Fresh! Results

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Introduction

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

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The screen goes to black then fizzles to life suddenly, the letters “AWC” flashing across in a brilliant white light. A moment of silence dominates, then, backed by “Way Away” by Yellowcard, images of AWC's superstars appear, one after the other. The guitar plays softly first, then goes straight into a strong, powerful riff.

I think I'm breaking out
I'm gonna leave you now
There's nothing for me here
It's all the same

Pierce Lavelle is shown delivering his Whiplash finisher on Paddy O’Shea to gain the Transatlantic title, which he then lifts in the following shot to introduce his second reign on top of AWC. A pulsating white light continually lights up the screen, with shots of many AWC superstars in action being shown: The Unfuckables, Butterfly Hamada, Hate.

And even though I know
That everything might go
Go downhill from here
I'm not afraid

A quick collection of highlights from last week flash across the screen as the song moves into its chorus. Aimz talking trash in the ring; Alexa Kendericks whipping off her bra to give to Chainz; Red Rock’s leg drop off the security fence to knock out The British Bomber.

Way away, away from here I'll be
Away, away, away, so you can see
How it feels to be alone and not believe
Feels to be alone and not believe
Anything

Again, no pyro, no fanfare, no nothing as we join the announcers’ at their table on the side of the stage. The music fades to a barely audible level.

Steven Smith: I feel like I'm at a prayer meeting or something...

Jeff Marx: When has any religion EVER accepted a fag?

Dave Kern: Hello and welcome to Atlantic Wrestling Club’s Fresh!. Our packed show tonight features a PCW match between Andy Murray, Red Rock and Paddy O’Shea –

Jeff Marx: Oh ya, Pearl screwed Volky over with THAT!

Dave Kern: He did?

Jeff Marx: Din’tcha hear? Harber completed that part of the card for approval and he put “PCW match”, so she thought it was just a simple three way, with Aimz as guest referee of course. It was only later that he told the AWC website that PCW here wasn’t simply intended as a reference to Murray, Red Rock and O’Shea being PCW jobbers of yore, but in fact an acronym for the REAL match gimmick: pipes, chains and wrenches!

Dave Kern: That match is CERTAIN to get up Ms Volkyeva’s nose later tonight, with the match only won by chaining both opponents to ringposts!

Steven Smith: And with Aimz in there, things could get very messy!

Jeff Marx: I don’t think this is the place to be making smutty remarks, Steven.

Steven Smith: (mystified) ... but that was my one USEFUL comment of the night!

Dave Kern: There are just ten days to go until AWC Winter Warfare – a pay-per-view event that can be ordered right away! Just visit our website for instructions on ordering. The show comes from Germany for the first time!

Jeff Marx: Confirmed matches include Paddy O’Shea’s Transatlantic title shot and Chainz’ Relentless title shot. Yadda yadda, move on.

Dave Kern: But let’s NOT move on, since Chainz won the right to that shot in the Pyramid Scramble at Triangles, and ALSO won the right to choose the stipulation for the match! We should be seeing him announce that stipulation on tonight’s show!

Jeff Marx: So the champion Mike Wade has no say in it?

Steven Smith: Absolutely no say at all. That’s the beauty of AWC, Jeff. It’s practically a dictatorship.

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Santa Claus Is Coming To Town!

FEATURING: SANTA CLAUS, MRS CLAUS
AUTHOR: ???

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The crowd is stirred as the cameras pan throughout the arena. Suddenly, "Jingle Bells" fills the arena. The fans get to their feet and begin to cheer. Santa Claus walks down the ramp. Next to him is a woman, dressed in a gray wig and half glasses, presumably Mrs. Claus. He walks down, waving to the crowd, holding his brown bag of toys over his shoulder. He walks down the ramp, slowly, and slaps the hands of the fans in the front row. Mrs. Claus smiles and waves as well, but the attention is on the big guy. The big guy walks up the stairs and into the ring, holding the rope for Mrs. Claus. The two get into the ring, and the ring announcer hands Santa a microphone. The fans begin to chant…

”SANTA! SANTA! SANTA!”

Dave Kern: He's here! Finally! Santa Claus has come to town!

Steven Smith: He looks fat. Am I that fat?

Jeff Marx: Yes.

"Jingle Bells" dies down, and the fans continue to chant. Santa smiles and scratches his beard. He begins to speak into the mic.

Santa: HO! HO! HO! Merry Christmas, everyone!

The fans begin to cheer again and chant "Merry Christmas, Santa!" back.

Santa: Now, I have been watching each and every one of you this year. There have been many bad things happening this year. One of which is the passing of one of my favorite children, Richard Pryor.

Fans cheer at the mention of Pryor's name.

Santa: However, you fans have acted in a way that has been becoming of many people. As you know, I have been delivering toys to children for centuries now. However, I have to say that you fans are the best children Santa has seen, and because of that, I feel like I have to reward you all!

The fans cheer. Santa picks up his brown bag of toys.

Santa: How many of you all want the presents in my bag?

The fans cheer.

Santa: Louder! I can't hear you!

The fans cheer even louder.

Steven Smith: I WANT A GIFT!

Santa: Come on! I see some of my children in the back aren't cheering!

The fans cheer and chant.

”SANTA! SANTA! SANTA!”

Santa: Okay, okay, you all asked for it!!

Santa opens his bag. He begins to throw the contents over the fence, onto the crowd.

Dave Kern: What the – it's garbage! Santa is throwing garbage at the crowd! What is going on here?!

The fans boo. Santa smiles and takes off his hat and beard, revealing a young man with short, spiked blonde hair and a shadow of a goatee. Upon revealing his identity, the fans boo even louder.

Steven Smith: Wow, Santa is sexy!

Jeff Marx: Not now, you idiot! It's Patrick Mapleleaf! Yes! He's back!

Dave Kern: Mapleleaf's back?! OH MY GOD!!!

Patrick Mapleleaf: Ho, ho, ho, mother [beep]ers!

The fans start to boo and chant.

”CANADA SUCKS! CANADA SUCKS! CANADA SUCKS!”

Patrick Mapleleaf: How dare you! I came out here tonight to give you all what you deserve, and this is the thanks I get?! I have been out for three months, now. When I got hurt, I was wondering if I would ever get into this ring again. But I watched from my MANSION, on my 72 inch PLASMA TV, only to see that my injury wasn't even acknowledged! I didn't get any cards, no letters, and no phone calls from my fellow wrestlers. The only thing I got was a severed fish head wrapped in newspaper that said, "GOOD RIDDANCE!" from an anonymous sender!

The fans laugh.

Patrick Mapleleaf: You think this is funny, huh?

Jeff Marx: It's not funny! Respect this man!

Mrs. Claus: Excuse me –

Patrick Mapleleaf: What?!

Mrs. Claus: Can I go now? You hired me to dress like this for 30 bucks. I've done my part.

Patrick Mapleleaf: Well, of course. But before you leave, show these fans your nice face.

Mrs. Claus takes off her gray hair wig and glasses, to reveal a scurvy looking blonde with sores all over her mouth and face. Mapleleaf's face turns to a look of disgust.

Patrick Mapleleaf: My God! You actually make a living on the street corner with that face?! How drunk was I last night?!

Woman: Drunk enough to hire me for this job, now give me my money!

Patrick Mapleleaf: I'll give you what you deserve!

Mapleleaf kicks the woman in the gut, then does a swinging neck breaker on her. When she is down, he gets on top of her and executes a Full Blown Canadian submission move. She begins to scream and flail. The fans boo like wildfire. Finally, Mapleleaf lets her out, and she loses consciousness.

Patrick Mapleleaf: Ho, ho, ho, indeed. What you have all just witnessed is my favorite finisher, the Full Blown Canadian. Some of you may have forgotten that. Hell, most of you are so drunk on Belgian Ale that you can't remember why you're here…or I should say, piss water. Here, this is what a real beer looks like!

Mapleleaf reaches into the bag. He picks up a Molson bottle of beer, pops the cap off, and chugs the whole thing. He throws the bottle at the crowd; fortunately the fence prevents the bottle nearly hitting the front row of fans.

Patrick Mapleleaf: Canadian beer… nothing quite like it. That's much better. I have to say, in order to stand being in the presence of all of you, I need to be a little drunk!

The fans boo and chant.

”CANADA SUCKS! CANADA SUCKS! CANADA SUCKS!”

Patrick Mapleleaf: Shut your mouths, you peace loving hippies. The real reason I did that was to demonstrate my finishing move. Tonight, you will all see it again… on Mike Carman. Now I know that Carman won his first match here, but now he's got his hands full. He started at the appetizers and went right to the main course in one week! I'm not gonna win in order to impress you people. You could all pee in my mouth as far as I'm concerned. Wait, if I wanted to have piss in my mouth, I'd just drink your water.

The fans boo loudly. Mapleleaf waves his hand and cracks up.

Patrick Mapleleaf: But now, Carman, you have stepped into the ring with a true Canadian. You can hang out in New York City, smoke the [beep]iest weed on earth, hang out with your buddy Kyle, go blow some taxi drivers, but what I would be concerned about right now is defeating your neighbor to the north. You want some good weed, Carman? Meet me after the show, and I can introduce you to someone who can provide you with some pure, 100% pure Canadian hydro. That is, if you can still walk. Merry Christmas, assmunches! Now you can all go suck an egg!

"Oh, Canada," fills the arena as Mapleleaf climbs to the top ropes, raising his arms in the air. The fans boo, trying to throw the garbage back at Mapleleaf. He climbs out of the ring and walks back up the ramp.

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A Puzzle Fitted - Part A

FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE

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Pierce stood still, gazing at the brown folder in which he had accumulated everything in regards to evidence, photos, doctor’s reports, medical files, coroner reports and police documents, but everything had fallen to pieces for Pierce as he stood in his locker room in the Spiroudome in Belgium. Not matter how much evidence he held.

He had worked so hard to develop a career in the AWC, to build his reputation and Adam Dick was the sole reason behind its destruction. He had stood there, in Pierce's hotel room on Friday night, a large smug on his face, a grin that only meant trouble. Pierce knew it wasn't all Kelli's fault, as Adam Dick had forced her into the covert missions assigned, but Adam Dick had set everything up, and Pierce was putty in his hands, he had fallen for the trap and was now paying for it.

Adam Dick had led Pierce to Hancook Park, the night of Lawler's murder. Adam Dick had made the hit man aware of Pierce's and Kelli's presence.

Adam Dick had set the ball in motion from the get-go, playing both Kelli and Pierce.

Adam Dick had led Pierce to Omnikon, where he was betrayed and tortured, and it was Adam Dick who told Pearl everything, before Pierce had a chance to maintain all of his information and make it sure it fitted and it was Adam Dick that had set Pierce up to be shot.

Pierce stood in his locker room, swaying in motion, anger welling up inside him as he recapped these very moments that had endured in hours of yelling and pain on Friday night, and all Pierce did was sit there and take it, well no more. Pierce flung his fist at the wall, leaving a dent in its thin material. He was enraged, fuming and heart broken from Kelli's betrayal, but one thing was for certain, Adam Dick was in this arena.

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Signed, Sealed And Delivered

FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, JACK MURPHY
AUTHOR: FERGUS

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Sasha Volkyeva: Sit down Mr. Murphy.

The setting of the scene opens into the cold office of the Entertainment Co-Manager, Sasha Volkyeva (Ms. to you). Despite the possibility of Sasha decorating her office with as much furniture as she feels like, the office is still spartan and bare. The office is lit brightly all the same, fluorescent bulbs keeping everything in plain view, much to her liking. She is sitting behind her desk and calmly writing a note which is carefully folded and placed inside an envelope, perfectly done and just in time as Jack Murphy sits down opposite her.

Murphy is in plain clothes, a simple black t-shirt and tracksuit pants, nothing ostentatious, just down to earth and ready to go no matter what. Despite the fact he has to sit down he still carries his Platinum Title firmly over his shoulder and seems none too bemused with the fact he has been called, no ordered, to the office. He voices this concern as soon as he can of course.

Jack Murphy: This call was a bit... (biting lip)... unexpected.

Sasha Volkyeva: Ah but it is the best kind no? It always... how you say? Piques curiosity?

Sasha flashes a thin smile, her upper lip curling wickedly and slyly, letting on that there is much to be told. 'The Bull' swivels uncomfortably in his chair. The chair is suspiciously small and looks very out of shape, especially for a wrestler of Murphy's size.

Sasha Volkyeva: Comfortable?

Jack Murphy: (moving about) Immensely.

Sasha Volkyeva: Well, Jack there is something that I have to tell you that you will be more than... happy about. Immensely happy in fact...

The Entertainment Co-Manager shifts out of her seat and moves to a cabinet, opening the sliding drawer and removing a dossier from which she can read. She promptly sits down again, flattening her skirt immaculately and making sure that nothing is out of place. You can see from the camera's angle that the dossier is exactly perpendicular to the desk and is not one iota out of kilter. Murphy is still shifting.

Jack Murphy: Oh?

Sasha Volkyeva: I can see you're interested... right on the edge of your seat in fact.

Sasha points this out to Murphy who has, in an attempt to become comfortable has sat as far in front as possible in order to avoid the back of the chair which is twisted in such a strange way that in other situations it would be considered a torture device.

Then again...

Jack Murphy: (forced smile) Oh yes... ha ha...

Sasha Volkyeva: (sternly) Don't mock me Jack, otherwise I may see fit to revoke this... (points to the page)

'The Bull' peers to look at the page Volkyeva has opened in the dossier and thrust under his nose. Murphy's eyes go wide as balloons but only for a moment as he soon leans back with a grin across his face. This only lasts for a moment as the back of the chair impedes his progress painfully.

Sasha Volkyeva: I can see from your reaction you've changed your disposition?

Jack Murphy: (nods) Yes...

Sasha Volkyeva: Well then Mr. Murphy, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours alright?

Murphy simply nods, smiling and putting his hand out to shake hers. She agrees to the pleasantry, both parties gripping firmly and then leaving it abruptly. 'The Bull' doesn't stick around very long, leaving the office smartly and never once looking back.

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A Puzzle Fitted - Part B

FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT (WITH A TOUCH OF LARA) AND MIKE WADE

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Adam Dick stood against the water cooler in the hall, a large grin still on his face from the night he enjoyed bringing Lavelle's world to pieces. It was a tough job, destroying Pierce Lavelle, and it took its toll on Dick's own psyche.

No matter. He had crushed the man beneath his boot, played him into every scenario and now had pit Pearl Harber against the champion. Adam Dick was pleased with his work, and always knew Pierce was a sucker.

It was almost too easy… Adam Dick thought as he sipped on the cup of water, staring at the small TV and watching the fans enjoying the Fresh! show, thus far. Still Adam Dick knew something still needed to be done, to finish Lavelle off would give him great satisfaction and he would do it willingly, without the help of a very credulous David “Pearl” Harber.

Adam Dick grunted, crushed the small paper cup and walked off down the hall. There was business to take care of tonight. Judging by the week he had, Pierce would want to find Adam. There was no doubt in his mind. But this wasn't JUST about Adam Dick. There were more important persons that Adam had to deal with; like his partner.

