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[John Waylon]

This is where you are to post your Role Plays pertaining to Lesson in Loyalty. Do remember, these promos and the story you build with them will have an effect on the future direction of your character. Only people directly involved with this match may post here. Any one else will have their post deleted and swifter action may be required. Good luck competitors!

[~MP3~]

As the ever-entertaining Monday Night Mayhem broadcasts live after a lengthy commercial break, a bird's-eye view of the arena is seen by television sets world-wide, as Mike Huntsicker and Jerry Byerline are heard welcoming back the faithful PCW aficionados to the 2-hour show.

Mike Welcome back Ladies and Gentlemen to a sold out crowd tonight on Monday Night Mayhem! So far it has been a heck of an evening, as we've witnessed Ayster, our World Heavyweight Champion, align himself with Jack Stantz! What else could happen here tonight to even match that magnitude of ---


Nearly instantaneously following Huntsicker's works, something does happen.


"We are the Sons and Daughters of a revolution..."

The spoken words audibly fluctuate as if being heard ethereally as the arena is swarmed by a wave of gentle darkness, alleviating the light to be focused mainly on the flashing screen above the stage.

As subtle theme music plays softly in the background, the screen displays sequential scenes of despair and devastation throughout human history in a matter of seconds amidst the dark, all amounting to a statement of consistent struggle against the zeitgeist of each age. As though it were an eye lapsing images throughout history, the viewers see sights of various Earthly landscapes, wall-carvings, symbols, old paintings, early battleships, empty shackles, scenes of western conquest, warfare, the ravaging effect of industry on nature, modern wars and the rise of fascism, nuclear detonations, the 9/11 terrorist attack and to the present day familiarity of the stream of commuters moving to and from their employments in the shadow of skyscrapers and cities.

All of these vivid depictions, as obvious and blatant as they speak to the live audience, simply resonate one constant – the suffering through exploitation and mis-creation.


Mike: Do you... Are you thinking what I’m thinking Jerry?!

Jerry: Hopefully never, heh, but all kidding aside...

Mike: But so soon? Could it be?

Despite the audible exchange, the background sounds still amass and build to a crescendo, and the final image of the Earth setting below the moon’s horizon proceeds to shrink and zoom outward, revealing a web-like matrix of video images surrounding it that accelerate into what appears to be an eternal landscape of individual screens, until ultimately becoming so small that it simply retracts into a singularity – a condensed black screen.

With the audio nearly detonating the stadium at full blast, viewers finally witness the stage as it’s become bathed in beaming white lights, electrifying the crowd to an uproar of curious excitement... however, the anticipated figure upon the stage is strangely unrecognizable, cloaked as though he were simply a silhouette, completely contrasting his brightly-lit environment. Regardless of the baffled mass, the undisclosed figure possesses the stage firmly, arms stretched and clenched as though he were absorbing the energy of the environment, just soaking in the moment right before ---

“THWOOM!”

In a swift crushing noise, the lights instantly give way to flashing blue and purple strobes, leaving upon the stage the figure now visible by one spotlight, offering the Superstar to the audience in both a visible and ultra-violet hue. At first, only some of the live audience roars cheers at the sight, however the rest remain patiently interested at the hooded individual, donned in the now-glowing garb of a pleather jacket and faded blue jeans with boots, as he gazes downward, calmly accepting the unmistakably feverish reaction to the entrance video’s proclamation of, amongst blue lightning flashes, the name “MP3”.


Princess Brandi Frye: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to PCW a very special Guest; hailing from Long Island, New York, he is the WAF’s Modern Day Marvel, M........P.......3!!!

Unable to with-hold his eager excitement any longer, the returning MP3 finally tosses back his draping hood to reveal a gleaming grin nearly from ear to ear, and as flashbulbs dance in the reflection of his eyes, the former idol of WAF fame spans the teeming audience from left to right, visibly taken back by the overwhelmingly positive and generous reception - upon a foreign federation, no less. Nodding his head in appreciation, the Soul That Burns gestures and points to the fans signifying his reciprocation of their ardor as he brings his hand through his mildly long hair, and, after nearly two long and lonely years in exile, once again takes the walk down the aisle he’d missed for so long, meaning that once again, he has the privilege of entertaining a world-wide audience... and that’s all he’d ever wanted in the first place.


Mike: Yes! It is him, it's one of the most influential young athletes to ever participate in our profession... and after almost two long years, Jerry, two LONG years of absence, The Soul That Burns, The Modern Day Marvel, MP3, he is BACK in the spotlight once again, and it’s happening here on Monday Night Mayhem! Do you believe this ovation here in PCW??

Jerry: I’m at a loss for words Mike, this is... Wow, what a comeback!

Mike: PCW may not know him as intimately as WAF viewers might, but for those not up to speed, MP3 has time and again showed himself to have an incredible heart and passion, enough so to make him World Champion by age 21, and after taking time off he is back in the saddle and looking great.

Jerry: Well, we all knew he was eyeing Jailbreak as his time to have his say, but this is a complete surprise. One thing’s for sure though, no one seems to be outraged over false advertising!

Mike: MP3 obviously has a reason for coming out now of all times, but I just wonder what that reason is…

Trekking down the ramp to “Reflect The Storm” by In Flames, Priest passes his hand through the front row’s along his way, and halts at the ringside area, evidentially electrified by the thousands on their feet for his long-awaited appearance as he hops in place to get his adrenaline flowing. A noticeable smirk is spread on his face as revealed by a ringside camera, as well as the addition of twin white streaks of hair resting further down his neck than the rest, sitting on either side of a small tattoo of what laymen would describe as a modified infinity symbol. Still, albeit a new time and chapter for him, MP3 feels as natural as ever despite treading on PCW grounds, and nearly jumps the ring, immediately mounting a turnbuckle to taunt for the first time in a long time, allowing his expensive ring jacket to fall to the canvas.

Jerry: Hey, it may have been an exile to him, but to most anyone else he must have washed ashore on a spa... can’t accuse MP3 of being a slouch.

Mike: And I’ll just get it out right now, being a PCW contributor MP3 has gone through drug testing and is perfectly clean. That’s 100% hard work right there.

Jerry: The kid packs a lot on a small frame... but is he here to wrestle? He’s not dressed for it at least.

Mike: Do I look like Billy the Answer Head to you?

Jerry: Nah, just a Billy goat, but be that as it may…


Dressed in a black tank top, the Soul Warrior’s muscular physique is as pertinent as ever, proving his consistent training despite having not been in action professionally. Showing hints of bashfulness at the continuing ovation, the former World Champion accepts the microphone from a forward Brandi Frye, who seems to impart a few quick welcoming words, and as she steps from the ring, a feint chant can somewhat be made out of his name as he prepares to address the crowd.

His bright smile eventually parlays itself into something more exacting with a flick of his hair, and a rejuvenated MP3 glares into the ringside camera to deliver his message, 20 months since his departure from the limelight that made him a star.

Jerry: Almost two years we haven't seen this remarkable individual... what's he got to say?

Realizing a sentimental moment when it presents itself, the electric personality of the former lifeblood of the WAF condenses his vigor to focus on one single statement.


MP3: PCW - Your Revolution, has arrived.

A buzzed silence ensues in the still-thrilled arena, as the audience members try to grasp what he’s talking about.

MP3: That’s exactly right... YOUR Revolution. And it’s YOUR Revolution now PCW, because it entails what YOU ALL come here to see – it’s a Revolution of Quality.... A Revolution of Talent.... A Revolution of Honor.... And, above all else, a Revolution of Excellence. The path to success of your new beginning is rooted in your traditional ways, and it is my privilege, PCW, to guide you to new heights.

Applauds and cheers clamor, and soon die down allowing him to continue.

MP3: But.... the question is, what is all this talk of revolution I’m spouting? Have I forgotten where I stand in my chronology here? Now now, I don’t need to remind anyone; I’ve been missing for nearly two years. For me, that’s a damn aeon... That is a lifetime of seething, brooding, watching intently as the world turns, unmoved by what novices have to offer. Well, it doesn’t take much of a genius to figure it out... it can’t go on this unsatisfied, not while I’m around, anyway. Not when I’ve got the ability to shake this world to it’s very core... and that’s EXACTLY what I promise I will do here in PCW...


The crowd murmurs to itself still while cheering, perplexed by his appetizing insinuations.

Mike: Does that mean… MP3 plans on wrestling here?

Jerry: Hell, he’s either planning to wrestle, or planning to show us how to use a Bowflex machine better than Chuck Norris Mike.

MP3 laughs to himself as his eyes dart around the stands, respecting the interested reaction of the live crowd that is largely behind his every word.


MP3: Yeah, you heard me right. You’re witnessing a new era... And this IS a revolution. The new energy is upon us; there’s only one way to go and that way is up. And I don’t care if I need to bring us there with the weight breaking my back, because the only choice is to make certain that you, the fans, are respected and counted... What better way to bring that about than to have me return to active competition right here in PCW?!


Jerry: There’s your answer Mike! MP3’s apparently a member of PCW now!

With that one rhetorical question, the crowd proudly shows their support for MP3 with echoing cheers. Looking brightly, Priest peers toward the farthest seats, but adopts a somewhat sterner countenance than before, allowing the applause to simmer before making his point. He tilts his head, seemingly bothered by a thought at the back of his mind.

MP3: You see, there’s only one way to make change, and that’s by being the change. You’ve got to be the agent, the example, the ... Martyr, even. And no, I’m not afraid to put myself there or say that I’ve used myself that way before to bring about a change, because I have. I was there when The Goddess wrapped my heart around her finger, I was there when I was betrayed by my former friend Double R, and yeah, I was there when the WAF closed its doors after giving everything I had to keep them open. Yet, despite all of those exposures, I remain richer and stronger, and I have altered everyone's directions as a result. And, hell, while I’ve been away from competition, I’ve only discovered – like many of you have – that our world is hardly what we were told it was as children. It’s really a place where the dirtiest lead and the religion is ruthless greed, and I realize that seems cliché, but it’s fathoms more true than a simple saying. Our revolution is just as much of one as it is an oppression, and that brings me to WHY I’m here. Why am I’m going to help PCW, anyway...?

The crowd listens intently as the once-jubilant Superstar adopts a more aggressive tone to his voice.

MP3: ...Because certain people here, don’t deserve the trust that comes with competing in this ring, after showing their true selves through both words and actions. Certain individuals, without reason, simply cannot control their... Hate...


A semblance of inclination ripples inside the arena, as some of the audience catches onto MP3’s diatribe. MP3 begins to pace the canvas.

MP3: Now, certainly, being yourself is encouraged... but NOT when you’re annihilating careers... No, excuse me... LIVES, as if they were mere afterthoughts. No indeed, they aren’t afterthoughts at all... They are the blood that flows through my veins and fuels my very fabric. They are the glowing memories of injustice. And, if there’s one thing that I won’t allow to live, it’s unjust pride. (Priest closes his eyes, then re-opens them, renewed) You don’t know me, Hatey... But that’s when I stop being a man, and start being your worst nightmare.


Mike: Uh... Is he-, he on about the "Hatey" that I think he’s going on about?

Jerry: MP3 made a great return here tonight Mike, I don’t get it, why is he going down this path so soon? It’s like a ticker tape parade getting caught in a firestorm.

Mike: I’m inclined to agree there, Jerry. MP3 got as much of a great ovation from this crowd as one can expect, why is he taunting......Him?


As though he were in a completely different world entirely, the Soul That Burns finally resembles the image of why he initially earned such a brazen title, as he fumes a heated glare toward the direction of the locker room, unthwarted by the impressions of any others.

After a few seconds of confusing tension, Priest finds the will in him to take a breath through his nose, and blinks, looking to his side, nearly ironically. Seemingly conscious now of how he allowed himself to behave, a sardonic smile spreads across his face as he raises the microphone.

