At first the intro to "Fire It Up" plays a while and then the Silent One hits the stage with the title around his waist. He flips his hair back, points to Heaven, pounds his chest with his fist, and gives the rock/heavy metal taunt. Then, he crosses his arms in an 'X' formation in front of his body.

"Making his way to the ring, weighing one hundred ninety pounds. From Plainville, Indiana....Whyyysssperrrr!!!"

He walks to the ring, stopping to shake hands and high five the crowd. Once he gets a few feet from the ring, he sprints and slides in belly first. He climbs a turnbuckle and does the same rock/heavy metal taunt he did on stage, but with both hands and with his mouth wide open like he's yelling. Then, he crosses his arms in front of him in the form of an 'X.' He runs to another turnbuckle and does the same taunts again. He then hops down from the turnbuckle and facing it, kneels to pray. When he's done, he stands up and walks to the center of the ring.

The lights inside the arena begin to dim when 'Shit On You' by D-12 begins to pollute the personal announcement system. With that being said – Shane Satan's somewhat intense video begins to play upon the titantron as the spectators in attendance begin to make their way to their feet. Their initial reaction – to jeer and boo very fucking loudly. It's only a matter of seconds before Shane barges past the gorilla curtain and makes his way over to the top of the entrance ramp with a strong look of intensity upon his face as he pauses at the center of the ramp. Taking a few seconds to basque in the ambiance of hatred being thrown his way; Satan soon breaks his look of repulsion with a pretty arrogant smirk. Not looking at all phased by the haters in the crowd, Shane begins to swagger his way down the entrance ramp – occasionally flipping the birdie to a few random people he passes.

Ring Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, making his way to the ring – hailing from Krakow, Poland and weighing in at 241 pounds – please welcome Shane Satan!!

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to conclude that his arrival hasn't gone down too well at all. However it's not long before Shane reaches the ring apron area and rolls himself into the ring. Satan quickly stands upright and smirks at the crowd – with a look of contention plastered upon his face. He clicks his neck both sides before pacing the ring – scratching his stubble momentarily. Shane then engages in a few brief arm exercises before waiting on his final opponent.

"Black Sheep" by Saliva hits over the speakers and the lights flicker. Javen steps out through the curtain. Javen stops at the top of the ramp and looks out at the booing fans. He smirks and then starts on his way down the ramp. And as he approaches the ring Sabrina makes his introduction

Sabrin: And now making his way to the ring ..., from Jackson, Tennessee....JAAAA-VEN!

Javen stops at the bottom of the ring-steps nearest the ramp pausing to absorb the negative reaction. With poise and grace Javen skips up the steel steps and trots the stage like a stallion. Ducking underneath the top rope he enters the ring and points directly at Whysper’s waist insinuating that will be his.

The referee calls for the title as Whysper unbuckles it. Hoisting it high over his head the referee shows all three men what the prize is for winning. Handing the title off the ring announcer the referee takes centre stage and calls for the bell as he quickly retreats.

Shane Satan quickly ejects himself from the ring as Javen looks to Whysper. Shane watching at the apron, looks upon Jave and Whysper come center stage. Forehead to forehead they begin the verbal bashing, Javen the first to initiate the trade. Suddenly out of nowhere seemingly, Whysper clinches Javen in a muay thai clinch, drops down to his back, lifting his knees into Javens face and BAM Poetic Justice! Whysper goes for a quick cover.

One, Two, Kickout

Shane didn’t even really seemed concerned, not flinching realizing Javen was a fresh man. Shane starts to make himself a participant instead of spectator by being the first to choose his weapons by digging beneath the ring. Pulling out various items like a sledge hammer, trash can, kendo stick, electronic keyboard? A five pound dumbbell, a table, a ladder, a two by four, the works. He begins setting up the outside ring to his disposal, placing a couple useful weapons against the barricade, the table standing on its legs beneath the turnbuckle, the ladder laid out like a table on the guard rail and barricade. Whysper see’s him taking advantage of the situation and quickly rolls out, sprinting from behind and diving onto Shane’s back with a forearm block. Shane tumbles, crashing down to the mat. From the ring comes Javen, running towards the ropes as he leaps over diving crossbodying Whysper and sending them both crashing into the barricade. Javen stands up and CRACK! A massive over the top swing from Shane with the electronic keyboard!

Javen hits the mat, rolling in misery as he unknowingly creeps underneath the table. Whysper starts to stand up just to be nabbed by Shane Satan who locks Whyspers head at his hip. Tossing his arm over his shoulder and hooking a leg, Shane lifts him up in a Fisherman’s suplex and drops him directly thru the table right on top of JAVEN! Shane stands tall, looking over the crowd with a coy smirk dwindling from his face.

Javen pushes Whysper off his body, scooting out of the table rubble. He stands up with the aid of the apron and looks at the distracted Shane Satan whom seems overly pleased with himself. Javen hollers as Shane Satan turns to face. Stepping on top, not over Whysper, Shane makes his way to Javen. Javen throws a haymaker right, Shane ducks as the momentum carries Javen a hundred and eighty degrees. Shane Satan locks Javen’s waist for a german suplex attempt. Javen throws his right leg back in a mule kick fashion and catches Satan in the family jewels. Shane instantaneously drops to his knees and BIONIC ELBOW to the top of his head. Shane is still on his knees, his body woozy as it sways in full circle and SNAP, low drop kick straight to the kisser.

Javen positions Shane Satan’s body and hops onto the bridge like ladder, his back facing Satan. He leaps off back flipping with a moonsault and lands flush on Shane’s stomach. He looks a leg for a pin attempt.

One, two, NO! Shane Satan lifts a shoulder up.

Whysper is up and grabs Javen by the back of the hair, spinning him around he hooks him in a double arm ddt. Whysper walks Javen to a place he finds suitable to drop him, that being on a laid down TRASH CAN! Whysper now ready to show his agile state runs to the barricade, leaps up on it and semi-springboards off with his own moonsault just with a twist, landing on Javen and the trash can. Whysper hooks both legs for the cover quickly.

One, TWO, SHANE SATAN DIVES ON THE PILE!

Whysper stands up to face Shane as they begin the trade off. Right hand after right, both taking each other’s blows and dishing out their own. Shane thrusts Whysper back first into the barricade with a shove. Whysper flies back, his head getting caught between Shane’s legs. Shane lifts him up in a swift powerbomb position, in that fluid motion Shane throws him over head as Whysper face plants on the apron.

