The positive energy from the crowd is felt backstage. Crash walks through the hallway with a little more swagger than normal. Giovanni walks next to him, watching as Crash counts out the wad of money in his hand that he's just received from Big Lou.

Crash: This is the best part about working for Big Lou. Not only do I get paycheck from Belote, but I get one from Lou as well. Whose do ya think is better?

Crash asks with an all knowing smile. Giovanni just laughs.

Giovanni: I know who.

Just then, Crash bumps into a man as he turns the corner, nearly knocking him onto a concession table.

Crash: Hey you stupid son of a...

Crash's eyes focus in on the man's black combat boots. They've got three stainless steel crosses on them. His face nearly turns ghost white. He's quick to react.

Crash: Dammit Giovanni! Watch where you’re walking!

Crash pushes Giovanni in front of him and takes a step back, acting as though Giovanni has just bumped into Cronos. He's mortified himself, as the Cerebral Warrior turns around.

Crash: Cronos... Man... Bro-ham… I'm sorry for this stupid idiot. I don't know where Big Lou gets these greaseballs at.

Giovanni looks at Crash than back at Cronos. Confused and scared. Cronos looks down at the five foot eleven, two hundred and fifteen pound man. Cronos is by no means exceptionally taller than Giovanni but being six foot three and two hundred and ninety pounds is just enough to be considered looming.

Cronos Diamante: Is the help always this pathetically stupid, Crash?

Cronos’ face contorts into a wicked but laid back grin and shifts his focus to Crash and notices the apprehension in his face. The type of apprehension not to be confused with fear in any variety of the emotion but rather an uncomfortable version. Crash shakes his head at Giovanni and than gives him a look to not take what he says next too seriously.

Crash: Sometimes I think Lou finds these guys hanging outside a pizza parlor and gives them a job out of the kindness of his heart. Know what I'm saying, bro-ham?

Cronos chuckles with a slightly annoyed and insulted undertone in his voice then sits back on the concession table behind him. After a brief moment of silence between Cronos and Crash, he speaks in a low growl very much different from the previously used half-jovial tone.

Cronos Diamante: There’s not a kind bone in Big Lou’s body, much less his shriveled heart. This little preppy pussy looking surfer was only hired because he serves some sort of purpose to him. I can assure you it’s not for muscle work.

Cronos laughs after he speaks and stares directly into Giovanni’s eyes and waits for at least thirty seconds before he breaks his silence.

Cronos Diamante: You have anything to say for yourself, kid?

Before Giovanni can even muster a word, Crash speaks up for him.

Crash: Lets not focus on him. He's not important right now. I actually think he's Lou's nephew or something. Let’s talk about you and me, alright?

Cronos shifts his focus once more to Crash and proceeds to act as if the bumbling idiot Giovanni isn’t there. Cronos’ eyes narrow and his face slightly flushes red.

Cronos Diamante: Yes. Let’s talk about you and me. I think it could be beneficial. What’s up?

Crash smiles a big Eddie Murphy looking smile and pats Cronos on the shoulders as he speaks.

Crash: By the end of the night, we could both be champions! Aren't you excited!?

Cronos shakes his head in disbelief.

Cronos Diamante: Your idea of talking about you and me is discussing possible championship wins? Don’t insult me. If you’d know anything about me; especially nowadays, and you do, then you’d know I don’t get “excited” for a match and that goes for a title match too.

Cronos pushes off from the concessions table and stands with his arms crossed.

Cronos Diamante: You know damn well I was looking for you a few weeks back. And you also know I wanted to beat the hell out of you. So tell me something Crash, what do you “really” want to talk about?

Crash smiles and shakes his head.

Crash: That’s the way I remember you. Things haven't changed, have they? The goddamn Devil still lurks...

Crash begins to walk away, than turns back around and smiles.

Crash: Sacrifice any virgins lately Cronos?

He catches himself.

Crash: Errr… I mean, keeping the faith are you?

Cronos turns around very mad that he’s simply being walked away from and the fact that Crash believes he can get away with it. Before Giovanni can pass by Cronos, he’s gripped at the arm and spun around.

