Fresh! Results

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Introduction

FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHORS: DAVE LARKIN AND PIERRE HYDE

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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

The new Transatlantic Champion Pierce Lavelle is shown collapsing into the arms of Senior Referee Michael Ryan as he is handed the title following the Inferno match at Solarized. A pulsating white light continually lights up the screen, as shots of many AWC superstars in action are shown: Paddy O’Shea, Alex Strider, Pact.

And even though I know
That everything might go
Go downhill from here
I’m not afraid

A quick collection of images, highlighting key moments from this week’s Solarized pay-per-view, flash across the screen as the song moves into its chorus. The three-way chair shot to the head of Hate; Krimzon jumping ladders and inadvertently crushing his partner The Educator between a ladder and a table, the table breaking; Pierce Lavelle throwing Alexander Strider into the fire with a modified Whiplash.

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

Fireworks go off as the entrance video finishes, and the fans filling the somewhat unorthodox Palacio De Los Deportes of Santo Domingo.

Truth Waters: Don’t adjust your set – we really are bringing you Fresh! live from the Dominican Republic.

George Cassidy: So much went down just a few days ago at Solarized, and I have to say, I fear a descent into anarchy for AWC. With Pierce Lavelle, Crimson O’Malec and Paddy O’Shea as new champions – none of whom even deserve spots in this promotion – I can’t see AWC rising to the dizzy heights some predicted this summer.

Truth Waters: I have to say, most of the card tonight looks somewhat watered-down – I guess it’s the Solarized fall-out. But that’s more than made up for by the surprise Transatlantic title match that is tonight’s main event! Make no mistake, the Santo Domingo crowd is getting more than their money’s worth.

George Cassidy: One has to question how low AWC has fallen recently when we’re preparing to see Pierce Lavelle and Paddy O’Shea duke it out for the top belt.

Truth Waters: Well, we know it’s going well when our resident cynic has to stoop that low! I’m also looking forward to the debut of Drake Coleman tonight.

George Cassidy: I think I’ll second that. He’s delightfully weird, and is the former World champion of IWLE, which was a promising PTC fed until the bottom dropped out earlier this year.

Truth Waters: He’s certainly got the potential to have an impact on AWC. But not as much as Kuff McSlade, my spiritual brother, who I am happy to announce has also been signed to an AWC contract this week! Unfortunately he won’t be in action until the next episode of Fresh!, so really, make sure not to miss the show.

George Cassidy: But let’s go back to Solarized, Truth... apart from the big matches, apart from the title belt changes, there’s one thing that everybody’s talking about... one thing that’s unresolved...

Cassidy is cut off as a random assortment of spacey gawp emanates from the speakers either side of the stage, simultaneously combined with the sound of someone running a finger up and down the high keys of a piano. Momentarily, a two-chord guitar sequence starts to accompany this, as a robotic voice makes an audible announcement: ”Please welcome: Tim Shipley. Does not compute. Does not compute...”

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Academic

FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHORS: PIERRE HYDE AND LARA CLARKE

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A decent-sized chunk of the fans in the Palacio De Los Deportes are already on their feet, knowing exactly what is happening, and via word-of-mouth, this spreads, so that within seconds, all 9,000 people in the packed arena are standing, cheering and whistling, anticipating the arrival of the man who saved Pierce Lavelle from severe burns at the end of the Solarized pay-per-view on Friday.

George Cassidy: Know what this means, Truth?

Truth Waters: Of course I do. This is Tim Shipley’s music!

George Cassidy: Right as I was talking about him too. It looks like this is going to be cleared up once and for all!

The grunts of Tim Wheeler combine with the eclectic musical fusion of a piece which would divide any community of music critics. Some would describe “Astral Conversations With Toulouse Lautrec” as a total mess; others would call it an ambitious effort from teen-aimed rockers Ash; some might hail it as a diamond in the rough of their Cosmic Debris rarities collection. It is clearly just as “delightfully weird” as George Cassidy calls Drake Coleman, but the song has become more than familiar for followers and former followers of the now-declining Texas-based promotion Core Wrestling following its use for nearing six months as the theme music of college-student-turned-wrestler-turned-college-student Shipley.

Truth Waters: Uh...

Shipley has still not materialised as the lights continue their frantic dance around the darkened stage. Thinking perhaps that the youngster is awaiting a cue, ring announcer James Brunt calls his name:

James Brunt: Making his way to the ring... TIM SHIPLEY!

A part of the crowd roars, taking this announcement by an AWC staff member as official confirmation that the popular underdog is a part of the Club for definite. Some sections, however, are still confused as to what is going on.

George Cassidy: I’m thinking that tonight’s show wasn’t the best for Shipley to make his entrance. The fans in the Dominican Republic may well not have heard of him – I think I am right in saying that Core Wrestling doesn’t broadcast over here.

Truth Waters: Well, as things stand, he hasn’t shown his face yet anyway. For the benefit of those watching who are wondering what all the fuss is about, Tim Shipley is a 20-year-old wrestler who made quite a splash during a six-month stint in Core Wrestling in late 2004 to early ’05. On his last night in the promotion, at Core’s self-styled biggest event of the year, Gold & Glory, he and his partner Tony Aliso struck gold with the capture of the Tag Team titles from champions Hiroshi Ryusaki, who is now sidelined with a broken leg, and Josh Moody, who you can see from week to week in Global Wrestling.

George Cassidy: But of course tragedy struck – Aliso was assassinated, as most of you, I would assume, already know. The circumstances behind his death have still never really been cleared up... and then Shipley was traumatised. He left Core and wrestling altogether.

Truth Waters: In fact that isn’t quite true, he’d resigned the day before Aliso’s death – ah! Here he comes at last!

Finally, just as the production staff were about to give up on him, Shipley takes a tentative step through the curtain. He is attired differently to how he last saw him – in Core he wrestled in a baggy white t-shirt and silver tights with thick black stripes on both legs. The shirt was later dropped. Tonight, he wears similar tights, but these are white, with thin orange stripes, and of a different material, giving a matt sheen rather than a full reflection. His hair, also, is somewhat shorter and neater than his fans would be used to.

George Cassidy: He sure looks nervous...

Indeed, Shipley’s facial expression is one of wide-eyed terror. Followers of his early days in Core might not be surprised by this, but over his six months spent there he did eventually learn how to perform in front of a big crowd, and most thought he had conquered his crippling arena-shyness. However, tonight, his demeanour tells a different story.

Truth Waters: He’s scared out of his wits! I would call him a pussy, but I can half understand. This is bringing back memories... memories that Shipley has tried to suppress, of his partner and good friend Tony Aliso, who was of course killed. Wrestling and Aliso are always going to be inextricably linked, and that will be making it very, very hard for the young guy...

George Cassidy: Sorry to sound uncaring, but he’ll have to get over it. If he’s gonna be too scared to step into the ring, we don’t want him on our books.

Truth Waters: He’s overcome his shyness before – it’ll come with time, I bet. Anyway, how do you know he is even on our books? Last we’d heard, he was out of the business altogether!

George Cassidy: I’m sure we’ll find out now – assuming, of course, that he will manage to actually walk down the ramp.

Still looking totally starstruck, Shipley brings a hand to his head and scratches the top of it. Wiping his eyes, he looks out once more at the sight of thousands of people on their feet – thought some have sat down again, not knowing why they were so excited about someone they have not heard of who is clearly unskilled in public speaking.

Truth Waters: Come on, Shippers...

Finally, Shipley’s legs begin to drag him awkwardly down the ramp, though the rest of him seems to have other ideas. James Brunt exits the ring, excelling in this sort of situation – the purple-suited ring announcer gives Shipley a friendly pat on the back and appears to crack a joke, as Shipley offers a weak forced smile in response. Pushing a microphone into his hand, Brunt leads Shipley to the ropes and gives him a hand up into the ring. This action seems to galvanise Shipley – not wanting Brunt’s charity, he shakes himself, gritting his teeth, and moves through the ropes into the ring as Ash’s jumble of music can finally die down. He pauses for breath, and now the yells of a few die-hard fans can be heard: ”SHIPLEY! SHIPLEY!”

George Cassidy: It seems that Shipley has picked up some followers during his short career.

Truth Waters: He’s just plucking up the courage to speak. These chants will be giving him confidence.

With his arm shaking, Shipley raises the microphone to his mouth for the first time in months.

Tim Shipley: My name is Tim Shipley.

A wave of relief rushes over the young Harbrook college undergraduate following the escape of the first words from his mouth.

Truth Waters: Now he’s in control. Now he’s on his way up.

Tim Shipley: I – I’m aware that – that some of you may not know who I am. I’m also aware of the hostility that some may feel towards me after my untimely appearance at Solarized just this Friday –

Shipley is cut off as he listens, amused, to the defiant yell of one fan: ”No way! Shipley, you rock! You put Strider in his place!”

George Cassidy: It’s funny how quiet these arenas abroad can get at times, compared to their American counterparts. We wouldn’t normally hear the yell of one fan quite so clearly.

Truth Waters: I think another factor is that every one of the 9,000 attendees here is intrigued by Shipley. He’s certainly not an orthodox performer.

George Cassidy: Or maybe it’s the language barrier. These people speak Spanish, don’t they?

Waters shrugs.

Tim Shipley: Well, believe you me, that little vignette from me wasn’t planned, er, quite like that. Let me take you back a couple of weeks to when I first met my good friend Pierce Lavelle.

There are cheers from the crowd at the mention of the Transatlantic champion’s name.

George Cassidy: Resorts to the name-drop!

Tim Shipley: It was a sunny afternoon in Albany, New York, and I looked across the park, and suddenly stopped – because standing just a matter of yards away from me, I thought, was a wrestler I knew very, very well.

George Cassidy: I didn’t know Lavelle and Shipley had been friends.

Tim Shipley: He caught sight of me, too – and at that point I realised no, no, it wasn’t him – it wasn’t him –

Shipley’s voice fails, and he pulls the microphone roughly away from his mouth as he swallows deeply.

George Cassidy: I don’t understand...

Truth Waters: I think Shipley is trying to say that he thought he’d seen Tony Aliso – not Pierce Lavelle. But of course Aliso is dead...

George Cassidy: That’d explain it.

Shipley clears his throat before continuing. The sympathetic crowd has noticed the emotional trauma this is causing the young wrestler, and is respectfully quiet.

Tim Shipley: Anyway – needless to say – it wasn’t who I thought it was. But what I didn’t know at the time was that a chance meeting with this man, who I had mistaken for my tag team partner T – Tony Aliso –

Shipley breaks off again, and Cassidy lets out a frustrated sigh.

Truth Waters: Oh, show some respect, Cassidy.

Shipley sighs loudly into the microphone.

Tim Shipley: That chance meeting would lead to a lot more than just the flooding back of some horrible memories. That chance meeting would give me a previously unforeseen path back into my old life – the life I had enjoyed so, so much just months before. The life that, deep down, I desperately wanted to return to, but knew I couldn’t. But now – I could.

Shipley looks up at the rafters, and then around at the fans, slowly swivelling, with greater confidence in him now.

Tim Shipley: That little episode on that nice day gave me a chance to return to the business that so many people fail to go back to. A lot of people never get the chance to live their dreams – but now I get a second chance. Finals were over, and I thought, why not? I’ll give it a shot. Pierce, I learned, was a wrestler – an incredible coincidence considering I’d mistaken him for a different one. But he was new to the business. He was an enemy in need of an ally; a rookie in need of a friend. I could see some of myself in him – but Pierce is so much more than I was. He’s more confident, more powerful, heavier... but importantly, he’s a nice guy. A very nice guy. And when I made my mind up – I wanted to go back, I had to come back, just for the summer, because college is still my life – Pierce was the person I turned to. And now I’m here! Pierce’s ally. Pierce’s friend. Three months only in AWC. “Summer’s Son” Tim Shipley. Thank you – for this opportunity, for cheering me, for listening. And I hope to repay you by reaching greater heights than I ever managed with my previous employer. Once more, thank you.

Silence.

Then one, solitary nosebleed-section dweller begins to clap. His slow applause infects his neighbours, and within seconds a surreal bout of quiet clapping is in evidence. There’s no cheering – as far as the fans know, this is Tim Shipley, 100%, no gimmicks. The chants died down long ago. No whistling or booing. It seems that Shipley’s speech has touched 9,000 hearts. Or perhaps that’s my pretentious imagination at work. Fortunately, George Cassidy is here to shoot me down.

George Cassidy: What a load of crap.

His one-liner is audible for the man standing in the ring’s centre. The smile fades from his face and he gazes at George Cassidy, any confidence shot, any feeling of ‘job done’ undermined. But he shakes it off. Nothing is easy. His respect will come with time, Tim thinks to himself. With time.

Of course, you don’t know that, as you’re just watching the confused frown on his face with no idea of what is going on in that clever head of his. But I’m giving you some insight. Because I’m nice like that.

A drum roll breaks the silence. The spell over the arena ends as the Palacio De Los Deportes explodes into deafening applause for the most popular man in AWC right now – Pierce Lavelle, who now emerges from the curtain to the strains of “Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse.

Truth Waters: Here’s Lavelle! With new music! Time for a ‘thank you’ perhaps? Lavelle could have died at the hands of Alex Strider if it wasn’t for Tim Shipley!

George Cassidy: I’m not listening – this is the loudest cheer Lavelle’s ever got, and I’m incredulous – really. You’d think he would have lost some of his unfounded popularity after taking the Transatlantic title off of someone much more deserving, Alexander Strider, but no... what did I tell you about these Dominican fans?

