Phil: What the hell is this?

Cut to the ring, as a hobo stands over the unconscious body of the announcer with chair in hand. He yanks the mic up off of the mat and speaks awkwardly; an alcohol-induced slur tinging his voice.

Hobo: "Okay... ish thish on...? Teshticle? HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The audience groans in embarassment as the homeless man, obviously thinking that he's hilarious, cracks up in a fit of laughter. After a few moments, he regains his composure and continues on.

Hobo: "Alright, shitheadsh... we're gon... gonna be changing the rulesh a bit." *hic* *frnt*

The hobo laughs again at his flatulence and yanks at his crotch, making sure the camera at ringside catches it.

Hobo: "Now, let'sh be ser... serioush... Three guysh are about to come out here and fight or shumpin' and I've deshided to do some shtuff or whatever backshtage. Thish match here ish gonna be a drunken death match!"

The homeless guy thrusts his right arm into the air, slopping alcohol all over the place and staining the crumpled paper bag in his hand with cheap booze. He apparently has no idea that the competitors are already in the ring. The fans react rather positively to this, sensing that something either extremely stupid or extremely awesome is going to happen.

Hobo: "The rulesh of thish match are shim... shimple... you assholesh beat the sh... sh... tar out of each other and every five minutesh or sho, you take a shot of thish here fire... water. The match continuesh until one man cannot continue. Or, uhhh... ooh..."

Belching loudly, the vagrant keels over in a dry heave. Ringside attendants quickly bring a bucket to his aid and escort him out of the ring. A woman takes the bottle of booze away from him and smells it. The disgusted expression on her face says it all. The contents of that bottle weren't alcohol. As the hobo chucks his guts out at ringside, Connor, Havoc, and Johnny Legend tear into each other.

Phil: That was odd, nonetheless... lets get this thing on!

As all three-way dances do, the situation eventually becomes two-on-one. Connor and Legend assault Havoc with forearms and toss him into the ropes, catching their opponent on the rebound with a double spinebuster. They then bounce off of the ropes flanking a fallen Havoc and drop dual elbows straight on his chest. Connor holds Havoc in a camel clutch and Legend springs off of the ropes again, nailing Havoc in the face with a low dropkick. Mac Daddy stands up and beckons for Johnny to do the same. His temporary teammate obliges and slaps another camel clutch on Havoc. Connor has other plans, though, and feigns the dropkick low before kicking his legs up and nailing Legend right in the face!

Steve: Ohh! Connor has some experiance in thse types of matches.

Phil: That's right, he won the King of the Deathmatch in 2002!

The crowd erupts into a standing applause that quickly fades into a groan as they notice that both Havoc and Legend are bleeding profusely. Connor rolls underneath the bottom rope and fetches some plunder from around the ring: a chair from the audience, a set of flourescent lightbulbs from underneath the apron, and a metal garbage can filled with all sorts of random items of destruction. Meanwhile, Havoc and Legend are trading blows in the middle of the squared circle; each man squinting through the blood that burns in their eyes and swinging like they're trying to knock divots in each others' foreheads.

Phil: These two are mad! Mad I tell you!

Connor greets Legend with one chairshot, but Havoc sidesteps the following one aimed at his head and nails Connor with a beautiful enzuigiri. Picking up the chair, Havoc clocks Legend with yet another shot, dropping him to the canvas, and turns around in order to bash a now standing Connor over the melon with the object, too. Havoc makes his way over to the lightbulbs and grabs one from the pile. He scales a nearby turnbuckle and waits for Connor to stand up before flying off in a motion similar to his diving clothesline, shattering the nefarious tube over Connor's skull in an explosion of glass and fine dust.

Steve: WOAH!

Phil: Havoc is freaking crazy!

The crowd groans in unison at the sight and, within seconds, Connor has joined the fight against the red juice threatening to blind him and slowly sap his energy. By now, Johnny Legend has made it back to his feet and is obviously pissed the hell off. He charges at Havoc and smears him with a shoulder tackle that knocks the poor fellow straight back into the turnbuckle from whence he just flew. Yelling something nigh intelligible, Johnny Legend lifts Havoc into the air and carries him over to the fallen chair, dropping him straight on his head with a death valley driver. Before he can make the cover, though, a bell rings and several attendants climb through the ropes with alcohol, lemon, and chasers in hand.

