Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Ryoko's Biatch]

A young couple are walking around in a graveyard

Bonnie: Come on, Jack. I’m scared.

Jack: Ha ha ha, where’s your sense of adventure, Bonnie? You think ghoooooosts are gonna get you?

Bonnie: Knock it off! I’m serious!

Jack: I was just looking for somewhere private. I’m sorry if it’s not very romantic.

Jack drops to one knee and pulls a ring out of his pocket.

Bonnie: O…oh Jack! Of course I’ll marry you!

Jack: Really?! Oh I’m so happy! It’s not just because of, y’know…

Bonnie rubs her belly

Bonnie: I love you Jack. I’d marry you even without the baby.

Jack: I’m the luckiest guy on Earth! With my new career, I’ll be able to afford to pay for my mother’s operation and our wedding.

Bonnie: But what about your retarded brother, Teddy?

Jack: Oh, will you find it in your heart to help me take care of him? If I wasn’t around, there’d be no one to take care of him and mom.

Bonnie: Ha ha ha, of course! I was talking about that puppy you got for him. He really needs the companionship, considering his suicide attempts.

Jack: Oh yeah, where’d it go. Heeeeeeere, puppy!

Bonnie: Oh, that man over there is carrying him back here! He’s ours, sir!

A stumbling figure is carrying a brown mutt in his hands. He heads towards the couple as they squint to see who it is.

Bonnie: Oh my, is the dog bleeding Jack?

Jack: The poor thing may have fallen into an open grave. I knew I should have kept him on his leash. I just thought he’d have fun running around after being cooped up in that animal testing lab all his life.

Bonnie: What a nice man to bring him back to us. He does seem a bit odd.

Jack: Oh…my…god…

Bonnie: W…what is it Jack.

Jack: That’s not a human at all. That’s…that’s…D’LO BROWN!

Bonnie shrieks at the top of her lungs. The zombie-like D’lo tosses the puppy aside, its brains leaking out of it’s open skull. Jack trips as he tries to escape but D’lo grabs onto him.

Jack: ARRRRGH! NOOOOOOO!

Bonnie: JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

D’lo powerbombs Jack onto a tombstone, breaking his neck. Bonnie is too terrified to move. D’lo pins her down and rapes her over and over for several hours. His cock has torn her so wide open that Bonnie died of blood loss halfway through.

D’lo stumbles away, leaving the invalid Jack lying there.

Jack: Oh…oh god…why? (sob) Bonnie…why couldn’t it have been meeeeeeeeeeee?!

Jack tries to move but he is unable to move anything below his neck. Rather than continuing with his pained existence, he smashes his skull against a grave until he dies. The blood trickles down and the words “NIGHT OF 1000 D’LOS” are carved on the grave.

(at the FTUW arena)

An enormous robotic D Lo head moves back and forth like a metronome high atop the FTUW logo. Each time it comes to one side it showers sparks on the rabid fans who have seats in the burn sections. Cheering to the EXTREME is happening as fireworks go off and all the other shit that comes with any wrestling event not held in a Boys and Girls club happens. In the ring stands Joey Lightning putting his note cards in order and clearing his throat away from the microphone. He brings it to his lips and the arena is filled with FTUW’s generic 80s rock theme music. The fans screech and throw their arms around so fucking hard that they hit each other and several fights break out in the crowd as some guy smashes pitchers of beer over his face just for the fuck of it.

Joey Lightning: Ladies and Gentlemen! The FTUW would like to extend its welcome to the thousands of fans in attendance here tonight in George, Washington!

(Several locals hoot and holler as they pull their girlfriend’s shirts up and throw balls of tinfoil into the air.)

Joey Lightning: We’re here in the world famous natural ampitheather “THE GORGE!” It may be cold outside here tonight but it’s gonna be hotter than HELL in this ring and all throughout this arena!!!

(Exuberant cheeritude.)

Joey Lightning: So let’s get things started….with FTU DOUBLEYOUUUUUUU….NIGHT…OF ONE THOUSAND DEEEEEEEH LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWS!!!!!!!!!!!

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Lightning: This match is a Ham on a Rope Ladder Match! There is a ladder hanging from the ceiling with a ham attached to a rung twenty feet up. The first one to climb up and eat the ham wins.

First, coming to the ring from California, tipping the scales at 500 pounds, Fancy Lala!

Fancy Lala skips to the ring. His multiple chins and folds of fat wobble rhythmically as each step causes the ground to tremble. His breathing is labored in spite of the minimal distance between the entrance and the ring. Lala is wearing a pink leotard with a purple thong on the outside of it. His hair is tied back in two ponytails and he is wearing a Neon Genesis Evangelion t-shirt that barely covers half of his bulbous torso.

JR: Not since Bastion Booger has there been a wrestler of such pure vileness and physical repulsiveness.

Schiavone: Seriously, I don’t think there is any creature on Earth capable of making me feel more ill than Fancy Lala. You may be a fat tub of shit, JR, but you’re downright human compared to THAT! I mean God! How does he even tolerate his own existence?

Fancy Lala gets a series of ring officals to lift him into the ring using a car jack. Children are actually crying at the sight of such an immense, whale-like human being. He waddles towards the referee and asks for the microphone.

Due to shortness of breath, Lala is incapable of putting together enough words to compose an entire sentence for several minutes. Eventually, he is able to compose himself enough in order to cut his promo.

Lala: I don’t know why…I’m here but…they give me gift certificates…for Taco Bell…if I win…*wheeze cough*

The referee whispers the rules to the match into his ear and suddenly Lala jerks his head upwards. Upon sighting the ham, he froths at the mouth and screams so loudly that everyone in the crowd must cover their ears.

Lala slams the referee with his arm flab which launches the poor official into one of the arena walls. The fat man jumps up as high as he can, but cannot reach the ham since the rope ladder has not been lowered yet. Todd Lightning hides on the outside of the ring and continues his announcement.

Lightning: A…and making his way to the ring, from Redmond, WA, weighing in at 115 pounds, Bitmask!

JR: Bitmask has apparently left Richonia and is no longer in the employ of Baron Hoity von Toity.

TS: He also failed to destroy terrorism like he promised two weeks ago. Between that and being a cripple for a couple weeks, he really needs to regain some of the momentum he created at our first pay-per-view: EXTREME HARDCORE: FUCK YOU 2005.

JR: I believe you called that the best pay-per-view ever.

TS: Ridiculous JR! THIS is the best pay-per-view ever!

JR: You’re a horrible shill and a complete tool.

TS: (applies handful of hair gel)

The Washington native is well received by the crowd, but he is too busy making last minute game plans on his PDA to pay heed to their cheers. He wheels in a slew of computer equipment on a dolly and sets it all up on the outside. He connects the AI of his PDA directly into the various computers he has with him and seems confident of his win.

Bitmask climbs into the ring and sees no referee. Annoyed by the fact that the timeline of his plan will be thrown off by this occurrence, he cracks Fancy Lala over the head with a laptop.

Lala, whose hunger has overtaken him, is unfazed by the blow. Unable to even differentiate people anymore, he is not even aware that the man standing before him is his foe. Lala’s mouth becomes comically huge as he attempts to take a bite out of Bitmask, who dodges just in time so that just a tiny chunk of his left shoulder is chomped up.

JR: BAH GAWD! HE’S TRYING TO BITE HIM IN HALF!

Bitmask is massively worried now. Nothing in his game plan is going as it should. His computers begin to steam and spark as they attempt to come up with a reason for such wild hunger. That, and a reason as to why Fancy Lala didn’t die several years ago.

Bitmask superkicks Lala in the chins, but they merely wobble from the impact and completely absorb the blow. Fancy Lala is sweating profusely and is grunting loudly, his eyes bulging from his skull and the veins in his forehead begin to protrude. He blindly swings his arms through the air but Bitmask is able to somersault through his legs to avoid him.

JR: Though his mind may be his greatest weapon, Bitmask’s speed and agility are a close second. He’s as nimble as a mongoose in a snake patch!

TS: I don’t care how smart you are! FTUW is filled with some of the strongest and most physically imposing men in the universe! If you get punched around by these giants, there’s no way you’re going to survive more than a day. That’s why Bitmask trains daily in order to be as quick as he can be.

Bitmask jumps on Lala’s back and applies a sleeper hold. However, his arms begin to sink into Lala’s neck fat. By the time his bony arms reach Lala’s carotid artery, they’re completely immersed in blubber.

Fancy Lala’s breathing is already labored, and the lack of oxygen to his brain is not something he can afford to be deprived of. He quickly begins to wobble and lose consciousness. Fancy Lala teeters and begin to tumble backwards. Bitmask tries to release the hold so that he may escape being crushed, but his arms are stuck. Fancy Lala falls and Bitmask is crushed and pinned under his foe.

The seats in the stadium are mostly empty at this point. Everyone is beginning to realize that Bitmask is pretty boring and that cheering him on is more effort than it’s worth. They are all headed to the concession stands or chatting about the other matches coming up.

JR: Such disrespect! How could they betray their home state hero?!

TS: Just because you get a huge boner over anything from Oklahoma, JR, doesn’t mean everyone blindly cheers people who happen to live in the same vicinity as themselves.

Ross pulls Schiavone’s head out of his jar and headbutts him over and over. Once he’s done, he places the busted up cranium back and Schiavone is crying like a little baby.

Bitmask manage to pop himself out from under Fancy Lala, but is now nursing a broken leg. He begins to climb the rope ladder, but is in intense pain and cannot climb quickly.