Truth Waters: As I recall, nothing.

James Brunt moves silkily into the ring and asks Shipley for the microphone – Tim at once hands it off, not taking his eyes of Lavelle as he emerges from the entrance in his black trousers.

James Brunt: Making his way to the ring... the Transatlantic champion, PIERCE LAVELLE!

George Cassidy: Alright, no need to rub it in.

Lavelle jogs down the ramp and slides into the ring, pushing himself straight back up to offer his hand to Shipley, who half-smiles and shakes it. Lavelle is grinning widely as the ring announcer gives the microphone back to Shipley and heads out of the squared circle. Lavelle is holding one of his own.

Pierce Lavelle: Ladies and gentlemen, I guess you all know Tim Shipley.

The crowd cheer and chant for both Lavelle and Shipley.

Pierce Lavelle: That's good. Tim, I just wanted to thank you for your help last week at Solarized. If it wasn't for you, I might not even be here right now. Who knows – I could have ended up in some burn unit somewhere, unable to defend this title. So for saving my neck at Solarized against Strider, I thank you.

Tim Shipley smiles. Pierce Lavelle offers his hand as a sign of gratitude.

Truth Waters: The nobility of our new champion.

George Cassidy: He's sucking up to Tim Shipley.

Truth Waters: I doubt it. I believe Shipley when he says that he and Lavelle are friends. I have had the honour of bumping into Pierce Lavelle backstage and he is an extremely kind, young, talented man.

George Cassidy sighs at all of the praise for the two men in the ring. Lavelle smiles and looks around at all of the fans.

Pierce Lavelle: What do you say, Shipley? You want to tell them about our plan.

Tim Shipley: Er... I suppose so...

Pierce Lavelle: As Shipley has already said, I met him on Harbrook open day. I know what you are all thinking: why was Pierce Lavelle at Harbrook College, Albany? Because like Tim Shipley, college is important to me and I have enrolled for next year, but that's another story. When Tim Shipley first approached me I knew from first glance who he was and I was privileged that I got to meet him. We decided on talking about wrestling over coffee and, well, Tim was extremely interested in coming back to the business. He is my friend and now he is my ally in this business. I couldn't be more lucky, could I?

The fans let out a burst of cheers once more. Pierce Lavelle holds down the microphone and looks at Tim Shipley who is a lot more relaxed.

George Cassidy: We have two college undergrads in AWC? Oh, what a joke.

Pierce Lavelle: Tim and I have decided to form a team. Just a duo. To watch each other’s backs, and of course get in on the Alliance championship picture! We will be called The Academy, and I think that name is self-explanatory – .

Pierce is cut-off from the roaring of fans over the idea that Pierce Lavelle and Tim Shipley will be forming a duo.

Truth Waters: This is brilliant news.

George Cassidy: Great! Whatever floats your boat, Truth.

Shipley turns to look Lavelle square in the eyes.

Tim Shipley: Pierce... I have to thank you for getting me back into this. You have no idea – none of you have any idea – how much I have missed this ring.

Pierce Lavelle: You shouldn't be thanking me for that. I'm just glad you decided to come in when you did. I'll repay you one day. But, for now just enjoy the chance at stardom and your new career.

“Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse hits the sound system. Pierce Lavelle puts down the microphone and looks at Tim Shipley. He says “I’ll see you later” and begins to make his way to the ropes. Tim Shipley stops him.

Truth Waters: Why is Shipley stopping Lavelle?

The music pauses, as Lavelle turns, stands in the ring and looks at Shipley. There is silence, and then with a mutual unspoken decision the two raise one another’s hands and get a huge pop from the fans here in the Palacio De Los Deportes. Shipley looks around at the fans and the two make their way up the ramp as “Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse leads them out.

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The Farmer vs Gabriel vs Drake Coleman

STIPULATION: NEWCOMERS' THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: ERIC HALLORAN

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Truth Waters: This Newcomers’ Three Way Fury match may be one of the most varied Fury matches we’ve had in quite some time. A martial artist, a demon powerhouse, and…

George Cassidy: An agriculturalist?

Truth Waters: Yes, well, on the surface, that would appear what “The Farmer” is, but I know that to judge a book by its cover can often be a costly mistake!

George Cassidy: Right, that’s why all those romance novels are so much more than the handsome muscular men ripping away the bodices of Elizabethan chambermaids, eh?

Truth Waters: I really don’t know what you’re talking about, but it doesn’t make me happy to think about it.

James Brunt: The following is a Newcomers’ Three Way Fury match. Introducing first, from Brooklyn, New York, weighing in at 235 pounds... “The Angel Of Death”, GABRIEL!

“Rape Me” by Nirvana plays, and Gabriel steps out from the back. Making his way down methodically to the ring, Gabriel surveys the arena as the crowd jeers him the whole way. Gabriel steps into the ring, and James Brunt steps back to avoid him.

Truth Waters: “The Angel of Death”, eh?

George Cassidy: I don’t hire ‘em, don’t look at me. There was once a time when men wrestled under their real names, and bled their own blood from wounds they had to cut themselves! I miss those days. Nowadays, you got guys who think they’re demons and smash each other with barbed wire bats. What’s wrong with a little hidden razor now and then? We should get back to basics!

James Brunt: And his opponent, from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 189 pounds... DRAKE “THE BONFIRE” COLEMAN!

The sound of crackling fire permeates throughout the arena, and it begins to feel as if someone really did turn on the heat, as the arena begins to smoulder. Drake Coleman steps out from the back, bandages covering his body to hide his third degree burns, and jogs down to the ring. With a great amount of energy, Coleman rushes through the ring, bouncing off the ropes. Stopping in the center, he performs some quick kata, which impresses the gathered spectators.

James Brunt: Finally, coming all the way from Dowra, County Leitrim, Ireland, weighing in at 233 pounds... Mickey Fitz-McCarthy, THE FARMER!

“Not Far Away” By Pennywise begins to play. The Farmer steps out from the back, standing proud. A big bushy red beard covers most of his face, but his eyes are a light with energy. He wears a simple white t-shirt and dirty blue jeans with black boots and a black belt. He saunters down the ramp-way, eyeing his opponents as he rushes up the stairs into the ring.

George Cassidy: The farmboy and Gabriel seem evenly matched in size, though you can’t quite say that about Drake Coleman.

Truth Waters: Well, AWC has other stars who are shorter in stature that have done quite well for themselves. Look at Crimson O’Malec! And Coleman seems to have himself under control…

George Cassidy: Those bandages sure have him under control.

The bell rings and Drake Coleman begins a standing leg sweep on Gabriel as The Farmer enters the ring. Gabriel is back on his feet in no time, but Drake strikes fast with three martial art punches to precisely targeted spots on Gabriel’s neck and chest.

Truth Waters: It will be interesting to see how these three work against each other tonight.

The Farmer lumbers over toward the action, eager to make a statement of his own. Running hard, he slams a shoulder block into the already occupied Drake Coleman. Gabriel manages to roll out of the way as The Farmer crawls on top of Drake, landing some big fists of his own.

George Cassidy: Especially since this new guy here, The Farmer, doesn’t seem to have much, if ANY, standard wrestling training.

Gabriel is up on his feet quickly, stomping over The Farmer. Gabriel pulls the farmer up to his feet, flowing into a twisting neckbreaker. Rising quickly, Gabriel follows the neckbreaker with a falling elbow drop across his opponent’s neck.

Truth Waters: Gabriel has some technical skill there, moving flawlessly from one manoeuvre to the next.

Coleman shakes the cobwebs out of his head, bouncing off the ropes as he heads in Gabriel’s direction. Closing in on the now standing opponent, he does a rebounding backflip, connecting the side of his foot with Gabriel’s head, knocking both men to the mat.

George Cassidy: I don’t like watching them when they’re small and wiry. All the blurring makes my eyes hurt. I bet this guy won’t ever put anybody in a headlock… he’s all about the flipping, and the kicking, and the “Hi-Yah!”s and whatnot. It’s so damn confusing all the time.

Coleman flips himself up deftly to his feet, and follows after his downed opponent. Grasping Gabriel’s hand, he pulls Gabriel over and he flips down, rolling Gabriel over onto his shoulder in a La Majistral cradle pin. Referee Joseph Reid drops down to make the count…

ONE!

TWO!

Gabriel kicks out of the complicated pinning manoeuvre at the two count. As Drake gets to his feet to survey the situation, he gets blindsided with a huge open handed slap by The Farmer. Coleman is knocked backwards by the force of it.

Truth Waters: Huge slap from the Farmhand…

George Cassidy: It was quite like the pimp slaps I used to see down on 231st Street.

Truth Waters: You what?

George Cassidy: I mean, I heard about on 231st street…

Keeping his offensive up, The Farmer shoves Coleman back with a combination of hard pushes and closed fisted boxing. Drake attempts to block the blows by using his martial arts training, but has trouble keeping up with where the strikes land. Fitz-McCarthy finishes his assault with a huge forearm to Coleman’s cranium. Drake is sent flying down to the mat hard. The Farmer raises his hand in vindication, as he follows down to cover Coleman for the pin count, but is grabbed hard from behind by Gabriel.

Truth Waters: The Farmer certainly knows his to use his hands, they’re as big as shovels, Cassidy.

George Cassidy: Yeah. Well, he probably can’t afford real tools, so he’s adapted his hands to carve the earth. I mean, look at him! He’s an ox, isn’t he?

Gabriel slams Fitz-McCarthy down behind him with a waistlock German suplex. Gabriel quickly moves towards The Farmer’s feet, grabbing him by the knee and ankle…

Truth Waters: Gabriel appears to be setting up for a Texas cloverleaf submission hold…

Gabriel rolls The Farmer over onto his stomach and pulls back hard on the cloverleaf. The Farmer’s eyes bug out of his head, the pain excruciating for him to deal with. Gabriel bites his lip, yelling for Reid to check his opponent. Reid downs himself on the mat to check on The Farmer’s status.

Truth Waters: Painful submission hold. A man who isn’t used to this style of wrestling will probably be put out of commission pretty fast.

George Cassidy: And The Farmer doesn’t seem very strong once you get him down on the ground like that.

Drake Coleman bites his lip and steps over to Gabriel, delivering a stiff hard kick right to the face. Gabriel limply releases the hold as he falls backwards, blacked out from the force of the blow. The Farmer pulls his knee close to his stomach, grimacing from the pain. Coleman runs to the bottom rope, doing a backwards somersault off the turnbuckle into a diving Mantis splash across the Farmer.

Truth Waters: Fast offense and high flying action from the smallest man in the contest! Coleman is showing that he’s not to be forgotten, with a picture perfect Mantis splash from the bottom rope.

George Cassidy: Still haven’t seen a simple armbar from that guy. Flips and kicks are all fine, but man, an arm bar can be a beautiful thing.

Truth Waters: No, it’s a pretty boring thing, Cassidy.

Coleman pulls Gabriel to his feet, holding his arm at a sick angle. Using his free hand, he pulls The Farmer up to his feet. Both The Farmer and Gabriel stagger on their feet. Drake Coleman stands in between the two men, and with amazing dexterity, leaps high in the air, propelled by each man’s wrists, he does a split legged kick, nailing both of his opponents in the face. Coleman lands perfectly on his feet as the crowd cheers the amazing display.

Truth Waters: Now there’s something you don’t see everyday.

George Cassidy: Well, you’d see it if you watched Jean Claude Van Damme movies all day, every day. But yeah, outside of that, not so much.

The Farmer and Gabriel each fall backwards like hewn trees. The crowd cheers and camera’s flash just a little too late as they miss the spectacular martial arts spot. Drake smiles to himself, pleased with his flashy offensive strike. Coleman lays across The Farmer for a pin attempt…

Truth Waters: Coleman makes a pinning attempt, but doesn’t hook a leg…

George Cassidy: Rookie mistake.

ONE!

TWO!

Fitz-McCarthy presses Drake off of him near the three count, saving himself for the moment. The three men all stagger to their feet. Coleman stands up at the ready, rushing in after The Farmer, but is met with a stiff forearm, doubling the martial artist over on the ring mat. The Farmer turns around, eyes burning like blue flame. Seeing his intended victim, The Farmer lets out a deep Irish war-cry, grabbing Gabriel by the neck with his large hands. Gabriel tries to fight out of the grasp, but is unable, as The Farmer pulls him into a pronounced DDT.

Truth Waters: DDT and a cover by The Farmer…

ONE!

TWO!

Gabriel kicks out, and rolls out of the ring to take a powder.

George Cassidy: You know, I bet all these Irish wrestlers are going to be a great big hit when we actually make it to Ireland.

Truth Waters: You think so? I’m not so sure.

George Cassidy: Why not? They’re popular enough here, they’ve got to be fan favorites in their hometown!

Truth Waters: Yeah, I was being sarcastic. Sometimes I have better conversations talking to my dog than you, Cassidy.

Drake Coleman is being pushed into a corner by the powerful fury of Mickey Fitz-McCarthy. The Farmer climbs onto the first ring rope, and lays fists into Drake Coleman’s head as the crowd cheers along…

”ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX!”

The count is cut short as Gabriel slams his body against the back of The Farmer, sandwiching Drake between the larger man and the goal post. The two men stumble out of the corner. Gabriel grabs Drake Coleman, and flips him with a solid Death Valley driver.

Truth Waters: Spicolli driver on Coleman, there… He’s taking a beating, between the Farmer and Gabriel, now.

