Fresh!west Special1st August 2006
Sacrifices
FEATURING: ???
AUTHOR: ???.
He didn’t like this.
Not one bit.
It was too open.
Too… bright…
It was just too public.
Looking around at the assorted bodies surrounding his position, his eyes wandered, searching for spots. Searching for somewhere… nowhere sprang to mind.
For the first time since his arrival, he’d have to do things, well… public.
It was a thought that did not excite him.
Random Hottie: Mmm… hey there hot stuff… what brings you down here…?
“Go away.”
Random Hottie: Err… excuse me…
“Go. Away.”
Random Hottie: You mean you don’t want this?!
The Random hottie grabs the large hand of this Polynesian behemoth… and places it on her firm bootie…
“I’m gay.”
He wasn’t.
“Sorry.”
He wasn’t.
Random Hottie: Oh… oh… what a waste of meat.
“Yes, I know. Now, go away.”
Random Hottie: Oh… okay…
Turning down a piece of ass… it better be worth it.
The night was young… it had an air of expectancy in it… something big was happening tonight… and… he didn’t like it.
Introduction
FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The Ramones’ recording of classic surf song “Surf City” plays as a video of bronzed bodies cresting waves begins to play. Clips of California’s finest hanging ten off the Huntington Beach coast fill the screen as we await the beginning of AWC’s Fresh!special event, set in Surf City, USA itself, the town of Huntington Beach, CA.
I bought a pretty cool wagon and we call it a woody
Surf City, here we come!
You know it ain’t very cherry, it’s an oldie but a goody
Surf City, here we come!
It ain’t got a backseat or a rear window
But it still gets me where I wanna go
The AWC logo flashes into brief opacity across the screen and the surf images are replaced by fast-moving shots of Atlantic wrestling in action; Captain Suleimon, Paddy O’Shea, Kris Krimzon, Pierce Lavelle, Anton Assault, Aimz, all on screen delivering their signature manoeuvres.
And we’re going Surf City ‘cause it’s two v. one
You know we’re going to Surf City, going to have some fun
We’re going Surf City ‘cause it’s two v. one
You know we’re going to Surf City, going to have some fun
The camera pans away from the video screen on the side of Huntington Beach pier, flying back over myriad leaping bodies squeezed into yellow bikinis and khaki board shorts. Surfboards and bottles and banners and sun and in the middle of it all, an AWC ring. Then we lurch forward and out to sea, where incredibly AWC commentators Truth Waters and George Cassidy are installed atop a wooden raft moored to the side of the pier.
Truth Waters: YOU’RE HERE IN SURF CITY, USA FOR FRESH! A special show tonight with rosters East and West combining to bring the action to Californ-I-A!
George Cassidy: I need to pee.
Truth Waters: The Transatlantic title belt will be decided TONIGHT! Ellis Nash versus Pierce Lavelle... can Lavelle make it a THIRD TIME or will Nash make the step up at last! Plus Red Rock defends his Relentless championship YET AGAIN, this time versus Aimz who really knows how to work it hardcore – and the fans bring the weapons!
George Cassidy: Where do we pee?
Truth Waters: But perhaps most exciting of all is the Ruby’s Surf City Diner match! Eight wrestlers go into the diner on the end of this here promenade above us... and the last one out is the winner! It’s that simple!
George Cassidy: No it’s not.
Truth Waters: You’re right, Cassidy, but let’s leave explanations for later! For now it’s time to head over to the ring!
George Cassidy: Seriously... where do we pee?
The State of The Violence Address: The ‘Fuck You’ Edition
FEATURING: Vince Jones
AUTHOR: JAY
{{Previously Recorded}}
The screen is pitch black. All of a sudden a message in red lettering slowly fades in on the screen and a rather gruff voice reads it out loud.
The proceeding announcement has been paid for by The One Man Dynasty AKA The Conqueror, The Killa, and The King’ AKA NYC’s Most Rough, Rugged, and Raw AKA The “Real” Innovator of Violence AKA The King of the Countdown and the greatest Countdown Trophy holder in A Dubb Cee history, 'The Violence' Vince Jones. The views expressed in this telecast are solely those of Vince Jones and not of AWC although he knows all of his claims to be the truth whether you “bitch-mades” agree with him or not. At this time Vince Jones would like to say that upon the viewing of this telecast you all have just kissed his black ass. 'Nuff said'. Now sit back, relax, and pay homage to the greatness that is 'The Violence' Vince Jones and be thankful that you don't have to witness that same greatness while he's breaking his foot off in your worthless asses in the ring. Thank you and enjoy!
The message slowly fades away and 'Hail to the Chief' begins to play as a title flashes up on the screen.
The State of The Violence Address: The ‘Fuck You’ Edition All of a sudden the record comes to an abrupt halt and the traditional 'Hail to the Chief' is replaced by a hip-hop sounding remix of the song. A gruff voice reads the title outloud over the music.
Announcer: A Dubb Cee, 'The Violence' Vince Jones is proud to present to you bitch mades, punk asses, and hoes the critically claimed and highly anticipated segment The State of The Violence Address: The ‘Fuck You’ Edition. Brought to you in part, by Bubblin' Bootay Wine. When you lookin' for a little bubble in your bootay look no further than the good shit, Bubblin' Bootay Wine. Also brought to you in part by Roscoe's Chicken and Waffle Hut, makin' the ghetto smile and pokin' out guts for 20 years and countin'. And now I present to you the one and only, A Dubb Cee’s Countdown Trophy holder, Vince fuckin' Jones...
The message fades out and the camera fades into a small room where Vince Jones is seen sitting in a room reminiscent to the President's Oval Office. On the back wall is hung an American flag which is hung upside down. In place of the presidential seal that would be seen on the President's desk is Vince Jones' own seal with 'The Violence' written on it in blood red and a picture of a gun on it. The shelves behind him on either side are lined with books. As the camera zooms in Vince Jones he can be seen wearing his black tanktop, black elbow pads, black fingerless gloves, and his trademark dark shades. Standing beside him is his lovely valet, Jasmine, who is wearing a rather provocative female business suit today that fits snug around her figure and her chest. She appears a bit distracted and has her arms folded across her chest as if she wishes she were somewhere else at the moment. Vince Jones has a rather serious expression as he grips his Countdown Trophy and holds it close.
Vince Jones: (snarls) Good evenin' bitches and mahfuckas alike. In case we got some punk ass parents watchin’ this shit at home with they ugly ass, snot-nosed, crumb snatchin’, runts they be callin’ kids this show rated fuckin’ R for the fact that V. Jones just don’t give a fuck whether you people like the words that are comin’ out his mouth right now or not! President Bush, Condoleezza fuckin’ Rice, censors, whoeva, you all can take yo political correctness shit and shove it up you asses right now! V gonna speak his damn mind tonight like never before whether this shit gets yanked off the fuckin’ air or not!
Vince Jones takes a moment to try and regain his composure after his high strung rant at the world.
Vince Jones: Now that V got that shit out the way… its been a helluva a long time, but finally V. Jones brings to you people the most anticipated segment in pro wrestlin' today. That's right. V. Jones talkin' 'bout The State of The Violence Address. This shit ain’t just any State of The Violence Address though tonight V bringin’ you a special (waves his middle fingers at the camera) “fuck you” edition tonight. Why? Cuz V gotta a whole lot of shit on his chest at the moment that he needs to air with the powers that be in the A Dubb Cee and a long list of others who’ll find out who the fuck they are shortly. V evenin’ openin’ up the phone lines so cats like you watchin’ at home can call in and voice your opinions on the subject of how V. Jones gettin’ screwed over this week and shit! The number is 1-900-FUCKYOU. You might get charged for this phone call. How much? How the fuck should V know, huh? Like V gives a damn about that shit! V don't gotta call! Ain't his problem!
The number flashes up on the screen in bold letters.
1-900-FUCKYOU
Vince Jones: Now before we get down and do the damn thing can we swing the camera ova a bit so these people can get a glimpse of the baddest bitch this game's eva seen? V talkin’ ‘bout none other than his main girl, Jasmine ‘The Crown Jewel of Wrestling’
The camera pans and zooms in on Jasmine as she just shakes her head still frustrated over her current relationship with Vince.
Jasmine: Wow! I’m surprised you didn’t mention that bitch LaShonda and give her a cameo appearance on your little show. Seemed to me like she was your main bitch the night you decided to stand me up!
Vince turns and notices the demeanor of Jasmine and just glares back at her.
Vince Jones: Ya know what? V ain’t got the time for this shit right now so…fuck you too!
Vince flips her off and she turns and storms off the set in anger. Vince just shakes his head and glares back at the camera.
Vince Jones: Anyways V been goin’ through a whole helluva a lot of shit this week. A Dubb Cee, Pearl, Sasha, what the fuck is yo problems, huh? So what if V. Jones spit in the face of yo “star” Pierce Lavelle’s face! (points his Louisville slugger at the camera) You think V gives a fuck about him, huh? Hell nah!
So, you bitch mades take it upon yourselves to book The Violence in a match and force him to defend his Countdown Trophy as punishment? That’s some triflin’ ass shit right there! That ain’t no way to treat the one guy all these A Dubb Cee heads actually give a damn about. V the one man keepin’ the money flowin’ and shit around here! V the man feedin’ all the paychecks around this joint even yours so Sasha, Pearl, and whoeva else had a part in this shit’s comin’ from pissed off V. Jones to you all…FUCK YOU! You mahfuckas can kiss V’s ass for all he cares cuz V walkin’ out that damn diner with his trophy (leans over and kisses the Countdown Trophy) whether you two like that shit or not! ‘Nuff said!
All of a sudden the phone rings and Vince nods his head as he puts the caller on speaker phone.
Vince Jones: Looks like we got our first caller and shit! Bitch, you on the air…
Caller #1: Hey! I was just watching your show and noticed you got this ‘fuck you’ edition and you’re tellin’ people off and lettin’ them know how it is. Well, my name’s Steve and I just wanted to say I work at Hard Rock Café as a waiter. I hate my job and I hate my boss and right now I’d like to just say…Dan, if you’re hearing this fuck you, man! You’re a dick!
Vince rolls his eyes upon hearing all of this and glares at the camera.
Vince Jones: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold the phone! Bitch, we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout you problems! Where the hell you get the idea from, huh? This ain’t about you! It’s about V. Jones and the shit that he’s concerned about. This The fuckin’ State of The Violence Address not The State of Steve and his insignificant Hard Rock Café bullshit Address! People don’t wanna hear that! Now get the fuck off V’s phone line! Damn!
Vince hits a button and ends the phone call. The phone begins ringing again and Vince nods.
Vince Jones: Aiight! Let’s try this shit again! You on the air! Speak…
Vince puts the caller on speaker phone.
Caller #2:(a female’s voice) Hi! My name is Jessica Jackson and I think I speak for a lot of women across the nation right now when I say this.Vince Jones, fuck you and they way you’ve been treating your girlfriend Jasmine lately. I am a female that have had to put up with crap off of jerks like you my whole life and what you’ve been doing isn’t right at all.
Vince shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he fumes with anger over the rant.
Caller #2(Jessica Jackson): You’re lucky to even be with a woman as good as she is because if I were here there wouldn’t have been any questions asked if I thought you were cheating on me! I would’ve already had pulled out the knife and chopped your manhood clean off! Yeah! Screw you and that LaShonda!
Vince hits a button and cuts the phone conversation short.
Vince Jones: And you’re cut off, bitch! (shakes his head) See, you people out there ain’t quite gettin’ it right about now. This ain’t about you. This ain’t yo time to be airin’ about all the crap you people pissed off about this is V. Jones time right now! He runnin’ the damn airwaves right now! If you ain’t got somethin’ to say concernin’ how pissed off you are about your hero V. Jones gettin’ screwd the fuck ova by A Dubb Cee then you ain’t speakin’! Get it!? Got it!? Good! Nah, screw you people! V ain’t takin’ no more calls right now! So, fuck each and every last one of you mahfuckas that gotta problem with that shit! And that’s real!
Vince Jones tries to calm himself down as he continues on.
Vince Jones: Now who next on the platter? Pierce fuckin’ Lavelle, that’s who! Its your fault V. Jones in this damn situation this week at Fresh! Pierce Lavelle prolly sittin’ around right now thinkin’ to himself (in a whiny voice) “Why’d Vince Jones wanna spit in my face like that?” Shit happens, man! For example, you and yo soft ass endin’ up in A Dubb Cee! So, get ova it! Its cats like you that get under the skin of a man like V. Why? Cuz cats like you be prancin’ around tryin’ to act like you understand and wanna be friends and shit with everyone. All yo bitch ass needs is a purple dino suit and you’d be good to go with yo damn kool-aid smile, friendliness crap, and all! If V. Jones had to re-live that battle royale and he looked square in your eyes again he’d spit in your damn face and laugh this time! Pierce…fuck you and that Sarah Kennedy bitch too!
Vince Jones leans back in his chair and snarls at the thought of all his problems this week.
Vince Jones: Gettin’ punished for spittin’ in the face of anotha mahfucka, ain’t that a bitch? What the fuck Pearl and Sasha gonna do next punish V. Jones for speakin’ his mind on this shit and tellin’ the world? They gonna try to silence the mahfuckin’ Violence? Maybe Sasha gonna punish V for sayin’ that he goin’ into Ruby’s at Fresh! And gonna be like black is to her punk ass bodyguard Anton Assault, all ova his darkness lookin’ ass! Fuck Sasha and that dark ass video game character lookin’ mahfucka! He steps up in V’s face with those beady ass lookin’ eyes and V might have to spit in his face too!
Vince shrugs his shoulders.
Vince Jones: That shit just might happen. Who the fuck knows? V does what he wants and if Anton really wants that ashy ass forehead of his spit shined then the shit’s goin’ down! Glad V. Jones ain’t a fuckin’ fan watchin’ an Anton Assault fight! That shit’d be a bitch gettin’ all scared that the man ‘bout to get slammed creatin’ a cloud of dust or some shit from his ashy ass! Nucca, you betta get yo ass a bottle of lotion and shit before V enters that diner and that’s real! You don’t like that? Well, fuck you! V sick and damn tired of feelin’ like he gettin’ followed by a damn shadow and shit wheneva yo punk ass creepin’ the halls with yo non-English speakin’ ass!
Vince slams his fist on the desk.
Vince Jones: And you people wanna know what else gets on V’s nerves the fact that he bein’ forced to step in the ring with that Garbage Pail Kid again. V got his damn shots the first time around before havin’ to face the mahfucka and shit at Zero to Hero! That shit ain’t cool when you thinkin’ the cat you got might have fuckin’ Rabies, STD or some other crazy ass shit that people ain’t even discovered yet cuz the man don’t wanna take a fuckin’ bath! While you tryin’ to be the A Dubb Cee hero and shit thinkin’ you gonna be the next Trans-Atlantic Champ you oughta be holla’n at a bar of soap!
Vince Jones whips out a bar of Zest soap and slams it down on the desktop in disgust with the thought of Garbage Bag Johnny and glares at the camera.
Vince Jones: A fuckin’ Garbage Bag with the belt or crown or whateva the fuck you lookin’ at around yo fuckin’ waist. That shit shouldn’t even be allowed! Why the fuck they eva thought of even lettin’ a walkin’, talkin’ landfill like yourself near fuckin’ A Dubb Cee gold is beyond V. Jones here! Most crackish shit V eva heard of! Second most crackish shit V eva heard of is the fact they havin’ this damn match in a diner! Ain’t havin’a mahfucka like Garbage Bag near food against the law! If it ain’t it should be! Shit, ignant ass Californians!
Vince shrugs his shoulders once again and just glares back at the camera.
Vince Jones: Yeah, Pearl! How ‘bout you punish V. Jones for that shit right there! Punish him for sayin’ that he hopes an earthquake strikes the damn state and falls off into the ocean and shit!
Vince pauses in thought and looks back up at the camera.
Vince Jones: And who the fuck is this Wesley Reno? Even tossin’ mahfuckin’ no-name bitches in the same match with a star like V? What the fuck is yo problem, Pearl? While you one of the people punishin’ V and shit someone oughta punish yo ass for even pullin’ some shit like that! (nods his head) Yeah! That’s right! You and Sasha need to lay off the damn pipe! Go ahead! Punish V. Jones some more! V beggin’ ya!
Vince flips off the camera once again and nods his head.
Vince Jones: You like that shit, huh? Pearl, why don’t you punish ole V. Jones for sayin’ that he wishes that the whole Westside of the A Dubb Cee tour’d get together and hang yo bitch ass by one of those f’ugly lookin’ ties you be wearin’ and do us all a fuckin’ favor in this damn company! And while they hangin’ yo bitch ass you can let them all know that V. Jones sittin’ on the Eastside sayin’ fuck each and every last one of they bitch asses on the Westside tour! As a matta of fact, Sasha, you and the whole rest of the Eastside tour oughta be linin’ up and …
Vince stands to his feet and points at his crotch area.
Vince Jones: …holla’n into the big, black mic yourselves until you, them P Dubb Cee bitches Krimzon and Harris, and the rest of the crew realize that V. Jones the only one that matters in that whole crew.
Vince sits down in his chair and glares back at the camera as he grabs a hold of his Louisville Slugger.
Vince Jones: And V’s fuckin’ done! He ain’t even gonna address Teresa Tomas’ drunk, moon-pie eatin’, NASCAR lovin’, trailer park dwellin’, bitch ass! Why? Cuz V ain’t tryin’ to insult the trailer for talkin’ ‘bout trash like that.
Vince shakes his head with his gaze still intently focused on the camera.
Vince Jones: V ain’t even gonna talk about A Dubb Cee’s very own D to the C, Darcy fuckin’ Crisis! V ain’t even gonna talk about how this cat on t.v actin’ like he got flavor with his Vanilla Ice wannabe of an ass self when he got about as much flavor as a bottle full of dog piss and shit! Fuck you and Tony Little with his punk ass exercise shit! Ain’t that a bitch? V on t.v talkin’ shit about the sponsors now! Well, you punk asses would be too if you ordered one of his damn Ab Lounge machines, it broke down on you, and you been waitin’ around for the damn refund for three months now so fuck you people too!
Vince chucks his baseball bat across the room in fury.
Vince Jones: Despite what V feel like doin’ he ain’t even gonna talk about that Tim Martin mahfucka and his racist ass either! Why? Cuz V just gonna go out there to Ruby’s and give the bitch somethin’ else to be racist about! V can see lil Tim right now passin’ by random cats sayin’ “Ah fuck! I got a match this week and this big ass black guy sayin’ he gonna whup my ass” and shit! Mahfuckas gonna be out thinkin’ “Oh, he’s a racist! How could he say that?” Fuck nah! He speakin’ it real cuz V. Jones, the big angry black guy in this picture gonna be lookin’ to fuck up his day real good and that’s real! So, this mahfucka can hate black people all he wants, but when V finished with his punk ass he gonna be lovin’ the taste of that Aunt Jemima syrup with his toothless ass! And V fuckin’ out! Show’s ova! You bitches have been addressed! V sick of talkin’ to ya mahfuckas! You people got a problem with that? Fuck you! This V’s damn show and he’ll end it wheneva the hell he wants! ‘Nuff said!
The camera slowly fades to black as the remixed version of ‘Hail to the Chief’ begins to play. The screen is black once again and a message appears on the screen.
A Very Special Parting Message from ‘The Violence’ Vince Jones to Angelus Sorrow, The Forgotten One: The Violence is really sorry for not mentioning you tonight. Nevermind, V. Jones really don’t give a fuck ‘bout a bitch made like you; but, he’ll pretend he does. Be strong, be successful, make a name for yourself in A Dubb Cee and maybe just maybe V. Jones’ll give you the time of day. Until then, V. Jones will not waste his breath addressing trash like you on air! That shit costs money, money you’re not worth! ‘Nuff said!
This message has been brought to you by V. Jones himself. That’s a lie. This message has been brought to you by the guy who reminded V. Jones that he was facing you as well this week. Goodnight…
The message fades out as the telecast comes to an end.
The Night Off
FEATURING: Anton Assault
AUTHOR: OBI
Anton saw Sasha Volkyeva standing in a remote area by herself, talking on her cell phone. The broad-shouldered Nigerian sighed. It was his job. He had to do it.
He took two steps towards her and three men seemed to slide in front of him as if on wheels. The one in front arched an eyebrow at him, a snarl rising on his lips.
Tymosekh: You are not allowed to see Ms. Volkyeva.
Anton Assault: Move aside. I am her bodyguard.
Tymosekh: You move aside. We are her guard tonight.
Anton blinked incredulously at this man. The insolence! Anton felt his fists balling. For some reason, he never felt himself wanting to actually guard the woman until his position was challenged. Usurped, even. Tymosekh wasn't grinning in triumph. His features were all hard, cold. Ice.
Anton Assault: Listen to me, my friend. You will move and go elsewhe—
Sasha Volkyeva: Anton!
Anton looked up to see the Fresh!east Entertainment Manager glaring at him from a distance.
Sasha Volkyeva: Go off and do something else. I have no need of you tonight. I am protected well enough.
Anton looked at Sasha, letting his gaze linger, before he glanced back at Tymosekh. He wasn't giving him a little smirk of victory. There was no change in emotion.
He didn't care.
That was perhaps what irritated Anton the most as he turned to leave.
The Foreplay
FEATURING: Wesley Reno & Maddy Estelle
AUTHOR: DAVE LARKIN
Backstage, in one of the makeshift locker rooms at this Fresh!special broadcast, Wesley Reno is psyching himself up for his upcoming match, one that will undoubtedly decide how his peers will view him for the future. Knowing he has to make a mark tonight, Reno appears to be anxious. Phil Allen is not present, having decided to take the night off. Reno knew he had done this to help his partner acclimatize to the big match build-up on his own.
There was a ruckus outside the door of the small, cramped locker room, which was poorly ventilated and was simply not up to the usual standard. Reno ignored the voices outside the door, one of them female, and began to change into his wrestling gear. Just as Reno was pulling his tights on, the door slammed open, and Maddy Estelle stood there, awestruck by what she saw.
Maddy Estelle: Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’ll come back later.
Reno is frozen with his tights between his legs, a humorous position. The crowd begin to laugh loudly at what they are seeing on screen. Reno quickly regains his senses, his face turning crimson with embarrassment. He pulls his tights up and turns around, as Estelle closes the door.
Wesley Reno: Don’t these people know how to knock? Geez, all I ask for is five minutes of privacy. Although I do remember scheduling an interview…
Reno thought back to earlier tonight, when he had scheduled an interview for this exact time. He berated himself and cursed under his breath as he heard a light knock on the door. He was certain it was her again.
Maddy Estelle: Are you decent? Can I come in? It’s not like I wouldn’t like walking in to see that again, but –
Wesley Reno: Whoa, way too much detail, miss! What’s your name? Mandy, right?
Maddy Estelle shrugs and nods to confirm her temporary name for this interview.
Maddy Estelle: Mandy, yeah. Like Mandy Moore, only much hotter.
Reno raises her eyebrow to study Maddy Estelle’s figure, paying particular attention to her luscious breasts. Reno snaps out of it and stares into her eyes to address her.
Wesley Reno: (stammering) S-so, what exactly did you want to ask me, Mandy?
Maddy Estelle moves closer to Reno and presses herself up against him, microphone in hand. It is apparent that she is doing this intentionally to arouse Reno. Reno attempts to move away, but eventually gives in to her charms as she maintains her tight grip on his waist.
Wesley Reno: Is this how you conduct all your interviews? If it is, you should visit me more often.
Maddy Estelle stares down to Reno’s tights, and notices a massive bulge in them. She moves her hand down towards Reno’s “bulge”, and confirms her suspicions that she has indeed caused yet another erection.
Maddy Estelle: (seductively) You men just can’t resist me, can you?
Reno looks down, completely taken aback by his erection. Estelle rubs Reno’s bare chest, pinching one of his nipples in the process. She begins walking towards the door, waving her hips side to side as she does so. Reno is hypnotized by her movement.
Maddy Estelle: Stay right here, Wes, and there’s gonna be plenty more “interview” where that came from.
Estelle walks out the door, and the fans begin wolf-whistling at the young woman. Reno’s jaw dropped, completely unable to fathom what she meant. All he knew was that he had to stay put.
Wesley Reno: Ooooh, I’m gettin’ lucky tonight!
Envious Eyes
FEATURING: Pierce Lavelle, Teresa Tomas, Sarah Kennedy & Tracy stanton
AUTHOR: LARA, MIKE & SONYA
Teresa Tomas strutted through the backstage area, her blond hair whipping behind her against the cool breeze of the air conditioning unit. Her face gleaming – no longer pale with blood shot eyes. As she crosses the corridor her eyes skim along to see Anton Assault stood majestically outside Sasha Volkyeva’s office, averting her eyes she knocks on a locker room door.
No response.
Knocking again the door opens and she enters.
Teresa Tomas: Hello! Anyone here?
Her eyes linger on the clean locker room, the clothing folded tidily into the small rucksack, male boxers draped over a rack along with cologne, a wife beater and jeans. The small trickling of water can be heard in the background; Teresa jumps almost instantly as the power shower kicks in again.
She sees a small magazine on automobiles and begins flicking through, absently, completely forgetting about the world around her as she spots a Classic Monte Carlo article and sits to read. Her taste buds yearning for a bottle of Jack Daniels and her lungs craving a cigarette, but she holds on.
Her heart jumps as a figure emerges in her peripheral vision. She sees nothing more than a towel draped along his waist.
Pierce Lavelle: Teresa?
Her eyes linger a moment on the water still dripping off his wet body. She shakes her head and drops the magazine in a slur of words, she vouches for an apology.
Teresa Tomas: Sorry to intrude – It’s just I wanted to, well, about last week!
