Fresh! Results13th June 2006
"You've Got One Line... Just... Get It Right!"
FEATURING: ???
AUTHORS: PIERRE HYDE AND ???
Fresh! starts off with a view of an ass.
It's not just any ass, nor is it a bare ass. It's not a donkey, nor is it an entire person who is thought to have ass-like qualities. It's a perfectly normal (if slightly podgy) ass, but it is covered in bright spandex. Red on one cheek; blue on the other. And each cheek has a letter "K" adorning it in spectacular gold.
We zoom out to see a familiar face standing, hands on hips, wearing long spandex tights, his ass being adorned by twin "K"s. And he turns around.
Kris Krimzon: Yeah, Bitch is back, krisses! I mean Kris is back, b--- wait, can I redo that?
Pearl: (o/c; irritated) Kris, we're live.
Kris Krimzon: Are you kidding me? FUCK! Well, um, hi. I'm Kr---
And we cut to the video.
Introduction
FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The AWC logo fills the screen, and then fades away to show a darkened arena. Abrupt fireworks on the stage, cheers, and then the lights suddenly flash bright with the grungy beginnings of “E-Pro” by Beck. The fans in the Scandinavium arena go mental, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of the first year of AWC. All the big spots are there: Hate tossing Pierce Lavelle off the bus in the Streets of London match; Jack Murphy’s flying Bull Charge on Tim Shipley in the Triangles structure; Chainz taking a dive through a glass window at Twilight of the Gods; and many more.
See me coming to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles will hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you’re aiming
Don’t forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you
The Transatlantic title belt fills the screen, momentarily fading through to a shot of Adam Dick, cocking his crowned head to one side as he flicks his eyes from side to side. And then it’s white light.
Dave Kern: Welcome to Fr---
Countdown To The Countdown
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
“Bohemian Like You”.
Dave Kern: ---esh.
Jeff Marx: Here’s something we haven’t heard in a while!
Dave Kern: That’s Pearl’s theme music, folks! Pearl is coming out to talk to us! It's our last night on the East Atlantic tour and we've got a great night of action lined up f---
Jeff Marx: Oh give up, Dave; Pearl came out early, you have an excuse.
On cue, Entertainment Co-Manager David Harber emerges, sporting newly bleached tips and freshly shaved sides to his hair. The Lisbon fans rise in a rapturous ovation for the man whose side they are firmly on in the struggle for control of AWC Entertainment.
Steven Smith: Ooh, doesn’t he look great in that nice flame jacket.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring... DAVID “PEARL” HARBER!
Brunt flashes Pearl a genuine smile, which the likeable Malibu man returns before jogging up the ring steps and coming through the ropes. Chants of ”PEARL! PEARL! PEARL!” are already building.
Pearl: Hey everybody... I haven’t done this in a while, so it’s cool that you all remember me!
The fans laugh.
Jeff Marx: But it wasn’t even funny...
Pearl: It’s good of you to come out here to see us even when Portugal are right in the middle of their soccer World Cup tournament!
Dave Kern: The fans are firmly on Pearl’s side, Jeff!
Harber waits for the applause of his good attempt (and not entire failure) at a good-natured reference to World Cup 2006 to die down before getting down to more serious matters.
Pearl: So Divide And Conquer’s coming up in ten days...
The expected pop comes from the Portuguese, but as it tails off a few boos are audible.
Steven Smith: OoooHHH! What’s THAT for?
Dave Kern: Some of the fans not pleased with the Divide And Conquer mention... perhaps something to do with Sasha Volkyeva’s unpopularity?
Steven Smith: Or that the show’s gonna be in Canada! Tonight is the last show of the current European tour!
Jeff Marx: At last...
Dave Kern: That’s right folks, you won’t be hearing this commentary team again until the July 4th Fresh! in Paris; be sure to tune in as part of your Independence Day celebrations...
Jeff Marx: Oh, good try Dave.
Pearl: And I got to thinking... the championship scenes have gotten a little quiet...
Jeff Marx: They have?!
The fans seem to like where this is headed.
Pearl: The Alliance titles are vacant... Ellis Nash is Frontier champion, yet she has a Transatlantic title shot tonight as Adam Dick defends...
Boos for the mention of the King.
Pearl: Red Rock is doing such a good job of hanging onto his Relentless belt that we can’t even see him losing it! Right?
Right. Red Rock gets a rousing cheer.
Pearl: So I’ve got a couple of pretty big announcements to make. As you all know, after Divide And Conquer we’re gonna be splitting AWC. Only temporarily! But it does mean that you won’t be waiting around to see AWC live action when we’re the other side of the Atlantic... instead the East Atlantic and West Atlantic tours will both be constantly running Fresh! every two weeks on each. You’ll get a smaller line-up for each, so you’ll be seeing more of each and every one of your favourite wrestlers!
Jeff Marx: Wow, he really is scraping the barrel to try and make this roster split sound like a good thing.
And for all Pearl’s efforts, the fans aren’t convinced. So here’s the trump card.
Pearl: So I said to myself last night, what about something new for the summer? What about something for both tours, that everybody can enjoy? What about something that’ll really mean something? That’s when I thought up the Countdown trophy.
Dave Kern: The Countdown trophy!
Steven Smith: What’s that?
Dave Kern: I have no idea.
The fans’ cheer is only short-lived: they want to hear what it actually is.
Pearl: The Countdown trophy is a special cup that’s going to be contested on every Fresh! show right up until Coast To Coast. That’s right – both tours, East and West. So we have a touring champion. Every Countdown trophy match is gonna have a special stipulation attached to it – a five-minute time limit, and that’s gonna be counted down live on the big screen.
Jeff Marx: Hence, Countdown. Ingenious.
Pearl: And after the five minutes are up – just like at the Anniversary Show; just like in the Carnage Cage; it’s sudden-death. After five minutes you’ll hear the bell go, just once, to signify the beginning of the sudden-death period. From then, you only need a one-count fall to win the match – and the trophy!
Dave Kern: There we have it folks! The Countdown trophy for the summer!
The response from the crowd is pretty positive.
Pearl: There’s also going to be a very special prize on the line for whoever is champion when we get around to Coast To Coast, when the trophy is retired. Now! Divide And Conquer! At the pay-per-view we’re going to see a Four Way Elimination match under special Countdown rules! That’s five minutes, and sudden-death for thirty seconds afterward – and then five minutes with normal rules, and sudden-death for thirty seconds... wash, rinse and repeat until there’s one wrestler left standing, and this’ll decide the first Countdown trophy holder! And I’ll be announcing the competitors for that match via the website on Thursday.
Steven Smith: I'm going to go with excitement!
Pearl: Hey hey! Hey!
Harber holds up a hand to quieten the fans.
Pearl: I'm sure I said I have a couple of announcements... well that was only one of them.
Jeff Marx: Ooh. Bitchin’.
Pearl: The Alliance titles... vacated by Celestial Fury. That leaves us with a championship to award. Now we have some great duos in AWC.
Jeff Marx: (rubbing his eyes) We do?
Pearl: The Furious Fists Of God!
Boos for the Martin brothers, who will both participate in the Four Way Fury Transatlantic title match later tonight.
Pearl: Pleasure And Pain!
The Russells get some mild cheers, having achieved their first victory last week.
Pearl: The Legion!
Little response, except ironic cheers from some pleased that this Sean Underwood-led four-piece were the ones to remove the woefully incompetent Collision Course from AWC.
Pearl: And we hired a couple new duos you might not even know about it, so listen up – I guess this counts as a special bonus announcement for you! One is The New Black!
Jeff Marx: Er, who?
Pearl: The New Black, comprised of Lacuna Debris and Angelus Sorrow!
Immediate cheers.
Dave Kern: Lacuna Debris? Seriously?
Jeff Marx: Er, who?
Dave Kern: Former UWF TV champion!
Steven Smith: Hehehe...
Pearl: And secondly, the team of Shawn Singleton and Rustin Slade!
Dave Kern: Ah, of 4WW’s Triumvirate... they must have signed AWC contracts now that 4WW’s closed.
Jeff Marx: Gee, that was insightful Dave.
Pearl: You can expect to see all five of those duos AND MORE at Divide And Conquer! Because I'm now officially announcing the first ever Sudden-Death Invitational Alliance Rumble!
Cheers. Yeah. They’re getting pretty tired.
Jeff Marx: Pearl likes this new sudden-death concept a little too much, I fear!
Pearl: It’s a free-for-all into which a new duo will enter every thirty seconds. You don’t even need to sign up! All five official duos are scheduled to compete, but this is an open invitational to every AWC wrestler out there. Find yourself a partner for the night, and you’re free to enter. It doesn’t stop you from having another match on the show; all you gotta do is show up at the curtain with a partner and wait your turn to come out for a shot at the Alliance titles. And the match? Sudden-death rules. Pinfall only, in the ring, no disqualifications...
Steven Smith: This sounds like my kind of match! Want to enter, Dave?
Dave Kern: No...
Steven Smith: Aw.
Pearl: It’s as simple and exciting as that! So at Divide And Conquer, we will see new Alliance champions. We will decide the first Countdown trophy holder. I can confirm that we’ve signed the match you heard about last week at Day Of The Devil – Darcy Crisis versus Garbage Bag Johnny! Tonight’s Frontier Four Way Fury winner will face Ellis Nash for that title belt! – and if that’s Darcy, we’re moderately screwed! You’ll see a Relentless title match! And of course a Transatlantic title match! So does that sound worth tuning in for or what?!
Harber tosses the microphone to James Brunt and departs to the sound of the Dandy Warhols.
Jeff Marx: Well, depends if they’ve hiked up the pay-per-view fees...
Pearl: Some huge announcements there to kick off this week’s Fresh! Now on with the show!
Words For The Wordless
FEATURING: ANTON ASSAULT, LUIS FERRARA, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: OBINNA O.
Anton Assault stalks down the hallway alone, shifting his weighty black duffle bag so that it sits more easily on his broad shoulder. As always, his face is grim. He wears his traditional multicolored dashiki over his torso, but that is the only thing he is wearing other than his wrestling gear: shorts, boots, and knuckle gloves. A few stagehands find themselves in his way and quickly scurry off at his imposing presence: his whole expression is a menacing scowl, he doesn't need to snap at these men to make them move.
He rounds a corner, stomping onward resolutely. His mind is clouded with many things at the moment, but right now, he's got to get his things down so that he can report for tonight's duty. And that is precisely the moment that he comes face-to-face with Miss Maddy Estelle. The airheaded, vainglorious AWC reporter looks relieved that she's found the Lion and fixes her hair a bit before extending the microphone.
Maddy Estelle: Hello, Anton, may I have a word with you?
Maddy looks hopeful as Anton casually draws his gaze over her. She feels a shiver down her spine, but she manages to grit her teeth and stand her ground.
Maddy Estelle: Uh… Mr. Assault? I…
Anton lifts his chin dangerously and lets his duffle bag slip a bit. He flexes his fists and makes a small shooing gesture that Maddy ignores. She does take a step back, though, a bit afraid.
Maddy Estelle: I'm just doing my job! I… I have a few questions to as — EEK!
Maddy recoils as Anton's hand shoots forward — and is caught by a brown hand from the side! Luis Ferrara, dressed in his usual immaculate white zoot suit, pushes his client's hand down and straightens his jacket. Luis turns a lustful eye on the reporter and smirks.
Luis Ferrara: Fuhgive'm, girl. He ain't all right right now, y'understand?
Maddy nods her head to affirm that she does indeed understand.
Luis Ferrara: Ain't much for talkin'. So I'll tell ya what: we'll let the Lion run along and I'll answer your questions.
Luis glances up at Anton and the Nigerian shrugs his shoulders, moving swiftly past Maddy Estelle and down the corridor. Maddy watches him leave interestedly before turning back to the Venezuelan, who is much more her height. She clears her throat and straightens her hair again.
Maddy Estelle: Well, Luis, I… uh, the obvious question would be what exactly is bothering Anton?
Luis Ferrara: Like I said: a multitude o' things.
Maddy gives him a curious look.
Maddy Estelle: But you didn't---
Luis Ferrara: Shit at home, y'understand, shit at work. Shit everywhere. On th' news. He's just worked up, and this whole guard duty thing ain't helpin' him out. He's gotta be gettin' ready for his match.
Maddy Estelle: Speaking of matches, Anton hasn't been having the greatest record as of late. He fell to Red Rock in mid-May in his contest for the Relentless title, and two weeks later he became another notch on Garbage Bag Johnny's win streak. How has this been affecting Anton's mental preparation?
Luis Ferrara scowls, leaning in close to Maddy. She backs up a bit, eyes wide. Luis snorts.
Luis Ferrara: Did you see the Lion, bitch? Did you? 'Cause he was standin' right here, and you looked pretty scared, y'know? Look like you was gonna piss yuhself. So, let me ask you, does that look like a man contented?
Maddy shakes her head.
Luis Ferrara: Does that look like a man who's gonna take any shit?
Maddy shakes her head again, trying to convince Luis conclusively.
Luis Ferrara: That's 'cause he ain't a man contented, y'understand; he ain't a man who's about to swallow no shit. The Lion was never one, but now, he's more on edge than ever. He's angrier than ever. He's stripped away everythin' but that fuckin'… red anger, y'understand, everythin' but that raw fury!
Maddy nods slowly as Luis straightens up again.
Maddy Estelle: So Anton's opponents for tonight — Darcy Crisis, AgentDash, and Aimz — what are Anton's chances against them?
Luis makes a disgusted sound.
Luis Ferrara: The Lion's chances against them!? What are their chances 'gainst him? Before you wrack yuh pretty li'l head thinkin' 'bout it, I'll tell you: negative — fuckin' — zero! The percent is nil! This is a tier that the Lion deserves to have blown past long ago, that people have been screwing him out of forever, that he finally has his chance to get over.
Luis gives her a broad grin.
Luis Ferrara: If you think that Anton's style makes him vulnerable in a multi-man match, youse a goddamn idiot. If you think that Darcy Crisis, Aimz, AgentDash, even deserve to be in the ring at the same time with Anton's talent, you should get out of my building. People keep sayin' that the Lion keeps gettin' shots and blowin' 'em, and here's my response: he keeps earnin' them damn shots and people — nay, the man — is keepin' him down! Every match, the Lion pushes the other guy to th' brink, to the edge where they can't do nothin' but steal the win.
Luis shakes his head for a minute before letting his look rest full on Maddy again.
Luis Ferrara: Watch those matches! Watch 'em again! Look't how the Lion dominates the ring, controls th' other guy, flogs 'im! Watch how he disassembles the guy's fuckin' head! Pow! Punch to th' face! Pow! Kick to the ribs! Pow! Pow! Pow!
Maddy blinks at every emphatic onomatopoeia from the Latino.
Luis Ferrara: So let me ask you a question: if you were lookin' at that, would you be shakin' in your boots?
Maddy nods.
Luis Ferrara: Would you be pissin' yuhself?
Maddy hesitates a bit, but after a second's worth of thinking, she nods.
Luis Ferrara: Those're good reaction's, y'understand, 'cause the Lion ain't someone t' fuck with. When he walks out into that ring — tonight especially — he's got a mission, and that mission is just three words:
Luis Ferrara shows three fingers..
Luis Ferrara: Crush!
Ring finger down.
Luis Ferrara: Kill!!
Index finger down as well, leaving his middle finger standing. He waves it at Maddy as he yells:
Luis Ferrara: DESTROY!!!
Luis reaches forward, using his finger to poke Maddy's breasts before sweeping beside her and disappearing down the hall. Surprised and aghast, Maddy drops the microphone and wraps her arms over her chest, turning on her heel to stare after Anton's manager.
A Message
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, STAGEHAND
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera switches to the backstage area where Vince Jones can be seen standing near the refreshment stand. He snatches up an apple as an AWC employee walks up to Vince and taps him gently on the shoulder. Vince Jones slowly turns around and appears a bit angered by his presence.
Vince Jones: Yeah! What the hell do you want, huh? Can't you see V. Jones a lil busy over here?
Stagehand: I'm sorry to bother you but I was told to deliver you this message.
The AWC employee presents Vince Jones with a note and Vince looks down at it a bit uneasily.
Vince Jones: Who the hell this shit from, huh?
Stagehand: (shrugs) I have no clue.
Vince snatches it from his hands and beings looking over it from top to bottom as the AWC employee tries to peek over his shoulder to view the message. Vince Jones notices the AWC employee's curiosity and raises his backhand to him in fury.
Vince Jones: Hey! You mind!? Get the hell on with yo nosy ass! Damn!
Stagehand: Sorry...
Vince snarls at the man as he exits the scene. Vince turns his attention to the letter once again and begins reading.
Vince Jones: (reading) You think you could get rid of me, Vince? Well, think again! You're gonna pay for your actions, dearly, in due time.
Vince flares up in rage, balls up the sheet of paper, and chucks it against the wall.
