Kin Hiroshi.

You can feel the love in the air.

…and the beer.

…and the trash.

Kin makes it all better by opening up tonight’s monologue with “YOU ALL LOST THE WAR. Now, someone retrieve my belt from the office of Craig Miles, so we can continue this show properly.”

Kin starts walking towards the ring, the janitors cursing every step. He taps his foot, while waiting in the ring for a nice, hot minute and then…

WHOOSH.

That’s the sound of fire, if you order NFW Crash TV transcripts from some dweeb on the internet. And it also marks the entrance of Craig Miles in full Generalissimo regalia. Flanked by Cojones Mercado and the NFW Insurgent Firing Squad, the owner of NFW enters and takes in Hiroshi’s presence for a moment. While he lights up a cigarette, Kin uses the mic to let Miles know that while he does deserve the highest ranking official delivering him back his title…there’s no title and that means Kin isn’t leaving.

Miles asks for the mic. Kin refuses. (Kin may be smarter than we all think.)

Miles asks again, Kin shakes his head like a child.

Miles mouths “Do you want the belt back?” and Kin all too eagerly hands the mic and starts taking off his jacket, shirt…starts applying some shiny lotion to his waist…ok, I’m lying about that. …or am I?

Miles repeats the question somewhat differently, “So, you want the belt back…” and then starts laughing, which causes Kin to lose his smile. Miles riffs on Hiroshi being injured for so long that even if his story were to play out in any fashion, he had the right to strip him of the belt long ago for not defending it.

Crowd pop. Hiroshi snatches the mic back and screams that Joe the Plumber hasn’t defended the Television Title since Wrestlestock Two, so that means Miles is protecting Nova and not ready to have him face the greatest wrestler in the world. Kin shoves the microphone in Miles’ chest, raises his arms in victory and climbs the turnbuckles.

Low-rumbling, nihilistic laughter from Miles…I’m sort of happy that someone’s experiencing the same thing I have at 3:33 AM every day for the last month. Kin tries to remain strong, but gets thrown for a loop by Miles saying “Fine, Kin…I’m going to give you what you really want right now.”

Kin hops off the buckles, smiling again…

“You’ll wrestle Nova tonight in a NON-TITLE match. You were the worst excuse for a World Heavyweight WRESTLING Champion when you had your memory last intact, so let’s just say I don’t think you’ve got it.”

Awww, the crowd roared. Go them.

“And then, I’m going to make Joe the Plumber defend the Television Championship…”

Oh crap.

“…AGAINST YOU AT CRASH 46…”

Oh god.

“And the WINNER can face NOVA at SUPERCRASH TWO.”

Oh sweet monkey jesus fucknut butter of my mouth! Hiroshi’s going “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” to Miles and before he gets out of the jam, we’ve got much BIGGER problems.

BROCK ALYAS.

The NINTH MILE of problems, the NINTH MILE inside your mom’s vaginal squeezebox. New song accompaniment that will never find its way on Craig Miles’ boombox either. He’s storming to the ring, talking to himself and shaking his head. He barrels into the ring, straight for Miles and nearly brushing Hiroshi aside who’s now completely aghast in offence.

Alyas starts screaming that he’s got a title shot at ANYONE including Joe or Nova and there’s no way that a punk like Hiroshi who’s been gone since the Revolution’s STARTED should be around to cherry-pick his opportunities.

Miles asks him if he’s mad. Alyas is like FUCK YEAH! (not really)

Miles looks at the both of them and smiles, which can’t be good.

“FINE. You got him in CHARLOTTE.”

The crowd is all F-T-W and junk, Alyas starts nodding and looking at Hiroshi who’s looking at him, then Miles and back to Brock…Miles rolls out of the ring, Kin lunges to try and stop him from leaving and Brock immediately starts hammering away with right hands! Hiroshi dives out of the ring, eyes bulging until a waft of smoke hits him in the face. He turns around, face-to-face with Miles…

“Welcome back, you’ll be fine.”

“WHAT!?!?”

“C’mon man…did you forget?”