Pierce moved toward the small fridge and picked up a bottle of something, it glistened against the light overhead.
Pierce Lavelle: Don’t worry about last week, its fine. I see you’re sobered up.
A small smile glistens against her lips as she takes the bottle of water he offers and stands next to the A/C trying to cool down from the blistering heat in Huntington Beach.
Teresa Tomas: I wanted to apologize for breaking down on you last week.
His eyes look at her, quizzically, his lip curling as he folds his arms. Her eyes focus on something other than his half naked body, the small bottle of cologne balanced on a shelf.
Pierce Lavelle: Apologize? There’s no –
Teresa Tomas: I’d appreciate it, if we could pretend it never happened.
Pierce Lavelle: Sure, if that’s what you want.
She was a little shocked, he’d go along with her, not arguing or trying to stop her. Something she wasn’t entirely used to. He smiled and picked up the small motor magazine, as he does so Teresa stands up, slightly uncomfortable about being around.
Pierce Lavelle: By the way, your use of Jack Daniels is most impressive…
Teresa Tomas: Huh?
Pierce Lavelle: Breaking it on Anton’s head. I think he had it coming, considering he threw you to the ground.
Teresa smiles and nods her head, not fully remembering that night in question. Many details still blurred after her episode, breakdown, tantrum, it didn’t matter what she called it, and she didn’t want to remember it. A sign of weakness she couldn’t afford to show. As the two get to chatting, the door opens and a striking blond enters, a silk red gown, dawned over her curves as her eyes meet her half-naked boyfriend and Teresa.
Pierce Lavelle: Hey Sarah, you look ---
Sarah Kennedy: What’s she doing here?
Pierce Lavelle: ---Great. What do you mean?
Sarah folds her arms, anger now rising within her as she completely blanks Teresa.
Sarah Kennedy: I thought we talked about this.
Teresa moves forward, now in front of Sarah and standing next to Pierce; a dangerous move in front of a highly angered, jealous girlfriend.
Teresa Tomas: Hey! I’m standing right here!
Sarah Kennedy: Why are you half-naked?
Pierce Lavelle: I had a shower! What’s with the inquisition?
Teresa moves back slightly, aware that her befriending men seem to only draw out angered women. She notices the flaming temptress in the red dress and suddenly a flash back of Tracy Stanton comes to mind.
Teresa Tomas: Just great! Look, Pierce ain’t doin’ noth..
Sarah Kennedy: I wasn’t talkin’ to you.
Teresa moves forward with her fingers curled in a tight fist and her baby blue eyes threatening, but feels a hand on her shoulder. Pierce moves forward, his blue eyes breaking the angered mould around Sarah.
Pierce Lavelle: Hey! Sarah, relax, she’s done nothing wrong.
Sarah Kennedy: You’re defending her now!
Before Teresa or Pierce have a come back, a familiar, stick thin, big breasted woman in a silk black gown enters, and the familiar eyes of Tracy Stanton lay onto Teresa. Pierce suddenly feeling self conscious as he stands in nothing more than a towel, surrounded by three women.
Pierce Lavelle: Ah, Tracy, am I glad to see you. Please help make with this nonsense.
Tracy Stanton: Afraid not, Pierce. Sarah’s in the right. Teresa’s nothing more than a boyfriend steeling, redneck skank with an alcohol problem.
Pierce Lavelle: What? Alright, that’s it.
Teresa Tomas: Listen Pierce, I’m sorry… I’m just gonna go. I never meant to start any trouble. Thanks for everything.
Teresa for the first time in a while now brushes past Pierce’s shoulder, slides her way through the two vixens casting glaring eyes onto her as she leaves the door. Teresa had just been reminded why she hardly gets along with women. Her desire for a stiff drink now heightened, she disappears around the corner to her own locker room.
Pierce Lavelle: What the hell was that about? You happy now? She only came to thank me for listening to her last week. Christ!
Tracy Stanton: I expected more from you, Pierce.
Sarah Kennedy grips his clean boxers and chucks them at him, storming off out of the room. Tracy shakes her head in disgust and runs as best she can after her friend. The boxers slide down Pierce’s face into his hands as he looks out the door, confused.
Pierce Lavelle: What just happened?
Chainz: What just happened is you got put in the doghouse.
The familiar sadistic grin is on Chainz’s face as he enters the locker room.
Chainz: Damn, your girl is mad at you and Tracy, damn she’s pissed too.
Lavelle sits down, confused about what just happened and why he’s discussing it with Chainz.
Pierce Lavelle: I don’t see why, all I did was…
Chainz: Sampling the wares eh? Yeah Teresa’s not bad, too much redneck for me, but she’d be good for a good ol’ fashioned pig fucking. She’s built for that rough and nasty sex.
Pierce Lavelle: I wouldn’t know.
Chainz: Course not, cuz you’re the good ole boy, never doing anything wrong.
Lavelle looks up at the mocking eyes of Chainz.
Chainz: Face it, you’re not a good boy, you’re just a fucking push over. Always have been and always will be unless you stop being such a fucking pussy. Next time stand up for yourself and get your bitch in line. Maybe then you won’t be sitting in your locker room alone.
Pierce doesn’t say anything, but for some reason it makes sense to him. He doesn’t want to admit it or thank Chainz, but he’s made a lot of sense.
Chainz: Oh and put some clothes on. I don’t even know how you got a fine ass honey like Sarah with a dick like that.
Chainz laughs as he walks out of the locker room slamming the door.
Pierce looks down at his genitalia, looking beneath the towel too.
Pierce Lavelle: Knew the water was cold.
The Equalizer vs AgentDash
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR:COLBY
Match to be added. Spoiler winner (highlight to view): AgentDash
The Preparation
FEATURING: Wesley Reno & Maddy Estelle
AUTHOR: DAVE LARKIN
Inside the rather small medic’s office, which consists of a curtain railing surrounding the equipment and a long, steel-topped table in the centre stands Wesley Reno, still dressed in his wrestling gear after receiving an invitation from Maddy Estelle to come to the medic’s office where she would deal with him, as she so strangely put it. Reno looks slightly apprehensive, and certainly is not exuding any form of confidence at this moment.
Maddy Estelle, dressed from head to toe in a black leather outfit that clings tightly to her skin, steps into the office from behind the curtain and allows Reno to take her attire in. Reno cannot believe what he is witnessing. Estelle giggles as she walks slowly over to Reno, accidentally bumping into a small medical supply kit as she does so. A rubber glove is among its contents. Estelle bends over to pick the supplies up.
Maddy Estelle: Oops, I dropped the rubber glove!
Reno’s eyes pop upon her mentioning of rubber, and he stammers his reply, fear in his voice.
Wesley Reno: Um, will I be needing protection for this? I didn’t realise –
Estelle’s head appears from underneath the steel-topped table, which functions as a bed in the office. She cocks her head at Reno’s comment, then a wry smile crosses her gloss coated lips.
Maddy Estelle: You’ll be needing protection, Wes, just not in that department. I’ll be taking you on a ride, the likes of which you’ve NEVER experienced before!
Estelle doesn’t give a turned-on Reno a chance to respond, mounting him on the table. Estelle reaches into a small breast pocket on her tight leather suit and unveils a pair of handcuffs. Reno seems uncomfortable with the idea, but allows Estelle to cuff him to one of the door handles underneath the table. Reno is now trapped, as Estelle begins to shift her weight around on Reno’s pelvis.
Maddy Estelle: I got the handcuffs from one of Miss Volkyeva’s bodyguards. It was the cockney one. Let’s just say when I was done with him, he was very forthcoming in giving me what I wanted.
Reno’s face contorts at the idea of Estelle’s idea of “getting what she wanted”, but at this stage he is too preoccupied to care about her other deeds. Estelle reveals a blindfold from her suit aswell, and places it over Reno’s eyes.
Wesley Reno: So, this is really how you conduct interviews here? I didn’t realise the wrestling business could be so unpredictable.
Estelle and Reno’s bodies come apart for the first time in several moments, with Reno now blind and handcuffed to the steel table, which feels icy cold against his bare skin. Estelle kisses Reno passionately, then distances herself from the politician, who finds himself in a compromising situation.
Maddy Estelle: Now that you’re comfortable, baby, all that’s left for us to do is seal the deal. And trust me when I say that you’ll never forget it.
Wesley Reno: I’ll take your word for it, Mandy. So how much longer will you keep me waiting?
Maddy Estelle: Oh, only a few minutes now. I just need to go and get changed into something more sexy…
Reno’s body language is that of utter delight.
Wesley Reno: I’ll be here, sweetheart.
Estelle responds with a fake giggle of excitement as she leaves the medic’s office at last. She takes out her cell phone from her handbag and begins to dial a number. She waits for the person to pick and up, and begins walking through the makeshift backstage area.
Maddy Estelle: Yes, it’s me. I’ve got him right where you wanted him… Yes, I’ll be here when you arrive… See you in a few minutes. Don’t forget to bring your little friend along with you.
Invading Pearl Harber
FEATURING: PWC & Pearl Harber
AUTHOR: JEFF
We go backstage where Shawn Harris and Kris Krimzon are seen in the water riding around on Jet Ski’s, they eventually crash into the beach and both go flying off of their ski’s landing on the soft wet sand. Pearl is not far behind and hears all the commotion as PWC has invaded yet another event. PWC get to their feet and dust themselves off, Pearl runs over shouting for security.
Pearl: What the hell are you doing here?! I banned you from the arena!
Shawn Harris: We’re not even in an arena Davey you silly fucking tart. You think you can ban us from any sort of AWC event? We’re PWC, we don’t abide by your petty rules, we’re far superior to your rules, you understand?
Pearl: We’ll see about that when security throws you out of this event, they will march you through the entire crowd.
Kris Krimzon: Somehow, I doubt it.
Pearl turns around and sees the security guards playing with the jet skis he then turns back facing PWC, Krimzon however has disappeared.
Pearl: Where’s he gone?
Shawn Harris: Who?
Pearl: The other one.
Shawn Harris: Don’t worry about that Pearl. Fact is you can’t get rid of us by simply trying to ban us from an event, this is a public beach, you don’t own it you cocky son of a bitch, we’re here for a reason. There is someone I need to see tonight and no one is stopping me you understand? No one.
Pearl: You’ll regret this Shawn.
Shawn laughs then pushes Pearl in the forhead with one finger. It shunts his head back suddenly and he falls over, Krimzon is then seen kneeling behind where Pearl was stood. He gets to his feet and laughs also.
Shawn Harris: Now look Pearl, Evolution has just passed you by!
PWC then walk past Pearl and continue on around the backstage area of the beach.
Severing Ties
FEATURING: Mikey O'Reilly & Zsasz
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Mikey O’Reilly is sitting on the beach, staring out into the Pacific Ocean and smoking a cigarette. He’s shirtless and soaking up some sun before he has his Duo Tag Match against Jack Murphy and Captain Suleimon. The only thing he isn’t looking forward to in this match is to tag with Paddy O’Shea, the man he defeated at Divide and Conquer.
It was a bittersweet victory defeating his arch nemesis at the PPV, but it wasn’t how he wanted to beat him. He wanted a full-fledged boxing match, not throw in elements of hardcore wrestling. Even though the AWC besmirched Samuel Hagen’s brand of Irish bare-knuckle boxing, Mikey defeated Paddy O’Shea.
Now he’s tagging with his nemesis against two in the same position. Four men who really don’t get along trying to coexist with one another in order to win a Duo Tag Match on this special edition of Fresh!west. How will Mikey O’Reilly coexist with someone he despises? How will he work with someone when he has a great desire to bludgeon said person to death?
He simply has to...plain and simple, even if it kills him inside.
“I figured I’d find you out here.”
Mikey comes out of his reverie and looks over to his left to see Zsasz walking towards him. He is dressed in his expensive black suit and has a manila envelope in his right hand. After what Zsasz said two weeks ago at Fresh!West, Zsasz meant it when he said he’d walk if Mikey didn’t win his match against Vince Jones. Mikey lost, and now it’s time for Zsasz to get out of his managerial contract.
Mikey lets out a long drag from his cigarette, watching Zsasz walk towards him. He snuffs out his cigarette on the sand, stands up and meets Zsasz face-to-face. Zsasz has a smile on his face, a smile Mikey knows is completely fake.
Zsasz: It’s time to sever all ties, Mikey. As I said two weeks ago if you didn’t win your match against Vince Jones, I’d no longer be your manager...
He pulls out his managerial contract from the manila envelope, handing it to Mikey O’Reilly. He fishes a pen out of his jacket pocket, handing it to his client.
Zsasz: If you be so kind to sign your name at the bottom of the page.
Mikey O’Reilly obeys Zsasz and signs his name, handing him back the contract and pen. Zsasz flashes his grin.
Zsasz: Thank you. Now, I must be on my way. Good luck in the future.
Zsasz turns and walks away. Before he goes any further, he turns and faces his former client one last time.
Zsasz: Do you have any last words to me before I depart?
This time, Mikey O’Reilly grins.
Mikey O’Reilly: Yeah...
He walks up to Zsasz and throws a heavy right hand, knocking Zsasz on his ass. Zsasz looks up at his former client with shock and anger.
Mikey O’Reilly: Thanks for nothin’. If I ever see you again, Zsasz, I won’t hesitate to kill you.
Mikey turns his back to Zsasz and walks away. Zsasz remains where he is, watching Mikey walking away. Zsasz simply smiles, gets to his feet, dusts himself off and chuckles.
Zsasz: He’ll do just fine on his own.
Zsasz walks the other direction. He takes out his cell phone, dials a number and waits as the line picks up.
Opportunistic?
FEATURING: ??? & GBJ
AUTHOR: ??? & Josh K.
He'd finally beaten the crowds... it truly was manic. A far cry from the Eastern side of the tour... a grin crept across his face; he'd had his hand in ensuring that. He had found some place relatively quiet, just the movement of frantic stagehands to disturb his thought pattern. It was the first time he'd been back to Huntington; it was everything that he'd remembered. Same air. Same vibe. Same atmosphere. No Octagon this time. From now on he'd be encompassed by ring ropes.
How hard could it be?
His thoughts often kept him company... they had to... for two years... they had to. Entering some form of dream, his thickly built body bumps into an unsuspecting entity...
Garbage. Bag. Johnny.
Garbage Bag Johnny Sorry about that, muscles! I should be more careful walking around in these magic shoes.
Garbage Bag motions towards his worn sneakers.
Raising an eyebrow toward this notion…
“Magic... right... hah…”
Attempting to move quickly on, he brushes past Garbage Bag and begins to walk off toward the Pier.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Whoa, hold onto your horses, Flex. I'll tell you what. You see these sneakers? I know you want them. They're the custom GBJ edition. AWC merchandising has them marked at one hundred bucks, but I'll tell you what. You look like a big fan, so I'll cut that in half. BAM! Fifty bucks.
Looking down at the raggedy ‘custom kicks’, then back down to his own Chuck’s, he managed to raise a grin. His thoughts were most certainly elsewhere. Johnny was a good guy from what he'd heard.
"It's okay man, I'm sure they're magical to wear... but, my kicks are just fine. I really have to be going..."
Why oh why did people suspect him for a fan... it was a curse he was beginning to loathe. Once more, he turned to leave.
And once more, Garbage Bag, being the persistent bastard that he is, cut the muscular man off at the pass.
Garbage Bag Johnny: I know what your problem is. You can't JUST buy the shoes. You need something to match. Well, I've got the perfect thing...
GBJ begins pulling something cloth out of his pants, hand over hand like some magician...and GBJ ABSOLUTELY HATES magicians. But this is all integral to the sale, and GBJ is the Willie Loman of AWC.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Check this out!
In one fluid motion, GBJ unravels the shirt. It's the Garbage Bag Johnny Zero to Hero 2006 t-shirt, and for only $19.95, you can order one through http://awc.supremepixels.com. ;-)
Garbage Bag Johnny: Alright, you see this shirt? Twenty bucks. But today, I've got an offer going, since the shirt and the shoes are begging to be bought as a package deal. I'll give you both for seventy five dollars.
Running his hand over his freshly cropped head, his upper torso grew tort, and his mind wrought with frustration.
What point of GO AWAY did he just not get?
He'd allow him to survive though. He wasn't part of tonight's plans.
"Seriously dawg... I don't need shoes, I don't need t-shirts... I just need to..."
Garbage Bag Johnny: ...just need to pick up a brand new Garbage Bag Johnny commemorative mountable air conditioning unit? I've got those in stock. I can have them mail ordered right to your door. It's got like 1300 BTU's man. And if you act now, I'll even throw in the shoes from right off of my very feet and the GBJ t-shirt for just the price of the air conditioner.
What is this guy's PROBLEM?! Next... he'll be selling me GBJ Fragrance for Men... or GBJ Juice...
"Look dude... I don't need ANY of the stuff you're pitching. I'm sorry... but please leave me in peace?"
Garbage Bag looks saddened, almost, at the lack of patronage from his prospective customer. He pulls out a cell phone.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Oh, hey, kids. Nope, I didn't sell any merchandise today. Looks like we're going to have to wait until the weekend to eat dinner.
GBJ pauses for effect, while his customer rolls his eyes…
Garbage Bag Johnny: I know you need a kidney transplant, kiddo, but those are expensive. If only I could sell just one air conditioning unit, we could be a family again.
He wasn’t falling for it. But oh well… he needed to go, and in all honesty, he liked the Garbage Man.
"Look... I'll buy whatever it is you're selling. Here, take what you need... just you know… be gone?"
The figure offers a wad of $100 bills to GBJ, prompting Garbage Bag Johnny to remove the shoes from his feet, and offer them to the man before him. He offers the shirt and the shoes to his newest muscle bound friend.
Garbage Bag Johnny: I'll have my guys bring the air conditioner to your house. I tell ya, you're not going to regret this when you've got 1300 BTU's of air conditioned power giving the summer heat the finger right in your face! And if it gets too cold, here's another GBJ shirt.
GBJ pulls another shirt out of his pocket in similar hand over hand fashion. He then pockets the money and notices something else in his pocket that he can offer to his customer to compensate for the wad of bills.
Garbage Bag Johnny: And have this ham sandwich. I was saving it, but I'm not that hungry right now...honest.
Taking the sandwich from Johnny's hands, he holds it between the tips of his thumb and forefinger...
"Err... thanks.. I think..."
Garbage Bag Johnny gives a big, hokey grin and thumbs up before running the opposite direction, a pocket full of cash, and about twenty eight more shirts stuffed into his pants that he aims to get rid of by the end of the night. Looking toward this crazed figure depart, he stopped to wonder... How on earth would he get to her... if anyone... so it seemed... could get to him... That same crooked smile swept his lips... he had a plan... or two.
The Oddest of Couples
FEATURING: Captain Suleimon & Jack Murphy
AUTHOR: TOM
Cutting to an open-air but private enclosure on the beach, we see Jack Murphy, lacing up his boots, obviously preparing for his tag team match with his reluctant partner Captain Suleimon. Just as he put the lace through the last hole on his right boot, he heard a plop right next to him on the bench. The Bull looked up to find Suleimon right there.
Jack Murphy: What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have your own locker room?
Captain Suleimon: Is that any way to talk to your teammate?
Jack Murphy: What?
Captain Suleimon: You heard me. I'm teaming with you this week, we might as well act like a team.
Jack Murphy: You're doing this to annoy me, aren't you?
Captain Suleimon: Oh no, why would I do such a thing?
Jack Murphy: I can see right through you, you know.
Captain Suleimon: You're all wrong. In fact, the very reason I came here, the real reason, was to make sure you weren't slacking again. I refuse to have you bring me down again.
Jack Murphy: Excuse me? Do you want to have a repeat of the last edition of Fresh!West?
Captain Suleimon: I'd rather not. I'd just rather watch you and make sure you're preparing correctly.
Jack Murphy: Well, you'll be disappointed if you were coming looking for a fight.
Captain Suleimon: No, the fight I want is with those other Irish rogues.
Jack Murphy: Then we can at least agree on one thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish preparing.
Murphy goes back to putting his boots on. Suleimon sits on the bench and watches him. He mutters something under his breath.
Captain Suleimon: (sotto voce) How did I get into this match with three bloody Irish drunkards.
Jack Murphy: What did you just say?
Captain Suleimon: Oh, nothing.
Suleimon goes back to his vigiliance of Murphy. The camera cuts back to the beach with THRONGS of fans waiting for the next happening to... well, happen.
An Unpleasant Encounter
FEATURING: Mikey O'Reilly & Paddy O'Shea
AUTHOR: JEREMY J. & MICK
“Oy, O’Reilly!”
Mikey O’Reilly lets out a sigh, recognizing the voice calling out to him. Mikey’s on his third cigarette, slowly turning around to see his Duo partner for the evening, Paddy O’Shea, running towards him. When Paddy meets up with Mikey, he looks up at his partner, panting from the long run he head.
Mikey O’Reilly: What do you want, Paddy?
Paddy O’Shea: Jus’ wanted t’ see if yer ready fer our match tonight against those silly wankers, Jack Murphy and Captain Suleimon. Is yer head in th’ match?
Mikey takes a drag from his cigarette and blows smoke in Paddy’s face. Paddy simply ignored the cigarette smoke, obviously knowing what Mikey is trying to do.
Mikey O’Reilly: Yeah, my head’s in the match tonight. You have nothing to worry about, O’Shea. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.
Paddy O’Shea: All roigh’, I’ll see ye in th’ ring.
Paddy sticks out his hand, gesturing his partner to shake it. Mikey simply stands there, looking down at his Duo partner. Instead of shaking O’Shea’s hand, O’Reilly slaps him right across the face, sending his partner a few steps backward.
Mikey O’Reilly: See you in the ring.
Mikey O’Reilly turns his back to Paddy O’Shea and heads towards the ring, leaving his partner behind. Paddy watches Mikey go, burning a hole into his partner’s back.
The Search for LaShonda Continues
FEATURING: Vince Jones, Tiara & Wayne Russell
AUTHOR: JAY & ADAM
The camera fades in and Jasmine can be seen walking along when she runs into Tiara Belle Russell. Jasmine approaches and Tiara turns around and acknowledges her.
Tiara: Oh, well hello.
Jasmine: Uhh…hey. Yeah. I know we’ve never really met before this, but…
Tiara: Oh, don’t trouble yourself with all of that. Tiara’s the name, you should be more careful where you’re going.
Tiara has her subtle way of being a bitch but she was trying to be nice.
Jasmine: Yeah. Its nice to meet you too, Tiara.
Tiara: Well, now that we’ve gotten that out the way, what’s on your mind?
Jasmine: Well, I’m trying to find out about a bitch named LaShonda…
Tiara: (in confusion) A LaShonda?
Jasmine: (nods) Yeah. Some bitch named LaShonda. You know anything about her? Ever heard of her or even overheard my man talking about this bitch? See, I have good reason to believe that my man, V, was sleeping around with her a few weeks ago and I need some answers
Tiara: (chuckling) Man, trouble? Now that’s’ something new. Yeah. Gotta love that. Sometimes it seems like you can’t go anywhere and feel safe about them unless you’ve got the leash around their neck just to keep them from wandering too far.
Jasmine: (nods) Yeah. No kidding.
Wayne Russell appears on the scene, wanders his way over, puts an arm around his wife, and kisses her on the forehead.
Wayne: And what was all this about leashes and whatnot, babe? Am I missing something?
Tiara: (to Wayne) Yeah. You would show up in the wrong end of a conversation like that, Wayne. Anyways, this (points in Jasmine’s direction) is Jasmine. If you didn’t know she’s the lady friend of…
Wayne: (nods his head) …yeah, that guy.
Tiara slaps Wayne in the head.
Tiara: WAYNE! Don’t be like that! The poor girl’s going through enough as it is right now dealing with him!
Wayne: Well, what do you expect? We’re talking about…
Tiara slaps Wayne again.
Wayne: Hey!
Tiara: Wayne Russell, that’s enough out of you! Now, do you know anything about this LaShonda girl that she’s been looking for.
Wayne lowers and begins scratching his head in thought.
Wayne: Nope, can’t say that I do. Sorry, Jasmine.
Jasmine: (nods) Thanks anyways, guys.
The tears begin to well up in Jasmine’s eyes and she buries her head in her hands and turns her back on them both and begins walking away. Tiara walks over to her and begins patting her on the back trying to comfort her as Wayne stands by and watches.
Tiara: There, there, everything’ll be alright.
Jasmine: (sobbing) Its..its..hopeless! I’m never gonna know! I...I just want to know! I want some answers!
Tiara: I know how you feel, girl. We all go through rough times like these…
Jasmine: (sobbing) But what…what about you and Wayne? You guys seem…like you have the perfect relationship.
Tiara: Oh, Wayne and I have our times. Every relationship does, Jasmine.
Wayne begins to approach the two of them but Tiara motions to him as if to see she’s got it all taken care of. He obeys and stays in place.
Jasmine: I just wish V and I had what you and Wayne have. That’s all I want.
Tiara: Well, don’t worry about a thing. Things will get better. You just have to have faith.
Wayne overhears this and just shakes his head in disappointment. Tiara notices his body language and just gives him the look.
Jasmine: Well, I hope you’re right, Tiara.
Tiara: You feeling a little bit better now, Jasmine?
Jasmine nods her head.
Tiara: Good. Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.
Jasmine: I really hope that I’m wrong about all of this.
Tiara: Don’t we all.
Tiara gives Jasmine a warm embrace.
Jasmine: Thanks.
Tiara: No problem at all.
Jasmine turns and walks away and Wayne just shakes his head.
Wayne: Some people just don’t get it.
Tiara: (slaps Wayne) WAYNE!
Wayne: I’m sorry, but we are talking about Vince Jones here. What more can you expect?
Tiara: She’s in love…
Wayne: Yeah, with a walking, talking pile of crap!