Vince Jones: What!?!? Ah hell nah! Fuck that shit! Let The Violence find out some bitch made lookin' to throw down tonight! V. Jones wish a mahfucka would try to roll up on V tonight and pull somethin'! (begins cracking his knuckles) In fact, that shit ain't goin' down cuz V bout to get the drop on this mahfucka before his bitch ass gets the opportunity to pull somethin' on V. Jones!
Steve Starr vs Vidar vs Horazon
STIPULATION: THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Time for the return of the Newcomers’ Three Way Fury match, and former PRIMEate Steve Starr, highly-rated tournament regular Horazon and one quarter of the Legion, Vidar, are an altogether more promising trio than those who would step out to the ring when this sort of match was a regular fixture in AWC times past.
It’s Horazon who takes an immediate grip on the match; Starr’s intense presence is undermined by his total lack of any sort of biography for the match writer to go by and as he and Vidar brawl it out Horazon can run rings around them, most notably coming off the top rope with a diving double clothesline after just a minute. His cover on Starr is unsuccessful, however, Vidar throwing himself at Horazon with flying fists and cruel intentions, and for a few moments Starr endears himself to the Legion by teaming with Vidar, taking Horazon out of the match for the time being with a devastating double powerbomb. Starr’s ensuing uppercut to Vidar is not so endearing, but perhaps Starr turning this back to a brawl is a mistake on his part as it’s clearly the area in which Vidar is most comfortable. He has Starr reeling, and Starr is only saved from an embarrassing fall backwards over the ropes by Horazon’s recovering superkick taking out Vidar from behind. Horazon then grabs a defenceless Starr and slings him into the opposite ropes, but the former PRIME Intense champion is able to leapfrog Horazon and comes off the next set of ropes with a dropkick to send Horazon to the mat. A close two-count follows.
Vidar gets involved again, and he and Starr send Horazon into the ropes before Vidar follows up with a crude cross-body that does this time send a body over and to the outside. It doesn’t help Vidar, though; as he turns, Starr brings him up and over with a powerslam and takes an early three-count to mark him down as the best of AWC’s new signings... for the moment. Outside the ring, Horazon is seething.
Peeping D'avid
FEATURING: D'AVID, TERESA TOMAS, RED ROCK
AUTHORS SONYA AND JOSH Y.
Running water is heard; actually it’s a shower. The name on the locker room door reads ‘TERESA TOMAS’. Inside her locker room stands Red Rock’s friend, D’avid… watching the Redneck Princess’s slender figure silhouette by the beige shower curtain. He’s not saying much in fear of getting caught, so he just stands there tilting his head slightly as she scrubs her stomach and chest with her soapy wash cloth. D’avid licks his lips.
Walking up the corridor is Red Rock. A lost expression plays on his face. He isn’t lost of course, but he has lost something… erm someone which of course is D’avid. As we all know, Red without D’avid is well, lost. Walking past Teresa’s locker room, Red Rock notices her door is slightly ajar. He hears the shower running and would normally walk past, but something stops him as his curious eyes glance inside the locker room. There stood his friend D’avid watching the shower curtain with his hand down…
Red Rock: For fuck’s sake…
Red hesitates, but quietly steps into Teresa’s locker room. He grabs D’avid’s arm before anything else takes place. Startled, D’avid swallows a yelp and quickly sips his pants, his face red as a turnip.
Red Rock: (whispering) What the HELL are you doing?
D’avid: (whispering back) Shhh… She’ll hear you. Heh!
Red Rock: D’avid! You’re going to get me in trouble!
Red rolls his eyes and grasping D’avid by the arm, he ushers him out of the locker room as quickly as quietly as possible.
The water is shut off a hand reaches for a towel and the shower curtain pushed open. D’avid runs down the all to the nearest men’s room, but Red isn’t so fortunate. Red Rock’s eyes spring open with panic upon realizing he looks like the sex pest D’avid is.
Teresa Tomas: Hey Red... Umm… Can I help you with something?
Red turns around and swallows hard… very hard. Standing before her is a blond hair blue eyed country girl with wet hair and nothing on but a towel asking HIM if he needed anything. Now any sane man would jump on the opportunity, but who ever said Red was all that bright in the first place?
Red Rock: I uhhh… We… I mean… I wanted to welcome you back and wish you luck with your match tonight against Gadget.
Before Teresa can thank him, Red rushes out the door and into the same men’s room as D’avid. Red Rock stares at D’avid giving him a cold and irked glare.
Red Rock: D’avid! I don’t mind you perving on people at home but I have to work with her!
D’avid: But Red, I fucking love her! I want to be like this!
D’avid begins humping the air with an intense look on his face making noises that can be likened to a horny jack Russell.
Red Rock: Damn it D’avid if people knew you did that you’d never get laid!
D’avid: I’m going to go back and ask her if she wants to go two’s on a bastard!
Red Rock: No.
Red Rock snatches D’avid’s arm and drags him away like a naughty child, and away from any female activity.
The Incredible Machine
FEATURING: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY, BITTY
AUTHOR: JOSH K.
Garbage Bag Johnny and Bitty are sitting inside the Royal Court’s locker room, passing a joint back and forth on a leather couch.
Bitty: Man, dis leather couch would be much mo’ comfy if it was Platinum, aight?
Garbage Bag Johnny: Look, Bitty, I don’t understand a word you’re saying.
Garbage Bag Johnny inhales and lets out a cloud of smoke.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Now remember, Bitty, for this machine to work, I need a few more pieces. I need you to run to the store and pick up four feet of steel tubing, some of those elastic straps with hooks on the end, a few rolls of duct tape, and a shovel.
Bitty: Whatchou need a shovel fo’, nucka?
Garbage Bag thinks for a bit, wondering why, in fact, he would need a shovel. Maybe it would come in handy as a contingency plan. Who knows, really, when you’ll need a shovel?
Garbage Bag Johnny: For digging.
Bitty nods and takes off for the store after trying to give GBJ an elaborate handshake that GBJ fumbles through.
International Orange
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, STAGEHAND
AUTHOR: ???
He paced back and forth for what seemed like an eternity.
Pearl: Pick up… pick up…
His head tilted in that peculiar ‘on the phone’ manner, his face adopting the contortions of a man needing to communicate.
Pearl: Come on… pick the god damn phone up.
Pearl unusually grew irritated. His frenetic pacing resembled some crazy dance, a tarantella perhaps.
Pearl: I buy you a phone… so you answer it… not… leave… it… off… or…
The muffled tones of an answering machine… Great.
Pearl: It’s off, don’t do it… if you get this message… don’t do it.
One of those eavesdropping inconspicuous members of crew whirls into the view of the camera. Pearl jerks his head in the direction of the dainty stagehand.
Stagehand: Mr. Harber, sir, what was all that about?
Pearl flashes one of those movie star grins behest of someone… well… in the movies…
Pearl: My damn stock options… stockbrokers… never around when you need them. Nothing major.
His smile petered off…
Pearl: What can I do you for?
Stagehand: Oh, just some aesthetic stuff… colour schemes…
Pearl gives a look of disdain suggesting incompetence… raising a reassuring smile he heads off out of camera shot.
Pearl: (slightly out of earshot) I’m quite a fan of orange…
Gadget vs Teresa Tomas
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Dave Kern: Welcome back to more Fresh! action here in Portugal! Coming up next, we’ll see Teresa Tomas, who should be one half of the AWC Alliance champions, take on Sgt. Jacobs, or Gadget, whatever name you want to call him. “The Top Rope Temptress” was originally scheduled to be in the Carnage Cage match last week, but due to injuries, she pulled herself out of the match. (She was? – Ed.)
Jeff Marx: Not like that murdering harlot was gonna win the match. Teresa Tomas sucks and she should be fired from the federation! – oh, I mean Club.
Steven Smith: Oh get off of Teresa Tomas killing Bob!
Jeff Marx: I’ll get off Teresa Tomas killing her manager after I get off your slut mom!
Steven Smith: DON’T YOU BE TALKING ABOUT MY MAMA!
Dave Kern: ENOUGH BOTH OF YOU! God you two are the most immature partners I’ve had the displeasure of working with! Let’s go down to the ring where James Brunt is standing by. I can’t believe you two...
James Brunt: The following is a singles match...
“Sweet Child o’ Mine” by Guns N Roses starts to play as Sgt. Jacobs, also known as Gadget, steps onto the stage, looking out into the Portuguese crowd. The fans give him a mixed reaction as he walks down to the ring.
James Brunt: First, from Newark, New Jersey, weighing 221 pounds... SERGEANT “GADGET” JACOBS!
Sgt. Jacobs rolls into the ring and enters his respected corner.
James Brunt: His opponent...
The famous horn of the Dukes of Hazard’s General Lee seeps through the P.A. system, blasting “Dixie.” This is followed by Waylon Jennings picking the intro to “Good Ole Boys.” A record scratching abruptly stops the Southern anthem, followed by utter silence. Without warning a cannon is heard blasting through the speakers and the lights begin to flicker violently, “Big Guns” by AC/DC floods the building. Teresa Jane Tomas, Top Rope Temptress, THE American Woman, and AWC’s own Redneck Princess marches down the entrance ramp with a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. She stops mid-way, takes a long swig and chucks the nearly full bottle of booze over her shoulder into the crowd for a thirsty fan to enjoy before she completes her journey to the ring.
James Brunt: From Nashville, Tennessee, weighing 145 pounds, she is “THE American Woman...” TERESA TOMAS!
Dave Kern: The fans are on their feet, cheering Teresa Tomas on! She’s loved here in Portugal as she is everywhere else in the world!
Jeff Marx: MURDERER!
Dave Kern: Say “murderer” one more time and I’m gonna have to open a can of whoop-ass on you, Marx.
Jeff Marx: I’d like to see you try---
Dave Kern smacks Jeff Marx in the back of his head, sending him face first into the commentary table.
Jeff Marx: OW! GODDAMMIT!
Jeff Marx gets to his feet, tackling Dave Kern out of his chair. They’re both rolling around on the floor, going to town on each other. Steven Smith watches on, shaking his head.
Steven Smith: Folks, Dave Kern and Jeff Marx are indisposed at the moment. Looks like I’m gonna have to call the action from here.
Referee Selena Sumner calls for the bell, and both Teresa Tomas and Sgt. Jacobs circle the ring, sizing each other up. The step into the center of the ring, locking up. Jacobs, being the bigger and stronger wrestler, gains the upper hand by slapping on a Headlock, cinching it in deep. Double T breaks out of the Headlock, sends Gadget into the ropes and delivers a Dropkick right into Gadget’s face. The fans are on their feet, cheering for the “Redneck Princess.” Using her momentum to her advantage, she runs over to the ropes nearest to her opponent, springboards off the top rope and executes a textbook Springboard Leg Drop! She goes for the first cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Kick-out by Sgt. Jacobs.
Steven Smith: Lovely move by Teresa Tomas, everyone’s favorite “Redneck Princess,” except for Jeff Marx, who’s getting his faced pounded in by Dave Kern’s face. Go Davy go! Show that nihilist asshole what for... Mmm, nice, tight assholes.
Meanwhile, Teresa Tomas picks up Sgt. Jacobs, throwing stiff forearm shots, rocking him backward. Jacobs manages to block one of the forearm shots, burying his knee into Teresa’s midsection, then clubs her down with a forearm of his own, sending her down onto the mat. He picks up “The Top Rope Temptress,” whipping her into the ropes. Tomas jumps onto the top rope, does a backflip, catches Gadget with the Head Scissors and takes him down with the Head Scissors Takedown, and the crowd is on their feet, chanting her name...
“TO-MAS! TO-MAS! TO-MAS! TO-MAS! TO-MAS!”
Steven Smith: Teresa Tomas is showing off why she’s “The Top Rope Temptress,” and Jeff Marx is showing Dave Kern why he’s the “Great Marx.” Damn, Marx, you’re gonna Kern! No choking!
Teresa Tomas goes for another cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Sgt. Jacobs Gadget Stupid-Jobbing-Asshole kicks out after the two. Teresa Tomas gets Jacobs to his feet, snaps him down with a Snapmare and Dropkicks him in the back of his head. Next, she bounces off the ropes and drops a quick elbow into his chest. To finish off her onslaught, she runs over to the ropes, springboards off the top rope and goes for the Moon Sault, but Gadget moves out of the way. Tomas lands on her front, clutching at her breasts and stomach.
Steven Smith: Teresa Tomas lands hard on her boobies and stomach! Poor girl. And I see Dave Kern and Jeff Marx are back at the broadcast table. Welcome back gentlemen.
Dave Kern: Folks, I apologize for my unprofessional attitude. It won’t happen again... unless you want another ass-kicking, Marx.
Jeff Marx: You may win this round, Kern, but just wait, I’ll come back!
Sgt. Jacobs drops an elbow onto the small of Teresa Tomas’ back. Gadget then buries his right knee into her back and pulls back on her face, executing a modified Camel Clutch. Teresa is bellowing in pain as Gadget grinds his knee into the small of his opponent’s back. Referee Selena Sumner is in position, asking Teresa if she wants to surrender. “THE American Woman” refuses to submit to Gadget. Gadget pulls back on the Cross-face, inflicting more pain on Tomas’ face and back. Realizing that Tomas is too stubborn to submit, he slams her face into the canvas.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, Gadget! Show that bitch whose boss!
Dave Kern: Someone fill me in on what’s going on... I’m lost.
Steven Smith: You wouldn’t be lost if you didn’t have that petty fight with Jeffykins!
Jeff Marx: Ugh... Don’t call me “Jeffykins!”
Sgt. Jacobs picks up Teresa Tomas, gets behind her and scoops her up for a Backdrop Suplex, slamming her hard onto the mat. He goes for this first pinfall of the match...
ONE!
TWO!
Teresa Tomas kicks out after the two! Gadget picks up Tomas, whips her into the ropes and telegraphs with a Tilt-a-Whirl Backbreaker! The “Redneck Princess” falls onto the mat, clutching her back. Sgt. Jacobs grabs a handful of Tomas’ sandy blonde hair and gets her to her feet. He takes her down with a Snapmare and kicks her hard in the spine with the Spinal Tap! Gadget bounces off the ropes and delivers a Dropkick right into the back of the head, as if to pay her back from the previous Dropkick she’d given him previously. He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Teresa Tomas shoots the shoulder up!
Jeff Marx: C’mon you damn bimbo! That was three!
Dave Kern: Teresa Tomas gets her shoulder up right before three! That was a close call!
Steven Smith: Indeed it was, Davy! Teresa Tomas is still in this match!
Dave Kern: For future reference, don’t call me Davy, Steven.
Jeff Marx: Okay, Davy. (Snickers)
Dave Kern looks over at Jeff Marx darkly, who immediately shuts up. Meanwhile in the ring, Sgt. Jacobs, Gadget - whatever you want to call him - continues to have the upper hand over Teresa Tomas. He picks up Teresa Tomas, gets behind her and does a Polish Hammer style double sledge right into her back. She bellows out, dropping onto her knees, clutching at her back. He kicks her hard in the back again, sending her front first onto the mat. He leaps into the air and drives a knee into Teresa’s back, making her scream in pain. He rolls her over, going for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Teresa Tomas shoots the shoulder up! She will not be denied!
Jeff Marx: Someone ought to fire Selena Sumner! She can’t count to three, goddammit!
Dave Kern: Careful what you say about Selena Sumner, she’ll give you a hurtin’.
Steven Smith: She will! I saw her put a hurting on some crewmember before the show started. She really kicked his butt!
Jeff Marx: Psh, whatever.
Gadget is on his feet, arguing with referee Selena Sumner, telling her that he’d already beaten Teresa Tomas. Selena tells him otherwise, saying she got her shoulder up right before the three. Without thinking, Sgt. Jacobs puts his hands on the referee by pushing her. Sumner’s rebuttal is simple: A SLAP ACROSS THE FUCKING FACE! This rocks Gadget, sending him backward, giving Teresa the opportunity to roll Gadget up!
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Gadget gets the shoulder!
Jeff Marx: Selena Sumner almost screwed Gadget out of the match! What a bitch!
Dave Kern: That’s what he gets for putting his hands on an official.
Gadget is on his feet, looking over at referee Selena Sumner with shock and anger. He power walks after the referee but Teresa Tomas cuts him off with the Flying Squirrel! Finally, Teresa grabs Gadget’s right arm, twists it and turns so he is on his stomach with his arm twisted. Then she sits down so she's kneeling facing away form Sgt. Jacobs, grabs his leg and pulls it back.
Dave Kern: Southern Comfort! Teresa Tomas has it locked in!
Jeff Marx: C’mon, Gadget! Hang in there! Don’t tap out!
Steven Smith: He’s tapping out! The pain is too great!
Referee Selena Sumner calls for the bell as “Big Guns” by AC/DC starts to play. Ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner.