Shane stood up, dusting himself off only to be caught by Javen running along the apron, his hand catching the back of Shane’s head as he bulldogged him to the concrete below. Javen stands up, beating his chest with his fists as the adrenaline begins to course. Javen trades stomps, alternating between victims as he places boots in Shane’s back then Whyspers. Javen trends off, looking for an object to help end this mess.

Whysper slowly comes too, pulling his body along the mat in an army crawl. Pushing the timer keeper off the chair, Whysper uses it to stand up. Folding it, he holds it in his grasp. Wobbly he approaches the slow rising Shane Satan. Javen approaches from the opposite side. Both men cock their respected chairs back. The camera pans in to Shane’s unknowing face. WHAM! Con-chair-toe! Shane Satan goes limp, his body expiring from this turn of events. Whysper doesn’t hesitate, he thrusts his chair into Javen’s gut. Javen staggers away before eventually falling to his knees, his chair dropped near the fallen Shane Satan. Whysper kicks Shane so his face positions on top of the fallen chair and WHAM! A single by himself! Whysper throws his chair off into the distance and makes a cover.

ONE, TWO, the crowd behind it THRAH- Javen dives on the pile. Shock and awe of boo’s.

The crowd erupts into chaos as Matt Ward trollops down the ramp. Javen and Whysper are now trading blows at the bottom of the ramp. They both stop and catch Ward, turning to face him as Javen and Whysper once again team together. Ward throws a right into Javen, a left into Whysper. Whysper and Javen start unloading on Ward, pushing him back up the ramp with an arsenal of raining jabs, straights, hooks and kicks. They reach the top of the stage as Ward the fresher of the three throws a wicked head butt into Javen’s forehead. Javen drops like a fly. He grabs Whysper underneath the pit as the giant hurls Whysper into the steel stage pillar. The small of his back hits flush as his body ricochets’ off and hits the cold steel of the stage.

Matt Ward looked content, raising his hands high above his head. He picks up Javen and sticks his head inbetween his legs. Running a cut throat taunt with his thumb across his neck, Matt hoists Javen up on his shoulders in a powerbomb position. Matt runs towards the end of the stage. Jumping off, to follow him down with the powerbomb, Javen manages to push up, now free from Wards shoulders in free fall. What happens next is innovative and amazing; Javen splits his legs, his palms holding onto the back of Wards head as he facebusters him from off the stage in a miraculous counter!

Whypser stands up erect, looking down at the pile below. Javen is slowly returning to his feet, Ward is seeing stars. Whysper takes to the offense, showing precisely why he IS the backyard champion. He positions his feet on the edge, his back facing Javen. His head peers over his shoulder, making sure he will be leaping in the right direction. Whysper backflips, in the midst of the flip his body starts to spiral in a five forty rotation. At moment of impact his arms spread wide, catching Javen with some crazy variation of a crossbody. Both men lay flat, Whysper kicking his feet in agony, clinching his midsection with both hands.

The crowd was roaring, standing on their feet as they all stomped down in a loud percussion. Their hands clapping together as they get behind the fatigued men to get up. Whysper starts showing life, rolling over on top of Javen as the audience gets behind the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Javen throws his shoulder up just as they scream "THREE" thus denying them a winner. This however enchants them to scream louder. Both men now considered heroes as they trade off by saying "Let’s go Javen Cha cha cha." To his opposing opponent Whysper. Both men stand up, using each other as a crutch. Javen quickly thumbs Whysper in the eye. Javen cocks his hands back into his chest, imitating that he is concentrating a ball of energy in his palms. Thrusting his palms in Whyspers chest he performs his Dragon Buster only to be showered by Whyspers spit, consumed with blood. Whysper falls, Javen wipes his face and drops for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

BREAK!

Matt Ward’s hand creeps past, grabbing Javen by the ankle and ripping him off. Ward has to pin the champion, the others don’t. Javen gets up and begins to tee off against Ward, meanwhile Whysper drags his empty body back towards the ring. Matt Ward grabs Javen by the throat, hoists him high in the air, Javen hikes the rest of the way up the tree, pushes out of the chokeslam and performs a hurricanrana!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Ding, ding, ding!

Javen stands confused, looking down at Ward. Can’t quite grasp who made the cover. "Fire it up" blares from the public address system as the titantron shows Whysper lying over the expired Shane Satan. His arm draped a top, not standing up to celebrate.

Moments later the cameras found themselves in the locker-room of Joel Giovanni. As usual he was standing there with a cocky little smirk spread across his lips while rocking a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He had his eyes locked on the cameras with that bold smirk of his as he began speaking out to all of those wonderful yet annoying PWT fans watching nation-wide.

Joel Giovanni: "Surprised to see me once again? I would certainly hope not - as you should all know by now it's not that easy to get rid of me. Not to mention with Taryn having a huge championship match tonight. You should have known I was going to be here. And then add on the tiny fact, I have no intentions of going anywhere anytime soon simply because I love to annoy you people. You should have expected it, then again though none of you have been smart to begin with so in reality I am just expecting too much."

He chuckled a little bit at his own joke. In his opinion it never got old when it came to fans of professional wrestling, they were always so damn dumb. Not one of them had a lick of sense, on top of that they all hated him and Giovanni thrived off hate. Any chance he got he pissed them off and this was one of those times. After a brief moment of pausing so he could get his chuckle in, Giovanni picked right back up from where he had left off just seconds beforehand.

Joel Giovanni: "Anyway Rejects - I am here once again to offer you advice, the best advice anyone can offer someone. It's time once again for Sex Tips with the Italian Sex God - Yours Truly; Joel Giovanni and over the last few weeks. I have offered both sides a piece of vital information when it comes to the 'oral' aspect of things. But this week I am going to change directions and offer some advice to men who how can I put this? Aren't really packing heat - if you catch my drift."

He paused for the moment looking at the cameras in pure silence, as he was sure that people would pick up on it.

Joel Giovanni: "I've never had this problem ever and the word big isn't even the right word to describe my situation. However, I know a lot of women complain about the size of things and as they've said - size matters. I can agree with that - size does matter. However just because you are coming up 'short' gentlemen doesn't mean you still can't perform to the best of your ability and it doesn't mean you cant please your chick because there are ways to do so. And that's where this week's advice comes into play... There's a little thing I like to cal Ground and Pound. Surely you get the idea, if you are actually lucky enough to get a chick in the sack and you know you aren't packing. You are left with only the ground and pound option. You grab a hold of her and you smash that like your life depends on it. I guarantee you even if it's not the Joel Giovanni Footlong - She'll have no choice but to dig what you are doing... that's of course I am assuming you aren't a complete moron and know how to hit all the right spots."