Mike Wade: Come on, man, let me get your back!

Adam Dick: I would, Mike, you know I would.

Mike Wade: So why aren't ye? Feck, man, I just want to make sure ye stay safe is all.

Adam Dick: Me? In harm's way of Pierce Lavelle?! You've got to be kidding me.

Mike Wade: I'm just saying, ye pissed the lad off rightly so last week. If what you said to me is any unbiased indication, the man's world is destroyed.

Adam Dick: I'm sorry, Mike, but he isn't destroyed until he loses EVERYTHING, and that includes the Transatlantic Title.

Adam dug through the organized pile of his laundry, searching the void for a sweat-shirt or something to shield him from Santa's asshole weather.

Mike Wade: So let's go jump 'is ass! Put 'em right outta commission!

Adam Dick: No, I've planned too in-depth for that, his demise will be a lot more subtle. Now you stay here, please. I tend to listen to you when we're in terms of Paddy, I expect the same from you when we're dealing with Lavelle.

Mike Wade: Alright, alright, that's fair enough.

Adam Dick: Good luck tonight, Mr. Double Champ. If I see something on the screen that shows me you're in trouble –

Mike Wade: Then don't bother! I'm fightin' a woman tonight, remember lad? The whore will go down with one shot to the mouth when I finish with 'er.

Adam Dick: Of course! Well, I'm off to beat up a woman of my own.

Mike Wade: You know what we haven't done for a while?

Adam Dick: What?

Mike Wade: Really fuck someone up.

Adam Dick: You fucked Hate up last week.

Mike Wade: True. But I meant as a team. You know together.

Adam Dick: You sound like a man who has a plan.

Mike Wade: That I do. You'll back me up right?

Adam Dick: Ha. I don't even care who it is.

Mike Wade: Oh you'll love this one my friend, you'll love it!

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Sage vs Captain Suleimon vs Damian D'Angelo

STIPULATION: NEWCOMERS' THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: TASO

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James Brunt: The following is a Three Way Fury Match!

The fans cheer loudly.

James Brunt: Introducing first, from Turkey, he weighs in at 198 pounds... CAPTAIN SULEIMON!

"The Turkish March" starts to play and the fans look around quizzically.

Jeff Marx: What is this crap!? Classical music?

Out comes Captain Suleimon and the fans reaction is negative. They can't stand the guy as he heads toward the ring, acting aristocratic and above everyone else.

Dave Kern: Captain Suleimon is here! And boy, is he getting some good heat from the crowd. Not good heat, but bad good heat. Or is that good bad heat?

Jeff Marx: This just proves the fans are idiots! Look at him in the ring, he looks great in there! What a man!

Steven Smith: Um, hello? Gimmick infringement, ok?

Jeff Marx: Woop, it's getting quiet all of a sudden. Wonder what that means?

Dave Kern: There's another wrestler coming out? Ya think?

James Brunt: The second contestant in this match, weighing in at 180 pounds, from Salem, Massachusetts... here is SAGE!

AFI's "Death of Seasons" hits and out comes Sage. She doesn’t seem to be impressed with the fans or anything else for that matter. She's strictly business as she enters the ring.

James Brunt: And the final contestant in this three-way match, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 247 pounds... DAMIAN D'ANGELO!

And God I wanna know why
whoever said it was painless
should try and be famous

As the words shoot from the PA system, the music begins to kick in, and the song shoots out in full force. Purple lights shoot across the crowd, sending the crowd into a frenzy of boos. Damian D'Angelo pushes through the curtains, a smug look on his face, as he steps to the top of the ramp. A pair of wraparound glasses cover his eyes, hiding his darting eyes from plain view, as he stands there sucking in the energy.

You know I'm just livin' life
but nothing's for free
let's see what they say first
front page of the papers

He somberly walks down the ramp, focused on the task at hand, and the horrific ring that looms in front of him. As D'Angelo reaches the ring, he slowly makes his way up the stairs, before stepping gingerly through the middle ropes. Crawling over to the corner, he rests gently against the ropes.

Some days I find that even I
don't wanna be me
Just tryin' to be me
why don't they leave me the hell alone

Dave Kern: The final man in this match, Damian D'Angelo is set to go! Three Way Fury! AWC style!

The bell rings and the three contestants circle around the ring, keeping a safe distance between themselves and each other. They go around clockwise once, then reverse and go counter-clockwise around the ring again. The fans start to get restless and Captain Suleimon starts yelling at them. Then he turns his attention to his opponents and tries to get Damian to step aside so that he can go man to woman versus Sage. This starts a bit of an argument because each wrestler wants to get in on the action. The arguing boils over when the good Captain pokes Sage in the eye. Damian chops Captain Suleimon in the chest and Sage punches Damian's head.

Dave Kern: Moe, Larry, and Curly getting this match under way! Sage with a chop to Suleimon and then a punch to Damian! Here comes Sage now, punching away at both men! Ouch! Stopped short by a double kick to the mid-section.

Suleimon and Damian quickly decide to work together and whip Sage to the ropes. Their teamwork is for naught as Sage hits a jumping double clothesline to knock both men down to the mat.

Jeff Marx: At 5'8" and 180 pounds Sage needs to use her quickness and multiple illegal objects to win this match!

Steven Smith: Sage is from Salem, Mass. That's not so exciting but her name is very chic. Like Cher or Gandhi.

Dave Kern: Mahatma Gandhi, and I don't think that Gandhi could hit a DROPKICK like Sage just did on the Captain! And another dropkick on Damian D'Angelo! Sage to the ropes and she hits a NICE flying front kick on Damian! There he goes right out of the ring!

Sage turns around and walks right into Captain Suleimon and a kick to the gut. Suleimon drops a series of forearms to the head and back of Sage and the woman from Salem, Massachusetts falls to one knee. Suleimon hits the ropes and decks Sage with a boot to the side of the head and she goes down to the mat. Another sprint to the ropes and Suleimon connects with a nice springboard into a Lionsault.

Dave Kern: Cover!

ONE!

TW-

Dave Kern: Cocky cover by the Captain, no hook of the leg. Very early in the match too, I don't think he's going to beat either opponent that quickly. Suleimon in control of Sage here as he whips her to the ropes and dropkicks her in the jaw! Sage is a little loopy here as Captain Suleimon ducks behind her. TIGER SUPLEX! Another cover!

ONE!

TWO!

Jeff Marx: HEY! Damian D'Angelo breaks up the pin attempt with a kick to the head! Damian is the biggest guy in this match, so I suppose he will win this hands down.

Steven Smith: Bigger is better. Size matters. Add generic gay clichés here!

Dave Kern: Nothing cliché about this... FISHERMAN'S BUSTER! Damian just knocked the Captain silly! Dropped him on his turban! But here comes Sage now and she lands a kick on Damian's thigh. And another. Trying to chop down the 6'4" wrestler from Philadelphia with another kick! Sage with a dropkick to the knees and Damian is down. But the Captain is up... enzuigiri to the back of the head! Sage never saw it coming!

Captain Suleimon heads to the top rope and when both guys get he flies off and hits a double missle dropkick.

Dave Kern: One foot per face and the Captain is on target! The wildman named Suleimon grabs Sage by the hair and sets her to her feet. Irish whip to the ropes... flying cross chop! Sage goes down grabbing her chest in pain. The Captain is loving it and he is doing a little dance in the middle of the ring!

Jeff Marx: Everyone in Turkey has gathered around the one TV set, tuned into this match here to watch their man bring home his first win.

Steven Smith: Dance, baby! Wooo! Here's a dollar!

Dave Kern: Damian D'Angelo is not amused. He's back to his feet and behind the Captain... hangman's neckbreaker!

Sage finds an opening and jumps on D'Angelo's back as Captain Suleimon writhes in pain on the mat. Sage slips an arm under Damian's chin and clamps on a sleeper. Damian starts to turn red in the face from the pressure, but gets his bearings and tries to flip Sage off with a judo-like throw. Sage comes over the top but with her dexterity swings around and holds on, connecting with a nice DDT.

Dave Kern: What a counter! Damian doesn't know what hit him! Captain Suleimon tries to take advantage here... duck under the clothesline... Sage hits a belly to belly suplex on the wild Turk! Now Sage to the ropes... flying roundhouse kick to the face of Captain Suleimon! Sage on fire and the fans are getting behind her!

The fans really pop when the smaller Sage lifts up a charging Damian and slams him to the mat. She quickly grabs a leg when Damian tries to turn over. Damian attempts to struggle but Sage turns him over completely into a half crab and puts on the pressure.

Jeff Marx: She's got him in a half crab! Damian's reaching for the ropes but he's about to lose that leg below the knee!

Steven Smith: But here comes Captain Suleimon to the rescue! I wish he would take me away on his magic carpet!

Dave Kern: Suleimon in there with a swinging left. Sage ducks STILL holding the half crab! Suleimon swings right, NO! Sage ducks it again! WHOA! Suleimon with a slap to the face! These Turks don't like being disrespected or being made to look foolish. Headbutt to the face by Sage! She let go of the half crab and is now going after the Captain! Karate chop to the left trapezius muscle! Palm strike to the chin! Sage grabs an arm... leg sweep... ARM BAR! ARM BAR!

Jeff Marx: Arm bar!? She's gonna break his arm! How's the Captain gonna salute people with one arm!?

Steven Smith:The better question is how is he going to give me a massage after the show!

Dave Kern: Sage is going to make the Captain tap out! She has that arm bar cinched in tight! NO! NO! Damian D'Angelo with a big leg drop right across the throat of Sage and he breaks the hold!

Damian grabs Sage by the hair and smiles to the fans as he lifts her to her feet. He kicks her in the gut, hits the ropes, and connects with a swinging neckbreaker. The Captain comes running at Damian trying to catch him by surprise but he gets a boot to the face for his trouble. Damian quickly picks him up and slaps on a full nelson and the Captain squirms like a worm on a hook.

Dave Kern: The full nelson applied by Damian! Full nelson release leg sweep! Damian just rocked the Captain's world! Sage is getting to her feet but she has her back turned to Damian... wheelbarrow suplex!

Jeff Marx: The Captain is up and he slams Damian in the back with a forearm... that's his bad arm! The one Sage was pulling at like a pitbull! No-sell by Damian! He grabs Captain Suleimon... standing head scissors... ARM TRAP FACE FIRST POWERBOMB!

Steven Smith: This big boy is cleaning house here, people! He's on a mission! He's the real deal!

Dave Kern: The bodies have been laid out like just so much collateral damage as Damian D'Angelo has destroyed both men in mere minutes! He's got the Captain up again and I think he's going to finish this match right here... NOT YET! Sage with a roundhouse kick to the back of the head! Damian is shaken up and Sage heads to the ropes... powerslam! Damian caught her in mid-flight and slammed her down hard!

Steven Smith: He could slam me down anytime, thank you. Check please!

Jeff Marx: Damian grabs Sage by the hair... what is he doing? This guy is laughing as he just holds a limp Sage by the nape. He's twisted. He's sick. Sick and twisted, I like this guy!

Steven Smith: I like guys, period.

Dave Kern: The crowd is starting to get hot because Captain Suleimon is on the top rope and Damian doesn't see him! I think he realizes something is wrong and turns around and gets CAUGHT! Top rope flying body press by Suleimon! He hooks a leg!

ONE!

TWO!

Jeff Marx: Kick out by Damian!

Steven Smith: I love three ways!

Dave Kern: Captain Suleimon now on the move... to the ropes... springboard into a Hudaconrana! Damian's head thwacks the canvas! Sage tried a clothesline but the Captain ducks and grabs a head of hair... REVERSE TIGER SUPLEX ON SAGE!

Steven Smith: He's going for the ropes again! This Captain likes to fly.

Dave Kern: He sure does, and there he goes! Moonsault on Sage!

Steven Smith: The fans are shaking the fence around the ring like a bunch of crazy soccer hooligans! I'm scared! Hold me Dave!

Dave Kern: We're in Belgium! They like Van Damme and soccer here, and they sure love their violence! And they are getting it right now in this match! Sage staggers to her feet... RANA TO THE OUTSIDE BY SULEIMON! And here comes Damian with a charge, NO! The Captain ducks and he flies out of the ring too!

Steven Smith: There he goes, dancing again!

Dave Kern: The Captain is getting ready for something... he's on the move... TOPE SUICIDA ON BOTH MEN TO THE FLOOR! HOLY CRAP!

Steven Smith: Air Turkey!

Suleimon poses for the fans but they boo him lustily. He slams Sage's head into the steel fence and laughs in the camera lens. He then grabs Damian and throws him back into the ring. The Captain climbs the top rope again.

Dave Kern: He's putting on an aerial assault here! SAGE! She just pushed Captain Suleimon off the top! Now Sage is going up! But SHE'S grabbed by Damian! Splash Mountain Bomb! Damian just knocked Sage for a loop!

ONE!

TWO!

Steven Smith: Sage gets a shoulder up!

Dave Kern: This has been a hard fought match! This has been a war! And now it is down to Sage and Damian as the Captain got thrown off the top rope. Damian grabs Sage and pummels her with a forearm... Sage comes right back with a shot of her own! Back and forth! Lefts and rights!

Jeff Marx: Captain Suleimon is on the apron!

Steven Smith: That's not an apron, that's a turban!

Dave Kern: Suleimon on the apron... springboard... Damian dives out of the way... SPRINGBOARD DDT ON SAGE!

Jeff Marx: WHOA! Damian cut in with a superkick on Captain Suleimon!

Dave Kern: Damian picks up Sage... INVERTED BRAINBUSTER! He calls that the Prolific Plunge! Hook of the leg...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Dave Kern: Captain Suleimon can't believe it! He was so close but Damian was right there to take the match by pinning Sage! These three made some waves here in their first AWC match but it is Damian D'Angelo walking away with the victory!

---

A Puzzle Fitted - Part C

FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, SARAH KENNEDY, ADAM DICK, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHORS: LARA CLARKE AND JOE SCHMIDT

---

Pierce Lavelle strode down the corridor and noticed Sarah Kennedy stood facing him. As he approached, she turned her back on him. A dagger to the heart for Pierce Lavelle, she wasn't the only one that had turned there back on him, half the roster had done the same, and all because of Adam Dick's lies, games and Pierce Lavelle had fallen for it, all of it and was now paying the piper.

Pierce Lavelle strode on, the anger inside him increasing. He saw the crumpled cup at the water cooler and continued down the hall toward the canteen.

Inside he saw Adam Dick, stood, biting on an apple. As Lavelle gazed through the window, it was almost like a thermometer being put into lava, his blood boiled to breaking point, he gritted his teeth and shoved the double doors open.

Adam Dick jumped, surprised by the suddenness of Pierce Lavelle. Adam Dick now had Pierce where he wanted him, and a grin came over him, but Lavelle wasn't stopping, his stride held purpose. Pierce Lavelle meant business.