James Brunt: The winner by submission... TERESA TOMAS!
Jeff Marx: This is all Selena Sumner’s fall! She screwed Gadget out of the match!
Dave Kern: She did no such thing, Kern!
Compatriots? I
FEATURING: LUIS FERRARA, GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY
AUTHORS: OBINNA O. AND JOSH K.
”Whassat… whassat smell?”
Luis Ferrara steps into the hallway, pinching his nose and generally looking disgusted. In his other hand, he holds a white hat that is presently being used as a fan. He narrows his eyes as he makes his way forward, as if he is looking through a thick haze. It was like his aura or something. Suddenly, the object of his displeasure appears before him. Luis sniffs and then gags, leaning against the wall and retching.
GBJ: Hey, man! What's going on?
GBJ goes to put a hand on Luis's shoulder, to distract Luis while both men simultaneously pick each other's pockets with their free hands. Luis places his hat back on his head, a mischievous grin coming to his face.
Luis Ferrara: Hey, Garbage Bag! Whassup, my white trash friend?
GBJ: Nothing much, really. Just… uhh… walking. With my feets. I'm trying to take two steps with my left foot for every three with my right.
Luis blinks as Garbage Bag tries to do this in a circle around him. Luis manages a to force a smile back onto his face.
Luis Ferrara: Uh, yeah, sure, man. Witcha feets. I gotcha. Listen, man, I been thinkin'… whatchoo think about Sasha?
Garbage Bag Johnny gives Luis a long look before smiling broadly.
GBJ: You mean, like, would I do it? Yeah, man, I'd definitely do it. Like, at the drop of a hat. Like, drop your hat, man, and I'd do it. Drop it.
Luis's face screws up confusedly. He holds up a hand, shaking his head.
GBJ: No, go ahead! Drop it! Drop your hat. Drop it like it's hot. It's a hot hat. It's on fire. Your hand is burning up! Just drop it!
Luis grips his forehead, scowling.
Luis Ferrara: No, man! I don't mean that. I mean, like… as a boss, y'understand? Runnin' things an' shit. Whaddyou think uh her?
Garbage Bag Johnny shrugs.
GBJ: I dunno. She's alright. King Dick says she knows what she's doing a lot more than Pearl does.
Luis simply looks dumbfounded. He had thought that if anyone would support him, it would be the Z2H champion! The one who had come through insurmountable odds to get a World title shot! The one who was in touch with the people, as much as that kind of shit angered Luis, should be the one who recognized all this corruption that was spewing from the Ms. Volkswagon's office. Shit! Now it looked like he was back to square one.
Luis Ferrara: So, lemme get this straight: you don't wanna pull down her authority?
GBJ taps his chin in a pensive manner.
GBJ: I wanna pull down her panties... and dust my sweet Zero 2 Hero Trophy Crown with them.
Luis groans, throwing up his hands as he stalks past GBJ. Garbage Bag, meanwhile, stops pointing at his crown, sure now that Luis isn't interested in discussing headwear. He continues walking down the way he was going.
The Future Is Coming I
FEATURING: UNNATURAL SELECTION
AUTHORS: PHIL PORTER AND DUSTIN HUMMEL
The words The future is coming appear in crimson red letters on the big screen. The text seems to be dripping, but it slowly dissipates.
Trapped in purgatory
A lifeless object, alive
Awaiting reprisal
Death will be their acquisition
Dave Kern: This looks like a new signing, folks...
"Raining Blood" by Slayer kicks in over the house public address system, as pyro shoots up from either side of the top of the ramp. A man in jeans, about 6'3", steps out from the curtains. The camera zooms in on his face, showing a set of dark blue eyes. His long brown hair flows as he leads his way out. He is wearing a black shirt with the letters "US" on the front, the name "Hunter" on the back. Next out, a large, brooding man stomps his way through the curtains.
Jeff Marx: Or even, two of them...
His neck is immensely thick, his head bowed down, looking only at the ground ahead of him. He breathes heavily, wearing a pair of black athletic pants and no shirt, revealing numerous scars on his chest and back. He stands beside the first man at the top of the ramp.
Steven Smith: ...or four?!
Striding out through the curtains next are two men, both wearing 4WW t-shirts. Those familiar with that brand recognize them instantly.
Dave Kern: Aha! Singleton & Slade!
The one to the right has his chest is covered in a black "The New Franchise" sleeveless t-shirt with red letters, black tights with "The New Franchise" in red and white, and black boots. The man beside him is wearing a "US" t-shirt as well. All four men stand across the top of the ramp on the stage, and their arms in the air, side by side, while pyro goes off. They saunter slowly down the ramp, taking their time as the fans jeer. Each climbs onto the apron, turns to face the crowd, and then enters in between the ropes. The brooding man dives in after him, leaping to his feet. The first man grabs a microphone.
The Hunter: If you know anything about this business, it is that one company's loss is another company's gain. With the death of one, a phoenix must rise, it must migrate, and it must find a new home. And so we stand before you, we represent that migration. Shawn Singleton, Rustin Slade, Martyr and myself, The Hunter. We are the US.
The crowd, unsure of how to react, cheers those letters, beginning a "U-S-A" chant. The Hunter hands the microphone over to "The New Franchise", Shawn Singleton.
Shawn Singleton: You know, Hunter, it humors me that these people are cheering those letters, but they don't even know what they stand for. You people will applaud anything that we tell you to without so much as giving it a second thought.
The crowd now convinced that they may not know what "US" stands for, but certainly know they don't like this guy, boos.
Shawn Singleton: Exactly.
He shakes his head at the crowd.
Shawn Singleton: Standing before you in this ring is greatness. I wouldn't call us perfection, because perfection doesn't do us justice. Amongst us, there is no flaw. Amongst us, there are no egos, no room for petty disagreements or division. A unit, a faction built on solidarity and excellence. You look at me, and you see a former triple crown champion of the 4WW, you see "The New Franchise", "The Tactical Assassin", Shawn Singleton. You look to my left and you see the best manager in the business, The Hunter. To my left, you're looking at "The Reign Man", the most innovative and technically sound wrestler in this business, Rustin Slade. And behind me, that brooding freak of nature, he is the man-beast known as Martyr.
Aside from a few smatterings of applause, the majority of the crowd engages in a "We don't care!" chant. Shawn chuckles arrogantly, handing the microphone to the man he indicated as Rustin Slade. He raises the microphone to his lips, awaiting for the crowd's chant to subside. Not getting the wish he desires, Rustin speaks into the microphone, regardless, his voice cutting through the crowd like a knife.
Rustin Slade: Such a cute little chant you guys have going there. I didn't expect any of you ingrates to appreciate the amount of talent in this ring. It's all the same with each and every one of you, isn't it? You look to your heroes for guidance, but forget that it's not always the heroes who have the power. You're looking at four proofs of Darwin's theory of "survival of the fittest." Your heroes are nothing but the genetic waste that was left at the bottom of the pool.
The crowd begins booing louder. Rustin has a small smile forming on his face. He raises the microphone once again to his lips. He looks at Shawn Singleton.
Rustin Slade: Couldn't warm this crowd if you were cremated with 'em, huh Shawn?
Rustin passes the microphone back to Shawn Singleton.
Shawn Singleton: You know what, not that I expect you people to understand, but I'll break it down for you. Survival of the fittest. Where the strongest of a given species are the ones who survive, allowing the weaker links to die off because they don't have what it takes to carry on. We stand for something greater than that. Forget natural selection. We don't have the time or patience for that. We are all that is left of 4WW. Rustin and I waged war on one another for months, tearing up the company in the process. By the time I reached the top, I realized that the only man worthy of being alongside with me was Rustin. So, when that company fell, the phoenix arose. The weak links didn't just die out*we killed them. But you know what? We're parasites. I'll admit it, and I'll feel damned proud of it. I'm not a self-sustaining creature, none of us are. I need new blood, fresh bodies, new sources of violence and brutality to exercise. We're here now, folks, and we damn sure ain't leaving until we're through. You're about to bear witness to the dawning of the US. Unnatural Selection is occurring right before your eyes. Bear witness.
With that, Singleton flips the mic to the mat and we cut immediately to backstage.
Niggaz Don't Dance They Just Pull Up They Pants
FEATURING: DARCY CRISIS, STAGEHAND, GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY, BITTY
AUTHORS: NATE AND JOSH K.
Darcy Crisis is seen searching the halls backstage, looking very apprehensive. He moves quickly through the corridors, stopping only to query a young stagehand.
Darcy Crisis: Hey, have you seen a homeless guy anywhere around here?
Stagehand: Señor, thees ees La Capital… as caminhadas are everywhere.
Darcy Crisis: How about a scraggly looking one who doesn’t look like he’s from around here?
Stagehand: Ah, sim, sim… I saw one go eento the corte real a few moments ago. I tried to ask heem for some identeefication, but he claimed to be Adam Deeck’s amigo.
Darcy Crisis: Thanks, kid…
Darcy headed off in the direction of the Royal Courtroom. The stagehand continued in the opposite direction, but after a moment Darcy stopped him.
Darcy Crisis: Hey, wait a sec!
Stagehand: Sim?
Darcy Crisis: How come your Portuguese sounds like a crap Spanish accent?
The stagehand cursed something at him at Portuguese, but Darcy wasn’t well versed enough to follow. Snickering, he left the stagehand behind and continued in the direction of the Courtroom. Upon arriving, he reached for the door handle before reading the sign on the door designated its royal status. Darcy scowled, knowing he was about to traverse into enemy territory, but did not allow himself to hesitate any further. Just remember, you’re doing the right thing here… he thought to himself.
Darcy assertively pushed open the entrance, breathing a sigh of relief upon finding that the room was deserted save for the man he was looking for. He looked to be fidgeting with something in the corner, unaware of Darcy’s presence as he approached. Darcy attempted to see what it was, but was unable to get a good view with the massive mound of scraggy hair blocking his line of sight. Instead, he decided to get the vagrant’s attention from an arm’s distance, just in case he happened to be toying with another unsuspecting drug-peddling water fowl.
Darcy Crisis: Hey Garbage Man!
Garbage Bag Johnny turns around, startled. He has an egg beater in one hand. He sees Darcy Crisis and jumps backwards a bit.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Oh, um, good day? I was just about to call you over for some avocado sandwiches, but they're still in the oven. I know how much you Californians like avocado sandwiches! Come back in fifteen to twenty minutes!
Darcy Crisis: Well, umm… I haven’t got twenty minutes. Big match coming up, gotta get ready. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being so, ah… aggressive last week. I’ve been a little stressed out lately. I just lost my spokesman’s deal, I had just had a couple spats with the lady friend… you know, I still hate this “Royal Court” BS, but I still think you’re an decent guy. A little misguided, but okay all the same.
Garbage Bag Johnny turns back to the machine and installs the final egg-beater. It's quite the impressive contraption. He looks a little skeptical after all the things he's heard about Crisis from Adam Dick and all the things Crisis has said about him face to face.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Well, it's swell of you to stop by. I think I'm about done with the sandwiches. This is my avocado sandwich making machine. If you'd step about two feet to your right, you can get a better view of how it works.
Garbage Bag Johnny pulls a lever, and a golf ball drops into a mesh basket that's wired over a pulley system by a string. The basket starts to drop towards a wooden plank tilted over a fulcrum. On the opposite side of a plank, a plastic cup with another golf ball is attached with duct tape.
Darcy Crisis: (staring up at the contraption) That's, uhh.... that's quite the sandwich machine you got there.
Garbage Bag Johnny puts a proud hand on the machine as the plank's weight shifts, and the cup rises, dumping a second ball down a path through a tube pressurized by a CO2 tank that Garbage Bag Johnny stole from a soft drink fountain machine in the catering room. The golf ball shoots out, knocking a wooden doorstop out of the way that's wedged underneath yet another plank, this one with a bowling ball balanced on it.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Yeah, but if you'd just take another step to your right, you can see how it works from a different angle. I think you'll like it better.
Looking over at the bowling ball, Darcy could tell what the Garbage Man obviously hand in store for him. In a small effort to humor him, Darcy obliged with a step to his right, watching the machine slowly work its course.
Darcy Crisis: Yes, it’s all very interesting… Hey, also. I think I’ve got a way to make it up to you for being such a jerk. It turns out if I win this match coming up, I’ve got a guaranteed crack at Ellis Nash’s Frontier title at Divide And Conquer. Since that conflicts with the match I had planned for us, I figured I’d cut you a break and postpone our match so I can deal with Ellis first.
Garbage Bag Johnny: You're not saying I can't handle you, are you? You're a referee, and I'm the undefeated Zero 2 Hero champion!
Darcy Crisis: (with a slight chuckle) No, no, I think I’ve learned what happens when a referee gets in GBJ’s way. I just figure, first things first. I’m going to dismantle this “royal court” crap myself if I have to, it doesn’t really matter how I do it. And the more I think about it, the more I like this other plan. Adam Dick is stuck dealing with the half dozen other guys he’s pissed off, what better way to screw him than by sneaking in and taking his precious little “queen’s” belt off of her? Then, people won’t be talking about “King Dick” and “Queen Ellis-abeth” anymore. It’ll be King Dick, and Queen Dar… see…
Darcy sighs an exasperated sigh, knowing he did absolutely nothing to help those already confused about the male wrestler with a girl’s name.
Darcy Crisis: I mean, King! KING Darcy!
Meanwhile, the bowling ball smashes through a glass tank with an ant farm in it. The dirt and ants now start spilling in a pile on the floor. Garbage Bag Johnny commands the ants, pointing a finger at Darcy Crisis.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Ants attack!
Darcy glances down at the army of ants, whose battle plan seemed to rely far more on confusion than onslaught. He then returns his gaze to GBJ.
Darcy Crisis: (smirking) Cute… if this is your idea of an ingenious trap, you’ve definitely got no business hanging around Adam Dick and his band of jack---
The last word Darcy attempted to utter did not reach fruition. Without warning, a figure burst from behind and leveled him with a shovel to the back of the head. Darcy went down like a ton of bricks as the figure revealed himself to be Bitty, the Royal Court henchman. With his last glimpse of consciousness, Darcy caught the light gleaming off of Bitty’s shovel, which appeared to be made of platinum. Further investigation, however, would have to wait; the only thing Darcy could see now was black.
Bitty: Riverside, mother fucker!
Garbage Bag Johnny: Hmm... maybe that was a little extreme. You think?
Bitty: Nah. Live by the gun, die by the gun, bitch.
Garbage Bag Johnny: I don't know what that means, but I feel bad. Let's drag him in front of Chainz' locker room, so he thinks Chainz hit him. Sounds like something he would do, right? You get the legs. I'll get the arms.
Preparing To Bust Some Heads!
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera fades into the locker room where Vince Jones appears to be searching the vicinity for something, anything, maybe a weapon. He reaches into his duffle bag, nothing. Vince flings the duffle bag across the room in rage.
Vince Jones: Where the hell is that bat!? How the hell V. Jones gonna get the drop on this muhfucka if he ain't got his shit!? DAMNIT!
All of a sudden the door swings open and Jasmine comes walking in.
Jasmine: V, what's the problem?
Vince Jones: Nothing!
Vince continues searching the vicinity for his baseball bat.
Jasmine: ( a bit uneasy) It doesn't appear as though nothing is wrong.
Vince stops in his tracks, turns around, and stares a hole through his companion, Jasmine.
Vince Jones: Nothing's the matter! Now get gone!
Jasmine: I don't know about you, but it doesn't seem like nothing's wrong to me. In fact...
Vince Jones marches towards her and cups her mouth.
Vince Jones: That's enough! Aiight? Now V's gotta get outta here and take care of some business! Somebody tryin' to get the drop on V. Jones tonight and that shit ain't gonna fly!
Vince uncups her mouth and quickly exits the locker room.
Jasmine: But V...
Her effort to summon him back is in vain and she just lets out as the camera fades to black leaving her alone.
Mr. Marshall vs Wayne Russell
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND ???
Dave Kern: Ok here we go for our third match, and here comes Trent Marshall to the ring.
Jeff Marx: Do you think this guy realises how boring he is? He really needs some funky slap bass entrance music!
James Brunt: Coming down the aisle weighing in at 251lbs MR. TRENT MARSHALL!
Marshall rolls in to the ring and performs a few last minute stretches, ignoring the small response from the crowd, but appearing focused on what needs to be done.
Dave Kern: Mr Marshall will be looking to gain a victory here because his win loss record is looking a little bit hungry for some more victories
Jeff Marx: Why couldn’t you just say he sucks?
Steven Smith: He does?
“We’re going to be alright” by 112 suddenly hits across the PA…
James Brunt: And his opponent accompanied to the ring by Tiara Belle Russell, weighing it at 295lbs, he is one half of Pleasure and Pain… WAYNE RRRRRUSSSELL!
Wayne struts down to the ring with his significant other on his right arm. Trent bounces around the ring on his feet to keep himself on his toes.