MP3: You get MP3, PCW... But never, ever, without the Soulfire.

As he brings his hands through his hair, “Reflect The Storm” plays over the PA system once more, and the Modern Day Marvel looks around innocently, trying to swallow the venom he’d invoked moments ago. The faces of his fans reach him once again, and along with the support of the PCW staff in attendance, they bring him to smile once more, as he goes to leave the ring, having said his piece.

Jerry: Well, looks like we were formally introduced to the man they call The Soul That Burns after all, Mike. I just wonder if that hot head and those crazy ideas will do him more harm than good. This isn’t WAF, that’s for sure.

Mike: Indeed Jerry, and I ---




Remarkably, as MP3 is in the midst of shaking random hands at ringside, the lights black out completely, leaving a thick air of tension and downright fear lingering in the air. As disorientation and even horror sets in for some, a familiar sound is heard, signaling the realization of MP3's dreams sooner than he could hope for a sanctioned match... MUCH sooner.

[~Hatework~]

Dimmu Borgir’s ‘The serpentine offering’ blares across the speakers as ‘What you believed right is wrong … what you thought to be true, is false’ is displayed in bloodred letters on the videotron. It is followed by his well known ‘The root of all evil’ slogan shortly after and finally displays a silver metallic, eight pointed star with a green reptile eye as centerpiece. The fans roar in anticipation of the first ever meeting of MP3 and Hatework in the same arena. Thick white smoke engulfs the entrance ramp and black light spots are dancing across the audience.

Mike: Oh boy … I knew Hatework wasn’t going to let MP3’s mockery go unanswered, but so soon? MP3 must have touched a nerve …

Jerry: He better realize that from this point forward, there is no return. He now has Hatework’s undivided attention.

Mike: Mission accomplished then I suppose!

Hatework steps out from the curtain and into the spotlight lit fog, revealing a new, vastly altered appearance. His boots and pants are both made of studded black leather, and some sort of medieval armor like silver colored plate is strapped to the front of each of his boots, with several vertical lines of pyramid-shaped spikes to grace the polished metal. He is wearing a long, black leather coat with a lot of metal ornaments, ranging from dangerously long spikes on the shoulders to metallic rings around the foul looking symbol on the back – the eerie reptile eye in the center of an eight pointed star as was to be seen on the videotron when he entered the arena.

Hatework doesn’t move. His silhouette is eerily lit by the dim spotlight on him, and he appears oblivious to the people in the audience who start booing him. The music is slowly fading away and Hatework has not yet moved towards the ring. Instead, the arena lights slowly come to life again as his entrance theme finally stops playing. More and more of his features are visible with the lights coming back on. The sides of his skull are shaved and tattooed with various tribals, which seem to directly come from some ancient, pagan cult. Stripes of silver are dyed into his long, black hair which he is wearing in a ponytail that falls way over the middle of his back.

Jerry: This man … this appearance is goose bumps material. He is the epitome of larger than life in this business, a former PCW World Heavyweight and Extreme champion no less, and he is here to respond to MP3.

Hatework indeed has a microphone in his hands. He is beginning to slowly walk around the entrance area, his head always turned towards the ring where MP3 stands with crossed arms, waiting for what Hatework may have in store. The former two time champion of PCW focuses the WAF legend with his white contact lenses, appearing soulless, lifeless even. His face is a mask of stone, not revealing whatever might be going on inside his mind.

Hatework raises the microphone to his mouth as he stops moving around, and a sinister expression briefly flashes across his face as he begins to speak in his low, guttural voice.

Hatework: I’ve heard this so many times before, Michael. I’ve heard many men address omnipotence in similar fashion as you just did, in their fruitless attempts to make a name for themselves at my expense.

Hatework is statued in front of the ramp that leads down the aisle. MP3 is leaning against the top rope with a hint of a smirk on his lips, but as he is just about to raise the microphone to respond, Hatework keeps on going …

Hatework: And then you show up here, Michael, and in the name of sheer narrow-minded bravado, come out and disrespect me in front of all these maggots. You come out here and question my ways, MP3, and to make it even worse, you associate yourself with the weak. But what else would you do? What else would a person like you do than to stand up for the little man, in an exchange for a short time in the limelight? And what does that make you? A savior? A knight in shining armor? All in the name of … revolution, as you have called it? Let me tell you something Michael. Those who stood in my path found out why I am a singularity, why there is no one equal to me. They paid the price. You don’t stand in the path of the predator and expect to see the light of a new day. But they were asking for it, each and everyone of them.

Hatework cracks a wicked smile and reveals a line of perfectly white teeth. He pauses for a moment and lets the booing of the crowd sink in.

Jerry: Does MP3 even know who Hatework really is? Has he studied him before?

Mike: Michael Priest is one of the top men in this business today. PCW can be proud to have him as part of it’s locker room Jerry. He has accomplished so many things in such a short time, being a very young man still, that others can only dream of accomplishing in their whole career. I think he knows full well what he is doing.

Jerry: Be it as it may Mike, Hatework is nothing short of his greatest challenge ever, and he is going to have to face it. We are past the point of no return …

Just as MP3 tries to say something, Hatework raises the microphone, again cutting Priest off. The modern day marvel meanwhile has a slight look of anger on his face …

Hatework: If you fail to see reason in me, you fail to look around with open eyes. If you think my color is black, then you are blind. How do you think you can defeat that which finds nourishment in your every attack? Michael, I pity you, for you do not even try to understand the greater truth. There is redemption in darkness Michael. Look into my eyes and find the scorn so deep inside. An abyss of hate, eons deep. Hate for everything that you stand for, defiance of every word you speak, the ceremony of opposites. Look around … look at all these people who try to control the beast inside. Look at their misery. See them die a little more with every passing day. Is that the fruit of society? To lock yourself into a mental cage and hide from the demon? Then, Michael, inside of me, that door is wide open.

Hatework pauses one last time and has his facial expression stay blank. MP3 stares back hard and clenches his fists.

Hatework: But Michael, the time for talk has passed. This is here, and this is now, and I am going to turn your mistake of calling me out … into your last.

The microphone drops to the floor with a loud thud as Hatework marches down the ramp towards ringside. As he is about halfway down the aisle, security is coming from all sides of the arena, trying to block him from getting towards the ring. MP3 motions for them to let Hatework through but to no avail. More and more staff members position themselves between the two, and Hatework stops finally, realizing that he will have to wait for another day to fight MP3. He growls something inaudible as he turns around and without ever looking back, marches back up the ramp and leaves the arena.

Jerry: They should have let them fight, damn it. Just as it was getting really exciting …

Mike: I believe we will see these two men go at it soon enough Jerry. MP3 over there in the ring looks more than ready if you ask me … wait, we’ve apparently got a camera following Hatework backstage …

The broadcast turns to behind the curtain where Hatework is slowly walking towards the locker room area as a young man wearing a black suit with red tie approaches Hatework with a microphone in his hand.

Mike: That’s Thomas Vance. I could imagine a better task for my first day at work in PCW than to be sent after Hatework for an interview.

Jerry: Well, consider it a baptism of fire …

Vance, his blond hair cut very short, has quite a pale face and an expression of unease as he yells for Hatework to wait for him. Hatework indeed stops and turns around, and his eyes seem to shoot lightning at the young man. Not wasting any time, Thomas tries to get his first question off as Hatework grabs him by the tie. He is towering over poor Vance who has no chance to escape the iron grip. Hatework wraps his fist around Thomas’ hand and raises the microphone up …

Hatework: I hope you’re watching, Priest … try to save this man ...

Mike: Hatework you … all he is trying to is do his job for crying out loud!

Seemingly effortless, Hatework tosses Thomas Vance across the room and into a pile of chairs that was set up against the wall. Vance goes down screaming as the metal chairs bury him, accompanied by thunderous noise. Hatework starts to laugh with growling voice and finally walks off camera as PCW Monday Night Mayhem cuts to commercial.

[~MP3~]

Later that evening, Mayhem returns from a break and gives its viewers a behind-the-scenes view of a live development.

Backstage, viewers cheer as they see the recognizable face of MP3, tensed while hauling his belongings over his shoulder in a fast-paced march out of the arena, clearly torn over having been prevented to scuffle with the self-absorbed Hatework. Surprising him out of the blue is PCW assistant, Rosco P. Coltraine, who erratically chases him, adamant in stopping the disgruntled Superstar from retreating to his car.

Although he desperately mumbles persuasions and even threats over The Modern Day Marvel's shoulder, Priest doesn't nearly display any shred of interest as he storms the hallways in frustration.

Rosco P. Coltraine: MP3! MP3! Hey, where are you going man? What are you crazy? You can't just abandon a PCW live event like this, you're a member of the locker room! You'll be fired, fined, sued, hated! Get back here! You can't leave!

Coltraine may as well have been speaking to a statue however, as the stoic attitude of the Seraphic Soldier remains incredulous to such bargains. He suddenly turns a swift corner, possibly looking to shed the pursuing Coltraine, and presses on despite hearing him desperately barge into a stack of plastic boxes, scattering himself in falling objects. Mr. Waylon's assistant nearly slips over in the raucous mess, but true to his determined character, Coltraine keeps his persistence for the sake of greater good and swats the pestering obstacles away, jogging up to MP3 once more.

Rosco P. Coltraine: Ugh, ow, okay, Michael. Listen to me! You're just hurting yourself and making this company look bad in the process! Hell, you might be scheduled for a match, we night need you, who knows. Don't let Hatework ruin your promise! Or, were you just lying about being here to help PCW after all...???



Halt.

Ironically, the Assistant's last few words escape him just as Priest had taken one step through the fire door. It proved to be his only one outside of the arena however, as MP3 pauses his escape wearing a disgusted countenance, looking down as if he'd been slighted. His exhale nearly boils through his nostrils and he brings back his black locks, turning his head in a painfully slow manner to face the now nervous Coltraine, who seems to be sweating bullets despite the gust of wind coming through the door.


MP3: ...You just called ME a liar? ME?? (He steps in closer to a cowering Coltraine) You'd better watch what you say.

Waylon's assistant raises his index finger as if to make a point, but it nearly catches fire in the delivery of MP3's response.

MP3: The ONLY liar I know of here in PCW that needs immediate attention is that aptly-named ***hole Hatework. Singularity? None So Vile? None so SELFISH, I say. He spouts more propaganda than what I get from television, more lies than anyone here in PCW can tread water in before they drown in his hype. Here I stand against him, and yet, PCW officials won't let us fight. So now, because I'm doing what I want to do, you attack MY integrity? I don't know where you get your orders from, but you'd better grow a brain capable of independence before I destroy the container, get me?


With that, MP3 barrels through the door in a fit, treading the gray outdoors amongst a subtle mist. Remarkably, however, Coltraine manages to shake off the threats from the former champion and continues to chase him, perhaps against his best interest, slipping in soggy snow as he calls to him from a distance.


Rosco P. Coltraine: The people are tired of you leaving them, MP3! So is corporate! You're either going to leave forever or stay here to accomplish what you said you would, I'm just the messenger.

Coltraine stands like a helpless mound in the damp weather, looking for a rope to help bring back one of PCW's most important new acquisitions.

Luckily, his last effort struck a chord in Priest, who has stopped himself amidst his fit. The productive assistant sees this, and engages him further, knowing now that he can have some success. A newly interested MP3 eventually walks toward the door.


Rosco P. Coltraine: ...Listen, I see you're upset, rightfully so. I'm just saying that you have a reputation, and another mark against you won't go over well business-wise. You need to be here... understand?


MP3, buying Coltraine's argument as credible, gazes to the cloudy sky, seemingly irritated by his situation. Still, realizing his best choice is to give in, he accepts the responsibility. He massages his forehead with his palm, as his twin white streaks of hair flow behind him.


