Fresh! Results7th March 2006
Introduction
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The “AWC in 2006” logo fills the screen, and then fades away to show a darkened arena. Abrupt fireworks on the stage, cheers, and then the lights suddenly flash bright with the grungy beginnings of “E-Pro” by Beck. The fans in the Boardwalk Hall go wild, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of 2005. All the big spots are there: Hate tossing Pierce Lavelle off the bus in the Streets Of London match; Jack Murphy’s flying Bull Charge on Tim Shipley in the Triangles structure; Lavelle’s Whiplash to send Alexander Strider into the fire at Solarized; and many more.
See me coming to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles will hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you’re aiming
Don’t forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you
The Transatlantic title belt fills the screen, momentarily fading through to a shot of Jack Murphy, proudly holding his belt aloft as he grins widely into the camera. And then it’s white light.
The set is... different. Very different. The stage. That’s the first thing that catches the eye. Wooden. Slats, planks, whatever you want to call them... and it’s higher than usual, leading into an angled boardwalk of the same wood leading down to the ringside area. It’s the sort of pathway you’d see on a beach, and indeed either side of the boardwalk, the area usually used for seating has been made smaller to accommodate a little beach of our own. The left hand side as we look at the stage is sand; the right hand side, just below where the commentators sit up on the stage, has six inches of water lolling on top of the sand, a small wave machine sending it lapping across the artificial beach and up to the boardwalk, where huge sand banks either side up to six feet in height prevent anyone from seeing beneath it. There’s a good reason for this: the Beneath The Boardwalk match, scheduled to take place later tonight for the Relentless title, requires participants to fight through the sandbanks and scrabble around beneath the structure for the hidden Relentless title belt. The space underneath is packed with junk and special weaponry, some of which is themed and all of which is legal tender.
George Cassidy: And that’s what we call “Bash at the Beach”...
Truth Waters: The set tonight looks spectacular, ladies and gentlemen! All that effort for one Relentless title match definitely bodes well. Who will walk out of here tonight with the vacant title?
George Cassidy: Championships are becoming more and more important as we head full-on towards our next pay-per-view.
Truth Waters: That’s right, Cassidy; March 24th sees TWILIGHT OF THE GODS rock y – what?!
George Cassidy: (sniggering) Nothing, nothing... good name, that’s all...
Truth Waters: A little fruity for my tastes, yeah... but don’t let that affect your decision to order. AWC has never been hotter, and tonight’s show features a Transatlantic title defence, that massive Beneath The Boardwalk match, and Adam Dick taking on Ellis Nash!
George Cassidy: Plus three crappy matches.
Truth Waters: What? No, none of them. We have Teresa Tomas t---
George Cassidy: Blah. Blah. Blah. Let’s move on.
Catfight
FEATURING: CHAINZ, TRACY, JASMINE, VINCE JONES
AUTHORS: JAY AND MIKE S.
We walk into Chainz’s locker room, where he and Tracy are sitting. Chainz is getting ready for his match later on and Tracy is just sitting there, looking lovely like always. A calm between the two that would shortly be broken.
The door burst open and Jasmine walked into the room, huffing and puffing looking to get in the face of the girl she called a slut the other week.
Tracy immediately rose to her feet and got into the face of the bigger woman, not backing down at all and not intimidated at all due to having Chainz right behind her. The door opens once again and Vince Jones walks in, backing up his girl and putting the plane on an equal level.
Tracy: What do you want?
Jasmine: Well look V, the biggest slut in the AWC.
Tracy: Don’t call me a slut you fat pig.
Jasmine: Fat, I only weigh 140 pounds!
Tracy: Like I said, fat.
Jasmine: Well everyone seems fat when compared to your anorexic ass, or lack of ass.
Tracy turns to try and look at her more than plentiful ass.
Tracy: Whatever, you’re just jealous cuz your ass is all filled with fudge and cookies.
Jasmine: At least it ain’t filled with plastic like those titties. I’d think you’d stop when your nipples are looking you in the face.
Tracy: And once again jealousy rears its ugly head, you flat bitch.
Jasmine: Don’t call me a bitch, skank.
The two women get in each others face and begin to grab and pull hair, each trying to get an advantage over the other. Chainz and Vince Jones just watch the action unfold.
Vince Jones watches the catfight between Tracy and Jasmine with a large grin on his face.
Vince Jones: This shit right here is every man's dream. Ya know? Two bitches clawin' each other to death right in front of ya eyes.
Vince turns and notices a sadistic and evil grin beginning to form on the face of Chainz as he watches the catfight as well, particularly Jasmine. Vince begins to worry about what was going on through Chainz’s head and quickly pulls Jasmine off of Tracy.
Vince Jones: Aiight! That's enough out of you, Tiger. We gotta get the hell on up outta here.
The grin vanishes from Chainz's face as he is now disappointed with what has just transpired. Jasmine kicks and screams in fury with Tracy. Tracy looks up and just glares back at Jasmine while trying to catch her breath.
Jasmine: Let me go, V! Let me go!
Vince Jones: Chainz, its been good! Holla at ya lata tonight, son! Seems like you still got that fire in ya deep down somewhere. Can't wait to see the beast come out of ya tonight! Good luck and may the best man win...unda the Boardwalk!
Vince flashes the handsign of his old New York City gang as he drags Jasmine out the locker room behind him.
Tracy looks back at Chainz, who is sitting feeling guilty over the thoughts that spread through his mind after seeing the two women fight. Tracy picks up on Chainz’s guilty conscious and storms out of the room with a sigh.
Victor Cage vs Teresa Tomas
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
A cameraman is stationed in Teresa Tomas’ locker room. It appears that she is in deep prayer. Throughout the duration of her time here in AWC, she hasn’t won even one match yet.
She wants to change that, even if it kills her.
She is kneeling in front of a wall, praying to a picture of the Highwaymen: Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristopherson and Willie Nelson. It gives her a power of solace, a power of peace and a power of determination for this match coming up.
Teresa Tomas: I have to win. I must win. I will win.
She gets to her feet, looks at the picture for a brief moment and grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels, and is on her way to the ring.
Let’s go down to the ring, shall we?
Truth Waters: Hello once again, everyone, and welcome to another action packed edition of Fresh!. Coming up, we debut another superstar here in AWC: Victor Cage. We’re all about debuting new, fresh talent! Anyway, Victor Cage makes his debut against Teresa Tomas, and from what we saw, Cass, it’s make or break for the “Redneck Princess.”
George Cassidy: Indeed it does, Truth, but after Bloodlust, she should’ve been ran out of AWC after losing to my boy, Patrick Mapleleaf. Hopefully after tonight, Victor Cage will do just that. VC will be the man tonight!
Truth Waters: We’ll have to see about that, Cass. Teresa Tomas’ determination will not let her down. If she doesn’t win this match, who knows where her career will end up.
George Cassidy: I know of one specific place - the toilet.
Cameras shift from the commentary team to the ring, where ring announcer, James Brunt, is about to announce tonight’s first combatants.
James Brunt: The following is tonight’s opening bout...
“Brainstew” by Greenday starts playing. Cage walks out with no special fire works, and some blinking lights.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Mobile, Alabama, weighing 225 pounds, making his AWC debut... VICTOR CAGE!
Victor Cage rolls into the ring and goes into his respected corner, waiting for his opponent.
Truth Waters: That had got to be the most boring entrance I’d ever seen. Where’s the glitz? The glamour?
George Cassidy: You don’t need any when you’re about to kick someone’s ass.
James Brunt: His opponent...
The famous horn of the Dukes of Hazard’s General Lee seeps through the P.A. system, blasting “Dixie.” This is followed by Waylon Jennings picking the intro to “Good Ole Boys.” A record scratching abruptly stops the Southern anthem, followed by utter silence. Without warning a cannon is heard blasting through the speakers and the lights begin to flicker violently, “Big Guns” by AC/DC floods the building.
James Brunt: Making her way to the ring, from Nashville, Tennessee, weighing 145 pounds, she is “THE American Woman...” TERESA TOMAS!
Teresa Jane Tomas, Top Rope Temptress, THE American Woman, and AWC’s own Redneck Princess marches down the entrance ramp with a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. She stops mid-way, takes a long swig and chucks the nearly full bottle of booze over her shoulder into the crowd for a thirsty fan to enjoy before she completes her journey to the ring.
George Cassidy: Jesus! One of these days, she’s going to kill one of those fans with that Jack Daniels bottle. Hell, she shouldn’t be allowed to carry an open bottle of alcohol to the ring!
Truth Waters: Give it a rest before you have an aneurysm.
Teresa Tomas jumps onto the ring apron, jumps over the top rope and has her eyes locked on her opponent. She cracks her knuckles and gets into position, her eyes remained locked on Victor Cage.
Truth Water: Look at Teresa Tomas, ladies and gentlemen... She is ready to throw down.
George Cassidy: Quit getting hard-ons over the ladies, Truth. Have a little more class than that.
Truth Waters: Oh, and you don’t? Who died and made you King of Class?
George Cassidy decides not to answer the former boxer. Referee Richie Travis calls for the bell as Victor Cage comes shooting out of his corner, running right at AWC’s “Redneck Princess” Teresa Tomas. Tomas sidesteps the charging newcomer, executes a Drop Toehold, causing Cage to crash and burn face first into the middle turnbuckle. Afterwards, Teresa Tomas climbs to the top rope, jumps up and lands on Cage’s lower back with a Seated Senton. Afterwards, “The Top Rope Temptress” picks up her opponent, throws some heavy forearm shots, some European uppercuts then whips him into the ropes. Victor counters and sends her to the ropes. VC goes for a Clothesline, Teresa counters with a Wrap-Around DDT! The fans are on their feet, cheering for “THE American Woman.”
Truth Waters: So far, Teresa Tomas is dominating this match. She catches Victor Cage with a Drop Toehold, sending him crashing into the middle rope and took over from there. This woman isn’t going to rest until she claims her first victory, Cass!
George Cassidy: She can become and insomniac for all I care! She isn’t going to beat Victor Cage.
After the Wrap-Around DDT, Teresa Tomas goes for the first pin fall of the night...
ONE!
TWO!
Easy kick-out for Victor Cage. Teresa Tomas gets Victor Cage to a vertical base, but couldn’t do anymore than that. VC buries a knee into the solar plexus of “THE American Woman,” throws a clubbing forearm in the back of Tomas’ neck and throws a heavy European uppercut of his own, almost knocking Tomas off her feet. He grabs her head with a Front Face-lock, hikes her up into the air, keeps her hanging for about 10-15 seconds, then drops backward with a Hanging Vertical Suplex. Tomas arches her back, the pain registers clearly on her face after that suplex. Cage picks up his female opponent, scoops her up and slams her down hard onto the mat with a hard Body Slam! Next, he grabs one of Tomas’ arms, drops backward and wraps his legs around it, locking in a Jugitame (Cross Arm Breaker)! Teresa is screaming in pain, trying to break free from the hold.
Truth Waters: Ooh! A Jugitame by Victor Cage. Damn, that’s gotta hurt.
George Cassidy: Well, when you want to hyperextend the crap out of someone’s arm yeah, it’s gonna hurt. And it looks like Victor Cage is doing a good job! Break her arm, Cage!
Victor Cage lets go of Teresa Tomas injured arm. He gets to his feet and starts stomping at the shoulder and elbow of the injured arm. Referee Richie Travis breaks up the sadistic attack, giving “THE American Woman” enough time to roll out of the way and do some brief recuperation. She shakes the feeling back in her arm. Satisfied nothing is broken, she charges at Cage, hitting him right in the teeth with a shift Spinning Heel Kick! Afterwards, she plants both feet right in Cage’s face with a double stomp, then turns him over, hits on his left shoulder blade and bends the shoulder backwards with an Wakataki Arm Bar! She cinches back as far as she can, telling at the asshole that tried to break her arm to tap out! Before she could do any damage on that arm, Victor muscles out of the submission attempt by throwing Teresa off like a bucking bronco!
Victor Cage gets to his feet, shaking the feeling back in his arm. But he doesn’t have enough time to evade a hard dropkick right in his face, courtesy of Teresa Tomas! She goes for another cover, hooking the leg...
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kick-out by Victor Cage.
Truth Waters: Damn that dropkick coulda done Victor Cage in.
George Cassidy: Coulda... woulda... didn’t.
Teresa Tomas is on her feet yet again. She drops a leg across Victor Cage’s throat, gets to his feet, and bounces off the ropes. She was going for a ground attack, but Cage is on his feet, waiting to intercept “The Top Rope Temptress” with a Power Slam, but Tomas changes gears and goes for a Flying Hurricanrana. But Cage had a counter waiting for that, too. He catches Tomas in midair and spikes her onto the mat with a Power Bomb! He was about to lock in the Sniper-shot (Sharpshooter) but Double T kicks him right in the face, rolls backward and gets to her feet. She shoots, does a double-leg takedown and starts throwing lefts and rights and fierce elbows right in VC’s face! The fans are on their feet, chanting her name...
“TO-MAS! TO-MAS! TO-MAS! TO-MAS!”
Victor Cage manages to shove Teresa Tomas off, but Tomas comes back for more. Without thinking, VC throws a right boot into Tomas’ stomach, doubling her over. He gets to his feet, puts her head in between his legs, lifts her up for a piledriver, and drills her head into the mat! She isn’t moving after impact.
Truth Waters: Oh my God! That was a piledriver with authority! Teresa Tomas’ neck could be broken after that exchange!
George Cassidy: If it’s broken, it’s no skin off my nose.
Truth Waters: You are a cold, vile old man, you know that?
George Cassidy: I know you are, but what am I?
Sighing in frustration, Truth Waters continues to commentate on the match. Victor Cage looks down at his motionless opponent, smiling at her. He drops down, placing a hand on Teresa Tomas’ breast and hooks the leg, smiling evilly...
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Teresa Tomas: Get your hand off my tit!
Teresa Tomas kicks out with authority, then clocks Victor Cage hard with a kick after copping a feel. This aggravates Tomas, as she mounts Cage and starts blatantly choking Cage right in front of the referee. Richie Travis breaks up the choke and the fans are booing the referee.
Truth Waters: Aw, c’mon ref, let ’er go!
George Cassidy: “Let ’er go?” And you said you didn’t condone it.
Truth Waters: I’m not. When it comes to taking your own medicine, I’m all up for it!
Victor Cage is slow to his feet, but manages to get to them. She runs over to the top rope, springboards off it, does a back flip and kicks Cage right in the head. Victor staggers backward, but doesn’t fall to the mat. Keeping the momentum in her favor, she runs behind Cage, springboards off the top rope, turns in midair and drives a knee right in the back of his head. VC goes face first onto the mat...hard. Tomas gets to her feet, grabs Victor Cage’s right arm, spins around, wrapping her legs around it, drops down and grabs a leg and pulls back on it, locking in her submission maneuver, Southern Comfort!
Truth Waters: Southern Comfort! Teresa Tomas has Southern Comfort lock in on Victor Cage!
George Cassidy: NO! Break out of it, Cage!
Teresa Tomas pulls back more on the Southern Comfort submission, but Victor Cage can no longer withstand the pin, resulting in a tap-out! Referee Richie Travis calls for the bell, and Teresa Tomas cannot believe it!
Truth Waters: Teresa Tomas wins! Teresa Tomas finally wins her first match!
“Big Guns” by AC/DC starts to play as ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner.
James Brunt: The winner... TERESA TOMAS!
Teresa Tomas’ eyes are as big as saucers now. It hasn’t sunk in that she has finally won her first match in her AWC career! When reality hit, she drops to her knees, throwing her arms into the air as tears roll down her cheeks.
Truth Waters: What a great moment in Teresa Tomas’ career! After months of heartache it finally pays off tonight! Congratulations goes out to her for her big win.
George Cassidy: Aren’t you going to comment about Victor Cage’s showing tonight?
Truth Waters: Hell no! All he did was piss Teresa Tomas off, giving her the win! Some showing! Anyway, don’t go anywhere - Pleasure and Pain takes on Tempered Steel! That’s coming up next!
Training?
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Adam's just standing around. Minding his own business. Bothering no one. Finishing the last of his Watermelon Blow-Pop so he can get to the gum-filled center that he loves oh-so-much. Just a peaceful time, being the Dick-Head; pre-match lollipop.
Would you want anyone else disrupting that?
Mike Wade: ADAM!
From down the hall, the quick steps of Mike creep up on Dick ever so quickly, leaving him no room to respond.
Mike Wade: I been lookin’ all over for you, what’s the story?
Adam Dick: What do you mean?
Mike Wade: I've got this massive Transatlantic title match tonight, I’m shitting myself about it and I have no trainer! I need a spot for the chicken chopping!
Adam Dick: What a minute; you have a title shot?
Mike looks surprised. Actually, so does Adam.
Mike Wade: YES!
Adam Dick: Tonight?
Mike Wade: Yes!
Adam Dick: Against Jack Murphy?
Mike Wade: YES!! What the fuck are you on?
Adam Dick: Sorry bro, I've just been really out of it lately.
Mike Wade: Look man this is the biggest night of my career, and the night where the Unfuckables, not just me, win back the Transatlantic title.
Adam Dick: Right. Got ya. And you need my help?
Mike Wade: I’d LIKE your help. I trained you when you won your TA belt. Man what’s with you? Where's your head at?
Adam Dick: Sorry man, I don't really have time to explain right now, and I'd love to help, but… I've got to take a massive shit right now; can it wait?
Wade shakes his head.
Mike Wade: I don’t know man, I really don’t know.
Wade pats Adam on the back.
Mike Wade: I just want me partner back!
Adam Dick: You will have me! I mean, you do have me! And bro, you don't need my help. You're the fucking Wade Parade, FIRST PURE TRIPLE CHAMPION and soon to be GRAND SLAM CHAMPION, and you don't need a lame package like that Murphy chump.
Adam returns a pat to Wade's back.
Adam Dick: You're going to fuck some shit up, dude!
Wade mulls it over before a smile comes out on his face.
Mike Wade: I'm gonna fuck this cunt up!
Adam Dick: That’s the spirit! Now I’ve really got to poop! Go tear ‘em to shreds, lad!
Adam chomps on his blow-pop and runs away, leaving Mike prepared to take on the world.
How Do You Celebrate Your First Win? Getting Drunk Duh... And Then Paying For It
FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, ZSASZ
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Last week, Zsasz delivered his mystery client onto the ever-growing wrestling promotion, Atlantic Wrestling Club. For weeks, he had talked about how great his client was and how he would become the next big thing in professional wrestling.
Last week, he delivered Mikey O’Reilly.
No one really knew what the 33-year-old, former Irish bare-knuckle boxing champion had to offer in the sport of professional wrestling. No one really knew if he had any wrestling abilities at all. But Zsasz proved everyone wrong.
Mikey O’Reilly defeated a big-time superstar in the sport of professional wrestling, Dagoth Kinslayer, with speed, precision, boxing and overall wrestling tactician.
Much like his first ever bare-knuckle boxing victory, the wrestling world will remember the name of Mikey O’Reilly.
Mikey O’Reilly is seen sitting in his locker room, drinking Jack Daniels straight out of the bottle. Warm whiskey, gotta love it. There are about four beer bottles of Budweiser and two bottles of Jack Daniels. Mikey is halfway through his third bottle. The man should’ve been rushed for alcohol poisoning but he seems to be doing fine, happily drinking his alcohol.
Mikey is droning along singing some sort of Gaelic cadence happily and drunkenly to himself, as he takes another swig of JD. He is dressed comfortably in a pair of blue jeans, a plain back t-shirt and a pair of worn work boots, black in color. His bloodshot eyes are slowly closing, then immediately opening, running the risk of passing out due to high contents of liquor. He’s swaying back and forth, drinking his whiskey and continuing his Gaelic cadence.
A few moments later, Zsasz enters Mikey’s locker room with a smile on his face. Is he smiling at his completely inebriated client or is it something else? Today marks Fukai Mori’s seventeen birthday and her scheduled mizuage. And the fact his client won his first match against Dagoth Kinslayer, another accomplishment Zsasz is proud of.
He examines the beer bottles and the two large JD bottles that are strewn around on the floor. Yeah, Mikey’s been hitting the liquor a little too hard, and it’s a surprise to him that Mikey hasn’t passed out yet, or die of alcohol poisoning. He chuckles to himself as Mikey has no idea that Zsasz is standing in front of him.
Zsasz: I see you’re still celebrating your big win against Dagoth Kinslayer last week.
Mikey O’Reilly is startled when he hears Zsasz’s voice, then be finally becomes aware that Zsasz is standing right in front of him.
Mikey O’Reilly: Oy! Fuck man! Can’tcha fuckin’ knock?
Zsasz: I did. You didn’t comply. I wanted to see how you were doing tonight, but it looks like my question has been answered.
Mikey O’Reilly: Aye, me boy-o. Celebratin’ my win over that Kinslayer fella was perhaps the biggest win of my career. Fortunately fer me, I have the week off and I can drink some more.
Zsasz slowly shakes his head. What he’s about to say will definitely piss his client off.
Zsasz: Yeah. About tonight, there’s been a change in plans.
Mikey O’Reilly stops what he is doing and his brown, bloodshot eyes slowly go up the length of Zsasz, finally stopping at his sapphire blue eyes.
Mikey O’Reilly: Whaddya talkin’ about?
Zsasz: David Harber has informed me that you’re in match... against Jason Ortiz and Mr. Marshall in a Three Way Fury.
Mikey O’Reilly quickly gets up and looks Zsasz right in the eye.
Mikey O’Reilly: Whaddya mean I have a---
He cuts himself off, muffling a burp, then lets out a couple of coughs. His cheeks inflate and he exhales after burping. He starts again.
Mikey O’Reilly: Whaddya mean I have a match against those two? I thought you said I had the night off!
The smell of beer and whiskey is reeking from Mikey O’Reilly’s breath, which is almost enough to make Zsasz vomit. He takes a step back, looking down his client.
Zsasz: I thought you had the week off, too, but David Harber pulled me into his office and wanted to book you this week. He was impressed with your performance last week and he wanted to give you a challenge. He’s put all three winning debutants from last week together.
Mikey O’Reilly: An’ what did you say? Did you agree right away? Did you even tell Harber that I wanted the fuckin’ WEEK OFF?!
After Mikey’s yelling rant, spittle and his alcohol-filled breath assaulted Zsasz’s face and nose. Zsasz wants to push his client up against the wall and bash his head in, but cooler heads have prevailed. After regaining his composure, he looks down at his client, letting out a sigh.
Zsasz: It’s out of my hands, Mike. I tried to talk Harber out of it but his mind is already set. The Three Way Fury between Marshall, Ortiz and yourself is already set. I’m sorry, Mike, there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.
Mikey’s eyes narrow, looking at his manager accusingly.
Mikey O’Reilly: I’m beginnin’ to believe that you’re the worst fuckin’ manager I’d ever met, and I’m beginnin’ t’ believe that yer purposely bookin’ these insipid matches. Haven’t I proved to you that I’m good enough to wrestle here? Yer fuckin’ path---
Now Zsasz’s temper has been lost. He grabs his client by the throat and throws him up against the wall, where he proceeds to pin his near 300-pound body up against Mikey O’Reilly to keep him trapped.
Zsasz: Now you stop right there, you insignificant little parasite. I may not be the greatest manager, but I did manage to bring you here to his wrestling promotion where you won your first match. I would greatly appreciate it that you just me a little slack and show me a little more respect. I’m doing the best that I can to make you a goddamn star!
Zsasz’s eyes bore keep into Mikey’s, getting his point across. Afterwards, he flashes his sadistic smile and slowly gets off of his client.
Zsasz: By the way, I need to borrow your locker room for Fukai’s scheduled mizuage. If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to clean up in here. I don’t need a locker room reeking of alcohol. Good luck with your match.
Zsasz walks out of Mikey O’Reilly, closing the door behind him. Mikey’s bloodshot eyes are smoldering at this point. Realizing that the bottle of JD is still in his right hand, he lets out a growl and throws the bottle against the wall. The bottle shatters into several pieces as the remaining liquor streaks down the wall.
This is what Mikey O’Reilly gets for celebrating too hard.
Blunt Words And Sharp Tongues
FEATURING: CELESTIAL FURY, TEMPERED STEEL
AUTHORS: TASO AND STEVE
Butterfly Hamada: Are you sure they said this was allowed? I can't see why anyone would want YOU out there unless you were in a match.
Grapps: I'm so pretty they want me on TV as much as possible. Where are my feathered green boas? Damn it, wardrobe! How do I look, Megumi?
Grappler looks Megumi up and down. She is wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt with the AWC logo across the front and her hair is undone.
Grapps: Hmmm, you aren't exactly the right person to ask. Would you happen to have a mirror?
Butterfly Hamada: While you go play with your microphone---
Grapps: Ouch!
Butterfly Hamada: ---I'm going to go work out.
As Butterfly and Grapps snipe at each other, Tempered Steel walk into the picture, preparing to head out for their match against Pleasure And Pain in just a few moments.
Hammer: Hey, what's up?
Grapps: Hammer & Anvil, nice to see you gentlemen again. Good luck in your match tonight.
Hammer: Yeah, thanks.
Anvil: It's not about luck, bro. It's about being the best. We are undefeated in AWC. And I think after tonight nothing is gonna change, ha ha! Ain't that right Hammer?
Hammer: Last time I looked, we were the number two ranked duo in AWC. Didn't take long, did it?
Anvil: Nope, and it wasn't like anyone handed us anything.
The two men start to chuckle, and Butterfly takes this personally as she steps forward, her brow dented in seriousness.
Butterfly Hamada: Gentlemen, I am sorry, but are you saying that we do not deserve to hold the Alliance titles?
Anvil: Deserve? I dunno. You guys have had about the same amount of tag matches as us. Why are you so special? We didn't get beat up like dogs in the ring by The Furious Fists. That was you, sister. We've been nothing but unstoppable.
Hammer: Hey, you guys are good. No doubt about it. But we're better. And we're gonna prove it. Sooner then you think, we're gonna have those tag titles around our waists. And gold means green. Not you, Green-o. Green as in money. Those tag titles mean more money and better matches. I'm looking forward to it.
Butterfly Hamada: The tongue is not sharp like steel, yet it still cuts. Your words may come back to haunt you.
