Fresh!burst Results6th November 2005
Introduction
FEATURING: n/a
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Tonight, the show’s taped – that’s one difference. It’s burst, not Fresh! – that’s a second. And a third, that we notice immediately, is that we don’t get the entrance video. We don’t get the pyro or the music or the excitable announcers. We just get a headshot of one man, filling the screen, over which appears his name.
STEVEN SMITH
THE BRITISH BOMBER
Rest in peace.
These words disappear, replaced by a simple statement sure to make fans all over the world realise the fragility of life and how important it is to honour those who have passed.
This show is dedicated to him.
PTC Super Series
PADDY O'SHEA VS HATE
AUTHORS: MICHAEL DOHERTY AND JAAKKO OKSA
Truth Waters: Welcome to the show. With just five days to go until Triangles rocks the world, tonight is the last AWC show before this mammoth event, but it was mooted that this show might not even go ahead following the tragic death of The British Bomber at AWC Fresh! this past Tuesday.
George Cassidy: You’re watching this, so the show IS indeed going ahead, but it’s all a little muted. Fresh!burst tonight is in memory of The British Bomber – a man with an AWC record worse than that of Jonny Sake.
Truth Waters sighs at his co-commentator’s lack of tact, before moving on to introduce the first item on the card.
Truth Waters: Super Series has come and gone and my God, what a shocker it was. Paddy O’Shea taking on his tormentor Hate for the first time in one-on-one competition.
George Cassidy: Only thing was, it wasn’t a straight singles match, it a... let me get this right... Hardcore Lumberjack Fans Bring The Weapons Match... What the hell?
Truth Waters: Both of them wanted to decimate their opponent, I suppose that combombination of stipulations helped to do that in many respects. Let’s look back at the action... oh, and their ring announcer is cool, since he shares my surname. Unfortunately, he also handles Karina Wolfenden, but you can’t have it all...
Ross Fynmore: And up next in the PTC Super Series, we have a Hardcore Lumberjack match between the Atlantic Wrestling Club representatives Paddy O’Shea and ”The Fifth Horseman” Hate…
Jeff Marx: Hate? Who would be retarded enough to call themselves Hate? And what in God’s green Earth is a Hardcore Lumberjack match?
Dave Kern: I believe it’s a Lumberjack match with no disqualifications and no countouts to be made, all weapons are legal…
Jeff Marx: So they’re covering a lack of talent with weapons and blood? What a great showcase of wrestling ability THIS one is going to be!
As the fans cheered, ”Sir” Mat Waters rolled into the ring with a mic and walked to the center to get the attention of the whole arena. With the fans looking at him, Waters launched into his announcing spiel, booming over the general din of the crowd.
‘Sir’ Mat Waters: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for one fall, and is a Fans Bring The Weapons Hardcore Lumberjack match!
Jeff Marx: Fans bring the weapons? I didn’t know that…
Ross Fynmore: Apparently, the stipulation was added on the Atlantic Wrestling Club TV show Fresh! several weeks ago, as requested by both competitors.
Jeff Marx: Did the fans actually bring any weapons beyond their nauseating smell and lack of wit?
Ross Fynmore: I believe our ring techs are ready to take care of those as we speak.
Jeff Marx: ’Perfect’…
‘Sir’ Mat Waters: Introducing first, hailing from Galway, Ireland and weighing in at 180 pounds… He is ”The Man From The Caravan”… PADDY O’SHEA!
”Ragge Taggle Gypsy” by Christy Moore started to play over the speakers, and a low rumbling emanated from the backstage area. Then the entrance curtain was pulled aside as a trailer home, driven by an unknown man, emerged to the entranceway of the Fleet Center. The trailer came to a halt in the middle of the ramp, followed by a group of men emerging from inside. The Boston Irish crowd cheered at the group of native Irishmen, spearheaded by the 5’9” Paddy O’Shea, with bandages running around his chest and a support over his ankle. While the rest of the Irishmen, carrying weapons ranging from chains to wooden bats, greeted the crowd, O’Shea stood in the middle of his men, looking solemnly at the ring.
Dave Kern: And here is our first competitor, the ”Fightin’ Irish” Paddy O’Shea, who has quickly become one of the top wrestlers in the Atlantic Wrestling Club. Care to give us a bit more info, Ross?
Ross Fynmore: Paddy O’Shea comes from Galway, Ireland, as Mat Waters just told us. His record in the AWC stands at 7 wins, 1 draw and 4 losses, and he is the current AWC Alliance Champion as a part of the team Emerald Isle II with his tag team partner The Farmer who er, isn’t speaking to him.
Dave Kern: Thank you, Ross. As the stipulations laid out by the competitors stated, each of them are allowed to bring a total of ten men to act as lumberjacks in this match. It has the potential to turn into a 11 vs 11 match brawl though, if I’ve understood the situation right.
The Irish began to walk the rest of the way to the ring, while the trailer home was reversed out of the arena. While the lumberjacks stayed on the outside, Paddy O’Shea rolled into the ring and stood up, garnering the support of the Irish crowd and the AWC fans by simply raising his fist in the air and then running his fingers through his unkempt hair. Staring solemnly at the entranceway, O’Shea barely even paid attention to the ring technicians who began carting out various weapons for the match, instead waiting for his hated opponent to arrive.
Jeff Marx: What is he looking so serious for?
‘Sir’ Mat Waters: And introducing second, hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and weighing in at 225 pounds… ”The Fifth Horseman” HATE!
As an answer of sorts to the question, Marduk’s ”Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transilvania” began to play over the speakers, filling the atmosphere with a sense of foreboding and doom. Even though the music was different, the knowledgeable fans knew who it was going to be, and so began to boo as the 6’2” Hate led his troops to the ramp, leading them dressed in his trenchcoat and gas mask. His minions, clad in black jumpsuits and commando masks, followed him in a double file, each carrying a weapon of sorts as well. Disregarding the booing crowd, Hate made his way to the ringside, the whole group moving slowly as if in a church.
Jeff Marx: And what in the name of simplicity are these clowns supposed to be?
Ross Fynmore: Hate, also known as ”The Fifth Horseman” and ”The Nondivine Juggernaut”, has an AWC record of 8 wins, 1 draw and 6 losses. He has challenged for the AWC Transatlantic Title three times now, with his biggest shot at the latest AWC Pay-Per-View event called Testimony in a No Escape-match with the champion Pierce Lavelle. The rematch last week resulted in defeat for Hate.
Dave Kern: The match at Testimony had a nonconclusive ending, as the special referee Paddy O’Shea did count the pinfall, but never called for the bell. It was unclear who the champion was so a rematch had to be made!
Jeff Marx: Yes, yes, yes, but why all this… Black. It’s so… Gloomy. And black. Mostly black.
Hate ripped his gas mask off, showing his bald head which was completely painted blood-red as usual. With the music dying away, Hate settled down for a staring contest with O’Shea, while the lumberjacks stayed on the opposite of the ring, backing up their leaders. Neither O’Shea or Hate would say anything, instead sizing each other up for the upcoming confrontation. Then, O’Shea stepped back, inviting Hate to join him in the ring. Slowly, Hate obliged, sliding into the ring while the last of the fan-created weapons were pushed in as well.
Dave Kern: The story behind these two is a long one. Several months ago, O’Shea’s father was kidnapped, and after a few weeks of torment it turned out to be Hate who was behind it all. Since then, Hate has done nearly everything he can to Paddy O’Shea, by nearly killing his father, breaking his nose, throwing him off of a moving bus at AWC’s Battle For Britain PPV event, and even CUTTING the word D-I-E on O’Shea’s back with a knife!
Jeff Marx: That’s not a word, that’s just three letters. Anyways, sounds like this Irish fellow has been quite the whipping boy for Hate.
Dave Kern: To be fair, Hate has shown himself as a master of the sneak attacks, and he commands several groups of minions he has organized into a ”Cult” of some sort.
Ross Fynmore: The Cult of the Fifth Horseman, to be exact.
Dave Kern: Thank you, Ross. So you see, he is a serious individual, and he knows how to lay down the punishment. This is finally Paddy O’Shea’s chance to lay his hands on Hate and shut him up for good! There ahs been somewhat of a stalemate between the tow voer the last few weeks with both being preoccupied. O’Shea for example has that support on his ankle following a vicious attack by Mike Wade and his former friend The Farmer. But for tonight there is actually an unwritten agreement about this match between them - It all ends right here!
The referee didn’t even bother checking the competitors, sensing the hatred between them and knowing the stipulations, and instead had the bell rung almost immediately after Hate got into the ring. For a few seconds, nothing happened as Hate and O’Shea stared each other down, with the fans adamantly behind O’Shea. Hate’s minions were cheering for their leader, and harassing the fans of the front row who were jeering the painted psycho. After an agonizing moment after an agonizing moment, both Hate and O’Shea took a step forwards, then another and another until they were standing face-to-face in the middle of the ring. O’Shea stared murderously at Hate’s face, who returned the favor with a wicked grin and by patting his right temple, tracing a nasty scar caused by Paddy O’Shea and a baseball bat after an AWC match. O’Shea pushed his broken nose into Hate’s face, reminding him of an attack conducted by one of Hate’s minions with a crowbar.
Jeff Marx: Jesus Christ, just do something already! If you hate each other, then by Gods be done with it and leave us alone.
Dave Kern: I don’t believe it will be that easy, Jeff. It has taken Paddy O’Shea MONTHS to get to this point, to finally receive a one-on-one match with his tormentor, Hate. He will need a moment to formulate his plans for this important match.
All the plans seemed to fly out of the window in an instant though as Hate and O’Shea suddenly exploded in a flurry of fists and forearms, neither man backing down an inch and trading a blow for a blow. Despite his weight advantage, Hate didn’t gain the upper hand, as O’Shea refused to go down even from the hardest strikes. A kneelift from Hate cut O’Shea off, but the Irishman kept his offense right on, pummeling Hate’s bruised ribs with furious right hands and causing the behemoth to back off. Hate came right back with a running knee to O’Shea’s head, knocking him to the ropes, but O’Shea ignored both the blow and the weapons he trampled over, coming back with a hard clothesline straight to the jaw of Hate which sent the Fifth Horseman into the corner behind him.
Dave Kern: Furious brawling to start this match off, with Paddy O’Shea gaining the slight upper hand on his larger opponent Hate.
Jeff Marx: You can tell that they aren’t too friendly with each other, just look at those punches to the face as evidence!
Dave Kern: … Do I sense some sarcasm there?
Jeff Marx: By Gods, why would you think THAT?
Hate straightened up and without missing a beat picked up a brown cardboard package from the mat next to him, ripping it open and revealing a set of long fluorescent lightbulbs. Hate smiled wickedly as he advanced towards O’Shea, who was quickly scanning his surroundings for a weapon, settling for a wiffle bat covered with thumbtacks. The two wrestlers circled around the ring for almost two full laps before Hate made his move, swinging the lighttubes towards O’Shea’s feet. The Irishman managed to hop over the blow, and instantly duck a backhand swing from Hate, who had little trouble swinging the six long tubes with power, but had trouble in swinging them accurately. As Hate started coming back for another swing, O’Shea quickly kicked him in the guts and then blasted him upside over the head with the wiffle bat, sticking at least a dozen thumbtacks in his scalp. The crowd ooh’ed as Hate straightened up, yelling in pain as the metal tacks stuck to his head.
Dave Kern: Holy crap! Paddy O’Shea just hit Hate with a… A… Thumbtack bat, I presume! And now Hate has a bunch of thumbtacks in his head! THIS is hardcore!
