Fresh! Results

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Introduction

FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

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The AWC 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 Hakon Hall go wild, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of the first year of AWC. 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; Chainz taking a dive through a glass window at Twilight Of The Gods; 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 Adam Dick, cocking his crowned head to one side as he flicks his eyes from side to side. And then it’s white light.

Steven Smith: HELLO, NORWAY! I feel like I'm presenting the Eurovision!

Jeff Marx: What in the hell is that?

Steven Smith: Oh, I import the videos... it’s this fantastic music festival each year in Europe...

Dave Kern: AWC is live from Norway for the first time, in this packed Hakon Hall! This town is the little brother of a member of Tempered Steel!

Steven Smith: …?

Jeff Marx: …?!

Dave Kern: …Li’l Hammer!

Steven Smith: …?

Jeff Marx: …!!!

Dave Kern: (hangs head) Alright, sorry.

Jeff Marx: I'm surprised to see a full house... I guess Harber did his research well.

Dave Kern: This is Fresh!’s return; Fresh! hasn’t been on the air since before Twilight Of The Gods due to the decision by the powers that be to take AWC off television in the run-up to Zero 2 Hero –

Steven Smith: Hype, baby!

Jeff Marx: What a drawn-out and pathetic attempt at –

Dave Kern: Regardless of anyone’s feelings about Zero 2 Hero, it turned out a great event on Friday 28th! And GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY defeated Kip Brown in the final to become the Hero of 2006!

Jeff Marx: He’s the new king. You know it.

Dave Kern: By no means was he the only one to impress though...

Jeff Marx: Anton Assault was pretty good, and of course THE Duke Williams!

Steven Smith: I thought Kip and I stole the show...

Dave Kern: Onto tonight, then, and we start off with a Hero versus hero match – Garbage Bag Johnny fights Superman, who was hired as a result of... er... an administrative error...

Jeff Marx: (growling) Sasha...

Dave Kern: Tonight is a nice mix of debutants and old faces, and we finish off with the mouthwatering main event we’ve been clamouring to see ever since Aimz jumped from PRIME: Ellis Nash defends her Frontier title against The Red Raver!

Steven Smith: That’s a good time for a toilet break then.

Jeff Marx: Those two will rip each other apart!

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Royal High

FEATURING: ADAM DICK, ELLIS NASH AND THE KING'S ROYAL COURT
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND LIA

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Dave Kern: Well I don’t recognize this theme song...

Jeff Marx: My money’s on the King for another change-up. He always does those.

Please keep the reporters at bay
This is a matter of life or death but
We deal with things like this every day
Please keep the reporters at bay
You never do what I tell you to do
You never do as I say

“Flying at Tree Level” by br& new

As if Jeff and his liege share some strange mental connection that only the two understand, the arena becomes drenched in violet. It’s a delayed entrance, but when Ellis Nash enters the arena first with both a casual smirk and her Frontier championship, the fans boo enough that it really doesn’t matter if Adam Dick is there or not.

Regardless, the King follows his Queen, the crown returned and fitting snugly on his head. Both are dressed in their usual casual wear aside from their glamorously large “blingage” pieces they’re rocking, but that’s the price to pay for being a champion.

Please keep the crowd under control
This is a matter of life or death
And we’re not prepared, I just want you to know
Please keep the crowd under control
This is the weight of my conscience
This is an all-time low.

Walking down the stage arm in arm with Ellis, Adam gives the announcing team a glance. Then he sees Steven Smith and glances away before he gets gay vibes.

Steven Smith: I think he just smiled at me.

Dave Kern: That man was despicable at Twilight Of The Gods, and to think George Cassidy helped him!

Jeff Marx: Damn right! Long live the King.

Adam climbs up the steps first to hold the ropes open for his lady. The two slide in where Ellis grabs the duo a microphone to share from James Brunt.

Dave Kern: Speaking of Jack Murphy, he’s been surprisingly absent since being screwed at Twilight.

Jeff Marx: Who cares? Old school is old news.

Dave Kern: Something tells me that the Bull has something in store for our Royal Highness...

The commentators both quiet down and wait for the champs to speak to the crowd.

Adam Dick: What an entrance, eh? That shit was weak! Purple lights and new theme music, that isn’t any way to treat the King and Queen of the Atlantic! We’re fucking Royalty! Chivalrous! Honorable! All that shit, but no, all we get is pussy ass fucking pyros.

Ellis nods in disapproval.

Adam Dick: In fact, we never get any respect in AWC! We never have! It’s always people shaking their fingers at us, thinking we’re the cause to all of the problems that go on here when, hey, we’re just as much the victim as you fans! Only we’re a little bit more important, se we should be treated as such! No more of that shitty ass food, shitty ring-announcers –

James Brunt flips Adam off.

Adam Dick: And shitty ring-staff! I can’t even wrestle a match without a fucking referee dying of bump-cancer for fifteen minutes, CONVENIENTLY long enough for my lame ass opponent to kick-out of whatever head-droppingly sick move I perform on them. It’s getting ridiculous! It’s forcing good, hard-working people like George Cassidy to step up and help out the King! And while I commend you for your services, George, you can rest easy knowing that your King will be prepared in the future.

Jeff Marx: Thank the lord!

Adam Dick: That’s right, folks, let me be the first to introduce you to the King’s Royal Court! That’s right, these people will be at my side at all times from here on out, and at the most appropriate times they will be there to make sure the job gets done the right way! THE ADAM DICK WAY!

The crowd boos.

Adam Dick: First, making his way to the ring is a personal associate of mine! He gets me out of rough times when my mind is in a funky place, and it only makes sense that he’s my financial advisor. Please pay attention, partners, for the Pure Platinum Power of a Pristine Platinum Player, BITTY!

Dressed in a light blue sweat suit with more gleam from the skylights than the “Grillz” music video, Bitty swaggers to the ring with a devastatingly ill pimp-walk and more Platinum than Soundscan can grant for sales achievements. Seriously, he has platinum rings, platinum chains, platinum teeth, platinum ear-rings. Even his Jesus-piece, depicting his death on the cross, is wearing it’s own tiny platinum necklace.

Bitty climbs in the ring and immediately high-fives Ellis before slapping Adam on the back.

Adam Dick: Keeping it real, Bitty?

Bitty: Keepin it platinum, playa. I just got my bitch lifted wit dem platinum eyebrows.

Adam Dick: I feel that. Next is my Anger-Advisor. This guy just tells me who I should lash out at when I get over-whelmingly frustrated and need to vent some. He’s poised, calculated, and completely irrational. Get on his bad side, and you’re as good as dead. Please give a word round of applause to my main man, JI-HIMMY JIHAD!

A scrawny Islamic man, wearing baggy pants and cloth wrapped around his body that doesn’t exactly look like a shirt, comes hobbling out to the arena. He hasn’t shaved in what looks like years and he’s really dusty, but no one seems to mind. Probably because everyone is consciously being over-sensitive in fear of being regarded as that asshole who looked at the Muslim wrong.

Adam Dick: How you feeling, Ji-Himmy?

Ji-Himmy Jihad: Midah Dick! Tat man in te crowd! He wrongt me! He try to sell me pork o te tisgusding t’ing, t’at creature! I KILL HIM! I JIHAD HIM!

Adam Dick: Easy there, buddy, wait until the commercial. Alright, and up next, accompanied by the always lady Jessica O’Grady is a man who really needs no introductions. He’s bested opponents all over in his time on earth, and now he’s besting them again! Originally from the Middle Ages, brought back by way of voodoo for YOUR entertainment pleasure, give it up for ZOMBY KNIGHT!

Jessica comes through first, disgust thoroughly written across her face. While she was supposed to walk arm in arm with her escort, Zomby Knight was a bit too grabby for her tastes.

And what’s a Zomby Knight to do, eh? He’s dead, it’s probably been hundreds of years since he’s bested a wench as good looking as Jessica. Regardless, the three hundred pounds of rotting and man-eating flesh comes trouncing through the arena, growling at all the children’s hands that wish to touch him as he enters the ring.

Zomby Knight: Rrrrrrrrurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Adam Dick: I hear ya, Zomby. How’s the kids?

Zomby Knight: AERSSSRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Zomby Knight reaches into the crowd and grabs a small baby, feasting on its remains before he enters the ring.

Adam Dick: Jessica, I trust you are enjoying yourself.

Jessica O’Grady: GO TO HELL.

Adam Dick: You may want to say that to Zomby, it’d probably be helping him out. Anyways, now that we’ve all got everyone acquainted, we can get down to the matter at hand; RESPECT. Ellis, I hear you have a few things to say on the matter. Dear?

Adam hands the microphone over to Ellis, who was just buying a sack of pot from Bitty before Adam called her.

Ellis Nash: That's right, respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T!!!, motherfuckers. First, I would like to address everybody's favorite victim of leprosy: The Addict that Could, AIMZ!

The crowd boos. No one likes Aimz. At least, not in this writer’s mind.

Ellis Nash: Yeah, yeah, I feel your sentiments. Listen Carrot Top, I don't give two shits about you and your little girlfriend reciting Danielle Steel to each other but apparently some douchebag sweater-vest wearing jackass felt it necessary to give you a shot at MY title. Now, word of mouth is that your bitch ass is claiming Adam and I not worthy of where we're at today because we're no-good ass-kissing pot-smoking losers. Well guess what, Pippy? I have been here a shitload longer than you have, and I know I'm not the only one who's getting sick of your holier-than-thou attitude. Am I right?

Ellis holds the microphone out to the crowd. The consensus is a RIGHT!!! without the ~ because, really, that's just gay. Like a piece of Heaven has just floated into her ear, Ellis smiles.

Ellis Nash: Thank you! It's a matter of respect, Aimzzzzz. What the hell is with that goddamn Z? Is it a matter of hardcore-ocity? Because, I mean, looking at you, you're totally hardcore; everything from the tattoos to the hair to the piercings to the goddamn clothing, Aimz, you're totally Myspace-hardcore. Do you ever wonder what people think about you when you're out in public? More importantly, do you ever wonder how you're going to look like when you're, like, eighty years old? Saggy tits, wobbly knees but god damnit Aimz, you'll still have your totally awesome tattoos!!!

Thumbs up. Ellis suddenly remembers something.

Ellis Nash: Oh. By the way, I heard you got into a scuffle with Chainz... did you know he has a Z at the end of his name too? I don't know about you, but I'm sensing a little MFEO.

Thinking about it, Ellis visibly shudders at the prospect.

Ellis Nash: ANYWAY... onto Teresa "I run possums over with my '78 Ford Bronco and then cook'em for supper" Tomas. Teresa, I don't know if you've got a whole lesbo angle going for you, but tweaking my nipples was totally unacceptable… and wrong… and gross… and.... wrong…!

Ellis' face is suddenly a canvas for a mixture of disgust and fear. She looks over at Adam and thrusts the microphone in his direction.

Adam Dick: The first, and probably last, Ellis Nash ring promo, ladies and gentlemen! Expect sarcasm and subtle parody back on its regular time next Tuesday.

The crowd gives a small round of applause.

Adam Dick: What you are looking at are the two best mother fuckers that the Atlantic has to offer. No cluster fuck matches needed to win to prove the best of the crop. No lame ass tournaments to hype ourselves to enter. No big title shots we have to earn. We are who we are, and we headline Pay-Per-Views because of it. I’m not where I’m at because I’ve done dick-all in Core for a month or two. I’m not sitting here because I’m playing the Irish gimmick for everything it’s worth. I’m sitting here because I’ve got what it takes to sit everyone else back on their ass.

Dave Kern: All he did was manipulate Jack Murphy’s friends.

Jeff Marx: That takes a lot of work!

Adam Dick: I’m not Chainz. I don’t need to cut babies up or jump out of buildings to get attention. Man, all I’ve got to do is live day-to-day life and people’s lives crumble around me. Shit just happens, man. You think I spent months and months of planning into duping you all about Ivan Stanislav? Shit, I made that up that morning! All it took was a prank-call to Sasha Volky’s office. All of the sudden I’ve got free roam to shit on all over you guys’ faces. I’m not Vince Jones or Teresa Tomas or Mikey O’Reilly, for that matter. I’m not so engrained in my fucking culture that I’m the picture perfect display for being a stereotype. I sat here for a fucking month, on my ass, doing jack shit. And does anyone rise up to take the reigns? Does AgentDash actually do something worth noting? Does Anton Assault break into the top? Does Red Rock finally make the leap past obscurity? NOPE. Everyone takes a cue from the King In Exile while he plays everyone like a fiddle, doing jack shit because they all know they want him to be in the driver’s seat. SHIT WAS BORING with Jack Murphy as the champ. What did he do aside from go all pseudo-face? Uh.... nothing but get played by me? Yeah, that’s it.

Dave Kern: This entire display is ridiculous! A drug-dealer? An over-sensitive Muslim? A ZOMBIE?! What the hell is going on here?!

Adam Dick: It’s hard for me to determine who’s supposed to get the next shot at my title, but I think I’ve narrowed it down. It’s only fair that Jack Murphy gets his rematch at my championship, and he shall... after Pierce Lavelle gets his. Seeing as that’s a little less than a year, there really isn’t much room anyone else. So, I’ve decided to go out there and extend my hand to less fortunate for a charitable offer. It has been brought to my attention recently, that I have NEVER bested a woman in contested competition!

Jeff Marx: Well, he did lose to Ellis Nash on purpose.

Dave Kern: You would say that.

Adam Dick: Who’d have thought?! Me, never beaten a woman! Well that changes tonight! That’s right, tonight, before my Lady demolishes Pippi Gothstockings in the Main Event, I’ll be defending my Crown against a woman I’ve never faced! A woman whom many of you fools think is worthy of my shot, but I SAY NAY! However, because I’m nice, I’ve decided to give this opportunity... to DARCY CRISIS! That’s right! Dick Crisis, TONIGHT!

Dave Kern: But… Darcy Crisis isn’t a woman…

Jeff Marx: Oh, open your eyes.

Steven Smith: I think it’s kind of funny, how he’s failed to mention the entire ordeal with Mike Wade.

Adam Dick: But other than that, there isn’t really anyone else that is even worthy of my crown.

Steven Smith: MIKE WADE!

Adam Dick: I CAN’T HEAR THINGS. Wait, isn’t there some guy that won Zero 2 Hero? Funny I should say that, Adam, because there is! Ladies and Gentlemen, the DIRTIEST MOTHER FUCKER TO EVER GRACE YOUR EYEBALLS... but first! Let’s invite everyone out to join the party! Come on, let’s get these douchebags rolling! Captain Sully, Pirateman the Beard, Vic Cage, Dukey Dubya and the Dykes!

James Brunt had snuck into the ring and snatched the microphone from Adam, taking a stand to his berating of the roster.

James Brunt: These people aren’t douchebags, and I can do my own job, ass.

Adam Dick: Then do it, dick hole, and get the fuck out of my ring.

AWC takes a quick, random, pointless static break as we prepare for the extravagant extravaganza of GBJ.

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Zero 2 Hero Celebration

FEATURING: a load of people
AUTHOR: JOSH KALVALAGE

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After announcing all of the attendants to the Zero 2 Hero celebration for Garbage Bag Johnny put together by King Dick and Queen Nash, Adam Dick, Ellis Nash, Aimz, Darcy Crisis, Duke Williams, Captain Suleimon, Victor Cage, Orangebeard the Pirate with Olly, and ring announcer James Brunt are in the ring. Adam Dick and Ellis Nash stand commandingly in the center of the ring. Aimz and Darcy Crisis are hanging out on the ring apron, where Aimz is exchanging shooting glances with Ellis Nash, the two ladies in the main event tonight exchanging foul looks and obscene and sometimes childish gestures.

Duke Williams is in the ring, off on his own, riling up the crowd and drinking wild turkey. Captain Suleimon is outside the ring, arms crossed in defiance, arguing with one of the fans about how the Ottoman Empire was greater than anything the Vikings had ever done. Victor Cage and Orangebeard the Pirate are in the ring as Orangebeard tries to keep Olly, who is punch drunk, out of a fight with Victor.

Dave Kern: This is an interesting cast of characters assembled in the ring. All hell could break loose at any minute.

Steven Smith: That Victor Cage is making me stand at attention!

Towards the back of the ring, there is a table with a large, white cake as well as a tray of beverages. As Adam Dick hands the microphone to James Brunt for the official introduction.

James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to your Hero of 2006, GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!

The crowd goes absolutely fucking nuts. As the opening bass slaps of “Garbage Bag Johnny Will Win Zero 2 Hero” by GBJ himself along with the members of Primus fill the arena, the stage is lit up by pyro and explosions and all the works one could ask for in an entrance theme. Smoke starts shooting up from the stage, the ramp, and underneath the ring until the path into the ring is completely clouded with rising smoke.

Jeff Marx: Something smells funny.

Dave Kern: Is that…?

The figure of the Zero 2 Hero champion cuts right through the smoke, and GBJ takes a slow, meandering path to the ring, breathing the smoke in as often as he can, and slapping hands with Norwegians. The fans seem to get a kick out of his homemade shirt, a black t-shirt with the words “BLACK METAL” in bold, white print. The smoke begins to slowly rise as Garbage Bag Johnny slides under the bottom rope and stands up.

Dave Kern: It is!

Jeff Marx: HA! Everyone in the ring does look a bit more lethargic now.

Dave Kern: And look! They’re all starting to inch towards the cake and the refreshments!

Steven Smith: I’d like to inch towards Victor Cage’s rear admiral.

Jeff Marx: You’re so gay that you don’t even make sense anymore.

Garbage Bag Johnny shakes hands with Aimz and Darcy Crisis over the top rope as they congratulate him and exchange words of mutual respect. GBJ then walks between Victor Cage and Orangebeard. Orangebeard and Garbage Bag exchange a hearty swashbuckle, and Cage gives Garbage Bag a friendly embrace.

Dave Kern: Victor Cage and Garbage Bag Johnny actually trained at the same wrestling school before starting their careers here in AWC.

Steven Smith: Ewwww! Victor Cage is tainted with Garbage Bag’s stench.

Garbage Bag looks outside the ring at Captain Suleimon, but Suleimon turns his back on Garbage Bag Johnny.

Captain Suleimon: American swine! I am here in protest!

Garbage Bag Johnny shrugs and walks over to Duke. The two high five, exchange a “GOBBLE, GOBBLE,” and take turns swigging from Duke’s bottle of Wild Turkey.

Finally, Garbage Bag Johnny stops in the center of the ring, exchanging a fist pound with Adam Dick and a handshake with Ellis, who pulls him in and says something into his ear above the noise of the crowd. Adam Dick quiets the crowd down as they’re pretty confused as to whether to cheer or not with the odd cast of characters gathered to celebrate.

Adam Dick: Now Johnny, your win at Zero 2 Hero was impressive, and it made me think that maybe you’re not the homeless crackhead everyone initially took you for, but it means that in a few months, you’re going to have to stand up against a force much stronger than Vince Jones, Anton Assault, and Kip Brown combined into one gigantic, three-headed, multiracial monstrosity. At Coast To Coast, you’ve got something most men of your raggedness will never achieve - a shot at my crown, and I have to say that it might put some strain on our relationship as fellow connoisseurs of certain plants. But let’s not worry about that now. Tonight is your night.

Dave Kern: An uncharacteristic gesture here by Adam Dick, but I can’t help but feel there’s a certain glibness to his actions tonight.

Jeff Marx: Give him a break. His former best friend, that chump Wade, just stabbed him in the back. Garbage Bag Johnny is a friend you can count on.

Dave Kern: That’s yet to be seen. He’s still got the reputation as the only man in wrestling history to rake another man’s gooch.

Steven Smith: This one time, I…

Jeff Marx: You don’t count, homo.

Outside of the ring, Captain Suleimon is asleep on his feet from the alleged pot smoke. Orangebeard and Victor Cage are eating the icing off of the cake with their hands. Aimz and Darcy Crisis are laughing uncontrollably at James Brunt, who is now outside the ring offering free hugs to the Norwegian fans in the front row (through the steel mesh security fence, obv). Duke Williams is busy storing an empty bottle of Wild Turkey in his beard before searching for another one somewhere in his mass of facial hair. Adam Dick hands the microphone over to Garbage Bag Johnny so that Johnny can address the fans.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Mr. Dick, it’s an honor to be out here tonight, and I really appreciate the little shindig here.