Grapps: Politics is the skilled use of blunt objects, gentlemen. Symbolic, isn't it. The hammer and the anvil, both blunt objects, used to create edged weapons and tools. But still, blunt. Kinda like your foreheads. And your wits.
Anvil: Yeah, yeah! Laugh it up, freak! The fact that we are gonna slaughter everyone in our path, including you, makes this all the more funnier.
Hammer: You won't be holding those titles for very long. Keep them nice and shiny for us.
Anvil: Tempered Steel, baby! Don't say we didn't tell you so. Ha ha!
Hammer: Come on Big A, let's go kick Nick & Jessica's ass.
Anvil: Don't you mean Brad and Jennifer?
Tempered Steel walk away laughing. Butterfly watches them between narrow, angry eyes. Grapps goes back to working on his costume.
Grapps: Can you please help me zip up? I don't want to have a wardrobe malfunction in front of George Cassidy. I think he fancies me.
Butterfly Hamada: The only malfunction around here is your head... and this entire promotion.
Grapps: Tell me about it. Shirley! SHIRLEY! Where is that old bag of bones? I need my crotch stitched, pronto!
Butterfly walks away while Grapps runs off with his cape flowing behind him, in search of the wardrobe lady.
Time Of The Month?
FEATURING: JESSICA O'GRADY, ADAM DICK
AUTHORS: FERGUS AND JOE SCHMIDT
Jessica O’Grady: Where is he...?
Jessica is pacing up and down outside the arena, constantly searching for presumably Jack Murphy. Just then her mobile goes off.
Jessica O’Grady: Hello... I was wondering where you were, you know that you've got your match tonight and it's realy important for both of us... well this could be a real turning point for your career and mine... what do you mean I'm selfish? I'm merely pointing out what it could do and you know that I was looking at avenues of opportunity for myself and with this kind of win I could be able to groom a new superstar, we both could.
A sign of frustration is evident from her expression and she listens almost impatiently to the speaker.
Jessica O’Grady: You're busy? What do you think I've been doing for the past week as well?... Not as important? NOT AS IMPORTANT??!
She slams the phone closed and storms off, turning a sudden corner and finding herself closing in on the FORMER Transatlantic champion, Adam Dick, who’s looking very beside himself and none too concerned that she’s approaching. In fact, he doesn’t even notice.
But there’s something inside of her; be it Adam’s attitude this past week, or the way Jack treated him on the last Fresh!, or maybe even Jack’s own treatment of her just now on the phone. But something inside her is speaking in volumes, telling her to see what’s wrong.
So Jessica slowly and carefully comes from behind the former King and steps into his view.
Jessica O’Grady: Something wrong?
Adam Dick: Oh. Hi. Here to gloat as well?
Jessica O’Grady: I’ll have you know that I actually took your side last week, as crazy as that seems.
Adam lets out a slight laugh.
Adam Dick: Somehow, I don’t believe that. No one wants to take my side in this fed.
Jessica O’Grady: Well that’s only because you need a little work on your people skills.
Adam Dick: What do you mean?
That same something inside of her, the one that’s speaking volumes? Well, guess what it’s saying THIS time;
Jessica O’Grady: Have you ever considered image management?
Where In The World Is Garbage Bag
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, BRUNO HAGUE
AUTHOR: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY
Backstage, Sarah Kennedy paces back and forth, toying impatiently with a microphone with a somewhat annoyed expression painted on her face. After a few more seconds of walking back and forth, Kennedy stops, looks at her watch and shakes her head in question before she decides to leave. As she turns to walk in the other direction, she nearly crashes into a mammoth of a man. Sarah steps back, a bit startled.
Sarah Kennedy: Oh, it’s only you, Bruno.
Head of security, Bruno Hague slightly, and only barely noticeably, nods his stone-faced head in apology. Sarah regains her composure and opens her mouth, letting out a slight gasp of air before asking the humungous man a question.
Sarah Kennedy: Hey, Bruno? Have you seen a new wrestler around? His name is Garbage Bag Johnny, and I was supposed to interview him about his arrival in AWC, but he never…
Bruno interrupts Sarah, obviously finding Sarah’s explanation to be redundant as he already knows his response to Sarah’s question.
Bruno Hague: Nope, haven’t seen him.
Sarah Kennedy: Okay, um, thanks.
Sarah Kennedy’s last words are almost seen trailing out of the ears of Hague, as the head of security continues on his way down the hall towards whatever business he has to attend. A frustrated Sarah Kennedy walks off in the opposite direction.
Pleasure And Pain vs Tempered Steel
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: TASO
'Paradoxx 666' starts to play and the lights in the arena transform to a dark green, haunting color.
Truth Waters: This is a surprise! I thought we had a tag match coming up!
Then blip on and off for three seconds, lighting up the crowd. Then they stop. BAM! They shine onto the main stage, tonight specially constructed from wooden planks, and there stands in the spotlight, The Green Grappler. His green mask has the letters "GG" on the sides, like horns. He has his head down, and his cape is covering him completely. The light turns from green to white. He whips the sparkling green cape open like a superhero and throws projectiles from his fingers!
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Truth Waters: It's The Green Grappler!
George Cassidy: (imitating Waters) IT'S THE GREEN GRAPPLER! God damn you are such a nerd! Then again you did mark out for Heroic Henry.
Five bass-level blasts in a row, an eruption of green smoke, one after the other create a wall of fog, and the green draped figure disappears behind the vaporous curtain of lime green smoke. Then the mysterious masked wrestler walks through them like a phantom, walking toward the ring.
Truth Waters: Wait a minute, I think Grappler is going to be joining us at the announcer's table.
George Cassidy: Oh man! If I had a gun I would blow my brains out right now. No, first I'd blow your brains out, then mine.
Grapps: Hola my amigos! The Green Grappler is out here to do some play by play, baby! And don't I look fabulous in this green cape?
Truth Waters: What did we do to deserve this?
George Cassidy: That's what I was thinking.
Grapps: All I ask is a chance to prove that money can't make me happy, baby! You know what I mean! Yeah! Don't I look fantastic out here with you two swell guys? And look what I brought with me. One half of the Alliance titles, sweetcheeks!
George Cassidy: You sound like Harry Carey, shut the hell up! How old are you under that mask, anyway? Like seventy? Is Harber paying you in Depends?
Grapps: I'm out here to scout a tag match, ass jockey! That is all The Green Machine, Double G, needs to tell you! You are on a "need to know" basis my man, and you do not need to know, OK? Step off sister!
'We going to be alright' by 112 hits, and boom! fireworks go off. Out comes Pleasure And Pain, doing their thing. They head to the ring, and Wayne holds the ropes open for Tiara, who walks through looking behind her to make sure none of the fans got a look up her skirt.
James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match. Introducing first, from Newton, Maryland, at a combined weight of 460 pounds... PLEASURE AND PAIN!
The fans give a loud mixed reaction, mostly to Tiara who brings out the best and worst in people.
George Cassidy: You gotta dig this woman, Tiara Belle Russell. And you gotta love Pleasure And Pain. You know they are gonna get it going sooner or later.
Grapps: Galileo was wrong, you know. The world doesn't revolve around the sun, it revolves around Tiara Belle Russell, or so she thinks.
'Screwdriver' by the White Stripes begins to play and Tempered Steel head to the ring.
James Brunt: And their opponents, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, at a combined weight of 515 pounds... Hammer & Anvil... they are TEMPERED STEEL!
Truth Waters: It may be March, but 2006 has been a good year for Tempered Steel so far. Haven't been beaten in AWC yet. Are they going to get the big money matches in the future? Good match here, the AWC Alliance division feature this week on Fresh!.
Wayne Russell and Anvil start the match off. Collar and elbow tie up and Anvil pushes Wayne into the corner. Anvil gives Wayne a clean break and they circle again. Tie up, Anvil again pushes Wayne to the ropes, knees him in the gut and then hip tosses him to the mat.
Truth Waters: Neat opening for Anvil.
Lariat by Anvil on Wayne, followed by a belly to belly suplex and Wayne is in big trouble. Anvil takes a running start and connects with a running lariat on Wayne, knocking him into tomorrow. Anvil quickly tags in hammer, who jumps into the ring and slaps an armbar on Wayne.
Truth Waters: Anvil is starting to dominate Wayne Russell.
Grapps: Psshh, I’ve seen nothing to worry my thoroughly non-Mexican self!
Wayne gets to his feet and Hammer lets go of the arm and slaps on a head lock. Wayne uses his superior strength to throw Hammer to the ropes, but he gets caught with a spinning heel kick off the ropes. A lightning kick knocks Wayne to the mat again, and Hammer again goes for an armbar. Again he gets pushed to the ropes and Wayne whips him across the ring. A flying dropkick knocks Wayne Russell out of his socks. Hammer tries to keep up the momentum with a clothesline but Wayne ducks out of desperation and then pokes Hammer in the eye.
Truth Waters: Both of these teams can go and seem pretty fight savvy. The Alliance division hasn't looked this good in a while. But what about the #1 contenders, Adam Dick and Mike Wade? Do you think you will be facing them, Green Grappler?
Grapps: Call me Grapps, Truth! Mi casa you casa, you know what I mean?
Truth Waters: Um, no Grapps, I don't actually.
Grapps: Lemme tell you about The Unfuckables and the Alliance titles. Kids at home, don't use words like fuck, because The Green Grappler does not, but this is the AWC, and suckas gots to know. Now, I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying, get my drift? The Unfuckables are one top notch, heck of a kick butt, take no prisoners, tie you up in a basement and put a latex ball in your mouth type of tag team. They are a real 'Pulp Fiction', bend you over a barrel, put a shotgun in your mouth, and drop their pants kinda tag team. I want no part of them, I can assure you!
Wayne grabs his opponent by the shorts and then drops back, driving Hammer's face into the turnbuckle. He then pushes the ref and complains, walking him over to the other side of the ring. Meanwhile Tiara takes advantage of Hammer and chokes him with a foot to the throat in the corner. Anvil runs out to break it up and the ref stops him and Wayne runs over and starts to stomp away at Hammer.
Truth Waters: They are double teaming Hammer in the corner!
Grapps: I would rather face Pleasure And Pain, or maybe even Collision Course. They suck too.
Truth Waters: Grapps, I'm shocked. I can't believe you would say something like that. Are you afraid of Dick and Wade?
George Cassidy: You should be afraid, because they will smack you around like a bitch!
Grapps: Celestial Fury will take on any challengers to the Alliance titles, baby! But no one has stepped up to the plate! Maybe they're all scared! Maybe because I'm so pretty, because I'm so fantastic and so mysterious, like Siegfried and Roy except without the tigers! Yeah, like Shawn Michaels but without the assless chaps!
The ref comes over to stop the double team and Tiara tags in. She kicks Hammer in the knee, then dropkicks him in the same spot, and then roundhouses him in the face out of nowhere. She quickly slaps on a triangle choke on the mat and starts to squeeze the breath out of Hammer with a leg scissors. Hammer is in big trouble for a moment but then reaches the ropes and Tiara has to break the hold. She kicks Hammer in the face a few times before tagging in Wayne again. The big man grabs Hammer by the arm and slams him into the corner shoulder first. Then he starts to punch and kick Hammer repeatedly.
Truth Waters: So Grapps, you are saying you would rather not face The Unfuckables?
Grapps: The Green Grappler is a man of the people. The Green Grappler fights for the people. I do magic tricks for the people. I am the people's hero. I am the every man. I am from the streets, too. And the word on the street is that Adam Dick & Mike Wade are whack. Now what that means, I am not sure. But I do know this. Tiara Belle Russell would be an awesome challenge. She puts the 'fun' into dysfunctional.
An Irish whip sends Wayne across the ring and Hammer follows in with a running dropkick. He then grabs Wayne by the hair and slams him into the turnbuckle face first and tags his partner Anvil.
Grapps: Tempered Steel is another worthy duo of a title shot. Well, maybe I am stretching the meaning of the word 'worthy' a bit too far, but heck, we'll give them a match.
Anvil hits a few hard punches on Wayne Russell and then tries to send him across the ring but Wayne reverses it and Anvil hits the ropes. But Tiara sits on the middle rope and raises the top rope and Anvil flies out of the ring and smashes into the gaurd rail. Tiara acts as if she was lacing her boot and didn't intend to have Anvil hit the floor. The ref admonishes her as Wayne heads to the outside.
Truth Waters: OH MY! Wayne Russell just slammed Anvil back first into the gaurd rail! And now... head first! The referee is all over him and is starting a count and now Wayne gets the message and slides back into the ring. He is arguing with the referee about this. He claims it was an accident... HEY!
George Cassidy: Tiara Belle just hit a rana on Anvil off the apron, on the outside! The ref is distracted, the dumb ass! ha ha! Oh man! She just smacked him right across the face, too!
Grapps: Now that isn't necessary! We can't have AWC duos acting like hooligans, well, in this woman's case, like a bitch!
Truth Waters: Hey! Where is The Green Grappler going?
George Cassidy: He's climbing the ring apron and having a word with the referee... what the hell does he have to do with it?
Truth Waters: Wayne Russell is asking the same thing. Tiara is on the apron too and she is having it out with Grappler. She smacks him! Uh oh!
George Cassidy: Why'd he butt his green.... uh... BUTT in this match!? She has every right to smack him in the face!
Truth Waters: Hammer is in the ring and he rushes Wayne but he ducks! Hammer knocks Tiara and Grappler off the apron and on top of Anvil!
George Cassidy: And Wayne takes Hammer over the top with a clothesline and they both fly out of the ring! We have a fight on the outside! WHAM! Anvil just slammed Grappler right into the steel steps!
Truth Waters: And now P and P and Tempered Steel are fighting it out!
1...
2...
3...
Truth Waters: Wayne Russell and Anvil just tumbled onto the wooden rampart that is set up for the Boardwalk Match! And they are straight up brawling!
George Cassidy: Tiara Belle just raked her long nails in Hammer's eyes... and a NUT SHOT!
4...
5...
6...
Truth Waters: They better watch the count or someone is going to be disqualified!
7...
8...
9...
Truth Waters: Wayne and Anvil are throwing down, and Wayne is on the offense.... NO! Anvil just grabbed a VCR and smashed it over Wayne Russell's head! Wayne Russell is busted open! And Tiara Belle Russell is digging her nails into Hammer's face! She's a nasty one!
10...
George Cassidy: Wait! Someone climbed into the ring before the ten count... OH FUCK IT! It's The Green Gaylord!
Truth Waters: The referee is calling for the bell and The Green Grappler is asking to have his hand raised in victory, but that isn't right!
The ring announcer gets the call from the referee and grabs the microphone.
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, this match has been declared a double count out!
George Cassidy: And the vomit-colored idiot is prancing around the ring like he won the match, when he was the reason it went to shit!
Truth Waters: The Russells and Tempered Steel go to a double count out of ring, with the help, I guess, of The Green Grappler. I hope something here gets resolved because things are getting interesting!
Let The Fucking Begin~!
FEATURING: ZSASZ, TATSUMI RISHIMON, FUKAI MORI
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Zsasz is outside Mikey O’Reilly’s locker room door as the scheduled mizuage is in progress. Zsasz is looking inside on of two Halliburton cases that were presented to him earlier by the highest bidder. He is mentally counting the money inside the case: five hundred thousand in the first case and five hundred thousand in the other, giving him one million dollars. Money is the greatest thing on the planet. Wait, scratch that - Zsasz is the greatest thing on the planet; having a high essential of cash comes in a close second.
Inside the closed locker room, there are sounds of muffled moans and grunts, followed by some dirty talk in Japanese. The talking is coming from a male voice while the other (Fukai Mori) doesn’t bother to comply. Then moaning and grunting quicken and become louder. This catches Zsasz’s attention. He goes to the door, opens it and sneaks a peek. He chuckles to himself at the sight he has briefly seen as he closes the door.
About five minutes later, after the final climatic grunt from the male, all is calm. There are sounds of muffled panting, followed by the male asking Fukai Mori if he’d hurt her in Japanese. She calmly said no in her exhausted voice.
A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal a very tall Japanese man, about six feet, six inches tall with waist-length brown hair tied into a Samurai-style ponytail and has brown eyes. He is tying his robe, looking down at Zsasz, smiling at him.
Japanese Man: Pleasure doing business with you, Zsasz. It does seem weird to pimp out your predecessor with a mizuage. They are completely archaic.
Zsasz nods at the tall Japanese man.
Zsasz: Indeed it is, Tatsumi-san, but what better way to make money off a little girl? Well, in this case, Fukai Mori is now a woman. And what better way for you to celebrate your win in Japan at the God of the Ring tournament in January, and defeating Heisho Kimamoto the next month than to have a little sex? You get what you want, I get what I want and we all walk away happy.
Tatsumi Rishimon nods happily.
Tatsumi Rishimon: Indeed. Anyway, if you need any kimono, you know who to call. Sayonara.
Tatsumi politely bows to Zsasz and the narcissist returns a bow. Zsasz: Sayonara.
A few seconds later, Fukai Mori comes out of the locker room, fumbling into her kimono, inadvertently flashing one of her small breasts - which is immediately censored on every network in the civilised countries AWC broadcasts in - and ties it off. She knows that Zsasz is looming over her, but she doesn’t bring herself to look up at her sensei. Zsasz smiles warmly - or lack of warmth - at his young student.
Zsasz: You know I did this for you in order for you to move on. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You aren’t a whore. Do you understand me?
This time, Fukai looks up at Zsasz, nodding.
Fukai Mori: Hai, Zsasz sensei.
Zsasz continues to smile at his young student, taking his right hand and running his fingers through Fukai’s soft, long black hair. His groin tightens as his fingers move smoothly through her hair.
Zsasz: That’s a good girl. If it isn’t a bother, could you fetch me some tea? I’m feeling parched.
Fukai Mori bows to her sensei and disappears into the locker room, making some tea for Zsasz.
Money and mizuage go hand in hand, and Fukai Mori is proof of that.
Angry Ladies And 40s Of Whiskey
FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND JEREMY J.
Mikey O’Reilly is seen drunkenly trudging along the backstage area looking for more alcohol to consume. In the mood that he’s in he would drink himself to death, but with cooler heads, he decided to have some coffee to combat the headache he’s having.
A few moments later, he sees a redhead with his back turned to him. He smiles drunkenly at the female figure and saunters over to her.
Mikey O’Reilly: Stacy? Is that you?
The woman doesn’t reply. Mikey places a hand on her shoulder.
Mikey O’Reilly: Stacy? What're you doin’ here?
He's instantly looking into two eyes. One is darker than oceanic depths, while the other is ice blue and piercing through his conscious. He looks down and sees a vibrantly colored tattooed chest piece, slightly obscured by a black tanktop. There's a rather grossly sized ring in her nose. Above the eyes is a furrowed brow and pink highlights in amongst a striking natural red. It's Stacy... in his dreams.
The real girl he's touching isn't one he's familiar with greeting, and she also isn't particularly enthralled by the random interaction.
Aimz: Are you lost, or just retarded? I saw a nice dumpster on my way in, maybe you can go get yourself some supper...
Mikey squints at the small woman in front of him. He realizes who he’s looking at isn’t the girlfriend that has given him two children.
Mikey O’Reilly: Wait a fuckin’ minute... yer not Stacy... who the fuck are you an’ where’s my Stacy?!
Aimz: Oh, fucking beautiful... another idiot Irishman. I dunno who 'your Stacy' is, but I'd probably have nailed her in the face if she acted like just another drunken piece of shit.
The tiny redhead rolls her eyes and makes a rather unexpected move...
...By punching O'Reilly squarely in the left eye.
Aimz: There, that sober you up at all? And shouldn't you be moving a crate somewhere?
Mikey covers his eye, looking at the woman in front of him. He becomes angry and takes a swing at her, but Aimz ducks underneath it and gives him a swift kick in the Irish testicles. Mikey drops to his knees, muttering something in Gaelic.
Mikey O’Reilly: You... fuckin’ bitch! When I get my hands on ya I---
Much to his surprise, he vomits on Aimz’ sneakers. It’s obvious that the kick to the nether regions, his temper and his moment of nausea after getting hit in the eye added up to spewing nothing but rancid alcohol onto her manicured shoes.
Aimz: ...I'm gonna get suspended for this...
Her first reaction is to start unbuckling her studded leather belt.
Aimz: Those...
Second, she slips her feet out of the soiled sneakers and onto the clean ground.
Aimz: …were two hundred and fifty FUCKING dollar Nike throwbacks. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BOOZE THAT COULD BUY?!
Finally - and with bare feet - she curls her toes and kicks the leaning Irishman squarely under the jaw, sending him reeling backwards when she grabs him by the hair and begins dragging him out of the catering room, not caring that she's knocking his knees and various extremities against the brick hallway wall. Passers by glance in disgust, but assume that the situation is little more than Amy taking care of someone she might've just slept with.
Her jeans barely cling to her hips, giving O'Reilly a bittersweet view of a toned lower stomach as she drags the much larger man and finally kicks him out the Employees Only entrance of the arena.
Surprisingly, the nearly unconscious drunk hits her in the chin with a decently thrown left hook that only serves to make her angrier. On the small gathering of steps in front of the door, she hangs him over the railing momentarily, noting a dumpster next to the stairs for easily tossing out the arena's trash before and after events. After wrapping her belt around his neck, tight enough to irritate and worry but not nearly enough to choke the Irishman, Aimz winces and uses all of her weight to toss him over the railing, sending him falling half in, half out of the dumpster.
Aimz: That belt was thirty bucks, so expect a nearly three hundred dollar bill in the mail, fuckbag. Enjoy dinner.
She grimaces upon returning into the heat of the arena and touches a hand to her lower back.
Aimz: Weird, I never pull muscles taking the trash out.
Outside, O'Reilly's second fit of puking is caught by garbage bags and old bananas. He's oblivious to the fact that the door closed a good half minute ago.
Mikey O'Reilly: Unfair fight, wench! THERE WERE TWO OF YE!
Mikey O’Reilly rolls off the dumpster, falling onto the ground. He came to the realization that he was beaten up... by a fucking girl. No, not just by a girl... by Aimz!
In searing anger, he lets out a roar, throwing a massive punch in the dumpster, leaving a large, deep dent inside.
Mikey O’Reilly: Tha’ bitch... will die...
He starts to stumble from the scene and looks at his watch, realizing that his match is up. He sees Zsasz patiently standing there, tapping at his own watch. He drunkenly staggers toward him, stomach emptied and pride slashed.
After the humiliation the sustained from Aimz, will he be able to concentrate on the match?
Ooh, It's Never Better When We're Together
FEATURING: JIRO SENNOSUKE, SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: BRYAN
'Hate To Say I Told You So' by the Hives hits the PA, and from out of the back comes Jiro Sennosuke. You, the AWC viewing public, may know Jiro as “that guy who loses matches as part of Collision Course.”
Sennosuke is dressed in his typical ring attire... simple red short tights, and a slightly awkward look on his face, like he's uncomfortable with the attention he's receiving. Even though it's not very much.
Truth Waters: Jiro Sennosuke of Collision Course is making an appearance right now...
George Cassidy: Goody. I can hardly contain my boundless excitement.
Following behind Jiro, somewhat hesitantly, is not Jiro's typical partner, Joey Six... but rather AWC referee, Selena Sumner. She looks hesitant. I do not blame her. Even she has more heat than Jiro…
The crowd can only manage a lukewarm reaction as Jiro makes his way to ringside, and clumsily rolls into the ring. In short order, a technician hands him a microphone, and Selena Summer is left to wander up the steps and into the ring on her own.
Jiro takes a brief moment to scan the crowd, then speaks, eyes downcast a bit, in the general direction somewhere between the floor and the audience. His voice is slightly accented, but very polished.
Jiro Sennosuke: Hello, Atlantic City. I am Jiro Sennosuke.
The crowd can't help but pop a little. Cheap pops are cheap pops.
Jiro Sennosuke: You may know me from Collision Course. The tag team that consistently loses matches here in AWC.
The crowd releases a small chuckle, collectively. Jiro's self-deprecation is not too far off the mark.
Jiro Sennosuke: I'm sure, like myself. You know why this is. It is not because the competition in AWC is too difficult. I am a talented professional wrestler. I know this.
A small murmur of assent, as Jiro Sennosuke is, in truth, not a bad wrestler.
Jiro Sennosuke: It is not because I wrestle people like Tempered Steel...
A small pop for Tempered Steel!
Jiro Sennosuke: ...and it is not because I wrestle people like Red Rock.
A much larger pop for Red Rock!
Jiro Sennosuke: In truth, I know I am better than them.
Wait a second. Better than Red Rock? The crowd offers a few hearty boos at Sennosuke.
Jiro Sennosuke: No, the reason I lose matches is simple. It is because of my partner, Joey Six.
The crowd starts booing, as this makes him sound like a little bitch. But Jiro frowns and tries to continue on.
Jiro Sennosuke: No! You've seen him. He is NOT GOOD.
The crowd may agree, but still boo Jiro.
Jiro Sennosuke: Seriously, though. Tonight, Joey Six is NOT PRESENT. And I would like to take this opportunity to prove MY SKILLS. Without the hundred-and-fifty pound weight dragging me down.
And, unsurprisingly, the crowd continues to boo half-heartedly.
Jiro Sennosuke: NO! I AM THE BEST WRESTLER HERE, RIGHT NOW!
All his reaction is doing is causing the crowd to boo him more and more.
Jiro Sennosuke: Let me prove that I am the best wrestler here, in AWC. Better than Jack Murphy, or Aimz, or...
Boos. Boos. Sennosuke can't take it.
Jiro Sennosuke: SCREW YOU, ATLANTIC CITY! I COULD OUTWRESTLE ANYONE IN THE BACK, OR ANYONE IN THIS ENTIRE FAH-KING TOWN!! I CAN!!
Truth Waters: Alright now. I think he's just being a little bi---
The boos pick up in intensity.
Jiro Sennosuke: Anyone! Anyone can come down and wrestle me right now, and...
A chunky guitar riff strikes through the arena, and it's one that hasn't been heard in AWC before. A loud voice echoes through the PA. The song is 'Bloodclot' by Rancid.
HEY! HO!
The fans in attendance in Atlantic City, being good wrestling fans, and good New Jerseyans, stand up to their feet. And roar. Because they recognize the call. They've felt the atmosphere go from awkward to electric.
HEY! HO!
The curtain flares open, and from behind it...