Adam Dick stood behind one of the tables, with Lavelle on the opposite end, both men stared at one another.

Adam Dick: Come now, Purse, don't want to make your situation worse.

Pierce Lavelle: You can't hurt me anymore, Dick. You've ruined everything that was good to me, I have nothing left, but you do.

Adam Dick's smile, soon turned around, his face held a slight hint of shock.

The anger in Lavelle was welling and boiling, something not many had seen.

Pierce Lavelle: You fucked up my life... everything... you messed up everything.

Adam Dick: You did that yourself!

Adam Dick said with coy and wit.

Pierce Lavelle: You'd like to believe that, wouldn't you. You showed up at my hotel room. Everything was so confusing, but when the whole truth came out that night, I sat still and took your shit, Dick. But I won't anymore. You set me up, you set Kelli up and now you are setting Pearl up... it's going to end Dick. NOW...

Adam Dick: Go ahead Pierce! Keep telling yourself you're the angel that everyone wants to believe in! Maybe you'll hurt more than yourself next time.

Adam Dick tried to move to the left of the table, but Pierce followed his movement, his muscles tightened, he was enraged.

Pierce Lavelle: You turned everyone against me, ruined my name and I played right into it...

Adam Dick: I didn't turn anyone against you! I SHOWED THEM THE LIGHT!

Adam Dick moved to the right, now becoming slightly agitated, he hadn't planned on this.

Pierce Lavelle: Where you going, Dick? You scared? Ha...

Lavelle moved forward and Dick moved back, Dick was now playing into the trap, intended by Lavelle.

Adam Dick: Now, Purse, take it easy... You're still doped up on those drugs.

Pierce Lavelle: We both know that's a lie... you knew all about my operation... you knew the drug I was injected with was a new experimentation. Not the one you told Pearl about... he fell for it, but it tipped me off, I just wasn't ready to believe the truth.

Adam Dick: You can't handle any truth! Look what happened to you, when you found out Kelli had been playin' you...

Pierce Lavelle: QUIET!

Lavelle screamed and hurled one of the chairs in Dick's direction, he ducked and watched it crash through the glass window separating the cafeteria from the corresponding corridors. Adam Dick froze, he had ticked Lavelle off, seriously.

Adam Dick: Maybe you should stop thinking of yourself as the hero that you AREN'T. You aren't as pure as you'd like the fans to think you are. You're just a normal person like I am. Face it Lavelle, YOU LOST.

Pierce Lavelle: I have nothing left to lose...

Lavelle charged, using the table as momentum, he crashed straight into Adam Dick, taking him down. Both men fell to the floor and got up immediately, but Lavelle charged again, driving Adam Dick with a spear straight into the canteen table. Adam Dick's back bent on impact, Lavelle turned and threw a right punch, heavily toward Adam Dick's face, it hit with an impact, causing Dick to spew some blood. Adam Dick, now with the urge to fight back, shoved Lavelle off him, and charged, both men charged and connected in a tie-up, turning into a drunken brawl, legs kicking and arms flailing.

Lavelle stood back and raked Adam Dick's eyes. Adam Dick raised his hand and Lavelle delivered a left punch, just as hard as the right punch. Adam Dick, swung around and whacked Lavelle across the head with a serving tray, which bent on impact. Lavelle wobbled backwards, dazed, but unwilling to give up, he flung another chair at Adam Dick, connecting it, Adam Dick shuddered and shook his head.

Lavelle getting angrier, charged again, the momentum of Lavelle's charge, took both he and Adam Dick through the second partition window. Both men fell to the floor with the crash of glass; Sarah Kennedy and others had been watching the whole fight and the words exchanged between the two men and now called for some back-up.

Lavelle rose onto his knees, but Adam Dick was quicker and hit Lavelle with a plant pot, to the side of the face, Lavelle spat out some blood and rolled away from the crashing pot. Adam Dick now had the momentum and charged, but out of nowhere the arm of a beefy security guard took him down with a clothesline. Adam Dick hit the floor with a thud. The others apprehended him and Pierce Lavelle.

David “Pearl” Harber emerged forward, hands in his pockets.

Pearl: What the hell?

He yelled at the two men.

Pearl: Look at what you've done to the cafeteria and the interior of this stadium. What the hell are you two playing at? Adam?

Adam Dick: He jumped me, almost took my head off… I was just def-

Pierce Lavelle: Quit the mind games, jerk. He's telling fucking lies.

Lavelle said with anger still in his voice and words.

Adam Dick: And YOU'RE lying to yourself!

Pearl: What?

Pierce Lavelle: That son of a bitch set us both up from the moment you gave the god damn assignment to me. He was the reason behind everything that happened. Isn't that right, Dick?

Adam Dick remained speechless in the arms of the seven foot security guard.

Pierce Lavelle: He led me to all the places, knew about my torture, set me up to get shot, set you up and is still playing you. Everything he told you… the thing about the drug, it was a lie… YES, I was tortured, but the drug was not untraceable and inextricable.

Pearl: How can I trust you?

Pierce Lavelle: Because he was at my hotel room Friday night, arguing with my girlfriend. He said everything, with such a smug on his face. He enjoyed watching my world crumble. He had hired Kelli to be an inside investigator for him…

Adam Dick: She did her job well…

Pierce Lavelle: You SON OF A –

Lavelle tried to move, but was held back by the other bodyguard and resorted to kicking his legs.

Pearl: Right, that's enough, both of you. Pierce…

Pierce Lavelle: My friends call me Pierce, Mr. Harber. My colleagues call me Lavelle…

Pearl stood back, a little hurt by the comment.

Pearl: Both of you are restricted from any sort of confrontation until I can arrange a match, if you break the rule, you won't be wrestling for two weeks straight and you'll be docked pay. Now out of my sight…

Adam Dick marched off in the other direction, laughing. Lavelle whipped his mouth and spat out some more blood. He gazed at Pearl and walked off down the hall.

---

Oh, How The Mood Can Change...

FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: FERGUS

---

Jeff Marx: I'm telling you, there is simply no reason why I should continue on.

Steven Smith: But why? You're really good at it...

Jeff Marx: Yeah that's true but keeping it in like this is only holding me back. Being so restricted and confined could only hinder me in the long run.

Steven Smith: But if you're devoted to one it can be so much better... the tightness will make it all the more worthwhile in the long run.

Jeff Marx: True...

Dave by now is completely flabbergasted, having no clue what the hell they're talking about... so he says so. Steven on the other hand looks about ready to drop with excitement, quite incapable of believing what Jeff is saying.

Dave Kern: What?

Jeff Marx: Our mics are on?

Dave Kern: YES!

Jeff Marx: I hope they didn't hear my secret!

Dave Kern: I think they did somehow... pretty much all of it.

Jeff Marx: Aww man... there goes my intention to broaden my singing career out of the band I've been for the past two years.

Steven Smith: (disappointed) YOU were talking about your singing?

Jeff Marx: Of course I was! What did you... ?... EWW!

Marx can be heard audibly gagging over the mic as Kern chuckles somewhat, pleased that he wasn't the only one to realise how badly Marx was crippling himself on international television. To the surprise and distaste of the crowd, 'Seven Faces' by Slayer hits the PA, heralding the arrival of the one and only, Jack Murphy.

James Brunt: Now making his way to the ring, from Kildare, Ireland... the Platinum Champion...

Dave Kern: Which isn't even recognised!

Jeff Marx: Shush Dave, there are important people in the arena... and it's not you.

James Brunt: JACK 'THE BULL' MURPHY!

With a further chorus of boos heralding the call of the man entering the ring, the hatred for Jack Murphy is complete. He slides into the ring and stares a hole through Brunt, showing how he's glad that he learned from last week. Murphy storms over to the one of the turnbuckles and stands on the second rope, proudly displaying his Platinum Title.

Dave Kern: He's a bit insistent on that belt isn't he?

Jeff Marx: That's because it's the one true belt you fool! We don't need anything else! Now quiet, he's about to speak.

Murphy is now pacing the ring and doesn't look all too happy at all. The crowd easily picks up on this, fully aware and pyschic, knowing exactly what to chant.

”BUTT-ERRR-FLY! BUTT-ERRR-FLY!”

Jack Murphy: Shut up!

The chant definitely had the required effect as Murphy's face turns crimson from the venom that spat the last comment. He fumes in the centre of the ring, the crowd cheering and hooting.

Dave Kern: The crowd of course is referring to Murphy's quite surprising loss to Butterfly Hamada last week.

Jeff Marx: An anomaly! It won't happen again!

Steven Smith: That's what you said to your partner in bed last night...

Jeff Marx: How did you... (coughing) I mean what are you on about Steven?

Jack Murphy: It seems that last week... something unforgivable happened. Something so blatantly unfathomable that it just simply makes no sense... last week, your own personal saviour of real wrestling was screwed once again by Pearl Harber.

Dave Kern: What???

Jeff Marx: It's true Dave and you know it.

Jack Murphy: Last week that idiotic Fujita had the gall to fake an injury that clearly I had nothing to do with! That is the first step on the path of Harber, however that would not be enough to complete his concerted attempt to shame me. Not only did he switch who I was to face, he did the most ridiculous thing possible.

Dave Kern: I don't see why he can use that first part as an excuse, he claims Hamada shouldn't even be in the ring by his logic so why would he have to worry about a woman?

Jeff Marx: Silence!

Jack Murphy: No, he doesn't stop there, he then proceeds to play special effects man and use such pathetic imagery which quite clearly left me in surprise and shock! My dear seals, if you'll note, Ms. Hamada...

'The Bull' rears back, disgusted he had to utter her despicable name.

Jack Murphy: That woman quite clearly was aware of what was to happen! Was she fazed by the special effects? Wasn't she just a little too ready for them to happen? I find this disgusting and repugnant!

Jeff Marx: He is damn right! This is ridiculous Kern and you know it! How can our pathetic excuse for an entertainment manager do such a thing?

Dave Kern: How the hell do you know he did it?

Steven Smith: He was down on his knees backstage at some appropriate moment? I know I would've been...

Jeff Marx: NO! And it's true because we just heard it there!

Dave Kern: You're going to believe him over our Entertainment...

Jeff Marx: CO!

Dave Kern: Fine. Entertainment Co-Manager Pearl Harber? You're a tool.

Steven Smith: Mmm... tool...

Steven's insightful comment has managed to completely erode what the two others were saying, leaving them silent and disgusted. This leaves us in perfect time for Murphy to follow up.

Jack Murphy: So it is simple. Last week's match was not a loss, there is nothing truer than that. I refuse to accept that gung-ho man anymore. Which leads me quite nicely though... to another matter of business. Something that is far more pleasant and good than the last.

'The Bull' pulls the Platinum Title up onto his shoulders even higher, making sure that it can be seen by as many people as possible. He even shines it a little, buffing it with his hand.

Jack Murphy: I know you all saw me earlier in Ms. Volkyeva's office and... well she had some happy news for myself.

Jeff Marx: (smugly) Oh you're going to love this Dave...

Dave Kern: Why? You know?

Jeff Marx: Of course, I'm one of 'The Bull's' confidants you know.

Dave Kern: Right...

Jack Murphy: Earlier this morning, Ms. Volkyeva received a fax from both her and that other man's superior, Sam Gordon. It read... and I'm quoting... that as of the 13th of December, the Platinum Title... is recognised officially as a legitimate AWC championship which can be defended, displayed and worn on any and all AWC events. Signed, Sam Gordon. That my favourite seals, is how you get things done!

Dave Kern: WHAT?????

Jeff Marx: BWAHAHAHAHAH~!

The crowd's boos are rampant around the arena as Murphy grins from ear to ear, showing off the new AWC Platinum Championship. Whilst the title belt itself doesn't display the namesake of the organisation, it's all official. Fans are incredulous and shake the cages around the ring violently, seeing them sway in the air but not doing much in actual effect. Murphy is all too aware of this and laughs his head off.

Jack Murphy: So while Harber tried to stop my matchmaking ability last week I have easily sidestepped that! So without further ado... the challenger to my Platinum Title at the PPV...

But he goes no further as 'Bohemian Like You' hits the arena to a massive cheer.

Jeff Marx: Again? Ugh!

There is no faltering in the step of David “Pearl” Harber, he bounds right out of the backstage area and struts right down to the ring, entering the ring before James Brunt can even attempt to try and even announce him. Harber brushes him off, instead taking the mic and locking eyes with Murphy who is clearly pissed off at this repeat of last week.

Jack Murphy: This is tiresome, I have had enough of your disrespect! You have no reason to be out here once again and furthermore we have settled this dispute, I have seen to it that this title is AWC recognised. Now if you'll just leave and let me...

Pearl: I can't do that Jack because for one simple fact: you've been outwitted again.

Jack Murphy: (sighs) What now? Is your brain addling?

Pearl: More like yours. You never read that contract Sam Newman posted to Volkyeva. Of course, she knew but she didn't feel it necessary to bring it to your attention. But, as your Entertainment Co-Manager, I felt I had to be the one to break the news and keep you fully involved in all the goings on revolving around your situation.

Dave Kern: This sounds... interesting.

Jeff Marx: That was one long piece of crap.

Steven Smith: Least he has something long Jeff.

Jeff Marx: What the? Unprovoked! Unprovoked I say!

Murphy is standing stoically in the centre of the ring now and is looking slightly worried at this statement. Seeing no retort, Harber continues.

Pearl: Well, you see Jack there was one condition that Mr. Newman was intent on having put in and that was the only way in which your title could be recognised. See Newman has this liking to be in control of his company and as such, he does not have a liking for other people being in control of the destiny of his titles. So... you've got your title...

Jeff Marx: No...

Pearl: But only at the cost...

Jeff Marx: No...

Pearl: Of your ability to make your matches!

Jeff Marx: NOOOOOOOOOO!

The crowd erupts as 'The Bull' looks on in disbelief, Pearl taking in the cheers and applause that has greeted this statement. He slowly moves around the ring, taking it all in and laughing heartily as Murphy's face turns an even darker shade of red.

Pearl: Now, now that is settled I have some further news for you. Something that I feel is necessary.

Dave Kern: More? What could top that?

Pearl: As regards your match this evening; forget about it, it is no longer your concern. I don't think I can take the risk of you mutilating Hamada tonight, not after she beat you last week...

Again the crowd pops and Murphy is on fire with rage.

Jeff Marx: Cheap shot! Smack him upside the head Jack!

Pearl: No, I think we need to settle this championship thing once and for all. You've got your recognition but I want to see if you're willing... to put it on the line tonight!

Dave Kern: Woah! Looks like a title match is on for tonight! Who's it going to be against though? Adam Dick maybe?

Jeff Marx: Bah!

Murphy doesn't respond, merely a nod is all Harber requires.

Pearl: Of course, it's not just going to be any title match... I think a unification match is in order. Let's face it Jack, I don't want your title here anymore than you want me here so I'm signing you in for a title versus title match...

Dave Kern: Woah!

Pearl: Against the Transatlantic Champion... PIERCE LAVELLE!!!!