MP3: Yeah, alright, I ... haven't been the best in that regard. I wasted away two years, I can't ignore things any longer. Be that as it may, beanstalk... What do you have for me? If I'm going to stay, I might as well work. I'll tell you what I need... I need that sociopath Hatework in a match! Tonight! Make my first match back tonight against him!

The live audience in the arena can be heard buzzing and cheering at that notion, but Coltraine simply shakes his head as he holds the door open, dejecting Priest's intentions further so.

Rosco P. Coltraine:You just had a HUGE return, we can't jeopardize your health or Hatework's for that matter by having that match tonight...

MP3's eyes nearly twitch at such a disappointing answer, causing Coltraine to stutter his words and put a brighter twist to his answer.

Rosco P. Coltraine: -B-But wait, wait now, myself and Waylon have already agreed to have you wrestle tonight! Remember, me, messenger? Hehe...


Despite Waylon's assistant offering an uncertain chuckle, Priest is less-than amused. Without any signals of it before-hand, his right arm lashes out like a vine and nearly crushes Coltraine's collar in this relentless clutches, bringing him ever closer to the face of the Soul That Burns until his foggy breath seems to condense on the pestering official's now-quivering nose.


MP3: Allow me to let you in on something... "Roscoe". I don't have my mail delivered; I retrieve it myself. So let's get this straight. I either get Hatework at Jailbreak, or I walk. We good?


Exhausted after having to chase MP3 seemingly everywhere to come to terms with him, Coltraine simply slumps in the Marvel's hand and nods in agreement.

MP3: Good. Pleased we could come to an understanding...

The vice-like grip is suddenly relieved, and because of the amount of pressure now absent, Roscoe's balance fails him and he finds himself flailing helplessly, before stumbling into a pile of wet snow, sending pieces of it everywhere as MP3 walks down the corridor in a distance.

The broadcast's announcers pick up on the action.


Jerry Byerline: Wow... Kinda harsh, wouldn't you say? MP3 put poor Roscoe through hell just to get him to keep HIS job! How ridiculous is that?

Mike Huntsicker: Ridiculous is one way to put it, but I think we can all see that the young Superstar is still working out the kinks in his relationship with PCW. Part of what makes him so unique and appealing is his non-conformity. But one thing is certain, he undoubtedly wants that match with Hatework, and it looks like he's getting what he asked for at Jailbreak!

Jerry: He sure is, but Hatework might just be the reason why they say be careful what you wish for.

Mike: No kidding. We'll be back in a moment, stay with us!

[~Hatework~]

PCW Monday Night Mayhem returns from it’s last commercial break and the camera goes to the broadcast booth. The fans sitting behind Mike and Jerry are trying to outdo each other in getting picked up by the camera, waving and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Jerry: Welcome back to Monday Night Mayhem. What an action packed show it has been and we’re still not finished yet.

Mike: Indeed not Jerry. Tonight’s main event is a dream come true for every wrestling fan in the world. No other man than Michael ‘MP3’ Priest, the WAF’s first ever triple crown champion, is making his in-ring debut in PCW tonight. The moment we’ve all been waiting for has finally come. The man who was rumored to show up in PCW for the last three months has finally arrived, and what an impact he made earlier tonight already.

Jerry: He did nothing else but call out another legendary figure of this sport, PCW’s former Extreme champion and longest reigning World Heavyweight champion, the man known as Hatework. He wasn’t exactly slow to respond either, and after only one brief meeting in this very ring earlier in the show, I believe it is save to say there is no love lost between these two.

Mike: You don’t call out Hatework for nothing Jerry. I believe MP3 has the means to back up his words …

Jerry: I believe Hatework is unlike any man MP3 ever faced before, and I believe he will find out about that very soon. Let us now give to Brandi Frye …

The camera zooms in on beautiful Brandi Frye standing in the middle of the ring. Smiling at the warm reception of the fans, she begins to announce the main event …

Brandi Frye: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first … currently in the ring and weighing in at 180 pounds … Suicyde Kidd!

The young man is sporting black baggy pants, sneakers and a red bandana with Kidd written on it that covers his brown, fair cut hair partially. As the fans cheer for him, he takes the bandana off and tosses it into the crowd.

Mike: This guy is always a treat to watch. You gotta see his crash and burn style to believe it, and trust me when I say this he is gonna wrestle his heart out against MP3.

Jerry: He doesn’t call himself Suicyde Kidd for nothing, that’s for sure.

Brandi Frye: And his opponent …

Brandi doesn’t get any further. Suddenly, the arena lights turn off and ‘The Serpentine Offering’ by Dimmu Borgir is blasting across the speakers. The fans are irritated and release a massive roar in unison.

Mike: You have got to be kidding me … is this some bad joke?

The thick white smoke at the entrance ramp hints at dead seriousness however as a massively built man steps out from the curtain … it is indeed Hatework. The crowd begins to boo frantically. The former multiple time PCW champion sets course towards ringside with the fans to the left and right of the aisle shouting abuse at him. Hatework ignores them.

Jerry: Isn’t PCW just like a chocolate box? You’ll never know what you’re gonna get … I love it Mike.

Mike: Love it? This is wrong on a lot of levels. Hatework is ruining MP3’s PCW debut for crying out loud. What is he doing out here? Get some security down here now and remove him!

Hatework arrives at ringside and walks up the steps. As he gets inside the ring, the lights come back on. Brandi Frye is staring at him in disbelief, as is Suicyde Kidd, and Hatework takes the arena microphone out of the woman’s tiny hands. He motions for her to leave and Brandi complies, unwilling to stay near this unpredictable monster for longer than she absolutely has to.

Hatework takes a quick glance at Kidd, and making sure there won’t be any sneak attack, he begins to talk in his well known, dark voice.

Hatework: It would appear that Michael Priest is nowhere to be found in the arena. How sad isn’t it? Your beloved hero, the man who promised to revolutionize PCW, the man who promised he would save PCW from the likes of … me … (A wicked smile slowly builds on Hatework’s face) … has abandoned you all. Oh the irony! The savior admits defeat already. Now let’s get this over with, shall we?

On that note, Hatework drops the microphone and with two big steps rushes over to Suicyde Kidd and drops him with a savage blow to the head. Shockingly, the bell rings and we have a match!

Mike: Oh come on! Don’t tell me they are making this an official contest now.

Jerry: You know the old saying Mike, the show must go on!

Hatework takes his coat off and removes the metal plates from his boots, shoving those parts of his attire out of the ring. Referee Regis Green has a confused look on his face still but let’s the match unfold.

Kidd is trying hard to recuperate but Hatework picks him up from the mat and tosses him across the ring. The former PCW champion is towering over Suicyde Kidd, and his massive frame is big enough for Kidd to hide behind. Hatework goes in a mounted position and is firing shots at Kidd until Green warns him to let go or be disqualified. Hatework gives the referee an eerie look out of white-contacts covered eyes and gets back up. Kidd stirs on the mat. He never saw this coming and has a hard time to do as much as defend himself.

Mike: As if Hatework needed this unfair advantage. Someone stop this carnage NOW!

Hatework pulls Kidd to his feet and sends him into the ropes. Upon coming back, the young man is able to duck a clothesline. Hatework turns around and meets fist. Kidd is firing left and right hands to the head and Hatework just lets it happen. After about six shots, Kidd realizes that his attack is in vain and goes into the ropes again, this time on his own choosing. Suicyde Kidd comes out of the cables and goes for a cross body but Hatework catches him … he carries the 180 pounds of Suicyde Kidd around as if it were nothing and goes to hang him upside down into the corner of the ring. Tree of woe! Hatework with a boot choke. Green counts to four when Hatework lets go. Kidd drops to the mat and tries to get back to his feet as Hatework scoops him up and tosses him hard back first into the turnbuckles. A clothesline into the corner of the ring for good measure and Kidd is down once more.

Jerry: If I may give advice here, run Kidd, run. That’s all I know to say … Hatework is having his way with him and this young gun is clearly outclassed and outgunned.

Hatework stands above Kidd and is giving him a soulless look. Once more he pulls Kidd back up and positions him onto the top turnbuckle. Hatework climbs the second and goes for a back suplex … halts for a brief second … and executes the Mind Bender, which technically is a top rope brainbuster. The fans sign and moan at the violence of the move.

Mike: Okay, okay, we get your point. Now end this already!

Suicyde Kidd appears to be totally out of it. Hatework is stoically walking around his fallen opponent with a psychotic look on his face. He pulls Kidd’s dead weight up, struggling to keep the man on his feet … HATEBOMB!

Mike: WHAT THE HELL! Kidd is finished! Pin him you sick freak! This is absolutely uncalled for!

Regis Green warns Hatework but it is falling on deaf ears. Hatework pulls him up once more and shows another Hatebomb. The fans are ready to riot and Regis Green motions to ring the bell …

Jerry: What now? Disqualification? TKO?

Mike: What was supposed to be a celebration of MP3’s debut in PCW has turned into utter chaos and carnage. I can’t believe that John Waylon would allow this to happen. He has got to take measures against Hatework. This man is a danger for everybody’s well being he steps into the ring with. He is just out for nothing but destruction. It’s all he can do … destroy. What the hell is wrong with this man?!

Security are rushing down the aisle to interfere in what looks to become career threatening for Suicyde Kidd. Regis Green tries to step in between but Hatework just grabs him by the neck and throws him out of the ring. The first three staff members arrive at ringside and slide into the squared circle. They go for Hatework but he shakes the first off and decks the second. He absolutely dwarves them as he sends the third down with a massive clothesline. The bell rings multiple times. More staff members get into the ring for a total count of eight. With three down, the remaining five approach with caution. Hatework doesn’t wait however as he sends one man down with a big boot. Another two try to hold onto his arms but he makes them crash into each other. With two members of security left standing and two about ready to get back to their feet, a roar goes through the crowd.

Jerry: Can you see what is going on?

Mike: It’s … HOLY COW IT’S MP3! HE’S COMING THROUGH THE CROWD!

Michael Priest jumps the guardrail and slides into the ring. He looks battered and bruised with a makeshift bandage around his head. Immediately, he goes after Hatework and sends closed fists flying. Surprised by the attack, Hatework is tumbling backwards. The staff members are statued in the ring, obviously not knowing how to handle the mess that is going on. Hatework tries to fend MP3 off but Priest is a raging madman. His assault leaves Hatework leaning back against the cables and Michael finalizes things with a standing dropkick that sends Hatework over the top rope to the outside. The fans are on their feet and the voice level is deafening …

Mike: Now THAT is what I call a debut. Not what we all expected it to be, but heck does that man ever stand up against Hatework.

Hatework lands on his feet outside the ring. Security meanwhile tries to get things under control and even more staff members arrive. At least 12 men are in the ring, creating a human wall so that MP3 can not go after Hatework, while others are on the outside, stopping Hatework from getting back inside the ring. The former PCW champion stares at MP3 with an evil impression on his face … then, nodding, cracks a smile as he slowly leaves ringside and begins to walk up the aisle back to the entrance ramp. Michael Priest tends to Suicyde Kidd, all in the while keeping an eye on the massive Hatework. Priest’s lips are moving but whatever he is shouting is suppressed by the noise in the arena. Hatework turns around and extends his arms, looking at Michael in what seems to be amusement ... Priest stares back hard.

Mike: Whatever it was that kept MP3 from competing here tonight had to do with Hatework, that much is certain. Unfortunately, we’ve reached the end of tonight’s show so make sure to tune in next week when we’ll surely hear from these two men again. Good night everybody!