Cronos Diamante: I may let Crash walk away like that simply because I’m done wanting to beat his ass and I’m focused on taking Issac Entragian to what real fucking Hell is but I’m sure as hell not letting you leave without you having something to say for running into me.

Cronos quickly turns and stares at Crash in the way that says “I wouldn’t stop this” and turns back to Giovanni who has finally lost his fear due to an adrenaline rush. Cronos bursts out with yell that a drill-sergeant would give a boot camp trainee.

Cronos Diamante: Speak up you fucking whelp!

Giovanni takes a big gulp. Crash seems stunned and just nods. Giovanni stands tall without saying a word. Cronos again bursts out with a yell like a drill-sergeant with the exception of pulling Giovanni toward him.

Cronos Diamante: I said speak up!

Giovanni looks back at Crash, who has no response for him. He just nods.

Giovanni: I don't know what your beef is man, but it’s all cool. No harm no foul, right?

Cronos smiles and turns his head away from Giovanni. Cronos then turns his head back around to face Giovanni.

Cronos Diamante: Yeah. No harm no foul, kid. Everything is cool.

Cronos relinquishes his hold on Giovanni’s arm and Crash sighs a sigh of relief. Cronos pats Giovanni on the shoulder a couple times then his face contorts into a vile grin. Cronos rears back and lays a knock out haymaker across Giovanni’s chin that sends a squirt of blood out of his mouth and he hit’s the cement dead on arrival.

Cronos Diamante: Wrong answer!

Cronos steps over the unconscious but still living and breathing Giovanni then stands a good foot from Crash. The vile grin he once had on his face disappears. Crash shakes his head, not surprised a bit.

Crash: The damn Devil lives...

Cronos simply smiles and sticks his hand out. The smile isn’t indicative of the Devil. It is indicative of the honorable man that was looking to destroy Crash a few weeks ago.

Cronos Diamante: He does.

Crash apprehensively takes the hand of Cronos and shakes it. Cronos quickly pulls Crash halfway to him and stares a hole through him.

Cronos Diamante: Bring home the gold tonight. That stupid fuck Loco doesn’t deserve it and I’d much rather see it in the hands of a man that knows what to do with it. Best of luck.

Cronos lets go of Crash’s hand and takes two steps backward as he smiles at the shocked look on Crash’s face. Crash smirks. Than tries his best Mr. T voice.

Crash: I pity da fool... Isaac!

Cronos smiles an amused and confident smile. He gives Crash a hard pat on the shoulder and turns around. As Cronos steps over the dead weight that is Giovanni, he spits on him directly in the face and turns the corner to his locker room. Crash stands there with a smirk on his face until he looks down at Giovanni then sighs knowing there was a chance, albeit a very slim one, he wouldn’t have been laid out if an apology happened to escape his lips.

The camera switches to Greg Allocca's dressing room, where we see a sweat-covered Angel of Violence washing his hands in the small sink and splashing water on his face. He looks up, staring into the reflection of himself in the small mirror, a look of digust etched on his face.

Greg - "Look at you."

He shakes his head violently from side to side, bringing his hands up to his forehead.

Greg - "LOOK AT YOU!"

He stops shaking his head suddenly, stares at himself once again. There is fire in those eyes.

Greg - "The amount of talent that has been assembled for this match is unparallelled. For chrissakes, there's a former LEGACY World Champion in this match, and here you stand. Shaking with fear. Barely able to keep yourself aware enough of your surroundings to wash your fucking hands. How're you supposed to win tonight if you can't even stay in this world? You've lost already if you can't fuckin' focus!"

He turns away from the mirror, begins pacing in a small circle in front of the camera.

Greg - "The blood in your veins is boiling. The adrenaline is pumping. And you can feel this world slipping away from you. Every breath you take has become a struggle. Every word that leaves your mouth is in a desperate attempt to cling to this reality. This here. This now. And only moments from now you will walk out to the ring to face off against eight of LEGACY's best. Do you think they can't see the weakness in you? Like a pack of wolves they'll come. They'll feed off the fear."

He stops pacing. He looks down at his hands, his wrists more specifically, with longing.

