Slim Pickens vs The Great Muta vs Trenton York

[The Great Muta (T)]

"STRAIGHT FROM THE HORSE'S MOUTH"

DHWA Friday Night Massacre comes back from commercial break, continuing the two hours of backlash of this past Sunday’s Dawn of Disorder PPV. The camera pans across the sold out crowd live in Rio Rancho, New Mexico as the Die-Hard Army scream and holler at the top of their lungs, throwing their signs and posters high over their heads to be recognized by the panning shot. Some of the most recognizable signs read things along the lines of “CORINO GOING BROKE?”, “JBK: JAW-BROKEN KID”, along with a sign recognizing the newly crowned DHWA Intercontinental Champion that reads “A TOAST TO THE CHAMP!”

The signature voice of Jim Ross cuts in over the official theme music of the program that buzzes in the background as the fans try their hardest to make it on television to be seen by their loved ones at home.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Welcome back to Friday Night Massacre, ladies and gentlemen!

We now see Jim Ross and Jerry “The King” Lawler at ringside, enjoying the show so far from their broadcast position. J.R. smiles through his light goatee, wearing a stylish black suit with an orange dress shirt tucked in on the inside not bearing any sort of neck tie. Jerry on the other hand wears a much more casual attire with a white “The King” branded t-shirt with black dress pants. His t-shirt has large gold and shimmering blues reaching up from waist, stretching up near the shoulders with a silver crown in the center with four blue diamonds drawn on the reflective printing.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
A lot has changed here in the DHWA, ladies and gentlemen, nearly one week ago at Dawn of Disorder when we finally crowned the first DHWA Smoking Skull Heavyweight Champion in the pearl of the Orient, The Great Muta.

[/color]

Jerry’s crow’s feet wrinkle in the corners of his eyes as he smiles, preparing to reply to J.R..

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
That’s right, J.R., The Great Muta is the DHWA Smoking Skull Heavyweight Champion! And as we mentioned at the top of the show, J.R., the champ will be here tonight LIVE at the Pepsi Center in Rio Rancho, New Mexico!

J.R. nods into the camera, agreeing with Jerry’s reply.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Yes, King. We’ve seen a new Great Muta at Dawn of Disorder and he means business! We saw something that I think that shocked us all when The Great Muta sprayed the infamous black mist into the face of his former manager, the doctor, turned sensei, of style, Slick.

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
And even though us here at the broadcast table weren’t too fond of Slick’s antics while he was here loud and proud in the DHWA, we wish him a quick and speedy recovery from the blindness that the black mist from The Great Muta has bestowed upon him.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Yes, King. Us here at the DHWA wish all the best to the sensei of style and his family through his handicap that has been brought down upon him for the time being.

The lights instantly go out in the arena, sending the crowd in an uproar of cheers.

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
Here we go, J.R.![/center][/color]

Fog starts to creep it’s way up through the steel grates and under the black curtain, filling the stage and upper area of the ramp with the choking smoke, slowly inching it’s way down around the ring. The lights positioned at the corners of the stage brighten the ashen fog to a neon purple colour, cutting through the solid black color, illuminating the stage slightly.

Pyro explodes from the stage in three large bursts before the curtain flies open as a shadowed figure starts to make his way down towards the ramp. We see a close up shot of the figure. He wears a black suit with a white dress shirt and dark grey tie. He has a large mask over his face of a gold-plated skull with hollow black eyes and mouth with crooked teeth making a twisted grin. Large golden antlers are attached to the forehead of the skull, reaching backwards down the neck where a long black cloth stretches down over the man’s suited shoulders. Two long slivers of cloth flap against the man’s chest with Japanese writing sewn into them. The man’s right hand holds the DHWA Smoking Skull Heavyweight Championship close to his chest, tipping the viewers off to who the identity of the man is.

-x[Lillian Garcia | The Ring Announcer]x-
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome: THEE NEEEWWWWWW DHWA SMOKING SKULL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, THE GREEEAAATTT MUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTAAAAAAA!!!!

A large pop blasts it’s way through the crowd, most are cheers, but some can be read as boos.

The Great Muta stops at the end of the ramp and presses his index, middle and ring fingers underneath his covered jaw as cloudy smoke rises from the eyeholes of the skull mask, impressing the audience to make them applaud and hoot for the spectacle.

Muta climbs the steps, bringing himself across the apron against the ropes. He grips the top rope tightly, pulling his 230lb body over it, flipping to his feet, instantly grabbing the DHWA Smoking Skull title, stopping it from falling from his shoulder.