In thick, strong, Scandinavian accents, the Norwegian crowd begins chanting out “hero”. Garbage Bag Johnny smiles and reaches into his pants.

Jeff Marx: Avert your eyes! He’s pulling out his junk!

Steven Smith: He IS a hero!

Instead of unveiling his genitalia, Garbage Bag Johnny pulls a large garbage bag out of his pants, hand over hand, like some vagrant magician. He rips a hole in the bag and loops it over his head, into a long garbage bag cape.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Now that’s a bit more like it. I’m still getting used to the term “hero,” and from what I already know, I understand that part of being a hero is developing superpowers from toxic sewage or radiation or chemicals. So I’m officially going on a quest to abuse any chemical composition that may or may not rearrange the inner workings of my mind into something abnormally awesome. I tried one today, just before I came out, and… God, it’s getting a bit hot in here.

Garbage Bag Johnny wipes some sweat off his brow before completely ripping off his shirt and shorts, leaving nothing but a garbage bag cape and… garbage bag undies? They’re tied around his waist with a belt. Everyone either averts their eyes and makes disgusted noises or starts laughing.

Steven Smith: Dammit! If Kip Brown would’ve won, I would have got to see him parade around in a cape and underwear. Thanks, Garbage Bag Johnny! Thanks for ruining one of my top ten fantasies.

Dave Kern: Maybe next year, Steven.

Garbage Bag Johnny starts pacing around, anxiously, in circles. He can’t stay still.

Steven Smith: Is he on crack?

Jeff Marx: No, that’s your fetish. I think he’s on angel dust.

Garbage Bag Johnny: I’m so angry, for no apparent reason! Who wants to fight?

Garbage Bag Johnny puts up his dukes and starts swinging wildly as everyone backs up or clears out of the ring, watching a man in a garbage bag cape and garbage bag briefs throw punches at invisible enemies. Until a menacing five foot two figure walks out onto the stage with a microphone. HOLY SHIT! IT’S SUPERMAN!!!!!!!

Superman: My charecter is pretty laid back but there is two things that make him made people that think they run the place and they dont or cocky guys.

Garbage Bag Johnny spins wildly around, searching.

Garbage Bag Johnny: WHO DA FUCK WAS DAT?

Superman paces, no, flies to the ring, faster than a speeding bullet, and as he does this, he talks some more trash, only really fast like, so he can finish his sentence before he gets into the ring.

Superman: hey yo im calling anyone out in the back who thinks they can beat me if u dont now who i am i am superman and i am the best in the awc. see the thing is every one is jelus because im the best looking im in the best shape and i can back up anything i say so if u dont like that then f-u.

Garbage Bag Johnny, taken aback by Superman’s adamant refusal to use capital letters, even in the cases of proper nouns, in his speech, finds himself face to face with Superman in the ring. The two heroes stare each other down, as everyone else exits the ring to build tension or something. The two competitors know that there’s only room for one hero in AWC, and the loser of this fight will have to leave… for good.

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Garbage Bag Johnny vs Superman

STIPULATION: LOSER LEAVES TOWN
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JOSH KALVALAGE

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Aaron Davies magically appears in the ring.

Dave Kern: I guess we’re set with our first match of the night – hero versus Hero!

Superman swings a mighty fist at Garbage Bag Johnny, who doesn’t feel it on account of the PCP. Superman starts shaking his hand in pain as Garbage Bag Johnny laughs. Superman tries again, this time right in the face, but Garbage Bag Johnny doesn’t so much as flinch. Instead he grabs Superman by the crotch and suplexes him with a one handed groin suplex. Superman writhes around in pain on the ground.

Jeff Marx: I’ve never seen anyone get suplexed by the testicles before.

Dave Kern: I’m pretty sure no one has been suplexed by the testicles. In fact, I think with leverage and all, it’s physically impossible.

Steven Smith gazes off into the distance, breaking into a flashback story like some war veteran.

Steven Smith: It was 1988. Morals were a thing unknown to me. I had big hair and a big nose for blow. There was a fantastic orgy in some Puerto Rican guy’s beach house…

As Steven Smith trails off, Superman slowly stands up clutching his balls, and Garbage Bag Johnny lights a cigarette in the middle of the ring, smoking it, while Superman slowly hobbles over towards him. When Superman finally gets to GBJ, he throws a punch at Johnny, who moves his head out of the way while still smoking his cigarette. This continues for a while, with Johnny dodging punches nonchalantly until he’s done with the cigarette, and he puts it out on Superman’s chest before flicking the butt to the ground. Superman grabs his charred pectoral in pain.

Dave Kern: Are there any rules in this match?

Jeff Marx: The only rule is… there are no rules.

There is a few seconds of pause.

Jeff Marx: Sorry. I always wanted to say that.

Inside the ring, Garbage Bag Johnny looks at the cake, confused as to why all the icing is gone. Garbage Bag then notices the table below it. A light bulb flashes overhead. Garbage Bag Johnny pushes the cake off of the table, a man on a mission, scattering the starchy stuff abound. But in a brief moment of contemplation, Superman recovers and rolls Garbage Bag Johnny up with a school boy pin.

ONE!

Dave Kern: Superman’s pulling the tights, but I guess that’s perfectly legal.

TWO!

Steven Smith: This is Loser Leaves Town remember!!

Jeff Marx: It’s got to be over. Scientists have done research that shows that when you are pinned down, and a man is pulling on your tights, the body is physically unable to kick out.

THR-

…OHMYGOD! JOHNNY KICKS OUT!

Superman can’t believe it. He’s adamant. He argues with Aaron Davies over whether or not the pin was a two or three count. Aaron Davies looks like he’s changing his mind based on Superman’s incredible command of oratory debate. He signals to call for the bell and award the match to Superman, but then tells Superman he’s just kidding because even Aaron Davies thinks Superman is an asshole.

Dave Kern: Nobody ever stops to think that referees have feelings too.

Jeff Marx: To hell with them. They’re just props. It’s easy to knock referees over, and even the slightest bump can send a referee into a comatose state.

Garbage Bag Johnny, ever the opportunist, takes advantage of Superman’s lack of attention, and he kicks in the back of one of Superman’s knees. Superman falls down to one knee, as if he is ready to propose to Aaron Davies, but Garbage Bag slides behind Superman, wedging his knee into Superman’s asscrack, pulling Superman’s head back and leaning backwards, driving the knee into Superman’s sphincter. Superman reaches for the ropes, but being only five foot two, like the guy who handles Darcy Crisis, he has stubby little arms, and can’t reach.

Jeff Marx: Um, I think that may, in some vague sense, be considered a technical maneuver.

Steven Smith: It’s called the rectal fulcrum. I saw it in a movie called Homo Alone 2: (Salad) Tossed in New York. The maneuver is illegal in 47 U.S. States.

Fearing that his knee will get stuck as it grinds deeper and deeper between Superman’s tights-wedged cheeks, Garbage Bag releases the hold, and Superman falls backwards onto his back. Garbage Bag points to the top rope before pointing to his garbage bag cape. After riling up the audience, Garbage Bag Johnny pulls Superman up by the hair. Superman stands there dazed, and GBJ puts a well placed boot into Superman’s stomach. Superman hunches forward, looking like he’s going to heave in the middle of the ring.

Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny goes up to the top rope. It looks like he’s calling for the coup de grace!

Garbage Bag Johnny leaps forward, flipping over Superman’s back with an aerial maneuver that appears to be similar in nature to a top rope sunset flip pin. Instead of pulling Superman’s torso down into the pin, however, Garbage Bag completely clears Superman’s back, flipping just above the contours of Superman’s body, and while upside down in the air, Johnny reaches his hands back between Superman’s legs, and forcefully rakes Superman’s gooch, before gracefully landing in a somersault roll back to his feet, while Superman hops up and down in pain.

Dave Kern: Top rope diving Gooch Rake!

Jeff Mark: GBJ just shredded Superman’s taint! GBJ is my hero!

Superman continues hopping around, rubbing some feeling back into his probably bleeding gooch. Garbage Bag Johnny lifts Superman to his shoulders and executes a textbook Tragically Hipbuster in the middle of the ring. It’s elementary. Tea Bag Pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Dave Kern: And just like that, Superman is barred from the gates of AWC, a humiliated, sore-gooched man, in a loser leaves town match.

Jeff Marx: This is by far the best Loser Leaves Town match since Mike Wade versus Paddy O’Shea.

James Brunt: The winner… and still, er… a member of AWC… GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!

Aaron Davies tries to raise Garbage Bag’s hand in victory, but Garbage Bag Johnny is already making his way through the crowd as several hot Norwegian babes rip away at the skimpy amount of garbage bag clothing he had left before following him to his locker room to undoubtedly have sex with him. God bless Norway and its loose age of consent laws.

Jeff Marx: It must be tough to be a hero, but I envy that man.

---

Use

FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, LUIS FERRARA, ANTON ASSAULT
AUTHOR: OBINNA O.

---

Sasha Volkyeva sat behind her desk, eyeing the two men standing in front of her coolly. One of them, Anton Assault, was a tall African with a well-muscled frame that told he was more than equipped to do any fighting required. The other, Luis Ferrara, was her least favored; a short Venezuelan with a sharp face and a sneaking personality. He was a sharp dresser, wearing a neat zoot suit and tilted hat, but she didn't see any use in him.

Sasha Volkyeva: I don't think I'm requiring all that much out of you, especially for what you're getting in return.

Luis snarled, clenching his fists.

Luis Ferrara: Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Whatchoo want us to do?

Sasha's eyes glittered with amusement and she tapped a pen in her knuckles. Luis eyed her levelly. She knew that he was interested in her, as most were — except for, it seemed, Anton Assault, and that would need to be changed — but she simply filed it away as a possible string to the man. She didn't think she wanted any string to him, though. She'd much rather Anton dispense with the fool so that she could have that much more control over him.

Sasha Volkyeva: Us? No, no, what I want Anton to do is to guard me, as I have said before. He is to be my enforcer. And tonight he'll be doing that duty by standing at my door and making sure nobody gets in unless I say so.

Luis looked surprised. Anton didn't look especially happy, but he didn't let his face change too much. Sasha forced herself to concentrate on the greasy Latino.

Luis Ferrara: You want a fuckin' doorman? Bitch, I---

Sasha Volkyeva: Don't ever address me like that.

Her lips were curled into a frown, but she quickly replaced it with a smile that would make the man forget she had ever been angry.

Sasha Volkyeva: I own you two right now, remember? I'd advise you don't make me angry.

Luis sighed and stroked his chin.

Luis Ferrara: Right. Just… I dunno. Whatchoo want me to do, then?

Sasha shrugged, leaning back in her chair.

Sasha Volkyeva: Get me some coffee.

The corners of her lips twitched.

Sasha Volkyeva: And please, take as long as you like. I don't know if I'll tell Anton to let you back in.

A wave of her hand dismissed both of them from her room, although Anton wouldn't be going far. She sighed. That was done and she was glad of it. She didn't need anyone coming in unannounced, especially not now with what she had to do.

---

Up For A Three Way?

FEATURING: PSYMON, TRACY
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.

---

Psymon has entered the backstage area of the building. When he walks no more than halfway into the backstage area, his peripherals catch something. He turns his head to see a woman with her back turned. When she turns, she reveals herself to be Tracy. To make sure that she is Tracy, he gives her the once over: white female, 5’7”, thin figure, about 110 pounds, golden blonde hair, blue eyes, and has an astonishing 37DD-24-32 measurement. Yep, that’s her all right. There’s no lie that she is a beautiful woman.

Deciding to stay for a little while longer, he walks over to the beautiful woman with model good looks and porn star chest. She simply looks over at him, smiling thinly at them, then turns away. Realizing that he’s still walking towards her, Tracy looks at him again, wondering what he wants.

Psymon: Greetings, young lady. You must be Tracy.

He sticks his hand out, gesturing a shake.

Tracy Stanton: Uh hi... umm, how do you know my name?

Psymon: I heard the tales of the lady with the giant rack, you aren’t too hard to spot.

Tracy rolls her eyes. There must be a reason why Psymon is vexing her.

Tracy Stanton: What do you want?

Psymon: Just to say hello and say you’re looking quite ravishing this evening.

Tracy didn’t like where this was going. Psymon smiles at her, giving her another once over. Her perfume smells simply divine. Able to control all urges of sexual pleasure, he continues to speak.

Psymon: You know, my wife and I like to partake in three-ways with another girl, you’d certainly fit that bill. Are you up for a three-way, my dear?

Tracy’s jaw drops. How dare that freak propose such a vulgar act?! She almost threw up in her mouth she was so disgusted.

Tracy Stanton: Ew, no. Whatever stories you heard of me are wrong, I don’t partake in that kind of thing.

Psymon: Oh come on, it’d be a good time for all. You’d get all of this and I’d bury my face in those big tits of yours, and my wife could bury her face in her preciously delicious looking pussy---

SLAP! Tracy Stanton: Get away from me.

Psymon isn’t surprised to be slapped by Tracy. He looks at her, smiling.

Psymon: Oh, hard to get? I like that in a woman.

He smiles at her, taking another whiff of her perfume. That’ll give him a raging hard on for about a week.

Psymon: I’ll tell you what, sweetie, I’ll let you think about my proposal, and when you decide on an answer, I’ll be waiting. For now, I must take my leave. Nice meeting you, Tracy.

He gives her a little wink, and heads into the locker room area.

Tracy watches Psymon leave with a look of disgust on her face. She shakes her head, letting out a sigh.

Tracy Stanton: Ew, why do I always attract the freaks?

Tracy sighs again and leaves.

A few moments later, Psymon is in his assigned locker room. There is a smile on his face.

Psymon: So she’s the one Zsasz holds a certain interest in eh? The upcoming weeks are going to be interesting.

Well, it won’t be hard for Psymon to remember her again...

---

Fangirl

FEATURING: KIP BROWN, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: MATT

---

The camera cuts backstage, where we’re greeted with the sight of Kip Brown bounding through Hakon Hall's double-doors, dressed down to jeans and a crew-tee with a duffel thrown over his shoulder. Mild pops fizzle against the background, along with, well --

Steven Smith: BOYFRIEND!!!!!

Dave Kern: Oh, dear Lord…

Jeff Marx: …help us…

Dave Kern: …please?

Kip pushes his sunglasses to the crown of his head with one hand and uses the other to tip a bottle of Pure Life back, some of the purified water gliding down his esophagus while the excess dribbles from his mouth.

Steven Smith: A visual… (smiles deviously)

Dave Kern: …What are you talking about?

Jeff Marx: …Oh my GOD, ew. EW!

With a zestful sigh, Kip caps off the bottled water and swipes at his lips with the back of his hand, continuing on his peaceful amble down the hallway. Then, the tranquil trek is ruptured by a frenzied shriek.

Voice: OH MY GAWWWWWD!!

Maddy Estelle flings herself at Kip and within a matter of milliseconds, Kip’s got Maddy’s legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

Well, that was easy.

Steven Smith: …that… that WHORE!

Dave Kern: Huh. Looks like you’ve got some competition.

Steven Smith: …I… I… I…

Jeff Marx: Homo’s speechless? Wait. I need to savor this moment.

Steven Smith: …but… but… but…

Meanwhile, Maddy now has her palms pressed against either of Kip’s cheeks, consequently squishing his face like an old Aunt would, lips resoundingly smacking against Kip’s skin as she rains kisses all up in his fries, dawg*. Kip, needless to say, is horrified.

Kip Brown: Urr… ‘S-tusssse me?

Smack-kiss, smack-kiss, the sobs of Steven Smith, another smack-kiss.

Kip Brown: ‘S-TUSSSE ME!?

And, finally, Maddy lays the loudest one right on’ta Kip’s labiums. A deafening PLUCK! permeates the air as Maddy extracts herself from Kip’s mouth, licking her own lips and grinning wildly. Kip, meanwhile, is further horrified. Almost as much as Steven. But not so much.

Steven Smith: (sobbing)

Kip Brown: Um …

Maddy Estelle: I'M LYKE, YOUR BIGGEST FAN EVER!!! OMG!!! That movie where you get your head cut off?! TOTALLY my favorite movie EV. ER!

Kip Brown: Oh, um… thanks?

Maddy Estelle: Can I get your autograph!!!??

Kip Brown: Um, sure. Do you have something for me to sign?

Maddy nods and suddenly, a mischevious smile plays across her lips. She jumps off of Kip, whips out a pen from mid-air, and lowers her halter top, exposing the top of her enhanced bresticles

. Steven Smith: I'm going to kill that bitch.

Kip laughs awkwardly and hastily scribbles his signature across the top of Maddy's left breath before stepping back, for safety measures, and handing her the pen back.

Maddy Estelle: Thanks! See ya!

Before Kip can respond, Maddy is skipping off, screaming:

Maddy Estelle: HEY SARAH! LOOK AT MY BOOB!

Kip watches on, smiling uneasily. That wasn't the necessarily the welcome he was expecting.

* = © JT Yorke.

---

MC "White" Mike vs Butterfly Hamada

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

The first match of new signing MC Mike’s trial contract in AWC doesn’t go so well for him. Butterfly Hamada, fresh and ready for action following the long break that AWC has had, dominates him from first to last – though “last” comes inside three minutes when she puts him away with the Arco Celestial. All business, Hamada resumes her feet after the three count, offers her hand to White Mike (he is eventually able to stand and take it), and then calmly marches to the back. Neither wrestler has broken a sweat.

---

Redneck Agenda

FEATURING: ELLIS NASH, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, TERESA TOMAS
AUTHORS: LIA AND SONYA

---

We open to a foot. It’s a very nice foot – all tan and pretty and nice, with clean glossy toenails. This lovely foot, strapped into a very, very expensive Manolo heel, is tapping. Against the carpet. Continuously. Almost as if the owner of this foot is nervous. Or mad.

And then we begin traveling up this person’s (very tan, very pretty) leg, witnessing the very sight of flawless human flesh, the tight, clinching denim of a skirt, the no-fat-rolls side of a stomach accentuated by a black (very expensive) diamond front, the dazzling flow of wavy brunette tendrils and, finally, the usually strict line of Ellis Nash’s lips faltering as she spits out frivolously:

Ellis Nash: Teresa Tomas is a lesbian!

The camera glides off towards the left, greeting us the back of Ellis’ head and, simultaneously, revealing who she’s addressing. David Harber’s eyebrows merge as he incredulously states:

Pearl: Excuse me?

We pan again. Looking like she’s half-way ‘round the world of frenzied, Ellis pauses, sucking in her breath dramatically as if the next announcement is too hard to even vocalize. Gathering her backbone, Ellis expels the breath and blurts:

Ellis Nash: She tweaked my nipples!

Pearl tilts his head, regarding Ellis with a curious stare. The pace of Ellis’ foot-tapping has steadily increased. She looks around, distraught, as if making sure Teresa is nowhere around before whispering hastily:

Ellis Nash: I think she wants me!

Pearl casts a tired sigh, shaking his head.

Pearl: Come on, Ellis, don’t you think you’re overre---

Ellis Nash: She’s a lesbian!

Pearl: Well, maybe she has a thing for nipp---

Ellis Nash: I want her gone!

Pearl’s eyebrows find each other again.

Pearl: What?

Ellis continues in crazed delirium, cupping her breasts as a tool of emphasis.

Ellis Nash: I can’t have my hoo-has being fondled by a lesbian?! (release boobs) I mean, I mean, I - who knows what kind of sick gay fantasies she has about me! And she smells like Slim Jims all the time!

Pearl: Calm down, Ellis. I’m sure we can settle this in a---

Suddenly, Ellis’ eyes widen to the size of Adam Dick’s balls: very, very big.

Ellis Nash: OH MY GOD! What if she steals my panties!?!!

Pearl: ...Ellis.

Ellis Nash: What if she looks at me in the shower!?!!

Pearl: Ellis.

Ellis Nash: No wonder she was in the bathroom!! She was trying to sneak a peak at my---

Pearl: ELLIS!

Ellis Nash: …What?

Pearl: I - just - just, get out.

Ellis Nash: …What? Get out? But - but - Teresa - lesbian - she’s ---

Pearl: I’ll handle it, okay?

