Fresh!east Results11th July 2006
Revolution With A Solution
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Earlier this week
Above all, there are two things that Sasha Volkyeva really dislikes: waiting, and being kept waiting. At Richmond International Airport, she is doing both. Despair in the departure lounge for Mother Russia.
The flight is delayed. American red tape, she tells herself, wrinkling her pale nose. Two hours might seem insignificant to someone who has to travel often as part of her job, but a delay is a delay, and it is one of the few things with the capacity to agitate an otherwise invariably unruffled Entertainment Co-Manager of AWC.
As if that wasn’t enough, David Harber is also ten minutes late to see her. He phoned earlier, and apparently he has an issue important enough to warrant a sigh of relief at the news of the AWC-East roster’s flight out having experienced a delay. Honestly!
So now, she is staring out of the window. Sasha has no particular interest in the planes. She is not one of those who will happily idle away noting down code number and wing-tip colours; she is staring out of the window, but at nothing but the blank canvas that is the Fresh!east show this coming Tuesday – and then two weeks after that, and two weeks after that...
She can’t say she isn’t just a little afraid. Previously she has always exuded confidence, but that was with Harber’s expertise behind her; whether at odds or evens with her, David would always do what it took to ensure that the shows were a success. Now she must do it alone – well, alone-ish. She has done well in securing Anton Assault as a bodyguard; though resentful, he has at least done his job to some extent – but the Frontier championship will now preoccupy him, she muses. Should he release him from his personal guard duties for the good of the show? It would make sense to do that, now that he is a bona fide money draw, would it not? Would it. Would it not. The answers would never come, and Sasha is reduced to stabs in the dark.
“What are you looking at?”
Volkyeva turns, readjusting her muffler and regarding the man now standing next to her with cold indifference, stifling the sudden rush of relief she feels at finally seeing someone she can talk to. Even if he is her bitter enemy – a reconciliation, were such a thing possible, would be inconsequential anyway as nominally Pearl and Sasha are competing against each other from now on whether they like it or not.
Sasha Volkyeva: You have a nerve.
Pearl frowns, checking his watch. His cheeks have reddened a little; he’s a tad out of breath and looks as if he has been rushing. Straight from the hotel, even, judging by his damp hair and hastily matched shirt and trousers.
Pearl: I'm ten minutes late, Sasha, give me a break.
Volkyeva sniffs.
Sasha Volkyeva: Fifteen.
Harber rolls his eyes and turns his body away.
Pearl: Maybe this was a bad idea...
Sasha Volkyeva: What do you want?
Pearl: A reasonable conversation whose outcome could have a massive impact on what happens to AWC between now and... well, the future.
Sasha Volkyeva: Then you have my attention. Shall we sit?
The departure lounge is sparsely populated; most of those hoping to eventually catch this particular long-haul flight are getting a coffee, or some food; a few unfortunate mothers sit alone with family-sized bags to watch; a sullen teenager blasts his ears with huge quantities of iPod in a corner. Pearl and Sasha are thus able to choose seats right by the window, without anyone to hear them.
Pearl: It’s about Adam Dick...
Sasha Volkyeva: You wish to gloat about the East tour’s biggest star snatching himself away from me? Proceed with caution.
Pearl: No no, not at all, it’s more... the Transatlantic title. Dick gave us the belt back last week, so we have a vacant championship; he’s kept his crown, but of course we attributed no official value to that – what?
Harber breaks off as Sasha Volkyeva shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
Pearl: What is it, Sasha?
The repeated question brings Sasha’s head back up and she shakes her head.
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh, it’s nothing...
But Pearl knows something’s wrong. Such an unflappable individual always, always, always maintains eye contact, except to prove a point – and awkward mumblings certainly aren’t proving anything other than her fallibility.
Pearl: Did Dick trick you into something?
Volkyeva sighs heavily and places her hands in her lap, composing herself; her right hand then moves to an inside pocket of her fur-lined jacket.
Sasha Volkyeva: A while ago, he... he made me sign this...
Mother Russia brings out a folded piece of paper – how fortunate that she has it with her for the purposes of this segment! As Harber scans it, his expression turns from intrigue to a resigned scowl.
Pearl: Do you know what this means?
Sasha Volkyeva: I... I signed to say that the crown would be... would represent the Transatlantic championship in the same way as the belt...
Pearl: Well, yes and no.
Harber turns the paper around and points at a specific paragraph for Volkyeva to look at.
Pearl: You’ve done this in such a way that instead of the belt and the crown becoming joint symbols of Transatlantic championship... the crown is actually an entirely separate championship, also titled the Transatlantic title.
Sasha looks up at Pearl with worry in her eyes. Harber’s voice never wavers, but the gravity of his words is obvious.
Sasha Volkyeva: So there are two Transatlantic champions?
Pearl: There’s never been a need to make the distinction, because Adam Dick’s been in official possession of the belt and the crown all this time. But now that he’s walked out on the company... with his crown, but without the belt...
Harber sighs and turns away.
Pearl: This puts us in a difficult situation. The Transatlantic championship, as indicated by the crown, is still Adam Dick’s... but the Transatlantic championship, as indicated by the title belt... that’s vacant.
Sasha Volkyeva: (in a whisper) I have made two championships?
Pearl nods.
Pearl: That’s what Adam Dick tricked you into.
He scowls.
Pearl: I knew it wouldn’t be that simple when he left... I knew he’d leave some kind of legacy behind him... and now we have this mess.
Volkyeva swallows and regains some assertiveness in her voice.
Sasha Volkyeva: Can we remove the authority for the crown? So Adam will not be champion, and we will have just one Transatlantic title again...?
Pearl shakes his head gravely.
Pearl: A title can’t be retired without the champion’s consent. Of course we could do it the other way round – retire the belt – but I'm loath to get rid of something that’s been with AWC since the beginning, just because of Dick’s pathetic games. And besides, that leaves the problem of a champion who has walked out on us. No, Sasha, we’ve got to proceed with the vacant Transatlantic title belt as best we can – we can have a match to crown a new champion – and until Dick comes back with his crown, or lets us know he’s vacating the championship, there’s nothing we can do about that side of things.
Sasha Volkyeva: But he will never – he said he is not coming back; he has left AWC...
Pearl: I know, I know. But we’ve essentially split the Transatlantic championship in two... and until we bring Adam Dick back, there is no way we can reunite those two halves.
Volkyeva puts her manicured hands to her face – but lightly; she doesn’t want to affect the make-up so flawlessly applied. Harber exhales and sits back in his seat.
Sasha Volkyeva: Do you know... any way we can... bring Adam back?
Pearl throws his hands up in the air.
Pearl: I'm running empty on the ideas, Sasha. You?
Volkyeva ponders in silence – but as she does so, another horrible realisation hits her.
Sasha Volkyeva: David!
Pearl: You have something?
Sasha Volkyeva: No, no, but – Coast To Coast – Garbage Bag Johnny is the contender, for... for which?
Pearl’s eyes pop open in horror.
Pearl: Jesus. I hadn’t even thought of that. It wasn’t stipulated at the time of Zero 2 Hero – well, of course it wasn’t, we didn’t have a split championship back then! Oh, God... what seems right? The belt? The crown?
Sasha Volkyeva: Or both?
Pearl: Jesus, that’d complicate things. I---
He cuts off, and a smile creeps onto his face.
Pearl: No, Sasha, I know just the thing.
Sasha Volkyeva: What is it?
Pearl: Well, Garbage Bag’s been getting better fan reaction later, right?
Sasha Volkyeva: I... I have not noticed...
Pearl: No, I guess not. He has, though. And Garbage Bag’s Dick’s buddy, right?
Sasha Volkyeva: I have seen them together...
Pearl: He is. So what better way to get Adam Dick back, than to get Garbage Bag Johnny to do it?
Sasha Volkyeva: Why would he do that for us?
Pearl grins.
Pearl: Because Garbage Bag Johnny’s Zero 2 Hero win granted him number-one contendership to Adam Dick’s Transatlantic title. That’s the crown, right? So in order for GBJ to get his Coast To Coast title shot, he’s gotta get Dick back for us! And what better draw for a main event than Adam Dick versus Garbage Bag Johnny!
Sasha Volkyeva: Perfect!
The smile evaporates from Harber’s face.
Pearl: It’s not perfect. Not by any means. But it’s the way it’s gotta be.
Isolated
FEATURING: ???
AUTHOR: ???
Isolated.
Again.
Working for someone he did not know.
Again.
It all seemed one big phantasmagoria with him the integral part of its inner workings.
… and your fifteen minutes are up…
Were his fifteen minutes up? The thought flit across his consciousness sporadically. How could his time be up if in all honesty it had only just begun? It was something that needed consideration: this new existence was no freer than the last. Sure, he was allowed to leave the confines of one room, but for what? A life with no human contact? No touch? No warmth? All he had left was the bitter tinge of crimson tinged knuckles to caress away the loneliness of the night: some life… some life indeed. Tonight he would have to make an impact – that’s what the ‘man’ asked for, that’s what the ‘man’ desired. Tonight the games commenced.
Once more he clung to the shadows of the arena, sticking like Batman to the shadowy night. Tonight would be his most daring act. Thrust back into the limelight in a cover of darkness – he was Batman!
…well… he wasn’t… but he could be…
“Let’s go…” the words dripped from the midnight black shadows of the arena.
Let’s go indeed.
Introduction
FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Oh hell, you've all read the show now ANYWAY... I'll do one for next week...
Welcome To The AWC-East, Monsieur Jones...
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE, FRENCH SECURITY TEAM
AUTHOR: JAY (frenchisms by Pierre Hyde)
The camera slowly fades into the parking garage where Vince Jones can be seen pulling up with his beautiful valet, Jasmine. The red ferrari comes to a screeching halt and Vince Jones steps out and takes in a deep breath of the Parisian air and snarls at the thought of it.
Vince Jones: Ya know somethin', Jasmine? This is some bullshit!
Jasmine steps out of the car and leans against its body.
Jasmine: What's some bullshit, V?
Vince Jones: These P Dubb C mahfuckas! Got this Kris Krimzon and that Shawn Harris prancin' around now like they the baddest clique alive and some shit! Fools ridin' down to the damn ring on waterboards and some shit! That's gotta be the most crackis shit that V. Jones has seen in this game! How the fuck you supposed to be callin' yo self a bad ass when you ridin' to the fuckin' ring like you high and thinkin' you a damn surfer?
Jasmine: (smiles deviously) Sounds like you want to do something about that...
Vince Jones: Hell yeah! Tonight might be the night that V. Jones busts a few heads and let these bitches know that they cuttin' on V. Jones' territory when they walk the line up in the bad ass department; but, you know what else is some bullshit?
Jasmine: What?
Vince Jones: What the hell do you think, huh? They got NYC's finest (points to himself) 'The Violence' Vince fuckin' Jones 'cross the Atlantic up in this hell hole of a city called Paris, France! Now ain't that a b?
Vince reaches inside of the car and snatches up his black duffle bag and his trusty Louisville Slugger bat. Jasmine faces Vince and puts a hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side.
Jasmine: Now I don't know about you, V, but I kinda like Paris. Its a beautiful city. It’s a city of romance...
Vince Jones: Its a fuckin' city full of pseudo gay mahfuckas that be prancin' around like a bunch of pixies or somethin' with they noses cocked up in the air speakin' fuckin' cocaine crackish type shit that V. Jones can't understand!
Jasmine: But V...
Vince Jones: Nah! V pissed off! He been dealin' with they shit all fuckin' day! Punk ass French cats comin' up to V lookin' like they gonna grab a piece of The Violence's ass and all while V. Jones can't understand a damn thing they speakin' 'bout. This shit makes V wanna be like "Hey yo! Why don't you quit runnin' yo damn mouth and shit! V can't understand you bitch mades! Go back to where you fuckin' came from!"
Jasmine: (nods) Yeah, but there's only one problem with all of that.
Vince Jones folds his arms across his chest and gazes at Jasmine.
Vince Jones: Yeah? And what the fuck is that, huh? Enlighten V here.
Jasmine: We're not in New York. We're not in the U.S. In fact we're in France so I think it'd be a bit awkward for you to go around telling the French that they have to stop talking because you don't understand them up in their own country.
Vince Jones: Hmph! That's just a fuckin' technic, a technica. Damn! (begins snapping his fingers) What the word V lookin' for here?
Jasmine: A technicality?
Vince Jones: Yeah. That's that shit right there. Good thinkin', girl. Now how 'bout a kiss?
Jasmine: (smiling and blushes) But I thought you weren't into PDA...
Vince Jones: (in confusion) Huh? No, not you, Jasmine! V wants his fuckin' trophy!
Jasmine: What? Hmph!
She reaches in the car and snatches up his Countdown Trophy from the back seat and shoves it into his chest in anger.
Jasmine: Here!
Vince smiles.
Vince Jones: Thanks.
He raises the trophy up to his lips and gives it a big kiss. All of a sudden some footsteps can be heard of people walking in their direction. Vince turns around and spots a group of members of the AWC hired security staff that are working the show tonight in Paris coming their way. Vince looks them up and down in disgust.
Vince Jones: And speakin' pseudo gay mahfuckas. Here come a pack of 'em now.
Vince Jones: And what the fuck do you cats want, huh?
Head Of Security: Bonjour. Monsieur Jones, on behalf of ze sec-yeurgh-ity staff for tonight's show I would juss like to welcome you.
Vince Jones: Hold up! What the real reason you bitches here for, huh?
Head Of Security: Well, we are here to let you know that we know about your, ah, how you say, track record, and how you like to cause distractions in ze backstage. We are just letting you know that we will be watching you and zat you had better not do any, ah... jokey business... funny business tonight. You make our jobs easy and we make your job easy. Zat is all.
Vince Jones: (nods and replies in a sarcastic tone) So, what you tryin' to say is that if V. Jones is on his bestest behavior tonight everything's gonna be alright? Is that it?
The Head of Security nods his head as well as the rest of his staff.
Vince Jones: (chuckles to himself) We'll see what happens, but V ain't guaranteein' a damn thing.
Head Of Security: Oh, eez zat so? Well, we'll be keeping an eye on you regardless, Monsieur Jones. Be mindful of zat. A bientot.
The security staff leave Vince and Jasmine and Vince Jones laughs to himself.
Jasmine: Well, I guess that's that.
Vince Jones: What? Fuck no! You think those fools gonna put the clamps on V. Jones? Get the fuck outta here! They lookin' like a bunch of Police Academy rejects and some shit. Don't worry though. A few heads will get busted tonight and that's a guarantee...
Tired Minds...
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, DR. STEVEN BURNS, SASHA VOLKYEVA, ???
AUTHOR: LARA C.
The steam rose from the cappuccino machine as she gripped the small cup and waited for it to fill, her eyes gazing around the room as they met a group of her colleagues – all swarming around a flashing laptop screen, their eyes peeled to the screen.
Thought so…Who wouldn’t…
Muffled voices only varied to her ear for what she wanted to hear. Pulling out a couple of small sugar packets, she ripped them open and watched the sugar pour into the black rich liquid. Now taking the cup into her hand she walked gently over to her group of colleagues.
Sarah Kennedy: Evening guys!
They all turned, eyes gazing toward her legs, chest are and finally her face. Rolling her eyes in the other direction she stirred her coffee and took a sip.
Sarah Kennedy: Guy thing, huh!
Sarah smiled as she watched one of the men click-off a page, his cheeks turning red. One of the men spoke, his eyes looking toward a news article. Dr. Steven Burns pointed to the title on the screen.
Staff Changes
Dr. Burns: You being replaced?
Sarah jumped inside - Please…Please… - as she leaned in through the various men and read the upper news script. Seeing the word ‘joined by’ made her feel the wall of hope come crumbling down.
Sarah Kennedy: Bugger!
Burns strolled the mouse to the exit screen as the rest of the men gathered their things, lunch break was long over. Sarah’s hand immediately stopped him.
Sarah Kennedy: Go back!
Burns looked at her, weary eyed.
Sarah Kennedy: I said go back... (reading the script) …That can’t be… I am… He is…
Before Radder could make heads-or-tails of what Sarah was replying to she had shot out of the cafeteria, heading out through the corridor with a purpose, leaving her cold black cappuccino in the hands of Radder.
Sasha Volkyeva was seated in her office, a large smile on her face as she gazed toward the man now sitting opposite her, slightly unpleased by his presence here. Neither omitting the obvious reasons for their displeasure toward one another.
Sasha Volkyeva: Who knew…
Sasha muttered to herself, filling out various documents and application forms, waiting for her assistant Milo to arrive and deliver them.
Without hesitation the man coughed with irritation, the perfume seeping up his nostrils with a strong odour, almost choking his lungs for some much needed fresh air.
Sasha Volkyeva: How was your flight? Paris is nice, no?
“Flight was good. Paris is a great city, never been here before.”
Sasha Volkyeva: The wonders of being in Europe. Which you will soon find.
Nodding his head in agreement, an oddity of sorts as he gazed toward his watch.
Sarah Kennedy: Ms. Volkyeva, I need a momen---
Sarah saw the back of a man, seated in the chair.
Sarah Kennedy: Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t realise you were---
Sasha stood up with a smile on her face, gazing toward her computer and reading the now posted news report. Why not play along she thought.
Sasha Volkyeva: Sarah, where are your manners?
Sarah Kennedy: (gritting her teeth) I am sorry.
The man rose, his eyes glaring towards Sasha Volkyeva. A stern glare from him.
Sasha Volkyeva: What was it you wanted?
Sarah Kennedy: It’s just… on the news report… it said P---
Sasha Volkyeva: I believe you’ve met my client.