The lights come up in the arena as the suited pearl of the Orient paces the ring.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
There he is, fans, there is your DHWA Champion…

The Great Muta grabs a mic from ringside, making his way to the center of the ring, his music fading out. Once is does, the fans in the arena welcome the new champion with loud “MUTA” chants. The Great Muta doesn’t react to the chants, still wearing the headgear he wore to the ring. He takes his hand that hold the mic, pressing his thumb underneath the mask, pulling it off before tossing it to the mat for a ringside personnel to pick it up out of the camera’s angle.

Muta wears one of his ring masks, this one rather plain. It’s mostly white with his signature Japanese symbols for flame and patience on their respective cheeks. The forehead of the mask has a large skull ripping it’s way through the mask, making it look like the mask is a part of Muta’s flesh and the skull is pushing it’s ay through his face with his bony fingers pushing the tear apart. Long, blue snakes move up from underneath his ears, forming the mouth and nose opening. His goatee is grey as ever but is quickly stained with a blast of green mist into the air, a signature of the champion. He finds a more comfortable footing in the ring before raising the mic to his lips, speaking live to an audience for the first time in DHWA.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
This past Sunday, I, The Great Muta. Put two bodies in the ground and tonight I will do the same thing but with one major difference: this time, I’m the Heavyweight Champion.

The crowd cheers loudly as Muta lowers his mic before continuing.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
For four weeks I’ve been silent, I’ve been quiet. I didn’t speak a word and when I did, they were few and far between. I walked out of Dawn of Disorder not only the winning man, but the free man. After I spit the black mist into the face of Slick and buried him with a crippling Shining Wizard, a burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. To tell you, the fans, the god honest truth, Slick is a materialistic, high maintenance man. Slick has a love for money and to Slick money equals power. Money doesn’t equal anything, Slick. If it meant something, your money would have saved you from the Shining Wizard I blasted you with on The Brother Love Show, sealing your fate here in the DHWA. Your money doesn’t mean anything to me, these people, the professional athletes in the back or these fans. It only means something to the doctors who have you propped up in some hospital bed were you have spent a five-day weekend in nursing your “wounds”. If you want to see wounds, don’t look at the sensei of style, look at me, hell, look at Hawk Boy! I have to say that after Sunday, I have a lot of respect for Hawk Boy. He held his own and pushed through our match, showing he has what it takes to make it in this business. But tonight.. Tonight is much different…

Muta emotionlessly looks on into the hard camera, continuing his speech in the best English he could push out.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
That was then, this is now. Tonight is different. Tonight I’m in the main event with the newly crowned Intercontinental Champion, Slim Pickens, and the newest addition to the DHWA roster, Trenton York. A triple threat as they call it in the pro wrestling business. This match is no triple threat. A triple threat is what I went through this past Sunday. Barbed wire ropes, explosives triggered when you were whipped into said barbed wire ropes and a hungry young superstar that wanted to be a world champion since he was in diapers. THAT is a triple threat. These two superstars are stepping into the DHWA ring with the Smoking Skull Heavyweight CHAMPION. This is not a triple threat; this is nothing more than a novice challenge to the Pearl of the Orient. These two men don’t faze me the slightest.

Muta adjusts his title, pulling it closer to his core, making the lapel of his jacket bunch and fold over the large gold plate that houses the smoking skull insignia on the DHWA championship.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
I’m the world heavyweight champion of this company. I have been in this business for years and everything I’ve said and done in the ring and in the back, whether it be in my home country of Japan or here in the United States, is solidified into a physical being as the DHWA Smoking Skull Heavyweight Championship, a title belt that I tore skin off my back for. This title belt is not only a symbolism of greatness it’s a symbolism of the hard work I’ve bled into the foundations of this worldwide industry to be here today. This is MY championship and it has been my championship ever since I signed the bottom line on my contract. This title symbolizes the superiority I have, the very superiority that will carry me through the triple threat match tonight.