The roof explodes as the name of the top champion of AWC is announced as Murphy's challenger. Jack is a little taken aback but soon his face turns into a smile and he looks quite happy with the decision.

Dave Kern: OH MY GOD!!!

Pearl: If you win... the Platinum belt becomes the top title... otherwise it'll be the Transatlantic retaining its place. Only one belt is sticking around after tonight Jack, I don't have the space for another belt on the show. Good luck.

Without another word Harber leaves the ring, dropping the mic in his wake and turning his back on Jack Murphy. 'The Bull' looks on with a smile firmly planted on his face as Harber leaves.

Dave Kern: Lavelle vs. Murphy! THIS IS HUGE! AND IT'S TONIGHT!!!!

Jeff Marx: I don't believe this! THIS IS BRILLIANT!!!!

Steven Smith: BOCA~!

On that poignant note the commentary ends, Jack Murphy smiling out at the camera who are still buzzing at the thought of the bout that'll close the evening.

Jack Murphy vs Pierce Lavelle: Title for Title.

---

Ginger Tuppence

FEATURING: RED ROCK, BOOLIE, AIMZ
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND KATIE

---

We now enter a corridor backstage where Red Rock and Boolie are stood around loitering. Red Rock and Boolie are discussing the forthcoming Christmas Party.

Red Rock: I can't believe they got Babyshambles they're fucking rubbish! Pete Doherty? What's he all about, bloody smack head.

Boolie: Yeah they should get a good band! Like Slade!

Red Rock stares blankly at Boolie and shakes his head.

Red Rock: What is wrong with you?

Voice: Hey Red Cock!

Red Rock turns around, slightly offended at this person who just called them Red Cock. He rolls his eyes and folds his arms as Aimz stands before him.

Red Rock: Hello rape magnet!

Aimz: Ha, ha! Very good. How’s your head Red?

Red Rock pauses and looks towards the ceiling sarcastically.

Red Rock: It's okay, probably not as good as yours... you cock guzzling cum bucket!

Aimz: Oh, beauty - I've never heard that one before, 'cock guzzling cum bucket'. Please, sir... may I have another?

Red Rock: Crikey Aimz, you really have some problems. What is your problem?

Aimz: My prob -

Red Rock cuts Aimz off.

Red Rock: Have you got sand in your vagina or something?

Aimz: No I don -

Red Rock: But do you have sand in your vagina Aimz? Is that why you're so angry?

Aimz: Look. Shut -

Red Rock: Or is it because you're ginger?

Aimz: Why does everything have to do with vagi - wait, ginger? Lookie here, punk...

Red Rock: Do you have a ginger tuppence Aimz?

Red Rock makes an upside down triangle with his fingers and positions it by his crotch as he laughs to himself.

Aimz: You're a fucking idiot!

Aimz shakes her head at Red Rock who is creasing up with laughter as Aimz walks off.

---

A Puzzle Fitted - Part D

FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE

---

Pierce Lavelle continued walking until he reached his locker room. The previous experience had now caught up on him and he could no longer let his words speak for his actions. He needed to finish this off, once and for all.

Pierce, knowing that no matter what happened, everything that had been done, was done and there was no going back, but he knew he could at least fix some things.

Inside his locker room, he found Sarah Kennedy stood holding a picture.

Pierce Lavelle: What do you want? I’m not in the mood for an interview…

Lavelle said and brushed passed her and pulled out a heavy brown folder, filled with all sorts of pictures, documents and reports. Sarah Kennedy stood back and crossed her arms. She blocked the door.

Sarah Kennedy: Give me a second of your time.

Kennedy pleaded, but Pierce was now too far gone for her to reach him. He was acting on momentum, nothing more and didn’t want to be taken off the platform before he managed to do one last thing.

Pierce Lavelle: Not now, Kennedy.

Sarah Kennedy: PIERCE!

Pierce Lavelle stood in front of her and moved her to one side.

Sarah Kennedy: I’m sorry for doubting you and believing…

Pierce Lavelle: Everyone turned their back on me, not just you…

Lavelle said and shut the door, he continued moving down the hallway, ignoring the many onlookers. He knew what he needed to do, then he would be finished with this, once and for all. He had nothing left to lose.

He burst open Harber’s office door and stood before the manager.

Pearl: Pi- Lavelle, what are you doing he-?

Pierce Lavelle: Here’s everything you’ll need… everything you wanted and everything I wanted to tell you, but he beat me to the punch and ruined my life… Here’s your god damn evidence.

Lavelle shoved the heavy folder into the chest of David Harber.

Pearl: …I…

Lavelle stood back and began to leave.

Pearl: Wait one moment!

The manager’s voice still held an influence over Lavelle, he was bound to obeying those above him, taking his orders and going through with them.

Pearl: Pierce, you never told me this, that’s what annoyed me, but I believe you and I am sorry for doubting you and trusting Adam Dick. I thank you for the work you did in Los Angeles, this seems to be enough…

Pierce Lavelle: Not a coward after all, eh, Mr. HARBER…

Pearl: I never meant that… I can see you stayed and fought… your wounds say it all.

Pierce Lavelle: I want to finish this, Mr. Harber… he did this to me…

Pearl: I’ll think of something…

Pierce Lavelle: THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH…

Lavelle yelled, his voice getting squeaky.

Pearl: I know you’re hurting, but you need to ca-

Pierce Lavelle: Don’t tell me to calm down, Mr. Harber. I’ve had enough of this, I can’t take it anymore. He crushed me, put everyone in this company against me and put the woman I fell in love with against me, she wasn’t even with me to begin with, now that I think about it…

Pearl: Pierce!

Pierce Lavelle: You doubted me too. You doubted me as a champion. Called me a coward. What am I doing talking to you?

Lavelle said, his head dipped down, he turned around and left, slamming the door behind him.

Pearl: I am sorry…

---

Mike Carman vs Patrick Mapleleaf

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: MIKE MADRINO

---

James Brunt: The following is a singles match! Introducing first, weighing in at 254 lbs, already in the ring, hailing from Toronto, Canada, Patrick Mapleleaf!

A noise begins to fill the arena and the lights slowly begin to dim. "Stink Fist" by Tool continues to play as Mike Carman appears on the ramp-way.

It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To feel, to breathe, to know I'm alive.

Pyro erupts in front of Carman and he begins to walk down to the ring. He wears black tights with his name running down the sides. He bares no shirt and his hair blankets his face and eyes.

James Brunt: And his opponent, from New York City, weighing in at 218 lbs, ‘The Carmanator’ Mike Carman!

Carman puts one hand through his hair and then charges towards the ring. He slides in and waits in the corner.

A quick headlock has Mike Carman gaining the upper hand on Patrick Mapleleaf. The two men continue jockeying for position as they make their way into the corner. The referee calls for the clean break, but Mapleleaf delivers an elbow to the mid section of Carman. Mapleleaf quickly takes advantage and throws Carman into the corner. Patrick delivers rapid right hands, before nailing a huge blow that sends Carman high into the air. Carman lands softly on his feet and comes out with a HUGE right hand of his own that sends Mapleleaf staggering backwards.

Dave Kern: The two men are fighting to gain the upper hand on the other, this has the makings of a great match!

Jeff Marx: Don’t be stupid, Dave.

Mapleleaf hooks up with Carman once more, and sends Mike Carman flying off the ropes – Carman comes barreling through once more, and ducks the heavy clothesline that was designed to take off his head. Carman bounces off the ropes, and goes flying through the air, delivering a clothesline of his own. Mapleleaf falls heavily to the canvas. Carman is quick to take advantage and brings Mapleleaf back to his feet. Carman moves around behind Mapleleaf and nails the belly to back suplex.

Steven Smith: I’d like to do that.

Dave Kern: A belly to back suplex?

Steven Smith: No, get my belly to Patrick’s backside.

Jeff Marx: You have got to be kidding me.

Dave Kern: Carman locks on the ankle lock, and Patrick Mapleleaf could be in trouble here!

Carman continues twisting away at the leg of Mapleleaf, pulling with more and more fury. Referee Richie Travis asks Patrick if he would like to give up, which is met with a quick shake of the head. Mapleleaf reaches for the ropes, but Mike Carman pulls him away, moments before he reaches the ropes.

Dave Kern: Listen to these fans, they’re going crazy! They’re really behind Mike Carman here this evening.

Jeff Marx: Can you blame them? Who likes a Canadian?

Mapleleaf once again begins making a push to reach the ropes. Screaming in agony, he makes one last leap at the ropes, gripping it with his right hand. Richie Travis makes Carman break the hold, who agrees without hesitation. Mapleleaf quickly rolls to the outside. Mapleleaf hobbles around on the outside, trying to gain some mobility on his left ankle once again.

Dave Kern: Patrick Mapleleaf, aware of the new 5 count, rolls back into the ring to break the count.

Jeff Marx: Too bad, we could have put ourselves out of our misery had he stayed outside a little longer.

Mike Carman quickly takes advantage, landing a quick boot to the backside of Patrick Mapleleaf. Another repeated shot has Mapleleaf crying out in pain. Carman quickly drops down and gains the headlock. Wrenching away on the neck of Patrick Mapleleaf, Mike Carman looks to be fully in control. Mapleleaf slowly appears to be fighting out of the hold, making his way back to his feet. Mapleleaf lands an elbow to the midsection of Carman, before dropping to his knees and landing the blatant midsection.

Steven Smith: Oh no! Anything but the jewels!

Jeff Marx: Do you ever think about anything other than the jewels?

Steven Smith: Maybe.

Jeff Marx: God damn homo.

Dave Kern: Patrick Mapleleaf looks to gain the upper hand with the illegal maneuver. Mike Carman is rolling around the ring in agony, obviously hurt by the shot to his lower extremities.

Jeff Marx: Let me hit you in the nuts and see how you feel.

Dave Kern: I think I’ll pass.

Steven Smith: I’ll take a-

Jeff Marx: Don’t even start with me.

Carman slowly gets to his feet and is met with a devastating clothesline from Patrick Mapleleaf. Mapleleaf bounces easily off the ropes, and drops an elbow to the sternum of Mike Carman. Carman rolls around in pain, clutching his chest as the air is knocked out of his system. Mapleleaf quickly looking to take advantage of this, picks Carman up, and delivers a chop to the chest which is met with a ‘Whooo’ from the crowd.

Dave Kern: You could hear that shot around the entire dome!

Mapleleaf delivers a quick kick to the knee of Mike Carman. Carman doubles over in pain, before making his way back to his feet. Mapleleaf once again goes in for the kill, delivering a solid knee buster. Mapleleaf goes for the quick cover.

ONE!

Dave Kern: Patrick Mapleleaf should know it’s going to take more than a knee buster to put away newcomer, Mike Carman.

Jeff Marx: Well, he is Canadian.

Both men get back to their feet, and Mapleleaf delivers another solid knife hand chop to the chest of Mike Carman. Another chop sends Carman stumbling backwards and bouncing off the ropes. Carman winds up and nails a straight right hand to the face of Patrick Mapleleaf. Mapleleaf shakes the cobwebs from his head, and throws a quick jab with his left hand. Carman once again bounces off the ropes and throws another HUGE right hand. Mapleleaf staggers backwards once again, and Mike Carman follows it up with another shot. The bigger Patrick Mapleleaf takes a couple steps backwards, but regains his composure. Mike Carman, looking for a way to get the bigger man off his feet, nails a beautiful standing dropkick!

Dave Kern: Unbelievable height on the standing dropkick!

Jeff Marx: Yeah, it was alright I guess.

Mapleleaf rolls around on the canvas, before making his way back to his feet. Mapleleaf walks right into the clutches of Mike Carman, who quickly throws him over the top of his head with the overhead belly to belly suplex! Mike Carman quickly ran to the corner of the ring, and hopped to the top ropes. Turning around to face his opponent, he raised his hands to the air, and flew off the top rope, delivering a flying elbow! Carman makes the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

Last second kickout by Patrick Mapleleaf has the crowd in an uproar.

Dave Kern: The crowd REALLY wanted referee Richie Travis’s hand to hit the mat for the three count there.

Jeff Marx: Who didn’t? Nothing I’d love to see more than Canada put back in its place!

Mapleleaf appears to be shaking the stars from his head – pushing his way back to his feet as Mike Carman taunts him, awaiting him to make it back to his feet. A running forearm sends Patrick Mapleleaf hard to the mat once again. Mapleleaf was quick to his feet, and was met with another forearm.

Dave Kern: Carman running over Mapleleaf here tonight!

Carman bounces off the ropes, and goes for the leg drop, but Patrick Mapleleaf wisely rolls from harm’s way. Carman lands firmly on the canvas, clutching at his hamstring. Mapleleaf is the first to his feet, and Carman slowly gets up, still clutching the back of his leg. Carman tries to move forward at Patrick Mapleleaf, but is met with a quick kick to the stomach. Mapleleaf grabs him, and delivers an overwhelming sit down powerbomb to Mike Carman. Mapleleaf holds on for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

Dave Kern: Last second kickout by Mike Carman! Richie Travis was mere milliseconds from his hand hitting that mat for the third time!

Jeff Marx: I would once again like to point out, too bad!

Carman rolls out of the pin attempt, still badly shaken up from the power move delivered by Patrick Mapleleaf. Mapleleaf hops back to his feet, and screams at Mike Carman, taunting him to get back to his feet. Mapleleaf is grinning in anticipation; the smile widening as he continues screaming at the fallen Mike Carman. Carman slowly makes it to his feet, and Mapleleaf hooks his arm around the neck of Mike Carman. A swift snap suplex has Mike Carman soaring through the air, and landing heavily upon the canvas once again. Mapleleaf pulls Mike Carman to his feet once again. Mapleleaf sends Carman off the far ropes – Carman comes flying back across the ring with a lot of force, and ducks the initial clothesline from Patrick Mapleleaf. Carman goes bouncing off the near ropes, and both men collide with a pair of clotheslines on each other!

Dave Kern: Both men are down! What an excruciating shot to both men.

Jeff Marx: Too bad it didn’t do more damage to one of them. Ya know, like permanent-

Dave Kern: And listen to this crowd trying to rally Mike Carman!

The crowd continues to chant for Mike Carman, trying to rally the fallen hero. Patrick Mapleleaf is the first to stir, gradually making his way to the ropes, pulling himself up. Carman all of a sudden hops to his feet, almost as if he was playing possum, and rushes at Patrick Mapleleaf. Mapleleaf sidesteps the attack and hooks on the Full Blown Canadian.

Dave Kern: FULL BLOWN CANADIAN! MAPLELEAF HAS IT HOOKED!

Carman screams in agony, the pain is evident on his face. Richie Travis continuously asks Mike Carman if he would like to give. Carman slowly fights back, shaking his head. He reaches for the ropes, but Mapleleaf twists his body, blocking off his attempt to reach the ropes. Carman is forced to tap out to the pain.

Dave Kern: Mike Carman taps! Patrick Mapleleaf makes Carman tap to the Full Blown Canadian! What a match.

Jeff Marx: Yeah, a real doozy.