Tiara just glares at him.
Wayne: Okay. I know, I know. But what was the front you put on for her….
Tiara: What?
Wayne: Don’t bull shit me we both know you didn’t honestly give a fuck… are you trying to actually be nice.
Tiara: No I didn’t really care… but I wasn’t about to crush the poor girls heart… Vince will do that enough… and I’m sure of that.
The camera slowly fades to black as the couple walks away.
Captain Suleimon/Jack Murphy vs Mikey O'Reilly/Paddy O'Shea
STIPULATION: TAG TEAM
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR:DAVE LARKIN
Truth Waters: On this night that boasts a Ruby Surf City Diner Lumberjack match, a Transatlantic championship bout between two of AWC’s greatest stars and a Relentless championship match in which Red Rock will attempt to extend his blistering run of wins, this upcoming tag match seems to fade into obscurity.
George Cassidy: Yes, I suppose you could say that. The Alliance division is beginning to come to life again, though, so this could end up being important. I can’t wait to see sparks fly between Suleimon and Murphy, with that said.
Truth Waters: Sparks are bound to fly. Just two weeks ago on Fresh!west, we watched these two tongue lash each other with…
George Cassidy: Don’t say tongue lash, Truth. It sounds like some sick low budget porno movie title.
Truth Waters: (reconsidering) Okay, let’s call it a disagreement, then!
George Cassidy: Better. Continue, please.
Truth Waters: The bottom line here is, these two may not be able to function as a team tonight. As for the opposition, they come in the form of ring veteran Paddy O’Shea, who held the Alliance championship for an astounding 150 days, and Mikey O’Reilly, an eager superstar in AWC who hails originally from Belfast. It’s sure to be a clash of the titans here.
George Cassidy: I’m not convinced it will be. When you say clash of the titans, do you mean a meeting of two large beings, say Godzilla and the like?
Truth Waters: (baffled) Um, no, not at all George. Now that you mention it, though, Paddy O’Shea doesn’t behave unlike Tarzan, so I guess you could count him in.
George Cassidy: Captain Suleimon could be Aladdin!
Truth Waters: I’m having fun with this, actually…
George Cassidy: You are? Crap, let’s swiftly move on. I suppose we have no choice but to go to ringside where James Brunt is ready to announce the participants.
The camera pans over to James Brunt in the middle of the ring, the beach behind him providing a beautiful backdrop. The fans, most of them dressed in three quarter length shorts, t-shirts and swimwear, begin to make their voices heard.
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, the following duo tag team match is scheduled for one fall!
The clinical riff of 'Burn' by Throwdown fills the arena and begins an extended loop as the house lights dim to a dull, crimson red. As the flick of the lighter is heard around the arena and the riff explodes, so too does the entrance into a burning inferno. Through the flames emerges 'The Bull' Jack Murphy.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, from Kildare, Ireland… weighing in at 278 pounds… “THE BULL” JACK MURPHY!!!
George Cassidy: His entrance isn’t as spectacular, it has to be said, in a beachside setting.
Truth Waters: The flames just don’t work. There’s no denying, though, that Jack Murphy is one hell of a talent. As a former Transatlantic champion, the two Irishmen need to be wary of him in this contest.
Mozart’s “Turkish March” begins to play on the sound system and the crowd come to their feet, most of them giving the emerging Captain Suleimon a lukewarm reception, a stark contrast to the reception Murphy received. Suleimon enters the ring and nods to his tag team partner for the night, the tension between them almost tangible.
James Brunt: In the ring, from Istanbul, Turkey… weighing in at 198 pounds… “THE SULTAN OF SMACKDOWN” CAPTAIN SULEIMON!!!
George Cassidy: Oooh, I love utter hatred!
Truth Waters: Fireworks already between these two, and it’s pre-match! This is bound to be an interesting match from the perspective of team members getting along.
“Raggle Taggle Gypsy” by Christy Moore cuts through Suleimon’s entrance and “The Irishman” emerges to a massive pop from the crowd. Many of them have signs which praise Paddy O’Shea for his success in AWC, such as his win/loss record. O’Shea wastes no time, and marches defiantly down to the apron of the ring.
James Brunt: And introducing their opponents! Firstly, from Galway, Ireland… weighing in at 180 pounds… “THE MAN FROM THE CARAVAN” PADDY O’SHEA!!!
Truth Waters: How focused does Paddy look tonight, George?
George Cassidy: A little bit too focused. The luck of the Irish can’t last forever. He’s a spent force, and tonight will prove my point.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, formerly from Belfast, Ireland, now residing in Boston, Massachusetts, weighing 230 pounds... MIKEY O'REILLY!
Mikey O'Reilly is seen slowly making his way onto the ramp. He looks out into the crowd, feeding off the mixed reaction, and throws a few punches, as to get some more shadow boxing in before his match. He then makes his way down to the ring as the yells of Mark Hunter fill the arena.
I finally found myself;
I tried to erase all this hate from my body.
I tried to end all the lies, all the pain that I caused everyone,
But it all seemed so fucking useless!
He rolls into the ring, climbing up one of the corners, raising his arms up.
I can’t forgive
And I can’t forget.
Don’t you know who the fuck I am?
I’m the enemy.
THE ENEMY!
The enemy.
THE ENEMY!
He hops off the corner, removes his leather, porkpie style hat, puts it in the corner of the ring, facing up. He removes his golden catholic cross, kisses it, places it inside the hat and removes his white wife beater, as he waits for his opponent.
Truth Waters: The action’s started already, folks! Referee Joseph Reid is finding it difficult to contain! O’Reilly has just taken out Suleimon, as O’Shea works on Murphy!
George Cassidy: More carnage, I say! MORE!
O’Reilly knocks Suleimon over the top rope with a vicious uppercut to the chin. O’Reilly turns to see O’Shea working on Jack Murphy with unorthodox punches and kicks to the mid section. Murphy suddenly explodes at O’Shea, however, with a spear into his ribs. O’Shea goes down rubbing his ribs, and rolls over to the apron. O’Reilly and Murphy are left in the ring, and Reid calls for the bell.
DING DING DING!
Truth Waters: Now that things are finally under control again, we can start this match. From the outset here, George, who do you see as the most dangerous?
George Cassidy: Do I really have to answer that question and bore these fans? I mean, it’s quite obvious, Truth, that Jack Murphy and Captain Suleimon have the advantage. Worlds apart in terms of their views they may be, but they work well as a unit.
O’Reilly stands tall in front of Murphy in his trademark boxing stance. O’Reilly takes a few practice jabs in Murphy’s direction, but the latter avoids any contact. Murphy measures O’Reilly up for a grapple, but O’Reilly breaks it instantly, instead connecting with a lethal left, then right jab to the face of Murphy, which causes his opponent to recoil in shock. Murphy shakes his head, recovering from the quick thinking of O’Reilly.
Truth Waters: Mikey O’Reilly is trying to get under Murphy’s skin here early on. Captain Suleimon seems to be advising Murphy to take it slow.
George Cassidy: All Murphy wants to do is hit a powerful move on O’Reilly, but it’ll be difficult. Murphy needs to play the game with O’Reilly, then wait to strike.
O’Reilly goes for Murphy once again, ducking under a clothesline attempt from the former Transatlantic champion and delivering an uppercut to the jaw, just as he did to Captain Suleimon moments ago. Murphy falls against the ropes, and O’Reilly goes for the punch straight to the face, but Murphy ducks and nails a stunning DDT on O’Reilly.
Truth Waters: Genius by Murphy! He was playing possum, waiting for O’Reilly to make his move. Then he knocked him right now and Murphy’s in control now.
George Cassidy: Impressive stuff by Murphy, but O’Reilly’s tough. He’s not going to relent easily.
Murphy goes for the first pin of the match.
ONE!
O’Reilly powers out before two. Paddy O’Shea begins to clap, trying to get the crowd behind O’Reilly and himself. The crowd respond in kind. Murphy picks O’Reilly up to his feet and delivers a vertical suplex, causing O’Reilly to land on the top rope. O’Reilly is blind tagged by O’Shea, who bounds into the ring and surprises Murphy with a European uppercut to the jaw. O’Shea whips Murphy off the ropes and sends him over his head with a back body drop. Murphy lands hard on the canvas, and O’Shea finishes his onslaught with a stomp to Murphy’s head.
Truth Waters: The Paddy O’Shea we all know and love is back in business! What an impact he has made in the match. Murphy’s gagging for a tag!
George Cassidy: O’Shea will soon collapse, Truth. This is all for show. The fans will soon get weary of his antics.
O’Shea whips Murphy off the ropes, but Murphy comes out of nowhere and delivers a low dropkick to O’Shea’s knees in desperation. Murphy reaches out, having bought himself some time, and tags in Captain Suleimon, who looks eager to get involved.
Truth Waters: Captain Suleimon is officially in the match at last!
George Cassidy: And he’s on the top rope…
Captain Suleimon risks his body and dives off the top rope, hitting a cross body on O’Shea. O’Shea goes down to the mat, and Suleimon is the quicker to recover. Suleimon lifts O’Shea up and delivers a flying cross chop to his chest, knocking O’Shea down once again. Suleimon goes to the top rope now, looking to deliver a devastating moonsault. O’Shea seems to see it coming. Just as Suleimon begins his jump, O’Shea moves out of the way. However, Suleimon has seen O’Shea’s reaction, and lands on his feet. O’Shea quickly rolls Suleimon into a small package pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: The Captain has just powered out before the three count! What a brilliant series of moves we’ve just witnessed by these two.
George Cassidy: How did Suleimon land on his feet, that’s what I’m wondering. I’m too old for this…
O’Shea is back to his feet quickly. He prepares to measure Suleimon with a spine buster, but Mikey O’Reilly tags himself in before O’Shea can execute any move. O’Shea, perturbed by O’Reilly’s unscheduled entry, returns to the apron, scowling at his partner. O’Reilly goes to work on Suleimon with jabs, then a well-executed belly-to-back suplex. O’Reilly shoots a teasing glance to his partner, who is not happy at all. O’Reilly looks to continue pounding on Suleimon, but the Captain makes the tag to Murphy out of the blue.
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy has just entered the fray and O’Reilly does not look pleased!
George Cassidy: What’s the problem? He can just use his one-two punch to knock him out. This isn’t boxing, Mikey! Wrestle, you fool!
Truth Waters: We’ve just seen the guy do a dragon suplex. That is not easy to pull off, George.
George Cassidy: (under his breath) Yeah, kiss my ass.
Murphy explodes at O’Reilly, but O’Reilly is agile enough to dodge the attempted clothesline from Murphy. Murphy turns and allows O’Reilly to run towards him, nailing his opponent with a vicious boot to the face. Murphy keeps O’Reilly down on the mat and locks in the devastating submission hold, the STF. Murphy applies an enormous amount of pressure as O’Reilly tries to reach the ropes to escape the hold.
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy is not letting O’Reilly have any space to breathe here. It’s gotta be over for O’Reilly now!
George Cassidy: And he’s grabbed the ropes!
The crowd applaud O’Reilly after grabbing the bottom rope, thus releasing the hold. Murphy does as he is told and releases O’Reilly, but moves in for the kill now. Murphy goes for a right hand as O’Reilly props himself against the ropes for support, but O’Reilly ducks underneath, and sets Murphy up for an Irish suplex. O’Reilly throws Murphy backwards once, twice, three times, the impact increasing each time. O’Reilly looks spent as he bridges into a pin on Murphy.
ONE!
TWO!
Murphy powers out of the suplex combination, but looks slightly dizzy. O’Shea blind tags himself in, much to O’Reilly dissatisfaction. O’Shea runs against the ropes and delivers a facebuster to Murphy. O’Shea drops the elbow, but lands on the hard canvas, as Murphy rolls away instinctively and tags in Suleimon. Suleimon bounces off the second rope and delivers a quick missile dropkick to O’Shea. O’Shea is quickly back to his feet, and unceremoniously nails Suleimon with his trademark Angry and Intoxicated kick to the face. Suleimon goes down like a ton of bricks.
Truth Waters: The impact of that clothesline from O’Shea! Captain Suleimon must be out of it!
George Cassidy: No, no, not in the least. He’s alive and well. His eyes may be shut and he may look like a rag doll, but I’m telling you he’s just fine.
O’Shea stalks his prey as the crowd get behind him to finish Captain Suleimon off. O’Shea lifts him up to his feet, and Suleimon surprises O’Shea with a boot to the sternum. O’Shea has read it, however, and catches the boot. Suleimon thinks quickly again, however, and delivers an enziguri to the side of O’Shea’s head. O’Shea staggers backwards into his own corner, and O’Reilly tags himself in. Suleimon does the same and tags Murphy in. The two Irishmen go face to face.
Truth Waters: This is getting very exciting now. We’re coming to the crunch period, when one team will rise above the other and get the win!
George Cassidy: Jeez, do you always have to sound so damned philosophical?
O’Reilly delivers a blow to Murphy’s face, but this time the veteran seems unaffected. Murphy lashes out at O’Reilly with a hard elbow to the chin. O’Reilly flies against the ropes. Murphy whips O’Reilly against the ropes, but O’Reilly rolls under the legs of Murphy on the return journey and rolls him up for the pin.
ONE! Truth Waters: This is it!
TWO!
Murphy manages to kick out before the three count, to the shock to everyone in attendance. O’Reilly gets back to his feet, and Murphy, like a man possessed, charges at O’Reilly’s midsection, delivering The Bull Charge. The fans let out a sympathetic “Ooooh!” for O’Reilly, who appears to be winded. Murphy lifts O’Reilly up for the Fall from Grace. O’Shea leaps to the top rope, and the fans go wild as O’Reilly’s partner attempts to save him from his fate. Suleimon comes up from behind O’Shea and crotches him on the turnbuckle by pulling his legs apart.
Truth Waters: Right in the REGIONS~! Oh man, O’Shea is out of this.
George Cassidy: And here it is! FALL FROM GRACE!
Murphy successfully executes his finishing move and makes the cover on O’Reilly, who is out cold.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: An awesome match, it has to be said, but Murphy and Suleimon are the winners. What an effort by both teams tonight!
George Cassidy: I’ll have to agree with you on that one, Truth – for once. Jack Murphy and Captain Suleimon proved to be an efficient cohesive unit tonight, but O’Shea and O’Reilly just couldn’t handle the teamwork aspect.
Murphy and Suleimon head up the ramp way, the two never congratulating each other, standing apart as if they were just involved in two separate matches. Referee Joseph Reid raises their arms in victory.
James Brunt: Here are your winners… “THE BULL” JACK MURPHY AND “THE SULTAN OF SMACKDOWN” CAPTAIN SULEIMON!!!
Trials and Tribulations
FEATURING: The Furious Fists of God
AUTHOR: SAM
In the ring after the commercial break, Tim Martin is standing there with brother Liam beside him. The crowd is booing, emphatically.
Tim Martin: Thank you, everyone, for your support. Jesus is crying in the clouds, no really, I think that's rain I feel.
The crowd boos even more.
Tim Martin: But, I'll have you believe that my brother and I are not out here to woo you or do anything of the sort. In fact, I could care less about what any of you heathen fools have to say. Jesus walked on water, I'm sure he can walk over a few thousands un-worthy pagans like yourself.
The crowd gets even louder and start chanting "GO TO HELL!" Tim smirks.
Tim Martin: Charming. No, really, keep it up. I didn't know you all took the form of the devil...it would explain the stink, at least.
Instead of taunting, the crowd goes back to booing, louder than ever.
Tim Martin: Well then, now that I have your silence, I've come here to announce the first stage of the SUPER BIBLE CRUSADE for the NEW BLACK in the QUEST to LOSE AT COAST TO COAST!
The fans cheer, but it dies down once they realize what they're cheering for...false enthusiasm.
Tim Martin: Tonight, as you will see, Angelus Sorrow and I will both be competing in that retched, Satan-macculate Ruby Diner event. Pitiful, really. Why must a God-loving prophet FIGHT to win...well...whatever foolish thing it is? DO THEY NOT KNOW GOD GETS ANGRY? DIDN'T THEY SEE "CAST AWAY"? WAS THAT NOT TORTURE ENOUGH?!
Tim stops screaming and takes a few breaths.
Tim Martin: Erm, apologies. Anywho, back to the Crusade. The New Black, in the diner I have hidden a bible. And with this bible you have a...erm...
Liam Martin: A crusade?
Tim Martin: Yes. Your crusade is to manage...to slap me RIGHT IN THE FACE with that bible. If you cannot do it...then we know your place is on the treadmill next to Hitler in hell. Otherwise, your crusade continues.
Tim pauses for a moment.
Tim Martin: I think that's all, really. Now, Huntington Beach, if you could shower next time I see you, that'd be great. Didn't know the ocean on this coast stank so much like cat piss. Otherwise, may God have mercy on your souls.
A Reminder
FEATURING: Captain Suleimon, Jack Murphy
AUTHOR: Fergus
We’re backstage again and it looks like Captain Suleimon is standing proudly and basking in victory. From behind him Jack Murphy appears.
Captain Suleimon: What do you want?
Jack Murphy: Just saying well done.
Captain Suleimon: Ah, finally you acknowledge my greatness.
Jack Murphy: Nah, just seeing you’re taking my advice and actually tagging me in for once.
Captain Suleimon: I didn’t need your help, it was all under control.
Jack Murphy: Well, I guess we’ll see how well you can keep things under control Sully. I’ll see you next week.
Captain Suleimon: Why?
Jack Murphy: Oh didn’t I tell you? We’re in the Alliance tournament. We’ll be teaming more it seems. Hope you’re ready to pick up the pace, because we don’t want either of us slacking now do we?
‘The Bull’ wanders out of the view as Suleimon steams. A violent punch into the air signifies the response from the Middle-Eastern man.
No Hard Feelings!
FEATURING: Red Rock, GBJ, D'avid
AUTHOR: JOSH Y. & JOSH K.
We now enter another awkward opening sequence for a segment probably in the backstage area because it requires the least amount of imagination. Nether the less we watch on as our Anti Hero and his loyal side kick D’avid bull rat kill some time moments before Red Rock is due to defend his Relentless title against Aimz.
D’avid: OH MY GOD! I can’t believe you get to rub your body against Aimz! She makes me want to do a sex piss in my pants! OoooooOOooH!
Red Rock: Yes D’avid Aimz also makes me want to make a sex piss in my pants… I don’t know how Darcy Crisis lives with himself he’s such a boob hog! Why can’t he share?
D’avid: Maybe what we could do is convince them to come to one of our swingers night?
Red Rock seems bemused at what D’avid is saying.
Red Rock: We don’t have swinger’s nights?!
D’avid: Err… heh… anyway! Hey Look who it is it’s Garbage Bag Johnny no less!
Garbage Bag Johnny appears in to view with a jolly grin about his person.
Red Rock: Oh hello Garbage Bag Johnny Zero to hero 2006 winner, how are you?
Garbage Bag Johnny: I’ve seen better days, Relentless Champion Red Rock. Had to glue one of my teeth back on.
D’avid: Heh, I’m glad you turned up when you did because now I don’t have to explain my self to Red Rock about the secret swinger parties I’ve been having at his flat.
Garbage Bag Johnny: A flat? Not sure I’m familiar with the terminology, but I’m always down for an orgy so long as there’s mustard abound.
Red Rock: What?
D’avid: NOTHING! Hey Red you were saying the other day that you wanted to talk to Garbage Bag Johnny!
Red Rock: Oh yeah, I just wanted to say no hard feelings about last show. Good match!
Garbage Bag Johnny: Oh yeah! You’re the son of a bitch who raked my gooch…a crafty move if I ever saw one. Too bad about that invitational rumble though. I would’ve won it, too, if Harber hadn’t paid off his goons to thwart my ingenious jetpack plan. We’re going to have to start new win streaks. Looks like you’re up soon, though. Go get ‘em, tiger!
Red Rock: Super! I look forward to it!
Red Rock and GBJ share a weird cool guy hand shake and go their own separate ways.
Mistaken
FEATURING: ??? & Vince Jones
AUTHOR: ??? & JAY
The beach was awash with the effervescent colours of a summers day, and he was the aware of the fact that he stood out like a sore thumb. Sorer than a sore thumb… he was the finger that had just been severed. He noted his difference in size and was making his best efforts to remain part of the scenery. The truth was, he was a fighter, his body was lithe and tort, he was a far cry from your average overweight wrestling fanboy. His opinions did not matter. Nor would they. Tonight was about one thing. Getting to her. Making his way through the ebbing tide of the AWC crowd, solace is found on an isolated part of the beach… just what he needed. A place to gather his thoughts… a place to regroup… a place to reflect…
WHAM
That moment however would not be found in this lifetime, so it seemed as ‘The Violence’ Vince Jones, Countdown Trophy and Louisville Slugger baseball bat in hand, walks into his considerable chest. Vince looks at the man as if he is ready to strike: it was that readiness, that willingness to go anywhere any place any time that had seen Vince’s intensity levels increase rapidly.
“Vince Jones…” he knew him… he knew him like he knew them all.
Vince Jones: Yeah, you talkin’ to V. Jones. What? You lookin’ for an autograph and some shit? V ain’t got the time, man. Holla back lata or somethin’ (muttering to himself) Damn fans be getting’ on V’s last fuckin’nerve with this shit sometimes.
“Mr. Jones,” his voice was familiar, clear, clean and crisp, “I was just on my way…”
Vince throws up a hand signalling for the man to stop.
Vince Jones: Hold up! What you mean you don’t want an autograph? You ignant or somethin’, man? What the fuck is up with you? “You’re not following…” his idiom was again familiar, “I really have no need for an autograph… I’m actually looking for…”
Vince’s head scanned this figure up and then down… looked like he was carved from stone or something…
Vince Jones: Hey! You ain’t gotta be all secretive about this shit. V already knows what the deal is right now. You ain’t gotta hide with that shit…
Raising an eyebrow, he looked straight through Jones’ iron wrought stare and saw if he knew… tried to see past the bravado… how could he possibly know…?
Vince Jones: …if you really want V. Jones’ autograph. Just say so. V. Jones understands bein’ a bit star struck and shit when you meet a man on the level of V. Jones. It’s natural. That shit happens all the time. Don’t be ashamed of that shit. That’s what you supposed to do when you meet a cat like V. It’s called havin’ respect for cats that greater than you and shit. So, if you really wantin’ that autograph and shit, go ahead and ask for it.
“But you just said you knew… oh wait… never mind. I better be going…”
All of a sudden Vince pauses and begins looking at the man suspiciously.
Vince Jones: Hold up one second! You look kinda familiar and shit, man. Ain’t you… that cat… that…
Clenching his right hand, he’s cocked, locked and ready… no one was going to spoil the show tonight… no one…
Vince Jones: …Big Stan’s cousin’s brother’s, barber’s, son’s, homeboy Lil Bo from up in Yonkers and shit? Relaxing his hand and drawing a sigh of relief the fan relaxes… Vince Jones was lucky.
“Nah dawg… but I got a twin, could be him my brother…”
He lied through his bare teeth. He needed out. He needed it now.
Turning and walking away from The Violence, the figure is suddenly pursued…
Vince Jones: Hey! Where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh? Hey! You can’t just walk away from V. Jones like that. You fuckin’ killin’ V’s image and shit here!
Rolling his eyes, a crooked smile creeps across his lips…
“You said that you didn’t want to be bothered?”
Vince Jones: V didn’t, but...
“But now you’re following me…”
Vince Jones: Cuz V don’t want yo punk ass to miss out on…
All of a sudden Vince stops in his tracks and his eyes lock on the booties of a flock of beautiful bikini clad babes who walk past him sending some inviting glances.
Vince Jones: Mmm mmm mmmm! Those asses lookin’ right! Holla at ya boy!
Vince begins following after them as our fan takes this opportunity to sneak away.
“What an idiot… but two close calls… and what the fuck… do I look like a fan…”
Red Rock (C) vs Aimz
STIPULATION: FANS BRING THE WEAPONS
REFEREE:LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: JEREMY
Truth Waters: We're back in beautiful Huntington Beach, California, for this special edition of FRESH! on the West Atlantic tour. Coming up next, we have ourselves a crazy “Fans Brings Weapons” Match, where Red Rock, from AWC-West, defends his title against AWC-East’s Aimz. Aimz has had several title matches in the past, vying for the Transatlantic title and most recently, the Frontier title. Now, Aimz has another chance at a title. Can she pull off the big win, or will Red Rock’s streak as Relentless champion move up to ten-and-oh?
George Cassidy: I’ll have to say yes to the Red Rock part and no to the Aimz part. Granted, I don’t like either one of these superstars, but Red Rock is on the West Side of AWC, so I’m rooting for Rock to retain his Relentless strap against that redheaded deviant.
Truth Waters: Maybe so, Cass. I do want to see Red Rock retain the Relentless title, but Aimz deserves a big win and it may happen tonight. Wait a minute, I just received word that the match has already taken place in the backstage area! Get a camera down there!
Cameras are set in the backstage area of the beach. Aim, the challenger of this match, is trading blows with the Relentless champion, Red Rock. Aimz manages to kick Rock in the uprights, causing him to drop to his knees, holding himself. “The Red Raver” then pulls out a slapjack from her skirt and whacks him over the head with it. Double R falls face first into the sand. Aimz rolls over her opponent and goes for the quick cover, hooking the leg...
ONE!
Red Rock immediately kicks out. Aimz picks up her opponent, goes or a Body Slam, but the Relentless champion blocks it. He reverses, slamming Aimz onto the sand. He goes for the cover...
ONE!
Aimz kicks out emphatically. Red Rock gets Aimz to her feet, picks her up in a Scoop Slam, runs over towards the Pacific Ocean and throws her inside!
Truth Waters: Good lord! Red Rock just pitched Aimz into the Pacific Ocean! That water has got to be cold!