His little smirk got a little bit bigger as he took yet another shot at the people he was offering advice too. It was pretty good advice for the less foruante men with 'small' issues, but as the saying goes dynomite can come in small packages if you can swing it right and that's the advice this Italian Stud was offering. He just smirked as he went ahead and started to speak again in order to wrap things up.

Joel Giovanni: "Remember that fellas - Ground and Pound or cut your sh*t off because there's no way you are getting laid if you can't please her with the little stack of times your bringing to the table. On that note, I have to watch Taryn's match that way when she comes the new champ - I can F*** her brains out. Later piss ants."

Giovanni had that smirk still plastered up on his face as his weekly segment came to an end and the cameras cut back out to the ring for the next match up on the card.

The referee calls for the Revolutionary/BWT championship, hoists it over head to show the participants and hands it off. Stepping back the bell tolls.

Fecca: "This is for the revolution title folks; hopefully it goes to rightful hands."

Styles: "BWT championship moron! Haha, no one can beat Chris Burden that’s impossible. Watch what you say he might here you and slide out to smack the taste out of your mouth!"

Chris Burden eyes across the ring, slowly cornering his back into the turnbuckle. The focus seems to be on him as James Tsunami and Georgia James inch in closer. They both reach Burden as Chris initiates the blows, throwing wild punches like a bear backed into a corner. James and Georgia counter attack, four fists flying at once as Burdens back slumps deeper into the buckle, his pits fall on the top rope to hold him up. They take turns teeing off, stepping back to pump up the roaring crowd. Chris staggers along the ropes as James and Georgia irish whip him. Chris comes sailing off the other side as James and Tsunami duck down and hurl Burden into the air. His arms flail like a school girl as he sores high into the sky before thudding down hard on the flat of his back.

Styles: "They can’t do this; it’s a triple threat match! Stop picking on Burden! Ring the bell ref, DQ! DQ!"

Fecca: "Burdens mouth seemed to have written checks his backside can’t cash. Little retribution goes a long way Styles. Called reaping what you sow, pay attention your time might come."

Burdens feet kick repeatedly as his body starts rotating in circles. Georgia continues to soften up the champion with some educated stomps, calculating limb joints as she thrusts down her boot. Tsunami had more of malice intent, targeting the skull of Burden. James scoops up Burden and performs the Storm of the Century, executing the aeroplane spin into a death valley driver flawlessly. Burden collapse motionless, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Georgia asks Tsunami to aid her, scooping Burden up as he throws a lazy half ass swing in the air to hit nothingness, his knees buckling as Tsunami supported his whole weight. Georgia James jumped forward, catching Burden around the neck with her hands and nails the Glorified to Perfection a code breaker for those to stupid to know this.

Styles: "Dear baby Jesus, help Chris Burden get out of this alive!"

Georgia James lays down for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

James Tsunami yanks her off by her left leg. Georgia James stands up as a verbal confrontation begins to brew.

Fecca: "Appears both individuals want this win Styles. Might see the team work cease to exist here. Don’t think that’ll matter, your ‘zero’ looks in bad shape."

Styles: "He’s a god, he’s faking it."

James Tsunami chest bumps Georgia James, this initiates Georgia James to open palm slap Tsunami. The pop gauged all the way back to the cheap section as Tsunami’s cheek turns a plush red. The exchange begins! Georgia with her short forearms, Tsunami swinging with vicious dukes of fury. James get caught with a wicked right, staggering back as Tsunami quickly steps up and performs a swift enzugri. Georgia lays out as Tsunami goes for a quick cover.

ONE!

Kickout!

Fecca: "Gonna take more than that to stop the Glorified Goddess."

Styles: "Spare me the routine you hack!"

Fecca: "You sound just like him, you know?"

Styles: "Maybe he needs a disciple?"

Meanwhile Chris Burden creeps to the apron and rolls out of the ring falling directly on the concrete floor below. Georgia James returns to a vertical base, Tsunami keeping the pressure on only to be caught in the mid-section with an elbow. Georgia takes a step back, plants the rear foot and WHAM! Super kick right to the cranium. She makes her way to the turnbuckle, climbing quickly as Georgia signals for the end. Leaping off, she kicks her legs out and extends the elbow, dropping it down right on Tsunami’s heart. Takes the cover.

Fecca: "This could be it! New champion! New champion!"

Styles: "GET UP BURDEN!"

One!

Two!

THRAH- NO! Tsunami throws a shoulder up.

Fecca: "Tremendous heart!"

Georgia James stands up shocked, wondering the ring vigorously. Frustrated was the term I’d use precisely. The referee looks down at Tsunami as Georgia hears a whistle. She turns to it and CRACK! Burden was knelt on the apron, his hands clutching the BWT championship! The title thrusts into her skull, the embroidery cutting into her flesh as she falls clutching her seeping wound. Burden tosses the title and rolls into the ring. Taking the cover, his feet climb up on the ropes.

ONE!

TWO!

NO! The referee spots it and kicks Burdens feet off.

Tsunami is up, walking towards Burden. Burden stands up erect, struggling to do so but manages. James reaches his arms out as Chris slides his right hand inbetween and thumbs James right in the eye! Hooking him quickly Chris performs Over Easy, a small package driver. Instead of taking the pin attempt he lets go, moving to Georgia James. Grabbing her legs, Chris rolls her over onto her neck. Clinching her tightly in the middle of the ring with The Burden. His knee digs into her spin, performing the lion tamer.

Styles: "SHE HAS TO TAP! IT’S OVER BABY!"

Fecca: "That dirty dog just might have cheated his way to retaining!"

Indeed he has. Burden has the move locked on so tight that Gee has no choice but to tap out. The bell rings and teh fans boo as Burden holds onto the title. We cut backstage as he celebrates

In the locker-room of Chi-Town's Finest stood Michael Harris and Phoenix Winterborn. Soon enough the two would be going out to compete for the PWT Tag Team Champions in the triple threat tag match against the boys from Natural Selection. Harris untwisted the cap to his half filled mountain dew and began to take a drink from it while Phoenix was rambling on about their match up in a few.