The Great Muta walks to the set of ropes that stretch across the hard camera, wrapping his taped fingers around the top rope, letting the Heavyweight strap dangle over his shoulder as he speaks to the audience.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
I really want to congratulate the two of you. Slim, at Dawn of Disorder, you really stepped up as of late and you taking the DHWA Intercontinental Championship from the hands of the equally impressive Derick Moris hammers that statement even deeper into the stone. But then again, you got to take in consideration that you, Slim Pickens, may just be as much of a paper champion as the former champion was.. Face the facts, Slim. You were tossed over the top rope by Trenton York, the third man in this match tonight. Tell me, Slim Pickens, tell all these people! Tell us ALL, make us believe that Trenton dumping you on your ass onto the outside won’t happen again? Slim, you’re just a man who needs to suppress his deep-down feelings with alcohol. You’re a drunk and nothing more than a drunk. I want you to realize, Slim, that tonight is not Dawn of Disorder. Tonight in Friday Night Massacre and you’re in the main event with the man who tossed you, the DHWA Intercontinental Champion, over the top rope to gain his first victory in this company and the man who is undefeated within these ropes and is the first ever DHWA Smoking Skull Heavyweight Champion.

The Great Muta wipes his mouth with his right thumb, brushing away some of the mist he spit out earlier to gain a pop from the sold out crowd.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
Now to say you weren’t impressed by Trenton York Sunday you’d be delusional. The guy walked into his first match in DHWA and lasted a good portion of the roster to take home the win and the chance to face any champion of his choosing. Congratulations to you, Trenton, you are going to be a big star in this business in the near future. Don’t take my words as a form of flattery or compliment, they’re purely opinion and as we all know, opinions can be proven to be wrong. What’s not an opinion is that I am the most dominant competitor in this organization. Look at all the others who wrestled in this ring over the last month or so. How many of them have been as consistent as I have been? The answer is NONE. The only ones who come close are the jobbers who get paid as much as a dishwasher at McDonalds would just by lying on their backs for five minutes to put the big stars over. Every week, whether Slick was at ringside or in the back, not saying I needed him to start with, I hit everyone with not the sensei of style’s fists, but my own, but he took the credit every step of the way. Tonight will be more of the same. I WILL win the match, pinning one, and if need be, both of you. Trenton, you’re young and you’re surely on your way but there’s one thing that separates you and I…

Muta releases his grip on the rope, taking a few steps backwards before pointing at the world title on his shoulder.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
This. THIS separates the two of us. You can try and fight your way towards or even through it, but I’m standing in your way. For you, tonight is a test drive, it’s a preview of what’s ahead of you if you step in MY den and try to challenge for MY championship. I would advise you to turn your head towards the drunk who needs brainless, plastic women and possessions to show how much of a man he is…

Muta grabs the title by the front plate, pulling it off of his shoulder and dropping his hand to his side. He adjusts his grip, shifting his hand onto the leather strapping behind the large skull-bearing plate holding it out in front of him.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
I don’t need money, I don’t need possessions, I don’t need women and I SURE as hell don’t need an investor to prove that I’m some kind of superlative compared to everyone else in this company. All I need is my World Championship and the name of The Great Muta to break down the walls of defense of the DHWA roster to keep my spot on the top of this company.

The Great Muta slaps the world title back onto his shoulder before continuing.

-x[The Great Muta | The Pearl of the Orient]x-
Blood MAY be thicker than water but the sweet syrup of GREATNESS is a hell of a lot sweeter than the finest of wines…

The Great Muta tosses the microphone to the mat and his music begins to blast over the P.A. system. He starts to leave the ring but the lights go out, causing the music to halt instantly without fading.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
W-what’s this!?

-x[Jerry Lawler | The King]x-
I don’t know, J.R.!

[/color]

The stage lights up with a cyan colored fog with a baldheaded man’s shadowed figure standing within the misty clouds. He wears what looks to be a business suit, his face unseen.

-x[Jim Ross | Good ol’ J.R.]x-
Who’s this now?

[/color]

We see a shot of The Great Muta’s slightly lightened face, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.

We cut back to the man who raises his hand, folding it into a fist with his index finger extended, pointing towards the Smoking Skull Heavyweight Champion who stands in the ring, one leg on the apron.

The music stops and the lights go out, ceasing the glowing fog. The lights flick on revealing both the man and The Great Muta absent from the arena from where they once stood.

DHWA Friday Night Massacre fades to black.

-EORP-[/center]

[Slim Pickens (H)]

The hallway in the back of the Pepsi Center is almost dark like the back room of a funeral home, and this may be because about two thirds of the light bulbs in the ceiling fixtures have burnt out and never been replaced. Part of it may be due to the fact that the walls and ceiling hasn’t seen a coat of paint in a very long time. But after all, it’s just a back hallway that leads to the rooms where the wrestlers who come here come and spend some time and prepare for their evening matches. Now don’t be confused when I say wrestlers because many other people use this back hall way, people like managers and newspaper writers and upon occasion a wrestling fan will be brought down into this dark and dingy hall, but most it’s the wrestlers that are seen here.