The man turned around, a smile on his face as Sarah took a step back, her backside colliding with Sasha’s vase filled with roses. Sarah stumbled, catching the vase as her cheeks blushed.
Sarah moved forward, still questioning whether she was hallucinating, he hugged her tightly. Sasha recoiled, her mouth gagging as she turned away.
Sasha Volkyeva: Now, please, leave us to discuss his return.
Pierce Lavelle: Anything you have to say in front of me, you can say in front of Sarah…
Should have know they came in twos… Sasha thought, nodding as she sat down. Once more the vile odour of Sasha’s strengthened perfume crept up his nose, his lungs gagging again.
Pierce Lavelle: Actually I need a walk! Feeling a little jet lagged.
Sasha Volkyeva: Of course, no rush, but there will be an address, correct?
Pierce just nodded his head, already out the door hand in hand with Sarah.
Sasha Volkyeva: Ugh, young love…
She also leaves her room... and with Anton Assault not on guard duty, neglecting to lock it will turn out to have been a mistake.
Help
FEATURING: CHAINZ, SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Chainz: Fuck.
Swear words fill the air as mothers cover their children’s ears as Chainz steps into frame. He storms around the backstage area, aimlessly as if he’s lost. In a sense he is lost, not having his fiancée Tracy, by his side has really started to play on his nerves.
He passes by some workers that just stare at him as he walks by talking to himself.
Chainz: The fuck you looking at?
He holds out his arms, inviting anyone with enough balls to come and hit him. Of course no one steps forward; the workers just go back to their various tasks trying their best to avoid the raving lunatic.
Chainz: Thought so.
Chainz punches a wall, making a big hole in the process before he walks away spitting on the floor in the process.
Sarah Kennedy: Uhh, maybe you should calm down Michael.
Chainz turned to face the AWC interviewer, who dared to use his first name.
Chainz: I only let Tracy call me by my first name, what makes you think it’s okay for you to do it?
Chainz approaches Sarah Kennedy and stands just a few feet from her. She arches her head up so she can look into the eyes of the monster standing before her, but she has no fear in her eyes.
Sarah Kennedy: What’s the matter, Michael, you feeling blue because Tracy’s not with you?
Chainz: You’re about to feel blue if you continue down this path. What did you do, grow some balls all of a sudden.
Sarah Kennedy: No, I just know you won’t do a bloody thing to me that’s all.
Chainz looks shocked at the complete lack of fear and respect the woman in front of him is showing. He has no explanation for it, in the past Sarah would flee from the sound of his voice and now it seemed like she didn’t even worry about what he was capable of.
Chainz: Oh yeah, why’s that?
Sarah Kennedy: Because if you did, Tracy would find out and she’d be gone so fast it would make your head spin.
Chainz: I doubt that.
Sarah Kennedy: Think about it, you and her are an ocean apart and she has temptation thrown into her face every single day. All she needs is one excuse to leave your ungrateful posterior (“Sorry ass” doesn’t cut it for Sarah -Ed.) and find someone who will treat her right.
Chainz raised a fist as he prepared to hit the beautiful blonde in front of him, but a shacking fist is all he could manage. He dropped his fist to his side in defeat knowing full well that she was right. Attacking her best friend would be just the reason Tracy needed to leave him and being separated by an ocean there wouldn’t be much he could do about.
Sarah Kennedy: If you’re as smart as they say, you’ll learn to control your emotions. Now if Tracy didn’t love you and care for you I wouldn’t care what happened to you. I wouldn’t have said anything and I would’ve watched you self-destruct, but I know Tracy would be crushed so if you ever need some help… come and see me, but other than that stay the bloody hell away from me.
Sarah felt sick to her stomach for having offered to help Chainz, but she felt bad for Tracy and felt it her duty to help out anyway possible. Still, she felt like she needed a shower to cleanse herself from the sickly feeling that had swept through her body.
Brett Jackson vs The Equalizer vs Josh Marquez
STIPULATION: NEWCOMERS' THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: SIMON HUNTER
Dave Kern: So we’re ready for our opening match now, three newcomers face off in a bid to become, well, the show’s first winner I suppose.
Jeff Marx: Way to build up the show there.
Dave Kern: I’d like to see you do better.
Jeff Marx: Wouldn’t you just.
Steven Smith: Less of the bickering! Let’s just appreciate a show of tight, well-maintained, strong, muscular… wrestling.
Dave Kern: Well, Steven, AWC has decided that as it’s your last week that spandex will be a compulsory item of clothing…
Jeff Marx: …From next week onwards. Today will be the official ‘wear as much as you can’ day, in honour of your departure.
Steven Smith: Well, after the favours I gave in costumes I expect one back today. You hear that Gerald? I’m calling them in, each and every one. Now give me SPANDEX!
Breaking Benjamin’s ‘Firefly’ sounds over the PA as Brett Jackson appears and heads towards the ring, evoking an unsure reaction from the crowd, who share Brett’s look of confusion over the state of his attire. Tiny pink latex hot pants… lovely.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring from Toronto, Canada weighing in at one hundred and ninety-nine pounds, Brett Jackson!
Dave Kern: The sole Jackson brother here on the east tour is set to make his debut in a three way.
Steven Smith: He must be lonely, I must remember to go and have a chat later.
Jeff Marx: I’m sure he’ll love that after what you’ve done to his wardrobe.
Steven Smith: He looks lovely.
Jeff Marx: Lovely like syphilis.
'Freebird' by Lynyrd Skynyrd overtakes Firefly as The Equalizer begins to make his way to the ring with a slightly improved cheer from the French audience. He saunters to the ring with a chuckle at the hot pants on Jackson.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring from Washington D.C, USA, weighing two hundred and thirty-five pounds, The Equalizer!
Jeff Marx: Tell me, what exactly is he equalizing? Why have we hired a math teacher?
Dave Kern: I’m sure he’s a legitimate wrestler, and will prove his worth here tonight.
Jeff Marx:I always preferred The Divider and The Pi. He was my favourite…
Motorhead’s easily recognisable bass intro to ‘Ace of Spades’ takes over as the opening match’s final participant, Josh Marquez steps out to absolutely no reaction from the crowd. He doesn’t seem to mind, however, as he begins his trek to the ring.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring from Las Vegas, USA, weighing two hundred and twelve pounds is the final competitor, Josh Marquez!
The three men take a portion of the ring to themselves and stare at their opponents with a mix of excitement and concentration. The crowd do their best to build up some energy with chants as the referee explains the rules. The bell is rang and Marquez and Equalizer lock up, with Jackson sensibly taking a back seat and waiting for his moment.
Dave Kern: Three relatively small men here, so were probably not looking at major impact moves here, and a smart start to the AWC career by Brett Jackson, who is letting Marquez and The Equalizer wear each other out.
Jeff Marx: Wuss.
Steven Smith: Maybe I should go and give him someone to grapple with.
Jeff Marx: Hands where we can see them, nobjockey!
Equalizer takes an early upper hand, delivering some sharp jabs and forearms to Marquez who is knocked back against the ropes. Jackson takes his opportunity and takes The Equalizer down with a sharp dropkick to the back of the knee. He stamps down a couple of times before being knocked from his feet by a running elbow from Marquez, who presses the momentum by hoisting Jackson to his feet and forcing him into the corner with quick shots to the ribs and chest.
The Equalizer spots them and sprints at the corner, throwing himself at the pair of them with a running splash but connects only with Jackson as Marquez deftly avoids the contact.
Dave Kern: Jackson hit hard by the running splash there.
Jeff Marx: Marquez moved out the way quickly enough. I say again, wuss.
Marquez then locks up with The Equalizer, the latter showing more strength and wrestling his opponent to the mat. From there, he tries to gather more leverage by rising to his knees but a recovering Marquez throws him onto his front. Jackson watches intently from the corner, largely because he doesn’t seem to have any moves, but it can also be construed as good strategy.
Equalizer overpowers Marquez and the lockup is broken as all men regain their feet and begin to circle ominously. Jackson feigns a clothesline, and Marquez reacts quickly by using it as a distracting to clobber The Equalizer with one of his own, sending him straight over the top rope and out to the floor. Jackson, meantime has mounted the ropes and waits as Marquez turns round, nailing him hard in the gut with a huge flying spear!
Dave Kern: Blimey!
Jeff Marx: Since when have you ever said blimey?
Dave Kern: Since people start diving around like lunatics.
Jeff Marx: Fair cop.
Dave Kern: Since when have you ever said fair cop?
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Jackson lifts Marquez back to his feet and begins to pepper him with shots before throwing him into the ropes. Marquez readies himself but is catapulted face first into the mat as The Equalizer grabs his leg from outside the ring, Marquez’ nose hitting down hard.
Jackson uses the opportunity to ready himself, and he sprints flat out and nails The Equalizer in the face with a baseball slide, before shooting back to his feet and diving over the ropes and landing with a thump on both the ground and The Equalizer.
Dave Kern: Ouch! Neither man moving just yet, folks!
The count begins, as Marquez rolls into a sitting position, feeling his face sorely.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Marquez gets bored and rolls out of the ring, grabbing The Equalizer and placing him face first on the ring apron and hoisting himself up to the top rope.
Dave Kern: He’s gonna destroy his face here and now!
Jeff Marks: Blood is gonna pour, I like it.
But just before Marquez leaps, Jackson moves The Equalizer backwards, and the leg-dropping Marquez connects only with ring apron and, consequently, floor. Jackson looks down with an ‘ooh’ and rolls The Equalizer into the ring.
Steven Smith: His poor bottom, I’ll go rub it better.
Jeff Marx: I’m sure he’ll prefer it how it is mate. You’ve already got Jackson in his spandex, don’t get greedy.
Jackson is stamping away at The Equalizer, who is looking dazed after his big collision with the leaping Jackson. He lifts him up and sends him straight back down to the floor with a DDT. He seems to be enjoying the spotlight and continues to beat down on The Equalizer, before pointing at the turnbuckle to a roar from the crowd.
Dave Kern: He’s going up top!
Jeff Marx: I wonder where you spot these things sometimes, it’s like you’ve got a sixth sense.
Jackson climbs warily, but seeing that Marquez still isn’t moving freely, he launches himself down upon The Equalizer with a perfect Moonsault before hooking the leg and beckoning the referee down to make the count
ONE!
TWO!
THR-!
Steven Smith: NO!
Dave Kern: Marquez dives out of nowhere and the count is broken! How did he get back into the ring so quickly?
Jeff Marx: His debut depends on it, and Steven was giving him the eye.
Dave Kern: Makes sense.
Jackson is incensed, he really thought he had it won there, and he charges straight at Marquez who steps out of the way and knocks the rebounding Jackson to the floor with a powerful spinning heel kick. He hoists him back up and goes to work with kicks and knee’s, before avoiding a groggy punch attempt by Jackson and ducking behind him, planting him head first into the canvas with the Shellshock!
Dave Kern: Signature move right there! A beastly Dragon Suplex could have it finished!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Marquez doesn’t quite believe it, but continues to go to work on Jackson before being taken out whilst turning around by The Equalizer and a three point charge! He salutes the crowd who give a little reaction, but doesn’t quite bargain for being hit hard in the back by a running dropkick from Jackson! The Equalizer jumps back to his feet and takes a step backwards as Marquez launches himself with a huge kick, narrowly missing the temple of The Equalizer but landing him in a nasty position, balanced testicle-first over the top rope!
Dave Kern: The look on his face says it all!
Jeff Marx: He looks like someone shoved a pencil up his ass and told him it was his birthday!
Steven Smith:I don’t know why you guys are looking at me!
The Equalizer winces as he sees the predicament of Marquez, but turns around too soon as he is met with a vicious spear by Jackson!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: He did it; Jackson wins the debut three way and proves a point or two about concentration in the mean time!
Jeff Marx: That, and don’t let your nads meat the ropes like that. It’s not big and it sure as hell is not clever.
Dave Kern: I feel for his wife, I really do.
James Brunt: The winner, Brett Jackson!
The Only Arrival That Matters
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, PWC
AUTHOR: JEFFY
Sasha Volkyeva, the AWC Fresh!east Entertainment Manager is seen walking into her office. As she walks into her office however Shawn Harris and Kris Krimzon, the PWC are seen enjoying themselves, Shawn in her chair with his feet up on the desk, Krimzon sitting on another chair, both watching a tape of last weeks Fresh! as “Pearl” Harber is hit by Bruno Hague and the door after the PWC flooded one of the bathrooms. The two men begin laughing hard, Sasha’s face goes red with anger as the office is a mess, the desk has been spray painted with the letters “PWC” across it, papers are on the floor and empty food wrappers are just about everywhere.
Sasha Volkyeva: What the hell are you two doing?!
Shawn and Kris are startled as they turn around, they look at her beautiful angered face, and Shawn grins at her.
Shawn Harris: Watching what happened last week when we flooded the bathroom in the arena, man, there was water EVERYWHERE!
Kris Krimzon: Not to mention the fact that we totally took charge of the show last week, we told Pearl what’s what and he took it like a man, maybe you’ll be doing the same yes?
Sasha Volkyeva: You want me to take it like a man?
Kris Krimzon: I want you to take it like a woman, move out of the way, we’re in charge of this place now.
Shawn Harris: That’s right, so if you don’t mind Sasha.
Sasha looks on in disbelief.
Sasha Volkyeva: If I don’t mind what?!
Shawn Harris: Shut the door on your way out, you utter tart.
Sasha Volkyeva: This is MY office! It’s you two who will be leaving or I will fetch security and have you thrown out of the building, making you forfeit your match.
Shawn Harris: Okay then.
Sasha Volkyeva: You are leaving?
Shawn Harris: No I mean okay then, go get security, we’re not scared of a swarm of frogs are with Kris?
Kris Krimzon: I don’t know they seem pretty… I mean no! Do your worst woman.
Annoyed by the two Sasha leaves the office in search of security. The moment she is gone, the PWC begin laughing hard, they get to their feet, spray PWC over the screen of the television and leave the office then head towards their locker-room.
Who's Your Daddy?
FEATURING: TERESA TOMAS, TIARA BELLE RUSSELL
AUTHORS: SONYA AND ADAM
Two quarters and a dime drop into the coin slot of a Coca Cola machine. A long un-manicured finger press the Dr Pepper button and seconds later an ice cold can of Dr Pepper falls into the pick up slot. Anxious to quench her thirst, Teresa Tomas picks up the can and begins to pull the tab when a woman similar to her size and height approach. Teresa looks up from her soda and gives the woman a questioning look.
Teresa Tomas: Tiara Belle Russell. You’re the last person I’d expect to run into.
While Teresa consumes her first taste of her soft drink, Tiara gives Teresa a look over noticing the Top Rope Temptress’s faded jeans and black, white and red Dale Earnhardt Sr. snug fit tee. Her long sandy-blond hair is worn down and not a snitch of make up can be found. Slightly disgusted, Tiara forces a smile remembering her reason for this encounter.
Tiara Belle Russell: Likewise. Umm...sorry about your loss to Vince last week, you must be distraught. I mean, Vince Jones? His English is worse than yours.
Teresa takes a moment to stare at Mrs. Russell trying to figure the woman out. Finally, she lets out a deep breath.
Teresa Tomas: My loss. My LOSS? That damn fool had to cheat to get me pinned. So what does that tell you?
Tiara Belle Russell: …uh….
Teresa Tomas: That tells ya he’s a damn wuss with no balls! I mean, look what he done to Shawn Harris. Yeah, Shawn was dumb enough to battle all broken up and shit, but Vince took advantage of that just so he would get another mark on his ‘win record’… Freaking Pansy.
Tiara takes a step back watching the redneck get riled over her match with Vince Jones. Teresa doesn’t seem to notice as she guzzles the rest of her Dr. Pepper and places the can on top of the Coke machine.
Tiara Belle Russell: Right… Listen, I think I know why you’re career here in AWC isn’t going so well for you.
Teresa looks around, sees no French security lurking about and digs into her front pocket of her Levi’s. She pulls out a pack of Winston Lights and a lighter from her other pocket. The American Woman lifts her eyebrows to Mrs. Russell as she pulls a cancer stick out of the pack with her lips and begins to light it.
Teresa Tomas: You think so huh?
Tiara Belle Russell: Yes, I do. It’s simple Teresa. You’re a woman. It’s not fair that we women have to work harder to make it in this business.
Teresa removes the cigarette from her lips and exhales causing Tiara to swat the smoke from her face. Annoyance begins to surface on both women’s faces.
Teresa Tomas: All that woman discrimination bullshit is just that, bullshit. We're in a male dominated sport and if a girl can't handle a broke nail or a costume malfunction now and then, then she need to go home.
At first Tiara begins to retaliate, but composes herself with a deep breath and a slim smile. She won’t let the likes of Teresa Tomas get to her.
Tiara Belle Russell: See, Teresa, that's why you're where you are in this fed. Think about it. Instead of standing up and being the woman you were born to be, you sit back, smoke your cigarettes, drink your beer, and take whomever Pearl hand you with no question. At least now we have a real woman leading our roster.
With that last comment concerning Sasha, Teresa inhales her cigarette too deeply and begins to cough violently.
Teresa Tomas: That *cough cough* Russian Bitch *cough cough*couldn’t wipe her own ass *cough cough*without Pearl having to *cough cough*go behind her and clean up her shit himself. *cough cough* How the hell *cough* is she gonna run this roster by herself without things going to shit?
Tiara takes a deep sigh and rolls her eyes.
Tiara Belle Russell: You’re a loser Teresa. Always have been and always will be. A big fat NOTHING, just like your father.
Tiara Russell begins to walk away but Teresa grabs her arm and yanks it causing Tiara to stumble a bit. Teresa finishes off her cancer stick and tosses the butt to the side before blowing a final whim of cigarette smoke in Mrs. Russell’s face. Her baby blues blazing into Tiara’s own eyes.
