles: How do you feel about....

Pause, for dramatic effect.

Jester Smiles: Italian food?

Donovan King:  You mean like Pizza Hut?

Jester Smiles: More like Olive Garden.

Donovan King:  I don't know, dat's hard.  What do you think?

Jester Smiles: Meh, it's okay.

Donovan King:  I was gonna say somethin' about pizza, but I ain't really know much about Olive Garden.  I wanna axe you sumpthin', though.

Jester Smiles: Ummm...sure....axe away.

Donovan King:  You gonna face Trevor Worrens tonight for dat Revolution Championship.  Now, e'erybody seen dat match where you won the belt and dey know you had Kaz Sato beat fair and square.  Dey also know I had dat...thing Lake beat, too.  You think you gon' beat Trevor tonight an' give the real contender his chance at dat gold?

Jester Smiles: SURE!

Pause.

Jester Smiles: If Wilmott wants a shot, he's free to get one.

Donovan sucks his teeth at the response, but chuckles.

Donovan King:  Man, you...you clever, man.

Jester Smiles: So, this is starting to get kinda creepy.

Donovan laughs again.

Donovan King:  Don't worry about it, man.  I know you da Champ and you got places ta go and whatnot.  I'mma get up outta here and let you do your thing, den.

Donovan forcibly grabs Jester's hand and smacks it, dragging Jester in for a hug, smearing the green paint all over Jester.

Donovan King:  You da man, Clown!  I'mma see you around.

Donovan grins to the camera one last time before slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and walking away. Jester is just quiet for a moment, not at all sure what just happened.

Jester Smiles: Ummm....booya?

A pounding guitar line begins to play across the area, a few fans perking up, but none immediately reacting.  The mood is generally apathetic for the time being.

"IF SHE WANTS TO DANCE AND DRINK ALL NIGHT...  THERE'S NO ONE THAT CAN STOP HER!"

"She's going 'til the houselights come up or her stomach spills out on the floor."

The curtains rustle a bit as "Thrash Unreal" by Against Me is received with confusion more than anticipation.  A moment later, Tom Quinn emerges out to a smattering of cheers.  He's dressed in navy blue wrestling trunks with matching elbow pads and knee pads along with navy blue wrestling shoes and a white headband that reads "REBBOJ" across the front in sharpie marker.  He doesn't acknowledge the crowd, who in turn really isn't acknowledging him.

Samantha Coil: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is a QUALIFYING BOUT for the SHOOT Project, WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT!  Introducing first, from Las Vegas, Nevada and weighing in at 197 pounds...  HERE IS THE ROGUE!!!

Quinn slides into the ring as his entrance music swells into the deceptively poppy chorus.

"AND WE DO WHAT WE DO TO GET BY!"

"AND THEN WE NEED A RELEASE!"

"BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH BAH!"

Dave Dymond: It'll be Rogue going up against Deacon Summers here in just a bit with a spot in the World Championship Tournament on the line.

Other Guy: (Sounding sarcastic) Should be real excitin'...

Dave Dymond: Deacon Summers, of course, will be making his SHOOT Project wrestling debut tonight, and I'll tell you what, I'm excited to see what this guy can do in the ring.  And he'll need it against the wily Journeyman, ROGUE.  Tom Quinn is a two time all-state soccer star, and if you're not careful, he will kick you to death.  Some of the deadliest attacks I've seen this side of the world.

Other Guy: If he don't kick himself first.  Kid has a bad habit of that.

Quinn checks in briefly with official Tony Lorenzo before backing off into a neutral corner and awaiting his opponent's arrival.

The house lights almost immediately die down, and a white flashing strobe spotlight hits the entranceway. As the opening guitar riff of Rev. Horton Heat's "The Devil's Chasing Me" strums through the arena, and "Fortune's Friend" Deacon Summers steps through the curtain to less than thunderous applause. Most people seem to take him pretty well, but nobody, except for the maybe four people in the audience who know him, is taking him too seriously.

Samantha Coil: And his opponent, also from Las Vegas, Nevada and weighing in at 201 lbs... "Fortune's Friend" Deacon Summers!

Dave Dymond: Deacon Summers is definitely one of the more interesting new acquisitions to SHOOT Project... I've not heard any evidence of him ever fighting before.

Other Guy: Great. We have the fantastic, amazing Tom Quinn, and some guy in his first match ever. Should be a stellar bout.

Dave Dymond: Hey, they could easily surprise us here tonight.

Other Guy: They could even more easily not.

Deacon slides under the top rope, checking in with Tony Lorenzo, and cracking his neck back and forth. He points across the ring to Quinn, and nods to him in a show of respect. Quinn doesn't even bother waiting, crossing the ring with a clothesline to drop Deacon and start the match!

Other Guy: How did he not see that coming?

Dave Dymond: Deacon's put down pretty early on in the match, his rookie enthusiasm maybe getting the best of him here.

Deacon pops back to his feet, and looks absolutely shocked. ROGUE comes running back for another clothesline, but Deacon ducks, planting a back kick to the back of Quinn's head! Quinn doesn't stay down for long, and the pair lock up. Deacon tosses Quinn to the ropes, but Quinn comes back with a front face dropkick that puts Summers down! Summers stays down on the mat, and Quinn drops a leg across his throat! He picks Deacon up by the hair, and tosses him into the corner. Quinn charges, but Deacon gets a foot up! Quinn stumbles back, and Deacon sends a couple of straight jabs into his face, before dropping him with a roundhouse kick to the face!

Dave Dymond: Deacon almost solely on the defensive here, but it's looking like that could change very quickly.

Other Guy: This is more like a kickboxing match so far. Where's the wrestling?

Deacon's showboating a little too much, and it doesn't take long for Quinn to pull him down in a schoolboy without much effort. Deacon kicks out at one, and both men are back on their feet. Deacon throws a punch, but Quinn blocks it, wrapping Deacon up and dropping him with a stiff DDT! Deacon is entirely caught off-guard, and Quinn goes to follow it up with a springboard moonsault-- but the ropes were not there for him! He hits the ropes with the back of his knees, and falls backward! Deacon's shaking the cobwebs out, and ROGUE is supremely upset! He slams his hand on the mat and hops to his feet. Deacon walks over to him, and is met with a STIFF kick to the jaw! Deacon drops to the mat, and holds his jaw in pain!

Dave Dymond: ROGUE with a nasty kick to the jaw!

Other Guy: That was brutal.

Deacon's rolling around, holding his face, and Quinn drops to his knees, turning him over, and sending punches into his face! Deacon's doing his best to cover up, but Quinn is raining blows onto his arms! Finally, Summers sends a few knuckles to the throat of ROGUE, and Quinn falls to his back, coughing! Deacon gets to his feet, adjusting his jaw, before dropping a knee to the chest of ROGUE, and mounts him, tossing fists into his face and chest! Quinn finally pushes him off, and both men get back to their feet. They lock up, and Deacon gets dropped with a neckbreaker!

Dave Dymond: Deacon is getting trounced here, and he's going to need some of that fortune to kick in!

Other Guy: Luck is one of the few things that's going to get him through, apparently.

Quinn takes a deep breath, picking him up by the hair, and sending him toward the corner. He charges Deacon again, and once again, Deacon gets a foot up! Quinn is stopped quickly, and Deacon goes to the top! Quinn is trying to shake off the cobwebs, and he turns around into a blind moonsault from Summers! Quinn gets nailed, and Deacon goes for the cover!

One!

TWo!

Thr-- kickout!

Deacon pops to his feet, sending a boot into the side of Tom Quinn, and finishing up with a drop of the elbow to Quinn's chest! Quinn rolls over, getting to his knees, but Deacon sends a knee to his face! Quinn rolls backward, sliding out of the ring! Tony Lorenzo starts a ten count, but it doesn't take long for Deacon to blindly sail over the top rope! Deacon manages to waffle Quinn on the outside! He gets back to his feet, barely, rolling ROGUE back into the ring! Deacon hops onto the apron, slingshotting himself over the top rope, and dropping a shoulder across Quinn's chest! Summers rolls onto his feet, and grabs ROGUE by the hair!

Dave Dymond: This one could be over right now!

Other Guy: That would be a shame.

Deacon pulls ROGUE's head under his arm, and jumps up, pulling him down with the Man's Ruin DDT! Deacon covers!

One!

Two!

Three! Summers picks up the win!

Samantha Coil: Your winner, at a time of 13 minutes and 44 seconds, “Fortune's Friend,” Deacon Summers!

Dave Dymond:  Quite a win here by Deacon Summers, and an impressive debut too! 

Other Guy:  Both guys did pretty well here, so there may be hope for ROGUE yet.  Deacon, though, moves on to the first round of the World Championship tournament!

Backstage, Abigail Chase is seen approaching the locker room of “The Beast” Kaz Sato.

Abigail Chase: Abigail Chase here, and with the Revolution title match still to come tonight, and all this talk about the World Title tournament, I’m here to get a few words from a man who not only was pinned at the inaugural Revolution to give Jester Smiles the win AND therefore crowning him the Revolution Champion, but has also NOT been given a slot in the World title tournament.

The fans can be heard reacting from ringside, many thinking this is going to end with Abigail knocked out.  Abigail knocks on the door.

Abigail Chase: Kaz, Kaz can we get a few…

The door opens, but in a surprise turn, Trevor Worrens is seen walking out of the locker room. He turns back in for a moment.

Trevor Worrens: I’m glad we could come to an agreement.

Worrens closes the door, only to have Abigail’s microphone right in his face.  He just looks to her.

Abigail Chase: Care to explain WHY you just came out of Kaz Sato’s locker room?

Worrens pulls his hair back out of his face so you can see his eyes and he lets it sort of drop messily to the side.

Trevor Worrens: Why? Because I know how people like Whiplash operate.  Tonight I go out there, after I told him he can either tuck tail and run, or make an impact.  For people like Whiplash, who love the roar of the crowd… who NEED it… the only impact he’ll think of is running out to the ring and ruining my chances at taking the SHOOT Project Revolution title away from Jester Smiles.

Worrens looks back at Kaz Sato’s locker room door.

Trevor Worrens: That? That was just a little bit of a safety net. See to it that Eric and I aren’t interrupted.

Before Abigail Chase can ask any more questions, Worrens walks off, leaving her with them running in her mind.

Dave Dymond (from ringside) Worrens reaching an agreement with The Beast? Why doesn’t that sit well with me?

"You saw it advertised via SHOOT Central earlier in the week, but let me just say..."

The crowd pops as the image is shifted from the locker room of Kaz Sato out in the ring, with none other than the SHOOT Project CEO, Jason Johnson. The crowd is already popping from his entrance, and he's looking around, pretty much enjoying himself. The crowd comes down a notch letting Jason finish up.

Jason Johnson: I promised some personal, individual hype, and I'm here to deliver. We in the SHOOT Project have always been privileged to contract and employ workers from all over the World. This hasn't changed, even in this new SHOOT Project, and due to that I thought it proper to introduce one of the more international stars SHOOT has ever known. Not only that, but I'm personally announcing this man's in-ring debut, and entrance into the SHOOT Project World Championship Tournament.

He pauses, allowing a little suspense to build.

Jason Johnson: That said, next week, he'll be taking on Jester Smiles in the first round of the tournament I just mentioned... And well... he's told me he intends to take the whole thing. So, without further ado, I give you... actually, I'll allow him to re-introduce himself!

"THE TIME HAS COME... THE TIME HAS COME... THE TIME HAS COME..."

A murmur is head from the packed crowd in attendance at the Thomas and Mack Center as the ominous words of Dave Wyndorf create an atmosphere of intense anticipation...

"SPACE LORD MOTHER-FUCKER!"

Other Guy: I know who this is, Dave! I know who this is!

Dave Dymond: Fill me in!

Other Guy: Just give it a second...