Jeff Marx: Oh God, here we go then…
Hate seemed only amused by the shot, dropping his lighttubes and gesturing for O’Shea to hit him again. Paddy O’Shea obliged gladly, this time hitting Hate square in the chest with the bat and leaving thumbtacks sticking there as well. Hate grunted and took a step back, and this allowed O’Shea to launch another shot from the bat into Hate’s chest, embedding more metal into his flesh. Hate just spat on O’Shea, which prompted the Irishman to yell a curse straight in his face and then CHOP Hate, driving the tacks even deeper! Hate yelled in pain and took several steps back, with Paddy O’Shea still pressing the advantage. O’Shea pushed Hate off the ropes and launched him across the ring, following up right after. A vicious clothesline to the chest was enough to send Hate down, crashing through the set of lighttubes he had been swinging moments ago!
Jeff Marx: Sheesh, they have been going at it for what, three minutes? And that bald clown is already bleeding! And look at these monkeys-for-fans cheering at them! This is insanity.
Dave Kern: Insanity indeed! Thumbtacks! Broken glass! I don’t even want to know what these sick bastards have in store for later.
Hate grunted and gripped his hands into fists, as Paddy O’Shea dropped a knee over his forehead and then covered, the referee counting rather gingerly in the broken glass.
ONE!
Hate kicked out even before the referee had barely reached a one count, prompting the crowd to boo him. Hate stood up, picking thumbtacks out of his chest as O’Shea rolled to his feet and quickly gave a low dropkick to the back of Hate’s head, which only served to anger the behemoth. The bald cultist stood up from the mat and turned around to face Paddy O’Shea, who had armed himself with the thumbtack bat again. O’Shea swung, but Hate darted under the blow with surprising agility and ended up behind O’Shea, quickly hooking him in a simple full nelson before lifting him off the mat. Hate shook O’Shea around, forcing him to drop the thumbtack bat, and then slammed the smaller Irishman to the mat with force. Hate quickly stood up and flipped O’Shea onto his stomach, not wasting any time as he dragged the stunned O’Shea over to the thumbtack bat he dropped and grabbed him by the hair. Making a mocking Father, Son & The Holy Ghost-sign on his bloody chest and head, Hate stomped O’Shea hard in the back of the head, driving him face-first into the thumbtacks.
Dave Kern: EGADS! That is just sheer brutality on Hate’s part! Paddy O’Shea has gone FACE-FIRST into thumbtacks, and LOOK AT THAT! He has sharp pieces of metal stuck to his FACE!
Jeff Marx: Is there a POINT to this savage brutality, or is it just for the money?
Dave Kern: I don’t think these two would miss this match for any money in the world. I think that they’d do it for free in the parking lot if they were asked to! They HATE each other that much!
Jeff Marx: Which reminds me, Hate is still the most retarded name ever.
O’Shea slowly lifted his face up and felt his face, trying to dig out the tacks in his cheeks and nose with his shaking fingers. Hate, however, would not give him a chance to rest, instead grabbing him by the hair and executing a series of shin kicks to O’Shea’s face, driving the tacks into his face repeatedly. O’Shea cried in pain and rolled away from Hate, leaving the bleeding Behemoth to admire his handiwork. As Paddy O’Shea began to get up, Hate had already grabbed another piece of weaponry, a garden gnome wrapped in barbwire, and threw it straight at O’Shea’s exposed back, dropping the Irish on the ground again. Hate climbed onto O’Shea’s back and ripped free a strand of barbwire, which he quickly wrapped around O’Shea’s forehead, ripping and grinding away at the flesh. O’Shea tried to thrash free, but Hate’s strength kept him at bay as The Fifth Horseman ripped new and new wounds into O’Shea’s head.
Dave Kern: That’s just sick and plain wrong, no matter who you are. Look at the blood dripping down on Paddy O’Shea’s face! Is this what the AWC is all about?
Ross Fynmore: Well, it’s more like what Hate is all about than what AWC represents. He is known for such brutal antics, for example he once Piledrove their ex-champion The Educator through a table and two folding steel chairs in the middle of a normal match.
Jeff Marx: So, no ability at all? Gods.
Finally, Hate let O’Shea go, and the Irish instantly rolled out of the ring, feeling his profusely-bleeding forehead. His countrymen received him and pulled him in their midst, as Hate’s minions began to circle around the ring to get at Paddy O’Shea. Hate slid out of the ring and walked at the front of his troops, meeting face to face with the hardy men who were all O’Shea’s relatives and loyal to him to the bitter end. Hate faces two of the Irishmen down, sizes them up… And clocked one in the face with a punch! A minor scuffle broke out with minions and O’Shea’s relatives shoving and yelling at each other as Hate picked up the wooden baton the Irishman dropped and then looked at the bloodied O’Shea, who rolls back into the ring. Hate immediately abandoned the lumberjacks and the minor fistfight broke up fairly quickly as Hate went back into the ring.
Dave Kern: Oh yes, I forgot, these lumberjacks HATE each other! It’s a powder keg ready to explode at any turn at the ringside!
Hate slid back into the ring, only to be met by Paddy O’Shea, swinging a… Dildo? Indeed, the Irishman had found the phallic object in a thrash can full of weapons in the corner, and now swung it at Hate, clobbering him over the head with the rubber johnny. The fans laughed as Hate looked up, more surprised than angry. O’Shea merely shrugged and hit Hate again over the head, without much effect.
Jeff Marx: PLEASE TELL ME that is not what I think it is.
Dave Kern: I think it is just the thing you were thinking about, Jeff.
The only reason why Hate didn’t act had to be pure amazement and wonder. Without waiting, O’Shea grabbed an iPod mini from the floor and threw it off Hate’s head. It bounced off timidly. Hate smiled at this effort and began to come forward. Within a split second, Paddy had picked up an original iPod and threw it at Hate completely flooring him!
Jeff Marx: Can you call that one Ross?
Ross Fynmore: That was an iPod...slam?
Dave Kern: Well those original iPods WERE excessively bulky don’t you think?
Without waiting for him to get up, O’Shea booted Hate in the face and then grabbed him by the neck, running him to the corner and dumping him head-first into the trashcan he found his weapon from. The sound of broken glass was followed by Hate screaming, but it didn’t stop the Fifth Horseman from getting up and flinging the trashcan at O’Shea with full force, spilling it’s contents of lighttubes and assorted household objects all over the mat. O’Shea, temporarily immune to pain, quickly grabbed a lighttube and then decimated it against Hate’s forehead in one swift blow, forcing the Fifth Horseman to sit down in the corner as the blood began to pump out of his forehead. Paddy O’Shea, who by now was feeling the effect of the trashcan shot to the head, wandered over to the ropes, leaning against them to take a breather and to feel his busted-open forehead.
Jeff Marx: You’re awfully quiet there Ross.
Ross Fynmore: That’s because these guys haven’t executed an actual wrestling move yet – I have nothing to act knowledgeable about!
Hate had now just gotten up and he began to stagger, obviously dazed, towards O’Shea. However O’Shea, in a slightly more acute frame of mind, saw him tighten his fist and so with one swift stroke put the nearby trashcan over Hate’s head. He then followed it up with a dropkick that caused the half Hate-half trashcan to stagger backwards.
Jeff Marx: Look its the tinman! Where’s the cowardly lion?
Dave Kern: ...you scare me sometimes.
A roar was heard from underneath the trashcan as Hate struggled to get free. However O’Shea moving quickly to take advantage of this situation, grabbed a crowbar from a pile of debris and swung it overhead causing it to rattle the trashman. Still however, Hate hadn’t fallen. Looking a little panicky, O’Shea ran off the ropes and clotheslined the entire trashcan other the top ropes to the outside, right amongst the O’Shea clan pack. The O’Shea relatives immediately began applying hefty boots to the exposed gut of Hate just before they were forced to turn and face the cult members as they hurried around the ring to help their leader.
Dave Kern: Here we go! This is game ON!
A mass of fists flew as the two sets of lumberjacks met. Kicks and elbows and knees were all seen to be threw and amongst them all was O’Shea and Hate. A minion pulled the trashcan from Hate’s head and he emerged screaming in rage, immediately swinging rights and lefts to clear a path to O’Shea. Seeing a reinvigorated Hate, O’Shea slided back into the ring and beckoned for him to join him. Hate obliged and slid back in, with O’Shea standing back. Hate now asked Paddy to hit him, a sinister grin locked on his face. O’Shea took two steps forward and planted a sharp kick right between Hate’s legs instead. Yet he doesn’t flinch!
Dave Kern: ...what the...?
Jeff Marx: Oh come on! You’re telling me that DIDN’T hurt!
Hate simply smiled at the look of amazement on Paddy’s face and once again asked him to hit him. Now more determined, Paddy swung his foot again and once again there was no reaction from Hate as he connected. Then through the air a baseball could be seen, thrown from somewhere amongst the warring factions. Paddy caught this gracefully and in one fell swoop, planted Hate between the legs once again and this time, Hate dropped to one knee.
Dave Kern: What was Hate trying to prove?
Jeff Marx: That he has a vagina?
Ross Fynmore: Clever Jeff.
Paddy, still holding the same bat, swung it in a descending arch and planted Hate in the temple, causing the immediate spurting of blood from the scar Paddy left a few weeks ago in much the same fashion as it was reopened. Hate’s head slapped the the mat with an equally sickening thud. Paddy now sensing the time was right, placed a steel chair on top of Hate’s lifeless body and climbed top rope. Smiling to the fans for the first time in the match, Paddy leaped off with an intended legdrop however Hate seeing Paddy leap off, grabbed the chair and managed to connect a blow with the back of Paddy’s legs from his vulnerable position. The blow sent Paddy back the way he came a few feet and he fell awkwardly onto his tailbone.
Dave Kern: Oh my God! Did you see that? Hate just blocked a top rope legdrop with a swing of the steel chair, all while he was lying down on the ground!
Jeff Marx: Bah! I’ve seen better reversals in a whorehouse.
Hate now got to his feet, smiling a sick smile, and then looked around the ring for what was available. Hate picked up a wooden chair leg and turned to O’Shea before striking him on his taped up ribs. O’Shea rolled towards the turnbuckle and began getting to his feet. Hate grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him right back into the corner, then connected with an elbow into his nose. He hit him again and again until his nose began to spew blood. Paddy’s face now resembled Hate’s red painted face as the numerous gashes continued to bleed.
Dave Kern: That nose was already broken by Hate’s minion Azagoth last week. That has got to hurt.
Hate backed off and then struck O’Shea on the crown of the head with the chair leg causing O’Shea to crumple to the ground. Hate looked out at his minions who were now firmly in control of the lumberjack feud and then from his trunks, pulled a T-Shirt, a T-Shirt that said...
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea?
Jeff Marx: Okay, Hate really really really is retarded now!
Hate pulled O’Shea away from the turnbuckle and positioned him. He then pulled the T-Shirt over his head, grabbed a small can from amongst the clutter and climbed the top rope.He then poured the contents of the can over himself and threw it aside. The booes from the crowd had now ceased as they wondered what Hate was planning, even the minions stopped to look at their master. Hate only smiled at their reactions and pulled a small metal object again from his trunks.
Dave Kern: That isn’t...a...
Jeff Marx: Lighter? Didn’t your mom tell you not to play with fire?
Dave Kern: Wait...what was in that can again?
Dave’s question was answered as Hate clicked the lighter on and held it to the O’Shea T-Shirt he wore. The T-Shirt immediately went up in flames with Hate still wearing it. He paused for a second despite the flames then jumped off.
Dave Kern: HO-
Ross Fynmore: LY
Jeff Marx: SHIT!!