---

Don't Piss On My Shoes

FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY, RED ROCK, BOOLIE
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND PIERRE HYDE

---

The camera cuts backstage in to the toilets of the Spiroudome. The room is suddenly filled with the booming sound of the door swinging open and bangs against the tiled walls, which creates an ear drum damaging bang. We see Tim Shipley our Frontier champion burst through the door and straight over to the urinals. He positions himself and unzips his fly and lets it flow. Tim Shipley whistles to himself when suddenly and silently from nowhere Red Rock appears next to him; and Boolie the other side causing Shipley to jump slightly.

Tim Shipley: Watch out Red!

Red Rock: WOAH! Careful Shippers you nearly pissed on my shoe!

Tim Shipley: Er. Yes, right, sorry…

Shipley awkwardly turns away to resume the emptying of his bladder.

Red Rock: You looking forward to your match?

Shipley raises his eyebrows.

Tim Shipley: Short answer’s no…

Red Rock: You're going to have to carry The British Bummer, y’know?

Shipley smiles weakly.

Tim Shipley: He’s a veteran, Red, far more experienced than me. He’s the one who should be doing the carrying!

Tim Shipley shakes the last few drops of the end of his tally whacker and is about to turn away when Red Rock puts his hand on his shoulder whilst still weeing.

Red Rock: Well he obviously can't handle himself if he needs to get advice from you Tim.

Tim Shipley: What are you trying to say?

Red Rock: Well, because Bomber is the WORST wrestler in AWC and your advice caused him to lose... that makes you worse than The British Bomber.

Boolie: Yeah, that is true Tim. You did cause him to lose.

Tim Shipley raises his eyebrow at Red Rock and Boolie as he taps his Frontier title, which is draped over his right shoulder.

Tim Shipley: That’s some pretty crap logic, guys… and besides, look what I’ve got.

Red Rock: Pfffft! That's a joke! I could beat you any day if I could be arsed!

Tim Shipley starts to laugh along with Red Rock and Boolie, and the hysterics get a little out of hand, Boolie slumping against the wall and Red Rock bending down, hands on his knees, while Shipley slaps him on the back, but suddenly Shipley stops and stares at RR straight-faced. Presently, Boolie and Red Rock stop laughing too and meet each other’s eyes, a bit confused about why they were even laughing to start with.

Tim Shipley: So how about it then? Winter Warfare it is.

Tim Shipley nods confidently at Red Rock before turning around and striding out the door. Red Rock stares him out the door nodding with a smile across his face with Boolie patting him across the back.

---

The Meeting

FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, CHAINZ, TRACY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, JACK MURPHY
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND PIERRE HYDE

---

The scene shifts backstage to the outside of Chainz’s locker room. We approach, but before pushing the door open we hear voices from within.

Voice: I’ve been looking for a fine strong man like yourself to help me around here.

We immediately recognize the voice as belonging to our new co-general manager, Sasha Volkyeva. The camera pans up to reveal the name on the door, it reads “Chainz”.

Chainz: What makes you think I’m interested?

Another feminine voice is heard, thou this one belongs to Tracy.

Tracy: Maybe we should hear her out Mike.

Chainz: Fine, proceed, but keep in mind that I don’t like being bossed about by women.

Tracy: He’s just teasing, he loves it when I do it.

Sasha Volkyeva: Enough idle chatter. Can we move along?

We open the door and step into the locker room. Chainz is watching attentively – not her face, of course, but rather the trace of cleavage visible.

Sasha Volkyeva: As you know, David Harber and myself are now Entertainment Co-Managers of this… ah… wonderful promotion.

Chainz: That ain’t news to me.

Sasha Volkyeva: Note the first three words of my previous sentence, Mr Sloan. Now, onto my proposal… Harber has many allies, and for every Pierce Lavelle he seems to be losing, he picks up an Adam Dick. It is, of course, inappropriate for him to stoop to a game of numbers in order to attempt to assert more control than I… but if he is to stoop, stoop I must also…

Chainz, intent on belligerence in the face of Ms Volkyeva’s cool underminings, blusters in to stop her in her tracks.

Chainz: And you want ME as a minion of yours? You haven’t heard much about me have you?

Sasha Volkyeva: Whatever do you mean, Mr Sloan?

But it doesn’t sound like a question the way it comes out. In fact, the way Volkyeva speaks, everything seems like a foregone conclusion in the Russian’s favour.

Chainz: They say I have a problem with women, frankly I don’t see it.

Sasha Volkyeva stands up from her chair and now stands above Chianz who is still in his chair.

Sasha Volkyeva: (nodding) Oh, you mean the fact that you beat and sexually harass women.

Tracy: At least he doesn’t rape them anymore, he has me now.

Volkyeva studies Tracy.

Sasha Volkyeva:Forgive me for ignoring that comment, Ms… ah… Tracy. Mr Sloan, I have seen what you have been up to lately. My personal opinion is one of disgust at your treatment of your colleagues Alexa Kendericks and Butterfly Hamada. You are, in one word, sick, but your record speaks for itself. I need people that will go to any lengths to achieve what is necessary. I am confident that you will do everything that needs to be done to achieve my goals here in the Atlantic Wrestling Club.

Chainz laughs a bit and stands from his chair. He walks up to Volkyeva and looks down on her from his 6’5” frame.

Chainz: Now what makes you think I want to have my strings pulled by some Russian bitch whose pussy is as cold and dry as the mother land itself?

Sasha Volkyeva isn’t shaken or taken off guard by the comment at all, causing a bit of a nervous glance from Tracy.

Sasha Volkyeva: There are… ah… perks, I think you say… to the position.

Chainz: Such as?

Sasha Volkyeva: All in good time, Mr Sloan, all in good time. I will be calling on you soon. Be sure that you answer my call and soon AWC will sit in the palms of our hands. What do you say?

Sasha Volkyeva extends her hand as Chainz rubs his chin, thinking the offer over in his head. After a few seconds Chainz takes the hand and shakes it. Sasha goes to retrieve her hand, but it is firmly held in place by Chainz. Chainz raises Sasha’s hand to his face and begins sucking on her thumb and licking her hand.

Chainz: Mmm mmm Sasha, you been playing with yourself lately?

Sasha Volkyeva retrieves her hand quickly and looks at Chainz with contempt in her eyes. It seems that she has gotten in over her head, but she quickly regains her composure.

Sasha Volkyeva: Never – EVER – touch me again if you want to see out the duration of your contract.

Chainz: Oh relax baby, I’m just seeing what makes you tick.

Sasha Volkyeva: I frankly do not care what you do to anyone else… but don’t ever touch me again.

Chainz: Fine, that it?

Sasha Volkyeva: Not quite. As you well know, you have a Relentless title match coming up at Winter Warfare resulting from your victory at Triangles. The stipulation is also up to you. Personally, I was thinking a straight singles match would be… ah…

Volkyeva quails under the ferocity of Chainz’ glare.

Chainz: I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and I have the perfect idea. Me and Mike Wade are going to have a Cup Of Blood match. We’ll be linked together with a six foot steel chain to start. Each of us will have a thirty-two ounce cup and the first to fill it with the others blood wins. As you know thirty-two ounces is about one quart, which is about twenty percent of all the blood in the human body.

Sasha’s expression has slowly changed to one of shock.

Sasha Volkyeva: These aren’t the type of matches that I want to have in my organization!

Chainz doesn’t look pleased. The door swings open, and David “Pearl” Harber pops his head round.

Pearl: Good call, Chainz! Consider it booked.

The door slams shut again and Harber leaves before the horrified Sasha Volkyeva can say a word.

Chainz: Don’t worry, Sasha, that title’s as good as mine.

Sasha flashes a weak grin and walks out of Chainz’s locker room, still pale at Harber so nonchalantly booking such a risky match. We follow her as she walks down the hallway and turns a corner. We stay on the corner as a cautious Jack Murphy walks into view. He walks over to Chainz’s locker room and enters. Chainz is sitting with his back to the door, but Tracy immediately greets The Bull.

Tracy: Jack, how are you?

Jack Murphy smiles and is about to speak, but his attention is immediately drawn to the bulging breasts in front of him. Tracy smiles as she waits for his answer, unaware of where Jack is really staring.

Jack Murphy: Uhh, I’m doing fine Tracy. Actually I came to talk to Chainz.

Chainz keeps his back to Murphy and Tracy.

Chainz: I’ve been expecting you.

Jack Murphy is a bit confused.

Jack Murphy: How? What do you mean?

Chainz: Well I’ve just had a chat with Miss Volkyeva, and I saw your chat last week so I figured you’d pay me a visit, seeing as I am her main man. And here you are, like clockwork.

Jack Murphy: Forget all that, I actually have a proposition for you myself.

Chainz: Let me guess, you want to form a friendship with me?

Jack Murphy seems distraught, he’s obviously used to being the one with his finger on the button and with all the inside information, not the other way around.

Jack Murphy: How do you figure that?

Chainz: You know people don’t really give me credit, I’m actually quite smart. In fact, much smarter than anyone in the AWC.

Jack Murphy: Yeah whatever, well think about it. We can both benefit, me and you working together, we’ll be unstoppable. We can teach the women and other misfits the harsh nature of the business and prove to those pathetic seals in the audience who the real stars of the AWC are. I’m as good as it gets, Chainz.

Chainz: That could work, but you gotta spark my interest somehow Jack. If I’ll be giving you my friendship I want something from you.

Jack Murphy: What do you want?

Chainz now turns to face Jack Murphy, a sinister grin on his face.

Chainz: I think we both know what that is and you wouldn’t be here unless you already had that in mind. So, I’ll see you in the parking lot.

Jack Murphy looks solemn, but shakes his head reluctantly.

Jack Murphy: Yeah, I’ll see ya.

Jack Murphy backs out of the locker room, a grim look on his face which is matched by Tracy, who looks quite upset herself.

Chainz: Don’t worry baby, this will be great. Just the thing I’ve been missing recently.

Tracy: Oh Mike, maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe we should just accept his friendship and leave it be?

Chainz laughs a bit as he stands up and goes over to Tracy who is looking quite sad. Chainz cups her chin in his hand and kisses her softly on the lips, completely non-reminiscent of his more sinister persona. After a few seconds he lets her go and walks out of the locker room as Tracy is left alone… a tear streaks down her cheek.

---

Haunting The Past

FEATURING: DARCY CRISIS, AIMZ
AUTHORS: KATIE AND NATHAN

---

"Things have a funny way of coming full circle," Darcy Crisis muttered to himself, nervous as hell.


Darcy was about to appear on television for the first time since the summer of 2001. Four and a half years is quite a bit of time to be out of the spotlight, but this was not the reason behind his anxiousness. He had a pretty good idea how the crowd would react…maybe a few scattered cheers from the marks, a good chunk of indifference for the new guy; worst case scenario, a healthy chorus of boos for another long-haired schmuck who would look like a doofus on national television, like his debut for the old UGWA. But no, Darcy stood completely shell-shocked as he stared simultaneously at his past and future. What will she think?


After years of competing day in and day out, literally breaking his back for the sport that he loved, he took a small sense of satisfaction in knowing that he walked away on his own terms, giving up the Pier Six Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship to be with the girl he loved.


The girl he gave up everything for had since faded out of his life. Pier Six was but a distant memory, with its stars having moved on to bigger and better things, or leaving the sport altogether. Darcy was among the latter. It wasn't that he didn't love wrestling; he did, perhaps more than anybody. But he knew all along, from the minute he first laced up his boots that he didn't want his life to be summed up as a desperate chase for fame and fortune. Darcy entered the wrestling world to pursue the most selfish of aims; to pursue a legacy. But that legacy was secure, so Darcy seemed to believe. He had risen to the top, sold out arenas across North America and his name would forever be etched in the record books as a World Champion. It was time to walk away and give somebody else a chance.


And others did take that chance, and cashed in on Darcy's departure. They had risen well past the level that Darcy had reached, surpassed what he had accomplished and quite literally owned the sport. Four years is almost an eternity in the world of wrestling, and the name Darcy Crisis had long been forgotten. But he was fine with this; those who cared to remember him would, and it was his own memories that he treasured the most.


But as time wore on, Darcy couldn't shake the feeling that his career was incomplete. He couldn't shake the voice of doubt…


''You have to face her. One more time…once and for all.''


The voice reminded him on a daily basis how much he hated to leave things incomplete. But there was also not much he could do about it. For Darcy to be able to return to the ring and complete his career, the girl he gave it up for would have to return to his life. Up until a week ago, he never even believed it was possible…until now.


Darcy couldn't get over the surreality of it all…but he was out of time. He got the signal from the cameramen, and without thinking he walked towards his past, and his future. It was time to bring things full circle.


She would've been more alert if she'd known anything about his return. She would've been more alert if she'd known that he was in the same country...


... Let alone the same room.


He gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder, an act that would've gotten him stabbed four years prior - she really had mellowed with age. That cool, calm and collected impression quickly stamped into a frenzy of panic and confusion when Amy turned around to see who'd tried getting her attention.


Darcy Crisis... after that long? The thought of seeing him again had stopped occuring to her years ago. She'd moved on, grown... and slammed head-first into an emotional brick wall the second their eyes met. Her thoughts wouldn't come out in English so, for the first time in a very long time, Amy Campbell was speechless; Entirely dumbfounded. It would be up to Darcy to make with the reintroductions.


Darcy Crisis: My arm is still attached... either you're getting careless, or you've lost some of that edge.


Aimz:I...

Speechlessness wasn't becoming of her, but it's not like she could help it.

Aimz: You...

Darcy Crisis: Four years and I don't even get a reaction? Come on!

Amy's breathing had visibly picked up its pace, and she grew dizzy by the second with anxiety. The whole situation was too much. She wrestles a guy as a teenager, dates him, single-handedly screws up his career and then he comes back smiling four years later? It didn't add up, no matter how much she twisted the math. This was one of those millions of moments where Aimz had to rely entirely on instinct. Problem was, she could barely form words. Taking six rounds to the chest would have been less shocking.

Aimz: This isn't friendly, or funny.

Darcy Crisis: That's it? All this, and that's the best you can do?

Aimz: Who's paying you to be here? Andy Murray? Are you even real?

Darcy Crisis: Well, nobody's paid me yet. My contract's probably still drying.

The look on Darcy's face was smug and secure. Granted, he was still nervous as hell, but there was no way she could know. He'd made a living out of masking his emotions as well as his intentions.

Aimz: This isn't real.

Darcy Crisis: Oh, it's r--

Aimz: My.

Fist? Meet wall.

Aimz: Life.

Head? Meet wall.

Aimz: ... is hell.

Darcy Crisis: And that looked like it hurt.

Aimz: Get this over with and tell me why you're here. I'm not going through this with cameramen and boom mikes around.

Darcy Crisis: Look Amy, I'm sorry for just dropping in out of nowhere after so long. But you should have known my career couldn't end the way it did. I'm here for one reason, and one reason only. One. More. MATCH.