The fans are up on their feet cheering at the cue for the lights to dip to complete darkness with an array of small, swirling white lights, the flag of Saint George, patron saint of England flashing up on the screen subliminally within a montage of Osbourne Kilminster's greatest hits from his previous run in SHOOT. The man himself steps out from the curtain with his gloved fists raised, his urban camo MMA shorts matched by his urban camo hoodie and the colour of his MMA gloves, a black flak jacket and wrestling shoes completing the look. Pumping his fists into the air, he roars aloud and rips off his blue-tint wraparound sunglasses to throw them into the crowd!

"I left my throne a million miles away
I drink from your tit
I sing your blues every day
Now give me the strength
To split the world in two yeah
I ate all the rest and now I've gotta eat you
Well I sing...

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!

SPACE LORD MOTHER FUCKER!"

Other Guy: OSBOURNE KILMINSTER IS HERE! THE OZMAN COMETH!

Strolling confidently along the walkway in a white spotlight with a red St George's-like cross, he holds his hands wide so that all the fans reaching over the security rails and safety barriers can touch their hero from overseas. Stng by the guardrail, he points at one fan and reaches into the crowd, lifting a small boy over the security barrier and hoisting him up onto his shoulder, the kid holding up a "REVOLUTION IS O.K.!" banner! Dropping the kid back down behind the barrier, Osbourne drops to his kness with his fists raised to shoulder-height and looking upward as though drawing strength from and giving thanks to The Gods above.

"I lost my soul when I fell to earth
My planets called me to the void of my birth
The time has come for me to kill this game
Now open wide and say my naaaaaaaaaaaaame...

SPACE LORD MOTHER FUCKER!

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!

SPACE LORD MOTHER FUCKER!"

Leaping up to his feet, he charges the rest of the walkway, leaping up at the apron, but instead springboarding off to run around the matted area and jump right up onto the commentary desk, grabbing Dave Dymond and The Other Guy by the wrists and hoisting them to their feet, drawing a huge cheer from the crowd which has Dave blushing with mild embarassment and Other Guy lapping it up, clapping his hands together as the camera flashes break the darkness from twenty rows back! Osbourne leaps from the commentary desk right onto the ring apron and spings over the top rope to land inside the ring, pirouetting with his arms outstretched as the applause keeps on coming and coming, fans clapping and shouting and screaming!

"THE TIME HAS COME... THE TIME HAS COME... THE TIME HAS COME..."

Dave Dymond: Woah, that was exhilarating...

Other Guy: That was fuckin' awesome!

As Monster Magnet's "Space Lord (Intergalactic 7" Mix - SHOOT edit)" fades out and the lights come up, Osbourne looks out into the stands, pointing at each and every banner bearing his name, each and every T-shirt bearing his name and nodding, smiling like the true Cheshire Cat he is. Slowly, he draws ina  deep breath and waves his left hand to cue the crowd to quieten down so he can speak, albeit reluctantly as he catches a microphone in his right hand and brings it to his mouth.

Other Guy: Shh. I wanna hear what he has to say.

Dave Dymond: Me too.

Other Guy: Shut the fuck up then.

"Las Vegas, Nevada... it's good to be back... home."

With that, a rapturous applause shakes the roof and Osbourne laughs, a little surprised by the passion of the fans and giving them a few seconds to cool down a bit.

"You know, when they said SHOOT was coming back... I thought things might be different... I thought maybe they'd put SHOOT in a different place and bring in guest celebrities... I dunno, maybe over in Sacramento, California, with Arnold Schwarzenegger doing guest commentary or something... but now I'm really here, I'm really out here in Las Vegas, in front of all of you... people who live in the city, people who've travelled thousands of miles from around the US, people who've flown across countries and oceans to be here... You know what? I wouldn't rather be anywhere else in the world, and that comes from the bottom of my heart."

A nice clapping of the hands shows the fans appreciation of Osbourne's genuine kindness and warmth.

"Thank you, thank you all... but let's get down to some business... You know, a little birdie tells me that SHOOT doesn't have a World Champion yet, and that there's a little-bitty sixteen man tournament to decide who's going to be the first man to wear that beautiful work of gold and leather this time around... The same little tweety birdie tells me that I'm one of the sixteen men who's got their name in that big old hat of Jason Johnson's. That's right, Osbourne Kilminster is in the running to be the inaugural SHOOT Project World Champion, and the only thing stopping him... I mean, ME - is fifteen other men, well... what is it? Fourteen men and a little lady... What do you all think of that?!"

Holding the mic up high above his head, Osbourne nods as the crowd cheer and a small "OS-BOURNE!" chant starts up. Bringing the mic back down, Osbourne spins on his heels to point to every stand.

"So I come home to The SHOOT Project... and I remember how great it was... and I look at the new roster and I see how great it is now... and I get to wondering how amazing things will be now, with all the old favourites and even some new faces who show a lot of promise from what I've seen... We're only on the third show and there's already been some awesome matches, the likes of which you'll not see anywhere else in the industry. That's right, this is only the third show and look how fantastic things already are, and we still don't even have a World Champion... and I still haven't had a match yet!"

He waits, collecting his thoughts with his left hand raised to preserve the silence until he can continue.

"I wanted to be here last week, but last minute commitments elsewhere kept me away... and I apologise for that. I should have been here for you, all of you fans who've been so wonderfully supportive of me... I should have been here for my mate, Ray, because he had a bad week last week... but rest assured that that little situation will resolve itself later on when he steps out here and beats the Hell out of Ron Barker!"

Osbourne laughs as they pop for Ray Willmott.

Dave Dymond: Those two seem to be really good friends lately.

Other Guy: You heard 'em earlier, Dave, they had some shizz planned a while back, but we all done closed shop before they had chance.

"But, you know what? I'm here for all of you fans and I'm here because I need you. Yeah, I want to be in this ring because I love the thrill of the fight, the electric atmosphere that you only get when you're locked in combat with a tremendously skilled opponent... but I also love the feeling I get when I know there's ten thousand or twenty thousand pairs of eyes watching me and ten thousand or twenty thousand people cheering me on... When every time my fist or my elbow or my knee or my shin or my foot or even my head drives into an opponent and blood and sweat flies off him, and that gorund zero of impact begins to turn purple or tear... and I hear your gasps and your cheers... When every time I catch an opponent's arms or leg or lock onto his neck and feel muscles stretch and tear, ligaments pop... and I hear your excited applause and gasps of anticipation... Even when I'm rocked back by an opponent's onslaught, when they're driving hard, heavy strikes into me and my body wants to just give up, battered and bruised and bleeding and starting to black out... all it takes is just ONE of you to chant my name and give me that split second of energy to help me rally back... Even when I'm caught in a really bad spot with one of my arms or legs or my neck tangled up and stretched out of shape of beyond it's natural capacity and every part of me is screaming out in pain... just ONE of you shouting out my name is all it takes to give me what I need to pull through and turn that thing around... just ONE... So before it gets to that point where I'm stepping back into this ring, still wearing these simple wrestling shoes, these simple MMA shorts and MMA gloves... I need to know that I'm going to get that kind of support, the support that can help me elevate my game from very good to excellent, from admirable to awe-inspiring... Show me right now that you can give me what I need and I will give you what you want! COME ON!"

Holding the mic above his head again, he grabs his left ear in his hand to catch every decibel as the fans are up on their feet, cheering at the top of their voices, roaring out their support. Osbourne drops his hands, shouting into his mic with a broad smile...

"I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU!"

Still smiling, Osbourne continues to work them, turning to look into each of the 4 quadrants of the arena and garner their support, releasing his ear and lowering the mic as he nods.

"I think that if you can all do that for me each time I come out here, we can have a lot of fun together. I don't THINK, I KNOW that if you're going to give me that level of support and the kind of buzz I'm feeling RIGHT NOW, I can give you the kind of performances that you deserve, the kind of performances the will see me stood here in a few weeks wearing that awesomely crafted World Title belt. I reckon that together... each and every one of you here tonight and everybody at home... and I... can make something special happen here in SHOOT... If I put in all my effort and all my energy into each and every match and you put all your effort and energy into supporting me like you are right now... wow... we can really accomplish something very, very special!"

Throwing the mic back over to the timekeeper's table, Osbourne charges at a turnbuckle and leaps up onto the second rope, holding his fists high in a salute to the crowd!

"Well I sing...

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!

SPACE LORD MOTHER FUCKER!"

Dave Dymond: I've NEVER seen this crowd worked like Osbourne worked it just now... NEVER...

Other Guy: Neither have I, man... These people really love him!

Dave Dymond: And he's staking his claim to the SHOOT Project World Title is spectacular fashion... Wow... I thought I was already excited about the tournament, but now? Whole different level. How about you, Other Guy? How excited are you?

Other Guy: So excited I think I need to change my pants!

At ringside, moments before the next match up of the evening, the focus is placed back on Dave Dymond and Other Guy.

Dave Dymond: SHOOT fans, It was the first championship belt awarded in this new era of SHOOT Project, and now in just a few moments it will be the first one defended, as the Revolution Champion Jester Smiles has his title on the line against “The Failed One”, as he calls himself, Trevor Worrens.

Other Guy: Worrens didn’t fail though in his debut match against that cat Whiplash, which is giving him some momentum goin’ into this title fight.  Course, Jester Smiles went through three men to get his title, so its not gonna be an easy match for Trevor tonight.

Dave Dymond: Let’s take a quick look back to our inaugural Revolution, and the victory that has Jester Smiles entering the ring here tonight as a champion.

The shot of Dave Dymond and Other Guy at ringside is replaced with a video clip from the four way Revolution title match.  At the bottom right hand corner of the screen it reads “Revolution- 08/11/07”

Ainsley turns to see King and then successfully kicks Kaz off of her!  She gets up and goes right at King!  She goes for a front face dropkick, but King DUCKS!  She flies RIGHT OVER HIM and King immediately charges at Kaz, who is going for ANOTHER KAZ CUTTER…BUT KING DUCKS IT AS WELL AND PUTS KAZ UP ONTO HIS SHOULDERS!!!  He looks over the fans and SNAPS KAZ AROUND INTO THE KTFU!!!  KTFU!!!

OutKast:  KAZ JUST GOT KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT!!!

King grins from ear to ear as he stands over Kaz’s body who is OUT on the mat!  He leans against the ropes to admire his handiwork…BUT AINSLEY RAMS KING WITH A CROSSBODY THAT SENDS THE BOTH OF THEM OVER THE TOP ROPE AND OUT OF THE RING!!!  The fans ERUPT as both of them spill out to the outside.

Real Deal:  ALL FOUR OF THEM ARE DOWN.

OutKast:  See…THIS is what you wanna go through to get that Revolution Championship!  These people are gonna put their bodies through HELL for the right to be the FIRST SHOOT Project Revolution Champion!!!

Jester slowly pulls himself over onto his stomach and begins to pull himself up from the mat, the fans loving every moment of this!  He looks at Kaz who is OUT on the mat!  He looks at Ainsley and King who are both starting to stir on the outside of the ring!

OutKast:  FUCK!  THE CLOWN IS IN PERFECT POSITION TO WIN THIS!!!

Jester slowly pulls himself up his feet and groggily walks over to Kaz, who is barely in the world from the KTFU from King.  Jester kneels down to pick Kaz…up?!

Real Deal:  He could pin him and WIN this thing!  What is he doing?!

Jester picks Kaz up, and Kaz…as if almost out of instinct NAILS Jester with a hard shot!  Kaz is OUT on his feet and Jester staggers backwards from the shot!  Kaz tries to shake the cobwebs and throws another punch…BUT JESTER TWISTS THE ARM AND GRAPEVINES THE LEG…SNAP DDT!!!  THE END OF THE LAUGHTER!!!  KAZ SATO IS OUT ON THE MAT!!!

OutKast:  HE GOT HIM!!