Teresa Tomas: YOU don’t know a damn thing about my father! Unless you want that husband of yours to carry your carcass out in a body bag, I suggest you never speak of my family again. GOT IT?!
Showing no fear, Tiara gives Teresa a ‘I know something you don’t’ smile.
Tiara Belle Russell: Wrong Teresa. It’s YOU that don’t know a damn thing about your father. He’s not the man you thought he was.
Tiara jerked from Teresa’s grasp and casually walked away triumphant, due for her match, to leave Teresa watching in mixed emotions of rage and confusion. Finally, Teresa reached into her front pocket and pulled out her pack of smokes.
Take Reno Back
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, FRENCH SECURITY TEAM, CRUSHER HELIX
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera slowly fades into the backstage locker room where Vince Jones is seen leaning up against the corner of the locker room in a metal folding chair. He can be seen shining up his trusty Louisville Slugger and he has his Countdown Trophy by his side. All of a sudden there is a knock on his door. Vince looks up.
Vince Jones: Yeah?
The door swings open and the head of AWC security for the night pokes his head in the doorway.
Head Of Security: I ‘ave got my eyes for you, Monsieur Jones. You remember zat.
Vince throws his hands up and replies in a sarcastic tone.
Vince Jones: Oooooooh! You got V quakin' in his fuckin' boots and shit! Now roll the fuck on!
The man exits and closes the door behind him. Vince shakes his head in disappointment and goes back to shining up his Slugger bat. All of a sudden there is another knock at the door. Vince looks up once again a bit frustrated with the interruption.
Vince Jones: Come in!
The door swings open and in steps a rather large man with long, brown hair, blue eyes, a leather jacket, and blue jeans steps in the doorway.
Vince Jones: Well, well, well. If it ain't Crusher "The Human Highlight" Helix. Haven't seen or heard from yo ass in months. And what the fuck you doin' around here, huh? What the fuck you want?
Crusher Helix: You and I need to talk, V.
Vince Jones: (nods) Oh, is that so? Well, it turns out V. Jones ain't in the talkin' mood right about now so you might wanna see yo punk ass on out the door, down the hall, grab a ticket, and find a seat in the crowd tonight if you lookin' to see V. Jones cuz that's about the only way you gonna be seein' him tonight. We got an understandin' on that shit?
Crusher Helix folds his massive arms across his chest and just shakes his head.
Crusher Helix: No, I don't think we have an understanding. In fact, I think you and I are gonna have this discussion whether you like it or not. So, you might as well toss the bat to the side for the time being.
Vince Jones: And maybe V don't feel like talkin' shit over with you.
Crusher Helix: (nods) Oh, is that so? Well, let me remind you of something, Vince. I was one of the guys that stuck their neck out so you'd be in AWC right now. You forget about that? That was me that was helping you bust into that arena so you could speak your peace way back when. So, I think you owe me this time. In fact, I know you owe me this time.
Vince Jones: (grunts in frustration) Aiight! What you want, son?
Crusher Helix: I need you to take back Reno as your agent.
Vince Jones: (chuckles to himself) Nah, that shit ain't happenin', man. Too fuckin' bad!
Crusher Helix: I hope you recall that Reno was one of the other guys that stuck his neck out for you so you could be here in AWC right now.
Vince Jones: And?
Crusher Helix: Hey! I'm just letting you in on the facts. Anyways, he sent me here hoping I could talk a little bit of sense into you. So the man is a bit overboard with some shit sometimes. Big deal! He delivers results, Vince.
Vince Jones: (nods) Is that so? He delivers results?
Crusher Helix: Yeah.
Vince Jones reaches down and waves his Countdown Trophy for Crusher Helix to see.
Crusher Helix: Nice trophy you got there.
Vince Jones: Yeah, thought you'd agree. Anyways, this is the kinda shit V. Jones can manage to achieve without Reno Banks by his side with all his distractions and shit. Just about a week or so ago V kicks his bitch ass to the curb. Next thing you know, V set to defend this Countdown Trophy against a bitch made named Leviathan. So, remind V why he needs a liability like "The Agent of the Stars" again.
Crusher Helix: Cuz in due time you're gonna come to your senses and realize that he is the best thing that ever happened to your career, Vince. That's why. And frankly, I'm getting sick and tired of hearing him talking about how he wants you back in the fold.
Vince Jones: (nods) Well, you go ahead and give him a message for V. You tell his ass that he's just gonna short one star for awhile. And that's real! Now if you'll excuse The Violence he gotta prepare to take care of a little bit of business tonight.
Crusher Helix: (shaking his head in disappointment) Very well. If that's what you want. Good day.
Crusher Helix exits the locker room as the camera slowly fades to black.
Pacific Wrestling Club vs Pleasure And Pain
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Jeff Marx: We are coming to you live from Paris, France! Forget that West Atlantic crap; this is where the real action lies!
Dave Kern: Umm, thank you, Jeff, for bringing us back on the air, but that’s my job. Coming up in a few short minutes is the first of two duo matches! Wayne and Tiara Belle Russell, otherwise known as Pleasure And Pain, take on the duo that made their presence felt last week at Richmond, Virginia: Shawn Harris and Kris Krimzon - Pacific Wrestling Club. The PWC were the ones who hacked into the AWC website and displayed their acts of anarchy all over the site.
Jeff Marx: Heh, I'm gaining just a shred of respect for these two. They bombed Pearl Harber! Get it? Bombed Pearl Harber?! IT’S PRICELESS!
Steven Smith: PWC is our enemy and you applaud their antics? Whose side are you on?
Jeff Marx: Meh, I don’t care. It was still pretty funny.
Steven Smith: Heh, I guess you’re right. Pretty funny how David Harber was soaking wet at the end of the show... meow!
Dave Kern takes a deep breath, counts to ten in his head and slowly exhales. What did he ever do to get stuck with these two knuckleheads?
Dave Kern: Let’s go down to the ring and get this match underway! You’re up, James Brunt.
James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match!
“We Going to be Alright” by 112 begins to fill the arena as Tiara Belle and Wayne Russell walks out onto the stage, hearing the mixed reaction emanating from the French fans.
James Brunt: First, from Newton, Massachusetts, at a combined weight of 451 pounds - Tiara Belle and Wayne Russell... PLEASURE AND PAIN!
Tiara Belle Russell jumps over the top rope, while her large husband steps over the top rope. The Duo couple gets into their respected corner, waiting for their opponents.
James Brunt: Their opponents...
“Know Your Enemy” by Rage Against the Machine begins to play as a huge pop emanates from the Paris, France fans!
Dave Kern: Listen to this ovation from the fans, and PWC isn’t even on the steel stage yet!
Jeff Marx: The fans know good heels when they see them!
Dave Kern: Jeff, they’re faces.
Jeff Marx has this bewildered look on his face.
Jeff Marx: They are?
Dave Kern: They are.
Pierre Hyde: They are?
Jeff Marx: WHY DOESN’T ANYONE TELL ME THESE THINGS?!
Steven Smith: It says so in their bios! Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to read their alignments.
Pierre Hyde: I preferred the “Good Heel” description...
Jeff Marx: SHUT IT, QUEER BOY!
Pierre Hyde: It’s a LOVELY jumper!
Jeff Marx: I was talking to Steven.
Kris Krimzon and Shawn Harris, better known as the Pacific Wrestling Club, steps onto the stage, jumping up and down, yelling weird obscenities and throwing PWC T-shirts into the French fans.
James Brunt: Making their way to the ring, at a combined weight of 450 pounds - Kris Krimzon and “The New Evolution” Shawn Harris... THE PACIFIC WRESTLING CLUB!
After discarding their T-shirts, they roll into the ring, standing into the center of the ring and throw their arms into the air, igniting pyro from all four corners of the ring!
Dave Kern: The Pacific Wrestling Club is dazzling the fans with flashy pyro! That’ll continue to get their blood going after giving out free PWC T-shirts!
Jeff Marx: PWC sucks!
Steven Smith: I don’t get you, Jeff. One minute you’re marking all over PWC, now you say they suck.
Jeff Marx: They’re faces. They suck.
Dave Kern: Don’t bother trying to figure out Marx, Smith. Even I can’t figure out the intricacies of his mind.
Jeff Marx: That’s because the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.
Steven Smith: Do you even know what you just said?
Jeff Marx: Of course I did. I’m too smart for peons like you.
Ring announcer James Brunt exits the ring as referee Selena Sumner calls for the bell. Both Kris Krimzon and Shawn Harris are talking strategy while Wayne Russell decides to start the match. Russell is being rather patient, waiting for both members of PWC to finish up their strategic planning. Harris decides to start the match while Krimzon exits the ring, goes to the security walls, lowers the front of his tights and begins to urinate.
Jeff Marx: Is Kris Krimzon pissing on the barricade?! Now I’ve seen everything!
Steven Smith: And I’m seeing everything! That kid’s hung like a---
Dave Kern: Don’t even go there, Steve!
Meanwhile in the ring, Shawn Harris ducks underneath a Clothesline from Wayne Russell. Shawn gets behind Wayne, wraps his arms around his waist and tries to pick him up. Harris feels his knee buckle when he tries to pick up the 295-pound wrestler and lets go of Russell, clutching at his left knee. Russell turns around, kicks Harris in the gut and clubs him down to the ring with a forearm smash. After relieving himself, Kris Krimzon gets into his corner to watch the action, only to discover that his Duo partner is getting dominated early. Krimzon starts rallying up the fans, trying to get them behind “The Natural Selection” with a mixture of “HARRIS” and “PWC” chants. Unfortunately, all that chanting isn’t doing Harris any good. Russell is still in the driver seat as he picks up Harris, wraps his large hands around Harris’ throat and throws him over his head! Shawn lands on his back hard as the result, yelping in pain and clutching at his back.
Dave Kern: What a display of power by Wayne Russell! He took Shawn Harris over his head with a double-handed choke throw of sorts!
Steven Smith: You gotta love men who are powerful. Gives them character.
Jeff Marx: Just as long it isn’t anything homophobic in nature, I’m right as rain.
Steven Smith: Since you mentioned that...
Jeff Marx: NO! SPARE ME THESE HOMOEROTIC FANTASIES!
Shawn Harris manages to take himself out of the ring, getting his partner, Kris Krimzon, into the ring. Wayne Russell power walks towards KK, ready to mount of offense, but Kris is ready for the larger opponent. He goes south, delivering a low dropkick into Russell’s right knee, taking the larger man down. After dropping to one knee, Krimzon throws a heavy boot right in Russell’s face, but Russell catches his boot, yanks on it and sends Krimzon to the mat. Russell gets to his feet, tucks both legs underneath his armpits and starts spinning.
Dave Kern: There’s a move you don’t see everyday in a wrestling ring: a Giant Swing!
Steven Smith: I thought that was an Airplane Spin.
Dave Kern: It’s kinda like an Airplane Spin, but Wayne Russell has both Kris Krimzon’s legs tucked underneath his arms, whereas you have would have your opponent in a Fireman’s Carry for the Airplane Spin.
Steven Smith: Oh, I learned something new tonight.
Jeff Marx: Psh. Big show-off butt-brain Kern.
Dave Kern: Jealous much, Marx?
After what it seemed like an eternity, Wayne Russell throws Kris Krimzon into his corner of the ring. After swaying around on his feet like a drunken Indian, he tags in his wife. Tiara Belle Russell enters the ring and straightens up her opponent. She starts throwing huge kicks into Krimzon’s midsection, but Krimzon manages to pie-face her down onto the mat. Krimzon eats an angry Clothesline from Tiara’s husband, Wayne. Referee Helena Sumner gives Wayne a warning for his behavior.
Jeff Marx: HA! Kris Krimzon ate that Clothesline from Wayne Russell. That’ll teach him not to pie-face a woman as sexy as Tiara Belle Russell!
Steven Smith: She’s not all that amazing to look at, Jeff, but Wayne Russell... MMM! Someone get me a knife and fork for that slab of beefcake!
Jeff Marx: I officially have a headache.
Dave Kern: Let’s focus on the match, shall we?
Tiara Belle Russell gets to her feet after getting shoved down onto the mat by Kris Krimzon. She picks up Double K, kicks him in the but with a spinning back kick, and goes for a front face-lock. She kicks her left leg back, violently swings backward and drills Krimzon’s skull onto the mat with a Dangerous DDT! She goes for the first pinfall of the match...
ONE!
TWO!
Shawn Harris comes in and pulls Tiara Belle Russell off of his partner. Referee Selena Sumner orders Harris out of the ring. Harris does what he’s told, dragging his semi-unconscious to the corner of his ring, but does what he’s told nonetheless.
Dave Kern: What a Dangerous DDT by Tiara Belle Russell! If it wasn’t for Shawn Harris breaking up the count, I think she would’ve won the match there.
Jeff Marx: I thought so too. I mean, look how he landed! He was spiked right on top of his head, and did the retarded sell by straightening his body to boot!
Steven Smith: Kris Krimzon has nice, shiny boots.
Both Dave Kern and Jeff Marx exchange looks.
Dave Kern: That was random.
Jeff Marx: Indeed, and rather weak coming from the raging hard-on known as Steven Smith.
Dave Kern: He’ll become a raging hard-on when Anton Assault makes his appearance in tonight’s Main Event.
Steven Smith: OH DON’T GET ME STARTED, DAVE! After winning the Frontier title off that Queen Slut, he’s been looking sexier by the day!
Shawn Harris tags himself in and enters the ring, ready to face Tiara Belle Russell. TBR is the first one to strike, throwing a heavy spinning reverse roundhouse kick, connecting in the back of Harris’ head! He falls forward, landing on the mat like a ton of bricks. Tiara Belle rolls “The New F’n Revolution” onto his back and goes for the cover, hooking the leg...
ONE!
TWO!
Shawn Harris kicks out after two. Tiara Belle Russell tags her husband in the ring, and takes her post in her respected corner. Wayne Russell steps over the top ropes, enters the ring and picks up Harris, grabbing a handful of hair. Harris manages to drive a knee into Russell’s midsection, forcing him to get go of his hair. After staggering backward from the knee, Harris steps forward, kicks Russell in the gut, forcing him to double over. He drapes his right leg over the back of Wayne’s neck and sits down, driving Wayne’s face into the mat with a Guillotine Face Buster (or Fame-Asser for you trademark lackeys).
Dave Kern: Fate-less Hope by Shawn Harris! He’s rolling the big man onto his back and going for the cover: One! Two!
Jeff Marx: And Wayne Russell kicks out with authority! Tiara Belle Russell is in the ring now, getting her licks in against Shawn Harris!
Steven Smith: And here comes Kris Krimzon to the rescue! Man, after watching him pee, he has an impressive co---
Dave Kern & Jeff Marx: DON’T EVEN SAY IT!
Referee Helena Sumner has lost all control of this match up. Kris Krimzon and Tiara Belle Russell are battling it out, while Wayne Russell and Shawn Harris are going toe-to-toe! Tiara Belle went for a head kick, but Double K traps her leg, gathers her up in his arms and throws him over his head with a Capture Suplex! Tiara Belle lands hard on her shoulder blades, and on the back of her neck, making her incapacitated. Wayne Russell manages to get the upper hand over Shawn Harris by picking him up and driving his spine onto the mat with a Spine Buster. Wayne doesn’t have enough time to evade or defend himself from Kris’ aerial attack, taking Russell down with a Flying Forearm.
Dave Kern: All hell is breaking loose in the middle of the ring! Kris Krimzon takes Tiara Belle Russell out with a Capture Suplex, Wayne Russell damn near breaks Shawn Harris in half with a Spine Buster, and Kris Krimzon takes Wayne Russell down with a Flying Forearm!
Jeff Marx: And look at Selena Sumner about to throw a fit because she can’t get the match back in order! Being a referee is man’s job, not a woman’s!
Steven Smith: I’d be careful about what you say about Selena Sumner. She’s one tough cookie.
Jeff Marx: Man, I can take her in the ring!
Dave Kern: Sure you could, Marx.
Finally having enough of these antics, referee Selena Sumner grabs a hold of Kris Krimzon, grabs the seat of his tights and tosses his ass out of the ring. She then picks up a barely conscious Tiara Belle Russell and tosses her out of the ring. Wayne Russell gets right in her face, yelling at the referee due to the treatment of his wife. Sumner simply slaps the taste out of Wayne’s mouth, almost sending him down to the mat. Wayne looks down at Selena with shock on his face, feeling his cheek sting after the thunderous slap.
Jeff Marx: Selena Sumner just slapped Wayne Russell! That was uncalled for! He was angry with how she treated his wife is all!
Dave Kern: It’s uncalled for when you get in someone’s grill about it. Sure, tossing Tiara Belle Russell out of the ring was a bit much, but you don’t get in a referee’s face.
Shawn Harris is mobile now, and rolls up Wayne Russell with a Schoolboy...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Wayne Russell barely kicks out! Both Shawn Harris and Wayne Russell are on their feet again. Wayne goes for a Clothesline, but Harris goes for a shoot, muscles Russell up with a double-leg pickup and slams Russell down hard onto the mat with the double-leg takedown. Afterwards, he rolls Wayne over, traps an arm between his legs and locks in a face-lock!
Dave Kern: It’s the Chain Reaction, the Fujiwara Cross-face! He’s pulling back hard!
Steven Smith: Look! Tiara Belle Russell is scaling one of the corners! She’s gonna save her husband!
Tiara Belle Russell is on the top turnbuckle, balances herself, then launches herself off the top rope, administering a Missile Dropkick to the back of Shawn Harris’ head! He lets go of the Chain Reaction and appears to be unconscious.