Jeff Marx: Tiara Belle Marx, mmm… now doesn’t that sound better?
Steven Smith: Wayne Smith?
Dave Kern: Both you of you…please.
Wayne Russell stands in the ring adjacent to Marshall whilst rotating his shoulders backwards and Tiara watches on with her arms folded.
Dave Kern: Lars Larsson calls for the bell and this match is underway!
Wayne Russell slaps his hands together with a glint of confidence in his eye. Marshall takes an amateur wrestling styled stance and awaits Russell to approach. Russell lunges at Marshall and the two men lock horns, both trying to gain an early advantage. Marshall quickly darts round the back of Russell and takes him down by the waist followed with an arm bar.
Dave Kern: Marshall using some of that technical amateur style to his advantage there!
Fizz…
All of a sudden the lights in the area are killed.
Dave Kern: I’m sorry folks we seem to be having some technical difficulties with the lighting. We’ll sort it out as soon as possible.
Jeff Marx: Ah great… (heavily drawing on the sarcastic tone…) we travel the world to places where even the lights cease to work during them time they’re supposed to. This isn’t Cuba! This is meant to be a developed country… what the hell is AWC thinking… coming to a place… like… this…
Kern and Smith look to one another in amazement… Marx has lost it…
Dave Kern: Okay… apologies again folks, our technicians are working on it as we speak.
Steven Smith: You could say this really is a dark match…
Jeff Marx: Shut up.
Dave Kern: Oh wait…
The muffled tones of fighting can be heard in the ring.
Dave Kern: Looks like they’re continuing anyway.
Jeff Marx: Ah finally… I won’t have to watch Marshall wrestle anymore.
The gargled screams of Marshall are heard in the darkness, before a disturbing crashing sound sends a body to the ring floor with a hefty thud.
Dave Kern: Someone slammed someone…
Jeff Marx: You’re trying to call a match you can’t see?
Dave Kern: Yes, I’m trying my hardest to…
A sickening crack echoes around the arena drawing sighs from the crowd.
Dave Kern: That one look like it hurt.
Jeff Marx: Yes… because we can see exactly what is going on.
The lights suddenly flicker into life.
Dave Kern: We’re back folks… and oh my god… what just happened?
Lying quasi conscious, both Marshall and Russell look dazed and confused.
Jeff Marx: Looks like they tried to kill each other, which only can be a good thing?
Smith suddenly noticing something out of the corner of his eye.
Steven Smith: Oooh…. I wonder what the big guy is running from; such nice hair, such a muscular torso, mmm… dreamy.
Kern twists to see a well built man disappear through the curtains.
Dave Kern: I wonder who that was.
Marx, now looking in the same direction: Who? I don’t see anyone. Is this another one of your ‘episodes’?
Dave Kern: I swear I saw a guy running back through the curtains with longish hair…
Steven Smith: Great body.
Jeff Marx: Riiiight… looks like Marshall will be first to his feet. Damn… that’s a mean looking cut below his right eye.
Dave Kern: Russell is no better off, look at that welt below his neck. Damage certainly has been done to both competitors.
Russell and Marshall both slump to the mat and Lars Larsson is unsure what to do, so because he didn’t see anything he begins to count both men down.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Dave Kern: Who ever the hell that was he really did a number on these two men!
Jeff Marx: Jobbers that’s what they are!
FOUR! FIVE! SIX!
Dave Kern: Both men aren’t moving I think we might actually need some doctors out here!
SEVEN!
Dave Kern: Oh! Here comes Marshall to his feet!
Marshall groggily stands, and, seeing that Russell is clearly in a worse-off state than he, collapses onto his body.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: Well... that’s it, folks...
Jeff Marx: Whoever that was really didn’t hold back!
Dave Kern: Mysterious happenings at AWC Fresh!
The Future Is Coming II
FEATURING: UNNATURAL SELECTION
AUTHORS: DUSTIN HUMMEL AND PHIL PORTER
We cut backstage, where we see the members of Unnatural Selection sitting around a wooden table with one of arena's closed circuit televisions on it, watching the action in the ring.
Shawn Singleton: This is the competition, right?
The Hunter: Or so they claim.
Rustin Slade: Let's see what they got.
3-10/23
FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Here’s something you don’t see everyday - a segment not shot in AWC. The scene is actually in Boston, Massachusetts, located in a local park. The park is teeming with life, children playing on the playground, passer-bys looking on fondly and other people entering the park looking to have a good time. Everything is picture perfect.
Mikey O’Reilly is sitting underneath a tree, watching the children play in the park. He has his eyes on two kids in particular: two redhead boys, different in body size and age, mingle with the rest of the children on the playground, shouting with glee and playing with vigor. He cracks a smile, chuckling to himself when he watches the small redhead boy running around in a goofy fashion.
Mikey’s body is still recovering from the hellacious Weapons match against Chainz two weeks ago. Scars and bruises cover the majority of his body, his face is scarred from the barbed wire chair getting kicked into his face. His body still aches; the aching reminds him that he’d lost to Chainz twice: once at Twilight of the Gods, and again two weeks ago.
Knowing that Chainz bested him twice in a row makes him aggravated...
Extremely aggravated...
But that isn’t going to keep Mikey down. In three days, Mikey will try his hand in marriage for the second time: marrying his long-term girlfriend of twelve years, Stacy McFarland. They have a family, a home and a life with each other, now it’s time to make it official and become husband and wife. Last year, Mikey popped the question to his girlfriend, and she happily agreed. In three days, Mikey and Stacy will unite in holy matrimony.
Mikey O’Reilly gets to his feet, stretches and continues to watch the children playing on the playground. He reaches in his shirt pocket of his sleeveless work shirt, pulls out a pack of Marlboro 100’s and takes out a cigarette, along with a lighter hibernating with the cigarettes. He lights up, inhaling the cancerous smoke into his lungs and exhales, feeling absolutely tranquil with himself. This is what he needed: two weeks away from the Atlantic Wrestling Club and to be home with his family and friends.
He takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke, and putting him in a deeper tranquil state.
Mikey O’Reilly: I’m a happy, lucky man. I have everything I ever need: a family, children, a soon-to-be wife and financial stability. I’m three days away to marrying the love of my life, completing everything that I’ll ever need. For twelve years, Stacy has been good to me, gave me two children and I’m lucky enough to father her fifteen-year-old daughter, Meryl.
Mikey pauses, taking another drag of his cigarette, watching the children play. More children enter the fray, meeting up with their friends and meeting new acquaintances. Some of the children are flocking around the two redheaded boys that Mikey has his eyes on. He exhales the smoke from his cigarette.
Mikey O’Reilly: The luck and happiness that I’ve acquired only comes once in a lifetime. I guess you can say that I’m your run-of-the-mill “Rags to Riches” story. In my case, I suppose I am. I was born with little, grew up with less and became something of myself to get away from my poverty, to get away from my shortcomings. From thirteen to twenty-seven, I became one of the greatest bare-knuckle boxers in Belfast, Ireland. And for the last six years, I’m trying to make a name for myself in wrestling.
Another pause. Another drag of his cigarette. Exhale smoke. Watching children play on playground. Calm serenity surrounds him.
Mikey O’Reilly: I’ve paid my dues, won big matches, lost big matches and I’m my stage of mediocrity. I guess everyone has hit this stage at some point or another, it has taken me six years to become a mediocre wrestler. Mediocrity keeps a superstar leveled, neither excelling or descending the ranks of the sport of professional wrestling. I have three wins, four losses and floating in a mediocre “limbo” of sorts.
Mikey finishes his cigarette, snuffs it out under the sole of his shoe and disposes the butt in the nearest trash receptacle. He returns to his tree, where he can keep a careful eye on the children.
Mikey O’Reilly: I may not have a successful career in wrestling so far, but I’m successful at other things, and it eats you inside, doesn’t it, Chainz?
Now he looks into the camera, staring into the soul of his arch nemesis.
Mikey O’Reilly: It eats you alive because I have something you want: a family, a fiance and stability. What do you have, Chainz, a fiancé who isn’t sure of her true feelings of you? Sure she says she loves you, but is she telling you the truth? Even if she is telling the truth, how far will your love go until you kill it, just like you kill everything else? You may destroy me in the ring, hell, you can kill me if you want, but it doesn’t give you what I have: happiness. You made your bed when you killed your parents, made Tracy Stanton leave you numerous times because of your lust of sex, torture and hatred, and now you’re gonna lie in it. You can’t live a normal life when all you do is kill the normalcy of living.
Mikey looks back at the playground, looking for the two redheaded children and finds them. The larger of the two redheaded boys is pushing the smaller one on the swings. He faces the camera once more.
Mikey O’Reilly: In ten days, I’m making my return to the AWC, returning for Divide And Conquer. I see that Kasidy Drake came up with the brilliant plan to split up the roster, where half the roster is going East and the other half is going West. I’ve had fans come up to me and ask me what I think of the roster split and this is my answer: I don’t care. Drake can put me anywhere he likes, just as long as I perform in front of the AWC fans, beat people up and take titles. That’s all I care about.
A smile plays on Mikey’s lips.
Mikey O’Reilly: Speaking of beating people up, I have a challenge to send. Anton Assault, several weeks ago, I challenged you to a match should you win the Relentless title. Even though you’ve failed to beat that British jobber, Red Rock, I still want to face you at Divide And Conquer. Assault, I challenge you to a bare-knuckle boxing match. No rounds, no time limit. Just you an’ me throwin’ hands. Ya keep fighting until someone is knocked out.
Mikey pauses, looking over at the two redheaded boys on the playground. They’re now playing on a slide.
Mikey O’Reilly: This challenge would be set in stone, but your Four-Way Fury match tonight throws the proverbial “monkey wrench” in my challenge. Should you win that match, you’re going on to face Ellis Nash for her Frontier title at Divide And Conquer. Should you lose... well, you’re gonna have a long night ahead of you. Whether you win or lose, Anton, my challenge still stands, whether it be against Anton Assault or against anyone who wants to answer my challenge. Either way you look at it, I’m gonna have a bare-knuckle boxing match at Divide And Conquer.
Mikey O’Reilly turns back to the playground and cups his hands around his mouth.
Mikey O’Reilly: Trevor! Ryan!
The two redheaded boys turn their attention to Mikey O’Reilly. Obviously, Trevor and Ryan are Mikey’s sons.
Mikey O’Reilly: It’s time to go home!
Trevor and Ryan scramble up the hill to meet up with their father. When they meet with Mikey, Mikey drapes an arm around each boy. Trevor - the larger and older of the two - is on the left of Mikey and Ryan is on the right.
Mikey O’Reilly: Let’s see what Mom’s cooking. Did you two have fun?
Both boys nod, smiling and conversing with their father. They walk away from the park, and out of the cameraman’s shot.
Compatriots? II
FEATURING: ANTON ASSAULT, MR. MARSHALL, LUIS FERRARA, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHORS: OBINNA O. AND COLBY
The hallway that is completely devoted to the office of the manager of the AWC's new-minted East Atlantic brand is a funeral parlor; the overseeing mortician is a 6'1" ebon masterwork dressed in a brightly-colored dashiki and going by the name of Anton Assault. The fighter's hard, dark eyes are directed straight ahead in a manner that shows quite plainly that he's not standing there for his health. Broad arms are crossed over his chest, rippling biceps both a klaxon of warning and a source of punishment.
And out from some corner strolls a hapless Mr. Marshall. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans as if he has not a care in the world, but he's here for a reason. After many long questionnaires, enduring curious looks and watching scared stagehands scurrying away at the mention of the name he had on his lips, he'd finally been directed — with a shaky hand, of course — to the hallway he now walks down. His eyes alight upon Anton Assault and his eyebrows raise.
Mr. Marshall: Hey…
Anton doesn't let his gaze wander as Marshall nears him. The paler of the two glances towards the door and notices the name embossed on the tag. A smile comes to his lips as he sees he's gotten to his destination, but he looks back at the implacable Nigerian and frowns.
Mr. Marshall: Ah, you mind moving aside?
Anton doesn't speak. Mr. Marshall cracks his knuckles.
Mr. Marshall: Look, I need to see---
Anton Assault: Appointment?
The single word, spoken by a mouth carved into that rocky obsidian face, shakes Marshall a bit. Both men are the same height, but Marshall feels almost as if he's looking up at the bodyguard.
Mr. Marshall: No, I don't have an appointment, but---
Anton Assault: Leave.
Marshall feels his face heating up and he balls his hands into fists.
Mr. Marshall: Not an option. What the hell are you doing here anyway?
Anton narrows his eyes as Marshall begins to shout, but the pale man's face is now red with anger.
Mr. Marshall: Get out of my way!
Anton speaks his response slowly and venomously, articulating every sound except for the e at the end:
Anton Assault: Leave.
Mr. Marshall draws his hand back sharply, his eyes targeting Anton's jaw, but a hand clasps around his wrist. Mr. Marshall almost yelps with surprise, turning to see the shorter form of Anton's manager, Luis Ferrara, dressed almost like an angel in his pure white. Anton pretends not to see Luis, becoming a golem once more. Luis gives Mr. Marshall a searching look, tapping his goateed chin.
Luis Ferrara: You tryin'a get in? T'see Volkswagon?
Mr. Marshall: Volkyeva. Her name is Ms. Volkye---
Luis Ferrara: So yeah, you wanna see her.
Luis smirks a bit, nodding. The cogs are obviously working in the short man's head. He takes Marshall by the arm and shoulder, leading him a little ways down the hall and lowering his voice. Marshall glances back at the door, but he listens all the same.
Luis Ferrara: Listen up, hombre, I got a little thing I wantcha to do for me. I can tell the big man to let you 'side if you wanna help out.
Mr. Marshall: With what? You have a message you need carried?
Luis screws up his face, glancing upwards.
Luis Ferrara: Well… sorta.
Luis coughs to clear his throat and turns to face the newcomer.
Luis Ferrara: Listen, man, you goin' in there. I just want you to look around, y'know? She's really got me by the balls here and I'm tryin' t'slip out wifout getting' my balls cut off, y'understand. She's got a paper — a folduh, I think — and it's got---
Mr. Marshall: No dice.
Luis blinks.
Luis Ferrara: What?
Mr. Marshall: I'm no man’s errand boy. You got me?
Luis Ferrara: Come on, esse! You can't be that far in her pocket! She's a stone cold bitch and---!
Mr. Marshall: Watch your tone, pal.
Luis groans and shoves Marshall a little. Marshall becomes incensed again, clenching his fists.
Luis Ferrara: That bitch is everythin' wrong! She's---
Mr. Marshall: Don't call her a bitch again!
Luis snorts.
Luis Ferrara: Hag! Harpy! Cunt! Cumbucket! Jizz-slurpin', two-dollah, clap-infested…
The door to Sasha's office swings open at that moment and the words die on the Venezuelan's tongue. Anton and Mr. Marshall whirl around to see the stately AWC-East manager step out of her office. She runs her heated gaze over each of them, a hot knife to their butterfat willpower. She plants fists on her hips.
Sasha Volkyeva: Have you been delaying him? Hm?
Anton meets her stare levelly, his hands coming back up to cross over his chest. Sullen, however, is not even the twentieth part of his demeanor.
Anton Assault: No appointment.
Sasha Volkyeva: He doesn't need an appointment! Until I say otherwise, you move aside for him, do you understand?
Anton gives her the barest nod before she whirls around to crook her finger at his manager.
Sasha Volkyeva: And you! What are you doing here? I thought I told you to get me a pointed spoon!
Luis scowls.
Luis Ferrara: There ain't no such thin' as a---
Sasha Volkyeva: LOOK FOR ONE! I don't want to even hear rumors about you until you have that pointed spoon in your hand!
Of course Sasha knew there was no such thing as a pointed spoon; she simply didn't want Luis Ferrara around her. He repulses her. Finally, she settles her eyes on Mr. Marshall.
Sasha Volkyeva: And you!
Mr. Marshall's eyes seem like they are going to pop out of his head, but after that outburst, all hints of ire slide away from Sasha's voice, leaving only a silky charm.
Sasha Volkyeva: Come into my office, will you?
Ms. Volkyeva steps back into her office after that, leaving the three men in the hall. Mr. Marshall shoots a victorious glance at Anton before following her in, closing the door. Luis makes a guttural grunt and heads off another way. Anton's eyebrows draw together. He knows that now, more than ever, he's going to have to be vigilant. They don't seem as if they want to be disturbed.
Chainz vs Dave Hurst
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Dave Kern: Coming up in just a few moments, Chainz takes on “Exceptional” Dave Hurst! How this match came about was Chainz’s cruelty towards Dave’s favorite feathered friends... ducks. Dave went to “Pearl” Harber, asked for a match and tonight, it’ll come to fruition! But how will Chainz fair against the British superstar after going through a hellacious Dog Collar match last week?