Outside of the ring, King RAMS Ainsley into the ring steps!  JESTER SPRAWLS OVER KAZ SATO FOR THE PIN!!  TONY LORENZO’S THERE!!!  KING SPOTS JESTER GOING FOR THE PIN!!!

ONE!!!

KING’S IN THE RING!!

TWO!!!

KING FLIES IN THE AIR TO GRAB JESTER’S FOOT…BUT HE FALLS SHORT!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!

The fans pop BIG for Jester Smiles!

Samantha Coil:  HERE IS YOUR WINNER…AND SHOOT’S FIRST CHAMPION…THE NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW SHOOT PROJECT REVOLUTION CHAMPION…JESTER…SMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILES!!!!!

OutKast:  The…CLOWN?!  HE’S our first representative?!  Oh God…he hugged me!

The footage pauses on Jester Smiles celebrating in victory before cutting back live to the Thomas and Mack Center for the start of the next match up. Other Guy is looking at his monitor laughing a bit.

Other Guy: Gotta love the reaction from Kast.

Dave Dymond: Regardless of the SHOOT Project legend’s questionable feelings about Jester Smiles, seemed like most everyone else rallied behind his victory and being crowned the first Revolution Champion of this new era.  What the question is now, though, is will the Jester reign remain in tact, or will Trevor Worrens make good on his own promise to himself to be everything his former “God” wasn’t.

Other Guy: Talk, talk, talk, Dave. It’s a title fight; the hype is in the match itself, not your gift for gab.

Dave Dymond: Sorry, O.G. just setting it up for our fans…

Other Guy: Let Samantha do that, man.

On cue, the bell is sounded and the fans in attendance continue to buzz from what they’ve already seen, but focus in on Samantha Coil who prepares to announce the next match.

Samantha Coil: This next contest is scheduled for one fall and will be for the SHOOT Project REVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP!!!

Immediately “Breath” by Breaking Benjamin starts to play throughout the Thomas and Mack Center. The SHOOT Project tron show various clips of Worrens’s own produced promos in an arthouse montage, broken up by the words Trevor Worrens and “The Failed One.”  Trevor Worrens starts out from the back, the fans giving him a general “unwelcome” vibe.  Worrens just walks to the ring in black shoes, black jeans, and a dark blue button up shirt, untucked.  He keeps his head lowered the whole time as he approaches the ring and walks up the steel steps.

Samantha Coil: Introducing first, the challenger, he weighs in tonight at 233 pounds… here is “The Failed One” Trevor Worrens!!!

Worrens enters the ring, and as his music fades out he starts to unbutton his shirt, taking it off before the match begins.

Dave Dymond: There has definitely been a lot of questions surrounding Trevor’s…

Before Dymond can finish his thought, a loud drum roll fills the entire arena, which already gets the fans up out of their seats.  As the drum roll ends, the lights turn all sorts of colors, prominently purple and green and “The Show Must Go On” by Three Dog Night starts to play.  Shots of Jester Smiles in action, and just goofing around, are seen on the SHOOT Project tron, adding into the excitement of the Revolution Champion’s arrival.

Samantha Coil: And his opponent…

The crowd gets louder as Jester Smiles emerges from the back, proudly bringing with him the Revolution title.  He points to the title then out to the crowd, and then finally makes his way down to the ring, not leaving a single hand un-slapped in the process.

Samantha Coil: He weighs in tonight at 245 pounds… and he is THE SHOOT PROJECT REVOLUTION CHAMPION… Here. Is. JESTER SMILES!!!

Jester runs full circle around the ring, tagging hands, before eventually turning his attention to the ring. He slides in under the bottom rope the rises to his feet, removing the title from around his waist.  Jester holds it up for all to see, and even jumps a little in the process. The whole time Jester shows off for the fans, Worrens remains in the corner, leaning up against the turnbuckles, looking in Jester’s general direction.

Dave Dymond: As I was saying, there definitely seems to be a lot of questions about Trevor Worrens’s intentions here in SHOOT Project, both for himself and his opponents.  Of course I am referring to his post match interaction with Whiplash last week, so do you think that sort of mystery, if you will, will factor into this match, O.G.?

Other Guy: Look, Worrens has some shit going on that maybe don’t even know about, but in the here and now, you can’t forget what Jester Smiles did to get that belt he’s all jumpy bout.  I think Worrens knows he’s in for a fight, and I think Jester knows he’s gonna have to bring that fight harder than what Worrens is ready for.

Dave Dymond: Well stated, so you’d go with Jester to pick up the win tonight?

Other Guy: I told you what I think about this match up, but as it’s gonna always be here in SHOOT, Dave, and you should know better, anything can happen. Don’t expect me to make a prediction.

Referee Dennis Heflin takes the Revolution title and raises it up as the official symbol of what this match stands for. After he shows it once to Jester and then once to Worrens, the referee passes the belt off to Samantha Coil who exits the ring with it.  Heflin then motions to Mark Kendrick at the timekeeper’s table who rings the bell.  Right off the get go, the fans start cheering and as Jester walks towards the middle of the ring, shouts of “JES-TER! JES-TER!” echo throughout the Thomas and Mack Center.  Worrens meets Jester in the middle of the ring now, both men standing toe to toe, with Worrens looking up slightly to look Jester in the eyes.

Dave Dymond: No doubt about Jester Smiles’s status here in SHOOT Project, these fans are completely behind him tonight. These are the defining moments, O.G. The electricity, the energy, and the match has just started.  What does that tell you?

Other Guy: It tells me SHOOT Project is back, Double D, and from the sound of our fans, they’ve been craving it for some time now and we’re finally satisfyin’ that crave.

Worrens says something to Jester after a moment of standing toe to toe, and Jester just shakes his head with a sly smirk.  Worrens lowers his head and looks to turn, but whips right back around with an intended palm jab to the throat, but Jester is quicker and blocks the incoming attack and NAILS Worrens with a right hook!  The fans pop big time for that hit alone that sends Worrens reeling to the side, and Jester hits the ropes now for added momentum… HUGE running knee strike!  Worrens doubles over in pain and Jester looks to capitalize, definitely feeding off the energy of the crowd as he goes for a shuffle sidekick!

Other Guy: Virginia Sidekick time!

Jester lunges, but just before he can connect, Worrens drops all the way down to the mat and rolls out of the ring, clutching the side of his ribs with one hand.  The fans immediately boo, and outside of the ring Worrens slams his other hand on the edge of the mat with frustration. Jester keeps the momentum in his favor though, hits the ropes and runs full speed at the edge of the ring. Worrens is NAILED with a leaping baseball slide that connects between the middle and top rope!  Worrens is knocked off his feet and onto the floor, and Jester spills to the outside as well!  Fans are up out of their seats as Jester maintains control, the louder they cheer, the more he gets into it!

Dave Dymond: Guess Worrens should think again about entertainers not being competitors, because I’d say Jester Smiles is both right now!

Other Guy: He’s feelin’ it, but you get too froggy, could cost ya.

Dave Dymond: Right now Jester taking hold of Worrens on the outside, but looks like this battle on the outside ends with that high impact jumping baseball slide, as Jester rolls Worrens back into the ring.

With Worrens in the ring, flat on his back, Jester quickly capitalizes with a cover.  The referee drops to the mat to make the count.  ONE… not even a two count as Worrens shoulders out, breaking the pin attempt.  Jester brings Worrens up off the mat and looks to whip him into the ropes now, but Worrens snaps back, reversing the whip on Jester. Jester hits the ropes instead, and Worrens connects with a spinning palm jab that catches Jester just under the sternum.  Jester staggers slightly from the attack, which allows Worrens to capitalize with a quick STO to drive Jester down onto the mat.  Worrens hits a kick to Jester in the side, then walks to the other side and kicks Jester again. This causes the once cheering fans to boo, as Worrens lands a third kick, and then makes a cover, pushing his forearm into Jester’s face.

The referee hits the mat.

ONE!

TW… not quite the full two count as Jester gets the arm up.  Worrens grabs the arm and suddenly yanks Jester up into a sitting position, twisting the arm around his back, and then with his other arm wrapping it around Jester’s chin and neck!

Dave Dymond: Impromptu wristlock and sleeper choke there… but Jester fighting against it.

Jester easily gets up to his feet, not giving Worrens enough time to really apply the on the spot submission hold, and Worrens is forced to break the hold, but not without drilling Jester in the back with a hard forearm shot.  Jester stumbles forward into the down ring ropes, and Worrens comes up behind him, pulls his head back, quick snapping reverse DDT!  The fans settle in now as Worrens seems to be on a methodical approach to breaking Jester down.

Dave Dymond: Reverse DDT, with Worrens putting a focus on the neck and arm it would seem of Jester Smiles, most likely looking to do to Jester what he did to Whiplash just last week.

Other Guy: That’s how ya make a name for yourself in this business. Develop a streak; let these fans know what you’re all about. Worrens is doin’ that now, and he could get championship gold for his efforts.

Dave Dymond: Jester certainly on the receiving end of potentially serious damage if Worrens continues to target the neck and then eventually locks on the BBR, Broken Beyond Repair.

Worrens doesn’t go for the pin, but instead forces Jester onto his stomach, and drops a jumping knee right onto the square of Jester’s back. Jester winces in pain, and Worrens shifts from the knee against Jester’s back, to sitting on his back.  With Jester under him, Worrens grabs up under his chin, quickly applying a camel clutch submission hold!  The referee checks the situation, but Jester’s legs are long enough to reach the ropes, and he gets his foot hooked on the bottom.  Dennis Heflin calls for Worrens to break the submission and he does… but quickly turns to face Jester and drag him from the ropes by the head.

Worrens then drops another knee, and goes right back into the camel clutch, pulling up on the head, to cause pain and tension in the neck!  Jester winces again, grinding his teeth.  The fans start up the rally and once more chants of “JES-TER! JES-TER!” are heard.  Jester works on fighting through the pain, he starts to get up, but Worrens breaks the hold himself, hits the ropes… and comes charging full force at Jester, who struggles to get up…

BUT THEN SNAPS UP WITH A LUNGING CLOTHESLINE!!!

Other Guy: Where’d the hell that come from!

The fans POP BIG TIME as Worrens drops to the mat like a bag of cement, rolling back and forth in pain.  Jester stays standing, shouting now for Worrens to get up and over-exaggerating his motion as to play into the crowd.  Worrens gets up, but sees Jester charge at him and drops down to the mat. Jester jumps over him and suddenly changes his path of direction and B-LINES for the corner!  Worrens turns expecting to see Jester coming right at him, but he’s not there!  Worrens turns a second too late as Jester LEAPS through the air and CONNECTS WITH A CROSS BODY SPLASH!

Dave Dymond: Jester Smiles showing his agility and air-born ability with that HUGE cross body!

Other Guy: He’s agile and quick for a taller guy, mad props on that.

The fans are in an uproar of cheers as Jester hooks the leg, and some of the fans start counting along.

ONE!

The fans echo one!

TWO!

The fans echo two!

But the three count isn’t made as Worrens shoulders up!

Dave Dymond: Close two count there, maybe could have been a three if Jester just held the leg curled in a little more to keep more pinning pressure on the shoulders.

The fans respond with a collective “oooh” as Jester gets up, his energy still carrying him through the match however, despite not getting the three count right then and there.  Worrens again starts to get up, but this time Jester is right there.  Jester gets in a quick knee strike to keep Worrens staggering, and then a hard boot to the stomach.  Worrens doubles over and Jester pulls him into a front face headlock, grabs the leg… and takes Worrens down with a fisherman’s suplex!

Jester holds on though, much to the surprise of the fans, rolls over onto his stomach and in a great display of control and strength hoists Worrens up for a SECOND fisherman’s suplex!

Other Guy: Rolling fisherman’s, damn that’s somethin’ else!

Dave Dymond: And fans don’t realize the strength it takes to pull off any series of suplexes, so Jester Smiles definitely proving what he can bring to the ring… and he’s up again, going for the third fishermans’s suplex!