Hate connected perfectly with O’Shea propped body and he rolled off immediately, pulling the T-Shirt off as quickly as he could. The referee, seemingly disgusted checks on O’Shea who began to scream in a delayed reaction. Hate, seemingly unscatched from that antic however got back up for more.
Dave Kern: Okay. Very nice Hate. Very clever. Now just pin him and end this NOW!
Jeff Marx: No way Dave! This is suddenly getting kind of fun! Burn that pykies hair!
Hate fell to his knees and covered O’Shea for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: NO! NO! O’SHEA KICKED OUT! AND HATE CAN’T BELIEVE IT!
Hate blinked for a second as he analysed the situation then got to his feet, pulling O’Shea up with him. Hate looked out to his minions who had now left the O’Shea clan in a heap near the announcer table. He shouted something to them and then tossed O’Shea outside. A few minions grabbed O’Shea under the arms and ran quickly with him to his mobile home before throwing him roughly on the bonnet. Hate exited the ring before hopping up on the bonnet beside O’Shea. Once again he yanked O’Shea to his feet, guiding him as he pulled him up higher to the roof of the caravan.
Dave Kern: What’s this sick bastard planning now? This isn’t necessary!
Jeff Marx: Matter of opinion Dave.
Hate pulled O’Shea up from his knees so he was face to face with him, O’Shea still in a complete daze. Hate then kicked him in the gut and put his head between his legs before hoisting him up in powerbomb position. Hate stepped over to the edge of the roof and looked down at the fifteen foot drop.
Ross Fynmore: You’ll kill him!
Hate was about to slam O’Shea down when O’Shea punched him in the forehead. He punched him again and again as the crowd began getting behind O’Shea. O’Shea then grabbed Hate by the ears and fell backwards from the caravan, executing a perfect Top O’ The Morn on the steel rampway.
Ross Fynmore: Faceplanter by O’Shea off the top of the caravan!
Dave Kern: And look at Hate now!
O’Shea was now beginning to stir despite holding his back as the minions circled in around him. Hate meanwhile was occupying a puddle of his own blood. O’Shea stood looking as four of Hate’s minions came closer. One minion swung a punch but O’Shea ducked it, picking up the wiffle ball bat from earlier and uppercutting the minion with it. He swung three more times in quick succession and when he looked again, he was standing amongst five bodies, while the lumberjacks continued to riot at the otherside of the ring. O’Shea grabbed Hate up from the ground and grunted as he dragged him slowly back into the ring. Sliding him into the ring, O’Shea dropped the bat and fell to his knees for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
‘Sir’ Mat Waters: And your winner...PADDY O’SHEA!
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea has shown great heart tonight, standing up and then beating this monster lying in the ring. After four long months...O’Shea FINALLY gets some kind of retribution.
Jeff Marx: Let me reiterate what I said earlier. This isn’t a wrestling match! There wasn’t two moves strung together!
O’Shea was helped to his feet by the referee and he looked around at the cheering crowds, completely confused. Suddenly a minion slid into the ring and struck O’Shea in the back of the head with a crowbar - O’Shea hit the mat instantly. Now three more masked minions slid in and began to help Hate to his feet while the gypsies were completely unable to do anything, being beaten severely by the remaining minions outside.
Dave Kern: It’s over Hate! Over! You lost. Now go!
Jeff Marx: Go up and tell him that Dave, I’m sure he’ll listen.
Hate was handed a mic and he walked over to O’Shea who has been pulled to his feet and held by two minions. Hate punched O’Shea hard in his already bloody face then raised the mic.
Hate: End of the road pig...I told you that it would end tonight. I told you I would avenge your sins tonight. But before you go, I want you to look into the face of the girl you raped, the SIXTEEN year old girl you raped and know that this is your punishment for that!
Dave Kern: Raped? Paddy O’Shea wouldn’t-
Jeff Marx: Don’t be so silly Dave. He’s Irish. They go at it like rabbits. End of story.
A minion emerged from the four and she pulled off her mask revealing long flowing hair crowning a bitter face. She walked over to O’Shea and slapped him hard in the face. Then Hate clamped a hand around O’Sheas neck and began to tighten, his face turning red.
Dave Kern: Somebody get out here! He’s going to kill him.
Then somebody did come out. Though it wasn’t the somebody everyone expected. Out from behind the curtain walked Mike Wade a smile beaming on his face, a mic firmly held in his hand.
Dave Kern: Er...maybe...somebody else?
Ross Fynmore: Mike Wade? The guy who TURNED on O’Shea only at Testimony? The man that nearly broke Paddy’s leg? Is he coming out here to gloat?
Mike Wade: Hey there Paddy? Having fun?
The crowd jeered Wade with a passion but he ignored them and pressed on. Hate however now looked at Wade with watchful eyes, his hold on O’Sheas neck, still tightening.
Mike Wade: Soooo...what am I doing here? Well Paddy as you can see that young girl beside you was raped by a masked man. Such a tradegy eh? The only thing is Paddy, you’re getting blamed for something you didn’t do...right? It’s starting to dawn on you that all these attacks on you from Hate have been because of something YOU didn’t do...right? Something somebody blamed you for. The same somebody who sent an anomyous letter to an idiotic cult leader who of course jumped to believe every word...now who would do such a thing?
Wade adopted a theatrical pout and then smiled evilly. Hate however, had let go of O’Sheas neck and allowed him to drop to the mat, choking. Hate glared up at Wade completely enraged.
Mike Wade: What’s wrong Hate? Don’t feel like finishing him off now? No worries, you’ll leave nothing for me to play with. You see Paddy, just like I said when I came to the AWC, you’re nothing but a plastic sterotype yet you choose to live up to that. You choose to berate the Irish people with your stupid antics and your moronic jokes. So I fucked with you. I coaxed a psycho into coming after you, intent on killing you...and all it took was a simple sentence written on a simple piece of paper. Now i’ve given the Irish something to be proud of. I’ve given them me, a gift to them! So Hate if you want to finish him, then do it. You’ll save me the bother next week. If not, then that’s fine too because we all need something to pass the time. You’re nothing Paddy O’Shea, just a pathetic circus clown who got a three month reality check!
Jeff Marx: His Swerviness~! strikes again!
Dave Kern: This is sick, just fucking sick. From what I can account, Wade heard about one of Hate’s followers being raped and blamed it on O’Shea, knowing Hate would stop at nothing to kill him. And all because Mike thinks Paddy’s an embarassment...?
Ross Fynmore: That’s just sick, two men nearly died tonight because of him. I even feel for Hate right now because he just got screwed over too.
Mike Wade dropped his mic and walked backstage, a contented smile on his face. Hate now looked at the young girl that was raped, along with O’Shea, the only victim in all this and nodded and the whole fleet walked out, leaving O’Shea lying on the mat passed out.
Dave Kern: There’s going to be hell to pay come Fresh! time. Mike Wade is going to answer to not only Paddy O’Shea but Hate too. Despite ALL that, Paddy O’Shea got the win tonight.
Ross Fynmore: His fighting spirit kept him going even when getting up seemed impossible.
Jeff Marx: Well whoop-de-bloody-doo! A jobber won a match, doesn’t mean the worlds going to explode or nothing so both of you calm the hell down!
George Cassidy: Wow. Gruesome stuff.
Truth Waters: It Mike Wade that needs to answer now. Everything that happened, all the near fatalities around him, all because of Mike Wade...I mean, I know we’ve asked this so many times in the last few months but, what has Paddy done?
George Cassidy: No, that’s what you asked. I know the answer, it’s because Paddy was born of course.
Truth Waters: Very smooth Cassidy. I just want to see how Paddy is feeling about all this.
George Cassidy: Oh haven’t you heard?
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: Paddy’s in hospital. Damn pussy couldn’t hack it after the match. AHAHAHA!
Truth Waters: Very funny Cassidy...
The Riot I
FEATURING: AWC
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
As Johnny Noble watched the close of the show, and the beginnings of what looked to be total chaos erupt, he couldn’t shake that growing feeling in his gut. The closed-circuit monitors even went out, and the only way to understand what was happening was to actually pay attention to the background noise.
Wrestling events were always humming with the sound of the audience echoing through the halls.
This was different. This was aggressive.
Johnny followed a squad of security members flooding out the curtains to get to the chaos. When he arrived on the scene, he almost wished he’d called in sick this week.
Chaos, everywhere. At a first glance it looked like every paying attendee in the Metro Center was either flooding the barrier in a massive group attempt, fighting amongst the security force and each other, or destroying any prop or piece of equipment they could find.
Noble was able to let a small sigh of relief, noticing that both members of the Academy, Pierce Lavelle and Tim Shipley, were first to help out. Of course – ever the boy scouts – they put their best efforts towards protecting the AWC staff, escorting them from ringside to the backstage.
Gathering the courage, Johnny pushed passed several security guards attempting to guard the curtain to the backstage area, but others had decided to work their away between the set design, breaking paths were obstructions used to be. They tore through video screens and prop items, with the majority of people that tired managing to get past the guards.
It was no use, this had broken out.
Upon passing a brawling group of fans, collectively focused on a helpless security guard as he lay on hands and knees taking the beating of his life, a thought occurred to Johnny that he might not have considered before.
No riot police were prepared. This was somewhat unprecedented, in that no one expected something like this to happen, here of all places. He remained largely unviolent and low-key while working his way through the crazed fans, finally managing his way down the ramp and meeting with Pierce Lavelle. He lead the pack of James Brunt, Michael Ryan, Truth Waters and George Cassidy, with Tim Shipley following behind to watch their backs.
Tim was just fending off a foe who tried to use a steel chair, but the young man’s inexperience was enough for Shipley to handle. Pierce kept close to the staff, but pulled Johnny in to hear what he was saying.
Johnny Noble: What the hell is going on?
Pierce Lavelle: What the hell do you think is going on, man? A riot!
Truth Waters: Can we state the obvious later?
George Cassidy: What is this… France?! GET ME THE SHIT OUT OF HERE.
Pierce Lavelle: Quick, help me get these guys to safety. We’ll figure out how to deal with this later, but for now we have to protect these people.
Noble nods. He knew the staff wouldn’t be able to get out of this unscathed. Crazed fans would do anything for a shot at hitting a famous face. So he takes to Pierce’s side in guiding the four staff members.
Shoving and kicking their way past a horde of Eire Og fans from Boston (who were royally fucking shit up, mind you), the group are able to make it to the top of the entryway, where they scan the arena and the chaos that has engulfed it. Most of the stands and seating arrangements were empty, the ring was torn apart, and shit was flying everywhere through the air.
Truth Waters: Wait, where’s Shipley?
His Academy teammate sports a grim look if only for a second, before replacing Tim at the rear of the group and ushering them through.
Pierce Lavelle: There isn’t time! We must leave.
As the group get backstage, things drift elsewhere.
Meanwhile, among a savage mass of fans going wild particularly where the commentator table used to be fully assembled, stood Tim Shipley. A pair of drunk frat boys with undying loyalty to each other were determined to get the best of him, but the Englishman’s quick wits allowed him to eliminate both men by slamming them into each other.
“Timmy.”
Things were starting to seem okay. Until he heard that voice.
“You’ve had better days.”
Suddenly, he was silenced and grounded with a solid kiss on the cheek, courtesy of a 2x4 swung with a Mark McGuire-like vengeance.
Again, Tim Shipley drifts into unconsciousness. He’d never learn what the extent of his beating was; he could only suspect more than what he knows.
Titan vs Johnny Noble
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY
Truth Waters:It’s legend versus colossus in our opener tonight as Johnny Noble takes on Titan, both competitors are fairly new to the AWC but are making steady progress.
