Fresh! Results1st November 2005
Here’s Something The Unfuckables Made Earlier!
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES, DANNY O'SHEA
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
The scene opens on a darkened evening in rural Ireland. Two shadowy figures are stood in front of an old caravan. The camera zooms in to reveal the stealthy figures are The Unfuckables, Mike Wade and Adam Dick. Wade is crouched closest to the door as Dick appears to be alert to their surroundings.
Adam Dick: Wadester man I don't know about this. You don't fuck with a gypsy’s domain!
Mike Wade: Maybe you're forgetting who we are? We're Unfuckable not the gypsies. Look at what this guy is living in. Squalor, less than squalor. And all in the vain hope of living up to a stereotype. Makes me sick so it does.
Adam Dick: Alright man, but look, make it quick. The smell of yoo-ryne is knocking me here!
Adam hands Mike a crowbar mid-sentence.
Mike Wade: You keep watch and I'll do the business.
Adam Dick: Not a problem...oh Mike, don't forget to hold your nose as you go in. If the smell out here is this bad imagine what it's like inside!
Mike pauses and thinks.
Mike Wade: Oh fuck yeah...yuck!
Mike moves towards the door of the caravan, stealthy as can be. He reaches in with his crowbar as the scout, Facey keeps his watchful eye out for any other gippos! Wade places the crowbar between the door and hinge creating a knocking sound as he tries to ply it open. The door creaks open. But not because of Wade’s breaking and entering skills. Standing in the hollowed doorway of the mobile home is an elderly man.
Adam Dick: Mike...psssssst Mike!
Mike Wade: What?
Adam Dick: Someone's answered the door.
The old man looks down at Wade and Dick with a face that only protrudes disgust. These two Unfuckables have been caught trying to enter a travellers’ domain. It doesn't look good.
Mike Wade: Who is it?
Adam Dick: I'm afraid to look up...you look.
Wade lifts his head and sees the angry old man glaring down at him. Wade thinks on his feet...
Mike Wade: P...P...Papa O’Shea?
The old man looks knocked by this.
Man: Yes!
He responds. It is Paddy O’Shea’s father – last seen being victimised by Hate – but what are The Unfuckables doing at the O’Shea family home?
Suddenly our question is answered as Wade mows down Danny O’Shea with a spear and charges into the caravan which is surprisingly devoid of any other people. Wade proceeds to kick apart the lowly possessions that are inside. Cups, saucers and personal pictures. He suddenly stops when he feels he's broken enough. He peers down at Adam Dick and Dick back at him. Suddenly a sick smile grows on either face. Wade peers down at the fallen Danny O’Shea.
Mike Wade: Let's get outta here Facey, I proved me point I think!
Inside: Information
FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY, AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The car park’s full. But it doesn’t matter. The taxi sweeps up the drive and stations itself as close to the back entrance to the Mabee Center as it can manage, coming to an abrupt halt as the door is thrown open. Out of the car steps Tim Shipley, dark khaki combat trousers and a long-sleeved white top his attire of choice; a kitbag follows him, presumably containing his wrestling gear – he has a match against impressive newcomer Alcaeus later tonight.
Bidding the driver farewell – no cash is exchanged; AWC absorbs the costs of transporting its employees from and to their hotels on the night of the show – Shipley heads towards the doors, not pausing for a second until the doors open ahead of him. He frowns as referee Aaron Davies, all kitted out in his official wear, appears in front of him – blanching as he catches sight of someone in front of him. Relief is visible on his face as he realises it’s only Tim.
Aaron Davies: Hi, Tim!
Shipley isn’t so chipper with his first words.
Tim Shipley: What are you doing, Aaron?
Aaron Davies: I... I just needed some fresh air. Tim – Tim, listen...
Shipley moves closer, anticipating some juicy gossip from the referee who has become his friend off-screen.
Aaron Davies: Pearl’s literally just pinned up something on the noticeboard and you need to see it.
Shipley frowns.
Tim Shipley: Is that it?
Aaron Davies: Well, it’s BIG. It’s about Triangles.
The wrestler nods.
Tim Shipley: OK, I’ll give it a look on my way in –
Aaron Davies: Tim – er – I don’t think you’re going to be happy... with what you read.
Tim Shipley: Why not?
Aaron Davies: I’ve... read it.
Growing impatient, Shipley stares at the referee.
Tim Shipley: Yes, I assumed as much – what is it?
But Aaron Davies isn’t going to be the bearer of bad news.
Aaron Davies: You should see for yourself. I should go...
Davies darts off, Shipley reeling round to call after him:
Tim Shipley: Don’t you have a match to referee?
But he’s gone, disappearing into the darkness. With a shrug, Shipley pushes open the doors.
Introduction
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The screen goes to black then fizzles to life suddenly, the letters “AWC” flashing across in a brilliant white light. A moment of silence dominates, then, backed by “Way Away” by Yellowcard, images of AWC's superstars appear, one after the other. The guitar plays softly first, then goes straight into a strong, powerful riff.
I think I'm breaking out
I'm gonna leave you now
There's nothing for me here
It's all the same
Pierce Lavelle is shown delivering his Whiplash finisher on Paddy O’Shea and then holding aloft the Transatlantic title, which he currently holds in his second reign. A pulsating white light continually lights up the screen, with shots of many AWC superstars in action being shown: Adam Dick, Tim Shipley, Red Rock.
And even though I know
That everything might go
Go downhill from here
I'm not afraid
Highlights of last week’s show flash across the screen as the song moves into its chorus. Paddy O’Shea pulling off his Hate-imitation gas mask as he stands over Mike Wade; Butterfly Hamada walking away from Jack Murphy in anger; Alcaeus hitting a stalling vertical suplex off the ring apron on Red Rock.
Way away, away from here I'll be
Away, away, away, so you can see
How it feels to be alone and not believe
Feels to be alone and not believe
Anything
Truth Waters: BOOM! SHAKE, SHAKE SHAKE THE ROOM!
George Cassidy: Yes that’s right, he’s black and I'm George Cassidy!
Truth Waters: Last week was a top top show from the AWC but we’re looking to BETTER that tonight! Ladies and gentlemen no fewer than SEVEN matches are booked, and I won’t run through them all but highlights are undoubtedly the two title matches.
George Cassidy: Jack Murphy finally gets the shot at gold his abilities have been screaming out for; he’s in a four way for Red Rock’s Livewire title.
Truth Waters: Along with Butterfly Hamada and The British Bomber, equally impressive competitors...
George Cassidy: Whatever. We’ve also got Mike Wade against Juri Hyobanshi in a monstrous Best Of Three main event which will be falls count anywhere!
Truth Waters: And that is for Wade’s Relentless title! His second defence since he won it from Ian English.
George Cassidy: That’s not all there is on offer...
Truth Waters: Not by any means!
George Cassidy: ...but the rest of the booking isn’t very exciting so we’ll move on. AWC airs its current spectacular in just ten days’ time; this arc comes to an end at Triangles, live from the FedEx Forum in Memphis! The event has been sold out for weeks but you can order the pay-per-view LIVE to your home! Just visit the website...
Truth Waters: No no, Hydey boy hasn’t done the Triangles mini-site yet. Give him till the weekend, mm?
A Heavy Decision
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, BUTTERFLY HAMADA
AUTHORS: FERGUS AND TASO
The cameras are whizzing right around the audience in the packed out Mabee Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The announcers are doing their TV intro and everyone's having a pretty damn good time it seems. That is until 'Seven Faces' by Slayer hits the PA to a loud chorus of boos from around the stadium.
Truth Waters: Oh great, and things were going so well...
George Cassidy: Finally! Somebody with a bit of class has arrived!
No sooner does Cassidy finish his statement than 'The Bull' Jack Murphy arrives into the ringside area. He's dressed in tracksuit pants and nothing more, displaying his muscular physique for all to show. His wrestling gear is clearly on, awaiting his upcoming match for the Livewire title later on in the show. His hair, tied back in a tight ponytail swishes from side to side haughtily, perfectly complementing the sleazy ego of 'The Bull.' The fans begin to boo their hardest as he wanders down the aisle but Murphy simply ignores them, keeping his face held high and above the jealous stares.
George Cassidy: Look at that specimen gracing us with his presence Truth. We should be applauding him, thanking him for being so kind as to give us a visit. Stand with me Truth come on!
Truth Waters: (shoving Cassidy) Would you get off you idiot!
Meanwhile Murphy was arrived in the ring finally and is holding the microphone, waiting for a bit of calm to come over the arena, to which the crowd is violently chanting asshole right back at him. Murphy looks out towards them and brings the mic to his lips.
Jack Murphy: I see my seals are still being well trained.
A chorus of boos rings out now and Jack snickers at his own comment, proud of his own remarks and making.
Jack Murphy: Ah sometimes I crack myself up...anyway I don't have time to teach you some new tricks seals so let's get right to the dirty work. Now, as you'll notice I have some handy little helpers bringing gear down to the ring right now and it's something that I hold dear to my heart and provides me in good stead as a warm-up for my matches. Preparation is key to matches and preparation is what got me here today...
The crowd is having none of it, booing away, all the while watching several of the stage crew lugging down two barbells to the ring, complete with weights already attached.
Truth Waters: Is he actually going to make us watch him do warm-ups?
George Cassidy: Is he ever! I can't wait to see those bulging biceps!
Truth Waters: I think something of yours is bulging...
Before Cassidy can respond Murphy has helped bring the gear into the ring and is shaking himself loose, doing a couple of stretches and getting ready to perform the work-out.
Jack Murphy: You see, you seals are trained all the time mentally, but sometimes, nothing makes things stick in the head better than some good hard physical activity. So what I'm going to show to you today is how with good preparation you can become just like me, 'The Old School Ox' Jack Murphy, the one who's going bring wrestling back to AWC! And why? Because I'm as good...
Before Murphy can finish his sentence, 'Breath of Sky' by Dean Evenson hits the PA and Butterfly Hamada to a rapturous chorus of cheers arrives in the arena. People are clamouring to get a good look at Hamada, who looks slightly pained from last week's punishment at the hands of Juri Hyobanshi but is otherwise in tip top form. She's firmly clasping a microphone and looking to speak.
Butterfly Hamada: ANONE! Listen to me, Jack Murphy! Do you seriously think that everyone wants to see this? A middle-aged man blowing so much hot air that he might as well be a zeppelin? NOBODY wants to see you WARM-up! What people want to see is how you are going to prove that women do not belong inside the ring with men. These people want to see if you can back up your words by taking ME on... in a wrestling match!
The crowd cheers along with Hamada's comments and is more than pleased to see this halt. Cassidy on the other hand isn't.
George Cassidy: Who does this woman think she is? She's ruining the display of power and strength from The Bull!
Truth Waters: Hamada of course is set to be one of the other competitors in the Livewire title match this evening and perhaps she's looking to get some scouting done on The Bull.
George Cassidy: Yeah right, she's trying to put him off his game. He needs his warm-up.
Murphy is clearly a little irked, already in the position to do a snatch lift with the barbells but stands up, calmly shaking his shoulders before bringing the mic he had previously back to his lips.
Jack Murphy: Ah little girl, you've come to disgrace my ring again have you? Or is the shot from that other woman still affecting your brain?
Truth Waters: Murphy referring to the brutal attack Hyobanshi made last week upon Hamada.
Butterfly Hamada: Excuse me? Gomen nasai ka, Jack-san? When are you going to learn that it is everyone's ring and not yours to give on loan to whomever you feel like! You give me no respect with your remarks and dishonour me instead. I am equal in all qualities of the warrior and will prove it no matter what the task!
Jack halts at this comment and seems to be getting a slight bit of an idea with this and looks around the ring, smirking as it comes to fruition in his head.
Truth Waters: What's going on? Looks like he's got a plan...
George Cassidy: A brilliant one no doubt.
Truth Waters: Why don't you just be his cheerleader for Christ’s sake.
George Cassidy: Well...I have the t-shirt!
Cassidy pulls up his shirt to reveal the 'I'm...as Good as it GETS!!' t-shirt (being sold in all reputable sports shops NOW), recently sported by Jack Murphy. Truth simply puts his head in his hands and shakes his head slowly, trying to ignore Cassidy.
Truth Waters: (muttering) Only a couple more weeks and maybe I'll get a vacation...
George Cassidy: What was that?
Truth Waters: Nothing...
Meanwhile, it seems Jack has made up his mind, putting out his hand to halt Hamada who has been making steady progress towards the ring.
Jack Murphy: Alright woman...(spits)...you say you've got those qualities, why don't we play a game alright? You like playing with your dolls don't you? Why don't we play something more grown up since you're so bold in your words.
Murphy steps back and allows her to enter the ring, halting her again with his hand once she is right before him.
Jack Murphy: Seeing as I was going to have a warm-up for the match later on tonight why don't we have a strength test? If you're equal in every way, then you should be able to match my workload right? (putting his finger to his lips) No don't reply, you've got to let your elders have their say, one of those things you children aren't learning these days. I've got two barbells here, one styled for snatch lifting and then another for the clean and jerk, got it?
Butterfly Hamada: Yes, you...
Jack Murphy: Patience my child and keep your excuses for later. So first, I've got 240lbs sitting on the snatch lift, a paltry weight for myself but something you won't even have a chance in. If you're so equal you should be able to do this no problem right? Watch and learn as you're schooled in the art of lifting!
Truth Waters: Murphy's a cocky guy isn't he?
George Cassidy: He's simply backing up what he says.
Truth Waters: That women are inferior?
George Cassidy: Yep...they should be in the kitchen, not in a squared circle!
Truth Waters: (crossing his fingers) Please let that fire him...
Murphy approaches the barbell and with little delay he swiftly picks up the bar, thrusting it high into the air with little effort. He displays it proudly around the ring for a moment or two, then drops it to the canvas, smiling and smirking at Hamada.
Jack Murphy: (picking up the mic) Let's see you do that little girl...
Hamada now approaches the bar and grips it firmly. All around her the crowd cheers her on, hoping that she'll be able to do it and prove the sleazy Murphy wrong. With an almighty lift, Hamada brings it clean over her head and stands upright, right in front of Murphy and sticks out her tongue, seeing Murphy's smile being wiped right off him. She thumps the barbell to the canvas and the road crew pull it out, replacing it with the other, heavier barbell. The Bull looks a little shaken but composes himself, blowing out some air and settling down while the crowd is jeering Murphy.