George Cassidy: At least she’s getting a much needed bath. She smells like she hasn’t bathed in about a year.
Aimz screams out in anger and in shock, as the cold water surrounds her. She tries to get to her feet, but some low tides are tripping her, sending her face first into the saturated sand. Red Rock goes after her, ready to pull her out, but Aimz has other plans. She grabs the front of the Relentless champion’s pants and throws him into the cold water. “The Anti-Hero” bellows out, feeling the cold water splashing against his bare skin. Aimz wades after him, grabs a hold of his head, and keeps it submerged underwater, trying to drown the Relentless champion!
Truth Waters: C’mon Lars! She’s gonna drown the Relentless champion! Get in there and stop her!
George Cassidy: I’m actually enjoying the mean streak in Aimz. Didn’t think it existed.
The assigned referee, Lars Larsson, runs over to the two superstars, trying to breakup the attempted murder that Aimz is trying to commit. When he gets into the water, a low tide sweeps him off his feet, sending him into the Pacific Ocean. He emerges a few seconds later, breaking up Aimz and Red Rock. “The Red Raver” gets into a pissing match with the referee, while Double R gets to his feet, trying to collect himself before deciding his next move. He runs at Aimz, who is still arguing with referee Larsson. Aimz sees the Relentless champion charging at her, so she pulls the referee in front of her, gets out of the way, and watches with a smile as RR runs referee Larsson over with a Spear!
Truth Water: What a Spear by Red Rock!
George Cassidy: Yeah. Too bad it was on the wrong person.
Red Rock gets to his feet, looking down at referee Lars Larsson, who he now realizes he just speared. He hears Aimz charging at him with some sort of weapon in her hand. She leaps into the air, flying at him, but Red Rock evades her attack, sending her into the Pacific Ocean once again. The Relentless Champion then exits the backstage area and enters ringside, where the vast throngs of fans are screaming their heads off, chanting the Relentless champion’s name...
“RED ROCK! RED ROCK! RED ROCK! RED ROCK!”
A few moments later, Aimz emerges from the backstage area and enters ringside, hunting for Red Rock. She finds him, runs after him and does a Lou Thesz Press from behind. She takes him down, mounts his back and start punching him in the back of the head, rubbing his face in the sand and suffocating him with it. Double R manages to get his opponent off his back, but Aimz is relentless. As he gets onto his knees, ready to get himself up to a vertical base, Aimz takes the Relentless champion down with a Bulldog! She rolls him over, covers him and hooks the leg.
George Cassidy: That won’t do her any good! Referee Lars Larsson is still in the backstage trying to get out of the Pacific Ocean!
Truth Waters: And it looks like Aimz has just figured that out.
She gets to her feet, grabbing a weapon from the fans. She smiles when she produces a skillet. She picks up Red Rock, raises the skillet over her head and is about to strike him with it, but the Relentless champion kicks Aimz in the gut, doubling her over and then drops the skillet. Red picks up the skillet and breaks the damn thing over the back of her head, sending her into the sand.
Truth Waters: Red Rock just broke the skillet over Aimz’s head! He’s going for the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Aimz kicks out after two.
George Cassidy: Dammit! It looks like this match is gonna take awhile.
Truth Waters: You’re probably right, Cass. We’re still in the early stages of this match-up and anything can happen.
The Relentless champion, Red Rock, picks up Aimz, jumps into the air and takes her down with a Hurricanrana, spiking her head onto the sand below. Double R picks her up, grabbing a handful of hair and drags her along with him towards the ring. He flings her into the ring. He climbs up onto the ring apron, slingshots over the top rope and drops a leg across Aimz’s throat. He goes for the cover, waiting for a referee to show up. Finally, referee Lars Larsson, runs into the ring, ready to make the count...
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out by Aimz!
Truth Waters: Aimz kicks out after the Slingshot Leg Drop!
George Cassidy: Hey! They’re not supposed to be in there, are they?
Truth Waters: I don’t see Lars doing anything about it, so I’m guessing he’s allowing it.
Red Rock gets to his feet, picks up Aimz and whips her into the ropes. Instead of rebounding off the ropes, she jumps up onto the top rope, springboards into a back flip, and catches Red with an Inverted Diving DDT, much like Garbage Bag Johnny’s Whirlwind Debris. She goes for the cover, hooking the leg and grabbing a handful of Double R’s pants...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Red Rock shoots the shoulder up!
Truth Waters: OOH! With the handful of Red Rock’s pants, Aimz can’t cheat her way to a Relentless title win!
Aimz gets to her feet, gets Red Rock to his feet, kicks him in the gut and drops him on his head with a DDT. She runs over to one of the corners, leaps onto the top turnbuckle, launches herself backward with a Moon Sault, twists herself in midair and lands with a Senton Bomb. She goes for another cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Red Rock, the current Relentless champion, kicks out!
Truth Waters: That was a beautiful Sky Twister Press Aimz did on Red Rock!
George Cassidy: A what now?
Truth Waters: That’s what the move is called, Cass. I didn’t name them.
Aimz goes in between the ring ropes, asking for a weapon. She takes a Kendo stick from one of the fans and pulls herself back into the ring. When she does this, Red Rock rolls her up with a Schoolboy, getting a handful of...skirt?
ONE!
TWO!
Aimz breaks up the count by cracking the Kendo stick over Red Rock’s head.
George Cassidy: Aimz just brained Red Rock with that Kendo stick shot right in the head!
Truth Waters: No kidding! That shot echoed through the arena!
George Cassidy Truth, this is broadcasted outside.
Truth Waters: Oh, my bad. Force of habit.
Aimz gets to her feet, Kendo stick still in possession. When Red Rock gets to his knees, Aimz swings at his head, connecting with Double R’s right temple, sending Rock on his side. She picks him up again, sets the Kendo stick across Red Rock’s throat and sends him backwards with a Side Russian Leg Sweep. She goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Red Rock shoots his right shoulder up. Aimz asks for a more substantial weapon, and a fan tosses a chair into the ring. She catches it, unfolds it and places it in the middle of the ring. She gets the Relentless champion up to the vertical base and whips him into the ropes. As she rebounds off the ropes, Aimz does a Drop Toehold, sending him face first into the seat of the chair. His face bounces off the chair and falls onto his back, clutching at his face with both hands.
Truth Waters: Drop Toehold right into the chair! Red Rock’s gotta be bleeding after that!
George Cassidy: And it looks like you’re right, Truth! Red Rock is now wearing a crimson mask!
Aimz rushes over to Red Rock, goes for the cover and hooks the leg...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Red Rock will not be denied. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Aimz gets to her feet, grabs Red Rock by his hair and gets him to a vertical base. She tries to whip him into the ropes, but Red Rock reverses, whipping “The Red Raver” into the ropes. He catches her in the face with a Jumping Calf Kick, forcing Aimz to eat a face full of calf. Getting to his feet, he starts wiping blood from his face and eyes. He bends over, picks up Aimz and gets her to her feet. He spins around with a textbook spinning back kick, doubling “The Red Raver” over. Afterwards, he grabs both sides of her head, drops to a knee and slams her face into his knee. He folds up the chair and places it over Aimz’s face. He runs over to the ropes, bounces off them and jumps into the air, planting both feet onto the chair, intensifying the Double Foot Stomp on Aimz’s face! He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Aimz shoots the shoulder up.
Truth Waters: Jesus... What a Double Foot Stomp by Red Rock right on the chair! Aimz’s got a broken face after that, there’s no questioning it!
George Cassidy: Indeed, Truth. She’s twitching like a fish on the ground right now!
Red Rock rolls out of the ring, looking underneath the ring to see if there’s something of use in it. He pulls out a table (which is surprising to have tables underneath the ring at the beach J-Bone Ed.) and slides it in the ring. He moves Aimz out of the way, sets up the table in the middle of the ring and pulls out something from his side pocket.
George Cassidy: What the hell is that, Truth?
Truth Waters: Oh my God, Cass... That’s a small bottle of gasoline!
Indeed, Truth Waters is right. Red Rock opens the bottle and starts squirting gasoline on the table. When he’s done, he takes out a book of matches, breaks a match off, lights it and it sets the table ablaze. The Huntington Beach fans are screaming their heads off now at the sight of the flaming table. The Relentless champion gets Aimz to a vertical base and whips her into the nearest corner. She goes chest first into the corner, bounces off and lands backward hard onto her back. Double R picks her up, straddles her onto the top turnbuckle (having her facing away from the ring) and then turns around, slowly stepping onto the first turnbuckle, while lifting Aimz in a Crucifix Power Bomb position.
Truth Waters: Oh, God, what’s gonna happen? I don’t like there this is going!
George Cassidy: Oh, I do, Truth! This is gonna be extreme!
With Aimz over his head in a Crucifix position, Red Rock slowly climbs up the turnbuckle, keeping his balance as much as possible. When he gets to the top turnbuckle, he leaps forward towards the flaming table. In midair, Red tosses Aimz forward. Instead of allowing her to drop, the Relentless champion grabs a hold of her skirt and drives her through the flaming table with a top rope Splash Mountain! The fans are on their feet, chanting these two words...
“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”
Truth & George: OH MY GOD!
Both superstars are laying in the middle of the ring motionless. Aimz is splayed on the canvas, laying on top of the remains of the burning table. Red Rock looks to be out as well, exuding so much energy into performing the top rope Splash Mountain. Double R is the first one to move around a little bit, trying to collect himself. He drapes an arm, covering Aimz...
Truth Waters: This is got to be over. No one can come back from this...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Aimz shoots the shoulder up?!
George Cassidy: What? WHAT?!
Truth Waters: Sweet Jesus! Aimz is still in this match!
George Cassidy: How the hell? How in the HELL is she still in this match? She should be done!
Truth Waters: But she isn’t done yet, Cass! She still got something left in her!
Red Rock pushes the remains of the table out of the ring and grabs a weapon from the fans: a wooden baseball bat. But this isn’t a regular baseball bat, no, it’s a baseball bat wrapped with every hardcore wrestler’s favorite garnish: barbed wire!
George Cassidy: I was wondering when a barbed wire wrapped weapon was gonna come into play. You can’t have a Relentless title match without a little barbed wire!
Truth Waters: And Red Rock is in possession of the weapon!
Aimz is slowly coming to, gingerly getting to her feet. Her hand brushes against a chair and grabs a hold of it. When she gets up, she sees Red Rock waiting for her, with a barbwire bat over his head. The Relentless champion brings the weapon down, aiming for “The Red Raver’s” head, but Aimz blocks “The Anti-Hero’s” shot by bringing up the chair. The force of the blow forces both superstars to lose their weapons. Aimz is the first one to kick Red in the gut and sends him face first into the barbwire bat. Rock squeals in pain as the barbwire penetrates deep into his flesh, causing the Relentless champion to bleed profusely.
Truth Waters: Oh my! Red Rock goes face first into the barbwire bat! He’s bleeding like a stuck pig!
George Cassidy: Aimz is running towards the ropes! What’s she gonna do now?
After rebounding off the ropes, she launches herself up into the air, about to do some aerial attack when Red Rock got his feet. The move backfires, however when Red swings the deadly weapon into Aimz’s forehead, sticking the razor wire deep into her flesh. She pulls the weapon out of her forehead, as blood pours down her face.
George Cassidy: We got ourselves a bleeding contest now!
Truth Waters: And it looks like Aimz is in the lead at the moment!
It’s time for Red Rock to end this match. He picks up Aimz, whips her into the corner and sends her front first. Normally he’ll showboat, but not this time. Instead he runs at Aimz, executes his rolling spinning heel kick into her back. When Red gets to his feet, he locks in a Sleeper Hold, lifts her into the air and drops her on the back of her head with an Elevated Inverted DDT.
George Cassidy: RDT! Red Rock hit the RDT!
Truth Waters: He’s going for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Referee Lars Larsson calls for the bell as “Blame Thrower” by Reuben plays on the PA system. Ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner.
James Brunt: The winner and STILL AWC Relentless champion... RED ROCK!
Truth Waters: His winning streak moves up to ten wins, and he is still the Relentless champion! What a match this was!
George Cassidy: WOO! You go, Red Rock! You taught that bitch a lesson in the fine arts of relentless wrestling!
Truth Waters: The Ruby Diner Match for the Countdown Trophy is up next! Will Vince Jones be able to fend off seven other superstars and keep his trophy? We’re about to find out!
In Times Like These Everyone Needs Friends...
FEATURING: Vince Jones & DUI
AUTHOR: JAY & COLBY
The camera fades into a locker room where the two founding fathers of Delta Upsilon Iota can be seen getting ready for their upcoming lumberjack duties later on in the show…with some good old fashioned pre-gaming. Crushed beer cans lie all over the floor with Colby and Hank now down to their last pair. Hank raises his final can of beer in the air and looks at it in disappointment.
Hank: Ah hell, this ain’t good.
Colby: Yeah. This sucks. This couldn’t get any worse.
All of a sudden the door swings open and in steps ‘The Violence’ Vince Jones with Countdown Trophy, Louisville Slugger baseball bat and all. Colby and Hank turn toward him, greeting Jones with blank stares.
Colby: Nevermind.
Vince nods his head and greets them both.
Vince Jones: What up?
Colby and Hank: (in unison and a bit disinterested) Hey...
Vince Jones: Well, you two don’t have to act so fuckin’ excited to see V. Jones here and all.
Colby: Don’t worry. We weren’t planning to…
Vince begins fuming with anger at the lack of respect he’s receiving in the room right about now, but he manages to calm himself down and keep his head on straight.
Vince Jones: Aiight. That’s cool.
Hank Cobb: Well ya barged in here makin’ more noise than a hound dog with a harelip so the way I figure you probably have yourself a reason.
Vince Jones: Well, it turns out that V’s gettin’ dicked around by the powers that be up in A Dubb Cee and shit. That ain’t right. With all the shit that V. Jones be doin’ to keep this place goin’ you’d think a thug like V’d be able to get some fuckin’ love around this joint…
Colby and Hank finish their beers and begin yawning.
Vince Jones: …but that shit ain’t the fuckin’ case. So what if V. Jones spit in Pierce Lavelle’s face last week? V. Jones was merely expressing himself and shit when he did that.
Colby: (nods) Uhh…yeah. I’m sure that’s exactly what you were going for, self-expression.
Hank: (coughs) Horseshit! (coughs)
Vince Jones: Hell yeah! That’s exactly what V. Jones was goin’ for at the moment. V was sendin’ Pierce’s bitch ass a message.
Hank: Yeah, yeah, yeah. And he sent you a nice little message right afterwards when he tossed you right out of that battle royale.
Vince Jones: (snarls) Why we gotta talk about old shit, huh?
Hank and Colby simultaneously crush their now empty beer cans against their foreheads, toss them to the ground, and turn their attention back toward Vince.
Colby: Alright. So how bout we fast forward to the part of this conversation that we’re actually supposed to care about Jonesy?
Hank: Yeah. We’re fixin’ to tailgate your little lumberjack match. And that may or may not include beatin’ the tar out of you if you get out of line…
Vince Jones: (nods) Yeah. And that’s what V wanted to holla at you two about. You two lumberjackin’ tonight and shit in a very important match.
Colby: If you say so.
Vince Jones: Oh, V knows so. See you two (points at Colby and Hank) got a lot of power right now. You two could be a factor in determinin’ who walkin’ outta Cali tonight with a shot at the Trans-Atlantic title and shit. You two also could be determinin’ who walks out this joint with my baby (flashes the Countdown Trophy in their faces) right here.
Hank: And?
Vince Jones: V. Jones got a whole helluva a lot of enemies in their tonight and he lookin’ for some insurance. You two down?
Colby: So tell me what’s in it for us.
Vince Jones: (rolling his eyes) Do you two honestly give a fuck ‘bout cats like that Garbage Pail Kid, Darcy Crisis, Teresa Tomas, Anton Assault, and the rest of those bitch mades entering that match tonight.
Hank: I reckon not…although I do kinda like that Thomas girl.
Vince Jones: (nods in agreement) Exactly!
Colby: Yeah, and last time we checked we don’t really care much for you either.
Vince Jones: (nods his a bit slower this time) Is that so? Well, you cats oughta be down with V.
Colby: And why is that?
Vince Jones: Well, look at it like this. V. Jones sees himself as…(thinking up BS explanation) representin’ the cats in A Dubb Cee that just don’t give a fuck, the cats that do whateva, wheneva. Yeah. That’s it.
Colby and Hank both fold their arms across their chest sending a clear message to Vince that they’re not buying his crap.
Vince Jones: Think about it like this. If that bitch ass Pearl and that Frankenbitch of a woman, Sasha can get over on V. Jones for just spittin’ in somebody’s face where the fuck will all this controllin’ shit end, huh? Think about that shit for a sec. What’s next? They might try to tell you two you can’t drink no more. And that’d be some fucked up shit!
Hank turns to Colby a bit shocked by the thought.
Hank: Hell, he may be right. What if they did try to take our beer away, Colby?
Colby: (to Hank) Pull yourself together, man. They wouldn’t do that. I don’t think they would.
Vince Jones: (grinning) Say those bitches won’t.
Colby: I don’t think we’re buying what you’re selling. You’d have to come at us with a little bit more than that, man.
Vince Jones: (nods) Hmmm…you two strike a hard bargain and shit. V didn’t think he’d have to do this, but he guess he gonna have to to drop the bomb on you two with his final offer.
Vince steps out the locker room for a moment and Colby and Hank look at one another in confusion. All of a sudden Vince returns with a small cooler and hand. He looks around hoping nobody is watching.
Vince Jones: You two like drinking?
Colby and Hanks: (in unison) Of course.
Vince Jones: Well, you two agree to help ya boy V out a lil tonight and this cooler is yours.
Vince shakes it and the contents can be heard rattling around inside to the delight of Colby and Hank.
Vince Jones: So, we got a deal here?
Hank: Hell yeah you do.
Vince Jones looks around in suspicion and motions for them to be quiet about this. He slips them the cooler as if he’s doing a drug deal.
Vince Jones: Aiight. Let the good times roll. V out. See you two lata.
Vince exits and Colby and Hank look down at the cooler in excitement. They open it up and their expressions sour as their eyes are greeted by 40s of malt liquor.
Colby: Malt liquor? Oh fuck no.
Hank: That boy’s a dead man.
The camera fades out to black.
The Anti-Climax
FEATURING: Wesley Reno, Pierre Perroquet & Maddy Estelle
AUTHOR: DAVE LARKIN
We fade in to the medic’s office once again, where Wesley Reno is still handcuffed to the table and blindfolded, completely unaware what is about to happen next. Reno has begun to sweat, either due to nervousness or uncertainty of what Estelle has planned. Reno had never done anything this raunchy before. The curtain is opened by someone, but Reno is unsure who it is.
Maddy Estelle: It’s me, baby. I’m back to make you the luckiest employee in AWC… tonight. I mean, I’ve probably done everyone here once before.
Estelle’s comment does not settle Reno’s nerves. Just as Estelle begins to straddle Reno once again, he hesitates and prevents her from taking advantage of his current position.
Wesley Reno: Wait a second, Mandy! I don’t think I’m prepared to do this here. What if someone walked in and saw us? We’d never live it down.
Reno’s hushed, anxious tone amuses Estelle. She shakes her head and throws her blonde hair back over her shoulder.
Maddy Estelle: It’s too late now, anyway, Wes. I’ve already invited a friend. Pierre, come on in!
Reno sits up for a moment, although he cannot see who is walking through the curtain. Estelle giggles wildly as new AWC interviewer Pierre Perroquet enters the medic’s office. Perroquet is dressed in a smart short-sleeved shirt and black shorts. He is absolutely shocked by what he is seeing, and grabs Estelle by the shoulder in amazement.
Pierre Perroquet: Maddy, vat is it zat you have done to zis poor man? In France, zis kind of sing is illegal, non?
Perroquet’s trusty parrot, who resides on his shoulder, backs him up with a raucous cry.
Wesley Reno: You bitch! How dare you trick me into this? I’ve got powerful friends in the political world, you know! You’ll regret this!
Estelle turns to Perroquet, shaking her head in disgust.
Maddy Estelle: I know I’m a slut, but he’s just too whiny to ride. Really, I couldn’t do it to myself. I’d be hearing his voice in my head all night screaming “You’re going too hard” or “Do I really have to wear protection?”. He’s too amateurish in the sex department for me.
Pierre Perroquet: Zis is sumsing I must send to mes amis en France. Zey vil enjoy zis, zis vista!
Perroquet takes out his camera phone and quickly takes a photograph of Reno on the steel table. Reno hears the click, and almost goes insane with rage.
Maddy Estelle: So the French are really into this stuff, then?
Perroquet nods.
Pierre Perroquet: Oui! Ve enjoy many, many erotic sings such as zis on a daily basis! Now zat vil be all. I believe zis young man has a match in a few minutes. Toute de suite!
Estelle removes the blindfold and handcuffs, Reno slightly dizzy as he stands up too quickly from lying down on the table and causes himself to experience a head rush. Reno staggers through the curtain, breaking it off the railing in the process. He adjusts his tights and gets his bearings as he heads down the corridor, completely taken aback by what has just happened to him.
Wesley Reno: First I get seduced and tied to a table, now I have to wrestle on a pier… what is up with this place?
Estelle and Perroquet can be heard exchanging jokes as Reno heads down towards the ring. Perroquet’s parrot echoes the famous words of a certain MTV show as we fade out.
Parrot of Perroquet: Caaaawww… Reno got punk’d! Reno got punk’d!
All in the Family
FEATURING: Teresa Tomas, Tiara & Wayne Russell
AUTHOR: SONYA & ADAM
The door of a make-shift locker room swings open. Inside are Tiara and Wayne Russell sitting side by side on the bench conversing with one another. The air conditioning unit placed in the window kicks on and the low hum of the motor fills the room as the fan begins to turn. The couple immediately turns their attention to the uninvited guest. Wayne simply stares and Tiara rolls her eyes.
Tiara: Teresa, what are YOU doing here? No one invited you.
Wayne continues to keep his silence as he watches the slender figure in cut-off denim shorts and camouflage tank top slam the door behind her. Tiara caught her husband staring and elbowed him in the gut.
Teresa We need to talk.
Tiara Talk? About what? Let me guess…your sorry excuse of a father?
Within seconds Teresa lunges for Tiara and slams her back against the wall. She has the nearly equally built woman pinned with both hand tightly around her neck.
Teresa: Listen you little bitch! I don’t have the patience for you petty games. You gonna give me some freaking answers right here and now or I’m gonna choke that pretty neck of yours till you’re blue in the face.
Suddenly, Teresa feels a pair of masculine hands grasp her arms causing her to break her hold on Tiara. During her sudden impulse of violence, she had forgotten Wayne was even in the room. Before she could pull herself out of his grasp, he had her arms pinned behind her back with a vice grip. She wasn’t getting out of this one.
Meanwhile, Tiara rubs her newly bruised neck regaining her breath. She approaches Teresa and gives her an ice cold stare and a powerful backhand across the face. Teresa’s head swings to the side and the look she gives Tiara afterwards could cut through steel. Teresa struggles to break free, but Wayne tightens his grip causing her to be even more immobile.
Tiara I have something I want to give you. After what you just done to me, you probably don’t deserve it.
Teresa watches as Tiara walks to a locker, opens the door and pulls out a brown leather purse. Tiara pulls out a wallet-sized photo and shows it to Teresa.
Tiara See that?! Doesn’t that tell you anything? Let her go Wayne.
Wayne Russell releases his grip on Teresa and steps back keeping an eye on the Redneck Princess just in case she should decide to through a punch or two at his wife. Teresa takes the photo from Tiara and looks at it confusingly.
Teresa Wait, that’s my mother, but younger. Where did you get this?
Tiara Oh, I found it in a box of old family pictures in my father’s closet. I never knew who that woman was with my father until I met you. You look just like her except for your chin.
Teresa takes her eyes off the photo and stares to Tiara bewildered.
Teresa That man in this picture with my mother…is your father?
Tiara nods. Bitterness coats her words as she speaks.
Tiara Yes.
Teresa So, all this you hating me shit is because your dad and my mom had a relationship?
TiaraAn affair Teresa! They had an affair!
Tiara’s eyes are now piercing through Teresa’s. Teresa glares back with her free hand curled in a tight fist.
TeresaThat’s bullshit! My mother loved my father. She’d never cheat on him!
TiaraShe loved your father so much, you’re the result!
Teresa …..
Tiara steps back as Teresa absorbs this new information.
TiaraThink about it Teresa. Your father isn’t the man you thought he was. I told you that two weeks ago. Your saint of a mother is nothing but an adulteress whore and you should have never been born.
Teresa lunges for Tiara once more, this time knocking the woman to the floor. Her hands clench around her neck and her thumbs press firm against Tiara’s throat. Wayne immediately come to his wife’s rescue by wrapping his arms around Teresa’s small waist and pulls her off his wife. Tiara sits up gasping for air. Teresa breaks free of Wayne’s grasp and rushes out of the locker room.
Wayne:Welcome to the family!
The couple exchanges a chuckle as they watch Teresa heads toward her locker room.
WayneSweetheart, you never told me you had a sister.
TiaraIf you had a half sister like that, would you be telling people?
Wayne Hmmm…good point.
Danger! Action! Fitness!
FEATURING: Darcy Crisis, Inebriated Young Girl, Luis Ferrara, Anton Assault
AUTHOR: OBI & NATE
The camera switches back to beachside, where Darcy Crisis is surrounded by several dozen screaming beachgoers. He is not dressed in wrestling gear, but rather a dark blue pair of swim trunks edging down past his knees. A pair of silver Oakleys shield his eyes from the California sun as the crowd around him begins screaming their heads off, delighted to be appearing on television.