Like a shark, the smell of blood flowing from Bitmask’s wound awakens the sleeping beast. He fires up and wraps his mouth around Bitmask’s broken leg and sucks all the meat off the shattered bone. His broken tibia comes off and remains in Fancy Lala’s mouth. After sucking all the marrow out, Lala tosses the bone aside.

JR: STOP THE DANGED MATCH!

TS: We’ve seen worse here at FTUW, JR.

JR: Yeah, but this isn’t even entertaining. Who even cares who wins this match?

Fancy Lala is now sweating pure grease. As a result, he is not able to get a firm grip on the ladder. Bitmask can barely hang on let alone climb up further. He loses consciousness with his arms hooked around a rung of the rope.

Fancy Lala’s heart is beating loudly and he can barely contain himself. That ham is so tempting and yet he can’t reach it. He jumps up and down and slams the mat with his big meaty palms, having a huge temper tantrum in the center of the ring. He rolls around and accidentally rolls out of the ring.

Brock J. McHarris makes his way down to the ring and looks over the situation. Since there’s no possible way Lala can get back in the ring under his own power, there’s no way he can win the match. However, Bitmask is out cold and will die of blood loss before he comes to. No one can win this match, so just McHarris just rings the bell and ends it.

McHarris: Fancy Lala, twice in a row your fat retardedness was your undoing. I hereby suspend you for two weeks so you can work off some of that blubber, you obese fuck!

As for you Bitmask, you’re just a huge pussy who does nothing. Ever! Hit the bricks, son! You’re fired!

JR: So, uh, no one wins I guess.

TS: Well that’s the worst possible ending ever.

JR: Folks at home, we apologize for how awful this all was. We at FTUW try to bring you the best in wrestling. Sometimes, a couple of bad seeds sneak in and just do nothing. It’s sad, but inevitable.

TS: Thankfully, our amazing commissioner Brock J. McHarris has come and saved us from this inhumane torture. We love you, Brock!

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Two black girls with enormous asses walk stand on each side of the entrance under the Faggottron and gyrate their derrieres. Sella Phayne walks out to a sample of Heaven and Hell, but with a loud thumping beat. He has a microphone in his hand and freestyles before his match

Sella Phayne: Yo, Sella Phayne be yo resident nigga tonight, ‘aight?

Some niggaz have backs as hairy as an ape
Other niggaz have sacs as smooth as a grape
There be niggaz with backs n knuckles covered in bling
An' there be niggaz with the back of a king

But this spic gots a back that be wet
Gots a fuckin’ chihuahua for his pet
Likes to shake tiny dick to reggaton
With the other greasy Mexicons

Dat's why his wifey be all me, at my hizza
Now this wetback wanna avenge his mizza
But that ain't right, oh no mista
You should wanna kill me fo' fuckin' yo sista

This little jobber been thrown in a blender
Went for a nap, then went on a bender
Better at boozin' than winning a match
Better at snoozin' and scratchin his snatch

JR: God, this is why I left WWE. White rapper wrestlers.

TS: But this Sella Phayne is the real deal, JR! He got arrested five times and was shot twelve times!

JR: So he’s bad at crime?

TS: Exactly! And that’s what makes him a brilliant rapper!

Lightning: And making his way to the ring from Mexico, weighing in at 467 pounds, El Tigre!

El Tigre is fuming and climbs into the ring looking to rip Sella Phayne a new one. Before the bell rings, Sella Phayne pistol whips El Tigre. Since the match didn’t officially start yet, the referee can’t disqualify Sella Phayne. He quickly has the bell rung before another weapon is used.

Sella Phayne bitch slaps El Tigre a couple of times. El Tigre rises and tries to punch Sella Phayne but just ends up hitting a wall.

JR: What the?! Where’d THAT come from?

Pat Buchanan is in the ring and he’s building a brick wall around El Tigre. Sella Phayne sighs and puts his hand on Buchanan’s shoulder.

Sella Phayne: Not yet, my nigga. Not yet.

Buchanan mopes and walks off depressed. The referee yells at Sella Phayne and threatens to disqualify him. Phayne insists he had nothing to do with that.

El Tigre breaks the wall down with a big boot. He lifts Sella Phayne up for a suplex, but it’s countered with a poke to the eyes. The ref doesn’t see it, so Phayne is able to follow up his cheating with a huracanrana.

Sella Phayne puts El Tigre in an armbar, taps his chest twice and points at the crowd. He kicks El Tigre’s arm and fractures his wrist. No one knows that his Air Jordans are actually steel toed.

Phayne tightens the wristhold and El Tigre drops down to a knee in pain. This lowers him enough for Sella Phayne to apply a headlock and perform the Bulldawwwwwg, which connects.

Sella Phayne covers for the 1-2-3.

JR: Sella Phayne picks up his first win in FTUW.

TS: I have a feeling that we’re looking at a future FTUW champion here, JR! Did you see that technique?!

JR: All he did was cheat!

TS: That’s called Nigga-fu. You’re just not down with all the new wrestling styles.

After the match, Sella Phayne stuffs an unconscious El Tigre’s mouth full of white bread.

Sella Phayne: Tell yo spic wife that her giant ass is fired!

Sella Phayne jumps into his pimped out Ford pickup and drives back into the backstage area.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

J.R.: Coming up we have the inhuman Norman Bald-win taking on Jonesie the Merciless in a Graveyard Brawl match!

Schiavone: That’s right, J.R. Norman Bald-win is a member of the mysterious Cloaked Man’s group. He’s an zombified monstrosity composed of Norman Smiley and Billy Bald-win! He’s taking on the ruthless pirate Jonesie who is seeking out of the sacred emerald medallion that the Cloaked Man has in his possession! This emerald seems to be the source of the Cloaked Man’s bizarre abilities!

J.R.: And Jonesie is looking to get his hand on that emerald tonight by squaring off with Bald-win in a special match. In this match, the two competitors will face off in a graveyard, anything in that graveyard can be used as a weapon. The last person alive is the victor.

Schiavone: But Bald-win is a zombie, J.R. Hasn’t Jonesie already won?

J.R.: Fuck you.

The camera switches off to a mist-filled graveyard. We can see Jonesie sitting on a gravestone sipping a bottle of rum. Loud, African-like drumming can be heard coming deep within the mist. Emerging from the thick fog is Norman Bald-win, a haphazardly constructed being wielding a multitude of weapons. In one arm is a battle axe, another a katana, a whip in his third arm, and finally a large, bronze shield in his fourth hand.

Jonesie spots the Frankenstein’s monster-esque beast lumbering towards him, and smiles. As soon as the referee spots Bald-win, he flees from the graveyard and the FTUW team chains up the gates. The drumming ceases as Norman stands only a few feet away from his pirate opponent.

”Yarg, this doesn’t seem exactly fair, is it?” Jonesie points to the medieval weaponry Bald-win is sporting, “I know you didn’t get ‘em here.”

Bald-win says nothing. Jonesie takes another swig of rum and begins to chuckle.

“Aye, and I had a guilty conscience …” the pirate says, “I never play fair!”

Jonesie rolls backwards behind the large gravestone. A few seconds later, a cannonball BURSTS THROUGH the stone tombstone and collides into Bald-win. However, the zombie was able to raise his shield to protect him from the blast, sending him sliding back twenty feet and crashing a mausoleum.

Jonesie has one foot propped up on his cannon, cleverly hidden behind that gravestone, and swings his cutlass around in the air.

“Yar a tough one, eh!”

Jonesie dashes forward and pulls out his flintlock pistol and fires. The bullet lodges itself into Norman Bald-win’s half-fro’d head. This doesn’t faze him, of course, being that the putrid grey matter leaking from his skull is of no use to him anymore.

Jonesie tosses his pistol aside and swings his cutlass with a mighty force. The zombie blocks it with his shield and retalities with a mighty boot to Jonesie’s gut. His inhuman strength sends the pirate SAILING through the air but his flight is soon stopped by the zombie’s WHIP WRAPPING around his boot!

Schiavone: Jonesie can’t beat four arms against his two!

The massive zombie begins dragging Jonesie towards him, his axe raised above his head to crush the pirate! Jonesie slashes the whip and breaks free the attack. Bald-win sends his axe crashing down into Jonesie but a QUICK ROLL saves the pirate’s life!

J.R.: Brilliant maneuver!

As Bald-win is trying to pull his axe out of the cold ground, he’s fighting off Jonesie with his remaining three arms. Bald-win blocks Jonesie’s LIGHTNING QUICK STRIKES with his shield and retaliates with a slash from his katana. However, Jonesie dodges behind him and BURIES HIS CUTLASS DEEP INTO BALD-WIN’S SPINE!

J.R.: Bah gawd, that’s gotta be it!

Schiavone: There’s no way, J.R.! He’s a zombie!

Norman Bald-win is unfazed. Simply, he reaches down with his free hand and GRABS the CUTLASS TIP jutting through his discolored gut and PULLS IT OUT, useless intestines tied around it! He grasps the cutlass in his free hand, pulls the battle axe buried in the ground free finally, and spins around to face his foe.

However, Jonesie hasn’t given up yet, as he’s wielding a shovel to defend himself. He PLUNGES the shovel deep into Bald-win’s gut. Jonesie jumps onto the handle and uses it PROPEL HIMSELF UPWARDS. He executes an ELEGANT flip-kick that KNOCKS BALD-WIN’S LOOSELY ATTACHED JAW INTO THE AIR.