Gabriel leans over the fallen Coleman, and with a short hop, rakes his eyes with the sides of his boots. Referee Joseph Reid issues a warning, which Gabriel does not like. Gabriel blatantly chokes Coleman in front of Reid, simply to instigate the fighting.

Truth Waters: Gabriel’s fighting dirty now…

Coleman rolls out of the ring, massaging his throat, and the referee begins to count him out. Gabriel now turns to Fitz-McCarthy, who had been approaching with a haymaker. Gabriel ducks this and sets him up for his finisher.

Truth Waters: SATAN’S WISH!

George Cassidy: That’s Gabriel’s finisher, and this looks like it’s over.

Reid notices the cover, and, abandoning his counting out of Drake Coleman, who is still slumped against the apron, hits the mat to count the fall.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Truth Waters: That’s it! Gabriel takes an impressive victory in a tightly-contested match between three debutants.

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The Educator's Pledge

FEATURING: THE EDUCATOR
AUTHOR: LEON CRUISEY

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"School Of Hard Knocks" by POD begins playing over the PA system as The Educator makes his way out from the back. He has several plasters on his face and is walking very slowly due to the agony that he faced at the recent PPV.

James Brunt: Making his way to the ring… THE EDUCATOR!

He makes his way into the ring and grabs a microphone. He lets out a pained expression as the fans begin to boo his presence. Educator takes off his trademark glasses before putting the microphone to his lips.

The Educator: I am not happy!

Truth Waters: Could’ve fooled me.

The crowd begin to cheer. The Educator just smirks and starts again.

The Educator: Not only am I a victim of a great injustice, but it seems that I've also got to share my pain with a bunch of inbred hispanics like you!

This time, whatever little cheers The Educator had been receiving have all turned into jeers

The Educator: The sad thing about all of this is that about 80% of you will try and smuggle your way across the borders before too long. But if ANY of you stinky, sweaty, disease ridden wastes of space even get close to England, then I will personally take you back to the shack that you've come from! You can infest America as much as you like, they're just as bad as you, just not as ugly!

By now, a few fans have thrown their beverages in the direction of The Educator. The Educator walks over to a cup and holds it above his head. Luckily for him, it’s empty.

The Educator: This, right here, is the reason why you people are of low social class. Instead of sitting there, and listening to an educated man speak, you'd rather throw away your life savings!

The Educator begins to laugh as more and more jeers surround him.

The Educator: But I'm not here for any of you tonight. I'm here to discuss some home truths. Now let me ask you this. What kind of federation holds back the most intelligent man in sports entertainment?

More jeers are heard from the crowed.

The Educator: It was rhetorical you morons. Not only does the AWC hold me back, but they let gypsies like The Farmer and retards like Kris Krimzon run amok! The only reason, and I mean the ONLY reason, why I lost at Solarized is because of those two half-wits. I never wanted to anything to do with Kris "half a brain cell" Krimzon. The only reason why I even acknowledged his putrid existence was to use his worthless carcass to win the Alliance belts, and guess what? He couldn't even do that right!

The fans begin to shout the famous chant, ”ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE!”, having picked this up from American broadcasts, it seems.

The Educator: Shut the hell up damn it! Shut the hell up! I'm a champion, and I deserve to be treated like one! The evidence is there for everyone to see. Number of duo wins with that big ape? One out of four. Number of singles wins? One out of one. Oh, but I forgot, numbers and facts are worthless to you people, the only numbers you people understand is when you’re asked "how much is fries with that?"

The boos and jeers, if possible, grow louder than they were before. The Educator composes himself before speaking again.

The Educator: I met this youth the other day, smart lad, was wearing an Educator t-shirt – $15.99 in all available stores by the way – and you know what he said to me?

Some of the fans actually stop booing to see where The Educator is going with this.

The Educator: He said, "Hey Educator, when are you going to be champion so AWC becomes worth watching again?" and I said to him, "You know what Billy? You'd have to ask Dave Harber that question." I don't know if his name was actually Billy, but that's not the point here.

A few fans laugh but the majority continue booing.

Truth Waters: The Educator has definitely not endeared himself to the Dominican Republic crowd.

The Educator: The point is, it’s a question that I would like to ask Mr. Harber myself. Not only does he hire complete retards and people living on the street, but he also fails to recognise good talent. Who's the Livewire champion Mr. Harber? Who's the Frontier champion Mr. Harber? I'll tell you who they both are. They're both right here.

The Educator points to himself and grins.

The Educator: That's right you collective waste of oxygen. No longer will I stand by and be held back. It's time the AWC had a worthy champion, and from this night forward, you will have a champion that you can be proud of.

The Educator throws one of the plastic cups back towards the audience as a large chorus of boos sound over his exit.

Truth Waters: I’m not quite sure what The Educator meant about the Livewire and Frontier championships... as things stand, he isn’t in the running for either of them!

George Cassidy: He’s a worthy champion and he knows it! And hopefully David Harber will work that out soon enough.

---

Unintended

FEATURING: STEVEN XANDROUS
AUTHOR: KERRY RITTER

---

Fading into view is the sight of AWC interviewer Sarah Kennedy standing next to the newly-crowned Steven Xandrous, the Relentless championship slung casually over his right shoulder. Xandrous is wearing street clothes, such as his blue jeans and hooded sleeveless shirt, due to the fact that he is not wrestling tonight.

Sarah Kennedy: Ladies and gentlemen, I am standing next to Relentless champion, Steven Xandrous. Steven, at Solarized you pinned the former Relentless champion, Crimson O’Malec, to take that title. How did it feel?

Xandrous looks at Sarah, a grave look in his eyes.

Steven Xandrous: How did it FEEL? How do you think it felt? I was crowned as a champion; I felt on top of the world. Everyone was rooting for others, like Pact, or Hate, or even O’Malec. They didn’t expect me, a man who’s only wrestled one real match in his life, to come in and take the belt from a man whose obviously had his share of match ups. And this is what I get for it.

Steven proudly pats the title on his shoulder.

Sarah Kennedy: Well, congratulations are certainly in order. You’ve done very well for yourself thus far. You’ve received the Fresh!man accolade, you’ve won the Relentless title… what’s next on your plan of achievements?

Xandrous laughs.

Steven Xandrous: Sarah, if there is one thing I’ve learned in my years, it’s that plans never work out the way you want. But I will tell you this: I’m not done yet. I have made an impact, but it’s not over yet. (laughing deeply) No, it’s no where near over yet. When I’m done, everyone is going to know my name. That is a promise.

Xandrous walks off the scene.

---

Jonny Sake vs Kris Krimzon

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: MICHAEL DOHERTY AND PIERRE HYDE

---

Truth Waters: Now for an interesting match-up, as the huge Jonny Sake takes on his so-called ‘mentor’, the erratic Kris Krimzon.

George Cassidy: How anyone can call Krimzon a mentor is beyond me.

Truth Waters: Krimzon is good for comedy, at least –

George Cassidy: Well Sake is hardly a comedian-in-training is he? Oh actually, with the strapline “The Big Daddy”...

Cassidy stifles a laugh hugely and fakely as Waters chuckles. The on-stage pyros erupt, setting the entrance for a "superstar". Over the P.A. system, words are screamed through, "And I can't make it on my own!" The big screen reveals six numbers arranged in a non-numerical order, "6", "1", and "8", simulating a screen crack in the middle of the television.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing in at 230 pounds... KRIS KRIMZON!

From the curtains, Kris Krimzon emerges, arms spread out in hype, to the sounds of “Ohio Is For Lovers”. Krimzon blazes down the aisle-way and slides into the ring, taunting for the crowd.

Truth Waters: Krimzon gave an impressive showing in his Four Way Fury match at Solarized, winning three points for Krimzon Karnage Inc..

George Cassidy: Luckily, The Educator saw sense and ended the team – but not before that idiot damn near killed him!

Truth Waters: It was a misjudgement up on the ladder, that’s all.

Krimzon slides into the ring and is forcefully checked by Lars Larsson. Krimzon looks a little puzzled by this.

George Cassidy: Lars Larsson is really exerting his authority in these pre-match checks.

Truth Waters: He likes to be in control. I guess he hated not being able to do anything about the interference into that great Solar Power match at Solarized, and he’s making up for it by being extra-vigilant tonight.

The plodding keyboard of Linkin Park’s nu-metal anthem “In The End” now announces the entrance of Jonny Sake.

James Brunt: And his opponent, from Manhattan, New York, weighing in at 346 pounds... JONNY – “The Big Daddy” – SAKE!

Sake nods, acknowledging the mild applause that the 7’2” giant is receiving from these fans in the Palacio De Los Deportes.

George Cassidy: Apparently they like big men in the Dominican Republic.

Truth Waters: ...That’s good to know...

The bell rings as Sake straddles the top rope and enters the ring, offering a raised hand to his ‘mentor’. Krimzon almost has to jump to reach it as they slap hands and nod. Sake now moves in and whips Krimzon to the ropes.

Truth Waters: These two are operating under the understanding that this is just a friendly match. They can treat it as a training session, I suppose.

George Cassidy: We’re broadcasting a training session all over the world... how dodgy is that?

Krimzon bounces off the ropes but grabs the top one to stop himself from returning. Sake just stands off and lets him regain his composure.

Truth Waters: A little too friendly isn’t it?

George Cassidy: Well, if Sake is going to end his recent poor string of results he better start to pull his sleeves up and get stuck in.

Krimzon and Sake walk over to the centre of the ring, slap hands and then lock up. The much larger and stronger Sake easily pushes Krimzon into the corner with a thud and holds him there. Krimzon is about to hoist him up but then Krimzon sticks a finger in his eye.

George Cassidy: Brilliant Krimzon! That makes a change.

Truth Waters: Looks like Sake is being taught a harsh lesson here by his mentor. The 16 year old is learning the seedier side of wrestling by his mentor.

George Cassidy: Sake’s 16?

Truth Waters: According to his bio…

George Cassidy: LIAR~! Look at the size of him! His mother must have died on childbirth! How could he be the “Big Daddy” anyway? His balls probably haven’t even dropped!

Krimzon starts to work on Sake. He swings him around and plants him into the turnbuckle and begins a blatant chokehold. Lars Larsson is quick on the scene and intervenes instantly.

Truth Waters: You wouldn’t say the two are operating quite as typical friends...

Krimzon nods at Larsson and then applies a series of hard chops to Sake’s chest to the enjoyment of the crowd. This is indicated by the repeated chants of WOOO!

Truth Waters: Sake is not an unpopular fellow with the crowds but the people are getting firmly behind Krimzon from the off.

George Cassidy: That’s because this city is full of inbred idiots.

Krimzon is about to stomp a hole in Sake when Sake jumps out of the corner with a clothesline, flooring his mentor. Sake shouts to the crowd and receives a muted cheer. Sake then climbs up on the second rope and drops a leg over Krimzon’s chest. Krimzon had tried to move out of the way but had moved too slow. Sake grabs Krimzon 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: The Big Daddy –

George Cassidy: HAHA!

Truth Waters: – is working well on Krimzon now. Maybe the student has surpassed the master?

George Cassidy: I bet he wouldn’t beat him if Mr. Miyogi was his mentor.

Krimzon is down on the ground face down so Sake turns around and applies a Boston crab. Lars Larsson runs over quickly and asks Krimzon if he wants to quit. Krimzon shouts a defiant no. Sake intensifies the lock but seems to be looking a little worried at the damage he’s causing Krimzon.

Truth Waters: Sake doesn’t look too happy to be in this situation by the looks of it.

Krimzon starts to swing his arms madly and manages to grab the bottom rope so Sake breaks the hold immediately without any prompting from Larsson. Sake isn’t slow though to capitalise on Krimzon’s 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 Sake. He’s working on the back here. For such a big man, he really is a good technician.

Krimzon however doesn’t want to give up again and instead punches Sake hard on his chin. Sake lets Krimzon drop but refuses to punch his mentor back. Instead, Sake runs off the ropes and drops a leg across his neck. Sake stands back and waits for Krimzon to get to his feet. Krimzon rises a little groggily and when he turns around, Sake grabs him and lifts him up in a military press. Sake is about to drop him when Krimzon slips out of his hands and acrobatically falls onto his shoulders and hurricanranas the big man.

George Cassidy: Amateur. Sake should’ve known not to attempt a move like that until Krimzon was weaker.

Truth Waters: But you’ve got to hand it to Krimzon, that was a great counter with the rana.

Sake has fallen hard to the mat so Krimzon runs over to the turnbuckle and climbs it. He salutes to the crowd with a cheesy grin who cheer him with a passion. Krimzon jumps off the top rope with a frog splash and connects.

Truth Waters: Awe-inspiring frog splash!

Krimzon jumps on top for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout!

Krimzon seems a little annoyed at Sake’s resilience. However, he gets straight back to work and pulls Sake to his feet. However, Sake is immediately put back down with a double arm DDT.

George Cassidy: Sake falls onto his head… memories of a broken childhood, eh?

Truth Waters: That’s just… lovely Cassidy.

Krimzon goes over to the ropes to take a breather for a few moments and then turns and stalks Sake. Sake gets to his feet with a little bit of trouble and Krimzon runs at him with a spear. However, Sake catches his body as it zooms toward him and lifts him up and puts him down with a snap powerbomb!

Truth Waters: Very good counter there by Sake and once again he has the upper hand.

Sake goes down quickly and lies down Krimzon up for a pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Kickout!

Truth Waters: Krimzon kicks out there.