Greg - "You could end this right now. All the pain. All the fear. Open your wrists, and walk out to the jeering crowd with each wrist slit to the elbow. Maybe it would be a rush. Maybe somehow, you'd last long enough to wrestle a few moments. That would be the ultimate mind fuck for your opponents. It would be beautiful in it's own way."

He spins violently back toward the mirror.

Greg - "NO! NEVER! They won't get the satisfaction. This is your night. Focus. X-Calibur is in your sights. All that you need do is pull the trigger tonight. The Crazyboys, The Eli Storms, The Greyson Blades, they don't have what you have. They don't have that killer instinct. This is your night. This is your kind of match. What can they do to stop you? You've survived worse than a ladder match before. You've been through these kind of wars. The scars....so many scars...each tells a story. You'll gain more tonight. More scars. More stories. But this will be the grandest tale of them all. Because tonight, you begin your path to redemption. Tonight, you begin your path towards becoming champion."

He leaps up and smashes his head against the mirror, spiderwebbing the glass.

Greg - "FUCK IT! The time is now! Let's go."

Blood drips from Greg Allocca's forehead as he exits the room.

Alan Ducard: Ladies and gentlemen, I must forewarn our viewing audience that we are likely about to see a match-up of a homicidal and macabre nature. Those with weak stomachs or small children need not watch this match.

Bryan Harris: This is the only place fitting for these two. I'm just glad they're not going to be in San Antonio because if they were here, probably a good portion of the town would be in ruin.

Jimmy Yates: The words "death match" have never been more fitting as these are two individuals who aren't going to stop until the other is dead. In one corner, we have Chris Turner, a man with a track record of all sorts of sadism and violence while in the other corner is ordained, according to his twisted associate, the Reverend Ezekiel Caine, wrestling's only ordained serial killer in Damien Black.

The scene is inside of the warehouse as it appears to be empty. The building is from the 1930's era and has an aging wooden floor with a wooden stairwell leading to the old manager's office. Some of the walls have fresh light tubes plugged up inside the electrical outlets with boxes of spare light tubes lying alongside of the walls. There is also a metal garage door for a loading dock outside, barbed-wire boards nailed to one of the walls, various platforms inside leading to the scaffolding inside the building along with some wrapped Christmas packages placed inside by Damien Black earlier. There’s also an old, decaying wrestling ring that has seen better days.

We then see Damien Black walk inside the warehouse with taped fists, his black button-up work-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and the white Celtic cross emblem on the front and back of the shirt plus his black pleather karate pants with the cross logo on the left pant leg and a bleeding version of "The Punisher" skull on the right pant leg with black work boots and wearing his trademark black old-school hockey mask with the white cross emblem on the front. He also is brandishing his trusty hatchet in his hand as he prepares for what is certain to be an all-out war.

Damien scans the building for any sign of Turner as his breathing becomes more audible and unstable. He then throws down his hockey mask and reveals new contacts with his eyes rolled into the back of his head and a red Celtic cross emblem painted on his forehead. Just as he takes a step forward, out of nowhere, Chris Turner shows up in some street clothes and hits Black in the stomach with a plastic PVC pipe to take him off his feet, causing him to drop the hatchet.

Alan Ducard: Certainly a smart strategy by Chris Turner to lure Black inside the warehouse before attacking him.

Bryan Harris: Somehow the words strategy and this match are like the words Britney Spears and classy, they just don't go together.

Jimmy Yates: And so the chaos begins!

Chris Turner climbs on top of Damien and starts laying into him with hard right hands. As Black gets his guard up and starts retaliating, they start rolling on the ground, trading potato punches back and forth between one another. They roll around on the ground for a moment before both men somehow get to their feet. Blocking a right hand attempt, Damien lunges forward and connects with a stiff elbow shot, hitting one after another. After a few moments of this, Chris Turner loses his footing and stumbles backwards a couple steps, but then he takes a charge at Black, only to receive a stiff step-up Enzuigiri kick to the back of the head, knocking Turner for a loop. As Turner rolls around on the ground, trying to gain his bearings, Black climbs inside the old ring which is only a couple feet away from him. Waiting as Chris tries his best to return to his feet, Damien Black then runs in the opposite direction, hits the ropes for some extra momentum, and then charges towards the side of the ring where Turner is now standing on the outside, and as he reaches that side of the ring Damien dives through the middle ropes headfirst toward Turner and connects with the move.