“FORGET WHAT!?!”

“This is N-F’N-W, which means I’m the fuckin’ boss and Kin Hiroshi won’t die.”

Kin gulped as security led him back with Miles and just like that the Nashville show had officially hit the round running, gunning and Kin Hiroshi strapped to the engine hood.

David Noble vs. Bret Kelly (j.)

Ringside workers started getting in official position around the ring as Wildstar made sure to note some industry cruiserweight heavyweights, if you get my drift. Nathan Storm of the Diamond Exchange was included on the list…now making it two or three shows he’s been at. Meanwhile, Bret Kelly…the man, the myth, the jobber…sauntered down the aisle to no reaction at all from the crowd. I swear to god, his hair is greasier than a pig’s anus after eating a tub of Crisco.

Next out was David Noble, who didn’t have any music either…which gave some people the sneaking suspicion that maybe Bret Kelly was going to win his first match in the last 16 years to be exact.

Well.

It wasn’t Bret Kelly’s day, let’s just leave it at that.

To say Noble won would be to say that…taking a shotgun to the face is a pleasant experience. Noble seems to be a little devoid of any crowd interaction at the current moment, a swell guy completely focused on tearing the tendons of his opponent. Who are we kidding? That’s a niche that fits around here more than anywhere else.

Winner: David Noble by pinfall

GPX: Digital Mortality vs. Doc Curiosity

The Grand Prix series of matches continued was a hot, sexy, steamy bout between Digital Mortality and Doc Curiosity, in a match many people have called a “Match that was part of the NFW Grand Prix Series featuring Digital Mortality and Doc Curisoity”. With acclaim like that I bet you can't wait to read what happened during it. It's a good thing that is what I am currently typing up.

Is Doctor Curiosity like fifty or something? No active wrestler should be that white haired and saggy. He's only in his 30s? How is that even possible? Regardless, he came to the ring and entered it. The Digital Morality came to the ring too, no idea what that guys problem is. I tried using Wikipedia but that wasn't any help.

The men faced off against each other in the centre of the ring, then a bell went off. This is the sort of bell that in general signifies that a match bout has started.

The men went for a lock up, which Mortality got the better of, whipping Curiosity in to the ropes and nailing him with a spinning back kick of some sorts. I'm not sure exactly what it was, what do you take me for? Tony Schiavone?

Taking advantage of the dazed Doc, Da DM followed up with a pavement slam. I did type side-walk but this word processor auto-corrected it to pavement. It was a free gift from Lord Coyner Pollard. That may explain a lot.

Sadly, Mortality could not capitalise on his early offence as before he could establish any sort of offensive flow, Professor Tremendous starting making his way down to the ring. With Mortality's attention focused away from Curiosity - which this word processor suggested should be spelt with a five in it - must be the English spelling. Anyway, with Mortality's focus on Tremendous, Curiosity took advantage, grabbing Mortality by the back of the head and dropping him with a reverse DDT.

Curiosity then began stalking Mortality, waiting for him to get back to his feet. When Mortality had reached one knee, the Doc struck, running forward towards his prey and taking him out with The Schrodinger's Smack for the victory. Thanks, in part, to his partner in academia, Professor Tremendous.

Winner: Doctor Curiosity by pinfall

GPX: SARS vs. Professor Tremendous

The next combatant set to do battle in Nashville was flamboyant, to say the absolute least. SARS made his way to the ring to the tune of Mindless Self Indulgence and each and every horrific second of it made me cringe as he had quite possibly the wildest ring entrance since the days of Beau Michaels.

After the following entrance I wasn’t sure which I’d rather watch again as Professor Tremendous made his way out much to the dislike of the common folk in Nashville. You can probably put the picture together when drunken Tennesseans don’t much like a man they’re paying to see. It was a long, out-played charade all the way to the ring and I was ready to see these two kick the sh!t out of each other, have a stiff drink… either or would do at this point.

The match began with SARS dominating the ring with acrobatic techniques that seemed to end coincidentally setting up another manuever that would sweep The Professor’s feet from under him and setting up a series of pinfalls that would easily be kicked out of.

