When the commercial break finished, we came back to a shot of backstage announcer Mila Kunis
standing next to a well-built blonde wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses, a biker’s cap and leather vest
and chaps.  It was Heather Tristany.
DAWN:  What the hell is she doing out here?
JAIME:  She and Heather have a history, don’t you know?

Dressed in tight blue jeans, a red halter top and knee-high leather boots, the Latina had a pair of brass
knuckles on her right hand and immediately put them to good use when she spun the unaware champion
around and nailed her with a tremendous right hand to the jaw; a wad of blood flew from Heather’s mouth
just before she crumpled to the canvas.  Immediately, Devon leapt on top of the blonde, grabbed a
handful of her hair and began slamming the brass knuckles into Heather’s face.  Again and again, metal
hit flesh as the champion’s body twitched with each blow.  The brass knuckles quickly did their job as
wounds opened on Heather’s face: one above her right eye; one on her left cheekbone and her bottom
lip was split open.  After nearly fifteen punches, the Hardcore Diva stood up and looked down at the
bloodied champion.

Devon kept hold of her brass knuckles but grabbed the trashcan lid that Heather had dropped after she
had been attacked.  As the champion struggled to stand, an enraged Devon slammed the lid over
Heather’s head.  Again and again, a sick sounding thud filled the air as the metal crashed into the
champion’s skull until finally, after a half-dozen blows, Heather collapsed to the canvas once again; this
time, her face covered in crimson and her eyes fluttered wildly.

DAWN:  Get up Heather.  You’ve destroyed this harlot before.
JAIME:  Different time, different place and a different Devon.

The Latina tossed the now horribly shaped trashcan lid aside and spotted the trashcan full of goodies
sitting in the far corner.  Quickly, the challenger emptied the various weapons from the trashcan, picked
up the receptacle and spun around just as Heather had managed to regain her feet.  The champion didn’
t stay in an upright position but a second before Devon slammed the trashcan down onto her head; the
impact immediately sent the blonde crashing to the canvas yet again.

Bloodied and clearly out of it, the champion somehow struggled to her feet only for the Hardcore Diva to
slam the trashcan over her skull once more.  This time, the impact only sent the blood-soaked champion
down to one knee.  Ignoring her opponent, Heather looked longingly toward the corner where her utility
case lay.  Just as the blonde staggered back to her feet, Devon dropped the weapon she had used so
effectively and booted the Bloodstalker in the stomach, doubling her over.  The challenger deftly locked
on a standing headscissors before she grabbed Heather around the waist and flipped her onto her
shoulder for an over the shoulder backbreaker.  Before Heather could move, Devon began spinning the
champion around while she maintained the backbreaker.  A second later, the Hardcore Diva drove the
champion down back-first onto the trashcan with her finisher,
THE PAINKILLER [spinning backbreaker
into a powerbomb].  A sickening howl escaped Heather’s lips as her entire body convulsed from the

Wasting no time, Devon moved behind the champion and locked on her other finisher,
[half nelson choke with body scissors].  The Hardcore Diva dropped to the canvas as she
cinched in the hold tightly.  Frantically, Heather tried to reach for one of the discarded weapons from the
trashcan, but they were just out of her reach.  The champion then reached backwards and tried for a
face rake, but Devon simply buried her face in the crook of the blonde’s neck, leaving no opening for the
bloodied grappler.  Seconds ticked by until suddenly, a figure sped down the ramp toward the ring.  It was
the Calgary Crusher, Christine Roth.  
MILA:  I’m standing next to the A.F.W. Hardcore Champion.  Heather, we hear your scheduled match
tonight may be in jeopardy.  Can you elaborate?
HEATHER:  I came here tonight to wrestle that worthless skank, Carlene Moore; whom many of you know
by her old ring name, Jazz.  That whore no-showed me once already and kept me waiting on our last
show.  Now, she had done it again and claims that she had a family emergency.  The truth is that she did
not want to suffer at my hands……the hands of the Bloodstalker.  And in case any of you rotten apple
morons don’t know my name, I am Heather Tristany, the greatest Hardcore champion of all time.
MILA:  Well, that may be debatable…..after all, you have yet to defend your new title.
HEATHER:  Well, unlike a few of the champions around here, I have earned my title.  While I was the last
FWF Hardcore champion, I did the unthinkable when the company folded; I bought the title belt and
continued to defend it around the country until the AFW was formed.  I have left a slew of broken and
bloodied bodies in my wake.  And if you don’t believe me, take a look at the following video.  
The video opens with Heather dragging a brunette around the outside of the ring until
they reached the announcers table; it was Cathy Corino (aka Allison Danger).  The
Bloodstalker dragged her stunned opponent onto the table and then locked on a
standing headscissors before she put Cathy through the table with a piledriver; the
brunette twitching wildly in the debris.  The scene changed to Cathy being trapped in
the ropes and Heather pulling her victims head back and sinking her teeth into the
brunette’s already bloodied forehead.  Finally, it showed Cathy, slumped in the corner
as Heather backs into the opposite corner.  The blonde runs forward and nails the
brunette with
THE BOOT [running boot in corner].  The pin is academic.