Alan Ducard: This is certainly a different strategy from Black than their first encounter. One would think he'd go for the weaponry right away.

Bryan Harris: There has to be a method to his madness. After all, he IS wrestling's first serial killer, or so that crack-pot manager says.

Jimmy Yates: Given that this is a man famous for his hardcore exploits, we're sure to see some weapons come into play at some point.

Getting to his knees, Damien looks around for a moment and then reaches down and grabs his trusty hatchet and proceeds to grab Turner by the hair as he tries to lacerate his forehead. Turner struggles and hits a back elbow that buys him some room and some time, and then he spins around and hits a hooking right hand to the side of Black’s head, staggering him back a bit. Before he can gain the upper hand, Black steps forward and connects with a stiff Kawada style kick to the chest of Turner. He then proceeds to run the corner of the hatchet blade alongside of Turner's forehead and the blood begins to flow freely from Turner's head.

Alan Ducard: Chris Turner is now sporting the crimson mask and I knew this wouldn't take too long to get gory.

Bryan Harris: I'm still in shock Black didn't try to chop off an arm with that hatchet!

Jimmy Yates: Don't speak too soon, he MIGHT still do that!

Bryan Harris: That's what scares me about these two. We may very well have two corpses on our hands before this night is over.

Alan Ducard: I get the impression that maybe Damien wanted to be the first to draw blood, and that’s why he used the hatchet as he did.

Lifting the hatchet away from his opponent’s head, fresh with some of Turner's blood, Damien begins to lick the blade. He then grabs Chris by the hair and turns his attention towards Turner’s right arm, but Turner spins around delivers a stiff punch to Black's groin doubling the big man over in pain. Turner then grabs the hatchet and throws it end-over-end into the wall where it gets stuck. Turner then grabs Black by his hair and shoves him headfirst into a wall. Turner then walks over toward a box of light tubes and proceeds to drag it over to the area where Black is slumped over in a daze.

Alan Ducard: I wonder what the devil he's going to do with that box?

Bryan Harris: With him, who the hell knows? Better question, what kind of loony bin would RELEASE a man like that into general society?

Jimmy Yates: I think a better question is why in the hell are EITHER of these two in the general public?

Turner then proceeds to take light tubes one by one and smash them over Black's back. At this point we now see some of Black's blood smearing the wall as he's bleeding along his forehead as well. Grabbing Damien by the hair, Turner drags him to the loading dock, lifts him up to his feet and slams him headfirst into the steel garage door. Turner then spins his opponent around and levels Black with a DDT on the floor. Back up on his feet, Turner grabs part of the steel door structure and pushes upwards, opening the garage door, and then he returns his focus to his opponent and drags Black in a position where he chest is in position directly in the spot where the garage door rests on the floor when it’s closed.

Alan Ducard: This is quite the precarious position for Damien Black here.

Bryan Harris: I don't like the looks of this!

Jimmy Yates: I don't think any sane human being would like the looks of this, Bryan!

Turner then attempts to slam the garage door down on Black's chest but Damien grabs the door with his hands and keeps it from shutting on him as some well-placed kicks to the legs of Chris Turner thwart the attempt. Damien struggles and gets to his feet, stumbling a few feet away from Turner where he finds a spare piece of drywall and turns around and smashes it over Chris Turner's head. He then takes him over to the wall with the Barbed-Wire Boards and attempts to shove him into the boards, but Turner tries to fight back. After an exchange of punches from Turner and a series of open handed martial arts palm slaps by Black, Damien gets the advantage with a Spinning Back Fist delivered with such force that it knocks Chris Turner into the barbed-wire.

Alan Ducard: That was a stiff shot by Damien Black there and it lands Turner straight into the barbed wire!

Bryan Harris: I'm so glad I'm not anywhere near these two!