Phil: What the heck was that?

Legend is puzzled at this, but eventually acquiesces and has a shot of what looks to be Jagermeister. He waves the chaser away with a dismissive gesture and leans against the ropes as the attendants head over to Connor. Gladly swigging the bottle of Jager itself, Connor yanks the lemon out of a ring boy's hand and marches over to Havoc, spitting the booze into his face. Havoc screams in pain as his hands reflexively shoot up to his eyes. This leaves his midsection open for a solid boot to the gut. As the attendants attempt to wake Johnny Legend from his groggy state, Connor MacDaddy is busy grinding the lemon into the cut on Havoc's forehead.

Steve: Wow, never in all my years have I seen someone do that!

After a short torture, Connor relinquishes a squirming Havoc and lays even more stiff boots to his foe's face. Legend, eventually able to make sense of his surroundings, gladly takes a shot of the Jager, because he's bleeding from the head and just got dropped dome-first onto a fucking chair. He pushes the attendants out of the way and staggers to his feet, launching himself at Connor. MacDaddy turns around just in time to be smashed with a lariat and now it's Johnny Legend's turn to bring the pain.

Steve: Legend is back!

He does an about face and walks right to the side of the ring, dragging the trash can into the fray. Some of the contents spill out; amongst them a broom, two more flourescent lightbulbs, an old, generic brand keyboard, and what looks to be a video cassette of dubious appearance. Grabbing the broom, Legend walks over to Connor and Havoc and begins teeing off on their heads; alternating between holding the stick end and bristled end before smiting his enemies with each shot. Eventually, the broom snaps in half and Johnny claims the remaining length of the handle in order to use it's sharp, jagged termination as a stabbing weapon.

Phil: Uhhh ohh...

Steve: I guess this is why they call it a deathmatch!

Havoc gets it first -- jabbed right between the eyes and kicked straight in the groin before being blasted with the stick -- and Connor gets it last. His torment is especially brutal as Johnny Legend forgoes all theatrics and just goes to town on MacDaddy's private region with a fury that is somewhat unsettling, given the fact that he's hitting a man in the balls with a broken broom handle. Legend finally ends this physical tirade by delivering a crushing blow to Connor's head that causes the stick to erupt in a blast of splinters.

Phil: Jesus! The force of the stick must have been massive, to cause it to explode like that!

The fans once again groan as the sharp crack echoes throughout the arena like a gunshot. The bell dings again and, this time, Johnny Legend is the one to drink straight from the bottle. Like Connor before him, however, he doesn't actually swallow the alcohol -- instead spitting it right into Havoc's face. Unlike Connor, though, the attendants actually see this trangsression and berate him for it. An official at ringside gets into the argument and subverts Legend's attention away from matters more close at hand. This keeps him from seeing the fact that Havoc managed to avoid most of the makeshift mist and is busy conspiring with one of the attendants to spike Legend's shot of booze with Everclear.

Phil: He can always make time for some booze.

Steve: What is this, a drunken slob fight!?

Phil: Shut up, pansy!

The heated discussion eventually ends as Johnny Legend tosses his hands into the air and agrees to actually down his shot this time. He turns around to face a situation not at all like the one present just seconds earlier, as Havoc writhes in "pain" on the ground and the attendant has Legend's designated shot of Jager ready. With a swift motion, Johnny gulps the shot and turns to face Havoc, ready to dish out even more punishment. As he bends over to reach for a lightbulb, though, he suddenly drops like a rock. Havoc, having successfully slipped Johnny Legend a mickey, leaps into the air and celebrates a plan well executed. The fans break into laughter at the completely twisted sight and count along with the referee as Havoc covers an unconscious Johnny Legend.

1...

2...

3!!!