George Cassidy: bracket K bracket
Cassidy leans back in his chair and begins to bark laughter. Waters looks on annoyed.
Truth Waters: What the hell was that?.
George Cassidy: Oh nothing, just reminding Hyde he edited out the best joke in world last week. LOL.
Pierre Hyde: It wasn’t my fault; you gave the no-shower the win, fool. SOMEONE had to change the finish.
The trumpets sound and the audience explodes. The trumpets sound again and they're on their feet. The bass kicks in, the blue and white lights roam and flash about the arena, "Mr. Incredible" Johnny Noble walks out and the roof comes off the building! He walks down wearing his latest merchandise, slapping hands, posing for photos, kissing babies. Then he stops at the base of the ringsteps, pulls off the t-shirt and gives it to the youngest ringside fan he can find. Then he gets in the ring and points to north side of the arena, beating his chest after to work the crowd. Then the east, then south, then west. He does a circular overhead motion (like a tornado) and beats his chest again with the whole arena being worked up. James Brunt: …
Truth Waters: What a reaction for the veteran fan favourite.
George Cassidy: Old man River’s one bar away from a Zimmer frame. Give him a pension and get him the hell out of here!
Truth Waters: These people respect him. He’s done a lot for the sport.
Fireworks shoot off into the air at the entrance way and "Let The Hammer Fall" by Hammerfall begins playing, the fans stand up now and the lights dim down just a little bit. From out of the back steps Titan as the crowd cheers at a moderate level and he makes his way to the ring.
It's getting closer now
The clock strikes midnight time
It is the tolling of the judgement bell
You fear the dead of night
There ain't no place to hide
This is your point of no return
Now we are ready to strike, again
It's getting far too late, my friend
Let the hammer fall
Titan is now in the ring and he climbs on the turnbuckle and raises his arm with a very proud look on his face, the fans again cheering and going a little more wild now though you can hear a few drowned boos in the crowd tonight. The music slowly fade out and the lights begin to dim back up as Titan gets ready for his match-up. James Brunt: …
Truth Waters: James Brunt rendered speechless by the writer’s laziness!
George Cassidy: Oh look, Titan…yay.
Truth Waters: Wow, that guy is big.
George Cassidy: Coming out, are we Truth.
SMACK!
The two square up in the centre of the ring, the evenly matched pairs easily eyeballing each other. The referee rings the bell and the match kicks off.
Truth Waters: This is these two guys first meeting so it’s going to be a difficult match for both of them. Right now, none of them really know the others weaknesses.
Noble offers Titan a test of strength. The two lock hands but Titan immediately fires a boot into Nobles gut then a short uppercut, knocking Noble to the mat. Titan walks over casually and begins stomping a hole in the Noble’s chest.
George Cassidy: Why do guys always do that?
Truth Waters: Do what?
George Cassidy: Tests of strength? I’ve never seen one where they actually carry it out.
Truth Waters: Johnny Noble is a fair guy, he’s giving Titan the chance to a nice clean fight. He didn’t want that.
George Cassidy: Bloody idiot should have known.
Titan pulls Noble onto his feet and delivers an elbow to the side of Johnny’s head head. He then throws him off the ropes and catches him with a huge clothesline on his return. Noble slowly gets to his feet but he’s put back down with a vicious kick to the ribs.
George Cassidy: Ouch.
Truth Waters: Titan completely dominating Noble now. You have to admire Titan’s early determination to win this match.
George Cassidy: Well I’ve got a bet on him so he better win! Titan begins to work on Noble. He swings him around and plants him into the turnbuckle and begins a blatant chokehold. The referee is quick on the scene and intervenes instantly. Titan finally breaks the hold and then applies a series of hard chops to Noble’s chest.
John-ny! John-ny!
George Cassidy: I wonder who these guys are behind
Truth Waters: They’re giving the wrestling legend their full backing here.
Titan is about to drive a shoulder into Noble’s gut when the veteran jumps out of the corner with a spear, flooring him. Noble beats him chest to the crowd and receives a huge pop. Noble then climbs up on the second rope and drops a leg over Titan’s chest. Noble grabs a handful of Titan’s hair and hoists him to his feet. He then nails Titan with a tidy DDT.
Truth Waters: Nice impact there.
Titan is on the mat now so Noble applies an armbar submission hold. The referee immediately asks Titan if he wants to tap but he shakes his head in determination. Noble leans forward to apply more pressure but Titan immediately punches him while the opportunity is there.
Truth Waters: Noble didn’t see that coming! And now he’s released the hold!
Noble rolls away from Titan and springs to his feet while Titan is getting up. Noble quickly nails a clothesline to put Titan down then hits a big legdrop for good measure.
Truth Waters: Good work by Noble, quick for his age isn’t he?
George Cassidy: I bet he can’t get it up anymore. AHAHAHAHA!
Truth Waters: God, where’s that fellow Miggy when you need a new partner?
Noble pulls Titan to his feet. Titan tries to capitalise by swinging a clubbing forearm but Noble easily ducks it and counters with a sitdown neckbreaker. Titan bounces back up in a daze so Noble throws him into the turnbuckle. Noble goes to the opposite corner, runs diagonally and connects with a big splash. Titan stumbles out of the corner so Noble climbs the second rope as Titan turns back around; Noble jumps off a connects with Titan with a double hammerblow
George Cassidy: Nice string of moves by Noble is has to be said.
Truth Waters: Yes. Titan looks out for the count here.
Noble takes a second to pose to the crowd then makes the pin on the fallen Titan. The referee gets down quickly to make the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Noble he gets straight back to work and pulls Titan to his feet. However, Titan is immediately put back down with a double arm DDT.
George Cassidy: How many times has Titan been put on his head in this match? God, he’s going to swell for sure.
Truth Waters: Why don’t you go backstage and tend to his wounds after the match.
George Cassidy: Oh. So so funny knobhead.
Noble goes over to the ropes to take a breather for a few moments and then turns and stalks Titan. Titan gets to his feet with a little bit of trouble and Noble runs at him with a spear. However, Titan catches his body as it zooms toward him and lifts him up and puts him down with a snap powerbomb.
Truth Waters: WHOA! Titan is a monster.
George Cassidy: You’re not going to do the monster mash are you?
Titan goes down quickly and lies on Noble for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Truth Waters: Half a count away from a big win for Titan
George Cassidy: Not that big Truth. Noble’s a jobber, just a legendary jobber.
Titan begins to pound the mat in frustration, which results in a laugh from the crowd. This fires Titan up and he grabs Noble roughly around the waist and hoists him up. Titan throws Noble off the ropes and he runs towards the other. They meet again at the centre of the ring and Titan nails Noble with a running DDT. Noble holds his head on the ground and shouts in agony. Titan is quick and lifts him up again and applies another devastating move: a belly-to-belly 90degree overhead.
Truth Waters: Titan is really bringing out the big guns on Noble now who is being completely dominated
George Cassidy: He has a lot to make up for…
Instead of attempting another pin, Titan lifts Noble up once again and throws him into the turnbuckle. Titan takes two steps back then begins his move. He runs at Noble who sidesteps him resulting in Titan bouncing off the turnbuckle. Noble runs at the ropes with the intention of clotheslining Titan but Titan ducks and clobbers Noble instead on the back of the head as he turns around.
Truth Waters: Titan recovering well there
George Cassidy: And Noble slowly but surely wrinkling back into his big ball of oldness.
Titan waits for Noble to get up then grabs him from behind, obviously to attempt a German suplex or some variation of it. However, Noble cleverly judo throws Titan over his back then drops a rapid elbow.
”JOHNNY! JOHNNY!”
A rejuvenated Noble now points to the crowd. Noble pulls Titan to his feet and then drills him on the head with a few neat punches. Slowly picking up momentum now, he powerslams Titan to the mat with a thud.
Truth Waters: Titan is really being schooled here.
George Cassidy: Yeah, Noble reminds me of that crusty old teacher the school won’t get rid of because he’s been there too long but he’s scaring the kids because he smells dead and Pete Cassidy who sits at the back of the class even swears he is dead.
Truth Waters: … George Cassidy: … Truth Waters: Stop three dotting me! Noble now launches Titan into the ropes. Titan tries for a big clothesline but Noble ducks it easily then plants a boot into Titans gut causing him to keel over. Noble beats his chest then lifts him up with the Big Body Slam! Truth Waters: Noble’s finisher! He;s going to wrap this one up! George Cassidy: WHAT! A SLAM! A BLOODY SLAM! NEVER! NO WAY! ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner... Johnny Noble!
The crowd pops hugely as Noble raises his arms to the crowd.
Truth Waters: Noble continuing his rise in the AWC.
George Cassidy: …
Truth Waters: What’s wrong Cassidy?
George Cassidy: …a…slam?
Truth Waters: We’ll be right back folks. Cass? CASS!
The Riot II
FEATURING: AWC
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Realization struck Pierce Lavelle like a ton of bricks. It stopped him in his tracks, causing the group he was supposed to lead to act in kind. He felt like an idiot, or an inconsiderate jerk. Words could not explain the weight of his conscience.
George Cassidy: What’s the matter with you? Get us the hell out of here!
Pierce Lavelle: I’m sorry. Johnny! You need to take these people away from here. And watch their backs. I have someone I must go care for, a guest that I probably shouldn’t have left.
Johnny Noble: Okay, Pierce. Good luck.
Pierce Lavelle: You too.
With that, Pierce departed from the group, leaving Johnny Noble to lead the motley group.
George Cassidy: Shit! This guy’s our leader?
Truth Waters: He could save our lives, you ungrateful –
They were interrupted by the screams of Red Rock, who had gracefully flattened an attempted mugger who decided to try his hand with the deceased British Bomber’s daughter.
Red Rock took the girl’s hand, and began to lead her through the corridors while passing Johnny and co..
Johnny Noble: Red Rock!
Red Rock: Oh, hey mate. How’s it going?
Johnny Noble: There’s a riot, man! We’ve got to get out of here.
Red Rock: So THAT’S what’s going on? Dammit, we’d better split quickly. C’mon, darling. I’ll get you out of here.
Johnny Noble: Hey Red, think we should combine our efforts?
Red Rock: Good idea. C’mon, let’s find a fire escape or some-
Hate: EXQUISITE!
Both men were interrupted amongst the chaos by, you guessed it, even more chaos. Hate had emerged down the hall with a legion of his minions flanking around him. They all ushered away and began to blend with the mixed characters; all of them wrecking surveillance and production equipment and beating each other up.
Hate: Flock, minions, and leave the call. CLEANSE THE IMPURE. RAISE THE WARCRY!
Red Rock and Noble quickly gave each other a glance, and that was all it took to decide that they should get the fuck out of there before shit really does go down.
Red Rock: Hurry, follow me!
The group does. Just as Hate began to stalk them to contribute to the chaos, they disappeared down the hall. It wasn’t the outcome Hate expected, but being a feared man should leave little room to suspect otherwise.
Hate: Run, infidels!
“Don’t worry, Hate. You’ve got your chance.”
He looks confused, as the voice echoes down the corridor he stands in. The tone is distinct, not only from its volume but from its raspy qualities. Knowing who it is, makes him be cautious of his surroundings. He should have thought it through, because four doors line him on every side.
Hate: You can’t rile fear in me, boy! I’ll destroy you. RUAAAARGH!
With one punch, Hate takes out the door in front of him. Before he can react, the door opens from behind him. Someone takes him down with the momentum from his punch, and immediately he begins to feel the effects of someone else.