The fans cheer as Jester has him hooked and ready, but Worrens manages to spin out of the front face headlock, grab the arm and YANK it down hard!  Worrens loses his balance however in the process, having been on basically one leg… and both men fall awkwardly onto the mat, which brings the cheering to die down once more.  Worrens pushes up off the mat, but Jester up as well, shaking his arm out a bit to get past the pain.  Jester comes at Worrens with an attempted grapple, but Worrens side steps, wraps his arm around Jester’s neck as if going for an STO, but brings his knee up into Jester’s gut instead!  Jester doubles over slightly from the strike, and Worrens swings around and NAILS a knee right into the lower back.  Jester stands straight up, out of pain, and Worrens lands another knee to the back!

Other Guy: Worrens and Smiles might be different when it comes to personality, but both these guys have some similar stuff inside the squared circle, Dave.

Dave Dymond: Definitely we see Trevor Worrens using those knee strikes, something Jester Smiles has trained in as well, making good use of his Muay Thai skills.

Other Guy: Well they ain’t helping him right now as Worrens just kneeing the shit out of Jester’s back.

Jester arches forward in pain, and Worrens now grabs him with his left arm, pulling Jester across Worrens’s back. Then in one swift motion, Worrens drops down to one knee, CRACKING Jester’s back against his own.  Jester flops down onto the mat, stomach first, reaching his arm around to hold his back in pain!

Dave Dymond: A vicious side back-breaker on Jester Smiles there, a variation on a very painful maneuver.

Other Guy: I see Worrens focusing more on the back now, didn’t expect that.

Dave Dymond:  Definitely seems like a new strategy here… which means Worrens could be setting up for something else, or just out to prove that he will in fact try to break Jester Smiles tonight.

Other Guy: He’s comin’ pretty close right now, and this crowd here at the Thomas and Mack ain’t havin’ it, Dave.

The fans are booing now as Worrens rises up to his full vertical base, and Jester kicks his foot into the mat in reaction to the pain.  Worrens just pushes the hair out of his eyes for a moment, looking out at the crowd with a smirk.  He turns to face Jester, who Heflin checks on.

Trevor Worrens: You want to prove yourself?  Do it with a broken BACK!

Worrens runs now and DRIVES his knee into Jester’s back again!  Jester shouts out in pain and Heflin calls off Worrens, but Worrens continues.  Sizing up Jester again.  He charges, and lands ANOTHER devastating knee!  Jester flails his legs wildly, the pain shooting through his body.  Worrens is up a third time… and the fans continue to boo loudly. This time he walks right up to Jester, places one foot just below his neck, as if pinning him down…and then JUMPS up off of him only to DRIVE his knee into the back a third time!

Referee Dennis Heflin gets right in Worrens’s face now after issuing two warnings.

Dennis Heflin: BACK IT UP, WORRENS!

Worrens slowly backs up now as the referee tries to check on Jester’s situation and if he can continue.

Dave Dymond: Fan, Dennis Heflin usually one of our more laid back referees when it comes to the fights that go down, but apparently he has deemed this a potentially serious situation.

The fans have quieted as they look on, now more concerned with Jester’s well being than booing Worrens.  Worrens looks on for a moment, but then shakes his head out of frustration and storms into the lower left corner of the ring. He elevates himself up onto the second turnbuckle and without hesitation Worrens LEAPS off with a knee drop, forcing Heflin to move… but JESTER SOMEHOW ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY!!!

Dave Dymond: Jester almost on the verge of having his back shattered, but he moved!  Nothing but mat for Worrens!

Worrens’s eyes go wide as he spasms up to his full vertical base, and Jester JUST gets enough in him… AND LIFTS WORRENS INTO A DESPERATION SPINEBUSTER!!!  The fans GET ALL RILED UP NOW despite both men down and out on the mat.

Dave Dymond: Worrens feeling that shock of hitting knee bone square on with the mat… and it was JUST enough of an opening for Jester Smiles to capitalize… but not before the damage had been done.

Other Guy: What the hell was going through Worrens’s head though moments ago… he’s not a top rope kinda cat, ya know Dave?

Dave Dymond: That he is not, Worrens definitely one to keep it grounded, but something snapped there, you saw the sheer frustration come over Worrens as he put it all on the line, but did not succeed.

The referee stands between both men now.  Worrens rolls over onto his stomach, eyes wide but not really moving.  Jester writhes in pain, his back obviously killing him at this point.  Not seeing either man getting up immediately, Heflin starts the double ten count.

One!  He looks to both men.  Two!  He looks again.  Three!  He looks again. Four!

The fans start to buzz, some even booing.  The referee looks again.  FIVE!!  The boos get louder now.

Dave Dymond: These fans adamant about NOT seeing a double knock down… wait a minute…

The camera focus shifts just as the referee shouts SIX! And seen coming down to the ring is Kaz Sato!

Other Guy: What’s the deal?  Worrens said he was looking for back up in case Whiplash shows up in this match… but I ain’t see Whiplash anywhere.

Dave Dymond: Clearly he’s not down here, so maybe there was more to their talk than Worrens informed us.

Kaz Sato reaches the ring as Jester starts to slowly get up and Worrens stirs a bit more on the mat. He looks on at both competitors and then suddenly turns his back to the ring, and just stands there watching the entryway with arms crossed.

Dave Dymond: Or maybe he’s here to do exactly what Worrens asked him to do, and that’s stop Whiplash from getting involved in this match up.

Other Guy: Who knows… but it gives me this uneasy feeling.

The fans cheer suddenly, which brings the focus back to the ring. Jester is up, thus breaking the double ten count, and he holds his back in pain, watching as Worrens works his way into the upper right corner, looking to use the turnbuckles and ropes to pull himself up.  Jester slowly moves towards him, not even noticing Kaz Sato at ringside. Worrens starts to pull himself up by the turnbuckle, but seems to be struggling at the first one… Jester approaches him and grabs him by the back of the head and starts to pull him up. As he does so, it’s clearly seen what Worrens did, as he kicks the turnbuckle padding from the bottom turnbuckle out of the ring!

Dave Dymond: Worrens just exposed that bottom turnbuckle!

Other Guy: The bottom one? Ain’t never seen that done.

Jester turns Worrens to face him and just nails a hard jab that snaps Worrens’s head backwards. Worrens looks to kick up a knee, but Jester grabs it, and immediately RUNS Worrens back first into the corner!  The fans come to life once more, as Jester seems to be building up a second rush of adrenaline in the match up.  Jester lands a series of jabs and knees to Worrens in the corner now and the fans cheer louder with each successful hit Jester lands.  Jester then backs up now, sizing up Worrens, when suddenly he sees Kaz finally.  Jester shouts at the referee now, telling him to get Kaz away from ringside.  Kaz hears the commotion and turns around, only for Jester now to yell right at him!

Dave Dymond: I think Jester is under the impression that Kaz Sato is here to seek revenge after being pinned by Jester and therefore losing his chance to be crowned the Revolution Champion.

Other Guy: Jester’s gotta remain focused; he’s giving Worrens breathing time!

Kaz raises his arms up as if to say, “I’m not messing with anyone” and even takes a couple steps back from the ring.  Jester shakes his head but turns back to Worrens who is slumped in the corner, eyes glazed slightly.  Jester charges in, but Worrens snaps his leg out, catching Jester by surprise and right in the gut!  Jester doubles over in pain and Worrens pulls him into a front face headlock! 

The fans boo loudly now, knowing exactly what Worrens has in mind. Jester fights against it, but Worrens tries to fight back in attempts to subdue Jester.  Worrens looks to get Jester into position to spike his head down onto the exposed turnbuckle, but Jester sees it, and uses everything in his reserve to now lift Worrens up from the headlock position… INTO AN ATOMIC DROP!!!

Dave Dymond: Worrens was too concerned with hitting that bottom turnbuckle DDT he calls the constant headache… and Jester Smiles countered it!

Other Guy: He picked his opening, Dave. He picked a damn good opening.

Worrens winces in pain and Jester follows up with a kick to the gut.  Worrens doubles over… a fisherman’s suplex!  Jester rolls it… up quickly… SECOND fisherman’s suplex!

Dave Dymond: Can he do it this time…

The fans pick up as Jester rolls again… is up… and so quickly hits it… THE THIRD FISHERMAN’S SUPLEX!!!  Worrens is flat on his back now and Jester is laying down for a moment, but pushes past the pain and sits up as quick as he can!  The fans are on their feet now and Jester nods his head.  He gets up… tired, hurting, but more determined than ever to just finish this match.  Worrens staggers up to his feet, Jester grabs him… he goes for the arm wrench to start the set up for the Desecrator DDT!

Other Guy: He’s going for End of the Laughter!

Dave Dymond: NO!  Worrens gets out of it… a reversal…

The fans gasp, but just as Worrens tries to reverse, Jester Smiles pulls him in… lifts him into the fireman’s carry position… and DROPS WORRENS INTO A GUTBUSTER!!!

Dave Dymond: The Side-Splitter! And the Cover!

The fans remain standing as Dennis Heflin hits the mat.

ONE!

The fans echo one!

TWO!

The fans echo two!

THREE!!!

Cheers fill the Thomas and Mack Center as the bell sounds!

Samantha Coil: The Winner of this match… AND STILL THE SHOOT PROJECT REVOLUTION CHAMPION….  JESTER SMILES!!!

The belt is brought into the ring, and Jester pulls himself up, feeling so much pain, but the moment consumes him and he seems to flat out ignore it!

Dave Dymond: Jester Smiles is going to be feeling it in the morning, but right now he’s on top of the world.

Other Guy: His world anyway, but still on top and that’s what matters.

Jester rolls out of the ring now, and heads right to the guard railing where a bunch of Jester Smiles fans are cheering like crazy.  Jester hops the guard railing to join them and one of the fans pulls out his camera and starts snapping a bunch of pictures.  Jester holds his title proudly as he celebrates.  Back at ringside on the other side of the ring, Kaz Sato just looks on, shaking his head.

Other Guy: Don’t know what Worrens promised Kaz, but The Beast doesn’t look too happy.

Dave Dymond: Something tells me the Revolution Title was involved in their “deal” and Kaz did his job, but tonight Trevor Worrens didn’t get his job done.

Worrens barely moves in the rig, just holds his chest in pain as he looks up at the arena rafters.  Jester finally leaves the fans, but continues to tag hands as he starts to the back, but not before stopping a few feet from where Kaz Sato stands. The two share a look and Kaz points at Jester’s Revolution title, and then just starts to slowly walk away.  Jester continues his celebration while Kaz disappears to the back.

Other Guy: Guess that made it clear. Kaz Sato looking to get a shot at Revolution championship gold, and guessin’ he thought Trevor Worrens could make that happen.

Inside the ring, Worrens finally starts to get up to his feet, racked with pain however.  He looks out to Jester who is starting to the back, when suddenly the SHOOT Project Tron comes on and seen is the smiling face of none other than Whiplash!

Other Guy: Oh boy…

Dave Dymond: Are you thinking insult to injury, O.G.

Other Guy: The worst kind. I mean I kinda dig the ego charm of Whiplash, but this could be hell for Worrens.

Worrens looks on at Whiplash’s smiling face, and it’s a decent amount of time before he actually says anything.

Whiplash: Wow… and to think me, little old Whiplash had you SO concerned, that you worked a deal with someone to guard the ring. Things didn’t play good though did they? Well not in your favor, but for everyone keeping score at home; it’s now at LEAST three people who DON’T like Trevor Worrens namely Jester Smiles, Kaz Sato, and ME…  oh and plus all these fans!

The fans cheer and Worrens just stands there, looking up at the screen, expression hidden by his bangs.

Whiplash: So that’s a lot of people who don’t like Trevor Worrens versus EVERYONE LOVES WHIPLASH!!!