Butterfly Hamada: I am not just any woman, Jack Murphy. I trained my whole life to become a professional wrester. I would wake up at six in the morning every day and train, then serve as a waitress in the my dojo's restaurant downstairs for eight hours, then back to training for four more hours. After that we would clean up the restaurant and prepare for the nex-
Jack Murphy: Yeah, yeah, whatever. No matter, you won't be able to get this. This 280lb barbell is for the clean and jerk. You've got to bring this to your neck and hold it for five seconds before bringing it over your head and holding it there for another five seconds. I have no doubt that you'll not get this, so watch and learn how REAL wrestlers are above and beyond your feeble capacity.
Truth Waters: Alright, he's beyond cockiness, now he's just a downright arrogant asshole.
George Cassidy: More like a visionary and the saviour of our wrestling plight. Get with the programme Truth!
Truth Waters: I think I should be checking you into one!
Murphy again approaches the bar and wastes little time in bringing it up to his neck. His bulging biceps throb as the power flows through them like the essence of the earth itself. After what seems much longer than five seconds, Murphy powers the bar over his head and now begins to parade once more around the ring, even doing a spin a couple of times to really rub it in. The crowd responds naturally with boos.
Truth Waters: What a prick.
George Cassidy: What a showman.
The bar smacks against the mat and Murphy folds his arms, looking at Hamada again, looking cockily at her and confident in his powers of strength and perception. Now Hamada approaches this barbell, a slight bit of trepidation but her determination is paramount to her.
Truth Waters: Come on Butterfly, you can do this!
The whole crowd joins in along with Waters almost instinctively, chanting her name and willing her on. Hamada pushes the bar up into the air, holding it at her neck...then suddenly you can see her knee buckle slightly...
Truth Waters: Come on!
George Cassidy: Yes! Prove your inability!
The crowd is roaring now and pushing for Hamada, no matter how much pain she seems to be in. She struggles a little, then cries out in Japanese powerfully, a whole burst of energy resonating through her body as she dominates the bar and controls it above her head, screaming and staring directly at Murphy. Jack is cursing to himself and moves to the ropes, shaking them wildly with disbelief as Hamada finishes and the crowd cries in Hamada's favour.
Truth Waters: She did it!
George Cassidy: No!!!
Murphy is still pacing the ring when he stops suddenly and it seems a light bulb goes off above his head. He calms down again and returns to his smirk, looking cockily at Hamada and taking the mic again.
Jack Murphy: You really think that was all I'd do for a warm-up? You really think that is stressful for me, The Bull? Not even close, not even a speck on the distance, not even a drop in the ocean. That is so easy, even these seals could have a good go at it before they experience their third heart failure!
Boos again fill in the Mabee Center in Tulsa and Murphy revels in them.
Jack Murphy: No, there's another thing I like to do, and this is something that I KNOW you cannot do!
Murphy strides over to the side of the ring and begins to talk quickly to the stage crew, one of which who looks underneath the ring itself.
Truth Waters: What's going on?
George Cassidy: I don't know, but whatever it is must be a staple of any wrestling ring.
The road crew pulls back out and hands an object to Murphy who brings it and holds it aloft to show the entire crowd what it is; an iron rod. Instinctively Hamada reels back, ready for any foul dealings afoot. Murphy chuckles to himself at this.
Jack Murphy: It's ok, there's nobody coming from behind this week, you can take a look if you want...anyway, what this iron rod will prove is the male dominance in strength and the woman's absolute lack of it. All you've got to do...
Murphy drops the mic and pulls the iron in his two hands, bending it into a ninety-degree angle. He then picks back up the microphone.
Jack Murphy: ...Is unbend this. Nothing more to it.
Murphy then hands the rod to Hamada who looks warily at him before taking it.
Truth Waters: Well this is sure a strange test, but hopefully Hamada can do it and prove this arrogant prick wrong.
George Cassidy: Stop cursing in front of the saviour!
Hamada takes the iron rod and begins to try and pry it back to normal, prove him wrong and prove her claim...but she can't. Frustratingly she puts it into one hand and takes her own mic.
Butterfly Hamada: Perhaps I cannot do this, but I have proved my point. Strength is present in all and for that we are equal, you have no claim to women being inferior in any way and any dispute of this fact is completely wrong. Honour lies within is both.
Jack Murphy: Stop talking crazy woman and get back to the real world. Look at it this way...you couldn't do that last simple task and I could. There is proof of the difference between you and me and from that springs innumerable others. Don't come talking to me about honour, you're not even on the same level as me and if you try you're just going to get hurt. I'm doing this for your own good little girl, your own good...
Before he can finish his sentence, Hamada strikes with the rod, nailing Murphy right in the groin to an explosion of cheers and several groans from the men in the audience, audibly clutching at their own.
Truth Waters: NUT SHOT!!!
George Cassidy: NO!!!!
As everyone raves, and Murphy keels over, shock on his face and looking at Hamada, she moves right forward with her microphone.
Butterfly Hamada: Well...there's ONE difference taken care of. Domo arigato gozaimasu, Jack-san.
Without another word Hamada leaves the ring to 'Breath of Sky' once more, walking proudly back up the aisle and to the backstage area, all the while Murphy is cursing on the canvas, holding his nether region tightly and not moving very much.
Truth Waters: Well folks, looks like Hamada is bringing Murphy to an equal footing as her own, that's definitely one way of levelling the playing field!
George Cassidy: That was criminal!
Leaky Problems I
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The fans have been waiting for this since the beginning of AWC.
It’s Sarah Kennedy, standing there in her sparkly black trousers and a lacy black bra, her eye having been caught mid-changing by the sight of water slowly spilling over the basin at the end of the female employees’ locker room.
Truth Waters: Oh... momma...
The announcers are not meant to talk over backstage segments, but even Truth Waters cannot hold in his delight as his eyes ravenously take in the details before him: the slim, toned stomach; the too-good-to-be-true (though it is in fact true) skin; the light freckling beneath her neck; and of course those breasts, delicately enclosed in their lacy cage.
And then she starts to bend forward.
Really, she’s trying to reach the sink without getting her feet wet in the quickly-expanding puddle of water before her, but inadvertently she’s allowing the television audience to grab a nice view of those babies. Gratuitous? Not a chance. Sarah Kennedy would never do this for money. She just wants to shut off that tap.
But as her palm touches the cold metal, she realises it’s not the kind of tap you can forget to turn off; it’s one of those that you push, one that should automatically shut off after a given time. It clearly hasn’t, and Kennedy is unable to turn off the water. She holds up her hands and stands straight, speaking to herself in that clear English voice.
Sarah Kennedy: I’ll tell the janitor when I'm changed...
She marches back off to the other side of the room, where the lockers are situated, and starts to put on her choice of top for the evening as the camera cuts from the scene, to the dismay of fans the world over.
Leaky Problems II
FEATURING: TRACY, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: MIKE
An extremely busty blonde walks by camera. On closer inspection we recognize that it is actually Tracy. The short skirt and tight tank top she’s wearing is doing wonders for the crew members around her, who just stop and stare. She walks by Maddy Estelle on her way to get a bottle of water from the vending machine.
Maddy watches her pass with disdain in her eyes. She looks down at her ample cleavage and pushes it up some more to try and match Tracy, she fails however.
Maddy approaches Tracy from behind.
Maddy Estelle: You’re Tracy right?
Tracy is taken by surprise and startles a bit, before calming down.
Tracy: Yes, hi, how are you?
Maddy Estelle: I’m good, and yourself?
Tracy: Not so bad either, getting ready for Mike’s match.
Maddy wrinkles her nose a bit.
Maddy Estelle: Don’t you think he’s sort of a bastard?
The bottled water drops down from the vending machine. Tracy reaches down to pick it up, almost spilling out of her top.
Tracy: Well actually when you get to know him he’s a good guy.
Maddy Estelle: Yeah, I somehow doubt that.
Tracy is not amused.
Tracy: Can I help you with something?
Maddy Estelle: Oh nothing, I just wanted to see what the buzz is all about. Turns out all it takes is a bit of silicon to drive everyone wild.
Tracy stands there shocked as Maddy chuckles and walks away.
Tracy: That bitch. That hypocritical bitch!
Tracy drinks some water as she heads off to the women’s locker room. She opens the door and steps into a puddle of water. She slips and lands on her stomach, luckily for her her airbags protected her face. She gets up, pissed, and completely covered with water. Her tank top hugs her body even more tightly and leaves little to the imagination.
Leaky Problems III
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES, THE AWC FEMALES
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Adam Dick: Hey, sexbots! Since the ladies’ room is all gunky and shit, you chicks can come in the Unfuckables’ room. Hey, we may even waiver the whole “Unfuckable” stip for you broads.
The crowd of female employees turns from their position on the shore of the flood, not wanting to waddle through the crap-infested water, were really in no mood to hear any antics of the Unfuckables tonight.
Sarah Kennedy: As if!
Maddy Estelle: Pfft, get the hell out of my face.
Alexa Kendericks: Shut up before I decide to cut your sack off!
Mike Wade: Alright ladies. If you change your mind, you know where to find us!
The ladies all push past the Unfuckables, in search of another means to piss their brains out. Everyone of them is angry, and we’re pretty sure Alexa Kendericks is trying to usher after Adam with a switchblade, only to be held back by an unknown crew member.
Adam Dick: Do you think it went over well?
Mike Wade: Time will tell, my friend, but we are feckin’ swag, aren’t we?
Adam Dick: Damn right!
Conveniently, the boys walk right past the dressing room labeled “
Adam Dick: Who are you facing tonight?
Mike Wade: Jury-yo Banshee?
Adam Dick: Is she in Eire Og – Emerald Isle – The Irish Guys?
Mike Wade: ...No?
Adam Dick: Then who am I facing tonight?
Mike Wade: Crimson O’Malec.
Adam Dick: And HE’S in Eire Og – Emer –
Mike Wade: Very much so, yes.
Adam Dick: Okay, sweet! I think I’ve got a good idea, then.
Leaky Problems IV
FEATURING: CHAINZ, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, TRACY
AUTHOR: MIKE
We cut to Pearl’s office where he sits at his desk writing in his papers. The door opens and in walks Chainz. Pearl looks up, completely surprised by Chainz’s appearance.
Pearl: How can I help you?
Chainz walks over to Pearl’s desk and towers over him. He looks down on Pearl with a smile.
Chainz: I just wanted to see the mastermind behind Fresh!.
Pearl: (with a toothy smile) Well that’d be me.
Chainz: Yes, it would. Let me ask you a question, why am I in a tag match tonight?
Pearl: It makes for a good debut match...
Chainz: It cuts my ring time in half; I can’t show off my talents with ‘Mare taking up my personal TV time.
Pearl doesn’t look as confident as he did before, but he swallows and looks Chainz in the eye.
Pearl: There will be plenty of time for that in the future. Right now I want to see how the crowd reacts to –
Chainz: When you have a talent like me you better show it off. How can I prove myself when I have to carry ‘Mare along with me?
Pearl: Don’t you think you’re overreacting?
Chainz: I never overreact.
Pearl thinks about his answer, but before he does the door bursts open. Tracy storms in still wet from the fall and still showing more than intended.
Tracy: You have to do something about the women’s bathroom. There’s water all over the place.
Pearl just stares at her protruding breasts. Chainz takes his jacket off and covers Tracy’s wet body up.
Pearl: We’re working on it. I need to talk to the janitor...
Chainz: Damn Pearl, my girl can’t even take a piss cause you can’t find someone to fix the bathroom. What kind of operation are you running here?
Pearl: Look it’s a temporary problem; we’re taking care of it.
Chainz: You better, and you better stop putting me in these bullshit matches. Someone might think you have something against me.
Chainz gives Pearl a menacing grin before he turns his back and leads Tracy out of the office. Pearl sighs and goes back to his paper work.
Message By Cast
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
The camera cuts backstage to The Unfuckables arriving in their dressing room. Wade and Dick both toss their bags down on a bench and sit down to chill out. As Adam sits down he appears to hurt his arse in the process. He quickly sits back up.
Adam Dick: Owww! My ass.
Mike Wade: Too much pipe?
Adam Dick: Yeah right. I just sat on something.
Adam reaches down on the bench and a package is there. On it reads. "For the attention of Mike Wade".
Adam Dick: For you Wadey...
Adam tosses the package to Wade. He opens it up and pulls out...a cast?
Mike Wade: What the hell is this shit?!
Wade turns over the cast to reveal writing on the back it reads: "You fucked with my family – bad mistake. Now it's your turn!" Wade drops the cast immediately upon reading it, which causes the cast to break in two upon impact on the floor. The Unfuckables both stare at each other with eyes wider than Maddy Estelle’s vagina (you owe me, Mike – Hyde).
Adam Dick: I told you not to fuck with those guys...you’re on your own for this one pal!
Wade doesn't answer he just runs his left hand through his previously perfectly gelled hair.
T.T.S. vs 'Mare/Chainz
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: TASO
"Cure" by The Wild Colonials hits as Chainz steps out from the back with Tracy by his side. The two proceed down the ramp way, Chainz ignoring the fans and Tracy appeasing them. Chainz slides into the ring and looks around at the audience while waiting for his opponent.
George Cassidy: Chainz makes his way to the ring for this huge tag match!
James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match. Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Tracy, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing in at 295 pounds... MICHAEL “CHAINZ” SLOAN!
Truth Waters: He shares Chris Metal’s hometown...
George Cassidy: That can’t be a good sign.
"Magdalena" starts to play, signalling the entrance of 'Mare. He is very menacing as he heads to the ring. The fans are abuzz for a good tag match.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from parts unknown, weighing in at 246 pounds... ‘MARE!
George Cassidy: 'Mare is here! And now comes the future of tag team wrestling to the ring... T.T.S.!
'Get A Move On' by Mr. Scruff plays and out comes T.T.S., Harry and John. There are some USA chants in the crowd as this formidable team hit the ring.
James Brunt: And their opponents, from London, England, at a combined weight of 550 pounds... Harry and John, T.T.S.!
Truth Waters: The ref is checking them out... fans salivating in anticipation! There goes the bell!