Someone else and the use of a baseball bat, taken right across Hate’s back. He drops immediately, leaving the two men to get to their feet and catch a breath. Walking over to the light switch, he cuts the light.
Hate begins to squirm towards the light of the door frame, but he doesn’t even have the strength to yell past it.
However, it doesn’t matter how Hate feels.
“Have you ever tried to swallow a Louisville Slugger?”
Trouble A-Brewing
FEATURING: ALEXA KENDERICKS, MADDY ESTELLE, CHAINZ, TRACY
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND KRIS BARTON
The camera opens up within the backstage area of the Rockford, Illinois Metro Center as we see the one and only Alexa Kendericks walking along the corridor, with her travel bag draped over her shoulder. Then, for no visible reason, she stops mid pace, folds her arms and simply waits. We can see AWC backstage reporter Maddy Estelle appear from somewhere off screen to the immediate right of Alexa. She sheepishly approaches AWC’s premiere female wrestler.
Alexa Kendericks: What in the hell do you want?
Maddy Estelle: Heard me coming, eh?
Alexa Kendericks: A mile off…now answer the question.
Maddy Estelle: Well, uh, I’m not here for you…
Alexa sighs, visibly trying desperately to control her anger.
Alexa Kendericks: He’s not here. He won’t be here again. So just leave it be.
Estelle sighs.
Maddy Estelle: Is that what you really think of me? Some fickle backstage reporter who’s only interested in the true superstars…
Alexa Kendericks: Rearrange this sentence: Hit, On, Head, Nail, The.
Estelle develops a rather confused expression, obviously trying to make a sentence out of the words. Alexa begins to tap her foot, impatiently, upon the floor. Then, quite visibly, a wave of realisation washes over her, which is quickly replaced by a quite angry expression.
Maddy Estelle: Oh that’s nice. In fact, I’m not here to see your friend Jonathon Winters at all. I’m here to see…uh…
Then, as luck would have it, we can see the familiar face of new AWC superstar Chainz approaching in the distance. Tracy is holding his hand and walking alongside. Estelle spots him and throws an overly dramatic hand gesture his way.
Maddy Estelle:…Chainz!
Alexa Kendericks: Really?
Maddy Estelle: Yeah.
Alexa Kendericks: You came here, to interview him? You sure that’s a good idea?
Now, Chainz is right by Estelle, developing a confused expression of his own.
Maddy Estelle: I’ve come to interview Chainz on how important he is now.
A flash of anger quickly glistens within Chainz eyes. He looks over towards Tracy.
Chainz: Go wait in the locker room honey.
Tracy has a nervous glance in her eye as she gives Chainz a peck on the cheek and walks away. Chainz turns back towards Estelle with a smirk on his face.
Chainz: WHAT?
Estelle backs away from the big man, realising her unprofessional blunder.
Maddy Estelle: What I mean to say is…uh…um…
Chainz: So I wasn’t important before?
Maddy Estelle: Um…uh…I didn’t mean…um
Estelle then whirls around and points at the unsuspecting Alexa.
Maddy Estelle: She said it!
Chainz: You know something Maddy, you remind me of a girl I used to know.
Chainz gets extremely close to Maddy and smells her hair, sending shivers down Maddy’s spine.
Chainz: Mmm, she even smelled like you. Now this girl, she was into me she just didn’t realize it at the time.
Both women seem quite disturbed now.
Chainz: Me and her had a hell of a good time, she just didn’t know what she was getting into. She was screaming no no, stop. Didn’t know she liked to play hard to get, know what I mean.
Chainz now scans Maddy’s entire body over.
Chainz: You two have about the same measurements too. Mmm mmm, say Maddy what would you say if I took you into my locker room, slapped you around for a while, and proceeded to literally fuck your brains out?
With that Estelle simply runs away, her stilettoed feet clopping against the hard, polished floor. As Alexa watches the backstage reporter leave, Chainz draws closer to her, still with the sick smile on his face. Alexa is clearly disturbed from the revelation of Chainz’s past rape.
Chainz: Now Alexa, what the hell did you mean?
Alexa faces the big man and backs away a little, only now realizing the danger Estelle has placed her in.
Alexa Kendericks: I didn’t say anything!
Chainz glances in vague direction that Estelle was last seen in.
Chainz: The little slut seemed to think differently.
Alexa Kendericks: I…um…uh…
Chainz: So explain to me why I wasn’t very important before?
Alexa Kendericks: Oh shit!
Chainz: You know something Alexa, you seem to remind me of that girl long ago too. Yeah, the more I look at you the more I see her face and the more I see that sweet ass that I loved so much.
With that Alexa simply runs away, in the vague direction that Estelle went, leaving Chainz standing in the corridor licking his chops and looking extremely disturbed.
Chainz: Oh baby, I’ll see you around.
Chainz laughs a sick laugh as he walks off in the direction that Tracy headed off earlier.
Never Say Never Again
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, ???
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
We cut back to ringside, and before the commentators can even begin a useless diversion, “Bohemian Like You” crashes out from the speakers and David “Pearl” Harber appears at the curtain.
Truth Waters: Here comes Harber! And this is the announcement that was delayed from last week on Fresh! as the last section of the show was pulled due to the tragic and sudden death of The British Bomber. Tonight’s show is dedicated to him, and you’ll be seeing a memorial service at the end of the show, so if you’ll please watch with courtesy as Steven Smith’s family give some closure to the life of their adored –
George Cassidy: Yeah yeah, whatever. I care a HELL of a lot more about what Pearl’s about to tell us, and that is the third confirmed Triangles match contestant.
Truth Waters: Who could it be, though? Practically the entire roster is already booked for the show – incidentally, you can now view the full card on the website, through which you can also order the event if you haven’t already... Triangles is live THIS FRIDAY!
Harber enters the ring, cheers for him meaning the noise level doesn’t actually die down as the music fades away.
“PEARL IS TEH PWN! PEARL IS TEH PWN!”
”HAR-BER! HAR-BER! HAR-BER!”
Pearl: Thank you... thank you... ladies and gentlemen, THIS... is AWC!
A huge pop, right up to the rafters.
Truth Waters: The paying crowd is sure as hell enjoying tonight’s shortened show.
George Cassidy: TAPED, though, Truth! Can you believe it? What a comedown!
Truth Waters: I suppose after Tuesday’s disaster, the management didn’t want any issues, and a taped show is that much less stressful.
Pearl: Let’s cut to what you want to hear, and that’s who I'm announcing to fill the vacant spot in the green sector of the Triangles match. Does anyone remember a certain accolade called... the Fresh!man?
The fans tell him yes, yes they do.
Pearl: That was, of course, discontinued a while ago. However, I was trying to come up with a fair way of deciding who deserves that automatic spot in the Triangles main event, and I could think of nothing better than the one-off return of Fresh!man – encompassing events right back to the Fresh! after Testimony. So who is that person, who has given their all for the fans, who has been all over AWC, who has dominated the matches picking up a string of victories? Who, above all, has been THE most valuable asset? That person is our Fresh!man – and that person receives the AUTOMATIC spot at Triangles – and that person is...
Harber’s dramatic pause is broken. And he looks around, mystified, at the stage. Because on the stage, you see, are the huge loudspeakers. And right now, those speakers are playing music, interrupting Pearl’s announcement. And it isn’t just any music.
We’ve heard it before. Many, many times.
We’ve booed its first seconds. Many, many times.
We do not want to be hearing “Will You Smile Again?” by ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead right now.
And if you’ve been living under a rock... this isn’t just any song. It’s the song that heralds the entrance of one of the most detested wrestlers in AWC’s short history. The winner of Zero To Hero... the first ever Transatlantic champion...
Alexander Strider.
Truth Waters: What the...
George Cassidy: THE SECOND COMING! THE MESSIAH! THE SAVIOUR! THE MONGOOSE IS HERE!
Truth Waters: Don’t get too excited Cassidy; he hasn’t made an appeara-
Strider bursts through the curtain, an arrogant smirk consuming every inch of him.
Truth Waters: Damn it.
George Cassidy: PRAISE THE... STRIDER! HE’S BACK! HE’S BACK! AND HE’S... IN TRIANGLES!
Truth Waters: I very much doubt that.
Pearl: WHAT THE HELL is this?
Almost shaking with rage, the Entertainment Manager, red-faced, glares down the aisle at his bete noire. Strider curls his lip.
Alex Strider: It looks like I'm back, Pearl.
Harber narrows his eyes.
Alex Strider: Great news, isn’t it? What do you think?
He turns to the fans, whose anti-Strider chants are overpowering. Those newer fans who weren’t following AWC in the Strider era can already pick up on just why everyone else hates him so much.
Pearl: Get out of here...
Alex Strider: But why? I'm contracted.
Pearl: You disappeared... and AWC is better off without you.
Alex Strider: Correction: was. I'm here now, whether you like it or not. And you’re really not going to like what else I have to say...
Pearl: I'm not going to hear it, since security are about to escort you from the stage.
Strider considers, then starts to walk down the ramp. Pearl sighs.
Pearl: Save this for my office. I'm in the middle of a very important announcement –
Alex Strider: Which is EXACTLY why I'm out here right now. I'm afraid what I have to say is going to override your petty little announcement. It negates the need for it... it negates your ability to fill the empty slot in the Triangles main event... since there is no empty slot in that match!
Truth Waters: Is he saying what I think he’s saying...?
His eyes wide, David Harber stares as Strider delivers the killer blow.
Alex Strider: Rematch clause, Pearl. Lavelle took my belt and I want it back. And I'm calling my shot... this week. “The Mongoose” Alexander Strider is in that Triangles main event, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.
Strider, beaming, nods his head as he looks around at the crowd. Pearl manages a weak smile, which strengthens as he sees Taz Yorke and Butch Radder appear behind Strider.
Pearl: Fine. Fine. You’re in Triangles...
And now a crafty smile spreads onto his face.
Pearl: Enjoy.
The two security men grab Strider, and he is carried, without struggle, back through the curtain. He doesn’t take his eyes off Pearl. Pearl doesn’t take his eyes off him. The two masters of psychology, at it again.
George Cassidy: Get your dirty hands off him! You aren’t fit to wash his...
Truth Waters: Mongoose?
George Cassidy: This is a monumental night, ladies and gentlemen! The best wrestler ever to grace the Atlantic Wrestling Club is back! And Alex Strider will be competing at Triangles!
Truth Waters: Just watch those buy rates soar... and then smile as Strider gets destroyed in that match. He hasn’t wrestled all this time... and he’ll be in that green triangle with two eager, hard-working and talented men, two men who have come through some gruelling qualifying matches, in top physical shape. Strider doesn’t have a prayer...
Insight
FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY, SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.
Tim Shipley withdraws the plastic cup from beneath the water cooler and drinks in the pure, cool liquid, perfect at pH 7, refreshing his palate and hydrating his body before his match against Alexa Kendericks, scheduled to be the next tonight. The slapping of flat shoes on the linoleum draws his attention, and Shipley turns to see AWC interviewer Sarah Kennedy, resplendent in a glittery red dress, desperate to get a word with him.
Sarah Kennedy: Tim, would you mind a short interview ahead of your match?
Shipley considers. He might not have time for his usual pre-match routine of fifty last-minute press-ups, a superstition telling him that the blood rush to his biceps always helped him in the early part of the match. But on the other hand, Sarah Kennedy was the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on, and despite the caution around women that has been apparent in his behaviour since he lost his virginity in early October (the viewers don’t know about this so don’t dwell on it, stupid), he stays for a chat.
Tim Shipley: Go ahead.
Casting the plastic cup aside, Shipley turns to face Kennedy front-on, and she clears her throat before reciting her first question from memory.