“Yarg! Shiver me timbers! Etc. etc.” Jonesie laughs as he grabs Bald-win’s dangling tongue and begins to pull! Bald-win attempts to take his three bladed weapons and stab the pirate trying to yank his tongue out but hey, wouldn’t you know, Jonesie DODGES and the massive zombie shoves them all into his own body!

In a furious anger, Norman Bald-win starts UPROOTING TOMBSTONES and begins HURLING THAT JONESIE. Jonesie attempts to dodge the graves but one catches Jonsie in the knee, crushing his leg and sending sprawling to the ground!

Schiavone: It looks like Jonesie’s good luck has finally ran out, J.R.

J.R.: He’s in more trouble than a pig in a BBQ bacon Oklahoma bacon farty fart!

The enormous corpse-creature shuffles over the injured Jonesie. He raises his four tombstones above his head, READY TO DELIVER THE FINAL BLOW. However, his attention is caught when he nearly trips over a chain leading to the fallen Jonesie. As soon as he realizes what’s going on JONESIE rolls out of the way, REVEALING AN ANCHOR JUTTING OUT THE GROUND. Jonesie fires off his gun and THE CHAIN JERKS STRAIGHT, HURLING the ANCHOR INTO NORMAN BALD-WIN’S TORSO. Off in the distance we can see the Meghan Marie.

J.R.: Thank God that this graveyard was surrounded by an ocean!

Random body chunks and internal organs spray from the wound as BALD-WIN his DRAGGED VIOLENTLY ALONG THE GROUND. He is drug until he slams into TWO TREES just close enough to each other that he can’t pass through unharmed. HIS JOURNEY IS VIOLENTLY STOPPED AS HE’S TORN ASUNDER BY THE ANCHOR AND TREES. All FOUR ARMS are RIPPED VIOLENTLY FROM HIS BODY.

J.R.: Bah Gawd! BAH GAWD! He is sendin’ him straight ta hell!

The chain attached to anchor snaps and the useless CORPSE squirms around on the ground. Jonesie walks over the corpse and YANKS OUT his trusty cutlass, ready to dismember the zombie in hopes of killing it. HOWEVER (oh no), before he can DO THE DEED that FATEFUL PURPLE MIST SURROUNDS NORMAN BALD-WIN and JONESIE. Jonesie curses, drinks some rum, and says “Yarg” a bunch of times.

“Yarg!” Jonesie cries in frustration.

OUT OF THE MIST appears the MYSTERIOUS CLOAKED MAN. He OPENS his EVIL ROBES to reveal his inhuman frame. He is hovering a foot off the ground and clad in dark, evil-looking armor. His face looks somewhat alien and DEVIL HORNS jut from his skull. His eyes burn a fiery white … much like Handsomus’ …

“You have outlived your usefulness, Norman Bald-win,” Cloaked Man rasps, “Combining Norman Smiley and Billy Bald-win only doubled your incompetence!”

With that, he raises his PALE FIST AT THE CONVULSING CORPSE. The sacred emerald dangling around his neck begins to glow and BALD-WIN FUCKING EXPLODES!

Jonesie isn’t shaken by this, though. He ATTEMPTS TO STAB HIS FOE with his cutlass but The Cloaked Man deftly slaps it away.

“If you want this,” the Cloaked Man says holding the emerald, “you will defeat me at FTUW’S KING SHIT OF FUCK MOUNTAIN. That is … if you survive tonight …”

The Cloaked Man does a dramatic motion with his arms and PURPLE MIST blasts EXTREMELY from his robes. Jonesie shields his eyes as the VILE GAS fills the graveyard. Soon, HANDS BURST FROM THE DIRT. CORPSES CLAW OUT OF HARD DIRT, IN SEARCH OF FLESH TO SATIATE THEIR HUNGER.

Jonesie looks helpless, surrounded by a legion on UNDEAD.

J.R.: BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! Could it get any scarier?!

The emerald glows even HARDER and the SHAMBLING ZOMBIES TRANSFORM INTO SOMETHING MORE EVIL, MORE HIDEOUS.

D’LO BROWN.

Schiavone: Irony of ironies!

J.R.: No one could have seen this coming!

The Cloaked Man laughs a INSIDEOUS LAUGH and VANISHES IN A PURPLE TORNADO. The D’Lo’s scramble towards Jonesie as he falls to his knees and lets loose a desperate “YAAAAAAAARGGG!!”

The camera feed is lost.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Jim Bean and Puff Ryder circle each other.

Charlie Daniels: Fuck dat nigger up good, baw!

Jim Bean smirks and throws his hands forward to grab Puff Ryder in a grapple. Puff Ryder spins around while grabbing one of Jim Bean’s arms and judo throws him over his shoulder immediately throwing his legs around the arm and putting on an arm bar. Puff Ryder pulls back on the arm but Jim Bean doesn’t seem to acknowledge him.

Jim Ross: A quick counter from Puff Ryder puts him in early control of this match.

Jim Bean looks over at Puff Ryder and laughs with a “a hyuk” and pushes himself to his feet with Puff Ryder still hanging on to his arm. Charlie Jim Bean grabs Puff Ryder’s hand and easily heaves him up into the air.

Tony Shiavoni: Oh, but Jim Bean is just too powerful! It looks like a reversal into a powerbomb!

Jim Bean drives Puff Ryder down onto the back of his head which makes Ryder’s entire body bounce off the canvas. The crowd cheers at this spectacle as Jim Bean looks at his father with a shit eatin’ grin. Charlie Daniels hoots and a hollers throwing his fingers into the air as he jumps from foot to foot in celebration.

Jim Ross: Well it looks like the Daniels’ is already celebratin’ an easy victory tonight. They sure don’t think much’ve this young man.

Jim Bean stomps his way over to Puff Ryder’s prone body and grabs him by the back of the head. As he pulls him to his feet Puff Ryder springs to life doing a modified spinnerooni kick to Jim Bean’s temple causing the giant to stumble back in surprise. Charlie Daniels yells something that can’t be made out to his son. Puff Ryder throws his back against the ropes and launches at Jim Bean who throws up a boot to greet his face. However at the last second Puff Ryder baseball slides under Jim Bean’s leg and grabs the leg Jim Bean has grounded pulling it up off the mat and forcing Jim Bean to fall forward onto his hands with the two men in a wheelbarrow position! Puff Ryder drop kicks Jim Bean in the midsection which launches him, upside down, into the turnbuckle hard!

Tony Shiavoni: What a reversal! I’ve never seen such a counter!

Puff Ryder runs to the opposite turnbuckle and jumps to the middle rope throwing his arms into the air for the crowd! The crowd cheers while at the opposite end of the ring Charlie Daniels grabs Jim Bean by the hair and yells in his face. Charlie Daniels pulls something out of his pocket and seems to jab it into the side of Jim Bean’s neck.

Jim Ross: My god, he’s injecting him with that MYSTERIOUS SYRUM!!

Tony Shiavoni: To my knowledge there’s no rule against such a thing...At least not DURING the match.

Jim Bean begins to convulse in the corner as Puff Ryder hops down from the opposite turnbuckle. Puff Ryder pulls a golden bong out of his enormous baggy pants and takes a gargantuan hit off that SHIT! The crowd roars in approval as Puff Ryder takes the gold bong into his hands like a baseball bat and runs at Jim Bean!!

Jim Ross: Bah Gawd! Jim Bean’s defenseless! Puff Ryder’s lookin’ to take his head clean off!!

Puff Ryder charges in and swings hitting only the bottom turnbuckle with a dull thud that tears the padding. Puff Ryder as well as everyone look confused. Everyone but Charlie Daniels who stands smiling his toothless smile. Suddenly Puff Ryder has a look of shock on his face as he looks down slowly. Through his chest is the fist and arm of Jim Bean who stands behind him. Jim lifts Puff Ryder off the ground and flings him into the crowd dislodging his arm from Puff Ryder’s torso in the process. The ref, in horror has no choice but to end the match in favor of Jim Bean.

Tony SHiavoni: You hate to see that sort’ve thing happen.

Jim Ross: Them Sonsabitches! They’ll do anythin’ to win no matter who they hurt in the process!!

Joey Lightning: Your winner, by…knockout…JACK “JIM BEAAAAN” DANIELLLLS!!!

Charlie Daniels jumps for joy as his son gets out of the ring with a dazed look on his face. Charlie doesn’t seem to notice as he happily escorts his son backstage.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Schiavone: And we have another exciting match coming up. “The Burning Wolf” Rakkyu Saketumi is facing off with Baron Hoity von Toity!

J.R.: This has been quite the feud these two athletes have had these past few weeks! It all started weeks ago when Toity tried to recruit Saketumi in his Trillionaire’s Club and Saketumi responded by pissing on a pyramid of gold!

Schiavone: After Saketumi’s hard-fought victory over Jack “Jim Beam” Daniels, Toity sent three of his goons to finish off Saketumi while he was recovering in a hospital!

J.R.: These two are ready to tear into each other, bah gawd. And with that we hand it over to Joey Lightning.

Lighting: Our next match is scheduled for one fall. Coming to the ring first, weighing 239 pounds and hailing from beautiful Richonia … Baron Hoity von Toiiiiity!