Some people catch on and say it with Whiplash, but others just cheer.  Whiplash holds up an “I Love Whiplash” t-shirt and smiles even bigger before the SHOOT Project tron shuts off.  Worrens just nods his head slowly, his emotion unreadable at this time.  From there, the focus shifts away from the ring.

We cut immediately to Jester Smiles walking in the back, following his successful Revolution Championship defense. A road agent is there to meet him, congratulating him and patting him on his back.

Road Agent:  Great job, Jester.

Jester waves at him with a smile, but it’s obvious he’s exhausted.  He continues to walk down the backway and into the main hall way.  The camera is facing him when suddenly a loud CLANG is heard, dropping Jester to the ground, the SHOOT Project Revolution Championship sliding across the floor.  The fans instantly boo as the echoing clangs of a pipe dropping are heard throughout the hallway.  Glaring down at Jester is none other than Donovan King.  The fans boo loudly as Jester clutches his back.

Dave Dymond:  That’s Donovan King!  He is STILL wearing the clothes that Jester sprayed green paint all over!

Other Guy:  I definitely think that’s a message he’s tryin’ to send to Jester!

Donovan King:  ‘Ey Clown…the pipes is callin’, ain’t they, mother fucker?

He kneels down, crouched over Jester, who is in too much pain to respond.

Donovan King:  Quit cryin’, bitch.  Walk dis shit off.  You be fine.  Dis was just a message.

He stands up, looming over Jester.

Donovan King:  I told you, man.  I told you that your debt you owed me was comin’ due, didn’t I?  Well, mother fucker…here it is.  We gotta go out dere in dat World Championship Tournament and do our thang, but you ain’t make no mistakes, Clown.

Donovan walks over to where the Revolution Championship landed.  He picks it up and drapes it over Jester as the fans continue to boo.

Donovan King:  I want dat World Championship ‘round my waist like e’erybody else in this bitch…but I ain’t got problem one wit’ bein’ SHOOT Project’s Revolution Champion, either.

Donovan stomps down on Jester’s midsection to knock the air out of him.

Donovan King:  Your ass…and dat title…belong to me, Jester.  It’s jus’ a matter uh time.

Donovan steps over Jester, who is wheezing for air as King disappears down the hallway.  Jester clutches his back and starts to pull himself up as road agents crowd around him.

Other Guy:  Did you see that?!  Donovan King just knocked the SHIT outta Jester Smiles!

Dave Dymond:  He sent that message loud and clear to Jester, too.  That belt is his, or so he says.

Other Guy:  And he just hit Jester hard enough to bring him down, did you see that?  He didn’t want Jester injured enough to give the belt up, he wanted Jester injured enough to know that Donovan King COULD have done much worse to him!

Dave Dymond:  I think we’re about to see what levels Jester Smiles is willing to go to keep his title and what levels Donovan King is willing to go to take it!

The lights in the Thomas and Mack center go out, leaving the arena in pitch black. This lasts only a few seconds before the side-bar conversations between the fans stop. Many of them look at each other, curious as to what’s going on. A power outage? Why haven’t the back-up generators kicked on yet?

Dave Dymond: If anyone can hear me, we seem to be having some technical difficulties.

The Other Guy: I hear you Dave, but that's all I hear.

All is dark. All is quiet.

All is blank.

A slow, hollow, humming noise can be heard fading in ceasing with a sound of chimes clanging together. After the humming returns again, the fans have begun to stir again. The minds of those watching have changed, and it’s no longer panic. It’s now a yearning curiosity.

The Other Guy: Guess it's not tech-

BAM!

Dave Dymond: Whoa!

A pyro rocket hits the stage and the guitar rifts of “Absent Elements” by Finger Eleven take over. The lights flicker blue, before coming back on completely and emerging from the curtain is one man many may have let slip from their memory… But none have forgotten.

Mike fuckin’ Dexter.

The Man who Can.

The Dexecutioner.

You’ll never find out now
That all these absent elements
Build your comfortable defense stronger still
Like an emptiness

YOU'LL NEVER FILL!


Dexter continues down the ramp, and slides into the ring. He's sporting blue jeans, a black leather jacket, with a plain pocketed dark gray t-shirt underneath. He wastes very little time as he continues his walk to the other side of the ring and calls for a mic. Samantha takes a mic from the announcing table and tosses it up to him. Catching the microphone, he turns around, flipping the on switch to the on position.

The Other Guy: Nice hands.

The crowd is cheering some, and Dexter waits a brief moment before deciding to speak.

The Dexecutioner: I was sitting..."

Dexter stops a moment to think, allowing the crowd to simmer further. Becoming somewhat annoyed in his appearence.

The Dexecutioner: Yesterday, I was sitting in my room looking around..- It's a nice little hotel about 20 miles from the arena, real cheap to.. I definately recommend it.. Heh... -

A small chuckle for getting sidetracked.

The Dexecutioner: Anyway I was sitting there looking around, and I started to think about some things. I started thinking about how this 'career' I've built in wrestling has been something very unique. I look back, and I see things that I've done... I see the things I've gone through. You know, the 'reality checks'.. The shit that I've been through.. All of it really. It's real."

Pause.

The Dexecutioner: See, the more I look back on it, the more I realize something. The more I look back, the more I come to the conclusion that I'm truly a fuckin' lone wolf in this sport."

He walks to the other side of the ring, folding a hand inside his jacket pocket.

The Dexecutioner: I realize that in this life, this business, it's all full of fuckin' pretenders. It's full of people who'll try to FIT into a certain persona. It's full of cliche acts, and VERY rarely you see some 'stars' wear their real faces. Usually people tuck away who they really are, and where this fuckin' act on their sleeve. So yeah, here I was sitting in my hotel room, right? Well, it occured to me sitting there... That back when I was like all those other guys who do that, I was generally accepted. Back before my name littered all the blacklists in professional wrestling. You're probably wondering why I even bring it up, and you already know I'm not the kind of guy who likes to beat around the bush.. Seriously, I'm not, just ask your mother."

The crowd is taken back by the comment, and some start to boo. Dexter on the other hand, stands in the ring and chuckles.

The Dexecutioner: Heh.. Nah, see? This is what I mean. Anytime a person comes out of the fuckin' shell the lot of you want them to inherit for-fuckin'-ever, you bitches want to raise hell. You want to cry and fuckin' moan about it. Boo fuckin' hoo. Let's boo this guy because he isn't WHO WE WANT him, or her, to be."

The crowd is really booing now. Dexter shrugs.

The Dexecutioner: That's cool. Be all upset, you think it effects me that a couple of fuckin' twelve year old and ups don't appreciate the way I'm talkin'? Well let me make it clear for you.

I.

Don't.

Conform.

THIS is ME motherfuckers, boo all you like. You don't like it? Fuck you. (He pushes out his middle finger.) I don't conform for anyone, I don't conform to you, your neighbors, Sally, Bill, or Jack. I'm MIKE FUCKIN' DEXTER! You think I'm going to fold because YOU fucks don't appreciate my style? Shiiit. I mean HONESTLY, what the FUCK did you expect? You God damned people curse and scream, cry and bitch, hate and reject... ANYONE who doesn't follow the par YOU set. Well FUCK that. See, I'm not like that stupid wanna-be suck-up fuck Eli Storm. I'm not going to walk out here, suck in your fuckin' cheers, and play to you bitches. I play to my own fuckin' sheet of music. I walk to the beat of MY OWN fuckin' drum. I'm not going to call anyone a Dexter addict-"

He BUSTS out laughing all of the sudden. He mumbles "Storm Addicts" out loud a few times, contiuning to laugh. He stands up straight, trying to get back on track... before bursting into laughter again.

The Dexecutioner: .. Ha ha ha!

"Storm Addicts"

GIVE ME A FUCKIN' BREAK!"

He regains his composure.

The Dexecutioner: I didn't come back for ANY fuckin' kid... No fuckin' fan drove me to come back to the SHOOT Project. I'm here to fuckin' win. I’m here to be me, do what I do, and I don't give a shit who I impress in the process. I mean, why should I give a SHIT? Where we're my fuckin' fans when I was being suspended from the sport? Hm? Yeah, you were here, cheering on your fuckin' false idols. Hootin’ and fuckin’ hollerin’ about pieces of shit like Eli Storm. A guy who couldn’t wrestle his way out of a fuckin’ wet paper bag.”

He shakes his head.

The Dexecutioner: You people just CONSUME yourself in people who are fake. Del fuckin’ Carver… The man wears his lies on his sleeve.

The Hardcore “Outlaw”.”

He puts quotes on it as he says it. The fans are ESTATIC at the mention of the name.

Dave Dymond: Listen to this crowd react!

Dexter snickers in the ring.

The Dexecutioner: Just hold on a second.."

The fans continue to scream. Dexter, visibly annoyed... Moves back to the turnbuckle, and perches himself on top, bobbing the microphone up and down a moment. After this, the crowd starts to die down.

The Dexecutioner: Wow, what a big fuckin' hero right?"

The crowd pops again.

The Dexecutioner: Yeah. A big fuckin' fake too."

The crowd starts to boo loudly.

The Dexecutioner: Answer me something! Just what exactly makes the man an Outlaw? I mean shit, if HE’S a fuckin’ real outlaw and not a fuckin’ fraud, then every bar room junk-fuck in the United States is too. I don’t remember the last time an outlaw was defined as a 40 plus year old, pill poppin’, southern bar junkie. Nah, see, you’re big fuckin’ hero is just another person who CONFORMS to the world around him. That’s why you like him anyhow. What rules does he break? None. He lives within the realm of control. I could take that guy -“

Dexter points out into the front row. A heavy-set man eating popcorn, sitting down.

The Dexecutioner: I could take fat ass there and put a LABEL on him. Does he look like a fuckin’ outlaw? Does he look like he walks his own line, outside the rules of society? Nah, actually from the looks of him he’d have a hard time walking any line... I’ve always heard fat people are lopsided too..”

Dex shakes his head, getting back on track. The fans are livid now, verbal threats can be heard from the audience in the front row.

Dave Dymond: I think it might be wise to put security on stand by.

The Dexecutioner: Nah, just like everyone else.. Your Hardcore Outlaw is a fuckin’ conformer. Where is his name on the blacklist from professional wrestling? No fuckin’ where. He’s a general good guy that the front office adores.. Everyone likes old people anyway.”

The Other Guy: It's true. I love old people.

Dexter shrugs, continuing.

The Dexecutioner: I stand before all of you, the TRUE Outlaw. No fuckin' southern draw. No ridiculous fuckin' eye patch. Just me, my flesh, my bones. ME, the cat that people WISH they could be like, if they could just escape the fear from walking that line. For one moment if they were able to BREAK AWAY from the bounds that society straps them into, oh how they whisper and dream for such freedom."

A slight pause. Nodding.

The Dexecutioner: I’m the guy people like Del Carver WISH they could be. I’m the type of guy the label was created for, I'm the one who gives cliche' bitches like Carver MEANING in life. I’m the lawless motherfucker who REFUSES to be governed, fuck the consequences. Why you think you don’t see my name in that World Title tournament? No body in the front office wants a REAL fuckin’ outlaw headlining there promotion. It’s bad business. I don't speak like they want me to. I don't act like they try to force me to. Nah, I do it my way. So no championship tournament for me.

"I'll get my shot though." (Dexter quotes the words with his hands.)

Yeah, riiight."

The fans are still livid as Dexter shrugs again.

The Dexecutioner: It doesn't matter though. You can hold me back, but no one back there can hold me down. This is my SHOOT Project, no more biding my time. This time I'm TAKING it for myself. I'm MAKING this place a TRUE Outlaw’s playground. You hear that?

Mine.

Me.

All real. No gimmicks.

Pure fuckin' outlaw."