[~MP3~]

On the following week’s edition of Monday Night Mayhem, viewers are returned to the live feed after an exciting opening quarter-hour, and now have an intimate view of PCW’s proud Owner, John Waylon, tending to a heavy stack of business papers piled in a cardboard box. As he motions down to retrieve the contents, his tie hangs down and obstructs his view, tickling his nose and causing him to sneeze. More distractions are to follow, as he hears a pounding knock on his office door.

John Waylon: Ugh... yeah, come in. Stupid tie... Can I help you?

The PCW Owner yanks off his bothersome apparel while expecting a response, yet, nothing but silence ensues. The Owner shrugs it off for the time being and hauls the heavy load of papers from the box, obviously straining himself. Upon turning around to drop the burden onto his desk, he nearly collides into, and comes face-to-face with, a brightly smiling MP3.

The audience ripples out into cheers, but while Priest’s dark eyes light up to shine his unique sense of personality, a stunned Waylon nearly fumbles the heavy 8’’x10’’s. While less-than impressed by the newest PCW Superstar’s rather stoic entrance, he calms his boiled nerves to maintain professionalism, realizing he’s dealing with a sensible person rather than PCW’s vast array of unpredictable psychopaths.

John Waylon: JEEBus H. Christ Son, the HELL is wrong with you!? Damn it, Did you plan on saying something after pulling the knife or before??

MP3 accepts the outburst with indifference, and takes the toppling papers from his new manager, placing them on the Oakwood desk.


MP3: I knocked.

Waylon composes himself and picks up his tie. He brings himself to almost giggle at Priest’s predictable sarcasm.

John Waylon: Whatever, thanks for the help. I nearly Flaired out here, my jacket was next to go. Now... tell me, Mr. Superstar, what brings you to my quaint little office? (He gestures to the bruise just above the eyebrow of MP3) Wounds are healing up nicely...

The former champion twists his neck and smirks, but ever-so darkly, implying still-lingering reservations on how he’d originally earned them.

MP3: Thanks. You know, for my first backstage attack in a while it’s a shame cameras weren’t there, ‘cause SOMEONE got me pretty damn good and didn’t linger to brag about it. But what brings me here you ask? This.

Priest, audibly coming off as initially strange to the live audience, lifts up his shirt slightly and motions to his belt, where a small white beeper is seen just right of his navel.

John Waylon: What...a beeper?

He chuckles to himself at his employer’s perplexing stare as he covers himself again.

MP3: Oh, yeah... Hey, not everyone uses cell phones. I’m a serious athlete and a walking revolution, I don’t need cancer. BUT no, my beeper ISN’T my point, it’s who called me while I was on my way to the arena that is. Familiar with a... Jack Stantz? ‘Cause, I’m not.

John Waylon: Yeah, you’re being facetious, I get it. What’d he want from you? I wasn’t informed of any executive notifications this week.

The once happily-held sense of humor on the Modern Day Marvel’s bruised face rapidly washes away like a waning tide. He brings his dark brown hair back from his slightly swollen forehead, visibly contemptuous over something still sitting at the very forefront of his mind.

MP3: ...I’m glad you should ask. See, I agreed to a match last week, on terms that I was having what I wanted all along – a one-on-one against your resident evil here, Hatework. Low and behold, Stantz blew down my agreement because the loveable Mr. Singularity “replaced” me last week, without my consent I might add.

The Soul That Burns inches closer to his new employer, casting his shadow across his supervisor’s countenance. Mr. Waylon snickers, tolerating the intrusion of his personal space only to hear out the talented athlete.

MP3: I DIDN’T need a replacement last week, John… what I needed was eight stitches to close up my laceration. See the contrast? So, obviously Mr. Waylon, we just had a mis-understanding; I thought PCW was run as a professional wrestling company, not a circus sideshow. Turns out I was wrong, so I’m here to provide THIS.. (MP3 fishes in his rear pocket and returns with a yellow slip of paper in his right hand) ...my three weeks notice. If MP3 ISN’T facing jolly old Hatework at Jailbreak, MP3 isn’t in PCW... you can keep your downfall to yourself.

The PCW Owner proves outraged by the decision he’d never even been addressed about. He shakes his head, torn between confusion and disgust over the news.

John Waylon: Woah... woah woah, WOAH. Slow this down now, “Seraphic Soldier”. I made NO such orders against you, so there’s no need to be uptight with me. You’re RESIGNING? You’ll do no such thing! The fans that buy our tickets love you and want to see you make good on the promises YOU made to them! What the hell has gotten into you anyway? This is now the SECOND incidence where you’re looking to walk away from your deal with us, and we haven’t seen you lace your boots under our damn roof yet. Tell me… since when did your motto become “when things get tough, I get lost”...?

The insinuation questioning both his ability and integrity, once again, digs like an ice pick at his once-numbed brain, picking away at his beliefs as though it were the answer of his troubles. Although he wanders his sight to the side, shaking off the idea as preposterous, the persistent PCW Owner continues to drill at him, incensed by his behavior.

John Waylon: This is WRESTLING, ‘champ’. This isn’t billiards, solitaire, golf or M-F’ing water polo, and NOTHING will come your way if you don’t, damn it, fight every last breath for it. So... just look at you now. Walking around on my terrain like you DESERVE respect? For WHAT? What have YOU really done here? Interrupt a WrestleFest match in 2005 because you wanted a piece of a PCW Hall of Famer? Take up half-an-hour of MY air-time last week? You’d better face reality, boy; you’re five-foot nine and 230 lbs. soaking wet. I don’t care what amazing things you’ve done in the past; if you think you can just march into MY company and slay our biggest dragon, I’ve got news for you... You’re cannon-fodder, “Marvel”.

Reacting to Waylon’s half-insidious slight, a smiling Priest rolls his head, absorbing the attitude he’d always dealt with before, but seemingly no matter what to him, would never go away. The other half of Waylon’s intent proved to work like a charm, however, and the renewed MP3 only finds sustenance in the doubt.

MP3: So it’s more of the same then, is it...... fair enough.

Waylon’s hand holding the yellow slip is relieved by the former WAF icon, as he takes it from him and holds it between their dueling faces, only to rip it in two.

MP3: There. What’s the plan now... ‘Boss’?

John Waylon: Plan? The plan is for you to get out of my office like you know somebody. The plan is for you to live up to your promises. Now, Jack Stantz may have decreed that your chance at Hatework was lost last week, but this is a new week, and this is my show. Do me a favor: Go out there and prove to your little fans… prove to the boys in the locker room… and prove to ME, that YOU deserve a damn spot on this roster. Beat your challenge tonight, and I’ll reverse whatever stipulation Stantz invoked. GET beat, and take your nosy attitude out of my company, and you can take your emo rat tails with you.


Now somewhat impervious to whatever further insults Waylon opts to fling his way, The Seraphic Soldier smiles eagerly at the news of his renewed opportunity, nearly salivating at the chance to repay Hatework for the gash he so generously gave him. Regardless of whatever insinuations he’d left in his wake, Priest brushes off of his shoulder one of his white locks and laughs.

MP3: Well, whatever opponent you give me, just make it worth my while. I don’t want you boring my fans out there.

The confident former-champion waltzes out of Mr. Waylon’s office, pleased to have gotten what he wanted. The PCW Owner shakes his head as he watches him leave, and tends to his belongings… however, Priest stops himself in the corridor, and turns around to impart a final message he’d shamefully forgotten to pay.

MP3: ...and, thanks.


The PCW commentators pick up the audio as viewers witness both men exchanging split-second glares before parting ways.

Mike Huntsicker: This should be incredible Jerry, and huge news to boot! We’re finally going to see MP3 in-action tonight, in this very ring! I’m looking forward to this happening at last, without a certain someone tinkering where he doesn’t belong, of course.

Jerry Byerline: Yeah, it should be interesting to see if he creaks from the rust or found some WD-40 in the back.

Mike Huntsicker: Well, one thing is absolutely sure – he’s still hell-bent on fighting Hatework. You know something Jerry, if there’s one kid who can put a stop to this guy’s rampage, it just might be MP3 after all. He sure has the heart and intensity to best the beast once and for all. We'll be back in a second, stay where you are!




COMMERCIAL BREAK





"We are the Sons and Daughters of a Revolution..."

The live crowd stirs, simmering with anticipation as the projected entrance video engulfs the live TV broadcast, delivering to a viewing audience explicit images of despair, impoverishment and abuse of both the human race as well as its hosting land, from symbols and carvings of ancient times to even recent injustices. The feed amounts to an unmistakable wave of near-traumatizing perspectives, particularly impactful from its realism, before the screen of the Earth setting beyond the moon's horizon shrinks to reveal a myriad of others encompassing it, finally zooming backward until becoming completely white.

The bathing glow of pure white light is now seen to nearly blind those in the sold-out arena, as every screen embedded in the stage emits the incredible shine, but yet, proving only to contrast the image of one sole individual standing before it all, as though he were a relentless creature made of shadows, unable to even be remotely seen despite the near-daylight state of the coliseum.

Jerry Byerline: Ugh! Yikes, I can hardly see anything except that kid... how can he stay so dark? Everything is brighter than day but him!

Mike Huntsicker: Unbelievable...

The silhouette of one of the industry's most-tested and familiar mainstays firmly stands amongst the rays as if absorbing them, his arms outstretched at either side with each hand showing off three fingers. While the rioting crowd screams and revels his memorable entrance, the resilient superstar remains somewhat motionless, until finally swinging his two arms back across his chest to abruptly end the somewhat paralyzing display, leaving only the riffs of "Reflect the Storm" by In Flames to rip through the house speakers above the electricity patterns upon the screen, as blue and indigo strobe lights now fill the atmosphere.

Now clear to the audience despite still recovering from the bright light, Michael "MP3" Priest unmistakably stands with arms at either side of him atop the stage, donning a somewhat familiar pleather blue entrance coat garnered with various symbols, his face concealed by an elongated hood bearing the design of a septagram at the forehead. While the fans encompassing him pour out agilation and approval, the Seraphic Soldier treks down to the ring on a focused path, his only returning gratitude being a smirk.

'Princess' Brandi Frye: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall. Approaching the ring, weighing in at two-hundred and twenty one pounds, he is "The Modern Day Marvel", M - P - 3!!! ...And the challenger, already in the ring, he weighs in at two-hundred and fifty three pounds, Ryan Foresmith!

MP3 passes his hand along the offered palms along the front row as he walks toward the ring steps, and removes his hood at ringside to gaze at the sea of people all cheering him on. The personable Priest beats his chest and roars proudly before he steps into the ring with a noticeable spring in his step, finally mounting the nearest turnbuckle to set off a buzz of flashbulbs in the audience. His opponent, shown standing at the far corner, holds his left wrist in his right hand nervously, apparently looking forward to the competition.


Mike Huntsicker: Well Jerry, I'm a PCW die-hard and I forever will be, but no matter what I think about the origins of this man's career, his presence here in our company is definitely one I'm enjoying, and finally, we get to see him show us what he does best. MP3 has inspired many people in many walks of life; he is a former World Champion, Continental Champion and Cruiserweight Champion, and has been acclaimed as one of the best in our time. We'll see if he still holds up to his young accomplishments here tonight as he takes on a PCW developmental star, Ryan Foresmith.

Jerry Byerline: Yeah, saving my feelings on WAF, MP3 is a heck of a character. For a smaller athlete he sure does make up for it in his passion, and we've seen he can talk the talk, especially with Hatework... but we're about to see if he can still walk the walk. Particularly now that he's decided to stick around... for the second time.

Mike Huntsicker: I've mentioned it before Jerry, MP3 is ironing out the kinks with his relationship with PCW, but I think tonight will mark a new beginnig for him. From what I understand, even his former boss and WAF owner Lionel Maxwell is here tonight to watch him compete, so one thing is for sure - this outing for "The Soul That Burns" is an important one, and it looks like he means business.