About half way down the hall from the exit door that leads to the back parking lot is a metal folding chair that has been place outside of the door that leads to Mr. Slim Pickens locker room, and sitting on the metal folding chair is a rather large and well built man in his own right, but the man of whom I’m speaking of just happens to be a professional bartender and just happens to be employed by Mr. Pickens.

”This darned ole gloomy hall reminds me of the type of hallway you would expect to find way back when in the lower parts of an old time castle. I haven’t seen any rats yet but the key word to this statement is “YET.” With all of that being said, one might wonder just why I’m sitting alone, outside of the InterContinental Champions locker room. Well! There is a very good reason for this and the reason would be that I’m waiting for a delivery to be made and I told them I would be waiting here to show them which room it is to go in! Now I would suppose that you might be wondering what the item is that is going to be delivered and I will give you two very important hints. The first hint is that I’m a professional bartender! The second hint is that I work for Mr. Slim Pickens.”

Just as Gus finishes that statement the exit door to the back parking lot comes open and two men come in carrying a fairly large piece of furniture. They set it down in the hall and roll it the rest of the way down the hall to Slim Pickens, the new IC Champions locker room. The two men roll it to the center of the room and take off a packing blanket that was used just to protect the magnificent finish of this beautiful piece of furniture. Gus hands the two men a one hundred dollar bill as a tip for delivering the piece of furniture and the two men leaving closing the locker room door behind them.

”Isn’t it just beautiful? Just look at the gloss shine and the beautiful walnut grain wood showing through! Yes folks, this is Slims new portable walnut wood bar! He requested that I find something to use to keep his crystal glasses and his bottles of Jack Daniels in while he was at his wrestling arenas and I went shopping at the furniture store and found this fantastic piece of work! I do hope that Mr. Pickens will enjoy it but you must please excuse me for I have to get the bar stocked and ready to go before Slim arrives.”

It’s a beautiful morning in Independence, Missouri and what makes it even better is that the man the whole town loves was handed the Intercontinental Championship belt last night. Yes folks, the whole town of Independence, Missouri knows that Slim Pickens is a professional wrestler and yes folks they all go to his matches and cheer him on! I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the town didn’t erect a statue just for Slim now that he has the Intercontinental belt.
Slim has crawled out of his four poster bed and has gone to the kitchen and poured himself a large cup of coffee and with coffee in hand he has walked out by his pool with the crystal clear water and taken a seat at the bar. Gus was up with the chickens and is behind the bar polishing crystal glass as Slim starts to drink his coffee.

”Dam Gus! After that match with Moris I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet. I think maybe you better put a little Jack in this coffee to help take away some of the pains that I’ve got this morning.”

Gus reaches over with the bottle of Jack and gives Slim a little morale booster to help him get his day started.

”That Moris guy is one sorry dog! I can’t believe that punk had the nerve to hit you with the title belt before the match even started. That just made my blood boil!”

Slim takes a sip of his coffee and nods his head toward Gus letting him know that the Jack did make the coffee taste better and yes, that was just what he needed.

”Don’t let that bother you too much; you’re going to find out that most of the so called wrestlers out there are not as clean and pure as I am! I am the type of guy who lives by the rules both in and out of the ring, I don’t use fowl language and I go to church on Sunday.”

”But boss! I’ve never seen you go near a church!”

Slim waves his finger at Gus and gives him a smile. He stands up from his bar stool and walks across the patio disappearing through the kitchen door into the house. He walks down the hall and goes into the master bathroom where he takes a seat on the porcelain throne. After a few brief moments an explosion erupts and a rather large splash his heard under him.

”Well! Good morning Muta! I see you have arrived in all of your glory but what is that hanging from your rather large butt? Oh! Wait a moment! Is that Trenton York? Well I’ll just be darn but remember Muta, do not make turns too quickly or you might break his neck.”

Slim finishes his chat with Muta and York and jumps into his shower and when he has finished bathing his muscular body he dries off with a large, fluffy towel and gets dressed. It’s early afternoon by now and he climbs into his black on black Lincoln Navigator and heads on down to the Pepsi center in New Mexico. The drive itself takes him a number of hours but the time spent driving gave him some time to think about his upcoming three way match. It’s getting close to dark when Slim arrives at the arena and he parks out back in the poorly lit parking lot and goes inside where he finds his locker room and walks inside. Standing behind the brand new walnut bar is Gus who greets Slim and hands him a crystal glass with two fingers of Jack in it.