Dexter flips the mic off and tosses it down to the mat. “Absent Elements” takes over the PA again as Dexter drops from the corner, to his back and rolls out of the ring. Samantha moves in to collect the fallen microphone, now probably broken. A rush of teenage fans sprinkle what's left of a near empty cup on Dex's leather jacket as he walks by from beyond the guard rail. He turns around gritting his teeth, and SNATCHES the cup out of the teenagers hand. The crowd starts cursing him as leans back, and grins mocking them. He then looks down into the contents of the cup. He looks at his jacket, shakes his head and goes to turn away before he snaps his head back toward the cup spitting into the drink.

Dave Dymond: Disgusting!

Dexter laughs and tosses the cup at the teenager before turning away and walking again. The crowd curses him as he walks up the aisle, and Dexter mouths back all the way until he shrugs dissappearing behind the curtain.

The Other Guy: Did that seem a little out of control to you?

Dave Dymond: You said it.

Courtesy of SHOOT Project Productions, one week ago...

A stream of liquid shoots out towards the face of Dave Marz!  You can almost hear him yell in pain over the roar of the crowd, and he immediately releases the waistlock and falls to the mat, holding his face in agony!

The crowd comes unglued, booing and jeering as loud as they can.  With a smirk on his face, Corazon hoists the blind and helpless Dave Marz up over his shoulders.  Die Hard cannot defend himself because it is rapidly becoming clear that he cannot see!  Corazon holds Die Hard aloft in the Fireman’s Carry position for a moment, steadies him, and then swings him through the air into a smooth motion, releases him, and executes a DDT!

The body of Dave Marz bounces off the mat from the thunderous impact, and his hands are still over his eyes as his feet are kicking in pain.  Scott Kamura stands over top of the blinded Die Hard Dave Marz and starts to make the count...

"Word has it that... while Dave Marz fought so very, very hard, nearly overcoming all obstacles... he was outsmarted in the very end..."

Samantha Coil: “Ladies and Gentlemen...at a time of 29 minutes and 48 seconds...here is your winner and your NEW SHOOT PROJECT IRON FIST CHAMPION...CORAZON!”

"I hope you've allowed yourselves time to let those words really, truly sink in... If you haven't, you've been given one more week. Next week on Revolution, not only will I address the Iron Fist Championship, but also, I'll address Dave Marz himself..."

A black and white silhouette of Corazon, holding the Iron Fist Championship high in the air appears on the screen, as "My Own Summer" takes over your soundwaves. The scene fades, but not without one more sound byte...

Dave Dymond: “We just witnessed a ROBBERY!”

Fade.

Cutting backstage, we see Osbourne Kilminster winding tape around Ray Willmott's wrists, tearing it off and throwing the roll down on the floor, nodding to his friend, who practises some punching techniques, throwing combinations into the air for a moment, his eyes to the ground.

O.K. "Good to go, Ray?"

Ray Willmott: "...Good to go!"

Willmott punches his a clenched fist into the palm of his other hand, smiling.

O.K. "Awesome, my man. I was out there earlier and the crowd... man, they're so hot. They're going to love you. The moment you step out there, you'll be deafened by the cheers... You have any idea how much they love you?"

Ray Willmott remains looking to the ground the whole time, listening to Ozzy encourage and inspire him. His legs start to shake as he's feeling all of his pent up emotion about ready to burst.

Ray Willmott: "...I'll keep giving them that reason to fucking cheer!"

Smiling broadly, Osbourne nods his head, but just off camera, a single pair of hands can be heard clapping. Both Osbourne and Ray look towards the doorway and quickly look ready to attack, Osbourne deliberately positioning himself between Ray and Ron, placing his hand on Ray's chest to hold him back.

O.K. "What the fuck do you want, Barker?"

Willmott narrows his eyes angrily at the man standing there smirking, the man who is none other than "Ravishing" Ron Barker! The crowd, watching this on the RevolutionTron can be heard booing at the mere sight of him.

Barker: "Well doesn't this just warm my heart? Look at you, Ray... all ready to go, all set for tonight. Heh... I just came here to wish an old friend luck. I mean, I'm SURE you're ready and I'm SURE you're confident... But you know... just had to make sure."

Barker smirks, but Osbourne's heard enough and steps right up, his nose millimetres from Ron's as the crowd cheer wildly.

O.K. "Wish him luck, my arse, you cocky little cunt. I saw and heard what you said to Ray last week, and you'd better thank The Gods I wan't here to-"

Ray steps forward, stopping at Kilminster's shoulder and glaring at the man he will face in the centre of the ring just moments from now as he interrupts his supportive friend...

Ray Willmott: "..Enough Oz."

Willmott widens his eyes.

O.K. "Ray, leave it. You'll get your chance in a few minutes. Barker's not worth wasting energy on... the fucker."

Stepping back, Osbourne doesn't take his eyes off Ray's opponent, maintaining that fixed, dead lock as Barker stares right back at Osbourne without backing down or even blinking. A smirk soon forms and he scoffs. He then peeks over Osbourne's shoulder and looks at Ray.

Barker: "Going to treat an old friend like that, Ray? I see how it is. Well... I guess I'll just see you out there, huh?"

Barker takes one last look at Osbourne before nodding his head slowly and chuckling to himself as he turns around and walks down the hall. Willmott composes his breathing, as he watches Barker walk away. Osbourne sees his friend's stress level rising in these crucial moments before the match and drapes his arm over Ray's shoulder.

O.K. "Screw him, man. It's your time."

Ray Willmott: "...Yeah. Screw him."

The fans, still watching from the ringside area, cheer aloud and pick up a "WILL-MOTT!" chant as we cut away...

 

The shot goes back to the ring and we see Samantha Coil standing in the spotlight, chatting with referee Scott Kamura. The fans are buzzing in anticipation of The Main Event. “Natural One” by Folk Implosion begins to play and the fans turn and look up the aisle to the entranceway. After a moment, Ron Barker appears in the aisle, his face expressionless.  The fans boo the appearance of Barker loudly, but he ignores the reception and saunters up the aisle to the ring.  Barker enters the ring, and heads to the corner, where he leans up against the ropes, waiting for his opponent.

After a moment, Ron Barker’s theme music fades and “Desire To Fire” by Machine Head starts to play over the sound system.  Ray Willmott jogs into the aisle, and the volume in the Thomas and Mack Center goes into overdrive as the fans erupt in cheers for the man who may well be the most popular man in SHOOT Project.  As Ray jogs down to the ring, he takes the time to exchange handshakes and high fives with as many of the fans who reach out to him as he can. Willmott finally reaches the ringside area, and instead of heading into the ring he makes a long circle around, shaking hands with fans at ringside. As his music continues to rock the arena, Ray Willmott finally slides under the bottom rope and stands in the center of the ring, smiling and waving to his fans.

Samantha Coil: “Ladies and Gentlemen…this next bout is a one fall match, with a 60 minute time limit and is your MAIN EVENT for the evening! Introducing first, in the corner to my right, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he weighs 267 pounds, here is RON BARKER!”

There is an almost deafening chorus of jeers and boos as Ron Barker raises his arms theatrically and walks around in a circle, a huge smirk on his face.

Samantha Coil: “His opponent hails from Cardiff, Wales and weighs in at 220 pounds…this is “RED HOT” RAY WILLMOTT!”

The ovation goes from loud jeers to loud cheers as Ray Willmott holds both his arms in the air, and smiles in appreciation to the fans. Samantha heads to the outside. The bell rings and Ron Barker and Ray Willmott square off face to face in the middle of the ring.  The Las Vegas fans are on their feet cheering in excitement, as the two men go to lock up…

Suddenly, Ron Barker ducks under Ray Willmott’s outstretched arms, and slides out of the ring!  Barker stands outside the ring, and smirks at Willmott, making a “go away” motion with his arm.  The fans start to boo and jeer loudly.

Dave Dymond: “What the hell is Barker doing?”

The Other Guy: “I guess he’s not ready to lock up yet.”

Sure enough, Ron Barker starts to make an elaborate display of doing stretches on the outside of the ring.  Barker places one leg on the apron and stretches forward to touch his toes.  Then he does the other leg.  Barker paces around for a few seconds, and then starts to rub the back of his neck, loosening up.

Inside the ring, Scott Kamura is leaning over the top rope, yelling at Barker to get back inside and lock up.  Ron Barker totally ignores him, and continues walking around outside the ring.  Ray Willmott looks as if he is about to explode, and tries to charge at Barker.  Scott Kamura cuts Willmott off, and warns him back into the corner.

Finally, Ron Barker rolls back into the ring, and gets ready to square off with Ray Willmott.  As the two men go to lock up, Ron Barker once again ducks under the grasp of Ray Willmott, and rolls out to the other side of the ring this time!  The fans are incensed, as is Ray Willmott, who needs to be restrained by Scott Kamura, as Ron Barker wanders around outside the ring with a smirk on his face.

Ron Barker walks over to one of the fans, and looks at the sign the fan is holding.  Barker gets an expression of disgust on his face, and starts to call out to a security man who is standing near the crowd barrier.  Barker starts to loudly gesture and wave his arms as he talks to the security guard.

Dave Dymond: “Oh give me a break.  Ron Barker is now demanding that this fan be removed from the building because he is holding a RED HOT RAY WILLMOTT sign, and Barker claims it is ruining his concentration.”

The Other Guy: “You and I both know what he is really doing here, Dymond.  He’s screwing with Ray Willmott’s head.  I bet you that Ray came into this match with a game plan, and I bet it didn’t involve waiting around for Ron Barker to walk around outside the ring.”

Finally Scott Kamura has had enough.  Kamura stands back in the middle of the ring, and starts to issue a count!

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine!

Ten!

Eleven!

Twelve!

Thirteen!

Fourteen!

Fifteen!

Sixteen!

Seventeen!

Eighteen!

Nineteen!

Just as Scott Kamura’s arm is about to come down for the twentieth and final count, Ron Barker rolls back into the ring.

Dave Dymond:  “It’s lucky for Ron Barker that SHOOT uses the Japanese Ringout system, with a 20 count to get back in there, or he’d have lost this match.”

The Other Guy: “Ron Barker knows what he’s doing, trust me.  He might be a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.”

Finally, at the insistence of Scott Kamura, Willmott and Barker lock up in the middle of the ring, in a textbook collar and elbow tie up! Ray Willmott strains, trying to force Ron Barker backward, but suddenly Ron Barker goes limp, and allows himself to fall to the mat!  Barker gets up, yelling at the top of his lungs, and pointing to his hair.  Ron Barker starts insisting that Ray Willmott pulled his hair, and demanding that Willmott be disqualified.

Ray Willmott goes red in the face, and shoves Ron Barker back with both hands across his chest!  Willmott keeps both hands on the chest of Barker, and forces Barker back first into the far corner, against the turnbuckles!  As soon as Ron Barker is up against the turnbuckles, Ray Willmott goes to work! Red Hot Ray Willmott stands back, and unleashes a blinding flurry of punches to the head of Ron Barker!  The fans come to their feet in joy, as finally Ron Barker cannot stall any longer! 

Ron Barker yells in protest and drops down, once again trying to roll out of the ring, but this time Willmott will have none of it and he pulls Barker back into the ring by the leg.  Barker scrambles to his feet, but Willmott grabs him by the wrist, and hurls Ron Barker into the ropes at full speed.  Barker rebounds off the ropes, and is met in the middle of the ring by Willmott, who hurls Ron Barker high through the air with a textbook deep arm drag!  As Barker hits the mat, the fans cheer.

Ron Barker is now flat on his back, and Ray Willmott kneels over him, keeping him locked up in an arm bar.  Ron Barker calmly pats his arm, cautiously looking for any sign of weakness in Ray Willmott's grip.  Barker cannot seem to find any sign of weakness at all in Ray Willmott's arm bar, so he tries rolling to his right.  Ray Willmott smiles, and keeps the hold locked on, and then leans back to increase the strain. Ray Willmott slides around in collegiate wrestling style, switching hold from the arm bar to a front facelock.  Ron Barker is now face down on the mat, with Ray Willmott lying over top of him, bearing down with the weardown hold.  Ron Barker starts to attempt to wriggle free, but Ray Willmott has the hold cinched in tight. 