A spotlight is cast on the Richonian Royal Orchestra stationed at the side of the entrance. They aren’t the best orchestra in the world but all their instruments are made out of gold and studded with jewels. They begin playing the Richonia national anthem as Baron Hoity von Toity makes his grand entrance, carried by an elaborately designed rickshaw in the shape of pagoda. He sits in his jewel-encrusted, white tiger throne, sipping a fine wine. He twirls his cane nonchalantly as two massive men drag the mutli-ton vehicle to the ring. Once it reaches ringside, the two men lower the rickshaw carefully and kneel over in front of it, acting as a bridge that Toity walks across to reach the ring. He removes his fine silk robes and expensive jewelry to reveal a singlet probably composed of something very expensive as well. He stretches his muscles and shows off some fancy footwork that is imbued with an elegance and grace that, despite its soft nature, is distinctly masculine. He straightens his mustache and shows a sparkling grin, uttering a nonsensical European-style grunt.

J.R.: Quite the entrance! Toity seems pretty full of himself!

Schiavone: And why not, J.R., he’s the second richest being in the universe!

As the Richonia national anthem ends, the soothing sound is replaced by violent screaming and the sounds of engines revving. Suddenly, from the entrance bursts Ryakku Saketumi, flying MID-AIR on a motorcycle, a bright red flag attached to back with kanji written on it. Behind him is the Nagasaki Hellriders, all on bikes, screaming gleefully while swinging chains and poles above their head.

”Yaarrouuuu!!” shouts Saketumi, his pompadour flopping wildly in front of his head from the wind resistance. He hits the back of pagoda rickshaw and RAMPS OFF IT! He is sent SAILING INTO THE RING, over the heads of Toity’s two bewildered assistants, RIGHT AT TOITY. Toity, somewhat shocked, reacts with superhuman reflexes and PALMS THE SPINNING FRONT WHEEL of the motorcycle between his hands. The motorcycle buckles violently as it slams onto the mat, the spinning rear wheel emitting a heavy smoke from the friction. Toity grunts and pushes the cycle, sending it OVER THE RING ROPES into the aisle. However, Saketumi had already LEAPT off the motorcycle. Descending towards the Baron, he executes a Lou Thesz Press, unleashing a FLURRY OF FISTS!

J.R.: Bah Gawd! Look at this! Saketumi is wasting no time!

Schiavone: That cheating son of bitch! This isn’t a street fight!

The referee tries to restrain Saketumi but the fire burning in his TINY, ALMOND EYES shows a man with revenge on his mind. Toity takes this opportunity to place his boots squarely on Saketumi’s solar plexes.

”Hip!” Toity shouts, hurling Saketumi’s light-frame into the corner using his excellently-toned leg muscles. Toity tries to follow-up but the referee steps between the two combatants.

Schiavone: That’s right! The match hasn’t even started yet!

Saketumi springs from his corner and stands forehead-to-chest with Toity as the referee explains the rules. Toity pantomimes yawning before turning away from his opponent, brushing off his tights and performing some routine warm-up exercises. Saketumi’s eyes burn a hole in the back of the nonchalant Baron. With that, the referee signals for the bell and Saketumi LEAPS INTO THE AIR, fist cocked back!

Schiavone: Here we go!

The Baron quickly and deftly dodges the attack and positions himself BEHIND the referee. He points at Saketumi, who’s cursing in Japanese, demanding that he search him for weapons!

”Sir, it would in your best interest, along with this federation’s, if you were to check that colorful fellow for foreign objects! I will not have the image of this sport I hold so dearly to be sullied!” the Baron says, twirling his mustache.

J.R.: That son of a bitch! He’s just trying to delay this match!

Schiavone: Come on, J.R.! If we don’t have the rules, what do we have?

The Nagasaki Hellriders are at ringside, slamming their fists on the mat and spitting. Saketumi grimaces and raises his arms above his head as the referee pats him down. He gives FTUW crew at ringside the clear signal.

“Check his hair, referee,” Toity smirks. The referee turns around and raises his hand to delve deep into the MIGHTY POMPADOUR. However, before he can touch it a hand grabs his wrist tightly. It’s Saketumi’s, who is gritting his teeth with a shadow obscuring his eyes.

“Nan … da? Oy, oy … don’t touch my hair,” Saketumi mutters. His grip tightens on the referee and he complies nervously. The bell sounds once again!

Saketumi approaches Toity slowly, his arms at his sides and his head hanging downwards. Toity chuckles softly as he bounces from foot to foot, swinging his arms carelessly.

“Let’s have at it, you fish mongerer!” Toity cackles.

Saketumi enters Toity’s EFFECTIVE RANGE and the Baron executes a chest slap! However, Saketumi deftly ducks the swipe! He springs to a standing position AND THEY STAND FACE TO FACE. Another centimeter and they would be touching.

“I’m not the same as before, foreigner!” Saketumi says with a wide, sinister grin. Toity seems taken aback but only for a second! He unleashes a swift kick to Saketumi’s gut and whips him to the ropes! On the rebound, Saketumi CLOTHESLINES the Baron off his feet!

“Ku ku ku ku ku …” Saketumi laughs. The Baron kips to his feet, surprised with the prospect of a challenge.

“Alright, then!”

They quickly grapple and Saketumi is sent to the mat with a POWERFUL DDT. The Baron’s ring prowess shining vividly.

J.R.: This isn’t the type of fight Saketumi is used to. All the Baron has to do is pin him, not knock him out!

A small drop of blood oozes from his lip. Saketumi wipes it off, uttering a Japanese curse, and taking a fighting stance. Ryakku bursts forward with a MIGHTY DASH, his arm pulled back ready to execute a wild and extremely exaggerated punch!

“Referee, he’s about to throw a closed f-GRLLPH!” the Baron is cut off by the The Burning Wolf’s FIST DRIVING ITSELF INTO HIS FINELY BRONZED SKIN. His large, Caucasian nose is FLATTENED AGAINST HIS FACE from the WELL-WORN KNUCKLES OF THE JAPANESE WARRIOR. Toity stumbles back, losing his footing, but before he can respond to the attack a power kick COLLIDES WITH HIS RIBS.

J.R.: He’s unleashing hell on Toity!

A tornado of attacks are let loose at blinding speeds! All Toity can do is block futilely. THAT BURNING PASSION in Saketumi’s eyes at the beginning of the match has returned, images of JAPANESE WOMEN RAPED flashing through his mind.

“Hiroko …” he thinks to himself.

Saketumi PULLS BACK HIS ARM AS IF HE WERE ABOUT TO PITCH A FASTBALL. He HURLS HIS FIST at TOITY’S BRUISED SKULL. However, TOITY STEP-INS and BLOCKS THE FIST IN MID-PUNCH with his two palms, SIGNIFICANTLY REDUCING THE POWER OF THE BLOW!

“Brain will always beat braun!” Toity shouts, his old smile slowly returning to his face. Toity SLIDES to the side of Saketumi and elbows him in the jaw. As Ryakku stumbles, he grabs Saketumi’s arm and EXECUTES an arm drag. Without missing a beat, he rolls backwards and grasps Saketumi’s ANKLE. He twists it violently, the Baron standing on his toes and leaning forward for leverage.

“That son of a bitch! Get up, Saketumi!” Tanaka, a member of the Nagasaki Hellriders, shouts while pounding on the mat.

“Kck … that gaijin looks strong!” Kuzuki mutters, adjusting his sunglasses, “Yarouu … this match is boiling my blood!”

The referee slides to the mat to check the hold. He moves over to Saketumi who is digging his fingers into the mat in pain. The Baron lets loose a mighty laugh, tightening the grip.

“My ankle … he’s going to break it any second …” Saketumi thinks, “If I don’t break free from this hold …”

“Where is that Japanese spirit I hear so much about?” The Baron laughs, “You are looking quite pathetic, I must say!”

J.R.: Saketumi is in a bind. The Baron is not only skilled at technical wrestling but also an excellent submissionist.

Schiavone: That’s right, J.R. Hoity von Toity has set the pace and is fighting the match he wants to fight.

“Damn! Damn damn damn!!” Tanaka shouts, “I can’t stand to watch this anymore!”

“W-Wait a minute, you fat idiot!” Kuzuki says, grasping at his pant legs as he climbs into the ring.

“Saketumi-sama!” Tanaka bellows, a few stray tears running down his cheeks as he climbs through the ring ropes.

“STOP IT!”

Tanaka freezes in his tracks.

“Don’t take one more step …” Saketumi says, giving Tanaka a piercing glare, forcing his words through clenched teeth, “or I’ll kill you …”

“Aa … aaah!!” Tanaka stumbles backwards through the ropes and collapses on top of Kuzuki.

”Fat idiot …” Kuzuki mutters, pinned to the ring floor by Tanaka.

“Very admirable, very admirable indeed,” Toity scoffs, “but it was a foolish decision, Saketumi. You’ll regret not submitting!”

“This damn hold!” Saketumi thinks to himself, obviously in immense pain, “If I can’t break it …”

Baron Hoity von Toity TWISTS THE LEG EVEN HARDER, uttering an audible groan, exasperated from the energy he’s spending DESTROYING THE JAPANESE MAN’S LEG. His muscles are straining, sweat drips generously down his forehead. A sickening crunch can be heard even over the crowd.

J.R.: B-Bah Gawd!

“If I can’t break the hold … I CAN’T BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM!”

BARON HOITY VON TOITY’S FACE IS CRUSHED UNDER SAKETUMI’S SHOE. Blood squirts from his smashed nose, chin, and mouth. Saketumi had broken the hold with a VIOLENT KICK STRAIGHT INTO HIS FACE. Toity loosens the grip only to receive ANOTHER SHARP KICK!

“M-My face!” Toity tries to crawl away from Saketumi, his palms wrapped tightly over his face, blood oozing through the cracks between his fingers “You’ll pay! YOU’LL PAY!”

“Saketumi-sama …” Kuzuki mutters helplessly as THE BURNING WOLF CLIMBS TO HIS FEET.