Sarah Kennedy: You’ve been on an impressive winning streak lately – if you win tonight, it’ll be your fourth on the trot. What’s the reason behind this?
Shipley raises his eyebrows a touch, perhaps surprised at the figures, scratching the hair behind his ear with an idle index finger as he formulates his response.
Tim Shipley: It’s a combination of hard work and good luck, I suppose.
He pauses to assess before continuing with what he considers a daring reference – not schooled in the art of interviews, Tim Shipley isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to be talking about.
Tim Shipley: A well-known film villain once said “Half of everything is luck –”
Sarah Kennedy eagerly breaks in.
Sarah Kennedy: (quickly) Alec Trevelyan, in GoldenEye
Shipley smiles, pleased.
Tim Shipley: That’s right.
Sarah Kennedy: (frowning) But he went on to say that the other half is fate. Do you believe in the whole idea of predestiny, Tim?
Shipley twists his lips into a look of regret.
Tim Shipley: I'm afraid I don’t, Sarah.
She grins.
Sarah Kennedy: Good; it’s a load of rubbish!
The wrestler opposite her laughs at her defiance.
Tim Shipley: What makes you say that?
Sarah Kennedy: Well... it’s just... stupid, I suppose. That people say everything you do is done for you – decided in advance – like you’re going to grow up to do this, or grow old and get sick and die, or discover a cure for cancer. That’s not how it happens – I mean –
She pokes Shipley sharply in the chest with an extended finger. He protests, laughing:
Tim Shipley: What was that for?
Sarah Kennedy: That wasn’t fate. I chose to do that...
Tim Shipley: But do we really have a choice? Maybe it’s someone controlling our decisions. Maybe we think we’re doing what we want to do, but really we’re puppets –
He breaks off at the look on Kennedy’s face.
Tim Shipley: What?
Sarah Kennedy: I thought you were on my side!
Shipley smiles warmly.
Tim Shipley: I am, but devil’s advocate can be fun.
Kennedy returns the smile, lingering rather too long on his horse-like face, before looking down at the floor.
Sarah Kennedy: Er – so – yes... how do you plan to continue your winning streak tonight, against Alexa Kendericks?
Shipley shrugs.
Tim Shipley: I go into every match with the same mentality, Sarah. I'm going to try my hardest, use my broad range of skills to counter whatever Kendericks tries, and if I get the opportunity, move in with The Eternal Hope, Newton’s Paradox, Chaos Theory, The Chi-Squared Drop... whatever it takes.
Sarah Kennedy: Will you modify your strategy knowing you’re facing a woman?
Shipley pauses to study the interviewer. Perhaps she’s digging to find out more about him as a person rather than what he’s like in the ring. Choosing his words carefully, he replies.
Tim Shipley: (slowly) My strategy is different for whoever I come up against. Weight, height, fighting style and so on, that all comes into it... but gender, by itself, is not a factor.
Satisfied with his answer, Sarah Kennedy presses on.
Sarah Kennedy: Can you say anything about Tony Aliso?
Shipley exhales roughly, and Kennedy’s about to withdraw the question when he begins to speak.
Tim Shipley: Tony Aliso... one man I will never understand. He makes no sense, Sarah! The attacks, the promises to make my life hell... and then... nothing. The last couple of shows I haven’t even seen the guy. It’s like he’s disappeared... invisible... and that worries me at times. But I won’t let him under my skin. I can’t! I’ll admit that I was spooked when he first came back...
Shipley sighs, shaking his head.
Tim Shipley: Back from the dead, catapulting right back into my life but polarised the other way, my bitter enemy and I didn’t know why... and I still don’t! When he’s man enough to give me an explanation, then perhaps he’ll get the feud he seems to want. But for now... Tony Aliso is nothing more than an irrelevance. The best I can do is ignore him, get on with my life, win my matches, defend my title... and then, I hope, everything will just work itself out.
Shipley looks at Kennedy, satisfied with what he’s said. Sarah nods.
Sarah Kennedy: Thanks, Tim.
She looks down at his waist.
Sarah Kennedy: Where is that title belt of yours, anyway?
Shipley smiles apologetically.
Tim Shipley: Aaron wanted to borrow it...
Kennedy stares at him blankly.
Tim Shipley: Aaron Davies? The referee?
Sarah Kennedy: Oh...
Shipley grins again.
Tim Shipley: Yeah. Well... he’s young... I know how he feels...
The interviewer nods.
Sarah Kennedy: I understand. So he’s a friend of yours?
Shipley considers before nodding.
Tim Shipley: Yes, I’d say so.
Kennedy raises her eyebrows.
Sarah Kennedy: Isn’t it a bit unfair for him to be refereeing your upcoming match, then? Vested interest?
Shipley purses his lips.
Tim Shipley: It’s never even crossed my mind... if it’s a problem, well, it’s up to Pearl. He can assign me whichever official he chooses... it doesn’t make a difference to my game plan.
Sarah Kennedy smiles.
Sarah Kennedy: Thanks again.
He half-smiles back, watching her walk off down the corridor, as we cut.
The Riot III
FEATURING: AWC
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Pierce Lavelle: I’m just terribly sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me.
New to the backstage scene at the Atlantic Wrestling Club was a female guest, blonde, who happened to be being dragged along by Pierce through the halls.
Kelli: No Pierce, you had to help. I just knew I shouldn’t have come to one of these wrestling things; bad stuff always happens.
Pierce Lavelle: Nonsense.
That was Pierce’s attempt at humor. Guiding Kelli through the inner workings and maze-like features of the Metro Center locker rooms, it was hard to make it through unscathed without going through the looters.
On the plus side, Pierce began to notice officers in black with helmets, shields and batons. Each of them did their best to keep the rambunctious numbers in the back dwindled, but it was still hard.
Things looked up when Pierce found two co-workers, Irish wrestlers Jack Murphy and Crimson O’Malec.
Pierce Lavelle: Did you guys see what happened?
Crimson O’Malec: Aye, only caught the end of the feed. We’d best be going now if we’re to get out unharmed.
Jack Murphy: This is, by far, the shittiest company I’ve ever worked for.
Pierce Lavelle: Well where is Paddy?
Both men look at each other and shrug.
Pierce Lavelle: You mean no one’s seen Paddy?
Again, they shrug.
Pierce Lavelle: Okay, I’ll be back to look. Kelli, I’ve got to get you to safety first. Let’s get out of here.
Pierce and Kelli leave the otherwise-unrelated Irish pair, clotheslining and punching anyone who stepped in their radius as they made their way through the backstage.
They were just about to reach open space in the form of the parking garage when The Poet came across an unlikely foe.
Jack Murphy: Come on, mate! We’ve got to bail.
Crimson O’Malec: Go on, I’ve got something to take care of.
Jack throws his arms to the side, finding his escape while the former and rightful tag-champ begins to pursue the one he’s wanted all along; The Farmer.
The Farmer had been standing, waiting calmly for Crimson to pass by and see him, and it was a lucky chance that he actually did see him.
Farmer was quicker than Crimson, having actually tried to wrestle the past few nights. It seemed like he was a mouse running on instinct, leaving Crimson to follow a trail that would seemingly never end.
He turned down twists and corridors. Through fluorescent lighting and the shadows of expressed rooms, keeping the cat in this game guessing with every move.
Until Crimson decided to fall down the wrong corridor.
Whack, the sound of a steel chair railing him in the back of the head, as well as the laughter of three subsequent men follow.
It hasn’t been a good night so far.
Alexa Kendericks vs Tim Shipley
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
All the arena lighting goes out. The big screen flashes into life, with a piece of rapid video taking a first-person trip through a conceptual maze of light in space. The text "Astral Conversations With Toulouse Lautrec" buzzes repeatedly across the screen, as the song of the same name by Northern Irish rock group Ash starts up with a re-recorded robotic voice-over announcing:
"Please welcome: Tim Shipley. Error. Does not compute. Does not compute..."
The basic two-chord opening begins, with Tim Wheeler's melodic "Uh. Uh uh" leading the song into the slightly heavier section as the guitar joins in.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, from Milton Keynes, England, weighing in at 201 pounds... "Summer's Son" TIM SHIPLEY!
White spotlights dance around the arena, and now two blue spotlights, emitting light from the ring posts, slowly rotate down from the arena roof to focus on the stage, where Tim Shipley is now standing, his expression firm. The fans cheer loudly for the man who they have grown to like. The white lights dance more and more frantically before simultaneously all coming to a stop to also focus on the stage and Tim Shipley, just as another piece of robot-squawk ends to be replaced by the simpler "Uh. Uh uh" and the video feed changes to a shot of a conceptual spaceship racing through a tunnel. Shipley strides down to the ring, smiling appreciatively and applauding the fans.
Before Shipley can reach the ring Alexa Kendericks comes running from the back and clotheslines Shipley from behind.
Truth Waters: Alexa Kendericks just attacked Shipley from behind, what a dirty tactic.
George Cassidy: What are you talking about, that’s damn fine strategy if you ask me.
Truth Waters: Kendericks picks Shipley up and throws him into the ring.
The crowd boos as Alexa slides into the ring and begins stomping on Shipley.
George Cassidy: Mmm, look at her go.
Truth Waters: Stop thinking with your dick. Kendericks now in control and looking to dish out some punishment.
Alexa lifts Shipley up and punches him square in the face. She follows up with another and another before hitting a standing drop kick.
George Cassidy: Beautiful drop kick there, that’ll teach Shipley.
Truth Waters: What do you have against Shipley?
George Cassidy: Ahh don’t get me started.
The crowd begins to rally behind Shipley. Alexa picks Shipley up and is met with a punch to the stomach. She reels back stunned before charging at Shipley who drops her with a drop toe hold. He bounces off the ropes and drops an elbow on Kendrick’s back.
Truth Waters: Shipley now has the advantage and he’s taking it to Kendericks.
George Cassidy: She’s a woman, she can’t possibly keep this up. She doesn’t even belong in that ring.
Truth Waters: Don’t tell me you agree with that nonsense.
George Cassidy: Why not?
Truth Waters: Anyways back to the action. Kendericks and Shipley both up and trading blows. One for Kendericks, one for Shipley, and ohh… they both go over the top rope.
The two competitors lay on the outside as the crowd chants “Shipley, Shipley”. The ref begins to count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
Truth Waters: Both up and back into the ring. Shipley first in and looking to take advantage.
Alexa gets up and receives a hip toss to the mat. She gets up and is pulled back down with an arm toss. She gets up once more and is taken down with an arm drag. Shipley applies a sleeper hold.
George Cassidy: Look at that, slowing down the match and boring all these fans.
Truth Waters: What are you talking about, the fans love Shipley. This isn’t boring, this is a clinic on technical wrestling.
Shipley relaxes the hold and picks Kendericks back up, but is met with a kick to the stomach. A series of kicks follow that bring Shipley down to the ground.
Truth Waters: Chopping it down by Kendericks and those legs are lethal.
George Cassidy: Not to mention long, athletic, silky…
Truth Waters: Wow, I didn’t see that coming.
Shipley slowly gets up and is met with a spinning heel kick.
Truth Waters: There’s a cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: No, Shipley kicks out. It’ll take more than that to keep him down.
George Cassidy: It’s only a matter of time.
Shipley gets back up goes for a punch, but is caught in a compulsive clutch. Kendericks goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Truth Waters: Oh how close was that!?
George Cassidy: Slowest damn count I’ve ever seen.
Alexa looks pissed as she begins to doubt herself. She goes to the top rope and waits for Shipley to get up. As he rises she comes flying from the top rope with a spinning heel kick.
