Fresh! Results

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Introduction

FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

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The “AWC in 2006” logo fills the screen, and then fades away to show a darkened arena. Abrupt fireworks on the stage, cheers, and then the lights suddenly flash bright with the grungy beginnings of “E-Pro” by Beck. The fans in the Dunkin’ Donuts Center go wild, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of 2005. All the big spots are there: Hate tossing Pierce Lavelle off the bus in the Streets Of London match; Jack Murphy’s flying Bull Charge on Tim Shipley in the Triangles structure; Lavelle’s Whiplash to send Alexander Strider into the fire at Solarized; and many more.

See me coming to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles will hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you’re aiming
Don’t forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you

The Transatlantic title belt fills the screen, momentarily fading through to a shot of Jack Murphy, proudly holding his belt aloft as he grins widely into the camera. And then it’s white light.

Truth Waters: Welcome to Fresh! It’s mid-March and the countdown to Zero 2 Hero has begun in earnest! Internet forums are awash with speculation about the event despite no concrete announcements from AWC staff – we just know the date, April 28th, and the prize the winner gets!

George Cassidy: And that’s a Transatlantic title shot at the biggest and least crap show of the year, Coast To Coast, in August. Eight men… four from AWC, four totally new –

Truth Waters: CASSIDY!

George Cassidy: What? Oh, we don’t – not yet? Ah, er, sorry.

Truth Waters: Too late now… folks, that’s an exclusive! This year’s Zero 2 Hero will take the form of an eight-person tournament, one bracket of existing AWCers yet to really break through, and the other of genuine zeroes brand new to AWC. The competitors will be announced as last year via the website in mid-April –

George Cassidy: But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, since this is the last full Fresh! before our next you-pay-to-watch event, Tw-Tw – sorry, I can’t say it.

Truth Waters: TWILIGHT OF THE GODS! That’s right, March 24th, Twilight Of The Gods, live from the Civic Center in Hartford, Connecticut, pay-per-view only. Nothing is set in stone for the schedule yet but I daresay we’ll see some matches booked tonight!

George Cassidy: Tonight… ah, tonight. After last week’s gimmicks, the card’s a little dry –

Truth Waters: An Alliance championship match, two of the best new stars going head to head, and undefeated “Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” Mikey O’Reilly locking horns with Aimz? DRY?

George Cassidy: I suppose “Aimz” and “dry” never did go together.

Truth Waters: Let’s get down and dirty with match number one!

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Jacobs/GBJ vs Marshall/Dash

STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: ZACH

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The cameras focus on the center of the ring once again and zoom on the famous James Brunt.

James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match. Coming to the ring, weighing in at 190 pounds, from Berkeley, California… AGENTDASH! And his partner tonight, weighing in at 251 pounds… MR. MARSHALL!

“Music Box” by Thrice comes over the loud speakers and a mixture of strobe lights fill the stadium. The two men come out from behind the curtain. Dash has a cocky smile across his face as ‘boos’ from the crowd surface. Marshall has a determined look on his face as he gets in the ring. Dash climbs a turnbuckle and feels the electricity from the crowd.

James Brunt: And their opponents, making his AWC debut, Garbage Bag Johnny! And his tag team partner tonight… Sgt. Jacobs!

“My name is Mud” hits the speakers and Johnny and the Sergeant come out from the loud speakers. GBJ climbs up on the apron and does a flip over the top rope. He stares AgentDash down and Jacobs climbs to the outside. Mr. Marshall climbs through the ropes leaving AgentDash alone in the ring with the dirtiest wrestler in AWC. Lars Larsson calls for the bell and Dash hops out of the turnbuckle to face GBJ.

George Cassidy: Here we go with the first match – a guy who’s on his third ring name teaming with a fitness freak who lost his first name, against two newcomers, one named after a trash sack and the other fresh from the military. I can tell this is going to be a, er, great night Truth…

Dash charges GBJ and is met with an elbow to his nose. Dash’s head hits the mat hard. Blood erupts from his nose and begins pouring all over the himself. Lars Larsson checks with Dash. He shakes his head, telling Larsson he’s still able to fight.

Truth Waters: Wow! The bell wasn’t even done ringing and GBJ already has Dash pouring blood like a fountain.

Dash slowly crawls back to his feet and enraged. GBJ cracks a smile and charges Dash. The two men meet in the middle of the ring with a fury of fists. Dash pounds with GBJ with right hooks. GBJ returns left jabs. Neither man gives ground. Dash begins speeding up his punches and throws GBJ off balance. Dash charges GBJ with a short powerful clothesline to the neck. GBJ jumps back up to his feet and is met by another big right hook to the face. Dash runs toward the ropes and springs off the middle rope doing a flying elbow to GBJ’s face. Dash picks GBJ up by his long black hair and throws him into his corner. Dash walks over and tags Mr. Marshall. Marshall does a snap vertical suplex out of the corner. Dash does a quick jump from the top rope and lands flying leg drop on to GBJ’s neck. Larsson gets in Dash’s face and pushes him outside the ring. GBJ rolls over and extends his hand. Jacobs pulls the tag and gets in the ring. Lars turns around and shoves Jacobs back out into his corner.

George Cassidy: Larsson didn’t see the tag. GBJ is taking some abuse out there. He better do something quick.

Marshall walks over to GBJ and pulls him to his feet. Marshall picks GBJ on his shoulders and falls down hard with a fireman’s carry. Marshall then grabs GBJ’s arm and twist him into a reverse armbar.

Truth Waters: GBJ is really feeling that pressure on his elbow. I bet he’s ready to tap.

Jacobs bolts into the ring and does a drop kick to Marshall’s head, breaking up the submission. Jacobs gets back on the apron after another warning from Larsson. GBJ slowly rises to his feet, holding his elbow. Marshall climbs to his feet. Marshall charges toward GBJ, GBJ ducks and launches Marshall into Dash!

George Cassidy: Now that’s fighting smart, not hard.

GBJ stumbles toward his corner and tags Jacobs in.

Truth Waters: Here comes the Sergeant!

Jacobs runs towards Marshall and is met with a big boot. Marshall jumps to his feet and meets Jacobs on his feet. Marshall grabs Jacobs arm and twist it behind his back, he then launches Jacobs into the ropes and knees him in the midsection hard. Marshall locks him in and power lifts in the air in a fisherman’s suplex. Marshall grabs Jacobs head and brings him to his feet. Marshall grasps Jacobs close and muscles him into a belly-to-belly suplex. Jacobs lies on the mat pulsating with pain, Marshall walks over and tags Dash. Dash jumps to the top ropes and launches in the air trying for a frog splash. Jacobs lifts his knees and Dash falls hard absorbing an unreal amount of aching.

Truth Waters: I know AgentDash is feeling that!

Jacobs rolls over to the recuperated Johnny and extends his hand out, Johnny quickly tags and explodes off the top rope to land a flying leg drop to Dash’s neck.

George Cassidy: GBJ just returned the legdrop. This battle is getting pretty interesting.

GBJ lifts Dash to his feet and knees him in the stomach. He runs into the ropes and lands a perfect swinging neck breaker on Dash in the middle of the ring. Garbage Bag runs to the ropes and bounces off the middle rope and lands a twisting moonsault on Dash.

Truth Waters: GBJ has got some agility doesn’t he!

GBJ lifts the hurt Dash up; Dash grabs GBJ’s neck and pulls him down hard into a neck breaker. Dash falls back into his turnbuckle and slaps in Mr. Marshall. Marshall runs to the stunned GBJ and slams his neck hard on the mat with a German suplex. Marshall rolls him over and tries for the pin...

ONE!

TWO!

George Cassidy: He kicked out! This boy can take a beating can’t he.

Marshall lifts GBJ up and slings him into the ropes and lifts GBJ up in the air and nails him hard with a spinning spinebuster. GBJ rolls on the mat after absorbing the pain. Marshall sits GBJ up and locks him in a triangle choke!!! Jacobs starts to enter the ring but is cut off by Larsson. Dash takes the opportunity to hop in the ring and deliver a few swift kicks to GBJ’s midsection and face. Marshall stands GBJ up and throws him into their corner.

George Cassidy: That’s some great team work by Mr. Marshall and AgentDash. Look how much pain GBJ’s back is taking. Marshall is a pretty sick individual.

Dash holds GBJ in the turnbuckle as Marshall takes a running start towards him. GBJ snaps his head back smashing into Dash’s nose, making the blood to pour even heavier. GBJ ducks out of the way in time for Marshall to deliver a devastating knee to his partner, sending him flying off the ring apron.

Marshall looks in surprise and turns around. GBJ smashes a flying elbow into his face, blood erupts from Marshall’s eye! GBJ hits the ground and both men lie motionless on the mat. Jacobs is yelling Johnny’s name to get his support. GBJ starts crawling across the ring army style. Marshall gets to his feet and wipes the blood away from his face. Marshall grabs GBJ’s feet, just after he tagged in Sgt. Jacobs. Jacobs enters the ring and jumps over GBJ and lands a big clothesline on Marshall. Jacobs begins violently kicking Marshall as he lay on the mat. Jacobs drops an elbow on Marshall’s chest. Dash climbs back onto the ring apron, blood still dripping from his face. Jacobs lifts Marshall up holds Marshall’s body into the air in a military press. Jacobs looks at Dash and slams Marshall down hard on to the mat.

Truth Waters: What strength!

Marshall’s blood covers Jacobs. Jacob lifts Marshall off the ground and throws him into the ropes, and catches him in a flatliner on his return. Jacobs rolls him over pins him.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout.

Dash jumps to the top turnbuckle and flies through the air slamming his feet right into Jacobs’s head. Jacobs hits the mat hard. Larsson rushes Dash back to his corner. GBJ runs in the ring and pulls Jacobs towards him for the easy tag. Marshall rolls over and slowly begins to extend his hand to Dash. Jacobs lifts his hand up and GBJ easily tags in. Dash tags in…Dash bounces off the ropes and delivers a swift spinning heel kick to GBJ’s head. GBJ absorbs the blow and bounces off the ropes, he returns with a spear to Dash. Both men begin throwing lefts and rights on the mat.

Truth Waters: This is an all-out brawl between these two guys.

GBJ jabs Dash’s busted nose, Dash returns devastating jabs to GBJ’s temple. Dash grabs GBJ’s hair and headbutts him hard on the nose, GBJ’s nose burst with blood. Dash gets up, Jacobs climbs back to his feet and hits a snap DDT on Dash. Larsson pulls Jacobs in the corner, Marshall reaches through the ropes and pulls the motionless Dash to his corner. When Larsson turns back around, Marshall tags in. He bolts in the ring to the stunned and bloody GBJ. He goes to whip GBJ into the ropes, GBJ reverses and throws him toward Jacobs, Jacobs lands his knee in the center of Marshall’s back. GBJ runs to the stunned Marshall and hooks him in...The Tragically Hipbuster!... Jacobs hops over the ropes and bolts across the ring, Dash smashes Jacobs in the face with a huge right fist. Dash snaps Jacobs over the ropes with a huge vertical suplex. GBJ hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Larsson walks over and lifts Garbage Bag Johnny’s hand in victory.

James Brunt: The winners… GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY AND SGT. JACOBS!

Truth Waters: What a way to start out the night!

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A Celebration That Goes Horribly, HORRIBLY Wrong

FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, TERESA TOMAS, CHAINZ, TRACY, ZSASZ
AUTHORS: JEREMY J., MIKE S. AND SONYA

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Mikey O’Reilly is walking down the corridor with two cases of beer in each hand. He had won his first wrestling match drunk, against Jason Ortiz and Mr. Marshall. But he isn’t celebrating for himself, of course not; he’s done enough of that for himself. He’s celebrating for someone who finally won a match...

Teresa Jane Tomas. Her career has finally gone somewhere after that victory against Victor Cage last week on Fresh!.

Mikey stops in front of Teresa Tomas’ locker room. He shifts one of the cases of beer in his hands and knocks on the door. He hears Teresa telling him to come in and he enters her locker room, with a smile on his face.

Mikey O’Reilly: Hello. I don’t think you know me, but I’m Mikey O’Reilly. I wanted to come in, congratulate you on your victory last week, and thought we would share some beer.

Teresa Tomas looks at the beer in Mikey’s hands and smiles.

Teresa Tomas: Sure. I’m all up for free beer.

She watched on as Mikey opens up one of the cases. He hands her one, and gives him one himself. Both open the tabs simultaneously, clinging their cans together.

Mikey O’Reilly: For your victory.

Teresa Tomas: Cheers. Thanks for doing this, Mikey.

Mikey O’Reilly: It’s not a problem. Finally, after months of being here, you’ve finally made a name for yourself.

Teresa Tomas: I’ll drink to that!

They both drink. After that, they start to have a conversation...

Until...

*****

Chainz walks through the backstage area with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He reaches Teresa Tomas’ door and without knocking pushes the door open. He walks in and sees Mikey O’Reilly and Teresa Tomas sharing a beer and chatting, quite friendly. As Chainz walks in the conversation stops, and both Mikey and Teresa look at Chainz who seems a bit upset. Both Teresa and Mikey look on, a bit worried knowing the reputation of the man standing in front of them.

Chainz: Oh, I didn’t know you had company.

Teresa Tomas: Oh, um, we’re just sharing a beer. Mikey’s just congratulating me on my win last week.

Chainz looks down at the bottle of whiskey in his hand, feeling a bit out of place.

Mikey O’Reilly stands up, looking at the larger man in front of him. He tries to smile, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knows what Chainz is capable of, so it's best not to have a confrontation with him. He has a match against Aimz to worry about. No need to have Chainz breathing down his neck.

Mikey O’Reilly: Sorry about that, Chainz. If you and Teresa were going to do something, I won’t interfere. I'll see myself out.

He looks down at Teresa, nodding to her.

Mikey O’Reilly: Congrats once again.

Teresa Tomas: Thanks.

He looks at Chainz, gives him a nod and is about to leave.

Chainz: Oh, I had nothing planned, just came by to give a bottle of whiskey back since I drank hers last week.

Mikey O’Reilly goes to leave, but Chainz won't get out of the way.

Chainz: Whoa, hold up boy, there’s no reason for you to leave just yet.

Mikey looks up at the towering man quizzically. He looks over at Teresa as if looking for some guidance, but she’s as confused as Mikey is.

He looks back at Chainz nervously.

Mikey O’Reilly: Listen, I don’t want any trouble. If I offended you by coming into Teresa's locker room, I apologize. I didn't realize you and her were... close.

Chainz: What are you getting at?

Mikey gulps nervously.

Mikey O’Reilly: Well, I meant I didn’t realize you two were like, what’s the word I’m lookin’ for... boyfriend and girlfriend?

Chainz looks more and more pissed off as the conversation continues.

Chainz: We ain’t, you know I don’t like smart-ass motherfuckers like you. Last person that got into my face ended up with a fist in his mouth.

Mikey lets out a sigh. This is something he doesn’t need right now.

Mikey O’Reilly: I’m sorry if I offended you, but I’m not in the mood to get into a pissing match with you. Would you please let me pass?

He tries to move, but Chainz won’t move out of Mikey’s way.

Mikey O’Reilly: Final warning. Get the fuck out of my way.

Chainz: Or what, you gonna hit me? I hope you do, I’d love to see that shit. Just be warned, if you don’t make it to your match it’s not my fault.

Mikey O’Reilly clinches his right fist, flexing his muscles that his right arm is shaking angrily. Teresa Tomas sees where this is going and she doesn’t like it.

Teresa Tomas: Please, guys. Don’t do this. Not here.

Chainz: This a good a spot as any. Come on Mikey, punch me, I dare ya. I’ve been waiting for someone to get in my face so I could beat him to a pulp, you’d be perfect. Little motherfucker, thinking he’s a big man getting in my face.

Mikey O’Reilly smiles at Chainz, cracking his neck.

Mikey O’Reilly: I’m gonna regret this... but fuck it!

With lightning speed, Mikey O’Reilly clocks Chainz hard right in the face, sending him down to the floor. Teresa is on her feet, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Teresa Tomas: NO! Mikey! Don’t hit him!