Next up on the video was another brunette, Vanessa Harding.  With her arms trapped in
the ropes, Heather descended on her like a vulture on a rotting corpse.  The blonde
tilted back Vanessa’s head and dug her trusty pizza cutter into the brunette’s forehead
until blood flowed down her face like a faucet.    After a quick trip to her utility case,
Heather returned with a cheese grater and proceeded to draw more blood from the
screaming grappler.  The scene changed to Heather holding the blood-soaked brunette
on her shoulder just before she raced toward the corner and dropped her victim face
first onto the exposed turnbuckle with her
SNAKE EYES finisher.  Another academic pin

The final clip was of a thick redhead trading punches with the Bloodstalker; it was
Mickie Knuckles.  Both women were already busted open and although Mickie looked to
be the worse for wear, she then nailed Heather with a spinning backfist that sent the
blonde careening into the corner where her utility case lay.  As the official moved in to
check Mickie’s wounds, Heather deftly opened her case and removed an object from
inside.  When the bloodied redhead moved in to attack, Heather slammed the object
into Mickie’s crotch and held it there.  The redhead reacted as though she were being
electrocuted; a garbled scream barely escaped her throat as her whole body shook
violently.  Finally, Heather removed the device and allowed Mickie to collapse to the
canvas.  When the Bloodstalker replaced the object into her utility case, many could see
what it was: a stun gun.  With Mickie at her mercy, it took little effort for the Bloodstalker
to pull the redhead up and into an inverted facelock.  Heather then lifted her opponent
up with a handful of her shorts and then drove her face first into a steel chair with her
THE HARDCORE DRIVER [inverted brainbuster suplex].  Yet another academic
three count followed.
HEATHER:  You see?  I have no equal.  To be the hardcore champion is not just based on your ability to
use weapons.  Its not based on if you can survive being horribly bloodied.  It has to be who you are.  You
must be willing to torture your opponent until they scream out their surrender.  You cannot have mercy.  
In fact, if you have to maim or disfigure your opponent, all the better.  That is why I am the measuring
stick for Hardcore.  Nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever compare to me.

Heather was about to continue when she heard a chuckle from off-camera.  Standing in front of a nearby
vending machine was Midajah.
HEATHER:  Hey loser, you got something to say to me?
MIDAJAH:  (chuckling to herself) Nope, just minding my own business.
HEATHER:  You dare look down your nose at me?  Hell, you aren’t even on the main roster.  And no
matter how hard Latina Heat has tried, they can’t even get you on the roster.  You know why?  Because
you suck.
MIDAJAH:  Well, you would be the expert on sucking, wouldn’t you?

Like a shot, Heather dropped her title, grabbed Midajah by the throat and shoved her against the
vending machine.

HEATHER:  Listen you little cockroach, you’ve just made the last mistake of your career.  If you had had
any sense, you would’ve retired with the FWF.  Instead, you are now headed for the emergency room.

???:  That’s enough Tristany.

Heather spun around long enough to see the Law and Order General Manager Mia St. John.
MIA:  I told all you women before the show started that I would not stand for this.  Already I’ve had our
world champion assaulted and now you want to start something with a woman from our minor leagues?  I
will not stand for this.
HEATHER:  I demand satisfaction.  I demand-
MIA:  You are not in a position to demand anything.  I make the rules here….not you.
HEATHER:  I was scheduled to wrestle tonight and since my original opponent is not here, I should be
able to ask for any replacement.
MIA:  Well…..that is true, but-
HEATHER:  Fine.  I pick this Mexican whore as my opponent.  And Midajah, when I am through with you,
nobody will be able to recognize you.  See you in the ring in a minute, loser.

With that, Heather picked up her title and headed toward the stage, leaving behind a bewildered Midajah
and miffed Mia St. John.