Darcy Crisis: Hey HEY, what’s happening everybody? What would a Fresh!special deep here in the heart of SoCal be without California’s own native son…not to mention any of these native born sons and daughters here with me?
The crowd screams again in delight, rivaling the senseless cheering rivaling that of only Times Square during an episode of Total Request Live.
Darcy Crisis: WOO! That’s right. Wow, I feel like Carson Daly over here, only a million times less gay. But as excited as I am to be back here in California to put on a show for all of you, I’ve got something here in store for our European viewers at home. As some of you know by now, my good friend Tony Little has signed a deal with the AWC to promote his Fitness Quest ® Tony Little Gazelle over on the European tour. He couldn’t make it over here for the Fresh!special here in Huntington Beach, but he sent me, the D-Masta-C in his place to show all of you just how much America loves the Tony Little Gazelle.
Darcy turns to the crowd standing around him, wondering who would be willing to rave about how much they love Tony Little and his fitness techniques. After a few moments he settles on the perfect candidate – a young girl clad in a black bikini who is currently double-fisting two bottles of Corona Lite and appears to be enjoying herself perhaps a bit too much.
Darcy Crisis: Hey, how bout you there miss? What can you tell me about how much the Gazelle has done for you?
Young Girl: Heeeeeeeeeyy, CaliFORNIA!! My name is BECKY, and I love TONY LITTLE!!! WOOOOOO!!!
Darcy Crisis: Right on! We all certainly love Tony, as he’s helped us achieve fitness goals never before thought possible. Would you like to share a little bit of your story with us?
Becky: I’ll TELL youwhat Iloveabout Tony...
Becky mumbles something incoherently before collapsing face first into the sand. The nearby crowd falls silent for a moment before cheering wildly once more.
Darcy Crisis: Riveting…okay, contingency plan…
Luckily, the crowd seems to be quite alright with this flop of a hype for Tony Little’s gazelle, as they break into an impromptu “DARCY! DARCY!” chant. After a few moments of this, Darcy has his contingency plan.
Darcy Crisis: Oh, that’s right! Next week, AWC will be promoting another Fresh!special, this time at the Sea-Front in Anapa, Russia. And right there, Mr. Tony Little himself will be giving away to one lucky European fan a brand-spanking new Gazelle, custom built by Tony himself…along with your VERY OWN….2006 Bayliner 215 Classic SPORT BOAT! If I can get these fine folks to part the proverbial waters here for me, I can give you a look at what I’m talking about here.
The crowd near Darcy obediently steps aside as the camera pans out to see a large white speed boat parked at a nearby dock, with a ruby-red Tony Little Gazelle standing proudly in the middle of it.
Darcy Crisis: So be sure to tune in next week to see who takes home this lovely…
Without warning, the boat appears to start on its own. For some reason it was left untied to the dock, and as the motor begins churning the boat slowly lurches out toward the ocean. The crowd cheers wildly, believing that this is part of the act, but Darcy knows better.
Darcy Crisis: Oh, son-of-a….RUNAWAY BOAT!!!
Darcy tears off in the direction of the dock, but upon reaching the ledge he can only look on helplessly as the boat is now much too far away for him to reach in time. The boat makes a phantom right turn and begins heading back toward the beach when the boat vivaciously explodes, capturing the attention of everyone on the beach as the blast is almost unbearably loud, and a huge fountain of water now stands where the Gazelle-piloted speed boat stood only seconds before.
Darcy's jaw hangs down to where it nearly rests on his chest as he stares out at the catastrophe. Of course, there is always a soothing voice when things like this arise. Calm you down, make you realize it's not so bad. That's what Darcy needs, so the benevolent dictator in the heavens has sent him just that.
Voice: Aww, look't Miss Economic Crisis ovuh heah. Sad yuh boat blew up? Man, I know how it is, y'understand.
And, as always, it gets fucked up in the bureaucratic stage.
Darcy whips around to see Luis Ferrara standing in front of him in his impeccable white zoot suit, holding a black remote controller in both hands. Behind him is Anton Assault, clad in a dashiki and still looking imposing, a black shape in the summer sun.
Darcy Crisis: You… you motherfu—
Luis Ferrara: Cuban Missle! Iran Hostage! C'mon! Don't use words like that, y'understand. Yuh lezbo domme might get mad atcha. Hear she's pickin' up some new shit from Chainz.
Darcy Crisis: You have no idea, do you!? No idea at all what you've done!
Luis Ferrara wears a thin smile on his lips. Darcy fumes.
Darcy Crisis: Tony is gonna have my nuts for this, you idiot! You slimy little… goddammit! I could crush your face in right here!
Luis blinks and glances back up at the Lion who is in the process of gathering up his dashiki in preparation for a fight. He stops, eyeing Darcy to make sure that this is what Darcy wants. Once he takes off the dashiki, Anton is going to do all he can to turn Darcy's face into pure liquid. All three men realize this.
Darcy Crisis: Do you think you're gonna stop me? You think that your little striptease scares me, think it's gonna prevent me from knocking this little shit over?
Luis lifts a finger and Darcy's head snaps back towards the Venezuelan.
Luis Ferrara: Shut yuh damn mouth, Sudetenland. You ain't gonna do shit. You know why? Because youse Tony Little's bitch, and fuck if that ain't somethin', y'understand. Way I see it is when we get to Russia, you gonna bend over an' hope—and beg!—that Tony Little plugs it right up yuh's A-hole jus' like he always does. So when I'm walkin' down th' halls an' I hear yuh's screamin…
Luis smirks.
Luis Ferrara: I know there ain't a pressin' crisis, but there is a Crisis bein' pressed, y'understand.
Darcy snarls and takes a step forward, but Luis shoves the remote into Darcy's chest and turns on his heel, walking away. Darcy and Anton share a heated glare before Anton whirls about on his heel, falling in behind his manager. Darcy clutches the black control in his hands, shuddering for a bit before twisting and hurling the thing as far as he can into the ocean.
The Prodigal King
FEATURING: Pearl Harber & Sasha Volkyeva
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Huntington Beach pier is perhaps not the best place for an intimate stroll. Even on the quietest of days, it is frequented by fishermen; tramped up by tourists; selected by surfers. But tonight, Atlantic Wrestling Club is putting on a big outdoor wrestling show, and the pier has two long lines of excited fans along its edges, sandwiched between security barriers both for protection from a plunge, and prohibition from the promenade, along which David Harber and Sasha Volkyeva are currently walking.
Harber, who has to ignore the cheers and autograph proposals and camera flashes and attempted back-slaps from the fans in order to talk with Volkyeva, is appropriately dressed in multi-coloured board shorts and a half-open orange Hawaiian shirt. His hair has been cut short for the occasions and the flip-flops on his feet portray a casual aura. Sasha Volkyeva’s cream dress was probably well-judged back in the hotel mirror, but the sun exposes her pale Russian skin with the light colour doing her no favours in appearing anything other than pasty next to the California fashions.
Sasha Volkyeva: (having to raise her voice to be heard above the crowd) Quite a show, David!
Harber nods.
Pearl: Certainly is... though this next match is gonna step it up a notch.
Sasha Volkyeva: And this is for the contendership to the belt?
Pearl: That’s right.
Sasha Volkyeva: The belt will be defended by... by Ellis Nash or Pierce Lavelle... against the winner of this diner match?
Pearl: Correct. At Coast To Coast.
Sasha Volkyeva: So where does Garbage Bag Johnny come into things?
Pearl frowns.
Pearl: I told you, Sasha. I clarified that Garbage Bag’s Zero 2 Hero win entitles him to a shot at Adam Dick’s crown.
Sasha Volkyeva: But Dick has gone!
Harber spreads his arms wide.
Pearl: Not our problem. As far as we know, the Coast To Coast main event one side of the Atlantic is Adam Dick versus Garbage Bag for the crown. It’s up to Garbage to make sure his buddy shows up to drop the crown to him.
Sasha Volkyeva: So assuming that Adam comes to Coast To Coast and loses to Garbage Bag Johnny... what happens?
Pearl: That’s step one towards reunifying the Transatlantic title as it should be. To desanction any title belt you need the consent of the champion, so either we negotiate some deal with Garbage Bag Johnny, or we have a blow-off at the pay-per-view after Coast To Coast – the belt champion against the crown champion; winner takes all and reunifies. Simple.
Sasha Volkyeva: And if Adam Dick wins?
Harber takes a breath.
Pearl: Then we need a new plan.
I Know Something...
FEATURING: Vince Jones & Shawn Harris
AUTHOR: JAY & JEFF
We go backstage where we see Vince Jones walking out of his locker-room with Jasmine in tow. They don’t get far however until Shawn Harris walks up to him, Vince Jones is ready to do it right there but Jasmine holds him back.
Vince Jones: What the fuck do you want?!
Shawn Harris: I’ll tell you Vince. I’ve just found out some information about you.
Vince Jones: Bitch, you lucky V don’t attack you right now for the shit you pulled last week, you put your hands on Jasmine!
Shawn Harris: Actually I put my foot on Jasmine when I blasted her in the chin with a Shadow Kick, it felt good too, don’t interrupt me or I’ll do it again.
Vince tries to push past Jasmine but she almost begs him not to attack Shawn.
Vince Jones: What the hell are you talking about?
Shawn Harris: Well let’s say that I know someone you know… personally. Someone that’ll be revealed soon enough unless my demands are met. You will come to realise Vince that despite that trophy you carry around, I’m that much higher than you are in the food chain.
Vince Jones: You think this matters to me more than Jasmine or anyone else? Fact is you’re not good enough to challenge for the trophy, you’re the curtain jerker now Shawn.
Shawn Harris: Heh, we’ll see. Jasmine, if you want to find out more about what I know that Vince won’t tell you, give me a call.
Shawn smirks at the angered Vince and walks off down the corridor
Ruby's Surf City Diner Match//Countdown Trophy Match
STIPULATION: COUNTDOWN
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR:JOSH K.
Truth Waters: It’s finally time for one of the most complicated and potentially insane matches in AWC History, the Ruby’s Surf City Diner Lumberjack match for the number one contendership at the AWC Transatlantic Title. The winner of this match will go on to face the winner of tonight’s main event between Pierce Lavelle and Ellis Nash, the two winners of the East and West Invitational Battle Royals.
George Cassidy: That’s quite a mouthful there, Truth. This match looks like a recipe for disaster to me, and I’m loving it.
Truth Waters: Indeed, and I’m not through. This match also doubles as a Countdown Trophy match. If Vince Jones is pinned at any point throughout the match, we’ll see a new Countdown Trophy holder. Otherwise, to be eliminated from this match, a competitor has to not only be thrown out of the diner, but also tossed into the Pacific Ocean by one of the most interesting assemblies of lumberjacks I’ve seen in quite some time.
The camera pans around the outside of Ruby’s Surf City Diner. On the oval balcony around the diner, Hank Cobb and Colby Corver sit in lawn chairs, angrily drinking 40s before they start on the keg in between them. Wayne and Tiara Belle Russell are in another spot talking. Phil Allen is warming up with some jumping jacks. Even Tony Little is out there, working out on a gazelle in front of the entrance! Suddenly, two audience members jump over the barrier and start walking down the pier.
Truth Waters: By God! That’s the Texas Wrecking Crew, Pitt Hix and Xavier Black! What the hell are they doing here?
George Cassidy: Special guest lumberjacks, I presume- or maybe they’re just trying to get something to eat.
Truth Waters: Well, for this event, the restaurant has been cleared out of staff and patrons in the interests of safety and not getting sued. Harber’s going to have to pay out enough to repair damages after eight of the hungriest wrestlers in AWC tear the diner apart.
George Cassidy: Well, I’m glad we don’t have to sit through eight unbearably long entrances. The wrestlers and referee Richie Travis are already inside, and I’m ready to start this match.
The camera cuts to inside Ruby’s Surf City Diner where all eight competitors (Anton Assault, Darcy Crisis, Garbage Bag Johnny, Vince Jones, Tim Martin, Wesley Reno, Angelus Sorrow, and Teresa Tomas) stand apart from each other all looking towards Richie Travis, a man with a painfully tough task of regulation ahead of him. Travis raises his arm and signals for the match to start. Angelus Sorrow is the first to make a move, rushing towards Tim Martin and meeting the big bigot with a blow to the head that is returned and then traded. Vince Jones scuffles past some tables to assist Angelus, and the unlikely duo gain the advantage and pummel Tim into a sitting position in one of the booths. Vince Jones grabs Tim by the hair and slams his head down onto the table top in front of him. Angelus Sorrow tries to get a shot in, but Vince Jones pushes him away. Jones grabs Tim Martin’s head again, but Sorrow comes back into the shot, smacking Vince Jones in the head with a bottle of ketchup. V goes down, and Angelus covers him.
ONE!
TWO!
Vince Jones kicks out.
Truth Waters: Vince Jones almost lost the trophy right off the bat! It’s going to be tough for him to retain with all of these high caliber competitors around.
George Cassidy: If you ask me, I think this is unfair punishment. So what if he spit on Pierce Lavelle? A little bit of black man’s saliva may actually encourage growth in Lavelle’s pierce.
Meanwhile, Garbage Bag Johnny is standing in the middle of the diner, unsuspecting, when suddenly, D Masta C, Darcy Crisis rockets off of several of the tabletops, connecting with a flying elbow smash that sends GBJ reeling against a column. Darcy quickly takes advantage, hammering GBJ with alternating punches to the ribs, trying to stiffen up his Divide and Conquer bester. GBJ absorbs the blows with his arms over his head, and Darcy is too intent on pummeling the unblocked ribs that he is completely oblivious to the fact that GBJ is using his hands to lift a clock off of the wall. Garbage Bag Johnny smashes the face of the clock right over the top of Darcy’s skull. Darcy goes down like a sack of bricks, and GBJ carries the broken clock away.
George Cassidy: Ha ha! Garbage Bag just clocked Darcy Crisis!
Truth Waters: That was terrible, George. Shameless.
Meanwhile, Wesley Reno, having no real beef with anyone as well as the least experience of any of the competitors in this match notices Anton stalking him. He backs up slightly only to bump into someone else, Teresa Tomas. Wesley slowly turns around, just in time to duck under a fierce roundhouse kick from Teresa. Now having Teresa’s back, Wesley tries to lift Teresa up for a back suplex. Teresa backflips out of the suplex and ducks a clothesline as Wesley turns around and his momentum carries him right into a close-quarters spear from Anton Assault. Anton turns his attention to Teresa Tomas as he gets up, stopping a punch, wrenching her arm and knocking her to the tile with a short arm clothesline.
Truth Waters: A lot of crazy carnage going on right now, but the pace is bound to slow down as wrestlers get eliminated. George Cassidy: I should’ve volunteered as a lumberjack. Then maybe I could help DUI with that keg. That would make this mess a lot easier to handle.
Tim Martin recovers in the booth as Angelus Sorrow now has Vince Jones back to his feet. Angelus has driven Vince towards the next booth, and has Vince’s back against the table with a hand around V’s throat. He pulls Vince Jones in, and with his other hand presses Vince Jones overhead. Powerfully, Angelus Sorrow military presses Vince Jones over the table and into the window. Jones crashes off the glass and lands hard on the table.
Truth Waters: What power by Angelus Sorrow! He made Vince Jones look like a toy Vince Jones pull and say robot!
George Cassidy: They make those now? I must have one. No! I must have twelve of them! You bitches have been addressed!
Truth Waters: For those of you at home, George has been saying that nonstop during commercial breaks.
Garbage Bag Johnny, wielding a misshapen clock hobbles over to Tim Martin who’s recovering in the booth. Garbage Bag lifts the clock over his head to brain Tim, but Tim comes out from playing possum and sends a jab right into GBJ’s stomach. Garbage Bag Johnny drops the clock and hunches over, and Tim gets up from the booth, sliding Garbage Bag across the seating until GBJ’s face smacks into the wall. Tim then pulls Garbage Bag Johnny out from the booth by the feet. GBJ smacks onto the floor and Tim Martin begins laying the boots to him. Meanwhile, Darcy gets up, looking for action, but not without a diner chair. He finds Anton Assault coordinating ground attacks to keep Teresa Tomas and Wesley Reno simultaneously subdued. Darcy surprises Anton from behind with a chair shot to the back. Anton cringes, but doesn’t go down, and Darcy sets the chair down and puts Anton in a reverse facelock pulling his back over the chair before dropping an elbow across Anton’s throat.
Truth Waters: Darcy showing some signs of fight here in front of his hometown crowd.
George Cassidy: I hear Darcy’s mom’s in the crowd. She’s one major MILF.
Truth Waters: Please, George. You’re supposed to be representing AWC.
Out of nowhere, Teresa Tomas is to her feet and then on top of one of the booth tables. She leaps off with a moonsault that takes Darcy Crisis, Anton Assault, and the chair all crashing to a pile of bodies on the ground, the chair rolling to a stop. Teresa gingerly gets up and turns around with her fist raised victoriously, but Wesley Reno jabs the fallen chair backrest first into Teresa’s stomach. Teresa hunches over, grabbing her gut, and Wesley Reno stands the chair up before flipping Teresa up for a powerbomb. With Teresa set up on his shoulders, Wesley runs forward, springboarding off of the chair and bombing Teresa down right into the pile of Darcy and Anton on the floor!
George Cassidy: Politicians are all dicks, Truth, but I liked that move by Wesley Reno. I can’t believe California was dumb enough to elect Arnold Schwarzenegger to govern them. I hate California.
Truth Waters: Not the most qualified man for the job, but at least it wasn’t Gary Coleman.
On the other side of the diner, Angelus Sorrow has climbed on the booth with Jones working his way to his feet on top of the table. Sorrow sends a shoulder into the Countdown Trophy Holder’s gut, and Jones hunches over. Sorrow lifts Vince Jones up for a suplex, but Jones, relying on instinct slides around Sorrow’s back landing on the booth seat behind him. Jones garbs Sorrow in an inverted facelock and lifts him vertical, falling onto the booth table behind him! The table collapses under the force of the Silencer!
George Cassidy: Angelus Sorrow…hold on.
George Cassidy pulls a cord on his newly acquired Vince Jones robot.
Vince Jones Robot: Bitches, you have just been addressed!
Truth Waters: Where the hell did you get that?
George Cassidy: I stole it from some kid.
Truth Waters: You’re a despicable human being, George.
As Tim Martin stops stomping on GBJ to see the wreckage over by the broken table. GBJ begins army crawling away, and Tim Martin lifts up one of the menus in a holder on the table. Behind the menu is a copy of the most popular book of all time, The Da Vinci Code. And behind that book is the Holy Bible. Tim walks over to the wreckage and pulls Vince Jones up, tossing him out of the way into some tables and chairs in the middle of the diner. Jones is quicker to his feet than Tim would expect, though, and as Tim taunts Angelus Sorrow with a copy of the good book, Vince Jones turns Tim Martin around, pummeling him with a series of punches, causing Martin to drop the Bible on the ground. Vince Jones chops Martin in the chest several times before whipping him back first into the edge of the booth table. Martin comes back in pain and Vince Jones slams Martin to the floor with a sidewalk slam! Jones then looks around seeing GBJ crawling into the kitchen before giving chase with Martin prone on the ground.
Truth Waters: GBJ is, for some reason, army crawling into the kitchen.
George Cassidy: Maybe he’s going to cook something.
Truth Waters: Ha! The only thing Garbage Bag Johnny ever cooks up is trouble.
George Cassidy: That’s not true, Truth. I know for a fact he makes a mean macaroni and tuna casserole. Also, he can make and sauce several varieties of hot wings almost as well as he can eat them.
Truth Waters: Either way, Vince Jones should be careful. The five minute limit is up on his Countdown Trophy, and if he’s pinned for a second, he loses it!
On the other side of the diner, Wesley Reno and Darcy Crisis are the first to get up, Wesley guiding the Darcinator over to the counter and sits Darcy down on one of the stools. He spins the stool, and Darcy whirs around uncontrollably. Reno backs up and lunges forward with a shoulder dive that sends both men sprawling over the counter. Both gingerly get to their knees to trade punches. On Darcy’s turn, though, he cleverly smashes his fist on the keys of the register and the cash drawer clocks Reno in the side of the head. Reno stands dazed as Darcy grabs a roll of quarters and levels Reno with a closed fist. Reno topples over as Vince Jones and GBJ come crashing out from the back, sword fighting with kitchen objects. GBJ has a rolling pin while Vince Jones is attacking with a deep fryer basket.
Truth Waters: It looks like Vince found Garbage Bag Johnny. I hear Vince still wants revenge for the loss he suffered at Zero 2 Hero at the hands of Garbage Bag Johnny.
George Cassidy: I’ve heard a rumor that neither of those two men can swim very well.
Truth Waters: I can’t swim either, George.
George Cassidy: It must be a black thing then.
Truth Waters: You’re testing my patience, George, but Garbage Bag Johnny is pale as death.
George Cassidy: He’s a black man trapped in a white man’s body, George. It happens all the time. Look at Eddie Smith, David Thomas, Ernest Miller, Matt Turner, Oliver Lacy…
Truth Waters: I’ve never heard of any of them.
George Cassidy: They were all Jeffrey Dahmer victims.
As Truth Waters shakes his head in disbelief, Darcy Crisis interrupts the utensil fight between GBJ and Vince Jones by rolling V up in a pin, but before he can get the one count, the paranoid Jones rolls out of the school boy and smashes the deep fryer basket over Darcy’s head. Across the counter, Anton Assault and Teresa Tomas have both gotten up and started fighting by the door. Anton leaps up in the air out of nowhere, flash kicking Teresa against the door. Anton lands in a crouch before charging at Teresa with a rolling heel kick, but Teresa pushes back, opening up the doors and letting Anton roll right onto the dock.
Truth Waters: Looks like our lumberjacks are going to see their first action of the night!
The nearest lumberjacks to the door are DUI, but their too busy setting up a beer pong table to care about the action. Pleasure and Pain, however, spot Anton and Teresa. Tiara Belle sprints right past Anton and pulls Teresa outside as she tries to get back through the door. Tiara pulls Teresa by the hair, but Tomas turns about face and slaps the taste right out of Tiara’s mouth. Wayne, who was pulling Anton off of the dock, turns his head at the sound of the slap, giving Anton a chance to grab his arm stretch around into a quick armbar. As Tony Little gets off of his gazelle to help his fellow lumberjack, as is the lumberjack code, Teresa starts pounding Tiara Belle Russell down the ramp. With Tiara Dazed, Teresa fearlessly climbs to the railing overlooking the Pacific Ocean, nailing Tiara with the Flying Squirrel!
Truth Waters: Incredibly high risk maneuver there from Teresa Tomas, but her blood is boiling!
George Cassidy: More like an incredibly stupid maneuver. She should just throw herself into the damn Pacific Ocean.
As Teresa locks Tiara Belle Russell in the Southern Comfort, Anton frees Wayne Russell and concentrates on Tony who is coming. Tony starts hopping around, his fists pumping in the air as he shouts; his ponytail swinging back in forth with a Steven Segal-like intensity. Anton tilts his head back and laughs out loud, but seeing Pitt Hix and Xavier Black approaching from his opposite sides, Anton hurries back into the diner.
George Cassidy: Now Anton Assault is a smart man. He’s smart enough to actually have a shot at winning this match.
Truth Waters: I can’t believe Teresa Tomas is still out there either.
As Anton walks in, to his right, Tim Martin is moving around, crawling on the ground to try to find his Bible. As he peruses the floor, using his hands as guides, Angelus Sorrow rises from the wreckage, finally. Tim Martin, feeling around, feels something with his palm. It’s Angelus Sorrow’s boot. Tim looks up, finally scanning to Angelus’ face, plastered with a wry grin…and then Angelus’ hand, holding the Holy Bible. Angelus grabs Martin’s throat with one hand, lifting him to his feet before smacking him in the face with the Bible. Angelus continues the assault, Bible shot after Bible shot, until Tim Martin is backed against the door. And the Angelus produces a butane lighter from his pants.
George Cassidy: There’s no smoking in California restaurants!
Truth Waters: Tell that to Angelus Sorrow.
But before Angelus can set the Holy Book ablaze, he doesn’t see Anton Assault locking him seamlessly in a Marine Throttle before flipping the big man over with a snap, right through the other half of the double doors as Tim Martin breathes a sigh of relief.
Truth Waters: I bet Tim Martin’s surprised that a black man helped him out.
George Cassidy: Anton doesn’t care about Tim Martin. He cares about winning the match, and that’s why he threw Angelus Sorrow out to the wolves.
And outside, the wolves gathered. The Texas Wrecking Crew stops from waiting on Teresa to break the hold on Tiara Belle as they hear Angelus crash between them. They look at each other, nodding, and the Crew pulls Angelus Sorrow off of the dock. When Angelus realizes where he is after that vicious Marine Throttle Suplex that landed him outside, he begins to struggle, but it’s too late. The big man is already being carried by the Wrecking Crew as Tony Little cheers them on, and within seconds, Sorrow is plummeting down to the Pacific Ocean where a rescue team is quick to pull him into a life raft.
Angelus Sorrow has been eliminated! Truth Waters: Our first elimination, George! We’ve still got six to go, and the Countdown Trophy is still up for grabs!
George Cassidy: Yeah- because David Harber likes to put black people at a disadvantage. You should hear some of the things he says about you.
Truth Waters: George, I trust you about as far as I can throw you. Maybe Pitt Hix will throw you into the Pacific if I’m lucky.
Teresa, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Hix and Black are celebrating- all the while NOT returning high fives to Tony Little’s outstretched hand, takes the opportunity to break the hold on Tiara and run back in. She doesn’t count on Wayne Russell, though, who springs back to his feet and levels her with a clothesline that almost decapitates her. Wayne peels Teresa off of the dock, laughing as the gathered fans collectively boo his maneuver. Instead of throwing her over the edge, though he hooks her in a full nelson and walks her limp body over to Tiara, who is slowly and painfully getting up.