When allowed back to his feet after recovering from a sequence of attacks – the Tremendous One showed us just how TREMENDOUS he really is and found some momentum with the use of a balanced attack of arm drags and suplexes. Tremendous scored himself some points with a few take-downs and pins but thus far neither of the two could make that referee’s hand tap much longer than twice.

Things began to heat up when the Professor Irish Whipped SARS into the opposing ropes to come back and duck down but only setting up the reversal to a SARS elusive technique, telegraphed to perfection ending in a shoulder buster that raised some eye brows in the crowd. Tremendous wasted a split second to long covering and was only rewarded a late two-count for his valiant effort.

SARS battled back but the Tremendous one took charge in the match-up through the climax landing a perfectly executed brain-buster and later falcon arrow. Once again, he was only rewarded a tease in the pinfall with a two-count.

Tremendous had steam coming out of the ears after he was pretty well worked up by only scoring two-counts and paid a little bit too much attention to the officiating crew as opposed to the man who was trying to accomplish the common goal – advancement in the Grand Prix tour.

SARS took advantage of Tremendous backing the official into a corner and was able to ascend to the turnbuckle and deliver a missile drop-kick landing flush on the chin of Tremendous and that’s when things began to look up for the… surprisingly talented flamboyant, man.

This is when SARS took advantage instead of pinning his opponent after the drop-kick let him get up on his own will and SARS dropped the patented “Killing Joke” in the form of a front-face lock DDT.

He climbed to the third-rope and that’s when a 360 Shooting Star Press did the Tremendous One in for the three-count.

Lights out and SARS would be moving along.

Winner: SARS by pinfall

UBER JUDGE vs. LEGION

Out next is Legion. There is hatred, there is bile, there are people being physically sick at the sight of him coming to the ring, but he seems to get quite the kick out of it. Odd, but we're in NFW.

Then there's the Uber Judge. A man of such magnificence that the opposite happens; there is love, there is joy, there are people seeing their vomit fly right back ito their mouths and nestle back in their stomachs, as right as rain. Actually there's very little of that, but it would have been cool if it had happened.

They enter the ring. They make eye contact for their hatred has deepened. They lock up. They wrestle.

Legion whips the Uber Judge to the ropes, his robes a-flowing, and the judge comes back, looking for a Clothesline but instead getting a swinging Muay Thai kick to the stomach that doubles him over in pain. Legion follows it up with a DDT that causes the ring to shake, such is its power.

The count reaches two before the Judge of Uber recovers his wits sufficiently to get his shoulder up off the canvas. Legion is relentless though, and as UJ gets to his feet he receives another kick, and anoth... oh no wait, he caught that one. He spins Legion round and then jumps on his back, locking in a Sleeper Hold. Legion is wise to such a move, though, and drops backwards to land on top of UJ. The ref gets the count going again, but it only reaches one this time before the Judge pushes Legion off and goes to skulk near the ropes, looking for a change of gameplan.

Legion approaches, and the Uber Judge springboards himself off the ropes, hitting Legion with a Cross Body that gets a one count, but more importantly gets the momentum going back in the Judge's favour. Legion rolls to his feet and throws a forearm at the Judge. UJ counters with a punch, and the two start to brawl, rolling into the ropes, and eventually Legion throws the Uber Judge through the ropes... and then uses the ropes to spring himself up into the air, over the ropes themselves and into a Corkscrew Plancha that lands right on the Uber Judge's uber head!

Nashville cheers despite themselves for such a display of athleticism. Legion gets to his feet, staggering a little himself, as the Uber Judge crawls to the ring and appears to be rummaging around underneath it. Legion comes to tackle him, but the Uber Judge swings back with a Ridiculously Oversized Gavel, which he uses to knock the wind right out of Legion! The crowd pops for the implausible prop, and then does so again as UJ whips Legion into (and over) the railings and follows him into the crowd. Inside the ring the referee has started to count out both competitors, but they're not interested. They're just brawling, opening cuts and welts on the faces of one another. The Uber Judge gets a bag of popcorn to the knee, and Legion gets a cola to the face. Legion's bleeding (though probably not from the cola) and UJ is hobbling (though probably not from the popcorn, though you never know with him).

