This match has been extended 24 hours.

(Once I got into this it was really fun. I hope to do it again some time, Mick! I just had an absolutely crazy couple of weeks with little down time. I wasn't really expecting it. One other thing; I could swear that when I was plotting this out, Hennig's profile listed him as a cocky heel. I didn't notice he was a babyface until I had finished the match and commentary and had gone to close the profile, so I apologize if the way I used Joey is wrong. I'm willing to take a hit for that as I don't really have it in me to go back and re-write all the commentary at this point. I still think it's fair since he's probably been a heel in the past and he strikes me as one of those guys that doesn't change too much when he's a heel or a face, so Joey might not know better. That'll be the excuse I stick to from now on. )

The sound of the bell can hardly be heard over the deafening applause and unceasing stomping of an elated St. Louis crowd, highly enthusiastic over the long-awaited return of Mr. Phenomenal. "DC Hennig! *clap clap clap-clap-clap*" echoes throughout every stretch of the arena, the sentiments of tens of thousands of fans coasting through the stadium like a literal wave, drowning out anything in it's path. DC Hennig and Rob Chapman slowly and silently circle each other around the canvas, until DC can no longer ignore the massive reaction from the sold-out crowd. Hennig locks eyes with Chapman, with an arrogant smirk on his face and his eyebrows raised, and gestures at the crowd with his thumb while cocking his head to the side, mouthing "Not bad, huh?". Despite Hennig's efforts to throw his fans' adoration in Chapman's face, Rob replies with nothing but unyielding focus on DC, staring at him with an intensity colder than Chapman's native land of Nova Scotia. Without blinking, or moving any muscles in his face, really, Rob reaches out his hand, offering a respectful handshake to the somewhat disrespectful (thus far) DC Hennig. Hennig glances at Rob's hand and obliges, stepping forward and giving the veteran Chapman a quick handshake. But, immediately after Hennig releases Rob's hand and begins to take a step backwards, Rob swings his leg around with remarkable speed and knocks DC Hennig off of his feet with a Spinning Leg Sweep. Hennig falls on his back, and although the drop was not a far one, the unexpected attack knocks the wind out of him. Hennig scrambles towards the ropes as Rob dishes out numerous stiff, quick kicks to Hennig's shoulders and back, until DC finally manages to escape the ring to catch his breath, if only for a moment.

Cedar: And Mr. Phenomenal looks to be a little less confident after that exchange. That's one thing I truly respect about Rob Chapman, Joey; he lets his tactical offense do all of the talking for him.

Miles: Well no shit, Ted, he's the so-called "Silent Protagonist." What else would do the talking for him? Should I ram my arm up his ass and work him like a fucking puppet? Huh?

Cedar: So glad to see you'll be remaining impartial during this one, Joey...

Hennig barely has time to inhale a single breath, as the cold and calculated Chapman wastes no time in following up on his advantageous attack. Chapman exits the ring, and Hennig takes note, rushing around the steel steps at ringside. Chapman remains in hot pursuit, though, trailing DC Hennig with the sole objective of not losing a single second of this upper hand. Hennig rolls into the ring and is back onto his feet just as Chapman slides back into the ring as well. But before Chapman can get up, Hennig drops an elbow into the groove of his back, out of desperation more than formulated offense. He follows up this elbow with a second, hoping to keep Chapman grounded long enough to build some more effective offense. With that in mind, Hennig lunges toward the ropes and bounces off of them, then charges at Chapman, looking to nail a vicious clothesline. But just as Hennig swings his arm to connect with the clothesline, Chapman instinctively ducks while at the same time driving his kneecap into Hennig's gut. Chapman then steps to the side, grabs onto Hennig's hair and tights, and tosses him through the ropes and outside the ring once more, discarding of Mr. Phenomenal like one might toss a sack of garbage into a dumpster. Hennig crashes onto the mat and rolls into the barricade, and the look of frustration and bewilderment on his face exhibit the dialogue that must be running through his head: he truly has his work cut out for him tonight.

Cedar: And again Rob Chapman gains the upper hand on Mr. Phenomenal!

Miles: Looks like DC may have gained a little rust in his absence. Aside from that rust on his face, do you think that's as far as he can grow his beard out? I had more fuzz on my balls when I was ten.

Cedar: Always asking the hard-hitting questions. And speaking of hard-hitting...

Outside the ring, Hennig attempts to scramble onto his feet before "The Straight-Edge Outlaw" can continue his calculated assault, but again falls prey to his opponent's quick speed and unnatural focus, as Chapman exits the ring and quickly lays a few powerful kicks into Hennig's chest while he's seated at the ringside barricade. He follows up with a few clenched-fist strikes, although Hennig avoids some damage by shielding his head with his arms. Noting DC has his arms raised to his head, Chapman again nails Hennig with a stiff kick, this time to the sternum, and Hennig clenches his chest, possibly hiding an imprint of Chapman's boot on his flesh. Chapman then grabs Hennig by the scruff of his neck and leads him over to the steel steps, to DC's (and the crowd's) dismay. Chapman's face conveys a peculiar sense of calm, perhaps due to the knowledge of his control over his opponent thus far in this match. His emotionless face remains unchanging as he props Hennig up onto his feet, directly in front of the steel steps. The crowd anticipates his next attack, but underestimates the prowess of the Silent Protagonist, as Chapman, to ensure maximum damage, locks in a Full Nelson on the vulnerable DC Hennig. With Hennig unable to move his arms to shield his head, Chapman then steps to the side of Hennig and slams his face directly into the steps with a Full Nelson Facebuster. The collision of skull and steel creates a sickening thud similar to a gunshot, and Hennig's eyes glaze over, his bell clearly rung by this inventive attack. Hennig can hear the referee shout "3!" far off in the distance, as if he's conducting his count deep inside a well. While cartoon birds begin to fly around Hennig's noggin, Chapman walks backward from Hennig, looking to use those steel steps to his advantage once more. With Mr. Phenomenal down on one knee in front of the steps, he is in a prone position for a running kick. Chapman charges toward Hennig, but surprisingly, Mr. Phenomenal summons the wherewithal to counter the attack as best he can, tripping Rob up with a Drop Toe Hold that sends Chapman face-first into the steel steps. Knowing he has a small window of time before Chapman gets back up, Hennig crawls away from the Silent Protagonist in order to shake off some cobwebs, as the referee's count hits 5.