Phoenix Winterborn: "Man, I don't know about you but I can not wait to get in the ring with these clowns tonight. It's been long over due with us getting another tag team title reign my boy. And we both know those punk mfers aint got a chance in hell against us. Ya feel me?"

Harris took the mountain dew bottle away from his lips and looked at his partner blankly for the moment. Phoenix just shook his head as he was pretty sure his partner in crime was about to be a huge smartass.

Michael Harris: "Hell nah, I don't feel you! Dude I swear sometimes you are one perverted SOB and just cause that asian of yours back home isn't doing her job. Does not mean you can attempt to get some love from me. I do not play for that team and I'll never play for that team. Get that through your thick skull."

Phoenix Winterborn: "Your mother dropped you on your head when you were little huh?"

Michael Harris: "Probably did seeing as she was a motherloving crack whore." Phoenix eyed him for the 'motherloving' part. "What? If Jes catches me dropping one curse word on air man. I'm in a lot of trouble and don't you dare even say it... Besides that back to the point at hand. Yeah, it's about time we get another reign. Just sucks we're up against some people that can't wrestle their way out of a paper bag. Hell, I give Cena more credit than these dudes and that's pretty effing sad if you ask me. Either way you look at it though. We are leaving with the gold pimpin' and that's all that matters."

On that note Harris went to finish off his mountain dew when Phoenix jacked it out of his hands and started to down what was left of it. Harris just looked at his partner all wide eyed and started shouting at him.

Michael Harris: "Phoenix, What are you doing?! Phoenix?! MY MOUNTAIN DEW!!!"

Phoenix finished off the bottle and tossed it empty at Harris whom caught it. Just then Phoenix shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the locker-room leaving Harris standing there looking shocked ast the cameras cut back out towards the ring for the tag team match-up.

The lights in the arena go dim as "Beautiful Disgrace" begins to play. Purple and white spotlights fill the arena scooping around the dimmed arena. Tani then steps out onto the stage walking backwards she then turns to the crowd as they cheer. She stops putting her hands to her hips looking out at the crowd. She smiles as she starts down the ramp her hands still on her hips.

Sabrina: "Ladies and Gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one-fall and is for the PWT Femme Fatal Championship!! Introducing first the challenger, from Apple Valley, California...TANI LYONS!"

Tani then goes to one side and slaps the hands of the fans then to the other where she does the same. She then goes towards the steel steps quickly walking up them. She walks to the middle of the apron, in between the turnbuckles, just before getting into the ring and she turns towards the ramp putting her right arm up in the air, she then brings it down presenting herself. She then ducks under the middle rope into the ring. Tani then gets into the ring getting up on the nearest turnbuckle and doing the same motion from the second rope. She turns jumping off the turnbuckle. She then begins stretching.

Fecca: Lyons is definitely looking for revenge from the last time she met with Mikah.

Styles: Too bad she'll have Taryn Black to worry about as well.

The drums of "War In Your Bedroom" performed by A Change of Pace blares throughout the P.A. System and the fans immediately rise to their feet, filling the arena wall-to-wall with boo's. Walking out with a coy grin and a hand raising cockily in the air, Taryn Black paused at the top of the ramp, her eyes running over the audience surrounding her. Chuckling in disgust, she lowered her hand to her hip before she began to sashay down the ramp, spitting venomously at the fans lining the it.

Sabrina: "And the other challenger from Las Vegas, Nevada...TARYN BLACK!!"

Pausing at the bottom, Taryn dragged her Christian Louboutin boot across the ramp before running forward to hop up on the apron. Landing on her knee, she posed briefly towards the rampway, her front out towards it before she lowered herself to the mat and slipped under the bottom rope. Cat-crawling to the center of the ring, Taryn paused while raising to her knees. She brought one finger up her chest, popping it in her mouth seductively before she rose to her feet to move to her respective corner, keeping her eyes locked on Tani.

Styles: One has to wonder how Taryn Black is going to fair in all of this. Will she want to take the title for herself or make sure it stays in the hands of her BFF?

Fecca: Well, I suppose that's something that we'll just have to wait and find out.

The arena fades to black before Shakin' Hands by Nickelback begins to play and the arena then flashes with hot pink, neon green, and purple lights. Mikah soon makes her way out onto the stage, one hand on her hip the other holding onto her title as it hangs on her shoulder.

Sabrina: "Introducing last, from New York City, New York...she is the Femme Fatal Champion...MIKAH!!"

Mikah stops in the middle of the stage before rolling her hips to the left before continuing her way down the ramp. She jogs up the stairs before strutting two steps onto the apron then slowly getting into the ring between the bottom and middle rope. Before she can go any further Tani darts after her throwing a flurry of fists her way.

Fecca: Tani not wasting ANY time here.

Styles: Didn't even give Mikah a chance to get in the ring!

Tani doesn't last long throwing punches as Taryn Black makes her way to her ripping of off of Mikah. Taryn throws Tani back as the bell rings. Taryn goes towards Tani lifting her off the mat. She then sends a hard chop to Tani's chest, and another and another. The boos ring in as Mikah meets up with Taryn as Tani's back pushes up against the ropes. The two girls then grab onto one of Tani's arms and they double team her throwing her to the other set of ropes. As Tani comes back towards them they're prepared to take her down with a clothesline but Tani slides in between them popping right back up to her feet. As the girls turn around Tani jumps forward taking them down with a clothesline.

Fecca: A great move by Tani Lyons! She is going to have to keep that up if she wants to stay in this game.

Styles: She might as well leave, one of those girls is gonna have it, they'll make sure of it.

Fecca: Well Tani still has hope and so do these fans.

Taryn rolls over towards the side stepping to the outside of the ring and Tani doesn't seem to care. She keeps her focus on Mikah who is trying to get herself up. Tani goes up behind her wrapping her arms around Mikah's mid-section lifting her up and slamming her back onto the mat with a german suplex. She doesn't stop there, she turns over lifting Mikah up once again with another suplex and another until she finally holds it for a pin.

ONE..

TWO...

Taryn stops the count as she sends a hard kick to Tani's midsection causing Tani to let go. Taryn follows through grabbing onto Tani's hair and lifting her to her feet. Taryn then sends a hard slap to Tani's face which seems to shock her. Taryn then sends another and attempts another only to be stopped by Tani. Tani now having Taryn off guard sends a kick to her midsection and pulls her closer looking for a DDT. This however doesn't happen because Mikah is now up on her feet and takes Tani down with a dropkick. Taryn stumbles back as Tani lets go of her. Mikah then lifts Tani to her feet and Taryn meets her as the girls double team Tani with a suplex.