Jimmy Yates: I think we all feel that way, Bryan!

Black then watches Turner pry himself out of the barbed wire as some of it has stuck inside his shoulder and Turner is still struggling to break free. Just as Turner breaks free, he's sent right back into the barbed wire boards with a brutal spear sending Turner back first into the wall.

Alan Ducard: Good gracious, that didn't look too pleasant, now did it?

Bryan Harris: No Alan, it looked just peachy!

Jimmy Yates: I don't care who you are, being speared into barbed wire can't be a fun experience!

Damien then heads over toward the wrapped Christmas gifts in the warehouse and starts sifting through them to find a weapon.

Alan Ducard: Fans, I can assure you that this man is definitely not looking for what he bought his mother-in-law for Christmas this holiday season!

Bryan Harris: He probably KILLED his mother-in-law for all we know!

Jimmy Yates: Somehow that would not surprise me in the least bit.

Damien then finds one in yellow wrapping paper and begins to smile sadistically as he unwraps it revealing it to be a huge container full of industrial sized thumbtacks.

Alan Ducard: I REALLY don't like where this is going!

Bryan Harris: I still remember the last match these two had when the tacks came into play and… GOD, that was sick!

Jimmy Yates: I think Chris Turner is about to get a serving of thumbtack hors d'ouevors!

Damien then scatters some of the thumbtacks down on the floor and gets an evil smile on his face as he takes a handful of tacks and with his free hand grabs Turner by the back of the neck. As he tries to shove them down Turner's throat, he is met with a brutal kick to the solar plexus. Turner then slowly manages to free himself with blood strands starting to run down his back from his various cuts. He then grabs Black by the neck and does a Reverse Chokeslam Facebuster into the tacks with Black landing in them face and chest first.

Alan Ducard: That didn't exactly go according to plan, now did it?

Bryan Harris: I bet he was wishing he was still wearing that hockey mask of his!

Jimmy Yates: Now there’s a site! Black got several tacks jammed in his face there!

Wanting to continue the attack, Turner stomps down on his opponent’s ribs a couple times and then picks Black up off the ground, steps in behind him and delivers a Belly to Back Suplex into the barbed wire, this time with Black entangled in the wire. Chris Turner then heads towards the hatchet which is still stuck in the wall. As he tries to pull it free, the wooden handle comes apart from the blade, leaving a very crude, jagged wooden steak of sorts. Chris Turner walks slowly yet deliberately toward Black. He then begins taunting Black by threatening to jab him in the eye with the stake.

Alan Ducard: Now this is just criminal right here!

Bryan Harris: We knew this was going to get nasty, but we had no earthly idea how gruesome this could get!

Jimmy Yates: Oh god, if he does this, I'm gonna throw up!

Turner then takes aim at Black and finally pierces his eyebrow with the stake as Black grits his teeth to keep from screaming out in pain. Turner then throws him down and watches him try to crawl to get some air. Turner then goes to the wrapped boxes and pulls out one wrapped in blue wrapping paper as he opens it to reveal a box of mousetraps. Turner begins to smile as he begins to scatter and set them on the ground. He then picks Black up and has his legs over his shoulders and slams him down with a brutal modified Spinebuster into the mouse traps as the snapping effect immediately causes them to all go off right on Black's back. Black then grunts out in pain as there are mousetraps still stuck to his flesh.

Alan Ducard: What a waste of perfectly good mousetraps!

Bryan Harris: For those keeping score, that is now TWO of Black's weapons that have come back to haunt him!

Jimmy Yates: Maybe he might want to rethink his whole hardcore philosophy?

Bryan Harris: Are YOU gonna be dumb enough to tell him that?

Jimmy Yates: Good point, Bryan.

Black starts quivering in pain as he rolls over to gasp for air, only to be met with a boot to the back of the head by Turner sending Black's mouth into a mousetrap as it gets caught on his tongue as we now hear Black scream in sheer pain as he pries off the mousetrap and blood forms around his mouth as he lets out a very audible shout.

Damien Black: OHHHHHH… FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!