Johnny Legend has been eliminated! Now it's down to two people. Still smirking and cackling about a job well done, Havoc stands up and walks right into low blow from Connor MacDaddy, followed by a devastating chokeslam and a top-rope elbow drop that gets a nearfall. Connor grabs the pile of flourescent lightbulbs and sets them on the ground near the turnbuckle, but is told that he needs to take a shot of Jager. He does so, opting for the Mountain Dew chaser this time, and goes back to work on Havoc. The attendants try to stop the carnage, but have to move out of the way when MacDaddy damn near kill Havoc with a Daddy Bomb on the stack of lightbulbs!

Phil: Holy Shit!

Shards of glass fly everywhere and the fans react accordingly, counting along with the referee.

1...

2...

Thr--NO! Havoc kicks out!

Connor, somewhat frustrated, picks him up again and goes for yet another Daddy Bomb, but the referee stops him and forces him to put Havoc down. MacDaddy reluctantly stands aside and allows the ring attendants to force a swallow of Jagermeister down an almost unconscious Havoc's throat. Before they can even squeeze a lemon into his mouth or pour some Mountain Dew down his throat, Connor MacDaddy is right back on the offense, yanking Havoc up and drilling him with yet another chokeslam. Signalling for the end, Connor heads for the trash can and catches sight of the aforementioned mysterious videotape lying on the mat. He picks it up and takes it out of the solid blue casing, laughing at what he sees.

Phil: What is that?

Beckoning the camera closer, MacDaddy shows everyone what he's laughing at. The tape in his hands is Ass Worship #3, starring Gauge, Alaura Eden, and Brian Pumper. Upon seeing this classic gem in Connor's hands, the homeless man at ringside flies into a rage and attempts to steal it from his grasp. No go, as MacDaddy throws bombs at the hobo's head until he falls to the ground outside the ring. Security finally takes the opportunity to escort the homeless fellow out of the arena; much to the delight of the people in attendance who were sick of seeing the idiot scratch himself and laugh at his own farts at ringside.

Phil: It's about damn time!

Back into the thick of things, Havoc manages to wrench the tape away from Connor's hands, but makes the mistake of stopping and looking at the cassette; his expression that of someone who is holding a festering turd in their very hand. This hitch in attention allows Connor MacDaddy to land a hard, wide left hook to Havoc's jaw followed by an ugly tackle and vicious punches thrown no softer than the ones he hit the hobo with earlier. Connor follows this assault by standing up and beckoning Havoc to get to his feet. When he does, he's met with a knee to the gut followed by a DDT and a quick pin attempt.

1...

2...

Kickout! Connor MacDaddy drags Havoc to his feet and drops him straight on his head with a piledriver. Cover again.

1...

2...

Havoc slops his foot onto the bottom rope! Rather angry now, Connor drags Havoc into the middle of the ring by the leg laying on the rope and turns his opponent upside down, hooking the other leg in a high-angle boston crab that has Havoc screaming in pain. The fans begin to chant and clap along in support of the underdog, but it's doing Havoc no good as he simply can't move anywhere. Seconds slowly tick by, almost an eternity to Havoc and his supporters, and the tension begins to mount. The referee grows more and more anxious with each passing moment, almost begging for Havoc to give up at one point. Still, he shakes his head and fights against the growing stars and lingering blackness that plague his vision; a sure sign that he's almost about to pass out. Connor slightly switches position; scooting backwards and kneeling down as far to the ground as he can. Havoc is now bent completely backwards and the pain is unbearable. He screams out loud and raises his hand into the air...

Phil: He's going to tap!

...just as the bell rings once again, signalling yet another shot of Jagermeister. Absolutely furious, Connor MacDaddy slings Havoc's legs to the ground and stalks over to the attendants, spitting and cursing like a sailor. He swallows his Jagermeister and shows visible signs of hesitation this time, as the adrenaline seems to have masked his growing state of inebriation. A long wait follows as Havoc recuperates just enough to have his own drink. It's obvious now that the massive bloodloss, constant punishment, and barrage of alcohol is getting to both men, but it's effecting Havoc even more, since Connor isn't the one who was damn near broken in half by a boston crab.

Phil: I think the shots are starting to get to Connor.