George Cassidy: That idiot Sake would have had it there if he had took the time to hook a leg.

Sake begins to pound the mat in frustration, which results in a laugh from the crowd. This fires Sake up and he grabs Krimzon roughly around the waist and hoists him up. Sake throws Krimzon off the ropes and he runs towards the other. They meet again at the centre of the ring and Sake nails Krimzon with a running DDT. Krimzon holds his head on the ground and shouts in agony. Sake is quick and lifts him up again and applies another devastating move: a belly-to-belly 90-degree overhead.

Truth Waters: Sake is really bringing out the big guns on Krimzon.

Instead of attempting another pin, Sake lifts Krimzon up once again and throws him into the turnbuckle. Sake takes two steps back, taunts the crowd by imitating a train engineer making a horn sound. He runs at Krimzon who sidesteps him resulting in Sake bouncing off the turnbuckle. Krimzon runs at the ropes with the intention of clotheslining Sake but Sake ducks and clotheslines Krimzon instead on the back of the head as he turns around.

Truth Waters: Sake’s superior strength yet shocking speed is stopping Krimzon from getting into this match at all.

George Cassidy: Hurry up and end this piece of crap.

Sake waits for Krimzon to get up then grabs him from behind, obviously to attempt a German suplex or some variation of it. However, Krimzon swings an elbow around and connects with Sake’s temple. Sake pushes Krimzon hard. He flies towards the ropes but Lars Larsson is in the way!

Truth Waters: And the referee is out cold!

George Cassidy: You idiot Sake. Now, who the hell is going to end this match?

Sake turns around to Krimzon and plants a boot into his stomach. Krimzon keels over so Sake puts his head between his legs and hoists him up for a powerbomb. However he runs towards the ropes and despatches him to ringside instead!

Truth Waters: BBD! Sake has left Krimzon a mess outside the ring! That is no way to treat your mentor!

George Cassidy: Well Krimzon finding himself lying crumpled outside the ring is nothing new for Fresh! is it?

Sake quickly dives outside the ring and throws Krimzon back in. Krimzon is apparently knocked out. Sake grabs Krimzon by the neck where he lies and pulls him up to a vertical base. There is a look of anger on his face. He then lifts him above his head and nails the For’sake’n!

Truth Waters: FOR’SAKE’N! Sake is making sure he’ll get the pin this time!

George Cassidy: Not if the referee is still out for the count, hombre.

Truth Waters: After a hesitant beginning, Sake is giving his friend Kris Krimzon no mercy, nailing both his big moves!

Sake is unaware of the referee’s being out of it and walks over to where Larsson lies. Sake puts a hand on his shoulder and asks him if he’s alright. The referee begins to come to on Sake’s initiation. However Krimzon has crawled behind Sake and gives him a shockingly forceful low blow for a man in such a weakened state. The crowd chant their approval.

George Cassidy: How can these people cheer such a blatant betrayal of the art of wrestling?

Truth Waters: Why don’t you ask that again during one of Strider’s matches?

Krimzon pulls Sake by the back of the leg and rolls him up wearily for the pin. He holds the middle rope as he does so yet the referee is still very groggy and can’t see this. He does however begin the count with difficulty.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

George Cassidy: No way! How couldn’t the referee see that? THAT’S CHEATING!

Truth Waters: Ah sit down you big hypocritical lug. These two supposed friends have put on one hell of a display... Wow, look at Johnny Sake!

James Brunt: The winner… KRIS KRIMZON!

Krimzon rolls out of the ring before Sake can get up. Sake jumps to his feet, his face red in anger. The Big Daddy doesn’t shout at Krimzon but the annoyance is apparent. Krimzon gestures Sake to go backstage for a drink. But Sake ignores him. He jumps out of the ring and walks past Krimzon is a huff. Krimzon waits until he is past him before raising his arms to the crowd in victory.

Truth Waters: Look at Sake huff!

George Cassidy: You would too if a damned clown cheated you out of a win!

---

Enter Eire Og

FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA, CRIMSON O'MALEC, THE FARMER
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY

---

Truth Waters: Okay, next up we’ve got an announcement from the new Alliance champions, Emerald Isle.

George Cassidy: Oh come on. Do we have to waste precious airtime on foreigners?

Almost on cue, the lights in the arena dim to a complete darkness as green mist begins to form at the top of the ramp way. This green haze continues to linger in the nearly silent arena until

BANG!

Green, white and orange flames erupt from pyros lining both sides of the ramp way as “You’ll Never Beat The Irish” by the Wolfe Tones kicks in from the speakers.

As the mist clears away at the top of the ramp and the lights come on again, Paddy O’Shea’s mobile caravan appears at the top of the ramp-way. Crimson O’Malec has his head out a window and is playing to the crowd with Paddy in the driver seat. The crowd cheer as it begins to drive down to the ring and then parks up. They both hop out and then jump into the ring and then play to the crowd until the music ends.

George Cassidy: Why do they always have to milk everything?

Truth Waters: Oh come on Cassidy, it’s only a bit of fun.

Paddy O’Shea whispers something to Crimson who nods his head with a smile. Paddy O’Shea then slides out of the ring and opens the door of the caravan. He disappears inside for a few seconds and then reappears with the two Alliance belts lofted above his head. He slides back into the ring with a large smile, throws one to O’Malec and the two ascend opposite corners with the belts held above their heads.

George Cassidy: Yawn…

The two receive mics from a stagehand as the music ends.

Paddy O’Shea: Top o’ the morn t’ye feckers.

The crowd cheer and begin a chant:

”EMERALD ISLE, EMERALD ISLE, EMERALD ISLE”

Paddy O’Shea: Feck up fer a minute would ye!

George Cassidy: Here we go again. There are children watching, why don’t you watch your mouth?

Truth Waters: Well, “feck” isn’t exactly a curse word now is it?

George Cassidy: Don’t make excuses for him Truth!

The crowd cheer again.

Crimson O’Malec: Okay people settle down. We’re here tonight to announce some news. Some is good and some isn’t so good.

O’Malec looks at O’Shea for a second who nods with complete seriousness.

Crimson O’Malec: So we’ll get the bad over with… Paddy?

Paddy O’Shea: Aye’ll get straight t’ the point…one week ago, as aye made my way over home fer the weekend…my father was kidnapped.

Truth Waters: What?

George Cassidy: If his father is anything like him, can you blame the kidnappers?

Truth Waters: …too far.

There’s a huge sound of expressed shock in the audience. There are a few shouts of support.

Paddy O’Shea: Thank you all for your sympathy but if ye want to help me ye can. Ye see, police have traced the kidnapping to here, the AWC. Now aye don’t know if it be a wrestler or a member o’ staff but there’s an individual or group in this federation tha’ be responsible fer this crime. Like aye said, ye can help – demand answers from the federation, demand tha’ those responsible own up. It may not be a lot but it may help somehow.

Paddy O’Shea wipes his brow for a second and Crimson comes over and claps him on the back. They exchange a few words and then Paddy continues.

Paddy O’Shea: Now since I’m here, I’d like t’ say a few words t’ the kidnappers… aye know yer here in the AWC, aye know wha’ ye have done and aye’m goin’ to make an announcement t’ ye. And this be not a threat… when aye find ye, aye’m gonnae t’ kill ye. Aye swear by every splinter on Christ’s cross, aye’ll jump on yer feckin’ head until yer nothing but a feckin’ vegetable…aye will find ye’s and when aye do…

O’Shea shakes with rage for a second.

Crimson O’Malec: No, we’ll both do it… now, I think we need a little bit of a pick-me-up! What do you think?

The crowd cheer its approval.

Crimson O’Malec: Now at Solarized, you people seen me and Paddy here win these things here...

O’Malec holds up his belt for the crowd to see while O’Shea leans against the ropes, now starting to calm down.

Crimson O’Malec: And we would like to say these belts won’t be leaving our waists anytime soon… but who exactly was that man who helped us during the match…?

George Cassidy: Ah, they’re admitting they’re cheaters!

Truth Waters: Yes, but it was a No-DQ… everything’s fair in love, war and DQ matches.

Crimson O’Malec: Well let’s introduce him shall we?

The crowd pop hugely.

Crimson O’Malec: I’m ecstatic to introduce a man you saw in the ring just a bit earlier... Kieran Michael Fitz-McCartney-McCarthy… THE FARMER!

George Cassidy: Is that his GENUINE full name?

Truth Waters: I don’t think anyone really knows. Not even the handlers!

George Cassidy: The what?

“You’ll Never Beat The Irish” booms from the speakers and The Farmer, who made his first appearance at Solarized, walks to the ring. The crowd cheer at this new figure in the AWC.

Crimson O’Malec: Unfortunately our friend here doesn’t talk much so we can’t hear the wisdom coming from his mouth.

George Cassidy: We’re going to come down with these Irish I’m telling you. Hasn’t history taught us that Irish employees equals bankruptcy?

Truth Waters: Well Emerald Isle have claimed the Alliance titles three weeks after their formation. Model workers if you ask me.

Crimson O’Malec: But that’s not all. We have another little bit of bad news. Me and Paddy’s good friend ASS has unfortunately been sent back to Ireland after failing to achieve legal status over here...

The crowd boo with ferocity.

Crimson O’Malec: I know, I know but there’s nothing I can do. He wasn’t under contract here and so is unfortunately going to be inactive until he gets that sorted but we’ll be here for him when he gets back. Kieran, or Michael, or Fitz here, however, is under contract here and after putting our heads together with Paddy, we came up with this little solution. A new stable, but you already know its name...

”EIRE OG! EIRE OG! EIRE OG!”

George Cassidy: Irish organising themselves…that’s a first.

Paddy O’Shea: Tha’ be right ye feckers. COME ON!

”EIRE OG! EIRE OG! EIRE OG!”

Crimson O’Malec: And with that, we bid you adieu.

“You’ll Never Beat The Irish” begins to boom from the speakers once again as the three exit the ring. The three then proceed to exit ringside by climbing into the caravan and driving up the rampway.

Truth Waters: A new stable then? You know what they say, safety in numbers.

George Cassidy: Yes but you know what other people say. Too many Irish in a changing room leads to a smelly changing room.

Truth Waters: Who says that?

George Cassidy: I do, Truth.

---

Control, And The Loss Of It

FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

The scene cuts backstage to Pearl’s office, where the Entertainment Manager is in the middle of a telephone conversation.

Pearl: Yes, that’s right. They’ll be debuting in – let me check...

He searches through some papers on his desk before finding the one he wants.

Pearl: Two weeks’ time.

Pause. Harber frowns.

Pearl: No, two weeks’ time.

He shakes his head angrily, despite the fact that the person on the other end of the phone cannot see this.

Pearl: There’s no room on next week’s card! Really! It’s booked. No, you can’t... no! That’s fina – I – did you just hang up on me?

Harber stares at the phone in his hand and slowly sets it down.

Pearl: Why do I get the feeling that someone is overriding everything I do...?

Suddenly, he spots the camera on him, and his eyes open wide.

Pearl: And where did that camera come from?! Hey, you! Turn it off!

His eyes follow the exit of the anxious cameraman. Sighing, Harber leans over and starts to fiddle with the side of the camera.

Pearl: I thought I was supposed to be in charge h –

Pearl having found the power button, the camera switches off.

---

I Beat The Big Man

FEATURING: KRIS KRIMZON, JONNY SAKE
AUTHOR: KERRY RITTER

---

Backstage, Kris Krimzon is trying to get on his non-wrestling gear such as his pants, but is having some difficulties. Kris begins to put on khaki pants, but stumbles back and falls over the bench behind him, the toe of his wrestling boots showing from the hole at the bottom of the pants. Footsteps echo through as “The Big Daddy” Jonny Sake walks up, sweating from his and Krimzon’s match-up. He watches as his mentor finally gets the pants around his waist, his back to Sake.

Jonny Sake: What the hell, Kris? That was a cheap win, man.

Krimzon turns quickly to his protégé, his face bewildered.

Kris Krimzon: Wh-what do you mean, Jonny?

Jonny Sake: The roll-up! What was that all about? I thought it was going to be a straight-up match!

Kris sighs and puts his arm on Jonny’s shoulder.

Kris Krimzon: Jonny, this is another lesson for you. Don’t trust anyone. No one is your friend in the ring, you got that? Lesson number two, you need to roll with the punches, take the losses. It doesn’t matter how you win; a win is a win. Unless you lose. Because if you lose, you don’t win. So a loss is not a win. You following me?

Jonny Sake: (shrugs) I guess…

Kris Krimzon: You did good out there, man. Nice job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get my clothes on…

Sake nods and walks off. Krimzon peeks around the corner to make sure that his protégé is gone. When he does, he grins and begins to do a jig and ‘sings’ to himself.

Kris Krimzon: (quietly) I beat the big man, I beat the big man…

---

Give It Arrest!

FEATURING: ALEXANDER STRIDER, CRIMSON O'MALEC, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHORS: ERIC HALLORAN AND BRENDAN SLIGE

---

“Will You Smile Again?” by …And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead begins to play. The arena lights flash red and circle around in a cyclone. ”The Mongoose” Alex Strider stands in the entranceway to the AWC, seen for the first time since Zero To Hero without the AWC Transatlantic title. The crowd rains down torrential boos for the heartless man. Strider walks unfazed to the ring, his face dark and sunken. Strider wears a flashy white suit that counter-points with his current mood, which is clearly sullen and angry.

George Cassidy: Thank God! We’re finally going to hear from THE MAN in AWC.