Miles: Wow, I didn't really expect this one to be so fucking physical.

Cedar: Well that's the thing about Rob Chapman. Tens of thousands of fans here in St. Louis see DC Hennig as a returning hero. But to Rob, all he sees is an objective. A man standing in the way of the Intercontinental Championship. Of his conquest of the sport. And that's all the motivation he needs to tear Mr. Phenomenal, or any opponent for that matter, apart.

Miles: But how about the resourcefulness of DC Hennig, huh? I'd say he's pretty motivated too there, Ted.

Cedar: Oh no doubt about it. That's what makes this match so promising; both these guys have so much to prove here tonight, so much to gain. What it all boils down to is who wants it more. That's what I love about this sport, Joey! The purity of competition, the --

Miles: To the fans watching at home, this is a great time to test out that MUTE button on your remote controls. Fucking blowhard...

Hennig crawls on his hands and knees away from the steps and from his vicious competitor, taking advantage of this tiny and rare opportunity to gather his belongings a bit. Having regained a little more awareness of the ref's count ("6!"), Hennig grabs onto the ring apron and hoists himself back into the ring, just as Chapman begins to crawl towards the ring himself. Chapman and Hennig get back on their feet at about the same time, and Chapman hurriedly leaps onto the apron. This time, though, DC Hennig meets Rob with a little offense, clocking him with a few right hand jabs just as Rob plants his feet on the apron. Rob stumbles a bit, grabbing onto the ropes to remain balanced, and Hennig closes in on a vulnerable Chapman, setting him up for a suplex. Hennig latches onto the hem of Rob's tights from over the top rope, and attempts to suplex him into the ring. Chapman, however, uses his weight advantage over Hennig to sandbag this attempt, landing again on the apron. Hennig gets a little more physical, driving his forearm repeatedly into Chapman's jaw, and goes for the suplex again. But just as Hennig lifts Chapman up into an almost vertical position, Chapman stretches his legs away from Hennig and allows gravity to do the rest of the work for him. Chapman falls to the floor, gracefully sticking the landing on both feet and simultaneously driving Hennig's neck and head into the top rope, springboarding him backwards as if his head were an Angry Bird about to crash into a pile of pigs. Chapman leaps through the middle and bottom rope, and does an impressive roll into the ring, leaving just enough room to cover a fallen DC Hennig for the pinfall attempt: 1... 2... kickout!

Cedar: One has to admire the tenacity of Rob Chapman here tonight. He's been on DC Hennig as tight as a straightjacket since the bell rang.

Miles: Yeah, a straight-jacket is exactly what that fucking lunatic needs. Great point, Theodore.

Cedar: Do you listen to a word I say?

Rob Chapman gets back onto his feet and hoists DC Hennig onto his, then gives him a quick Irish whip toward the ropes. Hennig bounces off the ropes and Chapman bends down, looking to fling DC Hennig high into the air upon his arrival. Hennig anticipates Chapman's attempt, though, and performs a Sunset Flip, leaping over Chapman and rolling him onto his back for a pinfall attempt. The velocity of the move, however, allows Chapman to effortlessly roll back onto his feet, at which point he targets the head of the seated DC Hennig and swings his foot full-force towards Hennig's temple. Hennig leans back, feeling the wind off Chapman's boot as it swings a full 360 degrees, and Hennig, noting Chapman's momentary lack of balance, grabs both of his opponent's legs and sweeps them out from under him, then somersaults over the Silent Protagonist, hooking the legs for another pinfall attempt. Chapman quickly breaks the pin before the referee can count to two, driving his fist into Hennig's ribs and causing him to let go of Chapman's legs. Rob Chapman then exhibits noteworthy leg strength, wrapping his arms around Hennig's torso and rising up, while still underneath Hennig, until both men are on their feet, forming an arch. Chapman twists himself until he is now out of the arch and facing Hennig, shoving Mr. Phenomenal backwards once they are face-to-face again. Hennig stumbles backwards onto the ropes, at which point Chapman, expecting Hennig to bounce off and return to him, leaps high into the air, looking to connect with a dropkick. Chapman hits nothing but air, though, as DC Hennig hooks both arms onto the top rope, stopping himself short before he could fall prey to Chapman's patented Dropkick. Chapman lands on his knees rather unaffected, but allowing DC Hennig just enough of an opportunity to charge towards him. Hennig grabs Chapman's shoulders and leaps into the air, then drives his right leg downward onto Chapman's upper torso, delivering a quick Jumping Leg Lariat that drives Chapman down onto the canvas. The crowd applauds Hennig vehemently, finally witnessing his first true bit of effective offense thus far in this contest.