”Why thank you Gus! How did you ever know I wanted a drink? But Gus! Before you answer that, where did you get this beautiful piece of furniture?”

Gus explains the countless hours he spent looking for just the right portable bar, one that would do justice for the NEW Intercontinental Champion. Slim finishes his drink and asks Gus to get his wrestling attire ready while he goes and takes a shower. When Slim comes back out dresses in nothing but towel he sets down on one of the locker benches and puts his head in his hands.

[colorcc0033]”Ya know Gus, this match is not going to be a walk in the park! This peckerwood Muta may be my toughest challenge yet and to have slap nuts York in there getting in the way is only going to make things that much more difficult. It’s nothing I can’t handle but I’m just saying, tonight is going to be real fun!”[/color]

Gus looks at Slim and gives him a smile but he can see on Slims face that he’s not taking tonight’s match to lightly.

”Don’t be too worried boss, after all, Muta is so dam ugly that he has to wear a mask and as for York, well, we don’t know too much about him but shoot, you know what they say, the bigger they think they are, the harder they fall!”

”I know what you’re saying my friend and I’m not really worried but I am going to keep my eyes on both of these so called wrestlers. I wouldn’t trust Muta as far as I could throw the fat slob and York has his head up Mutas back side so I’ll have to watch him too. Maybe my best plan would be to put York’s lights out early in the match and then I can turn my full attention to Muta.”

Gus nods his head in approval at Slims idea and pours him another drink.

”Maybe I could help you out with that York punk! Maybe one of his knees could meet up with a baseball bat or maybe I could catch him close to the ropes and drag him out of the ring and beat the hell out of him!”

Slim thinks about what Gus has just said and starts getting dressed for his match. White silk boxing trunks with the letters SP down each side, white leather wrestling boots with the letters SP down the outside of each boot, white sweat socks with a gold ring at the top and a white tank shirt that shows off his beautiful, well muscled body with the words, “Intercontinental Champion in bright red letters arced across the back and red letters on the front spelling out the words, “THE BEST THERE IS”. Slim brushes his hair and sits down on the wooden bench as Gus hands him another drink.

”Yes Muta, tonight is going to be one hell of a night! You’ve had it pretty easy up until now with all of these punk kids facing you, but now you have got to get into the ring with someone who has some experience. Someone who has kicked some ass and has been the last MAN standing. Yes Muta, tonight will show the DHW and all of my fans what a joke you really are. Oh, and don’t let me leave out Trenton York! By no means are you going to be able to hide behind Muta, oh no, you’re going to be right in the middle of everything that goes on and I just hope you’re ready for what is going to happen. I won’t settle for second boys so when the bell rings, the game is ON!”

SLIM PICKENS the new INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION

[Slim Pickens (H)]

Have you ever come to the crossroads in life where a choice had to be made? Have you ever come face to face with your passion versus your fear? What were the many things that went through your mind as you struggled to come to some sort of decision? Most of us are content with things as they are until we reach a certain point in life or until we have achieved a certain goal, but once we have realized our dreams, once we have reached up and taken a hold of our goals are we really certain that it, our dreams, our passions, is this what we really want?

This story is generally about a giant who terrorizes a wrestling world. A giant whom is very small in mind but larger than some in body. Only one person is brave enough to challenge him, one man who is afraid of nothing, one man who has stepped over bigger men to get a drink of Jack. When the challenger goes toward the giant, the giant gets smaller and smaller the closer he comes...until he can fit in the palm of his hand. When the giant asks him his name, he says, "My name is Fear.”