Strider stands and listens to the amusement and jeering of the crowd with a frown for an uncomfortable minute before raising the microphone to his mouth. Shaking his head with disgust, he speaks:

Alex Strider: Shut up, you… ignorant… sons of bitches!

George Cassidy: That’s the way!

The crowd boos ten decibels louder.

Truth Waters: What a rude welcome.

Alex Strider: I will not shout over you cretins. I will not argue with you, while my precious little time is wasted, and I will not squander this opportunity simply because you people are too obtuse to fully grasp the pain that I am going through right now.

Fans in attendance either boo or laugh at the former champion, feeling no compassion for someone as obviously hateful as The Mongoose.

Alex Strider: That’s fine. That’s completely predictable. I did not come out here expecting any kind of sympathy for the travesty that took place at Solarized. I knew before I got here tonight that each and every one of you were against me. I knew with my heavy heart that you cruel bastards delight in that which torments me. And you know what? I’ve already forgiven you for it.

Alexander Strider pauses, spitting on the ring mat. The crowd boos its disapproval, but Strider nods.

Alex Strider: I forgive you, because I am better than that. I am now, I’ve always been, and I always will be bigger and better than any of you. This goes for every single man, woman, and ugly, gap-toothed child here in attendance, this goes for everyone in this piss-poor excuse of a town, and this goes double for everyone who calls themselves a ‘Professional Wrestler’ in the AWC.

Strider pauses, letting the insults and boos bounce off of him like golf ball sized hailstones off a sturdy, yet weathered roof.

Alex Strider: It’s the truth, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, or who you think beat me, or what your name is. Alexander Strider is the best thing that has ever happened to professional wrestling. I come into this federation and I drive the heat. I create the tension. The drama. I come in and in one night, I prove that my being here is no joke. I defeat Pact, Hate and Pierce Lavelle in rapid succession. Do I stop there? Do I ‘rest on my laurels’? Not a damn chance.

George Cassidy: No, he did not. He accepted all challengers!

Truth Waters: He whined when he got his rematch against Pierce Lavelle.

George Cassidy: Yeah, well… we’ll see how long it takes Pierce to face Strider again!

Truth Waters: Hmph.

Alex Strider: Nope. I take on all comers. I became so hot, that Harber pushed my matches down to the middle of the show, to promote what? Pierce Lavelle versus Ellis Nash? In case you forgot what happened there… your new ‘champion’ was devastated… by a woman. What about some other gems our creative control has put out there for your ‘enjoyment’: Crimson O’Malec versus Christopher Ashton. What a classic. One of those guys doesn’t even work here anymore. The other guy, well, he’s a reject from the mental ward. So I’m to be set on the backburner, in favor of oddities that P.T. Barnum himself wouldn’t take advantage of? It makes my blood BOIL, and I’m not going to let it happen anymore.

Truth Waters: What is he talking about?

George Cassidy: He’s talking about being treated like a second rate citizen, when he’s a damn PRO, Truth. How can you, a man of color, not see the way he’s being treated is wrong? After all your people have gone through, you can’t recognize when someone is being treated wrong unless they’re black, is that it?

Truth Waters: What did you just say?

George Cassidy: I said...

Truth Waters: The HELL YOU DID, CRACKER!

Truth Waters stands up and slams his receiver down on the table. Strider doesn’t take notice as Truth walks to the back, seething with anger.

Alex Strider: I put my ability and my life on the line here, despite the fact that my personal life is in ruins right now, despite the fact that you pigs in the audience are completely ingratiate of how much effort it takes to simply BE Alex Strider, and how am I repaid? It is a SLAP in the FACE that not only do I lose the title I made famous on what is practically a technicality…

George Cassidy: That’s what I said! You’d get a better fire off an ice cube than what ‘supposedly’ was alight on Strider’s trousers at Solarized…

Alex Strider: But then, who gets the first shot at the Transatlantic title? Me? Oh no, that would make too much sense. I mean, after all, I’ve only defeated the very same WOMAN that decimated that college dropout, but I’ve also YET TO BE PINNED in AWC. So who gets MY title shot?

George Cassidy: It disgusts me to think of it.

Alex Strider shakes his head vigorously as he thinks out loud, wearing his anger on his face like a wicked mask.

Alex Strider: Some unwashed, illiterate Irish scumbag who, when he speaks, you can not even understand what he is saying. I can tell you this much… I will be dead and rotting in the ground before I let ANOTHER waste tarnish that belt with his grubby, bony hands!

George Cassidy: Yeah! You tell ‘em Alex. Ladies and gentlemen, now you’re seeing what happens when a real champion gets pissed off!

Alex Strider: I am not going to let some fresh-off-the-boat damned potato-eater be the next AWC Transatlantic champion. I’ve built this championship up from the ground, God damn it! The main event tonight should be ME versus LAVELLE in a technical showing of who’s the best damn wrestler, not another freak show main event to drive more wrestling fans AWAY.

Truth Waters hastily makes his way down from the back, still looking as pissed off as before. Truth sits down at the table and replaces his headset without a word.

George Cassidy: Did your walk calm you down some?

Truth Waters: No, but the rest of the show’s already been written, and I’m in it.

George Cassidy: How about an in character explanation?

Waters coughs.

Truth Waters: I swear to God, Cassidy, for the rest of the show, you had better not piss me off. I may have just taken a Xanex, but I am still capable of killing you, dig? You had better just shut up, because I will crush your trachea where you sit.

The sound of Cassidy gulping is the only audible noise that comes from George’s headset.

Alex Strider: Tonight, Paddy O’Shea is a marked man. Paddy did not ‘earn’ a shot. He drew it out of a hat. It’s enough to make my stomach TURN. That is not how champions are decided! The luck of the draw, BY CHANCE! Just like a match should not END simply because somebody’s PANTS get SCORCHED! That isn’t real skill, damn you! That is spectacle!

Strider plaintively raises his hand in argument to a jury that’s not there.

Alex Strider: I will show you, just like I have every single time I’ve stepped up to the plate, what it really takes to be champion. And Paddy O’Shea doesn’t have it. Bodyguard or no bodyguard, Paddy O’Shea is not going to make it through the night in one piece. Because Pierce Lavelle needs protecting. Pierce Lavelle has to hold on to my title for me, and keep it warm, because that belt is coming back where it belongs: around my waist.

Voice: Strider you are an absolute idiot. One thing you need to learn, is you don't pick on the Irish, because almost all Irishmen are friends.

Strider turns round in the ring, looking for the voice. Some fans begin to cheer as they recognize Crimson O'Malec's voice. He steps out from behind the curtain and stands on the stage peering down the ramp at Strider.

Crimson O'Malec: How can you stand out here and spout off at the mouth like that?

The crowd erupts in cheers, because they believe it is about time someone put Strider in his place. O’Malec allows the fans to die down on their own as Strider sneers at the crowd.

Crimson O'Malec: I actually don't think I've heard anyone cry about their loss at Solarized more than you. Let me ask you something. Did you have to go through six other wrestlers first? Because I think you didn't. I think the person who did that was me.

The crowd again erupts in cheers, this time in honor of their favorite extremist.

Crimson O'Malec: I had to go through six other men, before someone came down and interfered in what was none of their business.

Alex Strider: You couldn’t have lasted much longer anyway. You were on your last legs; Hate put you out of your misery! I am talking about real INJUSTICE here!

George Cassidy: It's a whole hell of a lot worse to lose on a little technicality rather than blatant interference! Strider wasn't even set on fire, and Tim Shipley didn’t belong out there either! Hypocrisy!

Truth Waters: You’re an ass, Cassidy.

Crimson O'Malec: What you don't realize is this. Strider, this isn't the place to complain. These people from the Dominican Republic don't want to hear a grown man cry.

Crimson allows the cheap pop to crescendo before continuing.

Crimson O'Malec: There's a time and place for everything. I've already been in Mr. Harber's office tonight. He tries to tell me that Hate had no vendetta against me, that Hate had came in the afternoon of Solarized and asked to be put in the Solar Power match. Pearl tells me that he asked why and that the only reason is because Hate wanted my belt. Just the belt, not me.

Alex Strider: I don’t care however YOU came to terms with YOUR loss, Crimson. I don’t even know why you’re out here, butting into business that isn’t yours. You’re Paddy’s friend? His good ‘mate’? Then you should do him a favor, and tell him to STAY AWAY from Lavelle. If he doesn’t, then there’s just going to be a lot of broken little leprechauns littered around the dirt roads of the Dominican Republic.

The hometown crowd boos and hisses at Alex Strider.

Alex Strider: As for “Pearl” Harber, who gives a damn what he says? You want to take the word of a man who’d rather see a championship title change hands because someone catches fire instead of being CLEARLY outmatched in technical skill? Pearl is BABYING you, you schizoid. If he doesn’t tell you what you want to hear, he’s scared you’ll end up in a rubber room again, and AWC will lose out heavily on the “Twelve To Twenty-Five Year Old Mentally Ill” demographic.

Crimson O'Malec: Now, you see? That's just like you. You complain and complain and put your own problems on someone else's plate. You push off things that happen to you instead of looking at the true source of the problems. You take your shortcomings and blame someone else. You are the biggest bully on the block Strider, with nothing to back it up. If you want to find out who’s to blame for your title loss, if you want to look at what's to blame for your title loss. You take a damn hard look in the mirror and you say, "Well, maybe, Strider isn't good enough."

”STRIDER SUCKS! STRIDER SUCKS!”

Strider begins to pace in the ring. He brings the microphone to his lips.

Crimson O'Malec: Nah, nah, nah… I ain't done yet.

The crowd swells the “Strider sucks” chant to an unbearable level.

Crimson O'Malec: As for the demographic. I believe if you listen to these people chant my name, you'll see my demographic spans larger than you think. There is a good reason for that too. You come out here and you whine and complain about how you built that title up? You didn't build that title up. You made that title second rate. That's why you were pushed to the middle of the card. You didn't make the title main event. Now I made my title main event status. I showed the people in the arena and the people watching at home, what that title was all about. If anyone should have the right to complain about the loss of the dynasty they built, it would be me. For I risked my life with that belt. I lost gallons upon gallons of blood from that belt, and you. You want to complain about a little burn?

Alex Strider: You’re in deep water here, O’Malec. The water’s surging, and you’re in over your head. If you even try to get in my way, if you try to stop me, I will destroy you, you hear me, cloverleaf? I’ll go through you and your tramp friend like an M-50 through an insurgent. I have no patience for you anymore.

The crowd lulls down to a dull roar, the intensity in Strider’s eyes hypnotizing as he stares down at Crimson O’Malec across the rampway. Crimson O'Malec looks at Strider cock-eyed and begins walking towards the ring.

Crimson O'Malec: You have no patience for me? I don't really care about your patience for me. You better learn to shut your mouth or I am going to shut it for you. Then no one will have to listen to you gripe and whine about oh he pulled a title shot out of a hat. I don't care if Paddy pulled a rabbit out of his hat, it's still better than the matches you pull out of your ass, you couldn't even beat a WOMAN without a little help from me.

Alex Strider: You don’t know ANYTHING about what I am. You’re not on my level. You deserve the freak-show service you get, you whiny bitch. You ARE the freak-show! You think you helped me against Ellis Nash? I’ll tell you this much: It took an INFERNO OF FIRE to create any kind of guesswork into who’d win a match against me. There hasn’t been ONE MINUTE since I stepped into AWC where I haven’t been the one in control. You’re just a joke, a laughing stock. A crazy person. You’ve been jonesing for a fight since the minute you came here, you little freak. Well, you just pick the day, retard. I’ll punch your time-card for you.

Crimson climbs the ring stairs and jumps over the top rope.

Crimson O'Malec: I'm telling you right now, if you lay a hand on Paddy, me, or Farmer, you'll get that fight. You'll get more than that, you lay a hand on one of us you better be ready for the other two, because we will not tolerate your crap. It's not like you are actually going to do anything anyhow, you are all talk. However, when it comes to me, when you say Paddy is a marked man, that means you are a marked man.

The crowd cheers as the tension between Strider and Crimson rise to an unmistakable climax.

Alex Strider: I’ll do you one better. I PROMISE you, that I’m going to lay a hand on Paddy, you, and Farmer. It is talk, and when I say I’m going to do something… I under-promise… and I over-deliver.

Strider steps up to the smaller man. Glaring down at O’Malec, Alex smiles wide, his brilliant white teeth gleam as he envisions smashing his opponent with his bare fists. O’Malec stares back defiantly, not intimidated by Strider’s threats.

Crimson O'Malec: Come on, Mr. Harber, book it, next week. Strider vs. O'Malec in a no holds barred match. I want to see what color Strider really bleeds!

Pearl: As much as I'd like to Crimson, I'm afraid one of you won't be able to be at our next event.

Strider and Crimson both look at Harber, who has just appeared in the entrance-way, in shock.

Pearl: Interpol arrived in the building a few minutes ago and they demanded I bring them here.

About twenty men in blue police uniforms file down to the stage. Strider slides out of the ring and runs over to the announcing table beside Cassidy. Off mic he can be heard yelling “Oh no, not again!”

George Cassidy: They aren't here for you are they Strider? I mean, how many times can somebody be FRAMED?

Truth Waters: What’s the matter Cassidy, afraid he'll become a black man’s bitch in federal ‘Pound You In The Ass Prison’?

The Interpol officers climb into the ring, and head straight for Crimson O’Malec, hands at the ready for their disciplinary weapons.