Cedar: Mr. Phenomenal may be finding himself a little more comfortable inside the ring than he is out of it. But he's gotta capitalize on this momentum quickly if he wants to take down the Silent Protagonist.

Miles: You know Teddy, I hate to give it up for Chapman, but I think he's onto something with the whole silence thing. Maybe you could give it a shot, bill yourself as the Silent Broadcast Analyst or some shit like that?

Cedar: You're a riot, Joey. An absolute riot.

Rather than going for the pinfall, Mr. Phenomenal determines that it would be a wiser investment to try to wear down his highly competitive opponent. As Chapman begins to sit up, Hennig slides behind him and positions his knee onto Chapman's back, then clutches both hands onto Chapman's chin and wrenches his head backwards with a Chinlock. Hennig applies a great deal of pressure on Chapman's neck, but is also careful to keep his knee firmly planted onto Chapman's upper vertebrae to inflict as much discomfort as he can. Chapman's face contorts in pain, but his body language shows no signs of submission as he begins to work his way onto the feet, if only to get Hennig's knee off of him. Hennig keeps the knee applied to Chapman as long as he can, until Chapman is well enough on his feet to charge backwards, sending DC Hennig stumbling backwards as well until both men crash into the nearby turnbuckle, with Hennig taking the brunt of the blow. Chapman throws an elbow for good measure into the face of Mr. Phenomenal, and takes a few steps forward, popping his neck and stretching his back to help alleviate the pain of the hold. With his back turned to Hennig, Chapman, out of nowhere, lunges backwards into the air, twisting while in mid-air until the sole of his boot crashes right into Mr. Phenomenal's jaw with an incredible standing Whisper in the Wind, a signature maneuver in Chapman's arsenal that he refers to as the Don't Blink. Hennig unsuspectingly walks right into the highly athletic attack, having just moved out of the corner of the ring only to be knocked back into it. Hennig slumps downward into the corner of the ring, his arms and body melting onto the adjacent ropes and turnbuckles like a pad of butter onto a freshly cooked pancake. With Hennig in such a prone position, Chapman runs toward the opposite ropes, rebounds off them and charges at Hennig, then drives his foot into Hennig's skull with lightning fast velocity with a brutal Facewash. Hennig's head bounces to the side like a punching bag, while Chapman stands above Hennig, his legs sticking half-way out of the ring due to the incredible momentum he achieved running into the move. Chapman grabs Hennig by the ankle and drags him away from the ropes with relative ease, and goes for the pinfall: 1... 2... kickout! The crowd roars, overjoyed to see that DC Hennig's brain matter was not too scrambled after that Facewash, so that he can still compete in this contest.

Cedar: Ooooh, what a brutal kick to the cranium of DC Hennig. And just a reminder folks, these two men are competing for points in the opening round of a tournament that will crown the next XWA Intercontinental Champion by Revolutionary Wars. These men are no doubt highly motivated to bring home the win here tonight.

Miles: I can't imagine where we'd be without your amazing insight. So you're telling me that wrestlers are motivated to win by earning championship title belts? What other insider information are you keeping from us?

Chapman gets to his knees after the failed pinfall attempt, and sits DC Hennig up, then maneuvers behind him to apply a standard Reverse Chinlock, not so much choking Mr. Phenomenal out with his bicep, but rather applying pressure upward, as if he were trying to lift Hennig's head off of his torso. Hennig's pearly whites are on full display as he grimaces in pain, clawing at Chapman's forearm in a vain attempt to get him to let up. Although plenty delirious from the numerous attacks to his head thus far in the match, Hennig is relentless in not giving up, and begins to feed off the crowd's energy to try and will himself back into this match. The live audience starts up their "DC Hennig! *clap clap clap-clap-clap*" chant as Hennig slowly recovers onto his knees, and finally onto his feet. Hennig launches an elbow into the gut of Rob Chapman, and another, and one more until Chapman finally releases the hold. Hennig seizes the opportunity and dashes to the ropes, rebounds off of them, and charges toward Chapman, but Chapman drops Hennig once more with a stiff Uppercut. It's Chapman this time who runs to the ropes perpendicular from Hennig, and leaps over Hennig, who's on his hand and knees. Chapman bounces off the adjacent ropes and meets a standing Mr. Phenomenal, then shifts his own momentum by whirling around and launching Hennig into the ropes with a vicious Irish whip. Hennig returns to Chapman, who catches Hennig with a Hip Toss, but in an amazing show of athleticism, quickly positions his free arm underneath Hennig mid-toss to perform a Hip Toss-to-Suplex. The suplex drops Hennig onto his back a little more forcefully than the hip toss would have, and Chapman goes for the cover: 1... 2... kickout!!

Cedar: Highly innovative offense from "LionHeart" in a very impressive showing thus far here at the Big Ass American Bash!

Miles: I don't know who I want to see as Intercontinental Champion less between these two guys. The thought of Rob Chapman holding any sort of gold here really does make me wanna fucking vomit. I think I'm rooting for the Butt Pirate to win the whole thing, honestly...