Truth Waters: This looks like the end of the line for the Redneck Princess.
George Cassidy: She would’ve been in this match a lot longer if her IQ consisted of more than one digit.
Tiara slaps Teresa back, and Wayne lets Teresa fall into Tiara’s clutches. Tiara whips Teresa into the side of Ruby’s Surf City Diner, leaving a huge imprint on the glass. As Teresa stumbles back, Tiara mounts herself on top of the railing. Teresa walks right into a back body drop over the railing from Wayne Russell, but Tiara Belle, being somewhat insane leaps off legdropping Teresa all the way down with the only move listed on any of the Pleasure and Pain bio pages, the InDenial!
Teresa Tomas has been eliminated!
George Cassidy: Alright, so that’s two wrestlers and one lumberjack gone…and two completely drenched women. I’m going to go see if either one of them needs mouth to mouth.
Truth Waters: Is there some law requiring all wrestling promotions to hire registered sex offenders as color commentators?
George Cassidy: It’s called Megan’s Law, Truth, and let me tell you…that wasn’t the way I wanted to meet all of my neighbors.
With the action calm outside of the diner, the inside is still chaotic. Anton, after saving Tim from a burning Bible attack has begun working on him in near a large corner table at the (round) diner. Vince Jones and Darcy Crisis have fought their way back around the counter, and Wesley Reno is just getting up as Garbage Bag Johnny wheels a large garbage can full of kitchen weaponry in one hand and drags a maintenance ladder in the other hand. Garbage Bag places the ladder on the counter and tosses the contents of the garbage can all over the floor behind the counter, carelessly throwing egg beaters, coffee pots, canned goods, and other utensils about the restaurant until he finds something he can use on Reno- a cookie sheet. He tosses the cookie sheet to Wesley Reno, who reactively catches it before kicking Reno square in the testicles!
Truth Waters: Blatant low blow by Garbage Bag Johnny!
George Cassidy: Reno’s in politics. He deserves it.
Garbage Bag Johnny jumps up onto the counter, turns, and executes a textbook flying bulldog that sends Reno down face first onto the cookie sheet he’s holding! Meanwhile, Vince Jones has gained the upper hand on Darcy Crisis after catching him with a full nelson slam after avoiding a punch. Vince Jones sets up a chair against a column in the restaurant. He pulls Darcy into a sitting position on the chair before charging forward and smashing Darcy against the column with a running diving back elbow! Vince flies past the column and slides a little bit on the floor as Darcy’s lip bursts and he explodes out of the chair, toppling over into a heap. Vince pushes up and does a cocky taunt to nobody in particular before pushing four center tables together to build a large platform.
George Cassidy: The juice is really flowing now. Someone go to the back and get some knives!
Truth Waters: I hope nobody finds any knives. We’ve got a racist in there with two black men as well as a dirty drug addict who I wouldn’t trust with even a spoon.
George Cassidy: Then how’s the stoner gonna eat his puddin’?
In the corner, Anton Assault and Tim Martin are trading punches. Anton ducks a punch and catches Tim Martin in position for a Uranage Suplex with intentions to put him through the large table. Tim, however, elbows his way out of it, sending Anton spinning in a full circle before back body dropping him onto the table. Anton takes the pain and gets up trying to get off of the table, but Martin turns too quickly and trips him back into a sitting position on the table. Tim then climbs up as well and starts choking Anton with his boot as Anton grabs at Tim’s legs. The cut of blood flow to Anton’s head, however, is overpowering, and he can’t find enough strength to put the massive Tim Martin down. Tim, seeing this, drives his knee into Anton’s diaphragm and pulls the breathless Assault up. Martin prepares for the six feet under, but Anton quickly shifts his weight and arm drags Tim off of the table. Tim rolls off of the table and agilely lands on his hands and knees in time to get up and turn around with Anton uncomfortably at a higher plane. Tim pulls the whole table out from under Assault, sending Anton crashing into the wall! Martin then charges forward, smashing the table into Anton Assault!
George Cassidy: Tell me that Tim Martin doesn’t have the strength of at least seven Jesuses.
Truth Waters: Maybe five Jesuses.
Across the diner, Vince Jones has finally completed his table platform, and GBJ notes that Wesley Reno appears to be out cold. As Vince Jones rolls Darcy Crisis onto the foundation of tables, Garbage Bag Johnny sets the ladder up between the counter and Jones’ architecture. Both men climb up opposite sides of the ladder, GBJ looking to dive over the counter onto Reno and Vince Jones looking to put Darcy Crisis through the series of tables. The two notice each other first and both turn themselves on the ladder trading fists. Darcy rolls off of the tables to recover on the floor, and Wesley Reno springs up, still holding the cookie sheet. Reno mounts the counter and slams the cookie sheet over GBJ’s back. GBJ turns around slowly, and Reno tosses Garbage Bag the cookie sheet. GBJ catches the cookie sheet, and by the time Vince Jones realizes what’s going on, Wesley Reno has already leapt off of the counter with a forceful dropkick that sends the ladder, V, and GBJ crashing through the mess of tables, leaving free standing diner furniture scattered!
Truth Waters: Holy shiznit, Batman! Wesley Reno came out of nowhere with that one, and Vince Jones and Garbage Bag Johnny are among the wreckage he caused!
George Cassidy: That’s it. Whatever party Reno is running with, I’m voting for the other one!
Wesley Reno looks at Tim Martin standing triumphantly on one side of the wreckage and Darcy Crisis slowly getting up at the other side. He makes the savvy move and goes for Darcy. Reno pulls Darcy up to his feet and knocks him towards a booth with a knife edged chop. Looking for a set up, Reno kicks Darcy in the gut, but Crisis catches the boot. Reno tries for the enziguri, but Darcy ducks under. Reno amazingly lands on his feet, facing the other way with Darcy still holding on. Darcy drops the foot and grabs the head in a half nelson chokehold!
Truth Waters: It looks like Darcy is going for the Mind Crisis here!
The Darcinator, instead, sits down on the table with Reno still in the lock. He muscles Wesley Reno up with him, pulling both into a standing position on the booth table. Still, instead of dropping the hammer, with a burst of strength, Darcy jumps forward with all his might! He smashes the Mind Crisis on Reno, Darcy’s body landing vertically in front and Reno’s landing much less comfortably horizontally through the nearest freestanding table, and both men go down!
Truth Waters: Jesus Christ! That table had to have been about ten, maybe eleven thousand feet away!
George Cassidy: They should call you Exaggeration Waters. HAHA!
As Tim Martin picks through the rubble of tables, looking for the Countdown Trophy Holder somewhere beneath, Darcy Crisis scoops the downed Reno up over his shoulder and begins walking towards the front entrance to dump him out to the lumberjacks. As Darcy opens the front door, though, it’s slammed back into his face by a one Phil Allen, laying in wait! Both Darcy and Reno’s limp body crash back into the diner.
Truth Waters: For once, Phil Allen actually helps his friend Wesley out!
George Cassidy: Yeah, by cheating! Typical politician move.
Truth Waters: Remind me how Vince Jones beat Teresa Tomas? And Leviathan?
George Cassidy: Tact! The referees didn’t seem to find his victories illegal. I stand by their decisions.
Truth Waters: And I suppose tact is how Garbage Bag Johnny gooch raked and vagina punched his way into the upper tier of AWC.
George Cassidy: You left out the rectal fulcrum.
Inside the diner, Tim Martin is still throwing tables around, looking for Vince Jones…but not for long. Martin rubs his hands together, seeing the prone Countdown Champion lying on the floor. He bends down to cover! Small package reversal!
ONE!
Truth Waters: Vince Jones just surprised Tim Martin with a small package! Tim Martin is out of the running for the Countdown Trophy!
George Cassidy: It would, in fact, surprise me if Vince Jones had a small package.
Tim pops up, infuriated, kicking over tables and chairs, ignoring the fact that V isn’t completely back to his feet yet as both Vince Jones and Garbage Bag Johnny squirm away from the wreckage to try to find things that aren’t knocked over to support them to their feet. Meanwhile, Darcy Crisis is back to his feet about to walk over to Wesley Reno. Unfortunately, behind Darcy, one pissed off Nigerian is making his way out from behind and overturned table. Anton, head still wobbly from being smashed against the wall with Tim Martin’s brute force ramming a table into him, totters over behind Darcy Crisis and locks him in a katahajime! Darcy is caught by surprise, but he quickly regains his composure, completing a full backflip as Anton throws him overhead! Darcy quickly locks Anton in for the Mind Crisis! Anton struggles, trying to buy time!
Truth Waters: The hometown hero, here, looking to pull off his signature move for a second time!
George Cassidy: Anton’s struggling, though! He’s too powerful, and smart…like a computer!
Saving the day, and now fully to his feet, Garbage Bag Johnny interrupts the move from behind, bending under the backside of Darcy’s legs and lifting him up for an electric chair drop…monstrously insanely, Darcy keeps a hold of Anton Assault, who using leverage has to walk up the wall horizontally to stay balanced!
Truth Waters: This is a curious position!
Ghost of Steven Smith: Did someone say bi-curious position?
George Cassidy and Truth Waters: NO!!! (ah what the hell) ~!
The ghost of Steven Smith vanishes again.
George Cassidy: Christ. We need to get some ghost repellant or something.
In a brilliantly timed, precisely executed maneuver, Anton pushes off of the wall upside down as his wrists wrap around Darcy’s waist, sending the human totem pole’s momentum backwards just as GBJ pushes Darcy’s body up to flip Darcy in the other direction for the electric chair drop! Anton’s momentum overpowering, however, Anton’s push off of the wall sent the cluster of Darcy’s body and Anton’s body flipping back from off GBJ’s shoulders- Anton completes the backflip holding Darcy around the waist and trading positions, turning Darcy upside down and hitting the last part of his famous CKD, the Destroy! with the added momentum of a flip over the shoulders of a six foot tall man!
Truth Waters: I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST SAW! THAT MAY HAVE BROKEN DARCY’S NECK! HE MIGHT NEED SOME MEDICAL ATTENTION!
George Cassidy: Ah, he’ll walk it off…just like Christopher Reeves.
Anton and GBJ just exchange an uncharacteristic look of disbelief while standing over Darcy Crisis, who isn’t very mobile at this point. The two of them drag him by the legs, open the doors and push him outside before returning inside to never again speak of the near impossible probability of that move ever actually happening. Phil Allen, still perched outside the door to protect Wesley Reno scoops up Darcy’s body, not knowing the hit he just took. Tony Little rushes over as Reno drags Darcy under the armpits. He grabs Darcy’s legs, trying to pull his friend free from Phil Allen’s grasp. Phil pulls back. Tony pulls- he’s really been working on that Gazelle! Then Phil pulls again! Then both lose grip, and the Darcinator’s groggy body takes a bath in the Pacific Ocean, his concussed head coming to with the refreshing water just in time to see Phil Allen throwing Tony Little over the balcony, ignorant the irony of his ire at Tony’s antics. Now that’s some assonance for you!
Darcy Crisis has been eliminated!
Truth Waters: Darcy’s a floater, but still EMTs are going out there to check on him. He’s conscious, but I’m sure he’s fuzzy as hell.
George Cassidy: He probably only grazed his head. But let’s see, Angelus Sorrow is out. Teresa Dumbass is out. And Darcy Crisis just took a plunge in front of his mom.
Truth Waters: You don’t have to put it so harshly, but yes.
George Cassidy: And to add to that, we’ve had two lumberjacks fall over the edge, and DUI is now punch drunk playing screw the dealer with two people.
Truth Waters: Yep, and Wayne Russell has reportedly left the side of the diner to check on Tiara after her plunge. So that leaves us with Anton Assault, Garbage Bag Johnny, Vince Jones, Tim Martin, and Wesley Reno inside with DUI, Phil Allen, Pitt Hix and Xavier Black of the Texas Wrecking Crew, and Liam Martin outside the diner.
George Cassidy: When did Liam Martin get here?
Truth Waters: Right when Kalvelage remembered he forgot that Liam was supposed to be one of the lumberjacks.
George Cassidy: What the hell are you talking about?
Truth Waters: Nothing. Let’s just get back to the match.
Inside the diner, Vince Jones has crawled behind the counter for safety. He opens a drawer and pulls out the Countdown Trophy, hugging it while regaining his strength and fearing for the fate of his trophy reign. And with his other hand, he grabs something that was placed behind the trophy- something not normally found in a diner…a Louisville Slugger. Tim Martin, while the whole totem pole insanity was going on resorted to breaking one of the tables in half with his bare hands, ripping the support leg off, and with Wesley Reno struggling to his feet, Martin makes sure to floor him again with a stiff shot from the leg. With another stiff shot to make sure, Martin tosses the leg aside and drags Wesley Reno to the door. Martin pushes on the door, but it doesn’t open.
Truth Waters: Phil Allen is holding the door shut with all his might on the other side!
George Cassidy: That’s because Phil Allen doesn’t know what the hell’s on the other side waiting to kick his ass.
Tim, getting some idea of what’s going on here grabs the prone Reno by the face with his massive palm. Martin lifts Reno to his feet and slams him through the door with an Eagle’s Claw containing so much force that Reno’s body knocks the door open, crushing Phil Allen underneath! Tim stands, satisfied at the door off its hinges as he yells for some lumberjack to come and scoop up Reno and toss him over. Only seeing DUI, however, too busy drinking, he turns around, only to get his clock cleaned by Anton Assault who has been waiting patiently behind with a Blackout Kick that sends Tim Martin flying over Reno.
Truth Waters: Both Wesley Reno and Tim Martin are in dangerous spots here. The three men left inside are still in this match because they haven’t made the mistake of leaving the building yet. Garbage Bag Johnny and Vince Jones haven’t even looked at the entrance yet!
George Cassidy: Thank you, Captain Obvious! I’ll set the masts for Cape Redundant.
As Texas Wrecking Crew stands ominously over Tim Martin, Liam stands ominously behind them. Xavier and Pitt, the only lumberjacks in the match who have been doing their job, reach down to grab Tim Martin, as soon as they get up and turn around, however, Liam frees Tim with a flurry of punches to Hix and Black. Tim regains his senses, and the two of them overpower the imposing, visiting combo. As Tim does everything he can to distract Hix, Liam one arms Xavier Black over the balcony and into the drink!
Truth Waters: I can’t believe it! There goes one half of the functional lumberjacks!
George Cassidy: I think Liam is a pretty functional lumberjack!
Truth Waters: But isn’t he a little biased?
George Cassidy: Who isn’t?
As Pitt Hix tries gaining the upper hand, Liam pulls Pitt off of Tim and staggers him with a series of punches that leave him rocking and reeling. Liam backs off a little bit as Tim waits for Pitt to stumble in a semi-circle towards him. Tim whips Pitt Hix into a spinning Liam who nails him with the Fist of God!
Truth Waters: The Fist of God on Pitt Hix! Where the hell is Richie Travis? This match is out of hand!
George Cassidy: I think I saw him jump into the Pacific Ocean under his own power.
The Furious Fists of God lift Pitt Hix up and dump him over the balcony. Liam then points to the doorway, door still on top of Phil Allen, but Wesley Reno having crawled back into the diner somewhere. And that somewhere is the same exact hiding space a paranoid Vince Jones has chosen. V sees the bloodied crawling Reno and immediately stands up, leaving the Trophy in a safe place, but now producing the bat high over his head. Wesley Reno reaches around in desperation trying to anchor himself to move from the oncoming blow as Jones carefully aims with the bat. From his vantage point on the floor, however, Reno finds a desperation solution- a can of cooking spray that had rolled under the counter. Jones, about to swing the bat, gets his eyes sprayed full of cooking spray, temporarily blinded. He drops the bat and feels his way to a sink in the back to wash out his eyes. Wesley Reno slowly limps up to his feet, regaining his composure before hobbling back towards Vince Jones.
Truth Waters: I’m really impressed with Wesley Reno’s performance thus far in the Ruby’s Surf City Diner Match, he’s new to the business and he’s picking up quick!
George Cassidy: He’s a cheater, Truth, and you can’t win matches or elections with cheating. George W. Bush didn’t have to cheat to become the President.
Truth Waters: That’s arguable.
As Tim Martin steps back into the diner to look for Wesley Reno, or basically anyone, Liam directs him from the outside, oblivious to the man who just pushed his way through the crowd.
Truth Waters: My God! Jake Hix is here, too, and he’s back for revenge!
Jake Hix lays in wait behind Liam Martin, and as soon as Liam turns around, Tim having disappeared back into the diner, Hix starts pummeling Liam with punches, left and right, as the crowd goes crazy. Hix then lifts the more skinheaded half of the Furious Fists of God and chucks him over the balcony into the Pacific! Hix then rushes his head into the diner, calling out Tim Martin. Tim turns around and sees Jake Hix standing there, no Liam in sight.
George Cassidy: Come on, Tim. Get that bastard out of here!
Underneath the door, Phil Allen shifts around, trying to get up on his hands and knees as Tim gives chase to Jake Hix, not expecting the door to incline suddenly as he runs over it. Tim flies, and is caught by the arms of the Current Infinite Gauntlet Champion! Hix dumps Tim Martin over the balcony and into the Pacific Ocean before retiring from his brief stint as a lumberjack! The furious Furious Fist of God angrily wades in the Pacific!
Tim Martin has been eliminated!
Truth Waters: That leaves us with only Anton Assault, Garbage Bag Johnny, Vince Jones, and the dark horse candidate Wesley Reno inside! The field is cut in half!
George Cassidy: Our lumberjack scenario is a little weak. I think DUI’s keg has been tapped. They’re watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force reruns and eating stale Sun Chips. Phil Allen is finally getting out from underneath that door.
As Phil Allen crawls out from underneath the door, Garbage Bag Johnny and Anton Assault start exchanging blows near the door. Garbage Bag Johnny leaves through the door, seeing no lumberjacks capable of eliminating anyone anymore, but Anton is swiftly behind him. Garbage Bag Johnny turns around and blocks one of Anton’s punches, kicking him in the gut and executing a quick Trash Compactor on the wooden dock before running some more, climbing up a gutter pipe and making it to the roof of Ruby’s Surf City Diner. Anton gets to his feet and begins giving chase to Garbage Bag Johnny, climbing up the pipe after Johnny.
Truth Waters: I think Garbage Bag Johnny realizes that he’s in deep trouble. He’s got no place to run now!
George Cassidy: No way. You saw the way that Anton and Garbage Bag teamed up to dispose of Darcy Crisis! I hope they’re in cahoots.
Truth Waters: They’re not in cahoots.
George Cassidy: I’m telling you! This has got cahoots written all over it!
Anton Assault fights past the boots that Garbage Bag Johnny is laying on him as he uses his superior build to power himself up to the roof. Anton gets up as GBJ’s stomps grow lighter, Johnny backing up in fear, looking for an escape- a chimney or something while fighting the nauseating feeling of being so far up over the Pacific Ocean. GBJ slips backwards, landing on his ass on top of Ruby’s diner. Anton menacingly approaches him, dropping with a quick low dropkick to GBJ’s face, sending the back of GBJ’s head bouncing off the roof. Anton pulls Garbage Bag Johnny up by his greasy hair before sending a shotei into Garbage Bag’s bread basket with his free hand. GBJ hunches over, appearing too weak to stand except for Anton holding him up with the hair.
Truth Waters: This looks like it could be huge! Anton Assault has been dominant in AWC as the current Frontier Champion. He defeated Ellis Nash to get that title, but in two tries, he still hasn’t been able to overcome Garbage Bag Johnny! This could be it!
George Cassidy: Cahoots!
Anton locks GBJ in a front facelock, lifting his curled knuckled fist high in the air, powerfully, dominantly, centered over the occipital crest of GBJ’s neck!
Truth Waters: This is it! Teeth of Lions Rule the Divine!
George Cassidy: Cahoots!
Anton, in a split second, lowers his curled knuckles at breakneck speed towards GBJ’s atlas vertebrae…
George Cassidy: CAHOOTS!
…but his hand slices through the air a split second too late as GBJ musters his strength, propping himself upright, lifting Anton onto his shoulder and shifting Anton around! GBJ takes a running start towards the edge of the roof, flipping Anton’s legs over his shoulder, Anton’s lower limbs carrying over his upper body! GBJ releases Anton in midair as Johnny crashes to the dock, face down breathing heavily after hitting the Tragically Hipbuster in the middle of his decent from the Ruby’s Surf City Diner roof. Anton easily clears the edge of the balcony, plummeting down towards the Pacific Ocean.
Anton Assault has been eliminated! George Cassidy: Huh, I guess they weren’t in cahoots after all!
Truth Waters: That was the most dangerous plummet I’ve seen yet. We’re down to three wrestlers and three lumberjacks, one of each is down right now. George Cassidy: Wesley Reno still being in this match is the biggest scandal since Watergate!
Truth Waters: Say what you will- Reno is putting forth a tremendous effort in the match, and right now, he’s got Vince Jones on the run!
While washing his eyes out, Vince Jones turns, still with blurred vision to see Wesley Reno giving chase, holding a bottle of mayonnaise. Reno, fueled by his own adrenaline smashes the bottle on the counter, breaking it into jagged halves as Jones knocks shit off of shelves and ovens to impede Reno’s path. Jones pushes past and through a door- the back exit, his eyes still too blurred to read the sign. Noticing that there are no lumberjacks in sight on this side, Jones hides behind the door and grabs a loose telephone cable, waiting for Reno.
George Cassidy: I think Vince Jones is scared of the mayonnaise. Black people hate mayo.
Truth Waters: That’s because mayonnaise is disgusting.
Reno opens the door and looks the wrong way for Vince Jones. As the door springs shut behind Wesley, Jones springs out and starts choking Reno with the telephone wire. Reno drops the bottle and starts clutching at the wire, trying to shake Vince Jones off of him. Jones’ hold is too tight. Reno starts to hunch forward as Vince Jones cradles himself over Reno to keep applying the choke. Just as Reno appears to have nothing left, he flips Jones over his back, freeing himself from the choke sending Vince down on his back on the wooden dock.
Truth Waters: Reno was playing possum! This kid’s a fast learner!
George Cassidy: He’s like a young Strom Thurmond.
Truth Waters: I don’t get the connection.
Wesley Reno coughs out the constriction in his throat while stomping on Vince Jones. He pulls Vince Jones up and whips him into a nearby dumpster. Jones lands sitting next to the dumpster after ramming it shoulder first, and Reno pulls Jones back up, grabbing him by the arm and dragging Vince by his now sore shoulder to the balcony. He slams Vince’s arm down on the edge of the rail, affording Vince a dizzying look of the perilous waters below. Vince recoils in fear, unable to swim, and jumping back away from the railing holding his shoulder.
George Cassidy: Two out of three of the competitors left can’t swim! This is great!
Truth Waters: I bet you also think it’s great that those two happen to be two of your personal favorites in AWC in GBJ and Vince Jones.
George Cassidy: Either one of them would make a fine number one contender for the title just in case there is no God and Ellis Nash ends up losing to Pierce Lavelle.
Reno charges at Vince Jones attempting to drive him into the Ruby’s wall, but Vince sidesteps and slams Reno face first into the outside of the diner. Reno stumbles back, and Vince Jones catches him in an inverted facelock. Jones lifts Wesley Reno vertically for the inverted brainbuster, holding Reno in the air to get the blood flowing to his brain.
Truth Waters: It’s a bird!
George Cassidy: It’s a plane!
Truth Waters: It’s…Phil Allen?
Phil Allen comes to the rescue out of desperation, clipping Vince Jones from behind, sending Vince Jones and Wesley Reno crashing down, The Silencer connecting in a sense, but Jones left holding his knee while Allen tries to revive Reno. Vince Jones rolls around while Reno lies face down on the dock. Jones begins to pull himself up, hopping on his knee and grabbing Phil Allen from behind with one arm and opening the top of a dumpster with the other. He stuffs Allen in the dumpster… Truth Waters: That’s not a dumpster!
George Cassidy: What is it?
Truth Waters: That’s a grease disposal!
Phil Allen pops his head out of the disposal, covered in dirty, dirty grease left over from the deep fryers! Vince Jones points amusedly at the greasy Phil Allen while Wesley Reno shakily gets to his feet behind Vince Jones. Vince turns, about to help Reno to his feet, pulling him up by the shoulder, but Wesley Reno springs forward into Jones’ gut with a diving shoulder block!
Truth Waters: He calls that The Quota! And that’s the set up move for…
As if on cue, Wesley Reno nails Vince Jones with a fisherman’s suplex- the Reno Readjust! But Reno is too worn to hold on for the pin and secure the Countdown Trophy! Both men lie on the dock breathing heavily as Phil Allen falls out of the disposal, too greased up to successfully slide out gracefully. Covered in grease, he tries to help Reno to his feet, but the task takes time. Finally up, though, Reno balances himself on the ledge as Phil Allen now tries to pick Vince Jones up. Allen lifts Jones on his shoulder, about to scoop slam him over the edge, but Jones slides off the greasy shoulders of Phil Allen and pushes Allen forward. Allen bumps into Reno and the two go tumbling over the rail, into the Pacific Ocean!
Wesley Reno has been eliminated!
George Cassidy: Good. Phil Allen needed a bath.
Truth Waters: We’re down to the final two! Garbage Bag Johnny and Vince Jones remain! This is the first time the two are going to meet man to man since Zero 2 Hero, and a lot has changed since then. I’m sure Vince still wants revenge for his first round elimination at the hands of Garbage Bag!
George Cassidy: I don’t care which one of them wins. It’s just a shame that they both can’t win.
Truth Waters: And they both can’t swim!