Jerry Byerline: Hey, uh... since he's bringing over some of his WAF friends, think he'll manage to introduce his old flame to PCW? I'd love to see her get "extreme".

Mike Huntsicker: The Goddess? Uhh... sorry Jerry, I doubt that will happen, since Priest is a single man. I see your gears turning though; let's not expose our loyal viewers to your perversion...

Jerry Byerline: Perver... what?? How dare you Mike. I was being strictly platonic... now how 'bout you stick to calling the match, huh?


MP3's anxious opponent stretches the black ropes as the WAF celebrity passes his entrance attire to a ringside assistant, showing off his profoundly muscular physique for someone 5' 9''. As Brandi Frye leaves the ring before the action ensues, Priest pushes back his twin white 'rat tails' back to rest at his lateral muscles, and smiles toward his brooding foe. Foresmith, decked out in traditional red tights and black boots with an excessive amount of black tape around his hands, sneers back at the popular athlete. Standing at 6' 1'', his demeanor betrays his moderate confidence in his position of advantage over the slightly smaller Superstar, but MP3 hardly receives his air of confidence, as the official pats down his blue and indigo tights, even caressing the red logo embedded upon it for any unseen weapons.

The two men circle cautiously as the timekeeper sounds the bell, marking the official return of MP3 in wrestling competition. The audience swoons themselves to an abrupt hush as they see him prepare to ply his trade.


Jerry Byerline: Alright... let's see what MP3's made of!

The two contenders shift around the ring, piercing stares at one another as they fish for an advantage. Foresmith dangles his arms out toward Priest's, looking to hook up with him, and they finally connect in a collar-elbow tie up, shaking the ring as MP3 pushes him backwards. Foresmith spins, and MP3 feels his back against the top rope, but ultimately obtains the advantage as he aggressively pins his opponent in the corner, causing the referee to break them.

As MP3 steps back, he unsuspectingly receives a bitter slap to the face for his sportsmanship, sending spit flying out of the ring. Priest turns his head back slowly, as if calculating the disrespect, before returning the favor with a resounding right hand that sends the crowd leaping from their seats in cheers.


Mike Huntsicker: Ooh! How about THAT! Foresmith testing the returning MP3, but Priest had a cannon! Riveting shot there.

MP3's fiery persona lights up the crowd like never before in PCW, as he goads his opponent to back up his disrespect. Foresmith wastes little time, and charges out of the corner in a collar-elbow tie up, yet MP3 makes quick work of him and grabs him in a Headlock. Wrenching, MP3 is pushed into the ropes, but while his opponent had expected to whip the Marvel, MP3's grip ensues, and he flaunts his advanced ring skills by executing a Headlock takedown on him, accepting the momentum for a move of his own. Foresmith angrily Headscissors MP3, and Priest whips out in a quick nip-up, leaving them back to the Headlock by MP3.

Jerry Byerline: Nice, gotta give MP3 credit, he has a mind for combat. This is small-time stuff though, he's just warming up. You can just tell.

Mike Huntsicker: Agreed, you can see MP3 is LOVING every second in there.


Foresmith executes a whip successfully this time, and MP3 takes the trip into the ropes, bringing a Shoulder block that shocks Foresmith by flooring him. The 23-year-old veteran peers down at him, and hops over him as if to hit the ropes again, but proves to only have done so to allow his opponent to rise, so he could re-apply the relentless Headlock. The audience applauds his outsmarting technique.

Mike Huntsicker: Again there, the Long Island native showing how he can manipulate minds in that ring. Foresmith is fish food for these antics.

Jerry Byerline: Yeah but ease up on the guy, he's holding his own against a former World Champion! I'm impressed by that.

Mike Huntsicker: You might be the only one... Ooh! Nice Hip toss by Foresmith! Maybe you're right after all.

Jerry Byerline: Of course, it IS my opinion...

In the time of their dialogue, Priest's headlock had been relieved by vicious elbow-shots, and an Irish Whip parlayed into a spur-of-the-moment hip toss. Though he takes the bump fully, The Soul That Burns rises as though he'd landed on feathers, and proceeds to devastate his opponent's upper-body with audible Chops that bring out roars from the crowd. An Irish whip of his own yields a perfect opportunity for his own brand of fun, allowing the famous athlete to leave his feet and land a perfectly-placed Spinning Heel kick upon Foresmith's return. A worked-up MP3 motions for him to get up, and he wrenches his arm, only to execute a second Spinning Heel kick immediately afterwards in one swift motion that jars his opponent considerably. The audience buzzes with excitement at the new move as MP3 tries a quick cover...

1...

2.....

NO!


Mike Huntsicker: Wow! He almost had him for good there, and boy that would have been a quick match! New move for MP3 too, he calls that the Psi-Kick, for those of you keeping score at home.

Jerry Byerline: That'd KNOCK OUT a lesser man, but Foresmith is in it to win it!



Taking the dazed challenge by the arm, The Seraphic Soldier aggressively whips his opponent into a far corner, and goes to follow it up with a Body Splash... HOWEVER, Foresmith is privy to the staple attack of The Modern Day Marvel, and manages to slide out of the way before being crushed.

Jerry Byerline: Here it comes and -- Woah! Wait a sec...

Mike Huntsicker: Incoming!

Unbeknownst to the fleeing Foresmith, The Modern Day Marvel shows off the reason for his nickname, as he waits, perched on the second rope, having saved the attempt by landing perfectly. Upon turning around, the nonplussed Foresmith is plowed to the canvas by a heavy flying Clothesline, testament to MP3's high-flying nature, leaving the crowd thrilled as Priest covers his opponent a second time.

1!......

2!...........................

NO!


Mike Huntsicker: Oooohw! A SECOND AWAY from losing his big chance to outlast MP3!

Jerry Byerline: ...Alright, I'll admit it, MP3 hasn't lost his touch. That was a page right out of Spider-Man 3 or something...

Mike Huntsicker: And it doesn't look like its over yet...


Priest interacts with the crowd that is quickly becoming his own, and offers them a passionate taunt as his opponent recollects himself against the ropes. The audience cheers him on, hearing him proclaim "Is that the best he's got?! It's time to get serious", in reference to his startled challenge, signaling a cue to go back to work on his prey. MP3 flaunts a more aggressive strategy, and a piercing look in his eyes to boot, as he stabs repeated stomps at Foresmith's exposed back, and immediately follows that by taking hold of his opponent's legs, despite his reluctance, and effectively binds his now-struggling foe in what appears to be a modified Sharpshooter that gets the crowd on their feet, sensing the end to be nigh.


Jerry Byerline: Woah! Check out the angle on that Sharpshooter Mike! He's got his knee right in his back, this ain't looking good for PCW's developmental talent!

Mike Huntsicker: Could be any second that we see MP3 put to rest any doubt of his in-ring prowess now! But will Foresmith give in?

With his patented “Last Breath” tightly secured on the unlucky up-and-comer, the audience roars with excitement, awaiting the end of the match. However, with the referee demanding to know if Foresmith finally will surrender as he screams on the canvas, an unexpected bystander suddenly manages to appear on the scene, causing an instant audience uproar.

Mike Huntsicker: Oh… OH! Wait a minute, wait a DAMN minute! That’s … that’s HATEWORK!

Jerry Byerline: What’s he doing here??

Mike Huntsicker: Looks like trying to interrupt this match! And is that Foresmith tapping in there?!?

Almost as if on cue, Priest’s opponent surrenders the match with rabid taps, however they go unacknowledged, with the official doing his best to convince the towering monster from getting off of the ring apron. A dark lord in his own right, Hatework gestures and motions toward MP3 as if nothing of importance were present but himself, and upon noticing the Soul That Burns relinquishing the hold in favor of investigating the disturbance, the former PCW Champion makes an easy hop off of the apron, simply grinning a sardonic smile at his potential Jailbreak opponent.

MP3, having had to expected nothing less, considers pursuing the meddling demon, however thinks better of the instinct despite the vociferous encouragement in the arena. Priest takes back the leg he’d stepped through the ropes and points a cautious finger toward Hatework, but is unexpectedly taken aback by an instantaneous Schoolboy roll-up!

Mike Huntsicker: Look at that! He’s got the tights!!!


1!..................

2!.........................


THRE—NO!


Having almost witnessed the end of MP3's PCW tenure, a collective gasp exhales in the arena. The draconian demon himself, however, accepts the news less-than graciously, and punts the ring steps in frustration. With an impatient grimace on his hair-covered face, the 6' 9'' terror storms toward a scattering Brandi Frye and tosses her steel chair in the ring towards his only chance at ruining MP3's Jailbreak plans, apparently hoping him to use it to his advantage.


Jerry Byerline: Oh no... Hatework is here and he's out of control Mike. This may be PCW, but it doesn't mean that we DON'T have rules.

Mike Huntsicker: Hatework looks beside himself... he definitely came down here to foil MP3's ideas of facing him at Jailbreak, out of spite I'm sure. Anything to watch MP3 fail.


The Modern Day Marvel narrowly evades the airborne steel chair and hops to his feet, seeing his opponent fetch the chair as the official berates an incredulous Hatework. He stands, just in time to detect the swinging chair approaching him for a second time, and ducks the attack in a breath, responding with a sudden superkick to the back of Foresmith's head that impresses the live crowd.

Noticing the chair beside him, MP3 halts himself for a moment to think about using it... and in one swift motion, he grabs the back of his opponent and hauls him scross his chest, spinning him to himally slam him down with all of his force... directly atop the steel chair. The Download proves effective, two years hence its last use, and the crowd roars into cheers as he makes a defiant cover, staring directly at Hatework as the referee's hand slaps the mat.


Jerry Byerline: Holy Toledo.. He PLANTED him...

Mike Huntsicker: Ladies and Gentlemen...


1!.............

2!........................



3!!!


Mike Huntsicker: ...Write that down as a victory for The Soul That Burns.


The live crowd cheers, offering MP3 a grand reception for his first PCW victory.

'Princess' Brandi Frye: The winner of the match, The Modern Day Marvel, M- PUogh...


Boo's circulate the arena, and the Seraphic Soldier turns towards ringside, curious to Brandi's stutter. Typical to his expectation, her microphone is not only in the hands of his latest nemesis, but so is she. Priest takes back his raised arm and moves to quickly leave the ring, but stops upon noticing Hatework's unspoken ultimatum, amidst the horrified screams of the "Princess"...

Feeling restricted and, even helpless, MP3 burns a stare toward the destructive Hatework, as his Jailbreak opponent slowly raises the microphone to his mouth.


Hatework: You've just warranted your own destruction, Priest. I bid you welcome.... to MY world.

The arena's speakers reverberate with the guttural voice of PCW's most-destructive force, as he slams the microphone into the ground and drags Frye toward the entrance ramp as means to keep the combusting MP3 from attacking, all the while, never letting his glazed white eyes move away from what he considers to be his next, and perhaps most-enjoyed victim. Priest reflects back the animosity, pushing back his black hair to lean against the ropes, watching as he ultimately shoves the ring announcer to the floor.

Hatework emits a sick-minded chortle, as "The Serpentine Offering" by Dimmu Borgir sounds inside the arena.


Jerry Byerline: I... I guess I never knew just how twisted that man actually is...

Mike Huntsicker: Oh, he is a demon alright... He's warped... But MP3 has now earned himself a chance to face the demon at Jailbreak III, and it's precisely what he asked for ever since joining PCW a few weeks ago. The question that we will have answered now at Jailbreak is, simply... was it wise?

Jerry Byerline: So many great Superstars have fallen in the wake of his destruction... MP3 looks like he'll be the next in line, no matter what he thinks...

Mike Huntsicker: Well, that remains to be seen Jerry. That remains to be seen... and, We'll be back after these messages.