HEY! HO!
Jiro Sennosuke vs Kyle Lamen
STIPULATION: IMPROMPTU SINGLES
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: BRYAN
...Kyle “Velocity” Lamen.
The crowd? Thrilled. Excited. It's New Jersey's favorite son. Internationally renowned wrestling star.
Jiro Sennosuke? Less... than... pleased. His face falls, his eyes low with guilt and embarrassment.
KVL strides to the ring, wearing his signature guitar slung over his back, and his signature blue hair spiked at attention. Instead of wearing traditional wrestling gear, he's sporting a pair of black, heavy jeans and a white t-shirt with the old Ramones logo on it. And he wastes little time in sliding into the ring on his stomach, and snatching the microphone away from Jiro Sennosuke.
Jiro looks frustrated, but does and says nothing, as Lamen taps on the microphone, testing it and waiting for the crowd to calm down.
Kyle Lamen: For those of you who don't know...and there may be half a dozen of you... I am Kyle Lamen, and I am here, tonight, in A... W... C...
He pauses for a moment. Drama.
Kyle Lamen: Jiro Sennosuke... what the HELL do you think you're doing?
The crowd roars in approval.
Kyle Lamen: Seriously now, kid. This isn't like you. You're right, you're a ridiculously talented wrestler. But right now, you're acting like a petulant little bitch.
Again, another roar of approval.
Kyle Lamen: I respect you wanting to show off your skills and all that, but cutting down your partner when he's not even here to defend himself? Weak. And embarrassing ME, by acting like a child on the air, when I'm the one who's trained you? Super weak.
Kyle takes the dramatic pause.
Kyle Lamen: So, fine. You've got what you wanted. You want to test your skills against the best in the business? You want to call out the crowd in the finest state in the union...
Cheap pop. But it works. Kyle gets right up in the grill of his protégé.
Kyle Lamen: …you got it. It's on.
Roar of approval from the crowd. Kyle gingerly hands the mic back to his student. Jiro's reply is curt.
Jiro Sennosuke: Sumner-san... ring the bell.
And before anything else can happen, before anyone can react, Jiro Sennosuke cracks the microphone in the face of his former trainer, sending him down to the mat, and Kyle's prized guitar to the mat next to him. Following this, the bell finally sounds.
Truth Waters: I don't believe this! Kyle Lamen is here, tonight. And we have an impromptu match!
Pouncing on the self-styled “Evolution of ReVolution” like some kind of tiger, the furious Sennosuke batters him with a few hard rights and lefts.
George Cassidy: Jiro Sennosuke, tonight, claimed he would prove himself against AWC's best... but the guy in the ring isn't even an AWC wrestler!
Truth Waters: Sure, yeah... that's very true. But Kyle Lamen is a proven competitor and commodity for other wrestling organizations. He's wrestled for some of the finest companies in the history of the sport. And with the animosity or friendly rivalry, whichever way you look at it, between AWC and PRIME, this could be a way to settle things! Now, that having been said... exactly what is he doing here... at an AWC event!?
George Cassidy: Well, getting the crap kicked out of him, at least for right now.
Finally, Sennosuke gets up, away from Lamen, and starts pulling him up to his feet. He delivers a stiff kick to Lamen's midsection, then delivers a strong open-hand thrust to the face, knocking him back down. Lamen struggles to make it back to his feet, as quickly as he can.
Truth Waters: Sennosuke is looking like a pretty good striker here. He hits hard and follows through. Guy could probably do some REAL damage with a little more training.
Sennosuke moves in on the rising Lamen, who swiftly delivers a standing arm drag, reigniting the crowd. Sennosuke is quickly back on his feet, and then he delivers an arm-drag of his own, a perfect copy of Lamen's! Both men rush to their feet, close on each other, then quickly stop. Lamen fakes a first step in, Sennosuke bites and moves forward, and Kyle quickly takes Jiro down with a drop-toe hold!
George Cassidy: Look pretty even, but I liked it a little better when Sennosuke was thrashing that guy.
Lamen leaps into the air to hit a somersault leg drop on the prone Sennosuke, but Jiro is able to roll out of the way, and Kyle just hits the mat hard. While Kyle is still sitting and stunned, Sennosuke rears back, takes two quick steps, and delivers a strong SHINING WIZARD straight in Kyle's face. Kyle is knocked down, and Sennosuke goes for a pinfall, hooking the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Jiro just slaps the mat in frustration, and pulls Kyle back up to a standing position.
Truth Waters: Sennosuke was about a half-second away from a VERY big win.
Jiro Sennosuke whips Kyle Lamen into the ropes, and a look of frustration comes to his face, as he realizes that he MAY have just made a mistake. Sure enough, Lamen rebounds off the ropes, then takes to the air, delivering a powerful flying forearm. Sennosuke drops in pain, but is quickly up to his feet.
Truth Waters: Kyle Lamen like a house of fire!
Lamen is waiting for Sennosuke as he stands, and he spins and applies a quick rear waistlock. As Sennosuke swiftly tries to break it, Kyle hoists Jiro into the air for a modified back suplex, but once Jiro is up, he's pushed over and back over Kyle's back, and is now falling face-first behind Kyle. Without looking, Kyle hooks his head, and delivers a stunning falling bulldog, and Sennosuke bounces off the mat with the impact.
Truth Waters: Wow! Mighty innovative offense from the outsider...
Immediately, Kyle Lamen points to the far turnbuckle, and the crowd pops in approval. He immediately starts mounting it.
George Cassidy: This kid's goofing around, trying to go high-risk here...
Lamen takes a half-second to pose on the top turnbuckle, before springing up and off in a backflip, as if to deliver his shooting star elbow drop, oblivious to Jiro Sennosuke's hand resting on Kyle's fallen guitar from his entrance earlier...
George Cassidy: He's taking too long...
Jiro Sennosuke, pulls the guitar up from the mat, and rams it manfully into Lamen's midsection as he comes off the top. Kyle doubles over, and crashes hard into the ground in pain, and Selena Sumner quickly signals for the bell. The crowd roars it's disapproval.
Truth Waters: We were getting a pretty decent match there for a moment, but Sennosuke had to ruin it for us.
James Brunt: The winner, by disqualification... Kyle “Velocity” Lamen!
Sennosuke stares at Lamen's trademark guitar in his hand, then tosses it aside, almost casually as he rises to his feet. We can see him mouth something.
Jiro Sennosuke: I didn't want to do that, Kyle...
Almost reluctantly, Jiro pulls Lamen up to his feet, and applies an inverted facelock to the Crown Prince of Punk Rock, who's obviously dazed from the brutal guitar shot.
Truth Waters: Could we finally see a finisher from this kid?
Jiro goes to hoist Kyle into the air, but, with a burst of energy, Kyle squirms free, never straying more than an arm's length from Sennosuke. Before Jiro even knows what is happening, Lamen ducks under his arm, grips Sennosuke, spins, and hits a snap flatliner.
Truth Waters: The Maximum Velocity 2! Lamen's finisher!
Sennosuke hits the mat hard, and doesn't move. Lamen makes his way to his feet, still selling his midsection, but half-smiling in hard-won triumph.
George Cassidy: Say what you want, the kid put on a good show against one of the best in the business.
Kyle gives Jiro a disappointed look, as Jiro finally starts to stir, and retrieves his guitar from the mat.
Truth Waters: Sure, and sure he cheated, and sure he lost the match, and sure, he embarrassed himself out there. I'm sure that both his duo partner, and the rest of the AWC backstage isn't gonna really be endeared to this guy.
As Kyle offers one last pose to his hometown fans, Sennosuke just stirs on the mat, and slowly, covers his face in embarrassment. Lamen just makes his way to the back, lesson taught.
George Cassidy: Well, who cares. He can go in the ring, can't he?
So, You Wanted To Slap The Taste Out Of Someone's Mouth?
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE, TERESA TOMAS
AUTHORS: JAY AND SONYA
The camera slowly fades into the arena where 'Thug Luv' by 2Pac and Bone Thugs N' Harmony begins to play.
Truth Waters: Oh no! Not “V”!
George Cassidy: You're not thrilled?
Truth Waters: Not when this guy shows up on the scene. He's nothing but trouble.
George Cassidy: Funny, I think the same of you all the time.
Vince Jones and Jasmine emerge from the entranceway and make their way down to the ring to the dismay of the crowd. Vince Jones is handed a mic and he and Jasmine slide into the ring. Vince Jones looks around at the crowd with a smug expression on his face.
Vince Jones: A Dubb C, how does it feel to be feastin' yo eyes on the up and comin' Relentless champ up in this joint tonight?
Truth Waters: The next Relentless champion? That'll be the day. I don't know who's worse, Wade or Jones.
The crowd goes wild with a chorus of boos.
George Cassidy: I think they're both fine individuals if I do say so myself.
Truth Waters: At least he’s bl--- wait.
Vince Jones: Yeah. V feelin' the same way 'bout you bitch mades right about now, not too thrilled; but, V. Jones can't let you people rain on his damn parade. Hell nah! V. Jones gonna be...
Teresa Tomas: Ok.. ok.. I've heard enough of this babbling baboon. Jasmine hun? I hear you got some beef with me?
Truth Waters: Whoooooooa! Someone's got the fire lit under her thong tonight for her to go walking right into a lion's den uninvited like this.
Teresa enters the ring and boldly steps past Vince and gets into Jasmine's face. Jasmine can smell the whiskey on Teresa's breath. Then Teresa says slowly:
Teresa Tomas: I... DARE... you to slap me.
George Cassidy: Well, don't just stand there! Do it!
Jasmine looks over at Vince waiting for him to act on her behalf. Vince gets the cue and slides over to Teresa.
Vince Jones: (shaking his head and waving a finger) Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold the phone here! (points at Teresa) You cuttin' in on V's time here! He tryin' talk to his fans about his upcomin' Beneath the Boardwalk match tonight! V got the damn mic right now so get the hell on before V. Jones has to get you the hell on, bitch!
Truth Waters: Now this isn't even fair! Why would he pick on a woman like Teresa?
George Cassidy: Well, she obviously has interrupted Vince and we all know how much Vince Jones values hearing his own voice.
Jasmine smiles confidently. Teresa looks Vince up and down then smirks.
Teresa Tomas:And I'm supposed to be scared? Do I look scared? If you don't mind, I'm settling a little problem your lady friend here has with me. NOW, you gonna let her be the woman she claims to be and face me or am I gonna have to stick your mic up your ass?
Vince Jones folds his arms across his chest, looks down at Teresa and laughs to himself.
Vince Jones: Yeah, whateva, lil woman. What you gonna do? V'd love to see you try and make a move. Go ahead, girl. Bust a move. If you ain't 'bout to do shit that's understandable.
Vince Jones leans down and waves his hand in front of her face.
Vince Jones: We wouldn't want the little woman breakin' a nail or nothin' now.
Truth Waters: (laughing) He did not just go there.
George Cassidy: I think he just did.
Jasmine laughs out loud. Teresa raises an eyebrow to Vince, gives Jasmine a quick glance, then right out of the blue, she grabs Vince's little Vinnies and squeezes them like lemons. Vince's eyes grow wide as he grimaces with pain and drops to the mat in pain.
George and Truth: (in unison) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Vince rolls out the ring leaving a terrified Jasmine alone with Teresa. Jasmine walks over with a nervous smile on her face and lays a gentle hand on Teresa's shoulder.
Truth Waters: I think every man across the globe just felt that.
Jasmine: Now Teresa...
Teresa whirls around and shoves Jasmine back a few steps.
Teresa Tomas: Don't you "now Teresa" me, Jasmine!
Jasmine: Calm down, Teresa. Let me explain...
Teresa Tomas: What's there to explain, hun? I'm not stupid! I heard everything you had to say about me last week! You've obviously got beef with me, girl. If that's the case then we can settle that right here and right now!
Jasmine waves her hands wildly and tries her best to calm Teresa down.
Truth Waters: Oh, now she wants to back down.
George Cassidy: Well, everyone makes mistakes, Truth. That's why you're here.
Truth Waters: Very funny, Cassidy!
George Cassidy: I know it was.
Jasmine: No, no, no, no, no, noooo!!! That won't be necessary! I mean, I, people have off days. I was just having a bad day. That's all. I mean you're not so ugly... I mean---
Teresa hears this, folds her arms across her chest, and shakes her head in disappointment with Jasmine. Jasmine's eyes grow wide with terror at her slip.
Jasmine: Look! I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! I didn't mean to say that at all!
Teresa snatches Jasmine by her hair and Jasmine begins whimpering like a little baby.
Teresa Tomas: Are you gonna smack me like you said you would? If you're gonna do it Jasmine now's your chance. I know you're not about to disappoint all these people. These people are looking for someone to get smacked right about now! Make your move!
All of a sudden a "Jasmine's a bitch" chant rings out in the crowd as she drops to her knees and begins pleading with Teresa.
Teresa Tomas: Alright. Then I guess I'll make that move for you!
Teresa cocks back and slaps the taste right out of Jasmine's mouth knocking her down to the mat. The crowd goes wild. Teresa looks down at Jasmine in fury. Vince Jones can be seen rising to his feet rather slowly still feeling the pain from Teresa's cheap shot.
Truth Waters: Whooooooa! She nearly smacked the make-up off her face with that blow.
Teresa Tomas: You don't want any problems with me. That's not what you want, hun! Now be a good girl and lick up your boyfriend's wounds.
George Cassidy: Is there a lesson to be learned from all of this?
Truth Waters: Yeah! If your lady friend is a loud mouth put a muzzle on her because she just might get you in trouble with that mouth of hers. If I was Vince I'd be livid right about now.
Teresa exits the ring as the crowd goes nuts at what just transpired. Jasmine rolls over and glares at Teresa as she exits the arena. The camera slowly fades to black.
Opportunity Wasted
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: FERGUS
There's a knock on the door as the scene bursts into light and as this happens we can see that Jack Murphy is already in his wrestling gear, getting prepared for his match later on in the evening. He's pretty focused and his gesture to the door is very half assed.
Jack Murphy: Yeah.
In walks Sasha Volkyeva and in a good mood no less. In her hands she carries a bottle of wine and two glasses. She walks over seductively to the Bull and her forwardness is quite strange, especially on television. Murphy sees this as such.
Jack Murphy: What are you doing?
Sasha Volkyeva: Well, I thought myself and yourself could come to get... better acquainted.
She puts the bottle and glasses down. Slowly she drifts a finger up Murphy's body up to his neck. Jack totally snubs her.
Jack Murphy: Not now Sasha. I'd love to but you know, with this match...
Sasha Volkyeva: (crestfallen) If you say so... I just thought we could talk.
Jack Murphy: (rooting in kit bag) After my match ok?
Sasha Volkyeva: Sure.
Without another word Sasha leaves, the wine still in the room. Murphy looks up as the door is slammed but he merely shrugs and gets back to preparation.
Just Friends
FEATURING: CHAINZ, TERESA TOMAS, TRACY
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND SONYA
The cameras cut backstage to Teresa Tomas’ locker room, which is slightly ajar. A familiar voice belonging to none other than Chainz can be heard from within.
Chainz: You know I really enjoyed having someone to talk to. Been so long since I could get something off of my chest.
Teresa continues putting on her ring attire for her upcoming match. She takes her long hair and begins placing it into a ponytail.
Teresa Tomas: Listen Chainz, you don’t need a friend like me, all I am is a drunken out of place tomboy, with a slight temper problem.
Chainz: And all they say I am is a sick bastard with many worse problems than a slight temper. Besides, no one else will have anything to do with me; no one will even give me a chance.
Teresa Tomas goes over to her igloo cooler and grabs a pair of beers. She tosses one over to Chainz with a smile.
Teresa Tomas: You know, it seems we have a lot more in common than one would think. Besides, screw everyone else, they’re just self-centered morons.
Chainz: You know I’ve never really had a friend that was a girl and was just a friend.
Teresa looks over with an eyebrow raised.
Teresa Tomas: You don’t say; have you had a lot of girlfriends?
Chainz: I’ve had a lot of girls, but they haven’t all been friends.
As the two share their beers the door suddenly bursts open and a pissed off and hurt Tracy walks in.
Tracy: Michael, I can’t believe you. After last week and you’re still hanging out with this drunk!
Chainz: Calm down, it’s just a beer and nothing is going down.
Tracy: Relax, you’re telling me to relax. How can I relax when every time I turn my back you’re in a woman’s room, or trying to get with someone. Am I that repulsive to you?
Chainz: What are you talking about, there’s nothing between me and Teresa, we’re just friends. You’re not repulsive you’re beautiful and I love you.
Tracy: Why don’t you try and show it every once in a while.
Teresa Tomas: Look Tracy, I know this is none of my business, but Chainz is telling the truth. We’re just friends and I have no desire to be anything else.
Tracy: Maybe you don’t, but I know Michael and I know how his mind works. Maybe he has the intention to be just friends, but he can’t keep himself on the right path. I’ve tried and tried to do right, but he always finds a way to screw things up.
Chainz: Fuck that!
Chainz throws the beer against the wall and gets right into Tracy’s face, who now looks scared and terrified of the monster in front of her.
Chainz: You never really trust me, you say you do, but anytime I go out you call me and bug me and never truly leave me be. I said I love you and I meant it, I gave you a fucking ring and I asked you to marry me. Why the fuck can’t you get off my case and give me some peace.
Tracy is speechless, never hearing these words from Chainz. Without saying anything she turns and runs out of the locker room in tears. Chainz swears a storm as he turns and opens the igloo, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.
Teresa Tomas: Maybe you shouldn’t.
Chainz throws Teresa a glance that could kill and quickly opens the whiskey, taking a deep chug. Without another word he exists the locker room with the bottle in hand.
Mikey O'Reilly vs Jason Ortiz vs Mr. Marshall
STIPULATION: THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: TASO
James Brunt: The following is a Three Way Fury match. Introducing first, from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 207 pounds... J-Dizzal... JASON ORTIZ!
You ready?! Let's go!
Yeah, for those of you that want to know what we're all about
It's like this y'all (c'mon!)
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
The cameras fade out slowly as the yellow and blue lights begin to flick on and off; finally they stay there in solid color, and they begin to focus more on the entrance ramp. Quickly, two yellow pyros shoot up at the bottom of the entrance, and making their way all the way up top, rotating colors from yellow to blue. Finally, the top of the entrance lights up in tall yellow sparks that shoot out of the exit way. A glimpse of Jason Ortiz is shown.
Mike! - He doesn't need his name up in lights
He just wants to be heard whether it's the beat or the mic
He feels so unlike everybody else, alone
In spite of the fact that some people still think that they know him
But fuck 'em, he knows the code
It's not about the salary
It's all about reality and making some noise
Makin' the story - makin' sure his clique stays up
That means when he puts it down Tak's pickin' it up! Let's go!
He slowly makes his way down to the ring, giving the crowd a huge response to their chant.
"CRACK HEAD! CRACK HEAD! CRACK HEAD!"
Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much
Never concerned with status but still leavin' them star struck
Humbled through opportunities given to him despite the fact
That many misjudge him because he makes a livin' from writin' raps
Put it together himself, now the picture connects
Never askin' for someone's help, to get some respect
He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach
And now when it all unfolds, the skill of an artist
"CRACK HEAD! CRACK HEAD!!CRACK HEAD!"
Jason Ortiz smirks a few times before stopping at the edge of the ring, he takes a look to the right - then to the left. He does a quick slide into the ring, and makes his way towards his corner. Then he does his signature taunt to the crowd, pointing up at the entrance as a special made pyro shoots off in the air, making the the first and last letter of his name. The music begins to fade out as the flickering lights begin to fade out.
James Brunt: And his opponent... from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 251 pounds... MR. MARSHALL!
Out comes Mr. Marshall as his music plays and the fans applaud the newcomer. After winning his first match last week against Neurotic he is giving people some hope there is another good wrestler on the roster. And hits the ring and motions to the fans as they cheer.
James Brunt: And their opponent, from Belfast, Ireland, weigh---
Truth Waters: Hey, someone's cut off James Brunt's mic!
'Conquer All' by Behemoth starts to play as Zsasz steps out onto the stage, does a little spin for everyone, showing off his obligatory perfection. When he's done, he faces the fans, smiling his pearly-white sadistic smile at them, he makes his announcement as his entrance music fades into obscurity.
Zsasz: Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to present to you the next big thing in Atlantic Wrestling Club. It has taken me six years to mold the perfect wrestling machine and now, it has come to fruition. I give you... MIKEY O'REILLY!
A melodic, beautiful sound of a pair of acoustic guitars fill the arena with music. An Italian style solo plays, then the introduction fades into hard, driving metal as 'The Enemy' by Team Cazares starts to play.
Mikey O'Reilly is seen stomping out of the black curtain, barely keeping his balance due to his inebriated state. He looks out into the fans, then at Zsasz with smoldering eyes, then drunkenly walks down to the ring, surprisingly keeping his balance.
I finally found myself;
I tried to erase all this hate from my body.
I tried to end all the lies, all the pain that I caused everyone.
But it all seemed so fucking useless!
He rolls into the ring, stumbling around, then falls onto the mat. The fans laugh at him but he ignores it. He picks himself up, trying to compose his drunken self.
I can’t forgive
And I can’t forget.
Don’t you know who the fuck I am?
I’m the enemy
THE ENEMY!
The enemy.
THE ENEMY!
After composure, he saunters over to a corner, removes his shirt and slouches into the corner, draping his shirt over his head like a towel, as he waits for his opponents.
Truth Waters: I think we got ourselves a problem here... Mikey O'Reilly is drunk as a skunk!
George Cassidy: Zsasz would never represent a stinking drunk as a client! How dare you!?
Truth Waters: Look at him, nitwit! He's plastered! The referee doesn't have much of a choice and he calls for the bell and this three way dance is on!
George Cassidy: Mikey is just fine, see? He's swinging his meat hooks at... something... THAT'S THE REF!
Truth Waters: He's too plastered to realize he's trying to punch the referee! The zebra barely ducked a left hook and Mikey grabs the ropes so he doesn't fall down. LOOK OUT! Whoa! Double clothesline by Ortiz and Mr. Marshall and Mikey O'Reilly flies over the top rope and to the floor!
Mr. Marshall yells at Mikey from the ring, taking his eyes off of Ortiz for just a moment. Ortiz doesn't hesitate to throw a nasty low kick right on the thigh of Marshall, buckling his knee. Another stiff kick catches Marshall on the shoulder, and then a third to the back of the head. Ortiz hits the ropes looking for a big boot but Marshall twirls away and slaps the kick aside, landing a nice backhand punch to the side of the head of Jason Ortiz.
Truth Waters: Oh my! These guys look downright serious in there! Ortiz and Marshall are squaring off!
The shoot boxer from Miami, Florida shakes off the punch and starts throwing his own as Marshall backs up dodging. A couple of quick right jabs are followed by a left which forces Marhsall to duck and spin away low. A right hook by Ortiz just whizzes over the head of Marshall but he can't dodge the left hook to the body. The following uppercut sends him sprawling to the ropes and he throws his hands up in defense.
Truth Waters: We got ourselves a knock out, drag 'em down fist flying fight on our hands! The referee needs to get Ortiz to open those closed fists!
An elbow to the jaw knocks Marshall back toward the corner turnbuckle, as he throws his own punches in defense. He blocks most of an elbow to his chin, and then a straight punch to the face, but he looks to be in major trouble in the corner. Ortiz is looking good, forcing his will and his strategy upon Marshall. A kick to the gut doubles him over and the fans roar in appreciation of the action. Ortiz sends another kick into Marshall's ribs, and then a left kick to the liver, but in the corner the ropes and the turnbuckle are protecting Marshall from the majority of the damage.
Truth Waters: This is straight out of an octagon, people! Ortiz has Marshall totally on the defensive and now he is throwing punch after punch and Marshall is covering up as best he can!
George Cassidy: Marshall is getting his ass wooped! He's being beaten like a redneck housewife!
Truth Waters: He's charging out of the corner to get in close... he grabs a waistlock on Ortiz who starts to drop elbows on the neck... side suplex by Marshall on Ortiz! He makes his first big move! But that won't stop Ortiz who continues to throw from the ground! TRIANGLE CHOKE! TRIANGLE CHOKE! Marshall just slapped it on Ortiz who was stubbornly not giving up on those lefts and right but now Marshall has him locked in!
The energy and the excitement of this outburst of violence is quickly dissipated when O'Reilly stumbles back into the ring. He kicks a bent over Ortiz in the gut a couple of times, and then drops an elbow on Marshall. He tries again but Marshall lets go of the hold and rolls away causing O'Reilly to hit canvas. He gets up, flustered and confused and Marshall comes up from underneath and lifts him up on his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He throws him up in the air and connects with a shoulderbreaker and O'Reilly sits on his ass on the mat grabbing his shoulder.
George Cassidy: I don't know alot about Mikey O'Reilly. But this Zsasz guy, I hear good things.
Truth Waters: Good things means bad things when it comes to your taste in styles. Zsasz is a very mysterious man. There is something about him I can't quite put my finger on. He is the manager of O'Reilly. And right here I have to say, I think O'Reilly is wasted or something!
George Cassidy: O'Reilly is versed in boxing. He is a hell of a striker. Zsasz must know something about him. He looks like a tough s.o.b. and we've had a few mean Irish bastards in AWC before.
Truth Waters: He was a bare knuckle boxer to be more precise.
BOOM! A kick to the face from Ortiz lays out O'Reilly on the mat. Before Ortiz can capitalize he gets caught from behind with a Gory Neckbreaker from Marshall. Perhaps upset by Ortiz's showing in the first few moments, Marshall tries to show him up with a Fujiwara armbar. The crowd explodes as Ortiz struggles to get out of the hold. He rolls over and surprisingly is able to get his arm free and goes right for Marshall's foot with an ankle lock, and again the fans cheer. Marshall kicks Ortiz with his free leg a few times and pulls his foot free and both men scramble, but Marshall dupes Ortiz into thinking he is going to his feet. With a quick spin he drops down and grapevines Ortiz's leg and slaps on his own ankle lock and again the fans cheer.
George Cassidy: Can anyone doubt Jason Ortiz and his abilities? This guy was a gang member. God knows what he would do to become the best here in AWC!