But Mikey isn’t listening. Mikey O’Reilly mounts the larger, throwing punches into Chainz’s face. Finally, Teresa grabs O’Reilly, pulling him off of Chainz.

Teresa Tomas: Stop it! Stop it right now! Both of you!

Teresa pulls Mikey off, leaving Chainz on the floor blood coming out of his mouth. Yet, Chainz is smiling and grinning broadly as if receiving exactly what he wanted. He tastes a bit of his blood and stands up laughing.

Chainz: Oh that was fresh, Teresa you better get out of the way cause now I'm warmed up and ready. Mikey, you fucked up real bad now.

Mikey O’Reilly: Teresa you better go. There’s no need for ye t’ get hurt.

Teresa knows it’s impossible to talk both of these men out of their fight. Instead of listening to both men, she moves as far as she can, taking one of cases with her. Even though she can’t stop them from fighting, she might as well watch some entertainment.

Mikey O’Reilly removes his shirt, cracks his knuckles and waits on Chainz.

Mikey O’Reilly: Make yer move.

Chainz smiles and breaks the whiskey bottle against a wall, leaving him holding a sharp shred of glass, a perfect weapon.

Chainz: Oh I’m gonna slice that ugly mug of yours right off your face and give to my girl to use for a handbag.

Both men advance toward one another. Before things can get any worse, a scream emanates from outside. It’s Tracy who’s screaming. It sounds like she’s in trouble...

*****

Tracy is listening on, hearing the yelling and the violence. It sounds bad. She should go and get help. She turns to get help. She stops for a moment. Perhaps those sounds of violence are sounds of pleasure. Perhaps Chainz is interested in Teresa Tomas after all! She knew it! She knew she couldn’t trust him! Damn him!

She turns back to the locker room, about to give Mike “Chainz” Sloan a piece of her mind. Before she can get anywhere, she runs into a large, blond-haired, blue-eyed man dressed in an expensive-looking black suit.

She realizes whom she ran into.

It’s the narcissist, Zsasz.

Zsasz looks down at her, flashing his signature sadistic smile at her.

Zsasz: Hello, little girl...

His large hand comes up, running his fingers through Tracy’s hair. He feels a swell inside his pants where his now forming erection is. Zsasz chuckles when he sees the fear in Tracy’s eyes.

Zsasz: Fancy meeting you here.

Tracy: Um, hi, I’m Tracy.

Zsasz: I’m perfectly aware who you are.

Tracy: Please don’t touch me.

Zsasz: Why not? I can see it in your eyes that you enjoy the touch of a man.

Tracy: I’ll scream.

Zsasz chuckles at the small woman in front of her.

Zsasz: What will that accomplish? Having your so-called boyfriend out here? Please. Why don’t you leave that pathetic excuse of a serial killer and enter into the arms of a perfect specimen like me?

Tracy tries to run away, but Zsasz grabs a handful of hair, wrapping it in his hand, pulling her back. She tries to scream, but nothing comes out. Zsasz’ eyes widen as his erection grows. Tracy starts to scream.

Zsasz: Yes, scream you insolent little girl! Let your miscreant of a boyfriend come save you!

Chainz comes running out of Teresa’s locker room and sees Tracy struggling to get away from Zsasz. Upon seeing Chainz and his weapon he lets go of Tracy.

Chainz: You a dead man.

Tracy quickly runs over to Chainz and hugs him. He pushes her behind him and approaches Zsasz who is still smiling, though not as much as before, he obviously knew who Chainz was, but standing right in front of him he was surprised at the mass in front of him.

Zsasz looks at the couple, then looks at Chainz who is staring a hole into him.

Zsasz: I’m a dead man, eh? I don’t see you trying anything to make that statement true.

Chainz: I got another fucker waiting to be slit. You ain’t even worth the effort. Plus, after I kill ya, you ain’t my type so what’s the point.

Zsasz bellows out a laugh at Chainz. He looks at him, shaking his head.

Zsasz: What’s the point of giving out hollowed threats if you do them? Not worth my time, please. You even said you wanted to kill me. So I’ll give you a test: kill me or I’ll covet your precious girlfriend. I would make good use of her, she does things to me that are... pleasant. So take your pick - my death or your girl’s life into my tyrannical prison.

Before the challenge goes out, Mikey O’Reilly comes out of the locker room, seeing Chainz and his manager squaring off outside.

Mikey O’Reilly: Lemme have him, Jack. This asshole’s mine.

Chainz shrugs and takes a slice at Zsasz, catching him on the hand. Some blood sprinkles out and Zsasz looks down at his hand, a bit annoyed, but not very hurt. Mikey approaches Chainz, but he wheels around and brandishes the glass at him, egging him to make a move.

Zsasz: I see you’re a bad aim at slashing at people.

Zsasz walks up behind Chainz places his index, middle finger and thumb onto Chainz’s trapezium muscle and shoulder and pinches hard. Chainz lets out a small moan before dropping to the floor, unconscious. Mikey looks at Zsasz with a shocked look on his face.

Mikey O’Reilly: How the fuck did you do that?

Zsasz: Simple. I pinched a pressure point and he’s unconscious. You should be careful about who you deal with. And I’m not leaving any room for arguments. You have a match to get ready for. Let’s go.

Zsasz looks at the gash on his hand, down at the unconscious Chainz, then at Tracy. He smiles at her, gives her a nod and both Mikey and Zsasz take their leave.

As both men leave to Mikey’s locker room, Tracy checks on her man, who is still unconscious from the pressure point pinch. She looks back where Mikey O’Reilly and Zsasz once were. She realizes what is going to happen when Chainz finally wakes up.

A chill goes through her body at the thought.

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Mindfuck I

FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, ADAM DICK, JESSICA O'GRADY
AUTHOR: FERGUS

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The dull thud of feet wandering down the hallway head towards the camera as it looks around, searching for the source of the noise. It doesn't take long to find out who it is. The Transatlantic champion wanders down the corridor of the Dunkin' Donuts Center in Providence and as he walks by doors he ticks them off in his head, searching for something of his own.

Jack Murphy: Where is the bloody...

He halts as he comes right near the camera and he takes a look at it. He smirks at them and leaves the sly grin on his face but returns to his thoughts, cursing loudly under his breath. It is now we notice that he has a bottle of champagne in his hand and he looks to be looking for fun. Ignoring the camera crew he continues along the way.

Jack Murphy: (muttering) Why does she have to give me such random directions? The tenth door on the right after the bend? What the hell is that...?

The camera has followed behind the champion as he continues to stride along. They have to pick up the pace as The Bull is wasting no time in heading down the corridor. Finally he stops and counts quickly in his head. Confirming the directions he stops.

Jack Murphy: (listening) Sounds quite... jovial in there...

Just then the door opens right in Murphy's face, almost smashing into him if not for his reflex to move back. Murphy's expression of puzzlement goes quickly sour as the person who steps forward looks just as unimpressed as Murphy.

Jack Murphy: What the...?

Adam Dick doesn't even respond, quickly sliding by the champion without a word, not even confronting him with a quick witted remark and escape. No, he just leaves softly and silently, much to the confusion of Murphy. This confusion soon turns into anger as it sinks into his head.

Jack Murphy: (muttering) But of course... of course he's here...

He pounds into the door and it does nothing. In frustration Murphy realises that it opened outwards in the first place and he quickly wrenches at the handle, entering. The camera crew follow as best they can, just getting in before the door is slammed. In front of them is Murphy and Jessica O'Grady, both of whom now look a bit pissed off at each other.

Jessica O'Grady: ...that's just simply ridiculous! What do you take me for?

Jessica has her hand on her hips, thoroughly annoyed at whatever Murphy has insinuated.

Jack Murphy: I'm not blaming you! I just don't trust him! (points finger out the door)

Jessica O'Grady: Ah... are you ever going to let that go Jack?

Jack Murphy: (tilting head) Let what go?

Jessica O'Grady: You beat him Jack, what have you got left to prove? In fact, you beat his partner last week too so what have you really got to prove against them? You've shown who's the bigger man in this federation just as you wanted. So what's the big deal with Adam? Have you not been watching his matches the past couple of weeks?

Jack Murphy: Yeah I have... nothing but a slide. Almost a waterfall.

Jessica O'Grady: Exactly... so why do you see him as a threat?

Jack Murphy: Because you can't trust him Jessica! You can't trust him at all.

Jessica O'Grady: Oh and you'd know all about him and his past would you?

Jessica makes not attempt to back down and Murphy is incensed at her presumed knowledge of all things wrestling.

Jack Murphy: (snidely) And you do?

Jessica O'Grady: As a matter of fact yes!

She pulls out a dossier from her briefcase that is sitting on the desk nearby. It's quite a hefty one to say the least.

Jessica O'Grady: (brandishing the dossier) Each and every bit of information on Adam Dick from every corner of the globe, every person I could find who'd been involved with him, including all those in AWC and PRIME. So I do know Jack and I know that he is not interested in you anymore so what's the problem?

Murphy stalls at this question and looks downwards, keeping the anger inside.

Jack Murphy: (looking away) Because... because he's up to something!

He bangs the desk beside them and documents fly everywhere.

Jack Murphy: Sorry. Here let me help you.

They both get on their hunches and begin picking the documents back up. Jessica grabs a bunch of them and stands back. Murphy abruptly holds onto one piece in particular and doesn't move.

Jessica O'Grady: (looking down) What?

Jack Murphy: (under his breath) Oh you're kidding...

Jessica O'Grady: What?

Jack Murphy: No wonder you're defending him... you're looking to sign him!

Jessica O'Grady: So? I have the right to do what I wish and you said it'd be good for me to branch out while I have the opportunity.

Jack Murphy: (incredulously) Yeah but not with a creep like him! You've already said he's on a slide anyway! What the hell do you want with a worthless bum?

Jessica O'Grady: (shaking head) Well, that's not your decision Jack, it's mine.

Jack Murphy: The hell it isn't!

Jessica O'Grady: (eyes bulging) HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!

Jessica looks possessed after Murphy's last words and his own eyes narrow at this.

Jack Murphy: What?

Jessica O'Grady: You have no right to say what I can and cannot do! You are such a prick sometimes you know that! I knew he was right!

Jack Murphy: Who was?

Jessica O'Grady: Adam. He told me you wouldn't understand but I had faith. Thanks a lot Jack. I thought you believed in my decisions, but obviously not!

Without anything else to say Jessica storms off out of the room and Murphy looks considerably pissed off.

Jack Murphy: (shocked) I'm the prick? What the hell?

Murphy stands with his hands on his hips and irritably kicks at the table. He smarts slightly and shakes his head.

Jack Murphy: What the fuck did I do? Jesus!

---

Victor Cage vs Dagoth Kinslayer

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.

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Truth Waters: Welcome back, guys and dolls, to some more action right here on Fresh!. Coming up, Victor Cage and Dagoth Kinslayer face each other in pitched combat. Both of these men have one thing in common: they lost their debut matches. Dagoth Kinslayer fell to another debuting superstar, Mikey O’Reilly two week ago, and Victor Cage lost to Teresa Tomas, who finally scored her first match here in the AWC. Which one of these two superstars are going to redeem themselves and have their first triumph here in AWC?

George Cassidy: It was a travesty to see the Mad Hungarian General, Dagoth Kinslayer, to fall at the hands of that bare-knuckle boxing drunk, Mikey O’Reilly. It was a fluke, just like Victor Cage’s loss to that bitch, Teresa Tomas. I’m actually torn between these two combatants because I like them both. Both made good showings, but I think Kinslayer can take this one. He has to in order to recover from his loss against O’Reilly last week. You can’t be a fear Hungarian general if you keep losing matches!

Truth Waters: Indeed. Anyway, let’s go down to the ring where ring announcer James Brunt and referee Aaron Davies are standing by. Take it away, fellas.

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

“Face the Slayer” starts to play as Dagoth Kinslayer steps onto the stage, decked out in his battle armor. He walks down to the ring as ring announcer James Brunt continues his ring announcing spiel.

James Brunt: From Hungary, weighing 275 pounds... he is “The Scourge of God...” DAGOTH KINSLAYER!

Dagoth Kinslayer walks up the steel ring steps, steps over the top rope and enters the ring. He goes into his respected corner, removing his battle armor, waiting for his opponent.

George Cassidy: There he is, ladies and gentlemen, the man who’s going to destroy Victor Cage in the middle of the ring.

Truth Waters: Don’t be tooting your own horn yet, Cass. I talked to Victor Cage earlier and he told me he is going to debut his style of wrestling tonight, and what better way to debut it against a man who’s a self-proclaimed immortal Hungarian general?

James Brunt: His opponent...

“Brainstew” by Greenday starts playing. Victor Cage walks out with no special fire works, and maybe some blinking lights.

James Brunt: From Mobile, Alabama, weighing 225 pounds... VICTOR CAGE!

Victor Cage rolls into the ring, gets to his feet and locks his eyes on his opponent. Dagoth Kinslayer’s eyes are locked on Victor Cage, waiting for the bell to ring.

Truth Waters: Look at the intensity between these two men. It looks like they already hate each other.

George Cassidy: That maybe true, but each man is looking to score their first victory in AWC, and they know it’s going to be hard to top the other man.

Ring announcer James Brunt leaves the ring as referee Aaron Davies calls for the bell. Both men are out their corners, circling the ring, sizing each other up. Victor Cage is in a fighting stance while Dagoth Kinslayer is standing ramrod straight, looming over his opponent like a giant. Kinslayer sees an opening and goes for it, but recoils back from an attempted high kick. “The Kinslayer” is almost caught off guard from the kick, but manages to recover in time to evade, hence why he recoiled back. He must’ve saw the kick coming. Knowing what VC is capable of, he advances forward, thinking Victor would do the same thing as last time. Cage goes for a kick all right, but it isn’t the one Kinslayer was looking for. Instead of a high head kick, Cage administer a low knee kick, buckling Kinslayer’s knee with Cage’s skin. “The Scourge of God” drops to one knee, and Cage throws a spinning back fist, clocking Kinslayer right in the face, dropping him down to the mat. Cage bounces off the ropes and drops a quick elbow right into Kinslayer’s heart. He goes for a quick cover, but Kinslayer kicks out before referee Davies could administer a count.

George Cassidy: So Victor Cage is a fighter. How nice. It’s always great to see more fighters in AWC. Who needs wrestling when you can see a good fight?

Truth Waters: I sense a hint of sarcasm there, Cass.

George Cassidy: Me? Sarcastic? Never.

Victor Cage gets to his feet, picking up the larger Dagoth Kinslayer. He whips the large man into the ropes, tempting a Back Body Drop, but Kinslayer switches gears, driving a knee into the side of Cage’s head. The knee is hard to drop any man to the mat, but not Cage. He remains on his feet, momentarily dazed from the knee strike. Dagoth wraps both hands around Cage’s throat and raises him over his head, choking the life out of Cage. Referee Aaron Davies tries to break the double-handed choke, then goes for a five count. Kinslayer frees Cage after the count of four. The fans boo at Kinslayer’s action in the ring, but Kinslayer doesn’t care. He does what he wants, when he wants. VC is slow to his feet, but Dagoth is there for assistance. So much for assistance when Kinslayer picks up Cage over his head with a Gorilla Press Slam and then slams him down hard onto the mat. Cage arches his back, selling the move well, even though he didn’t feel much pain after that exchange.

Dagoth Kinslayer grabs one of Victor Cage’s arm and picks him up from it, yanking hard on the arm. Cage yelps in pain, feeling the pain shooting through his shoulder. The fans heard a sickening POP! emanating from Cage’s shoulder. It sounds like Kinslayer separated Cage’s shoulder. Dagoth wrings the arm hard, flipping Cage onto the mat, slamming him hard on his back. Next, Kinslayer drops a leg across Cage’s arm and shoulder, inflicting more pain onto the arm and shoulder. After that, “The Scourge of God” rolls Cage onto his stomach, then performs an innovative-looking Kimura Key-lock and pulls back on the shoulder, treating it like a Fujiwara Arm-bar! VC is screaming in pain, trying to break free from the hold before his shoulder and arm is broken.