Dave Kern: What a Missile Dropkick by Tiara Belle Russell! Shawn Harris looks to be out cold after that!
Jeff Marx: Now it’s time for Pleasure and Pain to capitalize! C’mon, guys! Get your act together!
With Tiara Belle Russell already in the ring, Wayne Russell gets to his feet and picks up Shawn Russell, whipping him into the ropes. When Harris comes back after the rebound, Wayne picks up Shawn and throws him into the air with a Back Body Drop. While Harris is in midair, Tiara Belle is position on the rope top, about to launch herself off the turnbuckle to deliver a Guillotine Leg Drop. Kris Krimzon comes to the rescue by pushing Tiara Belle off the top rope, watching her land throat first onto the barricade.
Steven Smith: DAMMIT! Kris Krimzon just pushed Tiara Belle off the top turnbuckle and landed on the barricade! She could be very injured! I better go see if she’s okay!
Dave Kern: Sit down, Steven!
Kris Krimzon perches himself onto the top rope, springboards off top tope and connects with a Springboard Dropkick, catching Wayne right in the face as he turns around to see what is taking his wife so long with the Leg Drop. Kris Krimzon is back on his feet and gets Wayne Russell to a vertical base. He kicks him in the gut and picks him up across his shoulders with a Fireman’s Carry. Krimzon twists his upper body from left to right, about to spin his opponent with a Fireman’s Carry DDT (or F5). Instead of planting Wayne with the DDT, he sits down, driving Russell face first with a Sit-out Face Driver!
Dave Kern: Krimzon Rain by Kris Krimzon! He hit one of his patented finishing manoeuvres!
Steven Smith: And Shawn Harris hits his Triple Jump Moon Sault Leg Drop!
Indeed he did, Steven Smith! After Kris Krimzon planted Wayne Russell with the Krimzon Rain, Shawn Harris runs over to the ropes, jumps into the air, lands on the top ropes, sidesteps over to the top turnbuckle and jumps into the air with a Moon Sault Leg Drop! Shawn Harris goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rings as “Know Your Enemy” by Rage Against the Machine plays on the PA system, and the fans are going ballistic with cheers! Ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner.
James Brunt: The winners of the match... THE PACIFIC WRESTLING CLUB!
Jeff Marx: Dammit! I can’t believe that PWC won the match! Those delinquents suck ass!
Steven Smith: I like to suck ass, but I’m more of a penis man.
Jeff Marx: Oh, you HAD to say that, didn’t you?!
Dave Kern: Ugh! As you can see, the PWC scored a victory over the members of Pleasure And Pain, Tiara Belle and Wayne Russell. Coming up next, we have the former Countdown Trophy holder, Teresa Tomas, take on someone we haven’t seen in a while, Lincoln Xavier Gabriel. Don’t touch that dial, we’ll be right back!
A Little Rift
FEATURING: DARCY CRISIS, TONY LITTLE, LUIS FERRARA
AUTHORS: NATE AND OBINNA O.
The camera is in place at the entranceway, where Darcy Crisis has just arrived to the POPB. With a duffel bag in hand, he appears headed for the locker room when he abruptly stops in his tracks. We first catch the look on Darcy’s face, a look that indicated he was suddenly struck with awe. The camera turns to the direction in which he’s looking, where a man with a long, flowing blonde ponytail eeking out of a black baseball cap could be seen shouting into a camera. The man was small in height, but definitely not in stature, and he was surrounded on all sides by random people dressed in gym shorts and tank-tops, all evidently working out on some sort of bizarre set of identical contraptions. The devices appeared to let them glide effortlessly in place, simulating the physical effects of what it must be like for a majestic animal to bound through an open meadow. With Darcy apparently having no problem with crashing somebody else’s camera time, he approached the screaming gentleman to confirm his suspicions.
Darcy Crisis: You’re… you’re Tony Little, aren’t you?
The man turns from the other camera to look at Darcy with a look of sheer excitement on his face.
Tony Little: And you must be the man they called the DARCINATOR!!! Darcy Crisis, how ya doing?
And the suspicions were true. Standing before Darcy was the legendary fitness guru Tony Little, creator of the Tony Little Gazelle (by Fitness Quest! ®).
Darcy Crisis: That’s right, but… I don’t believe we’ve met?
Tony Little: No, but we’re sure going to, pal! I just signed an endorsement deal with the Fresh!east tour! My Gazelle has been doing so well in America, I thought to myself, “You know Tony, there are plenty of people in Europe just aching to get themselves in shape, but they’re worried about the damage that most cardio and weight training will have on their backs and joints! Well fear not, Europeans… Tony Little is here to spread the good word and the Tony Little Gazelle! I not only get to film my commercials backstage and travel with the tour, but I’m even going to get some time on Fresh!east TV!
Darcy Crisis: Film your commercials backstage? But why, Tony?
Tony Little: High traffic of guys and girls who know a thing or two about working out, if you know what I mean! I’ve only been here five minutes, and I’ve already run into you. Hey, that reminds me… wave to the camera Darcy, you’re on late-night Dutch television!
Tony winks at Darcy as his army of Gazelle addicts beam smiles down at him. Darcy, who by the look of it isn’t quite sure what to make of an infomercial celebrity filming commercials in the middle of a live wrestling show, gives a haphazard wave toward the handful of people hailing from the pot-smoking haven that he envisioned would see this. Without warning, Tony hops on a Gazelle of his own and appears to defy gravity as he rotates the gliding mechanisms forward, moving smoothly as his firm buttocks were practically facing the ceiling.
Tony Little: You know, Darcy, I’ve heard that you yourself have had quite the wear and tear on your back over the years… watch how I use this here. There are four, FOUR levels of resistance that you can use, either for your daily workout or long-term endurance and muscle building, ALL without ever having to worry about what it might do to your back or joints!
Darcy stares at the apparatus at work as Tony gleefully glides away.
Darcy Crisis: (entranced) It’s so… hypnotic…
Tony begins another trademarked preaching on the merits of the Gazelle when in steps in Luis Ferrara, manager of new Frontier champion Anton Assault. He too has no problem interrupting infomercials, and enters the view of the camera as well.
Luis Ferrara: Well, well… if it ain’t a couple’a female-lookin’ white devils…
Both Darcy and Tony look taken aback.
Tony Little: (nervously): Umm, neither Tony Little nor Fitness Quest necessarily support the words or opinions of AWC wrestlers or---
Luis Ferrara: Shut yuh mouth, gringo. Yuh think you two're the shit, the WonderShit even? Got motherfuckin' Tony Littledick whorin' out yuh shit, takin' up th' face time. The Lion's the Frontier champ, y'understand. Where's his face time? Where's his... fuck it. You know what? Fuck it. Fuck it, fuck you, Darcy, and fuck Tiny Tony, too. 'Cause you know who I know?
Darcy Crisis: Umm… Tommy Chong?
Luis smiles and shakes his head.
Luis Ferrara: You ain't got a fuckin' clue, ain'tcha? So I'ma give yuh a clue. It's someone who's ten times the man uh Tony Little, ten times the greatness. Tony Needles ain't got shit on who I know, y'understand. You gonna find out though, you’ll see. Then Lion’s gonna get the attention he fuckin’ deserves.
With that, Luis storms away. Darcy and Tony look on, obviously shocked by this confrontation. After several moments of stunned silence, Darcy finally breaks the ice by speaking first.
Darcy Crisis: …….Wow. Talk about high-strung. Maybe he just needed the Gazelle to work out those kinks...
Tony Little: That son-of-a…
Tony Little looks absolutely livid, enough that he’s willing to jump off the Tony Little Gazelle and chase after Luis until Darcy holds him back.
Darcy Crisis: Hey man… easy, easy! It’s not worth it! Did you listen to how he was talking? He’s already drunk, and it’s not even 7:30 yet!
Tony Little: Nobody talks that way about Tony Little! I’m a success story! I’m America’s Personal Trainer ®, soon to be Europe’s Personal Trainer (® still pending…), dammit! Let me at ‘em!
The camera slowly fades to black as Darcy continues holding Tony back from going postal.
An Unlikely Ally
FEATURING: CHAINZ, SASHA VOLKYEVA, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND LARA C.
Sasha Volkyeva sat at her desk jotting some notes down on paper and sipping on a cool beverage. She looked calm and at ease, though the night had been tumultuous so far. It was a tough time for her getting her own brand and trying to put the best show together that she could, particularly with no wrestling expertise to speak of.
Her tranquil environment was suddenly disrupted as Chainz burst through the door and into the office. Sasha sat up in her chair, eyes widen knowing full well the danger this man presented, still she managed to keep an air of professionalism and superiority to her, she was head of the show.
Sasha Volkyeva: What do you think you’re doing bursting into my office like this? Next time – knock!
Her stern words sailed over Chainz’s head with him paying no heed to the tone she was giving him.
Chainz: This is bullshit Volkyeva, why the fuck is Tracy on the West tour and I’m here on the East tour?
Sasha Volkyeva: I am sorry, that is how it worked itself out. David drafted her for a job as an interviewer backstage.
Chainz: Why didn’t you draft her first?
Now Sasha realized why Pearl had drafted Tracy to his side. It wasn’t because he wanted her to be a reporter, but it was merely one last chance for him to screw her over. He knew Chainz was going to be on the East tour and without Tracy with him he would be a complete menace and completely uncontrollable. Chainz was a freak before, but without Tracy to calm him down he was going to be a big problem.
Sasha Volkyeva: It just didn’t work out that way… I tried.
Chainz: Bullshit, I know too well about your little feud with Pearl and I know he’s just doing this to fuck with you. I know you could’ve had her, but you chose not to take her.
Sasha Volkyeva: I had to fill my roster with wrestlers first, and when I was going to pick her up, David had already done so.
Chainz slammed his hands on the desk making it jump in the process. He scattered all her papers and things off of the table and onto the ground.
Chainz: Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her? She belongs with me, not by herself halfway across the world. I want her here Sasha, I want her.
Sasha didn’t say anything, what could she say? It was too late to get Tracy onto the AWC-East roster and there was nothing she could really do.
Chainz: Don’t give me that look Sasha, do you realize what I’m capable of?
Sasha Volkyeva: Believe me, I’m fully aware what you’re capable of.
Chainz: You’re wrong, you got off easy. Hell Ellis Nash got off easy. No one knows what I’m capable off because the only ones that ever saw my bad side are six feet under. This can’t go on Sasha, without her I feel my grip on reality loosening and I feel my rage rising. I don’t want people to see what I’m capable of, but I can’t control these feelings any longer. I need her; I need to feel her heart beat as she sleeps next to me.
Sasha Volkyeva: Look, I’m sure that in a little while I will be able to show everyone that I can cope with the stresses of this job far better than David, and then I will have complete control and you will be reunited with your lover.
Chainz flings the giant, heavy, and solid wood desk across the room. It hits the wall hard, making a huge indention in the process. Sasha looks stunned at the power and rage that one man could possess. Chainz approaches her with malice in his eyes.
Chainz: You two better bury the figurative hatchet before I fucking bury a literal hatchet into someone’s head
Sarah felt the nerves course through as Chainz moves closer towards her now, his breathing heavy.
The door bursts open and Sasha can barely see around the large figure in front of her.
Pierce Lavelle: Well, well, long time no see, asshole!
Pierce tried his best to get under the skin of Chainz, anything to move the beast away from Sasha. Why did I promise Tracy!! He’s got a few screws loose. Sasha heard Pierce’s voice and relaxed slightly.
Sasha Volkyeva: Sloan, move back now!!!
Sasha bellowed, regaining composure. Chainz sniggered, gripping her arm, she yelped.
Pierce Lavelle: I don’t think you’ll want to do that, Mike!
Pierce tried everything now, even calling Chainz - Mike. This time it worked. Pierce was seated casually on the strew table, folding his arms.
Chainz: What the fuck’s it to you?
Pierce Lavelle: Nothing. By all means, hit if you want…
Chainz turned around, raising his arm; Sasha’s eyes were wide with shock. I thought he was a goody-two-shoes.
Pierce Lavelle: …But if you do that, well then you’ll lose your career and well, let’s face it, who other than the AWC is going to hire your criminally insane ass. Then you won’t be able to pay for jack, resort to your old ways, go to prison and I’m afraid I’ll have to tell Tracy exactly what you did…
Chainz let go of Sasha and turned his attention to Pierce Lavelle, now standing before him, a lot different in looks and stature.
Chainz: Why do you fuckin’ care?
Pierce Lavelle: About you, I don’t, but I made a promise and I’ll keep it.
Chainz looked at Pierce a moment and sensed a sort of eagerness within him. Chainz could see a little of himself within Pierce’s blue eyes, he saw desperation.
Chainz: What makes you think I believe you?
Pierce Lavelle: Go ahead and we’ll see what happens… But if I were you, I’d turn around and walk away, work your frustrations out in your match.
Chainz hesitated a moment, Pierce didn’t flinch or even blink, somehow Chainz felt Pierce was being more than serious about this supposed ‘promise’ and he didn’t want to chance hurting Tracy in anyway.
Chainz: You better sort this out, Sasha. Otherwise you might not be so lucky next time…
Turning around on his heels, he grunted toward Sasha, gripped the door handle and left with a heavy stride.
Sasha Volkyeva: I want security, NOW…
Sasha bellowed into her headset. Pierce rolled his eyes and walked out the door.
Teresa Tomas vs LXG
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: JEFFY
I've been changing, but you'll never see me now
I've been changing, but you'll never see me now
Now I'm blaming, you for everything
As the beginning of "So Far Away" kicks through the loudspeakers, the lights in the arena flicker wildly before going completely dark. When the music kicks it up a notch, a special spotlight swirls and turns the arena in a night sky, with the twinkling of small lights that look more like stars than anything else.
No more holding it in
How many years can I pretend
That nothing ever goes the way it should
Over at the stage, LXG steps out, wearing his usual attire. He stands at the ramp for a bit, listening to the music and staring up into the fake stars. He takes a deep breath, working his shoulders out a bit.
No more sitting in this place
Hoping you might see it my way
Cause I don't think you ever understood
As LXG raises his head back up, the screen flickers to life, displaying the LXG logo proudly!
That what I'm looking for
Are the answers to why these questions never go away
I'M SO FAR AWAY!
With the cuing of the chorus, white pyros explode across the stage and LXG seems to jerk to life! He throws his hands up and breaks into a brisk walk down the ramp. Not one to shun the fans, he nods through the mesh fence, but his focus is on the ring.
I've been changing
But you'll never see me now
The big screen starts to flash images of LXG across its screen, while the chorus of the song plays. There's one of him staring into space. There's another of him playing with a couple of kids. There's one of him ducking gunfire. There's another one of him doing a rare smile. There's even one of him in the ring.
I'm SO FAR AWAY!
Now I'm blaming you for everything
By this time, LXG has made it to the ring. He hops up onto the apron and looks around at the crowd. He doesn't do this too long, and hurls himself over the top rope easily, landing inside the ring and bouncing on his heels a bit.
James Brunt: In the ring, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania... weighing in at 211 pounds, LINCOLN XAVIER GABRIEL!
No more waiting for the end
Of every day that I will spend
Wishing that I only had a choice
From here, LXG heads over to a turnbuckle, hopping up on the ropes there and throwing his hands up to the crowd. Nothing too fancy, just some classic crowd hyping actions. He drops down and heads off to the opposite corner to do the same thing.
No more pushing it away
Cause I'll be busy watching things go my way
Never looking back on this anymore
The screen continues to flash pictures for a moment, though it seems to be dying down a bit. There's an image of LXG smiling, followed by the word LINCOLN. Then there's an image of LXG looking like he's contemplating heavily, followed by the word XAVIER. Finally, there's an image of LXG, head bowed and hands held together in a meditory prayer, followed by the word GABRIEL.
Cause what I'm looking for
Are the answers to why these questions never go away
Back in the ring, LXG is standing in the center of the ring. His hands are pressed together at the palms and his eyes are closed as he meditates quietly.
I'M SO FAR AWAY!
LXG opens his eyes slowly, staring off in the direction of the big screen...
I've been changing
But you'll never see me now
I'm SO FAR AWAY!
On the screen, an image of Sasha Volkyeva fades into view...
Now I'm blaming you for everything
I've been changing, but you'll never see me now
Now I'm blaming you for...
Steven Smith: LXG looks ready tonight guys, hasn’t wrestled a match since the end of May, he’s surely going to prove why he should be on every week here.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Nashville, Tennessee... weighing in at 145 pounds, "THE REDNECK PRINCESS” TERESA TOMAS!
The famous horn of the Dukes of Hazzard’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.
Steven Smith: Lincoln is looking quite good tonight.
Jeff Marx: I bet he is, it doesn’t stand for Letsbe Xtremely Gay though Steve.
Dave Kern: Now, now, put the handbags away ladies the match is about to begin.
Steven Smith: But someone might steal… never mind.
The bell rings and the two square off, Tomas goes for the attack first and runs at LXG, she goes for a clothesline but LXG moves out of the way, he turns around quickly and gives her a stiff kick to the back, Tomas holds it in pain for a moment, she turns around and goes for a dropkick but LXG moves out of the way, as Teresa hits the mat hard, LXG goes for a standing elbow drop, Tomas moves, flips up to her feet and goes for a leg drop, LXG dodges that however, gets to his feet and hits Tomas with a roundhouse kick to the face knocking her back down. LXG capitalizes by picking her up and whipping her into the ropes, on the rebound Tomas ducks a karate kick, bounces off the ropes then hits a flying neckbreaker on LXG, she quickly maneuvers herself and wraps her legs around LXG’s neck, LXG powers out of it and goes for an ankle lock, Tomas gets to the ropes, pulls her self underneath the bottom rope, gets to her feet then springboards off the ropes with a body splash, she connects as the crowd begins clapping out of respect for both wrestlers. Tomas goes for a quick pin but LXG kicks out before the count of one, Tomas gets to her feet, she picks LXG up and goes for a German suplex, LXG reverses and lands one of his own, he goes to the top rope and tries for a Corkscrew body press, signaling that it’s too early to hit such a move Tomas moves out of the way and raises her feet, LXG crashes into both heels of her boots and holds his face in pain.