Alan Ducard: Normally I'd apologize for such vile language but you'd be doing the same thing if you had a mouse trap detonate on your tongue!

Bryan Harris: So Black IS human after all! The man is not oblivious to pain as I thought!

Jimmy Yates: He's lucky to have the ability to speak after that!

Black then gets sight of his own blood on his hands and immediately, he starts to become enraged while trying to recover from the mouse traps. While that is going on, Turner takes a box of light tubes and some electrical tape and tapes them together to form three light tubes taped together. As Turner then casually walks over to Black, he gets to his feet and grabs him in a front facelock position and begins connecting with knee after knee to the head of Chris Turner. After Black connects with twelve of them, Turner goes down in a heap with more blood running from his forehead. Black then leans down and begins repeatedly headbutting him to open up his wounds more.

Alan Ducard: Black once again connecting with those mixed martial arts style strikes and Turner's face is starting to resemble raw hamburger meat!

Bryan Harris: Damien Black is just an animal with these strikes as he doesn't appear to be letting up!

Jimmy Yates: This may be the only time I say this, but I feel sorry for Chris Turner being hit like that!

Black then leans Turner into the wall, propping him up long enough to smash him across the head with the light tubes, rendering him unconscious. Black then goes for another wrapped box and unwraps it revealing Christmas ornaments, lemon juice, and a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He then throws the ornaments on the ground revealing salt to be inside them as he scatters the salt evenly on the floor.

Alan Ducard: What the bloody hell is he gonna do with those three odd items?

Bryan Harris: Alan, have you ever heard the old saying "rubbing salt into an open wound"? I think that phrase just took a whole new meaning now!

Jimmy Yates: Fans, I can tell you that those are three things you do NOT want near any open wounds!

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Black then proceeds to perform a Northern Lights Bomb into the Ornaments and salt as Turner is screaming out loud in sheer pain. Not wanting to finish there, Black douses Turner's forehead with lemon juice as he is in indescribable pain at this point. Not stopping there, Black takes a big swig of Jack Daniel's, grabs Turner by the hair and spits it Great Muta style into his face as Turner is nearly crying from the pain.

Alan Ducard: Oh my gracious! That didn't look the least bit comfortable!

Bryan Harris: I can't believe he wasted perfectly good Jack Daniel's on Chris Turner!

Jimmy Yates: I think he did what he set out to do with that series of moves, but the big question is how much do these two possibly have left in the tank?

Damien takes a knee to catch his breath as his back is turned away from Turner, who is slowly trying to crawl away to higher ground. While all this is going on, Black picks up the lighter fluid and finds the broken axe-handle from earlier. He then douses the very top of the broken handle with lighter fluid. He then struggles to get the handle lit as the lighter doesn't want to work. Finally, after what seems like moments shy of eternity, Black gets it lit and proceeds to head toward the general area where Turner was.

Black however is met with a surprise as Turner has somehow managed to get himself on the top of the stairwell leading to the office as he does a cross body press from ten feet above the floor, knocking the enflamed weapon out of Black's hands sending it rolling on the ground as both men are on the ground writhing in pain.

Alan Ducard: This is like the wrestling equivalent of a car crash, too horrifying to watch yet too horrifying to look away!

Bryan Harris: Well, we knew this was going to be a war and it hasn't disappointed us in the least bit!

Jimmy Yates: I have to wonder at what point is the referee going to stop this match because I don't know if these two can take much more abuse.

Turner gets to his feet first and then drags Black toward the stairwell as both men are swinging wild punches at one another. Turner then does a vertical suplex onto the wooden steps as Black lands back first on them and his right hand starts to quiver from all the punishment he's taken. Turner then picks Black up and hits several repeated knees to his stomach. Black, however, manages to shake them off and fight back with some sharp, stiff elbow shots to the head of Chris Turner as both men are on top of the stairwell now. Black then collects his breath and charges toward Turner who in a last-ditch effort, counters by hurling Black through the manager's office window as it shatters with thousands of pieces of glass strewn every where.

Alan Ducard: This is more or less becoming a contest of who's going to top who and I'm not sure there's much left they can do to top this!