Ellis Nash: (hopefully, glint in the eye) ...You will?

Pearl: Yes.

Ellis Nash: Thanks, Harbs!

As Ellis happily makes her way to the door, Pearl is seen rolling his eyes and deflating back into his chair with another sigh, concluding the Pearl’s office: interior scene with a shake of his head.

The Pearl’s office: exterior scene begins with Ellis closing the door behind her and turning around to run off towards her dressing room, only to knock into something firm, yet soft. And big.

What a coincidence.

Teresa Tomas: So. I’m a lesbian now?

There she is, Ms. Teresa Tomas herself, hands firmly grasping each hip and, Ellis notices, smelling like Slim Jims. The brunette visibly and vocally hesitates. She is no longer happy.

Ellis Nash: Er… um… no.

Teresa Tomas: Oh? Then what was that all about?

Teresa motions towards the door of Pearl’s office with her head.

Ellis Nash: Uh... Aimz?

Ellis flashes her please-don’t-tweak-my-nipples-again smile. Teresa, ignorant towards it, folds her arm over her chest and stalks oh-so-slowly towards Ellis. Ellis, horrified, looks for an escape outlet, but her efforts quickly serve no use; Teresa has her closed in.

Teresa Tomas: Tell you what; let’s make a deal.

Ellis Nash: I’ll buy you a years worth of beer and Slim Jims and motor oil and you won’t touch my boobies again?

Teresa Tomas: Sounds tempting, but n---

Ellis Nash: Great! I’ll Fed-Ex them to you. Bye!

Ellis attempts to leave; Teresa grabs her by her shoulders and shoves her back against the wall.

Teresa Tomas: As I was going to say… I don't eat Slim Jims. How in the hell you got the idea I'd eat those nasty smelling things is beyond me, but that's besides the point.

Teresa pauses making an observation of Ellis' outfit, then grins. She leans closer to her face, almost nose to nose.

Teresa Tomas: Watch your ass, Ellis. I'm not the type to be taken lightly. I tend to play but rough... when put in the right mood.

The two stare at each other; Teresa's grin widens as Ellis' forehead wrinkles in confusion. Before she can voice her confusion, Teresa tightens her grip around Ellis' upper arms, steps back, and almost effortlessly throws Ellis into the parallel wall. Ellis crashes into it back-first, landing in a heap on the ground. She looks up just in time to see Teresa once again stalking towards her, a predatory smile curling her lips. Frantic, Ellis sits up, slides off her (very expensive) heels, scrambles up, and darts off with her heels dangling from her thumbs.

Teresa watches after her, amused, before calling out:

Teresa Tomas: Come back now, ya hear?

---

Final Hurdle

FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, PIERCE LAVELLE, MADDY ESTELLE, BACKSTAGE WORKER, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, SASHA VOLKYEVA, ANTON ASSAULT
AUTHOR: LARA C.

---

The water ploughed through her long hair, covering her face and eyes as her body became drowned in the hot water, gently massaging her body as she turned her back to the power jet and gazed at her steamed reflection in the glass door. The steam rising with the cascading water as a purl of water ploughed down through her faded reflection, till it collided with another droplet.

The sound of a door opening alerted her from the soothing sound of running water, turning off the power jet; Sarah opened the partition, gripping a towel gently around her chest and body, till it tied tightly under her arm. As the steam cleared, Pierce stood with a smile across his face, his body gently resting against the door frame, his arms folded and his head tilted as he followed her soaked body to her slender tanned legs, water still resting on her smooth skin.

Pierce Lavelle: Nice!

Pierce said with a glisten and stood up straight, approaching Sarah, who was now brushing her long soaked blonde hair. Her eyes met his in the mirror and the two stood silent for a moment.

Pierce Lavelle: I like it - your hair - straight.

Sarah smiled and nodded her head, aside from curling her hair, she usually had it up. It seemed that the length had grown quite a bit, now well passed her shoulders as she finished brushing out the knots.

Pierce stood against the dresser, looking through a small magazine, looking away from Sarah who was now standing in front of him, rooting through the medicine cabinet.

Pierce Lavelle: You okay?

Sarah Kennedy: Just a bit of a headache.

She turned toward him, now brandishing a small bottle of aspirin and smiled – the very ones Pierce had given her, on their first date after she developed the usual symptoms once a month. Pierce just smiled, lacing his hands around her waist, he pulled her in close, her hair dripping onto his black shirt.

Pierce Lavelle: You’re soaking.

Sarah Kennedy: You don’t say!

Sarah smiled and kissed Pierce passionately on the lips, he returned the kiss, his lips caressing hers as she ran her hands along the back of his head and down his back. Their breathing intensifying with each kiss; his heart was pounding as he ran his hands along the small of her back, slipping them through the towel to gently caress her soft silk skin.

Sarah’s hands lingered a moment, until they latched around the buttons on his shirt, gently unbuttoning each one. Pierce could feel the cool droplets of water dripping onto his chest from Sarah’s hair and he could feel the water from her towel and legs seeping through his trouser legs. His heart was pounding as her hands gently caressed his chest, her touch sending tingles down his spine as he pulled her in tightly, kissing her neck and collar bone as his hands fumbled with the knot Sarah had tied.

Maddy Estelle: Aw, man… I’ll come back!

Maddy Estelle stood chewing some gum, her arms folded and her heels tapping with annoyance as her eyes gazed toward Pierce and Sarah, who were very heated up in the moment. Sarah slowly pulled back, tightening the towel once more around her body as she sighed with frustration. The two ladies held a stony gaze as they looked at one another.

Sarah Kennedy: What is it Maddy?

Pierce looked awkwardly toward the two ladies and stood up straight, re-buttoning his top and looking down at his soaked trouser legs – ‘This could look really bad’ he thought, trying not to focus on the icy gaze from Maddy Estelle.

Maddy Estelle: We have interviews to get done.

Sarah Kennedy: Oh right!

Maddy Estelle: Caught up in the moment, huh!

Maddy said with a bitchy tone as her eyes traced Pierce’s muscular chest and soaked lower trouser legs.

Maddy Estelle: Hey, lover-boy, Pearl wants to see you in his office.

Pierce looked up and nodded - now feeling as though she were intruding Maddy left the room with a grin on her face. Pierce turned to Sarah and kissed her on the cheek.

Pierce Lavelle: I’ll be right back.

With that, Pierce turned to leave and headed for the door as he struggled to buckle his belt back again. The cool air from the air conditioning system sent a cool chill against his face and legs as he made his way up the hall, avoiding the looks.

Backstage Worker: Hey, Pearl’s been lookin’ for ya. Said it was somethin’ important.

Pierce nodded his head straightened his posture and thanked the backstage worker. Now standing with a reverent purpose Pierce strolled down the corridor and walked toward Pearl’s office. Seeing Anton Assault outside the door, he frowned, but advanced and, without knocking, Pierce pushed the door open, and saw Sasha Volkyeva and David Harber, who immediately ended their conversation and turned to him, Lavelle’s eyes immediately darting away.

Pierce Lavelle: Pearl, you wanted to see me?

Pierce said with a monotonous tone, his posture slumped as he held the door open, his eyes averted from the woman in their presence.

Pearl: Uh, of course.

Sasha stood up and smiled toward Pearl and left without hesitating or acknowledging Pierce’s presence; she closed the door behind her before issuing a sharp rebuke to her protector for the night, and didn’t look back. Pierce turned his gaze from the door back to Pearl.

Pearl: Pierce, glad you came…

Pierce Lavelle: Didn’t have a choice, did I?

Pierce muttered and slumped into the chair, his arms folded as he looked toward Pearl – who held a less than amused expression on his face. Pearl knew that things had been strained between them, but he was unsure as to why it was.

Pearl: Well, I guess we’ll get down to business. I called you here, because I need to ask a favour of you. I want you to keep an eye on Sloan; he’s a huge liability to this company and a great danger to my staff.

Pierce Lavelle: You want me to control him? You have security for that, Harber.

‘Harber’ that was a first, Pearl thought and noted the hostility from Pierce who now shared resilience in his approach to Pearl’s request.

Pearl: What’s the matter, Pierce?

Pierce Lavelle: I want out Pearl, I can’t do this anymore.

Pearl: Do what?

Pierce Lavelle: I can’t be the good guy and go-to guy for you anymore, Pearl. Look where you have got me, I have a shit load of court cases to get done. I’ve the man you call the liability after me and making threats, things have to end.

Pearl leant into his chair and felt a surge of regret as he gazed toward Pierce, who had gone from the innocent young boy he first knew to a man, in a shell of his former self. With that, Pearl stood up and knew this wasn’t going to end well.

Pearl: I know I’ve put you into a lot of trouble, but I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you could handle it.

Pierce Lavelle: Handle it? Pearl, I got shot, I almost died and all because you didn’t want to call the cops in on Adam Dick and on Prometheus. I now know why, you were afraid of ruining the business’s name. Instead you used me.

Pearl: It was never like that.

Pierce Lavelle: No? Then what are you talking about with Sasha that was so private you had to stop when I came in? She had a large part to play in the events last year with Adam Dick.

Pearl: Sasha had nothing to do with that.

Pierce Lavelle: Tasted the apple, huh Pearl…

Pearl looked down at his hands clasped tightly together and felt pity and demise for himself as he recapped on many of the events Pierce had pleaded not to be involved in and yet, he persisted until Pierce could no longer refuse.

Pearl: We’ll get Adam Dick together, I promise.

Pierce Lavelle: You’ve been saying that the last 10 months and where’s it gotten us?

Pearl: I am trying.

Pierce Lavelle: You got me into this shit hole, now I’m getting myself out. I quit until my ban has been lifted.

Harber’s eyes popped in shock.

Pearl: WHAT? QUIT? You can’t, we can’t give up.

Pierce Lavelle: I gave up a long time ago, Pearl. I just want out of this.

Pierce threw his key card toward Pearl and turned around to leave, Pearl gripped the key card and felt his heart sink – he had let a good friend down, it would take time to heal that friendship, if he could.

Pierce Lavelle: Find somebody else to do your errands, Harber.

Pearl looked at Pierce’s eyes, a steely blue rage coursing through his veins, pulsing with each heart beat. Pierce turned around and pulled the door open, slamming it shut, sending a shudder through Pearl as he looked toward Pierce’s key card.

---

Aftermaths And New Beginnings

FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, ZSASZ
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.

---

It’s been almost two months since Mikey O’Reilly took on Chainz in a brutal Sadist Match and lost. When the match was over, Mikey wasn’t through with the psychopathic monster. What you are about to see is previously unreleased footage from the aftermath of the match.

This isn’t over yet. This isn’t over for Mikey O’Reilly yet. He has won the match, yes, but he hasn’t finished off Chainz. Mikey is on his feet now, walking over to Chainz, who is also on his feet. Chainz is about to leave the ring when Mikey stops him. He turns him around, his left hand going at Chainz’s throat and cocks his right hand back, about to blast Chainz again with his ONE PUNCH~! But the punch doesn’t happen. O’Reilly’s fist is shaking angrily but O’Reilly can’t bring himself to lay out his adversary. Even Chainz is egging him on to hit him!

Chainz: C’mon, O’Reilly, hit me! Hit me, you fuckin’ pussy!

Truth Waters: What are you waiting for, Mikey, a bus?! Knock his fucking lights out!

Something is happening to Mikey O’Reilly. His right hand drops, then releases Chainz. Chainz watches on as O’Reilly takes a few steps backward, his right hand goes to his head. Seconds later O’Reilly’s legs give up on him and he collapses onto the mat. Everyone is dead silent, watching on in awe, shock and worriment.

Truth Waters: Mikey O’Reilly has collapsed in the ring. He’s got to be physically drained after going through that hell with Chainz!

George Cassidy: Look! Chainz is walking over to Mikey with a macabre smile on his face!

Truth Waters: Oh for fuck sakes, Chainz! There’s nothing left for Mikey O’Reilly, you sick son of a bitch!

Thoughts of leaving the ring forgotten, Chainz stalks the fallen Mikey O’Reilly. There’s a sinister glint in his eyes and an evil smile on his face. But before he could make an attack, EMTs and the AWC security break onto the scene, separating Chainz from the fallen O’Reilly. Chainz is fighting feverishly at the security force, but the EMTs unit evacuates O’Reilly out of the ring just before Chainz could get to him. The security finally apprehends the monster. Chainz watches on in disgust as the EMTs unit carries O’Reilly out of the building to send him off to the nearest medical facility.

Truth Waters: The nerve of that bastard trying to attack a helpless Mikey O’Reilly. When Mikey is released from the hospital, I know there’s gonna be hell to pay! Folks, we’ll try to keep you updated on the condition of Mikey O’Reilly, but right now, we’re taking a break to get the ring cleaned up for the rest of the evening.

That was then...this is now. This week, Mikey O’Reilly and Chainz will face each other again, but this time, they’ll also be facing Captain Suleimon and Anton Assault in a Four Way Elimination Table match. Chainz may have gotten the best of Mikey two months ago, but it won’t happen again...

He won’t allow it.

---

Mikey O’Reilly is sitting on the bench of his locker room, enjoying a pre-match beer before his big match later on in the evening. His forehead still looks like a jigsaw puzzle full of scars going every which way and there’s a vexed demeanor on his face. His mind keeps going back that Sadist match two months ago against Mike “Chainz” Sloan, trying to figure out what he did wrong and trying to figure out why he’d lost.

Mikey has come up with two conclusions: the Sadist match was his first-ever gimmick-style match and Chainz was the better man. Plain and simple. With Mikey’s impressive showing at Twilight Of The Gods, he was inserted into contention for the Relentless title. Unfortunately that specific title contention has gone against everything Mikey has trained for. Mikey is trained to be a purist in the sport of professional wrestling, not resort to “garbage wrestling.” But a title is a title, and Mikey will stop at nothing to win his first-ever wrestling title, even if it means demoting himself to a “garbage wrestler.”

A few moments later, Zsasz steps into Mikey O’Reilly’s locker room. He is dressed in his trademark black, tailor-made suit, black dress shoes and his gold chain containing his late wives wedding bands. He is talking into his cell phone briefly then concluded the phone call by snapping his cell phone shut and placing it in its carrying case that is clipped onto Zsasz’s waistband of his dress pants.

Zsasz looks down at his student, smiling at him. He notices that Mikey O’Reilly isn’t in the best of moods, especially getting his ass handed to him against Chainz at Twilight Of The Gods almost two months ago.

Zsasz: I see you’re in the best of moods, Mikey.

Mikey O’Reilly simply looks up at Zsasz, then back down at the floor, taking another swig of his beer.

Mikey O’Reilly: You’d be in pissed too if you got your ass handed to you in match you weren’t prepared for.

Zsasz: So you had a bad beat in your career. Big deal. I’ve had plenty myself. The only thing I can tell you is brush it off and move on. After that impressive showing you had against Chainz two months ago, you’ve been placed in contention for the Relentless title. Even though it goes against everything you’ve been training for, a title’s a title. And tonight, Mikey, you’ll be facing Chainz, Captain Suleimon and Anton Assault in a Four Way Elimination Table match. Tonight, you will redeem yourself and show every why you should’ve won the Sadist match at Twilight Of The Gods.

Hearing Chainz’s name almost strikes a nerve in Mikey O’Reilly. His left hand goes to his forehead, his fingertips tracing over the multiple scars on his forehead, all courtesy of Chainz. His right hand clenches around his beer bottle tightly, eventually breaking it in his hand.

Mikey O’Reilly: Goddamn that man. Goddamn Chainz! I’ll dismantle that son of a bitch. In fact I’ll dismantle them all! No one’s gonna stand in me way of gettin’ me first title shot of me fuckin’ career! I’ll kill them all if I have to!

Grinning, Zsasz nods at his student.

Zsasz: That’s the spirit. You best get ready... your match is coming up soon. Good luck, Mikey.

Mikey O’Reilly slowly raises from his bench, his gazes goes to Zsasz.

Mike O’Reilly: I won’t need luck where I’m goin’.

This that said, Mikey O’Reilly exits his locker room, leaving Zsasz behind. As Zsasz watches his student go, there’s a malicious smile on his face.

After the Sadist match, Mikey O’Reilly has been turned into a monster.

---

Williams / Tomas vs The Detonators

STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.

---

Dave Kern: We are back for some more Fresh! action! Coming up next, we have an interesting match: Duke Williams and Teresa Tomas take on former WWA World Tag Team Champions - Dynamite and TNT - The Detonators! Duke Williams and Teresa Tomas aren’t strangers in the wrestling ring, they’ve been best friends in PCW and now they reunite in this tag match against The Detonators.

Jeff Marx: Look for the Duke to clean house.

Dave Kern: You might find that Williams and Tomas, despite their friendship, have nothing on the former WWA World Tag Team champions! The Detonators were one of the best duos in WWA, left to enter AWC and they’ll be a force to reckon with. As far as I’m concerned, Duke Williams and Teresa Tomas don’t have a clue what they’re getting themselves into.

Steven Smith: This looks like a boring match to me... no eye candy to ogle at. Duke Williams is old, Teresa Tomas’ is trailer park trash and the Detonators are... Mexican! YUCK!

Dave Kern: Okay... let’s go down to the ring. James Brunt, take it away!

James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match...

“Big Bang” by Bad Religion starts to play as Dynamite and TNT - the duo of The Detonators - walk down to the ring to a bad reception by the Norwegian fans.

James Brunt: Making their way to the ring, from Mexico, at a total combined weight of 515 pounds... Dynamite and TNT - THE DETONATORS!

The Detonators enter the ring - Dynamite jumps over the top rope and TNT enters the ring traditionally - and go into their corner.

Dave Kern: There they are, ladies and gentlemen, one of the greatest duos in the WWA, The Detonators!

Steven Smith: This team can beat those disgusting rednecks into the ground!

Dave Kern: I dunno about that, Jeff. Both Teresa Tomas and Duke Williams are great competitors in the ring and they get along well. I think they can hold their own...

Jeff Marx: They’ll do a heck of a lot more’n that! It’s time for a beatdown!

Steven Smith is silence. He doesn’t have anything important to say. Instead of watching this match, he gets to his feet and looks over at his broadcast partners.

Steven Smith: I’m gonna go for now. There’s a Playgirl in my office that I want to look at. Later, fellas.

Steven Smith removes his headset and exits the broadcasting table. Dave Kern and Jeff Marx look at each other, then shrug their shoulders.

Jeff Marx: Whatever. It’s no skin off my nose that he leaves the table. Least we don’t have to hear any perverted comments for a change...

Dave Kern: Agreed.

Jeff Marx: We should get extra pay for all the filth we hear on a... ah... weekly basis!

James Brunt: Their opponents...

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. 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.

James Brunt: First, from Nashville, Tennessee, weighing 145 pounds... she is “THE American Woman...” TERESA TOMAS!

Dave Kern: Listen to the crowd! Everyone’s cheering for Teresa Tomas, the self-proclaimed “Top Rope Temptress!”

Jeff Marx: Murderer! She killed her manager, Bob, and she’d do it again if he was still alive. I guess the sex wasn’t good enough, so she killed him.

Dave Kern: You don’t know if she killed or slept with Bob, Jeff. Keep your slanderous comments to yourself.

James Brunt: Her partner...

“Honky Tonk Heroes” by Waylon Jennings starts to play as “The Malice Man” Duke Williams steps onto the stage, looking out to the crowd, who are cheering madly! Wearing his signature cowboy hat and has a bottle of Bud in his right hand, he walks down to the ring.

James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, now residing in Chicago, Illinois, weighing 320 pounds...he is “The Malice Man...” DUKE WILLIAMS!

Dave Kern: My God, listen to this crowd! The Norwegians love Duke Williams!

Jeff Marx: Duke Williams is back alright, for one last run at the top! Fifty-five, but ready to kick some serious ass!

Ring announcer James Brunt exits the ring as referee Richie Travis calls for the bell. Both teams are in their respected corners, talking strategy. Teresa Tomas decides to start this match, and Dynamite starts the match as well. Tomas and Dynamite enter the center of the ring and lock up. Dynamite gets the upper hand and locks in a Side Headlock, and takes her down with a Headlock Takedown. “The Top Rope Temptress” easily kips out of the Headlock while Dynamite kips up with her. D takes Tomas down with a deep Arm Drag, then locks in an Arm-bar, trying to cinch it in tight, but Teresa easily gets out of it. Dynamite gets to a vertical base and is rocked by a textbook Dropkick by the “Redneck Princess,” taking D down to the mat. She gets to her feet, executes a standing Shooting Star Press, and hooks the leg for the first pin-fall attempt...