Vince Jones circles Ruby’s diner, looking for GBJ through windows, but instead, he walks past DUI, who waken from the noise from their drunken slumber, seeing Vince Jones for the first time in this whole match. And they’re angry that the 40s have left them feeling like absolute crap.
Truth Waters: Turn around, Vince, the match can’t end like this!
Hank Cobb slowly creeps up behind the tired Vince Jones, the makeshift beer pong table behind him, empty plastic cups on both sides. Colby Korver waits vengefully on the other side. Vince Jones turns right around, Hank’s big boot connecting with his stomach. Hank lifts for the powerbomb, turns, Korver extends his arms to catch Vince’s head!
Truth Waters: Not like this!
Blutarski Bomb through the beer pong table! And with Garbage Bag Johnny crawling back in through the front entrance to look for Vince Jones after finally coming to, DUI moves to lift up Vince Jones and toss him into the Pacific…but they’re too drunk to get Vince to his feet without having to stop and heave over the edge of the rail!
George Cassidy: Uh…they look a little too hung over to be lumberjacking right now.
Truth Waters: Like I’ve always said. White folk can’t handle their malt liquor.
The heaving continues, giving ample time for Jones to scratch back up to his feet and toss the vomiting frat boys over the rail and into the Pacific Ocean leaving no lumberjacks at all around Ruby’s Surf City Diner.
Truth Waters: It looks like the final two competitors have outlasted all of the lumberjacks!
And Vince Jones hobbles into the diner, him and Johnny the only two remaining participants of any sort in this match. It’s like something out of an old western flick. Jones and Johnny lock eyes, Garbage Bag interrupted from constructing a pyramid of chairs and tables. GBJ is standing on top of that pyramid holding a mop- three tables at the base and two tables at the top, beckoning Vince Jones to join him. Jones does so after grabbing another mop on the floor next to the tables, climbing the chair in front of each level of tables until the two are on the top row, opposing each other from separate tables like jousting gladiators.
George Cassidy: Best Fresh!Special ever! Thanks, mom!
Vince Jones and GBJ tussle for position, each jabbing at the other with their wooden mop handles. Vince pokes Garbage Bag in the ribs, and GBJ teeters back a little, almost falling before dropping to his knees to regain his composure. GBJ ducks a baseball swing, and Vince Jones turns around from the momentum, a little worse for the wear after GBJ’s long recovery time. With Vince Jones facing the opposite direction, prone, Garbage Bag Johnny carefully slides his mop handle underneath the sensitive area between Vince Jones’ legs…
George Cassidy: It’s the gooch rake!
Truth Waters: Dear lord.
Vince Jones shrinks to a laying position, stretched atop both top row tables while clutching his raked gooch in pain. Garbage Bag Johnny climbs down the tables again and sets up the maintenance ladder in front of the pyramid. GBJ climbs up to the top.
Truth Waters: This could be devastating, but it’s not going to end the match! It’s just going to leave both competitors far worse for the wear!
George Cassidy: Just do it!
Garbage Bag, unknowingly heeding Cassidy’s advice over Truth’s leaps off of the ladder, turning in mid air to nail the Dumpster Dive on Vince Jones! After the initial impact, it doesn’t matter who hit the move on who, as the tables collapse inwards and the architecture falls like a house of cards, leaving two battered bodies amid all the wreckage!
Truth Waters: That’s the second time that these two men have gone through an ungodly amount of tables together!
George Cassidy: In some third world countries, I think that would mean they’re legally married now.
The minute before either of them so much as stirs is excruciating. But eventually, both of them start crawling again, Vince Jones drawn towards his bat, trying to reach it as if it were his last chance. Garbage Bag, less meticulous, reaches out for the first thing he can grab, the mop that raked Vince Jones’ gooch, and at a snails pace, the mop wielding GBJ crawls after Vince Jones, who crawls behind the counter towards his bat. Vince reaches the bat, pushing himself to his knees as he uses the bat as some sort of crutch. GBJ follows suit, propping himself up with the mop as Vince lures him into the kitchen. A weak bat shot is all it takes to double Johnny over as he drops the mop, the mop head leaning on the flat iron grill Johnny uses to balance himself up- accidentally bumping one of the knobs in the process.
Truth Waters: Someone tell Richie Travis! I don’t think he saw GBJ knock the grill on! This is a fire hazard!
George Cassidy: Fire hazard my ass. Ruby’s has fire insurance.
Truth Waters: But what about these two men? As despicable as I normally find each one of them, this is getting too dangerous!
Truth is right. Vince Jones takes his time reloading and he sends Garbage Bag Johnny down to one knee placing the bat beside him as the mop head slowly starts to steam, the grill getting hotter, unbeknownst know to the competitors. Vince Jones drops the bat to his side and pulls Johnny up, lifting him up on his shoulder.
George Cassidy: It looks like Vince Jones is setting up for the Thug Killa!
Vince sadistically moves towards the grill, but only looking to drop GBJ head first on hard iron- not burning iron. He drops GBJ anyway, Garbage Bag Johnny’s forehead simmering on the grill top as he flops off like a fish, holding his forehead and yelling out in pain. Vince falls backwards too, surprised at the burning sensation running through his elbow all the way up and down his arm where it met the grill. Both wrestlers down, and the mop, leaning on the grill surface starting to catch fire. But miraculously, both wrestlers are to their feet a bit quicker this time than after the fall through the pyramid of tables.
Truth Waters: These man have to know that this is going to end soon. Neither one of them can take much more, and frankly, I’d rather see them both get shots at the Transatlantic Title than have them put their bodies through any more of this.
George Cassidy: Stop whining, Truth. You don’t see Vince Jones whining. You don’t see Garbage Bag Johnny whining. It’s because they both have testicles.
Truth Waters: Would you go through what they’re going through right now?
George Cassidy: Oh, hell no.
Vince Jones gets to his feet first, seeing the mop on fire against the flat iron grill- and seeing his bat on the ground next to him. He holds the bat in the fire, holds it there as long as he can to be sure the bat catches fire too. He holds it there until Johnny sweeps the unlit end of the mop away, getting two his feet, both men slowly backing towards the employee exit knowing that this is the final straw.
Truth Waters: Thank God!
Garbage Bag Johnny and Vince Jones trade shots with the flaming ends of their weapons of choice, neither attempting to block…each one just trying to outlast the other before having to quell the burning with a self-sacrificing dive into the fire. Mop shot to Vince Jones. Bat shot to Garbage Bag Johnny. Seconds of recovery time between each exchange before resetting and trying again.
Truth Waters: Both men are refusing to give in!
But then, Garbage Bag Johnny does something smart for once. He dodges one of the shots. He dodges Vince Jones’ swing, backing up and calling for a breather. Vince Jones glares at him, angrily, for backing down. Jones, musters all the strength he can an lunges forward, aiming to take GBJ’s head off with the bat. A swing- a check swing- because GBJ has lunged the mop head out and held it right on Vince Jones’ chest, branding him, burning him. And Vince Jones can’t swim, but he’s writhing around in pain anyway, clutching himself, looking down at the Pacific Ocean- so cool and blue, before tumbling over the railing with skin burnt through holes in his clothes, his opponent passed out on the dock after one final, desperate, and successful attempt to hear his theme music overhead.
Vince Jones has been eliminated! Truth Waters: I don’t know what to say. Honestly, no words can describe this match (besides the near 10,000 that just did). The fans are even in an awed silence.
George Cassidy: But more importantly, Garbage Bag Johnny has done it! Harber tried to screw him out of the TA Title shot he earned by making him the number one contender to the crown instead- now he’s the number one contender to both!
Truth Waters: And don’t forget. Vince Jones, for all his efforts, is still the Countdown Trophy Holder!
The fans break their silence, and erupt into chants of “holy shit” and the loudest cheering most of the competitors in this match have ever received for their efforts. Kind of the complete opposite to the reaction AWC East superstars are used to…but take it home, Mr. Brunt.
James Brunt: The winner of the Countdown Trophy Match, VINCE JONES! And the winner of the Ruby’s Surf City Diner match and number one contender to the Transatlantic Belt at Coast to Coast, GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!
THE BRAWL
FEATURING: Chainz, Sasha Volkyeva, Pierce Lavelle, SAS Security Team, Mr. Tymoshekh, SAS Smith, David ‘Pearl’ Harber
AUTHOR: LARA & MIKE S.
The scene quickly cuts to Miss Volkyeva, who is once again speaking in her native tongue on the phone. She seems to be quite annoyed with whoever is on the other line. She has an important show to oversee and all she seems to be doing is speaking on the phone and thinking about what the mysterious G.A. will do next.
Her SAS and Russian guards surround her, giving anyone that passes by stern glances. Mr. Tymoshekh stands with his arms crossed against his chest monitoring the situation.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber happens on the scene and walks towards Sasha, but is immediately blocked off by Mr. Tymoshekh.
Mr. Tymoshekh: I’m afraid Miss Volkyeva isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.
Pearl looks at the security surrounding her and almost feels sympathy for her having to resort to such a drastic measure just to maintain her safety.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: It’s okay, I’m David Harber. I run the West Tour.
Mr. Tymoshekh: I don’t care what you run or who you are. As I said, Miss Volkyeva isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.
Sasha finally looks up at the scene and sees Pearl trying to get past her guards. She mutters something in Russian and closes her cell phone.
Sasha Volkyeva: It’s okay Mr. Tymoshekh, let him through.
Mr. Tymoshekh steps aside and allowed Pearl to pass by. Pearl walked over to Sasha, who looked heavenly in her cream colored dress. Yet, the strain of the show and the past few weeks could be seen on her face.
She was happy to see her rival, though she would never let on to that. In a business full of psychos and crazies, Pearl seemed to her at least normal, or as normal as someone not from her native land could be.
Sasha Volkyeva: Do you want something David, I’m very busy as you can see.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Yeah I can see, you haven’t gotten off the phone for five seconds. Probably haven’t even enjoyed the nice weather and the gorgeous views and beaches here.
Sasha Volkyeva: Maybe you have time for fun in the sun, but I’m preoccupied with more important matters.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Oh I’m sure whoever it was you were speaking about was of utter importance.
Sasha Volkyeva: As a matter of fact it was.
It wasn’t, but a lie just felt right in this situation.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: So…what’s up with all this security, you afraid of someone?
Her face coiled in a fierce snarl.
Sasha Volkyeva: I’m not afraid of anyone. I just don’t happen to want to keep company with some of your unruly wrestlers.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Ha, my unruly wrestlers! Look at your roster.
Sasha Volkyeva: What about it?
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: You have some guy, or girl, by the name of G.A. scarring you half to death. As for unruly, I’ll take my roster over yours any day, especially when you have Chainz losing the last few marbles he had rolling around in that crazy head of his.
Sasha Volkyeva: I’m handling it.
She wasn’t and Pearl knew it. He had problems with Chainz before and knew firsthand that the man couldn’t be controlled by anyone, save maybe Tracy.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: I’d be careful with how you handle him, that man is unstable.
Sasha Volkyeva: You think I haven’t noticed?
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: I’m just saying.
Sasha looked around to make sure no one was within earshot.
Sasha Volkyeva: The things he says he’ll do, specifically to me, is he serious or just full of hot air like most Americans are?
Pearl looked at Sasha with a long face. He knew Sasha was his rival, but he wouldn’t wish unleashing Michael Sloan on his worst enemy. He sighed.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Look Sasha, that man is a plague, a cancer in any establishment he might happen to be in. Unfortunately for you he’s on your roster. He presents so many problems, high ratings because of his unpredictability, but he’s a loose cannon. What’s worse is that everything he says he’s going to do he means.
Sasha Volkyeva: Everything?
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Everything.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well I’m not worried about some madman like him. I’ve got my security team here for issues such as that. Michael Sloan will learn that if he thinks he can intimidate me he’s got another thing coming.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Why do you say that?
Sasha Volkyeva: Because I have someone keeping him under control.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Who would that be?
Pearl raised an eyebrow, curious to see who would really offer their services of help to calm such a wild man such as Chainz and also work willingly to protect Sasha. Sasha smiled with a glint in her eye and folded her arms.
Sasha Volkyeva: I think we both know who. He chose me over you, remember.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Pierce?
Sasha Volkyeva: He owes me, I scratched his back and now he’s going to scratch my back, for as long as it takes until that freak is either dead, gone, or calm.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: He hates you and me both, how can you trust him?
As if on command Chainz happens to walk by and see Pearl and Sasha exchanging words. Knowing that Pearl holds the contract of his fiancée he approaches, but is immediately blocked off by the entire team, all of them clearly aware of the potential danger that Chainz poses.
Chainz: Yo Volky, we need to talk.
Chainz tries stepping forward but is immediately met by the SAS team.
Chainz: The fuck is this, the KGB rejects come home?
Mr. Tymoshekh: Miss Volkyeva doesn’t require your company at this moment.
Chainz: The fuck you say, and why do I care if she doesn’t?
Sasha steps back a little, expecting a confrontation to ensue.
Sasha Volkyeva: Mr. Sloan, I am busy at the moment. Please come back later.
Chainz laughs to himself.
Chainz: Come back later, hell this is the perfect time to chat. I don’t have a match tonight, I have nothing to do, and butt-fucking Pearl is here and he’s the man you gotta sweet talk.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: What’s he talking about Sasha?
Sasha Volkyeva: I want Miss Stanton to join my tour.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Well I’m sure you do, but she’s needed on my side. I need her to interviewing purposes.
Chainz: Can it Harber, she ain’t doing shit over there and you know it. Interviewing? Not only does she not have any experience, but she doesn’t have any desire to interview fags like Mikey O’Reilly and the rest of the losers you have on your roster.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Well that may be, but her contract is mine and she’s staying on the West tour.
Chainz’s smile disappears as he steps forward; increasing the agitation the SAS team is feeling. They place their hands on him and push him back.
Chainz: Volky, you better do something cuz I swear to God almighty if you don’t I will make you suffer a thousand deaths.
Pierce Lavelle: Come now…I don’t think that’d be a good idea.
Pierce Lavelle steps up from behind Chainz and places a hand on his shoulder, not even thinking of what he’s doing.
Pierce Lavelle: Look, I like Tracy just as much as anyone, well not tonight, but anyway I’d love to have her on the East tour, but we all know why Pearl wants to keep her around.
Pearl looks quizzically at his former friend not getting what he’s talking about.
Pierce Lavelle: Tracy’s a gorgeous woman and I’m sure a pervert like Pearl can’t keep his eyes off her chest.
Chainz turns to Pierce.
Chainz: WHAT!
Pierce Lavelle: Hey, don’t look at me! I’m satisfied with Sarah; he’s the one lusting after your fiancée.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: That’s bullshit.
Chainz: Is it, why else did you snatch her up so fast? Come to think of it, she did mention something about you, I’m damned if I can remember…
Harber knew anything he’d say wouldn’t matter to Chainz. He was now understanding why Sasha required her SAS security team and he was thankful for them.
Sasha Volkyeva: Look, we’re all tired of this, but you have to understand Chainz, these contract negotiations take time to iron out. We can’t just switch people with the snap of our fingers.
Chainz begins pacing back and forth, fuming and looking ready to lose control. Smith, of the SAS who happens to be standing next to Pierce Lavelle, tries to quell the situation.
Smith: Uhh, Mr. Lavelle, what should we do?
Pierce Lavelle: How the hell should I know? I don’t have the answers, your boss needs to get Tracy here I guess.
Chainz: Damn straight she does, work something out with the bastard Harber. Suck his dick, lick his ass, fuck him, do something you bitch.
Sasha stood flabbergasted at the foul and crude language that was directed towards her, obviously not used to it.
Sasha Volkyeva: Who the hell do you think you are talking like that to me? I own your ass, I own the East tour, I’m your superior and you will respect me.
Chainz: Respect you? There’s only one woman I respect and your saggy ass ain’t her.
He paces some more.
Chainz: See that’s why women shouldn’t be placed in a position of power. They don’t know shit about running a business.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: I think you better get out of here.
Chainz takes a step forward and stares at Sasha and Pearl.
Smith: What now?
Pierce Lavelle: Why do you keep asking me? Aren’t you supposed to be SAS, you should know how to handle situations…
Smith: You’re supposed to keep him under control.
Pierce Lavelle: I’m not supposed to do anything. I help out because I feel like it, not because I’m supposed to.
Smith: Well, help out.
Chainz paces and Pierce begins to grit his teeth, having order directed at him by many different people, hearing many different things, a headache forming along his temple.
Smith: Listen…
He puts a hand on Pierce’s shoulder and in a flash he is decked by Lavelle who seems fed up with being bugged by Smith. Chainz takes the opportunity of everyone being surprised by charging into the crowd of guards and tackling four to the ground.
Sasha Volkyeva: Stop him!
The three standing guards try to pull Chainz off, but Pierce Lavelle grabs one of them and punches him square in the jaw sending the guard reeling. The two remaining standing guards forget Chainz for a moment and turn their attention to Pierce Lavelle, who seems ready for a fight.
The two guards quickly charge Lavelle, but being a superior athlete he brushes one aside and elbows the other in the mouth, sending a mixture of teeth and blood into the air. The guard tumbles, while the other wraps his arms around Lavelle’s waist and brings him to the ground. Pierce breaks free of the hold and drives the back of his head into the guard’s nose. Blood spills out as the guard goes to grab it, giving Pierce enough time to drive an elbow into his stomach.
Pierce stands up and is punched in the face by one of the 2 remaining guards he’s dealing with, having knocked out Smith with one blow. Pierce absorbs the blow well and delivers one of his own. The guard stumbles back, but the other takes his place and lands a nice three punch combo that sends Pierce reeling.
Meanwhile, the four guards that Chainz tackled, including Mr. Tymoshekh, struggle under the immense weight of the monster on top of them. Chainz throws wild punches and knees into anything within range. He stands up and as a guard crawls to his knees, Chainz kicks him in the face sending him into unconsciousness. He quickly grabs the stick in the knocked out guards belt and produces the weapon. As the three remaining guards stand up, one is quickly dispatched by a well placed blow in the face from the hard weapon. Chainz goes for another swing but his arm is nailed by Mr. Tymoshekh and his own stick. Chainz grabs his arm in pain, but manages to avoid the nasty blow aimed for his head.
Chainz backs up smiling as Mr. Tymoshekh and the other guard try to circle the wounded beast. Chainz looks at both of them, keeping each in focus with a smile sickly etched on his face.
Pierce rises off the ground, shaking some of the dust off his knee pads, a sick grin curls along his lips as Smith lies out cold next to Pearl.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Pierce, do something.
Pierce Lavelle: You don’t control me anymore…
Sasha Volkyeva: Fine. Pierce do something.
Pierce Lavelle: Right you are.
Pierce smiles and spots the small railing along the steps, seeing Tymoshekh and three other guards now approach Chainz on steps. Pierce runs, jumping onto the railing he lunges twisting his body into a Dragon Corkscrew moonsault and connects with Sasha’s Russian bodyguards. Pierce’s heel connecting with Tymoshekh’s head.
Chainz looks on a smile across his face as he claps his hands, suddenly two steaming British ex-SAS officers come charging full pace. Chainz dodges a low kick, but a roundhouse kick collides with his jaw sending a spluttering display of blood splatter against Sasha’s dress. She stands back, a look of disgust on her face as Pearl hands her a handkerchief, attempting to help, but being slapped in the process.
Tymoshekh drives Pierce against the small window of the tuck shop, it shakes violently, as Tymoshekh gazes at the gash on his forehead in its glaze, anger steaming through his Russian blood, he chucks a fist at Pierce’s face, knocking it to the left on impact. Pierce turns back, spitting blood into Tymoshekh’s face he delivers a swift blow to Tymoshekh’s region, grapples the man’s collar and spins him around, flinging his body against the weakened glass; it shatters around Tymoshekh’s head, collapsing onto the floor.
Pierce Lavelle: Anyone else?
Pierce holds his arms up, thoroughly enjoying the adrenaline rush. Pearl looks on at Pierce, not even recognizing the man before him. This is all my fault. I did this to him. He thought and shook his head. The remaining three Russian’s stood up, glints in their eyes now, out numbering Pierce three-to-one. One man charged, arm outstretched, Pierce ducked sending a back kick to the man’s head as he toppled over, down the steps into a crowd of fans, delighted by the show before them. The other’s now charged, one punch to Pierce’s face as the other threw a jab to his stomach, double teaming they swung him and sent him flying along the floor to the ankles of Sasha, his eyes shut closed immediately when he saw what was above him – nothing…
Sasha Volkyeva: Damn it, Pierce. Stop this.
Pierce rose onto his feet, jumping he jabbed the oncoming steaming Russian in the nose sending the man tumbling onto the ground, his ass his padded cushion; he turned to Sasha raising his arms.
Pierce Lavelle: What? You said “do something”, I’m doing just that…
Sasha turned to Pearl, hands on hips looking for support.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: He has a point.
Chainz gripped one of the British ex-SAS officers by the throat, whilst the other straddled his back, delivering blows to his kidneys and having no effect. Chucking the man in front of him to the side, he collided with the last remaining Russian, who Pierce had sent tumbling with an Irish Whip. The other ex-SAS officer remained fastened on Chainz’s back. He ran with all his power and lunged, turning around until he collided on the floor back first, the ex-SAS man squashed beneath him, a humble “crack” to break the silence.
Smith rose on his feet, unsteadied posture as he wiped his nose of blood. He turned to the carnage, Pierce fighting back a persisting Russian guard until he saw him fall to the ground in defeat.
Smith: Bugger this!!!
Smith, arm outstretched and holding a baton he raised it high above the back of Pierce’s head and lunged, but a firm grip stopped him just short of Pierce’s head. Chainz grappled the baton and twisted, turning Smith towards him he raised him with a choke hold and slammed to the sand below, Smith coughing up the spewed up sand that flew into his lungs.
Pierce and Chainz looked around, Pearl and Sasha standing awestruck and defenseless. Neither Chainz nor Pierce out of breath their eyes met and an uncanny silence emitted between the four.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Pierce, what’s gotten into you?
Pierce Lavelle: Nothing’s gotten into me, Harber.
The way he pronounced ‘Harber’ sent a chill down Pearl’s spine, the young man he’d once befriended was no longer humble, quiet and selfless, instead he’d become the complete opposite and Pearl couldn’t help feel responsible, after all he’d sent Pierce into the Prometheus mess.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: You’ve changed.
Pierce Lavelle: And who’s fault is that?
Without another word Pierce stalks off to get ready for his match, feeling pumped and ready, churning with adrenaline, leaving Harber and Sasha starring at Chainz who is smiling his signature sadistic grin.
Chainz: Never knew ol’ Pierce had that in him. I must say I’m impressed.
He suddenly grabs the handkerchief Sasha was using to wipe his blood off of her dress. He wipes the blood from his mouth and chucks it at Pearl, hitting him in the forehead.
Chainz: Now I’m not an unreasonable man and I do understand things like this take time, so...
He spits some blood on one of the motionless guards.
Chainz:…You got till Coast To Coast to decide, otherwise I won’t calm so easily next time.
With that, Chainz smiles and leaves, a sick grin merged across his face leaving a bewildered Sash and Pearl looking on the damage before them.
Sasha Volkyeva: We’ve got to figure something out, I don’t like the way this has turned out.
David ‘Pearl’ Harber: Yeah, I know.
Letting the Cat out of the Bag
FEATURING: ??? & Sash Volkyeva
AUTHOR: ???
Her phone was permanently attached to her ear it seemed, well for this show anyway. The past weeks embarrassments at the hands of this GA character were taking their toll. Her tour was a shamble: her personal life, worse still. Not to mention Pearl’s tour casting a huge impressive shadow over her. She was beginning to regret ever taking the tour… that was… until the phone call.
Sasha Volkyeva: Hello, Carly?
Carly Simmonds: Hello Sasha, how are you?
Sasha Volkyeva: I have seen better days my friend. Please tell me the news you bring is good.
Carly Simmonds: Well, this should put a smile back on your face.
The phone suddenly becomes inaudible…
Sasha Volkyeva: Tell me what you know…
…
Sasha Volkyeva: Released? How?
…
Sasha Volkyeva: Who could order such a thing? …
Sasha Volkyeva: The Voice? Who is this ‘Voice’? …
Sasha Volkyeva: What do you mean, you have no idea?
…
Sasha Volkyeva: Tell me what is interesting about his release… …
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh really.
A look of pure poison contorted her face.
Sasha Volkyeva: I think Mr. GA deserves to know this salient piece of information.
She laughed heartily to herself.
Sasha Volkyeva: I think the tide is about to turn in our little escapade. Thank you very much Carly, your help is much appreciated.
…
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh, before you go, does he have a name?
…
Sasha Volkyeva: There is a story to this as well. He is an interesting character.
…
Sasha Volkyeva: Changed his name… he must have been in deep with someone.
…
Sasha Volkyeva: Gabriel Afeaki?
The words were bitter to the taste.
…
Sasha Volkyeva: So, Mister Gabriel Afeaki, you suddenly become very much more real. GA… GA… Gabriel Afeaki. Tonight, you are mine.
BUt While the Cat's Away...
FEATURING: ??? & Sasha VOlkyeva
AUTHOR: ???
Truth Waters: Rumours circulating around the back area suggesting that Sasha is finally going to get one up on this GA character tonight. GA has been a scourge in the side of Sasha over on the Eastern Atlantic tour ever since its inception. Finally… according to speculation, she’s found a trump card George.
George Cassidy: Yes Truth, that Eastern Atlantic tour has been about as successful as Pierre Hyde’s attempts to get that cricket sweater vest over with the masses. And I know this for a fact. That sweater vest is not over.
Truth Waters: Pierre who?
Sasha Volkyeva begins to make her way out from the backstage area carrying a clipboard; a contorted smile twists her lips.
Truth Waters: Speak of the devil, and she appears.