Truth Waters: What a modified Fujiwara Arm-bar by Dagoth Kinslayer, and Victor Cage is in trouble. If he doesn’t get out of that move, he’ll surely tap out!

George Cassidy: That’s what Dagoth Kinslayer is looking for, apparently. Kinslayer isn’t the one to do submissions on his opponents, but it looks like this one is working well. Keep it locked in, Kinslayer!

Victor Cage tries everything to counter or to break the hold, but to no avail. He’s stuck; all of Dagoth Kinslayer’s weight is on Cage’s back, giving him no chance to escape. The only thing he can do is take the pain and hopefully Kinslayer will break the hold himself. But “The Kinslayer” relents, pulling back on Cage’s arm, applying more pressure onto the shoulder. To accentuate more pain onto Cage’s shoulder, he straightens out Cage’s arm since the Kimura Key-lock isn’t doing any damage. Cage refuses to give after Kinslayer cinches the Fujiwara in more. Giving up, Kinslayer breaks the arm-bar, gets up and stomps on Cage’s shoulder...hard, making Cage yelp out in pain.

Truth Waters: Dagoth Kinslayer is showing off a mean streak I haven’t seen from him. What a vicious display thus far from the man.

George Cassidy: Oh, Kinslayer is just warming up. You ain’t seen nothing yet!

Dagoth Kinslayer is stalking his opponent, about to commence with his attack. Victor Cage manages to grab one of Kinslayer’s ankle, muscling him down to the mat. The fans cheer when Cage mounts Kinslayer and with his good arm, he starts throwing punches and elbows, but the assault is immediately broken up by referee Aaron Davies, giving “The Kinslayer” enough time to get to a vertical base and throw a massive boot right in Cage’s face. Dagoth goes for the first pin fall of the match...

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

No! Victor Cage manages to kick out. Both men are on their feet now. Dagoth Kinslayer goes in for an attack but Cage goes low, administering a Dropkick into the right kneecap of “The Kinslayer!” Kinslayer drops to a knee once again and Cage follows up with a spinning reverse roundhouse kick to the back of Kinslayer’s head. Afterwards, Cage grabs both legs, goes for a Texas Cloverleaf setup, only turns Kinslayer onto his stomach, then reaches down and pulls back on Kinslayer’s face with the Sniper Shot!

Truth Waters: He locked in the Sniper Shot, the Queen Angelito Stretch, and Dagoth Kinslayer is screaming in pain!

George Cassidy: That finishing submission hold won’t last long. Look at the pain registered on Cage’s face, his shoulder won’t be able to pull back on the cross-face portion for much longer.

Victor Cage roars as he pulls back on the Cross-face. He can feel his injure burning and almost tearing. Dagoth Kinslayer almost tapped out if it weren’t for Cage breaking the hold due to pain in his shoulder. He drops onto the mat, holding his injured shoulder. With that attempt resulting a complete failure, Cage must trudge on and try to defeat the “Mad Hungarian General.” Kinslayer gingerly gets to his feet, while Cage does the same thing. Cage makes a tactical error by charging at Kinslayer, only resulting a Big Boot right into Cage’s injured shoulder. VC drops to the mat like a ton of bricks, wailing in pain as he clutches at his shoulder. Kinslayer bounces off the ropes, jumps high into the air and attempts an Elbow Drop, but Cage rolls out of the way just in time to watch Kinslayer crash and burn onto the mat, slamming his elbow onto nothing but canvas.

Victor Cage gets to his feet, working the pain out of his shoulder. Afterwards, he goes to his downed opponent, dropping a knee across Dagoth Kinslayer’s elbow. Kinslayer bellows out in pain after the Knee Drop. He sits Kinslayer up, wraps his legs around Kinslayer’s left arm, locks in a Cross Arm Breaker with the other arm and drops onto the mat, locking in the Rings of Saturn! The fans are on their feet, chanting VC’s name.

“VC! VC! VC! VC! VC! VC! VC! VC! VC! VC! VC!”

Truth Waters: What an innovative submission by Victor Cage by utilizing both arms! LOOK! HE’S THROWING ELBOWS INTO THE SIDE OF DAGOTH KINSLAYER’S HEAD!

George Cassidy: Son of a bitch! C’mon, Kinslayer, fight out of it.

Victor Cage still has the Rings of Saturn locked in on Dagoth Kinslayer. As Truth Waters mentioned, VC starts to throw a barrage of elbows in the side of Dagoth Kinslayer’s head. Elbow after elbow, Dagoth Kinslayer continues to take them. Somewhere in the barrage of elbows, Dagoth Kinslayer gets knocked out. Referee Aaron Davies notices that Kinslayer isn’t moving and calls for the bell. As the bell rings, he breaks up Victor Cage’s assault on Kinslayer. Cage lets go of the crucifixion submission, gets to his feet and raises his arms into the air as “Brainstew” by Greenday starts to play.

Both Truth Waters and George Cassidy are speechless for a brief after witnessing what just happened.

Truth Waters: ...Oh my God... Victor Cage just knocked Dagoth Kinslayer out with those vicious elbows to the head. I-I never seen anything like it before. Holy hell.

George Cassidy: He jacked Dagoth Kinslayer up UFC style! There was no wrestling whatsoever in that match! Hey ref! Disqualify that man!

Much to the chagrin of George Cassidy, that doesn’t happen. Instead, ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner of the match.

James Brunt The winner, as a result of a knockout... VICTOR CAGE!

Victor Cage continues to celebrate as the fans cheer for his win. Dagoth Kinslayer slowly comes to, realizing that he lost. He slams his fist onto the mat, gets to his feet, charges at Cage and blindsides him from behind with a Clothesline! The fans boo at Kinslayer’s conduct as he continues the beat down on the winner of the match.

Truth Waters: Oh, c’mon, Dagoth! You lost the match! There’s no need to be a damned sore loser about it!

After beating the hell out of Victor Cage on the mat, Dagoth Kinslayer gets to his feet, picks up Cage and sets him up for the Scourge, the Under-hook Brain Buster known as the illegal maneuver, Michinoku Driver I. Before he could pull off the move, Cage backdrops Kinslayer onto the mat, and the fans cheer for Cage. VC gets to his feet, picks up “The Kinslayer,” kicks him in the gut, and sets him in between his legs, hooks both arms and drills Kinslayer’s face into the mat with Kill Zone!

Truth Waters: Kill Zone by Victor Cage! That ought to teach Dagoth Kinslayer a lesson in being a sore loser!

George Cassidy: He was screwed out of that match! You’d be a sore loser, too!

Truth Waters: How was Dagoth Kinslayer screwed? Because he was knocked out? He wasn’t pinned? He didn’t submit? Cass, get over it! He lost, plain and simple. Dagoth Kinslayer lost in a clean victory whether you like it or not.

With that said, “Brainstew” replays on the PA system as Victor Cage leaves the ring, leaving Dagoth Kinslayer laid out in the middle of the ring courtesy of the Kill Zone.

Truth Waters: Well, ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our second match of the evening. Coming up next, Mikey O’Reilly tries to exact some revenge when he takes on Aimz. Will he be successful after being embarrassed by “The Red Raver” last week? We’ll find out! Don’t go anywhere!

---

Unflinching Devotion

FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, TRACY, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHORS: LARA CLARKE AND MIKE S.

---

Sarah sits idly by on a small chair, her legs gently balanced on a stool. Her golden skin (recently tanned) shimmering against the overhead light as she gently pulls on a pair of high heels. Her blonde hair lies in wisps against her shoulders, her back turned to the door and the figure standing not too far behind her.

Tracy looks on at Sarah, unsure if she should knock and bring more drama into Sarah’s life, but before Tracy has time to rekindle her actions, Sarah turns around with a smile, gazing toward the frail image before her.

Tracy stands in a pair of sleek tracksuit bottoms and a tight top, small bags line her green eyes as she stands, carefully slumped against the closed door. She looks a lot different to her usual self, perfectly dressed, make-up on, nails done and hair finely brushed and styled.

Sarah Kennedy: Hey, Tracy… You look like you’ve seen a ghost, everything alright?

Tracy: I, eh, just need to sit down for a while.

Tracy moves forward, her body moving against the breeze of the air conditioning unit, its hummer adding a calming sense of relief to be away from Michael and the drama enveloped around him. She just needed to relax, that was it, that was what she constantly told herself, but after hearing the quarrels between Michael and O’Reilly, her wits were beginning to turn.

Sarah Kennedy: You look wrecked…

Sarah said in the kindest possible manner she could, but if she was being honest, she was slightly shocked to see Tracy in such a frail image - usually Sarah would be trying everything to look just as good as all the other girls, Tracy included, but today was different, she hated to admit it, but sitting next to Tracy, she felt terrible being all done up.

Sarah Kennedy: Here, I’ll make you some coffee.

Sarah said nicely turning on the small machine and pulling out a spare cup from a small cabinet, underneath Maddy Estelle’s locker. Tracy stared into space, aware of Sarah’s presence, but she couldn’t hear the words, they evaporated before they reached her.

Tracy: About last week, I apologise for bringing you into my domestic issues.

Tracy said looking into Sarah’s blue eyes as she accepted the coffee from Sarah’s hands.

Sarah Kennedy: Look, don’t worry about that…

Tracy: I feel bad about it, that’s all.

Sarah sits next to Tracy and sips gently on her own cup of coffee, waiting for Tracy to speak what’s on her mind. Sarah knew better than to pry, just let things fall into place, which was something Sarah could do, she could listen and perhaps that’s why she and Tracy had become a lot closer in recent weeks. She felt sorry for her new found friend; she was watching a small love triangle develop and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t really help Tracy.

Tracy: I mean, you’d think he’d just do one thing for me…

There we go, Sarah thought to herself as she began listening to her friend as she spoke against the cup of coffee, its brim lying gently on her lip. Sarah turned her gaze from her own mug of black coffee toward Tracy, whose eyes were a bloodshot red.

Tracy: I saw him going into Teresa's locker room again... with a bottle of whiskey. I followed him and stayed outside so I could hear what was going on.

Sarah listened carefully now, fearing a repeat of last week and this time she didn’t know if Pierce was actually in the building. She just hoped Tracy had locked the door.

Sarah Kennedy: And?

Sarah placed her coffee mug down, seeing the hurt in Tracy as she swirled the spoon around over and over in her own coffee mug.

Tracy: Well, Mikey O'Reilly was already in there, congratulating Teresa on her first win last week. Michael seemed pretty upset that Mikey was in there.

Her voice was crackling with emotion as she gazed into the black abyss of caffeine and boiling water; Sarah just listened intently, now focusing more on Tracy than the fear of Chainz bursting through the door in a drunken rage.

Sarah Kennedy: Uh huh, I thought he was going to try and change?

Tracy: What are you saying?

Tracy immediately stops her own train of thought and focuses directly on her friend Sarah.

Sarah Kennedy: I mean, I thought he was sorry for the attention he was giving to all those other women…

Sarah sat back a little, feeling she had accidentally hit a nerve in Tracy. Tracy didn’t respond. She knew Sarah was right, Michael had promised to change, he had spent a lot of the week apologising for the nasty bruise Tracy had on her arm and about the incident involving the drink with Teresa, but once again she found herself in the same precarious position.

Sarah Kennedy: Look Tracy, I think we've become friends in the past few weeks or so and it pains me to see you with him. He's obviously into Teresa, he doesn't love you and he just uses you.

Tracy turns her back on Sarah, almost knocking over the coffee, but stops before she can flinch.

Tracy: (upset) You're wrong!

Sarah, realising her own words, gently places a warm hand on Tracy’s shoulder, trying to comfort her friend. She knows she’s torn in many ways, unsure what to do anymore.

Sarah Kennedy: I’m sorry, Tracy, but I don’t like to see you hurting so much. Have you ever thought of leaving him?

Tracy turns around; Sarah removes her hand and gazes kindly into the distraught face of Tracy.

Tracy: No, he does love me. I ran into Zsasz and he was about to do something god awful to me, until I screamed and Michael came running out like a knight in shining armour to protect me. There were two of them and Michael stood up to them, put me behind him to keep me out of danger and protected me from those two creeps. He was even knocked out for me, he does love me. He just has issues showing it the right way.

Sarah listens to the words Tracy is speaking and although she wants to believe the words, she just doesn’t feel right about Chainz and the way he abuses Tracy, mentally. Sarah knows she should comfort Tracy, but sometimes you have to play devils advocated, she assured herself as she thought of something to say.

Sarah Kennedy: Pierce protected both of us last week, putting himself in front of us against a very drunk Chainz. Does that mean he loves us?

Tracy knew what Sarah meant, perhaps Chainz was being a gentleman and protecting that which he cares about, like Pierce has done on countless times and it dawned on Tracy that she could be right.

Tracy: No… Michael… loves me…

Tracy said, shaking the idea away from her mind about valour. Sarah just sighed, it was no use, Tracy would have to come to her own decisions on Michael Sloan, and she could no longer offer advice.

Tracy: What about you?

Sarah Kennedy: (taken off guard) Huh? What about me?

Tracy: Have you told Pierce how you feel?

Sarah went red in the face, could Tracy have seen right through Sarah’s front, impossible, or not. Tracy was perceptive at times and perhaps this was one of those times, or she was trying to avoid her own issues with Chainz.

Sarah Kennedy: I don’t know what you mean…

Sarah, now, was doing just what Tracy had done, avoiding the issue.

Tracy: You care deeply about him. I don’t blame you. He’s good looking and he cares a hell of a lot about people, despite those that ruin everything of his. Most men, resort to violence on that occasion, but Pierce defended me last week, despite what I did to him. I can see why you care about him; maybe you should tell him your feelings…

Tracy was right, but Sarah couldn’t, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t risk the friendship she had built wit Pierce.

Sarah Kennedy: I can’t, I just can’t…

It was Sarah’s time to confide in Tracy. She knew she could trust Tracy with her own feelings, as Tracy had done with her on countless times.

Tracy: What do you mean? Why can’t you tell him?

Sarah slouched back, pulling out some tissues, she didn’t want to start crying, but she knew she could feel tears and Tracy had already cleaned out one both of Kleenex. Tracy, ignoring her own issues, now saw that Sarah too was confused about her own love life.

Sarah Kennedy: What if it ruins the friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Tracy: That’s if, Sarah. How do you know it would ruin anything… He could feel the exact same.

Sarah Kennedy: It could go so wrong and I can’t lose Pierce… He’s been through so much and confided in me, about everything. The last thing he needs is tension between us over my feelings for him… they’ll go away…

Tracy placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and sighs.

Tracy: No, they won’t go away, Sarah. The more time you spend with him, the more your feelings will grow. Listen, it’s better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all… Besides, it is time you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The words of wisdom from Tracy really struck a chord with Sarah as she sat listening intently to the words Tracy spoke. She was right, but how would Sarah tell him, how could she tell him? Tracy rose onto her feet and stretched her back, wiping her eyes of any tears.

Tracy: Well I better go and find Michael and comfort him. He plays tough, but when I sit him down he's just like a little child.

Sarah Kennedy: Really?! I never would have guessed.

Tracy: Yeah, don't tell him though or he'd kill me.

Sarah looked to laugh, but than realized Tracy probably was closer to the truth than she intended to be.

Tracy: Besides, I think someone wants to see you.

Tracy smiled, listening to the footsteps not too far from the door. Sarah looked up, surprised by the immediacy of Tracy’s psyche.

Sarah Kennedy: What, who?

Tracy smiles and walks out of the locker room, just as Pierce Lavelle reaches the door.

---

This Ain’t About You! It’s About V! Huh?! What The Hell Are You Doing Here?!

FEATURING: VINCE JONES, JASMINE AND A VERY SPECIAL GUEST
AUTHORS: JAY AND JOSH YOUNG

---

The camera fades into the backstage area where Vince Jones can be seen watching one of the matches on the monitor with a sour expression on his face. Jasmine can be seen seated across the room from him with a sour expression on her face as well. Vince holds his head still slightly feeling the effects of his involvement in the Beneath the Boardwalk match last week.