[~MP3~]

With PCW's Jailbreak III looming in the horizon of the final Monday Night Mayhem before the elaborate show, PCW fans witness something less-traditional than their typical action-packed segments. The live broadcast, returning from an advertisement break, gives way to a recorded segment, featuring a roving PCW reporter in Eric Martin walking in a desolate parking lot beneath a gray sky, speaking matter-of-factly into his microphone toward the moving camera.

Eric Martin: The arrival to PCW of one of the industry's most-sentimental Superstars has sparked much talk over recent weeks. That man's notoriety originates not from PCW, but from a federation once considered to be PCW's top rival, the memorable WAF. Today, I aim to clear up the controversy simmering over these and other topics of debate, as I visit the hometown of one of PCW's most-revolutionary acquisitions, MP3.

The cameraman stops walking in-front of the reporter, allowing him to walk past the device and toward his destination. As the camera follows him, it becomes visible that he is trekking toward a massive building, with a sign embedded atop it proclaiming "Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum". The video then montages various scenes of within the establishment, as viewers hear Martin's voice over the video.

Eric Martin: In order to get as close to the heart of the issue as I could, MP3 invited me to meet him at what he claimed to be one of the most important locations in his life, that being Nassau Coliseum - where he says he first got bit by what is known as 'the wrestling bug', and from that point on, was irreversibly infected.


The film now reveals MP3, dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, comfortably sitting in one of the many rows of seats in the arena, candidly confiding in the interviewer beside him. He recounts his experiences glowingly.

MP3: It was, you know... The moment where everything really began for me. This one little avenue provided the escape for me which I craved, and I sat here watching these guys that I felt I could relate to, just astound me and thrill me. The date was January 12, 2004, and I was fed up with the pressures that school was gnawing away at me with. It finally came to the point where I said to a friend, "Screw this; we're going to attend this show and make ourselves happy". And we did. From that point forward I knew that this was my ticket, and I would do whatever it took be a part of it.

Once again, Mayhem viewers hear Martin's commentary as images of the wrestling event itself are displayed upon the screen, taken specifically by Priest himself. Stills of colorful athletes performing maneuvers and administering beat downs wax and wane, soon to be proceeded by sanctioned WAF footage of his own appearance in the arena one year hence, receiving a distinguished honor as WAF Champion in his hometown on Monday Night Blaze. Interestingly, MP3 looks somewhat different compared to his current appearance, primarily due to his twin white locks of hair on his head's anterior.

Eric Martin: It was a remarkable sight for the young man of only nineteen years of age, and it proved to propel him so much that just over a year later, it was he who was the focal point, in the very same building, receiving an honorable award for accomplishing so much, and inspiring so many, in such a remarkably short period of time.

MP3: Like I said, a lot of things happened after my experience watching them wrestle, and I got my opportunity to be a part of the fun. WAF began, and little by little, I clawed from Cruiserweight Champion to shocking everyone in becoming WAF Champion in just over a year's time. And that was incredibly important seeing how I won that in Madison Square Garden against two big guys, Lexxtreme and The Crusher, and to... to be twenty years old and winning a World Championship in Madison Square Garden is just one of those moments that will always stick with you, for the rest of your life.

Additional archived WAF footage (i.e. MP3 competing as Cruiserweight Champion at Apocalypse 2004, fighting Double R, and carrying the WAF Championship) is displayed on the screen as Martin delves deeper into his backstory.

Eric Martin: The scrappy yet determined Marvel grew in such short notice, becoming a heavyweight mainstay following a heartfelt victory in his home state of New York. Beloved for his passionate attitude and innate wrestling talent, the young Superstar ascended to great heights in popularity, touting himself as "The Soul That Burns" and attributing his triumphs to his "soulfire". A lovable underdog who never failed to disappoint in putting on a show, MP3 carved himself a legacy in the WAF.

Piano music preludes new video footage, as viewers witness MP3 behind-the-scenes as he returns from a brutal match bloody and limp, to be assisted by referees and even The Goddess.

Eric Martin: However, quite like many things, MP3 was soon to realize that not all things can last forever. Deliberating financial woes and infidelities among their roster of wrestlers, the Wrestling Aspiration Federation began to see its last days. On February 4th, 2006, the once-booming company presented a strong Pay-Per-View entitled "Resurrection", once again bringing Priest back to Madison Square Garden to face a old rival in Double R. After tearing down the house in a heart-wrenching bout, MP3 was soon to hear the news of the WAF's eventual hiatus; a hiatus which has persisted to this day.

MP3: Well... (he shifts in his chair)... that was one of those horrible situations where you never actually expect something to come and it does. I, however, was not the owner of a multi-million dollar company with expenses and employees, so to say that I should or could have done something is pretty false. The WAF will always be a part of me and, as far as I know, it is not gone forever, but I needed to move on. The WAF revolutionized our industry, but now is a new time, and I hope to revolutionize PCW in a way that will make everyone happier.

The camera switches to an inquisitive Martin, waving a pen in his hand as he surmises a curiosity.

Eric Martin: Explain that last part a bit more if you can. You're launching a pretty serious undertaking by challenging Hatework as one of your first actions in PCW, and to be honest, some have been concerned that you're pushing a death wish. Can you explain why you've singled him out and arranged this obstacle for yourself right now?

MP3: Well, I think a better idea would be to ask Hatework if the Superstars of PCW's past arranged to have their careers ended and live shortened, but you know as well as I do that a civil interview with Hatework is as likely as an original song by 'The Jonas Brothers'. Let's go over the list. The Shining Kid had a classic encounter with him at PCW's first Pay-Per-View, and that man barely walks now. Someone named Danny Nitro faced this monstrosity of a human and he almost didn't escape with his life. Jacob Lowry's match against "The Root of All Evil" landed him what? Three weeks laid up in a hospital. PCW Hall of Famer Crystal Starr was scheduled to face Hatework and she ended up leaving the company, just after I saved that woman against our current PCW Champion I might add. There's your colleague who was assaulted on the job for no reason by Hatework, and countless other instances of destruction that I can't even go into now due to time constraints. Long story short.... I'm just doing what I love. I'm challenging myself. The bigger the better, because they all are bound to learn the value of skill over size, and passion over power. My legacy's crux is defying the fear of limitations, and not many are as successful at that than myself. Plus, in case you don't recall, I announced a revolution in PCW, and it even made a few people laugh, which only means my gratification when they are smited will be worth it. But, I don't make statements just because they sound cool, I make them because I believe in them. At Jailbreak III, I follow through with my promise, because this walking revolution - this triumphant tradition - will not cease in the face of some Gothic goon. It's time this tyrant met his match...


The tape fades to scenes from MP3's recent experiences crossing his path with Hatework's, and hypes up their inevitable clash by showcasing both athletes at the prime of their craft, delivering defeats to their opponents inside the ring.

Eric Martin: Michael Priest is a special individual, from his work ethic to his motivating influences. Drawing on an innocent dream, MP3 has effectively established for himself a legacy of proving that the underdog's fight can always match its challenge. This Sunday evening, "The Soul That Burns", "The Modern Day Marvel" MP3, puts his reputation on the line against a near-unbeatable Hatework, marking his first true fight on PCW grounds. Can Priest truly extinguish the raging flames of destruction "The Root of All Evil" has embodied in PCW, or will the company's last hope meet his first impenetrable obstacle? A lot rides on this legendary clash of two icons, but one thing is certain - their encounter will be the next amazing chapter in this man's larger-than-life career.

The interview package concludes, displaying a split screen of both men's faces animated in slow-motion, leaving the audience questioning which personality will gain the first win at Jailbreak III.



Returning to the live broadcast, the camera now brings forward PCW's trusted announcing duo. Huntsicker's face appears writhed with interest in what he's just seen.


Mike Huntsicker: Wow, and Jerry, I think MP3 does have a good shot at threatening this behemoth. Looking over at what he's done for himself so far, MP3 is putting a lot on the line to do this.

Jerry Byerline: Maybe so, but I'm telling you Mike, Hatework is on a rampage. I don't know if MP3 realizes the difference between someone like Lexxtreme and Hatework... but it's pretty apparent.

Mike Huntsicker: No kidding there. It looks like we're going to Brandi Frye now for a special announcement. I didn't realize we had anything planned...

[~Hatework~]

Brandi Frye is standing in center ring with a microphone in hands. Referee Regis Green is next to her and a third person in wrestling gear is getting ready to have a match.

Brandi Frye: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring, weighing in at 223 pounds … he is from Seattle, Washington … Chad Tucker!

The camera closes in on the man standing in the ring. His athletic frame is supported by a dark tan, which makes for quite a contrast to his blond hair. He is wearing red tights and white boots, with his name written in white on the back of his tights just below the waistline. Chad punches the air trying to work the crowd and hops onto the second turnbuckle where he continues to gain cheers from the fans as the arena lights are shut down …

‘The Serpentine Offering’ by Dimmu Borgir is blasting across the arena speakers …

Brandi Frye: And his opponent … weighing in at 296 pounds … Hatework!

Mike: How fitting. We just had MP3 talk about Hatework, and I think his reasons to call the monster out are more than valid, and now we’ll get to see the demon in person. What a rivalry this is folks, and it takes a very special person like Michael Priest to go into this match at Jailbreak with nothing but confidence about his wrestling abilities to overcome the odds and beat Hatework.

Jerry: The tale of the tape is utterly in favor of Hatework. He is towering MP3 by almost a foot, has a 60 plus pounds weight advantage, and still MP3 doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, when everyone else is.

Mike: That’s the confidence of a holder of multiple singles titles in wrestling – and don’t you think that at his size, MP3 had to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds more than once in his career? He is as ready for this match up as anybody ever could be, trust me on that.

Cryptic tribals run across the video screen above the entrance in rapid succession. ‘What you thought right is wrong … what you believed to be true, is false’ is the message written in silver letters below the eight pointed star with the reptile eye as centerpiece that pops up on the black screen for a few seconds before ‘The Root of all Evil’ takes over in bloodred letters, graced by lightning flashes. Dense white smoke fills the entrance ramp and black light flickers all across the arena as the 6’9 monster steps out from curtain.

Jerry: I have seen this entrance for God knows how many times now but it keeps sending shivers up and down my spine. This man has a presence like no other, and even though most of our fans hate his guts, they shy away from calling him names when he is too close … this man is intimidation personified.

Mike: You are right Jerry, yet one man has risen from the many men backstage who has opposed Hatework. One man is willing to stand up against the root of all evil, and that one man will go one on one with him at Jailbreak – Michael Priest, also known as MP3. You’ve heard his words earlier Jerry. It is going to be a clash for the ages, two legends in their own right, multiple titles to their record, two men who have changed the face of their respective organizations … yet that is about all they have in common. Their characters, their attitude, it couldn’t be further away from another.

Jerry: But I do not know if MP3 realizes what he has gotten himself into. He looks at this rivalry as another match, he views Hatework as just another opponent he is going to square off against in the ring … but there is way more to it than that. Hatework has been terrorizing PCW since he joined three years ago, he has intimidated, injured, destroyed … he does not view a match as a simple contest. He is out to prove his dominance, his agenda is to strike fear into the hearts of men, and the only thing that seems to bring joy to his existence is crippling his opponents. He truly is the demon that haunts PCW …

Hatework has arrived at ringside and stares at Chad Tucker with his cold, white eyes. Brandi Frye makes sure to get out of the squared circle immediately, having been on the receiving end of Hatework’s violence a week ago. The monster acknowledges her terror by cracking a wicked smile and walks up the ring steps. The broadcast goes to a double feature, showing Hatework dragging Frye up the ramp on last Monday’s show and tossing her to the ground like a ragdoll during the confrontation with MP3, with ‘Last week on Mayhem’ written below the screen, while on the other feed he is seen stepping through the ropes and into the ring.