George Cassidy: Here we go with a flurry of punches and misses. Aggressive action... Harry hits a HARD spinning kick to the jaw. 'Mare didn't see it, Harry is fast. Harry hits a rolling shoulder block on 'Mare. Great execution of it! STO from Harry! Covers for a quick two count. Harry tags out to John. Harry scoops up 'Mare. John bounces off the ropes and hits a flying Hart Attack clothesline. There's a two count on the pin.
Truth Waters: Now a BIG clothesline on 'Mare. He's bumbling and stumbling. John with a waistlock. 'Mare reverses the waistlock. Spinning bulldog in the corner and John is down! Covers for a quick two count. Tag to Michael 'Chainz' Sloan. Full nelson slam on John. Hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
No!
Truth Waters: Both men up... go behind by John. BAAACK Body drop by John gets a bit of a pop from the crowd. Chainz rushes in for a wrestling hold, John reverses a waistlock. Neckbreaker on Michael 'Chainz' Sloan by John! Remember when that was a legit finisher? But it can't take out Chainz! Tag between John and Harry. Lots of good tagging in and out here! Chainz walks into a high dropkick from Harry, almost losing several teeth in the process!
George Cassidy: Chainz goes for a tag... tag between Michael 'Chainz' Sloan and 'Mare! But Harry ducks a clothesline... flying elbow from Harry connects! It's a MAD HOUSE in the ring as all four workers are going at it!! The referee can't seem to do anything to stop it and gets shoved away. The referee's had enough. But these guys won't stop fighting!
The quick tag outs and double teaming give the impression that the two teams are trying to out-do each other, and it ends up in a brawl.
George Cassidy: Running knee lift from John. Now a whip to the ropes... spinebuster by John! He turns around... 'Mare scores with a big spinebuster himself! 'Mare is the legal man! I honestly can't believe my eyes here, they are going back and forth! BIG clothesline on John. John blocks a punch. Quick knee to the gut... John hits a bulldog off the ropes! Back to the ropes... massive lariat! Stan Hansen would approve. Hooks the leg but Chainz breaks up the pin!
Truth Waters: 'Mare takes advantage of the interruption... triple forearms to the face! Whip to the turnbuckle... 'Mare charges into the corner, but EATS BOOT and staggers backward. 'Mare is a glutton for punishment and just continues to take it during this match. 'Mare kicks John in the gut to reverse the momentum AGAIN! Hard impact Russian leg sweep by 'Mare. 'Mare scores with a big elbow drop! 'Mare floors John for good with a headbutt to the canvas...and climbs the turnbuckles. Off the top - diving elbow drop! In comes Harry! In comes Chainz! The ref is going crazy again as he can't keep these two teams outside for very long!
In all the commotion both men get to their corners and tag out. Harry misses a quick clothesline and gets clotheslined right over the top rope. Chainz throws Harry into the steel steps. Harry stumbles around on the outside...spear by Michael Sloan!
Truth Waters: Chainz riling up the fans as he prepares to spear the shit out of Harry AGAIN, on the outside... Harry backdrops Michael Sloan on the concrete on the outside! What a bad bump! Harry now goes for a piledriver! OH MY LORD! NO! NO! Chainz backdrops Harry out of a piledriver attempt! That took a lot out of Harry. Chainz rolls back into the ring! Here comes Harry, intent to keep fighting! STIFF high kick on Chainz by Harry. Second rope flying axe handle, Chainz goes down. Hooks the leg for pin, but NO! Broken up by 'Mare!
John throws the steel steps into the ring, causing more commotion. The ref goes to admonish him in the corner when...
Truth Waters: Harry dropkicks Chainz after leaping off the steel steps! Hooks the leg! Referee is nowhere to be seen! A leg drop to the BACK OF THE HEAD! 'Mare breaks it up! I don't mind telling you that every time I seethe tag team coordination, it makes me proud. This is a great match!
George Cassidy: Harry clotheslines Chainz over the top rope and they are on the outside AGAIN! They brawl to the outside and into the crowd. Swift kick from Harry on the outside. Chainz takes a kick to the chest. Here comes 'Mare.... OH MY LORD! Flying body block into both men on the outside, in the fans seats! Ron Artest would be proud!
'Mare and Chainz throw Harry back over the railing and into the ring as the ref comes over for more arguing. They wind up back in the squared circle. Chainz whips Harry to the ropes but misses a jumping spin kick and lands on the canvas. Harry drops an elbow...but Michael 'Chainz' Sloan moves out of the way. He hits a flying bulldog off the ropes. High angle DDT by Michael Sloan just SPIKES Harry down!
George Cassidy: Pinfall attempt!
ONE!
TWO!
George Cassidy: Kick out! Now Chainz is up... Running knee lift from Chainz. Face jam onto the turnbuckle. Chainz with a toss out of the corner... Harry reverses a hip toss. Harry hits a BIG jumping kick on Michael Sloan and gets right back up. Chainz walks into a face crusher variation. AND HIS FACE GOT CRUSHED! Harry has Michael 'Chainz' Sloan down on the canvas. Jumping ground punch!
ONE!
TWO!
George Cassidy: Kick out! Michael Sloan slides out of the ring leaves and walks back down the aisle! What the hell!? 'Mare is coming to console him. Wait...Harry comes running as well, and Chainz and 'Mare get dropped with a double clothesline! Followed by a load of stomps. They are left lying in the aisle! And the ref is out here now trying to get everything back to normal!
Truth Waters: Something went wrong somewhere, didn't it? Both of these came in here thinking they were going to dominate but neither has been able to get an upperhand. 'Mare and Chainz just trying to slow it down... they got walloped! And there is creaming and finger pointing everywhere and the ref is right in the middle of it... but they are all back to the ring again and the fans are going CRAZY! Harry and 'Mare are in the ring now!
George Cassidy: Harry vs 'Mare... they go to the ropes... back ans forth... Standing leg lariat by Harry on 'Mare! Harry strikes 'Mare with a left and a right. Harry uses a basement dropkick to the knee and it looks like it might be TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL! Quick headlock on the ground... 'Mare pushes out of the hold. Both men up... drop toe hold by 'Mare. Both men up... kick to the gut by 'Mare... Harry gets caught with a short powerbomb! Big piledriver on Harry! OH MAN! Say it ain't so, baby! 'Mare with the big offense!
'Mare goes for a splash but Harry puts the knees up. Flying cross body off the top rope and 'Mare goes down.
ONE!
TWO!
There's a two count on the pin. Power drive elbow by Harry. He picks him up and whips him to the ropes... 'Mare is able to duck a clothesline attempt and connect with a counter flying clothesline. 'Mare gets up and gives a Belly to belly suplex to Harry.
Truth Waters: 'Mare taking over! In comes John but here comes Chainz... belly to belly suplex on John!
George Cassidy: The referee trying to get both men out of there! Harry with an eye gouge to 'Mare... to the ropes... RUGBY TACKLE! OH MY LORD ALMIGHTY!
Truth Walters: Meanwhile, 'Chainz' with a shove to John with the ref in the middle... John is furious and the ref trying to get him back in the corner! 'Chainz' is on the outside, right in front of us! He has a chair!
Michael 'Chainz' Sloan comes running around with a chair and gets into the ring! Chainz hits Harry with a chair to the back! Harry goes down to the canvas, hurt!
Truth Waters: He picks him up... CHAIN REACTION DOUBLE POWERBOMB! Chainz lays 'Mare’s arm across the chest of Harry and scoots. Damn that ref!
George Cassidy: He's running over for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winners... CHAINZ and ‘MARE!
Truth Walters: This is one hell of an upset! Chainz won this match with some backhanded strategy!
George Cassidy: Michael Sloan and 'Mare with the win over T.T.S. in one of the wilder tag matches we have seen in a long time!
Paddy, Where Art Thou?
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, SHELLY, PADDY O'SHEA
AUTHORS: MICHAEL DOHERTY AND MIKE WADE
Shaken by Paddy O’Shea’s little message, Mike Wade had decided he’d had enough. Last week being jumped in a trick or treat attack, this week one of his sick messages. But Paddy was soft and he knew it. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to do when he seen Paddy. Ask for forgiveness then crack him on the head with a nearby chair? The idea made him shudder in sick excitement then he stored the plan in the back of his head for future reference.
Mike Wade emerges from his changing room deep in thought. His hair seems untidy like he had been running his hand through it again and again. He strides down the narrow corridor looking left and right, into every open dressing room and storeroom. Despite the amount of water around his feet significantly increasing he pays no heed not even as it laps up, soaking him through to his ankles. He was a focused man, a determined man, especially when he wanted something.
Mike Wade: Come on Paddy, you feckin’ coward. Let's see that shit-eatin nackers face of yours!
Wade peers around a corner carefully, always cautious. He squints for a second as he sees a figure at the very far end of the hall, standing looking at a billboard. Yet the person is so far away that he can’t determine any other detail apart from the person is clad in black. He watches for a second not moving then as the person walks away around the corner he runs down, the water splashing so high he can feel it freckling his lips.
Mike Wade: YOU’RE DEAD PADDY! YOU HEAR ME? FUCKIN DEAD! I'M MIKE F'N WADE. ONE OF THE UNFUCKABLES. YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME!
Mike Wade, throwing caution to the wind now runs around the corner and almost barges a young female stagehand to the ground. The girl, NOT the one we saw earlier, is clad in a black AWC t-Shirt and seems on the point of tears as Wade grabs her around the shoulders and shakes her frantically.
Mike Wade: Where is he? Where’s Paddy? Come on, what’s wrong, pussy got your tongue?!
The girl seems stuck for words as she gasps for a breath. Now her eyes are welling up, her pretty face distorting into one of plead. Wade throws her to the side and she falls onto her ass in the water, soaking her completely.
Mike Wade: Stupid bitch. Can't even string a sentence together you're probably about as inbred as Paddy that's your problem!
Wade walks away now and out of view. Almost as soon as he walks past an open changing room, a figure emerges. The faint sound of a cheer is heard as the person is revealed to be Paddy O’Shea who is casually eating a banana a smile on his face as he hears Wade scream a curse in the distance. Then he hears a soft sob and he turns around to see the stagehand still sitting on the floor, her hands in her face. He hurries up to her and gently pulls her to his feet.
Paddy O'Shea: Are ye okay love, did he hurt ye?
The girl shakes her head from being buried in his shoulder. He places a finger beneath her chin and perks it up so she’s looking in his eyes. Then he brushes a few loose hairs from her forehead and behind her ear. Yes, she really is beautiful Paddy realises. It wasn’t that that captivated him last week when she wheeled him to Mike Wade’s room thinking he was a handicapped child. It was her kindness, she was kind then. It was this that persuaded him to ask her out for a drink at the weekend. It was her kindness that made her glow as they chatted lightly over dinner the night after. And below a hazy streetlight, deep into the night on Sunday, he kissed her passionately and she shivered underneath his touch, not out of disgust that he was a gypsy but because she felt alive. The wrestler and the stagehand. Could’ve been a Shakespeare, eh? Only she wouldn’t be known as the ‘stagehand’. She was more than that now. Very sudden indeed, he was an impulsive person by nature but everything he’d done then and now just felt right that he was with her. Her name was Shelly and he loved the way it clicked from his tongue. Shel-ly, Shel-ly, Shel-ly.
Shelly: Paddy…I hate that asshole.
Shelly giggled slightly. Despite choking with tears, she could still find in herself that ability to laugh and Paddy smiled, his insides doing backflips. He looked into her hazel eyes then kissed her on the forehead.
Paddy O'Shea: Aye’m sorry aye didn’t come out. Aye just needed t’ know his mood. Aye’m sorry, aye won’t do tha’ again.
Paddy pulled her close so that her heartbeat reverberated from his head to foot then he looked over her shoulder confirming Wade was indeed gone. Despite both of them standing in a few inches of water from God knows where, the scene was touching. Paddy smiled and seemingly Shelly sensed this because she smiled too, neither of them knowing. Paddy turned his head again to a billboard and noticed a sheet of paper that hadn’t been there earlier.
Paddy O'Shea: Triangles…
Shelly: What’s that Paddy?
Paddy didn’t have that luvvy-duvvy feeling now all of a sudden as he scanned the names methodically. Shelly looked up into his troubled face, his battered but attractive face a picture of worry.
Paddy O'Shea: It’s nothin’. Just aye thought…aye thought aye seen Mickey’s name with me an’ Crimson. Ye kno’, Eire Og back once more.
Shelly: But…he betrayed you…you shouldn’t want anything to do with him.
Paddy was confused, that was sure. For weeks now he was convinced that Mickey didn’t mean what he did, that he was only being manipulated by the puppet master, Mike Wade. And if only he could talk to him once, just once, he could right his wrongs. Just a ‘sorry’ and he would gladly let Mickey back in. Just that, for now more than ever, he needed friends especially with Crimson just not there for him.
Paddy O'Shea: Aye kno’, aye don’. Aye don’ want t’ see him again.
Shelly put her head back into Paddy’s chest, no notion that she was lied to. Paddy did want to see him again, he did. They were partners. Paddy pulled a picture from a back pocket and looked at it, over Shelly’s shoulder – the picture of Paddy and the Farmer lofting the Alliance belts over their heads following them defeating T.T.S.. Paddy sighed to himself. This had been everything to him; he had to get it back.
Norman Quiry vs Hate
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY
Truth Waters: Now for an interesting match-up, as the behemoth Hate takes on the slightly taller and heavier Quiry.
George Cassidy: Both boo boys of the AWC it seems too. I wonder who the fans will side with in this match. Oh shit. Just lost interest.
Truth Waters: Smooth Cassidy. Well done
George Cassidy: Okay, okay. I am actually curious to see Hate fares against a larger opponent.
Truth Waters: Norman Quiry?
George Cassidy: That bender? Ha! Built like a jockey’s whip that guy.
Without any warning, Marduk's 'Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transilvania' begins to grind away at the speakers, filling the audio system with doom and darkness. Hate appears in the entranceway, with a black gas mask covering his head and wearing a long, black trenchcoat. As he walks to the ringside, Hate shouts verbal abuse at the fans through his mask before removing it at the ringside, revealing his painted head. Hate slides into the ring and takes off his trenchcoat before putting both the coat and the mask away, utterly concentrated on the match ahead.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 225 pounds...HATE!