With that, a flip of the hair and a condescending wink, Darcy walked off. No fancy outro, no frills - just a surprised redhead left to sink to the floor, heaving a heavy sigh and coming to the realization that her life as it was would change very quickly. Darcy Crisis might have been nobody to the fans in attendance, but he was about too make too big an impact to be ignored.

That's just what she needed... more competition, AND more skeletons coming out of the closet. Just great.

---

Quad Tag Match

THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, THE BRITISH BOMBER AND TIM SHIPLEY VS BUTTERFLY HAMADA, JACK MURPHY, ALEXA KENDERICKS AND CHAINZ
STIPULATION: QUAD TAG
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

James Brunt announces that the scheduled Quad Tag match will now take place as a Trio Tag match, due to Jack Murphy now being scheduled for that match against Pierce Lavelle. From the other team, The British Bomber has withdrawn, happy to rest tonight after hurting himself badly in last week’s 10-Count match with Red Rock. This leaves us looking at The Furious Fists Of God and Tim Shipley versus Chainz, Alexa Kendericks and Butterfly Hamada – strange alliances by any yardstick.

To begin with, Shipley and Hamada put on a nice technical display of counters and reversals, high-paced, frenetic activity keeping the crowd entertained. However, when Chainz squeezes Kendericks’ ass for “good luck” when Hamada tags her in, a backhander across the face from Kendericks has Chainz spitting blood, and as Kendericks continues the bout against Shipley without another thought for her near-stalker, an argument breaks out between him and Butterfly Hamada, furious at his vile treatment of women. Just as Kendericks hits a breathtaking flying head scissors on Shipley, Hamada rears back and slaps Chainz across the face – clearly a big mistake. Chainz grabs her by the throat, and smirks as her fearful eyes plead with him. From Chainz’ signals, a choke slam to the floor looks imminent, with Tracy urging her man on, until Kendericks races over and ducks between the ropes, launching into his mid-section with a jumping spear! The three fall to the outside in a giant heap, Tracy quickly sifting through the wreckage to take Chainz’ hand and will him a rapid recovery.

Tim Shipley, in the ring, stands, and realises he hasn’t an opponent to face. He turns to look at his partners. The Furious Fists Of God, with whom Shipley hasn’t exactly got on recently, step into the ring. Sensing what’s about to happen, the 20-year-old backtracks, but Liam Martin knocks him down with a lunging clothesline. Both brothers drag the Englishman back up. Tim Martin turns away to yell out at the booing crowd while Liam launches Shipley towards his brother with an Irish whip. Tim spins around right on schedule to land the Fist Of God, and Shipley is sent to the canvas.

On the outside, Tracy tries to help Chainz up; he grabs onto her breast for extra support as he pulls himself to his feet. Kendericks has also arisen and taking special care to avoid hitting Tracy, lands a heavy dropkick to Sloan’s left knee. Howling in pain, he goes down to one knee.

In the ring, FFGod are celebrating leaving Shipley downed, but this is short-lived as three burly men suddenly appear on the stage: the AWC security team. Bruno Hague, Taz Yorke and Butch Radder stride down to the ring, knowing that there’s no escape for the Fists, who issue brash trash talk from their positions.

At that instant, another large figure appears, this time on the crowd side of the security fence as he climbs it! Momentarily he is identified as Jack Murphy, and as he straddles the top of the mesh barrier it sways worryingly with his 280-pound weight. He climbs down this side of the mesh and drops to the floor, going immediately over to Butterfly Hamada and scoop slamming her to the floor. His beating on her continues, thoroughly dominant tonight. Meanwhile, Radder, Hague, Yorke and the Martins are brawling in the ring, the Fists giving as good as they’re taking, while Shipley rolls out of danger. A vicious Chainz uppercut sends Kendericks reeling. Seeing that no textbook conclusion is to come from this match referee Joseph Reid calls it a day. No contest.

---

A Puzzle Fitted - Interlude - Part Double D

FEATURING: ELLIS NASH AND ADAM DICK
AUTHORS: LIA AND JOE SCHMIDT

---

It's a well known fact given the populace – women like clothes. Scratch that. Women love clothes. Women love clothes enough to claw each other's eyes out to get a certain pair of DKNY jeans; women love clothes enough to whip out a taser and stick the bitch that dare threaten the Lotta Stensson blouse hanging on the corner rack. Women are crazy motherfuckers when it comes to their damn clothes.

Ellis Nash is a woman, but Ellis Nash loves simplicity as much as she loves her left leg. Give her a t-shirt and jeans and she'll wear them for the entire week. Which, perhaps, Ellis was previously set on doing, if not for the tad problem of having to rassle weirdass Mike Wade later that night – and seeing as jeans restricted the lift of her legs, Ellis had to change.

And changing she was, sliding her t-shirt up the mountain of her shoulders and then proceeding to fling it to the ground, where it lay in a heap of cotton, polyester and tobacco with her discarded jeans and a used cigarette. Reaching behind her back, Ellis unclasped her bra – and allowed it to fall, lapping at her feet.

That is when the door opened. Scratch that, the door didn't just open. It slammed open against the spring that makes the little boingy noise. And the most unexpected set of eyes peered on through.

Adam Dick: Harb! HARB! Is Pearl – HOLYTITTIESOFTHEHOLYLAND.

Ellis jumped. The twins jumped with her.

Ellis Nash: What the fuck? Who the hell are you?

Adam Dick: Adam Boobs. I mean Tits on Dick. I mean Adam Dick wants to suck boobs. I mean, I'm Adam Dick! By the way, have you seen Harb's boobs? I can't find him anywhere!

Adam was increasingly nervous, but hypnotized. For some reason, Ellis hasn't covered herself, nor has she told Adam to get the fuck out.

He's milking this, no pun intended.

Adam Dick: ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... is it cold in here?

Ellis Nash: Wh...

Then, Ellis suddenly became aware of a cool breeze. Across her chest. Which felt curiously naked. Ellis looked down and jumped again and, again, the twins jumped with her.

Ellis Nash: Oh my God!

Ellis clutched at her chesticles. Adam Boobs looked like a ghost.

Adam Dick: You know those bras are wonderful things they are? Bought me a couple myself, you know, for Christmas presents! I became very knowledgeable in their usage and, you know what? You should just let me help you put that on!

Adam walks forward, almost in a trance-like state with a drool encrusted grin on his face. He walks towards Ellis, palms extended towards a sexual harassment lawsuit.

Adam Dick: I'm an expert with this sort of thing!

Ellis Nash: What? Why the hell do you buy br- No! Get away from me!

Ellis steps back as Adam steps forward and as Adam reaches like a child reaching for his lollipop, Ellis attempts to desperately swipe the offending hand away while holding her rack with the other.

Ellis Nash: HELP!! Get away from me!

Before Adam got close. Extremely close. But Ellis used her athletic abilities, unshielding her boobs to gain to leap in the air. Adam got one final peek at her nipples, to his joy, before he was brought down with the spinning force of her heel striking him across the face.

Adam lands on the ground, face-first.

Adam Dick: Holy tits that fucking sucked!

Ellis Nash: GET THE FUCK OUT.

Adam began to crawl away, picking a t-shirt off of the floor before standing to his feet. He extends it over to Nash, who rips it from his hands quick enough to keep her boobs shielded.

Adam Dick: SORRY! Please don't kill me anymore than you have; I was just distracted by your beauty!

Ellis Nash: GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.

And so, fulfilling her request, Adam Dick bails the fuck out of his partner's opponent’s locker room. Finally with a moment to herself, Ellis basks in her privacy before throwing the shirt over her shoulders and tight over her unleashed bosoms. Only losers wear bras, girls!

What struck Ellis as odd was the writing that was on the front of her shirt. She read the font aloud to herself:

Ellis Nash: Unfuckable?

---

Mike Wade vs Ellis Nash

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE

---

Dave Kern: Up next we got Mike Wade vs Ellis Nash.

Jeff Marx: Wade’s been on such a roll as of late Nash is gonna try and not only stop him but embarrass him as well.

Dave Kern: Just because she's a girl you think it would embarrass Wade?

Jeff Marx: Well it would embarrass me!

Steven Smith: Who put a girl in this match? I'm soooo disappointed.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match...

"Angellore" by Tristania hits and the crowd stand in anticipation of the participants.

James Brunt: Introducing first, from Cortland, New York, weighing in at 117 pounds here is Ellis Nash!!

The crowd boo at the sight of Nash as she struts her way to ringside, wearing her new t-shirt. She rolls into the ring and gives a slight pose to the ground. She seems more fixated on the match at hand as she tests the ropes.

Dave Kern: Big match for Nash tonight.

Jeff Marx: Big match for both of ‘em Dave, Ellis can end Wade’s win streak and Mike Wade... could lose to a girl.

Steven Smith: Oooh here he comes.

"Jump Around" by House of Pain hits and the crowd descends into heat heaven. The boos shower down as Mike Wade makes his way through the curtain accompanied by his midget manager, Mickey Moore.

James Brunt: And her opponent, accompanied to the ring by his manager Mickey Moore, from Waterford, Ireland but currently vacationing in Miami, Florida, weighing in at 209 and 3/4 pounds, he is one half of the AWC Alliance champions and the AWC Relentless Champion, "His Swerviness" Mike Wade!

Immediately upon the announcement of Wade’s name the boos become louder and a chant of "Mike Wade sucks!" starts. Wade eats it up as he enters the ring, handing his belts to Mickey before he goes. Wade fails to even acknowledge the jeering crowd as the music dies down. Both competitors are laid down the law from Aaron Davies and the bell is rung.

Dave Kern: Here we go the bell is rang and we should be under...

Mike Wade slaps Ellis Nash right across the face knocking her to the mat straight off the bat. Even though the crowd are none too fond of Nash either, Wade receives a serious amount of heat for the blatant slap in the woman’s face.

Jeff Marx: Wow.

Dave Kern: Mike Wade just open hand slapped a woman in the face.

Steven Smith: Wade just bitch slapped that bitch!

Jeff Marx: Hey she's in the ring she's asking for it.

Wade waists no time in gloating for his actions going straight to work on kicking the mid section of Ellis. He picks her up by the hair wrapping his arms round her back and waist and German suplexes the shit out of her.

Dave Kern: Impressive suplex by Wade no bridge though which is strange.

Jeff Marx: He wants to get his damage done quickly in my opinion and get out of there.

Wade whips Nash to the buckle and follows straight in with a big clothesline sending Nash bouncing back out, Wade follows out with a bulldog and floats over for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Dave Kern: Brave kick out by Ellis Nash after a good exchange by Wade.

Jeff Marx: We all paint Wade with the asshole brush but he's a damn good wrestler too which people forget.

Steven Smith: It's a pity the folks at home can't see me, I'm licking my lips. MMMMM.

Wade whips Nash to the ropes, to Wad’es dismay she ducks a clothesline and comes back with a flying forearm knocking Wade down. A slight cheer from the crowd at this. Both are back up almost instantly though where Nash hits an armdrag. Again both nip straight up and Wade charges again only into a Japanese armdrag, he's back up and this time receives a dropkick right to the jaw from Nash which sends him outside for cover. The crowd applaud Nash but she doesn't care.

Dave Kern: Mike Wade rocked by Nash offence and now he's retreating outside for a breather.

Upon sliding back in we get a first lock up. Wade gets the better and takes Nash down with a headlock, Ellis presses on a head scissors to which Mike Wade kicks out of. Ellis then kicks Mike Wade straight in the chops sending him flying to the canvas and she jumps all over a leg drop to the back of Wades neck and finishing off with a side headlock.

Jeff Marx: Wade is being schooled here.

Dave Kern: Believe it. Ellis Nash is no pushover.

Wade stands out of the headlock but Ellis refuses to break it. Wade takes exception and delivers four stiff elbows to the rib cage of Nash. He goes for the standard push/ whip to the ropes but as Ellis releases he pulls her back by the hair causing her to flatten out on the mat with a bang.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Dave Kern: You know we've said this guy can wrestle, why does he resort to tricks like that.

Jeff Marx: Maybe he's telling her that having long hair in a wrestling ring is a bad idea, which it is!

Steven Smith: It's an icky style anyway.

Back to her feet Ellis goes for a spinning side kick but Wade side steps it and tries to take her head off with a clothesline but she ducks. However she turns around straight into a patented Northern Lights Wadeplex with bridge!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Kickout!

Dave Kern: Nash got the shoulder up. After Wade nailed the Northern Lights.

Jeff Marx: Is there a suplex that Wade doesn't hit picture perfect?

Steven Smith: His positions are great.

At a stalemate in the middle of the ring Nash swings a punch and connects to the jaw of Wade. The next one is Wade’s shot which is on the money. They exchange two more each before Wade blocks and gives a kick to the stomach. He then pulls her closer and hooks up for a vertical suplex. The crowd buzz in anticipation as Wade lifts 4 fingers in the air...

Dave Kern: Old School Wade here. 4 corner Wadeplex.

Jeff Marx: He loves this. 3 Snaps and a fisherman bridge.

Wade nails 1 snap suplex, pops the hips and stands. He hits the second and the same drill. After popping the hips for the second time he nails his third snap suplex. Upon regaining feet he hooks Ellis’ leg. But she kicks his arm away. Wade attempts a kick of his own but is caught. The crowd pop huge as Ellis Nash NAILS Mike Wade with a leg capture suplex.

Dave Kern: Ellis Nash with THE DECREE on Mike Wade!

Jeff Marx: Wades gonna be beat here by a girl!

Ellis floats over to a pin. She hooks the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Dave Kern: NO! Wade kicked out of The Decree!

Both Wade and Nash get up. Nash first as Wade favours his head as well as his pride. Ellis measures him up and dives for the Rockabye, but this time Wade blocks and Ellis walks straight into a big super kick right up under the butt of her jaw. Wade then points to the top rope.

Dave Kern: Wade likes to fly too.

Jeff Marx: He's looking to steal the show again this week Dave.

Dave Kern: Wade has been known to do so and maybe this week wants to do so without the use of bloodshed.

Steven Smith: We're at the right side to see his tight asshole as he climbs the ropes.

Dave Kern: Oh my God.

Wade perches himself but gets too caught up with some smart marks in the front row chanting in his favour. As he attempts to tell then he’s a heel Ellis Nash pops back up and falls into the ropes crotching Mike Wade on the top rope. Ellis goes for a superplex but is blocked.

Dave Kern: Oh. Wade resisting there.

Jeff Marx: I would too.

She tries a second time but to no avail. Out of angle for the camera though we see Mickey Moore has climbed onto the apron and has the left root of Wade held ensuring he goes nowhere. Nash finally notices the 2 foot 5 inch wonder and begins kicking at him. Wade sees his opportunity and punches Ellis in the breasts stunning her. As she bends over slightly he underhooks both her arms.

Dave Kern: Oh God no.

Jeff Marx: He’s not going for it...

Steven Smith: Where's he putting her head?

Wade then dives off with Nash and nails a TFW from the top rope. The top of Nash’s head connects with the ring at a sickening angle.

”HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

Jeff Marx: Ladies and gentlemen Ellis Nash is dead!