Nevertheless, Havoc manages to scramble to his feet, using the ring ropes to drag himself up, just as Connor charges towards him. Maintaining at least a small amount of cognizance, or perhaps working purely on instinct, Havoc keeps his grip on the top rope and falls straight backwards, yanking the thing down. Connor completely misses Havoc as a result and tumbles to the outside. A man wearing an old squire's outfit, complete with tacky-assed, technicolor, Hulk Hogan-like boas and a blue wig, comes stomping from off camera and assaults Connor MacDaddy before security can stop him.

Phil: What the--?

Steve: I hate these fans.

In tow are several police officers, who subdue the fool and wrestle him to the ground. The wig is knocked off of his head and the culprit is revealed as the homeless man; somehow having gotten into the building once again after being ejected earlier. Mace is sprayed in his eyes this time, as he's kicking and biting at the cops trying to wrangle him into submission, and handcuffs are slapped on the loser's wrists. It's obvious now that he's going straight to jail.

Phil: Good, get him out of here!

In the ring, Havoc is on his knees, cackling wickedly at the sight of Connor MacDaddy being assaulted by a drunken hobo dressed like a damn idiot. Once you think about it, this is actually pretty funny. Connor doesn't think so, however, and slides into the ring like lightning; laying into Havoc with the ferocity of a wolverine. Those solid right and left hands return to action, striking Havoc's skull with enough force to send his now thinning blood splattering everywhere. With his arms and body stained red, Connor MacDaddy stands up and prepares Havoc for yet another Daddy Bomb. This time, however, he starts in the corner and runs towards the trash can, dropping Havoc like a ragdoll on the side of the can.

Phil: My god, it HAS to be over!

Crushed and useless, the trash can is kicked out of the way by the referee as MacDaddy hoists Havoc into the air and drills him with the Big Mac. Connor isn't done yet, however, as he sets two chairs up near the turnbuckle and grabs the stack of lightbulbs he set there before. Placing them in a bridge between the seats of the two chairs, Connor drags a groggy Havoc over to the corner. He calls for the bottle of Jagermeister and takes a large gulp of it before smashing the thing over Havoc's skull. Broken glass and hard liquor rain from a circular explosion of debris and the fans love every second of it.

Phil: This match is INSANE!

Havoc, however, snaps up to a standing position and miraculously begins wailing on Connor in an amazing second wind. He smacks MacDaddy with several brutal palm strikes and kicks him straight in the groin before spinning behind his opponent and launching him into the air with an enormous release german suplex that sends Connor careening straight over the bridge of lightbulbs and right into the referee!

Phil: Oh no! The ref! ,p> The crowd groans in pain at the sight, but react even louder when Havoc picks the referee up and literally powerbombs him straight onto Connor's midsection! The attendants immediately freak out and begin calling for another referee as well as several paramedics. EMTs immediately rush down the aisle and head into the ring, but are cut off by Havoc, who has apparently snapped. He attacks medic after medic with sharp kicks and vicious elbow and knee strikes that send them all tumbling across the canvas. The replacement referee wisely stays out of the ring and tries his best to avoid the flying bodies that Havoc is sending his way.

Steve: We have a replacement.

Thankfully, however, Havoc soon tires of eradicating government workers and turns his attention back to Connor MacDaddy, who is trying his best to stand up after being thrown headfirst through several flourescent lightbulbs. Not wasting a beat, Havoc unleashes several kicks to strategic areas of MacDaddy's body: first the back of the knee, then the sternum, then the liver, and finally the face. Connor stumbles back and hits his back on the ropes, causing him to lurch forward again. This allows Havoc to measure up and annihilate MacDaddy with a high kick that crushes his puny human skull.

Steve: Holy shit! That was awesome!

The new referee deftly scrambles into the ring and counts the fall as Havoc covers Connor.

1...

2...

3!!!

Havoc wins! He's finally done it! The bell rings and Havoc stands up, exhausted and happy that he's won.

Phil: He did it! Havoc won!!

Steve: Woah... hold on here! Connor's foot was on the rope!