Bryan Harris: I wouldn't be so sure. I mean, we've seen lemon juice, thumbtacks, hatchets, and light tubes among other things!

Jimmy Yates: Oh my!

Turner tries to catch his breath as he finally does and kicks the door in and sees Black dazed on the ground with what appears to be shards of glass glued to his taped fists. Turner sees this and finds some electrical tape to put around his fists. He then finds the bucket up super glue and dips his fists in it before putting hundreds of shards of glass on his fists. Both men are on their knees at this point as both men Black hits a hard left hook followed by a hard right hook by Turner. They keep alternating hands as the punches grow stiffer and stiffer. Blood begins to be slung on the walls from the impact and both men's heads keep getting knocked sideways from the impact of the punches as this goes on for a solid minute with neither man backing down.

Alan Ducard: This is probably the most brutal exchange of punches I have ever seen in the history of professional wrestling.

Bryan Harris: Can you really call THIS wrestling?

Jimmy Yates: Ho-ly freakin' cow! This is unbelievable. I feel sorry for whoever has to go next because this is a very tough act to follow.

Finally, Turner falls down on the glass on the floor as Black is still sitting up, albeit very wobbly and his hands quivering out of control from all the trauma. Damien then gets up and leads Turner out of the office. Black then picks up Turner and grabs his wrist in position for an Exploder Suplex as he manages to suplex him through the stairwell as Turner goes crashing through the wooden stairs. Black then falls down on his side after delivering the move, barely able to move at all. The referee, who has been doing his best to stand well out of action the entire time, quickly goes for a ten count.

Alan Ducard: The referee may be doing the only logical thing here and trying to put an end to this match.

Bryan Harris: I don't think either man is in any shape to be continuing!

Jimmy Yates: Well, we knew this was going to get bad, but I think the referee may be the only one using any type of logic here.

The referee begins his ten count.

One...

Two...

Three...

Neither man appears to be moving.

Four...

Five...

Six...

Black appears to be starting to stir.

Seven!

Black is up on one knee as Turner hears the ten count and starts pushing the wood off of him to get up.

Eight!

Black finally manages to stand up as Turner is still struggling to get the wood off of him.

Nine!

Turner finally gets the wood off of him and lifts himself back up on the stairs as we now see smoke coming from the warehouse. Black sees this and starts to head up the metal ladder inside the building leading to the scaffolding. Turner sees this and grabs what appears to be lighter fluid and a match with him as he warily chases Black up the ladder as they both make it to the top of the ladder that is suspended by metal chains as it gets very wobbly with both men on it. Both men start trading blows once again for a few moments before Turner catches Black making a wild swing as he spins it into a Reverse DDT. Seeing the opportunity to end the match Turner takes the lighter fluid and puts it on his boot as Black appears to be pretty much out of it.

Alan Ducard: What in heaven's name is Turner doing?

Bryan Harris: The man's obviously several french fries short of a Happy Meal so for all we know, he could be setting himself on fire!

Jimmy Yates: I can't watch this...

Turner then takes the lighter and throws it on his boot as his boot immediately goes up in flames as the flames inside the warehouse are beginning to rise.

Alan Ducard: Oh God, NO! Don't do this!

Bryan Harris: Now I'm REALLY glad these two weren't here because they might have burned down the Alamo Dome!

Jimmy Yates: With that fire growing inside the warehouse, they're gonna have to end this at some point! Question is will any of these men still be alive at the end of the match?

Black struggles to pull himself to any kind of standing position as Turner charges at him with the flaming boot and he manages to connect with it, but Black grabs his leg when the scaffolding gives way and both men go crashing through it onto the old ring as it caves in as well from the impact.

Alan Ducard: OH NO! OH NO! OH MY GOD, NO!

Bryan Harris: Fans, what you just saw was not part of the show! This has gone far enough!

Jimmy Yates: They HAVE to stop this now!

The referee runs down to the wreckage and notices both men unconscious, but Turner is on top of Black as the referee makes a very fast three count to end the match.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE!!!

As soon as the match ends, Turner starts to stir but Damien is still unconscious as the referee find some water and puts out Turner's flaming boot as the fire gets hotter and hotter.