Vince Jones: Ahhhh!! My fuckin' head! (grunts) Ya know somethin', Jasmine? This is bullshit! This is all bullshit!

Jasmine: You're telling me. I can't believe Teresa Tomas did what she did to me last week...

Vince Jones: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Shut the hell up 'bout that bitch! Aiight? This ain't Jasmine time here! This fuckin' V. Jones spills his guts time we on right now!

Jasmine rises to her feet.

Jasmine: But I was...

Vince raises his hand signaling for her to shut up.

Vince Jones: Chill out! Aiight! We got more important shit to be talkin' 'bout right now like The Violence's problems here. Besides you took a lil slap to the face. That shit ain't nothin'. Try havin' yo fuckin' bells rung! (points to his crotch) That ain't cool! That don't fly!

Jasmine: But you know what...

Vince Jones: Shut the hell up! You the reason that shit went down in the first place! You poppin' off at the mouth and shit and not havin' the balls to take care of the ish you (points at Jasmine) started! How does that make you feel, huh?

Vince Jones rises to his feet and begins pacing back and forth across the room in a frenzy.

Vince Jones: Yo mans, V. Jones, an innocent bystander and shit last week just wantin' to talk to his peoples and out comes the crazy redneck bitch from hell, havin' the audacity and shit to interrupt (points to himself) Mr. AKA himself and then attacks V's family jewels! You feelin' good 'bout that, huh?? Does that make you feel' fuckin' good, Jasmine!?!?!

Jasmine hesitates for a moment and then shakes her head slowly. Vince stops in his tracks and folds his arms across his face.

Vince Jones: Oh, you had to think 'bout shit? Is that it? V. Jones be doin' what he gotta do in this game to get by, some drunken redneck bitch busts his fuckin' balls, and you gotta think about whether or not that shit made you feel bad? Hold yo head in shame! C'mon! Lower yo damn head!

Jasmine lowers her head in shame.

Jasmine: I'm sorry, V.

Vince Jones: Hell yeah yo ass betta be sorry! Shit! (turns his back) Ya know that fuckin' shot to the balls might've been the reason V. Jones didn't have it in him to give that lil extra to win that damn Beneath the Boardwalk match last week! And that shit ain't cool, Jasmine! Ya know V. Jones could be sittin' on top of the Relentless title division mountain right now lookin' down on the rest of them bitch mades and spittin' on they fuckin' heads!

Vince looks down at the floor as if he's standing on top of a mountain right now and waves.

Vince Jones: What up, Hate? How's the weather down there, bitch? Hear its 'bout to rain.

Vince Jones acts as if he's spitting on his head and laughs to himself. He turns and pretends to see someone else.

Vince Jones: Hey Anton, Suleimon! Look out below!

Vince Jones acts as if he's spitting on their heads too. Vince Jones laughs to himself, but his expression of amusement fades away and he slowly turns back towards Jasmine.

Vince Jones: But nah, that shit ain't the case right now, Jasmine! That lucky, punk ass, Red Rock got V's gold sittin' around his waist right now with a fuckin' Kool-Aid smile on his damn ugly ass mug while V. Jones gotta stand back at the bottom lookin' up! The bottom ain't cool, Jasmine, not cool at all! C'mon now! V. Jones the fuckin' Violence up in this damn game! Ya know that, Jasmine?

She nods her head quickly.

Vince Jones: Damn right he the fuckin' Violence! Hardcore synonymous with his damn name eva since the beginnin'! So, how you think that shit feels when he knows some lil pansy ass, bitch made prancin' around the joint thinkin' he the cock of the walk and shit in V. Jones' game, HUH?!?

Jasmine: I know. I know. I'm sorry about that, V. Things will get better for you. I promise.

Vince Jones: Yo promises mean jack shit right now! Ya heard!??

Jasmine slowly raises her head and begins smiling deviously at Vince.

Jasmine: Hey! I've got an idea of something that might make you feel a whole lot better.

Vince Jones: (nodding) Oh yeah? And what would this idea be? And this shit betta be good cuz you know you been fuckin' up a bit lately!

Jasmine leaps up to her feet and begins skipping over towards Vince and wraps her arms around him with a bright smile on her face.

Jasmine: Well, you know how Teresa Tomas did you wrong and all last week, right?

Vince just glares at her.

Jasmine: Ummmm... well, you could... rough her up a bit for me, baby.

Vince doesn't appear to be too keen on the idea as he folds his arms across his chest and remains silent.

Jasmine: (nervously) Well, it wouldn't necessarily be for me. Although it'd kinda be indirectly for me; but, it'd be much more for your sake, baby. I mean, that toothless whore cost you the Relentless title and she has to pay, someone has to pay V. Why not her? Yeah. she has to pay dearly all that she did. Think about it. Revenge for last week would make everything better. Right? Right? (nods enthusiastically) Yeah. I think that would be a great idea!

Jasmine spots Vince's Louisville slugger propped up in the corner of the room and she scurries over towards it, snatches it up, and rushes back over to Vince with a large smile.

Jasmine: Just roll up on her for me and knock her head out the park with one quick swing!

Jasmine takes a wild swing with the bat in glee and Vince barely manages to avoid getting smacked in the head. Jasmine laughs out loud imagining Vince scrambling Teresa's brains. Vince Jones appears somewhat amused by the idea as well...

Vince Jones: Ha ha ha ha ha ha haaa... (in anger) fuck no!

Jasmine: (pouting) But why not??

Vince Jones: Cuz you need to take care of your own shit for a change! That's the problem we havin' right now here! You go ahead runnin' yo damn mouth, startin' up shit you can't finish and then The Violence be the one catchin'' the heat! So, if anyone gonna be fuckin' up Teresa Tomas with a bat today its gonna be...(leans forward and points at Jasmine) you! Just not with V. Jones' bat!

He snatches the baseball bat out of Jasmine's hands.

Vince Jones: 'Nuff said! V gonna take a lil walk and don't be startin' nothin' and causin' that drama! V don't need that shit tonight!

Vince exits the locker room and Jasmine begins stomping her feet and throwing a hissy fit at the situation.

Jasmine: (pouting) I can't believe that! He's so insensitive! Now what am I gonna do?

She begins pacing back and forth in thought. The camera switches to the hallway outside the locker room where a familiar voice is directed towards Vince.

Red Rock: OH! Hey VINCE! Just the man .

Vince stops in his track as he rolls his eyes at the sound of Red Rock’s voice and with a slightly angered tone in his voice he turns around and Red Rock is stood in front of him with his new Relentless championship title around his waste, a cheeky grin across his face and his companion D’avid Bulrat by his side.

Vince Jones: And what the hell do you want, huh?

Vince who is unimpressed at Red Rock’s presence stares at directly at the relentless title.

Red Rock: I just wanted to say that I hope there are no hard feelings between us after last week.

Vince continues to stares daggers at Red Rock, D’avid steps back slightly in fear of the angered Vince Jones.

Red Rock: I got you a present just to show there are no hard feelings! I know how much you wanted it and I know how much you must be kicking yourself in the nuts after wasting ALL that money on that advert thing.

Red Rock passes Vince Jones a white plastic bag. Vince cautiously accepts the gift with a raised eyebrow.

Vince Jones: What the hell is it?

Red Rock: Open it, you’ll see! I think you’ll like it!

Vince reaches in to the bag and withdraws a coloring book.

Red Rock: There’s a box of crayons in there too!

Vince jerks his head towards Red Rock with a disgruntled grimace across his face.

Vince Jones: (in rage) Ah hell nah, funny man!

He slams the book on the floor and advances at Red Rock, who submissively holds his hands up.

Red Rock: Woah, woah! Ok calm down, if it’s too challenging for you I kept the receipt so you can take it back!

Vince Jones: Nah! Fuck that! V. Jones don’t need your bull shit, Red Rock! You think you some smarty art bitch or somethin' just cuz you got lucky in a damn Easta egg hunt kinda deal fo that damn strap you got around yo waist? Fuck no! (points at Red Rock) You nothin' but luck, son! You just lucky that V got attacked that night otherwise things might have been different!

Red Rock: Pffft! SURE beat up by Teresa Tomas, if it wasn’t that it would have been sand in your vagina or something. Maybe you just need to accept that you had your thumb up your arse that night, and I out smarted you… but that isn’t saying much.

Vince Jones: You know The Violence is gettin’ real tired of you right about now. That’s V’s gold you got ‘round yo waist! You best believe that! And if you ain't keen on that than you and V got a whole helluva lot of problems here! Get it? Got it? Good!

Vince Jones presses his finger against his chest to exclaim his feelings on last weeks match. Red Rock shrugs at Vince Jones sustaining his cheeky smile.

Red Rock: Look, you don’t win matches like an Ottoman torture chamber match and expect to loose to a rasclart like you. We all knew who was going to win that match before we even stepped in the ring. So what I suggest to you is you pick up that book and those crayons and maybe you’ll finally find something you’re good at. That’s assuming you’re smart enough to colour in the lines.

Vince looks at the coloring book and crayons on the floor and is totally beside himself with anger.

Vince Jones: Oh, you got jokes? You got jokes, huh? Fuck yo damn colorin' book and colorin' in the lines! V ain't neva colored in the damn lines. V ain't been colorin' in the lines his whole damn career! Now, let V fill you in on a lil somethin' somethin' here. That Ottoman Torture Chamber shit got nothin' to do with V. Keep that in mind before you continue with the mouth poppin'. In fact, V. Jones was a lil preoccupied dealin' with much bigga threats to his chances in that Boardwalk match while you just so happened to stumble across that needle in a haystack, son!

Red Rock: So what? You could gas off with a hundred excuses, Vince but eventually you’re going to have to accept that I beat “yo black ass”

Red Rock makes quotation marks with his finger whilst speaking in a mock gangsta accent.

Red Rock: You can colour out of the lines ALL over the board, Vincent…

Red Rock bends over and picks up the crayons and coloring book, and as he shoves the book back in Vince’s hands he flashes he shakes the relentless title at Vince.

Red Rock: … but bear this in mind, colouring in the lines makes much prettier pictures, if you get what I mean.

Red Rock turns his back at Red Rock and heads down the hallway as D’avid follows behind. Vince watches Red Rock disappear round the corner before slamming the crayons and the book ferociously to the floor.

---

Love Bites

FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, TRACY, SARAH KENNEDY, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE

---

Pierce Lavelle walks carefully up the halls, in hopes of avoiding Maddy Estelle, who has been constantly trying to get information off Pierce on his ban and what Pearl had suggested last week, but Pierce wasn’t interested in discussing possibilities. As he turned the corner, he found the hall empty; he sighed with relief and then began to walk toward the ladies locker room.

As his mind was racing over the incidents of last week and Sarah’s silence, Tracy emerged out of the locker room. She looked a wreck, in comparison to her usual beautiful self and he was slightly unsure as to whether Chainz had been round once more, causing riot, but when a smile emerged on Tracy’s face, his thoughts disappeared.

Tracy: Hi…

Tracy smiled and walked passed Pierce with a real swagger in her step, controlling and determined as she turned the corner, her runners squeaking on the linoleum floor. Pierce looked on confused, Tracy was incredibly chirpy, despite the evidence of tears, but he didn’t wish to enquire on the matter.

Pierce stopped outside Sarah’s door, it was slightly ajar and he was unsure if he should just walk in, the sound of Sarah moving around alerted him to the fact, she was decent. He stopped, held the door knob for a while and eventually, with a little effort, opened it and stared at Sarah on her knees picking up tissues.

Pierce Lavelle: Is everything alright?

Pierce was acting purely on instinct as he moved closer, but Sarah was in her own world and when she saw the figure standing before her, she jumped. Sarah didn’t realise who was in front of her for a few moments. Oh god, Sarah thought to herself. Her heart pounding as her thoughts raced around her head. How could Tracy know he was coming…? She thought looking into his caring eyes.

Pierce Lavelle: Sarah, were you crying? It wasn’t Chainz… was it?

Sarah Kennedy: No, I’m fine, relax…

Pierce Lavelle: Relax? Right, yeah, I can do that… Eh, no, you are on the floor, in your good clothes, picking up tissues and your mascara is running down your cheek.

Pierce smiled gently toward Sarah as she looked into his crystal blue eyes, her heart was racing, Tracy was right - she needed to tell him how she felt. She didn’t want to spend another minute lying to him about her feelings; she didn’t know how she would get out of this one. It’s better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all… Sarah reminded herself over and over, trying to build up courage to say something.

Pierce leant in and with his thumb gently stroked her cheek, wiping away the mascara. Sarah’s pulse was racing, once again the rooms temperature shot up as she sat on the floor, surrounded by used Kleenex tissues. Pierce’s presence was now becoming one of uncertainty and trying to avoid her own issue, Sarah began to try and start a conversation.

Sarah Kennedy: What brings you here?

Sarah asks and Pierce knew she was trying to avoid his questions, but living with women most of his life, he knew not enquire and constantly nag about the issue until they cracked. He decided to play her game and wait for her to tell him what was troubling her.

Pierce Lavelle: Okay, don’t laugh…

Sarah Kennedy: Why would I laugh?

Pierce Lavelle: Because… Never mind… I came to see how you are, after last week and everything…?

Pierce just closed his eyes, waiting for her to laugh at this slight feministic sense of caring, but the sound of silence filled the room. Odd! Pierce thought, Sarah actually wasn’t laughing at him. His previous girlfriend never liked the caring, silent aspect, but Sarah didn’t mind.

Sarah Kennedy: I’m fine, thanks for asking…

Sarah was beginning to feel guilty now. Tracy was right, Pierce had trusted her over the past year with a lot of things and many turned their backs on Pierce, but Sarah accepted him no matter what, perhaps it was time she trusted him with what it was she wanted to say.

Pierce Lavelle: You want me to get some more tissues?

Pierce asked, holding the two boxes of empty Kleenex tissues. Sarah smiled and leant back, placing all the soggy tissues into the trashcan behind her. When she turned back around Pierce’s hand was extended, she took hold and he carefully helped her up.

Sarah Kennedy: No, its fine, Maddy has another couple of boxes…

Sarah smiled and let go of Pierce’s hand, padding down her skirt, a shiver climbing down her back, not from standing in front of the opened mini bar, but from Pierce’s touch. Pierce turned around, holding a beer. He knew Sarah didn’t drink beer and would not offer her one; instead he just smiled and sat down. Sarah looked toward one of her best friends and took a breath.

Pierce Lavelle: I also came by because I thought you’d like to go somewhere…

Sarah looked on, in her own world, starring at Pierce’s eyes, which were fully focused on the LA Lakers game. His only reminder of Los Angeles, everything else he had left behind, but he did enjoy watching a basketball game from time to time.

Pierce Lavelle: Sarah?

Sarah Kennedy: Huh? What?

Pierce sat up and removed two tickets out of his back pocket; he smiled and handed them to her. Sarah looked on at first confused by Pierce’s gesture of handing her tickets, but when she looked at them with more intent, her expression changed.

Sarah Kennedy: Two tickets to see Breakfast At Tiffany’s…?

Pierce Lavelle: Yeah, well, I know it’s your favourite movie and they’re showing a run of old movies at the open cinema and I thought you’d like to go, so I bought tickets…

Pierce looked toward Sarah, who had tears in her eyes, he wasn’t sure what he had done, but he quickly scrambled toward Maddy’s locker and opening it abruptly, pulled out a new box of Kleenex. Sarah was smiling when he turned around, despite the tears running down her face.

Sarah Kennedy: I’d love to go…

Pierce Lavelle: I… but you’re crying…

Sarah Kennedy: I’ll be fine, these are happy tears.

Sarah says turning around and gazing at the small picture of Audrey Hepburn on the front of the tickets. She sighs to herself and realises that she could lose him if he doesn’t feel the same, but he deserves to know.