George Cassidy: Wait a minute, Interpol has gotten into the ring. They... they are arresting Crimson O'Malec! It's about time some actual justice is done inside our ring! I knew it! Crimson LIED about his age! He really IS only twelve years old, and is being taken back to Juvy Hall!

Truth Waters: What is this about? Why aren’t they arresting Strider, as usual?

George Cassidy: Because STRIDER is INNOCENT! Crimson O’Malec is the bad seed here! Get a grip!

Interpol reads Crimson O'Malec his rights as they march him up the aisle and backstage.

Truth Waters: Folks, I hope we can get this sorted out, we’ll have information for you as soon as it crosses our desks…

---

UWF? Never Heard Of It!

FEATURING: JAMES VARGA
AUTHOR: JAMES VARGA

---

The eerie opening to Fear Factory’s “Freedom Or Fire” begins playing over the loud speakers as the lights dim out. Psychedelic strobe lights illuminate the arena in a colorful display. The crowd erupts as James Varga comes out wearing the UWF North American championship belt. Varga is dressed in a Willy Wonka-esque suit and hat. He smiles for the camera and blows kisses to all of his adoring Varg as he comes down to the ring.

Truth Waters: YEAH! Varga’s back!

George Cassidy: And without the carrots.

James is handed a microphone and looks around at the audience.

James Varga: So this is the AWC, huh?

The crowd cheers wildly.

George Cassidy: Yes it is James and don't forget it.

Varga looks around with a little smirk on his face. He motions toward the UWF North American championship belt that's around his waist.

James Varga: This right here says that I'm better than (motions toward the locker room) anybody you got back there in that God forsaken locker room.

Crowd: AWC! AWC!

Truth Waters: The crowd are right behind their home fed.

Varga looks mildly amused by this.

James Varga: Chant all you want because I really don't give a damn. All I know is that TAN wasn't cutting it, so I had to cut them loose from my Family.

This actually draws cheers from the crowd.

James Varga: But I look around the AWC and you know what I see? A midget kicking everybody's ass.

The crowd cheers this too.

Crowd: OH MAY LICK! OH MAY LICK!

Other Members Of Crowd: OH MAH LECK! OH MAH LECK!

Varga looks to be really amused by this chant.

James Varga: So that's the best you've got? A fucking midget who reads poetry?

Truth Waters: Hey, hey. This is a family show... in some countries.

Varga cackles evilly.

James Varga: Hell, I'm a two time Poet of the Year nominee, so what the fuck is he? Nothing but another James Varga wanna-be.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOO~!

James Varga: (smiling) You bastards can chant anything you want. It won't affect me. Why? Because I'm James Varga and I'm crazy as hell. I'm the most out of control wrestling personality to come around in ages. I do whatever the hell I feel like doing regardless of what management has to say. So what does that say about me? I'm a badass motherfucker and I'm BETTER than anybody you got.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOO~!

James looks on with a smile.

James Varga: (looking around) I've won 28 championships in under three years and managed wrestlers to 10 championship wins in that same time frame. That's 38 championships COMBINED for me in under 3 years. How many people can say that? Nobody. So shut the fuck up and pay homage to James Fucking Varga right now.

The crowd starts applauding these accomplishments. Since most of them are smarts and know this to be true, they know how good Varga is. He's managed Jon Collingwood (GHW Hardcore/Tag), Eddie Guerrero (XFnW Tag), but of course he doesn’t exist in our universe, silly, Heidenreich (XFnW Hardcore), see Guerrero, silly, Killer Pirates of the Outer Caribbean (LOW Tag/PTC World Tag Team), DICK~! (UWF TV), the Huckster (UWF Jobber), DICK~!'s Ultra Pleasure 3000 Dildo (UWF Jobber), and just this past weekend Eon Blue Apocalypse (HSW Tag) to Championship victories. I mean, if he can manage Heidenreich, one of the worst wrestlers of all time, to a 3 week Hardcore championship reign, then he can manage anybody. That just proves how bad TAN was.

James Varga: So why am I out here? (laughs) Good question. I'm out here because I am challenging anybody (motions around) in your shitty little organization to a match against the baddest of the bad, the infamous James Varga.

The crowd cheers wildly.

Truth Waters: I'm loving this idea already!

James smiles deviously.

Crowd: THANK YOU VARGA! THANK YOU VARGA!

James Varga: You’re welcome. Now, who's got sack enough to face the greatest wrestler alive today, huh? Who in the back wants to face James Varga? (snickers) I mean, who’s going to come out here? A fucking midget wanting to suck my dick?

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOO~!

James Varga: What about Pact? What about Ashton?

Stagehand: He got fired.

James Varga: Ah. (giggles) Then what about John Grisham?

Stupid Stagehand: He got fired.

Crowd: YOU BROKE KAYFABE! YOU BROKE KAYFABE!

Varga has a devilish little smirk on his face.

James Varga: With that being said and (looking around) since everybody in the back seems to have vaginal flaps instead of balls...

This draws a loud reaction from the crowd, most of it heat but there are some Vargaholics in the audience.

James Varga: I must take my leave of you.

Crowd: GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!

Varga smiles and points to the crowd.

James Varga: I'm James Fucking Varga and don't you forget it.

James throws the mic down and his music hits over the loud speakers. Varga exits the ring and heads to the back amidst a lot of heat from the loyal AWC fans.

---

Pact vs The Educator

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHORS: YRAN, JAMIE ROGERSON AND PIERRE HYDE

---

Truth Waters: With Pact already in the ring – he came down while Varga was speaking – we’re just awaiting the entrance of The Educator for our next match.

“School Of Hard Knocks” plays as the immaculate Educator walks through the black curtain from the back to a chorus of boos and holds his arms up to the audience, lavishing what he believes to be praise as he smiles and beams with pride.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Already in the ring, from Yonkers, New York, weighing in at 234 pounds... “The Nightstalker”, PACT! And his opponent, from Surrey, England, weighing in at 220 pounds... THE EDUCATOR!

The bell rings as the two men stare at each other. Referee Aaron Davies backs off a little into a corner taking up a good vantage point as The Educator steps in on Pact. The Educator reaches out a hand, trying to get Pact in a tie up but Pact backs away.

George Cassidy: Pact shows his first piece of technical knowledge since he joined AWC! Congratulations.

Pact and Educator circle each other, Pact backing off as The Educator steps closer. Pact stops circling as he bounces off the ropes running at the slightly bigger man. Educator dodges the first run but is caught off guard as Pact lunges through the air with a cross body.

Truth Waters: Athletic cross body block from the 48-year-old.

The two men hit the mat with Pact bouncing to his feet first. He runs at the ropes and meets the again standing Educator with another cross body. Same fall as before, and Pact is back to his feet straight away.

Truth Waters: Pact may want to rethink that strategy of shifting his body around so quickly, considering the back problems he’s been having. These are reportedly very serious indeed.

George Cassidy: He should have the sense not to compete if he’s in any immediate danger.

Truth Waters: But I think we all know by now that Pact is one hardcore competitor – he won’t let an injury keep him down, even when it by rights should do so.

The Educator is dragged to his feet by Pact, who hooks both arms and plants a double arm DDT.

Truth Waters: It certainly doesn’t seem to be hampering The Nightstalker just yet.

This is quickly followed up as Pact rolls into a sleeper hold on The Educator. Pact leans back, his arms locked into Educator's face and his knees driving into his back.

George Cassidy: I’m impressed! Pact is showing some skill tonight. Nice sleeper.

Referee Aaron Davies is checking on The Educator, but he is refusing to give up.

Truth Waters: The technically experienced Educator is keeping calm in the hold.

George Cassidy: Oh, of course. He knows just what to do, does The Educator. He’s not going to go down to a sleeper – he won’t lose much sleep over a move like that!

Truth Waters: Ha.

After a number of seconds, Pact releases his hold and stands up. The Educator shakes off the early offence while lying face down, but is soon back to the moment with a boot to the head from Pact.

George Cassidy: Educator playing possum just for a second to allow himself to regain the advantage...

Truth Waters: But Pact, upfront as you like, had none of it and just booted him in the face. Nice!

Educator looks up into the origin of the first boot and receives another for his trouble to the face. Aaron Davies backs away from the action and watches as Educator is dragged to his feet again.

Truth Waters: Pact certainly seems in control.

The Educator is whipped into the ropes by the first two-time Fresh!man and then returns to be scooped into the air and dropped with a sit-out rotating slam, hooking Educator's head and planting his head first on the mat!

George Cassidy: Head first!

Truth Waters: Brilliantly innovative slam there from Pact, swivelling around and planting him to the canvas!

Pact hooks the leg.

George Cassidy: He’s looking for an early cover – that’s just asking for trouble with The Educator, who is the best kickout artist in the world.

ONE!

TWO!

Educator kicks out on the count of two and rolls away holding his head as Pact stands back up dragging The Educator with him. Pact knees The Educator in the chest and then whips him into the ropes.

Truth Waters: Irish whip – Pact wants to get Ed back to the mat for another pinfall attempt.

The Educator ducks under the clothesline attempt, but succumbs to a dropkick as he rebounds off the ropes on the other side of the ring.

George Cassidy: Pact got up well for that dropkick, but it’s only a matter of time until these successive little impacts take their toll. He’s just too old for the ring!

Pact springs to his feet and baseball slides The Educator's face, knocking the AWC wrestler from the ring.

Truth Waters: Baseball slide – again, Pact puts himself at risk, now to knock Ed out of the ring.

Pact is quickly on his feet again in the ring, looking down on The Educator. Beside him stands Aaron Davies, watching and counting (now at two) as The Educator rolls away from the ring apron and then stands up with the help of the barrier. THREE!

George Cassidy: The Educator is just taking a moment to think about his strategy.

The Educator, holding his ribs, stumbles forwards and rolls inside. Pact allows Educator to get to his feet; he ducks as Pact thunders towards him with a clothesline. Educator turns round and Pact comes running back off the ropes. The Educator grabs Pact around the waistand with huge strength sends him back over his head with a belly-to-back suplex. Educator quickly rolls up Pact for the cover.

George Cassidy: Belly-to-back suplex! The Educator making sure of powerful impact on Pact’s back.

ONE!

TWO!

Pact kicks out – just.

George Cassidy: Kickout... unfortunate.

Truth Waters: That has to have taken a lot out of Pact, despite the kickout, as his spinal cord is very fragile right now.

Educator keeps the momentum as Pact is sent stumbling backwards. Educator attacks with right hands to the chest of a rising Pact. Pact is sent down to the mat with a thud. Educator looks to the turnbuckle and the crowd roar as Educator looks to take to the air.

Truth Waters: Ed wants to go up top!

George Cassidy: (groaning) No, Adam, what are you doing?

Pact is flat out on the mat; Aaron Davies steps out of the way as Educator climbs to the top of the turnbuckle. At the top he taunts the grounded Pact, but is greeted with jeers from the fans.

Truth Waters: The crowd WANT to see Ed fail here!

He leaps off the top rope; upon impact the leg of Educator drops onto the neck of Pact.

George Cassidy: Guillotine leg drop! What a brilliant, out-of-character move by The Educator!

Pact holds his throat as he groans with pain.

Truth Waters: It seems that was a very effective flight from the top.

Pact is sprawled across the apron; The Educator walks round to the legs, and locks in a Boston crab.

George Cassidy: Boston crab applied!

Truth Waters: Just THINK of the damage to Pact’s back right now! He’s not even meant to be straining it, but The Educator is stretching the hell out of it with malicious intent!

George Cassidy: I don’t quite think The Educator wants to hurt Pact, but he knows the best way to win this match, and that just happens to be it. He’s a very, very intelligent competitor.

Truth Waters: So you keep saying.

Pact writhes in pain as Educator keeps his grip tight. Pact reaches out for the ropes; the tip of his fingers grazes them but Educator drags him further towards the centre of the ring.

Truth Waters: So close! Pact almost escaped.

George Cassidy: But The Educator is too in control to allow it.

Aaron Davies asks Pact if he gives in but Pact through clenched teeth hisses "no". The Educator leans back ever so slightly and Pact yells out.

Truth Waters: Surely he should just be tapping! He doesn’t want to be risking his career – and indeed his future well-being – just for this unimportant TV match against Ed, with whom he has no quarrel!

George Cassidy: He looks about to crack...

With a last-ditch huge effort Pact launches himself upwards and grips the rope with both hands!

Truth Waters: Or perhaps not! He’s got the rope! Superhuman effort!

George Cassidy: The effort shows in his face; it’s bright red with exertion.

Educator refuses to budge straight away, but Aaron Davies repeats his instruction and after several more seconds, he finally releases the hold. Pact gasps with relief and slumps flat on the mat, still grasping the bottom rope tight, but the relief is short-lived as Educator grabs Pact by the legs and hauls him away from the rope. Pact’s head snaps back off the apron as Educator reaches down and pulls him up in the air; with his hands glued around Pact’s throat he yanks him in the air proceeding with a sit-down powerbomb.

George Cassidy: Sit-down powerbomb!

Truth Waters: AGONY for Pact! Once more, the dangerous impact on his spine! Surely Ed has to end this now.

Educator glares at the downed Pact and locks him in a second Boston crab!

George Cassidy: He’s applied another Boston crab!

Truth Waters: This is TORTURE!

This time, Pact immediately taps, furiously slapping his hand against the canvas, and Adam Masters releases him with a smile, throwing his arms up in the air as the bell rings.

Truth Waters: He taps!

George Cassidy: The Educator takes it! Great performance.