Truth Waters: Jason Ortiz has a shady past, there is no doubt about that. He is an x-factor here in AWC. Who will he align with? Or will he be out for himself? This man loves to play the game, and he loves to beat on people. There's no better place to do that then in the AWC. But is it good for this promotion if you are bringing in these thugs and ex-cons and people of ill repute?
George Cassidy: Jason Ortiz hears you talking, man, you'll be wearing concrete shoes by the next day. Just smile and wave like I do to all the wrestlers.
Ortiz twists his body and snaps his leg free, moving Marshall to his stomach in the process, immediately jumping on him with an STF. The crowd erupts again as this match is a technical marvel. But the boos start raining down as Billy O'Reilly stumbles over and drops an elbow on Ortiz's head.
Truth Waters: Mr. Marshall is another man in this match who has a heck of a chance to win this thing. He has been scouting his competition all week.
Billy punches at Ortiz who covers up and rolls away, and Billy's very slow to keep up. Marshall is on his feet before O'Reilly can blink and he grabs the drunken man by the hair. He lifts him to his feet and whips him to the ropes, slamming him down to the mat with a spinning spinebuster. Marshall has his wits about him as Ortiz moves in and he catches him low and brings him up over his shoulders and right back down again with a nice Alabama Slam. Marshall then goes right to a single leg Boston crab.
Truth Waters: Speak of the devil, Marshall is on fire here! And he might get a submission on Ortiz!
Ortiz is able to fight hard enough to keep from being turned over completely and with a swivel of his hips he is on his back again and kicks Marshall in the teeth. Ortiz nips up and ducks as Marshall comes at him with a clothesline, and Marshall slaps on a sleeper, followed by a body triangle, and then as they land on the mat, a full on rear naked choke.
Truth Waters: NICE! Marshall putting on a wrestling clinic here! But here comes O'Reilly and he punches Marshall right in the jaw! I think he is shaking off whatever the hell is wrong with him because he connected with that punch right to the jaw of Mr. Marshall. On target with that hammer punch! And Marhsall breaks the hold on Ortiz.
George Cassidy: Mikey throwing hammer punches on Ortiz now and the referee has to get in there and start the 5 count... too bad. I like seeing someone get his face punched in!
Truth Waters: 3... 4... 5... 6... the ref needs to DQ him! Hey! Mr. Marshall from behind... RELEASE DRAGON SUPLEX ON MIKEY O'REILLY!
George Cassidy: WHOA! Big sweeping kick by Ortiz catches Marshall in the face! But he better watch out... WHAMMO! Mikey O'Reilly just tackled Ortiz and slammed him into the corner. He shook that dragon suplex off really fast! And now O'Reilly throwing punches to the kidneys and face and mid-section! He calls this Playin' Bully! Ortiz tries to push him off and so does the referee! But he pushes them both back and keeps throwing fists!
O'Reilly is so busy pounding on Ortiz he doesn't see Marshall on his feet across the ring in the opposite corner. Marshall gets a head of steam and charges the corner,but at the last second O'Reilly sidesteps. Ortiz takes a jumping knee right to the face. Marshall raises his hands and pumps his fist in jubilation at the attack, only to turn around and gets head butted three times in the face by O'Reilly.
George Cassidy: Marshall on wobbly legs here and Ortiz comes flying out of the corner with a killer uppercut and Marshall is rocked!
Truth Waters: O'Relly grabs Marshall by the arm and whips him around, and around, and slams him right into Ortiz! Mr. Marshall's head is spinning! O'Reilly grabs him and throws him up on his shoulders! FALLING OF CHRIST!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: Just like that it's over! Mikey O'Reilly has his hand risen by the ref and the guy is lucky is he can stand! But somehow he was able to slip in between the cracks when Ortiz was down, and pinned Mr. Marshall with that crucifix straight jacket piledriver! What a big win for Mikey O'Reilly, who came in against two very strong competitors!
George Cassidy: I think Zsasz picked himself one heck of a prospect!
Truth Waters: There's more to Mikey O'Reilly then meets the eye, I am sure of that! We'll be right back!
Do We Really Want This Man As Our Relentless Champion?
FEATURING: VINCE JONES
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera fades in and the screen is pitch black. An announcer with a gruff voice begins to speak over the darkness.
Announcer: He is one cocky ass son of a bitch...
A clip from Fresh! of Vince Jones standing in the ring ranting and raving from a few weeks prior begins to play.
Vince Jones: Ya know somethin'? You cats can yap, cry, bitch, whine, and moan all you want up in here tonight. You cats can even make all the damn noise you want in here. Blow the fuckin' roof off this joint with all yo hate on V, but keep in mind that V the one with the mic in this ring tonight, not you pack of bitch mades! Whether you cats like it or not V. Jones' voice will be heard. 'Nuff said on that shit...
The clip ceases.
Announcer: He won't hesitate to whoop some ass...
All of a sudden a clip of Vince Jones' attack on Shawn Harris is shown. It is inside a parking lot outside of the Hinkel Fieldhouse the location of Fresh just a weeks ago.
Shawn Harris can be seen standing outside of his rental car feeling around in his pockets for his keys. All of a sudden out of nowhere 'The Violence' Vince Jones comes charging onto the scene and nails Shawn Harris from behind square in the back with his black, Louisville slugger bat. Shawn Harris drops to his knees grimacing in pain. Vince Jones snatches him by his hair and glares down at him in fury.
Vince Jones: Son you fucked up big time last week! You dropped the fuckin' ball and lost our tag match, bitch!!
Vince Jones slams Shawn Harris' head square into the side of the rental car. Vince does so again and again in succession. Finally Vince Jones lifts Shawn Harris to his feet whirls him around and slams him head first through the glass of the driver's side window. Shawn Harris rolls backwards and falls to the ground unconscious as Vince Jones looks down at Shawn Harris and shakes his head in disgust. Vince Jones can once again be heard speaking in the background.
Vince Jones: ...yo punk ass gets silenced! Any questions, A Dubb C?? Enjoy your early retirement, Harris!
Announcer: He is a man that won't hesitate to speak his mind...
Clips from Vince Jones' Praise Hotline footage flashes up on the screen one after the other.
He is seen sitting on a leather sofa alongside his lovely valet, Jasmine. Vince looks at the camera with a cocky smirk on his face.
Vince Jones: ...but, before we get down to that its time for The Violence to holla at you peoples about his upcomin' match.
Vince Jones thinks about his upcoming match-up and laughs to himself.
Vince Jones: Scratch that. V gonna talk to you people 'bout his upcomin' win that he's 'bout to collect...
Clip 2
Vince Jones: ....These types of matches are V's bread and butta. Why? Cuz The Violence Vince Jones walks in knowin' there ain't no damn rules applyin' here. If V. Jones happens to "accidentally" beat a b*tch made to within an inch of his or her life (nearly salivates at the thought) its all legal. In fact, its almost like its a requirement in V's mind here.
Clip 3
Vince Jones: So, you wanna know why a man like V. Jones is gettin' paid more than a cat like you? First off, V. Jones been doin' his thing since been doin' his thing, since been doin' his damn thing in this game for a long time, man. While yo name spans a block V. Jones name spans coasts, continental style, son; but, you (points at the camera) might not know 'bout sh*t like that. V ain't expectin' ya too.
Clip 4
Vince Jones: And once again we got Red Rock on the phone lookin' to catch just a lil piece of V. Jones' shine. Now Red Rock, V. Jones got a question for you, son. When you talkin' 'bout countin' rocks are you talkin' 'bout (A) the rocks on the ground, (B) the rocks that yo down syndrome friends prolly chunkin' at the back of yo fat head right about now or (C) the rocks that you been smokin' to get you the courage to be talkin' all this ish on V's Praise Hotline. Red Rock, if yo answer was (C) V. Jones hope you still floatin' on that high durin' that Beneath the Boardwalk match this week. You're gonna need. 'Nuff said. Now who's next on the phone lines?
The camera slowly fades out once again.
Announcer: Is this the type of man we want representing us in AWC as the Relentless champ? Hell yeah! 'The Violence' Vince Jones for Relentless champion in 2006.
Vince Jones looks at the camera and points at it.
Vince Jones: 'Nuff said, bitches!
Well, Do We?
FEATURING: RED ROCK, D'AVID
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
The shot cuts straight to Red Rock standing in a backstage room, probably where someone of his status shouldn’t be but no one will ever find… well they will but... ah fuck it… Anyway Red Rock is standing in front of a television screen just after Vince Jones’ 5 minute waste of airtime. Standing with Red Rock is his neighbour and manager D’avid Bulrat. Red Rock stands with his arms folded with a disgusted look on his face at what he has just seen.
Red Rock: Oh my GOD, Vince Jones is a shitting window licking retard! What the FUCK was that shit?
D’avid: I don’t know! I wasn’t watching it!
Red Rock: Vince Jones, what is he? He’s a bloody rasclart! He thinks because you wear sun glasses you’re a “cocky” “cool” guy, well the jokes on him, because it’s not even sunny!
Red Rock switches the TV off as he becomes increasingly irritated about Vince Jones’ shameless self shilling.
Red Rock: I don’t get what the point of that was, Vince Jones for Relentless champion? The fucking idiot, it’s not an election it’s a wrestling match! He really does need to stop wasting his time breath and money on crap like that. He could be doing something worth while like buying some books that you don’t have to colour in.
D’avid: heh!
Red Rock: Argh I’ll tell you what he better watch his bastarding back in this match because there’s nothing that pisses me off more than some retard thinking he’s above everyone…well that’s most of the roster but at least Adam Dick or Mike Wade have something to be cocky about! What does Vince Jones have to brag about, so what if he’s been in the game for a long time, so? A hockey player with no arms could play hockey for 10 years, it doesn’t mean he’s good at it. Christ! I’m going to win that relentless title just to make a point now that he is nothing but an over confident baby dicked cock face.
D’avid: WOOOO! See, you can be the man!
Red Rock: Yeah I can win it! I beat Captain Stupimon in that ottoman torture match! I can win some bastarding beneath the broad walk match. I mean who else is in it? Chainz? I’ve had enough of him being put over me anyone could go to a play ground and fuck a 10 year old girl, or Hate, the washed up genetically enhanced match stick used by the government to loose to Anton Assault.
Red Rock paces down letting himself get more and more frustrated. With his personal strains in his personal life he has become more agitated back stage and he will show more of his brutal side as shown at Bloodlust.
Waiting For Today To Happen
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
We can only see David “Pearl” Harber, which is why the crowd hasn’t gone crazy yet. He’s in profile at his desk, and looks tired yet elated, the mark of a man who loves his work, but is just doing too much of it. He’s just put the phone down; on the other end was Sam Newman, and they were discussing the budget. Nips and tucks here and there, same as ever, and you might think that’s an irrelevance to what’s happening now, but it’s not, because the man sitting in front of David Harber – the crowd hasn’t gone crazy yet; he’s off-screen – is taking up a big fat lump of the budget without justifying that expenditure in any way.
Pearl: What brings you to my office tonight, Pierce?
You know I said the crowd hadn’t gone crazy yet? Well, now they have. The camera zooms out and sidles left, and now we see the man facing Pearl from the other side of his desk, attired in a charcoal t-shirt and jeans, is AWC Legend Pierce Lavelle, sitting out his ban on an expensive “non-wrestler” deal. Privately, Pearl thinks perhaps he was a little rash with that; sure it got the fans totally and lastingly on both their sides, but was it worth the tightening of the purse-strings that inevitably followed? He’d had to let more than one big-name free agent slip through the PTC talent pool. GCW should be counting its blessings.
Pierce Lavelle: I just – well, I don’t know, Pearl.
Harber’s dumbstruck, because surely the former two-time Transatlantic champion knows that Pearl has plenty enough to do and only agrees to meetings in his office if they’re important?
Pearl: I thought you said you had something to discuss, Pierce.
Pierce Lavelle: I do, it’s – well me. Bloodlust was... the first pay-per-view that I didn’t main-event.
Pearl raises his eyebrows; thinking back, it’s true. Zero To Hero... Lavelle vs Strider in the final. Solarized... Lavelle and Strider again, Inferno. The Battle Of Britain... five of them on that bus. Testimony... Lavelle and Hate, with the cage that went up and down a little too much. Triangles... the Triangles match, of course, Lavelle at the centre of it. Winter Warfare... Lavelle and O’Shea, intense to say the least. And now Bloodlust... no Pierce Lavelle.
Pearl: You’re right, Pierce... well, I couldn’t exactly do anything about it, you’re –
Pierce Lavelle: Banned, I know, I know. I just feel a little... out of the loop? You’ve given me this non-wrestler deal which I'm so, so thankful for, but I just don’t feel like I'm doing very much at all...
Pearl: You know where your future lies, don’t you? Your fate depends on the very man who can change his mind on the smallest of whims. Adam Dick got you into this mess, and he’ll get you out of it.
Lavelle stares at his friend.
Pierce Lavelle: I don’t quite see...
Pearl: You don’t? Think about it, Pierce. Adam Dick is well aware that he doesn’t get another Transatlantic title shot before you’ve had one. End of.
Pierce Lavelle: So he’s got to wait until –
Pearl: No, Pierce! That’s his choice to make! I think we both know that Adam Dick did something to tamper with justice... and everything is reversible. I'm sure he has the ability to get you out of this mess just as quickly as he got you into it.
Pierce Lavelle: And if he does that...
Pearl: Then he’ll get his shot a lot quicker. Pierce, your future depends on a choice Adam Dick has to make. He has to decide what’s more important: his chance to win back the title, or you not wrestling until next year. Until he makes that decision...
Pierce Lavelle: I'm in limbo.
Harber sighs.
Pearl: Yes. I’ll do my best to involve you, Pierce, but my hands are tied...
Harber’s expression is impenetrable. Then Lavelle’s expression softens.
Pierce Lavelle: Of course. Sasha. She doesn’t want me involved.
Pearl: It’s not that, Pierce, it’s just –
Pierce Lavelle: Don’t worry, Pearl. You don’t have to explain anything.
Knowledge Challenge
FEATURING: CAPTAIN SULEIMON, GENERAL RAHMAN, FAN, MADDY ESTELLE, DARCY CRISIS
AUTHORS: TOM HOLZERMAN AND NATHAN
"The Turkish March" cues up and Captain Suleimon, led by a flag-waving General Rahman, enters Boardwalk Hall to a rousing round of heel heat.
Truth Waters: I guess this means it's time for that stupid Knowledge Challenge. Y'know, I'm sick and tired of him thinking he's better than us. And what has he done to prove it besides losing to Red Rock?
George Cassidy: Hey, we all saw D'avid's interference in that match. If not for that, Suleimon WOULD have proven his dominance over that idiot, and you'd all see that he's better than you.
Truth Waters: Cassidy, he implied he's better than you as well.
George Cassidy: I'm the lone exception.
Suleimon marches to the ring and seizes the microphone away from James Brunt.
Captain Suleimon: Atlantic City, haven for degenerate gamblers and drunken derelicts. I bet half of you gorged yourselves at the Tropicana buffet before getting wasted on the complimentary drinks and losing all your money at the penny slots. Since you are all flabby and have wills weaker than wet tissue, it is in your nature to throw your lives away in a den of sin such as this. I take pity on you, because clearly, you are the dregs of the dregs. If you even had a modicum of class, you'd waste away in Las Vegas, not this cheap imitation.
Loud boos... the Atlantic City crowd HATES being compared to Sin City.
Captain Suleimon: So, all things considered, this Knowledge Challenge should be a piece of cake... for me. I don't see any of you answering even the easiest of my questions. So let's get this over with, because I have a Relentless championship treasure hunt to prepare for.
Truth Waters: The disdain he has for David “Pearl” Harber is just plain wrong.
George Cassidy: Hey, he's right in a way. That isn't a match, it's a stupid scavenger hunt!
Captain Suleimon: Who's up? Who's first?
A rustle comes up from the crowd. It's a male fan, slightly overweight, wearing a ratty Vince Jones t-shirt. He stumbles into the ring and raises his arms, spinning around, looking for the adoration of the crowd. He gets only a death stare from Suleimon.
Captain Suleimon: Compose yourself!
The fan shakes himself to a standstill.
Captain Suleimon: Your question... how many states are in the United States of America?
The fan cockily motions and puts his mouth up to the mic.
Fan: 51.
The fan struts around the ring like he's the cock of the walk.
Captain Suleimon: WRONG!
The fan is startled.
Captain Suleimon: You insolent, unintelligent pig! Get out of my ring now!
The fan stammers.
Captain Suleimon: NOW!
He bails.
Captain Suleimon: Now, who is next?
Out from the back comes Maddy Estelle.
George Cassidy: Don't tell me this brainless broad's gonna try to answer these questions.
Truth Waters: You know, you shouldn't really make comments like that. They may come back to haunt you.
Maddy enters the ring tussling her hair and looking at Suleimon impatiently.
Captain Suleimon: So, this brassiere-stuffing strumpet wishes to try my challenge?
Maddy nods impatiently.
Captain Suleimon: Very well... how many states are in the Union?
Maddy Estelle: 50.
Captain Suleimon: Correct, although I think it's more that you took time from being a ditz to pay attention to the last idiot. Your next question... who was the last sitting President to die in office?
Maddy Estelle: I don't know, was Reagan sitting down when he died?
Maddy smirks while Suleimon looks bitter.
Captain Suleimon: Leave it to a woman to make a mockery out of my challenge!
He piefaces Maddy, sending her to the canvas.
Truth Waters: Un... despicable! Utterly despicable!
George Cassidy: Hey, she shouldn't have gotten smart.
Truth Waters: Ugh...
Captain Suleimon: Get out of my ring! Strumpet! Harlot! Bring on the next challenger!
The arena rustles, and then "Open Your Eyes" by the Guano Apes cues up. The arena goes batshit for Darcy Crisis.
Truth Waters: It's... it's Darcy Crisis! He'll shut up the Captain!
George Cassidy: C'mon, he caught a bad case of stupid from Aimz, as well as the clap and gonorrhea.
Crisis steps to the ring with a wry look on his face. Suleimon furrows his brow and strokes his chin as he watches Darcy enter the ring.
Captain Suleimon: Well, the hero of the American mouthbreathers has come. Tell me, are you as stupid as you look?
Darcy Crisis: Stupid like a fox! I make it my business to know things… not to mention I’m a bit of a history nerd. Bring on your challenge!
Captain Suleimon: Very well then, pigdog. Here is your first question. Who was the last sitting President to die in office?
Darcy Crisis: I’m ashamed that my colleague Ms. Estelle couldn’t come up with this one, but luckily the Darcinator is here to rise to the occasion… the answer is John F. Kennedy.
The crowd pops slightly as Suleimon smirks.
Captain Suleimon: Lucky guess… but it’s a challenge you want? Answer me this… what former Soviet Socialist Republic has the largest land area?
The crowd is somewhat hushed, seemingly perplexed by the answer. Darcy, however, smiles and slips into a foreign accent.
Darcy Crisis: You speak of home country! National pastimes include disco dancing, table tennis and rape.
Darcy laughs, as does the crowd.
Darcy Crisis: Oh man, I LOVE Borat! Almost as much as I love the answer to your question… Kazakhstan!
The crowd pops again as Suleimon looks impressed.
Captain Suleimon: Well, it looks as if we actually have an American with half a brain on his hands… but this is the end of the line, Crisis. What famous Roman poet wrote the Aeneid?
Darcy’s jaw drops, but the smile on his face gives away that he’s well aware of the answer.
Darcy Crisis: Come on Cap, I thought this was going to be hard! Everybody knows that---
Before he can finish, Suleimon slaps Darcy across the face. The crowd boos as Darcy reels.
Captain Suleimon: Once again I have proved my far superior---
And before HE can finish, Darcy levels him with a tackle. The crowd goes nuts as Crisis starts pummeling Suleimon, but he soon rolls over and starts hammering Darcy in return. This continues for some time until security pours out of the back to separate the two.
Truth Waters: Well looks like we have sore loser on our hands! Darcy was just about to pass that Knowledge Challenge before Captain Suleimon tried to pick a fight with him.
George Cassidy: You know what this means, don’t you?
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: Nobody actually passed the challenge! I’M SURROUNDED BY IDIOTS!
As Suleimon is getting dragged away by security, Darcy remains in the ring held back by the rest of them as “Open Your Eyes” hits again.
Truth Waters: Well if I know Darcy Crisis, and I feel like we’re getting to know him better and better, this isn’t going to sit well with him one bit!
RR vs Chainz vs Assault vs Hate vs Suleimon vs Jones
STIPULATION: BENEATH THE BOARDWALK
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Truth Waters: And now, Cassidy, it’s time to see what this is all about!
Waters gestures at the wooden boards on which their commentary table sits tonight.
George Cassidy: I still can’t believe they did all this just for one match... a whole new set and everything. I thought AWC had money issues!
Truth Waters: Shh, Cassidy, that’s off air... and look at the bright side! Here we are, in Boardwalk Hall, Atlantic City! The spiritual home of AWC! And we’re about to see one of the most innovative matches in living memory, the Beneath The Boardwalk match!
George Cassidy: Forgive me for being slightly sceptical about the quality of this clusterf---
Truth Waters: No, I don’t forgive you! Are you telling me you aren’t looking forward to seeing six of AWC’s most hardcore young athletes beat the living crap out of each other in the name of the vacant Relentless title?
George Cassidy: What I want to know, Truth, is how Sasha Volkyeva can justify having moved us out here onto the stage for ‘safety reasons’ when, for this match, it puts us right in the firing line!
Truth Waters: Are you telling me you’re not able to defend yourself?
George Cassidy: Of course I am, but---
Truth Waters: No, you’re really not. No worries, Cassidy, I’ll stand up like a man for both of us. I take your point, though. Mother Russia works in mysterious ways. But I, for one, am not complaining! For once we get to be right next to the action again!
Without any warning, Marduk's "Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transilvania" begins to grind away at the speakers, filling the audio system with a sense of doom and darkness. Hate appears in the entranceway, with a black gas mask covering his head and wearing a long, black trenchcoat.
James Brunt: The following is the Beneath The Boardwalk match, for the AWC Relentless championship! Introducing first, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 225 pounds... “The Fifth Horseman”, HATE!
As he walks down the boardwalk to ringside, Hate shouts verbal abuse at the fans through his mask before removing it, revealing his painted head. Hate slides into the ring and takes off his trenchcoat before putting both the coat and the mask away, utterly concentrated on the match ahead.
George Cassidy: That entrance still sends shivers down my spine, even though Hate hasn’t quite been the behemoth he once was recently.
Truth Waters: He’s actually lost more matches than he’s won now. Could you even have contemplated that, when we first saw him come through the curtain nearly a year ago?
George Cassidy: I thought he was a dead cert for Transatlantic champion.
Truth Waters: I think we all did, but Hate’s never quite made it. Hate’s never held an AWC championship; could tonight be his night?
The opening feedback of "Blame Thrower" by Reuben hits as the lights lower to darkness. The riff begins and the lights flicker red, and Red Rock's logo hits the big screen. The heavy riff kicks in...
We all have responsibilities,
we all have a social debt
and if there is a man free of guilt,
I haven't met him yet
... and Red Rock bursts out from behind the curtain with huge amounts of energy, looking with interest down at the wooden slats on which he is standing.
James Brunt: His opponent, from Aldershot, England, weighing in at 197 pounds... RED ROCK!
So now you’re backed in a corner,
you’re under verbal attack
they’re pointing fingers like guns in your face and
nobody’s got your back
George Cassidy: Red Rock is a former Livewire champion – I think that statement alone is sufficient justification for the disbanding of that title.
Truth Waters: He’s also had numerous opportunities to capture the Frontier title, but has never quite pulled it off...
George Cassidy: ...for obvious reasons.
Truth Waters: Could the Relentless title be his true calling?
George Cassidy: Er, no: look at Hate.
Indeed, Hate seems to radiate his namesake as Red Rock walks down to the ring with a cheeky smile on his face giving members of the crowd a nod and a thumbs-up.
Truth Waters: Shall we just take a moment to remind those watching at home of the rules for this match?
George Cassidy: Is it even worth it?
Truth Waters: Well, they might want to kn---
George Cassidy: Alright, the title belt’s beneath the boardwalk – hence the name – and there’s no count-out or DQ. Yes?
“Cure” by The Wild Colonials hits and Chainz comes through the curtain, looking rather naked without Tracy at his side. But he’s not really naked. Oh, no.
Truth Waters: That’s one way to undersell it... think of the opportunities, Cassidy! That small space under the boardwalk is PACKED FULL of weapons beneath the bars of sand either side, holding everything in... and with those areas either side of the boardwalk cleared away – they would usually be used for seating – there’s plenty of opportunity for a fist-fight on the sand...
George Cassidy: OC-style.
Truth Waters: ...you watch The OC?
George Cassidy: Um... no?
James Brunt: Their opponent, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing in at 295 pounds... CHAINZ!
George Cassidy: Chainz easily outweighs both the men that are out here so far.
Truth Waters: But you’d be a fool to underestimate Hate just on weight...
With Chainz halfway down the boardwalk, his music cuts off to be replaced by the opening, disgusting chords of “Vomitself” by Boris. The crowd falls into a hush as a single, white spotlight opens up on tonight’s unique entrance area, the arena otherwise dark. The droney, soul-crushing guitars continue to lope on; tortured screams accompany the slow guitars now, heralding the appearance of Anton Assault. He doesn't look incredibly intimidating, wearing a colorful dashiki and dressed in his black short trunks and boots under that, but his demeanor is ugly and aggressive.
Truth Waters: No Luis Ferrara tonight; I think all managers and valets have been banned from ringside.
George Cassidy: That’s right; Chainz didn’t look too happy coming out without Tracy.
Truth Waters: But I think Anton Assault’s entrance is even more intimidating without the presence of his manager!
George Cassidy: You only like him ‘cause he’s black.
Truth Waters: ...
James Brunt: And their opponent, from Paris, France, weighing in at 229 pounds... “The Lion”, ANTON ASSAULT!
Anton Assault pulls off his dashiki and crosses to hand it to the timekeeper, but the focus suddenly shifts away from him as Chainz, who has now reached the ring, engages immediately in a brawl with Hate. Assault, who knows that Hate is his fight, scrambles up the ring steps to join them.
Truth Waters: Oh, here we go! These men aren’t waiting for a bell!
George Cassidy: Notice Red Rock staying well away...