Sarah Kennedy: Pierce, I need to tell you something…

Sarah pondered over and over in her mind, exactly what to say, how to say it and what to do. She had never done this before, well, not in the sense of opening up to a guy fully… She froze for a second, her breathing deepened and her heart raced.

Pierce Lavelle: Sarah? You are kind of scaring me, did something bad happen?

Sarah swallowed deeply, she could say it in her head ‘I love you’, but the words just wouldn’t transmit from her mind to her mouth. Why is it so hard? She thought to herself looking into Pierce’s eyes.

Sarah Kennedy: No, nothing bad… not like that!

Pierce Lavelle: Okay! So…

Pierce looked on, highly confused. Okay, so he wasn’t the brightest when it came to women, but most men aren’t. You could drop all the clues and hints and still, they wouldn’t get it.

Sarah swayed in motion, with nerves, and not even realising that she was holding Pierce’s hand, to which he found worrying once more. Sarah was acting odd, not really her usual chirpy self and for once, she wasn’t talking… which did shock him.

Sarah Kennedy: I… eh… I… lo---

Lo- What are you doing Sarah? Just spit it out, she thought, but the words wouldn’t come, she was missing the ve… That’s all, she yelled to herself inside, gazing at the bin of tissues, two letters. Two god damn letters.

Pierce Lavelle: You “Lo”? Sarah, are you feeling alright?

Sarah Kennedy: I’d love to go!

No, no, no… Sarah could hear her mind speak repeatedly. Pierce just smiled and nodded his head, turning his body to the door, where a very bemused Maddy Estelle stood, modelling a new dress.

Maddy Estelle: Hey, skippy, how’s backstage work treating you?

Maddy flirted as she walked toward a very unwilling Pierce Lavelle, whose attentions still seemed to be focused on Sarah Kennedy. She had told him twice that she’d love to go… But still, he couldn’t quite grasp the obvious.

Maddy Estelle: Sarah, we have a briefing… Sarah?

Sarah looked up, dazed and lost. She placed the tickets for the movie back into Pierce’s hands, grabbed her jacket and turned to follow Maddy Estelle. She didn’t look back at Pierce, she couldn’t, it would just be a painful reminder of her failure to tell him her true feelings…

---

Aimz vs Mikey O'Reilly

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: RICHIE

---

"24" by Jem begins to blare throughout the public announce system, accompanied by the usual round of jeers. Emerging from backstage, Aimz runs down to ringside. With both hands gripped firmly around the top rope, the Red Raver catapults herself into the ring.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Halifax, Canada, weighing in at 147 pounds... the Red Raver... AIMZ!

George Cassidy: What the hell was she thinking when coming down to ringside? Does she really think she stands a chance against Mikey?

Truth Waters: Well, after watching her take out the trash last week, I'd say she stands a pretty good chance in this match-up.

George Cassidy: If by taking out the trash you mean she finally used her douche and visited her local STD clinic…

Truth Waters: Cassidy – what the hell are you talking about?

George Cassidy: I don't know. Anyway...

"Conquer All" by Behemoth starts to play as Zsasz steps out onto the stage, does a little spin for everyone, showing off his obligatory perfection. Facing the fans with a sadistic smile to show off his pearly whites, he snatches the microphone from James Brunt and makes his announcement as his entrance music fades into obscurity.

Zsasz: Hailing from Belfast, Ireland by way of Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 227 pounds... ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to present to you Mr. One motherfucking Punch... MIKEY O'REILLY!

A melodic, beautiful sound of a pair of acoustic guitars fills the arena with music. An Italian style solo plays, then the introduction fades into hard, driving metal as "The Enemy" by Team Cazares starts to play.

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

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

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

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

He hops off the corner, removes his leather, porkpie style hat, puts it in the corner of the ring, facing up. He removes his golden catholic cross, kisses it, places it inside the hat and removes his white wifebeater. Looking across the ring at Aimz, a sneer curls up the corners of his mouth.

DING! DING! DING!

As Joseph Reid calls for the bell, Mikey immediately approaches his opponent, ready to tear the Red Raver limb from limb. Of course, the feeling is mutual, and thus Aimz steps toward Mr. O'Reilly as well. As it seems both opponents are about to agree to a collar and elbow tie-up, Aimz rolls under the Irishman's legs and latches a rear waistlock.

George Cassidy: That's brilliant! German suplex a man twice your size! That always works.

Truth Waters: Knowing Aimz, I'd say she was looking for something a little different here – HURRICANRANA!

Indeed, as O'Reilly looked to decapitate the young lady with wild, ambilateral elbows, Aimz dodged each one accordingly, leaped to his shoulders whilst pivoting around, and spiked Tha’ Fokin' Pikey on his head with blunt force trauma like a biznatch.

George Cassidy: FIRESNATCH~!

Truth Waters:... the... hell?

George Cassidy: Never mind.

Back on her feet, Aimz rushes into the ropes before catapulting onto Mikey with a lionsault. The quick cover followed, but it wasn't even enough for a one count. Both competitors on their feet again, Aimz bounced from the ropes with a flying cross body SLAM!

Truth Waters: Sweet Mother of Jesus, that was a vicious body slam.

George Cassidy: Haha! Did you see that, Truth? Flying cross body SLAM! Nice play on words, eh?

Truth Waters: ...

Realizing he needs to keep the fast-paced luchadora grounded, O'Reilly instantly latches in an inverted front facelock, wrenching backwards on her neck. Some would call this a dragon sleeper, but Mikey preferred to call it---

George Cassidy: Go To Sleep, bitch! Minus the "bitch" part.

With the dragon sleeper latched in, Aimz' legs flailed wildly, hoping to ease the tension on her neck. Maybe, just maybe, if she kicked hard enough, she could cause Mikey to slack up on his grip around her windpipe to give her some breathing room.

George Cassidy: Naahhh, ain't happening. Mikey has it locked in good. Aimz isn't going anywhere. This match is over. Ring the bell, ref!

Truth Waters: This match isn't even close to being over, Cassidy. If you think Aimz is done after a rudimentary move like that---

George Cassidy: Go To Sleep backbreaker!

It was almost as if O'Reilly had heard Truth Waters' comment from the announce table as he lifted Aimz into the air with the inverted suplex, only to drive her spinal column into his knee for a dragon sleeper backbreaker. And he still had that dragon sleeper locked in, relentless on his grounded assault. Standing to his feet, Mikey drove a huge forearm into the sternum of Aimz, releasing the hold, and sending her crashing to the mat.

Truth Waters: What a brutal, clubbing blow!

Clutching her chest whilst rolling around on the mat, Aimz was sucking as much oxygen as possible into her lungs, damning her body for not thriving off of carbon dioxide. Stalking his foe, Mikey positioned himself behind the Red Raver as she pulled herself to her feet in the corner. Charging with a full head of steam, O'Reilly sandwiched the 147-pound Canadian.

George Cassidy: Holy BeJesus! Aimz sammiches! Though, I've never had a sandwich where the meat was covered in red blotches and had cauliflower growing from it...

Truth Waters: Cassidy, you're a sick, sick man.

With Aimz at his feet, Mikey shoved a nice-sized boot into her abdomen, causing her to tumble across the ring. In hot pursuit of his rival, O'Reilly lifted Aimz from the ground onto his shoulders into an Argentine backbreaker rack. More commonly known as the Torture Rack. Whilst pulling down on her head and legs to apply the bow-and-arrow effect, Mikey began to jump up and down to exert more force into stretching out Aimz' spine. His agenda was obvious: he was going to make Aimz six inches taller by the end of the match. Of course, after the jumping ceased, Mikey O'Reilly dropped the bomb. Or should I say, dropped the hammer?

Truth Waters: Droppin' the Hammer! That lethal Burning Hammer!

George Cassidy: Burning Hammer? The hell is that?

Truth Waters: An inverted DVD, Cassidy.

George Cassidy: DVDs? I like DVDs.

Truth Waters: Death Valley driver, perhaps?

George Cassidy: What's that about a Death Valley, Truth?

Truth Waters: (sighing) Never mind.

After that devastating maneuver, it was obvious O'Reilly was ready to end this. Why was it obvious? Simple, really. With Aimz' spine once again across Mikey's shoulders, this time in a Canadian backbreaker rack, the death of a martyr was near. This was the set-up to Mikey's biggest maneuver in his arsenal. As he went to lock his arms around her arms, he stumbled upon a quite intriguing discovery.

AIMZ SLIPPED OUT THE BACK DOOR.

George Cassidy: How odd. Usually whores like it when they've been slipped into the backdoor.

Truth Waters: Jesus Christ, Cassidy. She may be promiscuous but the lady is not a freakin' whore.

George Cassidy: Sure she is.

Truth Waters: Under what circumstances?

George Cassidy: Well, she's a female, right?

Truth Waters: Right.

Awkward silence.

Truth Waters: You're despicable.

From behind, Aimz began to throw unrelenting forearm smashes to the back of Mikey O'Reilly, shoving the man into the ropes. A snap spinning heel kick to his knee humbled the Irishman. A snap roundhouse kick shattered his momentum completely, leaving him on the canvas face first. Aimz springboarded onto the top rope to connect with a split-legged moonsault!

Truth Waters: And there's a cover!

ONE!

George Cassidy: Kickout! Not even close.

Mikey powered out of the pinfall and instantly rose to his feet. Staring at the red-haired vixen, he wondered how she had managed to escape from his finishing maneuver. It wasn't everyday someone escaped from his clutches, especially in that setup. All of this completely vanished from Mikey's mind, however, as Aimz had devoured him with a top rope spear! On her feet, letting the momentum roll, she connected with a standing shooting star press! Unfortunately for her, Mikey wasn't having any of that, and threw up his knees just in time.

George Cassidy: Yikes. That probably hurt.

Truth Waters: You'd think, wouldn't you?

Back on his feet, Mikey lifted Aimz back into the Canadian backbreaker rack. The match was officially over. There wasn't going to be any escape this time. Alas, the Falling of Christ was nigh as blood rained from the sky. Or something like that. Anyway, as the Belfast native began to drop to his knees, the unimaginable happened.

George Cassidy: BACKDOOR SLUTS #2!

Truth Waters: Or, backdoor number two, would've been more appropriate.

Aimz wriggled free a second time. However, despite the over-inflation of his ego, Mikey had somewhat expected this. Which is exactly why he turned around instantly, throwing an unforeseen, humongous right hook haymaker, aimed straight at his foe's jaw. He was going to prove just why they called him Mr. One motherfucking Punch, minus the fucking of mothers.

Truth Waters: DUCK! DUCK!

George Cassidy: GOOSE!

Truth Waters: DUCKED~!

George Cassidy: GOOSED~!

Dropping to the mat just in the nick of time, Aimz, miraculously, dodged Mikey's one hitter quitter, the One Punch. This completely threw Mikey off balance, sending the big man stumbling over the top rope to the outside!

ONE!

Seizing the opportunity, Aimz found herself rebounding from the opposite set of ropes to deliver an amazing no-hands, over-the-top-rope somersault plancha! The crowd was definitely on its feet now despite its disliking for the Canadian Red Raver. Of course, this lead to Joseph Reid restarting the count.

ONE!

Wasting no time to keep the momentum in her favor, Aimz leaped onto the guardrail and launched off with a cannonball senton.

TWO!

Truth Waters: Looks like Aimz plans on keeping the match in her favor as she struggles to roll Mikey O'Reilly back into the ring now.

George Cassidy: Duh, Truth. Why wouldn't she plan to keep the odds in her favor? That's how you win.

Truth Waters: Shut up...

With both opponents back in the ring, Reid ceased the count. Mikey was leaning in the corner as Aimz was setting up directly across from him. Just as soon as his hands dropped to his sides to leave his upper body open, she began charging at full speed. Springing into the air with a single bound, she connected with a---

George Cassidy: CRUSHING CLOTHESLINE, HAHA! Sweet reversal from Tha’ Fokin' Pikey.

Truth Waters: Never say that again. Never.

George Cassidy: Why not? I somewhat fancy the phrase. Fokin' Pikey - haha! What the foke, lad? Holy foking bollocks! Let's go get some fokin'---

Truth Waters: SHUT THE FOKE UP!

George Cassidy: Yes! There you go, Truth!

As Truth sighed, Mikey peeled Aimz from the mat and - get this, everyone - Irish whipped her into the opposite corner.

George Cassidy: Oh my God! That was the most devastating Irish whip ever! I think he calls that the Whip of Ireland!

Truth Waters: Cassidy, it was an Irish whip. Nothing more.

With Aimz now resting against the corner in throbbing pain, O'Reilly was looking to make the second Aimz sandwich of the night. However, the Red Raver apparently had enough of them herself. She turned around and grapes the ropes on each side of the turnbuckle with both hands and leaped into the air, skimming Mikey's head as he charged chest-first into the turnbuckle. Pivoting in midair, Aimz' legs underhooked Mikey's arm for a modified sunset flip variation.

ONE!

TWO!

Truth Waters: No, kickout!

George Cassidy: Oh my greatness, that was an obliterating kickout! Did you see the force he put behind that kickout? He almost blew her breasts through her chest. Look, I think her shoulder blades are sticking out more than usual...

Quick to one knee, Mikey was, but Aimz was on her feet and evidently quicker, for Mikey kissed a beautiful knee to the face. Step-up shining wizard, style, baby. With Mikey sprawled out on the canvas temporarily disabled, Aimz signaled to the middle of the top rope and stepped out onto the apron. In one, fell motion, Aimz had hoisted herself onto the top rope, springboarding off with a 450 splash!

Truth Waters: Dead Aim! It's over!

George Cassidy: Noooo! Kickout, Mikey! Kickout!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Truth Waters: She did it, Cassidy! Aimz defeated the brutal Mikey O'Reilly and permanently blemished his undefeated winning streak.

George Cassidy: She clearly cheated, Truth. Just like she did against Facey! She used her boobies! Those are illegal objects in a singles match. You know the rules, Truth.

James Brunt: The winner... AIMZ!

"24" by Jem once again sounds through the airwaves as Aimz raises her hands in the air. Despite the heat, the smile etched on her face is there to stay. She departs from the ring as Joseph Reid checks on Mikey O'Reilly.

---

You Best Be Apologisin'

FEATURING: VINCE JONES, TERESA TOMAS
AUTHORS: JAY AND SONYA

---

Vince Jones reaches Teresa's dressing room and glares at it in disgust. He bangs on the door.

Vince Jones: Open up!

He looks at the door in frustration and continues banging on the door even louder this time.

Vince Jones: Hey! V knows you in there, Teresa! Open up this damn door now!

From the other side of the door, Teresa's voice is heard yelling. Her voice suprisingly calm and sober.

Teresa Tomas: Hey man, the door's unlocked!

Vince Jones: (in confusion) Huh?

Looks down at the doorknob and turns the knob to find out it is indeed unlocked.

Vince Jones: Yeah! This door betta be unlocked! You don't know who you dealin' with here!

Vince turns the knob and steps inside and folds his arms across his chest.

Vince Jones: So...

Teresa had been sitting in a folding chair, drinking an RC Cola, munching on a Moon Pie, and watching highlights of the latest Nascar race. She looks up when Vince steps in. Seeing his arms crossed and staring at her, as if expecting something, Teresa sets her drink and snack aside and stands up with an arched eyebrow.

Teresa Tomas: So... what you want?

Vince Jones: What does V want? It oughta be obvious what V. Jones wants here. V here lookin' for an apology out yo ass!

Vince stands there waiting for Teresa to reply.

Vince Jones: C'mon! Let's make this quick! V ain't got all day here, Teresa! He got things to do, people to see, places to go, and right now you killin' his eight ball roll. So, let's hear it.

Teresa's baby blues stare at V as if he was retarded. A smile forms on her face and she begins to laugh.

Teresa Tomas: HA HA!! Apologize to you? What for? Giving your nut sack a good squeeze? Hell man. I ain't apologizing for shit. You got what was commin' to ya.

Vince is outraged by her reply and lowers the dark shades on his face and shakes his head in disappointment with her.