ONE!

TWO!

Easy kick-out by Dynamite.

Dave Kern: We have some face pace action thus far - Headlocks, Dropkicks and standing Shooting Star Presses. Typical Cruiserweight/Lucha Libre action.

Jeff Marx: BORING!

Teresa Tomas and Dynamite are back on their feet. D takes the upper hand by burying a knee in Teresa’s midsection, then taking her down to the mat with a clubbing forearm shot. The Norwegian crowd jeer at Dynamite as he picks up his opponent and whips her into the ropes. He bounces off the opposite ropes, flies at Tomas and almost takes her head off with a Flying Lariat! Afterwards, he runs to the ropes, springboards off the top rope and drops a leg across “The Top Rope Temptress’” throat. He goes for a the cover and referee Richie Travis is in position...

ONE!

TWO!

Kick-out by Teresa Tomas. Dynamite gets to his feet and tags in his larger Tag Team partner, TNT.

Dave Kern: Teresa Tomas kicks out after the Flying Lariat. Now Dynamite tags in his partner, TNT. This guy is huge - 6’2” 282 pounds! He was trained by the King’s Road wrestling school in Mexico and, from what I heard, was the best student to come out of the school.

Jeff Marx: Teresa Tomas’ ass is in trouble! She isn’t going to win against a brute powerhouse like TNT; bring in the Duke! I’m gonna love each and every minute of it.

Now TNT is in the ring, looking down at his smaller opponent, Teresa Tomas. Teresa is staring up at her opponent, her eyes as wide as saucers. She scrambles to her feet and tags in her partner, Duke Williams, “The Malice Man” himself! The roof is damn near blown off as Duke steps over the top rope, entering the ring, his eyes locked on his large Mexican opponent.

Dave Kern: Business is definitely about to pick up!

Jeff Marx: Are you Jim Ross all of a sudden? Psh... queer.

Duke Williams stands his ground, eyes locked on TNT. TNT walks up to Williams, staring up at him. There’s going to be a huge explosion in the ring and everyone can feel it. T slaps “The Malice Man” right in the face, disrespecting the legacy of the great superstar. Williams stands there, feeling the slap courtesy of T. He looks back at his opponent, then throws a huge right hand that knocks T right on his ass! The fans explode with cheers as Duke stomps a mud hole in T’s ass! Afterwards, he picks up T and throws him across the ring with a massive Hip Toss!

Dave Kern: What a huge Hip Toss by Duke Williams! He has been besmirched by TNT and his slap. Not a cool move on his part.

Duke Williams stalks his opponent, grabs a handful of (mask? Hair?) and gets him to a vertical base. He throws a chop into T’s throat, scoops him up in his arms and slams him down hard with a Body Slam! “The Malice Man” bounces off the ropes, leaps into the air and drops an elbow into T’s heart. He goes for the cover, pushing his forearm into T’s face...

ONE!

TWO!

Kick-out by TNT. Duke Williams gets to his feet and picks up his opponent. He goes for another hard Body Slam, but TNT slips out the back door, wraps his hands around Williams’ waist, lifts him up and drives “The Malice Man” into the mat with a German Suplex!

Dave Kern: Massive German Suplex by TNT! He damn near folded Duke Williams up like an accordion!

Jeff Marx: Don’t take that shit, hoss! Do it Malice style!

TNT is now in the driver’s seat of the match. T walks over to Duke Williams, sits him up and drives his thumb into Duke’s cardiac artery, using the Oriental Spike. Williams easily gets out of the hold by flipping T over. Williams slowly gets to his feet and kicks T in the back of the head. He scoops up T, gets behind him and picks him up for a Backdrop Suplex, but T slips behind Duke again. He does a back heel trip, sending Williams face first onto the mat. T then picks up Duke’s legs, grabs a handful of Duke’s jeans, lifts him up and sends him down with a Wheelbarrow Face-first Power Bomb!

Jeff Marx: What a move by TNT! I gotta say... Duke looks a little washed-up...

Dave Kern: TNT is going for the cover after that impressive maneuver...

ONE!

TWO!

Dave Kern: Duke Williams kicked out before three!

TNT stomps on Duke Williams’ head and tags in his smaller Tag partner, Dynamite. TNT remains in the ring, whipping Dynamite into the ropes, then hikes him up into the air for an assisted Senton Bomb! Teresa Tomas leaps onto the top rope, springboards and flies at TNT, taking him down with a Hurricanrana! The fans cheer Tomas as she goes for a low Dropkick, catching Dynamite in the side of the head. TNT is back to his feet and blindsides Tomas with a decapitating Clothesline, sending Tomas for a loop before crashing hard onto the mat!

Dynamite is on his feet now, assisting TNT. He walks over to T as he stomps away at Teresa Tomas. Dynamite picks her up, both TNT and D setting her up in a Sambo Suplex formation, then sends her forward with a double STO!

Dave Kern: Double STO by The Detonators! Hey ref, step in there and do your damn job!

Jeff Marx Looks like Richie Travis has tried and failed. He’s powerless against the former WWA blahblahblahwhocares.

TNT picks up Teresa Tomas and sets her up for a Power Bomb. He brings her up and Dynamite steps in, readying her neck in a Hangman’s Noose Neck Breaker. The former WWA Tag Team Champions sit out at the time - TNT with his Power Bomb and Dynamite with his Hangman’s Noose Neck Breaker, executing the Time Bomb! “THE American Woman’s” neck snaps awkwardly after the double-team maneuver.

Dave Kern: Oh my God! Teresa Tomas’ neck has got to be broken after that maneuver! She isn’t moving at all!

Jeff Marx: That bitch deserved that after killing Bob!

Dave Kern: WILL YOU GET OFF THAT?! THERE’S NO PROOF THAT SHE KILLED ANYONE!

Teresa Tomas lay on the mat motionless. Before the former WWA World Tag Team champions can do anymore damage, Duke Williams enters and clotheslines The Detonators over the ropes and out of the ring. “The Malice Man” checks on his partner. He calls for some help to get her out of the ring. EMTs come out to escort her out of the ring, carefully slipping a neck brace around her neck and easing her onto a backboard.

Jeff Marx: Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Dave Kern punches Jeff Marx in the shoulder and continues to call the action. Duke Williams is now facing the former WWA Tag Team Champions on his own. Both Dynamite and TNT reenter the ring, with an evil smile on their faces. Both men rush at Williams, but Williams take them both down with a Spear! He mounts TNT, throwing heavy right hands into his face. Unbeknownst to “The Malice Man,” Dynamite bounces off the ropes and catches Duke in the side of the head with a Spinning Heel Kick, taking DW down to the mat. T gets to his feet, picking up “The Malice Man.” He whips him into the ropes and slams him down hard to the mat with a Spine Buster!

Jeff Marx Nice Spine Buster by TNT! They’re taking it to Duke Williams!

TNT picks up Duke Williams and sets him up in a Side Slam position. Dynamite runs towards the ropes, springboards off the top ropes, turns in midair, drops a leg across Williams’ throat, and TNT sits down at the same time with the Side Slam! TNT lays back on “The Malice Man” and hooks the leg...

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

NO! Duke Williams gets the shoulder up before three! The Detonators pick up “The Malice Man,” whips him into the ropes about to do a double Back Body Drop. Williams switches gears and spikes the former WWA champions onto the mat with a Double DDT and the Norwegian fans response with cheers!

Dave Kern: Double DDT by Duke Williams! He’s back in this match!

Duke Williams gingerly gets to his feet and goes over to Dynamite. He grabs one leg, spins around it and applies pressure with a Spinning Toehold! The fans are cheering for Duke as he releases the hold, spins around harder and cinches in the Spinning Toehold! He does this another time, releasing the hold, spinning around on D’s leg extremely hard and then pressing down with the toehold. After inflicting plenty of damage on D’s legs, he picks him up and sets him up for his Shot of Whiskey Power Bomb. Duke sets up D with the Power Bomb, snaps him up, holds him there for a few moments then drives D into the mat with a Shot of Whiskey!

Jeff Marx: THE SHOT! There it is! Ready to get... Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound...?!

Dave Kern: Powerbomb by Duke Williams and Dynamite has to be broken in half!

Jeff Marx: Oh! TNT just caught Duke Williams from behind with a hard elbow shot!

Before dropping to the mat, TNT grabs a handful of Duke Williams’ hair, locks in an Inverted Headlock and rocks backward with an Inverted DDT, driving “The Malice Man’s” skull onto the mat. He goes for the cover, hooking the leg...

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

NO! Duke Williams kicks out!

Jeff Marx: There’s the experience.

Dave Kern: Duke Williams kicked out of the Inverted DDT! What a match we’re witnessing!

TNT picks up Duke Williams and gives Dynamite a signal. T whips Williams into the ropes and picks him up for a Flapjack. Dynamite runs behind TNT, jumps into the air, grabs a hold of DW’s head and both drop down with a Flapjack/DDT combination! The fans are jeering at the former WWA Tag Team Champions as they signal the beginning of the end for Duke Williams.

Dave Kern: What a tandem maneuver by The Detonators! And it looks like they’re going to put the PCW legend away!

TNT signals Dynamite to exit the ring. T drags Duke Williams into a corner and gets him to his feet. He kicks Duke in the gut and sets him up for the Pile Driver. Dynamite climbs to the top rope and balances himself on the top rope. He jumps off the top rope, pushing down on “The Malice Man” as TNT delivers the Pile Driver!

Dave Kern: Spike Pile Driver by The Detonators! You know what’s coming up next, Jeff?

Jeff Marx: Oh, I don’t care, the, er, “Big Bang”.

Dave Kern: Correct!

Jeff Marx: Wait a minute! Someone’s coming out to the ring... IT’S TERESA TOMAS!

Indeed it is, Dave Kern! Teresa Tomas is running down to the ring. Before The Detonator pull off the Big Bang, “THE American Woman” pushes Dynamite off the top turnbuckle and onto the floor. Tomas climbs on the top turnbuckle and clips TNT in the face with a Missile Dropkick, taking TNT down to the mat.

Dave Kern: Missile Dropkick by Teresa Tomas! She’s back in this match and she’s pissed off!

Jeff Marx: Dammit! Teresa wasn’t taken out of this match!

Noticing that Dynamite is slowly getting to his feet, Teresa Tomas bounces off the ropes, charges at Dynamite, flies through the ropes and catches him with a Suicide Dive!

Dave Kern: Suicide Dive by Teresa Tomas and she’s pounding the back of Dynamite’s head into the floor!

After pounding Dynamite’s head into the floor, Teresa grabs D’s right arm, twists it and turns so he is on his stomach with his arm twisted. Then she sits down so she's kneeling facing away form him, grabs Dynamite’s leg and pulls it back.

Jeff Marx: Southern Comfort by Teresa Tomas, and Dynamite is tapping out like the bitch that he is!

Dave Kern: The Detonators feel aggrieved, but they’ve lost their first match in AWC!

Jeff Marx: No, he isn’t legal!

Meanwhile, Duke Williams and TNT are going toe-to-toe with each other, throwing right hands. Williams gets the upper hand by kneeing TNT in the gut, then whipping him into the ropes. “The Malice Man” catches T with a Big Boot after the rebound. Duke picks up TNT, kicks him in the gut and delivers another earth-shattering Power Bomb!

Dave Kern: Shot of Whiskey by Duke Williams... and you know what’s coming up next, Marx?

Jeff Marx: This time I care! Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound!

After administering the Power Bomb, Duke Williams picks up TNT and throws him over his right shoulder. “The Malice Man” looks out into the crowd, trying to get a raise out of them. When he does, he charges one of the corners and slams TNT’s back into it. Keeping a hold of TNT, he turns around, charges to the opposite corner and slams TNT’s back into it. Still holding onto TNT, he turns around, charges into the middle of the ring and delivers a Running Power Slam! He goes for the cover...

Jeff Marx: HELL BOUND HOSS!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Richie Travis calls for the bell as “Honky Tonk Heroes” by Waylon Jennings plays on the PA system! Teresa Tomas rolls into the ring and jumps into Duke Williams’ arms and gives him a big hug and a kiss.

James Brunt: The winners... DUKE WILLIAMS... and TERESA TOMAS!

---

Assault Anton

FEATURING: RED ROCK, D'AVID, ANTON ASSAULT
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND OBINNA O.

---

Next we find ourselves looking around the backstage area, particularly at the office door of Sasha Volkyeva. Standing in front of the door is the ever observant Anton Assault. He stands with his arms folded and looking somewhat bored. But at this point our Relentless champion Red Rock, no less, pops round the corner. Red Rock although off duty is still showing off his Relentless title proudly round his waist and to his side is his manager and side kick D’avid Bulrat.

Red Rock: Crikey it’s been a little while hasn’t it! I hope I haven’t lost it!

Red Rock jogs on the spot; concerned about his lack of effort to train during his long time off.

D’avid: Heh, you still got it!

Red Rock: Good! I knew that!

Red Rock grins foolishly when suddenly Anton Assault catches Red Rock’s eye in the distance.

Red Rock: Hey Anton looks pretty bored over there, lets go say hi!

D’avid: Heh… oooh I don’t know he looks pretty pissed off!

Red Rock: Nah he’s bored!

Red Rock marches over to Anton who tries to ignore Red Rock’s presence.

Red Rock: Hey Anton! What did you do to deserve this?

Anton Assault: I don’t really want to talk you Red.

Red Rock: Why not?

Anton Assault: Because you’re annoying!

Red Rock: Hey don’t be like that, I came over here to entertain you!

Anton Assault rolls his eyes and leans back against the frame of the door.

Red Rock: So you’re like one of the Queen’s guards? Are you allowed to move from there?

Anton Assault: Not really, no…

Red Rock: He he he! So if I was to do this…

Red Rock reaches in to his pocket and withdraws an old receipt then proceeds to screw it up and throw it at Anton’s head. The piece of paper bounces off Anton’s head and rolls along the floor.

Anton Assault: Please stop that.

Red Rock: Aww don’t get a stiffy son! I’m just kidding!

Anton snarls at Red Rock and tightens his fists as Red Rock laughs to himself whilst poking Anton Assault in the tummy with his index fingers.

Red Rock: He he he! Anyway! I’m off! If you win tonight I’ll see you next week!

Red Rock ruffles his hand on Anton’s head and wonders off down the hall leaving a not so pleased Anton Assault to resume his watch.

---

A Radical Change In Perspective

FEATURING: COLLISION COURSE, ???
AUTHORS: BRYAN AND ???

---

Dave Kern: I'm glad to see that a real tag team wrestling match go down, that was a big win for Duke and Teresa over former WWA champions, The Detonators.

Steven Smith: I only wish there were more pairs of men… and women, here in AWC.

Oh Steve. Ask, and ye shall receive.

'Teenage Wasteland' hits the PA. Because it has to. Sure, we haven't heard it for a while, but the AWC faithful in Norway slightly pop for the two red-clad figures that emerge from the back.

Jiro Sennosuke.

Joey Six.

Collision Course.

Steven Smith: I called it! I'm magical! I'm magical!!

Jeff Marx: (slaps Steven)

[end PCW circa 2001 card-writing]

They walk down to the ring, stopping to high-five several of the Norwegians at ringside (through the wire fence, of course). Jiro Sennosuke is somewhat stoic. Joey Six is somewhat douchebaggy. It's like they never left.

Dave Kern: Ladies and gentlemen… we're seeing the return of fan-favorite AWC duo… Collision Course!

Jeff Marx: It's like Collision Course has never left!

Steven Smith: How so?

Jeff Marx: After all this time… still, no one cares.

As the two wrestlers roll into the ring, they fire off a few quick poses, but the music is quick to cut. Joey Six is thrown a microphone, which he proceeds to rock like only a jerk can.

Joey Six: YO, YO, YO! WHAT UP, LILLEHAMMER!!!

Sure, the crowd will pop for this. It's Lillehammer.

Joey Six: Collision Course are in the motherfunky HIZZOOOOWWWWWWSSSSSSSAAAAAHHHH!

Jeff Marx: If you don't have charisma, please, please do not try to manufacture it.

Joey Six: This is the three-and-three, wanting to give a shizzzout-izzzout to the AWC Alliance division. How y'all doin'…FELLLAAAAZZZZ!?

Jiro Sennosuke takes a moment, and whispers in Joey's ear.

Joey Six: Oh! And also Butterfly Hamada!

Jiro nods, appeased.

Joey Six: The tag team known as Collision Course… that's me, and my partner here Jiro Sennosuke… we just wanted to come out here and say that we should not be judged by the matches we've already had here in AWC. I mean, sure… we may have lost a few matches…

It's more than a few. The crowd remembers, and heckles them a little, but Joey is classically nonplussed.

Joey Six: Naw, naw. Cee-Cee isn't having none of that anymore. We're winners, straight up and straight on. Tell them, Jiro!

Joey passes the microphone off to his tag team partner, the quiet strong-style Asian.

Jiro Sennosuke: Ohsh. Joey's right. Collision Course. On the same page for the first time. We offer respect to the Alliance division… but whether you are the Detonators, the Furious Fists of Dogs…

A mild crowd reaction to the dig.

Jiro Sennosuke: …the Celestial Fury, or even the tandem of Nash and Dick… we will take… you… out.

Joey quickly snatches the microphone back from Jiro.

Joey Six: And now, I'm gonna tell you how we gonna do just that.

He walks up to the ropes, and takes on a conversational tone.

Joey Six: First, we're gonna work twice as hard as anyone else on the roster. In the ring, in the club, in the…

Joey continues, but the microphone cuts off. He looks flat-out stunned for a moment.

Then the moment is over.

And he's hit with a Yakuza Kick RIGHT IN THE FACE.

It's a man in a black ski mask, and camouflage pants.

And there's another one almost on top of Jiro Sennosuke already.

And two more entering the ring.

Dave Kern: Wait, what the---?

Sennosuke tries to fire off a right hand, but one of the men, wearing a blue wifebeater, simply ducks, reaches back from behind, and delivers a kick-snap diving neckbreaker. Never before has the term "neckbreaker" seemed more correct.

Sure enough, with a moment to watch the carnage, we see that the four men are wearing four different colored wifebeaters.

Gray.

Blue.

Red.

Black.

Sennosuke and Six just lay on the ground, selling their injuries.

Dave Kern: Are you seeing this!? Four masked men have laid out Collision Course in the middle of their promo!!

Jeff Marx: Yep. This is AWESOME.

But the men in masks show no sign of letting up. One (gray) hoists Joey Six onto his shoulders, in the electric chair position. Another (blue) takes Jiro Sennosuke and applies a rear waistlock. Red heads to the top rope near gray, and black mounts the turnbuckle nearest blue.

Dave Kern: What on earth could they be planning?

Joey Six, being kept in the electric chair, is doubled over by the man in the black ski mask atop the nearby turnbuckle, and applies a double underhook.

Jiro Sennosuke is rocked with a German suplex, held for a bridge… followed quickly by a WICKED double-stomp from the top rope by the man in black shirt!

Jeff Marx: WHOA! That's gotta…

Meanwhile, the red assailant jumps over the top of Joey Six, as the other assailant pushes Six backwards off his shoulders.

The effect, is that of a top rope, double underhook, CANADIAN DESTROYER FLIPPING PILEDRIVER.

Dave Kern: …

Jeff Marx: …

Steven Smith: …

Joey Six bounces, obviously unconscious once his head hits the mat. Jiro Sennosuke clutches at his chest, where the attacker stomped it. Both men are visibly beaten, and the crowd begins a chant (with a Norwegian accent, no less).

”HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!”

One of the attackers raises a closed fist in signal. The other three raise theirs in response.

Dave Kern: Are you kidding me!? It looks like Collision Course has been destroyed here!

And with that, the four men in ski masks make their hasty exit, to the back.

Jeff Marx: Did you even see where these guys came from?

Steven Smith: Dunno. I think it was from under the ring.

The referees start pouring out from the back, underneath the ramp, and paramedics come out with stretchers for the now-former AWC duo.