Dave Kern: Both competitors here are putting on some great back and forth action.
Steven Smith: I hope his face is alright!
Jeff Marx: Surely LXG can’t lose to a woman tonight.
Steven Smith: I agree, get up Gabriel!
Jeff Marx: Oh good God, I’m glad it’s your last night as commentator tonight, maybe then we’d get some heterosexual commentary for once.
Dave Kern: I wouldn’t bank on it.
Jeff Marx: Wha… You know what, I’ll leave that one alone.
Tomas gets to her feet and drags LXG to his, she throws him into the rope, and she then hits a hurricanrana. She goes to the top rope and goes for a moonsault but LXG moves out of the way, Tomas notices this at the last minute and lands on her feet, she begins to lie in the boots to her opponent making him hold his chest in pain. Tomas goes over to the ropes, springboards off, turns in midair and lands a nice looking elbow drop.
Dave Kern: That was a fantastic move right there by Teresa.
Jeff Marx: Why is she even in the ring? It’s pathetic; she belongs in the kitchen with the rest of them.
Dave Kern: You couldn’t outwrestle the Redneck Princess if you wanted to.
Jeff Marx: I wouldn’t want to touch her, she’s dirty, I’d catch something.
Dave Kern: You already have herpes.
Steven Smith: I’ve had that.
Jeff Marx: …Just one more night…
Tomas goes for the pin but LXG’s foot is under the bottom rope, the referee calls for a rope break, Tomas picks up LXG off the floor, LXG fires back out of nowhere with some chops to the chest, each chop getting a response from the crowd, Tomas looks about ready to collapse, LXG finishes it off with a thrust kick to the throat, Tomas goes down. LXG walks over to her but Tomas gets a drop toe hold on him, LXG manages to grab the ropes and bounce back to his feet, he then hits a few kicks to her legs, he picks her up, runs at the ropes, hits a moonsault then executes a breathtaking DDT, the crowd jump to their feet as Tomas lays there motionless, LXG goes to the top rope then springs off with a frog splash, he then goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Jeff Marx: Damn it! Come on Link! Get it together!
Dave Kern: Both Tomas and Gabriel have put on a great performance so far in this match.
Jeff Marx: Oh shut up you unbiased idiot.
LXG gets up and picks Tomas up by the hair, he begins hitting her with some martial arts kicks to the legs, stomach and chest, he runs to the ropes and goes for the Second Chance but Tomas dodges the kick, she quickly goes to the top rope and hits the Flying Squirrel, the crowd start getting into it as she hits both LXG and inadvertently the referee but Tiara Belle Russell runs down the ramp and slides into the ring, Tomas turns around and Tiara takes her down with a spear.
Steven Smith: Interference!
Dave Kern: Tiara Belle Russell! OH MY GOD! SHE’S RUINING THE MATCH!
Jeff Marx: Bitch fight, woo! Scratch her, do it!
Tiara begins laying in some punches then picks her up, she goes for a swinging DDT but Tomas manages to power out of it, LXG then batters the back of her head with his forearm, he holds her up and Tiara begins mouthing off at her, she hits her with a slap that makes the crowd cringe, the crowd burst into cheers however when Shawn Harris quickly limps to the ring closely followed by Kris Krimzon, they slide into the ring.
Jeff Marx: It’s PWC!
LXG releases Tomas, she falls to the mat, Tiara turns around and Shawn hits her with a shuddering superkick. Shawn looks at his leg in shock; he takes off the knee brace and begins bouncing around.
Dave Kern: Things have gotten out of hand here but it seems that Shawn’s knee is somewhat better.
Steven Smith: His looks remain the same though, ooh what a sexy man.
Jeff Marx: Shut the hell up idiot, this flimsy idiot will get his ass kicked the next time Vince sees him.
Shawn goes for another superkick, this time directed at LXG, LXG moves however but is quickly met with a powerful clothesline from Krimzon, Tomas gets up and throws Tiara from the ring, the huge Wayne Russell runs out from the back, PWC bail from the ring, Wayne goes to check directly on Tiara however, as PWC go towards the backstage area, Vince Jones leaps out from the back and cracks Krimzon in the back with the Louisville sluggah, Shawn sees this, he kicks the bat out of his hand and goes brawling to the back.
Jeff Marx: I told you! Vince just totally took out Krimzon and now Shawn is next.
Teresa picks up LXG as Lars Larsson only now gets to his feet, she hits LXG with a dropsault then locks in the Southern Comfort, after everything, LXG has no choice but to tap out, the bell rings and the fans begin cheering.
James Brunt: The winner… “The Redneck Princess” TERESA TOMAS!
A Little Separation
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, PWC, FRENCH SECURITY TEAM
AUTHORS: JEFFY AND JAY
We go backstage where we see Vince Jones and Shawn Harris still battling it out. Moments after making their way through the curtain, Shawn runs at Vince and clotheslines him down, he begins pummelling away, Vince manages to gain control and shocks Shawn with a huge elbow to the jaw, the two men get back to their feet, Shawn flips Vince off, Vince runs at him but Shawn hits him with a superkick. Before anything more can be done the French security team jump into action separating the two men.
Dave Kern: These two men are going at it big time!
Jeff Marx: It’s about time Shawn did something of worth around here, good for him that security arrived though, he’d have got his ass kicked again.
Vince gets to his feet but is also held back by security, then out of nowhere Kris Krimzon comes running at Vince with the baseball bat, a security guard tries to take him down but gets cracked in the face by the sluggah.
Security Guard: MERDE!
The security guy gets knocked to the floor, he jumps at Vince, and Vince catches Kris with an elbow to the face. Kris drops the bat, Vince picks it up and swings at Kris, missing him narrowly but taking down one of the other security guards. Shawn breaks free but two more security members are able to keep him at bay, the team then separate the scuffle between Krimzon and Jones. Jones is being dragged to his dressing room.
Vince Jones: Bitch, V’ll kill you, you’ll be going back on the shelf by the time V's done with you!
Shawn Harris: Bring it you son of a bitch, when I get my hands on you, people will be wondering who the fuck Vince Jones was! Evolution WILL pass you by, you retarded fuck!
Vince is dragged out through two doors, Shawn and Kris then stop struggling.
New World, New Rules
FEATURING: THE COALITION
AUTHOR: DAVE LARKIN
The scene opens backstage in a well-lit corridor which has been adorned with numerous black and white flyers, making the area appear like an alleyway. As we head down the corridor, it becomes evident that these flyers are promoting a politician named Wesley Reno. The posed shot of Reno on the flyers shows him standing in front of the beautiful New York skyline with the heading “A new era in politics has begun…”. Suddenly, a commotion can be heard from down the corridor, where the man in the flyers emerges from a locker room with another man, probably in his thirties.
Wesley Reno: The picture’s too perfect, it’ll never work, Philly.
Phil Allen: Can you take your mind off politics for one second and focus on the task at hand, Wes? This could potentially be the biggest break of your political career! You haven’t stopped harping on for the past few weeks about how the wrestling business could be your chance to break into the limelight. Now it’s time to find out.
Wesley Reno: Potentially, you say? Potentially won’t do it, Philly. In the world of politics, you see…
Philly, who is dressed in a tank top and tracksuit bottoms, sighs aloud as he prepares for Reno’s political spiel.
Phil Allen: Listen – listen for a sec, alright Wes? This is no game we’ve got on our hands. It’s gonna be tough from the get-go here in the AWC. You were the one who called me and begged me to be your trainer, so from now on I call the shots. Do you understand?
Reno has a solemn look of something bordering on respect on his face as he nods at his trainer in agreement. Reno’s attention is distracted, however, by a group of gorgeous women heading their way.
Wesley Reno: Hey ladies, you interested in a---
Before Reno can even finish, the women have brushed past both him and his trainer in a nonchalant fashion. Reno turns to Philly and shakes his head in frustration.
Wesley Reno: I don’t get it. That almost always works…
Phil Allen: Not here it doesn’t, kid. Now that we’ve signed the contract, we can get down to some serious training. By the time I’m done with you, kid, you’re gonna want your mommy so bad…
Reno’s face contorts in anger as a confident Phil Allen turns on his heels and walks away from his protégé.
Wesley Reno: My mommy? Wh – what is he talking about? Hey, wait for me, Philly! I really want to train! Honest!
With that, a squealing Reno pursues Allen down the corridor. A breeze causes one of the flyers to become detached from the notice board. The camera zooms in on the arrogant, carefree smile of Reno in the picture as we fade out.
Vince Jones (cth) vs Leviathan
STIPULATION: COUNTDOWN TROPHY
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JOSH K.
James Brunt: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is a Countdown Trophy Match! Introducing first, from Mexico City, Mexico: Leviathan!
Rob Zombie’s “Return of the Phantom Stranger” begins to play and the gigantic Mexican walks out, receiving an unwelcome response from the Parisian crowd.
Dave Kern: Vince Jones won the Countdown Trophy last week, and this week he has a tough task ahead of him with this mammoth.
Steven Smith: Leviathan sure has some big, meaty hands.
James Brunt: And the Countdown Trophy Holder, “The Violence” Vince Jones!
The lights in the arena dim and a small fog begins to rise lining the ramp leading down to the ring.
PREPARE TO ENTER MY HELL, MY REALM, AND MY GAME...
...ENTER THE VIOLENCE
A loud gunshot rings out through the arena and “Thug Luv” by 2Pac and Bone Thugs N' Harmony begins to blare throughout the arena. “The Violence” Vince Jones emerges from the entrance and makes his way to the edge of the ramp with a black baseball bat in hand followed by the lovely Jasmine. He stops and raises the baseball bat in the air and flashes the hand sign of his old gang from New York as red pyro explodes behind him. He slowly makes his way down ringside totally oblivious to the flickering camera flashes and the hatred of the crowd. He slides into the ring, climbs the nearest turnbuckle and looks out at the crowd as if he's in a trance, drawing in energy from the hatred the crowd has for him. He finally awakens and points the baseball bat out at the members of the crowd and once again raises the baseball bat above his head and flashes the hand sign of his gang again.
Dave Kern: The Parisian crowd doesn’t seem to take to either one of these competitors here tonight.
Jeff Marx: French people hate everything. Both of these guys are great in my book.
Dave Kern: I didn’t know you wrote a book.
Jeff Marx: I’m actually writing an autobiography right now.
5:00 The bell rings, and Vince Jones tries to stare a hole through Leviathan, but the much larger Leviathan just smirks. Jones comes at Leviathan with some stiff shots to the chest, but Leviathan just absorbs them before grabbing V by the head and sending Vince Jones down with a powerful headbutt.
Jeff Marx: Leviathan playing to the French crowd with his Zidane-like headbutt.
Steven Smith: I’m glad Italy won the World Cup. Italian men have such nice hair.
Vince Jones gets back to his feet and locks up with Leviathan, trying with all his might to drive Leviathan back, but the statuesque Mexican holds his ground easily, enjoying Vince Jones’ attempt to move him. Finally, Leviathan shifts his weight and tosses Vince Jones into the turnbuckles. Vince Jones hits the corner hard and slouches down, holding himself up by the ropes. Leviathan charges in with a back elbow to V’s face, and V stumbles out from the corner rubbing his jaw. Leviathan capitalizes from behind, driving Vince Jones’ tailbone into his knee with a huge atomic drop. Vince falls down to his hands and knees and Leviathan rubs his hands together. Leviathan sizes Vince up and kicks him in the ribs. Vince Jones rolls a little bit, and Leviathan kicks him again. Finally Vince Jones rolls out of the ring to catch his breath and rethink his strategy.
Dave Kern: Leviathan looks pretty confident at the onset of this match.
Jeff Marx: He is roughly thirteen feet tall.
Steven Smith: He’d split my ass in half like Paul Bunyan in a lumberyard.
As Vince Jones circles the ring, waiting for an opportunity to get back in, Leviathan follows him around from inside the ring. Vince Jones grabs onto the first rope to pull himself up, but backs away immediately after Leviathan swipes at him with his meaty hook. Jones then takes a running start and Leviathan readies himself, but instead of sliding under the bottom rope, Vince slides under the ring altogether. Leviathan spins around confused, looking for V Jones.
Dave Kern: What the hell was that?
Jeff Marx: I’m pretty sure that Vince Jones used some magical African power to become so black that he disappeared from sight.
Steven Smith: I’ve heard that once you go black, you can’t sit for a week.
Leviathan points to his head and looks over the opposite set of ropes, but V. Jones slides out from the same side he slid in and stealthily gets back into the ring. Leviathan turns around, just in time to receive a Mafia Kick to the face. Leviathan goes down, and Vince Jones wastes no time in mounting the four hundred pound monster and hammering his face with alternating rights and lefts as Leviathan struggles to shield himself.
Dave Kern: I don’t care how big you are, you can’t shrug away punches to the face, especially not from Vince Jones!
4:00
Vince Jones relents on the punches and pulls Leviathan up to his feet. He whips Leviathan off of the ropes, and Leviathan bounces back to receive a bearhug front slam that Jones strains himself to deliver. Both men go down on their backs, but V. Jones psyches himself back up enough to roll over into the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Leviathan presses his way out of the pinfall attempt, sending Vince Jones flying across the ring. Both men get back up at the same time, Vince Jones runs at Leviathan, and Leviathan quickly stops Jones’ forward progress with a boot to the face. Leviathan then peels Vince off of the canvas and lifts him to his shoulder, walking him over to the turnbuckles and sitting V. Jones on top. Leviathan climbs up to the top rope, trying to hook Vince Jones in for a superplex.
Jeff Marx: Leviathan’s big ass is going to break the ropes if he tries this.
Steven Smith: Don’t confuse big ass for loose ass. I bet Leviathan’s anus is puckered up like it just ate a barrel of lemons.
Dave Kern: I know this is France, Steven, but even the French have limits.
Steven Smith: It’s not my fault that I am le fabulous!
Leviathan tries to lift for the superplex, but Vince Jones holds onto the top rope with one hand and pushes Leviathan off of the ropes easily, as Leviathan was struggling to stay balanced. Jones stands up on the top rope and waits for Leviathan to roll back up before leaping off and nearly decapitating Leviathan with the Neck Cutta!
Dave Kern: I haven’t seen anything with such a potential to chop off heads since 1789!
Jeff Marx: Is that when the Nuge released the video for “Heads will roll?”
3:00
Vince Jones quickly covers Leviathan up, hooking the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Leviathan kicks out with ease, only being two minutes into the match. Vince Jones slaps his hands on the mat furiously before getting up and pulling Leviathan up with him. Jones kicks Leviathan in the stomach before trying to whip him off of the ropes. Leviathan reverses and sends Vince Jones rebounding off the ropes instead. Leviathan telegraphs a back body drop, but Jones puts on the brakes and floors Leviathan with a DDT. Jones holds on, pulls Leviathan back up and completes another pair of DDTs on the big Mexican.
Dave Kern: Leviathan literally leering after those brain battering attacks.
Steven Smith: Nice alliteration!
Dave Kern: Well, Vince Jones already brought the onomatopoeia.
Jeff Marx: I know this is Steven’s last show, Dave, but you don’t have to humor him and pretend to be gay.
Dave Kern: I’m not pretending to be gay.
Jeff Marx: You mean you actually are gay?
Dave Kern: I didn’t say that.
Jeff Marx: You didn’t deny it.
Dave Kern: Look, this is a ridiculous amount of dialogue…shouldn’t there be a brick of text coming up soon?
After the three DDTs, Vince Jones covers Leviathan again.
ONE!
TWO!
Leviathan kicks out after two again. Vince Jones gets up to his feet, angrily, and starts stomping wildly at Leviathan. After seemingly accidentally connecting with Leviathan’s regions, Leviathan rolls around in pain, howling, and Aaron Davies restrains and warns Vince Jones. Leviathan slowly gets to his feet as Aaron Davies gets out of Vince’s way. Jones charges at Leviathan with a kitchen sink, but Leviathan catches Vince Jones’ leg and pulls him in for a short arm clothesline.
Dave Kern: Leviathan just turned Vince Jones inside out with that clothesline!
Jeff Marx: You’re right. I can see Vince’s intestines and other various organs.
Dave Kern: No need to be facetious, Jeff.
2:00
Leviathan lifts Vince Jones back up to his feet and whips him off of the ropes. Jones comes back and Leviathan catches him with a powerslam, following through to his first pinfall attempt of the match.
ONE!
TWO!
Vince Jones kicks out, and Leviathan pulls him back to his feet. Leviathan chops Jones across the chest, and Jones stumbles around before Leviathan gives chase and slams Vince’s head into the turnbuckle. Leviathan then picks Vince Jones up from behind and sets him back on the top turnbuckle, facing outward this time. Leviathan climbs to the second rope and locks his arms around Vince Jones’ waist. The big man leaps backwards, connecting with a German Suplex from the second turnbuckle!
Dave Kern: That had to take a lot out of Vince Jones!
Leviathan takes his time going for the pin.
ONE!
Jeff Marx: Vince landed high on his neck there.
TWO!
Steven Smith: (really really fast so as to fit into one second) It’s nice to see an oily, muscular Latino finally get the notice he deserves around here! I love the Queen, but British men are so pasty white, they have snaggletooth, and cricket jumpers are even too gay for me.
THR-!