Jeff Marx: Dave Hurst better pray to the wrestling gods that Mike “Chainz” Sloan doesn’t kill him tonight. He’s destroyed that Irish stereotype Mikey O’Reilly twice, beat Darcy Crisis and is on a good roll as of late. Sure, he lost his third Relentless title match against Red Rock last week, but that doesn’t mean he can’t beat someone like that duck-loving queer.
Steven Smith: Hey, just because he likes ducks doesn’t make him a queer. I like ducks!
Jeff Marx: I rest my case.
Dave Kern: (deep sigh, followed by a monotone) Let’s go down to the ring where James Brunt and Richie Travis are standing by.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match...
“Cure” by the Wild Colonials begins as Chainz steps out onto the stage. He walks down to the ring, as if the Dog Collar match we went through last week didn’t even effect him.
James Brunt: First, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing 295 pounds... CHAINZ!
Dave Kern: That man is the most sadistic bastard that the Atlantic Wrestling Club has ever seen. Whether he wins or loses matches, he brutally beats his opponents into a bloody pulp.
Jeff Marx: You damn right! Chainz is a damn beast in the ring, and EDH will experience that firsthand.
Steven Smith: I just hope he doesn’t kill Ducky.
Jeff Marx: Ducky’s more queer than you.
“The Piper Never Dies” by Edguy plays as “Exceptional” Dave Hurst walks down to the ring, with Ducky in his hands. The Portuguese fans are on their feet, cheering wildly for the British superstar.
James Brunt: His opponent, making his way to the ring, from Brighton, England, weighing 200 pounds... “EXCEPTIONAL” DAVE HURST!
Dave Hurst walks down to the ring, rolls inside and is immediately jumped by Mike Sloan, better known as Chainz. Ring announcer James Brunt bolts out of the ring as referee Richie Travis calls for the bell. Chainz is on his knees, throwing heavily shots on the body of EDH, being extremely relentless in this match. Travis tries to pulls Chainz off of EDH, but Chainz pushes the referee aside. As he does so, “The Exceptional One” gets to his feet and kicks Chainz right in the family jewels, dropping Chainz onto the mat.
Jeff Marx: Hey, no fair! Dave Hurst kicked Chainz in the nards! Disqualify his ass, ref!
Dave Kern: Can’t call it if he didn’t see it.
Steven Smith: I didn’t think he had balls, Dave.
Dave Kern: Neither did I, Steve.
Jeff Marx: He’s got bigger balls than both of yours put together!
Steven Smith: Evidently Jeffykins over here has been scoping Chainz out.
Jeff Marx: SHUT UP, SMITH!
You gotta love the dysfunctional team of Dave Kern, Jeff Marx and Steven Smith! Meanwhile in the ring, “Exceptional” Dave Hurst is in the driver’s seat of his match, already locked in a Figure-four Leg-lock on his larger, more sadistic opponent. EDH is using a Ric Flair style Figure-four where he’s raising his hips up and down, inflicting more pain on Chainz’s legs, and punching on Chainz’s knees for good measure. Using his strength, Chainz breaks out of the Figure-four submission maneuver. Dave is on his feet before Chainz and drills Chainz in the side of the head with a running knee. The fans are on their feet, cheering for Hurst as he goes for the first pinfall of the match...
ONE!
TWO!
Mike Sloan immediately kicks out after two. Both men are on their feet, but Chainz capitalizes first with a stiff Clothesline, sending EDH onto the mat hard.
Dave Kern: What a stiff Clothesline by Chainz! He could’ve knocked Dave Hurst for a loop!
Steven Smith: Poor Davy... I have a thing for British men.
Jeff Marx: I kinda figured you’d have a thing for men who have bad accents and even worse teeth.
Chainz is on his knees again, blatantly choking “Exceptional” Dave Hurst in front of the referee. Referee Richie Travis is in position, administering a five-count. Chainz breaks the choke after four and pushes the referee aside, doing another blatant choke on EDH, which makes Travis administer another five-count. Chainz breaks after the four, and gets into the referee’s face, telling him he’ll do whatever he wants and whenever he wants. This gives EDH an ample opportunity to sit up, administer a low blow right in front of the referee, and rolls Chainz up with the Schoolboy!
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Mike “Chainz” Sloan barely kicks out before the three!
Jeff Marx: What the hell was that?! Dave Hurst gave Chainz a low blow right in front of the damn referee and he didn’t disqualify EDH! This is complete bullshit!
Dave Kern: Perhaps the referee didn’t see it---
Jeff Marx: THE REFEREE SAW IT! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT THE LOW BLOW AND DIDN’T DO A GODDAMN THING ABOUT IT!
Steven Smith: Aww, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Jeffy-poo!
Jeff Marx: I DON’T WEAR PANTIES! I WEAR BOXERS LIKE A REAL MAN!
“Exceptional” Dave Hurst is on his feet, picking up Chainz. He kicks Chainz in the gut, goes for a double under-hook, about to a Butterfly Suplex, but Chainz counters with a Back Body Drop, sending EDH onto the mat. Chainz walks over to his opponent, stomps on his head hard and then drops a knee. The fans are booing at Chainz as he wraps his large arm around Hurst’s neck with a tight Headlock! He starts squeezing EDH’s neck, now choking “The Exceptional One!” Referee Richie Travis is in position, telling Chainz to break the illegal choke. Keeping the choke on for a few seconds longer, he breaks the choke, picks up EDH and sends him into the ropes where he levels EDH hard in the face with a Yakuza Kick! He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Kick out by “Exceptional” Dave Hurst!
Dave Kern: What a Yakuza Kick by Chainz!
Jeff Marx: That’s more like it, dammit! Chainz back in control over that British wanker!
Steven Smith: Did you just say “wanker”? That was unexpected.
Chainz picks up his opponent, kicks him in the gut, goes for a front face-lock and picks “Exceptional” Dave Hurst high into the air with a Hanging Vertical Suplex. He hangs EDH in the air for about 15 seconds then drops Hurst on his head with a Brain Buster! Chainz keeps the front face-lock on EDH, rolls backward and locks in a Guillotine Choke! Chainz tightens his grip on the Guillotine Choke, wanting to break EDH’s neck! Miraculously, Dave pulls his head out of Chainz’s Guillotine Choke and rocks Chainz hard with a seated Dropkick! He rolls Chainz over onto his front and locks in a Regal Stretch style STF!
Dave Kern: STF by Dave Hurst! He’s got it locked in tight!
Jeff Marx: C’mon, Chainz! Battle out of that queer-ass move!
Steven Smith: You like to say the word “queer” a lot don’t you?
Jeff Marx: Hey, I call them as I see them.
“Exceptional” Dave Hurst has the STF locked in tight and pulling back on the cross-face portion of the submission maneuver. Chainz is bellowing in pain, trying to figure out how to break free of the submission maneuver. He tries to roll on one side, but to no avail. Referee Richie Travis asks Chainz if he wants to submit and Chainz refuses to submit, no matter many times he’s asked. Knowing he won’t make Chainz submit, he breaks the STF and slams Chainz’s face into the mat.
Dave Hurst gets to his feet, picks up and executes a modified Exploder Suplex. Afterwards, he picks up Chainz, goes for the double under-hook and hits the Butterfly Suplex! He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
NO! Chainz gets the shoulder up. “Exceptional” Dave Hurst picks up Chainz, but Chainz has recovered from the Butterfly Suplex and kicks EDH in the breadbasket, grabs his right arm and takes him down with a Short-arm Clothesline! Still having a hold of EDH’s arm, he picks him up to his feet and takes him down with another Short-arm Clothesline. He picks him up again and takes him down with the third and final Short-arm Clothesline! Dave is slow to get to his feet after getting drilled by three Short-arm Clothesline, but Chainz keeps “The Exceptional One” down onto the mat with a hard kick to the side of the head.
Dave Kern: Chainz is dominating his match against “Exceptional” Dave Hurst. He drilled Hurst with three Short-arm Clotheslines and a kick to the head!
Jeff Marx: Oh Jesus H. Christ! The referee is on Chainz’s ass about his actions in the ring! Let the man fight his opponent for god sakes!
Referee Richie Travis is telling him to back off his relentless attack on his opponent, but Mike “Chainz” Sloan merely ignores the puny referee. Chainz walks over to “Exceptional” Dave Hurst, about to pick him up, but Dave rolls the monster up with the Small Package!
ONE!
TWO!
Chainz breaks the pin. Chainz is on his feet, buries a knee in Dave Hurst’s gut and drops him with a DDT. He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out by “Exceptional” Dave Hurst. Chainz gets to his feet, grabs a handful of Hurst’s hair and picks him up in a Fireman’s Carry, about to go for a Samoan Drop, but EDH counters with a Crucifix pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Chainz manages to kick out before the three.
Dave Kern: It appears that this match as reached a stalemate! Neither EDH or Chainz can put each other away! This match is becoming exciting!
Jeff Marx: Not to worry, Kern, Chainz will put Dave Hurst away...he’s just pacing himself.
Steven Smith: Pacing himself? He’s getting his butt kicked by “Exceptional” Dave Hurst!
Jeff Marx: Getting his butt kicked by Dave Hurst? That British jobber? I don’t think so!
After the Crucifix pinfall attempt, both men are back on their feet. “Exceptional” Dave Hurst goes for a standing Dropkick, but Chainz swats him away. Chainz gets EDH to a vertical base, whips him hard into the upper left-hand corner of the ring and crushes EDH with all of his weight with an Avalanche Splash! After that, he starts kicking and punching away at his smaller opponent, brutally beating him about the head, face and body. Referee Richie Travis interjects himself into the onslaught, trying to pull Chainz off of EDH. The psychotic monster turns around and gets into the referee’s face, threatening bodily harm, giving EDH the opportunity to climb to the top rope and take Chainz down with a top rope Bulldog Headlock! He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Chainz gets the shoulder up!
Dave Kern: What a match up this is turning out to be! “Exceptional” Dave Hurst hits the top rope Bulldog Headlock, but couldn’t put the monster away!
Steven Smith: Gotta love a big ol’ monster who can take punishment!
Jeff Marx: I’m so not going there.
“Exceptional” Dave Hurst gets to his feet, picks up Mike “Chainz” Sloan and tries an Irish whip on the monster, but Chainz reverses the Irish whip and sends EDH into the ropes. Chainz blasts EDH right in the face with his Chain-link Super Kick! EDH falls in a heap on the mat. He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
NO! Dave Hurst shoots his right shoulder up!
Jeff Marx: C’MON THAT WAS THREE! THAT WAS THREE GODDAMMIT!
Dave Kern: Chainz almost put EDH away with the Chain-link! My god what a match this is becoming!
Chainz is beside himself, not believing he couldn’t put his opponent away with his Super Kick. He picks up “Exceptional” Dave Hurst, kicks him in the gut and sets him in between his legs. He picks him up for a Power Bomb and drives his spine into the mat. He picks him up again for another Power Bomb, drills him into the match with the Chain Reaction.
Jeff Marx: Chain Reaction by Chainz! This match is over!
Dave Kern: He’s picking him up again! C’mon, Chainz, you got him beat!
As Dave Kern said, Chainz is picking up “Exceptional” Dave Hurst again for another Power Bomb. He holds him there for a few seconds, lifts him up into the air in an elevated Last Ride style Power Bomb, drops to his knees and executes a backbreaking Elevated Power Bomb! EDH bounces off the mat after the impact of the maneuver!
Dave Kern: Oh my god! What a massive Power Bomb!
Jeff Marx: He’s going for the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: CHAINZ WINS! CHAINZ WINS! HE JUST BEAT DAVE HURST!
“Cure” by the Wild Colonial plays as ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner...
James Brunt: The winner by pinfall... CHAINZ!
Dave Kern: My god what a match! Chainz has defeated Dave Hurst.
Steven Smith: Chainz just Super Kicked referee Richie Travis! What was that for?
Jeff Marx: Richie Travis deserved that! He’d been screwing with Chainz throughout the damn match!
The fans boo Chainz as he leaves the ring with a smile on his face having laid out the popular referee.
Dave Kern: Folks, the Four Way Fury for a shot at the Frontier title at Divide And Conquer is up next! Don’t go anywhere!
The Future Is Coming III
FEATURING: UNNATURAL SELECTION, RED ROCK
AUTHORS: PHIL PORTER AND DUSTIN HUMMEL
Shawn Singleton and Rustin Slade stand in the corridor, talking to one another lowly, out of earshot of the camera. Around the corner, we see Red Rock, Relentless title in tow, heading past them. Shawn nods his head towards Red Rock, motioning to Rustin, who smiles.
Shawn Singleton: Hey there champ.
Red Rock ignores him, barely pausing in his stride. He turns the corner and heads on his way. Awkwardly, Shawn smiles.
Shawn Singleton: I'll catch you around sooner or later.
Rustin Slade: Rude little bastard, huh?
Ambushed
FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE, BRUNO HAGUE
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera switches to the hallway where Jasmine can be seen walking along by herself looking all around in every direction.
Jasmine: V! V! Where are you? You said you'd be right back! Where'd you go?
Jasmine rounds a corner and runs square into Bruno Hague, Head of AWC Security. She jumps, startled by his sudden presence. Bruno looks down upon her, lowers his eyes, and shakes his head.
Bruno Hague: Jasmine, I've been looking all over for you. Will you come along with me?
Jasmine: (surprised) What?? Why?? What's going on??
Bruno takes her by the hand and leads her down the hallway and around another corner. Jasmine's eyes pop open in shock as she sees Vince Jones laying on the middle of the floor knocked unconscious with his Louisville Slugger baseball bat laying by his side. Paramedics are seen attending to him and trying to insure that he's alright.
Jasmine: Who did this? Do you have any ideas?
Bruno Hague: (shrugs) I couldn't tell you. I have no clue. There were no witnesses in sight.
Tears well up in Jasmine's eyes as she breaks free from Bruno's grasp and rushes over to the side of Vince Jones as they try to get him ready to be placed on a stretcher to be moved out of the arena. She slowly turns around and notices a small note that was left behind. It reads: "Payback's a bitch, Vince!"
Trowel Fucker
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, TERESA TOMAS
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND SONYA
The scene opens with the Fists driving in to the parking lot in their truck. It’s not the healthiest it has ever sounded — it’s definitely seen better days. Tim and Liam get out and start looking around the truck, trying to see what’s wrong. After a bit, Tim just walks away, with Liam right behind him.
Tim Martin: Curses!
Liam Martin: Demons of hell, why do you do this? Of all nights, our most important?
Tim Martin: Foul demons of hell! We pray and pray, and yet they still possess our truck to break down six times on the way here!
Liam Martin: Thank the White Lord for that kind lady who offered to help us.
Tim Martin: Brother, that was a hooker, and the help came in the form of you sticking your penis into her fish-stankerific vagina in exchange for cash!
Liam Martin: Oh, I guess I missed that one.
Tim Martin: Yes, of course. But, brother, fret not! Tonight, we are blessed! Blessed with the opportunity to rip away that prestigious belt from the grimy hands of Dick and the AIDgina-full Nash! We have a chance to become… champs!
Liam Martin: …brother, we can’t be co-champs.
Tim Martin: Yes, I know, Liam, but think of it this way: there are two of us, and two of them. We have a 50% chance to win!
Liam Martin: I like those odds! I can see the White Lord’s logic is about to change our luck! Tim Martin: Halle-fucking-lujah! As the Fists keep on going, they past someone hunched over inside of a truck. From inside the hood you can hear a muffled mass of cursing and swearing and all that hoopla. Tim Martin: And, what ho! Is the White Lord’s only mission tonight to bless us after the Devil struck us so often on the way here? We have found a savior… for our truck!
Tim walks over and taps the person inside the truck on the shoulder.
Tim Martin: Dirty, foul beast, I’ve noticed you’re a master with you truck. What say you help the White Lord’s prophets and do work on our truck?
The person inside wraps an arm around inside their own truck and grabs a pack of cigarettes and then pulls out of the hood… to reveal Teresa Tomas! She pulls one out and lights up, her face and any visible skin covered in muck.
Teresa Tomas: It’s the Mitten Boys! God damn, I ain’t ever thought you’d be ‘round here askin’ for mah help! I ain’t even been to church in years! Well, shit, I guess I can help you fuckers, though it’ll cost ya…
Liam Martin: GAHHH! STAND BACK, DEMON!
Liam starts waving a hand at Teresa, trying to swat her away. Teresa doesn’t really make a reaction to this and instead grabs the beer can on top of the cap and begins to chug it.
Teresa Tomas: I ain’t no demon!
Tim Martin: Foul whore, shut your mouth!
Teresa Tomas: Foul whore? You sons a bitches…
Teresa then pulls out a wrench and holds it in front of her, threateningly.