Ron Barker manages to struggle to his knees, and then, with an incredible effort, he stands up!  By standing up straight while Ray Willmott has him in a facelock, Ron Barker has tossed Ray Willmott over top of him, back first to the mat!  Instead of turning around, Ron Barker hooks Ray Willmott's arms as he falls, and then falls with him, landing on top of him, in a bridging pin attempt! Scott Kamura looks on in shock, and then shakes his head, and drops down for the count!

Dave Dymond:  “One!  Two!  NO! Man, that was close!”

The Other Guy: “I don’t think anybody was expecting a move like that, not Ray, and not the ref.”

Before Ron Barker can roll off Ray Willmott, Ray Willmott summons up all of his strength, and bridges up!  Ray Willmott manages to hold Ron Barker on top of him, and use all of the strength in his legs, and pushes both up in an arch.  Once he is almost to his feet, Ray Willmott deftly twists around, so that he is now behind Ron Barker.  Ray Willmott then fires the surprised Ron Barker backwards in a backslide pin attempt!

One!

Two!

Before the three, Ron Barker lifts his shoulder!

Ray Willmott starts to get up, but Ron Barker stays on the mat, reaches up, and hooks Ray Willmott, pulling him back to the mat in a surprise schoolboy small package roll up!

One!

Two!

Ray Willmott breaks free, and rolls over, scrambling to his feet.  Ray Willmott reaches down, grabs Ron Barker by the wrist, and pulls him to his feet, and then quickly whips him into the ropes.  Barker comes off the ropes, and is met with a spinning heel kick from Willmott. Ron Barker hits the mat, stunned from Ron kick by Ray Willmott.  In one graceful motion, Ray Willmott vaults himself to the top rope, balances himself for a single moment, and then launches himself off in a perfectly executed flying body press!  Ray Willmott stays on top of Ron Barker for the cover!

One!

Two!

Ron Barker kicks out!

Ray Willmott stands up, and pulls Ron Barker to his feet by the back of the head.  Ray Willmott whips Ron Barker into the ropes, but Ron Barker plants one foot, and reverses the whip, sending Ray Willmott into the ropes.  Ron Barker times it perfectly, for as soon as Ray Willmott rebounds the ropes, Ron Barker is there to meet him with a back elbow to the face!

Ron Barker reaches down, pulls Ray Willmott back to his feet, and then hooks him up.  In one smooth motion, Ron Barker hoists Ray Willmott high into the air with a vertical suplex.  Ron Barker holds Ray Willmott aloft for a moment, and then drops him back first to the mat, and pivots to that he lands on top of him for the cover!

Dave Dymond:  “Cover by Ron Barker!  One!  Two!  NO!  Ray Willmott gets the shoulder up!  This has turned into one hell of a wrestling match all of the sudden.”

The Other Guy:  “True. Look at the fans!  They're on the edge of their seats, watching every move like a hawk.  No chairs, no barbed wire, no blood, just good old fashioned wrestling, and these fans are eating it up!”

Ron Barker gets up from the cover on Ray Willmott, and reaches down to pull him to his feet, but this time it is Ray Willmott's turn to reach up!  Ray Willmott uses one of his legs to hook Ron Barker, and spins him to the mat in a small package pin attempt!

One!

Two!

Ron Barker breaks free, just in time! 

The two men scramble to their feet, simultaneously.  Ron Barker reaches to grab Ray Willmott, but Ray Willmott ducks, sprints across the ring, and then vaults himself into the air, performing a handspring into the ropes, and then bounces off, with a handspring elbow, right to the face of Ron Barker!

Cover by Ray Willmott!

One!

Two!

Ron Barker kicks out!

Ray Willmott reaches down to pull Ron Barker up by the back of the head, but Ron Barker catches Ray Willmott with a European Uppercut, temporarily stunning him.  Ron Barker cinches Ray Willmott up, and then fires him backwards in a snap suplex. Ron Barker heads to the corner, steps up to the middle rope, measures Ray Willmott off, and then leaps off, nailing him across the chest with an elbow smash from the middle rope! Ron Barker makes the cover...

One!

Two!

Ray Willmott kicks out!

Ron Barker looks a little annoyed at the amazing resiliency of Red Hot, but Barker stays on him.  Ron Barker slaps on a front facelock, spins to one side, and then drives Ray Willmott to the mat with a “shake rattle and roll” style spinning neckbreaker.

Ron Barker makes the cover...

One!

Two!

Ray Willmott kicks out!

Ron Barker sets his jaw in determination, and pulls Ray Willmott to his feet.  Ron Barker whips Ray Willmott into the ropes.  Ray Willmott comes off, and Ron Barker launches Ray Willmott high into the air with a back bodydrop...but Ray Willmott lands on his FEET!

Before Ron Barker can even turn all the way around and figure out what happened, Ray Willmott nails him in the back of the head with a breathtakingly high enzuguri!

Ron Barker goes down, and Ray Willmott makes the cover...

Dave Dymond:  “Cover by Ray Willmott!  ONE!  TWO!  NO!”

The Other Guy:  “Even though Ray Willmott walloped Ron Barker in the back of that head with the kick, Ron Barker still had the presence of mind to get the shoulder up in time.  But man, what a great match this is!”

Dave Dymond:  “These two men have known each other for so long, it’s obvious that they have each other well scouted.”

The Other Guy: “The other thing is Dymond, that since Barker can be such a...character, I think people forget that he can wrestle quite well when he has to.”

Ray Willmott gets up, and as he is getting to his feet, he pulls Ron Barker to his feet by the wrist and launches him into the ropes.  Ron Barker bounces off the far ropes, and at the same time, Ray Willmott leaps into the air, and nails Ron Barker with a dropkick!  The fans erupt, as Ron Barker spins wildly though the air as a result of the acrobatic maneuver by Ray Willmott. 

Ray Willmott stays on top of Ron Barker for the cover...

One!

Two!

Ron Barker breaks free!

Both men are now soaked in sweat, and breathing heavily.  Ray Willmott whips Ron Barker into the ropes again, and then nails him with a high knee, right on the jaw! Ron Barker is flat on his back, laying in the middle of the ring.  Ray Willmott gets up and heads over to the top rope again.  As Willmott leaps from the top rope in a high cross body, Ron Barker staggers to his feet and catches him!  Ron Barker steadies himself, holding Ray Willmott, and then with a sudden effort, he spins around, driving Ray Willmott to the mat in a powerslam!

Dave Dymond:  “That is IT!  That has to be it!  Big powerslam by Ron Barker on Ray Willmott, into a cover!  ONE!  TWO!  NO!  NO!  Ray Willmott kicks out!  Ray Willmott kicks out!”

The Other Guy:  “Man, that was close.”

Ron Barker holds both hands on the sides of his head in frustration, amazed at the tenacity of Ray Willmott.  The fans are clapping, stomping, and cheering their hearts out, at this surprising scientific wrestling match between Ray Willmott and Ron Barker.

Ray Willmott and Ron Barker go to lock up again.  Ron Barker slaps an arm wringer on Ray Willmott, but Ray Willmott quickly reverses, and drives Ron Barker to the mat with a reverse thrust kick.  Ron Barker is about to sit up, when Ray Willmott leaps into the air, and then folds Ron Barker up with a senton splash!

Ray Willmott rolls over and makes the cover.

One!

Two!

Ron Barker gets his shoulder up, just in the nick of time! 

Ray Willmott attempts to hoist Ron Barker into the air for a suplex, but just as he is about to lift him off the ground, Ron Barker sticks his foot out to block the attempt.  Ray Willmott tries again, but Ron Barker blocks it again!

Ron Barker changes his position, and reverses the suplex attempt, hoisting Ray Willmott into the air, and sending him crashing to the canvas!  The exhausted Ron Barker collapses next to Ray Willmott, and lays his arm across the chest of Willmott.

The fans are so into this match that they are now counting along!

ONE!

TWO!

No!  Ray Willmott gamely lifts his shoulder, at the last possible second.

Both men get up, and Ron Barker Irish Whips Ray Willmott into the corner.  Ray Willmott collides with the corner back first.  Ron Barker follows in with a clothesline attempt, but at the last second, Ray Willmott gets the boot up! Ron Barker's head snaps back from the impact of running into the boot of Ray Willmott. 

Ron Barker falls to his knees after taking the boot to the face from Ray Willmott. Unseen by the referee, Ron Barker reaches into his tights, and his right hand emerges with brass knuckles!  As Ray Willmott advances on Ron Barker, Barker still on his knees, violently lashes out, punching Ray Willmott right on the kneecap!  Willmott screams in pain, and falls to the mat, clutching his knee.  Scott Kamura drops down to check on the status of Ray Willmott, with a confused look on his face, as he did not see the brass knuckles.  As Kamura is checking on Ray, Ron Barker slips the brass knuckles into his boot.

Ron Barker gets to his feet and starts to mercilessly stomp on the right leg of Red Hot Ray Willmott.  Some of the fans get a weak “Let’s Go Red Hot” chant going, but it’s obvious that everybody has been taking aback by the sudden attack from Ron Barker.

Finally, Barker stops stomping, and exits the ring!  As Willmott lays crumpled in agony on the mat, Ron Barker grabs a steel chair from the outside of the ring, and folds it up.  Barker climbs back into the ring with the chair, and an evil grin on his face. Willmott sees Ron Barker coming, and tries to use the ropes to pull himself to his feet…but it is too late!

CRACK! Ron Barker raises the chair high over his head, and then brutally swings it down, slamming it over the right leg of Red Hot Ray Willmott.  The crowd gasps in shock at the sound of the steel chair connecting with Willmott’s prone right leg.

CRACK! Again, Ron Barker hammers the chair over the leg of Ray Willmott.  Scott Kamura begins yelling at Ron Barker to discard the chair, at risk of being disqualified! As the crowd groans in sympathy, Ron Barker hammers Ray Willmott’s right leg a third time!

Dave Dymond:  “After a great scientific wrestling exhibition, this match has now degraded thanks to the tactics of Ron Barker.”

The Other Guy:  “Can you honestly say that surprises you?  Ray Willmott might very well be the most honest, straightforward and popular guy in SHOOT, but Barker is ready to make a case for why he might be considered the most dishonest, sneaky, and manipulative man in SHOOT.”

Ron Barker takes time to step back, and admire his handiwork.  Willmott is now lying on the mat in the fetal position, holding his obviously injured right leg with both his hands.  He is defenseless. Ron Barker places one boot on Willmott’s body, and then holds the steel chair high over his head, posing, with a huge smirk on his face!  The boos and jeers from the capacity crowd are almost deafening.

Finally, Ron Barker steps back, and winds up with the steel chair for a fourth shot…

WHAM!

The crowd erupts, as Red Hot Ray Willmott rears back with his good leg, and just as Ron Barker swings the chair down, Willmott boots the steel right back into the face of Ron Barker! As the crowd roars their approval, Ron Barker sails backwards and lands flat on his back, holding his face.  The chair lands on the mat between the two men, and Red Hot Ray Willmott frantically crawls towards it, with fire in his eyes.

Willmott grabs the chair, and uses it as crutch to help him to his feet.  Then, standing on one leg, Ray Willmott takes the chair, folds in up, and drives it into the face of Ron Barker! The edge of the steel chair collides with the face of Ron Barker! The crowd is on their feet!