“You’ll pay! You ingrate!” Toity frantically shouts.

Saketumi replies by cracking his neck.

“Is that all you got? IS THE MATCH ALREADY OVER? Show me some more moves! SHOW ME YOUR FOREIGN FIGHTING STYLE! Get up!” Saketumi shouts, a WILD MADNESS OVERTAKING HIM!

“Hurry! Hurry! HURRY!” Saketumi screams, approaching Toity slowly, dragging his injured leg behind him.

“HURRY! HURRY! HURRRRYYYYYYYYY!!” SAKETUMI HOWLS, SPITTING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PANICKED TOITY.

Schiavone: HE’S GONE CRAZY! SOMEONE HELP TOITY!

Saketumi bends over Toity, bathing him in a black darkness. Toity looks as if he’s seen death himself. ONLY SAKETUMI’S EYES AND HELLISH GRIN ARE VISIBLE somehow. Saketumi reaches down with his trembling hands, OVERWHELM WITH THE LUST FOR BATTLE. He grabs Toity BY THE EARS and, WITH A “ORYAAA!” GERMAN SUPLEXES HIM FROM THE MAT ONTO HIS HEAD!

J.R.: BAH GAWD, HE’S DONE IT! HE’S DESTROYED TOITY! AND HE’S … WAIT … HE’S NOT GOING FOR THE PIN?!

Schiavone: Oh God!

J.R.: HE’S NOT DONE! HE’S NOT DONE BAH GAWWD GIDNgdgnjsigkdjnk

Blood starts oozing from J.R.’s ears.

Saketumi pulls the rag doll body of Toity back to his feet and BEGINS HEADBUTTING HIM VIOLENTLY. THE ALREADY DECIMATED FACE OF TOITY CONTINUES TO LIBERALLY SQUIRT BLOOD INTO THE AIR, THE SOUNDS OF WET BONE AND FLESH SLAPPING TOGETHER ECHOES IN THE ARENA. THE ULTRAMAN THEME DOESN’T EVEN PLAY, THE NAGASAKI HELLRIDER IN CHARGE OF IT PERHAPS TOO STUNNED BY THIS VIOLENT TURN OF EVENTS TO EVEN TAKE HIS EYES OFF THIS SPECTACLE LONG ENOUGH TO PRESS PLAY.

Headbutt! HEADBUTT! AGAIN AND AGAIN! When THE BARON starts to sink to his feet, THE BURNING WOLF spins his head in A REVERSE CIRCLE AND UPPERCUTS THE DESCENDING TOITY WITH A RISING HEADBUTT, PROPELLING HIM BACK TO A STANDING POSITION. Toity is inches away from the turnbuckle.

“RORRURING!” SHOUTS THE DEMONIC JAP. The crowd begins to shout furiously, SNAPPED FROM THEIR TRANCE, CLAMORING FOR THE ROLLING GO!

His head sails down LIKE IT WAS FIRED FROM A GUN. If one squints hard enough, PERHAPS THEY CAN SEE THE ETHREAL FORMS OF HIS ANCESTORS, ALL PROUD SAMURAI, THEIR VISAGE OBSCURED BY A TRADITIONAL SAMURAI MASK. THE FOREHEAD CLOSES IN ON ITS TARGET, BLOOD NOW ESCAPING FROM A CRACK IN HIS SKULL, SOME MIXING IN WITH TOITY’S BLOOD.

BUT NO! A FIST BEGINS CLIMBING UP TO MEET SAKETUMI’S HEAD! TOITY HAS UNLEASHED ONE LAST UPPERCUT TO SAVE HIMSELF FROM A VIOLENT DEATH! THE FIST SOARS TO THE HEAD, THE HEAD SOARS TOWARD TOITY’S SHATTERED FACE. THE FIST CLIMBS RIGHT UNDER THE CHIN, THE CLIMACTIC FORCE WOULD SURELY TEAR SAKETUMI’S JAW RIGHT FROM HIS FUCKING SKULL!

But it continues to pass. The FIST CONTINUES TO RISE, MISSING IT’S TARGET. SAKETUMI LOOKS AT THE PASSING HAND IN SLOW-MOTION. HE GIVES A LOOK OF PITY TO TOITY. IT’S THE ROLLING EVOLUTION! HE STOPPED THE GODDAMNED ATTACK IN MID-SWING!

The crowd is silent. Suddenly, a bizarre noise can be faintly heard. IT’S THE SOUND OF THE ENTIRE GODDAMNED ARENA SHITTING THEIR GODDAMNED FUCKING PANTS.

And SAKETUMI LEANS BACK WITH ALL OF HIS FUCKING MIGHT. HIS HEAD FLIES BACK UNTIL IT’S PARALLEL WITH THE MAT, ABOUT SEVEN INCHES FROM TOUCHING THE GODDAMNED THING.

“GOOOOOOOOO!!” SAKETUMI SCREAMS, GARGLING ON HIS AND TOITY’S BLOOD. LIKE A FUCKING WHIP, HIS SKULL FLIES TOWARD TOITY’S BODY.

BOOOOOOOOM!

What seems like a PINT OF BLOOD SPLASHES INTO THE AIR. SOMEWHERE A VAMPIRE IS WATCHING THIS MATCH AND POPPING A BONER.

“Check … mate …” Toity sneers. WE PULL BACK TO SEE HIS ELBOW LODGED DEEP INTO SAKETUMI’S SKULL. THAT VERY UPPERCUT HE THREW WAS A TRAP, A GODDAMNED FUCKING TRICK! AS SAKETUMI THREW HIS HEAD TO EXECUTE THE FINAL HEADBUTT TOITY DROPPED HIS ELBOW RIGHT INTO HIS FACE. Saketumi is knocked out, MAYBE DEAD, and he lands backwards in a heap.

J.R.: Bah … BAH GWASDdfskld.

J.R. throws up on the announce table. Schiavone is stunned, drooling a little bit, perhaps affected by a SEIZURE INDUCED BY THE INSANELY AWESOME FIGHT.

Baron Hoity von Toity is breathing heavily, leaning limply on a ring-rope. He tries to move but slips in a pool of blood and falls to the ground.

”Y-You son of a bitch …” Toity says while rubbing his smashed face.

Toity, HIS EYES BULGING OUT HIS HEAD, what’s left of his face is FIXED IN A VIOLENT GRIMACE. Toity seems possessed. He’s no longer his charismatic, self-assured self. A DEEP HATE HAS SWELLED INSIDE HIS SKULL. He climbs to his feet and stands over SAKETUMI. He places his feet on the arms of SAKETUMI AND PULLS UNTIL HE CAN FEEL THE BONES CRACK. The crowd groans at the sound. Saketumi doesn’t respond.

“GODDAMNIT! END THE MATCH, REF!” Kuzuki cries helplessly in Japanese.

Toity isn’t finished there. He grabs RYAKKU’S CARCASS AND HURLS IT INTO THE CORNER. He climbs THE TURNBUCKLES AND STANDS OVER THE NEAR-DEAD JAPANESE MAN. He then begins SLAMMING HIS FISTS INTO SAKETUMI’S FACE. Some members begin to COUNT ALONG WITH EACH PUNCH but it soon becomes apparent that his goal is WAY HIGHER THAN 10. Toity has lost it. His jovial demeanor has been replaced by A KILLER INSTINCT, a desire to see NOT ONLY SAKETUMI DEAD BUT HIS CORPSE UNIDENTIFIABLE. Around punch twenty-five, it’s obvious the match is no longer a concern of Toity’s.

J.R.: S-Someone stop this, goddamnit!

“Kuzuki … WE GOTTA END THIS! SAKETUMI IS GOING TO DIE!” Tanaka shouts, tears streaming down his face.

“Kuso …” Kuzuki clenches his fists so hard blood begins to drip from his hands.

They leap up onto the ring apron to SAVE THEIR BOSS, RAKKYU SAKETUMI, but are FROZEN IN THEIR TRACKS. An enormous pressure hits them. Saketumi isn’t dead. HE’S NOT EVEN DONE FIGHTING!

SAKETUMI STOPS ONE OF TOITY’S PUNCHES WITH HIS FUCKING FACE. TOITY IS STUNNED. FROM BEYOND HIS BLOODY MASK WE SEE SAKETUMI CHUCKLING THE CHUCKLE OF A DYING MAN. A RASPY, WET WHEEZE. TOITY THROWS ANOTHER FIST AND AGAIN SAKETUMI HEADBUTTS HIS FUCKING FIST.

“D-Die!” Toity shouts, throwing another punch THAT’S MET WITH SAKETUMI’S FOREHEAD.

“If I can’t use these fists of mine …” Saketumi coughs, “I’LL JUSE USE MY HEAD!”

TOITY HURLS ANOTHER DYNAMITE PUNCH BUT SAKETUMI STOPS IT MID-SWING WITH A HEADBUTT. And another. AND ANOTHER. THE SOUNDS EMANATING FROM THE RING ARE TOO DISGUSTING TO DESCRIBE.

“WHY … WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO FIGHT?!” TOITY SCREAMS, THROWING ANOTHER PUNCH.

“Because …” Saketumi hacks, “I WAS BORN IN JAPAN!!”

TOITY LETS LOOSE A DESPERATE HOWL AND THROWS ANOTHER PUNCH. SAKETUMI HEADBUTTS IT, FUCKING CAUSING IT TO NEARLY EXPLODE. TOITY FALLS OFF THE TURNBUCKLE, GRASPING HIS MANGLED, TWISTED FIST. ALL THE BONES IN IT ARE SHATTERED, SOME JUTTING OUT THROUGH THE SKIN. BLOOD SQUIRTS FROM IT LIKE IT WAS AN ARTERY.