Legion grabs a nearby child and throws him into the Judge's face, causing Uber Judge to stumble around, and then get thrown back into (and over) the railings headed back towards the ring.

But wait! What is this madness?

There are two... five... ten... loads of men in robes and masks, headed towards the competitors! One grabs the Uber Judge and rolls him towards the ring. The others surround Legion and start to make with the punchy punchy. It is worth noting at this point, perhaps, that the legion (ahem) of masked and robed men are all, in fact, dressed up as The Uber Judge!

The ref reaches fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... and now The Uber Judge (the real one) is in the ring, whereas the Uber Judges (the not-so-real ones) are outside the ring, punching, kicking and mauling Legion, though to be fair to The Devils' Reject about six of them appear to be lying on the floor in various poses that indicate they are suffering from most extreme pain.

Eighteen and nineteen passes, and the count of twenty is reached. The Uber Judge is in the ring, and Legion is currently laying in to one of his assailants with a foam finger and a bag of Skittles. The bell rings, and Legion realizes that he's been duped.

The Uber Judge's arm is raised, and he is victorious.

But then Legion smiles from outside the ring…perhaps, he knew the Uber Judge a little more now, for he and the faux Uber of Judges were surrounded by chairs. Legion grabbed one and swung. He grabbed another and threw.

Security rushed out, Judges fell by the wayside as the true Uberness of Judicialness backpedaled up the entrance ramp with a stern look on his face.

Winner: the Uber Judge by COR

GPX: I.F.E vs Lord Coyner Pollard

The next two combatants in the Grand Prix couldn’t have had more of a personality clash if they tried.

First of all, we had a greasy-skinned, head-banging animal who made his way down to the ring playing the air guitar to the melody of “Bullet” by the Misfits that had some Nashvillians questioning their motivation to watch the next battle.

Illustrious Face Eater made his way down to the ring, like I said – greasy and all. It was quite the scene as you could almost see the clear-coat film of whatever he bathes himself in before each match but it was about as clear as day.

Lord Coyner Pollard was next to come out and he wasn’t very welcome from the get-go. There’s something about the pride of tenants who live in the Dirty South (if I may) and they didn’t even accept the fact that American isn’t the best country in the world, in fact the thought of any country being remotely close to equal was a hysterical joke.

Pollard made his way out down the ramp and towards the ring curling his upper-lip at the sight of his opponent who was pacing back and forth while licking his lips.

Pollard made his way through the ropes elegantly… or whatever and sooner than later the bell was sounded and another match-up in the Grand Prix tournament would take place.

Facey was dictating the pace of the match-up in the early stages despite that the pace was rather slow. He would do Pollard over with arm drags as Pollard getting more and more frustrated by the outcome of his running strike attempts and Facey remained cool and collected… just about as cool and collected a face-eater could possibly be.

Facey put the fans on their feet with a series of attacks beginning with a handspring elbow after Pollard sent him lazily into opposing ropes… and then quickly ascended the top ropes and landed a leg-drop square on the throat of Pollard. Facey covered up but the Brit had a bit more fight in him than to let a leg-drop diminish his chances here in the Grand Prix tourney.

Pollard actually battled back slowly but surely took advantage of Facey’s headlock attempt shortly after and turned it into a smoothly executed back body drop that put Facey on his neck and gave himself just enough time to recuperate and set up his next attack.

It was Pollard now who used the headlock to his advantage scraping Facey’s face along the top-rope before the referee asked Pollard to keep it clean, however he ran his forehead over the rugged rope once more before making the transition from headlock to Russian leg sweep.

Pollard waited for Facey to get to his feet before slapping him square in the face as a mother would a naughty child. Facey didn’t know how to react but Pollard didn’t really give him much time to react after putting him onto his back with a clothesline.