Chapman picks himself up onto his feet and grabs DC Hennig, dragging him onto his feet as well. Chapman then scoops Mr. Phenomenal up and onto his shoulder, and walks him to the corner of the ring. Chapman hooks Hennig's legs onto the top turnbuckle, and hangs his body upside-down at the corner. Hennig briefly resembles a towel being hung to dry on a clothesline, his arms outstretched above his head, before he realizes what potential danger could await him from being so vulnerable, and attempts to pull himself up and onto the top turnbuckle. But Chapman, ever diligent in his offense, keeps Hennig from moving by delivering some sharp kicks directly into his ribs. The speed and stiffness of Chapman's boots his Hennig's torso like jabs with a knife, sending a searing pain coursing though his mid-section as Chapman adds to his already threatening reputation of delivering devastating kicks. After delivering a solid seven or eight kicks in quick succession, Chapman runs to the ropes with something surely lethal in mind, perhaps another mind-scrambling Facewash. He bounces off the ropes on the side of the ring opposite the hung-out-to-dry DC Hennig, and hones in on Hennig, his eyes locked on his target like an eagle about to catch a leaping salmon in a river. Hennig, acting in desperation, though, bears through the soreness in his ribs to lunge upward and grab the top ropes, then pull himself out of harms way as Chapman flips forward, attempting to crash the full force of his body weight into his opponent. Instead, Chapman's back makes direct contact with the turnbuckles, his momentum contributing to a truly painful jab to his kidneys from the bottom turnbuckle, which sends him rolling back away from the corner. Meanwhile Hennig counts his blessings sitting on the top of the turnbuckles, the crowd delighting in Hennig's ring awareness and brief recovery. Mr. Phenomenal gathers himself for a bit, but knows he'll have little time before Chapman is back up, and turns himself 180 degrees so that he is seated on the top turnbuckle, facing the Silent Protagonist, who is on his hands and knees almost in the center of the ring. Hennig lifts his legs and plants both feet firmly on the top turnbuckle, then rises, his arms outstretched so that he may keep his balance while perched atop the corner of the ring. Hennig is breathing pretty heavily already, but takes one deep, satisfying breath as Rob Chapman rises to his feet a few yards away. Hennig squints his eye as he extends both arms in front of him, using his hands to lock onto Rob Chapman as if he were a sniper positioning his rifle's reticle onto his victim. Hennig then flies off the top turnbuckle feet forward, driving both feet into the chest cavity of Rob Chapman with Hennig's signature High Impact Missile Dropkick. Mr. Phenomenal makes it a point to drive his feet deep into Chapman's upper torso, the collision of the two making more of a thud than a smack, like getting hit with a medicine ball. The impact launches Chapman backwards, awkwardly landing on his neck and shoulders behind him until he's lying on his back at the opposite corner of the ring. The crowd goes bananas over the aerial attack, having seen a glimpse of Mr. Phenomenal's moveset they haven't seen in a very long time.

Cedar: And DC Hennig connects with an impactful Missile Dropkick! Might this be the turning point for Mr. Phenomenal here tonight at the Bash?

Miles: Gee I don't know, but I gotta tell you, I have really come to the conclusion that I don't care how this match turns out!

Cedar: Because you respect and admire the hard work and dedication that both these men have to the sport, and to their careers, right Joey?

Miles: Ted, 100% straight-up, shut the fuck up.

With Rob Chapman subdued in the corner of the ring, DC Hennig enjoys a rare peaceful moment during which he finally isn't being attacked, and takes a little time to recover. Hennig rubs his hand through his hair, massaging the back of his head as well as his neck, both of which have taken a fair amount of damage in this match thus far. Rob Chapman is on his back in the corner doing the same, having landed so unnaturally on his neck following the Missile Dropkick. Mr. Phenomenal knows he doesn't have much time to spare, though, if he wishes to capitalize on this opportunity, so he gets back to his feet after a moment or two and takes a look at his fallen opponent. The gears begin to turn in DC's head as the crowd begins to whip their camera phones out, almost certain of what DC Hennig may have in mind. As Chapman stirs in the corner on his back, his chest just underneath the turnbuckle, DC sees his moment and lightly smirks, then sprints over to Rob and leaps forward, grabbing the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle with both hands. Hennig, exhibiting exceptional upper body strength and endurance, performs a vertical handstand using the ropes, as hundreds of camera flashes in the arena brightly illuminate the stands, ready to capture Hennig's patented Outer Limitz Elbow. To Hennig's dismay, however, Chapman surprisingly kips up, perhaps playing possum a bit to lure Hennig into his trap. With Hennig still vertical and upside down, Chapman chops Hennig right across the chest, lighting it a deep red as Hennig obviously loses his grips on the ropes. Rather than falling backwards or forwards, Hennig mistakenly brings his arm to his chest to soothe the pain, and thus begins to fall headfirst toward the mat below. Fortunately for DC, Chapman catches Hennig before he can fall squarely on his head; unfortunately for DC, the catch allows Chapman the perfect setup for a truly devastating maneuver. Chapman locks his arms around Hennig's upside-down body very tightly, then turns and leaps in the air, keeping Hennig's head firmly rested between Chapman's legs on the way down. Chapman plunges Hennig into the canvas, driving the very top of his head into the ring below with an unsettling Jumping Spike Piledriver! The unanimous gasps of the crowd can clearly be heard throughout the arena, as Hennig sprawls out onto the mat, the lights in the rafters above possibly looking like the shiny entrance to the pearly gates of Heaven after such an effective piledriver.

Cedar: DEAR LORD, what a piledriver! I wonder if DC Hennig will even be able to remember his name when he walks out of here tonight.