Saketumi takes a step forward, dragging one limp leg behind him. His arms, the ligaments torn, the bones perhaps broken, hang limply at his sides. Toity’s rage has been subdued, now he’s consumed with FEAR. The Nagasaki Hellriders want to cheer him on but are too afraid of what The Burning Wolf has become to even utter a word.

“Let’s … fight again …”

Saketumi collapses in a heap on the floor. He’s run out of blood. There’s not enough energy left in his body to take another step. Despite all of this, Baron Hoity von Toity is too fearful of his immense aura still being emitted from Ryakku’s still body. Despite not having studied eastern mysticism, even Toity can understand the wave of dread he’s currently experiencing, the sick feeling that dwells in his stomach. Even unconscious, Saketumi is still fighting …

Tanaka and Kuzuki, along with the other Hellriders, jump into the ring and attend to their fallen boss. Toity is frozen, his EYES TRANSFIXED not on SAKETUMI BUT ABOVE HIM. HE SEES A MENACING WARRIOR STANDING OVER TOP OF HIS BODY. IT’S SAKETUMI’S FIGHTING SPIRIT.

The referee rings the bell. Saketumi’s body is unable to continue the fight his soul so desperately wants. Medics rush into the ring to attend to him.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Lightning: Now folks, time for the main event! First, we introduce the special guest referee for the evening. Please welcome Darren "Droz" Drozdov!

The crowd gets on their feet and applaud Droz. He is wheeled to the ring by his wife and she moves his arm around so that he can wave to the crowd.

The ring steps have been replaced with ramps and allow Droz to be carted into the ring. His wife remains with him because he's essentially an inanimate object otherwise.

JR: What a courageous man! To suffer such a cruel injury and yet has the strength to not bite his tongue and end his painful existence.

TS: I know him very well since we go to the same support group. Granted, he has it worse off because he's actually hampered by the weight of his useless body, but I can feel his pain.

JR: Then again, you only need your head to work.

TS: That's true. Droz's head, on the other hand, is rather useless. Though we at FTUW enjoy charity cases so we paid him $50 to be here.

Droz (to himself): No dog food for me tonight!

Lightning: Making his way to the ring, the challenger, Apathetic Arschloch!

Arschloch plods to the ring, stopping from time to time to tie his shoes, stretch, fart, etc. His cell phone rings at one point. Arschloch grumbles about how he should have turned it off and answers. It's Papy Arschloch and his side of the conversation is clearly audible to the entire crowd.

Papy Arschloch: What kind of fucking queer owns a cell phone?

A.Arschloch: Christ, what is it?

Papy Arschloch: Why the shit are you talking on a cell phone instead of shitting your pants about how bad your balls are going to feel when they explode and leak jizz down your leg?

A.Arschloch: Uh huh.

Papy Arschloch: I'm pretty sure you were born with a set because even if I had a daughter, she'd be born with a pair of beautiful testes. So that begs the question, how much of a genetically inept whore was your mother to have created a faggot like you with my destructively powerful sperm?

A.Arschloch: Uh huh.

Papy Arschloch: After you're done losing, drag what's left of your body back home so I can rip you a third asshole! The joke being that you already ripped yourself a second asshole so that two niggers could fuck you at once.

A.Arschloch: Uh huh.

Papy Arschloch: Are you ignoring me, boy?

A.Arschloch: Uh huh.

Papy Arschloch: Geh heh heh! You may just live beyond tonight!

Papy hangs up and Apathetic Arschloch just tosses his phone on the ground, not really caring what happens to it. He's forgotten what he was even doing and just starts to wander around the arena, purposelessly. After ten minutes, the crowd boos loudly and demands Arschloch get in the ring so their hero can come out.

Handsomus isn't the type to wait forever, though! A deafening guitar wails soars through the arena and everyone looks around to see where it came from. Arschloch doesn't pay attention. This was foolish of him, however, since Handsomus runs down the runway and grabs Arschloch. He jumps thirty feet in the air and body slams Arschloch into the ring while still in midair. He follows up by stomping Arschloch and then posing to make his entrance complete.

Handsomus: Let's rawk!

JR: BAH GAWD! Arschloch may have been killed before the match even started!

TS: I didn't expect him to stand a chance against Handsomus. (dreamy sigh) He's my hero!

Handsomus doesn't want to win that easily so puts on an incredible heavy metal concert while he waits for Arschloch to recover. He plays several classics such as HOLY DIVER as well as a series of incredible originals that singled-handedly causes power metal to become the most popular form of music in the world!

Arschloch wakes up, but decides to take a nap. Handsomus finishes his set and notices that Arschloch is fully recovered. He is puzzled as to how anyone can possibly sleep while a 1000 decibel blast of rock n' roll blazes in the background. He kicks Arschloch awake and the bell is sounded for the match to begin.

Handsomus starts off by grabbing Arschloch and attempting a quick Intergalactic Driver. However, his timing is thrown off somehow and ends up driving his own skull into the mat.

TS: What the hell happened there?!

JR: I'll explain. You see, the Intergalactic Driver may look like a crazy ass insane move, but requires careful planning by Handsomus. The spinning allows him to power up the piledriver through centrifugal force, but also increase the risk since messing up the timing means he takes the full brunt of his own move.

Now, he takes several factors into consideration when deciding the speed of his flips. For example, the opponent's weight and their attempts to counter the move. He's been able to execute it effectively because he's able to instantly evaluate his foe and knows just what speed he needs.

However, Apathetic Arschloch just went limp and didn't struggle at all. Handsomus wasn't prepared for that and spun too fast. As a result, he ended up on the bottom and felt his own finisher firsthand!

TS: So not only is he hurt, he can't even use his own finishing move anymore!

JR: Now do you think Apathetic Arschloch is weak?

Arschloch shrugs and pins Handsomus. Droz's wife pulls him out of his chair and slaps his hand against the mat. 1-2...kick out by Handsomus!

Arschloch sighs and scratches his head. He lazily kicks Handsomus while he's on the ground but they obviously have no effect on the space champ. Handsomus grabs Arschloch's foot and lifts him up as he makes it to his feet. He spinebusters Arschloch, but is still woozy and needs to support himself on the ropes.

Seeing that ending the match quickly would be advantageous, Handsomus picks up his guitar.

Handsomus: Goodnight!

Handsomus lets a Rawkra blast fly and several members of the audience explode. However, Arschloch is unaffected. Handsomus, normally stoic and emotionless, seems shocked by this turn of events.

TS: Uh...explain JR.

JR: Well, from my understanding, Rawkra detonates the fighting spirit inside a wrestler. I don't even know if Arschloch even has a pulse, let alone spirit of any kind.

Handsomus runs at the ring ropes and uses them to slingshot himself headfirst at Arschloch. Arschloch waves his arm and says "meh" as if he didn't care at all. As he does this, he accidentally pokes Handsomus in the eyes and he is blinded. He also misses Arschloch and flies into the Faggottron.

Refusing to lose his cool, Handsomus takes a page from Arschloch's book and calmly walks back to the ring, iron blood streaming down his face. He climbs into the ring and both men stare each other down, not making a move. The crowd wants to boo the fighters so that they get back to fighting, but are silenced by the pure intensity that lies in both men. The air around both of them warps and Droz's wife falls to her knees in fright.

Arschloch lets a sweatdrop fall from his face and Handsomus smi

JR: Arschloch just made a mistake! He's starting to care about what Handsomus could do to him!

Handsomus grabs Arschloch by the arm and swings him around his opponent. Soon, it seems like there's a twister in the ring. Handsomus lets go and Arschloch slams hard into the turnbuckle.

Handsomus peels Arschloch off and pins him. Droz yells at his wife his get him to make the count but she's too busy wetting herself and she won't move. Droz, being the consummate professional, rocks back and forth until he falls out of his chair. Using his face to slap the mat, he counts 1-2...Arschloch disappears!!!

Handsomus jumps to his feet and looks around. He has no clue how his eyes, able to spot each individual flap of a hummingbird's wings, are unable to see where Arschloch went. Suddenly, he buckles over from an unseen attack.

TS: Any clues, JR?

JR: Well, I can guess. Arschloch's sweat wasn't that he was scared. He was just hot from the intense heat coming off of Handsomus.

TS: Uh, so?

JR: Apathetic Arschloch has achieved...PERFECT APATHY!

TS: What in the sam hell is that?

JR: Arschloch cares so little about the world around him and plans on contributing so little, that he has ceased to be visible. Not only does he not care, but now we can't care about him either because he's not there!

TS: That doesn't make sense, JR! How did he hit Handsomus if he doesn't care about what happens.

JR: He didn't do it on purpose. He may have fallen asleep and is now running around in his dreams. He's sleeprunning! Hitting Handsomus is just a coincidence.


TS: And when he springs off the ropes, he speeds up even more!

JR: Exactly! If Handsomus can't spot him soon, then Arschloch will run so fast that he'll run THROUGH him!

TS: But Arschloch is hurting Handsomus. Doesn't that count as achieving something? Shouldn't he be turning visible?

JR: This is pro wrestling. Like anything that happens here has any effect on the outside world.

Handsomus is struck time and time again but can't find his foe. Since Arschloch is asleep, he's stumbling around as he runs and doesn't come from any regular angle or velocity.