Facey was doubled over by a kick to the gut followed by a swinging neck breaker. Pollard attempted to cover-up but the Lord was unsuccessful in his attempt and was once again sent back to the drawing board.

Pollard took his sweet time getting up and Facey was like a rabid dog at this point and actually took the momentum in the match using an unorthodox spear attempt that looked as if Champ Bailey tried to make a tackle on Mack Strong. It took Pollard off his feet but only because Facey dove at his ankles and it gave Facey enough time to set-up a camel clutch that would wear his opponent down quite a bit.

Facey whipped Pollard into the ropes when both men were back on their feet and Pollard attempted a clothesline that Facey ducked but was taken over with a headlock. Pollard’s firm grip on the headlock and balanced positioning allowed for Facey to do nothing but try and squirm out of the hold. Facey, in-fact tried biting his way out of the hold and the look on Pollard’s face was pricless.

Being bit by an AMERICAN who may very well have every known sexually transmitted disease as well as other diseases foreign to PHD graduates – did not tickle his fancy.

Instead the referee told Facey it was his last warning and to keep it clean and of course that only lasted so long. Pollard was doubled over after letting the hold go and Facey pounced on the backside of him and put him face-first on the mats with a bulldog.

Facey looked wide-eyed and crazy at this point in the match-up when he slid out of the ring and grabbed a steel chair from ringside.

Facey may have forgotten about the Diplomatic Immunity status Pollard had earned himself in this tournament for being victim of cheap-shots and the referee pleaded with Facey for his OWN GOOD to leave the chair outside but the maniac wouldn’t listen and the second steel hit the cranium of Pollard the bell was sounded and Pollard was awarded victory by DQ.

As Facey started to try and setup another chairshot, Cojones Mercado and security bumrushed the ring and tackled him. Pollard got in a few kicks as they dragged Facey away, who let out a bonechilling scream of “I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO STAY HERE!” Pollard watched in bewilderment for a moment before celebrating his victory.

Winner: Lord Coyner Pollard by Disqualification

GPX: Felix Red vs Simply Beautiful

…the naming of the Grand Prix tournament was a good indication of what this next match-up would be – a grand prix of brutality and chaos.

…the common expectation around here, no?

Anyways, this one between Felix Red and Simply Beautiful took five cigarettes, two rye and cokes and a couple percs just to make it all the way through but let me tell you… Felix Red was hot on the chase for advancing in the tournament and Simply was barely hanging on by using old school technical tactics that came across silky smooth.

Felix Red delivered a pretty smooth handspring elbow after launching his opponent for the evening into opposing ropes. It took Beautiful off his feet and the match took another turn in Felix’s favour before he was tripped up running back and forth on the ropes one length too long and Simply Beautiful wore him down from the shoulders up with a camel clutch.

Felix tried biting, scratching and foot stomping his way out as he made it back to his feet but a backhand attempt missed and Beautiful used his momentum, beautifully to land a belly to belly overhead suplex with bridge attempt that would nearly score a three-count in the pinfall.

Nearly half way through and it appeared as if all the cannabis and cigarette smoke caught up to Felix as he was dishing out punishment but Simply was staying alive using smart wrestling techniques to snipe the advantage out from underneath Felix’s feet – literally.

I’m not sure if it was around this time in the match in which I decided to make a rather rough concoction of booze and percs but none the less… time was flying by and still neither man had won the match.

Even the fans were getting restless as the 20:00 mark passed and both men were laying on their backs trying to get up after Felix Red reversed a German attempt into his own German after backflipping, yes backflipping out of Simply’s attempt to show him – “here ya go buddy… here’s how you German the **** out of somebody” … to the tone of something like that.

Felix was tired and Simply was holding his neck in pain but both men still were on their backs as the ring was lightly showered with concession items. Felix was undoubtedly the first man to his feet but was quickly clipped with a drop toehold that Simply scored and took advantage with a half crab that would eventually be broken up because Felix grabbed the rope.