Dave Kern: That sick Mike Wade bastard with THE TFW OFF THE TOP!

Jeff Marx: This guy wants to be the top star in AWC and he's showing it now.

Wade makes the pin on the rag doll-like body of Ellis Nash.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

James Brunt: The winner, Mike Wade!

Jeff Marx: Incredible. Simply incredible. I wonder if Nash can get up...

Dave Kern: There was no need for that.

Jeff Marx: How Kern, you win the match any way you can. You're telling me nobody else would do that to Wade? Please.

Steven Smith: I think that bitch is dead.

---

A Gift

FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND FERGUS

---

We cut backstage into the parking lot where we see Jack Murphy and Chainz standing with their backs towards the camera. They are standing at the trunk of a rather nice looking vehicle.

Chainz: Yeah, she’s a beauty all right.

Jack Murphy: If you say so man.

Chainz: How old?

Jack Murphy: Well this one’s thirteen if you my sources tell me right.

Chainz: She’s in very good condition, what’s her name?

Jack Murphy: Eve. Now if we got a deal she’s all yours.

The camera sneaks up behind the two and instead of seeing a pair of keys being exchanged we see some photographs changing hands.

Chainz: Ah Eve, damn I’d love to have a taste of that sweet ass.

Jack Murphy doesn’t seem too enthused about the transaction.

Chainz: Oh come off it Murphy don’t tell me you never thought about taking a little girl behind the tool shed and putting her in her place?

Jack Murphy: Seriously, I’d have to say no, but that’s just me. I’m not into the young girls.

Chainz: That’s a shame, they’re like a little taste of heaven you know. I remember my first time; I was actually fifteen so the age difference wasn’t so much. She was a fine young thing, virgin of course. I swear to you she had the tightest pussy and ass I’ve ever fucked, felt like my dick was trying to poke a hole through a brick wall.

Jack Murphy: (irritated) Yeah, that’s great to hear.

Jack Murphy begins to walk away.

Chainz: Now where do you think you’re going?

Jack Murphy: What now? You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted!

Chainz: Oh please, this ain’t shit. I got some photos myself, even some crime scene photos that really get the blood pumping. If you think this is enough to win me over than I’ve seriously underestimated you.

Jack Murphy sighs a sigh of revulsion.

Jack Murphy: (reluctantly) I suppose... I can get you more than just a secondary source. I can get you the real thing.

This piques Chainz’s interest.

Chainz: Yeah, so could I. I could walk out into the street or the park and pick one at random.

Jack Murphy: Yeah, but this way it’s all done for you and there’s no risk of being caught because all these girls are… orphans.

Chainz: Well I guess I’ll just have to become their sugar daddy won’t I? You know I like it when they call me daddy.

Jack Murphy: (revolted) Yeah, I’m not surprised. So we got a deal?

Chainz things for a second and finally offers his hand to Murphy, who takes it and shakes it. The two nod and part ways as Chainz takes the pictures of Eve and heads off for his locker room.

---

A Puzzle Fitted - Part E

FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, ADAM DICK
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT

---

Pearl: I don't even know where to begin.

Adam Dick: I can explain! I thought it was your room; I didn't mean to sexually harass Ellis Nash but I am only one man!

Pearl: First you try – wait, what?! You did WHAT to Ellis Nash?

Adam Dick: Er, you were talking about something else?

Pearl: YES! I was talking about your shenanigans with Pierce Lavelle!

The room resonated with laughter. Pearl had went so far to create the dark lighting for such a tense mood. He wanted the environment to reflect his frame of mind. Pearl was certainly pissed at the Illustrious Face-Eater, and there would be no way to argue out of it.

Adam Dick: I'm sorry, I just get teary eyed when people say 'shenanigans.'

Pearl: Cool it, Dick. I thought things were different –

Adam Dick: THINGS ARE DIFFERENT! Look, Pierce is going through denial. It's the first common stage when people are faced with crises. And can you blame him? I did sort of put him through the ringer!

Pearl: And you think it's funny?

Adam Dick: Listen; I got your back. I covered your tracks and found out what you needed to know – not the snot-head brat who thinks he knows what's best. This is about us, Pearl. Who's the one who pulled you through?

Pearl pushed Adam's feet off of his desk, much to Adam's chagrin. He liked resting his feet in places he wasn't allowed; who wouldn't?

Pearl: Don't think that you get free-reign because you pulled me out of a tight squeeze –

Adam Dick: A TIGHT SQUEEZE? You call that a tight squeeze? Pearl, your whole staff could be indicted on drug use! I got rid of that problem; ME.

Pearl: That doesn't mean you can do as you wish.

Adam Dick: I'm going to see to my personal business as I see fit, Harb.

David Harber sighed. He don't know what series of events brought him to dealing with Adam Dick regularly. What he didn't know, was that his employee was only here to help him. Adam could tell he was annoying his boss and decided to play cool.

Adam Dick: And from now on your business is my business, so don't worry Pearl, I've got you covered. I'll take it easy on Pierce, but we have to end this.

Pearl: Is it true, Adam?

Adam Dick: Is what true?

Pearl: Did you fabricate this entire mess; only to bring down Lavelle?

Adam scoffed as he stood out of his seat.

Adam Dick: Lavelle is a child who doesn't like to put blame on his shoulders. And I don't hold him responsible; blame doesn't look good on a coward. But I'm willing to be your scapegoat, Pearl. I'll take the dirt for AWC, and you know that.

Pearl: You didn't answer my question.

Adam Dick: ... I didn't make ALL of it up, if that's what you're asking. Pierce is defensive. He just found out that I was the architect of his demise and he thinks everything horrible in his life is my fault. Sorry, but he doesn't rank that high on the priority list. Just understand that he's too torn right now, too confused to understand that it's his fault. If that were so, he'd be suicidal. Pierce can't deal with defeat or rejection; I've shown you that.

Pearl: I hope you're right. Now leave.

Adam stood up to leave, letting his final words echo throughout the small office before he left.

Adam Dick: And don't worry, Pearl, your main event is safe. We'll let Paddy and Pierce have their time to shine. But we can't let someone as insecure as Pierce stay at the top for long; he has to be taken down.

Pearl doesn't respond to this. Adam shuts the door to his office, leaving him inside to think.

Pearl: Where did everything become so twisted?

---

Red Rock vs Andy Murray vs Paddy O'Shea

STIPULATION: PCW MATCH - PIPES, CHAINS AND WRENCHES
GUEST REFEREE: AIMZ
AUTHOR: JAAKKO OKSA

---

The waiting game, ladies and gentlemen...

WINNER: Paddy O'Shea.

---

Every Good Main Event Has A Good Aftermath - Even Those That Aren't Really Main Events

FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA, THE UNFUCKABLES, SHELLY
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE

---

As Paddy is standing in the ring, gathering himself after such a hard fought win, a strange sound comes over the PA system.

"AAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

A lady’s scream. Paddy seems to turn around instantly.

Dave Kern: What was that?

Jeff Marx: I'm not quite sure.

Our attention is then brought to the big screen above the entrance-way. The crowd's adoration turns to hate and boos when Mike Wade is shown on screen. The camera pans out to reveal still a smiling Mike Wade, but also his Unfuckables teammate Adam Dick holding a helpless Shelly, Paddy O’Shea’s girlfriend. Her hair looks messed, her mouth is covered with duck tape and her hands are tied. She is screaming through the tape. In the ring Paddy severely loses his cool. All the pain he had just felt from the match was gone and his system now running on pure anger.

Mike Wade: Paddy me owld mucker how are ya?

Paddy asks for a mic and James Brunt obliges from ringside.

Paddy O’Shea: Ye're goin’ too far Wade!

Mike Wade: Going too far Paddy? Don't you think sending me to fucking Mexico in a box is "too far"?

Paddy O’Shea: It isn' fair on her she didn' do anything!

Mike Wade: Not fair? Paddy, not fair is you facing the Transatlantic champion at Winter Warfare and me having to fight some guy called after Brian Lee. Is that fair Paddy? Not fair is me not being involved AT ALL in the Triangles tournament. I never got my fucking shot and you did. And not fair is me not getting a match with YOU at Winter Warfare. Something I've been working to since I got here. But no I get sweet fuck all, even after me and Facey beat you for the Alliance titles.

Paddy O’Shea: Look Wade now's no’ th’ time for feckin’ wrestlin’ arguments. Shelly has nothin’ t’ do wi’ this. Let her fuckin’ go!

Mike Wade: Fuck you! How about that?

Mike turns to Adam.

Mike Wade: Hey Face, he wants you to let her go, what do you say?

Adam Dick: Fuck you!

Mike Wade: Well there you have it Paddy. She's coming with us in our big white van, just like you did last week. Except this week Hate, the sore loser won't save her. And neither will you.

Before Wade has the sentence out his mouth Paddy has dropped his mic and is heading for the backstage area where they were. The crowd erupts as Paddy high tails it to save his gal.

Paddy arrives to the parking lot to find a very strange thing. There is no sign of Wade or Dick and Shelly was bound and gagged but left on the ground in the middle of the parking lot. We can hear her sobs and cries through the hideous gag. She notices Paddy and sits right up. She begins trying to shout something at him but he can't quite make it out.

Paddy O’Shea: Shelly!

Paddy runs toward her but Shelly is almost pleading with Paddy. He is rushing to her to try and reveal what she is saying.

Paddy O’Shea: Don't worry Shelly I'll take th-

BOOM!!!

Out of nowhere comes the big, white, Unfuckables van and rams Paddy half way across the parking lot. His already busted head and broken down body bounce like a rubber ball off of the hard concrete floor. We can hear a big "Ohhhhh!" from the audience as Paddy’s body is reduced to a heap. The van screeches to a halt and the camera pans around. Wade jumps right from the drivers seat as Dick looks on from the passenger side.

Mike Wade: Now how do you like that? I told you I would get you. Send me to Mexico?

As Wade attempts to go into a verbal tirade on Paddy, Shelly crawls her way over and attempts to kick out at the evil Wade. He simply looks down in disgust.

Mike Wade: Bad move little girl.

Wade reaches down and grabs Shelly’s hair. He pulls her up like a child would a doll and double underhooks her.

Mike Wade: Consider this your Christmas card bitch!

Wade then delivers an absolutely disgusting TFW on the concrete floor to Shelly. Paddy lies unconscious still not even realising what has happened. Shelly’s body lands next to Paddy’s. Wade jumps back in the van with Dick and they speed off leaving the two body lying half dead on the ground like a modern day Romeo and Juliet.

---

A Means To An End

FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, AWC SECURITY TEAM
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY

---

The scene opens up in the parking lot. Next to a car is Tim and Liam Martin, standing there with sledge hammers. They’re standing in front of a big van that says “SECURITY” across it in bold black letters.

Dave Kern: C’mon now! I’ve had enough of this “Us vs. Security” crap! Just get it over with once and for all!

Jeff Marx: Hey, Dave, maybe they ARE trying to do that, ever thought of that? Just let the men speak, ok?

Tim Martin: Bruno, Butch, Taz, we’re here to end this, once and for all!

Jeff Marx: See?

Dave Kern: Sigh…

Tim Martin: We asked you for an apology…

Liam Martin: LORD, AN APOLOGY!

Tim Martin: And we haven’t gotten ONE…

Liam Martin: NOT ONE! OH NO, LORD, NOT ONE!

Tim Martin: So…now…

Liam Martin: NEEEEEOW!

Tim stops and stares at Liam for a minute. Liam is still going crazy and writhing all around, like a nut bag.

Tim Martin: Heh, excuse us…*turning himself and Liam around, whispering* Jesus, what the fuck are you doing?! Are you trying to get us sent to the looney bin?

Liam Martin: *whispering* No, well, I thought we wanted…

Tim Martin: *whispering loudly* You didn’t think, now, shut up! *both turn around* *cough* Heh, *cough* Sorry about that! Anyways…NOW we have to show you what happens when we get no apologies? You asked for it.

Tim turns and starts to swing. As he hits the van, though, the side of it explodes open, sending Tim and Liam flying backwards. Inside is Butch, Bruno and Taz standing there, grinning. They get out and walk over to the slow moving Fists and stand over them, shaking their heads.

Bruno Hague: You want to end this once and for all? That’s fine. How about we end it at Winter Warfare…Us three versus you two. And here’s a little stipulation: If you win… we don’t bother you, at all. We see you clowns fucking around, we walk away. It’ll be under our contract. But if WE win… you become security guards, and we become your bosses. You do as we say… for a month. Sound good?

The two squirm slowly, trying to regain consciousness.

Bruno Hague: Good. And, hey, nice match. You jokers fought well.

The scene ends watching the Fists on the ground as the three guards walk away, laughing.

---

Pierce Lavelle vs Jack Murphy

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

Jeff Marx: What is going on?!

Dave Kern: A truly SHOCKING attack by Mike Wade and Paddy O’Shea and Shelly are laid out as we speak! Will somebody get them some help?!

Jeff Marx: Meanwhile we’ve got another match to see...

Dave Kern: I still can’t believe we’re getting this impromptu main event tonight! A couple of months down the line it could have been a pay-per-view headliner!

Jeff Marx: Indeed, Lavelle and Murphy are two of the only wrestlers really worth a shit in AWC. Does it kill my heat to say I'm looking forward to this one just a little bit?

A sudden jolt of guitar riff is met around the arena by a litany of boos as 'Seven Faces' by Slayer hits. There is no mass of explosions or spectacular strobe effects, just a simple spotlight on the entrance to the ring arena as all around fades to darkness. In silhouette 'The Bull' Jack Murphy is displayed, his arms stretched out in a circle above his head. Without another moment, the screen is removed and Murphy breaks the circle, moving straight ahead with purpose.

Dave Kern: The outcome of this match could actually change everything! We’ve all been working on the principle that the main event at Winter Warfare is going to be a face-off between Pierce Lavelle and Paddy O’Shea...

Steven Smith: Something AWC fans have really been waiting for.

Dave Kern: Indeed, their previous one-on-one encounter was an excellent Fresh! main event months ago which ended in a successful title defence for Lavelle at the beginning of his first reign. But if Murphy wins tonight...

Jeff Marx: Then we forget ALL ABOUT this Transatlantic title! It’s null and void!

Steven Smith: And if you ask me, that’s a good thing, since all the minor-league promotions use a “transatlantic” championship as their second-tier belt...

Dave Kern: AWC history down the pan in an instant should Murphy win this match! What was Pearl thinking?

Jeff Marx: Conscious reaction to being told his champion’s a substance abuser?

Dave Kern: Those shocking accusations that Pierce Lavelle used, although unwittingly, drugs similar to those The Educator was expelled from pro wrestling for could indeed be playing heavy on the Entertainment Manager’s mind.

Jeff Marx: Co-Manager, let me remind you. Jack Murphy winning tonight and taking his Platinum title to the top of AWC would represent something of a triumph for Sasha Volkyeva, too; she appears to have formed a friendship with The Bull.

Steven Smith: You can’t blame her. He does have a rugged charm...