George Cassidy: Here comes AWC’s very own Mother Russia!
Sasha approaches the ring to a mixed reaction. There is a sense of pity enmeshed with that deep rooted enmity for her past actions. The atmosphere is tense; the rumours had filtered out from the back. GA was here. Here in America. Tonight… he’d be revealed.
Truth Waters: Let’s see what Sasha has to say…
Sasha stands in the middle of the ring, a microphone clenched in her right hand.
Sasha Volkyeva: As some of you are aware, there has been someone over on my side of the tour, who apparently does not wish for me to succeed.
The crowd is seemingly divided on the matter. Half booing the entity, the other beginning “GA’s gonna getcha!” chants.
Sasha Volkyeva: ENOUGH!
Sasha silences the crowds.
Sasha Volkyeva: Tonight… tonight that all ends. Tonight I get answers and tonight I will reveal this GA character to the world. But firstly, a background on this character.
Sasha pauses to look at her clipboard.
Sasha Volkyeva: Ladies and gentlemen, this fellow was recently released from the maximum security wing on Bua Levu island Fiji for an unspoken crime. He was released early, after two years from a life imprisonment sentence. For what crime… I do not know.
Truth Waters: GA’s a convict? I like the sound of this brother.
Sasha Volkyeva: That though, my dear AWC followers is not the point of note. His early release had certain… let’s say… contractual obligations that he had to obey, and needless to say he has not been performing those duties.
Sasha once more glanced down at her notes, she waited just long enough to grab the attention of the fans.
Sasha Volkyeva: It is stated here in his early release form that upon release from prison he must seek active employment. As you all have seen, GA is now a member of the East Atlantic Tour group. However… he has not been an active member…
Truth Waters: Where is she going with this…
Sasha Volkyeva: So you see, this presents some quandary. It is my duty as a good, honest citizen to report that well, GA has not been an active part of this company. For all you people struggling to understand what I have been saying, I will put it in simple terms for you. Unless GA is wrestling for my tour, he will return to that hellhole in Fiji from whence he came.
George Cassidy: You go girl!
An evil smile broke out across her beautiful face. A femme fatale if ever one existed…
Sasha Volkyeva: However, being the generous person I am… I am willing to overlook this slight misdemeanour in exchange for something I want. GA, I know the buck does not stop with you. My sources explain that there are higher powers involved. I mean, how could a thick skulled individual like yourself pull off such extreme acts of sabotage.
She chuckled to herself.
Sasha Volkyeva/b>: So Mister Gabriel Afeaki, or should I say… Umaga Reihana… wherever you are, and I know you are here, show your face or I will send you back to whatever orifice you crawled from. When will you learn? You cannot defeat someone who knows only victory.
The crowd grew tense… would they finally see the man who had captivated their imaginations… the man to start the biggest “Who is he?” hunt in AWC’s history… the man some loved… some feared… some just outright loathed….
Sasha Volkyeva: You spoke to me about life! You spoke to me about this being your life!? Well I have news for you so listen well… I will break you. I will…
The words froze in the back of her throat as she walked backward into what felt like a concrete slab. The icicles that were her words shattered into a thousand shards as her eyes grew bigger than Vine Jones’ piece… as wide as saucers… without looking she knew.
Standing behind Sasha Volkyeva was a man whose body looked as if God himself had hand carved it from rock. His muscles were tight, every line hard… he was soaking wet.
Truth Waters That shit was downright scary dawg… must’ve come from the sea or something…
Sasha was frozen with fear… the crowd was hushed. Standing 6’3” he towered over Sasha, and his robust figure only heightened the sense that this was a straight up killer. He could squeeze every ounce of life from Sasha’s body… she knew it. This scared her. It scared the crowd. His breathing was slow, deliberate, every breath sending a chill down the spine of Sasha. His head was freshly cropped, a nice fade… his face was chiselled. Years inside would do that to a person. Though strangely, his face had signs of youth left in it – he wasn’t defeated by the system. Sasha finally moved forward and turned slowly…
His eyes met Sasha’s, his gaze overpowered hers in some frenetic tango, Sasha looked away to the ground. She’d never felt as intimidated. Thanks to Pierce Lavelle and a certain Chainz, her entourage were nowhere to be seen. It was like space, being in that middle of the ring… except people could hear her scream. There would be just nothing they could do about it.
GA: You called… Sasha…G.A.: He began to stalk towards her position, the dominant animal hunting its prey… his voice was deep… almost devilish… there was nothing pleasant about the situation. His tattoo on his left shoulder was one given to only those of the highest status in Fijian culture… the all seeing eye on his right pectoral was purely for aesthetic purposes. Aesthetic or not… at that precise moment, Sasha was fixated on the eye… it seemed to delve inside her mind… fuck her every mental orifice and leave… she felt vilified by his presence.
GA: If you make my life a misery… I will make no hesitation in ending yours.
Sasha composed herself… she had to assert her authority over him… but how? He had that aura around him… that Mike Tyson of old… the fight was over before it began. She had to battle her nerves.
Sasha Volkyeva: You see Gabriel. I can call you that now. It will be a hard thing to get me once you are back inside, do you agree?
She began to gain confidence.
Sasha Volkyeva: The way I see things, Gabs… if you do not cooperate with me then you will be incarcerated for the rest of your natural life. Seeing as, well… I hold your life in my hands, you should show me a little more respect.
She saw his fist tighten…
Sasha Volkyeva: But… I am more than willing to give you a chance to earn your freedom.
Seeing his fists unclench she proceeded…
Sasha Volkyeva: You will wrestle for my company. That way, you can remain free… on one condition…
GA looked toward Sasha…
Sasha Volkyeva: The condition being you tell me NOW who you are working for? Which piece of American crap is your puppeteer? Who? TELL ME WHO?
G.A.: Are you… threatening me?
Sasha Volkyeva: I believe I am…
G.A.: Such strong words for a woman with no physical support.
She forgot… Pierce Lavelle had fucked her in the ass again…
G.A.: I’ll work for your pathetic excuse for a company. But never… ever… threaten me again. You want to talk to me about life? Try living in a cell not big enough for you to lie down in straight… try being beaten every day… try food not fit for pigs… anything you want to throw at me, anyone, any place, any time…
Sasha Volkyeva: Do not fret… I have seen your statistics. Never defeated in mixed martial arts singles competition, never defeated… ever. But there is one thing you have never known… that is… degradation in the eyes of the public.
Truth Cassidy: What on earth is she going on about, George?
George Cassidy: Don’t you see what she’s doing? This is utter brilliance… she’s going to dent his pride by making him a jobber… or something along those lines… he’ll never want to wrestle again… and if that happens, Sasha wins. Goodbye GA…
Sasha Volkyeva: Yes, you will wrestle. But, you will be held down. Trodden out. You will be the remains all the other superstars wipe their feet on. You will be fighting for your existence in every match, and, heaven forbid you should lose. You won’t be booked for the following show… and then my friend… goodbye Gabriel.
GA stood, shocked… the voice… surely the voice wasn’t wrong… he had never been up until this point? And… in all honesty, he wasn’t a great wrestler… he could fight… hell yes… it couldn’t be that hard to transfer those skills to the ring… surely?
Sasha Volkyeva: You see Mr. Afeaki, I hold ALL the trump cards in this relationship. I am the Royal Flush to your straight. Unless you tell me who sent you… I will destroy you. Publicly. Painfully… and with god as my witness… I shall enjoy every second. For every iota of time you tormented me, I am going to take your combative pride and drain every last drop, every last ounce of love you have for fighting, and pour it away. Next week you WILL face one on one with (The Emo Boy)…
She smiled.
Sasha Volkyeva: See you next week… big boy… oh… and welcome to the active roster
Sasha dropped her microphone and began to leave the ring…
Denied
His body fuelled by anger alone, he her hair gripped tightly in his large paw… pulling Sasha back into the ring… dragging her ear close to his lips…
GA: Oh… I’ll see you next week… you’ll notice it by the trail of ‘superstars’ left around the backstage area. You want to mess with me… this will be a mistake you won’t want to make. Mark my words.
And. Gone. Just like that.
He told you he was Batman…
...The Mice will Pray
FEATURING: ??? & Sarah Kennedy
AUTHOR: ???
He was confused. Thoughts ran like an explosive river through his mind. Every twist. Every turn. A new sensation. This was it. Everything. It was all coming true. He said. Exact. To the letter. He had this knack of just evaporating. Shame. The night he was put away. Something must’ve been in the water. The crowds around were electrified by his entrance. Some remembered. That guy. Umaga Reihana. Flatlined fighting’s finest. Disappearing. Back now. Live another day. Was Sasha one up? Was she? Was she really? Of course… or not. His mind was in a jumble. His thoughts… less like a river. A stream of consciousness running through rapids. His thoughts were his own. But of other things.
Sarah Kennedy: Wait, eh ... Wait....
Sarah Kennedy: Hey, you, bugger me, slow down!!! GA shows no signs of stopping as his mind is still a miasma of thoughts... not one of them clear... Sarah stops, ripping off her heels as she watches the mysterious GA cross over the sand, now full sprint in her bare feet, cursing Sasha for giving her one more task, she hesitates but finally catches up, her hand grappling onto G.A.'s wrist
Sarah Kennedy: I...said...wait!
GA turns slowly... his gaze fixating deep into the eyes of the beautiful Sarah Kennedy... he'd seen her before. Reporter... or interviewer. Whatever they were known as these days. I suppose...
GA: Miss. Kennedy... and you want...?
Sarah Kennedy: What do I want? I ain't happy about being here, but I'm supposed to ask you questions, so how about you quit the running and let's get this over with.
Sarah said bluntly to the mysterious G.A., a man that had brought the fear of the devil to Sasha, seemed more timid than his voice had let on in the sideshows as she folded her arms, a dominant look to her blue eyes and blonde hair.
GA flexed his enormous frame... lifting both arms and placing them behind his head. His body was glistening.
GA: Okay little lady. Shoot.
Sarah rolled her eyes, not interested in the muscular flexing before her. Placing her hands on her hips delicately, she couldn't think of the first thing to say...what did she really know about this G.A.? Nothing. That was just it. Nothing.
Sarah Kennedy: Who are you really? The man behind the voice we all know by two letters, but who are you really? GA taken aback by the question, her directness was well... refreshing. Pierce had a good lady there. Not his type. But she was most certainly feisty. The truth would come out sooner or later... why not now...
GA: I am Gabriel Afeaki.
He began in a deliberate tone.
GA: A fighter. A very good fighter. That is all you need to know.
He paused one moment to gauge her reaction... allowing her to begin once more. She'd have to milk every gram of information from him.
Sarah Kennedy: Gabriel Afeaki....
Sarah paused a moment, rubbing her hand against her chin as she thought, but still nothing recognisable came to her, he was much a mystery still.
Sarah Kennedy: Never heard of you. But why the hidden messages, the stalking and your target of importance, our very own boss...Sasha Volkyeva?
He nodded. Smiled slightly, and began once more.
GA: The fans of the MMA circuit will know me as Umaga Reihana. Though, the less said about that past the better. As far as Miss. Volkyeva goes, I cannot divulge information. I am but a messenger of "The Voice." The question you need to ask is who would want Sasha to suffer? To ruin her tour. I told her, and I shall tell you the same. I'm doing what I can to remain free. This is nothing personal, it is merely business... and when that business is your life... you do your best to maintain it.
Suddenly the name rang a bell for Sarah, he did look familiar, but her memory was a little fogged with various sports, shows, and TV stars that had plagued her mind from watching too much TV.
Sarah Kennedy: No need to ask the questions, mate, when you've just done all that for me, but I thought you looked familiar....You went to prison, right?
GA glares at nothing in particular. His eyes wandering... his mind was flitting between the ridiculous to the sublime.
GA: Yes.
His abrupt reply was said in a hushed voice... it brought back bad memories.
Sarah smiled and folded her arms, she could bite this on the butt right now and get on with more important matters, or she could crack this mysterious man that went by many names and hopefully get Sasha off her back.
Sarah Kennedy: Why was that then?
Sarah Kennedy was digging, and hopefully GA would delve into her fish hook and she'd reel him in.
He looked to his feet.
GA: I...
His voice began to wane.
GA: I... I don't recall. I... I don't know...
Sarah Kennedy: You don't know or you don't want to talk about it? Answer a yes or a no and quit wasting my time.
Sarah smirked, her attitude was an appeal in most interviews but she was shocked to meet the real man behind the terrifying voice and stalking traditions. He seemed, shy and quiet, refusing to talk about matters that could be used against him otherwise.
Her voice angered Gabs. He leaned forward, that raging intensity in his eyes, he looked as if he were about to strike, but relinquished from doing so… instead raising himself for battle.
GA: Listen lady. If I knew who did this to me, do I look the type of person not to be hunting them down right now? Do I look a soft touch? Well, DO I? If I knew who did this to me...
GA reaches for Sarah's arm and pulls it to a scar branded on his lower back, it read 143258. Relinqushing her wrist he begins again...
GA: Do you believe they would be walking this earth? I do not know why I went inside. It remains a mystery to this very day, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about that night. Now... please leave me alone.
GA begins to leave but Sarah continues to ask questions.
Sarah Kennedy: Alright, ease up there!
Sarah stood in the same spot, smiling as she noticed he'd stopped in his own spot, cocking his head to the side to with a sigh, eagerly wishing to leave the beach now that he'd done what he come to achieve.
Sarah Kennedy: These "voices" you talk of, that are after Volkyeva, what excatly do they want with you? She paused, a grin across her face, biting her bottom lip.
Sarah Kennedy: I know...I know...You don't know, right?
GA restrained himself from making one of those wise ass comments that got him into so many trouble as a child on the African soils he grew up on... that incident with the Lion… he chuckled…
GA: You are correct. I do not know his identity. But... he pulled me from there. I could care less if he was Satan himself, I'll do what the man asks. Volkyeva... she's trying to fight back. If she plays with this animal, she will get hurt. Maybe not physically, but I will ruin her. So no... this "Voice" I have no idea who he is. They could be someone here, in AWC... or not... I just do not know.
Sarah thought a moment about this and decided against her better judgement to drop the issue of "the voice" before it became a heated topic amongst those backstage.
Sarah Kennedy: Now that you are here properly what exactly are your plans?
GA thought to himself... the question had yet to cross his mind.
GA: Well it looks like I'm booked against Emo Kid... for the following week? I'm not at all sure. With the whole release, entering... and everything else that's happening... I suppose I've been preoccupied.
He lied through the skin of his teeth... he knew something big was going to happen. What... he didn't know. But something big...
Shuffling her feet, Sarah looked to her feet buried in a mound of sand, her expensive dress covered in remnants of a sand castle she'd run through. She was unsure what else to ask, barely knowing anything of the man's history - past and present - the questions she had asked, he still remained elusive. Her eyes suddenly followed those of Teresa Tomas, strutting along the beach, their eyes never meeting.
Sarah Kennedy: Will you be - - -
Sarah turned around and he was gone...But where...She scanned the beach and nothing...He'd disappeared.
“I told you I was Batman, bitch.”
Ellis Nash vs. Pierce Lavelle
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE:MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHORS: JEREMY
Truth Waters: Alright George are you ready?
George Cassidy: Ready as I’ll ever be at three in the morning.
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: I don’t know…some sort of spirit in me I guess.
Truth Waters: Right…anyway folks we’ve got to our main event and finally we’ll be able to crown a new Transatlantic Champion here tonight on the Fresh!west special!
George Cassidy: And don’t forget that ‘the Garbage’ has clinched a title shot for Coast to Coast to go with his Zero 2 Hero shot.
Truth Waters: Yes and what’s most interesting about that is that those shots are for two respective matches. I’m sure that Pearl and Sasha will have more to say about that next week.
Before the two commentators can prattle on anymore, ‘Happy’ by Mudvayne hits the PA to the fans’ delight. The two-time former champion strides out into the beach atmosphere and looks truly like one of the old school heroes, the wind flowing in his hair. Slapping hands and smiling a little he makes his way to the ring, ready and focused for yet another big match.
Truth Waters: You can sense the anticipation in Lavelle tonight, he’s ready to take the mantle once more.
George Cassidy: But will it be for long this time Truth eh? I can’t see Lavelle being able to defeat the steamroller that has been Garbage Bag Johnny. A lot has changed up at the top of the pile and soon we could be seeing Pierce plummeting from the plinth that people have placed him on.
Truth Waters: I don’t know about that in the slightest, but it’s easy to see the strain that has been put upon him since returning. I don’t think I’d be exaggerating when I say that some look to him as a saviour and hero for AWC.
George Cassidy: It’s going to tell Truth, I know these things.
Lavelle meanwhile has vaulted into the ring and is receiving a last minute talk from referee for the contest Michael Ryan. It seems that the announcing from James Brunt is going to be restrained until both competitors are in the ring, going for the more formal and classic style.
Mudvayne fades away meshing strangely well into ‘Oblivion’ by Aimee Allen. There’s a mixture of reactions from the fans to Ellis Nash, the former Frontier champion but it’s leaning a little towards the positive side. As she enters the ringside area the chants and clapping become more prominent, showing the change in attitude to the former Queen of AWC.
Truth Waters: Nash’s demeanour is in stark contrast here to Lavelle’s. Where calmness and experience in Transatlantic Title matches are nothing new to Lavelle, Ellis is still early in her appearances at this slot. That is not to say she has no experience in title matches, merely the scope.
George Cassidy: She’s ready for the next step Truth and everyone in the area knows it. Especially Lavelle.
Truth Waters: Of course he does. He’s never going to underestimate an opponent.
Nash enters the ring slowly, eyeing her opponent. It’s almost like Nash is a little wary of entering the ring against the legend of AWC. Nobody would at this juncture but Nash reassures herself that it’s just another day and another opponent. She stands tall and proud, not ready to let her mentality get to her.
James Brunt: The following match is scheduled for one fall and is for the vacant Transatlantic Championship!
Truth Waters: You can feel the electricity George.
George Cassidy: Would you shut up and stop with the clichés already?
James Brunt: (continuing) Introducing first, fighting out of Cortland, New York! She weighs in at 126lbs and is a former Frontier Champion............ELLIS NASH!!!!
A simple raised hand comes from Nash, her focus on the match at hand.
James Brunt: And her opponent, weighing in at 235lbs and hailing from Harrisburg, PA. He is a two-time former Transatlantic Champion and is the first inductee into the Hall of Legends…PIERCE!!....LAAAVVVEEELLLLLLEEE!!!!!!
The fans pop at the name and all around the ring is a murmur of excitement as we’re finally about to get to started. Michael Ryan checks both competitors to see if they’re ready and quickly pads them down for any objects that they may have hidden. Nash looks at Ryan like she knows what he’s up to but he remains stone-faced, merely doing his duty.
The entire ritual makes it seem more official, more prestigious. And then the bell rang to finally get our main event off of the ground.
Nash comes out of the blocks running, wanting to impose a quick tempo to take advantage of her superior agility and quickness. She’s over a 100lbs behind in the weight stakes so this is her main shot for getting an advantage. A flurry of blows impact to Lavelle’s surprise and he backs into the corner. Sensing an opportunity Nash goes for the quick kill, landing strong blows to the stomach and legs of Lavelle. What can’t walk, can’t win.
Truth Waters: Smart strategy by Nash here, she’s been reading up, knowing that Lavelle has had problems with his knees.
George Cassidy: Everyone has their weak spot.
Truth Waters: That’s true George…don’t kook now though as Lavelle gains control.
Pierce has weathered the storm of blows and catches one, responding with a much harder, fiercer punch right to the jaw of Nash. The difference in strength is clear as she stumbles backwards from Lavelle. She has no chance though as Pierce responds to the quick tempo, almost increasing it alarmingly for Nash as she takes several hits to her jaw. In no time at all she’s hit the mat, head spinning.
Lavelle is relentless, hitting a snap legdrop over the neck of his opponent. Nash convulses violently, clutching her neck and gasping for air. She has no time though as Lavelle repeats the move, stifling his opponent.
Truth Waters: Punishing attack from Pierce. He’s looking a lot leaner and meaner since he was out with that injury.
George Cassidy: I’m telling you Chainz has been whispering sweet nothings in his ear, who knows what could happen there.
Truth Waters: Lavelle has too much integrity and character to steep to that level George, you know that as well as I do.
George Cassidy: People change Truth. How do you think Lavelle feels about Pearl now?
Meanwhile Lavelle has dragged Nash off of the mat and drops her with a couple of elbows to the face. Nash gets to her feet but is immediately put into a facelock right down for a DDT. Lavelle goes for the cover and Ryan slides in to count.
1…
Nothing more though as Nash pushes her body off the canvas. Nash gets to her feet first and gets a knee to the rising Lavelle. She bounds into the ropes and comes flashing off with a flying forearm, keeping the stunned Lavelle on the backfoot. In no time at all the momentum has shifted seamlessly.
Truth Waters: You can see that both these competitors are letting it all hang out here in the ring with no stone unturned.
George Cassidy: Nash may have been a little shell shocked Truth but she’s recovered and now we’re beginning to see the swagger and pomp that we’re used to.
Despite George’s assertion, Nash looks anxious to put the match away and finally achieve what she deserves. She’s conscious that the longer it goes on, the more likely it is that the former champion will be able to find a way to win. Knowing this she grabs her opponent in an inverted facelock. She thinks about her finisher for a moment but thinks better of it and instead drops the body of Lavelle right over her knee. A distinct cry from Pierce can be heard and recoils to the ground clutching at his back.
Nash lays a couple of stomps as Lavelle is wriggling on the canvas, looking for the ropes to get him some relief. He manages to find them but Nash isn’t going to try and have a play fair attitude. She continues to lay the boots as referee Michael Ryan begins the count. Just before the 5 does Ellis halt and pick up Lavelle.
George Cassidy: Bringing the rules to their limits. I love it. I love her.
Truth Waters: Keep dreaming.
George Cassidy: Oh I will don’t you worry.
While Truth shudders audibly in the booth the action continues. Nash whips Lavelle off of the ropes and spins to meet him. There’s a clash as both of them hit with a clothesline on each other and they crash to the ground. The crowd applauds the energy so far and they aren’t disappointed as both of them launch to their feet to attack again.
Except they don’t as they both nod towards one another in respect for their abilities. But that’s all and then they return to the breach, ready to give it their all.
Lavelle gets their first, hitting a high knee to the chest and bringing Nash to her knees. A swift kick to the face brings an ‘ooh’ from the crowd at the crowd pleasing move and Lavelle follows it up with an elbow. As Nash crumples to the ground Pierce holds out a hand, grabbing the head and pulling her back up, leaving no room for a breather.
One snap suplex is followed by another and another in quick succession, taking the wind out of the sails of Ellis Nash. She slumps to the canvas and Lavelle grins, ready to take this into a slower and more steady pace.
Truth Waters: We’re switching gears now as Lavelle has gained control. Sure the tempo was nice it seems, but his concern is winning the match, not being flashy.
George Cassidy: I suppose that’ll work.
Knees and elbows down on the body of Nash are particularly effective and you can see that Pierce is slowly picking apart Ellis. He doesn’t seem too stressed in this situation but you can tell that he’s right at the peak of the match. He’s in gear, in tune and humming. Nash meanwhile is looking for an out, looking for somewhere to go but is unable to find anything. Lavelle locks on a chinlock, slowing the pace even further.
George Cassidy: Is he gassing already?
Truth Waters: No, not at all. Lavelle is purposefully halting the tempo, taking all the advantage out of Nash’s favour. Without that quickness and agility she’s a sitting duck waiting to be picked off.
George Cassidy: I don’t know, Lavelle hasn’t looked impressive to me so far.
Ryan is checking on Nash, looking to see if she’s close to quitting but her heart is still there, aware of the prize at stake. As Ryan lifts her hand and it falls for the first time, the fire in her eyes lights up that little bit more. She’s not ready to give in just yet.
Not ready at all.
In a flash she’s pushed up to her feet, despite the disadvantage in weight. An elbow to the stomach is enough to jar the grip of Lavelle and allow her to break free. She leaps into the ropes, rebounding like a rocket and nails Lavelle with a fierce flying elbow. As he falls she smashes right on top of him, raining down blows again and searching for another opening. She vaults up to her feet and goes for the ropes, coming back and executing a wicked somersault leg drop. She holds on for the count.
1…
2…
Lavelle’s arm shoots up in time and you see the urgency from him. Nash is in full flow and goes for the ropes again. This time she vaults into them, looking for a springboard attack but is caught red handed. Lavelle catches Nash in mid-air and viciously nails her to the mat with a powerbomb. Ellis’ chest booms inwards as all the air falls out. Lavelles looks for the kill.
Truth Waters: It’s not looking good for Nash here…and yeah here it comes.
What Waters refers to is the Whiplash II, a brutal finisher that Lavelle has concocted. We switch back just in time to se Nash being locked into the final submission part of the move. With nowhere to go and nowhere to hide the result is elementary.
The bell rings.
The crowd explodes with cheers.
Lavelle falls back and pumps his fist.
Nash falls to the canvas and smacks it in annoyance.
James Brunt: Your winner…and the NEW TRANSATLANTIC CHAMPION….PIERCE LAVELLE!!!
Lavelle is handed the belt and pushes it into the air triumphant. He turns back to Nash and extends his hand to which she takes bitterly. As soon as she can let go she does, leaving the ring and the ringside area. All the way down the aisle she’s cursing herself.
Truth Waters: What an unexpected finish fans but one that didn’t disappoint many. Nash proved she’s in the big leagues, but like many others before her, she falls to the man called Lavelle. Lavelle is now the first three-time champion in AWC history and you can tell that he’s enjoying it!
George Cassidy: Eh.
Truth Waters: Folks we’re all out of time for this special but don’t forget that we’ll be having another special next week for the east side so I hope you’ll join us!