Dave Kern: Folks, I really don't know what to tell you. Four masked men have simply annihilated the team of Collision Course tonight. Who are they, and why have they done this?

Jeff Marx: Come on, Dave. You really think they needed a reason?

As the paramedics mop up CC, the crowd just watches in stunned amazement, images of the identically dressed men appear in the memories of those who witnessed.

---

Chainz vs Assault vs Suleimon vs O'Reilly

STIPULATION: FOUR WAY ELIMINATION TABLE
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: TRENT GILL AND PIERRE "LAZY" HYDE

---

Dave Kern: Ladies and gentleman do we have a treat for you coming up next!

Steven Smith: You’re right, Dave, I haven’t been this excited since Elton John’s Greatest Hits!

Jeff Marx: …I hate my job.

"Cure" by The Wild Colonials hits as Chainz steps out from the back ignoring the fans.

James Brunt: The following is a Four Way Elimination Table match, for the #1 contendership to the AWC Relentless championship! Introducing first, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing in at 295 pounds… Chainz!

Chainz slides into the ring and looks around at the audience while waiting for his opponents.



'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 slowly making his way onto the ramp, nodding to his mentor, shaking his hand and makes his way down to the ring as Zsasz disappears into the back. The yells of Mark Hunter fill the arena.

I finally found myself,
I tried to erase all this hate from my body,
I tried to end all the lies, all the pain that I caused everyone,
But it all seemed so fucking useless!

He rolls into the ring, climbing up one of the corners, raising his arms up.

I can’t forgive
And I can’t forget.
Don’t you know who the fuck I am?
I’m the enemy.
THE ENEMY!
The enemy.
THE ENEMY!

He hops off the corner, removes his leather, porkpie style hat, puts it in the corner of the ring, facing up. He removes his golden catholic cross, kisses it, places it inside the hat and removes his white wifebeater. He eyes up Chainz intently, as the monster does back to him as well. The official sees the tension and steps in between them immediately, but Mikey O’Reilly fights past the man in the stripes and goes after Chainz aggressively. They exchange vicious closed-fist punches as the ref gathers himself and rings the bell anyway.

Dave Kern: We’re off to an early start … clearly O’Reilly couldn’t contain himself with that monster. These two should have an interesting battle all night; they’ve been at their throats leading up to this, and while Mikey clearly has the bare-knuckle skills, Chainz is simply sadistic and unpredictable.

Jeff Marx: O’Reilly should be concerned with the amount of days he’ll be spending in hospital, never mind winning this match …

The lights dim abruptly and the opening, disgusting chords of 'Vomitself' by Boris hit. The crowd falls into a hush as a single, white spotlight opens up on the entrance area. As the droney, soul-crushing guitars continue to lope on, the solitary figure of one Luis Ferrara, dressed in an impressive suit. He lifts his eyes to the light, shielding his face as he starts down. 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.

James Brunt: And their opponent, being accompanied to the ring by Luis Ferrara, from Paris, France, weighing in at 229 pounds… Anton Assault!

Luis leads his prospect down to the ring and he stands off to the side, letting Anton climb into the ring by himself. Once inside the ring, Anton carefully pulls off his dashiki and hands it down to Luis, who rolls it up and heads over to set it with the timekeeper.

Dave Kern: Here’s a guy we should keep an eye on… he’s an animal. With a third place finish at Zero 2 Hero, I expect him to come out of this match the victor.

Steven Smith: He’s really muscular… those Nigerians… I mean…

Anton Assault, now in the ring, charges over to O’Reilly and Chainz who are still throwing fists at one another. Anton grabs Chainz from behind but Chainz throws an elbow hard into Anton’s mid-section sending him stumbling backwards. Angered by this, Anton gathers himself and charges back towards Chainz who is now turned around. Anton Assault hits Chainz with a spear and forces him right into Mikey O’Reilly, sandwiching them both into the turnbuckle.

Mozart’s “The Turkish Machine” fills the arena as the trio continues to battle in the ring, Captain Suleimon makes his entrance to a weak boo from the crowd.

James Brunt: And finally, from Istanbul, Turkey, weighing in at 198 pounds… CAPTAIN SULEIMON!

Captain Suleimon runs excitedly to the ring and slides in, charging towards Anton Assault who has his back turned. Suleimon leaps onto Anton’s back but fails to make any damage after that. Anton easily flips the Captain over his shoulders and slams him into the canvas. Anton wraps his huge hand around the Captain’s neck and leans into it, choking him out. This lasts only momentarily because Mikey O’Reilly is back on the scene and executes a quick dropkick which sends Anton to the canvas. O’Reilly commits no time to Anton or Suleimon and turns to Chainz, who has gathered himself. They get into an aggressive grapple which lasts only ten seconds and neither is able to get the upper hand, so they release. Chainz makes the first move with an attempted right hand but O’Reilly catches it skillfully and uppercuts the monster. He catches him on the jaw and Chainz stumbles backwards. Mikey sends him to the mat with a right hand hook.

Dave Kern: Impressive hand skills from Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey!

Steven Smith: Aren’t you guys a little turned on by Irish fighters? I mean… Brad Pitt in Snatch… OH – MY – GOD.

Jeff Marx: Mikey O’Reilly is that character. Seriously.

O’Reilly slides to the outside of the ring, likely on a hunt for weapons. Meanwhile, in the ring, Anton Assault has total control of Captain Suleimon and throws him into the corner. Anton hits him with a few shoot punches and then backs off, then comes charging back at the Captain. The defender is prepared, though, and uses the ring to propel in him the air and plant both feet into the Nigerian’s chest. Anton falls to the canvas as Suleimon raises himself to the second turnbuckle. Suleimon leaps forward and crashes into the fallen Anton Assault with his knees thrust forward.

Dave Kern: Nice sequence from the Captain!

Chainz is now to his feet and immediately focuses on O’Reilly who seems to be setting up a garage sale at ringside from items underneath the ring. Intent on not being beaten at his own game, Chainz slides out of the ring to square up with O’Reilly. The pikey turns his back awkwardly and Chainz seizes the opportunity, only to get a face full of brass from the knuckles of Mikey O’Reilly.

Dave Kern: Wow! Didn’t see that one coming!

Jeff Marx: Dammit, Chainz, you’re supposed to notice these things!

Captain Suleimon takes notice of the events developing at ringside and leaves the Assault to recover. He gains momentum by bouncing off the opposite ropes and baseball slides underneath the bottom rope and connects with O’Reilly’s face, taking him out. Setting up outside of the ring, Suleimon digs through the litter of weapons that O’Reilly pulled from underneath the ring and finds a steel chair. He turns around to find Chainz on his feet wielding his own chair. Suleimon gets a face full of steel from the monster.

Dave Kern: Wicked chair shot there from Chainz! Is it possible for him to be even more sadistic after falling three stories?

Jeff Marx: He’s inhuman, Dave, and it’s high time you start to realize that.

Chainz has his chair at ready again as Mikey O’Reilly gets to his feet, but is tackled from behind by Anton Assault who is back on the scene. Anton gets back to his feet quickly to Mikey O’Reilly, who is ready for a right. They exchange right hands…

Dave Kern: I’ve been waiting for this encounter… a shoot fighter battling a bare-knuckle boxer… we could be in for a treat.

O’Reilly and Anton battle it out, each using their own strengths to their advantage, but neither gaining the edge. Chainz is to his feet and intrudes on their party jamming a steel chair into the back of Mikey O’Reilly. O’Reilly collapses to his knees, leaving Chainz with only Anton Assault to deal with. Chainz winds up for another chair-shot but Anton Assault gives him a quick kick to the mid-section. Chainz drops the chair immediately and doubles over. Anton gets him in position for a DDT but shoves him away noticing Captain Suleimon coming to his senses. Anton trudges over towards the Captain who is on one knee, still shaking off the cobwebs from the chair shot. Anton throws his right knee aggressively into the chest of Captain Suleimon who collapses immediately. Anton hauls him to his feet by his wrist and looks back over his shoulder to see Chainz charging towards him. Anton makes a strong impulse decision by tossing Suleimon into the line of fire. The prepared Chainz bowls over him with a clothesline. Momentarily inattentive, Chainz is left open to an attack by Anton Assault, who clotheslines him hard.

Dave Kern: Anton Assault really taking control of this match… and that’s saying something.

Steven Smith: I like taking control…

Meanwhile, Mikey O’Reilly is back to his feet and talking a walk around the ring to a table that was placed on the other side of the ring prior to the start of the match. He sets the wooden platform up swiftly to cheers from the fans, then grabs a ringside chair and heads back into the ring. Anton Assault notices this and now that he is finished business on the outside, he slides into the ring and readies himself for another battle with Mikey O’Reilly. O’Reilly sees this and scampers outside the ring… not out of fright, but because of sheer determination to destroy Chainz. Anton Assault simply slides back out of the ring and blocks O’Reilly’s path to Chainz.

Jeff Marx: What the hell are you doing, pussies, FIGHT!

Dave Kern: Looks like Mikey O’Reilly has a grudge for Chainz…

Jeff Marx: Duh.

Mikey O’Reilly yells something at Anton Assault that clearly cannot be understood due to his pikey nature. Captain Suleimon has seemingly disappeared to the other side of the ring and the only thing left between O’Reilly and Anton is Chainz, who is getting to his feet. Once he is positioned, Chainz sees his predicament being surrounded by O’Reilly and Anton, not realizing the situation. O’Reilly charges forward with vengeance towards Chainz, winding up his steel chair like a baseball bat. Chainz sees this but also sees Anton Assault charging from the other side as if to attack him as well. As both attackers arrive simultaneously, Chainz ducks the chair shot from O’Reilly, which causes Anton Assault to get creamed by the weapon.

Dave Kern: OH MY GOD! I hate that sick bastard, but these types of matches are right up his alley.

Jeff Marx: He is a legend!

Dave Kern: I wouldn’t go as far to say...

Jeff Marx: Look at him now! Dismantling O’Reilly!

Sure enough, Chainz is in the right position for a tackle on O’Reilly, which sends both Mikey and his weapon to the floor. Chainz seems to be gaining momentum and hauls O’Reilly to his feet, only to be assaulted by Captain Suleimon, who sails off the top rope and takes both them out!

Dave Kern: Wow! Where did he come from?!

Jeff Marx: Little shit, he was out on the other side of the ring!

Dave Kern: Well, there sure are a lot of from-behind attacks in this match…

Steven Smith: That would be even too obvious for me.

Captain Suleimon is naturally the first one back up. He picks up Mikey O’Reilly who seems to have gotten the worst out of it and throws him back into the ring. Suleimon slides in afterwards leaving Chainz with Anton Assault on the outside, who is slowly getting to his feet. Suleimon stomps out O’Reilly before picking him up. O’Reilly seems a little unsteady due to the chair shots from earlier and Suleimon hands him a couple of shots to the face easily. Suleimon then clutches O’Reilly by the wrist and sends him flying towards the opposite ring cables. O’Reilly flips over the top rope but grabs the cable just in time to avoid smashing through his own set-up table.

Dave Kern: O’Reilly almost dug his own grave there!

Jeff Marx: What an idiot… setting up that table for no reason, then almost getting ploughed through it.

Captain Suleimon goes right back to work on O’Reilly, who is precariously situated on the apron above the table. Suleimon holds onto the top rope while kicking O’Reilly, unaware that Anton Assault is back in the ring after disposing of Chainz with a chair shot. Anton grabs Suleimon by his pants and lifts him up high and tries to toss him over the ropes and into the table, but just like O’Reilly did, he grabs onto the top ropes and extenuates his stay in this match.

Dave Kern: Two superstars now in danger of elimination! This could be interesting.

Anton seems angry and also unaware that Chainz is back in the ring. Chainz attacks Anton from behind with a knee into his back, which sends Anton face-first into the canvas. On the apron, Mikey O’Reilly and Captain Suleimon are both on their feet and exchanging right hands, both teetering precariously over the set-up table, which could end their stay in this match. Chainz continues to feed Anton Assault kicks while he’s down, and eventually hauls him to his feet. Chainz throws Anton to the opposing ropes from where O’Reilly and the Captain are battling. Anton comes back to Chainz and Chainz throws him over impressively in a back body drop, sending Anton sailing to the outside overtop of Suleimon and O’Reilly. He overshoots the table!

Dave Kern: Wow, close one there for Anton Assault!

Mikey O’Reilly has now gained the upper hand over Captain Suleimon, still on the apron, and grabs Suleimon by the arm. O’Reilly tries to force Suleimon off the apron and throw him into the table, and seems to be succeeding, only to be knocked off the apron by Chainz. Suleimon and O’Reilly fall off the apron, crashing through the table!

Jeff Marx: Aha! Chainz with the first elimination, and it was a double! That takes skill!

At this point, the feed cuts. No one really knows why, but most blame Fredrock~!. It doesn’t return until juuuuust as the match ends, when…

Dave Kern: He’s toppling! He’s toppling!

Chainz whirls his arms, desperately trying to regain control but to no avail as the exhausted Anton Assault leans onto his body, bending it backwards over the turnbuckle both are standing on the second ascension of. The two tables piled just to one side seem almost inviting, but Chainz has one last trick up his sleeve.

Jeff Marx: OOOF, the knee to the gut from Chainz! And can he turn this?

Assault drops down to the mat, and Chainz places both hands on his shoulders but as he does so AA jumps up and back with a crescent kick into the 295-pounder’s gut. Chainz doubles up, still on the turnbuckle, and the Lion takes him over his shoulder as if for a Samoan drop. Struggling under the weight, he turns and catches the eye of his manager…

Steven Smith: Luis is going CRAZY!

Dave Kern: So are the fans! Does Assault have it?

Assault desperately tries to toss Chainz over the ropes towards the tables, but he just can’t lift him any higher. He backs into the ropes and tries to dump him over backwards, but Chainz clings on tight.

Jeff Marx: He’s at the brink of the precipice… trying to claw his way up to that title shot… but it’s a bridge too far… surely…

With a deep breath, Assault rocks backwards, still with Chainz up on his shoulders, and the two go tumbling over the ropes and through the tables!

Dave Kern: Assault takes them both through the tables!

Jeff Marx: He sacrificed his own body to take the win!

The bell rings, and the medical team immediately rushes to the ring anticipating some damage.

James Brunt: The winner, who will face Red Rock next week for the Relentless title… ANTON ASSAULT!

Luis Ferrara rushes over to pull the Lion out from the wreckage.

Jeff Marx: This could be his big break! Anton Assault on the up!

---

Settlements And Confessions

FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, TRACY, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHOR: LARA C. AND MIKE S.

---

The noise seemed to fade silently around her as she slumped into the comforts of her sofa, sliding off her heels as she did so. Her mind was filled with many thoughts, one such one being the fact that Pierce Lavelle had just quit. As she slumped back into the chair she pulled out some aspirin and a bottle of water, knocking back two pills. Her head was thumping with a ravaging migraine and her mind was no where near alert, so Sarah had passed on all of her interview duties to Maddy Estelle, it meant less working hours, but Sarah no longer wanted to drop-by the manager’s office.

Tracy slumped through the door, a large rucksack on her shoulder as her body wobbled with the weight, her stance unstable; she and her bag collided with a chair and all of Sarah’s clothing. Tracy collapsed onto the floor and let out a sigh. Not knowing Sarah was lying on the sofa with a splitting migraine, Tracy stretched her back slightly and closed her eyes, feeling unable to find the energy to stand or move. Sarah opened one eye and saw Tracy slumped on the floor, a smile brimmed across her face and she once again closed her eyes.

Sarah Kennedy: Want a hand?

Tracy took two looks toward Sarah on the sofa and almost jumped, her mind was so preoccupied nowadays that she found herself more and more self-absorbed in her own world, to even notice that reality and time became transient to the permanence of her dissipating relationship with Michael Sloan.

Tracy Stanton: Sarah? I’m sorry. Did I wake you?

Sarah Kennedy: No, I wasn’t sleeping, just lying down.

Tracy Stanton: Headache or nausea?

Sarah Kennedy’s eyes opened and looked toward Tracy, who was now seated, legs crossed in her tight jeans, all eyes now focused on her, intrigued by Sarah’s story. Perhaps, Tracy was looking for something outside of her own dilemma, but Sarah didn’t mind opening up slightly about her own problems, after all it hadn’t done much good to stay quiet before.

Sarah Kennedy: I’ve a migraine, why’d you ask?

Tracy turned around and pulled out a pregnancy test from the garbage bin, Sarah’s eyes widened and she jolted up, taking a moment to assort her own equilibrium as the blood rushed to her head, creating an over whelming sensation of pain as she straightened her posture, the aspirin wasn’t kicking in. ‘Fast acting relief, my ass’ Sarah thought, taking another two pills.

Tracy Stanton: You shouldn’t be taking those…

Sarah Kennedy: Huh? Tracy, I’m not pregnant… That’s - not - mine.

Tracy looked at the pregnancy test and back at Sarah; she then placed it back into the bin and stood up.

Tracy Stanton: I just assumed that you and –

Sarah Kennedy: I know what you assumed and that’s for me to know and you to wonder.

Sarah smiled and closed her eyes again.

Tracy Stanton: Oh? Have you two not worked things out, I thought, well I saw you at the fan festival. You seemed, comfortable.

Sarah Kennedy: Until…

Sarah regretted even bringing up Michael Sloan, she knew how hard life had been for Tracy without him; although she couldn’t fathom why, but Sarah knew perhaps it was best Tracy remained away from Sloan. Her bruising had all but vanished, she was a lot happier and less agitated all the time.

Tracy Stanton: Until what, Sarah?

Sarah Kennedy: Until… he quit.

Tracy Stanton: Pierce quit? Why?

Sarah Kennedy: A lot of reasons, Harber, Adam Dick, the whole drugs serum thing last year and well, an array of new problems…

Tracy Stanton: You mean Michael, don’t you?

Sarah Kennedy: I – eh –

Tracy Stanton: It’s alright, Sarah. I know what many think, but I’m not as weak as many assume I am. I know Michael can be a little out of control…

Sarah Kennedy: A little out of control! Are you mad? He’s a sadistic rapist and dangerous man. He’s completely out of control.

Tracy turned toward Sarah and looked as though she had been thumped in the stomach, Sarah felt immediate pity and regret in echoing the words she had reiterated on many occasions, but the words never seeped into the disillusioned ears of Tracy.

Sarah Kennedy: Look, I’m sorry, I’m just a little agitated.

Tracy Stanton: I’m thinking of taking him back…

Sarah almost choked on her water, as her mind took a few seconds to register the words that had just been spoken from Tracy’s mouth. Tracy was not looking toward Sarah, when Sarah darted her eyes from the white washed walls to Tracy’s once more frail image on the sofa, huddled against the corner.

Sarah Kennedy: You’re what?

Tracy Stanton: When I’m with him, I can keep him under control. This way he won’t do as much damage, I saw what he did at the fan festival. I just want to help him, comfort him, and control him a bit and maybe then Pierce could come back…

Sarah Kennedy: Pierce isn’t coming back!

The words were spoken with sorrow and hurt as Sarah rubbed her forehead, trying to remove the pain in her head from the migraine that was forming over her left eye.

Tracy Stanton: Are you two seeing one another?

Sarah Kennedy: Yeah, it’s going great. We are taking things slow; I care for him, a lot. I just don’t want to see him leave. Look, Tracy, you don’t have to get back with Michael, under the idea of keeping others safe. That’s Harber’s job and the security team. You are better off without him…

Tracy Stanton: I don’t know, it’s lonely without him, sort of miss him. I don’t have as many friends as you’d think. So, who do think is pregnant?

Sarah Kennedy: (head in her hands) What?

Tracy Stanton: The test!

Sarah Kennedy: Eh, I don’t know… Might not be pregnant.

Tracy Stanton: True, I am sorry Sarah.

Sarah Kennedy: For?

Tracy Stanton: For being a reason why things are so strained with you and Pierce.

Sarah sat up and slouched into the back of the sofa, laying her head back and against the head rest, her mind full of haze and pain; this was one bitch of a migraine. Tracy placed a comforting hand on Sarah’s knee and sighed with annoyance as she gazed toward the heavy rucksack.

Sarah Kennedy: Things aren’t strained, Tracy. Going well actually, if there is a problem, then it’s my fault for not being honest, not yours. To be frank, I feel bad about a lot of things…

Tracy Stanton: Like?