Fecca: Tani might be in trouble with this double team action.

The girls then get to their feet and Mikah yells something to Taryn pointing to the top rope. Taryn does as Mikah says heading to the top rope as Mikah lifts Tani back up to her feet. Mikah then takes her back down with a side slam. Taryn then jumps off the top rope landing on Tani's neck with a leg drop. Tani holds onto her neck as Taryn gets to her feet. Mikah then drops down making a cover as Taryn looks on looking a little confused on what she should do.

ONE..

TWO..

Tani kicks out.

Fecca: Looks to me like Taryn Black just let out a big sigh of relief, I'm not so sure that she does want Mikah to win this thing, she wants it for herself.

Styles: Did you see her move to stop the cover?

Fecca: I didn't see her do anything, but I certainly saw her wanting to do something.

Mikah is visibly upset at this but gets to her feet once again. Taryn is already pulling Tani up to her feet and Tani fights back pushing Taryn back and sending a hard slap. Taryn stumbles back but before Tani can get any further Mikah lunges forward. She then reaches around back and lifts Tani looking as if she's going for a back drop, Taryn then stumbles forward and Tani catches her legs onto Taryn's shoulders. Tani then uses all of her force and rolls over sending both girls flying across the mat and to the outside. The crowd cheers loudly as Tani gets to her feet a little slower than usual. Taryn and Mikah comes together on the outside clearly still a little out of it from that last move. Tani then taunts to the crowd before running and bouncing off the ropes then running towards Mikah and Taryn jumping up out of the ring and over the top rope with a senton. She takes both of the girls out as she hits the outside.

Fecca: What a move by Tani Lyons!!

Styles: All three of them are motionless on the outside!

Fecca: She wants this title and she is proving it right here.

The crowd is cheering loudly as Tani stumbles up to her feet with the help of the barricades. She looks down at Mikah and Taryn who are both moving but hardly. The ref yells out for them to get into the ring and when they don't he starts a count.

ONE...

Tani catches her breath before reaching down to grab Mikah.

TWO...

Tani lifts her to her feet by her hair and slams her face first into the barricade.

THREE...

The fans up front are moving out of the way and Tani grabs ahold once again of Mikah who is trying to get away but just doesn't have the strength to do so. Tani then pulls her back and does a circle throwing her over the barricade much to the delight of the fans.

FOUR...

Mikah falls over the barricade to the concrete floor where the fans are sitting. Tani then turns her attention to Taryn.

FIVE...

She goes to grab Taryn and lifts her to her feet as well, she attempts to throw Taryn into the barricade as well,

SIX...

but Taryn swiftly changes this throwing Tani into the barricade, up and over straight into Mikah who had just started to get up.

SEVEN...

Taryn falls back seeming worn out. Tani and Mikah are on the other side of the barricade.

EIGHT...

Taryn finally hears this count and gets to her feet sliding into the ring only for a second before getting out again to re-start the count.

Fecca: SEE! Taryn wants this! If she wanted Mikah to have it she could've just let him continue his count because the championship stays in the hands of the champion when the match ends in a count-out.

Styles: Maybe she just wanted to torture Tani more!

Taryn then heads back over towards the barricade where Tani and Mikah are now trying to get to their feet.

ONE...

Taryn grabs onto Tani's hair pulling her over the barricade, she slams onto the mat as she falls off the barricade.

TWO...

Taryn then brings Tani to her feet and throws her into the ring. Tani rolls inside holding onto her side.

Taryn then turns back around and helps Mikah up over the barricade. She says something to her and Mikah nods her head. Taryn then gets back into the ring as Mikah walks over to where Sabrina is sitting. Taryn then goes to Tani sending a stomp to her back. Tani rolls over holding onto her side still. Taryn then lets out a laugh as she sees Tani struggling. Meanwhile Mikah is on the outside she yells at Sabrina to get out of her chair. Sabrina does so quickly. Mikah grabs the chair and pushes it into the ring.

Fecca: What the hell is Mikah doing?

Styles: Can't lose the title due to disqualification either...

Inside the ring Taryn has ahold of Tani's legs and locks in the figure-four leglock. Tani screams out in pain as she looks for an out reaching towards the ropes which are far away. Mikah then slides into the ring another chair in hand. She picks up the one she already put into the ring. Taryn lets go of Tani's legs and Tani quickly grabs onto them hoping that it will stop the pain. Taryn goes to Mikah taking the extra chair from her. Mikah then slams the chair to the mat a grin on her face.

Fecca: What the hell do these girls think that they're doing?!

Boos circulate through the crowd as the girls slam the chairs to the mat in anticipation. The ref yells for them to get rid of the chairs but they clearly don't care. He tries to grab the chair from Mikah but she pulls it back to her hands and yells at him. Tani is then getting to her feet despite the fact that the crowd is booing loudly. She reaches her feet and it is like Christmas come early for Mikah and Taryn who ready themselves with their chairs. They then slam them forward towards Tani's head looking for a con-chair-to. But, Tani is too quick for them ducking down which causes the chairs to smack into each other. Taryn and Mikah both jump back dropping the chairs. Tani then runs towards the ropes bouncing off them and as she comes back she jumps with a double clothesline taking both girls down. Mikah remains on the mat as Taryn gets to her feet.

Fecca: Tani trying to come back once again.

Tani grabs onto Taryn who is stumbling forward, she hoists her up over her shoulders and brings her down as she hits Vanity's Curse.

Fecca: Tani's got it!!

Tani sits over pulling Taryn's leg up in a cover.

ONE..

TWO..

THRE..

Mikah sends a hard boot to Tani's stomach just in time. Tani gets to her feet quickly clearly pissed off. Tani meets up with Mikah and they exchange words before Mikah shoves Tani back. Tani looks to her shoulder where Mikah just shoved her, Tani laughs looking back at Mikah. She then sends a hard boot to Mikah's midsection before planting her face into the ground with a leaping reverse STO AKA "Fixed".

Fecca: That had to feel good for Tani.

Mikah grabs onto her face as she rolls over. Tani stomps on Mikah until she finally reaches the edge of the ring. Tani simply pushes her out as she hits the outside hard. Tani glares down at Mikah on the outside. All of the sudden Taryn comes from behind she pulls Tani back with a school-girl.

ONE..

TWO...