Vince Jones kicks out! Leviathan can’t believe it, he’s backing referee Aaron Davies into the corner, pointing a finger disrespectfully right in Aaron’s face. Aaron looks frightened until Vince Jones gets back to his feet and creeps behind Leviathan. Jones slips his arm around Leviathan’s neck, pulling him into an inverted facelock.
Dave Kern: Can Vince Jones get the 400 pound monster off his feet?
Vince Jones lifts with all his might and successfully delivers the Silencer on Leviathan! Unfortunately, Vince can’t capitalize as lifting Leviathan up in the air like that took a lot out of Vince as well.
Jeff Marx: Pin him, Vince! Pin him!
The referee starts the ten count with thirty seconds left on the clock.
One…Two…Three…
Dave Kern: Not much time until sudden death!
Four…Five…Six…
Jeff Marx: I’m sick of all this counting.
Seven…Eight…Nine…
But Vince Jones is already back to his feet. He stumbles around for a few seconds before looking up at the countdown clock. Not wanting to risk sudden death with fifteen seconds left, he pounces down to cover Leviathan.
00:10 ONE!
00:09 TWO!
00:08 THR-
Dave Kern: Leviathan kicks out again! This man won’t stay down.
Vince Jones, realizing it’s time to go high risk, climbs up to the top rope. He steadies himself as the clock ticks down, taunting from the top rope… and then….
00:00
The lights go out.
Dave Kern: What the… hold on, we may be having technical difficulties.
Steven Smith: Who turned off le lights?
Jeff Marx: Probably a fuse or something.
Dave Kern: We’ll be back as soon as we can.
Lights Out, No One Is Home?
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, ???
AUTHOR: ???
A shriek of utter disdain seeps from the mouth of Sasha Volkyeva as her night goes from bad to worse in the flutter of an eyelid. Luckily, her cellular phone has a light wired into it and she begins to frantically search for someone around the back area who can help her. She stumbles over a mop and crashes into the ground.
Silence.
No one to help her.
She was alone.
Now.
More than ever.
Tears rolled down her perfectly formed cheeks as she wept softly to herself. This was not the start she had envisaged. She so desperately wanted to prove to everyone that she could do this. That she could succeed in the face of adversity. The truth was, she sat crying for the first time in years: the loneliness had finally hit her. At least with Pearl around she had some sort of relationship of some kind with someone. Just when things could not possibly get any worse, the light dimmed. Her battery was running too low to power the pathetic torch on her phone.
Sasha Volkyeva: Absolutely wonderful.
She curled herself up in a ball wanting there and then for the ground to swallow her up, take her from this life, she had nothing to live for. Her existence was purely materialistic – she had never tried for anything; it was always given to her. Now she was independent, and look at her.
Just look… through the darkness… through it all…
Sasha Volkyeva: I have failed. One show, just one show I wanted! One show to go well… but no.
She heard a faint scuttle ahead of her and instantly curled up against the wall. Fear set in.
Sasha Volkyeva: Who is this?
Nothing.
Sasha Volkyeva: Hello? Please help me…
The words dripped from her lips as she sat weeping, a solitary tear resting on her chin.
“This is only the beginning…” the voice was unfamiliar, deep sounding, a somewhat gravel quality to it…
Sasha Volkyeva: Who is it?
“Who I am is not important… I have been saved. My only purpose now is this.”
Sasha Volkyeva: This?
“The darkness…”
Sasha Volkyeva: You did this? Why?
“I’m afraid your questions are nothing but empty Sasha…”
Sasha froze, her words stuck deep in her throat. He knew her. How? It was dark… too dark to see… how did he know her?
Sasha Volkyeva: How…
He let a small laugh escape from his lips… frightening Sasha further…
“We’ll meet again… I’m sure Ms. Sasha Volkyeva…”
His footsteps grew louder – he was heading straight for her… Sasha began to cry loudly, every step breaking down any barrier she had managed to construct over her life. She was that small child scared of the dark again. She was that child afraid of the unknown… she was that child crying… and just crying… his leg brushed against hers as he strode past. Sasha winced, it burnt…
Sasha Volkyeva: WHO ARE YOU?!
The footsteps stopped.
“… you don’t know…?…”
The Writing's On The Wall...
FEATURING: TECHNICIAN, ???
AUTHOR: ???
Dave Kern: Hello folks… we have news that there’s a camera following a technician to go and sort this out…
A camera is following the steps of a brave young technician as he plunges into the dark confines of the arena’s belly in search of the power box.
Technician: Ah… it’s just down here… along this corridor…
Jeff Marx: Good God, we might finally be able to get this pile of crap back on track.
Technician: What the crack…
The camera pans to see the tiny room containing the electrics… nothing out of the ordinary…
Dave Kern: What’s that on the walls?
The camera zooms in to the right hand wall and there seems to be a million letters scratched onto the wall…
Technician: G…
Dave Kern: …A…
Jeff Marx: Woo, it’s my new favourite entity! G to the A!
The camera suddenly hits the ground hard…
Dave Kern: Now what?
The piercing cry of the technician reverberates around the room followed by the distinctive pop of a human bone… another cry… prolonged… the camera jerks… pandemonium… who… what… the lights flicker to life… the whole room is covered in the letters of GA… scratched in the wall…
Dave Kern: What in the HELL is going on?
A large dirtied white converse shoe crashes into the camera lens...
Jeff Marx: We’ve lost contact!
FIZZ
Dave Kern: We have light! Both competitors are in the ring wondering what in the blue smokes of Zeus and his thunderbolt are going on…
Jeff Marx: Let’s get this match underway again!
Dave Kern: But the GA backstage incident…? Was it GA? The technician…
Jeff Marx: Boring… there’s a million technicians backstage. Anyway, I’ll chat to GA about it later.
Dave Kern: You know who this GA character is?
Jeff Marx: No.
Dave Kern: Then how…
Marx slaps Kern.
Jeff Marx: Just call the darn match.
Vince Jones (cth) vs Leviathan
STIPULATION: COUNTDOWN TROPHY
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JOSH K.
The lights return to the arena after the disturbance on the screen to reveal a picture that’s worth a thousand words. A broken black bat lays halved on the canvas. Leviathan is out cold on the ground, and Vince Jones is standing above him in the ring.
Dave Kern: This isn’t fair! Vince Jones cheated!
Jeff Marx: There’s no way to prove that!
Dave Kern: Then how do you explain the situation in the ring?
Jeff Marx: Leviathan must have gone to sleep. I hear he’s phototropic.
Steven Smith: What about the bat?
Jeff Marx: Temporary beaver infestation.
Dave Kern: That’s ridiculous. You know Vince Jones cheated!
Jeff Marx: Can you prove it?
Dave Kern: Well… no.
And neither can Aaron Davies. All he can do is count the sudden-death fall as Vince Jones stands over the fallen Leviathan.
ONE!
James Brunt: The winner, and still the Countdown Trophy Holder, “The Violence” Vince Jones!
More Than Enemies
FEATURING: CHAINZ, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND MIKE S.
The camera cuts backstage where we see Chainz sitting on a chair in the middle of an empty hallway, empty because no one wants to be around Chainz. After his meeting with Sasha and the untimely intervention of Pierce Lavelle he found himself more lost and confused than ever. Why was the man that he nearly killed willing to help him? He wished Tracy was with him to help him sort through all the bad thoughts running through his head.
Slowly from behind crept Aimz, wearing rather low hip-hugging jeans and a tight t-shirt, looking much more endowed than she had last week. She sneaks up behind Chainz and puts her hands over his eyes.
Aimz: Guess who?
Chainz throws her hands off of him and stands to face her, ready for a fight.
Chainz: The fuck you want, can't wait till the main event huh?
Aimz: See, now you're just acting like me. Why the long face? You get to maul me in a little while... isn't that what gets you off, or is it just not the same without innocent little Tracy to tame you afterwards?
Chainz: Shut the fuck up, you don't know anything. You think you know me? Hell, you don't even know yourself. You look in the mirror and see a false exterior that hides that cold interior we both know you have. You lie in bed at night, just like me, a victim to the crazy and violent thoughts that cascade through that twisted head. So relax, and don't fucking bring Tracy into this, it'll be something you regret come night’s end.
Amy's eyes brighten a little at the blatant threat. Her pulse looks to be picking up, and she circles around Sloan while speaking.
Aimz: So, if I'm so twisted... why would I stop talking about Tracy? C'mon, you say you know me - don't I just want you to give it to me harder and harder...
She's obviously trying to stifle a chuckle and seem serious.
Aimz: ...And harder, until I end up being dragged away on a stretcher?
Chainz: And why would I wanna give you that? Why would I help you out?
He laughs.
Chainz: Plus if they're pulling you out on a stretcher who's gonna do me?
Aimz didn't understand it, but her heart was racing and she was feeling excitement she never felt before. Being around this man was like being around a constant cause of concern, a constant danger that could explode in her face at any moment and she loved the feeling of being on the edge.
Chainz: Now leave me alone, I'm not in the mood.
She wanted that push, just a little farther...
Aimz: Make me.
Now Chainz was the one who didn't understand. Tonight, it seemed that no one was scared of him. It was as if having Tracy gone from his side suddenly made everyone stand up to him as if she was the one they feared.
Chainz: You don't even know what you're asking for.
Amy's face goes blank for a split second as the tone of her voice grows more aggressive.
Aimz: I don't lie in bed at night feeling like a victim. I lay my head down and all I can think back on are things that you've said. Considering the fact that I know you're a fucking toolbox, I don't know why you're living in my head so much. I want the answers, and I'm not moving until I get them, even if it means you have to sit here staring at my tits until I get nauseated and run away.
Chainz looked up from her tits and stared into her eyes which seemed full of life, full of questions, full of everything that his had long ago lost. Without warning, he grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into a wall, pressing his face into hers.
Chainz: You want answers, why the fuck should I give them to you? You know the answers already deep in your soul, you just don't want to believe that they're true.
The little redhead doesn't seem jilted at all. She feels goose bumps all over, and it won't be long before Chainz noticed.
Aimz: I'm not afraid of what you'll do to me anymore, Michael. Now...
She snarls and presses her forehead into his.
Aimz: ...Tell me what the hell's going on inside of me since you started preaching your tripe.
Chainz: Come now, is that really what you want? Didn't you really come here because you can't resist me? You wanna be taken like a fucking whore and fucked silly since your boy won't give it to you at home.
Her eyes lit up and she head butted Chainz right in his nose causing him to lose his grip on her. His nose was bloodied, and he backed up a bit but Aimz ran forward and tackled him to the ground. She mounted him.
Aimz: Answer me.
Chainz: Give me a kiss and I'll sing like a bird.
Aimz: I don't believe that for a minute.
Chainz: Come on, you know you want to.
He smiled as blood ran into his mouth and for some reason it turned her on like she couldn't believe. Here was a known killer, a rapist, a pedophile, and every other fucking thing he was and yet she found herself lusting after him. He placed his hands on her hips and sent sensual pleasure through her body, like she had never experienced before, but she had to hide her feelings.
Aimz: If I... ugh. If you don't tell me every god damned smidgeon of information I want after this, I swear on my life that I'll bury you.
Amy shuts her eyes disgustedly and leans in to kiss him quickly on the lips. She quickly pulls back, but he grabs her by the back of the head and pulls her back down to his lips. She tries to resist, but only for a moment because within seconds her hands are behind his head as she kisses him wildly, sticking her tongue into his mouth. She couldn't believe what she was doing, but for some reason it felt right to her. Actually, it felt more than right it felt like she had died and gone to heaven, or hell. She didn't care, she didn't care about anything at that moment. However, she quickly came back to her senses and sat back up, backing across the room and spitting viciously.
She's unusually pale, and looking on the verge of vomiting.
Aimz: Forget it. Fuck you, don't even imagine touching me again.
With that, she speeds out of the room looking more confused than Chainz had ever seen a person before. He knew that a part of her wanted to still be there, but every well-raised bone in her body was telling her to get away and erase the memory of the last five minutes.
Chainz: You’re welcome.
The Address
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHOR: LARA C.
The French are cheering and talking silently. Some fans are shuffling their feet, whilst munching on food and drinking soft drinks as they keep their spirits high with the odd song or cheer.
Jeff Marx: So far so good, Dave.
Dave Kern: The show seems to working out OK enough, I guess. An interesting night, all in all, I think.
Steven Smith: The Parisian fans have been extremely welcoming of our roster and sport.
Jeff Marx: And sexually charged overhomosexual commentators.
Steven Smith: Plural?!
The arena dims slightly, the energy of the fans electrifying as they look in wonder around, waiting for a sign as to what’s happening.
Jeff Marx: This isn’t one of these PWC ruin-the-equipment issues is it? Because, I have already paid money for my internet coverage.
Dave Kern: No id---
Kern is interrupted as a shattering of glass is heard, pyros shoot up from the stage. ‘Happy’ by Mudvayne lays its harsh metal guitar through the speakers, the French fans all feeling their adams-apple quiver with the bass.
Jeff Marx: What the hell!!!
Marx is searching through sheets, looking for anything that would let him know who this was.
Dave Kern: Eh… Jeff… I don’t think this is in there…
Marx looks up and sees a man, very familiar emerging from the backstage arena, dressed in casual attired and holding a small document.
Jeff Marx: Is that---?
The French all jump with joy, completely surprised that they’d see a fan favourite, their eyes glued to the screen, showing various captions of his moves and career.
”LA-VELLE”! ”LA-VELLE!”
Dave Kern: I think that answers your question.
Jeff Marx: Seems Pierce Lavelle is making an appearance.
Steven Smith: Ooh baby! I love his hair…
Shuffling himself around the ring, he takes a microphone and slides into the ring, looking around the arena, camera flashes shooting off all around him, almost mesmerizing. He waits for his music to evaporate from the sound system before addressing the crowd, under Sasha and Pearl’s request. Here goes nothing
Pierce Lavelle: Bonjour, Paris. Comment allez vous…
Jeff Marx: Fancy!!
Pierce Lavelle: Okay, so I guess I should get this over with… Last year I was banned from wrestling due to a drugs test for the Prometheus Serum. I did use that serum, but not at my own choice, to which Adam Dick has explained clearly in an affidavit.
A succession of boos erupt at the mention of Adam Dick’s name and a smile forms along Pierce’s face, seemingly comfortable with the memories.
Pierce Lavelle:…After waiting out six months of my ban, I was approached by Adam Dick for help. With his problem and charge of murder, I offered to help and with his affidavit, I now had enough evidence to challenge my ban. Approaching the Administration Board, I laid my claims and went to court.
Steven Smith: Dick had a murder charge having over him?! Boy. They should tell us MORE.
Dave Kern: Now that, I didn’t see coming. He helped the King Dick.
Jeff Marx: Kid’s got morals!!!
The fans begin a simple quiet chant, intrigued by the news they were receiving.
Pierce Lavelle: After a good amount of trial visits and various evidence, which is too boring to delve into, my drug ban was removed, I was announced ‘not guilty’ and I have a place back in wrestling…
”LA-VELLE! LA-VELLE!”
Pierce Lavelle: With the ban removed, I decided to join the East tour and will remain here as an active wrestler!
Dave Kern: He’s here! The Legend is here to stay and he can wrestle!
Looking faintly surprised by the jubilant scenes around him, Lavelle blinks a few times.
Pierce Lavelle: I guess that’s all I can say about it.
Pierce turns around and rolls the affidavit up, placing it into his back pocket.
Pierce Lavelle: Au revoir… Bonne nuit…
‘Happy’ by Mudvayne returns as Pierce slides out of the ring to a cacophony of cheers from the Parisian fans. Jeff Marx, Steven Smith and Dave Kern remain stunned by the news.
Steven Smith: I’m SO pissed off I’m leaving now!
Dave Kern: Guess we were all wrong about his taking the Serum willingly, huh?
Jeff Marx: Yeah, I heard Dick injected it into him to frame him, but I guess we’ll never know the full story.
Dave Kern: What’s important is he’s back and seems to have forgotten about the grudges, I guess… Lavelle looks to be a front-runner for at least ONE of our Transatlantic titles!
The Only Exit That Matters
FEATURING: PWC, SASHA VOLKYEVA, FRENCH SECURITY TEAM
AUTHOR: JEFFY
Shawn Harris is seen in his locker-room icing down his eye after receiving some brutal punches from his nemesis, Vince Jones. Obviously the PWC locker-room as it has the letters scrawled all over the walls. Kris Krimzon comes out of their bathroom and sits down next to Jeff also tending to the wounds he got from the baseball bat shot.
Dave Kern: Look at them, obviously feeling the pain after tonight.
Jeff Marx: Good, they’re both pathetic; it should be the Pathetic Wrestling Club.
Steven Smith: Shawn is kind of hot though.
Sasha Volkyeva bursts through the doors of the locker-room with a team of security guards, she has a sadistic grin on her face as she approaches to the two.
Sasha Volkyeva: Get away, then!
Shawn looks up at her and snarls.
Shawn Harris: Fuck off.
Sasha quite taken back by the insult snarls back.
Sasha Volkyeva: I told you that I would fetch security and now they have arrived. I did not need you ruining any of the matches, not after ALL that’s happened, but yes, you had to stick your silly little noses in the Teresa Tomas match, you won’t be watching the rest of tonight’s show I’m afraid. You have the rest of the night off!
Kris Krimzon: But we don’t want the rest of the night off!
Sasha Volkyeva: There’s nothing more for you here, nothing of any worth at least. You have had your match – now you are being escorted out of the building. Feel free to do whatever you like when you are on David’s show, but when it’s my show, you will abide by my rules. If you don’t then you will be removed.
Shawn gets to his feet and drops the ice pack he then gives her a cold stare into her eyes.