Teresa Tomas: Now, if you mother fuckers EVER come ‘round here, threatenin’ me and callin’ me names and all that again, I’m gonna take this here wrench and shove it so far up your ass it’s gonna plop into the toilet water three days later when it finally gets unlodged from all the shit it’s been cloggin’ up, ya hear?
Tim Martin: Southern Trash, we’ve had it with you. We confused you for a man with a craft and instead, we find this. Our truck can wait, I supposed. Come, Liam, let’s go.
Teresa Tomas: Wait, that’s it? Who the fuck do you think you are?
Liam Martin: Go back to your truck, whore… we’re done with you!
The scene ends with Tomas gritting her teeth as the Fists dismissively walk away.
Teresa Tomas: Stupid crackheads, gonna get themselves killed one of these days.
Compatriots? The Reprise I
FEATURING: CURT MITCHELL, ANTON ASSAULT
AUTHORS: PIERRE HYDE, PAUL SCANLAN AND OBINNA O.
“Hello. I need to see Sasha Volkyeva.”
The skinheaded political activist known as Curt Mitchell approaches her door, seeking approval from the Entertainment Co-Manager’s personal bodyguard. They both eye each other with caution although Mitchell seems cool but focussed in his objective.
Anton Assault: No.
Without missing a beat, the man shoots back:
Curt Mitchell: I have an appointment and I somehow doubt your employer would appreciate insubordination, do you?.
The bodyguard bites his bottom lip in frustration and tersely replies. Anton Assault: Name?
Curt Mitchell: Mitchell. Curt Mitchell. Guardian of Moral Standards and Leader of the American Liberation Army.
The pride is quite obvious as Mitchell smirks at Assault who looks at him for a while, then nods.
Anton Assault: Okay. In.
The Lion steps aside to allow Curt Mitchell to move past, which he does, brazenly brushing past the muscled French-African. Stoic, Assault returns to his duty of standing tall and looking tough.
Assault vs Crisis vs Dash vs Aimz
STIPULATION: FOUR WAY FURY - #1 CONTENDERSHIP TO FRONTIER CHAMPIONSHIP
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: OBINNA O.
Dave Kern: And here we go, folks! Four-Way F-F-Fury for a shot at the Frontier title, four hungry indiv---
Jeff Marx: Little bit of a stutter, there?
Dave Kern: It was for dramatic effect.
Jeff Marx: Oh. Well, then… continue.
Dave Kern: Well, now you've ruined it. Thanks a lot, douche.
Kern twists in his seat, not looking at Marx. Steven Smith pats Dave on the shoulder and glares at Jeff.
Steven Smith: Tell him you're sorry!
Jeff Marx blinks.
Jeff Marx: I… uhh… oh, awesome!
"Music Box" by Thrice blares over the speakers and AgentDash steps out onto the stage, surveying the crowd curiously.
Jeff Marx: I never thought I'd be happy to see AgentDash!
AgentDash continues down the ramp slowly, looking towards the ring and stroking his chin. He rolls under the bottom rope and pops up, making a slow circuit around the ring.
James Brunt: This match is a Four-Way Fury for the number one contendership to the AWC Frontier title! Currently in the ring, the first contender, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds and coming to us from Berkley, California… AGENTDASH!
Dave Kern: AgentDash is making his way around that ring, the second smallest person in the contest tonight!
Steven Smith: Yeah; I think I'd break him.
Jeff Marx: Ha ha, Dave, I… wait. What?
Steven Smith: I said I think I'd—
Jeff Marx: Don't say it again. Please.
The crowd falls into silence as AgentDash continues to pace around the ring. Abruptly, the lights cut out, leaving everything in complete darkness.
Dave Kern: What the hell is---
"WAAAAAARRRLOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRD!!!"
The guttural, almost desperate cry from Steven Rathbone announces Lair of the Minotaur's "Warlord" to an unsuspecting Portuguese public. 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.
Jeff Marx: My word…
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, drywashing his hands and casting an arrogant glance up onto the crowd.
James Brunt: And entering the ring next, he comes to us from Paris, France. Weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds, he is THE LION… ANTON ASSAULT!
Steven Smith: Oooh! Now him I don't mind at all!
Dave Kern: Certainly a formidable force in the AWC, even though he's been running into a bit of trouble lately. No one — absolutely no one — can say they've walked out of a match with Anton Assault without a great deal of pain.
Jeff Marx: The last four-way fury Anton was in, he pulled out the victory and won the Relentless no. 1 contendership. The question is: is he gonna screw up this shot, too?
Dave Kern: Well, let's wait and see if he wins the match first.
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 and AgentDash share a heated look as the lights let up a bit. At the moment that they both choose to focus their attention back on the entranceway, "24" by Jem strikes up and the crowd lifts its voice in a mighty roar of approval.
Jeff Marx: Get that trash out of here!
Steven Smith: Yeah, I don't need to see this!
Amy Campbell steps out from behind the entrance curtain and gives the crowd a cool look before raising her arm, garnering herself a virtual replay of the massive pop that her music got. She trots down the ramp, eyes on the ring.
James Brunt: Entering now, our third contestant… weighing in at one hundred and forty-seven pounds and coming to us from Halifax, Canada… THE RED RAVER… AIMZ!
Aimz leaps up onto the apron and stares at the two men in the ring — AgentDash and Anton Assault have relegated themselves to corners. Aimz sniffs and steps into the ring, limbering up. She casts a few wary glances towards the entranceway as she practices some punches and kicks near a third corner of the ring.
Dave Kern: Aimz lost her last Frontier shot, but here she's got a chance to face Ellis Nash once more! She's got to be pumped for this!
Jeff Marx: I betcha, but she can't be pumped about this!
"Hide your face forever
Dream and search forever"
Jeff Marx: Damn, I'm good.
"Open Your Eyes" by the Guano Apes hurtles into existence with a heavy guitar riff. All eyes turn to the entranceway, but no one appears.
Jeff Marx: Where's Darcy? Ha ha, he chickened out! Probably can't bare to fight his girlpal.
Dave Kern: Darcy Crisis was assaulted earlier tonight by Adam Dick's Royal Court, so if he doesn't come out, you can blame---
Steven Smith: Here he is!
Darcy Crisis finally makes his appearance, looking a little worse for wear. He wears a brave smile on his face and he starts down the ramp slowly. He watches his opponents in the ring and levers himself up, shaking his head a bit before slipping in.
James Brunt: And our final contender, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-seven pounds, he hails from East Bay, California… DARCY CRISIS!
Dave Kern: Darcy Crisis is a little beat up, but he's gonna do this thing all the same!
Jeff Marx: Two girls and two guys, huh? Well, I guess if we didn't do it this way, the AWC would have lawsuits calling it sexist…
Dave Kern: Oh, just…
DING! DING! DING!
Crisis, who has just entered the ring, leaps across towards AgentDash, but Anton meets him halfway with a thrust kick to the side! The Nigerian whirls and plants his fist into AgentDash's face. Aimz leaps up from behind and catches his head, dragging him down to the mat with a reverse DDT! Aimz kips up to her feet and meets Darcy Crisis as the only other who's up at the moment.
Jeff Marx: Ah! A little tension and… whoa!
Dave Kern: Spinning wheel kick from Aimz! She's focused here and she's not gonna let whatever feelings she has for Darcy Crisis get in the way of another shot at Ellis Nash!
Aimz leaps up to her feet again and pulls Darcy away from the ropes, only to find herself snatched up by AgentDash and pushed into the corner. Dash grips the top rope and begins to launch rapid kicks into the Red Raver's midsection, each one greeted with a grunt from the smallest contestant in the match. Dash hooks her up for a suplex and finds himself aided by the Lion; the tandem suplex that follows shakes the ring!
Steven Smith: Ooh, put that strumpet in her place!
Jeff Marx: Aimz shouldn't be any stranger to tag teaming!
Dave Kern: Don’t say that so loud; Darcy Crisis is still alive, y'know.
The quick collusion between Mr. CKD and the Artist Formerly Known as Kensrue is over when they rise to their feet. AgentDash leaps up to the second rope, but Anton quickly snares him around the waist and tugs him backwards, hurling him into the air with a belly-to-belly suplex! Twisting at the last moment, Anton barely lands on his knee and pushes up to a standing position again, facing off with Darcy Crisis! Crisis lunges forward, but Anton quickly drives the heel of his palm into Crisis's sternum! The Darcinator recoils and Anton quickly catches him with the Assault Quad!
Jeff Marx: Anton Assault is dominating this match right — OH!
Dave Kern: Aimz into the fray with a flying leg lariat! And here's a standing moonsault for good measure!
Jeff Marx: Dash back to his feet here and he ties up with Aimz, receving a jawbreaker for his trouble!
Aimz is on fire at the moment, hitting the ropes and hitting her boyfriend with a flying back elbow. Both wrestlers spring to their feet and a split-second's hesitation on Darcy's part lets Aimz lift herself onto his shoulders. Darcy Crisis is quick to respond now, spinning and dropping Aimz with a modified fall-forward powerbomb! Darcy is up to his feet now and he pulls Aimz away from the ropes, twisting her legs together and turning over for a Texas cloverleaf!
Jeff Marx: These lezbombs have all the positions figured out, so it's no surprise that Darcy knows some of the more painful ones.
Dave Kern: This actually doesn't look good for Aimz at all; she's bending back a lot and she's gotta break sometime!
Crisis tilts his head backwards, clenching his teeth and trying to squeeze the fight out of Aimz. A boot collides with his temple and the Californian topples over, giving way to Anton Assault! The Lion quickly moves over Aimz's fallen body, continuing where Crisis left off but at the other side; his submission of choice is a dragon clutch that threatens to tug Aimz's head off her neck!
Steven Smith: If I have to watch someone getting ridden, why couldn't it be Delicious Crisis?
Dave Kern: You mean Darcy.
Steven Smith: Right, what did I say?
Incensed, Crisis rises and grabs Anton by the shoulders, tugging him up off of Aimz. He hauls back to smash his fist into Anton's face, but he finds himself listed up and dropped on his neck, courtesy of AgentDash's back suplex! Anton lowers himself as Dash gets up again, then bursts forward and catches the smaller man by the shoulder and ramming his knee home into AgentDash's stomach! Quickly, he shifts his weight and tosses Dash to the mat, but AgentDash kicks upwards and hits Anton between the eyes!
Dave Kern: Surprise move from the Agent there takes Anton off guard and now Dash is in the ropes… spinning neckbreaker!
AgentDash glances over at Aimz and, seeing that she's resting in the corner a moment, turns towards Darcy Crisis. He pulls Darcy up by his long hair and hits the ropes once again, charging forward. He leaps over, looking to catch Darcy in an elaborate somersault version of the move he just floored the Lion with, but Darcy drops to the mat and lets Dash come crashing down to the canvas! Darcy Crisis meets the swiftly-rising AgentDash with a punch to the jaw and leaping DDT that drills Dash into the mat!
Jeff Marx: Crisis with the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
AIMZ!
Dave Kern: Somersault elbow from the Red Raver makes the count nil!
Jeff Marx: Crisis thwarted!
Anton Assault is quick to break the scene up, ripping Aimz up off the mat and tossing her chest first into the turnbuckle. He follows her in, savaging her with heavy forearms to the back of the head! Darcy Crisis is there to make the save, catching Anton with a quick sleeper drop! He rises to his feet and catches Aimz, looking for a back suplex, but Aimz runs up the turnbuckle rungs and flips behind him before braining him with a roundhouse kick to the temple!
Jeff Marx: AgentDash getting to his feet and he doesn't look so good right now! Aimz coming to take control…
Dave Kern: Leaping knee smash from Aimz! AgentDash just can't catch a break tonight!
Aimz twists and leaps up to the ropes, springboarding off the second one and arcing through the air to come down on AgentDash with a moonsault! She pops up to her knees and Darcy Crisis grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her upwards and shooting her into the ropes! Crisis pulls her into the air, looking for a spinebuster, but Anton cuts his legs out from under him, sending the whole affair tumbling down haphazardly!
Dave Kern: MY WORD! Aimz looks like she took that impact on her head!
Steven Smith: Serves her right!
Dave Kern: Of course it — what!?
Anton wastes no time in latching onto Darcy Crisis's leg and wrenching it with a standing ankle lock. Crisis howls in pain, flailing wildly in an attempt to get out; Mr. CKD responds by wrapping his legs around Darcy's, squeezing as he twists the Darcinator's ankle. AgentDash manages to get to his feet, but he takes the opportunity to rest in the corner. Finally, Anton lets up on Darcy's leg, but this is only to begin kicking him in the back of the knee.
Jeff Marx: Anton is just relentless! He's gonna break that — AGENTDASH!
Dave Kern: He flies out of the corner with that double axehandle smash! It was looking pretty grim from Crisis right there and… oh no!
Jeff Marx: Ha ha, AgentDash puts the girlman in a leg grapevine! Perfect!
Seeing that his move isn't working as well as Anton's submission was, Dash relents and tugs Crisis to his feet. Quickly, he sets Darcy Crisis into the corner and heads to the other side. Aimz rushes to meet him, finally having recovered from that horrendous drop she took. AgentDash quickly steals her thunder, though, nailing her with a drop toe hold that sends her face-first into the bottom buckle! Anton Assault is on the job now, dragging Dash away from Aimz, but the Agent spins and repeats his drop toe hold, this time with the effect of throttling Anton over the middle rope!
Steven Smith: Oh, it hurts me so to see Darcy in pain!
Dave Kern: Crisis limping away from the turnbuckle as AgentDash sets his sights on the prize! He clears the ring quickly and hits a dropkick straight to Crisis's injured knee!
Jeff Marx: Tactics, Kern, tactics! Now flips Crisis over and he ascends to the top rope… flying leg drop!
The crowd boos mightily as AgentDash hits his high-risk maneuver and goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Steven Smith: Foot on the ropes!
On the other side of the ring, Aimz is doing her best to keep Anton busy in the corner… with punches and kicks! Finally, Anton catches one of her attempts at a kick and pummels her forehead with a knuckle arrow! Aimz gapes and Anton quickly trips her up, going down into a mount and thundering punches down on the Red Raver's face! In typical UFC style, Anton then begins to drop elbows from his mounted position; Aimz struggles mightily, but Anton's weight is keeping her pinned firmly in place!
Dave Kern: This is not the position one wants to be stuck in when faced with a man trained in mixed martial arts combat!
Steven Smith: It's the position I want to be---
Dave Kern: Shut up!
Meanwhile, AgentDash has Crisis in the turnbuckle and he is repeating his earlier treatment of Aimz, burying his boot into Darcy Crisis's ribs! Dash takes a few steps backwards and then charges forward, but Darcy Crisis slips out of the way and lets Dash's flying back elbow carry him side-first into the turnbuckle! Darcy Crisis quickly turns back around and smashes Dash with his elbow. Seeing the situation at the other end of the ring, he quickly makes his way there despite his limp. Whether to preserve his place in the match or to save his girlfriend, Crisis rears back and drops a fierce forearm over Anton's neck to stop the onslaught!
Jeff Marx: I didn't know if you could really make Aimz's face any worse, but Anton seemed like he was making good progress!
Dave Kern: Nevertheless, Darcy Crisis stopped it! Now he's heaving Anton up off the mat… butterfly suplex! And the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
…!
…!
Steven Smith: The ref's been pulled out!
Luis Ferrara, ever interested in Anton picking up the win, has tugged the referee out by the ankle and quickly darted under the ring to avoid notice. The referee looks around, dumbfounded, before climbing back into the ring. At this point, Dash and Aimz are recovering just a bit, resting against ropes and turnbuckles. A furious Darcy Crisis rises up and scans the ringside for any trace of Luis Ferrara before turning back to Anton and putting the boots to him.
Dave Kern: Darcy's more than a little dismayed about that, I expect, but he's just gotta soldier on and do this thing!
Crisis turns around and surveys AgentDash and Aimz. Finding that the Red Raver is an easier target, he heads that way. He snatches her up and settles her on the top rope. Taking a deep breath, Darcy ascends to the second rung, but Aimz curls up and drills her heels into Darcy's face, sending him toppling off of the ropes and down to the mat! Aimz slumps a bit before picking herself up, squatting on the top rope. She leaps forward, twisting herself in the air and hitting Darcy with a 450° splash!
Dave Kern: Here we go!
ONE!
TWO!
ANTON SAVES!
Jeff Marx: Anton Assault is not about to let this match go! AgentDash coming to take advantage, but Anton hits him with an elbow, and here's a Marine Throttle… SUPLEX!
Dave Kern: There is no rest for Anton until he wins this match, but Aimz isn't about to give up her claim that easily! She's battering at Anton's knees and now she rises up, practically taking his head off with a straight side kick!
Anton stumbles backwards and Aimz surges forward. She plants her hands on his shoulders and levers herself into the air, swinging her legs forward, dragging the Lion down to the canvas with a tornado DDT! She quickly rolls away and comes up to her feet, flipping forward and hitting Anton with a somersault leg drop to the back of the neck! She rolls backwards again, coming to a knee and glancing about the ring. She rises coolly, but all that is quickly shattered when she finds herself captured around the neck.