Just as Hate swings at Chainz, Assault runs into the back of the man from Alabama with a shoulder block, and the combined impact sends Chainz falling away to the side. As he drops, an eyeline between Anton Assault and Hate forms, and the pure hatred is...
Truth Waters: Blinding. The sheer abhorrence as these two lock eyes! Assault was the one who came out on top at Bloodlust, but this rivalry is far from over – OH, what a shot!
Hate takes a crude pot-shot at Assault, catching him square between the eyes with a clenched fist as Joseph Reid, the referee for the scheduled contest, anxiously checks his watch. Red Rock engages him in conversation.
George Cassidy: Look at that, Red Rock trying to sweet-talk the referee into favouring him knowing all the while that the others are pissing Joseph Reid right off by fighting before the bell!
Truth Waters: I don’t quite think---
The lights in the arena dim and a small fog begins to rise lining the rampway leading down to the ring. All of a sudden a loud, booming, demon-like voice bellows out the message...
"PREPARE TO ENTER MY HELL, MY REALM, AND MY GAME..."
as the words flash up on the screen in pulsing red letters. The message quickly fades away and the voice bellows out the message...
"...ENTER THE VIOLENCE"
...as the words appear on the video screen embossed by flames. All of a sudden a loud gunshot rings out through the arena. The opening chords of 'Thug Luv' begin to play as the oh so familiar voice of 2Pac is heard throughout the arena…
Fool, we doin' this shit from Cleveland to L.A.
Whatever you bitches want. We bringin' it!
Thug luv, bitch! What time is it?
Yo, I don't give a fuck where you lay at, fool!
It's time to slay these Bitch-ass killas
They ain't even knowin' what type of thugs we is. Where my thugs at?
The sound of a cocking of a gun, followed by gunshot repeated throughout is heard ringing out in the arena.
Bone thugs-n-harmony
I know you fools been waitin' for this shit for a long time
Well, here it is! Here it is!
What you gonna do with it?
"The Violence" Vince Jones emerges from the entrance and makes his way to the edge of the boardwalk with a black baseball bat in hand.
Truth Waters: No allowances made for the lovely Jasmine tonight, but Vince Jones looks all the more focused, coming prepared for this match in which weapons are allowed!
George Cassidy: With just Suleimon left to come out, who’s gonna win, Truth?
Truth Waters: He’s not been around for long in AWC, but I think “The Violence” Vince Jones could pull this one out, you know---
George Cassidy: Bah, you only like him ‘cause he’s black.
Truth Waters: ...
James Brunt: Their opponent, from New York, New York, weighing in at 269 pounds... “THE VIOLENCE” VINCE JONES!
Jones stops and raises the baseball bat in the air and flashes the hand sign of his old gang from New York as red pyro explodes behind him. He slowly makes his way down the boardwalk, totally ignoring the ruckus in the ring as he concentrates on constructing the perfect image for his walk down to the ring. He is crudely interrupted, however, as the house lights return and the music abruptly stops. Wheeling around in frustration, he brandishes his bat angrily at the production crew.
George Cassidy: Haha! Jones isn’t too happy about getting cut.
Furiously, “The Violence” slides into the ring, raising his bat and looking out at the crowd, though most people are concentrating on Anton Assault, who is peppering the pegged-back Hate with lefts and rights.
Truth Waters: We’re now just waiting for Captain---
Suddenly, a roar goes up as a figure begins to ascend the security fence from the crowd area.
Truth Waters: Oh, no. There’s a fan scaling the fence... security aren’t doing their jobs; we could have a situation here!
George Cassidy: I don’t think so, Truth. That’s Captain Suleimon!
Red Rock has made the same realisation; having gone slightly pale on catching sight of the Turk he beat in the Ottoman Torture Chamber at Bloodlust, he taps Reid impatiently on the shoulder to alert him to how the sixth and final participant in this match is entering. The referee nods and calls for the bell, which seems to be what Red Rock wanted. Jones and Red Rock immediately start for the ropes, knocking into each other in their haste.
James Brunt: And finally, from Istanbul, Turkey, weighing in at 198 pounds... “The Sultan Of Smackdown”, CAPTAIN SULEIMON!
Truth Waters: While Chainz, Hate and Anton Assault get entangled in a brawl and Captain Suleimon is still making his, er, big entrance, Red Rock and Vince Jones have eyes only for the prize!
Red Rock steps away and motions for “The Violence” to go first. Sensing a trap, Jones narrows his eyes and mouths off at RR, who raises his eyebrows in surprise and takes another step away, still motioning for Jones to go through the ropes. Shrugging, Jones goes first.
George Cassidy: Oh come on, how could he fall for th--- wait... Red Rock’s... not got a plan?
Truth Waters: No, Cassidy, I think he was just being courteous.
George Cassidy: Screw that!
Red Rock now turns to climb through the ropes himself, but just as he does so, Chainz comes backing into him, an uppercut from Hate having knocked the big man off-balance. Raising his arms, RR backs into the turnbuckle, and Chainz regards him warily. Red Rock makes the same hand motion he gave Jones, insisting that Chainz go out of the ring before him. Not even considering for a moment, Chainz does so, swinging his legs over the top rope before dropping to the outside.
George Cassidy: What is Red Rock doing?!
Truth Waters: He seems quite content to hang back in there--- oh...
Captain Suleimon now drops to the floor having clambered over the security fence. The first man is his eyeline... Vince Jones. The next... Chainz. He heads for both, stretching his arms in a double clothesline. Neither sees him coming, and they both go down.
George Cassidy: Red Rock was hiding from Suleimon?
Truth Waters: It looks like it...
George Cassidy: But he beat him! Somehow, some way, Red Rock defeated Captain Suleimon at his own game!
Truth Waters: Maybe that’s what he fears. Retribution. If you ask me –
George Cassidy: He’s a pussy. Yeah, Truth. We know.
Truth Waters: Not quite – watch!
Red Rock comes flying off the turnbuckle with a cross body block to the outside, Captain Suleimon crunching to the floor under him!
George Cassidy: Whoa!
Truth Waters: Not so pussy after all, huh?
Anton Assault launches a forearm strike at Hate, catching him on the side of the neck. Hate’s left arm hangs uselessly at his side as Assault now draws up a knee into his chest. Desperately grabbing onto The Lion’s arm, Hate whips him into the ropes, but Assault slows to a halt as he rebounds off them.
Truth Waters: Smart thinking by Anton Assault. He’ll never let an Irish whip set him up.
George Cassidy: No sir.
Vince Jones begins laying kicks to Captain Suleimon, who is all but motionless as Red Rock rolls away from him following the impact. With referee Joseph Reid close by, Chainz digs his fingers into the security fence, using it to pull himself to his feet. Suddenly, he winces, glaring into the crowd where a gloating fan informs all those around him that he just gave Chainz’ hand a good kick. Most seem to applaud him.
George Cassidy: That front row fan got one over on Chainz! Did you see that? I think he stomped on his fingers or something...
Truth Waters: That’s what it looked like... funny, you’d think Chainz would react, considering his reputation with these fans... he knows how much people hate him for the vile things he’s done. But he looks less angry, more... hurt?
George Cassidy: Oh, not a chance, Truth...
But Waters appears to have a point. There’s no time to dwell on it, as Red Rock comes hurtling into him from behind with a rudimentary tackle, flattening the 295-pounder against the mesh. Chainz throws an angry elbow behind him and it hits home, catching the Anti Hero right in the stomach. Jones, following up, hits a neat sidewalk slam to knock the wind out of Red Rock.
George Cassidy: This is all well and good, but... don’t they know there’s a title belt they’re fighting for?
Truth Waters: My thoughts exactly.
And Suleimon’s thoughts exactly, too, since when he at last pulls himself to his feet having taken that cross body block from Red Rock, his first glance is to the boardwalk, which is refreshingly empty of flailing bodies. With a cursory glance at Chainz, whose big haymaker is blocked by “The Violence” Vince Jones, who returns a right hand of his own, Suleimon strides past and proceeds up the boardwalk.
George Cassidy: Well, there goes Captain Suleimon, looking to get things done!
Truth Waters: Always an efficient worker.
In the ring, Hate grabs Assault’s arm as The Lion throws another elbow strike aiming for the neck, and pulls it through before jerking his body into an unforgiving headbutt. Assault yells out, his hand flying to his face as he falls backwards, unable to stop his descent. The Fifth Horseman, standing over him, yells out with pleasure before going to work with some low stomps.
Truth Waters: The Fifth Horseman still has eyes only for revenge on Anton Assault. The Relentless title certainly doesn’t seem to be a priority for Hate!
George Cassidy: Maybe gold is an irrelevance to a man like him.
Truth Waters: Really, who knows? Who knows what that monster really thinks? Who knows what possesses him to do the things he does, to manage the inhuman feats he accomplishes without breaking a sweat! Remember Kuff McSlade...
George Cassidy: Yes, yes, Truth, we remember your poster boy Kuff McSlade, who got picked up and tossed into the ring by Hate as if he were a rag doll, all 300 pounds of him...
Truth Waters: Damn straight!
Captain Suleimon now reaches the top of the boardwalk, and hops off the stage on the sandy side. Taking a moment to kick the grains off his boots, he plants his hands on the side of the boardwalk and inspects the magnitude of the task facing him in clearing the debris blocking his path to glory.
Truth Waters: It’s not as simple as just reaching under there and taking the belt. Suleimon’s got an entire wall of sand to clear away first!
Sighing, Suleimon walks along beside the boardwalk, following the gradient to where the wall of sand ends and the path to go beneath the boardwalk is therefore unhindered. Unfortunately, the boardwalk is only a couple of feet off the floor at this point – only enough for a man to go underneath lying down. Still, the Sultan of Smackdown gives it the time of day; only a second’s disgust at getting sand all over his outfit is permitted before he goes down on his front and crawls under the boardwalk.
Truth Waters: I don’t think Harber would have even envisioned anyone doing it like this – he assumed they’d all be under constant pressure! But it’s like Suleimon’s ignored at the moment! Hate and Assault are still brawling in the ring – Hate hits a body slam now, basic but effective – Chainz and Jones are fighting, and Red Rock’s still feeling that sidewalk slam!
George Cassidy: It’s almost as if the Captain has a free run.
Truth Waters: But – no, I think he’s found his path is blocked! Who knows how much debris they put under there?
Suleimon has emerged from under the boardwalk, dusting himself down as he stands back up, looking perturbed.
George Cassidy: It says right here that the underside of the boardwalk is packed full of weaponry... that implies everything blocking the way to the title belt can be used to a wrestler’s advantage!
Truth Waters: Well that should be something, at least. Folks, it looks like we’re in this for the long haul!
Suleimon now hops up onto the boardwalk and drops down the other side, disregarding the inches-deep water now lapping around his ankles.
George Cassidy: Suleimon braving the mighty depths of the AWC deep blue sea here – er!
Truth Waters: OK, six inches of water is hardly ferocious, but it adds to the scene, huh?
George Cassidy: Plus, I don’t think the Sultan of Smackdown is quite so keen to lie prone this side of the boardwalk.
Storming over to the place where the boardwalk is highest – where it meets the stage, it is above Suleimon’s head height – the Turk slams his fist against the wall of sand, finding, with a wince of pain, that it is solid. Grabbing the top of the boardwalk with his extended hands, he brings his leg up and slams his boot into the sand barrier. Nothing happens – except that Suleimon suddenly recoils with a yelp of pain and steps back, sloshing through the water. A moment later, he’s fallen to his second leaping cross body block of the match!
Truth Waters: RED ROCK!
George Cassidy: Out of nowhere! Another cross body!
Truth Waters: And the two of them go splashing into the water! Here’s Red Rock getting up... he’s drenched!
Red Rock grins out at the crowd as he wafts his baggy jeans backwards and forwards, indicating the level of H2O inundation. Suleimon is propped up on his elbow, keeping his head above the water as he tries to stop it spinning.
Truth Waters: What Captain Suleimon DID at least gain out of that is the knowledge that breaking through to the weapons store – and, indeed, the title belt – won’t be an easy task.
Red Rock hasn’t got long to bask in the atmosphere, though; a moment later Vince Jones comes leaping off the boardwalk and hits the beach with a splash. His momentum continues, and presently Red Rock feels the force of a fierce clothesline!
George Cassidy: The Violence gets violent!
Red Rock falls right next to Suleimon, who twists round and grabs Red Rock by his long hair, forcing his face down under the water. His arms flail, but Suleimon does not relent as the crowd boos him.
George Cassidy: Ha! Drown the sorry bastard!
Truth Waters: I, uh... I don’t think Harber foresaw this...
Fortunately, Waters doesn’t have much to worry about as Vince Jones grabs Suleimon and yanks him off Red Rock, turning and forcibly tossing him against the sand bank guarding the prize. Suleimon’s 198 pounds slam against it, but it holds firm as the Turk falls back into the water alongside. Or at least it appears to. Jones gives the top of the wall a firm kick, more out of frustration than technique, but the sand barrier, weakened significantly by having had Suleimon hit it hard caves in from the centre.
George Cassidy: Open sesame!
Truth Waters: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a breach! Vince Jones has found a way in!
Jones immediately begins to rummage with his hands, pulling out the sand and causing the majority of it to collapse in a big heap right next to the boardwalk, as Joseph Reid meanders along the top of it, looking down on the action. Before The Violence can make any progress, though, Chainz wraps his arm around his head from behind and pulls him back, choking him out as they together fall backwards into the water, Chainz grapevining his legs around Jones’ more compact body.
Truth Waters: They’re showing no aversion to getting a little wet!
George Cassidy: This is nearly turning into a women’s match!
Truth Waters: Uh... how?
George Cassidy: Oh... you know... the T&A matches, nobody takes them seriously!
Truth Waters: You don’t take Ellis Nash seriously?
George Cassidy: Oh... a different matter entirely...
Jones gasps for breath, short both due to the clamping force of Chainz’ arm around his neck, and the fact that his head is only half above the level of the water as Chainz’ hold keeps him grounded. Meanwhile, a sequence of snap kicks from Anton Assault leaves Hate tied up in the turnbuckle, and Assault backs up before leaping into him with a shoulder block.
George Cassidy: Oh, Truth! Watch the ring!
Truth Waters: Way to change the subj---
George Cassidy: No no, we’ve got a signature from Assault! Crush! Kill!! Destroy!!! There it is!
Assault executes the close-quarters spear and the high-angle piledriver that make up the second and third parts of the combination move before dusting himself off and, without a backward look, heading out of the ring to join the fray.
George Cassidy: That’s it for Hate! Anton Assault has settled accounts with Crush! Kill!! Destroy!!! and now The Fifth Horseman doesn’t even get a second thought!
Truth Waters: I don’t think he wants one, Cassidy... Anton Assault is one of very few people who can leave Hate lying prone in the ring!
By the boardwalk, Chainz still has Jones down in a chokehold while Red Rock is rooting around in the gap made by The Violence. Just as he grabs hold of something, Captain Suleimon takes him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him away so forcibly that Red Rock does a backward roll, landing on his front. He immediately rolls himself over to reveal both to himself and the crowd the objects he managed to pull from beneath the boardwalk: a bright red plastic bucket and spade, of the sort any child might play with on a beach.
George Cassidy: Haha! That’s not gonna do Red Rock much good!
Suleimon looks down on him scornfully, before drawing his weapon of choice. It’s a spade too, but a much bigger one. A heavy-duty shovel one might find in a garden shed.
Truth Waters: There’s a real man’s shovel!
Red Rock’s eyes popping, he tosses his bucket and spade up onto the promenade before hoisting himself up after them. Rolling through and grabbing the plastic toys on the way, he allows his momentum to carry him off the other side of the boardwalk, where he swivels and takes the five-foot drop to land on his feet. He quickly backs away from the boardwalk into the open area of sand, and a moment later Suleimon follows, the shovel in one hand as he clambers down the side of the boardwalk and faces Red Rock. Now, with bloodlust (Wait, we already did that! -Ed.) in his eyes, Suleimon stands, his legs shoulder-width apart, the shovel caressed against his body, the shaft held in both hands, as he makes his slow advance forward. Red Rock, fearful, backs away, his boots slipping in the sand as he scrambles backwards. And then he can go no further, coming into contact with the steel fence, and he awaits his fate.
Truth Waters: Stop this! Captain Suleimon could take Red Rock’s head off with that shovel!
George Cassidy: He’d be doing us all a favour...
Now only six feet away, Suleimon raises the shovel over his right shoulder, a glint in his eyes... takes a step... another step... and then it’s a blur of motion, and Suleimon’s wheeling around, his eyes shut tight, cursing, and Red Rock wheedles the spade out of his hand and with a sideways motion plants the shaft in his stomach, and Suleimon goes to his knees.
Truth Waters: Red Rock shot sand into his eyes! He used his little plastic shovel to flick sand from the beach up into the eyes of Captain Suleimon, blinding him!
George Cassidy: And now Suleimon’s at his mercy...
Heart pounding, Red Rock aligns the metal of the shovel with the back of Suleimon’s head, backing away and measuring up the shot as if for a golf strike.
Truth Waters: He wouldn’t!
Suleimon, on his knees, still has his eyes screwed shut, and tears are streaming from them, though it’s unclear whether this is through begging to be spared or the effect of the sand.
George Cassidy: Does he even know what’s going on?
Truth Waters: Red Rock doesn’t want to do this! He could kill the guy!
Red Rock brings the spade up...
Truth Waters: NO!
Swings... and stops. Just inches from shattering Captain Suleimon’s skull.
George Cassidy: He couldn’t do it! He backed out!
Truth Waters: But Suleimon knew he could have! It’s all in the mind, Cassidy! Suleimon knew damn well he was at Red Rock’s mercy there! And mercy was what he got!
Red Rock looks round at the fans, gives them a stern nod, and then casts the shovel away; it comes to a rest up on the stage with a clatter. Abandoning Suleimon, he pulls himself up onto the boardwalk.
A lot’s gone on in his absence. Anton Assault has excavated a good portion of the cavity beneath the boardwalk, and the waves in the water now lap over an assortment of the objects that had been contained within the sand bank: a length of driftwood, a fireman’s helmet, a small potted plant. Now Assault pulls out a beach parasol and tosses it behind him, only his legs protruding from under the boardwalk as he works hard to find the title belt he knows is hidden in there somewhere.
George Cassidy: I think we’ve missed a lot! Anton Assault could well be close to victory here!
Jones apparently escaped from the chokehold, but he and Chainz are still locked in battle at the side of the active area, Jones holding Chainz against the steel mesh separating them from the crowd. A few drops of blood indicate that the act of Chainz’ back raking against the wire has not gone unnoticed. The sight of his own blood appears to galvanise Chainz, who buries a fist in the abdomen of The One Man Dynasty and slams his head against the black metal of the wave machine.
Truth Waters: Chainz and Jones are locked in battle, seemingly totally oblivious to Anton Assault’s bid for victory.
George Cassidy: There’s a lot in Chainz/Jones – Vince Jones was behind the showing of that video last week that portrayed Chainz as a shadow of his former self.
Truth Waters: And maybe he is! Four consecutive losses is pretty serious.
George Cassidy: But what Chainz is probably wondering is, why’s Vince Jones made it his business? Shouldn’t he be looking out for his own win/loss record?
Jones rakes his boot through the water, splashing water up into the face of Chainz, who spits it away irritably and marches Jones over to the angle between sides of the steel mesh. Slamming his head into it (and now The Violence gets head cuts of his own) Chainz turns away to see Assault working feverishly at the excavation process. Sprinting across the water, splash splash splash, Chainz launches himself at the African-Parisian with flying fists and bad intentions.
Truth Waters: Now Chainz has made it his business to stop Assault getting near that title belt!
From the boardwalk above, Red Rock appears to be acting on a sudden inspiration as he heads left to the stage. Meanwhile, Hate engages the much weakened (mentally more than physically) Captain Suleimon in a grapple which he wins easily; a kneelift and then he can send Suleimon face-down into the sand with a piledriver!
George Cassidy: Hate with a bruising piledriver! Captain Suleimon’s condition goes from bad to worse!
Red Rock grabs the shovel on the stage.
Truth Waters: Oh! Red Rock’s got the shovel! Could he have had second thoughts?
He hops down next to Suleimon, landing like a cat, and the crowd seems to think exactly that, responding with an anticipatory roar. But Red Rock looks out at them and shakes his head; a defiant no.
George Cassidy: What is he doing then?
Truth Waters: Red Rock telling the fans he’s not come to hurt the Captain! But now Hate’s got plans...
Red Rock looks up to see The Fifth Horseman staring him down, and almost jumps out of his skin. Red Rock holds up the shovel, almost as a peace offering, and gestures his intention. Now it becomes clear.
George Cassidy: Red Rock’s having to explain himself to Hate...!
Truth Waters: And he wants to use the shovel to dig the sand bank from this side! A better idea. No water to mess things up, and with a shovel you can work fast...
George Cassidy: Maybe he made a mistake telling Hate!
The Nondivine Juggernaut, smiling a little, holds his right hand out, open.
Truth Waters: Hate wants the shovel!
Red Rock’s eyes open wide as he considers the dilemma. Give Hate the shovel, and surrender an opportunity to make a significant in-road towards winning the match... or don’t, and risk his wrath.
George Cassidy: Just swing and hope!
Red Rock raises the shovel...
Truth Waters: Would he?!
Hate shrugs, almost in apology, and steps smartly in to place both arms on the shaft of the shovel, holding it at arm’s length. Simultaneously, his right knee is lifted up and jerked outwards into Red Rock’s abdomen, and now his right arm comes off the shovel and the elbow cracks into the side of Red Rock’s head. RR slumps into Hate, who drops the shovel and hooks his arms...
Truth Waters: Oh, no...
George Cassidy: Eleventh Commandment for good measure!
Hate hits the devastating Eleventh Commandment on Red Rock, who lies motionless, face-down on the sand, as Hate takes the spade back up and buries it deep in the sand bank, pushing it in as far as it will go with his boot. Putting his back into it, he heaves – and the metal end bends backwards, unable to hold the weight.
George Cassidy: Haha! All that for a shovel that turned out pretty crappy!
Truth Waters: It just won’t hold the weight of the sand. A flimsy thing.
George Cassidy: Unbelievable.
Hate looks at the shovel in disgust and wrenches it out of the sand bank, tossing it carelessly behind him – where Captain Suleimon catches it without thinking. Hate gives the sandbank a measured but hefty kick, and it crumbles at once.
Truth Waters: Hate putting a lot more faith in his own boot than that shovel, and it paid off. He can channel such power... the others couldn’t break the sand like that –
George Cassidy: WATCH OUT!
Suleimon brains Hate from behind with the deformed end of the shovel!
Truth Waters: WHAT A SHOT! Suleimon with the shovel!
George Cassidy: He could have killed him! Brain damage!
Truth Waters: Can Hate even be damaged? Perhaps not with a feeble thing like that; if that had been an industrial-level shovel...
George Cassidy: That’s still a whole new level of hurt!
Hate is motionless, and Suleimon looks down at him, a little stunned at the enormity of what he has done. Looking down at the steel of the shovel, he sees a little divot of red paint curled around its corner, and it matches up with a small patch of paint missing from the top of Hate’s skull.
Truth Waters: I really cannot believe Suleimon just did that! The Sultan of Smackdown is... the wrong side of sanity...
George Cassidy: I don’t know that he even knew what he was doing! Ever since the sand in his eyes he’s not been quite... there...
We’ve ignored for quite some while what’s been happening on the slightly wetter side of the boardwalk. That’s because it isn’t really very much. When we left them, Chainz was intent on cutting off Anton Assault who was making headway towards victory, and “The Violence” Vince Jones was nursing a new head wound. Now it’s a three way brawl, with the men slugging it out as they stand, each a few feet from both his opponents in a rough triangle by the stage. Feeling the effects of their sodden attire, the fight is weak and unmeasured, hardly captivating for the fans, who are far more intent on watching Captain Suleimon.
Truth Waters: Folks, Vince Jones, Anton Assault and Chainz are having something of a brawl the other side of the boardwalk, but we’re going to stay with Suleimon here as he goes for glory.
Tossing the useless spade aside, Suleimon crouches down amongst the dunes of broken sand and peers under the boardwalk. Seeing a small cavity into which he can move, he tentatively puts his right leg through between the small bank of sand and the head-height boardwalk, following through by bringing his whole body into the space.
George Cassidy: Captain Suleimon is right underneath now... he could be just inches from the Relentless title, Truth! Inches away, but how will he find it?
Truth Waters: The junk and the weaponry and all that choking sand... it’s no simple task to find the championship belt down there.
George Cassidy: Especially not when –
Hate leaps out of nowhere with a flying tackle, and an almighty succession of crashes is heard as Suleimon’s body is forced through the many layers of debris to hit the beach with a thump.
Truth Waters: Not when Hate’s got murder in mind!
George Cassidy: Honestly, these sound guys... that was worse than you get in a sitcom.
With Hate and Suleimon unmoving under the boardwalk, and Red Rock still struggling to hold consciousness having taken the Eleventh Commandment on the sand, focus switches to the watery side, where Anton Assault has made a dive for the boardwalk. Caught around the midriff by Chainz, Assault’s arms flail, but Chainz turns him round and holds him still for Jones to take a free shot. The Violence punches Anton Assault full in the face. The Lion gasps, and Jones reaches around to find the length of driftwood we saw earlier. He pulls it back and swings –
Truth Waters: Anton Assault’s in double trouble!
But Assault ducks and the wood breaks over Chainz’ head! Dazed, Chainz falls back, throwing an arm out to catch the side of the boardwalk. Jones looks down at him in surprise, holding a useless stub of saturated wood in his hand; Assault surprises him with a fierce rising uppercut.
George Cassidy: Anton Assault sure knows how to fight his way out of a tight spot.
Assault now takes a few steps along to where the boardwalk is at head height, and brushes a drape of ship rigging out of the way to gain a clearer sight of what’s before him. His expression goes from curiosity to shock –
Truth Waters: OH, HOLY HELL!
A huge rock makes contact with Assault’s forehead, instantly opening up a gash and perhaps concussing the young Nigerian. Hate releases the piece of beach material and catches The Lion before he falls, taking him up in his arms before dropping him down with a side backbreaker and leaving him to fend for himself in the six inches of water.
George Cassidy: Hate just took things to a whole new level!