The fans are giving Hate a very negative reception as the atmosphere begins to turn haughty very drastically.
George Cassidy: I wonder when Brunty says Pennsylvania does he mean Transylvania?
Truth Waters: Why? Because he’s such a scary figure?
George Cassidy: No because Transylvania is the spiritual home of tranny’s everywhere! AHAHAHAHA!! Get it Truth? Tranny, Transylvania?
Truth Waters: Good lord.
The fans continue to jeer at the Nondivine Juggernaut who is now seemingly indifferent to the chants echoing in his ears.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Blackpool, England, weighing in at 241 pounds…NORMAN QUIRY!
The annoying Jeopardy theme music now booms from the speakers and Norman Quiry emerges from behind the curtain to a matching chorus of jeers from the crowd though not quite as intense as that of the Fifth Horseman. Hate watches as his opponent approaches the ring. A smile is on his face but he looks nervous. And who can blame him as Hate roars down at him.
Truth Waters: Quiry not quite happy to enter at the minute…
George Cassidy: Would you? Did the Christians walk into the lions willingly? It’s Pearl I say! He’s the Caesar behind it all!
Truth Waters: …?
George Cassidy: If you know your ancient Israel.
The referee forces Hate into his corner allowing Quiry to enter. Quiry now stands in the centre of the ring as the referee stands away. The bell rings as Quiry extends his hand in a handshake. Hate looks at it for a second then spits in his opponent’s face who raises his hand in disgust only to get put to the mat with a big punch to the jaw.
Truth Waters: I take it this won’t be a friendly affair then.
George Cassidy: He could have got a four course meal out of that greener Truth.
Truth Waters: Yum. Appetising.
Hate plants a boot into Quiry’s ribs and he yells out in pain. He sends another boot into the same region but is then yanked to the mat as Quiry hooks the back of his ankle and uses his own momentum to floor him. Once there Quiry swoops down for a reverse armbar on the big man.
Truth Waters: Very nice reversal from Quiry there though Hate really should have seen something like that coming. He’ll need to improve especially with Super Series coming up.
George Cassidy: O’Shea? Just fart in his general direction Truth for the win.
Quiry pulls Hate to his feet but he spear charges him into the corner the now vulnerable Norman Quiry is on the receiving end of several shoulder barges before Hate locks him and executes a belly to belly overhead suplex.
George Cassidy: Niiiiice.
Truth Waters: Indeed George, good combination of moves there from Hate.
Hate starts to work on Quiry. He swings him around and plants him into the turnbuckle and begins a blatant chokehold. The referee gets on the scene and intervenes instantly. Hate lets go then begins a series of head butts to Quiry’s head to the enjoyment of the crowd.
Truth Waters: There’s a mixed reaction from the crowd here. On the one hand, Norman Quiry is getting his ass handed to him and then on the other it’s Hate that has the advantage.
George Cassidy: Oh don’t get me started on these fans Truth.
Hate is about to stomp a hole in Quiry when Quiry leaps out of the corner with a clothesline flooring Hate. Quiry shouts to the crowd and receives a muted jeer. Quiry then climbs up on the second rope and drops a leg over Hate’s chest. Hate had tried to move out of the way but had moved too slow. Quiry grabs Hate around the neck and hoists him to his feet and swings behind him. He then grabs him in a full nelson lock and readily slams him down.
Truth Waters: Quiry not getting the better of Hate. Quite a rollercoaster of control here.
George Cassidy: HAHA!
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: How cheap was that? Rollercoaster of control? Come on.
Truth Waters: George…you’re cruising for a bruising you know.
George Cassidy: HAH-
WHACK
Hate is down on the ground face down so Quiry turns around and applies a Boston crab. The referee runs over quickly and asks Hate if he wants to quit. Hate shakes his head. Quiry intensifies the lock but seems to be anxious as Hate’s arm stretches out towards the bottom rope.
Truth Waters: Hate looking to save himself here.
George Cassidy: Did you ever know, that you’re my her-o?
Truth Waters: That’s sweet George.
Hate starts to swing his arms madly and manages to grab the bottom rope so. Quiry releases the hold with a scowl. Quiry isn’t slow though to capitalise on Hates weakened state. He lifts him up and applies a backbreaker in the centre of the ring, which he sustains. He applies a hand to his chin and abdomen and pushes apart.
Truth Waters: Smart thinking by Quiry. He’s working on the back here. For such a big man, he really is a good technician.
Hate now is looking very vicious and so begins kicking and punching Quiry hard on the face. Quiry let’s Hate go then plants a boot to hate when he’s on the mat. Quiry runs off the ropes and leg drops Hate around the neck. Quiry stands back and waits for Hate to get to his feet. Hate rises a little groggily and when he turns around, Quiry grabs him and lifts him up in a military press. Quiry is about to drop him when Hate slips out of his hands and comes down with a devastating DDT!
George Cassidy: SHIT!
Truth Waters: Whoa! Nice reversal from Hate. Props to Quiry too for actually getting that beast over his head.
Quiry has fallen hard to the mat so Hate runs over to the turnbuckle and climbs it. He ignores the passionately hating crowd then jumps off with a double foot stomp to Quiry’s abdomen.
Truth Waters: Death From Above!
George Cassidy: And now Hate’s going for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Hate seems a little annoyed at Quiry’s resilience. However, he gets straight back to work and pulls Quiry to his feet. However, Quiry is immediately put back down with a tidy powerslam.
Truth Waters: Hate just loves these situations – when he’s in control, slowly decimating his opponent.
George Cassidy: True true. I wouldn’t be surprised if Quiry brains were being rattled from that slam right there.
Hate goes over to the ropes to take in the jeers of the crowd once more then turns to stalk Quiry. Quiry gets to his feet with a little bit of trouble and Hate runs at him with a spear. However, Quiry catches his body as it zooms toward him and lifts him up and puts him down with a snap powerbomb.
Truth Waters: Jesus! That guy could barely stand up two seconds ago!
Quiry now falls down to his knees and covers Hate.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Truth Waters: Hate kicks out there.
George Cassidy: That asswipe Quiry shouldn’t have sought the cover so early after capitalising. He needs to wear that thing down a LOT more if he’s going to make the pinfall.
Quiry begins to pound the mat in frustration, which results in a laugh from the crowd. This fires Quiry up and he grabs Hate roughly around the waist and hoists him up. Quiry throws Hate off the ropes and he runs towards the other. They meet again at the centre of the ring and Quiry nails Hate with a running DDT. Hate holds his head on the ground and shouts in agony. Quiry is quick and lifts him up again and applies another devastating move: a belly-to-belly 90-degree overhead.
Truth Waters: Quiry really now going for it. You have to admire his determination. He weathered the Hate storm and now is having his way with the big man.
George Cassidy: AHAHAHA! COCKFEST!
Truth Waters: SIT DOWN GEORGE!
Instead of attempting another pin, Quiry lifts Hate up once again and throws him into the turnbuckle. Quiry takes two steps back, then runs at Hate who sidesteps him resulting in Quiry bouncing off the turnbuckle. Hate now waits for Quiry to turn around then floors him with a huge clothesline.
Truth Waters: Ouch. And once again the balance of control has been shifted.
George Cassidy: He should have made the pin THEN! Idiot doesn’t know his ass form his elbow.
Hate waits for Quiry to get up then grabs him from behind, obviously to attempt a German suplex or some variation of it. He nails Quiry with it well then gets to his feet once more before beginning a torrent of malicious kicks to the face and ribs.
George Cassidy: Yes Hate! Kick him around the place like a ginger stepchild.
Truth Waters: Only in America folks.
Hate turns around to Quiry and plants a boot into his stomach. Quiry keels over so Hate places him under his arm, gripping him around the waist at the same time. He pulls him into the air…
Truth Waters: Eleventh Commandment!
George Cassidy: Quiry’s head will explode!
Hate lands his devastating finisher and makes the fall!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner… HATE!
Truth Waters: Hate marches on.
George Cassidy: Quiry gave him a few tests, but he was always coming out on top.
Leaky Problems V
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, ???
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Sarah Kennedy: David, I need to talk to you.
The interviewer walks straight into the office, but it seems it would have been more advisable to wait, as the head of Entertainment Manager whips frantically over his shoulder to see who it is. Identifying Sarah Kennedy, he relaxes, but still shoots a glance at the two men standing in front of his desk – the two of interest to the fans; the two who haven’t been seen for a while; the two who are being booed as we speak.
Sarah Kennedy: Sorry, I –
Pearl: Don’t worry, Sarah, we were just finishing. Tim, Liam, if you wouldn’t mind?
Without a word, The Furious Fists Of God walk out of the room, Liam Martin roughly jostling Kennedy as he goes past. Looking a little miffed, Sarah watches him go and then walks up to the expectant Pearl.
Pearl: Well?
Sarah Kennedy: There’s a tap in the ladies’ that won’t shut off, and I can’t find the janitor anywhere – come to think of it, I haven’t seen FREDROCK~! in weeks...
Pearl: That’s because he hasn’t been around. He isn’t our janitor anymore. Remember the Janitor’s Closet match?
Sarah Kennedy: Oh! You’re right. So...
Pearl: James Varga?
Sarah Kennedy: The Handler.
Harber nods, but Kennedy’s response is a frown.
Sarah Kennedy: He’s... never here.
Pearl gapes.
Pearl: He’s not?
Sarah Kennedy: I haven’t seen him since the night he lost to Mike Wade...
Pearl: Come to think of it, nor have I... well, we’d better ask around as to where he is; I’ll get him on this as soon as I can get hold of him. In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to ask around, see if anyone knows where he might be?
Kennedy sighs.
Sarah Kennedy: Alright, but it’s not really my job...
Pearl: I know, I know, I'm sorry Sarah. My roster doesn’t seem to rely on the backstage interviewers as much as I’d expected... but don’t worry, you contribute a lot to AWC in many other areas.
Kennedy stares at Pearl, whose eyes flash open.
Pearl: No – I didn’t mean that –
Kennedy grins.
Sarah Kennedy: That’s Maddy’s job. Right?
Pearl: Right on.
Sarah Kennedy: So... Varga. I swear he doesn’t turn up, though...
Kennedy turns and leaves.
Pearl: Perhaps I’ll have to find us a new janitor...
Toxic Shock Syndrome
FEATURING: RED ROCK, BOOLIE, CREW MEMBER
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
We now come back stage in front where Red Rock and Boolie are hovering around. Red Rock looks like he hasn't had a shower for ages due to getting lost in the woods earlier in the day.
Red Rock: I heard there was some information about Triangles up here somewhere?
Boolie: OOH I SEE IT!
Boolie waves his finger at the noticeboard with the piece of paper with the teams written on it.
Red Rock: Oh jolly good! I hope I'm not with shit people!
Red Rock approaches the notice board and runs his finger down the piece of paper searching for his name.
Red Rock: Oh here I am...typically at the bottom.
Red Rock reads who his teammates are.
Red Rock: Oh! It's Paddy...that could be awkward...
Boolie: Whys that?
Red Rock: Remember when I ran away and left him to get beaten to death by UWF people?
Boolie: No not really...
Red Rock: Well I did, so he MAY still be pissed off at me...I don't know. I can't say I met Crimson O'Malec before.
Boolie: I'm sure he's very nice!
Suddenly Red Rock and Boolie's convocation is interrupted by a female member of the stage crew. She has a deranged look on her face. Her hair is a mess and she is getting all sweaty and her eyes are swelling with tears.
Red Rock: ARGH! What the fuck?!
Woman: HELP ME!
Red Rock: Woah! What's happened?
The woman grabs Red Rock by the collar of his shirt as she begins to slump to the floor.
Woman: Toilets....broken...need to...change....tampon.
Boolie: EWWW!!!
Woman: Toxic shock syndrome....kicking in....
Red Rock & Boolie: EWWWWW!
Woman: Kids....need to....go to....the pool.
Red Rock: Alright love...shut up now! That's too much for me! Why don't you go squat between two cars in the car park?
The woman looks up at Red Rock in disgust.
Woman: I'm a woman! Don't be so disgusting.
The woman continues to rolls around the floor like a wounded dog. Red Rock and Boolie look at each other with very confused looking face and slowly edge away.
Woman: DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!
Patrick Mapleleaf vs Johnny Noble
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: CONRAD
Truth Waters: Looks like the problems in the ladies’ toilets are really a sticking point backstage…
The opening trumpets of Bill Conti’s “Gonna Fly Now” erupt through the arena, as do the fans as James Brunt introduces the first contestant.
James Brunt: The follow is a singles match. Introducing first, weighing in at 320 pounds, Mr. Incredible, JOHNNY NOBLE!
Johnny Noble runs out from the back to the delight of the fans.
Truth Waters: Neither Johnny Noble, nor his fans seem to be dismayed by his first two matches also being losses.
George Cassidy: Yes, proof positive that people are stupid.
Truth Waters: What do you have against Noble?
George Cassidy: He smells.
Truth Waters: What?
Noble is about to slide into the ring when he spots a blind, amputee girl in the second row. He jumps over the barricade and gives the girl his t-shirt and a kiss on the head, then leaps back over the barricade and into the ring. Noble stands at the ropes facing the entranceway and awaits his opponent.
James Brunt: And his oppon-
The crowd starts booing and Johnny Noble turns around to see what the fuss is only to get smacked over the head with a chair.
Truth Waters: That was low!
George Cassidy: You mean smart.
Truth Waters: Why was that smart?
George Cassidy: ‘Cause Noble never. Saw it. Coming. He never. Saw it. Coming. Never! Sa-
Truth Waters: Shut it, Cass.
Michael Ryan doesn’t like it, but the match hasn’t started yet, so everything’s legal. He quickly waves for the bell to start the match and yanks the chair away from Mapleleaf. Pat shrugs and hooks Noble’s leg with his own, then grabs his head and locks in a quick STF.
George Cassidy: A fast-paced start to this match-up!
Truth Waters: No kidding! We’re barely 300 words in and already Noble’s bleeding!
George Cassidy: Too bad this isn’t a first blood match, hey?
After nearly two minutes locked into the STF Noble manages to get to the ropes with a rousing cheer from the crowd he leaps to his feet, blood across his face, and starts popping the Canuck with lefts. Noble winds-up, Popeye-style for the big right, but Mapleleaf side-steps it and dives at Noble with a rising Clothesline.