Sarah Kennedy: Not trusting him when the Prometheus issue first arose and for bringing him into the problems of my own life. I feel guilty is all.

Tracy Stanton: From the way I see it, you were there for him when not many were. I think he really cares for you, hell, I saw it when Michael was badgering you at the fan festival.

Sarah Kennedy: Don’t remind me.

Tracy Stanton: See, if I were with Michael, he wouldn’t bother you or Pierce. I am sure of it.

Sarah Kennedy: Tracy, listen to what you are saying. You want to be with him ‘to control him’. Do you love him?

Tracy Stanton: Yes, I still do and I feel like I need to help him.

Sarah Kennedy: He doesn’t need that, he needs professional help and maybe a couple of years in lock-up.

Tracy Stanton: He’s had that, it just made things worse. I can help him.

Sarah Kennedy: Remember when you were with him, it didn’t stop him almost killing Pierce and hurting you, did it?

Sarah was playing devil’s advocate, but she was tired of hearing Tracy feel sorry for herself under the illusions of Michael actually being a good man deep down and all she needed was a push in the right direction to see Michael was no good, a waste of time and effort.

Tracy stood up and moved toward the rucksack, in which laid the scattered clothes and things of her own scattered life in the past few months. She tried filling the sack with Michael’s clothes, but couldn’t bring herself to do it, either out of love or fear. She had determined that no matter what people thought or said, she loved him and needed him.

Tracy Stanton: I think you are right, Sarah.

Sarah lifted her head and opened her eyes with shock, despite the pain in doing so.

Sarah Kennedy: What? I am?

Tracy Stanton: Yeah, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still love him and want to be with him.

Sarah looked around Tracy’s straightened posture and saw the large rucksack.

Sarah Kennedy: He’s a train wreck and he’ll go down in flames one day.

Tracy Stanton: Then I guess I’ll go down with him.

Sarah Kennedy: You can’t be serious, you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this.

Tracy Stanton: Look don’t worry about Michael and me, we’ll manage somehow. Maybe it’s true, there’s always someone for everyone, guess we’re just meant to be together.

Sarah Kennedy: But…

Tracy Stanton: Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I better be on my way, seems you have a visitor anyway.

With a light sigh, Tracy picked up her sack of clothes and headed for the door at the same time that Pierce Lavelle pushed it open and walked in. The two exchanged glances and passed each other.

Pierce Lavelle: Hey, you feelin’ better?

Pierce asked, with his back turned, as he closed the door shut and dropped his duffle bag onto the floor. When he turned back around, Sarah had her eyes closed and her head tilted back onto the headrest of the sofa.

Pierce Lavelle: Guess not, huh?

Sarah Kennedy: The migraine pills you gave me, don’t work.

Sarah smiled and chucked the small bottle of aspirin toward Pierce, he shook the bottle and placed it onto the coffee table, the glass chimed with the touch of the bottle.

Sarah Kennedy: I’d be better off with Panadol.

Sarah muttered, realising that for some strange reason or another, American medication such as what Lavelle had given her never worked on her, she needed the good old United Kingdom to soothe her migraine and calm her nerves and she was the North Sea and a plane ride apart from that very alleviation.

Pierce just smiled and moved toward her, sitting next to her on the small bit of sofa he could manage to stay on. Sarah didn’t open her eyes, but placed a hand into his as he felt her temperature and his eyes widened.

Pierce Lavelle: You’re hot!

Sarah Kennedy: Why thank you!

Pierce laughed and picked up his mobile.

Pierce Lavelle: That too, but you are way above the normal temperature rate. I think I should get you a doctor.

This time Sarah’s eyes opened and they were met with very tender, caring eyes of Pierce. His hand was still resting on her cheek, he hadn’t moved once, but rather, gently stroked her forehead, just above her eyebrow.

Sarah Kennedy: Okay, stop that, you’ll put me to sleep…

Sarah smiled and moved his hand, yawning with tiredness she sat up with great effort and lifted her legs off of his lap.

Pierce Lavelle: You want me to ask Doctor Burns to drop by? I think he’s around here somewhere.

Sarah Kennedy: No, I’m alright. I just need to lie down.

Pierce Lavelle: You sure?

Sarah Kennedy: Yeah, it was probably just some bad food.

Pierce stood up and placed his mobile onto the coffee table, he held out his hands for Sarah and helped her up into a standing position. As they made there way to the bedroom, Pierce noticed a small packet of nausea pills and didn’t think anything of it, he placed Sarah carefully onto the bed and drew the curtains across, leaving the two in a very darkened room.

Sarah Kennedy: You don’t have to do this.

Pierce Lavelle: I want to…

He reassured her and pulled a small blanket across her, kissing her forehead gently he made his way back into the main area and went straight to the fridge in search of a bottle of water.

As he grabbed the bottle of water, he shut the fridge door and straightened up, his arm knocking over the bottle of aspirin into the small thrash can. He sighed and placed the water onto the table and knelt over, rooting through the trash, but his hands didn’t take out the bottle, instead his heart raced as he read the words – ‘Pregnancy test’ – he then recalled the nausea tablets and Sarah’s symptoms.

He coughed uneasily and looked toward the darkened bedroom and back at the test. His mind made up, he walked toward the door and leant against the frame, Sarah looked toward him.

Sarah Kennedy: Something wrong?

Pierce Lavelle: I – eh – Are you pregnant?

Sarah sat up, drifting the blanket off of her chest and legs, Pierce hadn’t moved, instead he stood still, in shock, holding the pink and white box with his head spinning. The silence between the two seemed unnerving as they gazed in opposite directions. In the end, Pierce moved forward, placing the box on her dresser he sat next to her and held her hand.

Pierce Lavelle: Sarah?

What could she say; it was not how she could see this turning out. The man she was in love with had found something she didn’t want him to know about.

Sarah Kennedy: I was late, so I took the test and –

Pierce’s gazed into hers, a smile across his face as he held her hand in his. Sarah winced slightly with the thumping pain above her left eye.

Sarah Kennedy: It was negative.

The words seemed to only emanate in the silent room, Pierce’s eyes looked away as he took a deep breath and then turned back to Sarah.

Pierce Lavelle: You alright?

Sarah Kennedy: I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?

Her words didn’t seem too convincing as he looked into her eyes.

Pierce Lavelle: I love you…

A smile brimmed across Sarah’s face, the three words alleviating the pain she was feeling as she kissed Pierce passionately, ignoring the tears of happiness that trickled down her cheeks, his arms gently latched around her waist as his lips caressed hers. The darkness was enveloping them in a void of bliss, warmth and happiness.

Sarah Kennedy: I love you too.

She whispered and lay down, her back on the bed her eyes closed and the pain seemed to dissipate as her heart burst with joy. She felt the bed move and as she rolled her head, she saw his outline lying next to her, the touch of his hand, latching into hers and she knew then that she had found the one in a million…

---

Kip Brown vs ???

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY

---

Dave Kern: Jeff, Steven, we’re one match away from the scheduled main event…

Steven Smith: Which means we’re at the match before the main event!

Dave Kern: Uh, no Steve… remember the Trans---

Jeff Marx: Which means we’re at the match two before the main event!

Dave Kern: Uh, yes Jeff.

Jeff Marx: (mockingly) Uh, yes Jeff, I’m a big dummy and my name’s Dave.

Steven Smith: Oh, grow up!

Jeff Marx: Why? Am I not the legal age yet?

James Brunt: The following is a singles match and features a mystery competitor! Introducing first, the runner up at Zero to Hero… KIP BROWN!

“Live to Die” by Since October hits and, from backstage, Kip Brown comes running out. The crowd begins cheering for the new young gun as he runs down the ramp and jumps into the ring. He stands on one of the turnbuckles, arms to his side, appealing to the crowd.

Steven Smith: Something about the young ones…

Jeff Marx: Tighter assholes?

Steven Smith: Jeff, you’re like a mind reader or something!

Jeff Marx: Dave, do you still have that gun? So I can blow my fucking face off?

After the crowd dies down, the arena gets dark. “The Glass Prison” by Dream Theatre starts to play as rain starts falling! The crowd starts to scream out of surprise, getting wet.

Dave Kern: What in the name is this?

Jeff Marx: David, you’re wearing a white shirt! Steven, tell the snake to get down!

Steven Smith: You can’t control the snake! GET WET, BABY!

Suddenly, though, three gongs go off.

GONG!

GONG!

GONG!

With each gong there is a bolt of lighting on the screen, almost like an irregular heartbeat. At the third gong, a crash cymbal is signaled and the music gets loud. The lights flash on as bright as possible and balloons start to fall from the ceiling, instead of rain.

From out back, “The Q” rolls out… but he looks familiar…

Dave Kern: Is that…?

Jeff Marx: Who, David, who? Who could it be, is it Santa? IS IT?!

Dave Kern: No, you idiot! I recognize that man! He looks like a PRIME man… the name… it began with an O… can’t be…

Jeff Marx: It’s Ozric Mortimer! Holy shit! PRIME superstar OZRIC MORTIMER!

”HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

James Brunt: And his opponent, ---

Before Brunt can continue, though, Ozric is already down stage and in the ring. He towers over Kip (6’7” 270+ vs. 5’11” 225) and, almost immediately, starts laying punches into Kip. The bell rings, commencing the official start of the match.

Jeff Marx: Well, shit, only took a few moments and this guy’s already an ass! I like him!

Ozric has beaten Kip Brown into the ropes. After a couple more fists, Ozric whips him into the opposite rope. Kip Brown comes running back only to receive a stiff shoulder to the face. Ozric mounts him and slowly continues to lay fists into Kip. Eventually, Kip is brought back up, but counters Ozric with a kick to the stomach and a knee to the face. Kip runs and bounces off the ropes, flying back into Ozric with a flying forearm smash. Kip goes for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout.

Dave Kern: The young gun Kip Brown is going hard at it! Trying to get his one over with!

Steven Smith: No, my Kip! Don’t leave so soon!

Kip gets off Ozric and starts laying stomps into him. Kip makes the fatal mistake of lifting up Ozric, though, only to somehow be dropped hard with a DDT. Ozric then gets up, lifts Kip again, and drops Kip with a single armed DDT. AGAIN, Kip is lifted and dropped…via DDT! After three moves in a row, Kip lays on his stomach, holding his forehead while Ozric is sitting up next to him with a smile on his face.

Ozric then proceeds to lift up Kip and kick him in the stomach. When Kip is bent over, Ozric drops an elbow on the back of Kip’s head, dropping him to his knees. On his knees, Kip receives a stiff kick in the face, sending him back onto his… back.

Dave Kern: Ozric is really grinding into Kip! He’s not some finesse fighter… he’s a tough ‘em at ‘em type of guy.

Ozric is now standing over Kip, laughing a little, pulling him up. Kip is shaking his head but that’s quickly interrupted with an Irish whip to the corner. Kip is a little groggy has Ozric lifts him up onto the turnbuckle. Ozric lays into him with a few punches and then, BAM!, a DDT from the top of the turnbuckle. Ozric goes for the quick cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Kickout.

Dave Kern: That would’ve been an impressive start if Ozric could’ve ended it that quick!

Jeff Marx: Uh, Dave, you thick? You think a guy named Ozric Mortimer could win this quickly?

Ozric gets off of Kip and shakes his head, pulling Kip with him. Kip, though, breaks the arms off him and, in one motion, pulls himself up to Ozric’s shoulder. He quickly spins around and drops behind him, running forward and executing a bull dog. In an instant moment, he hops on Ozric’s back and starts pounding on the back of the head. After he stops pounding on it, he flips Ozric over and sits him up. While Ozric sits there, Kip runs off the ropes and comes back with a boot to the head. Ozric rolls down on his side.

Dave Kern: Kip is relentless! What an upstart!

Ozric is lifted up again by Kip and Kip tries to execute a hurricanrana on him. Ozric, though, holds his ground while Kip tries to drop him, but instead Ozric slams Kip down with a powerbomb instead! As Kip is flat on his back, Ozric is about to pin him, but instead…

Ozric Mortimer: (from inside the ring) Hey, what’s that!

Ozric points outside the ring. The referee turns around and, as he does, Ozric rakes Kip’s eyes! As Kip flails a bit, Ozric goes for the pin…

ONE!

Kickout.

Annoyed, Ozric tries again.

ONE!

PUNCH!

With one foul swoop, Kip gives a hay maker to Ozric Mortimer to slap him off. Ozric goes rolling off and Kip sits up, shaking his head. He pulls himself up to his feet and walks around the ring, shaking it off.

Jeff Marx: What is this, the circus? What are these clowns doing?

Steven Smith: Jeffery, *MY* Kip is showing Ozric the meaning of pain!

Jeff Marx: …”my” Kip?

Steven Smith: No, *MY* Kip!

Dave Kern: (sighs)

Kip walks over to Ozric and slaps him around a bit before lifting him up. He tries to irish whip him into the ropes, but Ozric reverses it. As Kip comes running back, he tries to spear Ozric… but Ozric only keels for a moment before, in a swift motion, lifts Kip up and slams his face into the ground. Ozric sits back up and pulls Kip up again. Kip gets whipped into the ropes and comes running back and then…

SWOOSH!

Ozric bends over and lifts Kip up and over and out of the ring! Kip goes so far that, in fact, he crashes into the fence with a CRASH! Ozric shakes his head, laughing. The crowd is popping and booing at the same time.

Ozric rolls out of the ring to deal with Kip. He picks him up and throws him into the fence, which Kip promptly bounces off of and crashes to the mat. Ozric, not satisfied, rolls into the ring to stop the count and then gets on the turnbuckle. Kip is starting to slowly get up while Ozric stands on the turnbuckle. When Kip is fully up and turns around, Ozric is flying at him with double axe handles. Kip, though, has another idea…

CRACK!

Instead of getting hit, Ozric is laid HORIZONTAL with a super kick to the face! The two men are now on the ground outside the ring, exhausted.

ONE!

Dave Kern: Oh my God! These guys are going crazy! They’re putting their lives on the line!

Jeff Marx: So many clichés! SO MANY CLICHES!

TWO!

Kip, somehow, makes it to his feet. He rolls into the ring and stands there, trying to recover. Ozric stands to his feet and, from inside the ring Kip comes running to the ropes. He flies over them with a flip, crashing into Ozric and sending him crashing into the fence! The crowd is going crazy and Kip sits up, clapping his hands. He has a big grin on his face as he jumps to his feet.

Kip then picks a dazed Ozric up and rolls him into the ring. He follows him in there and lays on top of him for the pin…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Ozric kicks out, bringing a grimace on Kip’s face.

Jeff Marx: This guy… he ain’t giving up!

Kip is getting pretty annoyed. He grabs Ozric’s arm and drags him to the middle of the ring. Kip walks to the turnbuckle and jumps up. Without looking, he jumps off backwards for the moonsault… and instead meets KNEES to the GUT! Kip flies off, gripping his stomach as Ozric sits up, laughing.

Dave Kern: What a sneaky son of a bitch!

Steven Smith: Kip, NO!

Ozric is getting tired of Kip. He starts wrenching his neck as he gets up, trying to torture Kip some. Eventually, he stops and lifts Kip up, punching him a couple of times before kicking him in the stomach. He grabs Kip’s gut and pulls him up, only to straighten him out and immediately drop him horizontally. Kip lands with a hard THUD! But Ozric isn’t done.

Ozric drags Kip to the middle of the ring. Standing above Kip, he stalls before he falls on Kip’s chest with an elbow. He attempts a pin fall…

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout.

Kip is pulled up to a sit up position and is immediately kicked in the face. Ozric repeats the same thing again. For the third time, he lifts Kip straight to his feet and executes another DDT. Another pin fall attempt…

ONE!

Kickout.

Frustration, another pinfall…

ONE!

Kickout.

Dave Kern: This Kip, he’s a warrior.

Steven Smith: KIP! OVER HERE KIP! YOU’RE DOING GREAT!

Jeff Marx: Oh, shut up you fag!

Ozric is getting sick of this… and tries to end this match. He place Kip’s head between his legs and lifts him up. Kip, though, slips down Ozric’s back and locks him in a sunset pin…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

Dave Kern: My God! Kip Brown just won against Ozric Mortimer! He’s scampering out the ring and standing on the outside, not wanting the wrath of winning like that!

Jeff Marx: What a cheater! WHAT A CHEATER!

Dave Kern: I don’t think so, Jeff… this Kip Brown, he’s for real. He knows how to defeat the big guys… at any cost necessary! Too bad Ozric couldn’t have had a better intro…

---

Where We Stand

FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, ANTON ASSAULY, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

David “Pearl” Harber sighs, because Anton Assault is still standing in front of the door to Sasha Volkyeva’s office.

Pearl: You’re still here, Anton?

Anton Assault: I'm still here.

Emotionless and expressionless, Anton Assault looks more and more the generic guard. You can’t even tell that just minutes ago he won a four way table match for the right to a shot at the Relentless title on next week’s show, save for some minor bruises and a small strip of gauze on his forehead – he’s cleaned himself up quickly and efficiently, and resumed his duties.

Pearl: You really don’t need to do this, you know.

Anton Assault: With all due respect Pearl, I think that I do.

Pearl: Well it’s up to you, but...

Harber moves as if to enter Volkyeva’s office, but Assault sidesteps to bar his way.

Anton Assault: What’s your business?

Harber stares up at his employee.

Pearl: Anton, this is ridiculous...

Anton Assault: What’s your business?

Pearl: I want to talk to Sasha, now get out of my way!

Assault looks calmly into Pearl’s eyes.

Anton Assault: I'm sorry, sir, Sasha told me she isn’t taking visitors at the moment.

Pearl: (laughs) I really don’t think she has a choice about this one, I'm going--- ouch!

Harber gasps as Anton Assault shoots a palm thrust into his chest, keeping him from moving past.

Anton Assault: I'm sorry. Sir. No visitors.

Pearl: (smiling graciously) I'm sorry. Anton. No contract. As your boss, I'm ordering you to go back to your dressing room and stay there. Now!

Anton Assault: (after a pause, sotto voce) Will you tell Sasha that you told me I could go?

Pearl: Yeah. Yeah, whatever! Now move it.

Turning again without a flicker of an expression, Assault marches down the corridor, allowing David Harber to enter his colleague’s office.

Pearl: What’s all that about?

Sasha Volkyeva looks up in horror. Aghast, she quickly gathers the papers spread over her desk and throws them underneath it. No time for neat piles; they spread all over the carpeted floor. Her pale cheeks showing a flash of colour, she removes the hair-tie from her blonde do and allows the soft hair to fall back across her shoulders.

Sasha Volkyeva: How did you get in here? You surprised me, David!

Pearl marches over to the desk and bends to look beneath it.

Pearl: What are you hiding, Sasha?

Volkyeva drops to the floor and desperately scrambles to retrieve all the papers before Harber can even take a look.

Sasha Volkyeva: Oh, nothing, I just dropp--- ah!

She winces having hit her head on the desk while coming back up. Tears rush to her eyes, but she will not allow them to fall; instead, Sasha determinedly moves over to a filing cabinet behind her desk, pulls open the top drawer (empty) and dumps the entire pile of papers inside. As casually as possible, she locks it and works her hand beneath her fur-lined jacket to store the key in her inner pocket.

Sasha Volkyeva: What was it you wanted, David?

Harber says nothing, moving around to her side of the desk and looking his colleague in the eyes before grasping her arms with both hands.

Pearl: (softly) I want to know what’s going on.

Volkyeva pauses for a second, then relaxes her body into his arms and extends hers up around Harber’s neck. Her beautiful face reaches up, Sasha’s lips searching for Pearl’s.

Sasha Volkyeva: (blissfully) Oh, David, I---

Harber pushes Mother Russia off and holds her at arm’s length.

Pearl: No, Sasha. I know your games and I’ve had enough. Now talk to me.

Harber stands, hands on hips, as Volkyeva retreats into her desk chair, crossing her legs and remaining calm. After seconds of silence, she turns her head up towards Pearl.

Sasha Volkyeva: I have nothing to say.

Pearl: Wade! Ivan! Were you in on that?

Pearl throws up his arms in exasperation. Sasha turns her head away, looking guilty.