Miles: IF he walks out of here tonight, Ted. As much damage as he's taken to that giant noggin of his...

Confident that his opponent is laid out after such a devastating slam, Rob Chapman takes a brief moment to catch his breath and gather himself a bit, then hooks Hennig's leg: 1! 2!... just before the count of 3, though, Hennig rests his ankle on the nearby bottom rope, breaking the referee's count. The audience, once in bated breath, lets out a sigh of relief, unlike Rob Chapman, who lets out a sigh of frustration. Chapman picks himself up and leans over, grabbing Hennig's right leg and right arm and sliding him away from the ropes. Chapman mounts himself on one knee on top of Hennig and grabs a hairful of his messy blonde hair, then lays a few stiff forearms to Hennig's face, beating him down and drawing a bit of heat from the crowd by doing so. Of course, this does not affect Chapman in the slightest, who takes a look at the audience after getting back onto his feet, his facial expression remaining as callous as ever. Chapman wonders over to the corner of the ring and goes through the ropes, then begins to climb up the turnbuckles. The crowd's scattered boos, however, soon turn to a rumble of applause, which bewilders Chapman for a moment until he looks down and sees DC Hennig stirring on the mat. Mr. Phenomenal has apparently kicked it into overdrive, presumably running on fumes as he works his way onto his knees by the time Chapman fully ascends to the top rope. Chapman peers at Hennig with an intensely concentrated glare, and begins to nod, ominously encouraging Hennig to get back onto his feet. The crowd is rallied behind Mr. Phenomenal, cheering him on unceasingly and perhaps providing the energy necessary for Hennig to finally make it back onto his two feet. Hennig looks to be a tad wobbly standing up, obviously delirious, and Chapman cocks his eyebrows just before launching himself off the top turnbuckle. Chapman clasps his hands together and raises his arms high above his head, looking to further turn Hennig's brains into mashed potatoes with a Double Axe Handle. But just as Chapman's arms crash down inches above Hennig's skull, DC miraculously sidesteps the Silent Protagonist and at the same time catches Chapman in the stomach with his kneecap. With Chapman precariously hunched over, Hennig positions his shoulder directly underneath Chapman's jaw and drops, delivering a Sitout Shoulder Jawbreaker. Chapman's feet remain in place as he falls backwards onto the mat, like a tree being chopped down by a lumberjack, and Hennig lies backwards as well, breathing noticeably heavily as he bides himself a little more time to try to recuperate and stay in this thing. The atmosphere among the audience is electrifying, as although Hennig is the more pronounced babyface figure in the bout, they cannot help but respect and truly admire both men's athletic prowess and competitiveness.

Cedar: My gawd, what a remarkable back-and-forth contest this has been Joey. Whoever walks out with the victory will surely earn the win, and the points towards achieving the Intercontinental Championship.

Miles: How cool would it be if this one ended in a double countout? Like neither guy could answer the ref's count. Wouldn't that be awesome?

Cedar: I wouldn't exactly call the total loss of functionality and awareness "cool", Joey.

Miles: Well that's because you're a fuckin' prude, Ted.

Fighting a massive throbbing pain in his head, DC Hennig literally crawls over the his opponent. Despite all the falls and kicks and attacks on his head, though, Hennig still thinks logically, and knows that his best option if he truly wants to win this match, is to wear Chapman down rather than go for a pin. With that in mind, Hennig rolls Chapman over onto his belly, exuding much more effort to do this than would otherwise be necessary, and crawls on top of Chapman's back, sitting up and locking his hands underneath Chapman's chin. Hennig torques back with all of his might, successfully locking in a Camel Clutch. Hennig sits rather lightly on Chapman's back as he executes the submission maneuver, choosing instead to focus his diminished supply of energy onto wrenching Chapman's neck backwards. Chapman takes advantage of the lack of pressure on his back, and after a few moments of bearing through the pain, begins to squirm his way onto his hands and knees, with Hennig still clinging on and the chinlock still applied. Chapman summons the strength to rise onto one knee, and finally onto both feet, while Hennig finds both of his own feet are off the floor as Chapman takes him up along for the ride. Hennig transitions his chinlock into a Sleeper Hold, still attempting to wear down the veteran Chapman, who finally makes it onto his feet, with Mr. Phenomenal strapped around him like a backpack. Chapman takes a couple steps backward, then picks up his speed, stumbling backwards at an alarming speed towards the ropes. Just as Hennig's back lightly grazes the ropes, he throws a stiff jab into Chapman's face, dazing the LionHeart just long enough for Hennig to seat himself precariously onto the top rope. Mr. Phenomenal does not allow enough time to create an opportunity though, and turns 180 degrees while wrapping his legs underneath Chapman's shoulders. Now facing away from the ring, Hennig then allows himself to fall backwards over the top rope. Hennig hangs upside down, keeping himself from falling by crossing his legs and tucking the front of his boots behind Chapman's head, then reaches through the ropes and grabs Chapman's legs, executing a Tarantula hold. The referee begins his count as Mr. Phenomenal grits through his own pain, holding on just long enough to make it to a three-count from the ref before he has to let go of the hold.

Cedar: Mr. Phenomenal fighting back with an impressive Tarantula, but I believe all that blood going to his head was too much to handle.

Miles: Or you know, maybe the fact that it's illegal to use the ropes like that for more than five seconds. Haven't you read the rulebook, Cedar?

Cedar: Of course I have, Joey. But nonetheless, perhaps DC Hennig has provided some efficient retaliation against Rob Chapman with those submission maneuvers.