George Cassidy: This doesn’t look good for Noble.
Truth Waters: Un-
George Cassidy: FORTUNATELY! That is the rest of what you were going to say, right?
With Johnny prone once again Patrick starts laying the boots to the face and neck of Noble. Eventually Ryan pulls him off and give him a warning as Noble tries to get up, he makes it to one knee. Patrick charges in full steam with a shining wizard. Noble’s head snaps back and the crowd falls sickeningly silent.
Truth Waters: Oh my…
Mapleleaf taunts the crowd who, rather than booing the Canadian, start cheering the Washington native.
“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”
Nothing.
“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”
Patrick rolls the larger man onto his stomach and locks in the
George Cassidy: FULL BLOWN CANADIAN! I love Canada.
Truth Waters: Stop making this an International Incident.
“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”
Michael Ryan drops to the mat and talks to an unresponsive Noble. After several failed attempts he raises his hand up.
It falls.
“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”
Ryan picks up Noble’s hand a second time.
A second time it falls.
“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”
A third time Noble’s hand is raised.
It falls.
But it doesn’t touch the mat!
Truth Waters: NOBLE KEEPS HIS ARM UP!
“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”
He fights back, eventually breaking free of the FBC and gets to a standing base. Patrick doesn’t like it so he lunges at Noble with a swinging right, Johnny ducks it and hooks both his foe’s arms and drops him...
Truth Waters: Whoa! One of the hardest full nelson slams in the history of AWC!
The crowd erupts.
George Cassidy: He escaped the Full Blown Canadian! I don’t believe it.
Noble bends over to try and re-gain his breath. As he does Mapleleaf gets back to his feet and pushes Noble up against the ropes with a few stiff forearms then Canadian Whips him over to the other ropes, while Noble is travelling Pat bounds himself off the ropes opposite Noble and they charge to meet each other in the centre of the ring where, out of nowhere Noble catches Mapleleaf in the midst of a flying cross body and give him…
Truth Waters: BIG BODY SLAM!
Noble falls with his foe and crashes him into the mat with an additional 320 pounds on top of him.
Truth Waters: Over one half ton of weight driving Patrick Mapleleaf into the mat! This could very well be it!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner… “MR. INCREDIBLE” JOHNNY NOBLE!
Noble sits up and wipes the blood out of his eyes, poses for the crowd and shakes his head at Mapleleaf who’s on the ground still a little dazed and confused as to how he lost so quickly a match he was clearly in control of.
End The Bonanza!
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, TIM SHIPLEY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Pierce Lavelle doesn’t have a match tonight, but he’s here regardless, looking apprehensive as he sits on a locker room bench facing the blank wall. He doesn’t know any more than the rest of us about the Triangles match in which his Transatlantic title belt, which carefully lies carelessly beside him, is up for grabs as one of three prizes. Lavelle knows the identity of but one of the other eight contestants, he’s got no clue what the match entails, and he’s well aware he could only have ten days left as champion. That’s not to mention his wider worries – the mysterious investigation into the seedy underworld of pro wrestling, Adam Masters and the Prometheus Serum that Lavelle has been linked with.
The door swings open and in walks Tim Shipley, already geared up for his mouth-watering match-up with Alcaeus – who happens to be that only opponent whose identity Lavelle knows. His Frontier title in his right hand in that same careful-but-careless fashion employed by his friend, Shipley has something on his mind. It’s Lavelle, however, who breaks the silence, craning his neck to see who has entered.
Pierce Lavelle: Hey, Tim.
Shipley nods.
Tim Shipley: Pierce.
There’s a silence as the two friends size each other up, both really for the first time acknowledging their similar positions. Crowd favourites, champions, yet not born entertainers. And that identification of their equivalence helps Shipley onto the matter he wants to discuss – but first slip in some small-talk, it’s got to appear casual...
He waves an arm behind him, pointing loosely at the door.
Tim Shipley: It’s... like... wet out there.
Lavelle swings his body round to sit, arms on his knees, across the bench.
Pierce Lavelle: Wet like what?
Tim Shipley: Like... I don’t know. Wet.
Lavelle shrugs.
Pierce Lavelle: So what?
Tim Shipley: I don’t know...
Pierce Lavelle: Blame the janitor.
Shipley brings a hand to his chin, brushing his bottom lip repeatedly with his thumb. No, I didn’t need to mention it, but I thought I would, OK?
Tim Shipley: I haven’t seen FREDROCK~! around...
Pierce Lavelle: FREDROCK~!’s old news, Tim! Don’t you remember that Janitor’s Closet match at Testimony? That was for official janitorship... if that’s a real word... of AWC.
Shipley finally – almost reluctantly – takes a seat, leaving his title belt carefully yet carelessly on the floor.
Tim Shipley: Good point... so what happened to him? Did he get fired or something?
Lavelle purses his lips.
Pierce Lavelle: I don’t know... not my problem.
Shipley frowns, but the small talk’s dragged too much already and he’s got a burning issue to discuss.
Tim Shipley: So... uh... Adam Dick and Mike Wade...
Lavelle shudders in semi-feigned revulsion, eliciting a sympathetic smile from the Englishman.
Tim Shipley: Exactly. Did you see what they did to me last week? I mean – it’s not that I can’t fight my own battles – because I can – but this is just getting out of hand.
Pierce Lavelle: You’re right. It’s just stupid – their act, their gimmick, their team, their name, even...
Tim Shipley: Let’s not say it. I’d rather not be caught saying “fuck” on live TV.
Lavelle stares intently at Shipley, whose blue eyes respond questioningly.
Pierce Lavelle: But you just did...
Shipley sighs loudly, but you can’t really blame Lavelle. It’s not like we’ve seen an abundance of humour from the shy sophomore.
Tim Shipley: That was the point.
Pierce Lavelle: It was?
Or maybe he truly is thick.
Tim Shipley: Anyway... you’ve been having your share of problems with Dick too, right?
Lavelle concedes that he has with a nod.
Tim Shipley: So let’s put an end to it. Their tour thing. The Academy back in action for the common good? It’s the way to go, Pierce...
Lavelle looks at him glumly.
Pierce Lavelle: Perhaps... but I'm really busy at the moment as it is; I don’t know if I want to get into that.
Tim Shipley: Come on, Pierce! This isn’t just for us, but for the whole roster. The new guys especially. Nobody wants those two morons running riot. You’re the Transatlantic champion, Pierce... and I'm the Frontier champion. Don’t you feel we’ve got a responsibility to put a stop to things?
Lavelle is looking at Shipley in a new light – as are a lot of the viewers. Never before has he expressed any desire to help a community, having been insular and self-focused up until now.
Pierce Lavelle: I suppose you’re right. But let’s give it a chance to sort itself out. After Triangles, if the invitational bonanza thing is still going, we’ll take them on.
Tim Shipley: And beat them.
Lavelle nods.
Pierce Lavelle: And beat them!
Tim Shipley gives him a friendly smile.
Tim Shipley: You know you’re itching to give TMK another go...
He’s referring to The Momentum Killer, a finishing move developed by the pairing that they’ve put to good use in one of their two matches as a duo to date.
Pierce Lavelle: Heh, OK.
Shipley stands to go; he’s got a noticeboard to check out – aware that Lavelle isn’t entirely with him, but also happy that he’s got what he wants. Friendship strengthened, an ally against The Unfuckables – and a chance to make it 3-0 for The Academy.
Triangulating The Squared Circle
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Pearl: Triangles...
We open in David Harber’s office, the camera zoomed close with the Entertainment Manager’s head and shoulders filling the screen.
Pearl: Only ten days remain... and I think it’s about time I told you what to expect.
Pearl pauses and smiles.
Pearl: So you know bits and pieces about the Triangles match itself. You know the champion, Pierce Lavelle, is putting his title on the line in the match. You know that Alcaeus is also competing in it. If you were paying attention earlier, you’ll have ascertained that six further entrants will have to qualify for it through two huge Three Way Trio Tag matches. And I will be proud to announce the ninth and FINAL competitor to enter the match, at the end of tonight’s show!
Harber smiles, waiting to let his words sink in, then presses on.
Pearl: Let me explain, then – and we begin not with the shock announcement, but more a little update on technological progress in and behind AWC. A group of our ring crew, working under the guidance of expert technicians, have recently perfected what they have dubbed the “flat-pack” ring. This is a wrestling ring that, instead of having to be constructed from scratch each time, can be carried away by a crane all packed up like a box. The turnbuckles fold down, the ropes are slackened, and then underneath the ring it’s got a floor... so it can be winched away or set down quickly. It’s estimated that you can get it in place and functioning in three minutes... it can be taken away in less than that.
Stopping to take a sip of his water, Harber glares at the camera, as if daring us to ask why he’s telling us this.
Pearl: So at Triangles, we’ll be making full use of this new ring. That might not sound like it affects you, the fan, all that much – perhaps it saves us a bit of time and a bit of money behind the scenes, but it’s not going to make a difference to your AWC experience.
Pearl: Wrong.
Pearl: This opens up a whole new realm of possibilities! We’re no longer restricted to matches in a ring – OK, we took it out onto the streets of London at The Battle Of Britain, but now there’s no need to leave the arena to bring you something different. I'm about to announce not one, but two matches that are going to be COMPLETELY DEVOID of a wrestling ring!
Harber flashes a broad smile.
Pearl: No doubt I’ll soon have Jack Murphy at my throat complaining that this isn’t wrestling, yadda yadda... I don’t care. I'm not “Wrestling Manager”... I'm Entertainment Manager. I'm here to ensure that our fans have the best time possible!... and so I am pleased to tell you that the Triangles match will take place in THIS.
He holds up a piece of paper. On it is a rudimentary drawing of a triangle containing four smaller triangles of equal size. Were it not for the four distinct colours – the middle triangle is in gold, the outside three taking sides of red, green and blue – fans of video games might label it a “Triforce”.
Pearl: That’s a plan view. One big triangle... and four inside it. The golden triangle...
Harber traces the outline of the central triangle with his finger.
Pearl: That’s where you want to be. That’s how you get to your prizes. But to get there, you’ve got to score a pin or submission in your starting triangle – that’s either the red, the green or the blue. Yeah, it’s what those colours mean on the sheet I pinned up earlier.
Pearl: So you start in your triangle and you score your pin. The referee for your triangles gives you a golden key – you can use this to unlock the door through to the golden triangle. The match does not end here.
Pearl: In the golden triangle, you have a choice. Obvious one is you take one of the two ten-foot ladders that are supplied and climb it – you’ve gotta get through the roof hatch and out onto the top of the structure, you see. So you climb the ladder – but it’s not all that tall; in fact a ten-foot ladder is pretty tiny. You stand up on the top – risky, but it’s the only chance you’ve got of reaching the roof hatch, which is about eighteen feet off the floor. Luckily for you, there’s an oversized handle on the bottom of it, making it easier to reach from the ladder itself – but if you can’t, looks like you’re climbing up the walls of the golden triangle itself.
Pearl grins, enjoying explaining his complicated concept.
Pearl: So let’s say you open that hatch. Once you do, a long rubbery rope will fall through into the golden triangle – kind of like a bungee cable. This is to help you get up and onto the roof; you’ve gotta climb it – though the drawback is, if anyone else has got through to the golden triangle in the meantime, they’re gonna be able to do that too. If you’re freakishly tall you might not need it...
Pearl: Now you’re on the roof. Patience, please... the end is near. But here is crunch time. Your choice.
Pearl: Chances are you’ve already made the choice before you entered the match, but in the heat of the moment you might just change your mind. Do you go for the prestige of the Transatlantic title, which lays on top of one of the triangles? The rational consumer’s safety net of the string of title shots, in a case on top of one of the other triangles? Or do the fans urge you towards the mystery case... which could be better than all other rewards... or indeed worse. We’ll see!
Pearl: You may not even have a choice. If you’re in the green triangle, and the red and blue triangles both end with a quicker pin or submission than yours, there may only be one reward left. No choice. That’s your incentive for urgency in your starting triangle. If you win against your two opponents, you’ll get a prize – but if you win quickly, you’ll get the prize you want.
Harber pauses for breath, taking another long draw from the plastic cup of water in front of him. Finishing it, he crumples it in his hand and tosses it into the bin.
Pearl: Naturally, you’re having trouble visualising what I just described. That is, if you’re watching me on TV. Those lucky, lucky fans in this arena right now probably aren’t even listening to me – they’re feasting their eyes on THIS!
The camera suddenly cuts away to show a wide shot of the arena, but something’s different – the ring’s not there. In its place is a tall, expansive, colourful and above all triangular structure.
Cross the steel bars of an Escape match with the weak mesh of PRIME’s Dual Halo and you’ve got the picture. An unforgiving maze of metal, three doors on the outside to get in, three doors on the inside walls to enter the golden triangle, and a big, obvious roof hatch with that helpful handle Pearl was talking about. The ladders that Harber referred to aren’t in place, but of course that’d be because the match isn’t even happening for another ten days. This structure’s only here for show. Momentarily they’ll winch it back up and exchange it for the ring so we can see the rest of tonight’s matches.
Truth Waters: That’s it, Cassidy! That’s what he’s talking about!
George Cassidy: I'm salivating at the prospe –
We cut back just as suddenly to Pearl’s office, and George Cassidy cuts himself off mid-sentence knowing he isn’t supposed to talk over backstage segments – and especially not Pearl’s.
Pearl: Looking forward to it? I know you are. But I'm not done here. I told you I'm announcing two matches, did I not?
Pearl: The Triangles match isn’t gonna be the only entertainment on the 11th. We’re starting off the night with the two qualifying matches, and after those the night WILL NOT END for anyone. The winning teams are through to the Triangles match. The losing teams have a battle royal for the next Frontier title shot. And the teams that drew – those members of the third team in each match, not the one that won and not the one that had a member pinned – go into a mini-tournament to crown the number one contender to the Transatlantic title!
Pearl holds up a hand.