James Brunt: The winner... THE EDUCATOR!

---

Precision To Perfection

FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, DR. STEVEN BURNS, SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE

---

The scene is one of disturbance and chaos. Medical officers and ambulance staff squirm around the tight knit room offered to the medical staff for each Fresh! show. Pierce Lavelle walks into the room and the staff fall silent. He has a bandage on his forehead and one around his arm. His new title belt is slung over his shoulder.

Dr. Burns: Pierce Lavelle? Your appointment isn’t for another ten minutes.

The medical officer has a baffled look upon his face. Pierce Lavelle shuts the door and moves forward and plonks himself up onto the stretcher.

Pierce Lavelle: I have a match coming up in a few moments. Pearl needs the all clear and there is some business that I need to take care of.

Dr. Steven Burns looks around at his staff. He picks up Lavelle’s medical chart and looks through it.

Dr. Burns: Well – er – it seems you have a clean bill of health. I don’t see why you shouldn’t wrestle. If you want I can take a look at the stitching on your forehead and the burn on your arm.

Pierce Lavelle: Thanks Doc, that would be much appreciated. The last thing I want is to face Paddy O’Shea and have this wound opened up again. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

Pierce Lavelle removes the bandage on his head to reveal around 8-10 stitches.

Dr. Burns: I can see what you mean. Who did the stitching on this?

Lavelle runs his hand over his chin and begins to think, trying to recall what happened after the main event was over.

Pierce Lavelle: Not too sure. Some nurse I think in the New York hospital. I don’t fully remember anything after that; apparently I had a concussion, which would explain the last two days of headaches and grogginess.

Dr. Burns: Well these won’t open unless you are hit with some force.

Pierce Lavelle applies the new bandage dressing and removes his t-shirt for the medic to examine his burns and cuts.

Dr. Burns: Everything looks fine. You should be perfectly capable of wrestling tonight.

The fans in the background are cheering at the all clear from the medical officer. Lavelle puts back on his t-shirt and hoists his title onto his shoulder. He smiles at the medical officer and shakes his hand.

Pierce Lavelle: Thanks Doc, that’s all I needed to hear.

Lavelle smiles and leaves the medical room. Outside the room, Sarah Kennedy is standing with a microphone and a cameraman is standing not too far behind her.

Sarah Kennedy: Congratulations, Pierce. That was an incredible match at the pay-per view. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions on your thoughts, your match tonight –

Pierce Lavelle stops Sarah Kennedy before she can finish off her planned speech.

Pierce Lavelle: Honestly, Sarah. I would love to do an interview with you. Only my time is cut short tonight. I have a match in a few moments and I need to go and see someone first.

Kennedy looks slightly disappointed. This would have made a perfect story for her as a backstage reporter. Lavelle stops and smiles; he shakes Sarah Kennedy’s hand.

Pierce Lavelle: You can have my undivided attention later on. I promise. I know I have a lot of conferences to go to, but I shall do your interview for you, later.

Sarah Kennedy nods her head.

Sarah Kennedy: Thank you, Pierce.

Pierce Lavelle: No problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and see someone.

Sarah Kennedy: I won’t stop you.

Sarah smiles as Pierce brushes past her and heads down the hallway. The fans’ cheers are heard, just faintly, as we move to ringside.

---

Pierce Lavelle (c) vs Paddy O'Shea

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHORS: LARA CLARKE AND PIERRE HYDE

---

Truth Waters: We have come to our main event. Pierce Lavelle in his first title defence since he won the belt in that amazing Inferno match at Solarized just a few days ago – and he must still be hurting from that, badly.

George Cassidy sighs a little and looks around at all of the adoring fans, longing for the new champion to make his way to the ring.

Truth Waters: Looks like we’re about to kick off.

James Brunt, dressed in a black, trimmed suit, makes his way into the ring.

“Raggel Tagge Gypsy” by Christy Moore hits the sound system as Paddy O’Shea makes his way down to ringside.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the Transatlantic title! Introducing first, the contender, from Galway, Ireland, weighing in at 180 pounds... he is one half of the Alliance champions, PADDY O’SHEA!

Paddy O’Shea slides into the ring and gets a good reaction from the many fans in the arena. The crowd fall silent as “Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse starts to play, its heavy chords riffing over a dark arena as the spotlights shine on the stage. Pierce Lavelle appears on stage, dressed in his ring attire, his title strapped around his waist. The fans begin a cacophony of “LAVELLE” chants.

James Brunt: And his opponent, from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 245 pounds... the Transatlantic champion, PIERCE LAVELLE!

Pierce Lavelle slides into the ring and removes the belt. Paddy O’Shea looks at Pierce Lavelle, nodding, and then glances at the Transatlantic championship. Michael Ryan takes the belt from Pierce and the ring official rings the bell.

Truth Waters: The match is underway.

George Cassidy: I wonder how this will end up. Lavelle must still be worn out from his engagement in the pay-per-view.

Truth Waters: He fought a gruesome battle to win that belt, Cassidy. Perhaps you should respect that.

George Cassidy: And when did I not?!

Truth Waters: Er, like, ALL THE TIME.

Lavelle and O’Shea tie up.

George Cassidy: Lavelle is a good competitor!

Truth Waters: ...Mhmm?

George Cassidy: Compared to someone like O’Shea...

Lavelle gains the momentum and uses his strength to push O’Shea forward, their arms still locked in a sort of vice-grip. Truth Waters: I was waiting for that. You’re too hard to please, Cassidy.

Lavelle releases and suddenly surprises O’Shea with a quick Irish whip. Lavelle hoping for an easy takedown tries a clothesline on O’Shea. O’Shea ducks and hits Lavelle with a German suplex.

Truth Waters: Paddy O’Shea getting the upper hand at the start of this match. A surprise German suplex knocking the wind out of the champion.

O’Shea tries a second German suplex, still holding onto Lavelle’s waist, but Lavelle wraps the back of his leg around O’Shea’s and suddenly rolls O’Shea into a schoolboy! Michael Ryan with the count.

George Cassidy: Schoolboy rollup! Watch out!

ONE!

TW-

O’Shea rolls out just before the end of the two count and looks stunned by the sudden quickness of the champion.

Truth Waters: Lavelle’s quick reactions and speed will play a part in this match, no doubt, despite not managing the early fall there.

Lavelle stands up and offers his hand to O’Shea. O’Shea takes it and shakes it. The crowd cheer for both men. Lavelle smiles and the two tie up again. This time Lavelle has the upper hand and once again takes down O’Shea with a speedy armdrag.

Truth Waters: Nice armdrag by Lavelle.

George Cassidy: He is slowly learning the ropes, I’ll admit that. Not so raw as he was.

O’Shea slides to the outside after connecting with the mat. He looks around, as the referee shouts ONE!, and some fans begin a “LAVELLE!” chant, while others begin a “PADDY!” chant. Both sides drown one another out. Lavelle smiles and looks at Michael Ryan, who quizzically looks at Pierce. Lavelle suddenly runs and launches himself once again over the top rope with a Asai moonsault! He connects with O’Shea on the outside. The crowd goes wild.

Truth Waters: ASAI MOONSAULT! Incredible! Another high-risk manoeuvre from Lavelle, just like we saw at the pay-per view. This young champion has some talent in him.

George Cassidy: Pierce Lavelle shouldn’t be connecting high-risk moves, not after the state he was in.

Truth Waters: He got the all clear from the medical officer. Lavelle seems very athletic considering his weight, at two-four-five.

Michael Ryan starts his count again. ONE! TWO!

George Cassidy: Both men are down and out at ringside.

THREE! FOUR!

George Cassidy: Come on. Let’s see some action!

Lavelle begins to stir and picks O’Shea up, sliding his body into the ring and breaking up the count. Lavelle quickly slides back in and goes for the pin.

Truth Waters: It’s Lavelle up first, and he’s brought the Irishman into the ring and gone straight for a lateral press.

ONE!

TWO!

O’Shea manages to gets his foot on the ropes. Lavelle breaks the pin and gets himself up, using the ropes for leverage.

Truth Waters: Close call for Paddy O’Shea.

George Cassidy: I wonder if he’s been drinking?

Truth Waters: Will you stop with the discrimination…

O’Shea and Lavelle are both up.

George Cassidy: O’Shea is a little rattled but he’s looking to begin to regain his momentum in the match. There – that any better?

Truth Waters: If you could just make fair comments like that all the time...

George Cassidy: Then...?

As Lavelle tries to tie up once again with O’Shea; O’Shea delivers a quick kick to the gut and connects Lavelle’s head to the mat with a DDT.

Truth Waters: DDT!

George Cassidy: Come on. Then what, Truth? Then what?

Truth Waters: I’ve forgotten what you’re even talking about.

O’Shea waits for Lavelle to stand up, waiting behind him, O’Shea delivers a bulldog. O’Shea pins.

George Cassidy: That won’t be good for Lavelle’s minor concussion.

Truth Waters: O’Shea wants to tie this belt up early.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

Lavelle kicks out and shakes his head, a little dazed.

Truth Waters: Lavelle JUST kicks out!

George Cassidy: I never thought it’d even be close. It seems the champion – ugh – is feeling the after-effects of the Inferno match.

Truth Waters: Well wouldn’t you be?!

O’Shea stands up and begins to stomp away at the champion. The fans react badly to O’Shea’s actions and boo him slightly. O’Shea is a little taken aback by the sudden change from his fans and looks around. “LAVELLE!” chants slowly fill the arena.

Truth Waters: Regardless of Paddy O’Shea’s popularity as part of Emerald Isle, it’s clear that the fan favourite is Pierce Lavelle in this match.

Lavelle is up and behind O’Shea. Lavelle grabs O’Shea in a quick T-bone suplex. He connects it perfectly and rolls O’Shea over and locks in a sit down cobra clutch.

Truth Waters: Nice retaliation from the champion. Cobra clutch now...

George Cassidy: I have always liked the T-bone suplex. Used by a lot of wrestlers now as a finisher.

Truth Waters: ...What are you talking about? And more importantly why?

Paddy O’Shea has a distinctive look of pain upon his face. His cheeks are now a rosy red as Lavelle pulls harder on the application.

George Cassidy: Will the Irishman tap?

Truth Waters: Lavelle is quite an expert in the cobra clutch now, having made it his submission hold of choice.

The fans are confused as to who to chant for as Lavelle and O’Shea struggle.

Truth Waters: You know, I think O’Shea can escape this. Lavelle’s heart just doesn’t seem in it... he doesn’t have the same energy reserves. Friday night took a lot out of him. He still seems in a daze at times.

O’Shea strains further...

George Cassidy: And... yes! He’s got the rope.

O’Shea finally manages to reach the ropes. Lavelle breaks the hold and once again offers his hand to O’Shea. This time though, O’Shea isn’t as welcoming as before. He grabs Lavelle’s hand and pulls him down, face first into the turnbuckle. Lavelle wobbles backward, his hand on his forehead. O’Shea stands behind him and performs a schoolboy.

Truth Waters: Lavelle’s head into the turnbuckle – and the rollup pin!

ONE!

TWO!

Lavelle kicks out to the fans’ relief.

George Cassidy: Another kickout by the champion. He does seem to be waning, though!

O’Shea looks on confused at Michael Ryan. He angrily stomps at the referee’s decision-making. In that short space of time, Lavelle has managed to regroup and charges at O’Shea full force, sending O’Shea over the top rope to the floor below.

Truth Waters: O’Shea goes over the ropes!

George Cassidy: He was busy contesting the decision with the referee – pointless; they’ll NEVER turn it around – and Lavelle took the opportunity.

Lavelle soon follows his opponent outside, ignoring Ryan’s comments, and a count begins. ONE!

George Cassidy: They’re going to be brawling outside the ring again.

TWO! Lavelle on the outside waits for O’Shea. He tries to whip O’Shea, but O’Shea reverses and sends the champion into the steel steps!

Truth Waters: CLANG! Lavelle smashes into the ring steps.

THREE!O’Shea smiles, knowing he has done some damage as Lavelle stands back from the shock of his back connecting with the steel. O’Shea plants Lavelle face first with a big boot. FOUR!

Truth Waters: We are seeing a new side to O’Shea.

George Cassidy: He’s become quite dominant, despite his light stature.

Lavelle rolls over to the barricade, where many fans begin to lean over and maul the champion with their hands. He tries to pull away from their grip. O’Shea laughs and delivers a swift stomp to Lavelle’s face. FIVE! SIX!Lavelle shakes it off and is released from the fans. He looks at O’Shea ,annoyed.

Truth Waters: I think O’Shea has pissed off the champion, Lavelle.

George Cassidy: You’re right, but don’t call me Lavelle.

Lavelle spears O’Shea, ramming O’Shea’s back into the edge of the ring! O’Shea screams at the force of the impact.

Truth Waters: Hard spear into the side of the ring by Lavelle!

George Cassidy: Lavelle doesn’t tire; he hits another shoulder to O’Shea’s abdomen.

SEVEN! O’Shea collapses against Lavelle after the blow to his torso. Lavelle grabs O’Shea and hits Blackout.

Truth Waters: Blackout! The thumb to the eye setting up the Whiplash. This could be it.

George Cassidy: On the outside?

Lavelle thinks about hitting Whiplash; instead he slides O’Shea into the ring and soon follows.

George Cassidy: Guess he realised he couldn’t pin him outside.

Truth Waters: And he didn’t want to be caught out by the count.