Hennig lands on his feet outside the ring and rubs the back of his head, while Ted Cedar internally gloats to himself about totally calling the whole blood-rushing-to-his-head bit that Joey was quick to shoot down. Inside the ring, Rob Chapman is on down on the mat, leaned up against the ropes and massaging his neck, making sure to take frequent glances at Hennig to further calculate how and when to strike next. Hennig grabs the ropes and hops onto the apron just as Chapman pulls himself onto his feet, and before DC Hennig can even enter the ring once again, Chapman pulls a move of brilliant strategy and slight desperation, swinging his leg around and connecting with the side of Hennig's head with a flawless Step-Up Enzuiguri. Hennig falls off the apron with the bodily control of a ragdoll, tumbling onto the mats at ringside as the live audience's "Ooooooooh..." dies down to a close. Hennig slowly and desperately crawls towards the announce table, the closest thing to him, in an attempt to pick himself back up onto his feet, while Rob Chapman, fighting neck discomfort of his own, looks on from ringside. With Hennig on bended knee, working very hard to get back onto his feet, Chapman decides on a high-risk, high-reward strategy, and takes off in the opposite direction of Hennig. Chapman springs off the ropes and runs full-force at Hennig, as the crowd simultaneously draws in a giant exhale, curious to see what could happen next. DC Hennig turns his head to look inside the ring just as Rob Chapman flies between the top and middle ropes, lunging towards Hennig like a cheetah about to attack a gazelle. Hennig tries his best to side-step Chapman, and partially does, with Chapman's shoulder crashing into Hennig's shoulder. Having made smaller contact with Hennig than expected, Chapman's velocity is practically unyielding as he viciously crashes head-first into the announce table, sincerely putting the term "suicide" in Suicide Dive. The impact of Chapman's own head crashing into the table shakes it from its very foundation, spilling a bottle of water that was rested on top of it and understandably starting Miles and Cedar at ringside. A classic "Holy shit!" chant instantaneously rings through the crowd, amazed to see Chapman's all-or-nothing Suicide Dive take such a great toll on Chapman himself. Hennig sits beside Chapman, eyes wide open, the look one might have if they narrowly escape a car accident, while Chapman lies motionless, his face and upper body awkwardly slumped over onto the front of the announce table.

Cedar: Oh my gawd! Oh my gawd!! Rob Chapman just sent himself flying face first into our announce table! I... I don't think he's moving, Joey! Hwat impact! My gawd, how suddenly the dynamic of a match can change at any moment!

Miles: Gawd damned motherfucking son of a bitch, he spilled my water! Let me at that no good piece of --

Cedar: Will you shut the hell up, the man just took a kamikaze dive into the table! Who gives a shit about you or your water?! How about commenting on the stakes these two men have taken to win this contest, to advance in the Intercontinental Championship tournament?!? Get off your grumpy ass and appreciate this, DAMMIT.

The referee's count reaches 5 as both men remain on the ground outside the ring. DC Hennig enjoys the opportunity to clear some of the fogginess of his brain, while Chapman unfortunately is subject to a dense, thick fog that has fallen over his. Finally though, Chapman stirs about ever slightly, but showing signs of life, and DC Hennig takes notice as the ref hits 6. Hennig gribs the table for support and pulls himself up onto his feet, still disoriented having taken so much damage in this match, but perhaps finally on equal ground with Rob Chapman, who is very much incapacitated. A little less shaken now, Hennig grabs Chapman by the ankle and drags him closer to the ring, then lifts the lifeless Chapman up and rolls him into the ring, just as the ref hits 8. Hennig rolls into the ring, narrowly avoiding being counted out, and again grabs Chapman's ankle, this time dragging him face-down away from the ropes. Hennig kneels down in front of Chapman's head and takes a deep breath, then locks in a front facelock. The live audience's reaction jumps from concern to excitement as they discover what Hennig is about to do. Right on queue, Hennig somersaults forward, arching his back while craning Chapman's neck backward, applying his finishing submission maneuver, the Last Chancery, or as Hennig refers to it, the Robbinsdale Vice! The audience is unblinking, refusing to allow a second to be unseen as Hennig looks to submit Rob Chapman once and for all in this amazingly competitive match. With Hennig's head essentially hanging upside down, the blood rushes to his brain, creating an intensely painful experience for DC as he endeavors to keep the hold locked in. Chapman, conscious but certainly not fully conscious, grits through the pain as best he can, testing his endurance and exhibiting remarkable constraint not to yell out in pain, while clenching his fist to avoid tapping out. Hennig, on the other hand, has no issue with yelling, letting out some audible groans before finally shouting "CHECK HIM!" at the referee. Sure enough, Chapman's clenched fist is now an open palm, and the referee slides down and grabs hold of it, raising it up to see if Rob Chapman is completely incapacitated. 1... 2... the crowd is on the edge of their seats, eager to see if DC Hennig will achieve the victory here and now. The referee raises Chapman's hand a third and final time, and releases. But extraordinarily, Chapman shows signs of life once more and refuses to allow his hand to hit the mat a third and deciding time. The live audience lets out an expected "OOOOOH!" as Chapman's hand shakily remains above the canvas. It's DC Hennig, though, who caves, unable to stand the pressure of balancing on top of his head, and Hennig releases the Robbinsdale Vice, with both men collapsed onto the ring, gripping their necks and heads.