Just as Ron Barker used the chair on Willmott repeatedly, now it is Ray’s turn, the take the folding chair, and drives the edge down into the face of his long time rival! Barker puts both hands over his face, his legs kicking in pain.  As Ray Willmott stands back, and raises his right foot.  It looks as if Willmott is about to stomp right on the face of Ron Barker…but Barker sits up, reaches forward, and grabs Willmott by the foot, and twists! Red Hot Ray Willmott spins through the air, screaming in pain, and falls through the ropes, to the concrete outside!

Dave Dymond:  “DRAGON SCREW LEG WHIP!  Brilliant defensive move by Ron Barker!”

The Other Guy:  “Willmott really had no business trying to use his right leg, and Barker being the brilliant tactician that he is, made him pay for it! He took Willmott’s leg, and twisted it as hard as he could…and sent him flying all the way to the outside of the ring!”

The announcers show a replay of Willmott spinning through the air, falling through the ropes, and crashing to the concrete on the outside.  As they show the instant replay, Ron Barker staggers to his feet, and looks over the top rope, to where Willmott is still laying on the outside.

Ron Barker grabs the chair which is laying on the mat, and then heads to the apron.  Barker leaps into the air, and then sits on the flattened chair as it crashes down from the apron on to the prone body of Ray Willmott! For a moment, both men just lay on the concrete.  Ron Barker is holding his tailbone in agony.  It is clear that he sacrificed his own safety in order to drive the steel chair into Red Hot Ray Willmott. If Willmott was going to be attempting to get up, that idea has been put to rest by the bone crushing impact of the steel chair being driven into his body, with all the force of Ron Barker on top of it, from the apron.

It is Ron Barker who gets up first, holding his tailbone, but smirking in satisfaction at the sight of Willmott laying in a crumpled heap.  Barker lays some sharp kicks into Willmott’s body, before looking around. He staggers over to the announcers table, and with one arm, sweeps all of the items off the surface, onto the floor!  Papers, the monitors, water bottles…everything goes flying as Ron Barker clears room.  Dave Dymond and The Other Guy have ripped off their headsets, and fled the scene.  They stand a few feet away, with Scott Kamura, watching warily.

Ron Barker grabs Red Hot Ray Willmott by the hair, and then climbs up and stands on top of the announcers’ table!  Barker pulls, and the semi-conscious and dazed Ray Willmott has no choice but to stumble after him, or have his hair yanked out by the roots. Ron Barker drapes one arm over Willmott’s shoulder, and then carefully places his right leg right behind Willmott’s right leg, as he stands in front of him. Ron Barker drives Red Hot Ray Willmott forward, through the top of the announcers’ table, as hard as he can! CRASH! The fans, already on their feet, blow the roof off The Thomas and Mack Center, at the sight of Ron Barker driving Red Hot Ray Willmott through the announcers’ table!

The chant of “Holy Shit” goes up, as Ron Barker and Red Hot Ray Willmott both lay amidst the wreckage of the announcers’ table.  The tech crew in the back show a replay to the fans at home, and in the arena over the video screens, of Ron Barker pulling Willmott up to the top of the table, and then driving him through it.

For added injury, the replay shows how Ron Barker violently kicked out the back of the right knee of Willmott, to ensure that he couldn’t fight, and would be driven through the table on the back of his head. Ron Barker stands up for a moment, and looks around.  As the fans boo loudly, Barker points down at Willmott and laughs.  Ray Willmott looks as if he has been in a car wreck, his body laying twisted amongst the broken table, and his right leg slightly twitching involuntarily.  Ray looks to be semi-conscious, as best. Barker looks down at his prone body with an expression of disgust on his face.  Ron Barker rears his head back…and SPITS on Red Hot Ray Willmott!

The fans hurl garbage at Ron Barker…and suddenly, Red Hot Ray Willmott’s eyes open! Willmott looks enraged, and as Ron Barker looks on in shock, Willmott slowly stands up! The fans are now cheering loudly, as Ron Barker stands in front of Red Hot Ray Willmott, with his mouth hanging open.  Willmott’s mouth starts moving, and it is obvious that he is laying the trash talk on Ron Barker.  Ray lurches forward, putting his weight on his good leg, and then he reaches out, and grabs Barker by the back on the head with his left hand, and rears back with his right hand in a closed fist…

BAM! Red Hot Ray Willmott pummels Ron Barker right in the face with his right fist, and to add to the impact, he pushes Barker’s head forward with his left!  Willmott keeps Barker secured by the back of the head, and continues to slam his closed fist into Barker’s face in a rapid barrage of shots! Ron Barker’s head comically rocks back and forth from the jackhammer like impact of the shots from Red Hot Ray.  Finally, Ray lets his grip on the back of Ron Barker’s head go…and Barker collapses, dazed.  Now it is Willmott’s turn to pull Barker to his feet by the hair, and Ray tosses Ron Barker back into the ring.

Dave Dymond:  “Well fans, as you can see, this match has degenerated into a pier 6 brawl…and Red Hot Ray Willmott has lost it on Ron Barker.”

The Other Guy:  “Yeah, but he can barely walk!  Look at him! Barker has hammered the hell out of Willmott’s right knee!”

Ray Willmott is limping so badly that he can hardly put any weight on his right leg, thanks to the abuse inflicted by Ron Barker.  Ray limps over to where Ron Barker is lying on the mat, and grabs one of his legs.  The crowd starts to stir, as it looks like Ray is getting ready to apply his patented version of the STF, known as “Anxiety Amplified.”

In a move of total desperation Ron Barker rolls onto his back, and kicks Ray Willmott as hard as he can, in the injured right kneecap.  Ray Willmott screams in pain, and collapses to the mat, holding his knee in agony.  Ron Barker stands up, and rolls Ray Willmott over onto his back. Barker grabs both of Willmott’s legs and locks them into a figure four with his arms, placing Red Hot’s already battered right leg under his arm. Ron Barker steps over, rolling Ray Willmott onto his front, and then he sits back...

Dave Dymond: “Argo Stretch!  Argo Stretch!  Ron Barker has locked up Ray Willmott in his finishing hold, the Argo Stretch!”

The Other Guy: “This is going to be it, Dymond.  It has to be.  After all the work Barker has done on Ray’s right leg, and now look at the way Barker has it stretched out!  Imagine the torque he is putting on that leg...Willmott must be in unbelievable pain!”

The fans are mixed in their reaction.  Some are jeering at Ron Barker for inflicting such a sadistic finishing hold on Ray Willmott after he used brass knuckles to injure his knees.  Other fans are silent and wide eyed, worried about Ray Willmott’s ability to endure this type of pain...and some are holding out hope, cheering for Ray to somehow find a way out of this torturous hold.

Ron Barker is leaning back as hard and as far as he can, and his face is twisted in a sadistic snarl.  Meanwhile, sweat is pouring down the face of Ray Willmott, as he holds both sides of his head, his expression contorted in unbelievable pain...but Ray Willmott will NOT tap out.  Ron Barker is screaming at Scott Kamura, telling him to ring the bell, but the official cannot, because Ray Willmott will not quit, no matter what.

The camera shot zooms in on the face of Ray Willmott, and you can read the misery in his expression as he shakes his head, refusing to submit, unwilling to give up.  You can almost hear the ligaments bending, the tendons snapping as Ron Barker stretches the right leg of Ray Willmott as hard as he can.

Dave Dymond: “I can hardly bear to watch this, OG.  Ray needs to give up...he’s risking permanent injury here.  Nobody will think less of him if he taps out here!  Many men have tapped out to the Argo Stretch, and besides, Barker only managed to injure Ray’s leg by cheating!  Ray Willmott has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of...why won’t he just tap and put an end to this?”

The Other Guy: “Ray Willmott is a proud man, Dymond.  He’s letting that pride get the better of him, and like you said...if he doesn’t tap soon he may not walk out of here and be able to fight another day.”

Scott Kamura continues to kneel next to Ray Willmott, asking him if he will submit, but Willmott shakes his head and screams that he will not. The fans continue to chant Ray Willmott’s name, as Ron Barker continues to clamp down on the Argo Stretch and pull as hard as he can on the right leg and knee of Ray Willmott.

Ray Willmott places his hands on the mat, but not to tap out.  Willmott digs his fingernails into the mat, and pulls himself towards the ropes!  Ron Barker shakes his head in disbelief, as inch by tortuous inch, Ray Willmott wills himself to pull his almost crippled body towards the ropes, and force a rope break!  Ray Willmott reaches out, straining...and just as his fingers touch the bottom rope, Ron Barker stands up for a moment, and pulls Ray Willmott back into the middle of the ring, while keeping his legs secured!

The crowd groans loudly in disappointment and sympathy, as Ron Barker now has Ray Willmott locked up in the Argo Stretch, dead in the center of the ring.  Barker leans back again, and once again, the right leg of Ray Willmott is contorted in a way that is uncomfortable to even look at.  Ray Willmott’s face turns red, and then begins to slowly drain of color.

Dave Dymond: “For gawd’s sake Ray, just tap out!”

The Other Guy: “He won’t do it, Dymond.  You’re going to have to kill Ray Willmott to get him to quit against Ron Barker...I think he’d rather die, I swear.”

Once again, the camera shot zooms in on the face of Ray Willmott.  Red Hot’s face has gone sickeningly pale, and it is drenched in sweat and drawn in exertion.  Scott Kamura is almost pleading with Ray Willmott to tap out. Ray Willmott looks up, but then his eyelids flutter and his eyes roll back in his head.  He has passed out.

Scott Kamura leaps to his feet and screams for the bell.  The bell sounds and Samantha takes the microphone in hand, as Ron Barker stands up woozily and allows Scott Kamura to raise his arm.

Samantha Coil:  “Ladies and Gentlemen...referee Scott Kamura has called a stop to this match after declaring Ray Willmott unable to continue.  Your winner, at a time of 53 minutes and 19 seconds...RON BARKER.”

The boos and jeers are deafening.  Ron Barker even looks a little surprised at how loudly the Las Vegas fans are booing him.  A crew of medical workers, security men and referees run down the aisle and slide into the ring, crowding around the unconscious body of Ray Willmott. Scott Kamura orders Ron Barker to leave the ring, and Barker shouts some insults at the referees gathered in the ring, but he leaves and heads back up the aisle, ducking garbage that is being hurled at him as he does so.

For a moment, there are so many people gathered around Ray Willmott that we can’t even see him.  Finally, two men with medical symbols on their shirts help the man known as “Red Hot” to his feet, and prop him up between them.  Ray’s head is hanging low as he is slumped between the two men, semi-conscious.  Slowly, every fan in the building comes to their feet, and starts to chant in unison...

“RAY! RAY! RAY! RAY! RAY! RAY! RAY!”

Ray Willmott’s eyes open all the way, and he looks around in confusion. Every man, woman and child in the Thomas and Mack Center continue to chant out Ray Willmott’s name at the top of their lungs.  Willmott looks around in disbelief, and then he pushes the two paramedics away from him!  The medical workers and referees argue with Ray Willmott, but he angrily tells them to stay back.  Meekly, they slide out of the ring, leaving Red Hot Ray Willmott standing alone in the middle of the ring, balancing himself precariously on his left leg. The ovation continues, and Willmott looks overwhelmed by the emotion and depth of feeling from the SHOOT Project faithful, as they cheer his valiant effort.

Dave Dymond: “Well fans, you are seeing what I am seeing and hearing what I am hearing.  These people here, and I’m sure many of you at home are in awe of the performance of both these men tonight.”

The Other Guy: “I have to give it to Ray Willmott.  He really does personify what SHOOT is all about, giving it your best effort, toughing it out, and never giving up, win, lose or draw.  He may not have made the smart decision tonight by choosing not to quit, but he sure added to his popularity.  Listen to this ovation!”

Ray Willmott stands alone in the middle of the ring, soaking up the standing ovation from the capacity crowd.  Finally Willmott nods humbly and holds up one arm, to even more rapturous cheers. Red Hot Ray Willmott starts to carefully limp out of the ring, as Revolution fades...