THREE!!

Tani kicks out just a milla-second to late. Boos fill the crowd as "War in your bedroom" begins to play.

Sabrina: Here is your winner and NEW Femme Fatal Champion...TARYN BLACK!

Tani looks on is complete disbelief as Taryn is handed the Femme Fatal Championship by the ref. On the outside Mikah has popped up to see what happened only to see her best friend holding the title. Mikah looks incredibly confused.

Fecca: Tani Lyons almost had the win but Taryn Black stole it right from under her nose.

Styles: This is exactly what she deserved!

Fecca: And what about Mikah?

Styles: They'll make it work...

Taryn taunts Tani with the belt but Tani doesn't seem to want any of it. She simply rolls out of the ring getting to her feet. She holds onto her side as she walks past Mikah silently and up the ramp.

Fecca: I'm not sure if Tani is in shock or if she really is just done with these two.

Styles: Not our fault she can't beat them, she should quit whining.

Fecca: I think she just wanted a fair fight, but she knew she wasn't going to get one in this situation.

Mikah and Taryn continue to look towards each other as the scene fades.

As soon as the cameras cut back to the ringside area - rather quickly the arena's lights began to dim down and were soon replaced with a goldish like color. It had the fans shocked as well as confused to what was going on at the time. About that time on the titantron the words "The Quinntessential Player" flashed across it. No sooner than those words flashed "Everywhere I Go" by Hollywood Undead came on over the public address system. For the most part the fans were still very confused as to what was going on at the time. As a highlight video began to play highlighting this person' greatest moments, the fans started to become more and more curious as to whom was about to come out. Just then the curtains were pushed to the side and Adrian Quinn came stepped out onto the stage. For the last year in a different promotion Quinn had been making a name for himself and it was a name that no one could stand. As soon as they seen him the fans began to boo with everything in their might which didn't seem to be a shock at all for him. Quinn just flashed his cocky little smirk as he started to make his way down the ramp with the boos getting louder, seconds later Quinn found himself at ring side as he leaped up onto the apron and stood there for a moment looking around at all the booing fans. His smirk told the entire world that he enjoyed being hated, On that note he swung himself into the ring and headed right for the center of the ring. He looked towards the ramp making a cutthroat motion basically implying to cut his music which the people in the production truck did. With the end of his music, the arena's lights went back to their normal state. Quinn reached on into his back pocket and pulled out a microphone, no sooner than he pulled it out the boos got louder. Everyone hated when Quinn spoke, because he never held back and he told it like it was. Not to mention he always had a smartass comment for something and was always putting himselver over. He just ignored their boos and raised the microphone on up to speak.

Adrian Quinn: "Well - You would figure after spending about two months away for the business. You people would be a little more excited to see me than what you are right now." Boos rang out from the fans, as he did nothing but smirk. "It seems that some things never change. I am still as good looking as I ever was. I'm still as talented as I ever was. I'm still considered the future of this business. You people still hate me and the majority of you marks that come to shows are still the same as you always were. Either Fat, Ugly, Retarded, or over all just a worthless pathetic sense of a human being. Guess that's just how it goes sometimes huh?" He shrugged his shoulders a bit while the fans carried on. "I know a lot of you are wondering why, I am here and seeing as ninety nine percent of you look like your brother and sister inbred made hicks while the other one percent of you were just dropped on your head as children - meaning you are all entirely too stupid to put two and two together. So allow me to break it down in simple terms for each and everyone of you. The Quinntessential Player; Adrian Quinn just became PWT's Prime Time Special!"

With the official announcment that he was joining the PWT Roster - the crowd lost their minds when it came to their hatred for them. Their boos got even louder than before and there was even a "This Is Bullsh*t" chant going around the arena. They were really not happy with the fact he had decided to sign with PWT of all places. Last thing they wanted to do was deal with his mouth every single week and that's exactly what was going to happen. After all Quinn was a talker, always had been always will be. It was to the point that some people thought he liked to talk just to hear the sound of his own voice. As the crowd continued with their hate Quinn just shrugged his shoulders, smirked a little more and decided to go on-ward.

Adrian Quinn: "Go ahead boo, chant whatever you want, and continue to hate on me. It's not going to change anything and that's something you people have still failed to realize. It doesn't matter how much you hate me, it's not going to bother me any. In fact, I enjoy the hatred I get from you people. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and tells me that I know I am doing it big when I've got everyone in the country hating me." He just nodded his head with that cocky grin of his. "No matter what you say, it won't bother me. It won't get me to do what you want. The only thing it'll do is provide me a sense of amusement and cause me to laugh at your worthless asses for quite sometime. And on a side note, I know there's those tough people in the crowd that think they can actually do something to me. You know the drunken idiots that think they can do what I do in this ring, Allow me to promise you something. If one of you underclass low lives ever think about putting your nasty disgusting hands on me, I promise. I'll break every single bone in your face. Just sayin." the crowd's boos just continue to ring throughout the arena. They were really hating on him tonight, but then again he was going above and beyond. "But you people want to know something else? I decided that when I came to PWT - I wanted to do something different. I knew I wanted to be at the top of the promotion but I wanted to do something different at the same time. I got to looking around and I got to noticing things about this place, I just didn't like at all. It varies from several different things from the way some things are ran, to some of the people working for the company, to who's holding certain championships, and so on. That's when I realized that because, I was pretty much the best thing this company aquired and better than anyone and everything PWT has going for them. I decided that, I would create my own division if you will and with that being said tonight people... I debut the very thing that will set me apart from everyone else."

Quinn pointed to the ceiling of the arena as a blue fog began to stream down directly in front of him and making it hard for people to see in the ring. It only lasted a few seconds before the smoke disappeared and when it did Adrian Quinn was standing there with what appeared to be a custom-made championship drapped over his left shoulder. He took a moment to look at it and the look in his eye explained it all, He was simply amazed by it. Of course the crowd didn't care for the surprise, as they did nothing but boo him and hate on this moment. Something that Quinn was still unbothered by as he took his attention of the championship and looked back at the crowd raising his microphone back up to his lips.