MIDAJAH:  Uhh, Mia….I’m not ready to wrestle tonight.  I was just back here visiting a friend and that
nutcase attacked me.  Even if I did have my wrestling gear, my doctor hasn’t cleared me from the
concussion I suffered a week ago.
MIA:  I know Midajah.  I am up to date on all the happenings in our minor league federations.  Too bad
Heather doesn’t.  Still, since she insisted on having a title match, I would be loathe to disappoint her.

Both Mia and Midajah looked at each other and began to laugh before the camera switched back to
Jaime and Dawn.

JAIME:  Uh, I think we have a Hardcore championship match coming up in a second Dawn.
DAWN:  Of course.  Heather is pissed off now and somebody is going to have to pay in blood.
JAIME:  Maybe, but the question is who.  Midajah isn’t ready to wrestle so who is going to be Heather’s
DAWN:  Does it matter?  She’s is so upset now, anybody who gets in the ring with her is going to be toast.
JAIME:  Let’s go to the ring announcer for the introductions then.

RING ANNOUNCER:  Introducing first, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one
hundred thirty-five pounds.  She is the A.F.W. Hardcore champion; here is Heather “The Bloodstalker”

Heather burst onto the stage and quickly marched down to the ring with her trademark utility case in one
hand and her title belt in the other.  The short-haired blonde wore a red leather halter top and matching
leather pants that hugged her muscular legs and completed the outfit with square-toed boots.  The
Bloodstalker placed her utility case underneath one of the corner turnbuckles and then slid into the
squared circle.  The blonde headed over to the far side of the ring where a trash can full of weapons
sat.  Heather looked inside for a second before she handed her title to the official and began to pace
back and forth awaiting the arrival of who she thought to be Midajah.

The champion came to a halt as unfamiliar entrance music came across the arena’s speakers.  A puzzled
look came across the face of the Bloodstalker as she brandished the lid to the trash can in her right
hand.  Nearly a minute later, nobody had come down the ramp and the blonde was becoming livid.  Just
then, unseen by the champion, a figure hopped over the ringside barricade and slid into the ring behind
Heather; it was the Hardcore Diva, Devon Michaels.
JAIME:  Damn….here comes the House of Pain cavalry.

However, just as Christine had appeared, another hooded figure jumped out of the crowd and waited
until the Calgary Crusher reached the bottom of the ramp before the unknown participant rushed forward
and nailed the blonde with a perfectly timed spear that sent Christine flying into the ringside barricade.  
The figure stood over the semi-conscious blonde and pulled back the hood on her outfit to reveal it was
Exotica Soto.
Back inside the ring, Heather’s flailings began to slow down; the champion futilely reaching toward the
rope, grabbing at her opponent’s hair; anything to delay what seemed to be the inevitable.  Finally, after
nearly two minutes, Heather’s movements completely ceased and the referee lifted the champion’s arm
only for it to drop to the canvas.  A second check reproduced the same result as Devon maintained her
pressure; a driven look on her face.  When the referee again lifted Heather’s arm and it dropped
lifelessly to the canvas; the official called for the bell.


 Your winner by submission……and NEW A.F.W. Hardcore Champion, the
Hardcore Diva, Devon Michaels!!

Devon, however, refused to relinquish the hold.  Again and again the timekeeper’s bell clanged but the
sound did nothing to get Devon to let go of her unconscious opponent.  Finally, Exotica slid into the ring,
leaned over her fellow stablemate and whispered something into her ear.  A second later, Devon flung
the unconscious, bloodied blonde aside and got to her feet.  Devon was then handed her new title just
before she embraced Exotica; tears of joy and relief cascaded down her face.

DAWN:  This is such a travesty.  Heather was expecting Midajah to come out and that slut Devon sneak-
attacked her.  I think this match should be thrown out and Heather be given her title back.
JAIME:  Heather has nobody to blame but herself for this fiasco.  She was the one who said she would
defend the title tonight against any substitute.  Just because she had a beef with Midajah backstage has
nothing to do with what happened in the ring just now.  Devon simply was driven by revenge; revenge for
the beating that she suffered at the hands of the Bloodstalker just before the close of the FWF.
DAWN:  It still isn’t fair, but Devon better be prepared for the next time Heather gets her in the ring.  
Heather will beat Devon to a bloody pulp just before she cripples her and rids the AFW of the Hardcore
JAIME:  I doubt that will ever happen.  But for now, Devon is the new Hardcore champion.
DAWN:  Whatever.  Let’s go a commercial break now.
JAIME:  Fine.  Folks, we’ll be right back.