Cedar: I don't believe it. Despite damn near cracking his skull on our announce table, Rob Chapman still refuses to give this one up. Such endurance, such tenacity, is hard to come by.

Miles: You're almost as big a prideful idiot as he is! If I were him, I would have tapped as soon as DC Hennig locked that fucking hold in.

Cedar: Gawd I wish you were him, someone really needs to do a number on those vocal chords of yours...

Mr. Phenomenal angrily pounds the mat with his fist, visibly upset at himself for being unable to continue the hold. Perhaps if he'd have been able to endure longer, Rob Chapman wouldn't have. Hennig, fueled by a lethal mixture of desperation, frustration, and motivation, works his way back onto his feet, and picks Chapman up as well. Hennig kicks Chapman in the stomach, and sets the Silent Protagonist up for his finisher, what will undoubtedly be a devastating Brainbuster. But just as Hennig throws Chapman's arm above his head, Chapman springs back to life and drives his knee into Hennig's mid-section, the spontaneity of which catches DC Hennig completely off-guard. Perhaps solely out of instinct, Rob Chapman scrapes the bottom of the barrel for any energy he may have left, and wraps his legs around DC Hennig's torso, keeping his arm wrapped around Hennig's neck, until Mr. Phenomenal finds himself caught in Chapman's finishing submission hold, the Fade-2-Black! Chapman reaches deep inside to every resource he has available as he attempts to squeeze the remaining life-force out of DC Hennig with his patented Guillotine Chokehold. Hennig crumbles to his knees, his supply of oxygen rapidly depleting as he attempts to find a way to break the hold. Hennig extends his legs back, but finds himself just short of the ropes, while the crowd's knuckles begin to turn white as they grip the edge of their chairs for dear life. Hennig plants his hands firmly on the mat and pushes himself backwards just a tad bit, having to also carry the added weight of the boa constrictor-like Chapman along with him. No longer able to inhale, Hennig pushes himself backwards a second time and desperately flings his leg back, just tipping the ropes but not enough to rest his foot onto it to break the hold. Chapman is running on fumes as he continues to apply pressure, and DC Hennig soon finds a wave of darkness creeping in from the corners of his eyes. Literally feeling himself slip into unconsciousness, Hennig takes one final push back, which is just enough to finally allow him to rest his foot on the ropes and break the hold. Chapman keeps the chokehold held in until the ref's count of 4, then all at once releases, collapsing onto the mat like one would crash onto a hotel bed after a long day of traveling. With both men motionless on the mat, the referee begins his count, as the audience marvels in the spectacle they have seen unfold in this exhibition match tonight.

Cedar: How in the hell?! HOW. IN. THE. HELL?! Have you ever seen two men so evenly matched? So equally motivated? So intent on winning?!?

Miles: I don't see how they haven't choked the life out of each other, Ted! Fucking hell...

Both men are sprawled out onto the mat, their energy zapped but their resolve still incredibly strong as the referee begins his countdown. 1!... 2!... 3!... Hennig and Chapman simultaneously begin to move, taking note of the referee's count. 4!... 5! DC Hennig grips onto the ropes as if they were a lifesaver on a sinking ship, and starts to pull himself up. Chapman, near the center of the ring, is on his hands and knees, his forehard pressed down onto the mat as he tries to compose himself. 6!... 7! Hennig is nearly on his feet, but would fall down easily if not for the ring ropes. Chapman is now on one knee, facing Hennig and breathing heavily. 8!... 9!... Chapman takes the final step to get back onto both feet, just as Hennig fully pulls himself up onto his and off of the ropes. The audience applauds both men vehemently as the stumble towards each other, and begin exchanging blows. BOOM! Right hand to Chapman. BOOM! Right hand to Hennig. BOOM! Right hand to Chapman. BOOM! Right hand to Hennig. The two trades punches back and forth, until Chapman strikes with a more powerful fist, knocking Hennig back a smidge. Chapman hits him with another right hand, and another, and a final one, until DC Hennig has had enough, and swings his arm around looking to connect with a lariat. Chapman, purely on instinct, ducks the attack, though, allowing Hennig to spin around until his back is to the Straight-Edge Outlaw. Chapman slides Hennig's face underneath his armpit, setting him up for his Inverted Brainbuster finisher, the Heathen Chemistry. With one final act of energy, the very last in his tank, Chapman grabs hold of Hennig and powerfully lifts him backwards and into the air. Chapman overshoots it though, and rather than connecting with the move, Hennig lands on his feet behind Chapman, to the crowd's absolute amazement. Chapman is also amazed (although not in a good way), and quickly spins around to meet Hennig, only to be hit with a rigid kick to the mid-section. Hennig wastes no time at all in hooking Chapman's arm and grabbing a handful of his tights, then hoists Chapman up and sends him crashing down onto the mat head-first, nailing the Fisherman's Brainbuster he attemped earlier, which Mr. Phenomenal dubs the Phenomeplex! The audience unanimously rise to their feet before Hennig even plants Chapman onto the ground, and explodes with cheers once he connects.

Cedar: THE PHENOMEPLEX! THE PHENOMEPLEX! This one has got to be over, Joey!