Truth Waters: Anton Assault could have lost consciousness after that shot, and even Hate has abandoned him knowing that the fight is gone from The Lion!
Chainz and Jones now surprise Hate by ganging up on him with abdominal punches, beating him as he holds his ground against the side of the boardwalk. Throwing both arms up, he simultaneously blocks shots from both men before jumping up onto their thighs and pushing off to propel himself up onto the boardwalk itself and out of danger.
George Cassidy: Even The Fifth Horseman needs a plan B when things get on top of him.
Truth Waters: A unique method of escape!
Without hesitation, both Chainz and Vince Jones follow him, scrambling up onto the boardwalk. Hate cuts Jones off with a dropping chop block to the back of the neck, leaving Mr. AKA scrabbling for a handhold, but he’s too slow to deal with Chainz too, unable to prevent a hefty vertical suplex on the wooden slats by Michael Sloan.
George Cassidy: Even such a basic move as the vertical suplex near doubles in effect when you hit it out there on those wooden boards.
Truth Waters: Cassidy, I think Hate of all people can absorb a little spinal tap.
Chainz spreads his arms, appealing to the crowd, but before he even gets any kind of reaction Red Rock pops up behind him applying a sleeper hold.
Truth Waters: Oh there’s Red Rock! And that’s the set-up for the RDT! The crowd’s gone crazy!
The gleam in Red Rock’s eyes is hard to beat, but without even breaking a sweat Chainz casually lifts Red Rock up onto his shoulders, ignoring the choking effect of the sleeper hold to carry his assailant over to the stage and dump him unceremoniously in front of the curtain.
George Cassidy: Dealing with Red Rock is just like swatting a fly for Chainz!
Truth Waters: They’re getting up close and personal now... the action is right in front of our table, as Chainz lifts Red Rock back up!
A hard cross punch opens up Red Rock’s bottom lip, the Aldershot man stumbling back towards the far side of the stage from the commentators as Chainz follows. Meanwhile, the brawl between Hate and Jones is making its way from the boardwalk towards the announcers’ table, Hate uncharacteristically losing out to the seemingly stronger Jones.
Truth Waters: The Violence is bringing the hurt!
George Cassidy: I must need glasses... from here it looks like Hate is struggling!
Anton Assault is still motionless in the water below as the gentle waves lap over him. The brawl continues right above him, Jones knocking Hate back onto the announce table.
George Cassidy: Whoa whoa whoa! Look out!
Truth Waters: Here’s something we haven’t seen in a while... I’ve gotta say I’ve missed it!
But as Jones tries to climb onto the table to join Hate, The Fifth Horseman lashes out, his boot catching The Violence in the face. With unusual speed Hate gets to his feet and swings his leg again, the rising kick this time causing such impact that Jones falls to the floor, perilously close to the edge of the wooden slats that comprise the stage.
George Cassidy: I think Hate was letting Jones in for something... giving him a false sense of security... because there’s no way that was a natural progression, Jones having been on top like that...
Truth Waters: And now Hate is VERY MUCH on top...!
Hate takes a leap off the announce table, slamming his legs down with Death From Above on Vince Jones!
Truth Waters: DEATH FROM ABOVE! “The Violence” Vince Jones paying the penalty for messing with Hate!
Without missing a beat, Hate peers over the edge of the stage at Anton Assault, who has now regained some form of ability to move and is sitting up, shaking his head to try and focus.
George Cassidy: Anton Assault looks more than a little shaken.
Truth Waters: With good reason! That rock was big enough to have shattered his skull! If he hasn’t broken anything he’s got off ligh---
George Cassidy: TRUTH I DON’T THINK HE’S GOING TO GET OFF LIGHTLY NOW!
Hate wrenches a huge amplifier off the top of the sound stack, and it hits the stage with a loud crash. Pulling at it with his hands, Hate drags it towards the edge of the stage...
Truth Waters: NO! NO! The Lion is eight feet below! That equipment must weigh 300 pounds and Hate is lugging it like a suitcase! That could kill Anton Assault!
George Cassidy: I don’t think he’s even registered any urgency whatsoever!
Truth Waters: And that’s... that’s active, Cassidy! Electricity and water don’t mix! Cassidy, anyone in the water could be electrocuted instantly! Think of the voltage running through that!
George Cassidy: You’ve got a point... Anton needs to MOVE...
And as Anton Assault looks up... he gets a bit of a shock. A gleaming red face, half of an immense amplifier... and he starts to scramble...
Truth Waters: Is he too late...?!
One last effort from Hate, and he backs away as the loudspeaker topples over the edge of the stage, and there’s a blur of dark skin, and Assault leaps up onto the boardwalk and curls up in an instinctive foetal position, and a split-second later the amplifier hits the beach with a huge crash, and the water splashes up and all around as blue lightning bolts shoot forth, criss-crossing the water with loud zaps. It’s all fake, but the effect is nonetheless impressive.
George Cassidy: Holy SHIT!
Truth Waters: If he hadn’t’ve been crushed he would’ve gotten zapped by the volts in that thing! But Anton Assault is safe; he leapt up onto the boardwalk just in time!
The relief is tangible in the crowd too, where chanting ”HOLY SHIT!” seems to be the best way out of the situation. But there’s plenty more to come in this match.
Hate lets out a roar, simultaneously through the released exertion and frustration that his ploy failed. A moment later, a powerful hand thrusts into his throat.
George Cassidy: Vince Jones has Hate by the neck!
The Violence swivels, and with a widening of his bloodshot eyes, clamps his other hand on Hate’s back before leaping forward...
Truth Waters: DIVING CHOKE SLAM ONTO THE AMPLIFIER! GOD ALMIGHTY!
And before the announcers can even react further, Red Rock is up on Chainz’ shoulders...
George Cassidy: Powerbomb! And another--- OH HE’S GONE STRAIGHT THROUGH!
The Chain Reaction is hit with such vehemence that Red Rock’s 197-pound body slams straight through the wood at the side of the stage, falling down into the depths of the structure! Chainz looks down in surprise as Red Rock lies flat out surrounded by splintered planks!
Truth Waters: CHAINZ HAS JUST SENT RED ROCK STRAIGHT THROUGH THE STAGE! THE CHAIN REACTION THROUGH THE STAGE!
George Cassidy: Such force! Red Rock may be knocked out down there!
Now on the boardwalk itself, Anton Assault, who had stopped to watch in horror as Red Rock was slammed through the stage, is blindsided by Captain Suleimon with a folded deckchair!
Truth Waters: Suleimon with the beach chair! He’s taking on Anton Assault!
Assault spins to face his assailant, who swings again with the rickety chair but the flimsy structure is broken in two by a high snap kick from the MMA expert. Suleimon is defenceless as Assault follows up the kick by rushing through with a thrust of the heel of the hand to the face, knocking the Turk back.
Truth Waters: The Sultan of Smackdown comprehensively outwitted by Anton Assault.
Assault completes the – er – assault with a T-bone suplex!
George Cassidy: Suleimon is out of it! Red Rock is out of it! Hate is out of it! Vince Jones is out of it! It’s down to Chainz and Assault now! Who can go all the way?
Assault leaps down onto the beach as Chainz does the same. For just a second they stop, and then the men fly at each other, Chainz’ brawn-filled attacks up against Assault’s measured strikes. A right cross from The Lion has Chainz stumbling back against the side of the stage, but before Anton can duck under the boardwalk Chainz rushes out with a clothesline. It’s blocked and converted into a Nigerian Armbar!
Truth Waters: NIGERIAN ARMBAR! Chainz sent to the floor and Assault’s specialised armbar is on! It’s an absolutely devastating hold and Chainz is having his face ground into the sand as he desperately fights it!
George Cassidy: There’s no tap-outs here! Assault’s just got to keep working at him until he’s judged that he’s done enough to break it and go search for treasure!
Truth Waters: And for now, there’s no hurry! Hate and Jones are both laid out, slumped against both sides of that sound equipment in the water! Suleimon is prone on the boardwalk! And there’s no sign of Red Rock since Chainz powerbombed him BRUTALLY through the stage!
Assault grits his teeth. The Nigerian knows victory is within reach. He just needs to subdue this beast of an opponent for long enough to have a good hunt for the shiny prize that is hidden somewhere under the boardwalk.
George Cassidy: Still Anton Assault perseveres, and the fans are begging us for a winner!
Truth Waters: What a match this has been, I’ll tell you, Cassidy! People were worried there wouldn’t be enough true wrestling but screw that; bring on Beneath The Boardwalk 2!
George Cassidy: I'm not sure about that, Truth... who would we put in it?! All six of these men are going to be too exhausted to get back in the ring for a while after this is over!
The Nigerian Armbar starts to take its toll, the hyperextension of his arm causing Chainz to fade worryingly. But he won’t tap out; his pride prevents that. In addition, there’s no guarantee The Lion would even break the hold, considering the nature of the no-DQ match.
George Cassidy: Truth, is there any way you can see Assault NOT winning this match?
Waters surveys the situation. Nothing has changed. Everyone is laid out, barely moving, the high-paced match having taken its toll.
Truth Waters: I can’t think how...
George Cassidy: Then let’s end it! Pack up and move on. We’ve got a Jack Murphy match to see...
Perhaps hearing Cassidy’s words from up on the stage, Assault gives Chainz’ arm one last torque and abandons the pursuit, bending down to creep underneath the boardwalk. The atmosphere gets excitable.
Truth Waters: And we’re moments away! Anton Assault goes beneath the boardwalk for an unhindered search for the---
Waters breaks off, confused. Because Anton Assault has just been propelled back the way he came, blood spurting from a fresh wound to his side.
George Cassidy: What in God’s name---
A figure emerges from beneath the boardwalk. He’s battered, bruised, beaten and bleeding. But he’s victorious. He’s holding the Relentless championship belt. And he’s Red Rock.
Truth Waters: RED ROCK! Cassidy, Red Rock got under there! Somehow he found a way through from under the stage!
George Cassidy: Impossible! There’s something underhanded about this! Anton Assault was about to take the win he deserved, and---
Truth Waters: And Red Rock outwitted him! Red Rock rides his luck to the title belt!
Red Rock clambers up onto the boardwalk and with the last of his strength raises the belt high overhead as Jones, Hate and Suleimon, all now starting to pull themselves to their feet, give him dirty and horrified looks. But he doesn’t care.
James Brunt: The winner... and new Relentless champion... RED ROCK!
Truth Waters: How much has Red Rock been through to take that title tonight?! He’s taken the CHAIN REACTION THROUGH THE STAGE! One of THE devastating finishers as it is, but through the stage?! Unbelievable!
The arena is in a state of joyous belief. Their underdog, their anti hero, has upset the odds against men bigger and arguably better. The night belongs to Red Rock.
Where In The World Is Garbage Bag
FEATURING: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY, DEALER, GAMBLER
AUTHOR: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY
In a casino somewhere in Atlantic City that is not Boardwalk Hall, a man sways back and forth in his seat at a blackjack table. He is wearing a purple Cortland hat and a checkered suit-coat and dress pants that are mismatching shades of gray. As the ice in his drink dilutes his rum and coke to a more transparent shade of brown, he smokes his cigar with the greatest ignorance, accidentally blowing smoke in the faces of the nearest gamblers. The dealer, a clean cut man with brown hair, tinted almost black from about a liter of hairspray, looks at the man with unreadable eyes in question.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Hit me.
The dealer coolly places another card down in front of Garbage Bag Johnny and responds with semi-automatic addition.
Dealer: Twenty-four. Bust.
Garbage Bag Johnny, who is sitting in front of a very small stack of chips, swings his arm out in frustration at the steady decline of his money. In this process, he unintentionally strikes his glass of rum and coke, which sends ice skimming across the table and the pungent liquid mixture of Jack Daniels and cola streaming into the lap of the man next to Johnny. The fellow gambler stands up and looks down angrily at his now stained dress shirt and black slacks.
Garbage Bag Johnny: God dammit. That was my drink!
Gambler: Your drink? You know how much this fucking shirt cost, asshole?
Garbage Bag Johnny looks up at the man’s rhetorical question. The man is a bit larger than Garbage Bag, about 6’5 with a wide frame. He has a perfectly trimmed goatee and a haircut that was designed to let people know that he’s an asshole. It’s the one with the short, gelled spikes of hair.
Gambler: It probably costs more than every piece of clothing you own. You look like you just robbed a Salvation Army.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Relax, man. It was an accident.
Gambler: Don’t tell me to relax!
The man shoves Johnny, and GBJ falls off his chair, landing on his ass. Garbage Bag looks up to see the pleased smirk that appears on the fellow gambler’s face. Johnny gets back up, sits back in his chair and continues to smoke his cigar.
Gambler: That’s fuckin’ right. You should be the one relaxing.
Garbage Bag Johnny’s eye begins to twitch as the son of a bitch taunts him. As the verbal sneering continues, Garbage Bag Johnny turns and puts his cigar out on the man’s hand as it rests on the blackjack table.
Gambler: Fuck!
The man jumps up and shakes his hand in pain after yelling this, and within an instant, Garbage Bag Johnny grabs the man, lifts him onto his shoulders and delivers the Tragically Hipbuster onto the blackjack table while the dealer calls for security. Johnny, realizing he just lost his temper inappropriately, clenches his cigar between his teeth and starts running for the door.
The Challenge (like that's not generic)
FEATURING: ZSASZ, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND JEREMY J.
Zsasz is walking backstage. After talking to Mikey about his dishevelled state, he now must take it upon himself to deliver a message to the woman who assaulted his client. He walks up to Aimz’ locker room. Without knocking, he enters the room to search for her. He hears the sound of her shower running. Smiling to himself at the image of seeing Aimz naked he crept toward the shower, just in time to see her wrapping a towel around her small frame. After getting puked on by Mikey O’Reilly, who could blame her. Smelling like vomited booze isn’t cool.
Zsasz studies every contour of her body, feeling his groin tightening as he sinks everything in. But that’s not why he’s here. He’s here on business.
Zsasz: Harlot! Turn and face me.
Amy is startled - and completely pissed - when she hears the voice. She tightens her grip on the towel and reaches to the pocket of her discarded pants, pulling out a knife that immediately deploys, glinting under the fluorescent light.
Aimz: You've got five seconds to move the fuck back, or I start cutting anything hard clean off.
Zsasz: I understand you assaulted my client before his match tonight. Is that true?
Aimz smiles at Zsasz, relishing the memory of throwing O'Reilly into the dumpster. Too bad she didn’t get the job done; her body wouldn’t have allowed it at the time.
Aimz: You mean the hobo who did a face-plant into the trash? So what if I did, you plan to do something about it?
Zsasz looks blankly at her. He sees through Aimz’s baiting procedure - a poor one at that - and ignores it.
Zsasz: I’m not going to do anything to you. I don’t meddle with whores.
The little redhead, still wielding her knife, grips it a little tighter and raises it slightly in hopes that the blond man gets the message. Aimz: Move. the fuck. BACK. Zsasz: Fine, fine! I'm just here to give you a message. Next week, you’ll be facing my client in a match, and he won’t be hesitant to bloody your pretty little face with his hands.
He pauses for a moment, allowing Aimz a moment to talk - and hopefully not to stab him. When she doesn’t take the initiative, Zsasz continues to speak.
Zsasz: Just so you know, if your boyfriend - or whatever means he is to you - decides to take it upon himself to interfere in the match, I’ll decide to take it upon myself to remedy the situation by eradicating him with Sadistic Brutality.
Zsasz flashes a smile at Aimz, giving her the once over. He lets out a grunt of content.
Zsasz: See you next week, Aimz. Tardiness is prohibited. You wouldn’t want me to hunt you down if you choose to be late.
He turns around, giving Aimz his back. He takes a few steps forward, then stops and looks over his right shoulder at Aimz.
Zsasz: I'd suggest putting some clothes on before you try fighting anyone else. Nobody needs to see those mosquito bites.
He lets out a loud chuckle and exits her locker room, leaving the little redhead to glance down at herself and then to the door Zsasz left through. She looks to the ceiling momentarily.
Aimz: I swear to god, I missed the memo about this being Asshole Day.
Adam Dick vs Ellis Nash
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: TRENT
Truth Waters: We’re back with more Fresh!
George Cassidy: And everybody in the arena is in for an undeserved treat. Adam Dick and Ellis Nash, people, with no Dick sucking involved.
Truth Waters: Cassidy!
George Cassidy: What? His name is Dick.
Truth Waters: You are unbelievable.
George Cassidy: Thanks, Truth.
Truth Waters: …It wasn’t a compliment.
George Cassidy: There’s our King now!
“Family Business” by the Fugees hits the PA and “The Illustrious Face-Eater” Adam Dick struts into the arena to a chorus of boos. His usual slow, arrogant strut to the ring isn’t noticeable. He ignores the fans and slides into the ring, waiting for his opponent.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Salt Lake City or Phoenix, The Illustrious Face-Eater, Adam Dick!
Truth Waters: I must say, I’m about as disgusted with the Face-Eater as the fans are right now.
George Cassidy: That’s the price one pays for brilliance.
Truth Waters: I think they call it greed.
The lights dim somewhat. Short strums of the guitar vibrate through the speakers and the audience, recognizing the familiar tune almost immediately, begin to boo their asses off. By this time, "Club Slut" by Hot Action Cop has already kicked into its simple drum and guitar beat.
You say you want you a club slut who got the big fat ass
The kind that got them DSL's and shake her booty fast
Pushing the curtains aside in an almost irritated manner, Ellis Nash stalks onto the stage, looking at the disparaging audience with a disgusted frown. Looking at her nails, Ellis inspects them tenderly before flashing her middle finger high to the now chafed crowd of cows. As the song's chorus drowns out their disapproving chants, two pyros from either side of the stage shoot off towards the ceiling, white in color.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Cortland, New York, weighing in at 117 pounds... ELLIS NASH!
Get up on the dance floor and now shake your butt
Cause you know you're getting in on with the club slut
You know you like it fast
She left you on your ass
Pompously swaggering down the rampway, Ellis ignores the women hurling various obscenities at her (by hurling them right back) and the numerous, sweaty hands of teenage boys itching for a touch of heavenly Nash. Stopping at the bottom, Ellis looks to both of her sides, narrowing her eyes with a shit-eating grin before rolling into the ring. Ellis, once inside the ring, uses only her upper arms to propel herself to her feet. With a broad smile, Ellis slaps James Brunt's shoulder mockingly before heading off to her corner of the ring.
Truth Waters: Well, I think the most interesting aspect of this match is the commentating team will be unable to take sides. I hate them both, while Cassidy on the other hand…
George Cassidy: …loves them both!
Truth Waters: Precisely.
George Cassidy: But, I mean, I gotta side with the greatest Transatlantic champion ever. Well, except Jack Murphy. But I mean, who wouldn’t side with the Face-Eating Dick?
Truth Waters: …That’s something I’d rather not think about.
George Cassidy: What? Something wrong with a Face-Eating Dick?
Truth Waters: I’m sure you’d like to go into Face-Eating Dicks a little more, but the match is starting.
George Cassidy: Hey, it is!
The bell having just sounded, Nash and Dick circle each other in the squared circle. The Face-Eater has the strut going, and looks damn intimidating to his smaller opponent. But Ellis Nash has a smug look on her face that would turn any man away. But not Adam Dick. The grin on his face looks like he just got his dick sucked – probably by Nash – and his female counterpart’s bitch-look has no effect on him. Facey makes the first move, lunging towards Nash with a kick. She blocks it with her shin, showing toughness, then gives him a wicked slap across the face.
Truth Waters: Nash, oh my! I heard that one all the way down here!
George Cassidy: …I think they heard that one in the nosebleed section.
Truth Waters: Or down the street.
Adam Dick stumbles away, doubling over, a hang on his cheek. He looks back at Nash with a sly grin, and wipes the spit from the side of his mouth. Nash stares him down, expressionless, her arms akimbo. The experienced Dick takes advantage of her cockiness and charges her down with a tackle out of nowhere.
George Cassidy: Ha! I knew the woman’s advantage wouldn’t last long.
Sure enough Dick is on the offense, but he is attacking her… differently. He even has the crowd laughing as he mocks woman wrestling, clawing with his hands and swinging his hair as if he were in a cat fight. He grabs Nash by the hair and weakly slams her head into the ground, continuing to mock. Satisfied, he gets off of her and swings his hair back, strolling away with his chest puffed out as if to show off his breasts.
George Cassidy: Oh god, this is priceless! Even you, Truth, are trying not to laugh.
Truth Waters: Yes, this is how low I’ve stooped.
Dick moves back towards Nash, who, ironically enough, is on her knees. The Face-Eater grabs a fistful of hair and yanks Nash to her feet. He keeps his grasp and steadies her, then kicks her in the side. While bouncing on the other foot, he gives a few more kicks to her side, as if to mimic Trish Stratus. After the kicking, he grabs onto her hair with both her hands and Snap-Mares her over his shoulder. He continues to mock, demanding her to get up while kicking her weakly in the side of her head.
Truth Waters: This Dick is a character.
George Cassidy: We’ve figured that much out.
The Face-Eater bounces off the nearest ropes and comes falling back towards Nash with his elbow outstretched. He hits all canvas as Nash rolls out of the way. The heels are immediately to their feet, and Nash gets the upper hand with a kick dangerously close to the belt. Dick has no time to argue with the official as Nash grabs him in a front face-lock. Dick is too strong for the smaller female, however, and pushes her off against the ropes. Dick doubles up and throws Ellis over with a back body drop. Nash lands on her feet, turns around and smashes Dick’s head into the mat with a bulldog.
Truth Waters: Ellis Nash trying to turn this contest in her favor.
George Cassidy: It really is tough to tell whose more full of themselves in this one. I love it!
Truth Waters: When it comes to Dicks and easy bitches, what don’t you love?
Dick tastes boot as Nash gives him some stiff stomps to his mouth, keeping him grounded. Nash skips away from him and launches off the second rope with a springboard moonsault. Dick tucks his knees to his chests, reading his opponent’s attack, and Nash’s breasts hit nothing but knee bone. She bounces off and falls to the canvas as Dick rolls on top of her, grabbing a leg.
ONE!
Nash kicks out before the two count. Dick is back up, immediately pulling the female to her feet. He grabs her by the wrist and aggressively throws her against the ropes, causing her to tumble to the outside. ONE!
Truth Waters: That failed moonsault could turn the match around …
George Cassidy: When it comes to the Illustrious Face-Eater, the match is always his way.
Truth Waters: Except for Bloodlust …
George Cassidy: Handicap matches don’t count!
Adam Dick taunts Nash to get up from inside of the ring, and gets a chorus of boos from the crowd, even though they aren’t really on Nash’s side either. TWO! Nash gets up, but Dick comes barreling through the bottom of the ropes feet-first and catches her with a baseball slide. THREE! More taunting from the Face-Eater as Nash tries to get up. FOUR! Nash barely makes it inside the ring before the count-out, but at a price as Dick easily pounces on her with furious fists of Dick. No pun intended.
George Cassidy: He’s really taking it to his bitch now.
Truth Waters: Yeah, he should do that to you more often.
George Cassidy: Anybody would be proud to be a friend to Adam Dick.
Truth Waters: Even if you are his bitch?
The Face-Eater finishes his attack with a blow to Nash’s gut, seriously winding the former FBI cop. Nash is sucking wind as Dick picks her up and tosses her into the turnbuckle. He follows suit with an elbow right up in her grill, sandwiching her into the turnbuckle. She doubles up, using the adjacent middle ring cables to prevent her from face planting into the mat. Adam Dick straddles her head with his crotch. He grabs the top ropes and elevates himself, then comes back down, slamming a knee to the back of Ellis’s head. She crashes face-first to the canvas.
George Cassidy: That is why he is the Illustrious Face-Eater, people. Innovative moves like that!
Truth Waters: I don’t know about innovative, but that was an interesting sequence by the former TA champ. I just love saying that. Former.
George Cassidy: If you’re trying to get on my nerves, it won’t work, because the Bull being champ is just as satisfying!
Truth Waters: And next it may be Mike Wade. We desperately need some faces in the mix.
Dick grabs his grounded opponent in a front-face lock, wrenching her to her feet, supporting her with his grasp. He hooks her by one leg and snaps her over with a fisherman’s suplex, holding her leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Nash manages to kick out of the count.
Truth Waters: Nash is going to have to muster some offense if she has any chance of winning this one.
George Cassidy: All Dick in this one…
Truth Waters: We really need to start calling him Adam.
The Face-Eater gets up, but doesn’t seem discouraged. He sets up shop in the corner of the ring, waiting for his female adversary to regain her footing. She slowly gets up, and once she is in a standing position, Dick charges towards her like a bull, no pun intended. He tries for a tackle but Ellis sidesteps him, then pushes him from behind right into the turnbuckle. The Face-Eating face smashes right into a turnbuckle, causing Dick to stumble out backwards into a reverse DDT from Ellis. Nash scrambles on top of him and hooks his leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Dick kicks out.
Truth Waters: Whoa, Nash almost stole one from the Face-Eater.
George Cassidy: C’mon, Dick… you already lost to Aimz, this could kill your rep!
Truth Waters: If he heard that, he’d probably bitch slap you all the way back to the first Fresh! of the year. As much as I hate the guy, he did beat Pierce Lavelle.
Nash brings the Unfuckable to his feet following the kickout and forces him into the turnbuckle. After a sequence of high kicks to his head while holding onto the top rope, Nash winds up for a few knife-edge chops. Nash doesn’t stop there as she climbs up onto the second ropes, bringing down consistent right hands as the crowd counts with every connection. After ten punches, Nash shows an impressive display. She leaps vertically from the second ropes, plants both feet hard into Dick’s breastbone, then back-flips off of him and lands on her feet. Dick stumbles out of the turnbuckle from the impact. Nash is expecting this and leaps on his shoulders and executes a hurricanrana.
Truth Waters: Wow! Best sequence of the match for Ellis Nash right there.
George Cassidy: …Are you supporting her, Truth?
Truth Waters: Well, I decided that I hate Dick a little more than Nash, but that could change.
Nash turns around and jumps onto Dick, this time she is a little more determined, hooking both legs.
ONE!
TWO!
Dick kicks out. Nash is a little ticked, especially after that impressive display of wrestling on her part, and argues with the official. This gives Dick enough time to catch his breath, and when Nash turns towards him he spins his body and kicks out the back of her legs. He pounces on her and gets face-to-face with her and…
George Cassidy: Eats her face!