Pearl: BUT! Those aren’t the matches I was referring to. I told you I’d announce two matches that made use of our ability to switch in and switch out the ring at will – well, here’s the second. You may have noticed that a number of high profile AWC stars aren’t listed for the qualifying matches for Triangles. Mike Wade and Juri Hyobanshi, our main eventers tonight, to name just two! And the reason those two aren’t in the Triangles qualifiers are that this match will be for the Relentless title... either Wade or Hyobanshi will be champion going into Triangles depending on tonight’s outcome, and both will appear at the Triangles pay-per-view along with other hardened challengers in AWC’s first ever PYRAMID SCRAMBLE!
Harber smiles.
Pearl: You want to know what that is, right? Well, this time... I'm not telling you. Just wait and see! You know it involves Wade, Hyobanshi, the Relentless title... a pyramid and a scramble. In ten days’ time you’ll find out the rest. Make sure to order the show and I’ll see you at AWC Triangles 2005! David “Pearl” Harber over and out!
Pearl nods enthusiastically and his segment ends.
Leaky Problems VI
FEATURING: AWC
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Pierce Lavelle: So has anyone seen Varga?
Raising his voice above the din, Pierce Lavelle strides into the backstage lounge, where a proportion of the AWC roster is chilling out, engaging in pointless arguments or chatting up the lady at the bar. A notable face is injured star Andy Murray, who is seated comfortably as he shoots the breeze with Crimson O’Malec, while T.T.S. discuss what the HELL those colours are about on the Triangles qualifiers notice. Alexa Kendericks looks glum; she wasn’t on that notice at all – but it’s likely she’ll be entered into the Pyramid Scramble we just heard announced instead.
The noise fades to something approximating silence as everyone notices Lavelle’s businesslike entry, interviewer Sarah Kennedy at his side, the ends of her trousers wet from the ever-increasing size of the mini-flood in the corridor.
Johnny Noble: Not in here...
Pierce Lavelle: Not just tonight; last week, or the week before, even? We suspect he hasn’t even been turning up. Who’s friends with him?
Total silence.
Pierce Lavelle: Someone must have spoken to him...
Total silence.
Then Adam Dick chimes in:
Adam Dick: It’s OK, Purse, we’ll get...
Dick stands and moves over to a group seated around a table, clamping his hand on the shoulder of Norman Quiry.
Adam Dick: ...Quiry here to fix it. You want to earn your stripes, don’t cha?
Norman Quiry: Over my dead body.
Pierce Lavelle: How about you and Wade earn your keep for a change? You must know your... er... plumbing...
Dick is about to come back with a witty response when Hate rises from his hunched position in a desolate corner of the room, his aura effecting a hushed silence.
Hate: That sounds perfect to me. Come, boys...
And before they can do anything to stop him, Hate wrenches Wade out of his seat and slams his head against that of Adam Dick. He slams a fist into each of their stomachs for good measure and then drags them out of the room. Lavelle looks around with a beaming smile.
Andy Murray: You know, from time to time I think that guy isn’t so bad.
Red Rock (C) vs Bomber vs Hamada vs Murphy
STIPULATION: FOUR WAY ELIMINATION
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
George Cassidy: Onwards and upwards, then... or perhaps not; this is a Red Rock match.
Truth Waters: We could have a title change on our hands here, as three challengers take on Red Rock in an elimination match for his Livewire championship.
The ebullient champion makes his way through the curtain, Boolie at his side, with the Mabee Center cheering them on. Reuben’s “Blame Thrower” rocks the house as Red holds up the title belt, doing no less than a little jig as he parades it for perhaps the last time.
Truth Waters: He’s so stoked to be out here defending that belt tonight.
George Cassidy: He just knows it’s the last time he’ll see it.
Truth Waters: Garbage! He proves you wrong time and time again, Cassidy.
Red Rock and Boolie come down the ramp-way as ring announcer James Brunt starts to make the calls.
James Brunt: The following is a Four Way Elimination match for the AWC Livewire championship! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Boolie, from Aldershot, England, weighing in at 197 pounds... the Livewire champion, RED ROCK!
RR leaps energetically into the ring and rolls through the ring ropes, jumping up and waving his arms to entertain his legions of fans. The giant Boolie looks on with interest from ringside.
George Cassidy: He’s brought the big dumb Boolie down to the ring.
Truth Waters: Boolie can speak, Cassidy.
George Cassidy: But he’s stupid.
Truth Waters: Perhaps, but he can speak, and therefore isn’t dumb.
George Cassidy: ...Since when did you have a better grasp of English than me?
Truth Waters: Hyde’s forgotten what I'm all about and needs to read back the Neon results.
Aaron Davies, who will be officiating the bout, comes in under the bottom rope as Slayer’s “Seven Faces” hits.
Truth Waters: I can’t believe they’re letting Davies take control of such an important title match... he’s only a kid...
George Cassidy: Shut up, here comes Jack Murphy!
Truth Waters: Try not to ejaculate too fiercely.
George Cassidy: He’s get his hands on some gold in just minutes’ time... and mark my words he’ll upgrade to the Transatlantic before long.
Truth Waters: You really do live in a dream world. Jack Murphy has a basic lack of respect, not just for his peers but for females in general. The world has come a long way since the 19th century, and he wants to wake up to that if he’s going to get anywhere.
George Cassidy: Sorry – how is that anything to do with him winning matches? It’s not. So shut up. He’s the most talented wrestler on the roster, period.
Jack “The Bull” Murphy comes coolly to the ring, ignoring the abuse thrown at him.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds... JACK “THE BULL” MURPHY!
Truth Waters: He really has done well to get these people to hate him so intensely in such a short space of time...
George Cassidy: Yeah, he must be doing something right!
“Enter Sandman”, and the Bomber’s up next, also hit by booing, but it’s not the genuine hatred that was thrown at Murphy, it’s more a “he’s heel against Red Rock and we’re enjoying what they do so let’s boo to make it all worth it”. The fans play along. They’re nice like that.
James Brunt: The second challenger, from Birmingham, England, weighing in at 230 pounds... THE BRITISH BOMBER!
George Cassidy: The British Bomber and Red Rock will be at each other’s throats.
Truth Waters: It’ll be interesting to see what happens if these two are left after Murphy and Butterfly Hamada are eliminated.
George Cassidy: ...But that isn’t gonna happen since The Bull isn’t gonna get eliminated.
The British Bomber joins Red Rock and Jack Murphy in the ring, TBB and RR defiantly refusing to even acknowledge each other, and Murphy’s casual expression turns to fury as he hears Brunt announce who’s coming out next.
James Brunt: And finally, from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 160 pounds... MEGUMI “BUTTERFLY” HAMADA!
Murphy immediately starts protesting to referee Aaron Davies, gesturing furiously at Butterfly Hamada who is walking down the aisle in a business-like fashion, ignoring the call of “Ugly Jap bitch!” from one daring fan.
George Cassidy: Murphy isn’t happy about Hamada performing in this match.
Truth Waters: He knew beforehand – at least he should have! Didn’t he check the card? I guess once he knew he was getting a shot it all went to his head and he couldn’t think about anything else... like finding out who else was involved.
George Cassidy: Jack Murphy would have assumed he was the only one getting the title shot – it’s demeaning of Harber to lump him in with these two undeserving challengers!
Truth Waters: Whatever, I hope Hamada kicks the snot outta him.
Hamada slides into the ring and the bell goes, surprising Jack Murphy who was still arguing with Davies. Red Rock sidles up to him and smacks him clean in the face, earning a deserved cheer from all corners of the arena.
Truth Waters: That’s certainly one way of shutting him up.
George Cassidy: The very thing he fights against... brawn over technique, it’s never –
Truth Waters: Oh give up.
Hamada advances on Bomber, who seems to want to go easy on the woman in front of him. Bad choice. She drops to take him down with a leg whip and takes the leg to one side, catching him with an elbow to the inside leg.
George Cassidy: The dreaded “elbow to inside leg” – now I wonder why Bomber’s testicles are troubling him...
Truth Waters: Cassidy! You can’t say “testicles” on the air!
George Cassidy: We have a duo called The Unfuckables...
Truth Waters: Well yeah, but... you’re forgetting the Testicles Taboo!
George Cassidy: Oh, you and your taboos... I bet you’re going to tell me we can’t even talk about lesbians!
Truth Waters: Ah, gotta love lesb – wait, no we can’t.
George Cassidy: For God’s sake! What are we MEANT to talk about then?
Truth Waters: The wrestling...?
George Cassidy: Wrestling’s for geeks.
Truth Waters: ...
George Cassidy: Oh. Yeah. Right.
Hamada and Bomber now up, TBB reaches at her, knowing to no longer underestimate the fairer sex, but Hamada is swift to duck away and take out his leg with a well-placed kick to the knee. Bomber drops to one knee and Butterfly spins into a heel kick to the face; TBB falls, dazed. Meanwhile Murphy has Red Rock tied up and is about to lift him for a suplex.
Truth Waters: Butterfly Hamada running rings around The British Bomber.
The Bull hitches Red Rock up, holding him high in a slow vertical suplex, as Hamada exits to the apron and climbs the turnbuckle. Up ante as Hamada stands, perched, watching with eagle eye as Red Rock is slammed to the canvas. Butterfly now leaps off, but as Murphy steps away he sees it’s not the downed Anti Hero she’s going for, it is in fact him, with a missile dropkick coming ever closer. As if he can see it all in bullet time, Murphy takes half a step back and extends his muscular arms, grabbing Hamada by the side of her legs as they cannon into his torso. He absorbs the shock of the impact, off balance but it doesn’t matter as he counters to bring down Butterfly Hamada in a sit-down bomb.
George Cassidy: What an amazing reversal!
Truth Waters: Murphy still took the impact of the dropkick –
George Cassidy: Yes but he withstood it! And now he’s got the pinfall on!
Having fallen in pinning position, The Bull holds tight as Aaron Davies counts the early fall.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: There she goes! Bye bye!
Truth Waters: A shock early elimination of Butterfly Hamada!
George Cassidy: Jack Murphy proving she doesn’t belong in that ring.
Red Rock and Bomber up, they now go at each other with a passion, Red Rock landing a shower of blows upon the steady head of the veteran who ignores the constant impacts to keep his head and bend sideways suddenly, lifting Red Rock up on his back and falling in a Samoan drop!
Truth Waters: Samoan drop out of nowhere from Bomber – in case you were watching Murphy and Hamada still, they were exchanging quite a furious sequence of blows, with Red Rock inflicting the majority of the damage!
George Cassidy: But of course Bomber was just holding back for that Samoan drop, which turns the tables. Never mind, since now that Murphy’s heading over they’re gonna turn a hell of a lot more – in his favour.
Murphy locks up with Bomber as Red Rock scrambles up and moves away to recover. Bomber knees The Bull in the gut and whips him, but Jack Murphy reverses the move (it’s from his homeland after all) sending TBB into the ropes. Murphy bends down but before he can do anything, The British Bomber has leapfrogged him and is heading into the opposite ropes – but Red Rock’s standing right there, with his own head ducked. Unable to go for another leapfrog in time, Bomber is lifted overhead in a high back drop, and due to Red Rock’s position this sends the 230-pounder tumbling over the ropes and landing on the apron before falling in a heap to the outside. The British Bomber cradles his leg, and Red Rock turns away, satisfied. Murphy takes his arm but RR throws a punch into his sternum and for a change The Bull is unprepared; he reels away, winded. With a guilty conscience Red Rock turns back around and looks down at TBB with...
Truth Waters: Is that concern?
George Cassidy: Bomber hasn’t moved since he landed and that leg looks to be giving him some trouble.
Resignedly, Red Rock calls to Bomber – the gist of it seems to be “Are you OK?” There’s no response, and RR, much against everyone’s advice (the fans are willing him to pay attention to Murphy), leans further over the ropes to try and get his message across.
That’s when he succumbs to a school-boy roll-up.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: Hey!
George Cassidy: Brilliant! Roll-up pin by Jack Murphy AND WE HAVE A TITLE CHANGE!
Truth Waters: Not yet, The British Bomber is still in this match... but he’s hurt...
George Cassidy: Jack Murphy using all his technical expertise to really tangle Red Rock up! He just couldn’t kick out of the school-boy in time!
Looking a tad upset, Red Rock rolls out of the ring. This turns to fury when TBB suddenly stands of his own accord and rolls easily in where Red Rock came from. RR watches in bewilderment as Bomber grins at the man who just pinned Red Rock – and the arena explodes into booing.
Truth Waters: It was all a work!
George Cassidy: Red Rock was screwed. Very clever.
Truth Waters: I can’t believe this!
George Cassidy: I can – and it’s great! I'm guessing this was at Bomber’s request – take out Red Rock together. He just wants that title away from his rival. And Murphy’s part of the deal? Bomber lays down for him...
Truth Waters: Looks like you’re right – as ashamed as I am to admit it.
Murphy, having totally dropped his guard, walks over to TBB with a grin on his face. Bomber returns it – and then socks him in the jaw. He even gets a hint of a cheer.
Truth Waters: You know what that means in England, Murphy? NO DEAL!
George Cassidy: Double-crosser!
Truth Waters: Aren’t you ashamed Murphy didn’t think of that?
George Cassidy: Oh, Murphy would have thought of everything... there’s a contingency plan.
Truth Waters: Contingency plan is “beat the hell out of Bomber”, I bet.
Murphy recovers from the blow quicker than expected, and wraps his mammoth arms around TBB’s frame to launch him overhead in a belly-to-belly.
George Cassidy: Devastating suplex!
Truth Waters: He ain’t done.
The Bull picks him straight back up, whipping him into the ropes before nearly decapitating him with a clothesline.
Truth Waters: This is a straightforward decimation of whatever challenge Bomber poses.
George Cassidy: That ain’t much of one – one win, six defeats in AWC. Seven when Murphy’s done.
Bomber sits up, but before he can do a single thing Murphy locks in his Cage of Torment.
George Cassidy: Oh my God! The Cage of Torment! I’ve heard about this! YOU CAN’T ESCAPE IT!
Truth Waters: Bomber’s got to tap, then, surely...
George Cassidy: But often it doesn’t go that far! From my ears to the ground I hear that The Bull often isn’t satisfied with a simple tap-out victory; he uses the move to wear down the opponent for his finisher!
Truth Waters: If that’s even more shattering... then I don’t think The British Bomber will mind tapping out.