The crowd turned into roided up freaks at a Sarah McLachlan concert at the 25:00 mark in the match-up and both men were still battling for position to take the victory.

Felix Red took full advantage of his size and well, lack of ability to determine if he’d need enough time to quickly ascend the ropes after a snap DDT and deliver a hanging moonsault.

He landed flush however the pinfall attempt would indicate otherwise as the match-up continued and the crowd reaction after the kick-out was like a missing buzzer-beater attempt.

Felix was getting frustrated and that frustration level would undoubtedly be raised to the next bar after another German attempt was turned into a stunner… yes of the Stone Cold variety.

So the marathon would only continue and Simply Beautiful was competing against not only Felix Red but the 30:00 minute deadline that would render this match a draw.

Simply picked Felix up to his feet after the Stunner attempt leaving him with less than ample time to recover… send him flying into the near ropes and back into a spinning spinebuster that… if you’re familiar with the way NFW handles spinebusters… it’s more like a vertebrae buster in the sense that Felix was dropped square on the back of his neck with his knees pressed against the mats on either side of his head. Yeah. There was nothing simply beautiful about it.

Simply got back to his feet at the 00:10 mark slowly and attempted a leg drop, but Felix rolled out of the way and that’s when the bell tolled for both combatants ending in a draw.

Winner: TIME-LIMIT DRAW

BROCK ALYAS vs. CAMERON CRUISE

Off the heels of Simply Beautiful and Felix Red’s battle, Cameron Cruise’s music hit the airwaves to a loud crowd cheer. Cruise was last seen leaving Brock Alyas flat on his back at Crash 45, so when both competitors had arrived in Nashville with open contracts…well, around here the math is quite simple.

Although, the crowd seemed to favour the southern-bred Cruise, it didn’t seem like he cared one iota…he didn’t slap hands, remained quite focused on watching the aisleway and his opponent Brock Alyas once he stalked down the ring slowly. Before the bell rang, both competitors met in the middle of the ring for a long staredown…I don’t know what Alyas said, but Cruise cold-cocked him with a quick right hand to a loud cheer and somewhat surprising start. The bell rang immediately and we were off on a wild, knock ‘em down and drag it out Brawl affair. Cruise kept on the offensive early, seeming to relish in stomping, punching and elbow striking the young Alyas. Maybe Cruise saw a little of himself in the younger Brock or maybe he resented the ‘push’ the behemoth had earned himself in recent months.

Cruise continued the stomp and punch brigade until Alyas stopped him dead in his tracks with a rake of the eyes and running clothesline that whiplashed him hard to the mat. Alyas started returning the favor with his own barrage of brawling tactics. Taking the time to punch, kick and sideswipe Cruise from behind. Alyas went for a vertical suplex, got it blocked by Cruise gutting him with a kneelift. Cruise capitalized with a swinging neckbreaker, but Alyas rushed up only to get served with a running clothesline from Cruise. Quick two count, but no victory for Cameron…and rather than play to the crowd, he stayed on Alyas like a bee on honey. Side Russian Legsweep into a rollover pin got another two count. Alyas staggered up right into a Stun Gun Suplex followed by a nasty elbow drop to the forehead. Cruise then rolled Alyas to a seated position and put his knee into the youngster’s back, while applying a reverse chinlock.

Alyas stood up after a few moments, buried some elbows into Cruise’s gut to break the hold and barrelled off the ropes and got caught with a drop toe hold. Cruise wrenched in a side headlock on the mat, but Alyas quickly powered up…and powered Cruise out of the hold with a strong Back Suplex which dropped Cruise more on his head than anything else. With the tide turned and Alyas frothing at the mouth, the crowd started to try and will Cruise back into the match as Alyas treated him like a ragdoll that owed him money. Overhead Belly to Belly, Wheelbarrow and a standard Delayed Suplex left Cruise in ruins, but not enough to give Alyas a pinfall. Running Powerslam got a deuce count as well as a second rope shoulderblock.