Truth Waters: No!
Dick gives her a quick head-butt, then wraps both of his hands around her throat and begins the choke-out. The official isn’t too pleased with this and tries to get him off Ellis, which he does reluctantly. He gets up and does a standing moonsault onto Nash and remains on top for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Nash kicks out. The enraged Adam Dick slaps the mat, but is back up, dragging Nash to her feet. He gives her a quick kick to the mid-section and follows up with a Tornado DDT, followed by a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Another kick-out.
Truth Waters: Ellis just won’t quit.
George Cassidy: Another common female mistake. I thought she was better than that.
Apparently she is, because Dick now seems to be off his game and is focusing on bickering with the ref about whether or not that was a three count. This gives Nash time to recuperate. She gets up and pounces on Dick’s back from behind, causing him to stumble towards the ref and take him out. Nash, draped on Dick’s back, wraps both her arms around him and attempts a choke-out. The Face-Eater shows some power, though, and swings his body forward, throwing Nash over him. She lands flat on her back underneath the Face-Eater. Adam Dick reaches down and grabs Nash by the neck, but before he can lift her up Nash punches him right in the balls. Dick is shocked, and collapses to the canvas, holding his manhood. Nash is back to her feet as the official regains his composure from that momentary absence.
George Cassidy: Dammit, ref, did you not see that?!
Truth Waters: Oh, please. Adam Dick has won more than his fair share of matches in similar fashion.
George Cassidy: If only Nash could win this match, then that would mean something. Too bad she isn’t.
Truth Waters: Oh, your Dick fetish is getting old. (thinks) Oh god.
Nash strolls over to the turnbuckle and jumps to the top, stalking her opponent. The Face-Eater is eating mat at the moment, agonizing over being hit with a low blow. He gets to one knee, completely unaware of Nash, who is waiting impatiently for the opportunity. She leaps off the turnbuckle and hits Dick with a lariat, sending him off of his one-knee position and back to the mat.
Truth Waters: Okay, if Dick manages to win this match, there’s no telling me that Nash didn’t put up a fight.
George Cassidy: Oh please. A top-rope lariat isn’t that great.
Truth Waters: I would pay to see you try one.
Ellis Nash, though shaken up from the leap, turns around and pins Dick.
ONE!
TWO!
Dick kicks out. The bitch in Ellis Nash is starting to show even more now, as she seemingly can’t put the Face-Eater to rest. She gets off him but resumes her attack as she straps on a headlock, bringing Dick to his feet. The former TA champion uses his strength advantage over Nash and pushes her away from him. Nash comes back off the ropes, still with an attack in mind, and swings for a clothesline. Dick ducks it, then catches Nash with a right hand as soon as she turns around.
George Cassidy: Ah, the illustrious comeback. Finally.
Dick grabs Nash by the wrist and pulls her towards him, attempting an Irish Whip, but Nash determinedly reverses it and sends the Face-Eater into the ropes. Adam Dick comes flying off the ring cables, however, and with a burst of energy he leaps towards his female opponent and hits a reverse moonsault.
George Cassidy: Osama-rana!
Truth Waters: Well, we all know what that means…
Following his purposed set-up move, Dick ignores trying for his finisher and immediately goes for the pin.
Truth Waters: Maybe not…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Ellis Nash barely gets out of the pin. Adam Dick is furious, immediately on his feet, harassing the referee with a grudge. The referee tries to explain that it wasn’t a three, but the Face-Eater thinks otherwise.
George Cassidy: That – was – three!
Truth Waters: I don’t think - wait! NASH!
Ellis Nash has recuperated from the Osama-rana, and quickly heads in Dick’s direction with his back to her. Nash grabs her quarrelling opponent from behind and rolls him up into a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: NO!
Truth Waters: BAH GAWD, what a finish! The Illustrious Face-Eater, Adam Dick, is officially in a slump. Lost to Aimz. Lost to Murphy. And now, to his own bitch, Ellis Nash. Hallelujah.
Seemingly immune to everyone’s ridicule, Adam Dick leaves the ring without a word. He doesn’t stick around for the festivities as “Hot Action Cop” blares throughout the arena. He simply walks back up the ramp unfazed as Ellis Nash takes center stage following her win.
James Brunt: The winner... Ellis Nash!
Truth Waters: Well, I don’t think any of us saw that coming…
George Cassidy: Hmm. She’s hot, though.
Truth Waters: Well, one thing is for sure, the Unfuckables are not the powerhouse they once were. Unless Wade prevails in our next match, and in that case, then Mike Wade can lay claim to the most powerful man in AWC. Just Wade. Not Dick.
George Cassidy: Why must I choose between the Bull and an Unfuckable?
Truth Waters: I don’t know, but we’ll be back with the match to decide AWC’s Transatlantic champion!
Aimz Needs To Stop Agreeing To These
FEATURING: DARCY CRISIS, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND NATHAN
It's true, you're about to be subjected to it again. This time, it's not quite as perverse.
Darcy 'Crisis' Markson was ambling with intent toward Amy Campbell's locker room. He DIDN'T hear the shower, its sound having been covered by the Project Ivy blaring in his iPod earbuds. Likewise, Aimz hadn't heard the door open again. You'd really think they'd have locks.
She steps out of her second shower of the evening - this one to wash away the dirty feeling of having Zsasz's eyes on her minutes before - into a towel and back into her locker-room, to find Darcy camped out on the bench, completely unaware of her presence until she takes a few steps forward. His eyes widen while hers narrow to glare, and he tosses his iPod aside for the moment.
Aimz: Do male wrestlers have some kind of radar that tells them when a girl's showering with the door unlocked? I'm pretty sure my contract had a secret 'Never lock door while showering' clause to make events more interesting for the fuckbags who'll run online the next day looking for a nipple slip.
Darcy's silent, save for his chuckles, while Amy continues her banter.
Aimz: This whole being walked in on thing is getting a LITTLE ridiculous. Seriously, does management not have enough content to fill two damned hours already?
Darcy Crisis: ...H-hi, I'm Towel... would you like a Darcy?
Aimz: Funny, asshat - I see you got into my Family Guy collection. Now what were you waiting in here for, aside from a peep show that you apparently don't think you could get anyway?
Darcy's smile quickly vanished. Walking up to her with a look on his face more stern than the back half of the Titanic, he answers.
Darcy Crisis: Oh, nothing... except maybe to know what the HELL you think you were doing in my match last week!
Amy laughs.
Aimz: You had to wait to get me on TV to ask that again? Alright, Mister Crisis; I came down at the end of your match to say hello. Y'know, like you did when I won and then lost world title opportunities. Opportunities that landed us an Irish moron for a champion and earned me a mysterious lack of further booking. I felt like seeing how you liked someone ambling in on your matches.
Darcy Crisis: Yeah, except that there were a few subtle differences between when I showed up in your match and you in mine... like how I did it to save your skull from getting crushed, and you won. You showed up in my match just to screw me, and I lost. So I fail to see how you could possibly think you're in the right.
The redhead grinned and shrugged, sitting down on the bench he'd just occupied - still gripping her towel.
Aimz: I fail to see where I said that I think I'm in the right.
Darcy's eyes widen, but just as it looks like he might explode his expression changes to his trademarked (TM!) smirk.
Darcy Crisis: You know, that's what I love about you... you're vicious, unpredictable and, at times, a flat-out bitch. It shows you really care...
He fights a fake sob of endearment while Amy sits there, still looking proud of herself.
Aimz: Aww, muffin. Seriously, though - like I told you at home, don't take that shit personally. It was business and, whether you like it or not, people tend to watch you and I with hopes that both of us will show. So, my appearance was ratings and probably bigger t-shirt sales for you. Technically, you should pat me on the back. Or the ass... I'm not really picky when it's you, but you shoulda seen the last asshole who was in here. Ugggh...
Darcy Crisis: ...in here while you were showering?
She shrugs, oblivious to why he'd need to know that.
Aimz: Yeah, some jackass that wanted a match with his 'client' next week because I beat the snot outta a hobo who hurled on my Nikes. Why?
Darcy Crisis: Now why do you gotta tell me that Amy? I've seen enough horror movies to know that every single time a girl gets ambushed in the shower by the creepy voyeur, her boyfriend ends up dead. He's behind me right now, isn't he?
Aimz: Nah. Everything else I do is a conspiracy to kill you. This was just business with a couple of really greasy dudes. And are we done, 'cause I need to go figure out how the hell to lock these doors?
Darcy Crisis: Yeah... but there's one last thing you should know. You may think we're "even" or something, but you're not getting away with this. If you think you pulled in some extra ratings... wait until you see what I have planned for you. We're gonna beat out the Kato Kalin E! True Hollywood Story!
Smirking once again, Darcy takes to the door and exits without another word, leaving Amy staring blankly.
Aimz: ...'Kay. Now, to buy a padlock...
She pauses a moment. Aimz: And who the fuck is Kato Kalin?
You're Just Jealous Because We're Young And In Love
FEATURING: ADAM DICK, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND LIA
Adam the pouter, or so it seems, is walking a little quickly through random halls of the backstage area, presumably trying to get to his car or something equally idealistic in this situation.
He doesn't even notice the pair of footsteps that travel behind him in the distance, then hastening their pace to approach him.
Finally approaching Dick from behind, a zealous Ellis Nash reaches out and taps his shoulder. With his sad face still intact, Dick turns around. Nash stands there, looking just a tad bit abashed.
Ellis Nash: Adam! Hey, um, I just, uh… wanted to say that I'm sorry, you know, for what happened out there and everything.
Adam looks a bit solemn, but his face turns into a fraction of a smile at Ellis' intentions.
Adam Dick: Don't sweat it. It certainly isn't the first...
He turns to leave.
Adam Dick: ...and it certainly won't be the last.
As Adam turns to leave, Ellis frowns almost instantaneously. After a few seconds of simply watching Adam walk away from her and gathering her nerves, Ellis calls out.
Ellis Nash: Wait!
Adam stops, almost bemused, and turns.
Adam Dick: ........?
Ellis Nash: Um......
Oh shit. Ellis racks her brain for something.
Ellis Nash: ...Have a good night?
Adam Dick: …You too.
And with that, Adam Dick turns and walks away.
Ellis stands there, again watching Adam walk away from her before letting out a huge-ass sigh and running her hand through her hair.
Jack Murphy (C) vs Mike Wade
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHORS: JAMIE FLETCHER (NARRATIVE) AND PIERRE HYDE (COMMENTARY)
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a singles match for the AWC Transatlantic championship!
“Jump around” By House of Pain plays and the crowd automatically responds with a chorus of booing. One half of the Unfuckables and current AWC Frontier champion Mike Wade struts out onto the stage. The Unfuckable has one goal in mind, becoming the first ever AWC Grand Slam champion and tonight he could achieve it.
George Cassidy: This is the one we’ve been waiting for, Truth! His Swerviness himself, at last getting his shot!
Truth Waters: But you suck Murphy’s proverbial dick too, so... DILEMMA~!
George Cassidy: Proverbial?
Truth Waters: Ya, well, you don’t think there actually is one hidden in there somewhere?
Getting in the ring Mike Wade allows the referee to check him over.
James Brunt: Introducing first, the challenger, from Waterford, Ireland, weighing in at 209 and three-quarters pounds... the AWC Frontier champion, MIKE WADE!
“Burn” By Throwdown replaces Mike Wade’s music. There is a long wait for the champion, the crowd goes deadly silent as the newly respected Jack Murphy climbs up the backstage steps and onto the stage. Walking down to the ring he poses for pictures and allows members of the audience to take a close look at his championship. Murphy gets into the ring, he walks around for a bit before giving the title belt to the referee.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds... the AWC Transatlantic champion, JACK “THE BULL” MURPHY!
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy showing some uncharacteristic lack of aversion to actually being nice to the fans... that’s a refreshing change. You know Cass, I think I could grow to like The Bull as champion.
George Cassidy: Did everybody hear that? Truth grew a brain!
Truth Waters: (ignoring Cassidy) Wade though...
George Cassidy: Nerves could not describe the way the champion must be feeling as he stands opposite Mike Wade. Less than a month ago Mike Wade prospered in a Frontier championship match which included Jack Murphy.
Flexing, stretching and chewing Jack Murphy allows the referee to finish off checking Mike Wade.
Truth Waters: But we all know that so much can change in such a short period of time in AWC. Look at Adam Dick! One moment, he’s double champion; next, he’s cast aside by even his partner, who gets the Transatlantic title shot while the other Unfuckable remains goldless!
Once happy the referee spins, signals and they’re off with a pop from the crowd.
Truth Waters: And here we go!
Strutting across the ring, in a traditional Unfuckable joker fashion, Mike Wade extends his hand to the Transalantic champion. Pondering the thought Jack Murphy doesn’t even care to consider trusting Mike Wade. Having performed every trick in the book Murphy cunningly kicks Mike Wade’s hand. Taking back Mike Wade is vulnerable; Murphy grasps the opportunity without hesitation driving his elbow like a golf club through the head of Mike Wade.
George Cassidy: Jack Murphy doesn’t trust even one square inch of Mike Wade.
Truth Waters: What goes around comes around, Cassidy.
Looking down at Mike Wade, Jack Murphy sniggers having now calmed all his nerves down. Taking the momentum from his strike Murphy runs into the ring cables, exploding off of them Murphy charges at Mike Wade with his foot hyper extended but lowering his head, off Wade goes into the ring cables. In complete control of himself Wade darts towards Jack Murphy who arches his back. Leap frogging Murphy, Wade is in jumping distance of the ring ropes and he springs up on and off them. Jumping backwards he spins in the air and attempts to take Murphy down with the flow of the match but Murphy steadies himself.
Truth Waters: Smart work by Murphy, not letting himself be fazed by Wade’s advantage on the speed side of things.
Turning on the spot, Murphy gains speed and falling forward he drops Mike Wade back first onto his knee. The champion lifts Mike Wade back up and in a great display of pure strength adjusts Wade onto his shoulder in a pump handle position. Before Murphy can develop the offensive any further, Wade wriggles free and drops out of the pump handle hold.
George Cassidy: And that’s where Murphy is the one who excels: brute force. Those 278 pounds are all muscle!
Taking a step back to avoid Murphy, Wade searches for sanctity he must know that the key to winning this match is avoiding excessive concentrated punishment. Everyone in AWC knows Murphy is a chipper, he will go back, again and again to work over the leg, the arm or the knee. Giant swoop from Murphy who desperately wants to keep Mike Wade suppressed but leaning into the ropes Mike Wade can push himself away, out of the Bull’s reach.
George Cassidy: It’s crucial for Mike Wade to keep out of reach as much as he can. Once Murphy has a hold locked in, that could be it...
Truth Waters: True say. His Swerviness needs out of harm’s way if he’s gonna stand a chance.
Having dodged Jack Murphy it coincidentally gave Wade an attacking opportunity. Wade swings his right leg at Murphy but the champion catches his foot. Hopping around Mike Wade grabs hold of the rope but Murphy almost drags him away from the ropes. Wade has no option but to attack with the other leg, it is a strong kick but it is avoided with a matrix style limbo evasion. Proud of himself the champion goes to lock Mike Wade’s leg up but Wade rolls out of the way. A little clap for Wade who follows through onto his feet for the crowd.
Truth Waters: Again Wade frustrates Murphy by moving away. Does he have a chance, Cassidy?
George Cassidy: Of course he has a chance. So many people have underestimated Mike Wade, and time and time again he’s made them pay for it. There’s a reason he was the man at the forefront of the “AWC in 2006” promo campaign. Wade is the future.
Truth Waters: And Murphy?
George Cassidy: The standard-bearer while Wade cements his status.
Truth Waters: So the winner tonight?
George Cassidy: (sighing) Don’t do that to me...
Truth Waters: Well, I pick Murphy.
George Cassidy: (quickly) So do I... I mean... I don’t see his reign finishing this early!
A little pose, bang! Stupid, Stupid, Stupid Wade. Axe handle to the back of the head from the champion to Wade who was caught show boating by the Bull.
Truth Waters: And that is what Wade has to cut out of his game. It’s not like the fans even like him anyway...
Jack Murphy embraces Mike Wade’s body, wrapping his hands around his challenger’s waist trying to take a clear cut advantage. Moving back to steps Jack Murphy attempts to lift Wade into the air for a German suplex but Wade won’t budge, he resists managing to reground himself. A left punch sets the comeback of Mike Wade back a few seconds. Up goes Wade, but Wade uses the top rope to back flip over and out of harms way once again proving to be the vain of Jack Murphy’s existence. Inverted face lock, inverted DDT???? No Murphy grabs the bottom rope with his right foot and pulls his head out of Mike Wade’s lock.
George Cassidy: Ah, it’s too tough to pick between the two.
Truth Waters: The mental game seems to be coming into play, as the two counter everything their opponent throws at them.
Out goes Jack Murphy, Murphy exits the ring to regain some composure and gather his thoughts before continuing his battle with Mike Wade. ONE!
George Cassidy: Time for a breather...
Pleased but still not satisfied and questionably stupid Mike Wade slides out of the ring with pace...
Truth Waters: No breather!
Baseball slide, no Murphy moves and Wade hits ring mat! The crowd chant the classic “You fucked up” at Mike Wade who is dazed.
George Cassidy: Breather.
Picking Wade up Murphy hurls him under the bottom rope into the ring. Jack Murphy picks Mike Wade up off of the mat without a struggle and places him in the corner of the ring. From there Murphy is able to administer stern, brutal, stiff boot shots to the stomach of Mike Wade to punish him.
Truth Waters: The Bull is making Wade pay for the risk he took with that baseball slide.
Weakened Wade is susceptible to attack, Murphy fake whips him out of the corner only to rocket him back, head first into the turnbuckle pad.
George Cassidy: Oof... like hitting a truck head-on!
Falling out Wade is unable to counter Murphy scooping him up onto his shoulders. Moving into the centre of the ring Jack Murphy uses a underhook spinning rock bottom to ground Mike Wade.
Truth Waters: Oh, and there’s the move!
George Cassidy: Do we have a pinfall?
The champion refrains himself from pinning Mike Wade, instead Jack Murphy moves back to the corner of the ring and mounts the turnbuckle.
George Cassidy: We don’t have a pinfall...
Truth Waters: What is the champion thinking?! This isn’t necessary...
After getting stability Jack Murphy stands, looking down on Wade he considers his mode of attack and finally goes with an old school elbow drop. In mid air Wade rolls out of the ring, Murphy’s elbow hits the ring mat.
Truth Waters: Murphy misses! He misses the big move and hands it to Wade on a platter.
George Cassidy: I'm disappointed in Jack Murphy. He usually wrestles with such intelligence.
The champion’s mistake has cost him the clear advantage in the match. Getting up the Frontier champion goes towards the lower half of the Transalantic champion’s body. Grabbing Jack Murphy’s foot, Mike Wade makes a vain attempt at turning Jack Murphy over; Murphy uses the mat to prop himself up. Using his other foot he kicks Mike Wade’s hand off of his left leg before any damage can be done.
Truth Waters: And that’s where experience comes in. Jack Murphy, at 37 years of age, has had years of evading holds before the opponent can put them in place.
George Cassidy: That’s something that Mike Wade, twelve years his junior, might not yet have picked up so well. It could be the difference here. Something that small could decide the title...
Annoyed at his lackluster attempt of taking control, in rage Wade turns and with a firry temper sprints towards Jack Murphy. An irrational arm lariat is ducked by Jack Murphy, who in response, spins and floors Mike Wade with a dropkick. The Bull sniggers as he gets up onto his feet. Crunched Mike Wade is vulnerable, Murphy’s powerful knee slams into his skull. Searching for the ropes Wade is again wide open, this time Murphy drops his elbow, skilfully Murphy hits the exact same spot as before.
Truth Waters: And there it is again, Cassidy... experience is what’s letting Jack Murphy keep Wade down.
Spotting his inadvertent tactic Jack Murphy pulls Mike Wade across the ring in a inverted headlock. INVERTED DDT!!!
George Cassidy: DDT!
Jack Murphy doesn’t release the DDT instead Jack Murphy follows it up with a submission. The Transalantic champion bends Mike Wade over his body digging his knees into the Frontier champion’s back and bending his head, adding further pressure to the point of maximum pain.
Truth Waters: And it’s followed up with a premeditated hold here, Murphy trying to get Wade to tap out---
Mike Wade counters.
George Cassidy: Nice escape!
Mike Wade is able to roll over and get his feet planted on the mat and break the submission. He then from behind nails Jack Murphy in the back with two sharp kicks bound to leave a bad taste in the mouth of the Transalantic champion.
George Cassidy: Those’ll have to hurt.
Mike Wade moves away from Jack Murphy and watches him rise to his feet. Placing his head under Jack Murphy’s body he lifts him… electric chair!!!
Truth Waters: OH! ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP! Mike Wade turns the tide!
George Cassidy: Unbelievable impact! Look – look how Murphy’s head hits the canvas!
Truth Waters: With that one big move Mike Wade might just have won himself a Grand Slam!
But Mike Wade is unable to move to pin Jack Murphy.
George Cassidy: Come on! He just needs to move...
Truth Waters: This is agonising to watch. Jack Murphy is motionless! But his challenger seems if anything MORE in pain...
Chants go up for both superstars, but still nobody moves; Wade appears to be cradling his shoulder. Finally, Jack Murphy, the recipient of the big move, is the one to move gamely to his feet.
George Cassidy: I don’t believe it! After taking an electric chair drop Jack Murphy is the first man up!
Truth Waters: Some people can absorb a little hurt, Cassidy...
George Cassidy: A little?! Did you not see how he hit the mat?
Jack Murphy takes Wade into the corner before delivering an Irish whip throwing Mike Wade into the opposite corner of the ring. Murphy charges at Wade but Wade moves to the right and Jack Murphy can’t stop himself as he hits the turnbuckle pads. Falling out of the corner Jack Murphy is subject to a bulldog from Mike Wade. They hit the mat and Mike Wade slaps Jack Murphy in a headlock. Murphy quickly grabs the bottom rope.
George Cassidy: Wade with the bulldog!... but Murphy takes the ropes, ending the headlock.
The referee forces the Frontier champion off of Jack Murphy which allows Jack Murphy time to recover. On his feet Jack Murphy gains stability before Mike Wade launches his offensive. The defending champion lowers his head, Wade misses with his attempted arm lariat. Mike Wade then uses the ropes to get out of the way of a stabbing kick from the champion. However the champion hunches himself and goes under Mike Wade, hoisting the challenger up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
Truth Waters: Murphy’s taking Wade up in the air!
Initially Jack Murphy struggles but he soon gains a strong upper hand by bending Mike Wade over his shoulder blades. With Wade at his mercy, Jack Murphy begins a small jog across the ring gaining pace.
George Cassidy: Do you feel it?!
Finally he tips Mike Wade over, so his back bounces off of the canvas.
Truth Waters: What a slam!
Jack Murphy pins Mike Wade.
ONE!
TW-
Wade kicks out!
George Cassidy: An early kickout by Mike Wade! That’s encouraging for the challenger.
The champion makes no mistakes this time. He lifts Mike Wade up off of the mat and violently pushes him into the ring ropes… he fakes throwing him off, a tactic to catch the challenger off guard. Reeling him back in like a fish, Jack Murphy delivers a stiff knee to the stomach and then hauls him under his legs. Picking Mike Wade up into the air, Jack Murphy spreads Mike Wade’s arms as far as he can. CRUCIFIX POWERBOMB!!!
Truth Waters: THE POWERBOMB! CRUCIFIX POWERBOMB! Mike Wade is motionless and Murphy surely retains!
Mike Wade lays lifeless on the mat as the champion again drops to his knees pinning Mike Wade once again.
ONE!
TW-
Again Wade kicks out!
George Cassidy: Another kickout after just one!
Truth Waters: Stunning resilience from Wade!
George Cassidy: It was a slightly lazy cover... Serious questions have to be asked on whether or not Jack Murphy is taking this contest seriously at all! Having pinned Mike Wade twice, not hooked the leg, not made any effort to apply a suppressing pin or made any real offensive on Mike Wade… and honestly believing the match could be over…
Truth Waters: I'm sure that Murphy simply misread the situation...
George Cassidy: Or could he be yet another one falling into the trap of underestimating Mike Wade?!
Getting up onto his feet Jack Murphy with great precision drops two boot led kicks on the shoulder of Mike Wade.
Truth Waters: Murphy lays a couple of stomps; this will give him enough time to get him up and prepped for punishment.
However the second boot shot is grabbed out of nowhere by Mike Wade, swiping the leg Murphy is floored.
George Cassidy: Not if His Swerviness has any say in the matter!
The champion is taken by complete surprise. Jack “The Bull” Murphy struggles to find the ropes as he is facing into the middle of the ring. Mike Wade locks the submission on with great technical ability minimising the risk of any rebellion from Jack Murphy.
Truth Waters: And Mike Wade has the ankle lock on!
Suffering with the pain of the submission Jack Murphy just manages to roll forward and out of the hold escaping any pain.
George Cassidy: A very rapid escape indeed!
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy realising the urgency of the situation!
Turning Jack Murphy launches himself at Mike Wade without warning. The two champions tie up with one another with a classic collar to elbow. Mike Wade fights back strong, Wade forces Murphy across into the corner but Jack Murphy uses his experience, confidence and ability to shift momentum his way. Spinning on the spot he overhauls the positions. With Mike Wade now in the corner, Murphy is on the offensive pushing down on Wade. Murphy knows he has to make Wade smaller then he is. The key factor of height in the tie up will determine who comes better off.
George Cassidy: Ah, good old collar-and-elbow... this takes me back...
Truth Waters: To the days of yawndom!
George Cassidy: Yawnwhat?
Truth Waters: Yawn. Do it.
This is different. Mike Wade uses his lack of height to his advantage concentrating his attack, pushing his smaller space of body into Jack Murphy forcing him off. Then as if he was pushing through Jack Murphy he lifts him into the air. With a hold on both legs and with Jack Murphy in the air, Mike Wade pushes him up and over himself… Northern Lights suplex into a pin.
George Cassidy: Oh, incredible! Wade suplexing the far heavier Murphy and the pin...!
ONE!
TWO!