Sasha Volkyeva: I... I thought I was... doing good... I thought I had hired Ivan Stanislav... the real Stanislav, I mean...

Pearl: So you didn’t think to even take a look at the guy first? Wade is nothing like the size of Ivan!

Sasha Volkyeva: (throwing her arms wide and raising her voice) How was I supposed to know what Ivan would look like? You forget, David, my roots!

Harber regards her hair with a frown. Then it clicks.

Pearl: Oh... you mean, no history in wrestling... right. So... so you didn’t know it was Wade?

Sasha shakes her head. Harber sighs.

Pearl: Alright. Because we had a lot of dissatisfied viewers, you know... and the real Stanislav got in touch; he wasn’t happy...

Sasha Volkyeva: No?

Pearl: (sternly) No. Not at all. I’d been sending out feelers, but now we haven’t a chance of signing him.

Sasha Volkyeva: I'm...

She stands and takes Pearl’s hands.

Sasha Volkyeva: I'm sorry.

Pearl sighs again.

Pearl: Alright. Now would you let me know what’s going on with Anton?

Sasha Volkyeva: I... I don’t have to explain my methods to you, David.

Harber throws her arms down and turns his back to her.

Pearl: Are we going back to how we used to be, Sasha? Are we? Because I was here thinking we might be able to actually work together!

Sasha Volkyeva: (bitingly) Oh, stop with the melodrama. Haven’t you realised, David?

David Harber turns back, looking curious.

Pearl: Realised WHAT, Sasha? That if we can’t get along, AWC won’t get along?

Volkyeva takes a sheet of paper from the desk and brandishes it in his general direction.

Sasha Volkyeva: The latest financial report.

Pearl: I saw. We aren’t doing so well. Same old, same old.

Sasha Volkyeva: David, this is getting serious. We could handle it for a few months, while we would turn things around, make AWC profitable... but we’ve wasted resources. Money spent on large signing-on bonuses for talent that has not delivered... wages too high... and...

Pearl exhales heavily.

Pearl: Stanislav.

Sasha nods timidly.

Sasha Volkyeva: I won’t even tell you how much money I sent to his bank account...

Pearl groans.

Pearl: So we’re in trouble?

Sasha Volkyeva: Yes! We’re in trouble.

Pearl nods glumly.

Sasha Volkyeva: (shaking her head) No no, David, you do not understand me. We’re in trouble. We are in trouble.

She points to Harber, and then herself. Harber’s mouth forms an ‘o’.

Sasha Volkyeva: Two Entertainment Managers... why, David? Because you were too risky. Things were not working. So I took your job... half your job. And now there are two of us, doing one person’s job, at three people’s salaries. You mean you had not worked this out before?

Harber shakes his head, looking shocked.

Sasha Volkyeva: So now do you see? The days of endeavouring to work together are over. Now we strive not to cooperate, but against each other. Summer is the most likely time for one of our dismissals. The best of luck, David, but now... you are not my colleague. You are my opponent.

She stands.

Sasha Volkyeva: ANTON!

Harber’s expression of shock turns to a grin, as he walks towards the door.

Pearl: Well, thanks for clearing that up, Sasha. And you might find you’re one security guard down. My bad.

---

Weapons Are A Girl's Best Friend

FEATURING: CHAINZ, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND MIKE S.

---

Michael Sloan stumbled through the backstage area, exhausted from a hard match just moments ago. He came to a stop at a vending machine and got a bottle of water, which was subsequently chugged in seconds.

Aimz: Thirsty, huh?

A smile crossed Sloan’s face as he finished off the water and turned around to see Aimz standing right beside him. He looked down at her, a bit confused as to what she was doing getting in his face minutes from her main event match.

Chainz: A hard night of wrestling and sweat will do that for ya, but you’d know all about that anyway.

Aimz: I saw that match of yours and I’ve been wondering what a fool I am for having been afraid of you.

Chainz: Is that right, little red riding hood no longer afraid of the big bad wolf? Remember this wolf has a mean bite to him.

Aimz seemed to shrink under the intense gaze and size of Michael Sloan who had a menacing appearance to him what seemed like every second of every day.

Aimz: Don’t worry, I didn’t forget.

Chainz: Well well well, look how cute you look in your punkish wrestling gear, reminds me of a little schoolgirl. Say, would you like to sit on my lap?

Revulsion rose to the back of Amy’s mouth, but she did her best to hide the disgust that she was feeling for this man.

Aimz: Would you like that?

Chainz: Would you?

Chainz laughed as Aimz just stood there and took all the verbal abuse he had to offer.

Chainz: What the fuck do you want?

Chainz was now a bit annoyed; why was Aimz just standing beside him. She wasn’t running, she didn’t seem too scared, she seemed calm and calculating like she had something planned.

Chainz: Don’t you got a match to get ready for? I wanna see that title around your waist when me and you hook up.

Chainz leaned in and gave Amy a pat on the butt that sent shivers through her body. He turned and began walking away as Aimz closed her eyes and finally opened them again, a fire burning within them.

Aimz: Hey Sloan, you're a sad excuse for a human. I've got something for you.

Chainz: Didn’t that little episode at the fan festival teach you anything, you can’t hurt me?

CRACK

A steel pipe to the face says different as Aimz cracks Chainz over the head with a pipe she had been hiding behind her back; no wonder she seemed so calm. Chainz stood there, more confused than hurt as blood trickled down his forehead. He tried to stay up, but finally dropped to a sitting position as he touched the spot that had been hit.

Aimz: Not so big and bad now, huh? Stay the fuck away from my match.

Aimz threw the pipe at him and ran away, off to try and win herself a title belt. Chainz stayed on the ground for a while, trying to regain his composure. After a few moments he finally stood up a look of annoyance on his face rather than pain. It’s as if Aimz had inconsiderately hit him over the head while he wasn’t in the mood.

Chainz smiled a bit as he began to walk in the direction that he saw Aimz fleeing.

---

Adam Dick (C) vs Darcy Crisis

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the AWC Transatlantic championship!

Steven Smith: Oh boy.

Dave Kern: I know, Steven, this could be big!

Steven Smith: (eyes fixed on the bulge in a fan’s trousers behind him) Oh, I know Dave... I know.

The Guano Apes start to rock the speakers and the Norwegian crowd rises with a coordinated roar.

James Brunt: Introducing first, the challenger, from East Bay, California, weighing in at 227 pounds... DARCY CRISIS!

Crisis bursts through the curtain, wiping his arm across his mouth as he heads hotly to the ring, all business tonight. Before he is even halfway down, his music cuts – Crisis whirls round in annoyance but continues on his way – and is replaced by the new music of King Dick: “Flying At Tree Level” by Brand New.

Jeff Marx: The King has new tunes.

The curtain parts to reveal not Adam Dick, but a black male, attired in an XXXXL black t-shirt which hangs well off his skinny frame; huge platinum chains, bracelets, earrings; baggy jeans over trainers that are barely visible because of the denim overhang.

Steven Smith: He looks a little different.

Following the first man out from the back is a Muslim-looking fellow in traditional garb, and behind him, clad in a gleaming suit of armour with his arms raised up to horizontal, gliding forward as if in a trance, a zombie.

Dave Kern: I don’t quite know what...

This strange trio reaches halfway down to the ring – Darcy Crisis is having words with referee Selena Sumner, angry that this is obviously some kind of trick – but then The Illustrious Face-Eater himself comes through the curtain, crown snagging on it. Dick puts his hand to his head and wrenches the crown away furiously (copious amounts of black material come with it, leaving a gaping hole through which the backstage area is easily visible) before issuing a broad smile out at the 10,000 booing fans in the Hakon Hall.

James Brunt: (deep breath) And his opponent, being accompanied to the ring by... “Bitty”... “Ji-Himmy Jihad”... and “Zomby Knight”... from either Salt Lake City, Utah or Phoenix, Arizona... the AWC Transatlantic champion... somehow... “THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER” ADAM DICK!

Stationing his entourage at ringside (they won’t be mentioned again since this intro is being post-emptively written), Dick climbs the steps to the ring and deposits his crown on the top step, before entering.

We close in on Darcy’s face, and slowly but surely, a smile forms. Darcy Crisis is back. After so long in the wilderness, years out with a back injury that could have reduced him to a vegetable, then working his way back and desperately striving to make up for last time, he’s back where he wants to be. At the top of his game. At the top of the game. And as his smile broadens, the bell rings.

Dave Kern: I can still scarcely believe this is happening, Jeff! This match wasn’t announced, wasn’t rumoured, wasn’t even on the agenda... but it’s happening right here right now, and Darcy Crisis goes into his first title shot in AWC!

Jeff Marx: It’s clever, Dave, it’s clever!

Dave Kern: What do you mean?

Jeff Marx: Don’t you get it? By making this match, Dick isn’t giving Crisis an opportunity! He’s saving his own skin! The Face-Eater will have been preparing for this all week, and Darcy Crisis the opposite – relaxing, knowing that he’s got time off; he can delay his return to rigorous training by another week. If Adam Dick hadn’t made this match here tonight – a match he’s got a massive advantage for by having premeditated all of this – inevitably he’d be facing the Darcinator a few weeks or months down the line anyway, at a time when Crisis would be prepared. This isn’t a favour to Darcy Crisis, it’s a handicap!

Dave Kern: A handicap it may be, but nevertheless he’s going to grab it with both hands!

Steven Smith: Oh no, Dave, bad idea. You can never get as much movement that way. One hand allows space for a fast, smooth back-and-forth---

Jeff Marx: ACTION!

Having spent a good deal of time staring each other down across the hallowed canvas, Adam Dick and Darcy Crisis, both grinning with confidence and anticipation, come together with force as the two simultaneously try to assert dominance in the tie-up.

Dave Kern: I still don’t entirely buy it, Jeff. I understand the reasoning, but why would Adam Dick want to throw an extra match onto his plate when he’s got PRIME UltraViolence in only five days’ time? That’s one of the most gruelling events of the year!

It breaks down as it was bound to do, with Dick’s right and Crisis’ left knees buckling and the two once more mirroring each other as they step out. Chants of ”DARCY! DARCY!” fill the Norwegian arena.

Jeff Marx: Oh move with the times Dave! In last year’s form, maybe, but have you seen the card for Sunday? Not even a hint of “ultra violence” to be seen. And if you really think Facey’s needing to be fresh for a three way tag...

Growing impatient with the copycat nature of his opponent (though Crisis is undoubtedly thinking the same of him) the Illustrious Face-Eater growls and throws a wide fist. Crisis is slow to react and can’t block, but the blow comes into the side of his ribcage and is easily absorbed.

Dave Kern: He does admittedly have the talent of Danny Ferguson to lean on.

Crisis quickly retaliates, snapping his leg up to flick a right foot into Dick’s gut. He spins into a neckbreaker but Dick plants his arms in the small of Crisis’ back and shoves him away, at the same time working a leg round the front of both his opponent’s so that Darcy cascades to the mat.

Steven Smith: Guys, we’ve BEEN through this! Ferguson has GINGER HAIR! Bile rises into my mouth faster than Kip Brown’s cock when you mention his name!

Facey grabs the legs of his face-down adversary and tries to cross them, but Crisis grabs the bottom rope and pulls himself forwards, out of Dick’s grasp. He rolls under the rope to regroup on the apron while Adam turns heel to blow a kiss to the restless fans and spit on the mat by his feet.

Dave Kern: Darcy Crisis’ record is impressive, with just one loss since his career revival with AWC, and that to future Transatlantic champion Jack Murphy, when Aimz’ interference arguably cost him the match.

Crisis comes quickly through the ropes and meets Dick on his turn with a firm grapple. Working around the Face-Eater, he moves into a neat waistlock but is undone as Dick shunts Darcy’s arm downwards and throws him over his back to land with his legs splayed.

Jeff Marx: But look at who he’s beaten along the way. Six wins, woo, look at me – Jason Warr. Mike Carman. Charles Kensrue ohImeanAgentDash.

Dave Kern: ...Anton Assault, Jack Murphy and Aimz, Captain Suleimon...

Jeff Marx: Do you never close your damn mouth?!

Steven Smith: Inadvisable when giving.

Dick pulls his challenger back to his feet by his head and Crisis paws at him, momentarily stalling Facey’s plans. Crisis hoists in Dick for a snap suplex before the Face-Eater can recover, but the movement is too abrupt and Darcy cannot lift Dick off his body.

Jeff Marx: He’s got no technique---

Steven Smith: Pipe down and let’s watch D Masta C~!

Crisis is punished with an elbow high on his cheekbone and he goes down without a sound. Dick issues a steady sequence of stomps to the Californian’s lower back, keeping him on the mat while permitting TIFE to have a tactical think.

Jeff Marx: In the beginning then we’ve seen quite clearly that Darcy Crisis has no real game plan.

Dave Kern: This match has been sprung upon him as quickly as it has on us---

Steven Smith: I'm sprung---

Jeff Marx: ---but regardless he should be able to think on his feet; something our champion, our king is demonstrating right now.

Our impromptu referee has a quiet word with Dick, who raises an eyebrow but nevertheless permits Crisis to crawl away. Before the popular all-rounder can get back up, however, Facey runs up and takes a soccer kick at his ribcage. Crisis grunts and his body jerks as he is knocked through onto his back; boos resound around the Hakon Hall.

Dave Kern: Hey! That’s not very fitting of a champion, now, is it?

Jeff Marx: A champion is someone who will get to the top no matter what the price, Dave!

Dave Kern: That’s the price? A cheap shot at Darcy’s ribs?

Crisis stretches out on the mat, feeling his ribcage with his hand; Dick unsympathetically kicks him again before bending to sit over his back.

Steven Smith: I took a shot into someone’s ribs the other night, but it took a hell of a long time to clean it all up.

Dave Kern: Steven, WE DON’T WANT TO KNOW!

Steven Smith: Well, I don’t really know what else I can say. I'm a totally one-dimensional character.

Jeff Marx: Maybe we’ll get rid of you...

Steven Smith: NOOO! DUKE’S ACTIVE, HE’S WRESTLING, HE DOESN’T WANT MY ASS! I mean – I didn’t – ah well, he doesn’t want that either; that’s a rel---

Jeff Marx: Who said anything about Duke Williams? There are other announcers in the world, Steven... unemployed announcers, desperate for a job... your job...

A seated camel clutch has been applied by Adam Dick; the ropes are just to Darcy’s left but unable to turn his head he’s flailing blind.

Steven Smith: NOOOOOOO! What can I do?!

Dave Kern: (sighing) You could start by following what’s happening in the ring...

Crisis’ arm finally hits a rope and he grabs it tight, jerking his arm up and down to make sure the referee sees it; he has and after a count to three Facey moves off Darcy, mounting the turnbuckle and looking out through the high security fence.

Jeff Marx: Or just by keeping quiet.

Steven Smith: Yeah, that one.

Dave Kern: Adam Dick seems in control of this match, despite failing to keep the camel clutch on for long due to being so close to the ropes.

Jeff Marx: Yeah, Crisis is broken and out of ideas.

Steven Smith: You could almost say it’s a... crisis!

Jeff Marx: Didn’t we agree on something?

Steven shuts up.

”DARCY! DARCY! DARCY!”

Dave Kern: Well these fans are really behind the challenger...

Jeff Marx: Bah, they’ll get behind any jobber as long as he lays on the mat and looks helpless.

Crisis pulls himself to his feet once more.

Jeff Marx: Glutton for punishment?

Dick is there with a shot to the head, and another, but Crisis has the foresight to duck the third and Facey can’t halt his momentum, following through so that he ends up directly in front of his opponent with his back to him. Crisis, backed up against the ropes, goes with instinct and applies a full nelson.

Dave Kern: Darcy has an opening!

The Face-Eater tries to muscle out but Crisis holds firm before teasing Dick’s leg out, wanting to score a falling-forward faceplant. Dick has none of it, booting the searching leg away and leaning back, forcing Crisis against the ropes. Crisis looks back, and then relaxes his whole body while dragging his arms back and shoving the top rope down with his elbows. He goes toppling backwards over the top rope, crossing and bending his legs so that they catch the rope to leave him hanging as if in a tree of woe while Dick, who has no such option, topples with him, the full nelson rendering him powerless against a flip over the ropes and as Crisis lets go to dangle from the ropes and watch, Dick rotates through to hit the floor feet-first. Both legs buckle under him and he ends up on his hands and knees, before succumbing and collapsing onto his side.

Dave Kern: GOD ALMIGHTY! DARCY CRISIS DRAGS DICK OVER THE TOP WITH A FULL NELSON!

Steven Smith: There’s spontaneous combustion for ya!

Jeff Marx: ...they’re not on fire.

Steven Smith: UGHHHH.

Jeff Marx: That was pretty special though... Jesus. Dick could have blown both his knees out.

Crisis slowly lets his body drop out of the tangle in the ropes as the fans shout his name in unison. ONE! TWO! is the official’s count; Crisis rights himself on the apron and realises that a count-out is no good to him.

Dave Kern: Remember, it’s only a five-count in AWC! Facey’s not getting up, and a count-out gives Darcy the win but not the championship!

THREE! before Crisis can drop to the floor and take the motionless Dick under his arms.

Steven Smith: Cradle him like a baby, that’s right!

He hoists the Face-Eater up into the ring not without difficulty and leaves the champion laid out next to him as he sits up, grasping his ankles and blowing out his breath hard and fast.

Jeff Marx: The challenger is wasting valuable time...

”DARCY! DARCY! DARCY!”

Dave Kern: Jeff, a new champion is nigh, and his name’s Darcy Crisis! Not a single person could have predicted this before the show! All he needs to do is hook the leg – HE HOOKS THE LEG!

He hooks it indeed, and the next bit goes a little something like this:

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Dave Kern: NO!

Steven Smith: He kicked out? WHAT?!

Jeff Marx: You thought one little tumble out of the ring was going to keep the Dick man down? YOU! THOUGHT! WRONG!

Dave Kern: He was... Adam Dick was simulating there, he was simulating an inability to move, and now...

Crisis throws a fist, still looking shocked, but Dick grabs the arm and spins him round before pulling it under...

Jeff Marx: EATERPLEX ’05!

Dave Kern: I don’t believe it!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Steven Smith: He did it!

Jeff Marx: King Dick retains!

James Brunt: The winner... and still Transatlantic champion... Adam Dick.

Dick fights back to his feet and gives Brunt a glare before raising his crown into the air and jamming it down hard on his head, raising his arms high in celebration. The fans are booing without pausing for breath.

Dave Kern: Darcy Crisis has a right to feel pissed at the way that went down!

Jeff Marx: No sir! He’s naïve and that’s what Facey played on! The Eater marches on!

Dave Kern: Well don’t go away, because our main event is another title match featuring both these competitors’ other halves!

---

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

FEATURING: TERESA TOMAS, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND SONYA

---

“Hey girl, got a light? Ah, never mind, I got it.“

Teresa Tomas is found leaning her back against the wall of a locker room. A Winston Light dangles from her lips and using her BIC lighter, she lights up. To her right slipping a black halter top is The Red Raver, Aimz getting ready for her match.

Aimz: So, Ellis went crying to Pearl about some sexual assault bullshit? Said you were gay?

Teresa Tomas: I know! I can't believe it either.

Amy isn't the kind to mince words, and Teresa's quick to find that out.

Aimz: Well, is it true? Not the assault, I know you're above that shit... but the whole gay thing. Any fact in that claim?

Teresa Tomas: Why hell no! I was on my wait to Pearl’s office anyway. Man, you can hear that bitch whining a mile away. So, when she did finally step out, I decided to mess around with her head, ya see.

Teresa takes a drag off her cancer stick and exhales. Finding the whole ordeal quit humorous, Aimz laughs.

Aimz: Did you actually pinch her nipples this time?!

Aimz rummages through a drawer full of make-up. Teresa grins putting out her cigarette in a small ash tray resting on a bench.

Teresa Tomas: Nah, but it was sure tempting. Queen Dick was trembling in my grasp so bad, I thought she was having a seizure. Hell, if she gonna start this Teresa is a lesbian game, then why not Teresa finish it right? Figure if I mess with her head long enough, she'll leave me the hell alone or I'll just be forced to kick her ass.

Finally ready for her match, Aimz wraps an arm around Teresa’s neck when an idea sparks. She's got a demonic look in her eye.