Jeff Marx: I thought Pierce Lavelle was the ultimate Steven Smith pin-up?

Steven Smith: Eh, drugs are bad...

The spotlight follows Murphy as he comes down to the ring.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match, and is for the desanctioning of the championship belt belonging to the losing party! Introducing first, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds... the Platinum champion... JACK “THE BULL” MURPHY!

Dave Kern: He’s got a bit of a swagger about him.

Jeff Marx: Murphy knows the momentum is with him. He’s the one on the rise, while the public image of Pierce Lavelle just falls, falls, falls...

Dave Kern: Still, Murphy’s attracting plenty negative heat from the crowd, who will be on Lavelle’s side for this encounter, I feel.

As “Stockholm Syndrome” hits, though, it sounds different in itself simply due to the absence of a sudden explosion of cheers from the fans here in Charleroi’s Spiroudome. Pockets of fans still do cheer hard, but most simply offer weak applause for their champion and former idol, whose status as role model is in question. One fan holds a banner on which South Park’s Mr Mackay waggles a finger, his speech bubble reading “Drugs are bayyyd, mmkay?”

Jeff Marx: The fans are really up his ass about this whole drug use thing.

Steven Smith: Get off my turf!

James Brunt: And his opponent, from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 245 pounds... the Transatlantic champion... PIERCE LAVELLE!

Dave Kern: What’s that on his shoulder?

Lavelle’s left shoulder appears to be heavily bandaged, and as he walks his whole left side is moving rather gingerly.

Steven Smith: Lavelle’s been getting into more trouble...

Jeff Marx: Don’t tell me he’s STILL investigating that mega secret case after it almost cost him his career – and still could – with these drug allegations?

Dave Kern: (shakily) Jeff, it might even be nearly costing him his life, judging by the injuries he’s come away with. What could this be?

Jeff Marx: Bullet wound?

Lavelle comes tentatively under the bottom rope, cradling his upper left arm with his right as he edges into the ring. Murphy smiles broadly, a strategy already in place, and before the bell rings The Bull is already advancing, targeting the shoulder at once with a crude kick.

Jeff Marx: There’s no sympathy here.

Dave Kern: Jack Murphy intent on going straight for the weak spot.

Jeff Marx: Just like any sensible wrestler should! There is a lot at stake here.

Lavelle collapses to lie flat on the mat, gritting his teeth as his right hand doggedly grasps his shoulder. A stomp to the shoulderblade by Jack Murphy elicits a small cry from the Transatlantic champion.

Steven Smith: That’s just bully tactics!

Dave Kern: Murphy outweighs Lavelle and is coming down hard with those stomps. Folks, we don’t know the extent or nature of the shoulder injury Pierce Lavelle is wrestling with.

Jeff Marx: I bet there’s nothing at all. I bet he’s just wearing the bandage so he has an excuse for losing to Murphy – Lavelle just can’t admit The Bull is AS GOOD AS IT GETS!

A second stomp, and Lavelle groans, still clutching at the shoulder with his arm crossed under his chin.

Dave Kern: Just a look at the pain etched in Lavelle’s face with the impact of another stomp from The Bull will tell you that you’re wrong.

Jeff Marx: He could be faking.

Dave Kern: He’s not.

Jeff Marx: He could be.

Steven Smith: To be fair, Dave, Jeff’s got more experience of people faking it.

Jeff Marx: Are you insinuating that my abilities in bed leave a little to be desired?!

Steven Smith: Yes! I bet your little buddy couldn’t even get into my –

Dave Kern: PNEUROTHORAX! Is a word. That is long.

Steven Smith: ?

Jeff Marx: Just tryin’a put some punk back into punctured lung.

Lavelle jumps to his feet as Murphy turns away, flexing his biceps and sneering out at the crowd. Lavelle flicks a boot up into his side.

Dave Kern: PUH PUH PUH PANIC OVER!

Meanwhile, Steven Smith fiddles with a switch that seems to control the house lights.

Steven Smith: Party off... party on...

We cut away to show the crowd, and in particular two fans dressed as our feathery friends from the skies. One is decidedly large.

Fan #1: Yeah we are birds of a feather –

Fan #2: AND YOU CAN BE THE FAT ONE!

Dave Kern: But... it’s Tuesday.

The Kaiser Chiefs references grind to an immediate halt as we focus on the task at hand: the match. In which Murphy is throwing a wide right. Lavelle ducks and hitches his right leg up again, the shot to the mid-section winding the overcommitted Murphy. Lavelle moves in, and letting his useless left arm drop away, locks his right under The Bull’s left armpit, then sweeping his legs out to send them both crashing to the mat in an armbar.

Jeff Marx: Reverse armbar from standing by Lavelle, but he’s having to apply it one-armed!

Dave Kern: Not quite so effective at all – the only damage this way is to the shoulder. No opportunity at all for elbow hyperextension.

Steven Smith: Lavelle’s straining to rock round onto Murphy’s body, extending the shoulder as far as he can... and this, guys, is about as close as I get to porn on this show.

Lavelle bunches his right arm, now almost sitting over Murphy who is face-down on the canvas as he struggles to maintain an effective armbar. The Bull doesn’t seem unduly bothered; the strain shown in his face is little compared to what we were seeing when Murphy was targeting Lavelle’s shoulder.

Jeff Marx: Murphy’s just using this as a rest stop!

Dave Kern: Lavelle has got to use that left arm!

The Transatlantic champion resignedly realises this, taking Murphy’s left arm tentatively with his own left and pulling it across his body to attempt hyperextension as with the normal execution of this hold.

Steven Smith: There’s clearly little power in that arm.

Murphy impatiently shakes him off, oscillating his left arm violently to easily eliminate any pressure from Lavelle’s left. The Platinum champion smirks as Lavelle cries out once more.

Jeff Marx: If just that simple jostling by Jack Murphy caused pain, imagine what’ll happen if The Bull can turn round an armbar of his own!

Some small chants of ”LAVELLE! LAVELLE!” begin to build in the Spiroudome.

Dave Kern: Fans are starting to remember the Pierce Lavelle of old, at least. Time and again, you’d see him in this situation, and he’d invariably find an innovative way out and come from behind to win the match.

Jeff Marx: Did he?

Dave Kern: Yes...

Jeff Marx: Cool.

Dave stares at him.

Jeff Marx: What? I never watched any of this before we signed contracts!

Dave Kern: There are back tapes in the archive rooms...

Jeff Marx: Pssshhh. Like I have time for that.

Steven Smith: (interjecting) Can’t fit them in between all your bitches and ‘ho’s, eh Jeff?

Jeff Marx: ... Haven’t you got a vaguely phallic object to burnish?

Finally Lavelle throws Murphy’s arm down and storms to his feet.

Dave Kern: Pierce Lavelle abandons the armbar.

Jeff Marx: Wise. If it’s not doing a whole lot of good and you have the upper hand still, then by God change things around.

Lavelle slowly backs into the ropes, looking for a few moments to tend cautiously to his injury, over which the industrial strength bandage holds firm. Murphy immediately starts to get himself up, planting a foot flat on the canvas and hauling himself upwards; Lavelle, realising that he’ll have to rely on not giving The Bull any opportunities at all considering the significant disadvantage he’s at, rushes at him with a shoulder charge. Murphy is knocked back against his nearest set of ropes, which prevent him from falling fully, and Pierce follows through with a swinging knee to the face.

Dave Kern: OUCH!

Jeff Marx: Lavelle clocking Murphy in the face with a stiff kneecap shot!

Steven Smith: His head got knocked right back. He got caught in the chin.

Jeff Marx: Like many of my conquests...

Steven Smith: That’s soooooooooo overdone. Try the back for a better money shot. Trust me –

Jeff Marx: TRUST NO HOMOS!

Dave Kern: Trust me, fans, or you might end up with one of the most skewed, politically insensitive, despicably prejudiced and thoroughly stereotyped outlooks on life imaginable.

With Murphy spread-eagled over the ropes, Lavelle takes full advantage, lashing out with furious shots from both legs to the mid-section, all the time supporting his left collar with his right arm. Finally, Murphy braves the hail of attacks to lean forward, ignoring the boot that thuds against his head, and grab the ankle of Lavelle’s standing leg. Yanking it towards himself, he unbalances the Transatlantic champion, who totters before landing flat on his ass.

Dave Kern: A fast and furious series of kicks from Lavelle!

Steven Smith: He can get dirty with the best of ‘em... mmmmm...

Dave Kern: You know, I think he may even have gotten a few boos there...

Jeff Marx: From the purists, fo’ shizz. That shit won’t fly, bro’.

Dave Kern: Jeff, it’s quite clear you ain’t from da hood.

Jeff Marx: Right back atcha bro’!

Steven Smith: Yeah...

Staggering over to the centre of the ring, Murphy breathes heavily, looking down at his body where welts are already forming.

Dave Kern: Nothing short of a street beating by Lavelle!

Jeff Marx: And we always thought he was a pussy boy...

Steven Smith: Damn! No ass action for me?

Jeff Marx: Not what I meant, but true all the same Steven...

The Platinum champion rounds on Lavelle, grabbing him by his hair and pulling him to his feet.

Jeff Marx: YEAH! Take that pretty boy!

Steven Smith: NOT THE HAIR, I BEG YOU! NOT THE HAIR!

Lavelle rises, not out of choice, and Murphy hits a massive back-handler across his chest, the sound echoing around this Charleroi arena. With a dangerous smile on his face he wrenches Lavelle’s protective right arm away and grabs his left meatily, planting an elbow into the shoulder joint. Lavelle closes his eyes.

Dave Kern: Pierce Lavelle’s face is looking pale!

Jeff Marx: This is the chance Murphy’s been waiting for, to work on that shoulder unhampered.

Dave Kern: It could just put AWC’s top championship belt out of business!

Murphy rams his elbow into Lavelle’s shoulder again; the long-time AWCer’s only reaction is to clench his eyes more tightly and go even paler.

Jeff Marx: He’s got no form of defence left in him.

Grinning, Murphy ties up and backs into the corner. He then slams Lavelle’s head against the top of the ringpost.

Dave Kern: Street fighting doesn’t come naturally to either of these men, but we’ve seen it in abundance in this match.

Jeff Marx: And for two reasons: desperation and domination.

Steven Smith: Domination – good idea! And it says here Murphy’s submissive!

Dave Kern: Submissionist, Steven.

Steven Smith: Whatever. No one can resist me in leather.

Jeff Marx: To be fair, The Bull’s trunks are a bit tight.

Turning Pierce round again, Murphy hooks up with a suplex and starts to lift the 245-pounder.

Dave Kern: Oh, we could be seeing something big here!

His huge muscles rippling, Murphy brings Lavelle to the vertical as the anticipation in the Spiroudome reaches its peak. Stalls.

Jeff Marx: We’re looking at the Fall From Grace!

The camera closes in, and we can see the whites of Lavelle’s eyes as he sweats in the position, staring down at the mat that he’s about to hit with speed. Struggling desperately to find any way of evading his fate, his kicks his legs desperately.

His timing is good. It’s just as Murphy bares his teeth to the yell of ”Smile, Jackers!” from a desperate female fan. The distraction and the sudden shift of weight are just enough to edge something, and the smile on Murphy’s face turns to panic.

Steven Smith: It’s all going wrong!

Dave Kern: Lavelle’s going over!

With his legs now hooked back the way they aren’t really meant to go in order to help the weight shift along, Lavelle watches the turnbuckle determinedly as he comes down the other side from hanging, as if Murphy were completing a normal suplex. However, they’d been in the corner just previously and The Bull hadn’t allowed for the possibility of wanting to go for a regular suplex. As such, Lavelle is able to arch his back so that his boots now come to rest on the ropes just either side of the ringpost. A huge cheer is the fans’ reaction. This isn’t all over. They aren’t losing Lavelle as champion. As little as they know about the man right now, they realise in this instant that he’s preferable to Jack Murphy as top champion in every imaginable way.

Dave Kern: HIS LEGS PLANTED AND CAN LAVELLE COUNTER THIS?!

Jeff Marx: FALL FROM THE FALL FROM GRACE!

They remain like that for a good couple of seconds, and those lucky fans who get a photo of this unique situation with Jack Murphy, back arched, supporting Pierce Lavelle, inverted, back arched, above his head between himself and the turnbuckle, will later start a successful small business selling high-resolution prints on eBay.

Dave Kern: MURPHY’S POWERLESS! HE CAN’T DO A THING! HE CAN’T LET GO, HE CAN’T PULL LAVELLE BACK UP!

What he can do, remembering himself, is work on Lavelle’s weak spot, and Murphy grabs for Lavelle’s free left arm to batter it with small and frequent punches with the side of his fist, the tiny impacts his only option in this situation. The minor wear and tear is but a minor distraction to Pierce Lavelle as he channels everything he’s got to PUSH OFF with both legs and flip back over Murphy, switching in mid-air to slip his arm round The Bull’s neck and bring him CRASHING down with a DDT!

Dave Kern: SOMEONE GET THE DOCTOR!

Jeff Marx: CONCUSSION CENTRAL!

Dave Kern: LAVELLE JUST HIT THE DAMNEDEST DDT I HAVE EVER SEEN!

Steven Smith: This is one hell of a man-fest!

Having landed hard on his injured arm, Lavelle rolls onto his front, dry-heaving as referee Michael Ryan bends down to look at him, alarmed.

Steven Smith: Is he ill?

Jeff Marx: WHO CARES AFTER HE HIT A MOVE LIKE THAT?!

Nodding furiously his okayness, Lavelle quickly regains his bearings to roll back to his left, where he came from, slipping an arm over Murphy’s prone chest and then turning it into a proper pin midway through the count that is little more than academic.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Dave Kern: RETAINED!

Jeff Marx: No surprises after a DDT like that!

Dave Kern: Can Murphy get up?

Steven Smith: Hottie Lavelle marches on!

Dave Kern: And THAT, folks, is the end of Murphy’s Platinum title! Maybe there goes the ego along with it, and we’ll finally be able to enjoy an AWC show untarnished by his extravagant and egocentric claims!

Jeff Marx: Nah... that just wouldn’t be AWC!

Dave Kern: This was our last live-action arena show before Winter Warfare, which comes your way in precisely ten days’ time from Koln, Germany – order now! Fresh!burst this Sunday is given over to the screening of the AWC Christmas Party from the night before, in Amsterdam, the Netherlands!

Steven Smith: Boyo, we’re going to AMSTERDAM?! I cannot WAIT!

Dave Kern: (worried) Predictably... I can.

Jeff Marx: We will see YOU there! Though I prrrrrobably won’t remember a DAMN THING!

Jeff appears positively delighted about this as Dave rolls his eyes.

Dave Kern: I'm sure it’ll be an... um... great occasion. Goodnight!

Jeff Marx: Oh, you’re off to bed? Nighty night Dave.

Steven Smith: Sleep tight.

Dave Kern: I was talking to the fans...

Steven Smith: Who?

Jeff Marx: Oh, them. Right. Buh-bye.