George Cassidy: Oh hell yeah, the slice and dice. This one’s about to be over.
Truth Waters: Alexa Kendericks has Shipley set up for Knife’s Edge and if she hits that it’ll be over.
Alexa Kendericks charges the ropes and bounces off of them, but Shipley throws her off onto the mat. Shipley drops to the mat with a look of relief on his face.
Truth Waters: That was close, but what a great counter by Shipley.
George Cassidy: He cheated.
Truth Waters: Shipley doesn’t cheat.
Shipley goes for the cover, but Alexa kicks out immediately. Shipley locks on a single leg crab as Alexa screams in agony.
Truth Waters: Alexa is feeling the pain off of that single crab leg lock. She has to reach a rope or this one will be over.
George Cassidy: Don’t tap, just a few inches further.
Alexa struggles but finally reaches the ropes and Shipley is forced to break the hold. Shipley gets up, a bit concerned that he couldn’t make Alexa Kendericks tap out. The two are on their feet and stare each other down. Alexa begins punching away at Shipley who can’t seem to block the blows. Finally he blocks a punch and cradles Alexa up and hits a cradle suplex. He immediately goes for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: No, oh what a close call that was, but Alexa just managed to get the shoulder up before Aaron Davies could come down for the three count.
George Cassidy: That was too close, come on Alexa let’s see that girl power.
Truth Waters: Girl power?
George Cassidy: Ehh what can I say, I like it when a woman comes out on top.
Truth Waters: Figures.
Shipley picks Kendericks back up and is met with a forearm smash to the face. Shipley stumbles back and Kendericks catches Shipley in a compulsive clutch and drops him. She goes for the cover, but Shipley places his foot on the ropes immediately. Alexa gets up and Shipley follows. She charges at Shipley who ducks and allows Kendericks to go flying into the turnbuckle. Shipley goes into the turnbuckle and hits the eternal hope.
Truth Waters: ETERNAL HOPE BY SHIPLEY, THIS ONE’S OVER!
George Cassidy: No, kick out!
Shipley goes for the cover as Aaron Davies drops for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: It’s over and Shipley prevails over Alexa Kendericks in a hard fought bout.
George Cassidy: Eh, that match was fixed.
Boiling Over
FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY, CHAINZ, ALEXA KENDERICKS
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Tim Shipley gets out of the ring and shakes hands with some of the fans at ringside as he heads up the aisle. Out from the back emerges Chainz, still in his dress pants, but minus the shirt. His muscles bulging and his tattoos shining in the artificial light of the arena, he heads down the aisle. He has a steel link chain in his hand and a sick smile still on his face.
Truth Waters: Oh this doesn’t look good at all, that lunatic, that sociopath has that weapon in his hands.
George Cassidy: Get him Chainz!
Tim Shipley looks ready for a fight as Chainz comes close to him. Chainz stops and claps his hands together and passes Shipley without any problems. Shipley looks back in the ring and sees Alexa Kendericks still hurt from the match, but thinks differently as he turns his back and walks backstage.
George Cassidy: Uh I’m confused, why didn’t he attack Shipley?
Truth Waters: Oh no, I think he’s got much more sinister intentions on his mind.
George Cassidy: Oh, I don’t think this will be good.
Chainz slides into the ring and waits for Alexa Kendericks to stand up. She is wobbly and still hurt from the match. Chainz grabs her by the hair and stares intently into her eyes.
Truth Waters: He’s not really gonna go through with it is he?
Chainz reels back and nails Alexa Kendericks in the face with the chain causing blood to spill out as she falls limp to the ground, unconscious.
Truth Waters: Oh my god, what an awful and brutal attack.
George Cassidy: Jesus Christ, that was too much.
Truth Waters: This is just wrong, someone needs to stop this now.
Chainz’s smile grows as he sees the carnage he has caused. Chainz falls down and stares into Alexa Kendericks unconscious face. He smells her a bit before sitting upright. He pulls her close and puts her head in his hands and lap, petting her hair. Chainz begins talking to himself about something as he continues to pet Alexa Kendericks hair which is now a bloody mess.
Truth Waters: Wow, this is not right. What is wrong with him?
George Cassidy: I think he’s getting some sort of euphoria from it.
Chainz parts Alexa Kendericks hair from her face and starts licking it, along with the blood covering her beautiful and bloody face.
Truth Waters: Okay this very disturbing. This guy doesn’t belong in the ring in AWC. He belongs in a mental home or prison.
George Cassidy: Well that’s where he came from.
Truth Waters: Seems he needs to go back.
Chainz poses Alexa Kendericks on her back and her hands against her hips. Chainz kisses Alexa Kendericks on the forehead before sliding out of the ring and walking backstage. The crowd is completely silent and shocked at what they have just witnessed.
Truth Waters: I’m speechless, I don’t know what exactly we have just witnessed.
George Cassidy: Chainz is here to stay and anyone that wants to mess with him better remember the events that occurred tonight.
Truth Waters: No one is going to cross that sociopath again, and someone needs to really look into some help for this guy. Something’s not right in his head and a near three hundred pound sociopath is not a good sign for everyone in AWC.
The Riot IV
FEATURING: AWC
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Pierce Lavelle: Alright, here.
Retrieving a set of keys from his pocket, Pierce hands the item to Kelli, and points at the car sitting feet in front of them.
Pierce Lavelle: Get to the hotel, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Kelli: Pierce, are you –
Pierce Lavelle: Yes I’m sure. Now hurry, before shit hits the fan any more than it has.
They kiss, and she is quickly off in her ride to depart. Pierce runs through the parking garage, heading for the doorway to the arena entrance. It took him a bit longer than expected to navigate, but he made it through no less.
Although, all the faces he’d expect to still be around weren’t.
Paddy O’Shea. Hate. Tim Shipley. Crimson O’Malec.
Something was wrong. Even Hate’s minions, who shrieked wildly and smashed any piece of glass they could, could feel the lack of presence from their master.
Pierce had one last thing to check on, and that was the safety of his boss. He didn’t know if Pearl had made it out before the place erupted into nonsense, but was determined to help his friend whether he needed it or not.
Before long, Pierce found himself at the front door of Pearl’s office, door shut. Without hesitating, he slammed through, only to find the person he didn’t expect.
Adam Dick: Hey, Purse.
Well, two people he didn’t expect.
CRACK.
His Swerviness drops a rather swervy chair, thanks to the impact of Pierce’s head, on the fallen body of the Transatlantic champ.
Mike Wade: You lucky shit, you’re just happy that I’m not in those qualifiers.
Adam Dick: This one’s mine. You had Paddy, but this one is mine! Ahem. Purse. I don’t know how many times I’ve got to instill this into your head, but I figured this was the most opportune time to let you know…
Mike Wade: Just like we’ve told everyone else.
Adam Dick: That this is the Unfuckables’ federation. You all may think it’s a casual game of pranks, but at the end of the day it is Wade and I who are going to the lengths you won’t and making the moves you can’t.
Pierce Lavelle: You... attacked them... all of them...
Mike Wade: STAPLE YOUR LOOSE LIPS! It’s high time we start seeing the respect we deserve. So we’ve decided to pry open yours and everyone else’s eyes. This will make all of you, every last one, realize truly how Unfuckable we are and how futile retaliation really is.
Adam Dick: It’s your choice, Purse. See you at Triangles.
No, they didn’t leave him alone. They just made sure the pepper spray to kick things off didn’t leave him any room to squint.
The beating on Pierce Lavelle would go overlooked for an hour or so. Riot police were too busy attending to the matter at hand.
It didn’t stop with fists and feet. Objects, metal or of any kind, they used them all. Then there were the repeated sidewalk slams on the concrete floor just to get a point cross.
Either way, we doubt anyone would be ready for Triangles, coming off of an event such as this.
The Unfuckables vs The Omega Underground
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
We’re more than carbon and chemicals
We are the image of the invisible
Truth Waters: Here we go.
George Cassidy: The Unfuckables have been noticeably quiet tonight. It’s probably because it is a lame-ass Fresh!burst.
Truth Waters: Contrary to your belief, stuff does actually happen on this show.
George Cassidy: Like what?
Truth Waters: Just wait, I can feel it. Something tells me the Unfuckables are going to get theirs tonight. They’re facing Xin Xin Xiong and his partner in The Omega Underground.
The Unfuckables appear at the top of the ramp. Adam tonight does not don his familiar attire of The Illustrious Face-Eater. Instead he dresses similar to how he did in Core Wrestling, a combination of wrestling gear and street clothes. Both men appear admittedly angry tonight.
George Cassidy: Who the hell is Zen Zang?
Truth Waters: XIN XIONG, he wrestled in the fWo.
George Cassidy: WITH MIKE BEAR?!
Truth Waters: No...
George Cassidy: Old-school NEO?!
Truth Waters: I don’t think –
George Cassidy: ULTRA VIOLET?!
Truth Waters: Nope.
George Cassidy: Then why do I give a fuck? I don’t, that’s right.
The Unfuckables basically enforce George Cassidy’s sentiments ten-fold. It doesn’t matter who they face, it’s all elementary on the road to Duo Glory.
James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match and is the second in the Unfuckable Team Invitational Tour Bonanza whatever-who-gives-a-sh…ugar. Introducing first… THE UNFUCKABLES!
Boos ensue, and what the hell did you expect? Illinois was no different than the rest of the country in that they all hate the Unfuckables.
Mike Wade didn’t seem to mind. He hoists his gold in the air, then casually heads to the ring where Adam is quick to follow. Both men growl at various audience members, most notably Mike Wade to a group of VIP members sitting in the front row.
Truth Waters: Mike Wade is threatening the belated British Bomber’s family!
George Cassidy: That’s his family?
Truth Waters: Yes!
George Cassidy: His daughter was hot. Or his wife. Was he a cradle robber?
As the Unfuckables climb in the ring, awaiting their opponents with a mildly tame James Brunt on this day. Adam and Brunt size each other up, only resulting with Adam scoffing at the ring announcer. Mandatory middle finger follows, end scene.
Truth Waters: I guess the Unfuckables are feeling the effects of their respected beatings last week at the hands of Paddy O’Shea.
George Cassidy: Facey got a dirty swirly from Hate!
Truth Waters: I can only imagine how it tasted. He should really be called The Illustrious Feces-Eater now.
“Nobody’s Listening” by Linkin Park begins to scream out the PA, as well as the few fWo fans in attendance.
They finally get to see X3 return, as well as the debut of his partner Nottingham.
The self-acclaimed Ninja enters the arena, and immediately is recognized. His partner, however, is a new face (to be described when the handler posts a bio).
Xin Xin Xiong however doesn’t prove to be entirely happy. He doesn’t adorn the usual head-dress he was known for in fWo, instead his eyes are decorated with anger.
He climbs into the ring, his partner quick to follow.
Truth Waters: Apparently, Xin Xin Xiong is not happy with this booking, Cassidy. He wanted more time and effort from AWC management to be put into his debut.
George Cassidy: Wah wah wah, all I’m hearing is violins.
Ordering Nottingham to take position on the outskirts of the ring, the forever referred to X3 took position in the center of the ring with Mike Wade.
Mike Wade: Sorry, pansy, but I don’t play Halloween.
Xin Xin Xiong: Do not think I do this out of leisure. I am only here because my hand was forced.
Mike Wade: Cry me a river, you’re still going to die!
Before the bell can be rung by the referee, Mike takes his cheap shots early in the form of a strong lariat, flattening X3 to the mat. He doesn’t stop his assault, immediately beginning with hammering in a series of boots to his stomach.