There is another story that pertains to this so called Smoking Skull Champion. The tale is about a boy named Slim who thinks he is a coward and undertakes a journey to find courage.
With each challenge he gains some self-confidence. His last challenge is a monster that lives in a cave at the top of a mountain. Everyone in the village below is paralyzed with fear, but the boy offers to slay the beast for them. When he first sees the monster it is the size of three royal barges and smoke is curling from its nostrils. Frightened, the boy keeps climbing but decides not to look at the creature until he is halfway up the mountain; else he might be too scared to approach the beast.
When he next looks, the monster is only the size of one royal barge (which is still pretty big). Then the creature snorts flame at him, the boy panics and is halfway to the foot of the mountain before he can make his feet stop running. Now when he looks the monster is the size of five royal barges.
The boy finds it curious that the monster grows smaller when he approaches and bigger when he runs away. He thinks that perhaps, if he gets close enough, the monster might grow small enough for him to kill with his dagger. To keep from being too scared, the boy closes his eyes tight and runs up the hill, fast - before he can change his mind.
When he opens his eyes, he is at the opening to the cave but he sees no monster. He enters the cave and sees nothing to be afraid of. The boy is wondering if he ran to the wrong cave when he feels something hot touch his foot. He looks down and sees the monster, but now it is the size of a kitten. He picks it up and it curls up in his palm, making a gentle sound halfway between a purr and a bubbling kettle. The boy decides to keep it for a pet - besides, it might help start his cooking fire each day.
With the monster asleep in his hands, he returns to the village. The people hail him as a monster slayer, but he says that he didn't need to slay it. Awestruck, they gather to look at the creature. He explains how it grew larger when he ran away and smaller when he approached. A young girl asks, "What's its name?" The boy replies that he didn't think to ask. The monster wakes, yawning a puff of smoke, looks around at the people and says in a voice as clear as a bell, "Most people call me Muta."

All that can be seen is the silhouette of a large man sitting on a metal folding chair down at the end of the locker room hall. Darkness is all around him for what lights that where once burning have since been turned out. The man is leaning back in the metal folding chair and he has his arms folded across his chest as if he is waiting for someone or something.

”Yes Muta! It is I, the man called “FEAR!” I am the one man that you have been afraid of facing for your entire wrestling career. I am the man who can make all of your dreams disappear! I am the man who can make all of your wrestling goals blow away like a fart in the breeze. I am the man who will take your Smoking Skull belt away from you faster than a speeding bullet. Who am I? You know who I am Muta, you know my name and all about me but the name that you know me the best by, the name that makes you break out in a cold sweat every time you hear it, the name that haunts you the most,”FEAR.” Yes Muta, I am what keeps you awake at night, I am what makes the palms of your hands sweat, I am the man who will destroy you and you won’t be able to stop me!”

The man that puts fear into the wrestlers’ hearts leans back in the metal folding chair and looks straight ahead at the gloomy wall across the narrow hall. He chuckles for a brief moment at the thought of Muta, the great Muta, curled up in some corner where no one can see him, curled up in a ball and shaking like the front wheel of your car when it’s way out of balance. Yes, if the wrestling fans could only see the great Muta now as he jabs his thumb into his mouth hoping this will help him get over the FEAR! But he will soon learn that nothing can help you overcome fear, for FEAR comes from deep inside and it brings grown men to their knees.

”The time has come for me to address the young Mr. Trenton York to whom I’m sure I’ll be able to find a few words for since this young up-start has seen fit to find his way into the match making it a three way get together. I’m also sure the young York feels pretty good about himself and the way he took matters into his own hands the last time we met, but stop yourself for a short second and ask yourself this young York, are you really as good as you think you are or maybe by some outside chance did you just get lucky? Is it possible that matters have gotten out of hands since now you must face not one but two wrestler who have far greater ring experience and are by far the better wrestlers? Yes young York, you are in over your head and yes there is a good possibly that you may get hurt in a match like this for this time young York you will be all by yourself inside the squared circle and you’ll have to rely on the little amount of wrestling skills you have. No one will be there to save you this time young York, you may die a very lonely man right there in the center of the ring.”

The man engulfed by darkness, the man known as FEAR stands up from his metal folding chair and picks it up by the legs and slams it against the cinder block wall with all of his might! He kicks the crumpled chair off to the side as he stands there laughing out loud at his two, worthy, opponents. He reaches into his back pocket and takes out a stainless steel flask and un-screws the top. He raises the flask to his lips and takes a good long pull on the container. Yes, the flask held grape kool-aid, one of our friend’s favorite drinks.

”I want both of you slugs to know and understand, this is not going to be any kind of a normal match. I going into this match with full intentions of crippling or completely put out of the wrestling business young York, and as far as Muta is concerned, well just let me say that when this match is over Muta will have an entirely new respect for wrestling and wrestlers in general and he not want to face me again anytime soon. I’m just the man who can back up these words boys, so the best advice I can give you is don’t show up!”
The man standing in the darkness of the Pepsi centers back halls slowly turns and walks to the far end of the hall and opens the door that leads to the outside.

”Maybe tonight will be the night the Muta looses that mask that he so bravely hides behind!”

The door closes and the man called FEAR is gone.