Alan Ducard: Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know what to say here. I guess you can technically say Chris Turner won the match, but that doesn't even matter at these point.

Bryan Harris: These two could be very seriously injured! Plus we haven't seen so much as a movement from Damien Black!

Jimmy Yates: Fans, I'm afraid we have just witnessed a homicide on pay-per-view. This is NOT the way you want to see a feud end, especially if it means another individual's life may be ended in the process.

The referee puts out Turner's boot and sees Black's face is badly burnt as he douses it with water. Black then stirs slightly when the water hits him, but he's trapped inside the ring as some of the wreckage has his legs pinned inside of it. The referee sees the fire growing worse and screams at Turner, who's starting to head for the exit and screams.

Referee: We gotta get the hell out of here! This place is gonna burn to the ground any second now!

Turner starts to limp away but halfway to the exit, he notices Damien's stuck inside the ring and he goes back for him.

Alan Ducard: What's Turner doing now?

Bryan Harris: I'm not sure. He's already won this thing.

Jimmy Yates: I'm not sure I want to know.

Turner gets to Damien, who's still pinned inside the wreckage. Turner throws the parts of the scaffolding off Black and starts to drag him to safety. Black, who's fading in and out of consciousness, is clutching at his face and pretty much unaware of what's going on.

Alan Ducard: Did I just see what I think I saw?

Bryan Harris: Did Chris Turner just save Damien Black's life?

Jimmy Yates: Now I've seen everything...

Just then, Bryan pulls out a cell-phone and begins to dial.

Jimmy Yates: Bryan, what the hell are you doing?

Bryan Harris: I'm calling the devil to see if hell just froze over!

Meanwhile, Turner drags Black away from the warehouse just as it burns to the ground. He then gets him out of harm's way when the EMT's go to tend to both men. Turner looks back at Black without saying a word as he collapses in a heap as EMT's rush to him as well and the camera feed fades out. We then go back to the Alamo Dome where the commentators are standing by.

Alan Ducard: Wow. And to think, that was the opening match!

Bryan Harris: That didn't disappoint at all and it had a strange twist at the end!

Jimmy Yates: I can't help but wonder what all this means?

Alan Ducard: We're going to find out in the coming weeks, but now we've got more action to come here tonight!

Making their way through the back halls of the arena are Ron Bailey and John Thomas. Bailey is all decked out in his blue and green warm-up track suit, and John Thomas is wearing a pair of tear-away blue and white Adidas pants and his signature "DURABLE" tshirt. Ron's got a bottle of water in his hands.

Ron Bailey: I tell you, man, I haven't seen a line like that on a game in quite some time. Kinda shocked the hell outta me.

John Thomas: Well you should've put money on it.

Ron shrugs.

Ron Bailey: My mind's just been on the match with Katsuro Bushido and now on this ladder match. Maybe after the show tonight I'll make a call and see if it's still available.

John Thomas: You're not worried, are you?

Ron shakes his head.

Ron Bailey: Nah, I knew I was gonna beat Katsuro, and this ladder match? It's like even odds, man. I know there's a good chance that somebody's gonna win it when ain't nobody watchin', so I'm not sweatin' it. I'm gonna go out there, do what I do, and if I don't win it? I'll just get into a more controlled environment and show people how I do things. If they had a belt where every title defense was a nine man ladder match? I wouldn't go after that, 'cause there ain't no way that the better man comes out on top each time, no way. It ain't like a Last Man Standing Match.

John grins and stops walking. Ron holds up, too.

John Thomas: Yeah, X-Calibur's gonna find out that what happened to him before wasn't a fluke, and he's gonna make his trip back to the hotel without that championship belt he walked into the arena with tonight. But anyway, good luck out there, hope the cards fall in your favor.

John and Ron pound fists and then Ron heads for the Gorilla position.

Ron Bailey: You better hope they don't, 'cause otherwise I might be comin' for you and that belt you're takin' from X tonight!

The smirk on John's face partially fades away, then he lets out a chuckle and turns around and heads back to his locker room.