Vince Jones: Aiight! Bein' that you from the dirty south and all we gonna try this shit one more time cuz maybe The Violence was speakin' a lil too fast for yo ho hum, redneck ass to understand the first time. (speaks a bit slower) V. Jones not asking, he tellin' you that you gonna apologize to him right now for attackin' him and his balls last week when he was tryin' to address his fans and all. In fact, you oughta be down on yo knees as The Violence speaks puckerin' up and personally apologizin' to (points to his balls) The Golden Globes themselves. Get it? Got it? Good! Now V hopin' he made that a lil bit clearer this time around for ya!

Vince slides his dark shades back over his eyes, folds his arms across his chest, and awaits his apology. By now, Teresa is getting a little annoyed. Her eyes narrow as she moistens her lips in thought.

Teresa Tomas: My redneck ass heard you perfectly well the first time and I done told you I ain't apologizing for shit. Now, get your sorry black cocky ass out of here before I shove my fist down your damn throat.

Vince Jones nods his head slowly.

Vince Jones: Fair enough. You wanna play dumb? Is that it? Well, that's on you. That's on you, Teresa. V shouldn't have expected any betta out of someone of yo status and shit; but, don't worry.

Vince opens the door and glares back at her.

Vince Jones: Oh, you'll be dealt with when the time comes. When that time comes is up in the air, but you gonna get yours! You best believe that! 'Nuff said!

Vince exits and slams the door on his way out. A few moments later there is another knock at the door.

Teresa Tomas: (sighs frustrated) Go away Vince!

A moment passes and nothing else is heard. Teresa runs her fingers through her long sandy blond hair and approaches her door. She turns the knob and opens. Sitting on the floor in front of her door is a small gift-wrapped box. Teresa looks down at the small box with a neatly tied bow on the top. She's hesitant at first remembering the last surprise box she received had Jason Warr waiting inside to beat the crap out of her. This box is way too small to hold anyone obviously. She smiles to herself and shakes her hand. After picking up the box, she brings it inside her dressing room and shuts the door.

She sits down in her fold up chair and carefully opens the box. Seeing on tag, she is uncertain who it is from. All of a sudden a loud hiss is heard as a small, yellow, viper snake leaps out at her.

Teresa Tomas: HOLY SHIT!!!

Teresa jumps to her fit faster than a bottle rocket and the snake falls to the floor. This angers the reptile and it begins to pursue Teresa. Being a loyal member of the NRA and having a permit to carry a gun, Teresa rushes to a locker, swings it open and pulls out a small .22 pistol. The snake has its fangs sunk into the sole of her sneakers. She takes aim and fires at point blank to the viper's head.

Teresa Tomas: Die you sonofabitch!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

---

Trouble Brewing In More Ways Than One

FEATURING: JASMINE, TRACY, VINCE JONES, CHAINZ, AWC SECURITY TEAM, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHORS: JAY AND MIKE S.

---

The camera fades into the vending machine area where Jasmine can be seen smiling from ear-to-ear. She walks up to one of the vending machines and peers inside.

Jasmine: Hmmmm...let's see what we have here. Twinkies? (frowns) No, too fattening. Potato chips? (shakes her head) Nah. Starbursts? Now I might be able to work with those.

Tracy appears on the scene and just shakes her head in disappointment with Jasmine's presence at the vending machines as she begins circling around here looking her up and down.

Tracy: So, that's how you managed to get so fat. Too many snacks honey. You keep this up and poor Vince is going to have to roll you down to the ring. Maybe if you cut back you could lose a few pounds. Just a little suggestion, that's all.

Jasmine hears Tracy, stands up, and begins looking her up and down in disgust.

Jasmine: Ha haaaaa(she slaps her knee)...so funny, so funny, Tracy. You know (walks up to Tracy) you really crack me up sometimes. How much time did it take your ditzy ass to come up with something like that anyways? I mean you look like someone who'd be spending so much more of your time sucking on a crack pipe or hanging out on a corner looking to suck on other things for some cash. So, the fact that you had the time to come up with that was amazing, simply amazing, Tracy. I applaud you, girl.

Jasmine begins clapping her hands. Jasmine spins around on her heels and saunters back over to the vending machine. Tracy puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side, a bit outraged by Jasmine's remarks.

Tracy: Ya know its kind of funny how you mention the street corner, Jasmine. I mean, wasn't that where Vince picked you up in the first place?

Jasmine's mouth opens wide with shock at Tracy's remarks.

Tracy: Yeah. You must've been a real steal seeing that you look like all you could ever manage to make is a nickel for a quick blow. (sighs) And I'm done, Miss Jasmine. Have a nice day.

Jasmine tries to regain her composure as she puts some change in the vending machine. A bag of potato chips falls to the bottom and Jasmine reaches inside and whips out the bag laughing to herself. She slowly opens up the bag of potato chips and walks up to Tracy.

Jasmine: Yeah. That was really good, Tracy. I have to give you your props. You really got me there. Score one for the broke down Paris Hilton everyone. Now for your prize.

Jasmine dumps the bag of potato chips all over Tracy's head and laughs out loud.

Jasmine: Eat up, bitch! Might do you some good!

Jasmine turns and walks away. Tracy is outraged as she shakes the potato chips out of her hair, and goes charging at Jasmine from behind.

Tracy: You ruined my hair, you bitch! My hair is worth more than your entire ensemble.

Tracy slaps Jasmine in the back of the head making her fall against the wall. Jasmine rubs the back of her head and glares at Tracy.

Jasmine: Oh, its on now!

Jasmine lunges at Tracy and they both immediately grab for each others hair and begin to battle. The camera switches to the locker room where Vince Jones can be seen slapping an unconscious Chainz across the face.

Vince Jones: Hey! Hey bitch! Wake yo ass up! (slap) Hey! Wake yo bitch ass up, son! We gotta talk! (slap) Hey! Wake up, Chainz!

Vince Jones continues slapping Chainz across the face trying to get him to come back around. Chainz slowly begins to stir as Vince Jones continues slapping him across the face.

Vince Jones: C'mon! Wake yo ass up!

Vince Jones slaps him across the face one last time and Chainz's eyes pop open wide as he pounces on Vince in attack mode still thinking he's embroiled in his battle with O'Reilly and Zsasz. Vince Jones rolls the big man over and manages to free himself from his grasp.

Vince Jones: Whoa, whoa, whoooooa, killa! You best slow yo roll with all that, shit! V ain't here lookin' for no fights, man! And from the looks of yo ass a sec ago you shouldn't be lookin' for any problems either!

Vince brushes himself off as Chainz slowly rises to his feet still a bit groggy from the attack by O'Reilly and Zsasz earlier on.

Chainz: Man fuck that, Zsasz got lucky. Next time he tries some shit like that I’m gonna rip his arm off.

Chainz begins pacing back and forth in a frenzy. Vince watches him a bit uneasily.

Vince Jones: V understandin' all this shit real well here. He also been hearin' that you and that lil new kid on the block, Mikey O'Reilly, had a quite bit of static tonight. Now Chainz, you the type of sick ass fuck that gotta blow up on a bitch made every now and then, more now than then, but you get the picture V paintin' here, right? You been holdin' yo self back for that trick ass bitch of yours, Tracy fo way too long. What eva went down between you, O' Reilly, and whoeva was gonna happen soona or lata. If it went O'Reilly it was gonna be someone else.

Chainz: Don’t worry about him, I got a feeling his manager Zsasz is going to give me a match with him next week. Vince Jones: Yeah, why’s that? Chainz: I can be very persuasive. Vince Jones: Yeah? Chainz nods his head.

Chainz: (growls) But what about Tracy?

Vince Jones: What about that bitch, huh?

Chainz grabs Vince by the collar and gets right in his face.

Chainz: Her and I are finally starting to gain an understanding. Ever since I've started to change myself we've been starting to see eye-to-eye. Yeah, I might be on a bit of a slump lately, but her and I are finally starting to click. Besides, it ain’t her fault I’m losing my matches, I’m not working hard enough, that’s all.

Vince Jones shakes himself free from Chainz’s grasp.

Vince Jones: Ahhhhh! Fuck that love shit, man! What's love got to do with anything? This ain't a game of love we in, Chainz! Love don't cut it in this fuckin' game! Love ain't gonna keep a mah fucka from bashin' yo skull in! Love ain't gonna keep yo ass off a stretcher, man! Love ain't gonna keep you from havin' yo blood splattered across the scene like a cat plannin' on finger paintin' with that shit, man! You best believe that, Chainz! Love ain't gonna put a title around yo waist, especially one like the Transatlantic strap!

Chainz: But Pierce Lavelle said...

Vince stops in his tracks and gets right up in Chainz's face.

Vince Jones: Fuck a Pierce Lavelle! You think that bitch ass gives a damn about a man like you, huh? If you fell off the face of the Earth tonight neva to be seen again you think that mah fucka would give a damn? Hell nah! When you gonna wake up and smell the roses here, when yo career is down the tubes ova some love shit? Get yo head togetha, man! No one gives a damn 'bout cats like you and V. If the rest of A Dubb C could have it there way they'd be wipin' they asses with the both of us, ya heard?? You and V. Jones share a bond here. Cats like you and V gotta stick togetha to make sure shit like that neva goes down. You and V. Jones were both once part of the hottest federation to hit the wrestlin' world and each one of these bitch mades from Pierce Lavelle all the way down the line recognize that shit! A man like Lavelle wanna see you remain tame...

Chainz clutches his head and begins shaking it furiously as he backs away.

Chainz: I know what you're doing! You're just fucking with my head! You think you can mess with my mind? You want inside, trust me, you wouldn’t like it.

Vince Jones: Listen, V speakin' nothin' but the truth here. Cats like Lavelle wanna see the safer Chainz, not the sick fuck cuz they know how much of threat the other you can be. Cats like you and V. Jones that just don't give a damn scare the rest of A Dubb C. Why? Cuz we the fuckin' threat around here! Keep this shit in mind. You and V are one in the same. We both tick the exact same way. Now V. Jones knows these cats been spittin' that chatta in yo ears for awhile now tryin' to keep you confused. V don't say this very often, but right now V standin' here as a man offerin' to watch yo fuckin' back if you agree to watch his. When you and V were in that Beneath the Boardwalk match last week V saw it in yo eyes. The fire's still there. With you and 'The Violence' Vince Jones seein' eye-to-eye on the same page and all we could turn this bitch upside down! Keep that in mind and when you finally decide to get yo act togetha and be a real man, holla at ya boy!

All of a sudden some commotion can be heard outside and Vince and Chainz pause to listen.

Chainz: What's going on out there?

Vince Jones: (shrugs his shoulders) Hell if V knows.

The sound of women yelling and screaming at one another can be heard outside the door as well as a myriad of other voices. The door to the locker room bursts open and Tracy and Jasmine come spilling into the locker room clawing at one another and screaming at one another. Security members Butch Radder, Taz Yorke, and Bruno Hague try to pull the women apart. Chainz's face lights up with a large grin at the sight of the catfight, something definitely ain’t right.

Jasmine: Fuck you, bitch! I'm sick of seeing your face around here! Take those tits back to LA where they were made.

Tracy tries to reach out and kick Jasmine, but Bruno pulls her away and tries to restrain while Yorke and Radder keep Jasmine far from Tracy.

Tracy: Oh yeah? Well, I'm sure a whole lot more people are sick of seeing your fat ass!

Pearl comes running down the hall and barges into the locker room. Vince looks up at him in surprise.

Vince Jones: Damn! Now what the hell you doin' up in here now, huh?

Pearl looks around the room at the whole group in frustration and points an authoritative finger at them all.

Pearl: All of you to my office NOW, especially you, Mr. Jones!

Vince Jones: (in confusion) What? This some bullshit, man! V. Jones didn't do jack shit! Why V gotta go?

Pearl: (glares in Vince's direction) I don't want to hear. I don't want to hear it!! We'll discuss these matters in my office!

Pearl storms out the locker room as Jasmine and Tracy are dragged away. Vince looks at Chainz and Chainz just shrugs his shoulders as the camera slowly fades to black.

---

Hate Speech

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

---

The camera cuts to a dark room somewhere backstage. A pale spotlight shines down from above, centered on a wooden pole which has its top wrapped in what appears to be a blood-stained white cloth. The image sits undisturbed, alone for a long stretch of time. Dust swirls in the air, the lonely particles not doing much in the way of obscuring the camera's vision of the makiwara. The silence is eerie, oppressive, and all-consuming.

Slowly, a muscular form steps into the peripheral vision of the camera, obscured by the shadow surrounding the shaft of white light. The form continues forward into the light, dark-skinned fists drawn up in a combative stance. Anton Assault's eyes are trained upon the cloth "pad" of the makiwara as he takes tiny, almost cautious steps towards the training device. He isn't wearing his traditional dashiki, which means only one thing: he is ready for combat.

A barely-concealed crack! leaps from the wooden frame of the makiwara as Anton strikes it with a long right jab. He strikes it again, this time with a rising right kick. He continues to batter the device, the pole rocking a bit with each powerful strike that the Lion offers it. He isn't wearing any gloves, his bare knuckles and shins only protected from the stiff wood by the thin layer of cloth around it. If he felt any paint, however, the Nigerian was good at concealing it.

In front of the scene strolls the white suit-clad Luis Ferrara. The Venezuelan adjusts his white hat over his greasy hair and offers the camera a smile. In one hand, he holds a sheaf of papers and a pen that is secured by his thumb. He inclines his head for a bit before looking up at the camera.

Luis Ferrara: When we got here — the Lion and I — we was fixed on takin' this whole shit over. We was gonna climb up that ladder and we were gonna seize every little shitty victory along the way, y'understand. We was gonna bash the face in of any uppity motherfucka who said that they were better or more worthier than the Lion. We was gonna take this shit by storm in a way that no-fuckin'-body has done it before.

Luis Ferrara: In a way, we's done what we came to do. Look at this shit! Four matches and people is linin' the Lion up for huge things in the future. A quick check o' the AWC rankings shows that not only is the Lion in direct contention fuh the Relentless title, but he's in diect contention fuh the Frontier title, too! Does Vince Jones haddat? Does Chainz haddat? Does Ellis Nash haddat? Does Darcy Crisis haddat? Fuck no! Only the Lion haddat kinda recognition and only the Lion deserves that kinda recognition.

Anton doesn't waver a bit as Luis speaks, his limbs continuing to smack violently against the makiwara. Luis pauses, raising a finger and letting the audience listen to how hard Anton is hitting the instrument. Luis adjusts his suit and nods his head a bit, confident that his point has been made.

Luis Ferrara: But alla time we been here, y'understand, there been somethin' around… somethin' sinista that been followin' us, doggin' at our heels. Somethin' who been instrumental in keepin' the Lion down, who been only int'rested in makin' the Lion's life — and my life — a livin' fuckin' hell. Somethin'… or, radda, someone, is on our tracks and won't go off, not even after havin' their bitch ass choked out on pay-per-view! Where I'm from, that kinda shit makes you fuckin' leave, but this punk is persistent.

Luis Ferrara: Normally, I like persistence, y'understand. I like determination, I like a little pluckiness, 'cause it shows that you willlin' to roll wit' the big dogs, no matter what. But this? This is just some serial killa shit. This is just some deranged, Hannibal Lecta BULL – SHIT that we ain't gonna let continue anymore.

Luis Ferrara: Only one thing has been keepng the Lion back. Only one thing has been getting' in the way of the Lion's getting the recognition, the respect he deserves.

Luis scowls, his face twisting in anger, and Anton's fist slams into the makiwara remarkably hard.

Luis Ferrara: HATE.

Anton hesitates a bit, but when he lashes out again, his kick snaps the makiwara in half with a sharp snap! Anton stands over the broken makiwara, sweat rolling down his body and his eyes locked on the blood-stained cloth. He reaches down and pulls it up, slowly unraveling the cloth from the pole. Luis glances back at Anton before glaring into the camera once again.