Nottingham looks ready to enter the ring, until Mike Wade’s evil glare stops him in his tracks. He turns back to Xin, lifting the Asian superstar to his feet. He tosses him over to the Unfuckables corner, where Adam doesn’t hesitate in driving his elbows in to X3’s back.
Both men unleash a fury of punches and blows all across his body. The referee should have thrown this match out then, but for the sake of giving the fans the show they were deprived of last week, he allowed the main event to continue.
Truth Waters: The Unfuckables taking a very dominant stance in the first parts of this match.
George Cassidy: They ALWAYS dominate, dude. That’s what they do.
Mike Wade begins to lay his boots into X3, finally lifting him overhead and back down with a brainbuster. He doesn’t make the pin, however; a bit different strategy than their last match.
Mike immediately drops to the mat and applies an Armbar. Taking an inverted position, however, the pain is greater than Xin Xin first anticipated. He begins to call out in pain, while Mike looks at his partner. From the hold, Mike is able to outstretch a hand to tag his partner in.
Adam makes the tag, and begins to stomp away and X3’s arm.
George Cassidy: Good old fashioned teamwork, I love it.
Adam Dick: You don’t want to wrestle?
His attack doesn’t end. Adam lifts X3 to his feet.
Adam Dick: What, the Unfuckables aren’t good enough for you? We aren’t the Kitagamis or something? Well fuck you, you prissy piece of shit.
Adam drills his forehead in to X3’s feeling the impact of the move himself. He doesn’t mind, though, by spinning X3 around his back and hammering out a straightjacket suplex.
Again, Adam isn’t quick to go for the cover.
Instead, he lays the boots down.
Truth Waters: We may have a repeat of the match with the late Bomber.
George Cassidy: This is largely one-sided so far.
Nottingham is looking none too pleased on the outside. Be it the match itself, or how the match is going, this entire situation got the best of him. The youngster charged the ring in an effort to help his more experienced partner, but was squashed by Mike Wade.
Mike Wade: I warned you, junior.
Big boot. You know what follows, right? Well, if your ignorant ass doesn’t, its called the TFW.
Truth Waters: What? A finisher this early in the match?
George Cassidy: It doesn’t seem like the Unfuckables care! Look, Senior Official Michael Ryan is trying his hardest to get Mike and Nottingham out of the ring but neither are moving.
Truth Waters: That’s because Nottingham isn’t able to.
Sure enough, Mike Wade continues his beating on Nottingham by tossing him to his own corner and delivering a series of punches from above.
It is only when Wade sees his partner deliver the Eaterplex ’05 to his designated opponent does he learn it is time to end it.
Adam Dick: MIKE! Skullfuck Express.
Adam hoists X3 up for Mike, who locks behind his back. From there, Adam climbs to the outside and grips the ring ropes, remaining ready. From here, Mike Wade begins the German suplex routine.
One German suplex, bridged. Rolling over.
Two German suplexes, bridged. Rolling over.
Three German suplexes, bridged. Delayed.
Boom, a slingshot leg drop on to Xin Xin Xiong right after the impact of the last German suplex. Again, the combination of the blows make it entirely impossible to kick out of unless you’re from that Krypton planet or something.
Truth Waters: The Skullfuck Express.
George Cassidy: Yep, this is all over.
Truth Waters: The legal man, Adam Dick, makes the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Not even a crappy kickout.
Sorry folks, but Thrice’s Image of the Invisible will once again close our show with yet another victory under the belt of the Unfuckables, whether it was against willing opponents or not.
X3 and his partner leave the arena quietly, most likely too unhappy to ever return to an AWC arena again, while Adam and Mike gather their composure.
Until they see someone unfamiliar walk down the ramp, joining them and causing their music to fade. But what could she want?
In Loving Memory
FEATURING: THE SMITH FAMILY, THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: NEIL PETERS, MIKE WADE AND JOE SCHMIDT
Truth Waters: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special way to close the show tonight. We are having a memorial service for former AWC wrestler the British Bomber who tragically passed away last week. Again we send out our condolences to his family in these difficult times, our hearts are with them. And here is his daughter and wife coming to the ring to speak. We're gonna take a little video tribute while we set the ring up.
The video begins to play on the tron. It shows some of Bomber’s finest moments in the sport. When we get back we see the ring has been set up with candles and flowers. The Bomber’s daughter Taytum and his ex-wife Kathryn are in the ring. His close family and friends are standing from their ring side seats with their heads bowed in prayer. A hushening silence takes the crowd as Taytum begins to speak about her late Dad.
Taytum: I’d like to start off with thanking people for turning up to my dad’s funeral, he wasn’t the best liked man in wrestling, but outside of his job he was like a best friend to me as well as a dad. From the start of his career nearly a decade ago he fought many matches, he had fans love him, and fans hate him also. I never agreed with some of the stuff he did, and of course we had our arguments as all families do, but death isn’t a thing to wish on anyone. And I am sure if my dad was alive right now, he wouldn’t have done what he tried to do at the AWC show last week. I miss you dad, God rest your soul.
Taytum broke down into tears as she walked back to her friends and family, her aunt comforting her as she sobbed. After Taytum’s words, her mother stepped up to begin her reading.
Kathryn: I had known him since we was kids, 12 years old, we was childhood sweethearts at school, and we loved each other so much. Bomber died doing the job he loved to do, wrestling. While at work, he was happy, loved performing for the people that bought the tickets to see him and the other guys in action, outside of work he was just as happy. Even though we split up a couple of years ago, we remained a close family, and me and Bomber became closer friends. His loss will hurt me as much as it hurts Taytum, it has broken a family, it has broken hearts, and it’s a great loss to wrestling. Bomber, you will forever be in our hearts, rest in peace.
George Cassidy: They call him Bomber?
Truth Waters: Cassidy, this is not your time to talk.
Taytum climb back into the ring and embraces her mother as both are clearly hurt over the situation. The fans begin to applaud and a "Bomber" chant starts up. As it dies down again, to a round of applause from the fans Taytum speaks again.
Kathryn: Before we finish up completely, would anyone else like to say anything?
"Image of the Invisible" by Thrice hits and the place erupts in boos.
Truth Waters: Oh my God it's the Unfuckables.
George Cassidy: They're interrupting a memorial service? Oh this should be good.
Truth Waters: What could they possibly have to say here?
Wade and Dick who've just walked through the curtain after their match are coming back out. The AWC fans are really giving these two some heat as they strut their way to the ring, looking rather serious actually.
Truth Waters: What the hell are these guys doing? This isn't part of the wrestling show this man is dead for Christ’s sake!
George Cassidy: Hey Wade has a lot of history with the Bomber maybe he has something nice to say.
Truth Waters: I've watched Mike Wade wrestle for years and I've never heard him say something nice. This is one of the lowest things I've ever seen in my career and even in my life!
George Cassidy: They didn't even do anything...yet!
Adam Dick: The fuck, bitch!? We beat that old man two weeks ago – no, we slaughtered him – and you want to mourn him?! You're going to sit here, honestly, and take away from my victory? For a guy who's never even beat me?
Adam Dick: WHATTHEFUCKISAMATTERWITHYOU?!
Truth Waters: This is low, man.
The crowd begin to boo with epic proportions at what they've just heard until Mike Wade grabs the mic from his partner.
Mike Wade: Wait wait wait. I don't think that's what this is about at all.
Adam Dick: Huh?
Mike Wade: This isn't about taking away from you or me or anyone. These women are here to celebrate the memory of Stephen Smith. The British Bomber.
Wade actually receives a slight applause for his comments.
Mike Wade: I've known Stephen for a long time now. We met in this business. Hell we even ran a small time fed called 5ive Star Wrestling together. And our unsuccess with that brought us here. Unfortunately I didn't know there would be so many pussies here. One man does so little he barely even showed up for a match with me he's so scared and then even pulls out of a pay-per-view match and then Paddy O’Shea woudn't answer my call out he's scared!
Mike Wade: But Kathryn, I answered your call out. I felt Bomber calling me from above and I had to come out and say what I have to say.
Kathryn nods as does Taytum. Taytum actually begins to cry again.
Mike Wade: Hey don't be upset your Daddy's in a better place.
Wade actually throws his arm around Taytum and hugs her.
Truth Waters: Wade showing...compassion?
George Cassidy: Give the man a break Truth he's sincere. His friend died.
The Face gives Wade a look that asks "What the fuck are you doing pussy?" but Wade continues his speach with Taytum now under his arm.
Mike Wade: There's a tradition in wrestling that when one of our boys dies we give him the ten bell salute. I would like to give Bomber the same honour. But I will give a special Unfuckable two bell salute. Two because all though he's gone we know God would never count Stephen out three. So if I could have the ring bell please.
The bell is slid into the ring and Wade holds it deep in his hands to the disgust of his partner, who was obviously under the impression that no tributes would be paid!
Mike Wade: The British Bomber was...excuse me...The British Bomber was...The British Bomber was the BIGGEST PIECE OF SHIT I'VE EVER MET IN MY LIFE!!!!!!
Wade then swings the bell and knocks out the Bomber’s daughter Taytum with it and then BAM nails his ex-wife Kathryn with another as she bounces off of the ring like a rag doll. The arena erupts as Wade and Dick then begin to kick the candles and flowers that decorate the ring into smithereens.
The British Bomber's son doesn't think about it at all. The second his sister hit the mat, instinct and rage took over and sent him over the railing in defense of his sister. Adam was ready for him, took him down overselling style with the Rock Bottom.
Truth Waters: I do not believe it. This has just gotten disgusting.
Pride must be what inspired the rest of the Smith family to get involved in an act of vengeance. The small security force gathered on that end was not enough to contain them all. But still, it wasn't enough to stop Adam.
George Cassidy: Holy God, this should be sweet!
He took up some speed, only to suicide dive over the railing and into the crowd, hitting mostly members of the Smith family but also members of the audience as well.
Fan: Hey you stupid fuck, that hurt.
Truth Waters: Some fans got the short end of the stick, as they like to say.
One fan begins to hammer punches away at the fallen Face-Eater. Mike Wade responds in kind by jumping on the apron, to the top of the barricade.
Mike Wade: FUCK OFF OF MY FRIEND!
Diving punches galore, he takes out the possessed fan and all friends around them.
Immediately, fan hands from all directions begin pouring in through the form of punches, but few of them hardly connect.
Adam Dick: Get the fuck off of me.
Truth Waters: Where is the security staff? This should be contained!
George Cassidy: It looks like some fans are refusing to let them through.
Sure enough, the guards were stuck behind the railings while Adam and Mike began to portray a scene that's similar to Neo being surrounded by the hundreds of Agent Smiths.
Truth Waters: THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND! People are climbing over us and onto the floor!
Both wrestling superstars made the best of their abilities, striking and leveling out any civilian that happened to pounce by. When the masses that surrounded them began to grow too unbearable, both members began for a dash towards the ringside again where they took Brunty's microphone.
George Cassidy: It seems like there is no such thing as civility anymore.
Truth Waters: Not in Illinois, certainly.
A few members of security kept them contained for a short minute, but it wasn't long for the anger to break out of the leak. And the anger had spread. No longer were people out for blood of the Unfuckables. People were out for blood in general.
And it wasn't just people. It was the entire fucking arena...
Truth Waters: Things were going great, and now this show has degenerated into a terrible episode of Real TV.
George Cassidy: I swear if I see a Molotov Cocktail, I'll kill myself.
Adam managed to sneak a few words in before the broadcast closed.
Adam Dick: This! THIS IS THE EXTENT OF OUR POWER! Our gift to you, AWC!
Mike Wade: RIOT!!!!