Lavelle and O’Shea tie up once again. Lavelle hits O’Shea with a quick chop. The fans do the usual “WOO~!” at every chop.

George Cassidy: Don’t these idiots in the crowd EVER get tired of that?

O’Shea retaliates with one of his own chops. Soon both men are chopping one another.

Truth Waters: It has become a chop fest!

George Cassidy: With tonnes of “woo”ing from our ever-friendly fans... urgh. It’s childish!

Lavelle and O’Shea stop. Both men have extremely red chests. Lavelle tries to take O’Shea down with a quick armdrag, but O’Shea is having none of it and hits Lavelle with a kick to the gut. O’Shea runs against the opposite rope and connects Lavelle with a flying bulldog. Lavelle puts a hand to his head, frowning. Droplets of blood are seeping through his head bandage.

Truth Waters: O’Shea has burst open Lavelle’s stitches!

O’Shea goes for another pin; Michael Ryan quickly slides to perform the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Lavelle kicks out again. O’Shea once more stomps the ring in frustration.

George Cassidy: He is unsure of what to do next after that kickout.

Truth Waters: Lavelle just won’t give up.

George Cassidy: He is quite determined when it comes down to a match.

Truth Waters: You are beginning to like our new champion, aren’t you?

George doesn’t reply. Both commentators now focus their attention on the ring. Pierce Lavelle has come back into the match, now taking the upper hand over O’Shea. Lavelle hits O’Shea with some stiff upper lefts and rights. He then Irish-whips O’Shea into the corner turnbuckle. Before O’Shea can counter, Lavelle hits a stern shoulder block.

George Cassidy: O’Shea’s body being squished in between the second and third rope!

Truth Waters: ...When do you EVER use the word “squished”?

Lavelle now mounts the ropes and begin then ten count punch. The fans chant along with each punch; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Just before the tenth punch O’Shea retaliates and delivers a quick spinebuster-type slam on the champion. Both men are out flat.

Truth Waters: Lavelle looked to get to ten with those punches, but O’Shea was given too much time and he managed to slam Lavelle down.

George Cassidy: Paddy O’Shea is up, but he’s not pinning the champion.

Paddy O’Shea staggers, a little dazed. He looks around and now realises that Pierce is out flat. He places his hand over Lavelle’s chest and Michael Ryan counts the pinfall:

ONE!

Lavelle gets his foot on the rope before the two count.

Truth Waters: Foot on the rope.

O’Shea runs his hands over his head and looks around for something, anything to give him an idea of what move to perform next. He decides to climb the ring post. Lavelle, using the ropes for some support, is now standing, just a little dazed by O’Shea’s slam.

George Cassidy: Lavelle’s up, and O’Shea is perched on the turnbuckle!

Lavelle shakes his head and is suddenly alert as O’Shea dives off the rope toward him. Lavelle ducks out of the way and O’Shea hits the mat!

George Cassidy: He misses with the shoulder tackle!

Michael Ryan just dives out of the way at the last moment. Lavelle is up and begins his assault of O’Shea. He applies another sit down cobra clutch. O’Shea looks around and immediately grabs the second rope. Lavelle curses and breaks the hold.

Truth Waters: He wanted that cobra clutch on again, but was right alongside the ropes and Paddy O’Shea got a hold of the middle one easily.

Ryan is up and aware of the break-up. He signals it and the two continue. O’Shea stares at Lavelle, who stares back.

Truth Waters: Lavelle is having some difficulties tonight. His bandage is gone and his head is bleeding once more.

George Cassidy: It was a bad move to book him, he is not 100%. You can tell.

Lavelle’s eyes are still a little glazed. Paddy O’Shea charges at Lavelle, Lavelle smiles and connects with a thumb to the eye, before O’Shea can do anything.

Truth Waters: Blackout a second time!

Lavelle sets up Whiplash.

Truth Waters: It’s over.

Lavelle throws Paddy O’Shea hard against the turnbuckle!

George Cassidy: WHIPLASH!

Paddy O’Shea’s body twists a little in the air; his ankle catches on the second rope and it catches, holding him upside down. Lavelle looks on, shocked.

Truth Waters: What happened there? Paddy O’Shea is tangled up on the ropes.

George Cassidy: Lavelle can’t believe his bad luck. He may have inadvertently injured Paddy O’Shea!

Truth Waters: Whiplash is a dangerous move at the best of times, but with Lavelle not 100%...

Lavelle still has a look of shock on his face as Michael Ryan untangles Paddy O’Shea’s ankle. Paddy immediately limps, holding onto his ankle to check it isn’t broken. Lavelle shakes off the confusion and gets back on his attack. O’Shea scouts Lavelle, and moves away from the turnbuckle.

Truth Waters: O’Shea is struggling to walk, but luckily it seems like nothing is broken.

George Cassidy: What a relief.

Truth Waters: I hope you weren’t being sarcastic.

Lavelle Irish-whips O’Shea, who can barely contain his body weight as he lunges forward against the ropes. Lavelle charges with a spear. On a last second impulse, O’Shea dives and pushes Michael Ryan into the champion’s path. Michael Ryan and Lavelle connect. Lavelle sits back and curses once again. Michael Ryan is out flat.

George Cassidy: This can’t be good, Lavelle just hit the referee with a spear.

Paddy O’Shea suddenly turns on Lavelle and whips him into the turnbuckle. He lifts Lavelle up to the top rope and hits Top Of The Morn!

Truth Waters: No… Top Of The Morn! Hard plant off the top.

Paddy and Lavelle land hard on the mat. O’Shea sits up and pins Lavelle. Realising that no referee is available, Paddy breaks his pin on Lavelle in frustration and looks around for referee Michael Ryan. Instead he is greeted by a figure moving quietly down the ramp, a steel chair in hand. The fans recognize it as Strider and boo loudly.

George Cassidy: That’s Alex Strider! Up, the ratings just shot.

Truth Waters: Thanks Yoda.

The tension in the arena develops. Paddy O’Shea smiles and stands up.

Truth Waters: Why is Strider out here?

George Cassidy: Unfinished business.

Strider slides into the ring with the chair. He eyes O’Shea and then the fallen Lavelle. He smirks and kneels down toward the champion, he whispers a few words and suddenly… chair in hand Strider is up and smacks Paddy O’Shea right in the face!

Truth Waters: Chair shot to Paddy O’Shea!

George Cassidy: He wasn’t expecting that... heh. Stupid Irishman.

Truth Waters: The fans are shocked and angry.

Strider throws the chair to the outside and pulls Lavelle’s limp body over to Paddy’s. He drags Lavelle’s arm and lays it on top of Paddy.

Truth Waters: What is Strider doing?!

George Cassidy: You mean after Lavelle threw him into the flames on Friday... he’s helping Lavelle to retain his title? Strider must have been serious earlier tonight!

Strider slides referee Michael Ryan into the ring and begins to ascend the ramp. Finally working out what’s going on Michael Ryan begins to count the pinfall.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Truth Waters: He’s got it!

George Cassidy: Lavelle retains.

The bell rings and Michael Ryan begins to wake up Lavelle. “Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse plays.

James Brunt: The winner, and still Transatlantic champion... PIERCE LAVELLE!

As Pierce Lavelle stands up and regains his momentum and surroundings he spots Strider on the ramp and then notices that he beat Paddy O’Shea. He stares angrily at Strider and points to him. Strider shrugs and exits with a smile past the black curtain.

Truth Waters: There is so much more to come in this story!

---

Fresh!man

FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

The scene opens up in David Harber’s office, where he is sitting in his leather chair with the Fresh!man top hat on his lap, as we have seen him before.

Pearl: It’s that time again, folks... time to announce tonight’s Fresh!man, and his reward. After an impressive albeit short display of technical superiority, I’m awarding tonight’s accolade to The Educator.

There are low boos throughout the arena.

Pearl: I know, I know, but I have to be fair. Now let me see what prize is in store for him...

Harber delves his hand into the hat and draws a folded piece of white paper. He unfolds it, and chuckles.

Pearl: Ah... excellent. The joker. Well, thanks, Educator! You’ve just volunteered yourself to take on our Relentless champion Steven Xandrous in a Weapons match next week on Fresh!

The fans roar with delight.

Pearl: (shrugging and grinning) Luck of the draw... what can you do? It's not your style? Ah... sorry Adam... really.

The Entertainment Manager looks anything but sorry as he stands up and leaves his office. The feed now cuts away.

---

The Father, The Son And The HOLY SHIT!

FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA, DANNY O'SHEA, ???
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY

---

Truth Waters: Paddy O’Shea is still standing in the ring. That match really took it out of him.

George Cassidy: No look. He’s going to get lost now. Great.

“Raggle Taggle Gypsy” begins, perhaps an encouragement by the sound team for O’Shea to finally leave the ring, just as Paddy slides under the bottom rope. The music is, however, cut off before Paddy reaches the caravan.

George Cassidy:What the hell? Hurry up; let’s get him out of here. I’ve got a golf game after this.

The video screen lights up revealing two figures. One is undoubtedly Paddy O’Shea’s father because of his remarkable similarity to him. He is gagged and bound and seems to be severely beaten and partially starved. The other figure is a man dressed in a black boiler suit. He is also wearing a black balaclava on his face and a pair of sunglasses. There is a space cut around his mouth. The masked man has a voice changer in his hand, which he raises to his lips.

George Cassidy: What...

Paddy O’Shea: DA! GET OFF HIM YE BASTARD!

O’Shea doesn’t have a mic but his shout can be heard all around the arena.

Masked Man: Hello Paddy.

The voice changer has transformed the man’s voice to a robotic one.

Masked Man: How are you today? Fine? Good. Well me and Danny here are having a fine time, thanks for asking. I mean look at his face. Is this the face of a party animal or what?

The masked man grabs the elder O’Shea’s chin viciously and pulls his head around sharply revealing a black eye and a series of gashes. Danny lets out a whimper so the masked man headbutts him so furiously that it almost knocks Danny out. Paddy screams in horror, as do the crowd.

Truth Waters: HOLY SHIT!

Masked Man: Shut your damn gypsy mouth, Paddy.

The pleasant smile suddenly returns to the man’s face replacing the sinister snarl.

Masked Man: Sorry about that Paddy. Your father is a bit rude to say the least but don’t worry I’ve helped sort that out. Now down to business then.

Truth Waters: This is fucking sick – and don’t you dare tell me I’m on live TV. What must be going through Paddy’s mind?

Masked Man: Now, did you see my little note I left in your father’s home? Let me refresh your memory. It said something like you would pay. Don’t worry your little head Paddy that is still to be upheld. I will hurt you but not just physically. Not only will I leave your body a bloody pulp but also I will destroy you emotionally and mentally. When I’m done, you’re going to be a vegetable that wondered why the hell you ever thought you could mess with me.

Truth Waters: But what the hell did Paddy do to deserve this? This is just sick.

George Cassidy: I’ve got nothing to say. When things get this personal in wrestling, you’ve got to know when to stop.

Masked Man: So how are you feeling Paddy? Good?

O’Shea Jr.’s face is terrified but his fists are clenched. The sweat is clinging to his weary body.

Masked Man: I bet you wish you knew where I was, eh? You know, to join the party… well, why don’t you come down? We’re only…

The camera pans upwards to show the two are sitting on the corner of a street. This is apparent because the street sign says Argyle Street.

Masked Man:…here.

A sly grin peels across the man’s face through the cutting in the balaclava.

Truth Waters: My God! That’s only two blocks away!

Paddy instantly recognises this fact and runs to the driver’s side of the caravan. But just as he starts, a figure appears from under the ring. He is either the same man as the masked man because of his attire or someone dressed similarly. He is carrying a huge wrench and runs up behind Paddy O’Shea.

Truth Waters: No O’Shea! Look out!

Paddy turns around to the shocked screams of the crowd only to feel the impact of the wrench on his nose. His face explodes in a shower of blood. He is instantly knocked out and falls to the ground with his arms outstretched. But before he reaches the ground, he’s hit again. When he’s down, he’s hit again, and again and again.

Truth Waters: He’s going to kill him! Someone get down here!

Almost on cue, a legion of security guards comes charging down the ramp headed by Butch Radder. The masked man smiles sickly through his balaclava and runs into the crowd. Some guards chase after him but are easily overrun. Then a number of medics come running down to the ring to tend to Paddy O’Shea.

Truth Waters: People, we have just seen one hell of a sick event in the AWC! Paddy O’Shea has just been absolutely brutalised by a masked man who has since disappeared into the audience.

George Cassidy: We’re running out of time...

Truth Waters: I understand we have to move quickly to backstage where another interesting happening is taking place!

---

The Educator's Crime

FEATURING: THE EDUCATOR
AUTHOR: LEON CRUISEY

---

The camera focuses on The Educator walking down one of the arena corridors. He keeps looking all around him as if looking for something or if worried he'll be spotted. Eventually he finds the door he was looking for and taps on the door.

The Educator: Hello? Mr. Harber? Anybody there?

The Educator waits for a moment. After no reply he pushes the door open and enters. The camera moves forward with The Educator and the name "David Harber" is seen on the door. The Educator starts opening several of Pearl's drawers in his desk, sending paper flying as he goes. Then, The Educator's eyes suddenly light up as it seems that he has finally found what he was looking for. He holds up his find above his head before lowering them to kiss and hug them.

The Frontier and Livewire belts.

The Educator: And the NEW champion...

The Educator makes his way out of Pearl's office with both the belts. The camera fades to black, and following the copyright notice’s appearance in the screen’s corner, AWC goes off the air.