Luis Ferrara: Hate has been jus' a step behind everywhere we go. Jus' 'cause you don't see Hate on TV don't mean he ain't there. He's there. He's followin' us, stalkin' us, makin' everythin' hard, y'understand. But the Lion? The Lion ain't a fuckin' coward. He ain't gonna make it easy for Hate like all of his other enemies, who cry when they hear his fuckin' bitch-ass music come ovah the speakers. He ain't gonna cower into a cornah and let Hate take this shit over. Ain't. Gonna. Happen.

Luis holds up the sheaf of papers and smiles cunningly.

Luis Ferrara: So we has taken shit into our own hands. Our Entertainment Co-Manajah Davey Dave Harber has been so kind as to give us a rematch. At the next pay-per-view — 'cause we know how Hate likes to get his ass kicked on the big card — it's gonna be the Lion against Hate, the second match, but we're changin' shit up. Last time the Lion beat you on your turf, where you could use whateva you wanted. Now the presha's on you to beat the Lion on his turf, 'cause we're gonna have ourselves a shoot cage match.

Anton tosses down the bare pole and begins to rewind the cloth around the knuckles of his right hand.

Luis Ferrara: This is gonna be the final lesson, Hate, the final encounter of the combat kind. The Lion is gonna crush you. Twilight Of The Gods is so appropriately named, 'cause it is the ascension of a new force in the AWC: Mistuh CKD, the motherfuckin' Lion. But you, Hate? All that's gonna be left of you is a memory…

The camera zooms in on an area of matted blood on the cloth being wound around Anton's knuckles.

Luis Ferrara: … of blood.

---

A Meeting With Pearl

FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, CHAINZ, VINCE JONES, TRACY, JASMINE, TERESA TOMAS, BRUNO HAGUE
AUTHORS: JAY, MIKE S. AND SONYA

---

The camera slowly fades into the office of Entertainment Co-Manager, David “Pearl” Harber. Mr. Harber is seated as his desk very disappointed with all of his employees. Chainz, Vince Jones, Tracy, and Jasmine are all seated in front of his large desk. Teresa Tomas is seen standing right next to his desk holding something behind her back. Bruno Hague can seen standing on the other side of Pearl with his large arms folded across his chest and a stern look on his face.

Pearl: Well, you're probably all wondering why I've summoned you here today. You all have been causing a lot of commotion around AWC lately and frankly it’s really bad for business...

Chainz raises his hand and looks around slightly nervous.

Chainz: Am I in trouble AGAIN, Pearl? I ain’t done nothing yet.

Pearl shakes his head.

Pearl: No, for once I haven't been informed of any problems out of you that need to be dealt with. Keep up the good work. Wait a minute, there isn't anything that I should know of, is there?

Chainz: (shakes his head and replies in a mocking tone) Oh no, I've been trying to be a good boy lately, Pearl.

Pearl: (nodding) I see. Well, now let's get back to business here. Jasmine, Tracy, during your little fight you two had I have been told that you damaged... (Pearl looks down at a small memo sitting in front of him) a vending machine, a coffee machine, a few windows, and one of our staff members twisted his ankle. That's not good. That's property damage, ladies, as well as medical bills and worker's compensation.

Jasmine: Well, I don't see why I should be held responsible for any of this, Pearl. Whatever I did was in self-defense.

Jasmine turns towards Tracy and sneers at her.

Jasmine: She's the one that attacked me first because she's jealous!

Tracy leans forward and looks at Jasmine in surprise.

Tracy: What? Jealous? Of you? That will be the day.

Jasmine: Just admit it! You attacked me just because you're mad that you know that I'm way more woman than you'll ever be!

Pearl: Alright! Alright! That's enough out of you two! It doesn't matter who attacked who the fact of the matter is that the both of you are going to be coughing up some cash one way or another to take care of the costs even if I have to have it pulled out of your paychecks.

Tracy: What? That's not fair! It’s all her fault!

Pearl:(throws up his hands) Enough! Enough! Now onto you, (points at Vince) Mr. Jones…

Vince leans forward in his chair and glares back at Pearl defiantly.

Vince Jones: Yeah! That's the shit V been wonderin' for awhile now! What about V? What the hell he do to have to be called down here too, bossman??

Pearl: Well...

Teresa Tomas: (cutting in) You wanna know why you're here? I'll tell you why you're here. You tried to attack me!

Vince Jones: (laughing to himself) V. Jones tried to attack ya, huh? Well, let The Violence get this shit straight for yo Moon Pie munchin', NASCAR watchin', Raggedy Ann ass! If V was plannin' on attackin'' you yo redneck ass wouldn't be here right now and that's real!

Teresa Tomas: Oh don't play dumb, jackass. I know for a fact it was you. You were the last one that came by my dressing room demanding me to apologize for squeezing your "Golden Globes" last week and making you squeal like a pig. Vince your involvement was so obvious it’s a shame.

Vince Jones appears a bit confused by all of this as he nods his head.

Vince Jones: So what you tryin' to say? V. Jones set you up or somethin' to get attacked?

Teresa Tomas: (nodding) That's exactly what I'm sayin'!

Vince Jones: (chuckling to himself) And why would a man like V. Jones try to pull some shit like that, huh? V. Jones a thug with a heart here. He don't be randomly attackin' cats. That just ain't in his nature. He got betta things to do with his time than to be plottin' against you.

Pearl: (shakes his head) Must I reference your attack on Shawn Harris from a few weeks ago, Mr. Jones? You put his head through the glass of his driver's side window.

Vince Jones: Fuck that shit! Why you gonna be bringin' up old stuff like that, huh? And besides, how we know (points at Teresa) she ain't lyin', huh? How we know she ain't makin' this shit up?

Teresa Tomas: (staring Vince directly in the eyes, still holding whatever it is behind her back) Trust me, you just don't make this shit up.

Vince Jones: Then how you manage to make it out with no scratches and all if you really got attacked by a snake, huh? Answer that! V ain't buyin' jack shit of this until V sees a damn snake up in this joint!

Vince looks all around the room.

Vince Jones: V don't see no snakes! Where the hell this snake at, huh?

Pearl: (rolls his eyes) This is absurd.

Vince Jones: Absurd? Absurd is accusin' a peaceful man like The Violence of some shit that there ain't no damn evidence to prove! V been to court a time or two! He knows how this judicialness be workin'!

Teresa Tomas: What? You want the snake? Is that it?

Vince Jones: (laughing) Yeah! V want this damn snake you been runnin' yo mouth about.

Teresa Tomas: (shrugs) Well, if you say so, Vince?

She whips out a bag that is dripping with blood from behind her back and tosses at Vince and it lands in his lap. Vince nearly falls out of his chair in shock.

Vince Jones: You sick fuck! (looks in the bag) What the hell happened to this damn thing??

Teresa Tomas: What the hell you think happened? It attacked me so I shot the son' bitch!

Vince Jones quickly knocks the dripping sack to the floor in disgust.

Pearl: Mr. Jones, we have your evidence. Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to fine you.

Vince rises to his feet in fury and shoves his chair to the side.

Vince Jones: What?? Hell nah, man! V ain't have nothin' to do with this shit! V don't even recognize that damn snake! Neva seen that snake in his whole life! Where the hell Reno at when V needs him? Fuck this shit!

Vince reaches in his pants pocket and whips out a flip phone.

Pearl: Well, who else would have done this? You tell me that, Mr. Jones. All roads lead to you. You have the motive and Teresa here says you were the last one to visit her dressing before this happened. Now who else would've have done this. So, I'm going to have to slap you with a $5,000 fine, Mr. Jones. Case closed. I'm sorry.

Vince Jones grunts in fury over the fine as he begins dialing his agent's office phone number. Suddenly a light bulb flashes on in his head as he looks at Jasmine who is unusually silent.

Vince Jones: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold the phone here! Somethin' ain't right!

Jasmine looks up at Vince Jones.

Jasmine: What?

Vince Jones: You know something, Jasmine. There's something you ain't tellin' us here.

Jasmine: (smiles nervously) Uhhh... what do you mean by that?

Vince Jones: You know 'bout that snake and all this shit?

Jasmine: (shaking her head) Uhhh... no.

Vince seizes her by the throat and she looks up at him terrified.

Jasmine: Alright, alright, alright! It was me! I did it!

Pearl, Teresa, and Vince: (in unison) It was you?

Jasmine: (sighs) Yeah. It was me. (begins smiling) And I'd do it all over again. That bitch... (points at Teresa)

Teresa Tomas: (smirks and very pissed) What?…

Jasmine: Yeah. I'm talking about you. You got to go! Oh and I wish that snake had taken a large chunk out of your ugly ass too!

Vince looks down at Jasmine in delight of her spunk and puts an arm around her.

Vince Jones: Yeah! That's V's girl right there.

Teresa Tomas: Uh huh, and V's girl is fixin' to die cause I'm gonna kill her sorry ass!

Teresa Tomas lunges at Jasmine, knocks her out of her chair, and begins pummelling her with punches to the face. Tracy jumps in and begins kicking Jasmine as well. Pearl quickly leaps to his feet and tries to restore order in his office as Vince Jones snatches up Jasmine, Chainz rushes over to pull back Tracy, and Bruno Hague tries his best to restrain Teresa.

Pearl: Alright! That's it! I can't take this anymore! Whatever personal vendettas you ladies have been having with one another are finally starting to get a bit out of hand here!

Tracy: (points at Jasmine and Teresa) Well, if you fire those other two there'd be no problems! No one likes ‘em anyway, trailer trash and fudgy fudge over there are worthless. I’m the most beautiful woman on this roster anyway.

Jasmine: (kicks at Tracy) What?? You and Teresa are the problems around here!!

Teresa Tomas: Freakin' whore! I don't think anyone's begging to keep your chicken shit ass around here!

Pearl: Ladies, enough! None of you are being released! With that said, you all need to learn to get along with one another! I don't want to see any more problems out of you all. That's why I'm sending you all to counseling with each other. You'll learn how to co-exist with one another if it kills you.

Jasmine, Tracy, and Teresa: (in unison) Counseling??

Pearl: (nods his head) Yes, counseling for all of you ladies. Well, good day, ladies.

Tracy: This is an outrage!

Teresa Tomas: No shit! I an't gonna learn to get along with a jealous girlfriend with fake boobs the size of coconuts and a two bit slut that just needs her face stomped in the ground!

Pearl waves as Vince Jones, Chainz, and Bruno Hague lead the three angry women out of Pearl's office as the camera slowly fades to black.

---

Collision Course vs Mapleleaf/Neurotic

STIPULATION: TANDEM
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHORS TRENT AND PIERRE HYDE

---

Truth Waters: Okay, so this is our second duo match of a total of three here this evening on Fresh!, and it promises to be a good one.

George Cassidy: Well, since the first one was a bust...

Truth Waters: I rather enjoyed it, actually...

George Cassidy: Three noobs and a weirdo by the name of A.J Nash, just not an interesting combination.

Truth Waters: Actually, I think it’s---

George Cassidy: OH CANADA!

The opening riffs of "Oh, Canada" begin to play. The fans all erupt in a passion of boos. Red and white pyro shoots off, and Patrick Mapleleaf walks through the entrance way. The jumbo screen shows a waving Canadian flag, which Mapleleaf points to and points his hand over his heart.

James Brunt: The following is a Tandem match! Introducing first, weighing in at 254 pounds, from Toronto, Canada, PATRICK MAPLELEAF!

He smiles in a surly fashion to the fans, mockingly waving as he makes his way down the ramp. Fans are yelling taunts at him, but he brushes it off, not even listening.

The instrumental Canadian National Anthem continues as Mapleleaf climbs up the stairs into the ring, taking his time. He lifts the middle rope and walks into the centre. It raises his arms into the air, and more white and red pyro shoots off. The music cuts off and he stays, poised for his match.

George Cassidy: Now if more matches had the technical brilliance - hell, just pure brilliance - of Patrick Mapleleaf, we’d be in for a treat match in and match out.

Truth Waters: Funny, I always thought of him as a boisterous, arrogant Canadian.

George Cassidy: This coming from a black-American boxer...

Truth Waters: Watch your tongue, Cass. I’ll rip it right out of your throat.

"Neurotic" rings out causing the fans to erupt into a chorus of boos. Neurotic appears at the top of the ramp staring out at the jeering crowd. As he stands there a loud boom erupts with sparks showering down on him, as he basks in the sparks. As the sparks die down Neurotic makes his way to the ring never even looking at the fans on his way down. He slides under the bottom rope and heads to his corner, collapsing to the mat where he sits.

James Brunt: His partner, weighing in at 265 pounds, from Hazzard, Kentucky, NEUROTIC!

“Baba O’Riley’ by the Who hits the PA and Collision Course comes out to a decent pop. The team of Jiro Sennosuke and Joey Six stroll to the ring.

Truth Waters: Well, although Collision Course has the disadvantage in weight of a combined 132 pounds, they should certainly be able to hold their own in the technical, aerial, and speed departments in this contest.

George Cassidy: Wow, that’s some impressive math, Trent — I mean, Truth.

Truth Waters: ...It’s on the info paper.

George Cassidy: We have papers?

Neurotic and Patrick Mapleleaf are both in the ring, impatiently awaiting their Japanese and American opponents. They take their time coming down the ramp to the dismay of Richie Travis, who is supervising this Tandem match. Collision Course reaches ringside, and Joey Six toys with their ringed opponents, jumping up on the apron. Neurotic makes a charge but finds nothing as Six leaps off the apron mockingly. This distracts Neurotic, and Jiro Sennosuke takes advantage of this by sweeping out Neurotic’s legs and pulling him out of the ring. Mapleleaf seems momentarily bemused by this turn of events, giving Joey Six the chance to slide quickly into the ring and square up with the Canadian. Richie Travis calls for the bell.

Truth Waters: And this match is off at a blistering rate... it’ll be interesting to see how one referee handles four men with a grudge in the ring at the same time.

George Cassidy: Actually, two of them are outside the ring.

Truth Waters: ...Clearly.

Jiro Sennosuke pesters Neurotic on the outside with a series of quick punches, but staying true to his style the bigger man brawls back with a couple right hands of his own, his size advantage working with him. Sennosuke winds up for a haymaker but Neurotic catches his hand, and then whips the little Japanese wrestler hard into the barricade. Turning his attention to the action developing in the ring, Neurotic notices his partner and Joey Six squaring off. Mapleleaf lunges for a lock up but Six side steps him, then takes a hold of his waist from behind and wrestles him to the mat. He keeps the submission specialist pressed face-first into the mat, but Neurotic has entered the picture and pulls Six off of his partner.

Truth Waters: Jiro Sennosuke should probably think about giving his partner a little help here, or things could turn ugly way too early for this team.

Coincidentally, Sennosuke has shaken out the cobwebs and is back in the ring, just as Neurotic is gearing up for a big move on Six. Neurotic throws him over with a Release German Suplex. The airborne Six falls backwards right into his partner’s arms, who catches him. He holds him long enough so Six can propel himself forward and level both their opponents who stand side-by-side with a drop-kick using both feet. The crowd cheers.

Truth Waters: Whoa! Interesting move there from the Japanese tandem.

George Cassidy: These imbeciles have to start working together, dammit!

Collision Course strategize their next attack, with Sennosuke stomping away at Mapleleaf and Six pulling Neurotic to his feet. Six whips Neurotic into the closest turnbuckle, then follows him in with a back elbow attack. Neurotic’s head snaps back as Six connects, the crowd responding cheerfully. Energized, the lightweight executes a rapid combo on Neurotic, which involves a series of punches to the mid-section then a huge roundhouse kick, much to the pleasure of the fans.

George Cassidy: Okay, seriously... who gets outwrestled by a 189-pound Japanese kid?!

Truth Waters: Is there something wrong with Japanese people?

George Cassidy: No! Well, I did have one bad experience at a Thai restaurant, but I’m past that, honestly!

Truth Waters: You do realize that—never mind.

With the commentators oblivious, the match pushes forward. Jiro Sennosuke is struggling to keep Mapleleaf in a headlock, and Joey Six battles Neurotic in the corner of the ring. Mapleleaf musters together enough strength to reverse the headlock with a Back Suplex. He uses his free arm to steady Sennosuke’s legs in a compromised pin.