Jeff Marx: I don't believe this!
Steven Smith: Yes, Darcy, yes!
Dave Kern: MIND CRISIS from the Darcinator to Aimz! Now he picks up her arm and I think we're witnessing the end of this---
Jeff Marx: Flying lariat from AgentDash! Saving the match for himself!
AgentDash lands in a crouch, but the momentum carries him into the ropes. He comes back and leaps straight up into the air, schooling Darcy Crisis with a jumping fist drop! AgentDash pulls Crisis backwards a bit and spares a look for Anton and Aimz before turning and hitting the ropes again. This time, he hits a somersault senton onto Crisis's chest and twists over to make the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
ANTON SAVES AGAIN!
Jeff Marx: Anton gets in the way of Dash's second pin attempt and — WHOA! HUGE Karelin lift that sends Dash into the turnbuckles and leaves him a crumpled heap in the corner!
Anton rubs the back of his neck as he moves towards Aimz, gauging her as the next freshest. Aimz is already back onto all fours, working on drawing breath back into her lungs. Sneering, the Lion catches up one of her arms and forces her down to the mat, locking her in a quick crossface hold! Aimz kicks her feet violently, but she can't seem to fight her way out of the larger man's grip. Darcy Crisis lifts himself up and moves over, seeing that he's going to have to step in once again to preserve his standing in the match. Just as he makes it there, though, Aimz reaches out just a little bit more and curls her middle and index fingers over the bottom rope.
Dave Kern: Anton releases the hold and now he's got to deal with Darcy Crisis just hammering him with punches to the skull!
Jeff Marx: And now Anton's throwing bombs to Crisis's ribs! Neither man is being their normal selves. This is just a bra--- spoke two soon!
Tired of the exchange of punches, Anton surges forward and tackles Crisis to the mat. Darcy brings his arms up to shield his face, but Anton twists and grips the Darcinator's ankle, twisting it once again! Darcy madly drags himself backwards and grabs onto the bottom rope, forestalling an agonized howl. Aimz, who has just risen to her feet, leaps onto Anton's back and forces him to the mat. She slaps on a rear chinlock in an attempt to keep the Lion occupied while she catches her breath.
Jeff Marx: Eugh. If there's anything I hate, it's seeing Aimz in control of a match.
Steven Smith: Tell me about it!
AgentDash is slowly getting to his feet, tottering out of the corner and holding his head. Darcy Crisis gets to his feet and turns his attention on the Agent, limping over. Dash sees Darcy and turns a bit, charging towards him. Darcy attempts to fling himself out of the way, but Dash slams his forearm into Darcy's face before he gets far! AgentDash turns and whips Darcy Crisis into the ropes, but Darcy slips out of the ring! Quickly, Darcy rolls himself back in and climbs to a knee.
Dave Kern: Quick escape from Crisis, but AgentDash isn't going to be placated easily! Showdown… Crisis has the leg! Dragon screw!
Steven Smith: Elbow to the inside of the leg! Ahh, if only his face had dropped a little more to the right…
Aimz pulls Anton backwards and wraps her legs around his waist, trying keep him in place while she chokes the big man out. On his back, Anton is decidedly out of his element; he could push her up if he was in a better position, but here he is struggling to get his feet or arms under him in a good enough manner. Darcy Crisis strolls over to that side of the ring. He reaches down and grabs Aimz, dragging her off of Anton. Standing her on her feet, he winds up and knocks her back down with a stiff European uppercut!
Steven Smith: Darcy doesn't need the girl!
Jeff Marx: The shemale is on top right now and he's got the pick of the litter: which one of them does he want to put out of their misery?
AgentDash is on his feet at this point and he is gunning for Crisis. Darcy Crisis turns and the two men square off quickly. They lunge forward as if looking for a tie-up, but the crafty Dash drops to a knee and flips Darcy over. DC comes up quickly and they finally do lock-up, this time with Crisis managing to shoot Dash into the ropes. Dash comes back and ducks a lariat attempt from Crisis. As he hits the ropes, Crisis leaps into the air for a dropkick; Dash's response is to tilt backwards and float over the top rope, landing on his feet on the outside!
Dave Kern: Dash emulating Darcy's earlier evasion here and — NO!
Jeff Marx: TASTE THE KNIFE from Luis Ferrara, with the tonfa on the knee for extra damage! That REGIONS~! kick must have lifted Dash a foot into the air!
Dave Kern: I fear Ferrara has taken Dash out of this match conclusively, folks! The ref didn't even see it!
Aimz is on her feet now and she sprints towards Darcy Crisis, leaping at him and catching him under the jaw with butterfly kick. Crisis stumbles backwards and hits the buckles, trapped in the corner. Aimz kicks him hard in the chest before quickly scaling the buckles, dropping onto his shoulders and catapulting Crisis across the ring with a hurricanrana! The crowd is all cheers for the Red Raver as she makes her way to her feet and engages Assault. He masterfully blocks her forearms and twists her round in a hammerlock, throwing her forwards to the mat as Darcy Crisis gets up and rushes over, to huge cheers from the crowd---
CRACK!
Dave Kern: BLACKOUT KICK! Anton just hurled himself into the air and decapitated Crisis!
Steven Smith: Watch out, Anton!
Aimz catches the Lion from the back in a sleeperhold, teeth drawn back in a snarl as she attempts to secure Anton's demise. Mr. CKD isn't having any of that, though, firing elbows rapidly into Aimz' ribs and temple. After a series of jarring blows, Aimz lets up and Anton ducks his head down, rolling forward and catching her ankle. In a matter of seconds, Aimz is on her stomach and at the mercy of a grapevine ankle lock from the Lion.
Jeff Marx: Aimz is in pain and she's in the middle of the ring! This is it! This is…
TAPTAPTAP!
Jeff Marx: It's over!
DING! DING! DING!
James Brunt: The winner… ANTON ASSAULT!
"Warlord" crushes the speakers and the crowd showers boos onto the ring as Anton relinquishes his hold on Amy Campbell’s ankle and rolls away, sliding out under the bottom rope. He takes a second to regain his breath, looking up at the lights, before he turns and starts towards the ramp. Luis Ferrara is full of glee, slapping Anton on the back as he ushers his client backstage.
Dave Kern: What a way to win this contest! Luis Ferrara makes his presence known twice tonight and Anton Assault now has a Frontier title shot!
Jeff Marx: Just means to an end, Dave! Just a means to an end.
Time To Have Some Fun
FEATURING: ZSASZ, TRACY STANTON
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.
The narcissist Zsasz is seen walking around backstage. He’s alone, Mikey isn’t in the arena tonight, and just trying to pass the time. He walks down a corridor and sees Tracy talking to one of the stagehands. A smile crosses his face as he grabs a bottle of water and opens it up. He walks by Tracy and “accidentally” spills it right down her dress.
Tracy: AHH!
Zsasz: Sorry my dear, my fingers slipped.
Tracy: Agh, so cold!
Tracy bolts off for her dressing room as Zsasz follows with a smile on his face. Knowing that Zsasz is going to have some fun with Tracy, he peers inside the locker room, watching Tracy removing her wet dress, exposing her naked body and putting on a new dress on. It appears that Tracy has put on a little more weight in the recent weeks. Her breasts are still large and fake, like those of a porn star.
Silently, Zsasz steps into the locker room, chuckling to himself.
Zsasz: I see you’re plumping up a bit. Congratulations, Ms. Stanton.
Tracy spins around, startled and forgetting just how naked she was up top. Thankfully for all the male audiences the camera catches sight of her breasts, the two biggest breasts in all of the AWC. They’re perfectly shaped and are tremendous in size; the envy of every flat chested woman. There isn’t one blemish on her body and even Zsasz has to appreciate the body he’s looking at.
Tracy quickly realizes she’s exposing herself to the entire world and covers her chest with her arms, though they’re not nearly big enough to cover her entire rack.
Tracy: AHHHH, GET THE HELL OUT!!!
Zsasz puts on this facade pouting lip.
Zsasz: Aww, there’s no need for shouting, my dear. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I seldom lower myself for tramps like you, but perhaps an exception could be made.
Tracy: Get away from me you sick bastard.
Zsasz slowly advances towards Tracy, his grin slowly transforming into his signature sadistic smile.
Zsasz: And if I refuse, Ms. Stanton? What are you going to do if I don’t evacuate from your locker room? Is your big bad boyfriend going to come in and beat me up? He has his hands full as it is.
Tracy backs up in fear, still trying to hide her nakedness from the world and the monster approaching her.
Tracy: Please leave me alone, I thought you didn’t approve of rape and forcing yourself onto women. That’s what you’re doing.
Zsasz’s smile contours into a frown. An ugly frown. This ugly expression has turned Zsasz’s beautiful face to that of a feral beast. He power walks towards Tracy, backs her up into a wall and forces her to press herself up against it. Tracy is trembling with fear, not knowing what’s going to happen next.
Zsasz: How dare you insult me like that, you porn star wannabe bitch?! You’re right about one thing: I don’t approve to rape, but I do not force myself onto women. That means physically putting my hands on them throwing them onto the ground and having my way with them. You’re within seconds of me beating you within an INCH OF YOUR ABYSMAL LIFE!
Zsasz is seething mad. He hasn’t been this mad in a long time. Instead of threatening bodily harm on Tracy, he slowly regains his composure, slowly backs away from Tracy and smiles at her again, as if nothing had happened.
Zsasz: But I won’t. You see, I don’t condone rape or assault on women. That’s extremely passé. But I do condone the falling of your precious boyfriend. Since I can’t find the bald simpleton anywhere, I’m here to give him a message. I have a challenge for him. Should he choose to accept it, I’ll be waiting for him at Divide and Conquer.
Tracy realizes Zsasz isn’t going to hurt her and gets a little boldness behind her.
Tracy: Yeah, you seem eager to have your ass handed to you again.
Tracy may have thought wrong as Zsasz presses himself on her again, forcing her into the wall. Her hands fall, but unfortunately her breasts are hidden as Zsasz pushes himself right on her.
Zsasz: Be careful about how you speak to me, little girl. Just because I don’t plan on doing anything to you doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind.
His grin comes back.
Zsasz: Look at you, probably all wet and horny having a real man up close and personal with you. I could have my way with you and it wouldn’t even be rape, you want it. I can sense it, smell the pheromones emanating from your body. Yes, you need a good fuck.
Zsasz begins to laugh as he turns and leaves Tracy’s locker room. Before he steps out of room, he turns and faces Tracy once more.
Zsasz: Remember I have a challenge for Sloan. You can tell him after he has his match against Dave Hurst. This challenge will hold a great interest in Mr. Sloan. So if he wants to know what it is, he’ll want to come to Divide And Conquer. Have a lovely evening, Ms. Stanton.
With that, Zsasz steps out of her locker room. Tracy can hear Zsasz chuckling as he leaves.
Tracy: I hate that son of a bitch.
Shaken from the whole ordeal of dealing with Zsasz again, she resumes dressing herself. One of these days her boyfriend will rid the AWC of Zsasz. When that day comes, she can rest easy, knowing that Zsasz can no longer bother her.
Until then, she’ll need to keep her eyes open for that narcissistic beast.
The Future Is Coming IV
FEATURING: UNNATURAL SELECTION
AUTHORS: DUSTIN HUMMEL AND PHIL PORTER
Again, we cut backstage, where we see Unnatural Selection's Hunter and Martyr walking down the back hallway. Martyr stops at a door and goes to open it, cracking his knuckles before grabbing the handle. Hunter grabs his shoulder, pulling him back.
The Hunter: Not yet, Martyr. Everyone's time will come, but not right now.
Martyr relents, and they continue walking down the hall. The camera pans up to read the title on the door. It reads "EDH".
Compatriots? The Reprise II
FEATURING: CURT MITCHELL, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHORS: PIERRE HYDE AND PAUL SCANLAN
Inside Sasha Volkyeva’s office, the man we saw earlier, Curt Mitchell, is making good on his appointment.
Sasha Volkyeva: And you manage who, Mr. Mitchell?
Curt Mitchell: (stiffly) Leviathan.
Sasha looks blank.
Sasha Volkyeva: One of the new ones?
Curt Mitchell: If you wish to call him that, I prefer to call him a future American Icon. Now listen, to the point, I heard about this roster split---
Volkyeva drums her fingers on the desk. She’s a busy woman, and this man is already boring her.
Curt Mitchell: Er... and I understand you’ll be running the East Atlantic tour?
Volkyeva leans over her desk, planting her elbow on it and resting her head on her hand, still drumming with the other hand. She barely bothers to move her lips to answer.
Sasha Volkyeva: That is correct.
Curt Mitchell: Then we want in, Mrs. Volkyeva. Leviathan and I because we believe we can bring a certain order and correctness about the tour. Any problems that you have, we can solve. Anybody gets out of hand, we can deal with it for you. We will bring you the entertainment and the style that you need, without the tour being lost to chaos. We’re not just your employees, we could be your closest aides too.
The Entertainment Co-Manager’s eyelids flutter heavenward as Mitchell smiles a disingenuous smile.
Sasha Volkyeva: Ms. Volkyeva, if you please. My husband and I separated.
Curt Mitchell: I'm so sorry.
He doesn’t look it at all, but it doesn’t matter, because nor is she. Volkyeva dismisses the matter with a contemptuous hand; you’d be forgiven for thinking it had been Mitchell who had brought it up.
Sasha Volkyeva: Now why, I ask, do you want to join MY tour? Rather than David’s?
Curt Mitchell: David... that’s Pearl, right?
Sasha smiles at his ignorance, both pleased and amused.
Sasha Volkyeva: Correct.
Mitchell grins, running his tongue over his teeth, shifts his gaze away and down to the floor.
Curt Mitchell: The thing is, Mrs. Volk – Ms. Volkyeva, my client and I have some... special ideals.
Sasha Volkyeva: He is slow?
Mitchell snorts.
Curt Mitchell: No, of course not. We’ve got some... ideas about the world... how things should be run... that sort of thing...
Sasha Volkyeva: Fascinate me.
A little thrown by this abrupt command, Mitchell tries to think.
Curt Mitchell: Well, it’s sort of along the lines that the order and structure brought about by the Third Reich was actually misunderstood---
Sasha Volkyeva: Nazism? And you equate me to its leader, Hitler?
She appears shocked, but there is a trace of amusement in Sasha’s face. She enjoys playing with this man, and it’s all the better that he doesn’t know her well enough to pick up on her subtleties.
Curt Mitchell: Not at all, not at all! I just thought your tour might benefit from our ideals because---
Sasha Volkyeva: Stop.
Curt Mitchell: Stop?
Sasha Volkyeva: That is what I said. You see me as freedom and not authority, and you wish to exploit this to broadcast your immoral attitudes. No.
Curt Mitchell: Ah, but you don’t quite underst---
Sasha Volkyeva: Don’t I?
Mitchell gapes for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. Then he changes tack.
Curt Mitchell: Leviathan is... a considerable talent to have on your tour, Ms. Volkyeva. His pure size makes him a challenge for any opponent. And have you thought ahead, Ms. Volkyeva? Every conflict develops into a war. The roster split will only deepen the rift, not purge it. When it’s time to throw down... you’re gonna want this guy on your side.
Volkyeva sits back in her chair and looks at Mitchell, silent. Curt half-grins, thinking he’s finally struck gold. Then Sasha arches an eyebrow.
Sasha Volkyeva: But is bigger always better, Mr. Mitchell?
It’s an innate ability Sasha possesses; that to turn on the sensuality at any given moment. Mitchell appears instantly glued to his seat, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
Curt Mitchell: I... I believe so, Ms. Volkyeva...
Sasha Volkyeva: (shaking her head) Not necessarily. But I am willing to grant you a chance.
Curt Mitchell: We’re on the tour?
Sasha Volkyeva: Not quite. You must first prove yourselves to me. At Divide And Conquer, Leviathan will perform in a match... a match against another man who has a desire to join me on the East Atlantic tour. I have high standards, Mr. Mitchell...
A daring wink.
Sasha Volkyeva: I accept only the best. The winner will join me! The loser... elsewhere.
Mitchell smiles and stands up.
Curt Mitchell: I'm glad you’re on my wavelength, Ms. Volkyeva.
Sasha Volkyeva: Who ever said that? Please leave my office.
Dick (C) vs Nash vs T Martin vs L Martin
STIPULATION: FOUR WAY FURY
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: JOSH K.
James Brunt: Tonight’s main event is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the Atlantic Wrestling Club Transatlantic Crown!
Dave Kern: It’s going to be interesting to see who the fans side with tonight, the immoral leaders of the Royal Court or the racist, extremist Furious Fists of God.