Alyas started looking like he was setting up in the ¾ stance for the Explodah finish, but Cruise apparently scouted him decently and rolled out of the ring. Alyas in frustration followed out, but Cruise used his veteran instincts to sidestep a double axehandle attempt and then shoved Alyas right into the ringpost. The crowd watched in shock as Cruise then blasted Alyas into the ringpost one more time, as well as the stairs. Cruise rolled Alyas back in the ring and looked to go for the Shipwreck, but Brock countered with a back body drop.

The crowd then started to boo as KIN HIROSHI came down to ringside. Considering his war of words with BOTH Cruise and Brock during the weeks leading up to the duel Brawl shows in Nashville and Charlotte, fans weren’t sure what to expect…except something they didn’t like.

Hiroshi had a megaphone and started chastising Cruise’s gameplan, while making fun of Alyas’ mother. Alyas started shouting back, but Cruise surprised him with a flash rollup which only got a two-count. Alyas bumrushed right into a small package and another two count. Finally, Alyas broke the string of flash pins with a kneelift and a gutwrench suplex. Cruise tried rolling out of the ring with Brock grabbing for him, the ref had to pull him away and that only caused Brock to send the ref packing to the mat with a stiff shove. Alyas leaned through the ropes and grabbed Cruise by the hair, started dragging him in…BLAM. MEGAPHONE SHOT. LOUD BOOS.

Alyas splayed out on the mat in a snow angel position courtesy of Hiroshi’s shot. Hiroshi booked it to the back, cackling the whole way as Cruise shook out the cobwebs and lifted up Alyas before hitting the “Reality Check” Reverse Flatliner-type facemasher. Cruise got the 3 count, but while he got his hand raised by the ref…he saw the Hiroshi megaphone-shot on the STARtron and immediately ripped his hand away and shook his head disgustedly. Exiting the ring without celebration, Cruise looked very ticked off at the way he won…but everyone had a feeling when Alyas woke up, it wouldn’t even compare to the “Ninth Mile” reaction.

Winner: Cameron Cruise by pinfall (thanks Kin!)

TERESA QUARANTA © vs. LUCI4

Smart money said Luci4 was dead meat. It's not that she isn't wrestling a full time schedule, or that she and Legion are overly - occupied with Felix Red and James Varga (and a gigantic talking turtle... Miles needs to stop lacing my drinks), it's just... well... This is Teresa Q.

And she's defending her National Championship tonight. Does anyone expect anything less than her A game?

Regardless, Teresa looked like she took her match with Nova to heart, she didn't stop to talk to any of the fans on the way down, handed her title belt to the timekeeper, and told him to ring the bell before she was even through the ropes. Luci was caught off guard by a forearm across the chin and a shoulder to the chest.

The message was loud and clear. 'I'm still unbeatable.'

TQ kept the pressure on through the early goings, taking Luci to the mat more often than she has in recent weeks, and punishing her once there. Luci's attempts to counter came up fruitless more times than most, though she did gain a temporary breather when TQ whipped her into the ropes, and when she attempted a hip toss, Luci expertly rolled with the momentum and dropped the National Champion with a DDT that got her a two count.

Still, it was a start.

Luci kept the pressure on by keeping the champion off balance. She made sure to drop a knee, or an elbow, or a leg, whatever was handy every time it looked like TQ was about to get up, and she kept her on the mat with a bodyslam, followed by a snap suplex that looked like it knocked the wind out of Teresa.

It was a short lived comeback, however, as TQ reversed a Frankensteiner attempt with a falling powerbomb that knocked Luci senseless. She wasted no time in getting in position, so as soon as Luci, dazed, crawled to her feet--

--Process of illumination, and the pin.

After the match, TQ left the ring without a show, took her belt, and headed for the back. And anyone who thought she had lost a step after she lost to Nova found themselves readjusting their perceptions.