Aimz: I normally don't get along with women - and I mean at ALL - but I think we can do a little good here. You hate the little wannabe, I hate her too... I say we work together, fuck with her head a little. Once I take her title, we can have some real fun with this.

A moment of silence passes between the two women. With her arm still around Teresa’s neck, Aimz hold out her hand for a shake. Teresa looks at the hand and smile a bit too mischievously before their hands connect and the deal is made.

---

Kisses Are A Boy's Best Friend

FEATURING: AIMZ, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND MIKE S.

---

Aimz walks through the back about to go out for her match; unbeknownst to her; she is followed by Chainz who is still a bloody mess from the shot he took from Aimz.

Without warning Chainz runs up and grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her towards him, and against her will planting a kiss on her lips. His blood wipes off on her lips and stains her face.

Chainz: Now ain’t that better than fighting?

Chainz walks off as Aimz’s wipes away the blood from her face.

Aimz: I swear to Christ, I'll kill you...

Chainz: I’ll be seeing ya around red, keep that sexy body of yours nice and ready cuz the big day is coming, it’s coming real soon and I’m saving up energy to have you all night long.

He laughs as he walks away. Aimz nearly runs after him and attacks him, but she thinks better of it. She had hit him in the head with a steel pipe with all her strength recently, and here he was walking around showing no effects of the blow. She was worried, how far would she have to go to keep this man down?

---

Ellis Nash (C) vs Aimz

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: DAVE HURST

---

The Norwegian crowd bustles in anticipation of the main event match of the evening. They have to wait no longer though as the lights dim once more and the ring and camera crew rush over to the entrance ramp preparing for the two competitors to arrive.

James Brunt clambers into the ring and taps the microphone on his wrist, keeping things professional.

James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the main event of the evening, this singles match for the AWC Frontier championship!

The crowd rise into a round of cheers in excitement of the match about to unfold.

James Brunt: Coming to the ring first, the challenger… Aiiiiiiiimz!

“24” by Jem starts up and Aimz jumps out onto the entrance ramp, swinging a pair of florescent glow sticks into the air and looking out to the crowd to a round of cheers from the respectful Scandinavian audience.

Dave Kern: And here comes the challenger folks, sporting a pair of florescent glow sticks!

Jeff Marx: I heard she’s got a pair of florescent nipples as well!

Dave Kern: Oh please…

Jeff Marx: It’s true!

Steven Smith: As if I care…

Aimz slowly steps down the entranceway, taking hi-fives from the hands held out from the crowd, but not ever keeping her vision off of the wrestling ring ahead, a blank look of seriousness on her face. She means business tonight. Rubbing her hands together as she approaches the ring, Aimz leaps up onto the apron, grabs the top rope and catapults herself into the ring before turning and facing the entranceway waiting for the champion to arrive.

Dave Kern: Aimz means business tonight folks.

Jeff Marx: Does that mean there’s going to be more hair pulling and scratching than usual then, Dave?

Dave Kern: Oh give me a break…

James Brunt: And the opponent, coming to the ring. The AWC Frontier champion, Ellisss Naaaaaaaaaaash!

"Club Slut" by Hot Action Cop starts and the indifferent Ellis Nash appears on the entrance ramp to a round of booing by the crowd looking as nonchalant as ever as she disregards the opponent and the whole match-up before it has even begun.

Dave Kern: And here comes the mischievous Ellis Nash, her work cut out tonight as she has one hell of a competitor to deal with.

Jeff Marx: Well I wouldn’t say no…

Dave Kern: Oh jeez, do you mind, this is a serious wrestling contest!

Jeff Marx: Ha, ha! That’s a good one!

Steven Smith: How am I supposed to call this match!? There are no hot guys in this match up!

Dave Kern: How about commentating on this match like a normal person?

Steven Smith: The what now? Say, do you think the ref will be hot?

Dave Kern: I give up…

Casually strolling down the aisle, she finally pulls together enough exertion to climb onto the ring apron and into the ring. This disregard for the opponent only angers The Red Raver whose eyes squint in determination of making this match so much more than anything Ellis had anticipated.

The bell sounds and James Brunt scarpers out of the ring, fully aware of the carnage about to occur inside of the squared circle. The two ladies circle each other, both looking ready to tear each other limb from limb, Aimz cannot wait any longer and launches herself forward, but running into an arm drag from the vigilant Ellis Nash.

Dave Kern: Aimz was a bit over-zealous there and Nash takes full advantage.

Jeff Marx: Those outfits are pretty loose, do you think we’ll see some slippage tonight Dave?

Dave Kern: Do you mind?! I’m trying to call a match here!

Jeff Marx: Hey! We could see Aimz’s florescent---

Dave Kern: That’s enough!!

Steven Smith: Oooh, temper temper…

Aimz rises to her feet instantly and grabs an arm of Nash, twisting it and turning it behind her back with a hammerlock. Nash reaches up around her neck and gets a grip before lifting both her feet into the air and using the momentum as they come back down to catapult Aimz over into a snap mare. As her opponent gets up, Nash goes to bring an arm across Aimz’s chin for a headlock, but Aimz instantly ducks her head out of it, pushing behind her opponent, wrapping her arms around the waist and then rolling Nash backwards into a folding press pin, with a bridge!

Dave Kern: A great counter by Aimz!

ONE!

TWO!

Dave Kern: One, two, and we could have a new---

KICK-OUT!

Dave Kern: A close fall there folks! This one was nearly over before it had even begun!

Steven Smith: Actually the ref is kinda hot…

Nash manages to kick out and leaps to her feet before Aimz and takes the opportunity to give a swift kick to the mid-section, doubling Aimz over, then grabbing her head and executing a spinning neck breaker. Aimz’s head slams violently against the canvas causing the whole ring to reverberate.

Jeff Marx: Ouch… that one’s gunna sting.

Realising this as a great opportunity, Nash covers for a quick pin.

ONE!

TWO!

KICK-OUT!

Dave Kern: Kick out on 2…

Both competitors get to their feet, Aimz runs at Nash who tries a back elbow, but Aimz ducks it and runs to the ring ropes, she comes back and before Nash can consider any offence gets a good look at the heel of Aimz’s boot from a spinning wheel kick.

Dave Kern: Nash was clocked with that spinning wheel kick to the face.

Jeff Marx: Careful you don’t smudge your mascara there Ellie!

Dave Kern: Oh please, can’t you just call this like an ordinary match?

Jeff Marx: I am!

Aimz runs to the ropes and leaps, spring-boarding off of the top rope into a moonsault, but can only find canvas as Nash cleverly rolls out of the way.

Jeff Marx: No water in the pool!

Aimz rolls across the mat, clutching her ribs as Nash takes full advantage, following her around the ring and sizing up a stiff kick to the mid-section sending her all the way to the mat.

With Aimz on her side clutching her ribs, Nash pushes her onto her front, pressing both her knees into her back. She then grabs Aimz’s legs and neck and rolls back into a bow and arrow stretch.

Dave Kern: It may seem like that move is working the back, folks. But I can guarantee you that move is stretching Aimz’s ribs to their limits.

Jeff Marx: As if these chicks know what they’re doing…

After what must seem like an eternity for the victim, Nash finally lets go of the bow and arrow stretch and lets Aimz flop back onto the canvas. She then runs over to the ropes, comes back and leaps, sending a flying knee with pinpoint accuracy right into the affected rib-cage.

The crowd begin to boo relentlessly as Nash gets to her feet and taunts the crowd.

Dave Kern: Oh come on.

Jeff Marx: You know what? I’m starting to like this chick.

Dave Kern: This is just disrespectful.

Nash moves back over to Aimz, who has recovered, reaches over to Nash’s neck and rolls her into a small package!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Dave Kern: WE HAVE A - so close!

Jeff Marx: It was a two-count Dave, calm yourself!

Dave Kern: More like 2 and 9/10ths!

Both get to their feet, but Aimz is still recovering from the brutal attacks from earlier and is last to rise. Nash pulls Aimz to the ropes, but Aimz grips the wrist to stop and then twists Nash’s arm and then wrenches her to the mat.

Nash falls to the mat and Aimz takes advantage of the exposed right arm with a spinning leg drop!

Dave Kern: Aimz with a spinning leg drop and it looks like Nash is hurt!

Jeff Marx: Tough break. That could be a broken nail right there.

Aimz’s victim immediately scarpers across the ring clutching her affected arm. Aimz isn’t going to let Nash get away easily though she rushes over and yanks the damaged arm away from the clutches of Nash before twisting it violently, so hard in fact that it causes Nash to flip over to relieve the torque.

Dave Kern: Aimz is really taking it to Ellis Nash’s right arm, neutralising the Decree as an offensive weapon from the match-up.

Aimz chicken-wings the arm and brings her free arm across the chin of Nash, pulling her up into a single-armed camel clutch with the chicken-wing still applied on Nash’s right arm. Nash cries out in agony as the referee checks for a submission.

Dave Kern: This could be all over right now folks! Nash’s arm may well be broken, and she is surely going to tap from this!

Ellis Nash yells uncontrollably in pain as Aimz loosens the camel clutch slightly, putting even more weight on the chicken wing. Nash suddenly goes from screaming and shouting to being completely silent and really limp in the arms of Aimz as well. The referee is about to check for a knock-out, but Aimz decides to roll Nash into a pin instead.

Dave Kern: A pin would be quicker than a check for a knock-out. This is a really clever move from Aimz.

Jeff Marx: I bet she doesn’t even realise her opponent is out for the count.

ONE!

KICK-OUT!

Dave Kern: Whoa! That was a quick kick out! Nash must have been playing possum!

The Red Raver is furious at being tricked by her opponent and grabs her by the hair, pulling Nash up to her feet. She then lifts Nash into the air for a suplex and drops her right on her head.

Dave Kern: Devastating brain buster by Aimz!

Aimz runs over to the turnbuckles, and jumps straight to the top. As the groggy Ellis struggles to her feet and slowly circles to see where Aimz is at, Aimz leaps, landing perfectly on Nash’s shoulders for a tilt-a-whirl head scissors, sending Nash crashing right back to the mat.

Dave Kern: Fantastic move!

Aimz pulls Ellis to her feet once more that can barely stand now from the punishment she has received. Aimz shoves Ellis to the opposite ropes.

Nash comes back and in a last-ditch effort, she shoots forward looking to land a forearm to Aimz’s face, but with it being weary and slow Aimz sees it coming a mile away. She suddenly drops backwards and the momentum causes Nash to continue right over her and into the middle rope. With Nash’s arms hung around the middle rope, Aimz gets up and grabs Nash’s legs applying a version of a Boston crab with extra torque from Nash being elevated on the middle rope!

Dave Kern: Whoa! That’s a nasty version of the Boston crab applied by Aimz, and the referee is giving the 5-count for Aimz to let go.

Nash nearly passes out from the pain as the referee makes the five count and Aimz lets go before the last count. Taking advantage of the situation, Aimz sprints over to the opposite ropes, comes back and swings out from the ropes for a Hemlock, but instead kicks one leg forward and whips the other one in front for one ferocious kick to the head sending Nash careering across the ring.

Jeff Marx: That was one helluva kick Dave! It must be that time of the mo-

Dave Kern: Please don’t say that… a split-legged Hemlock folks and Nash is not going to get up from that one in a hurry.

In a sudden exuberant burst of energy, Aimz runs over to the ropes, leaps over them to the apron, turns and grabs the ropes readying for the Dead Aim. She grips the ropes pulls back, but then something stops her. Aimz has noticed something out of the corner of her eye…

Chainz…

Dave Kern: Oh no! It’s Chainz!

Jeff Marx: Get that maniac out of here!

Steven Smith: BOCAAAAA!

Standing on the entrance ramp, arms folded, it’s anyone’s guess what is running through this man’s head right now. If anything is for sure, it’s not going to be something that you want to know and it certainly isn’t going to be pretty.

After the shock of Chainz’s presence, Aimz suddenly realises where she is again. Looking back at the still unconscious Nash she readies once again for the Dead Aim, but as she pulls back she notices something again out of the corner of her eye.

Chainz… is moving towards the ring…

Dave Kern: Uh oh…

Jeff Marx: He’s not coming after us is he?

Steven Smith: BOCAAAAA!

Aimz shakes her head in horror as the most sadistic wrestler in the AWC slowly makes his way to ringside, licking his lips in eager anticipation of what will occur once he reaches his destination.

Aimz prepares for the worst as she gets back into the centre of the ring and clenches her fists ready to defend herself in any way she can. But as Chainz reaches the bottom of the ramp, he stops dead in his tracks, choosing to look on at Aimz’s succulent flesh instead.

Jeff Marx: Oh, so he’s not going to wreak havoc then…

Dave Kern: Second thoughts from Chainz, perhaps he’s human after all…

Steven Smith: Or perhaps he’s here to sodomise me.

Jeff Marx: You wish.

Steven Smith: Yes I do…

Darcy Crisis urgently shoots through the curtains and sprints headlong down the ramp to Aimz’s aid. Chainz turns to face him, but can’t stop the huge momentum from Darcy as he tackles Chainz to the ground and smashes a number of punches into his face.

Dave Kern: It’s Darcy Crisis! To the aid of Aimz, like he promised! And he’s flattened Chainz!

Jeff Marx: Why does that punk kid have to come out here? Can’t he see Chainz is just watching? He wasn’t doing any harm!

As the two men fight it out on the outside of the ring, Aimz once again comes to the realisation that she has a match to win, not only that but the AWC Frontier championship. She turns back to Ellis Nash, expecting to resume the beating from earlier, but never actually stopped to realise just how long it was since the devastating split-legged Hemlock was executed. Of course Nash wasn’t laid out on the canvas, but was standing with a huge smug grin on her face. All she needed to do was to say “Surprise!” for it to be perfect, but instead actions speak louder than words in the form of a swift kick to the mid-section followed by an Elevated DDT.

Dave Kern: And Aimz is out cold.

Nash runs over to the turnbuckles and climbs them, steadying herself for a high-flying move. She leaps, landing a splash right on the chest of Aimz and her damaged ribs from before which must now be hurting pretty bad.

She hooks the leg for:

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

KICK-OUT!

Dave Kern: Last split-second kick-out! That was so nearly over there folks!

Outside the ring, Chainz has managed to fight back from the onslaught from Crisis from earlier and is now pummelling him with shots to face as he leans wearily against the barricade.

Inside the ring, Nash is taking full advantage of the distraction from earlier by lifting Aimz into the air for a fisherman suplex, but twisting Aimz in mid-air and letting her mid-section fall right onto Ellis’s outstretched knee.

Dave Kern: A dangerous gut-buster by Ellis Nash!

Aimz rolls across the ring coughing uncontrollably. This move has done something pretty serious to her rib cage. She moves to the ropes and is about to slide out of the ring to safety when she realises who stands at her destination: Chainz.

Dave Kern: No Aimz!

Jeff Marx: You don’t want to go that way!

Steven Smith: I could tame him…

Dave Kern: He’d eat you alive!

Steven Smith: Well that was the idea…

Chainz lifts Crisis over his head and lets him fall face-first into the security fence, cutting his forehead as it scrapes on the mesh and leaving his face a bloodied mess. Chainz looks back to Aimz and smiles creepily, uttering a haunting chuckle that causes Aimz to roll back to the ring and to the lesser evil of Ellis Nash’s boot which buries itself into Aimz’s mid-section once more for good measure.

Aimz is in absolute torment as Nash doesn’t give her a moment’s rest, pulling her to her feet and yanking her over to the ropes. Aimz comes back and ducks Nash’s clothesline, grabbing a handful of hair in the process and pulling Nash back into a neck-breaker.

Dave Kern: This could give Aimz some much needed breathing time.

The referee starts the 10 count, as neither competitor looks like moving soon.

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Nash rolls to her side, looking like she will get to her feet first.

FIVE! SIX! SEVEN!

Nash gets to her feet as Aimz rolls over to her knees still cradling her mid-section. Nash picks up Aimz by the hair and goes to land a punch to the face, but Aimz blocks it, landing a stiff forearm to Nash’s face causing her to fall backwards. Aimz lands a right hook to Ellis’s face and she falls back to the ropes. She pulls Nash across the ring to the opposite ropes and comes back running straight into Aimz’s tilt-a-whirl DDT smacking Nash’s face violently into the canvas.

Dave Kern: Ellis Nash’s head just bounced right off of the canvas!

Aimz has finally gotten back into the match-up after so nearly finishing it before. She staggers over with the last bits of energy left to the ropes, climbs outside to the apron and prepares for the Dead Aim.

Dave Kern: There! Dead Aim!

Yanking on the ropes, Aimz pulls up onto the ropes and springboards into the 450 splash landing it absolutely perfectly on Ellis Nash.

Steven Smith: It’s over.

Aimz hooks the leg for the obligatory pin fall, but as the referee slaps the mat for a one count Aimz gets up from her opponent and runs over to the ropes once more.

Why…? Because somebody is about to feel a chain reaction…

Dave Kern: Oh no! Crisis is about to be given the Chain Reaction!

Jeff Marx: Chainz – that thing could damn near kill the guy!

Steven Smith: Joseph Reid just winked at me (giggles).

Aimz can only watch on in desperation though as Darcy Crisis’s head bounces against the concrete floor, no sign of consciousness on his face. But Aimz isn’t going to let this bastard get away with this. She grips the ropes and prepares for an offensive dive, she leans back and---

THWACK!

The sound of steel chair on head… I’m not even sure if Aimz heard it at all when she was clattered by the steel chair held by that of none other than Adam Dick.

Dave Kern: Adam Dick?! How the hell did that jerk get in here!

Jeff Marx: Did you hear that sound?!

Steven Smith: ‘Dick.’ (giggles)

As Aimz falls to the mat with a thud, blood streaming from her nose from the devastating shot to the face, Dick smacks Aimz across the back of the head once more for good measure before going and easing Ellis Nash to her feet.

Dave Kern: Dammit, somebody do something about these two! This was supposed to be Aimz’s title shot! And Crisis is laid out outside the ring!

Jeff Marx: Dick is rocking that bitch!

Nash gathers her senses before giving Aimz a swift kick to the kidneys, but Aimz is not showing any signs of response, she’s out cold. Nash continues to stomp on the already bloodied face of Aimz and Dick repeatedly smashes the chair into her back and legs, taking choice shots to the defenceless and unresponsive Red Raver.

Dave Kern: This is sick!

Jeff Marx: She is out for the count Dave…

Dave Kern: Can somebody do something?! Where’s the security for God’s sakes?

Sure enough, security appears in the form of Radder, Hague and Yorke on the entrance ramp and runs down towards the ring to stop any more of this violence from continuing before some serious injury occurs. The three security personnel grab hold of Adam Dick and Ellis Nash and pull them away from the unconscious Aimz, escorting them out of the ring and out to the back.

Dave Kern: It’s about time! Let’s just hope there’s been no serious damage.

As the troublesome two are taken backstage, the bell sounds to end the match up there and then. James Brunt climbs back into the ring to make the announcement.

James Brunt: And the winner, by disqualification, Aimz...

A less enthusiastic announcement as usual from James Brunt as he exits the ring, fully aware of Aimz’s unconscious state in the centre of the ring. Finally, Aimz starts to regain consciousness as she stirs on the canvas and opens her eyes. She turns to her side and breathes a sigh of relief to see Darcy also regaining consciousness outside of the ring.

Dave Kern: I think that main event has left us all with a bad taste in our mouths here in Norway. That heinous attack on Aimz by Adam Dick meant that though she won the match by disqualification, Aimz doesn’t take Ellis’ title, even though she had the match won more than one.

Jeff Marx: And I don’t think Aimz will exactly be chomping at the bit for a rematch! She’s gonna spend the week in the hospital!

Calmer now, Aimz watches Darcy with a questioning expression on her face. She’s not angry at him for not stopping Adam, but she’s not accepting that he couldn’t have done anything about it... or maybe it’s both, or nothing. And Aimz’ sigh of relief turns to a sharp shocked intake of breath as she turns her head upwards from her boyfriend and realises… standing over Crisis with a crazed look on his face, looking right at Aimz and licking his lips enthusiastically, is Chainz. A broad smile beams across his face which can only mean one thing: things are about to get ugly…

Jeff Marx: Uh oh…