After just a brief application of the Cage of Torment, the fans shouting their boredom at him and sledging him with further boos, Jack Murphy senses the weakness beneath him and releases the hold, dragging Bomber up. He applies a front facelock and throws TBB’s arm over his head, lifting him up as if for a suplex.
George Cassidy: Oh, you know what? HERE IT COMES!
Red Rock and Boolie are even cheering Murphy from ringside as they see the fate that’s about to befall The British Bomber, Boolie’s one-time kidnapper... and as The Bull slams the veteran wrestler’s head into the canvas, Boolie breaks into a dance. A 7’7” dance.
Truth Waters: You’ll have to excuse Boolie, he’s a bit over-excited.
George Cassidy: AREN’T YOU? THE FALL FROM GRACE!
Truth Waters: Broken neck central.
The pinfall is just a formality, as Aaron Davies, shaking, slaps the mat to end this abrupt bout of destruction and usher in a new era for the Livewire championship.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: That’s it! Ladies and gentleman, kids and... dogs, bow down to the greatest wrestler AWC possesses... the one, the only Jack Murphy!
James Brunt: The winner... and new Livewire champion... JACK MURPHY!
Murphy accepts the title belt gratefully, but there’s no celebration as he leaves the ring and stomps up the aisle with it in his grasp. Perhaps it’s tainted, since there was a woman in the match... perhaps he’s angry at Bomber trying to screw with the untouchable Jack Murphy... but whatever is running through his head, he’s the new Livewire champion.
And you just know that he’ll be coming out and telling us all about it in seven days’ time.
Ooh, that’ll be something to look forward to.
Leaky Problems VII
FEATURING: HATE, THE UNFUCKABLES, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Hate: Get to work, scum.
Hate tosses Adam Dick and Mike Wade through the door of the ladies’ dressing room, where they fall to the floor, splashing about in the lake it has become. We hear a squeal and Maddy Estelle rushes over, wearing a remarkably similar outfit to the one we were lucky enough to see Sarah Kennedy in earlier: a black bra and sparkly trousers.
Maddy Estelle: Eww, like, get out!
Hate stares at her.
Hate: Why are you here, slut?
Ignoring the derogatory remark, Estelle answers with her usual perky stupidity.
Maddy Estelle: I thought the cameras were bound to come this way sooner or later!
The Fifth Horseman lets his eyes fall to her plasticked chest.
Hate: So you got undressed.
Maddy Estelle: It was... warm!
Hate shakes his head.
Hate: Get out. Unless you’d like to help these two... fix things.
Maddy Estelle: (sidling up to him) I can fix you whatever you want, big b-
Hate: GET OUT!
Jumping with fright at his roar, Estelle runs for the door, sloshing through the wet to fall into the corridor wearing a bra and wet trousers. One almost wishes we could follow her trail of embarrassment, but there’s more important stuff afoot here, as Adam Dick struggles to his feet and spits at Hate.
Adam Dick: Why don’t YOU fix the tap?
Hate: Oh, you’re not here to fix the tap.
Mike Wade: (also on his feet) Then what...
Without warning, Hate charges, clotheslining the two to the ground. He pulls Wade to his feet and slams his head against the sink, leaving a dark red stain as the Irishman falls away. It’s not enough; The Nondivine Juggernaut brings him back up and throws him backwards into the mirror, which shatters, tiny lacerations appearing all over Wade’s back as he falls on his front, spluttering for breath in the six inches of water. Hate now turns to Dick, leathering him with a mighty kick to the ribs. Dragging Dick with him, Hate kicks down a cubicle door and forces the Face-Eater’s head into the bowl.
Hate: Eat shit.
Hate then slams Dick’s head against the toilet and leaves him there, satisfied with leaving both Unfuckables down as he storms from the room.
Not Quite What He Expected
FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It’s a still shot of the wall, on which is pinned a notice whose text is clearly legible:
TRIANGLES MATCH – QUALIFIERS ALREADY QUALIFIED - ALCAEUS (red), PIERCE LAVELLE (blue)
MATCH ONE - THREE WAY TRIO TAG
WINNING TEAM QUALIFIES
Jack Murphy (red), The British Bomber (blue) and ??? (green)
vs
Johnny Noble (red), ??? (blue) and Butterfly Hamada (green)
vs
??? (red), Norman Quiry (blue) and Hate (green)
MATCH TWO - THREE WAY TRIO TAG
WINNING TEAM QUALIFIES
Patrick Mapleleaf (red), Adam Dick (blue) and Tim Shipley (green)
vs
Harry (red), John (blue) and Tony Aliso (green)
vs
Red Rock (red), Paddy O'Shea (blue) and Crimson O'Malec (green)
Panning away, we now see Tim Shipley scanning the notice, and scanning it again and again. His face is ashen; his expression thunderous.
Tim Shipley: (under his breath) This cannot be happening...
He slams his boot across the surface of the water at his feet, sending a surge of droplets through the air.
Tim Shipley: (yelling) What the HELL is Pearl thinking?
Shipley storms away, his boots sloshing around in the clear inches of water at his feet that has made its way into the corridor from the ladies’ changing room.
Tim Shipley: (talking to the floor) And this is just getting ridiculous!
Return Of A Legend I
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Ring. Ring. Ring.
We’re in Harber’s office and he’s on the phone.
Ring. Ring. Ri – click.
Pearl: Hey – hey, it’s David Harber. Yeah! Yeah. Anyway, times are hard over here, so...
Harber sighs.
Pearl: We need you back.
A pause as the other person speaks. Suddenly Harber’s face lights up.
Pearl: Tonight? That’d be BRILLIANT. Alright, see you then!
Pearl hangs up, suddenly looking a lot happier about something.
Crimson O'Malec vs Adam Dick
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Truth Waters: Well I told you not to pay with credit.
George Cassidy: What kind of woman makes you pay credit for her services?!
Truth Waters: The kind that gets hers paid in full. These American birds are businesswomen, ten-fold. Don’t forget that they may have pimps!
George Cassidy: Yeah, it’s like you pay for sex and your life!
Truth Waters: I’m never going back to Vegas, I’ll tell you that much.
George Cassidy: Anyways, welcome back folks.
Truth Waters: How long has the camera been on?
George Cassidy: Next, we have the Unfuckably delightful Adam Dick, aka The Illustrious Face-Eater, in another classic show-down of foes between the Unfuckables camp and Eire Og, when he faces the returning Crimson O’Malec!
I guess that you knew
That you’re the selfish little whore,
I’m the selfish little whore.
If I had my way, I’d crush your face in the door.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match between a douche-bag and someone who’s actually cool! Introducing first... THE DOUCHE-BAG!
This is no beginning, oh no.
This is the final cut, open up.
This is no beginning, no no no.
This is the final cut, I’m in love.
“The Final Cut” by CoCa brings out the renown and hated Adam Dick. He enters clad in material from his tenure as the Illustrious Face-Eater; cape, mask and sense of idiocy – showing no signs of hurt from his treatment by Hate, mainly because this card editor doesn’t do continuity. He immediately sprints into the ring and begins to walk towards James Brunt.
In a fit of cowardice, James rolls under the ropes and to the outside whilst Adam laughs. Once safely on the outside, he flips Adam off.
Truth Waters: Seriously, were the cameras on earlier?
George Cassidy: Look at the Illustrious Face-Eater, he’s sooooooo cool.
Truth Waters: I’ve got a wife at home, man! She can’t learn of that shit. Oh man, I’m screwed.
And then, “the Final Cut” begins to fade out and is replaced by the widely accepted-
-and widely missed, O Fortuna.
Of course, it was a techno mix. Regardless, fans cheered for the returning Crimson O’Malec, who finally had a chance to put Adam Dick in his place. Adam begins to dance to the techno, horribly, while they wait.
George Cassidy: Those are some sweet moves.
Truth Waters: My wife is going to kill me!
George Cassidy: Wait a second, isn’t O’Malec supposed to be out here?
Surprise surprise, no Crimson O’Malec standing at the top of the ramp. The music begins to loop to the chagrin of the fans, whose cheers died down. The anticipation was great, but their annoyance was greater.
Adam turns to the ref, Lars Larson, beaming a grin. When Lars makes an accusing notion, he backs off, citing a prior alibi. We don’t know why he’s acting guilty, but just know that he is.
George Cassidy: Something is going down...
O Fortuna kicked in again, and it played loudly. The fans thought O’Malec would come out this time?
They were wrong.
Adam runs to the ropes and points at James Brunt viciously. “I want that” is basically what he says. Brunt hands him the microphone he gestured for, Adam snatches brutally.
Adam Dick: WELL I GUESS WE SHOULD START THIS MATCH, HUH!?! I mean, if my opponent isn’t going to show, we may as well start the count, right?
Lars Larson shrugs.
Truth Waters: What the hell?! He can’t do that! I smell foul play.
George Cassidy: So does your wife. Hi, Mrs. Waters, I hope you recognize the perfume that isn’t yours on your husband’s shirt.
Truth Waters: Quiet, you bastard! This is a live feed.
The bell rings, and Lars Larson begins the ten count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
Adam Dick: TEE HEE!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
Truth Waters: I can’t believe that Crimson would just no-show like this!
EIGHT!
George Cassidy: It’s those Eire Og punks; they’re cowards!
NINE!
WAIT A SECOND!
Nope, nevermind.
TEN!
Adam Dick is the victor, you stupid bitches!
It's A Conspiracy~!
FEATURING: ADAM DICK, mainly
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
As the bell rings, and Lars Larson raises Adam’s hand, the Face-Eater snatches it away and speaks to the crowd once gain.
Adam Dick: Yes! That was the easiest match. EVER. And all I had to do was beat some Irish guy’s ass just a little bit with the help of my friend Wadey, and I win the fucking match! I didn’t even wrestle tonight, and I won. That’s saying a lot!
Truth Waters: What the hell is he talking about?
George Cassidy: Something diabolical, that I can tell.
Just then, the AWC screens flicker to life, as Adam Dick laughs wildly.
Adam Dick: You idiots, this entire promotion is full of them. I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions when surrounded by stupidity; instead, I’ll act in kind! You fucking idiots are wondering where Crimson is? I’ll fucking show you!
Adam points to the screen.
Adam Dick: Look at your precious poet! Maybe he can come up with some literary gold while he’s unconscious!
Sure enough, what graces the screen? The Eire Og – Emerald Isle – The Irish Guys dressing room door. Out walks? Mike Wade, giving the screen the thumbs up as he leaves the scene with the door wide open behind him. Seen through the cracks of the door is a pair of outstretched feet that lay peacefully.
The camera pans inside, revealing an unconscious Crimson O’Malec with two dented steel chairs close by. It was almost a wreckage seen, but it was all organized chaos.
Adam Dick: It’s so simple with you fucks! I can do whatever I want and will continue to do so. You fucking pricks think the Unfuckables is some tag-team? No, we’re a force of nature. Wade and I tag-team bitches named Katrina and Rita all day, you think mother nature fucks us?
Adam Dick: NO! We fuck Mother Nature, DP style. And then she takes both loads on her face! Oh, that reminds me. ANY WOMEN IN NEED OF USING THE FACILITIES, THE UNFUCKABLES ARE EXTENDING THE USE OF OUR DRESSING ROOM AND MANHOOD TO THOSE IN NEED!
Truth Waters: This is a little unnecessary. And underhanded. Adam Dick is a shit head, you know that?
Adam Dick: So all of you can suck on my last name, I’m going to go get drunk off my hard earned victory.
Adam cackles as he leaves the ring, “the Final Cut” playing with every step he takes.
Tim Shipley vs Alcaeus
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: JAMIE FLETCHER
George Cassidy: Anyway, who was that on the phone to Pearl?
Truth Waters: I don’t know, Cassidy, but it sounds like we could have a big return TONIGHT! Could this be linked to the spots open for mystery competitors in the Triangles qualifiers?
Jonathan Davis’ “Foresaken” plays as we cut back to ringside.
Truth Waters: Now we have Tim Shipley taking on Alcaeus in a non-title, straight singles match-up. Alcaeus will be looking to impress; so far in AWC he’s beaten John Edwards in the former PRIME star’s last match here and then won an eight-person battle royal to secure a place in the Triangles match. Can he defeat the highly-rated Shipley?
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. In the ring, from Milton Keynes, England, weighing in at 202 pounds… the AWC Frontier champion, TIM SHIPLEY!
The fans give the young star a nice pop. Brunt swiftly moves on to his next cue-card.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from ancient Apollonia, weighing in at 285 pounds… ANACLETUS ALCAEUS!
Standing in his corner of the ring the Frontier champion Tim Shipley watches Anacletus Alcaeus the self-proclaimed 2500-year-old vampire scatter up the steel steps and into the ring. Alcaeus turns towards Tim and with his cape masking his face he runs towards Shipley who seeming very bewildered runs out of the way of Alcaeus. Shipley hurriedly exits the ring; the Frontier champion looks around his waist and notices that his championship is no longer there.
Truth Waters: Look Alcaeus has taken Tim’s belt!
George Cassidy: I think Alcaeus like’s gold… maybe he has more than the main event at Triangles on his mind?
Truth Waters: Well if he can pin Shipley in this match I think he will be in line for a shot at the belt.
George Cassidy: He might not have any need for it if he can win that Triangles match… getting a choice of one of those three prizes. The Transatlantic title, shots at every belt, or the mystery briefcase… what would you go for, Truth?
Truth Waters: I’m a gambler, so the mystery case might tempt me. But surely the prestige of the Transatlantic title will means it holds most sway for the majority of the competitors in that match.
Alcaeus holds the Frontier championship high in the air.
George Cassidy: The belt seems to make Alcaeus feel empowered.
Making a huge mistake he turns away from Shipley who instantly spots the opportunity. Sliding under the bottom rope Shipley pulls Alcaeus down taking his legs out from underneath.
Truth Waters: Being the smaller man Shipley knows he must get in front of Alcaeus in this match.
With Alcaeus down Shipley stands and administers his boot to the back of Alcaeus keeping the vampire down. Moving away Shipley allows Alcaeus to rise but as soon as Alcaeus is able to stand Shipley smacks one of his legs out with a crushing double-footed dropkick. Then getting up Shipley runs off to the ring ropes…
George Cassidy: Shipley has taken a clear early advantage in the earlier stages on this one Truth…
Back comes Shipley picking up speed, he runs to the side of Alcaeus and comes back showboating for the crowd. The Frontier champion now going at an incredible speed flings off of the first set of ring cables for a second time… however Alcaeus is ready to counter.
