Marcus: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a ground-breaking standard match for all y'all in this joint.
Chip: Wow. That was lame.
Marcus: What? What was lame?
Chip: "All y'all up in this joint". Where the hell do you get phrases like that?
Marcus: Man, everyone's doing it. I heard some of the wrestlers talking like that back stage. It's tizight to tizalk like you be of African descent.
Chip: Right. If you happen to be black, it's tolerable, but even then, it's annoying. We have a set language for a purpose. Why can't everyone just conform?
Marcus: Uh-oh... someone's racist!
Chip: Bite me.
Marcus: Oh, I'll bizite you, G-fresh.
Chip: Can we get some security down here? I'd rather be commentating with Terry Bradshaw.
Terry Bradshaw: All ya gotta do is dial 1-800-COLLECT, and it'll save me a buck or two.
Chip: Sometimes the words "Justifiable Homicide" just start bouncing around inside my head...
(All of a sudden, the lights in the arena dim, and "Down with the Sickness" begins to play. Enforcer casually walks out, looking around. He pauses, posing for the crowd. He then runs down to the ring, and starts pumping up the crowd.
"Down with the Sickness" fades out, and is replaced by "Last Resort". Stevie Green runs down to the ring, wasting no time. The ref calls for the bell, and the match gets underway.
Stevie gets an upperhand early, pummelling Enforcer with a series of lefts and rights. With an on-coming right, Enforcer grabs Stevie's hand and dodges the attack. He follows up with a knee to the stomach. As Stevie doubles over, Enforcer drives his elbow into Green's head, sending him to the mat. Enforcer adds insult to injury, slamming his foot into Green's back. The crowd winces at the sight of such a move. Green screams in pain, and rolls outside the ring to gather himself. Enforcer takes the moment to appeal to the crowd. As he struts around the ring, Green slides back in, behind Enforcer. He hits Enforcer with a forearm to the back of the head. Enforcer stumbles forward, until he lands in the turnbuckle. Green charges forward, and nails Enforcer with a clothesline. Enforcer begins to collapse in the corner of the ring. Green begins to repeatedly kick Enforcer in the face. The ref pulls Green off, and places himself between the two. Enforcer climbs back to his feet, readying himself. The ref steps out of the way, and Green is greeted with a spear. Before Green can get back to his feet, Enforcer pulls him up. He sets Green up for a sit-down powerbomb, and executes it to perfection. Enforcer finishes things off with his trademarked finisher, Last Breat. Green hits the mat with a sickening thud. Enforcer goes for an easy cover, and the ref counts 1...2...3.)
WINNER: ENFORCER
Chip: For a moment there I thought that Enforcer had lost it. Guess not. Chalk up another win to Enforcer and a loss to our friend Stevie Green.
Marcus: Damn, G. That shizzled my nizzle. Say it with me... E to the izzo... N to the F-O...
Chip: Do you even know what you're saying?
Marcus: *sigh* No...
Chip: THEN STOP. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP. I CAN'T HANDLE IT ANYMORE. TALK RIGHT OR I'LL HAVE YOU SINGING BACKUP AT THE MENUDO REUNION.
Marcus: They're getting back together?
Chip: Nevermind.

Chip: Ladies and gentlemen, we've got ourselves a little hardcore matching up next.
Marcus: I can hardly wait for the massacre to begin. It should be fantastic. I can't wait to see the carnage. Uhh... just thinking about it... yeaaaah... baby... the blood... the sweet, beautiful blood... mmm...
Chip: You're mentally challenged, you know that?
Marcus: Hey, I get off on blood. If anyone has a problem, they can go cut themselves!
Chip: Anyway... so... yeah. Let's get this baby underway.
(The theme music from "Excalibur" hits the arena, and the Knight of Avalon makes his way to the ring, clad in full armor, carrying a mace in one hand and a scimitar in the other.)
Chip: Interesting... at least he's staying true to his character.
Marcus: Oh, baby... show me the blood. Me thinks I see some crusted blood on the mace. Daddy like...
Chip: Put it away, buddy. I'm not having that thing stare at me the whole time.
Marcus: What? Ol' one eye? Sure he's a little small, but he's got it where it counts. No one's gonna care... besides, I'm going to have him aimed at the action the whole time.
Chip: It doesn't matter, you can't record matches... those are very specific rules. Put the camera away.
Marcus: Spoil sport.
("Step Up" starts to play over the speakers, and KoA waits patiently for his opponent to appear. He doesn't. Then, from the crowd, Mercenary appears, and nails KoA with a baseball bat to the back of the head. KoA falls forward, but catches himself on the ropes. He spins around and catches Merc in the side of the face with his mace. It drops Merc immediately. Merc is completely stunned. KoA goes for a quick cover, and the ref gets a two-count in before Merc kicks out. KoA tries to get back to his feet, but the armor is proving to be more of a problem than he realized. He begins to strip it off, revealing his normal wrestling attire underneath. All the while, Merc has gotten back to his feet and is now wielding the baseball bat again. He swings it, catching KoA in the leg. KoA falls to the mat. Merc then takes his best golf stance, and tees off using the bat and KoA's head. Merc starts to go for the cover, but KoA pulls out a dagger, holding it over himself for protection. Merc quickly moves away. KoA gets back to his feet, welts already appearing over his body. He spits out a couple of teeth. He takes the dagger, and hurls it at Merc. He does his best to dodge it, but it cactches him in the shoulder, cutting fairly deep. Merc grabs the wound in agony. KoA picks up his mace and charges toward Merc. He brings it down, but Merc narrowly evades. Merc again dives for his baseball bat. His hands touch it, and he is envigorated. KoA doesn't stand a chance. Merc goes to work on KoA with the bat. KoA fights back for a while, but the relentless assault of Merc is far more than a guy with two severe hits to the head with that bat. Merc forces KoA to the ground, chocking him with the bat. KoA continues to fight back, but it is futile. The ref can't tell whether this is a submission attempt, or a pin. He starts to count. 1...2...3.)
WINNER: MERCENARY
Marcus: The name Rodney King comes to mind...
Chip: Mercenary totally snapped... it was like the knife caused a total change in the guy. Let's hope it's not long-lasting.
Marcus: Speak for yourself. I'm just disappointed that the scimitar didn't see any action... speaking of which, where is it?
(Back in the ring, Merc is preparing to go back to work on KoA. Then, the arena goes black. There is muffled screaming. When the lights return, there are three men in the ring with Merc and KoA. All three are instantly recognised.)
Marcus: LOGAN POWERS...
Chip: VICTOR DURRANT...
Marcus: SINN FEIN...
(Durrant and Fein are holding Merc, while Powers holds the scimitar at arm's length, slowly moving it back and forth, just millimeters away from Merc's neck.)
Powers: Let's not let this get out of hand, Mercenary. Ok?
(Powers tosses the sword aside. In the same instant, Fein and Durrant drive their knees into Merc's stomach. Merc doubles over, and as he brings his head down, Powers slams his knee into Merc's face. The men drop his limp body to the ground and climb out of the ring and walk back to the ring, Powers flanked on either side by Durrant and Fein.)
Marcus: Well, it looks like Logan and his crew are making their feelings known right away.
Chip: You said it.