Jeff Kern: I’m personally pulling for the vagina on this one. As much as I like King Dick, Ellis Nash is basically the same person, only with tits, and a nice pair of tits is the only thing I can think of that could make me like Adam Dick more.
Steven Smith: I’m still pulling for dick, but I really don’t care who wins the match.
James Brunt: Introducing first, the challengers. From Boston, Massachusetts, they are both representing the Furious Fists of God, Liam Martin and Tim Martin!
“The Hallelujah Chorus” from “Messiah” by Georg Friedrich Handel majestically roars through the arena, and Liam Martin walks out first. When he gets into the ring, Tim follows as the music continues to play much to the fans’ collective chagrin. Tim gets into the ring, and the two of them discuss strategy.
Jeff Kern: I just got that one, Steven.
James Brunt: And from Cortland, New York, she is the AWC Frontier champion, Ellis Nash!
Ellis Nash comes out to “Oblivion” by Aimee Allen. She holds her Frontier Title over her shoulder and shows no excitement whatsoever that she’s about to compete for the Transatlantic Crown.
Dave Kern: Ellis Nash doesn’t look too excited to be out here.
Jeff Marx: Thank you, captain obvious. The block of description just said that.
Dave Kern: What the hell are you talking about? James Brunt: And finally, from Salt Lake City, Utah or Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at unweighable pounds, he is your AWC Transatlantic King, Adam Dick!
“Family Business” by the Fugees begins to play as Adam Dick walks out intently, wearing the Transatlantic Crown. He ignores the pyro and the fan reaction as he takes off his crown, hands it to the timekeeper with a warning that nothing better happen to it, and slides into the ring. The bell rings to signify the start of the main event.
Dave Kern: And we’re off, folks. This is Adam Dick’s first title defense since the beginning of May, and the Furious Fists of God have given him trouble.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, but those were handicapped matches. They were totally unfair, and I think Pearl set up those matches to weaken Adam Dick. I sure hope Sasha wins total control over AWC.
Adam Dick wastes no time in running to Liam Martin and hammering him towards the ropes with a flurry of forearm shots and punches. Dick whips Liam off the ropes and waits for a back body drop. Tim tries to interrupt by charging at Dick with a raised knee, but Ellis flies over Dick’s back and knocks Tim Martin to the ground with a flying forearm. Liam runs right into the back body drop, and Dick turns around quick, motioning for Liam to get back up.
Dave Kern: The Royal Court is starting this one out on fire.
Liam gets back up, and Dick charges into him with a flying head scissors that sends Liam over the top rope, bouncing off of the apron, and to the outside of the ring. Adam looks over the top rope at the incapacitated Liam Martin before helping Ellis peel Tim off the mat. The two double whip Tim Martin off of the ropes, and when Tim returns, Adam wraps around him in a sleeper hold neckbreaker. Adam keeps the sleeper locked in from the ground, and Ellis jumps into a double stomp on Tim Martin’s chest. Adam goes for the quick pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Tim Martin kicks out as Liam slides into the ring to be met with a series of stomps from Ellis Nash. Liam powers up from underneath Ellis’ boots, and he starts backing her into the turnbuckle with some punches. Once Ellis is subdued in the corner, Liam starts ramming her with shoulders to the gut. Adam sees this as he’s pulling up Tim Martin, and he runs towards Liam, but Liam sidesteps and sends the Transatlantic King right into AWC’s queen. Dick stumbles back and lands on his back with his legs spread, and Nash groggily falls forward, sending a headbutt right into the Royal Package. Dick writhes around in pain.
Steven Smith: Too bad for Ellis that this didn’t happen a few months ago.
Dave Kern: What do you mean by that?
Steven Smith: Oh, nothing, just some gossip I heard about the mini-Transatlantic Champion.
Liam pulls Ellis’ face out from Adam Dick’s balls, before slamming it back down into his nuts again with The Lord’s Anger. Tim and Liam both start laughing as Tim starts climbing to the top rope as Liam pulls Ellis up completely to her feet. Liam lifts Ellis up and slams her across Adam’s body with a suplex, and Tim dives off the top rope, sandwiching Lia in between his body and Adam’s with the Eagle Spread.
Dave Kern: Eagle Spread by Tim Martin! Adam Dick is being continually flattened.
Jeff Marx: I’d like to see Ellis do the eagle spread.
Steven Smith: I’d like to spread cream cheese on Kip Brown’s naked body.
Bill O’Reilly: I like to use a vibrator on myself while sexually harassing women on the phone.
Dave Kern: How the hell did he get in here?
Bill O’Reilly takes off through a vortex back to the No-Spin Zone as the match continues. Tim Martin gets up, pulling Ellis up with him and tossing her into Liam Martin, knocking both of them backwards before Tim goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Adam Dick gets a shoulder up. Liam pulls Tim back to his feet and pushes him. The two start to talk, but their discussion is interrupted as Ellis Nash kicks Liam Martin in the balls from behind. Liam doubles over, and Tim turns away, peeling Adam Dick up off the mat. The Frontier Champion hurdles over Liam’s back, bounces off the ropes and then floors him with a running DDT. Nash covers Liam.
ONE!
TWO!
Liam kicks out!
Dave Kern: After this initial series of pins, it looks like this match is going to get interesting. There are no alliances here.
Meanwhile, Adam is too busy trading punches with Tim Martin to notice the pinfall attempt. Tim gains the upper hand due to his side advantage and has Adam backed into the ropes. He sends some furious chops to Adam’s chest before backing up a few steps and charging with a big boot. Adam Dick ducks under the boot, and Tim Martin racks himself on the ropes. Dick knocks him to the outside from here with a leaping spinning wheel kick.
Dave Kern: Nice ring presence there by the champion.
Steven Smith: I’ve been keeping close watch on the competitors’ groins, and if my in depth analysis is correct, Ellis Nash has a slight advantage in this contest with no testicles at risk of being maimed.
Jeff Marx: If Ellis wasn’t already spoken for, I’d give her some in depth analysis.
The other commentators have taken to ignoring Jeff Marx.
Jeff Marx: You know what I’m saying? I meant in her vagina.
Adam turns towards Ellis and Liam, and motions Ellis away. Dick takes some shots at Liam before lifting him up and hitting a scoop slam. Liam springs back up with a hand on his back, and Adam Dick slips behind him and hits the Eaterplex ’05 on Liam Martin. Dick goes for the pin as Ellis watches the referee count.
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Ellis falls on top of Adam to break the pin after Tim Martin had slid into the ring and pushed her. Tim slides back out before Adam gets to his feet
Dave Kern: That was a close call there! Adam almost retained!
Jeff Marx: It was close enough. I think they should just give Dick the match.
Adam gets up, and he starts questioning Ellis Nash as Tim Martin slides into the ring. Adam points behind Ellis to warn her, but it’s too late as she turns right into Tim Martin’s palm and a subsequent Eagle’s Claw slam. Before Dick can intervene, Liam rolls him up from behind. Tim also goes for a pin on Ellis. Not knowing what to do, senior referee Michael Ryan hesitates for a second before dropping down to count both pins, slamming both hands simultaneously on the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Ellis and Dick both kick out at the last second.
Dave Kern: Michael Ryan’s split second of hesitation might have just cost either Liam or Tim Martin the match!
Jeff Marx: Or maybe it saved a confusion-based riot.
Steven Smith: More like saved Adam Dick’s illustrious ass.
Both Liam and Tim spring up, moving in on Michael Ryan from either side. They both start arguing with Ryan, who looks back and forth, threatening disqualification upon physical injury, but it’s too late as Ellis and Dick both get back up and synchronize dropkicks to the backs of the Furious Fists of God. Liam and Tim smash into Ryan, and Ryan goes down.
Jeff Marx: The Furious Fists of God just made a black and white striped sandwich out of Michael Ryan.
Steven Smith: Back in college, I was the meat in a black and white striped sandwich on a nearly daily basis. Oh, how I miss Cornelius and Kareem. Kareem-ed Corn-elius, I used to call them.
Dave Kern: That’s enough out of you, Steven.
Steven Smith: I agree. I just wish there was enough into me. If Bill O’Reilly ever returns from that vortex, ask him to borrow his vibrator for me, alright?
Inside the ring, Adam Dick and Ellis Nash capitalize, Dick nailing Liam Martin with the Newer-Age Estradaplex, and Nash pulling Tim Martin’s head back for her finisher, and the only move explicitly stated in her profile, the Decree! With no referee, though, Ellis Nash goes up to the top rope, but Dick hurries over to the top to block her.
Dave Kern: What the hell?
Jeff Marx: I don’t know either. I’m speechless.
Steven Smith: There’s a first.
Jeff Marx: You just shut the hell up, fag.
Dick and Ellis exchange words with Ellis perched on the top turnbuckle, but it’s to no avail as Adam Dick grabs her and places Ellis back down on the mat. Ellis flicks Adam off and slides out of the ring, crossing her arms.
Jeff Marx: What the hell is Dick doing? Does he want another handicap match with the Furious Fists of God?
Steven Smith: I wouldn’t mind placing little Steven in a handicap match against the furious fists of Cornelius and Kareem!
Dave Kern and Jeff Marx: Stop talking!
Adam Dick turns back towards the ring, and both Liam and Tim are up, staring him down. Adam looks at Tim and then at Liam before going bananas on both Tim and Liam with punches back and forth. The Fists recover, though, and start throwing their fists at Adam, backing him up before Tim kicks him in the gut. Tim thrusts Adam’s head between his legs, and he calls for a high impact maneuver.
Dave Kern: It looks like Tim Martin is setting up for the Lord’s Wish! This could be it.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, but there’s no ref, Einstein. And even if there was, do you think Liam would be content sitting back and watching his brother win the title?
The question turns out to be rhetorical for now, as Adam Dick reverses the powerbomb attempt, swinging his legs around and hitting a DDT on Tim Martin.
Dave Kern: Textbook Samurai (Time) Driver.
Jeff Marx: Nice (wise ass) commentary, Dave.
Steven Smith: Um, girl on pot?
Dave Kern: Huh?
Adam Dick springs up after his reversal. Liam charges Dick, but Dick shouts “SHORYUKEN” before dropping back and knocking Liam down with a Ryu Fireball Attack.
Jeff Marx: I think I just had an acid flashback.
Adam hops over Tim Martin to pin Liam, but Tim reaches up and catches Adam by the ankle, pulling him off of Liam as soon as he lands. Adam kicks at Tim with his free foot to break Tim’s hold. Adam then gets to his feet and starts stomping on Tim Martin. Adam pulls Tim up and tries to toss him over the top rope. Tim holds onto the top rope, though, and lands on the apron while Adam turns towards Liam again, who is still down from the fireball.
Dave Kern: Adam better turn around after that display of agility from the big man, Tim Martin.
It’s too late for Adam to turn around, Tim reaches his massive arms over the ropes and grabs Adam from behind by both ears.
Jeff Marx: It’s the dreaded Ear Pull!
Dave Kern: He might rip Dick’s royal ears off of his royal head.
Instead, Tim hurls Adam Dick over the top rope and to the floor by his ears. Tim looks down at Adam, about to leap off the apron and smash him up some more when he turns his head and sees his brother still prone in the ring. Tim Martin steps back into the ring and pins his brother Liam!
ONE!
Dave Kern: Oh my God! Tim is pinning Liam!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: King Dick’s no longer the king? Uh, white power!
TH---
Adam Dick, still recovering, is only able to sit and watch, his elbows propping him up on the ring apron with his jaw dropped.
---RE---
Ellis Nash is in the ring! She barely breaks up the pin with a diving axehandle smash to the back of Tim Martin.
Dave Kern: Adam Dick has to be breathing a sigh of relief right now!
The axehandle does little to damage Tim Martin, though. Tim gets up and backs Ellis Nash into the corner. Ellis has her hands out, but Tim keeps pushing her further back towards the turnbuckle. With her back to the corner, Ellis sends a foot right into Tim Martin’s balls. Tim doubles over and hits the ground. Now, Ellis catches Liam Martin still prone. She looks at Adam, who is still catching his breath outside after almost watching his title slip away before looking at Liam Martin on the ground. She looks back at Adam briefly before covering Liam.
ONE!
TWO!
Adam is more aware this time. He slides in and pulls Ellis off of Liam Martin. Ellis stands up, and Dick glares at her. She just shrugs, and Adam points to Tim Martin. Ellis starts laying some boots into him, and Adam drops down to cover Liam Martin.
ONE!
Dave Kern: This match has been hectic so far, and Liam is still out after that ludicrous fireball!
TWO!
Dave Kern: But it looks like its been all for naught. Adam Dick is going to retain here tonight.
THR---
Dave Kern: I spoke too soon! Liam gets the shoulder up!
Jeff Marx: It’s almost like god willed that to happen…just like he’ll will the eventual extermination of homosexuals.
Steven Smith: That’s why I subscribe to the Church of Scientology…because Tom Cruise is gorgeous.
Adam can’t believe that Liam kicked out. He starts hammering him with a series of mounted punches before the referee warns Adam to get up. Adam heeds Michael Ryan’s warning, but pulls Liam up by the hair, if he isn’t bald. Otherwise, Dick pulls him up by the head. In the opposite corner, Ellis Nash is working Tim with boots. She delivers a fist drop before pulling Tim up with her. Nash and Dick Irish whip the Fists of God into each other.
Jeff Marx: I hope that this collision will be both fast and furious!
But there is no collision, Tim and Liam both reverse the whips, and Adam Duck leapfrogs over the ducking Queen Ellis. Adam Dick slides around Tim and catches him in a wristlock. Liam catches Ellis Nash in a fireman’s carry hold.
Jeff Marx: Eaterplex ’05 on Tim Martin!
Dave Kern: To the Gates on Ellis Nash!
Adam covers Tim. Liam covers Ellis. Ryan counts both falls.
ONE!
Dave Kern: This one looks like it’s about to end, but the big question is how?
TWO!
Kickout!
THREE!
Dave Kern: Oh my God! Ellis Nash kicked out, but Adam Dick completed the pin on Tim Martin! What a photo finish!
Michael Ryan whispers something to James Brunt outside the ring…the name of the winner of this Transatlantic title match.
James Brunt: The winner… and still AWC Transatlantic champion… (sighing) Adam Dick.
Jeff Marx: KING, bitch! KING!
Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
FEATURING: ADAM DICK, ???
AUTHOR: ???
One man stands in the centre of the ring, one man whom everybody was hoping wouldn't be there: Adam Dick, still the Transatlantic champion. He's exhausted and shattered from a draining match but he's still top of the pile.
Jeff Marx: KING bitch!
Dave Kern: Would you shut up already? Anyway folks, with that taken care of, though not at all what we were expecting... I think it's time to close off for the eve---
Jeff Marx: Silence! The King is about to speak!
It's true, Adam Dick is standing in the centre of the ring getting ready to speak, microphone firmly in hand. James Brunt is looking ruefully in the background, seemingly the recipient of a tongue lashing from the King of AWC. Dick's got the swagger and the smile back, flaunting himself around the ring and getting back to himself. Stopping he brings the stick to his lips.
Adam Dick: (sneering) You all thought I was done, didn't you? Didn't you? But... you can never count the King out. I'm here and here to stay!
The crowd boos. Loudly. Dick relishes the delicious loathing like no other and swaggers over to the ropes, leaning on them like a slumbering leopard.
Dave Kern: Alright, that's great, can we end the show now already?
Jeff Marx: He'll take as long as he wants Kern! He's the champ and deserves this time!
Dave Kern: (sighing) Fine...
Dick is loving it as the crowd is vehemently against him, beginning to chuck rubbish into the ring. Adam just laughs at them. The crowd is getting worse now and so much so that somebody has jumped the barrier. Security begin to move over but he's too quick for them.
Dave Kern: Jeez... where do we get these security from?
The man slides into the ring, covered in a simple white t-shirt and jeans. His bodymass is impressive and you can see through the t-shirt that there's quite a few tattoos on his body. His hair is tied tightly back in an extremely short ponytail and otherwise is shaven clean. Dick looks up at him lazily... and the crowd watches as Adam's eyes go as big as globes. His jaw dropping, he rushes right into a giant shoulder charge, crumpling to the ground. The man roars in anger and throws the t-shirt off to reveal a monstrous tattoo spirallling from his back over his left shoulder and to the front. He viciously rips Dick off the mat.
Jeff Marx: What the hell! Come on security!
Dave Kern: I think I know why he hasn't been stopped...
The crowd is beginning to cheer now, slowly coming to as to who is assaulting and tearing Dick apart in the centre of the ring. He picks the champion off the mat and lifts him high in the air, twirling around the ring before bringing him crushing down to the mat, not even breaking a sweat.
Dave Kern: The FALL FROM GRACE!
Jeff Marx: Oh no! Not this guy!
As Dick lies unconscious in the centre of the ring, Jack Murphy stands tall right above him.
Well... you didn't think Adam would win that easy did you?