The referee is telling Havoc something! Connor's foot was on the ropes! Havoc can't believe it! The fans moan in disappointment and begin to boo, but their jeers are soon cut short by the sound of a sharp crack -- that is, of course, Havoc's foot connecting with the referee's skull. Havoc, frustrated and looking to vent his rage, lifts the stunned official onto his shoulders and drills him with the Mayhem Slam. The ring shakes and the referee's body flops into the air with an accompanying thud of impact. Havoc stands up and suddenly grimaces, falling to his knees and his hands clutch his stomach. His body spasms a few times before he vomits -- not alcohol or bile, but blood. The crowd gasps in horror at the sight and Connor MacDaddy, seeing his foe in a state of peril, uses the motivation to stand up and stumble towards Havoc.

Phil: MacDaddy is hurt... bad.

If it weren't for him almost landing on his opponent as he bent down to pick him up, Connor probably would have fallen on his face like Johnny Legend. Regardless of this, he drags Havoc up by his hair and blasts him with a lariat that sends him completely upside down. MacDaddy finally collapses on the canvas and lays there in pain. Covered in blood and small pieces of glass, both men lie prone for quite some time. The crowd seems divided in half between the two, each person cheering for their man to get up and fight. For a moment, it almost seems like a massive Coliseum crowd urging the Roman gladiators onward towards the bloody battle.

Phil: This match will go on for ages!

After a long wait, Connor MacDaddy is the first to rise. He slowly, painfully, creaks onto his hands and knees and weakly beckons for the ringside attendants -- now ironically aiding the EMTs -- to hand him two chairs. Several quickly grant his wish, turning their attention back to the paramedics and referees as soon as they're done. Connor unfolds both of the chairs from his knees and sets them facing each other. He climbs into the seat of one and drags Havoc up by his ears; sitting him down opposite his position.

Phil: Connor seems to be back on the offensive.

Both men lean forward briefly with their elbows on their knees, trying to catch their breath. Their eyes never unlock, however, as Havoc and Connor MacDaddy know that the US title is at stake. Sitting straight up, Connor points to his own face and spouts a slurred declaration.

Connor MacDaddy: I'm right over here, motherfucker!

He follows up with a vicious right hand that rocks Havoc, but doesn't take him out of his seat. The fans gasp as Havoc's chair almost tips over, but begin to buzz once he straightens himself. Havoc then returns the message in kind; throwing a punch that bounces off of Connor MacDaddy's head. His chair, too, almost causes him to tumble, but a surge forward brings him upright; his head shooting straight into Havoc's face. Rather than flinch or even fall backwards, Havoc's eyes darken, telegraphing a sick uppercut that takes Connor out of his seat. Before MacDaddy even has a chance to fall, Havoc grabs him and unleashes with several more uppercuts, ending with a few shoteis for good measure.

Phil: These guys are fighting like there is no tomorrow!

Both men are now standing, Havoc on the offensive. Connor MacDaddy throws a wild left that misses. Instead of moving backwards, Havoc stands his ground, letting the fist whizz by his face, and shoots forward. The two men grapple and Havoc manages to land several solid knees to the body before Connor wakes up and cracks him straight in the nose with a knee of his own.

One more hits Havoc in the mouth.

The crowd screams

Another hits him between the eyes.

The crowd grows louder.

Havoc goes limp.

Connor MacDaddy hangs on to his foe and throws another knee strike that catches Havoc square in the temple.

The crowd goes ballistic.

Havoc falls sideways, directly into a lightning fast right uppercut that catches him full-on in the face; Havoc's entire body falling right onto Connor's impaling fist.

The crowd goes completely silent.

Cleanest, most brutal shot of the night.

Connor MacDaddy stumbles and falls straight over, landing on top of Havoc.

1...

2...

3!!!

Phil: Oh my god!

Steve: Connor MacDaddy just pinned the World Champion!

The bell rings for the final time and the fans break their ominous silence by exploding into a unanimous standing ovation. Connor MacDaddy has won. He's the new SFT United States Champion.

WINNER:Connor MacDaddy via pinfall

[ e n d i n g ]