DC Hennig draws a couple of deep breaths, but being Mr. Phenomenal, decides a pinfall to be an unsatisfactory finish. Thinking back to a few moments ago, his inability in keeping the Robbinsdale Vice applied, Hennig knows that he cannot walk back to the locker room with that failure hanging above his head. Although a pinfall would likely conclude the match, Hennig instead locks a front facelock in on Chapman, turning it into another Robbinsdale Vice! A intense pulsation swelling his brain, Mr. Phenomenal bears through it, determined to submit Chapman this time to avenge his earlier attempt. Rob Chapman's eyes are glazed as he slowly, unsteadily attempts to grab the ropes several feet in front of him. Chapman's fingers float tentatively in front of him, but still yet he refuses to tap out. Hennig groans out in agony, the pain in his head and neck reaching a new level, but endures, while Chapman's limp hand collapses to the mat. The referee again slides in front of Chapman, and raises his hand off of the mat, only for it to lifelessly fall back onto the canvas.


The crowd, some unable to sit, others barely perched onto the edge of their seats, looks on as Chapman's hand slaps the mat. The referee picks Chapman's hand up just above the X painted on his wrist tape, and let's it fall once more. His hand produces a light thud on the mat, heard rather audibly due to the audience's invested, almost universal silence.


DC Hennig keeps applying pressure, his eyes closed, his teeth gritted, his upside-down face a deep shade of burgundy. Every impulse in his body is telling him to release the hold and simply cover the man, but the perfectionist sensibilities of DC Hennig silences those urges. He will succeed, but he will not fail himself in doing so. Hennig groans as the referee raises Chapman's hand for a third time, and allows it to fall... for a third and final time.



Watts: "Here is your winner, "Mr. Phenomenal" D! C! Hennig!!!!"

The crowd erupts with applause, and not just for the victory of the babyface DC Hennig. Every fan in attendance at the Big Ass American Bash stands up, applauding the incredible effort of both men in this truly spectacular contest. DC Hennig is quick to relinquish the hold and relieve himself of the incredible headache it caused him, while medical attendees rush into the ring to check on the unconscious Rob Chapman. Hennig lies on his back for a few moments, either soaking in the reception from the crowd, or merely catching his breath after one of the most hard-fought battles in his career.

Cedar: And there you have it folks, after a grueling, at times physical, but consistently competitive contest, Mr. Phenomenal earns himself points in the XWA Intercontinental Championship tournament, and emerges victorious in his big return here tonight at the Big Ass American Bash!

Miles: All jokes aside, that was a seriously fantastic match. Also, all jokes aside, I'm really glad a fucking Canadian didn't win at the Big Ass American Bash. That would've just been wrong.

Cedar: Despite your prejudices, Joey, I know for a damn fact you cannot look in that ring and not appreciate the perseverance of "The Silent Protagonist" in this match. He fought with all he had until the very end, and still didn't even give up the win until he was physically unable to continue. Makes as many jokes as you damn well please, but fortitude like that is nearly impossible to come by.

The referee helps DC Hennig up onto his feet and raises his hand in victory, a picture-perfect moment that thousands of fans in attendance capture with flash photography. Hennig grips his neck with his free hand, and is not wasting breath in goading about his victory, knowing full well the result could have went the other may multiple times. The highlight reel begins to play on the television broadcast, most notable examining the Suicide Dive that turned the tides of the match earlier on. Rob Chapman regains his composure, slapping away a flashlight being shined into his eyes, and tries to sit up, succeeding with the help of an on-hand EMT. As Hennig approaches the ropes to exit the ring, he glances back at Rob Chapman, who has his eyes fixed on Hennig as well. The two stare at each other for a moment, before DC Hennig walks over to his opponent and extends his hand, the same way Chapman did in the beginning moments of the match. The crowd is unceasing in their standing ovation for both competitors, respecting the effort they made tonight in St. Louis, and Hennig feels the same. Hennig looks Rob Chapman in the eyes and says...

DC Hennig (through heavy panting): "There's gonna be a next time. Until then, Rob."

Rob Chapman, still seated, glares at Hennig's outstretched hand, then looks up at Mr. Phenomenal, who appears genuine. Chapman locks eyes with Hennig and gives him one all-telling nod, then shakes his hand, generating a massive pop from the live audience. Hennig knows that Chapman is not shaking out of trust, and Chapman knows that Hennig isn't shaking out of attempted allegiance; rather, the two men shake hands merely out of respect.

Miles: What the fuck? I wouldn't think a guy who calls himself "Mr. Phenomenal" would be asking for a handshake from the guy who nearly defeated him.

Cedar: This is what it's all about, Joey. This is what this business thrives on. These two men gave it their absolute best here tonight, and they know it. I may be speaking out of turn here, but I believe we have just witnessed the beginning of what may very well be a rivalry for the ages here in the Xtreme Wrestling Association. Welcome back to XWA, Mr. Phenomenal. And don't go anywhere ladies and gentlemen, there is still lots to come as XWA celebrates its Big Ass American Bash!!

Hennig stumbles his way across the ring and through the ropes, refusing repeated requests for stage workers to help him to the back, to a magical wonderland of ice packs and Ibuprofen. Hennig stumbles and fumbles his way up the ramp, turning around once and raising his hand in victory as the crowd again expresses their admiration. Hennig smirks only once, before remembering the searing pain in his head and neck, and walks beyond the red, white, and blue stage to beyond the curtain, as the XWA Universe prepares itself for the Mask vs. Career match between T.K. and Black Dragon.



NOTE; I had no intention of writing this lengthy of a match, but once I got into it I found it hard to stop. No matter the outcome of this one, Rob, I really look forward to writing with you again. Thanks for giving me the motivation to put a lot of effort into this return man.