Adrian Quinn: "And this right here folks is what will set me apart from everyone else. I've decided that PWT needs some flava, a little bit of swagga, and something different that's why I've decided upon my debut here. I'd debut a new division with a new championship. And this right here people will be known as the QUINNtessential Championship. A championship that will never ever, allow me to repeat that never ever leave this shoulder." He patted the gold lightly while the crowd booed. "Yeah, I know you people don't like the fact I have my own championship and that I am creating my own division. Just like I know you people are thinking this is going to do nothing but boost my ego even more and just going to cause me to be more self centered and cocky than normal. Yeah, your probably right but then again it doesn't matter what you people think. It never has and it never will, something none of you will get." the boos got even louder with him mentioning those words. "I did what I did because it needed to be done. I did what I did because I am better than all of this and I shouldn't have to lower my standards by competing in divisions I'm better than. I shouldn't have to lower my standards by winning championships that I'm clearly better than and that have been tarnished over the years with the pathetic bastards that have had their grimmy hands on it. I don't care if people don't like the idea and I don't care if they think it's biased towards myself or whatever. Fact of the matter is, I deserve to have the finer things in this business and that's what I am doing by presenting myself with my own championship slash my own division. Anyone is welcome However I do have a message for everyone in the back and I want each and everyone one of you to listen up good when I say this."

He took the moment to pause as he moved in closer towards the cameras. It was clear he had a rather serious message but at the same time it was coming from Quinn. Chances are he'd be just downgrading people as usual and making himself look good, because that's all he's ever done. His eyes were locked directly on the cameras as he raised the microphone back up to speak his message.

Adrian Quinn: "Remember one thing; the name is Adrian Quinn and I'm Quinntessential - something you will never be!"

On that note he slammed the microphone to the mat as it hit with a loud thud while his music began to play a second time. Quinn just took the championship off his left shoulder and held it into the air which caused the crowd to boo once again. As he was celebrating his new championship run so to speak and his debut to the company the cameras cut backstage...

Backstage we see Jacob MItchell talking to The Freaks(Cross an Ryan cain) plus Con Escobar and Marcus Bain. He tells them they had better make sure the Tag titles stay under Natural Selection control. The shared tag champs exit and Shauna Lane enters into the scene. She interviews Jake asking how he expects to overcome Damien Collins and Zarek Lyle. Jake answers that he will do what he's always done: Win at all costs.

The bell rings as all Cain, Bain, and Harris take the ring.

Fecca: "Odds seem pretty stacked against Chi-Towns finest. Hope they make it out alive. Marcus Bain and Ryan Cain are already staring a hole thru Michael Harris Styles."

Styles: "That’s what they get for insinuating anything fine comes from Chicago!"

Harris backs into his respected turnbuckle as the two speedsters of Natural Selection zero in. Like a bear backed into a corner Michael Harris starts throwing for the fences, targeting Cain first and ricocheting over to Marcus Bain. Michael Harris carries his momentum with the fury of wild shots pushing Cain and Bain into the centre of the ring. Ryan quickly raises a thumb, jabbing Harris in the eye. While blinded Marcus throws in a boot to the ribs dropping Harris down to a knee. Ryan Cain sweeps Michael’s legs dropping him flat to his back as both guys start taking turns, straddling Harris, grabbing a hand full of hair in one hand and pounding his face to mush in the other. While unoccupied they’d also take turns taunting Phoenix.

Styles: "MAKE HIM PRETTY BOYS!"

Fecca: "I can’t believe you condone this! Ever heard the expression fair fight? Of course not, you’re Natural Selection for Christ sake! Come on ref, that’s enough!"

Cain spins off the mount and runs over to make a tag allowing Cross to get some action. Bain maintains control still throwing mounted punches into the cranium of Harris. Cross taps his shoulder, signaling him to get off. Cross pulls up Harris and sticks him in a powerbomb position, lifting Harris up onto his shoulders and walking over to Winterborn. Mouthing "You’re next cupcake." Cross continues back to the center of the ring where Bain is on top of the turnbuckle ready to lung off.

Fecca: "They wouldn’t! This is ludicrous! GOD DAMNIT!"

Styles: "Ladies and Gentlemen the funeral ceremony will be held the following Saturday, we expect you in attendance."

Fecca: "This isn’t a laughing matter tool!"

Phoenix doesn’t hesitate, he runs to the turnbuckle from the apron and yanks one of Bain’s feet causing him to fall jewels first on the turnbuckle. Shoving him off he leaps up, soaring high as he crossbodies Harris, causing him to push over Cross leaving his partner unharmed. Cross rolls from the ring as Phoenix pounces the other two off the apron leaving only Bain in the ring. Phoenix begins to act as though he is holding Bain on strings like a puppet, Harris crawls up to his feet and nods in Phoenix direction. As Marcus rises to his feet, Phoenix rolls to the left and WHAM! Sick kick with epic magnitude directly into Marcus Bain’s kisser!

Fecca: "PUPPETEERING! They call that puppeteering Styles! You could feel the impact all the way back in the cheap seats. Make a cover, win this!"

Styles: "Cheaters! Phoenix wasn’t even legal, what’s he doing interfering in this masterpiece? I call shenanigans, I said it! SHENANIGANS!"

Harris does indeed make a cover, hooking the legs tight.

ONE!

TWO!

Con Escobar rips Michael Harris off and hurls him across the ring. Ryan Cain consoles with his long time companion as they both decide to say "F*CK PWT" as they begin walking up the ramp. Con is steaming from the cheap shot from Phoenix as he approaches, arms sprawled out, repping his massive size. His breath is heavy as each step is animated as though it is taking a century to walk forward. Phoenix throws some short forearms, connecting in Con’s chest as the man doesn’t even budge. Phoenix flies to the ropes, soaring back with a shoulder block… nothing. Phoenix tries once more… nothing. Fuming Con Escobar short clothlines Phoenix nearly decapitating him as Phoenix body back flips from the momentum and crashes to the canvus.

Styles: "Eat dirt chump!"

Fecca: "May not agree with the man but I’ve always been impressed with his strength."

Harris is up and when Con turns to face? Superkick! Catching Con Escobar right in the jaw. Con doesn’t fall however, he spins his legs feeling slightly woozy. Phoenix is up to completely dazed but manages out of practically nowhere to catch a Firestorm!

Fecca: "Chi-Town is killing them with the double team moves Styles. Their offense is impeccable. Seem to be in sync with one another."

Styles: "One word… Shenanigans!"

Phoenix grabs Marcus Bains legs and forces him into a Texas Cloverleaf. While trapped Michael Harris swoops in and applies a Cattle Mutilation.

Styles: "NO!!!!!!!"

Bain has no choice but to tap, crowning our new tag team champions!