Mike: Hatework has surely left his mark on our gorgeous ring announcer. It just goes to show that no one is save near him, and to be honest, it is beginning to get out of hand.

Jerry: Well Mike, everyone is fair game to him. You are at ringside, you put yourself at risk … that is what his message is. At least he has left us alone so far …

Mike: You should keep sucking up to him, then it may continue …

Jerry: All I am doing is stating facts … no one owns a clean pinfall victory over him, he was the longest reigning champion in PCW history before he was cheated for the title, he has left a multitude of broken bodies on his path … if that doesn’t speak for itself, then what does?

Hatework drops his coat while the lights come back on. He shoves it out of the ring together with the steel plates he unattached from his boots as referee Regis Green checks him for hidden weapons. Hatework just stands there, the referee not even being an afterthought, and has Chad Tucker target locked. Green motions to the officials on the outside and the bell rings.

Tucker is beginning to circle Hatework, who is towering his opponent. In spite of difference in size, Chad goes for the clinch but Hatework intercepts him by grabbing his face with one hand and shoving him down. Tucker is quickly back up to his feet but is met with a vicious right fist that sends him back to the canvas. Green warns Hatework but is ignored as Hatework delivers a kick to the midsection. The root of all evil scoops Chad up and slams him down again in one swift move. Hatework puts a knee on Tucker’s chest, but does not intend to pin his opponent that early. Instead, he grabs Chad’s face and simply stares at him with a detached look. Tucker wraps both his hands around Hatework’s right wrist but is unable to break the iron grip. It doesn’t even look like the monster needs all his strength to keep the struggling man locked down.

Mike: This is scaring the living hell out of me Jerry. Look at Hatework just … just examining Chad. Is he even human? Is there anything inside this man like compassion or any other emotions? It surely does not look that way … this is just nothing but scorn; spiteful anger. What is wrong with this man?

Hatework finally drags Chad back to his feet and Tucker lands a few hits to the midsection in the process, trying to fight out of the hold. The towering monster however does not even seem to care as he lands an elbow on Tucker’s back, followed by a kneelift that sends Chad into the ropes. Hatework irish whips Tucker across the ring and into the opposite cables. Upon rebounding, Chad goes for a flying cross body but Hatework simply catches him out of mid air. He carries Tucker around the ring for a brief moment before he lifts him up and drops him throat first onto the top rope. Tucker ricochets and lands on his stomach, staying prone. Hatework slowly approaches Chad and pulls him up by his tights. Tucker is shaking his head and reaches for his throat as Hatework applies a full nelson just to turn it into a crunching slam a moment later that leaves Tucker on his back.

Jerry: This is utter domination, and I hope that Michael Priest is watching this. I believe the words he had for Hatework and their match at Jailbreak in that video we saw earlier did Chad Tucker an ill-service …

Mike: I do hope that MP3 is watching this … so he can study Hatework and draw his conclusions about what he has to do to prevail in their upcoming Pay per View battle. You can not fight Hatework on his terms, so much is certain … if you try to overpower him, you will get bullied, as Chad Tucker is finding out right now.

Meanwhile, Hatework is stalking Tucker who is struggling to get back to a vertical base. He is clearly shaken from the hard hitting moves he took, but there is fight left in him as he gets back to his feet. Not a second later however, Hatework connects with a running big boot that is accompanied by a sickening thud. Tucker is spun around and laid out spread eagled on the mat. The former PCW champion allows himself the time to wickedly smile, at the world it seems from his still detached look, before he picks Chad up by the neck and tights and proceeds to ram him shoulder first between the turnbuckles and into the steel ring post. Chad screams in pain as he collapses to the mat once more and the fans are booing Hatework frantically. As the camera briefly goes over the crowd, some of the fans have an expression of genuine concern on their faces.

Mike: Okay Hatework, we get your message. We know you want MP3 to watch this. Now … for the love of God, end this already. This is uncalled for …

Hatework stands over his fallen opponent and extends his arms while staring over the crowd with his eerie white contact lenses covered eyes. He focuses his attention back to Chad who is rolling around, holding his shoulder in agony. Hatework unleashes a flurry of stomps to the hurting area before dragging Tucker to his feet by his blonde hair to slam him face first into the top turnbuckle. Tucker is hanging onto the corner of the ring and Hatework takes a few steps back … charges … another big boot straight to the face in the corner of the ring. It looked like Tucker was going to be decapitated and with his back against the turnbuckles, takes the full force of the impact. Chad drops on his knees and is about to fall flat on his face but Hatework stops the motion. Tucker seems to be on dream street but Hatework mercilessly scoops him up and puts him head first between his knees … and executes the hatebomb into the corner of the ring! The fans sigh in unison as Tucker crashes into the turnbuckles and folds, landing awkwardly on the mat, convulsing.

Jerry: I suppose the message you are talking about is clearly aimed at MP3.

Mike: Mike, I don’t care who the recipient of whatever message is supposed to be. This is disgusting. Hatework is putting not only the career but the health of his young opponent in jeopardy. Someone stop this now for crying out loud!

Hatework lets the booing from the crowd sink in as he is looking around in wicked amusement. Chad Tucker isn’t moving an inch, he appears lifeless.

Jerry: It is all within the rules however Mike. Hatework isn’t doing anything illegal here …

Mike: That young man is outgunned, outmatched, overpowered, you name it, so just end this match and get it over with. Newsflash Hatework, this is Chad Tucker, not MP3.

Hatework grabs Tucker by the hair and pulls his body across the ring. He positions him for another hatebomb and sure enough, lifts him up and crashes him down onto the mat in center ring. The crowd is chanting ‘MP3, MP3’ at the top of their lungs as they want an end to be put to the carnage in the ring. Hatework looks around and when before he appeared to be somewhere else mentally at times, he is now showing nothing but rage and hatred on his face. As if wanting to answer to the fans, he pulls the wreckage that is Chad Tucker back up and again, puts him head first between his knees to execute another hatebomb. However, referee Regis Green suddenly holds his arms over his head, forming an X … the bell rings! Hatework seems surprised for a moment and let’s go of Tucker who collapses to the mat, unable to do anything.

Brandi Frye: The winner of the match as a result of referee stoppage … Hatework!

Jerry: Huh? I didn’t know that you could legally end a match on TKO or something like that in PCW. What the hell is up with Regis Green here? This may cost him his job …

Mike: Oh come on Jerry, are you trying to tell me you enjoyed that slaughter? That was the right call and finally this is over. Regis Green had to put an end to this and I think he may have saved a career here … I hope it is not too late. PCW really has to do something about this man … monster, he has totally lost it. There is no excuse for something like this, none, and you know that as well as I do Jerry.

‘The Serpentine Offering’ blares across the arena speakers once more while officials begin tending to Chad Tucker and the fans voice their disgust loudly. Hatework stands in center ring and cracks a sinister smile as suddenly, his theme song is interrupted and ‘We are the sons and daughters of a revolution’ comes as a very audible, yet subtle whisper across the arena speakers … the fans instantly change their focus to the arena entrance and their cheering reaches deafening volume levels as this can only mean one thing …

[~Hatework~]

True to the sense of the audience both worldwide and in-attendance, the arena's houselights are replaced by blue and indigo lighting as "Reflect The Storm" by In Flames quickly picks up after the familiar introduction. Inside the squared-circle, a brooding Hatework holds his head 90 degrees to face
the stage; a statuesque reaction as he acrimoniously awaits the presence of The Soul That Burns.

Jerry: Here it comes Mike! We just saw a beat down like none other by this man's infamous opponent, and as he announced in his interview with Eric Martin, he refuses to let it happen any longer. This sure as hell will cause some fireworks!

Mike: Are you kidding me? We're gonna need a batallion of security on call pronto if MP3 so much as takes a step down that ramp! Simply being in the same room as one another has proven nothing but the fact that they long to tear each other apart.

Jerry: Well Hatework needn't look any further, here he is...!


Byerline's declaration is coupled by a swelling of cheers that soars from the stands like an emotional tidal wave, as a suit-clad MP3 steps casually from behind the stage with a microphone close in-hand. Tanned and tense in his appearance, the once-posterboy of the WAF removes his pair of sunglasses from his face despite the destabilizing flashes from cameras, and nods his head in approval as he strolls to either side of the stage observing the crowd, almost in an effort to reciprocate the adoration.

Celebratory, the scene seethes into the skin of the self-proclaimed Root of All Evil, as cameras show the former PCW Champion's face strained in distaste and doom, looking as though he were the personification of a nuclear weapon itching to slam it's desired target.


Mike: It's well-known that this young man has a way with the people, and PCW's fan base isn’t much exception. As we see Tucker now being tended to by EMTs, this ladies and gentlemen, is the individual who has promised to stop the destructive reign of terror Hatework has plagued PCW with, and this crowd had clearly invested their support in his cause. Loudly, I might add.

Shots of the audience flaunting pro-MP3 accessories, such as a young boy waving a picture of Priest in the PCW magazine and a teenager showing off her "Modern Day Marvel" t-shirt, grace the screen as Byerline offers his comments.

Jerry: Oh, this guy's been a favorite for most of his career, you saw it yourself, he was the darling underdog, he was the heart of an era, hell he was successful too. His passion is a beast unto itself, but this new chapter is a completely different situation. If he thinks he can lead a storybook slaying of this dragon, I think Hatework might just turn that fairytale of his to ash. This isn't just fire he's playing with - it's more like life and death.

Mike: Priest refuses to back down though... something will have to give this Sunday. Let's hear what the revolutionary himself has to say about what we've just seen.


With his theme song gradually fading to leave the buzzing of the live crowd, MP3 stands with his focus magnified toward the ring, seeing only a towering behemoth of a man haunting the ropes. Stern in his countenance himself, MP3's dark eyebrows nearly merge with his eyes as he raises the microphone to his mouth, cracking something of a sarcastic smile.

MP3: Well, well, well.... WOW. Just wow. What an impressive performance there, you have successfully defeated Jobber #79. That marks... what now, your 68th victory against an unlucky local challenge? Sorry, I lost count after 11. Hold on, lemme check the list.

To the amusement of the crowd, MP3 fishes into his suit jacket and withdraws a half-full toilet paper roll, marked with marker inscriptions. Comically feigning curiosity, he grabs the paper and allows it to roll down the ramp, leaving a long list of names and words to unfold along the pathway to the ring, along with laughter from the audience as he peers down at the collection of names.

MP3: Woah, give me a second now, I don't want to get any of your incredible legacy wrong here. Uhh... There was Taylor Runnels? Erm... Mick Masters? Alan Jones? Jimmy... Jimmy Keith? And this is just from matches in PCW! C'mon... you're kidding me, what's your secret? Hold on now, don't break my list you guys. This is classic, really. I don't know if you've spent more time finding these willing suckers or slaughtering them, incredible man. Incredible. Yeah...

Altering his disposition in the wake of an incredulous Hatework, Priest drops the comedic attitude and scoops a lighter from his pants pocket. He snaps it lit, and gently sways the flame in-front of his face, holding it near the toilet paper.

MP3: You know what that means to me? All the segments of squashes you've put the people through? All the dominance and all the victories to your name? Hell, lest I forget your perfect record on Friday Night Fights...

Passing the fire across the paper, the crowd watches as it suddenly smolders into flames gradually, allowing a trail of fire to travel down the ramp way and turn the list of names his opponent has defeated to near-weightless ash. As the flame persists, Priest follows it closely behind, eventually leaving him about 3/4 to the ring. The demonic destroyer gazes at the burning paper with his glazed-over white eyes agape, absorbing the shameless burning as an atrocious act of disrespect carried out against his career.