Shawn Harris: Now you listen to me, bitch. I told Pearl, I’ve already told you, but seeing as you’re a woman I’ll tell you again, this isn’t your show, this isn’t your promotion, PWC are running things from now on, we’ll leave when we’re good and ready, understand? Now get out of my face, your buck teeth are making me sick, seriously, you must be able to eat an apple through a letter box.
Kris begins to snigger to himself, Sasha self consciously checks her teeth, she then walks up to the security guard in charge and taps him on the shoulder, the team then enter the locker-room, Kris and Shawn look at each other then at the security team.
Kris Krimzon: I don’t know about you Shawn, but I’m ready for a drink.
Shawn Harris: …Yeah me too… Let’s go to a bar somewhere, I’ll drive.
The PWC are escorted out of the locker-room and head towards the car park.
Injustice
FEATURING: THE NEW BLACK
AUTHOR: SIMON HUNTER
Direct from AWC-West...
Lacuna sits in a dark room, eying her finger with mild suspicion. It isn’t doing very much, and maybe that’s what has captured her attention, but she was trying her hardest not to do the same as Sorrow.
He is sat next to her, looking intently into the camera. His eyes bright and lip upturned into a knowing smirk.
Angelus Sorrow: We interrupt this torrent of drivel to bring you a rant, which will be wholly more filling and probably a lot more entertaining than the B team they’ve sent to Europe. As a European, I would like to apologise for not being able to make it in person, but after noticing the word ‘France’ I found excuses far too easy to come by.
He couldn’t resist the dig, even if the crowds had been with him recently. It was probably the first time he could remember in his career that people were cheering for him. A little bit of him had died at the thought.
Angelus Sorrow: I jest, you’re all great I’m sure. But anyway, in all seriousness, I would like to make this announcement to the good people of AWC. We are your new Alliance champions.
Sorrow glances at Lacuna, who looks up for a brief second and smiles, before going back to staring at her finger. She had noticed a new line that was probably a lot more interesting to her than what Sorrow was about to say. Like she hadn’t heard it every day for the last two weeks.
Angelus Sorrow: We beat four teams in our second match here and yet we’re given a big ‘one’ in the defeats column. I think you’ll find, ladies and gentlemen, that there has been a gratuitous mistake somewhere along the road here. We won that match on merit, but were poached by a couple of ingrate vultures when the moment was truly ours.
The French crowd release a loud collective boo at the fleeting mention of the Furious Fists of God.
Angelus Sorrow: I had left it so far, but I could not let the matter lie any further. You see, I presumed that last week on Fresh! I, we, would have received our match for the titles. We had basically won them anyway, so it made sense that we would be given our opportunity to take them as soon as possible, but what did we get? Lacuna beating some fella I had never seen before. Sorry, sunshine, but you are not on our radar.
Lacuna Debris: Get to the point you convoluted prick.
Sorrow nods, gritting his teeth but presenting a smile so incredibly forced that you could see his cheek ticking.
Angelus Sorrow: My point, as you so eloquently put it darling, is that those titles belong to us. We are the rightful champions and I will state it here and now, that the Martinss are avoiding their date with us. Maybe it’s fear, maybe its something else, but we and everyone at Divide And Conquer saw us dominate everything we came across before the vultures circled. In the name of justice, we want the verdict overturned and the titles handed to the rightful owners. Failing that, we want our shot. I don’t care where or when, but the fans know who won and it wasn’t some goofed up televangelists with anger problems. Godspeed.
The camera cuts out.
Crisis / Aimz vs Chainz / Assault
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Dave Kern: Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the apex of the show - the Main Event! Tonight’s Main Event is a Duo Tag match. The team of Darcy Crisis and Aimz will take on the unlikely duo of Chainz and the new Frontier champion, Anton Assault. If you missed Divide And Conquer three weeks ago, you missed one of the greatest main-event-matches-that-weren’t-actually-main-event-matches in AWC history. Anton Assault made Ellis Nash tapped out to one of his many finishers - the Tiger Trap Leg Scissors.
Jeff Marx: Er, Dave? Isn’t that the ONLY main-event-match-that-wasn’t-actually-a-main-event-match in AWC history?
Dave Kern: Well, it was still awesome. We know that Darcy Crisis and Aimz will work on the same page, but the question is this... how will Chainz and Anton Assault work together? With Chainz being a raving lunatic without the comfort of Tracy – though he wasn’t much different WITH it – there’s no way this team will survive.
Jeff Marx: Sure, Tracy has been taken out of the equation due to “Pearl” Harber signing Tracy over to the West Atlantic tour, but she has Pierce Lavelle looking over Mike Sloan, keeping an eye on him. It’s a task no sane man should take, but Pierce was reluctant to take it. With Lavelle keeping Chainz under control, and Assault’s evil mastermind of a manager, Luis Ferrara, in their corner, Assault and Chainz are gonna walk all over the lesbian couple!
Steven Smith: And... this is my last match I’m gonna commentate with you guys. I just wanna say that’s it been a privilege to work with you guys throughout the years, PCW, PTC and now AWC, and I’m gonna miss you guys. At least I’m gonna go out with a bang, watching three beautiful men kick the crap out of each other. (Smith sniffles into his headset.)
Dave Kern: Aww, I’m gonna miss you too, buddy.
Jeff Marx: Three beautiful men? Ah yeah. Three men, and Darcy Crisis. Hey, I ain’t gonna miss your queer ass, Stevie...
Dave Kern: MARX!
Jeff Marx: Alright, I’ll miss him, damn!
Steven Smith: (sniffle) Thanks you guys. It means a lot to me to have your support.
Jeff Marx: Ugh... don’t go all female on me, Smith.
Dave Kern: Let’s go down to the ring, shall we? Take it away, James Brunt!
James Brunt: The following Main Event is a Duo Tag match!
Shot through the heart,
and you’re to blame.
You give love a bad name.
FUCK YOU!
“You Give Love a Bad Name” by Atreyu begins to play as Aimz and Darcy Crisis step out on stage. They look at each other a moment, then walk down to the ring, Darcy Crisis up in front and Aimz following suit.
James Brunt: First, making their way to the ring, at a combined weight of 374 pounds... AIMZ and DARCY CRISIS!
Darcy Crisis slides into the ring, while Aimz flips inside. From the look on her face, she isn’t exactly thrilled to be in this match.
Dave Kern: As you can see, Aimz isn’t too thrilled to be in ring. I wouldn’t be too, if I was going up against my heated rival, Chainz.
Jeff Marx: Huh. I figured Aimz always looked like that. Perhaps Darcy Crisis isn’t all that great in the bedroom. A strap-on doesn’t do wonders, you know. She’ll eventually need some dick.
Dave Kern: That’s hitting way below the belt, Marx!
Steven Smith: Are you kidding? I’ll have Darcy use a strap-on on me any day!
Jeff Marx: I rest my case.
James Brunt: Their opponents...
“WAAAAAARRRLOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRD!!!”
The guttural, almost desperate cry from Steven Rathbone announces Lair of the Minotaur’s “Warlord.” A long guitar slide sounds and then the song enters a fierce rampage, accompanied by flashing red lights and an image of a lion leaping into a pit of men and tearing into them wholesale, sending limbs flying and terrified bodies everywhere.
Amid the crushing riffage, a form dressed in a multicolored dashiki steps out onto the stage: the one and only Anton Assault. Of course, right behind him is his manager, Luis Ferrara, dry washing his hands and casting an arrogant glance up onto the crowd.
James Brunt: Being accompanied to the ring by Luis Ferrara, from Paris France, weighing 229 pounds, he is the AWC Frontier champion... ANTON ASSAULT!
Steven Smith: I’ve officially died and gone to heaven! There’s my man, Anton Assault! I still want to bear his children!
Jeff Marx: I knew he was gonna say that.
Dave Kern: Leave the man alone. It’s his final night.
Anton, having tossed off his dashiki and leaving himself in his black shorts, boots, and knuckle gloves, ascends the steps and slips into the ring. He removes his Frontier title belt from around his waist and hands it to Luis Ferrara, who looks at it with greed in his eyes. The fans are on their feet, chanting Anton’s name...
“AN-TON! AN-TON! AN-TON! AN-TON!”
Dave Kern: I don’t like the way Luis Ferrara is looking at that belt. It’s like he’s holding the Holy Grail or something.
Jeff Marx: When you have a successful superstar like Anton Assault in your corner, you can look at any belt he’s holding anyway you like.
Dave Kern: Yeah, but it looks like he wants that belt to himself, and he’s using Anton Assault as his personal puppet to get what he wants!
Jeff Marx: So? Who gives a damn? Without him, Assault wouldn’t be the Frontier champion.
Steven Smith: I disagree on that whole statement. Anton Assault is the Frontier champion because he’s the greatest wrestler alive! Not to mention the sexiest!
Jeff Marx: The village called... they want their idiot back.
James Brunt: His partner...
“Cure” by The Wild Colonials start to play as Chainz emerges from the back and power walks down the ramp way like an enraged, feral beast.
James Brunt: From Birmingham, Alabama, weighing 295 pounds... CHAINZ!
Chainz hops onto the ring apron, enters the ring and immediately goes after Aimz. Fortunately for Aimz, the Frontier champion, Anton Assault, intercepts him, trying to keep Chainz under control.
Jeff Marx: Where the hell is Pierce Lavelle? Isn’t he gonna come out to keep an eye on Chainz?
Dave Kern: Evidently not. Perhaps Chainz doesn’t need him.
Steven Smith: By the way Chainz is acting, he’ll need more than my man Anton Assault to keep his rage at bay.
Referee Lars Larsson joins the fray, trying to get the malevolent monster under control. It isn’t an easy task, however, with Aimz shooting her mouth off at Chainz. Chainz lunges forward, but Larsson and Assault have a good grip on Chainz, keeping the near 300-pound man in the corner. Darcy Crisis finally silences his girlfriend. Aimz simply rolls her eyes and goes outside of the ring, telling Darcy to start the match. Assault is the first man to start the match as well, getting Chainz under control in his corner. With order restored, Lars calls for the bell.
Dave Kern: Finally! Everything’s restored and we can get this match underway!
Jeff Marx: Meh... it’s better to see disorder rather than order in the ring.
Steven Smith: What are you, an anarchist?
Jeff Marx: I plea the fifth.
Before Darcy Crisis and Anton Assault square off in the ring, “Conquer All” by Behemoth starts to play. Everyone knows what that means...
Dave Kern: Zsasz is in the building? Zsasz is actually in the damn building?!
Jeff Marx: What the hell is he doing here? I thought he’d stay on the West Atlantic tour with that jobber, Mikey O’Reilly!
With that said, Zsasz steps out onto the stage, dressed head to toe in an expensive black suit. He holds his arms up ala Randy Orton, does a little spin, displaying his obligatory perfection to the French fans. Some fans are cheering while a huge handful are booing.
Dave Kern: That man is completely full of himself. Who the hell does he think he is, a god?
Jeff Marx: When you’re a narcissist like Zsasz is, you see yourself as God.
Steven Smith: God or not, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen!
Zsasz slowly makes his way down to the ring, his eyes locked on Chainz. Chainz stares back, his green eyes blazing into Zsasz’s sapphire blues. After stepping off the ramp, Zsasz breaks his gaze from Chainz and heads towards the broadcasting table. He pulls up a chair, pulls out a small headset from inside his coat pocket and makes himself at home.
Pierre Hyde: Oh, dear Lord...
Both Dave Kern and Jeff Marx are looking at Zsasz with a mixture of interest and confusion, while Steven Smith’s eyes are glued on the large blonde-haired, blue-eyed, sharp dressed man.
Zsasz: Good evening, gentlemen... Steven Smith. Is he always like that? Homosexuals disgust me.
Dave Kern: Pay no mind to Steven Smith. He’s harmless.
Zsasz: He better be, or he’ll wake up very confused in Cuba... in a pine box, if you catch my drift.
Steven Smith: (looks away, turning scarlet) Yes sir.
Meanwhile in the ring, Darcy Crisis and Anton Assault are sizing each other up, waiting for the other to strike first. Assault is in a low crouch, his eyes locked on his opponent. He shoots for the legs, but doesn’t have enough time to stop himself nor to raise his arms up to defend a well-placed knee right in Anton’s face. Assault staggers backward, shaking off the strike, but Darcy is relentless. He walks in, kicks Assault in the gut and whips him into the ropes. After rebounding off the ropes, DC goes for a Clothesline, but Assault takes DC down with a Lou Thesz Press. With a full mount, “The Lion” keeps his strong legs locked on “D to the C’s” sides, squeezing them together as the throw heavy left and right punches. Crisis tries to push him off, but “Double A” isn’t going anywhere, repeatedly throwing bombs about the head and face. Referee Lars Larsson intervenes and breaks up Assault’s assault. (No pun attended.)
Zsasz: That Anton Assault is a beast in the ring. I can see why he’s the new Frontier champion... Ellis Nash was too feeble to regain her title. Women were never a strong species to begin with.
Jeff Marx: You got that right.
Steven Smith: I LOVE YOU, ANTON ASSAULT!
Zsasz: Is Smith going to be okay?
Dave Kern: Let’s cut to the chase, Zsasz. Why are you here, and why did you challenge Chainz to a Gauntlet match, at Divide And Conquer?
Zsasz: I’m here to scout my rival, Chainz. And to answer your second quandary, Kern, it’s simple: Chainz, to me, is a wayward entity who should embark on unlocking his full potential. He possesses something in him that no one else does, and with this Gauntlet match, I want to see if he’s worthy to unlocking that potential. I want to see what he’s capable of, and unleashing four of my evil predecessors shall do the trick. If I went astray in my explanation, then it’s obvious that you’re too much of a simpleton to comprehend my methods.
Jeff Marx: I got you crystal clear, Zsasz.
Dave Kern: So you want to unlock his potential, why? To have him join you?
Zsasz: Negative. Chainz would never join forces with me or vice-versa. People like Chainz and myself will never be able to see eye-to-eye, due to the fact of our lifestyles. Besides, he has that harlot, Tracy, buzzing around him. ’Tis a pity, really. He reminds me of me when I had my first wife: didn’t love her, only love the fact of coveting her. Then I sold my wife to a South American sex-slave ring to go into a stuff film production, but I digress.
Dave Kern: You’re one sick son of a bitch, Zsasz.
Zsasz: And you just now figured this out? From what rock did you crawl out from under? Hermits never prosper.
Steven Smith: That was an awesome burn, Zsasz! (holds up hand for high-five)
Zsasz: If you value your hand, Smith, I suggest you put it down and have better use of it, rather than playing pocket pool.
Dave Kern: Now that was a burn.
Steven Smith: SHUT UP, DAVE!!!
Jeff Marx: Would Zsasz do us the favour of following suit?
Meanwhile in the ring, Anton Assault and Darcy Crisis are on their feet. “Mr. CKD” delivers a picture perfect spinning back kick, doubling Crisis over. Assault then under-hooks both arms and throws DC over his head with a Butterfly Suplex. The are on their feet, cheering for their Paris native and Frontier champion. Assault stalks his opponent, goes for the first pinfall of the match, digging left forearm into “D Masta C’s” face...
ONE!
Quick kick-out from Darcy Crisis. Before Anton Assault gets to a vertical base, he throws a heavy open-palm strike (or shotei) right into DC’s sternum. Crisis feels the wind getting knocked out of him and starts coughing. Meanwhile, Chainz drops down from his corner and runs towards Aimz’s corner. Luis Ferrara tries to stop the raging monster, but gets ran over in the process. Aimz sees Chainz coming after her. With accurate precision, she swings around the steel ring post and catches Chainz with the Hemlock! The Hemlock doesn’t even phase the big monster, as he yanks Aimz off the ring apron, bouncing her face off the apron. There’s a grin slowly forming on Zsasz’s face as he watches Chainz begin to manhandle Aimz.
Jeff Marx: Chainz wants to have some fun with Ms. Campbell. He really fancies those slutty redheads doesn’t he?
Zsasz: Indeed... he has to fulfill his Mommy fantasies.
Steven Smith: Screw that! Lookit what my man is doing to Darcy Crisis. It’s a work of art to see two beautiful men doing combat in the ring.
Zsasz: Correction, Smith: I’m a work of art; they’re nothing more than malcontented, insecure individuals who are compensating for their shortcomings.
Dave Kern: Sounds like you’re compensating for your shortcomings, Zsasz.
Zsasz: Watch it Kern.
Dave Kern: Jeff, why is Zsasz even allowed out here?
Jeff Marx: Really, could someone switch his mic off? Anyone?
Darcy Crisis is on his feet now, about to assist his girlfriend, but Anton Assault is behind him, locking in a Full Nelson, pops his hips and throws Darcy over his head with a Dragon Suplex, almost holding Crisis on the back of his neck. Luis Ferrara gets to his feet, looking over at Chainz angrily as he plays with Aimz. Aimz manages to kick Chainz in the testicles and gets away from the psycho. Ferrara reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a tonfa.
Zsasz: A tonfa from Luis Ferrara. Excellent choice of weaponry. It’s your traditional Okinawan weapon, used in martial arts, nightsticks, what have you.
Dave Kern: He just hit Chainz in the back of the head with that wooden weapon! Chainz is out cold!
Jeff Marx: There’s something you don’t see everyday - your manager knocking out your Duo Tag partner.
Zsasz: Mike Sloan won’t be regaining consciousness anytime soon, I won’t think. Tonfas are made of solid wood, giving them no resistance whatsoever. And has hard as Luis hit Sloan in the back of his head, I wouldn’t be surprised if that blow killed him.
Jeff Marx: Gee, you must have loads of experience in the business.