Prospectively putting this match in the eyes of Zarek Lyle, this was it. His redeeming moment to capture the PWT world champion and accomplishing what he and the rest of Team PWT set out to do two months prior. The audience eyes were in a gaze, all spectators viewing Zarek Lyle putting on the enormous amount of pressure.  Damien Collins was fighting a noble cause to in his own right, trying to reclaim his title which was stolen and perhaps earning the respect of his colleagues.  Jacob Mitchell on the other hand looked calm and collected as if he already expected superiority.

The suspenseful anticipation carries on over as the referee holds the championship high over head, all eyes glued. The belt is carried off by the ring keep as the zebra makes his way to the center and calls for the bell.

Jacob Mitchell takes this opportunity to strategically bail from the ring as Zarek Lyle comes bull rushing at Damien Collins, the two colliding in a classic wrestling grapple. You could feel the animosity seeping as Zarek Lyle tried to better his position forcing Collins back into the turnbuckle. Lyle inserts his shoulder into Collins abdominal section and starts delivering shoulder thrusts, depriving Collins of air and softening up the mid section. Zarek Lyle backs off allowing Damien Collins to stagger forward, as he does Lyle springboards off the ropes, catching Collins in a reverse spinning DDT.

Fecca: “Looks like Zarek Lyle has one thing in mind Styles, BLOOD!”

Styles: “Boo hoo, I hate that guy. Mitchell is standing outside the ring with his arms crossed just watching Lyle do all the work. Now that is class!”

Fecca: “More like pathetic.”

Lyle keeps to the offense, picking Collins up keeping the match fast paced to his advantage. Grabbing an arm, he goes for an Irish whip. Collins counters by handing on, spinning a one eighty and sending Lyle to the ropes. Lyle rebounds back as Collins ducks under. Ricocheting of the other side Collins goes up high, connecting with a perfect dropkick.

Fecca: “BEST DAMN DROPKICK IN THE BUSINESS!”

Styles: “Regardless, it’s a dropkick dude. Talk about lame-age. What is this nineteen eighty?”

Collin sports a flashy smile as he simply taunts his imploring fans. Boasting about his dropkick probably do long as Zarek Lyle has already returned to his feet with a vengeance.  Lyle throws Collins with a snapmare down to his buttock and quickly dropkicks him in the mug as perhaps retaliation, Lyles seemed to be more aggressive and have more on it.

Styles: “Woohoo, a battle of dropkicks wake me up when Mitchell’s decides it’s important to participate.”

Fecca: “Shut up Styles, Lyle has nothing but determination in his eyes. He deserves this, PWT deserves this!”

Zarek capitalizes with a stunning standing moonsault as he hooks the leg for the cover. He gets to one, before Damien throws his shoulder up breaking the pin. Lyle stands up frustrated as he walks over to the turnbuckle facing the crowd to throw them “the look” causing them to pulse their feet down and get behind him. From practically nowhere Mitchell charges to the back turned Lyle and raises his boot up kicking him in the back of the head and driving his face into the buckle!

Styles: “BITE THE BULLET! Hahaha YES!”

Fecca: “What a dirty son of a bitc…”

Damien Collins is up and throws a wild swing at Jacob Mitchell. Mitchell ducks underneath and locks in an inverted headlock. Dropping down he performs a backbreaker from this position using his back and weight as the leverage.  Jacob climbs up to the second buckle and follows it with a diving forward elbow drop just as Steve Austin use to do. Lyle uses the turnbuckle to stand back up as Jacob Mitchell short arm clothlines him over the ropes to the mat below. Returning to Collins he begins an assault of boots, picking apart limb joints as he spins around his body.

Styles: “See how intelligent Mitchell’s is? Keeping one out and one in! The other two are to brain dead to come up with that idea. Just ask Lyle, after that bTb he probably has no brain cells left!”

Fecca: “Give me your microphone, finished listening to you.”

Styles: “Some one is being a poor sport, wittle babies feelings hurt because his two are losing to my one?”

Fecca: “You’re an idiot. Mitchells looks to be finishing off his stomps with a running knee drop positioned directly on the forehead of Collins.”

Styles: “OW had to hurt!”

Lyle catches a break during the knee drop, long enough to by enough time to slide back into the ring undetected. Mitchell turns around as Lyle comes sprinting. Jacob catches him and spins him around a tombstone style position. Lyle reverses with a hurricanrana piledriver! Lyle beats his fist on the mat and when Mitchells stands up he sprints again, catching his head in a neckbreaker like position and flips over the top of him crashing him down hard on the mat!

Fecca: “WARRIORS CRY! It’s over, he did it!”

Lyle hook a leg for the cover.

One!

Styles: “NOOOO!”

TWO!

Mitchell’s still relatively fresh throws his shoulder up breaking the count. Jacob Mitchell scoops to the ropes, in a sit down position, his back to them. Lyle approaches forward on his head hunt. Mitchell reaches forward and grabs Lyle by his tights waist line and dejects him over his head inbetween the top and second rope. Lyle’s head bounces off the thin mat covering the concrete floor. Jacob stands up and faces towards Lyle. From behind Collins locks in a German suplex and drops Jake down on his head. Collin ejects himself from the ring to pose for some photos waiting for Mitchell to get back up. He slides back in and nails another! Repeating this process one more time.

Fecca: “His hat trick German suplexes are the best Styles! Makes the audience feel welcomed!”

Styles: “Show boater!”

Collins hooks a cover only catching a two but while this process is taking place a masked man ventures over the guard rail as Lyle returns to his feet. Shoving the time keeper off his chair, the masked man picks it up and OBLIVERATES Zarek Lyle from behind. The chair shot ringing across the stadium.

Fecca:  “NO! The masked man strikes again! DAMNIT! DAMNIT TO HELL!”

Collins lifts up Mitchell and cinches in a suplex, stalling him over head as he spun in full circle to draw in his audience. What happens next is simply amazing, Jake kicks his feet and spins off, catching Collins head and prodigal drops him from the suplex position! Jake immediately hooks the legs.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Styles: “HE DID IT! NEW CHAMPION, NEW CHAMPION! YESSSSSSSSS!”

Fecca: “This is bullshit! That damn masked man stopped Lyle from being able to break the cover!”

The masked man slides into the ring with the PWT world title and hands it over to Jacob Mitchell whom stands victorious. Raising Mitchell’s hand in celebration the masked man begins to peel his mask off revealing… CHRIS BURDEN! We fade with those two.