Truth Waters: No…
George Cassidy: ROARING PUNCH!!!! Alcaeus sends the Frontier champion packing.
Alcaeus makes a pin on Tim Shipley like Michael Howard would have the economy if he’d had won the General Election.
George Cassidy: Upset!!! I think Tim Shipley just lost himself a match due to pure showboating.
Truth Waters: Very uncharacteristic. Just like it’s uncharacteristic of the narrative to comment on British politics mid-match.
ONE!
TWO!
Shipley kicks out just in time.
Truth Waters: Do you think we’re going to see Tony Aliso interject himself in this match Cassidy?
George Cassidy: Not a chance.
Truth Waters: Why not?
George Cassidy: I have no idea.
Scooping up Tim Shipley like a spotty sixteen year old does a burger at McDonalds while on a $4 dollar an hour job Alcaeus throws him into the corner of the ring exploiting his clear weight advantage. Falling out of the corner Shipley waltzes into a back body drop from Alcaeus who wastes no time in continuing his attack, turning he drops a knee towards Shipley’s shoulder but Shipley dodges the knee as Alcaeus hits the mat. Getting up, Shipley goes for the shining wizard but Alcaeus counters and moving to the side is able to lift Shipley up.
Truth Waters: Alcaeus has Shipley in a powerbomb position.
Alcaeus lifts Shipley up and runs across the ring but Tim counters a powerbomb with an attempted hurricanrana. Before he can execute Alcaeus using both hands chops Tim Shipley’s exposed chest. With Shipley dangling helplessly from his neck Alcaeus hooks his legs for a Styles clash but Tim manages to grab hold of the bottom cable. Pulling himself towards the rope Shipley shouts at the referee who forces Alcaeus to break the hold.
George Cassidy: Tim Shipley is on the ropes. The newcomer is beating him here must be a real burst to the confidence of Tim Shipley which at the moment is massive.
Truth Waters: The referee is counting Shipley out as he revitalizes himself on the outside.
The referee reaches seven before Tim Shipley dives back into the ring; surprisingly Alcaeus in the spirit of competition allows Shipley in. Shipley stands and claps his hands – and then looks around shocked as the entire arena begins to clap their hands, believing him to have made an attempt to gain some motivation from the crowd and responding enthusiastically. He breaks into a smile, with every fan clapping, stamping, cheering for him and jeering Alcaeus.
Truth Waters: I don’t think Shipley even meant to excite the crowd there; that clap was just a message to himself, to focus… but we can hardly hear ourselves talk over this noise for him now!
Tim dives in at Alcaeus with a old school tie-up. Alcaeus responds by taking charge of the tie-up using his physical dominance to push Tim Shipley into the corner of the ring but Shipley finds it deep within himself to break out of the corner. Throwing his body at Alcaeus, Shipley forces him into the corner where he attacks Alcaeus with heavy-duty right elbows.
George Cassidy: Look at Tim go, he’s on his fifth elbow these must be taking a huge toll on Alcaeus.
It doesn’t take long before Alcaeus attempts to reassert his dominance over Tim Shipley by catching one of his elbows and throwing him off balance. Alcaeus then proceeds to hit strong style punches on Shipley strategically moving him into the middle of the ring.
Truth Waters: I think Alcaeus is getting him ready for a power move.
Like a sword Alcaeus swipes across Tim Shipley’s bare chest with his right forearm leaving a red mark. Alcaeus repeats the evil move hitting exactly on the same spot like a master of martial arts. With rage Shipley fires back with chops of his own, he goes tot town on Alcaeus… Alcaeus falls back into the cables and Shipley hits him with such a force that he falls to the mat. The crowd goes crazy as Shipley shouts down at Alcaeus instructing him to get up.
George Cassidy: He’s fired up.
Alcaeus gets up and again Tim Shipley goes for chops this time executing them on the back of the vampire. Then while Alcaeus is in pain he applies a textbook waistlock and takes Alcaeus face down to the mat. On the mat Tim Shipley like a doctor of wrestling applies an old school chin lock. The Frontier champion also puts his own body in the way of Alcaeus and the ropes to cement the strength of the hold.
Truth Waters: Shipley using his own body as a barricade keeping Alcaeus at bay and not allowing him anywhere near the ropes.
George Cassidy: Very smart.
Truth Waters: He is taking Alcaeus to school.
Managing to grab Tim Shipley’s right wrist Alcaeus breaks the submission forcing Shipley to finish the hold. Shipley wastes no time only getting up a bit before he drops his knee down into the back of Alcaeus in order to keep the dominant role in the match. Taking hold of Alcaeus’s right foot Tim drags him into the middle of the ring but Alcaeus kicks out, the kick is so forceful that Tim Shipley falls down and as both are down the referee begins to make the count.
George Cassidy: It’s all even.
Truth Waters: Hmmm… I wouldn’t say even.
George Cassidy: Whatever, minor technicality.
As the referee gets to seven Tim Shipley is back on his feet. Turning he catches a glimpse of Anacletus Alcaeus who is still finding his feet. He walks over to Alcaeus and from behind applies a side headlock.
Alcaeus throws Tim Shipley off to the ropes but Tim Shipley manages to counter using his leg strength to drag Alcaeus with him. Moving in a circle Tim Shipley displays Alcaeus like a trophy to all sides of the arena but Alcaeus won’t lie down yet and using his right foot pushes it into the back of Tim Shipley’s knee. Then using his hand he wraps it around Tim Shipley’s neck like a bower constrictor until Shipley is forced to break the hold on him. Shipley relinquishes the hold and Alcaeus wastes no time driving Shipley into his knee back first.
Truth Waters: Ouch.
In the same move Tim Shipley lifts Alcaeus back up but instead of dropping him back down in the same fashion he removes the knee from the equation and drives Tim Shipley’s head into the mat with a reverse DDT!
George Cassidy: Oh my…
Again Alcaeus doesn’t end the torture. He lifts Tim Shipley back up and GRABBING TIM SHIPLEY’S TRUNKS LIFTS HIM INTO THE AIR…
Truth Waters: REVERSE BRAINBUSTER?
Shipley takes Alcaeus out with a GORE!!!
George Cassidy: It’s over.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
No!
Truth Waters: Shocker! Alcaeus kicks out before the three count can be administered.
With the kickout Shipley gets up, he looks down on Alcaeus and starts to drop his knee into the face. The crowd chant for every knee drop… one… two… four… as Tim Shipley connects with the fourth knee Alcaeus fends it with a martial arts arm guard and snatching a hold on Tim Shipley’s knee he throws him over back first onto the mat in a move a judo expert would have been proud of.
Truth Waters: Where did that come from?
Managing to keep the hand in his possession Alcaeus keeps it out of the way when he returns the favour laying knees of his own into the helpless face of Tim Shipley.
George Cassidy: Stiff me.
Truth Waters: I can’t help but not want to sit next to you now.
However Alcaeus applies a gigantic amount of malice with his knee drops every drop getting harder with the sight of Tim Shipley’s pain… after the sixth knee drop Tim Shipley starts to bleed. This make Alcaeus even happier before he can go for a seventh knee shot the referee pulls him off.
Truth Waters: Booo…
The referee than begins to count Tim Shipley out for the count.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!
Alcaeus climbs the ropes…
SIX! SEVEN!
Off comes the vampire with a top rope knee drop to the head of Tim Shipley the crowd goes crazy as Alcaeus covers up Tim Shipley.
Truth Waters: This man his a great creed about him he knows how to end a match and win it good.
Down goes the referee.
ONE!
His hand strikes the mat.
TWO!
Again it hits the canvas as it looks like Tim Shipley is going to lose this one… and
THR-
Shipley kicks out as Alcaeus looks on in shock.
George Cassidy: I thought that was in the books!
The powerhouse calls for the end as he picks Shipley up off of the mat but Shipley fights back ramming his head into the stomach of Alcaeus. As he does so he swipes Alcaeus out from underneath himself by pulling up on his legs. Hitting the mat Alcaeus is at the mercy of Shipley who rolls him over himself.
Truth Waters: What is Shipley going to do?
Shipley sprints off to the ropes and back he comes… he climbs up onto ALCAEUS’S KNEE AND EXECUTES THE PERFECT SHINING WIZARD…
George Cassidy: It’s over!!!
Tim Shipley quickly makes the cover on Alcaeus.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: It certainly is! What a remarkable and quick comeback at the end!
George Cassidy: Tim Shipley inflicts a first defeat on Alcaeus.
Return Of A Legend II
FEATURING: ???
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It’s the legend. He’s back. In black. And brandishing a MOP~!.
It’s The Jan. Who Rocketh The Mosteth...
The Shoe-Polish Punisher...
Totally Tubby Tommy...
FREDROCK~!~!~!~!~!
FREDROCK~! strikes a pose, holding his MOP~! at an angle against his person, then brandishes it like a weapon against the flooded floor. The water magically disappears as FREDROCK~! slowly drags the MOP~! from side to side, directing it at all affected areas of the floor. He now turns to the camera.
FREDROCK~!: Fred cleans... SUPREME!
Slipping Out
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, PADDY O'SHEA
AUTHORS: MICHAEL DOHERTY AND MIKE WADE
The scene opens out in the parking lot of the AWC arena. It has been a long night for Mike Wade, what with his fruitless attempts to find O’Shea always on his mind. There was always next week but he wanted him now, jumping on his head. He didn’t think he had smiled all night, the Unfuckable feeling completely fucked over. He scowled as he felt a light rain running down the arch of his back. It was dark now as he walked towards his car, the only thought on his mind now getting home and having some sleep.
Wade fumbled with his keys and placed them in the lock of his car, turning them until he hears a click. Just as he opens the door, a figure appears from nowhere and slams him up against the car. The figure now swings him around and covers his mouth before kneeing him in the gut, so rapidly that Wade can’t defend himself. He bends over as he feels his stomach squeezing under the force of the knee, then is thrust onto the bonnet of his car.
Out of the shadow stands Paddy O’Shea, his face full of rage, his eyebrows are arched, his face is a frightful shade of red, his pupils darting back and forth like a monkey in a cage.
Paddy O'Shea: Ye hurt her, ye bastard.
Mike Wade: I know you're not talkin’ to me.
Paddy slams a fist once again into Wade’s stomach, winding him as he gasps for air, remembering his tough guy image he gathers himself, his face now a picture of anger after being struck. He squares up to the smaller O’Shea.
Paddy O'Shea: Ye hurt her. An’ it was my fault because aye wasn’ there.
Paddy slipped a hand into his trouser pocket and revealed a switchblade, shimmering in the dark. Wades bravado seemed to disappear.
Mike Wade: N-n-no, Paddy please.
Paddy O'Shea: Look Mike, a gypsy with a blade. Is this stereotypical enough fer ye? Ye’ve taken me best friend, intruded on me feckin’ family an’ now ye hurt me girl as ye come lookin’ fer me. Ye tell me why aye shouldn’ cut ye right now, eh?
Wade, the complete reciprocal of the malice emitting from Paddy, looked into those frantic eyes as he thought desperately, for something, ANYTHING to get him out of this situation. Then he did the only thing that seemed plausible, he was a car salesman he knew what to do in this situation, he extended his hand.
Mike Wade: Just let me go and you'll have no problem from me in the future. No dropping from 60-foot steel cages. No fucking up caravans, nothing. Just don't cut me at all Paddy come on man I have this modelling gig I might get you know....please man come on. Think sense!
Asking for pity never really settled for Wade. Many men had asked it from him yet he would never give, no way, no how. Weak men did that, soft men who would be stabbed in the back as they walked away from an unfinished fight. Paddy himself leaned in with the knife and Wade closed his eyes before opening them again as he felt a warm hand grip his, then shake it softly.
Paddy O'Shea: Fine…we’ll end it. All aye want is peace. But aye don’ ever want t’ have t’ look at yer miserable face again.
Paddy released the grip and suddenly was gone, back into the shadows. Wade’s breathing gradually slowed now as he regained his composure, his face changing from one of terror to something of delight. Yes, Paddy indeed was a weak man, he’d go on to regret ever letting Wade go tonight. For Mike, he’d learned a very important thing, and that was about being left vulnerable. Never again. But it wasn’t this that was making him smile now. It was something Paddy had let slip.
Mike Wade: His…girl?
The small smile now morphed into a laugh and he howled laughter over the bonnet of his car. As he got off the bonnet, the scene began to fade.
Mike Wade: Thanks Paddy. You’ve helped me more now than you’ll ever know.
The End
FEATURING: THE BRITISH BOMBER, RED ROCK, BOOLIE
AUTHOR: NEIL PETERS
We cut to the parking lot where we see The British Bomber sat in a car, just sitting there, waiting for someone. Bomber is in plain clothes after losing his match earlier this evening, and looks all ready to go. We then switch over to the exit of the arena that leads to the car park and we see Red Rock emerging with Boolie. Bomber has the car running and waits for Red Rock and Boolie to walk out into the roadway.
Bomber: Come on, I just need you to walk out in front of me then you’re all mine… you son of a bitch.
Finally Red Rock and Boolie walk to where Bomber wants them; he revs the car and releases the clutch, the tyres screech, and the car moves quickly in the path of Red Rock and Boolie. They quickly dive out the way and as Bomber hits the brakes he loses control of the car and it slams into the wall hard, passenger side first. Red Rock and Boolie hit the ground behind a parked car as does the cameraman and we hear a loud explosion as the cameraman gets to his feet and turns the camera towards the car, we see it in flames, followed by Red Rock and Boolie getting to their feet.
George Cassidy: I don’t believe it! Bomber tried to run down Red Rock and Boolie, missed them and crashed… now his car is in flames!
Truth Waters: My god, Bomber is dead!
We leave the scene as fire crews pull onto the car park to put out the fire.
Bomber is dead all because of his irrational hatred for Red Rock and Boolie… the crowd, Red Rock, Boolie, and just about everyone watching is in shock.
And the show ends.
No main event yet... but the show ends.
"The show must go on!", you cry. No dice. The show ends. Out of sympathy... human kindness... respect.
And here comes the ambulance.