MP3: All kidding aside though... Seriously, I am totally impressed by what you can do. However, you seem to be forgetting something, Hatey. At Jailbreak III, you won't be facing a random loser; your challenge will not be a hopeless name akin to those of this smoldering list of lives shortened and dreams destroyed. Your challenge, Hatework, is the man you're staring a hole into... the man who has the balls to call you out... your challenge is staring you in the face, and his name is M - P - 3.


With thin gray smoke sailing from the ground behind him, MP3 seems to smile at the disgusted - almost aghast expression written on the face of the demon, who seems to only be able to think of destruction at the moment, hearing the roaring cheers from his declaration of defiance. It all seems to rush toward the mind of the malicious Hatework at once, but as a row of black-vested security guards begins to make its way along the rampway at either side, the force to be reckoned with seems to think twice.

Seeing his opponent's frustration, MP3 continues his verbal tirade...

MP3: And you know, I realize you kinda have a little bit of an eye problem there, but I'm not even sure if you have one with your ears just as well, because what you should be hearing should concern you. You should be hearing the only power that you lack, but I wield in excess. What you're hearing... (MP3 gestures to the crowd surrounding him)... This...THIS... is SOULFIRE, and it is exactly what you lack...THIS, Hatework, is the reason why you will LOSE this Sunday!

Hatework inhales deeply at the import of MP3’s words. The tension is electrifying as the crowd roars in approval of Priest’s tirade, while still awaiting a response from the root of all evil. Hatework stares at MP3, and despite his white contact lenses, his eyes seem to shoot lightning at the soul that burns. After a few more seconds of mute intensity, with the crowd chanting ‘MP3, MP3’ aloud, Hatework unceremoniously tears the microphone out of Brandi Frye’s hands. The gorgeous ring announcer appears baffled at Hatework’s lack of courtesy, yet makes sure to leave the ring as quickly as possible. Having been manhandled by PCW’s demon not too long ago, she doesn’t fancy being the focal point of his attention again and retreats, leaving Hatework to be the only one left in the ring after the medical staff took Tucker out of the arena. Turning back to face MP3, Hatework raises the mic while staring at Priest like a predator. The root of all evil begins to speak in his thundering, guttural voice …

Hatework: Michael Priest … what a very fitting last name you have for your false promises. It rings very familiar though. Many before you have promised victory over me, many before you have tried to make a name for themselves at my expense. All of them are nothing but a fading memory for me now. You are no different, Michael. Your every word is nothing but whistling in the dark. Your funny little jokes reveal your insecurity now that you realize what you have gotten yourself into. You’ve tracked down my career, as if trying to scout me for weaknesses, as if you are looking at this as just another match at a Pay per View. That, Michael, could not be further from the truth …

Hatework lowers his hand for a moment, and that remains his only motion. He’s standing in center ring, statued, ignorant of the fans’ chanting for MP3. A hint of a smile is visible for a mere second as he raises the mic again …

Hatework: You are looking at the singularity, Priest. I am unlike anyone you ever stepped into the ring with. I don’t want to talk track record or title history here, for that is nothing but crude matter, a mere afterthought, a fading experience of the past. I am talking about changing you, Michael. It has already begun, and it will find its climax this Sunday. Your perspective in life will be altered, Michael, as you are humbled and on your knees before the demon that you, as well as all these maggots out here, fearfully neglect. Only in the face of humiliation and on the brink of demise does one find the strength to access the abyss of darkness within us, to overcome and rise above. I am without peers Michael. I am the lurker in the shadows, and I am the shadow itself. The darkness that is rising, the lord of the night, the messenger of chaos … and you, Michael, are just a man behind a shield … a man behind the shield of humanity, too afraid to look the beast into the eyes and accept it into your life. That is why all of you are worms, merely existing than living, driven by emotions that blindfold you to your true ambitions. And that, Michael, that lack of superiority, mind over matter and hate over mind, that absence of awareness to your true potential, leaves you vulnerable.

Mike: This man is talking about himself as if he were some demi-god or something. His every word is a spit in the face of kindness, courtesy and respect for other human beings. He truly is lost in his very own world.

Jerry: It is his strength Mike. He does not give a damn for anyone else except himself. He doesn’t view himself as an ordinary human being Mike, he truly may have risen above and …

Mike: Will you stop Jerry! I am well aware of all of that, but I have had enough of your praise for this inhuman, sadistic monster. He needs to be stopped … for crying out loud, these men in PCW are supposed to set examples for our young fans. They are men that our fans want to look up to. They surely are not men they want to get called worms and maggots by. What example does Hatework give? That defiance and hostility are the only values in life? Give me a break …

Hatework lets the booing of the crowd sink in as MP3 is just standing on the ramp, measuring the 6 foot 9 behemoth inside the ring. The former PCW World Heavyweight and Extreme champion raises the mic once more …

Hatework: So again, Michael, I bid you welcome. I bid you welcome to my world … yet I hope you won’t be disappointed. Talk about your soulfire all you will … it has no meaning to me, and once you step into the ring with me at Jailbreak it will be extinguished once and for all. For here … in my world Michael … you will find ashes … nothing but ashes.

Murmuring to themselves in the after-sound of the gut-shaking verbiage of PCW's most dangerous competitor, a stare of heightened intensity ensues between the Modern Day Marvel and his near-foot taller enemy. Hatework's cold and disconnected glare seems to embody lifelessness, but as MP3 paces toward the ring slightly, a barricade of security enforcers act quickly to separate the former WAF Champion from getting near the ringside area, proving that no one else seems to think Hatework an actually dead entity with his potential to destroy as alive as ever.

Instead of engaging him, MP3 behaves somewhat coyly, nodding his head as he takes a few paces back whilst watching his feet spread and smear the ashes of what was once toilet paper behind. Priest retreats back to the top of the ramp under the near-paranoid discretion of the security team, privy to have neither man export a blow until the Pay-Per-View. Although this leaves the crowd to jeer the decision of the powers that be, MP3 makes certain to stick around as a representative of what the people want, thinking that one of his greatest objectives. He brushes back one of his twin white locks of hair, and glares upward toward the demonic monster, holding a familiar sparkle in his eye.

MP3: Ashes, huh. A world of ashes... Hell, you're right..... your world IS filled with ashes. But you know something, big man? Ashes break into nothingness. Ashes divide. You can see that in the remnants of what these men were... it has faded. It has been erased. So that's your world? It's meaning is void... Just like the meaning of your accomplishments here in PCW.


Mike: Ho boy, Hatework won't sit well with that talk... MP3 just slandered his career.

Jerry: Security is standing on their toes Mike! Hatework's not pleased...


Indeed, as Priest attempts to continue his talk, he pauses to witness Hatework swing his right leg over the top rope, moving as if he were about to attack his Jailbreak opponent days before the bell even rings. Still, with roughly eight bulky men in black security clothing anxiously waiting to pounce on The Demon should he wrongly breathe, Hatework simply snarls at their intrusion and steps his other leg over the ropes with relative ease, remaining on the apron with his arms wrapped around the top rope, possibly restraining himself from devastating more jaws via instinct.

MP3: Go ahead Hatework, let's go! Fight me. Break your cycle of repetition. Because that's exactly your biggest problem; you come out here and brutalize a no-name, look mean, then you walk away having had your fill - night after night...month after month...year after year. It's almost funny; with a routine as exciting as that, it's no wonder you look zombified all the time. You must then be the living embodiment of how this crowd feels during your squash-fests!

Still occupying the apron, the beastly behemoth tilts his head sarcastically in an effort to slide off The Seraphic Soldier's remarks as forgettable, but regardless, they still find a way to burrow a hole in his sense of dignity. Not helping him any was the rousing, near-thunderous cheers in support of MP3's claim, but the former PCW Champion had hardly accounted that anyway, with his focus highlighting the stage.

Jerry: Mike, if he keeps up like this, we might have to high-tail it ourselves... we are within a closer distance than MP3 is...

Mike: I think Hatework is just playing with everyone... he seems to be getting a kick out of standing there.

MP3 lifts a finger as he continues...

MP3: But... there's one thing that's definitely true: talk is cheap. Cheaper than Xero's WAF title reign and The Ayster's PCW title reign combined. And both you and I know that I can say anything up here, on the eve of our collision, but it will never, ever change the fact that our battle won't even be able to be described by words. So I won't bore you any longer nor will I waste any more of my breath talking to the likes of you. ...Oh, just let me leave you with this though...

Recalling his signature behavior, MP3's countenance adopts a more stern state, as he burns his eyes strongly toward the ring where the incredulous Root of All Evil reciprocates in his own fashion. The audience perks up in a bout of silence, detecting it an instance when Priest is baring his ultimate truth to his opponent - strangely, one of his strongest tools that arm him for victory and dominance. Against the monstrous Hatework, it gleams as especially interesting...


MP3: Belief is not even almost what I was expecting from you, or anyone here, Hatework. My last name is indeed Priest, but it's not faith I'm selling... it's payback. So please - write me off as what you will, what matters is what I can and will do inside that ring this Sunday, and I promise you.....I promise you.... It is nothing you have ever seen before. Heh... It's said that seeing is believing...but you should know that belief is irrelevant. One needn't believe in a fist to have their jaw dislocated with a blow. This Sunday, big man, you won't need a subscription to my fan club to believe I'm what I claim to be and will do what I promise, because you'll know. Once I've beaten you, and proven, once again, size is inferior to skill, you'll know. And you'll enjoy all the luck you can get, so good luck to you, Lurch...

Hatework, meanwhile back inside the ring, raises the mic and his thundering voice is once again barking over the arena speakers as he now has a clear hint of anger in his speech.

Hatework: Luck? I find it to be very amusing that you would wish me luck … it is you, Priest, who will need to be lucky constantly on Sunday. With every step you take in that ring, with everything you try and do, you will need to count your blessings … Priest … so that I won’t crush the life out of your stinking carcass, stickboy. But run your mouth. Think of yourself as the savior of PCW, if that is what enables you to overcome the doubt and fear deep inside your mind. Yet the truth … the truth, MP3, is that this Sunday at Jailbreak, I will send you straight back to oblivion where you’ve come from.

As the words are leaving Hatework’s lips, Priest seems to be losing it and starts dashing towards the ring. The security guards are trying to keep him at bay, but MP3 manages to dodge each and every one of them. The crowd roars as they begin to sense a brawl in the making. MP3 finishes his dash down the aisle by sliding inside the squared circle where Hatework drops his microphone and begins to stomp away on Priest. Michael however gets up, with an entourage of security guards in tow getting ready to get in the ring. Priest has broken off Hatework’s assault and delivers a few stiff shots to the head, with Hatework being pushed back towards center ring. Both men start exchanging blows as finally, all eight staff members get inside the ring.

Jerry: It seems as if Hatework has struck a nerve and look at that chaos!

Distracted by security, Hatework and MP3 are being separated, yet try to fend the men off. Hatework tosses one of them down like a ragdoll while MP3 slips out of the grip of another pair of staffers and both go at it once again. With the crowd cheering at the top of their lungs, Hatework and MP3 collapse to the ground, tackled by overwhelming numbers, while still sneaking the odd closed fist in. They roll around and security is doing everything in their powers to break up the brawl. A pile of bodies is in center ring as more and more members of the PCW security team rush to aid their colleagues and slowly but constantly, seem to get things under control.

Mike: This looks like two teams going for a fumble recovery in football. The heat between MP3 and Hatework has reached fever pitch, and its going to make for one hell of a fight at Jailbreak. Folks, we’ve reached the end of tonight’s broadcast, but make sure to contact your local provider for Jailbreak III where these two men will go one on one in what surely is going to be an instant classic … and much more. Good night everyone!

PCW Monday Night Mayhem cuts to credits …