Handsomus wipes some blood off his face. Staring at his bloody hand, he gets an idea. He plunges his right index and middle fingers in his own chest and he falls on his back. The iron blood shoots up in the sky like a fountain and rains down on the ring. However, no one becomes visible.

TS: Damn, his plan failed! The rain of blood didn't make Arschloch visible. All he did was hurt himself and now he's on the ground where he can be pinned.

JR: Hold on, there may be something else he has planned. Handsomus is no fool.

Tiny splashes can be heard and the blood begins to ripple and flow out of the ring. The blood flows into the earth and a borrowing mole gets the blood in his eyes. Suddenly, the mole has perfect 20/20 vision, granted power by the magical fluid of Handsomus. Arschloch turns

TS: Arschloch just had an effect on something! He's lost perfect apathy!

Handsomus jumps to his feet and punches Arschloch in the face, waking him up. He picks up Arschloch and signals for the powerbomb. He looks over at Droz, as if to ask permission to use the move.

Droz: Heh! It's ok. Go for it, kid!

Handsomus puts Arschloch's head between his legs and signals the crowd into an uproar. Droz turns his eyes away due to the painful memories the powerbomb holds. Handsomus grips Arschloch and just as he lifts his feet off the ground, a masked figure falls from the rafters, giving Awesome a thundering axe handle to the back of the head!

JR: Bah Gawd! What's going on here?

Handsomus and Arschloch hit the floor hard. Arschloch, ignoring what just happened, sinks back into apathy and Handsomus looks to the cloaked figure. He can't quite figure out who it could be.

TS: Is this the man who's been haunting Jonesie the Merciless?

JR: One thing's for damn sure, he ain't there to help Handsomus R. Awesome out in this match!

The cloaked man pulls back his hood revealing a metal mask. "Awesome, you may think you've defeated me, but you'll never destroy the immortal." Suddenly, Handsomus knows who he's facing! Twin medallions, each with the roman numerals XIV shine in his eyes. Handsomus has lost too much blood to do anything about it, though! "Damn you ..." he mutters. Red bolts shoot from the masked man's hands and Handsomus writhes in pain.

JR: Stop the damn match! Stop the damn match! He's murdering Handsomus!

TS: This is the most brutal interference I've ever seen!

Droz tries to turn around to see what's going on, but accidently got his head caught in the spokes of his wheelchair wheel. By the time he frees himself, Theldorrin XIV is gone.

Arschloch sits down to take a breather. He is unaware he's actually sitting on top of Handsomus. Droz slams his face 1-2...3!

JR: DAMN HIM! DAMN THAT THELDORRIN! HE COST HANDSOMUS HIS TITLE!

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Schiavone: I can’t believe we are seeing this! Handsomus … beaten?!

J.R.: Bah Gawd! That goddamn Theldorrin is back and he cost Handsomus the title!

--

The sounds of inhuman groaning are slowly raising in pitch. Handsomus raises his head to the sky with a quizzical expression. Arschloch yawns sleepily.

The camera cuts to the backstage. FTUW ring crew are barring the door closed. The steel door THROBS in tune to a large banging. Moaning can be heard from the other side of the steel door, along with lots of shuffling. The crew members desperately trying to keep the door sealed ARE BLASTED BACK as the DOOR COMES OFF THE FUCKING HINGES. Standing in the entrance way is D’Lo Brown. But not just one, there’s over one hundred D’Lo Browns shambling into the building. They pour in, one after another, with no stop in sight. The crew members scream in horror as they are lifted INTO THE AIR AND THROWN VICIOUSLY TO THE CONCRETE, breaking their spines.

The cameraman is overtaken by A FLYING D’LO, executing A LO’ DOWN. Surely his death was a slow and painful one.

Schiavone: Holy shit, J.R.! Get me the fuck out of here!

The camera feed resumes in the hallway. The concession stands are wrecked with paralyzed bodies as an army of D’Los march over them. Bullets only hopelessly bounce of their protective chest plates. The security guards are torn to pieces in seconds.

The camera switches back to Handsomus in the ring. He is staring at the FTUW big screen, watching helplessly as CARNAGE ENSUES. He desperately wants to fight but is too injured to move, the axe handle and the VIOLENT RED ELECTRICITY tearing through his iron circulatory system, rendering him powerless. Arschloch hoists the title over his shoulder and makes his way up the entrance ramp.

Recording resumes back in the hallway and shows Fancy Lala. He’s now rolling around the exploded concession stand, shoving hot dogs, nacho cheese, and popcorn in his mouth in handfuls. A dark shadow covers him. Lala looks up, perhaps wondering if it’s more food, his greasy chins jiggling with every strained breath he takes.

THE D’LOS STAND OVER HIM, ready to tear him apart. BUT SUDDENLY, FANCY LALA LETS LOOSE A WET, THUNDEROUS FART THAT PROPELS HIM LIKE A ROCKET INTO THE GROUP OF D’LOS! THEY ARE SENT SPRAWLING TO THE GROUND LIKE BOWLING PINS!

J.R.: Good gawd, he fought back … kind of!

The camera switches to Sella Phayne who is standing FACE TO FACE with A SINGLE D’LO BROWN. The camera pans to show D’LO BLOOD-STAINED BOOT STANDING ON TOP OF HIS PRISTINE WHITE SNEAKERS. Sella Phayne is understandably irate.

“Back up you punk ass nigga!” shouts Phayne. He pulls out his pistol and begins firing POINT-BLANK ROUNDS INTO D’LO’S ZOMBIFIED HEAD.

J.R.: They are fighting back! THE SUPERSTARS ARE FIGHTING BACK!

Schiavone: It’s a Christmas miracle!

Jack “Jim Beam” Daniels is standing in front a large group of D’LO ZOMBIES. They slowly close in him. Daniels seems uncaring, apathetic. He pulls out a zippo lighter and holds the flame in front of him.

“Ffuukk yu jrrlll glrr niggers!” he mumbles before PUNCHING HIMSELF INTO THE STOMACH, UNLEASHING A TORRENT OF ALCOHOL SATURATED VOMIT. Once it touches the flame, IT IGNITES in a BLINDING FLASH. LIKE NAPALM, THE FLAMING VOMIT BURNS THROUGH THE D’LO ZOMBIES. The sprinkler systems immediately hit and once the flames vanish, only a room full of D’Lo corpses remain. Daniels kicks open the door and continues on his rampage.

The feed switches over to a bandaged Toity followed by his Trillionare’s Club. As they turn a corner a mob of D’Lo Browns approach, some still wielding their paralyzed victims. Toity scoffs and twirls his cane.

“Did Saketumi send you fellows?” the Baron smirks, “Never the less, take care of them, will you?”

The Chief SPRINGS INTO ACTION, execute a FLYING PALM that DECAPITATES a D’Lo immediately. Charles Artemis FIRES OFF A SUPERKICK, embedding his foot deep into a D’Los face. One black man executes Capoiera attacks on the D’Los while another uses Liu-jutsu.

“I’ll be making my way to my plane,” Toity says, whipping his cape behind him.

Schiavone: See J.R.! I told you the Baron isn’t all bad!

Outside, the fans are pouring out of the BUILDING IN A FRENZY, trampling eachother to escape! However, D’LO ZOMBIES DESCEND FROM THE SKY LIKE NINJAS, CORNERING THE FANS. On the rooftop stands a mysterious figure, draped in shadows. HE DIVES OFF THE FTUW ARENA, tearing off a ROBE. The moonlight HITS HIM revealing the man as BIN DESTRUCTION. He lands between the group of FTUW fans and the approaching D’Lo army, COVERED IN EXPLOSIVES.

“Allah Akbar” he screams, detonating himself a midst the mass of D’Los and humans. Both groups are FUCKING EVAPORATED IN THE EXPLOSION, yet somehow, MAYBE BY ALLAH’S DIVINE INTERVENTION, Bin Destruction is sent sailing above the explosion comically.

“Looks like I’m blasting off agaaaaain!” he shouts, disappearing in the night’s sky.

Schiavone: What a hero!

J.R.: Bah Gawd, he killed our fans!

Hundreds of yards away we can see JONESIE THE MERCILESS FLEEING from the MOB OF D’LO BROWNS he met earlier in the night. He DASHES ACROSS THE DOCKS AND HOPS ONTO HIS PIRATE SHIP. However, he’s not going to escape, HE RETURNS WITH HIS CREW, FIRING CANNONS AND SHIT. Jonesie dives into the PULSING MASS OF ZOMBIE NEGRO, CUTLASS IN HIS MOUTH.

Back in the arena we suddenly see two D’LO BROWNS HURLED PAST THE CAMERA. Tanaka and Suzuki, members of the Nagasaki Hellriders, stand over the fallen D’Los!

“Yarroouu! Think you can sneak up on our injured boss!” Kazuki spits.

MORE D’LO BROWNS BURST THROUGH THE FUCKING WALLS, dragging corpses behind them. The Hellriders start screaming “ORA!” and dive into the fray! Suddenly, a FUCKING DOOR FLIES OFF THE HINGES AND FUCKING FLIES INTO A MOB OF D’LOS. In the doorway stands a heavily bandaged RYAKKU SAKETUMI!

“Saketumi-sama!” shouts Tanaka-sama.

“Yare yare … You were going to get into a fight without me?!” Saketumi shouts as he SPRINTS TOWARDS A D’LO, UNLEASHING A HELLISH PUNCH THAT KNOCKS ITS FACE OFF.

J.R.: He can still fight after that hellish match?!