Winner: Teresa Quaranta by pinfall, National Championship retained

GPX: HIGH FLYER vs. IMPULSE

The fans pop like a freshly stomped on balloon as High Flyer makes his way out. He seems to be a very popular man amongst the NFW fans, despite being something of a lunatic. Hang on, maybe it's actually because he's a lunatic. Either way, he gets a good reaction and makes his way into the ring. His music fades and is soon replaced by that of Impulse, the young rookie starting to make waves in New Frontier Wrestling. Impulse doesn't get the same kind of reaction as the widely-known High Flyer, but ehre's a definite positive reaction.

The bell sounds and the pair lock up. Flyer uses his slight height and weight advantage to push back Impulse, and then to whip him to the ropes. Impulse rebounds off and comes back with a Flying Lariat that surprises the veteran and knocks him to the ground. Impulse is quick to drop down and move in with a Lateral Press, but Flyer kicks out just after the count of one.

High Flyer moves in on Impulse, grabbing him and looking to hit a Body Slam, but Impulse drops out of it and gets behind Flyer. Impulse sets up a Hammerlock on his opponent, but Flyer reverses it and then takes down Impulse with a Neckbreaker. The crowd cheer as the Veteran moves to the turnbuckles and ascends them in one swift leap. He raises his hands with the devil horns and dives off, coming down with a 450 Splash! The ref gets down and bangs his hand on the mat twice, but before the three count, Impulse wrenches his shoulder off the canvas.

Flyer grabs Impulse again as he attempts to get up, but the younger wrestler is quicker than High Flyer gave him credit for and squirms out of the way before catching Flyer with a boot to the midsection and a Tornado DDT! Flyer gets to his feet, but a Snapmar and a Dropkick to the back of his head render him motionless on the mat. Impulse rushes to the turnbuckles as fast as his feet can carry him, and propels himself off with a carbon copy of Flyer's 450 Splash!

It connects! The ref's there and it's One! Two! Kickout!

The crowd are getting in to this match, so it's about time that it was ruined, and what better way for that to happen than with the introduction of Doctor Curiosity? The lab-coat wearing man of deviousness saunters down to the ring and looks at the two men wrestling. Were there commentators present at this most august event, they'd be speculating on his presence. Does he favour one man over the other? He's fighting Impulse at the next show, but his history with High Flyer goes back about four years to their time in fWo.

Both men look his way, but then get back to the point in hand. They lock up and Impulse hits a hip toss, but his attempt to capitalize is hit by a Drop Toe Hold... and Flyer locks in an STF! He wrenches back on the move, but Impulse still has enough in the tank, and start to try to roll over to the side. He managed to flip the pair of them over, and in doing so get close enough to the ropes for a quick grab. Flyer is slow to release the hold though, and Impulse pulls harder on the rope, sending both men under the bottom rope and down to the floor...

...where they meet Doctor Curiosity! He's holding a steel chair, and goes to take a swing at Impulse's unprotected head... but then he sees High Flyer! He can't decide which skull to cave in first, such are the opportunities in front of him.

Double Dropkick!

Both men get up as one, and both ump and plant their feet right on the chair, driving it into Curiosity's face and knocking Ze Curious One down to the ground with a thud. They both shrug and roll back under the ropes and into the ring. Flyer is a little quicker to do so and a couple of stomps give him the advantage, which he increases by waiting until Impulse is getting to his feet and then hitting a spectacular Front Flipped Stunner!

The crowd go wild as Impulse twitches on the ground, and Flyer retreats, winding up for his patented Running Yakuza Kick known the world over as the Locomotive.

Impulse get to his feet, shaking his head and trying to clear the cobwebs, but in goes Flyer, getting up speed...

LOCOMOTIVE!

...

Missed!

Impulse ducks with literally a hair's breadth to spare, and the kick flies over his shoulder. He grabs High Flyer from behind and rolls him up.

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Flyer kicks out a moment too late, and the crowd erupt as one for the shock result! Were there commentators they might be yelling about upsets, about the heart and wrestling instincts of Impulse claiming perhaps the biggest scalp of his career, but since there aren't any, he'll have to make do with the referee raising his hand and the crowd cheering him to the rafters.

Winner: Impulse by pinfall

Nova © vs. Kin Hiroshi – NON TITLE