Luis Ferrara slips the tonfa back into his suit, straightens up and walks away as if nothing happened. Anton Assault catches his manager, asking him why he’d struck Chainz in the head with his tonfa.
Luis Ferrara: Dat puto attack me for no reason, so I teach ‘im a fuckin’ lesson!
Anton Assault simply rolls his eyes and goes back to his opponent. Darcy Crisis is nowhere to be found. He has already made it to his side of the corner and tagged in Aimz. She hops on the top rope, does a springboard and catches Assault in the face with a Dropkick! Aimz gets to her feet, picks up the Frontier champion and whips him into the ropes. “Double A” manages a reversal and whips “The Red Raver” into the ropes. She goes into the air for a Hurricanrana, but Assault catches her in midair, muscling her down with a Power Bomb. After executing the Power Bomb, “The Lion” takes one of Aimz’s legs, lifting it up and bending it at the knee. Aimz is struggling to break free, but Anton has a good grip on Aimz’s leg. Anton then steps through with the same left, like when he lifts Aimz’s leg, he steps through with his own left leg. But as he does so, Aimz manages to kick Assault with her right free leg, breaking the attempted Tiger Trap Leg Scissors.
Anton Assault legs go of Aimz’s leg, staggering backward, feeling the effects of her kick. She rolls backward getting to a vertical base and charges at the Frontier champion. Anton recovers in time to stop Aimz dead in her tracks with a Clothesline/Back Heel Trip combo, otherwise known as an STO.
Zsasz: That was a beautiful STO administered by Anton Assault. It’s obvious that Anton Assault knows Judo. And Aimz made a flawless escape from Anton Assault’s attempted Tiger Trap Leg Scissors.
Dave Kern: Indeed he does, Zsasz! He knows a lot of disciplines when it comes to grappling, locks and holds. Not to mention he has a wide range of striking arts.
Steven Smith: My man is kicking ass and taking names.
Jeff Marx: It looks like Zsasz has taken over your play-by-play job Dave!
Zsasz: My apologies, Kern. You weren’t doing your job, so I took over for you.
Dave Kern: I wasn’t doing my---?!
Jeff Marx: Relax. He’ll go soon. I hope.
Anton Assault gets to his feet, grabbing a handful of Aimz’s hair, sets her up for a Sambo Suplex, but drops backward with a Reverse STO (or Inverted Side Russian Leg Sweep). He then quickly rolls over Aimz’s back and slaps on a quick Fujiwara Arm Bar, pulling back on the arm and applying excruciating amounts of pain on “The Red Raver’s” shoulder. After applying pressure on Aimz’s shoulder for about ten seconds, he gets up, still has her arm in his possession, rolls her over onto her back, and drops backward with the Jujitame Arm Bar! Aimz is screaming in pain as “Mr CKD” is straightening out that arm, twisting and turning on it. After a few seconds of torture with the Jujitame Arm Bar, he turns onto his stomach, flipping Aimz over. He straddles Aimz’s shoulder blade, pulling her arm backward, and hooking it underneath his arm and stretching it over his knee, but doesn’t hyperextend the arm yet. Aimz is screaming in pain, trying to get to her knees, but to no avail; she’s too drained to carry Anton Assault’s 229-pound frame on her back.
Regaining control over Aimz, Anton Assault crosses one of his legs around Aimz’s arm, but putting it behind his other ankle, standing almost on his tip-toes. Before he drops down to his knees to hyperextend the arm (possibly breaking it) and pull off his Nigerian Arm Bar, Darcy Crisis enters the ring, throwing a Dropkick to the side of “Double A’s” head, breaking the hold and falling to his side. Aimz is clutching at her injured arm, groaning in pain.
Dave Kern: Anton Assault could’ve broken Aimz’s arm with his Nigerian Arm Bar finisher. After performing a chained Fujiwara/Jujitame Arm Bar combination, it’s a possibility that Aimz’s arm is already broken!
Jeff Marx: That’s what happens when you face off against the Frontier champion - you’re bound to have one of your limps broken.
Zsasz: I couldn’t have said it any better, Mr. Marx.
Steven Smith: LOOK! That monster, Chainz, has regained consciousness and is in the ring!
Zsasz: (bored) Oh no, the monster is on the loose! Everyone run for your lives!
Dave Kern: Is that sarcasm I sense, Zsasz?
Zsasz: That’s me sounding bored, Kern.
Jeff Marx: Try sounding silent.
Chainz slides into the ring, taking out both Darcy Crisis and Anton Assault of the ring with a pair of Clotheslines. Afterwards, he sets his sights on Aimz, putting the boots to her, stomping away at her injured arm and shoulder. Aimz can’t even defend herself and referee Lars Larsson interjects himself, pulling the 300-pound maniac off of Aimz. But Chainz shoves Lars away, stalking Aimz again. This time, Aimz manages to kick Chainz in the testicles again, and manages to take him down with a Drop Toehold, throttling his neck across the bottom rope. “The Darcinator” is on the ring apron now, charging at Chainz and drops a leg across the back of Chainz’s neck, applying more damage across the throat. This gives Aimz ample opportunity to work the pain out of her arm, bounce off the ropes and administer another Hemlock in Chainz, kicking Chainz back into the ring. She’s on her feet on the ring apron, tops onto the top rope, does a springboard and does a 450 in the air, but Chainz rolls out of the way before Aimz connects with the Dead Aim.
Jeff Marx: HA HA HA! Aimz missed the Dead Aim. She doesn’t have a dead aim after all!
Zsasz: You’re trying too hard, Marx. Simplify your quips more.
Jeff Marx: It wasn’t... even... a “quip”...
Dave Kern: Another burn from Zsasz.
Jeff Marx: SHUT UP, DAVE!!! You should be on my side here!
Dave Kern: Chainz has regained his composure, locking in an Ankle Lock on Aimz!
Steven Smith: BOCA~!
Dave Kern: Darcy Crisis is in the ring now, throwing a boot right in Chainz’s face!
Steven Smith: BOCA~!
Zsasz: And Anton Assault is on the top rope, and he perform and exquisite Tornado Kick, catching Darcy Crisis right in the face!
Steven Smith: BOCA~!
Jeff Marx: SHUT UP, SMITH!!!
Steven Smith: What?! I’m getting all my BOCA~!’s out before I leave AWC!
All hell is breaking loose in this Main Event match! Mike “Chainz” Sloan is in his partner’s face. The Frontier champion, Anton Assault, simply throws a spinning back kick, doubling his partner over, then spins around again, clocking Chainz in the side of the head with a Spinning Japanese Wizard! Chainz falls unconscious and Assault rolls his partner out of the ring.
Zsasz: That’s an interesting way to subdue an unhinged monster - render him unconscious.
Dave Kern: Anton Assault and Chainz’s attempt to coexist as a Duo has been thrown out the window! Both of these men are not on the same page, and it’s going to lead to their demise if they don’t get their act together!
Steven Smith: My man, Anton Assault, is doing just fine. It’s that asshole, Chainz that’s screwing everything up.
Zsasz: Of course he screws everything up, Steven Smith. He’s a walking screw-up. He was even as screw-up at birth.
Jeff Marx: Now that’s hitting below the belt, and you complain that my comments are horrible, Dave.
Aimz manages to tag herself out and Darcy Crisis is in the ring. Anton Assault is about to administer an attack on “The Darcinator,” but Mike “Chainz” Sloan regains his consciousness and tags himself in the match. He enters the ring and runs Chainz over with a powerful Clothesline. “The Lion” has a great desire to throw a heavy knee into Chainz’s back, breaking his spine in half and make him a paraplegic, but voted against it. He decided to let Chainz have his fun. He can’t control the raving lunatic anyway. “Mr. CKD” goes to his respected corner as Chainz goes to town on Crisis, kicking and punching him. Chainz gets DC to his feet, grabs his left arm and pulls him in, delivering a Short-arm Clothesline. Still grasping onto his arm, Chainz yanks “D to the C” back to his feet and administers two Short-arm Clotheslines - yanking him up and putting him down. Chainz yanks Crisis back up to his feet, turns him around and locks in a Rear Naked Choke, dropping backward and wrapping his legs around Crisis’ waist with a Leg Grapevine.
Dave Kern: Chainz has a Rear Naked Choke on Darcy Crisis with a Leg Grapevine to keep Darcy where he wants him.
Zsasz: That is probably the saddest excuse of a Rear Naked Choke I’ve ever seen. Look at his form - it’s all wrong. It’s simply not perfect.
Dave Kern: And your Rear Naked Choke is?
Steven Smith: Naked.
Zsasz: Precisely.
Steven Smith: WOW!
Jeff Marx: REALLY?
Zsasz: Oh pardon me, I was ignoring those idiots, Kern. Mine is perfect. My opponent would submit before I dropped backward with a Leg Grapevine. Sloan doesn’t the choke tight enough, his biceps aren’t around the carotid arteries and Darcy Crisis has enough wiggle room to break out of the Leg Grapevine. Chainz’s submission skills are mediocre at best. Simply deplorable.
Chainz manages to slip his biceps around Darcy Crisis’ neck, squeezing tightly around the carotid arteries. Before DC taps out, Aimz flies in, burying a knee in Chainz’s face, forcing him to break the hold. Chainz is slow to get to his feet, but gets to a vertical base nonetheless. Aimz throws a kick from her left foot, purposely having it caught by Chain. With Aimz’s free foot, she hops into the air, turns her body to the left and clocks Chainz in the back of the head with an Inzuigiri. Chainz falls to the mat, clutching the back of his head.
Zsasz: Lovely Inzuigiri by Aimz. She got Sloan good with that Japanese maneuver.
Jeff Marx: And look at her fleeing from the ring like a coward! That’s right, bitch, run away!
Dave Kern: She’s going back to her corner, Jeff. Lighten up.
Steven Smith: Darcy Crisis is crawling towards Chainz! I think he’s going for a cover. He drapes an arm!
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Chainz shoots a shoulder up! Darcy Crisis is on his feet now, picking up Chainz. Going behind him, he locks him a bicep choke/Half Nelson combo, otherwise known as a Kata Hajime, or a Tazmission. DC then steps over to his right, standing next to Chainz and drops backward with an Inverted DDT!
Dave Kern: Mind Crisis by Darcy Crisis!
Jeff Marx: DAMMIT! She-he hit the Mind Crisis on Chainz!
Zsasz: Typical of Chainz to fall to a maneuver where he plenty time to battle out of. That should you why I need to unlock his potential. What I’m seeing now is utter garbage.
After hitting the Mind Crisis, Darcy Crisis sits Chainz up, grabs and arm and drops back, wrapping his legs around his arm, head and neck, straightening the arm out and applying his Darcinator Triangle Choke. When DC has it locked in tight, Anton Assault comes to the rescue, throwing a hammer fist that could’ve easily broke DC’s nose. Crisis breaks the hold, drags Chainz’s limp 300 pounds into their corner and goes onto the outside. He tags himself in and enters the ring. “The Darcinator” rolls into his corner and tags his girlfriend in.
Dave Kern: Both Anton Assault and Aimz are squaring off once again in the middle of the ring!
Jeff Marx: And Aimz will have the same fate that she suffered, only this time, her arm will get broken.
Zsasz: I don’t know about that, Marx. Aimz is one crafty individual.
Aimz charges at Anton Assault, jumps into the air and delivers a Dropkick, but Anton swats her away, sending down onto the mat. He sits her up, locking in a Kata Hajime. He then yanks her up to her feet, swings her around like a rag doll and finally pops his hips, throwing Aimz over his head with the Kata Hajime Suplex, or Tiger Suplex ‘98. Aimz flips backwards, landing hard onto the mat front first. She’s clutching at her stomach and chest as the result from the impact.
Dave Kern: Textbook Tiger Suplex ‘98 by Anton Assault! Aimz is in trouble!
Jeff Marx: Of course she’s in trouble! Anton Assault has been an unstoppable machine since he joined AWC.
Steven Smith: Indeed Jeff, and Anton is gonna hold onto that title for a long time.
As Aimz slowly recovers from Tiger Suplex ‘98, Anton Assault is in a low crouch, keeping his eyes locked on Aimz. She gets to her feet, not realizing that she’s walking towards the Frontier champion. “Double A” takes a step forward, leaps into the air, and catches Aimz square in the jaw with a thrust kick. Aimz falls to the mat, appearing to be out cold after eating Assault’s aerial trust kick.
Jeff Marx: Blackout Kick by Anton Assault! That’s a move we seldom see, and he broke it out of his repertoire tonight! And that slut is not moving!
Steven Smith: Darcy Crisis is in the ring, coming to his girlfriend’s rescue!
Zsasz: Only to be halted by a spinning aerial back knuckle.
What a beautiful spinning aerial back knuckle it was! When Darcy Crisis entered the ring, he started to charge at Anton Assault. But Assault leapt into the air, extended his right arm, did a twist in midair and rocked DC in the face with his clenched fist! Now with Crisis incapacitated, the Frontier champion runs over to Aimz, gets her onto her front and grabs her already injured arm. He straddles the arm, pulling it backward, hooking it underneath his arm, and stretching it over his knee. He crosses one leg over the arm behind his ankle, stands on his tip-toes, and then violently drops onto his knees, hyperextending the arm. Aimz becomes fully alert now, screaming in pain.
Dave Kern: Nigerian Arm Bar by Anton Assault, and Aimz is awake, feeling the excruciating pain shooting through her arm and shoulder!
Steven Smith: I... I think I heard her arm snap when Anton dropped to his knees.
Jeff Marx: Chainz just broke up the move! Wait, Chainz broke up the maneuver?! WHAT THE HELL?!
What the hell is right. Chainz dives into the ring and breaks up the Nigerian Arm Bar finisher. He picks up Assault, kicks him in the gut and executes two consecutive Power Bombs on the Frontier champion.
Jeff Marx: Chainz just pulled off Chain Reaction on his partner. What the hell is going on?!
Dave Kern: Who the hell knows with Chainz! He does what he wants when he wants!
Darcy Crisis tags himself in and enters the ring, going for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Referee Lars Larsson immediately calls for the bell, and “You Give Love a Bad Name” by Atreyu plays on the PA system. Darcy Crisis shoots his arms in the air, and then looks over at Aimz, whose laying on the mat, screaming in pain with her arm twisted in a grotesque angle.
Dave Kern: ...Oh my God... I think... I think Anton Assault has broken Aimz’s arm with his Nigerian Arm Bar.
Jeff Marx: Of course he didn’t break her arm, you sap! It’s just the camera angle!
Dave Kern: She still looks badly hurt!
Steven Smith: What an unfortunate turn of events for Aimz!
Darcy Crisis is screaming for help from the back. EMTs are filing out of the back, gathering around Aimz to load her onto the stretcher. Chainz is standing in the corner with a sick smile on his face. He pushes all the EMTs out of the way, throws a heavy boot into Darcy Crisis’ face and starts kicking at Aimz’s arm.
Dave Kern: Oh c’mon, goddammit! That man is a sick son of a bitch! He’s attacking a poor, defenseless woman whose arm may or may not be broken!
Zsasz: Indeed he is, and I’m going to put a stop to this.
Zsasz gets to his feet, removing the small headset from his head and enters the ring. He grabs a hold of Chainz and throws him onto the mat with such force he could’ve seriously injured the man. Instead, Chainz’s reaction is a mixture of horror and anger, realizing how strong Zsasz is. Zsasz simply flashes his signature grin at Chainz, leaves the ring and heads backstage. Chainz sits there with a dumbfounded look on his face, trying to comprehend what just happened.
Jeff Marx: Aw damn it Zsasz... that idiot ruins everything.
Steven Smith: That face speaks one thousand words, ladies and gentlemen!
Dave Kern: Indeed it does, Steve!
Jeff Marx: You save your most useful comment for the very end.
Dave Kern: All Zsasz did was throw Chainz onto the mat and did nothing else. Perhaps Zsasz is playing mind games with Chainz! Folks, we’re out of time! See you again next time!
The Doors Have Eyes...
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, ???
AUTHOR: ???
Sitting quivering in her room, Sasha Volkyeva takes a long hit from a bottle of Russia’s finest… her nerves had been shot earlier… she needed time to think… time to…
…Who was that?
At the end of the hallway a large figure stands ominously looking into the Mother Russia’s ‘private’ office. His large mane of dreadlocks are unkempt, yet neatly maintained. A white Rugby shirt clings tightly to his tort and thick torso, the palm tree of the Fijian national team the only visible part. Each bicep looks as if from rock, each contour beautifully sculpted, and his eyes… what eyes. They pierced Sasha Volkyeva’s gaze and delved into her soul, her very being, evoking that same sense of fear she had experienced earlier in the night…
… and then… vamoose…
Gone.
Sasha Volkyeva: You are not going to escape that easily my friend.
Charging from the room Sasha heads toward the end of the corridor looking left and right, she sprints toward his direction.
Sasha Volkyeva: Where… are… you…? WHO ARE YOU?!
Whirling around her paranoia finally overwhelms her, the stress of the day finally taking its toll. Slumping against a wall before sliding down to her haunches Sasha releases a slight whimper as tears well up in her eyes. She wanted to prove them wrong, prove him wrong, and prove that she could do it. Pearl with his amazing first show… and now this debacle – she hoped this wasn’t a sign of things to come. Her eyes dropped to a small card inches from her right foot. A coconut tree was emblazoned on the back in black, set against the snow white background… the flipside…
GAUntil next time… sleep well…
Sasha recoiled at the words. Did he know where she slept? How did he know her? What were his motives? Why was he doing this…?
Sasha Volkyeva: You are not going to win Mr. GA… this is only the beginning…
Staring at her from a doorway… he heard every word… a smile crept across his face… she… was… his…
“The beginning indeed…”