Champion Murphy bridges the pin. The bridge is extremely successful. Before you know it Mike Wade is under Jack Murphy’s legs but… Mike Wade won’t allow Murphy to execute the piledriver. Instead Mike Wade keeps both feet grounded despite Jack Murphy’s persistent punching to his back, making an attempt to weaken him.
Truth Waters: Murphy’s desperately trying to drag His Swerviness into that piledriver but Wade resists...
Lifting his arms up Mike Wade grabs hold of Jack Murphy’s legs and down he goes!
George Cassidy: SPINEBUSTER!
Murphy hits the mat!
Truth Waters: MIKE WADE LOCKS IN THE FIGURE FOUR! FIGURE FOUR LEG LOCK… NO MURPHY KICKS MIKE WADE OFF!
Again Jack Murphy saves himself from the leg submission.
George Cassidy: A narrow escape... Mike Wade again shows a great technical mind going back to work on the leg.
Unable to escape Mike Wade, Jack Murphy fights against Mike Wade’s headlock launching several elbow shots to his stomach. Finally he breaks the hold, Wade is for the pickings but Jack Murphy’s offensive leaves a lot to be desired… he misses with a knee level takedown. Wade jumping into the air stomps on the back of Jack Murphy… very strong style ghetto!
Truth Waters: Mike Wade resorting to crude measures here!
Bouncing off of Jack Murphy the smirk says it all. Mike Wade dances across the ring into the ring ropes in extravagant manner displaying to the crowd his reasonable dancing ability. Off he comes… he rolls through onto his feet… senton??? No shooting star press completely against the flow of his actions… cocky!!!... and it doesn’t pay off. The revolution is too slow and Jack Murphy is able to lifts his knees up in time.
George Cassidy: Murphy’s knees up! SSP thwarted!
He bounces off of the knees… Murphy flips up onto his feet and runs at Mike Wade goring him to the mat! Murphy hooks the leg for the cover.
Truth Waters: OH A SPEAR!
ONE!
TWO!
A convincing kick out from Mike Wade.
George Cassidy: And once again Wade frustrates The Bull!
Getting up Jack Murphy goes to the lower half of Mike Wade and yells “This is how you do it”. Then putting his foot in between Mike Wade’s legs he wraps them up and flips him over applying a fully fledged SHARPSHOOTER!!! This gets Wade back to life and quick.
Truth Waters: SHARPSHOOTER! Murphy schooling Mike Wade in the art of the submission hold!
The pain sends Mike Wade on a scavenger hunt for the ring ropes. Spraying his body and his senses everywhere the submission causes Mike Wade to lose a grip on the match and worry only about breaking the hold.
George Cassidy: He’s jerking like a fish out of water, desperate for the ropes!
The ringmaster he is Jack Murphy can tell this, so patiently he waits until Mike Wade has run out of energy and gives up on trying the different avenues of escape. The camera pans in on Jack Murphy who watches his carefully planned strategy.
Truth Waters: Wade’s tiring, and this could be dangerous for him...
Murphy removes his hands from Mike Wade’s legs and goes to take hold of Mike Wade’s head.
George Cassidy: Murphy’s switching it!
Wade moves… He under hooks the Transalantic champion’s head and the momentum of the swing forces Mike Wade to lose control in the leg region. But he can get back up quicker then Jack Murphy.
Truth Waters: And that’s his downfall! Murphy just tried to be too clever!
Waiting for Jack Murphy, Mike Wade plans a careful attack which is successful – he grounds the champion with a bitter boot to the chin. The champion didn’t see the kick coming at all.
George Cassidy: Murphy is down like a shot!
Eager Mike Wade parades around the fallen champion hatching his next method of assault. Mike Wade drops his knee into the rib cage of Jack Murphy; this makes Jack Murphy’s head pop up into the air. Grabbing Murphy’s head, Mike Wade tosses the champion into the ropes… the champion bounces off of them into a drop toe hold from Mike Wade. This time Mike Wade is successful in locking Jack Murphy’s leg up in an ankle lock.
Truth Waters: Ankle lock once more! And listen to this crowd!
Scrambling Jack Murphy pushes with his right hand making a valiant effort at grabbing the bottom rope. There is no point he is to far away.
George Cassidy: Murphy’s never getting those ropes; no chance in hell!
Truth Waters: Wade tightens his hold!
The crowd goes crazy, they can sense Mike Wade and his Unfuckability. Can he win the Transatlantic championship and become the first Grand Slam champion?
George Cassidy: Wade is just seconds away!
Fighting deep inside himself Jack Murphy searches his brain for every avenue of escape he can muster. He again goes for the ropes, he then tries to roll forward, this is followed by a flimsy kick which is meant to force Mike Wade off.
Truth Waters: Desperate measures!
Bravery, pride and stupidity keep the champion going. His hunt almost distracts him from the excessive degree of suffering the submission is causing him.
George Cassidy: He’s still wrenching away at that ankle and who knows what damage Mike Wade has already done?
Frustrated Mike Wade disposes of Jack Murphy’s leg almost hammering it into the ground: knee first. Jack Murphy’s knee rebounds of the mat and straight back into Mike Wade’s hands, Wade applies the same ankle lock… this time he does so with greater malice.
Truth Waters: I thought he was letting him go!
George Cassidy: My heart was in my mouth for a second, but Wade just took a time-out to inflict a little more pain and resume the ankle lock. I can’t see any way out for Jack Murphy, Truth. We have a new champion, Mike Wade ascending the AWC hierarchy sooner than we---
Murphy jumps around again, this time Murphy leaps so far at the pain he is able to grasp the bottom rope with one finger and not letting the opportunity pass him he crunches the bottom cable with his hand.
Truth Waters: OH! It’s impossible!
George Cassidy: Improbable but not impossible, Truth!
The referee skips around to see the action.
Truth Waters: Murphy got the ropes! He was so far out...
George Cassidy: But determination brought out the best in him!
ONE! TWO! THREE! Mike Wade in disappointment and anger drops Jack Murphy’s ankle.
Truth Waters: That could turn out to have been Wade’s best chance.
Plucking The Bull off of the mat Mike Wade pushes him back into the ropes and pings him across the ring. Huge arm lariat sends Murphy down! Mike Wade pins the champion.
George Cassidy: Clothesline, and what does Murphy have left?
ONE!
TWO!
NO, KICKOUT BY THE BULL!!!
Mike Wade looks genuinely surprised that the champion kicked out. The confidence of the Frontier champion had told him that he won the match. Despite his belief in himself Mike Wade knows now that it is not done and gets up onto his feet. Over he goes to the corner of the ring, he climbs the turnbuckle…
Truth Waters: It’s time for the risk! High stakes need high spots!
FLYING HEADBUTT!!! CONNECTS!!!
George Cassidy: Headbutt! Diving headbutt!
Truth Waters: MIKE WADE NEEDS TO MAKE A PIN AND QUICK!
The crowd are all on their feet watching as Mike Wade begins to make ground before finally he drops his arm over the body of Jack Murphy.
George Cassidy: At last the cover! New champion?!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
NO!!!
Jack Murphy at the last fraction of a second kicks out.
Truth Waters: He escapes! Two count!
The Transatlantic champion Jack Murphy can do nothing while Mike Wade manhandles him. Maliciously placing his head under his legs Mike Wade hooks both of Jack Murphy’s arms and – pedigree!!!
George Cassidy: Double underhook faceplant driv---
Truth Waters: Pedigree, Cassidy.
Keeping Jack Murphy down… Mike Wade pulls tightly on Jack fiercely on Jack Murphy’s arms… CHICKEN WING!!!
Truth Waters: We go from submission to submission here without actually GETTING a submission! And here Wade wrenches away with a chicken wing!
Lifting his legs up he applies even more pressure to the AWC’s primary champion who isn’t faring too well in this match at the moment. The referee gets down on his hands and knees in the best position he can but Jack Murphy just won’t quit.
George Cassidy: This match has taken a turn for the worse for Murphy, but he’s resilient! He just won’t tap.
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy fights with every last drop of energy he has.
Applying greater pressure Mike Wade throws his legs over and crabs the chicken wing!
George Cassidy: Wade complicates the hold, and STILL Jack Murphy fights on sucking up the pain like Jack Bauer!
The referee notices a lack of movement from Jack Murphy and checks out his eyes which seem shut. Sensing Jack Murphy may be out cold, the official lifts Murphy’s hand into the air.
Truth Waters: You know...
George Cassidy: Murphy could be unconscious!
Truth Waters: Michael Ryan investigates!
DROPS IT ONCE!
DROPS IT TWICE!
George Cassidy: NO MURPHY SURVIVES!!!
His hand doesn’t hit the mat. Jack Murphy isn’t quite done yet but this is no heroic comeback WWE style. Jack Murphy is subjected to the same submission; again Murphy’s eyes rest.
George Cassidy: Murphy just about convinced the referee he still had something but Wade’s right back on it!
DROPS THE ARM ONCE!!!
DROPS IT TWICE!!!
DROPS IT… NO AGAIN HE HANGS IN THERE!!!
Truth Waters: There’s got to be a point... surely there’s a point when you just say... that’s it?! Murphy is risking everything to stay in this match here on Fresh!... his career could be in the balance if he doesn’t give in to these body-breaking submission holds!
Biting his nose off to spite his face Mike Wade ends his submission. Getting up Mike Wade grabs the corresponding arms of Jack Murphy who lies face first against the canvas. Arching the body of Jack Murphy into a surfboard style submission, Mike Wade jams his foot in the spine of Jack Murphy.
Truth Waters: And that’s ANOTHER hold--- no, Wade abbreviates it!
Removing his leg Mike Wade positions it and then kick to the back of the head! This loosens Jack Murphy and then drilling his legs forward he stomps Jack Murphy’s face into the mat curb stompin’ style!
George Cassidy: Wade can switch from technique to brawn in an instant.
Turning him over Mike Wade pins the champion.
ONE!
TWO!
Murphy gets his foot up on the rope!
Truth Waters: His boot – ah, Ryan’s seen it!
Getting up Mike Wade scoops Jack Murphy off of the mat. He spins Jack Murphy around with the clear intention of nailing him with his variation of the Tiger Driver ‘91. Out of nowhere Jack Murphy launches his body weight backwards and his elbow smashes into the windpipe of Mike Wade.
Truth Waters: ELBOW SMASH! Murphy’s still got something!
George Cassidy: The fans are running riot! They thought it was a matter of time!
The crowd is stunned as both warriors fall to the mat. The referee begins to count them down and out.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
George Cassidy: Both down... and will either get up... at all? Are they ABLE to?
FIVE!
SIX!
Jack Murphy crawls over covering Mike Wade.
Truth Waters: Murphy on top of Wade suddenly and here’s the count!
ONE!
TWO!
NO MIKE WADE KICKS OUT!!!!
George Cassidy: Wade escapes! The match continues!
Using the ropes Jack Murphy manages to get to his feet before Mike Wade. He kicks Wade in the gut but Mike Wade responds with a stiff chop to the stomach of Jack Murphy, with the knee Murphy collapses slightly. Pulling Jack Murphy under his legs Mike Wade is obviously going for the big killer power move. Out of nowhere again Murphy swipes both of Mike Wade’s legs out from underneath him.
Truth Waters: Murphy takes him down – the Boston crab!
Jack Murphy locks a Boston crab tight on Mike Wade!
George Cassidy: WADE HAS NOWHERE TO GO!
Truth Waters: STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING IN MURPHY’S HOLD!
He looks around… but won’t give up.
George Cassidy: Mike Wade would rather pass out then give in to Jack Murphy! He wants to show what a warrior he is.
Truth Waters: And after tonight... we’ll all be believing it.
The referee grabs Mike Wade’s hand as Jack Murphy intensifies the submission by bending the body further.
Truth Waters: Once more Michael Ryan looks to prove that a combatant has slipped out of consciousness, but this time it’s Mike Wade!
THE HAND IS DROPPED ONCE BY THE REFEREE!!!
THE HAND IS DROPPED TWICE BY THE REFEREE!!!
NO MIKE WADE HANGS ON!!!!
George Cassidy: HAND SHOOTS UP!
His Swerviness defies the Bull.
Truth Waters: Just… listen to this atmosphere! What an evening of action!
“The Bull” Jack Murphy looks angry, he moves into the corner of the ring and faces the corner, closing his eyes trying to rethink, regroup some thoughts and come up with a strategy to win himself the match. Mike Wade is on the mat, wisely he refuses to make the first move trying to get every second of recuperation available.
George Cassidy: We’ve hit a lull, and these two have been fast and furious for so long, it’s well overdue. The question is, who can break through the pain barrier and take this one step further?
Truth Waters: You’d have to side with the champion in this situation.
Realizing that Wade is taking the time to rest Jack Murphy wastes no more time. The Transatlantic champion sneaks across the ring and snatches Mike Wade’s foot off of the mat. Wade rolls onto his back and lightly removes Jack Murphy’s hand… no Jack Murphy throws the leg down before Mike Wade can kick it. As a consequence of Jack Murphy’s quick thinking, Mike Wade’s other leg is left in the air and JACK MURPHY pulls out of the air and puts in an ankle lock. Diving to his right Mike Wade almost hugs the bottom cable… ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Jack Murphy reluctantly drops Mike Wade’s foot.
George Cassidy: It was Jack Murphy with the ankle lock that time around, but with Wade wrapped around the cables he had to concede defeat.
Clapping Jack Murphy musters crowd support, they can feel it, he can sense it and the TV time is running out… good incitation eh? lol
Truth Waters: “LOL” in results?! What is AWC coming to?
George Cassidy: If it’s the trade-off for main events like this, Truth, then GIVE ME “LOL”, I DON’T MIND!
Untangling Mike Wade from the ropes the Transalantic champion speeds him across the ring. Wade comes back with little control, he dives over Jack Murphy’s back body drop. Coming out of the dive into a headstand Mike Wade is able to bend his legs back enough to hook Jack Murphy’s arms as he unsusceptible begins to stand up. He pulls him down… PIN!
George Cassidy: Ohh, what do we have here...!
The referee slides down.
ONE!
TWO!
JACK MURPHY ESCAPES THE PIN!
Truth Waters: An athletic pinning predicament almost secured the belt for Wade!
The two instantly explode with punches and kicks at one another in an Mixed Martial Arts style brawl on the mat. In the end Mike Wade comes out on top…
George Cassidy: Wade’s moving faster and hitting harder. Does he just want it more?
Truth Waters: Or does Murphy just have nothing left?
Wade has Jack Murphy in a sleeper hold and he begins to stand keeping Jack Murphy in control… Murphy closes his eyes but this time it is a lot quicker then before… no fight back… no resonance… no problems for Mike Wade… It’s in the bag?
George Cassidy: Murphy’s faded horribly quickly in the sleeper, and...
The referee takes Jack Murphy’s hand.
Truth Waters: Yet again, we have Mike Ryan testing the consciousness...
ONE DROP!
TWO DROP!
Wade is taken by surprise… Murphy had him hook, line and sinker… MURPHY WAS PLAYING LIKE AN A LIST ACTOR… Before his hand is dropped for the third time he pushes his elbow back with great aggression into the stomach of Mike Wade. Then running himself around Wade he takes him down with drop toe hold… into an…
STF!!!
Truth Waters: MURPHY WAS FAKING! MURPHY HAD MIKE WADE SUCKERED!
George Cassidy: STF! STF!
MIKE WADE TAPS!!!
He doesn’t even look for a way out, it is one submission to many for Mike Wade tonight.
Truth Waters: HE TAPS! THIS IS OVER! JACK MURPHY WINS WITH THE STF!
George Cassidy: A bridge too far for Mike Wade!
Truth Waters: Just the last gasp of intelligence from Murphy and Wade fell for it so hard he hit his head on the way down! That is why Jack Murphy carries that title belt, ladies and gentlemen!
James Brunt: The winner… and still AWC Transatlantic champion... “THE BULL” JACK MURPHY!
Danger, Remorse And Regret
FEATURING: TRACY, SARAH KENNEDY, CHAINZ, MADDY ESTELLE, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND LARA CLARKE
Tracy wept aimlessly into the soggy Kleenex tissue as she thought of Chainz and Teresa, her mind working into overdrive, listening to the beating of her own heart as more tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks, she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Sarah Kennedy: He’s not worth this…
Sarah said in a consoling tone, laying her arm around Tracy’s slender shoulders as she watched the long lines of mascara dribble down Tracy’s cheek till they joined in a small droplet on her chin.
Sarah Kennedy: He’s scum, you should never cry over a man like that.
Tracy just listened to Sarah’s words, the same words she would hear over and over by those who cared for Tracy or who held an ounce of understanding towards her situation; nobody thought Michael Sloan aka Chainz was good enough for Tracy and now as she sat here on the wooden bench in the ladies locker room, she too wondered if she had been blinded to the truth everybody else saw.
Tracy: I never pictured me and Michael being here…
Tracy managed to say breathlessly beneath the tears and hysterics. By being here, she meant their fighting and Chainz’s constant affiliation with more women.
Tracy: I’m just not enough for Michael… There always has to be…
Sarah Kennedy:…More women.
Sarah finished off Tracy’s sentence as she felt Tracy’s head resting against her shoulder. This was never in the job description when Sarah had signed on to work for Pearl and the AWC, but Tracy was a sweat woman, just misguided and confused with a jerk of a fiancée and she knew she needed consoling.
Chainz swayed in motion, his body clashing against the cream coloured walls as he walked in a drunken state down the long corridors, holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand.
Chainz: Tra- where you go?
Chainz was drunk, more specifically wasted. He was a bad drunk, drinking way too much way too fast and never knowing his limit.
His body swayed to and fro as if a beat was going in his head, but this dance was nothing to be envied. Had the walls been made of wood they would have been broken with each bump of his massive frame.
Luckily the hallways were clear of anyone important. Maddy Estelle walked out from behind a corner and Chainz made a beckon towards her. Luckily there still wasn’t anyone important in the hallways.
Maddy Estelle: Chainz, what are you…
Before she could finish the sentence Chainz vomits all over her dress. Maddy screams and runs off in search of the nearest bathroom.
Chainz stops in front of the women’s locker room and takes a swig of his whiskey. He kicks the door open, almost losing his balance in the process and eliciting screams from Sarah Kennedy and Tracy.
Chainz walks in and stares at the two women who are glaring back at him with disdain.
Chainz: What’s going on here? Why you run off, make me chase you over fucking whole arena.
Sarah Kennedy: Look Chainz, you should leave. Tracy doesn’t want to see you right now.
Sarah places a hand on Chainz’s shoulder to try and keep him at bay, but we all know the freak won’t see it like that.
Chainz looks down at the lovely hand on his shoulder. His mind racing with lust and booze, he naturally assumed. He grabs the back of Sarah’s head and goes in for a kiss, luckily his drunken state allows for Sarah to duck. She slaps Chainz across the face and now things go to hell.
Chainz: That’s it, tired of these games. Fucking yelling at me for shit, you’re tearing me apart. Going crazy, messing with you non-stop.
Tracy: Mike, calm down.
But there was to be no calming for Mr. Sloan. He threw his bottle of whiskey against a wall, shattering it in the process. The women screamed as he threw their bench through the air. He punched a wall, leaving a small dent in the old and decrepit concrete. Then his attention turned to the two terrified women in front of him.
Sarah began to run out of the room, but noticed Tracy was frozen in space. Sarah quickly grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the room. The two ran through the hallways pursued by Chainz, who now seemed sorry.
Chainz: Come back, I’m sorry. Sorry, fuck it, sorry.
Sarah and Tracy turn a corner and suddenly Sarah pulls her into a room, belonging to former Transatlantic champion Pierce Lavelle. Sarah and Tracy burst into the door and shut it behind them, both panting away in terror. Tracy stared in shock, denial as she thought back to how Chainz had flung a bench, almost hitting her and Sarah. She never thought he would harm her. Never.
Sarah leant against the door and turned the lock, moving backwards into the comfort of Pierce’s locker room, but there was silence. Sarah only hoped he was here, listening to his music or in the showers.
Tracy: I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…
Tracy muttered over and over as she listened to the trundling footsteps not too far from Pierce Lavelle’s locker room. She turned to Sarah, whose attention had turned off the door and to the locker room. She was looking for Pierce. Why would Pierce protect her against Chainz? She could understand him protecting Sarah, but the last time Pierce had stood up for Tracy against Chainz, at the Christmas party, she reacted terribly.
Pierce Lavelle emerged dazed from behind the small granite wall, in nothing more than a pair of white socks and grey sweatpants. He gazed toward the two ladies, who were terrified, exhausted and puffing a lot of air.
Pierce Lavelle: Sarah? What’s wrong?
Pierce dropped his towel and shower gel to one side and made his way toward Sarah, placing his arms on the shoulders of the teary-eyed Sarah Kennedy. Tracy moved in closer, feeling a sense of comfort being near the two.
Sarah Kennedy: Chainz… he’s drunk… chasing us…
Pierce sat Sarah down and handed her a spare bottle of water, he then turned to Tracy. A woman, who detested his opinion once, now seemed longing for reassurance and comfort. He placed a hand around her shoulder and sat her down, but before he could tend to her. The door flew open, the small lock flying across the room.
Chainz: Tracy, Tracy, come back to me. I’m sorry…
Chainz slumbered into the room, his legs like dead weights, moving his body across the opened door frame with difficulty. Slouching against the now broken door, he gazed toward a half naked Pierce Lavelle with an arm around Tracy.
Chainz: You wanna punish me! So you come here, to this fucking druggy!
Chainz angrily steps forward, swinging a drunken punch toward the air, hitting nothing. His body stumbles forward, moving closer to Pierce and Tracy. Sarah looks on, regret in her eyes as she stares toward the dilemma she has now placed Pierce in.
Tracy: Michael, no…
Chainz yanks Tracy by her arm, gripping tightly in a drunken rage, causing Pierce to wobble backwards. Tracy yelps in pain as Chainz’s grip tightens. Listening to his fiancée’s yelps, Chainz lets go with some remorse. He turns away, leaving Tracy to run back to Pierce and Sarah.
Chainz: I’m sorry…
Pierce Lavelle: Look, just take it easy…
Pierce trying to calm the situation he now found himself in, stepped forward, in front of the two ladies and carefully moves closer toward Chainz, who has now begun to slide down the wall, holding his head in his hands.
Pierce Lavelle: …
Pierce just turned around, he needed to get Chainz away from the two ladies, he could see he was unstable. At that moment, as Lavelle bent down to Chainz’s level, Chainz began to cry silently into his palm. Pierce, trying not to aggravate Chainz further, carefully lifted the drunken rhino, using most of his momentum to carry Chainz into the hallway, Chainz’s legs dragging behind.
Tracy and Sarah sighed with relief, both tired, shocked and teary eyed. The door shut behind Pierce as he carefully placed Chainz next to the water cooler. Chainz looked up toward Pierce Lavelle.
Pierce Lavelle: Here, drink this…
Pierce said nicely as he handed him a small cup of water, hoping that Chainz would not resort to a flaming tantrum in his drunken state, but it seemed the alcohol was burning out. Chainz gazed toward the ground.
Chainz: I’m sorry, so sorry…I didn’t mean to…
Pierce Lavelle: I think she knows.
Pierce carefully hunkered down next to him, handing Chainz another glass of water to keep the fluids running and to detox Chainz from the alcohol.
Chainz: I’m sorry, about the drugs thing… back there…
Pierce Lavelle: Look, don’t worry about that. It doesn’t matter. It might not be my place to say this, but if you truly love her, then maybe you should think about toning down the affection for other women… She is hurting, but it is clear she loves you.
Chainz: Why do you care?
Pierce Lavelle: Sometimes a bit of friendly advice helps…
Pierce rose to his feet, patting down his arms as he looked toward the heap Chainz lay in against the wall, cradling a small cup of water. Pierce turned to the locker room and walked in. Tracy was now standing, pacing with worry and then hugged Pierce on his arrival.
Tracy: Thank you…
She whispered and soon left, Pierce watched on as she approached Chainz and embraced him. Sarah’s gaze was one of worry as she looked toward the couple in the hall, who only moments ago were in a state of rage. Pierce stepped back into the locker room confused as how Tracy could still embrace the man who had hurt her so.
Sarah Kennedy: Pierce?
Pierce Lavelle: Uh-huh?
Sarah Kennedy: I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bring you into this.
Pierce turned his attention to Sarah Kennedy, hugging her gently as she shivered with shock and fear in his arms.
Pierce Lavelle: I’m just glad you’re alright…
Putting Wheels In Motion
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, ADAM DICK
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Sasha does not want to be sitting in her office alone. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she had.
In the beginning, her time was spent frequenting with Chainz and then Jack Murphy. As the weeks progressed, her time with Jack would be spent more passionately. They’d begin to make time for each other.
But now he’s busy. Too busy to make time.
And Sasha Volkyeva, Mother Russia, is meant to rule the day-to-day happenings on her own.
That over-dramatic thought doesn’t linger for much longer as she stumbles upon Adam Dick, who seemed to be making a habit of lingering in the hallways.
At first, she doesn’t think to say anything to the young man in his current state, being the distraught little boy he’s come to be known as. But it is his first word that entices conversation.
Adam Dick: Rough night?
Sasha Volkyeva: I would ask the same of you.
Adam smiles a bit.
Adam Dick: But that’s come to be expected, as of late.
Sasha Volkyeva: Such a shame, but I guess so.
Adam turns back to... whatever the hell he was doing, and Sasha makes to step down the hall. But she stops and turns.
Sasha Volkyeva: Care to explain why?
Adam Dick: ‘Why’ what?
Sasha Volkyeva: Why rough nights have come to be expected?
Adam Dick: Huh, well...
He turns back up to her with the faint reminder of that flare he used to have.
Adam Dick: Guess we all go through our rough patches. I guess I’m just a little too stubborn to ask for help...
At first, she doesn’t think anything of it. But a split second later, his words began creeping around Sasha’s brain, reflecting her own situation in whatever funhouse mirror she happened to be staring through.
And like the mouse on the wheel, her brain starts turning; thinking. But this will have to wait, she’ll have to bide her time...
...like some others.
Sasha Volkyeva: I will be seeing you next week, Adam, right?
Adam Dick: Right. See you next week.
Sasha walks off, her former frown now an unrivaled smirk. Things would definitely change for the better. After the copyright notice.