Outside Arschloch is seen dragging his title along the ground as chaos ensues around him. ONE MOB OF ZOMBIE D’LOS ARE FUCKING TORN TO SHREDS WITH MACHINE GUN FIRE. IN THE SKY IS BARON HOITY VON TOITY IN A WWII BI-PLANE, BLASTING AWAY AT THE D’LOS. You can somewhat hear him laughing over the machine gun fire.

Cannonballs are tearing through other D’Los as JONESIE LEADS A BRIGADE OF PIRATES INTO THE FTUW ARENA. Sella Phayne can be seen driving around the parking lot in his Escalade, firing his pistol out the window at nothing in particular.

Schiavone: It’s fucking madness! IT’S A WARZONE OUT THERE!

J.R.: BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! bAHHSDgblrrrhrhf

J.R. has a seizure that paralyzes the other side of his face, TURNING HIM INTO A LIFELESS STATUE.

DESPITE THE FTUW SUPERSTARS FIGHTING BACK, the zombies are STILL TOO MUCH AND THEY BURST ONTO THE ARENA FLOOR. D’Los are piledriving and powerbombing the fans too unlucky to escape INTO THE FLOOR, dooming to a life as PITIFUL AS DROZ’S.

Meanwhile, Handsomus is struggling to get to his guitar, JUST OUTSIDE THE RING. All FTWU crew at ringside have already fled. IT’S ONLY HIM AND DROZ, who is OBVIOUSLY FUCKING SHITTING HIS PANTS, in the ring. Handsomus pulls himself to the EDGE OF THE RING and GRABS ONTO HIS GUITAR JUST IN TIME TO BE SWARMED BY D’LO ZOMBIES! STARSTRUCK IS TORN FROM HIM AND HE IS OVERTAKEN BY THE BLOODTHIRSTY D’LO BROWNS!

J.R.: THEY ARE GONNA KILL HIM! BAH GAWD! THOSE HEARTLESS BASTARDS!

The D’Los not FEASTING ON HANDSOMUS BODY like a SWARM OF ANTS are carrying DROZ OVER THEIR HEADS, LAUGHING GLEEFULLY IN PREPARATION FOR HIS SACRIFICE.

Some superstars like SAKETUMI AND DANIELS have BURST THEIR WAY ONTO THE ARENA FLOOR, fucking killing D’LOS WITH POWERFUL ATTACKS. Saketumi executes VICIOUS KICKS that KNOCK D’LO ARMS FROM THEIR D’LO BODIES. Daniels CLIMBS ON TOP OF THE FTUW BIG SCREEN AND BEGINS URINATING ON THE D’LOS, which is not very effective but whatever.

The D’Los in the ring PULL AT DROZ, ALL WANTING TO BE THE ONE TO CEREMONIOUSLY POWERBOMB HIM. ONE FINALLY BREAKS HIM FREE FROM THE REST OF THE PACK and SLAMS him INTO THE MAT RIGHT ON HIS FUCKING NECK.

Droz GRIMACES in PAIN and watches in horror as THE D’LOS SWARM HIM AGAIN! He raises his arms to PROTECT HIMSELF AND … AND IS STUNNED THAT HIS ARMS EVEN FUCKING WORK! HE JUMPS TO HIS FEET IN WONDERMENT AT THE PROSPECT! HE’S BEEN HEALED. THE POWERBOMB HAS HEALED HIM

But not only that, he feels an immense burning. SAKETUMI LOOKS TO THE RING, noticing the INCREASING POWER COMING FROM DROZ. SOMEHOW THAT POWERBOMB HAS HIT DROZ’S PRESSURE POINTS AND MADE HIM A SUPERHUMAN. HE CAN FINALLY GET THE FUCKING REVENGE HE SO RIGHTFULLY DESERVES!

With a mighty swing, THREE D’LOS EXPLODE, SHOWERING THE RING IN INTESTINES AND SHIT. The mob of D’Los trying to murder Handsomus are HANDILY DESTROYED AS DROZ SHOOTS LASERS FROM HIS EYES!

J.R.: bherr grradwd! Bherr grwwad!

Schiavone: That’s exactly right, J.R.! DROZ IS OUR SAVIOR!

Handsomus is stunned at Droz’ power level! HE IMMEDIATELY GRABS HIS GUITAR AND LETS LOOSE A VICIOUS WAIL! D’LOS IN THE ARENA GRAB THEIR IN EARS IN PAIN, THEIR SKULLS VIBRATING, BLOOD OOZING FROM THIS TEAR DUCTS AND EARLOBES!

DROZ FLIES OVER THE CROWD OF PEOPLE, SHOOTING LASERS FROM HIS EYES THAT IMMEDIATELY TURN THE D’LOS TO ASH. The ones not hit are EITHER ROCK-EXPLODED BY HANDSOMUS’ RIGHTEOUS GUITAR PLAYING or handily destroyed by Saketumi or Daniels. Only a few D’Los remain left alive in the building.

SUDDENLY, A PICK-UP TRUCK FLIES OUT THE ENTRANCE, DRENCHED IN BLOOD AND D’LO PARTS. LEANING OUT OF THE DRIVER-SIDE WINDOW IS COMMISSIONER JAMES BROCK MCHARRIS, FIRING OFF HIS SHOTGUN INTO RANDOM D’LOS. His truck CRASHES INTO SEVERAL OF THEM, EXPLODING ON IMPACT. HE HITS THE FUCKING SIDE OF THE RING AND IS SENT FLYING THROUGH HIS WINDSHIELD. He hits the ring and rolls to STANDING POSITION, BRUSHING OFF GLASS AND D’LO CHUNKS. He whips a microphone out of his pocket.

“You know, I’m not sure what the fuck is happening here, but that isn’t important!” McHarris says.

“Tonight, we all clearly saw Theldorrin descend from the rafters and interfere in the main event!” McHarris shouts at a dead cameraman, “FTUW doesn’t allow pussy-shit like that so I’M STRIPPING THE TITLE FROM APATHETIC ARSCHLOCH!”

If there was a crowd left, they’d be going crazy.

J.R.: Mlmmrph! Mprrh!

Schiavone: Oh no! He can’t be doing this!

“However, I respect the referees of this federation so that match wasn’t totally pointless,” says McHarris, “Handsomus won’t be RETAINING THE TITLE. INSTEAD, IT WILL BE FOUGHT FOR BY 12 COMPETITORS IN NEXT MONTH’S KING SHIT OF FUCK MOUNTAIN TOURNAMENT!”

Handsomus clenches his fist dramatically while Uber-Droz flexes impressively, unconcerned with McHarris’ speech.

“A 12 MAN TOURNAMENT on FUCK MOUNTAIN, one of the most dangerous places on Earth. THE WINNER OF THAT WILL BECOME FTUW’S REAL CHAMPION!” shouts McHarris, throwing down his microphone to punctuate his speech.

Schiavone: You heard it here, folks! NEXT MONTH’S PPV IS SHAPING UP TO BE THE BEST PAY-PER-VIEW EVER!

AND IF THIS NIGHT OF BOMBSHELLS WASN’T FUCKING ENOUGH, THE ROOF ON THE FTUW ARENA IS RIPPED OFF THE HINGES! THE NIGHT SKY IS EXPOSED AS A TERRIBLE KI FORCES EVERYONE TO THEIR KNEES. ONLY DROZ IS REMAINING STANDING, HIS DELIGHTED EXPRESSION TURNED SOUR AS HE IS NOW FACING HIS MOST HATED ENEMY ONCE AGAIN.

Yes, it’s THE REAL D’LO BROWN.

HE STANDS OVER FIFTY FEET TALL, THE FIRES OF HELL SHOOTING FROM HIS EYES. THE SOULS OF DAMNED ARE WRITHING IN PAIN ON HIS PROTECTIVE CHEST PLATE. HE CRIES A CONSTANT STREAM OF BLOOD.

“I WILL NOT HAVE MY IMAGE SULLIED BY THESE PATHETIC IMITATIONS!” HE SHOUTS, A HELLISH ROAR SO DEAFENING THAT IT NEARLY KILLS THE SURVIVORS LEFT IN THE ROOM. BONES AND BODY PARTS FALL FROM HIS MOUTH AS HE SPEAKS.

With one wave of his TITANTIC HAND all the D’LO CORPSES VANISH, NO TRACE OF THE CARNAGE LEFT.

“D’LOOOOOOOOOO!!” SHOUTS DROZ. THE DIETY LOOKS DOWN AT HIM, HIS BURNING GAZE SETTING THE RING ROPES ON FIRE.

“I want you to know … I carry no ill will over what happened to me!” Droz shouts up to D’LO with TEARS STREAMING DOWN HIS CHEEKS, “I WAS HAPPY … TO GIVE MY LEGS TO THE SPORT I LOVED!”

THE REAL D’LOS EXPRESSION DOESN’T CHANGE. SUDDENLY, DROZ’S ARMS AND LEGS DETONATE IN A VIOLENT SPLASH OF BLOOD. He screams OUT IN PAIN, HIS IMMENSE KI LEAVING HIM, HIS LIFE ONCE AGAIN RUINED BY THE EVIL D’LO BROWN. He squirms on the ground, choking on his tears, as Handsomus and the other FTUW superstars are powerless to move.

“THE FATE THAT I HAVE CREATED WILL NOT BE DENIED,” D’LO SHOUTS. WITH THAT, HE TRANSFORMS INTO FIRE AND LIGHTS UP THE NIGHT SKY. A DEAFENING EXPLOSION IS HEARD AND HE IS GONE.

Schiavone: F-Fuck …