ONE!

Sennosuke easily escapes the early pin-fall, but his partner, Six, instinctively turned to see what was going on. Unfortunately for him, this gives Neurotic the few seconds of breath he needs, and when Six turns back to him Neurotic palms the top of his head and head-butts him violently, throwing his weight into it. Six stumbles away, a hand clenching his face. He tries to find his composure but in a state of vertigo he sways awkwardly. Neurotic charges at him and tackles the unsteady lightweight to the canvas.

Truth Waters: Although he’s a little on the crazy side, Neurotic deserves credit here... he’s using his wrestling style and power edge well against the Kobe native.

George Cassidy: Don’t you just love saying it? Head-butt. Genius.

Meanwhile, Mapleleaf is still keeping Sennosuke at bay with a grounded front face lock, using his technical background to an advantage. Sennosuke tries to power out of it, but fails. Mapleleaf pulls him to his feet, keeping him in the front face lock, preparing for a Suplex. Neurotic is on the scene to aid his partner, and they set him up for a double suplex. They elevate him high into the air and stall the vertical ascension, tauntingly keeping him high above the ring. The delay comes to a crashing end as Sennosuke smacks hard onto the mat.

Truth Waters: Nasty double-team from the Mapleleaf/Neurotic duo.

George Cassidy: Look at that... teamwork at its best. Joey Six is next.

Mapleleaf and Neurotic both stalk the other member of Collision Course, and each grab an arm and pull him lazily to his feet. They have a word – a moment of strategizing – and Mapleleaf takes the honours, whipping Joey Six into the ring cables.

Truth Waters: Oh, this can’t be good.

George Cassidy: Aha!

The cruiserweight comes back at a rapid pace, and Mapleleaf ducks in preparation for a Back Body Drop. Six reacts to this at the last second and does a back-on-back rollover on Mapleleaf, the kind you’d see in a Jackie Chan movie. Six lands on his feet, and unfortunately for him, Neurotic is the fatter, not-black Chris Tucker in this flick and is stationed behind his partner. Neurotic takes a big swing of a clothesline at Six and the defender impressively ducks it, then performs an equally impressive spinning kick to the back of Neurotic’s head, causing the big brawler to collapse to the canvas. Jiro Sennouke has also recuperated and takes care of Mapleleaf, striking him down with a knee attack.

Truth Waters: Tides have turned again!

George Cassidy: Jeez, I have places to be.

The fans are rallying behind Collision Course. The teammates glance at each other, nod then both pounce on the Canadian at the same time, and both grab one leg each.

George Cassidy: WHAT?!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Mapleleaf barely gets out of the double pin.

Truth Waters: That’s something you surprisingly don’t see often. We should look out for that one later, could be interesting to see.

George Cassidy: Interesting? That’s cheating!

Truth Waters: Nothing states it’s illegal in a Tandem contest.

Jiro Sennosuke and Joey Six are back on the offensive immediately as they pull Patrick Mapleleaf to his feet and double whip him into the turnbuckle for some serious whiplash on the Canuck. Jiro Sennosuke grabs the smaller Joey Six by the wrist and after a bit of a spin to gain momentum, he whips Six right towards Mapleleaf. Six smashes a flying fist right into the Canadian’s mug. His partner comes to give him a hand, and both start throwing punches at the helpless Mapleleaf. Neurotic has come to life after that deadly kick to the back of his head, however, and stalks the unaware Japanese duo. He smashes both his forearms into the back of their head, causing them to fall to one knee. He leaves Six for Mapleleaf and presses Sennosuke’s neck into the second-rope, choking him out. He holds it until Richie Travis is forced to pull him off.

Truth Waters: Neither team can seem to gain the clear advantage.

George Cassidy: I suppose that’s the point of it being a Tandem match…

Mapleleaf, who has recuperated from being handled in the corner, guides Joey Six to the middle of the ring, where he takes him down in an arm bar following an upper cut. He wrenches the shoulder of Six as his partner, Neurotic, is handily beating down Sennosuke in the corner. Richie Travis concerns his duties with the submission, and Neurotic takes advantage of the distraction, using the ropes to strengthen his boot choke on Sennosuke.

Truth Waters: Dammit, that’s illegal!

George Cassidy: What’s illegal?

Truth Waters: Using the ropes for leverage!

George Cassidy: It’s more frowned upon, I think.

Six finds enough strength and energy to claw his way to the ropes. Mapleleaf gets the last four seconds out of the submission and is forced to break it or risk a DQ. Neurotic, noticing the official turn his attention back to his corner, takes off the boot choke and takes a hold of the Japan native’s wrist. He gears up for a whip to the opposite corner, but Sennosuke reverses it with a whip of his own. Neurotic smashes hard enough into the turnbuckle to stumble back out right into a schoolboy.

ONE!

TWO!

Patrick Mapleleaf interrupts the count.

Truth Waters: Sennosuke almost stole one there! Anything can happen in these late stages of the match...

George Cassidy: Guess that means I’ll have to start paying attention.

Truth Waters: I like how you make utter lies to sound more ignorant then you are, when really, you’re a pussy.

Joey Six, with an elbow to the head, attacks Mapleleaf from behind, who turns straight around and lashes Six down with an angry clothesline. Turning to Sennosuke, he hooks him up for a vertical suplex and takes him over.

George Cassidy: Strong vertical suplex by Canada’s number one export.

Neurotic, now up, turns his attentions to J-6, but up on his feet after the clothesline, Six has turned to the crowd and is entertaining the small section of fans nearest to him with arm motions and even some dance steps.

George Cassidy: Joey Six appears less than focused on the match, and Jiro Sennosuke might be in some trouble...

Mapleleaf pulls Sennosuke to his feet and hits a side backbreaker, holding Sennosuke across the knee. Sennosuke brings his head up, screaming to his partner who is still looking away, too busy showing off to pay attention. From his standing position, Neurotic drops an elbow across Sennosuke’s face and his head cracks against the canvas, Mapleleaf immediately pinning.

ONE!

TWO

THR-

Truth Waters: SENNOSUKE KICKS OUT!

George Cassidy: And only now does Joey Six realise anything is wrong!

Stepping back in, Six looks horror-struck as he looks down at the scene. He doesn’t have long, as Neurotic comes at him with a fist, but Six dodges it and knife-edges Neurotic’s chest; Neurotic falls into the turnbuckle. Mapleleaf takes his turn to grab Joey Six, turning him round and slamming him in the centre of the ring.

Truth Waters: Joey Six takes the scoop slam, and now Sennosuke is getting to his feet...

Mapleleaf turns to engage Sennosuke, who ducks a haymaker and leaps into the air, swinging his leg. His boot catches Mapleleaf’s cheek with a loud crack, eliciting ”OOH!” from all over the place as Sennosuke lands gracefully. He now storms over to Joey Six and looks down on him.

George Cassidy: I call spitting in his face!

Truth Waters: Jiro Sennosuke not too pleased with his partner for letting him take that double-team move...

Sennosuke doesn’t spit like Cassidy suggested, but shakes his head and walks away. Then keeps walking. Through the ropes, down the steps, up the rampway.

George Cassidy: What’s going on?

Truth Waters: Jiro Sennosuke is walking out on his partner!

The referee begins a count, but he’s keeping it to himself as I can’t be bothered to italicise and type some numbers. Mapleleaf brings Joey Six up again and throws him into the corner; he hits the ringpost hard and staggers out into fierce alternate shots from Neurotic and Mapleleaf.

George Cassidy: Joey Six is the one being double-teamed now!

Mapleleaf scoops Six up and hits another side backbreaker, and without hesitation Neurotic dives in with the elbow in the same fashion as earlier. At the same time, the referee reaches a ten count and calls for the bell.

Truth Waters: This is over, and Joey Six is sprawled in the ring with his partner absent!

James Brunt: The winners... PATRICK MAPLELEAF and NEUROTIC!

George Cassidy: Sennosuke’s too talented for that piece of crap J-6 anyway.

Truth Waters: What does this mean for the future of Collision Course?!

---

Mindfuck II

FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, ADAM DICK, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: FERGUS

---

Foot tapping is heard echoing through the corridors of the center as the camera once again is switched on to capture whatever it is that's going on. The camera crew walk steadily down the hall to find the source of the tapping as Jack Murphy is standing by a water cooler, impatiently getting water.

Jack Murphy: (muttering) Come on... come on...

The tap is spluttering like a wailing baby; not really sure where it's going to go next. Murphy tries to keep his cool but fails miserably. In supreme frustration Murphy kicks at the water cooler only to have the whole thing fall apart, dunking its contents all over him. Murphy goes to curse but manages to hold it in just and instead breathes hot air out of him forcefully.

Jack Murphy: Keep it together Jack, nothing too harmful about water on your trousers. Just go and get the other pair you have with you...

Murphy turns abruptly and heads down the corridor, presumably to his locker room. He turns the corner and stops, putting his hand on the door handle. He stops just short though and turns his head. The camera crew get up close behind him, picking up some noise inside the room.

???: Yeah, just there, that's perfect... mmm...

??? #2: I'm glad you're enjoying the expertise I have.

???: Expert isn't even close... master sounds more like it.

??? #2: ...even... king?

The Bull explodes into the room and the camera crew follows in just behind to find... Sasha and Adam Dick, the latter giving the former a massage.

Jack Murphy: (cracking knuckles) Get. Your hands. Off of her!

Adam Dick: (puts up hands) Woah there Jack, take it easy. Just myself and Sasha exchanging a couple of pointers.

Jack Murphy: Pointers?

Sasha Volkyeva: Yes, Adam here has quite the creative mind regarding the wrestling business... ideas that are definitely plausible and possibilities.

Jack Murphy: Ok... why the hell are you in my locker room though?

Sasha Volkyeva: Excuse me?

Adam Dick: Oh boy...

Sasha Volkyeva: Are you actually trying to tell me what to do? Like you are the one calling the shots now because you've got a belt round your waist? You think because of that one piece of gold you deserve to be in charge? That's good to know Jack, good to know your true feelings on the matter. I never expected that from you.

Jack Murphy: Wait a minute... what...

Sasha Volkyeva: Enough. I don't want to talk to you. Come on Adam.

The Bull's eyes bulge out of his eye sockets.

Jack Murphy: Hang on, I'm not done with you... we're not finished.

Sasha Volkyeva: (coldly) Oh, we're finished Jack. Come Adam, tell me more about this tournament idea...

Sasha strides out of the locker room, Adam lingering just behind her. Murphy is stunned and hasn't a clue what to say. Adam just halts in front of him and takes a look at Jack.

Adam Dick: Nice pants man... from the deep blue sea huh?

Dick leaves as Murphy only now remembers the wet pants that he's wearing. The camera crew is shunted out of the room along with Sasha and Adam. As the door closes all we hear is a large scream from the Transatlantic champion.

---

You Torture To Get What You Want

FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, ZSASZ, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.

---

“I CAN’T BELIEVE HE ATTACKED ME LIKE THAT!”

It is obvious that Mikey O’Reilly is fuming after what had happened earlier in the evening. He paces back and forth in his locker room as Zsasz wraps up his wound. Zsasz cleaned out the wound with rubbing alcohol to wash out any traces of whiskey that might of entered, dried off the wound and is now wrapping it with a fresh, dry bandage. When he is finished, he continues to listen to Mikey’s rant.

Mikey O’Reilly: I don’t know why that asshole attacked me, I didn’t do anything wrong! All I did was I went to Teresa Tomas’ locker room with a couple of cases of beer, congratulated her on her victory last week, had a couple of beers and talked. Chainz shows up all pissed up and wouldn’t let me leave. All he had to do was let me go. When he didn’t I clocked him right in the face! He was the hostile one, not me! If I ever see that fuckin’ asshole again, it’ll be too soon. I’m gonna rip his balls off and shove him down his fuckin’ throat!

Zsasz lets out a sigh when his client was finished. He understands that Mikey is angry; he’s felt that anger many a time, but he never allowed it to cloud his judgment. When Zsasz’s judgment is clouded with anger... well, let’s just say that it’s judgment day to whomever is around him.

Zsasz: You don’t need to worry about that. As far as I’m concerned, no damage was done.

Mikey O’Reilly looks at his Slavic-American manager and points at his hand.

Mikey O’Reilly: What about your hand? You don’t call that damage? If that ain’t damage, I dunno what is.

Zsasz looks at his client as the corners of his mouth plays into a grin.

Zsasz: That, my dear Michael, is the haphazard work of a serial killer going soft. If it weren’t for Tracy being on the scene, Mr. Sloan would’ve done some brutal damage. And with that, I found the great equalizer against Sloan and his game he’s attempted to play against us. That girl of his is making him soft. I believe if we covet her from his grasp, he would become weak and pathetic. Since Tracy doesn’t follow him around much anymore that poses a degree of difficulty, but it can be done.

Zsasz’s smile broadens and his eyes widen as he thinks about imprisoning Tracy into his tyrannical domain. She will make the perfect edition into his harem tent with rest of his collection of women.

Zsasz: Oh yes... it’ll be grand.

Zsasz’s cell phone rings and excuses himself out of Mikey’s locker room. He fishes the cell phone out of his pocket and looks at the color ID. He smiles as he opens the phone when he’s about ten feet away from the locker room corridor, placing him in the center of the backstage area.

Zsasz: Hello? Yes, Mr. Toshihiro... Excellent you got my order? Splendid. ...Good, I’m glad you like it. ...Yes, I want to continue business with you, Mr. Toshihiro, just say the word, and I’ll get you anything you desire.... You’re certainly welcome. Sayonara.

When Zsasz closes his cell phone, he becomes aware that someone is with him. His eyes dart around the backstage, looking for anything that might be amiss. Even though everything looks normal, Zsasz can feel that there’s someone somewhere within the vicinity of where Zsasz is standing. He is about to walk towards Mikey O’Reilly’s locker until he heard it.

“Hey, fucker! Behind you!”

Zsasz grins as he recognizes the voice. He turns to see Chainz standing about five feet away from him. He’s still wearing his street clothes and now has his tote bag slung around his shoulder. There are no weapons at Chainz’s disposal, but Zsasz is unaware that Chainz has two pairs of handcuffs in each back pocket. His green eyes are smoldering angrily into Zsasz’s sapphire blues.

Zsasz: I see you woke up from my without any problems. Tell me something, Sloan, does your neck hurt? Pain shot up and down your arms, I bet. Made your arms feel numb with temporary paralysis I imagine.

Chainz remains silent, not revealing the pain he’s currently feeling in his neck. Right now, there is a dull, throbbing feeling in his neck now, but it hurt a lot more when he woke up. When he woke up, pain was shooting up and down his arms to the point where he couldn’t move them, feeling the temporary paralysis Zsasz just mentioned.

Chainz narrows his eyes angrily at the narcissist. Now he speaks, and there’s hints of acid in each word.

Chainz: I’m gonna get you for what you did to me, and you’re gonna die for putting your filthy hands on my girl.

Zsasz starts to laugh at Chainz, shaking his head at the large, young man.

Zsasz: And suffer the same fate you did earlier? I doubt you want to go the numb arms and the searing pain in your neck. I’ll tell you what...

Zsasz into his suit coat pocket and pulls out his custom Palm Pilot. He looks at his schedule, grins evilly and puts the expensive, handheld piece of technology back into the pocket of the coat. He looks back at his adversary, his grin spreading every second.

Zsasz: My schedule is clear for the ass kicking I’m about to administer. I’m going to teach you a lesson in the arts of torture.

Chainz smiles at Zsasz as he fell for the trap. It was simple enough to goat another serial killer into his trap.

Chainz: You got the best of me before, but it ain’t gonna happen again. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.

Zsasz’s demeanor goes from jovial to serious now. He slowly peels off his suit jacket, rolls up the sleeves of his black, long-sleeve shirt, revealing a pair of dagger tattoos.

Zsasz: We shall see about that, Sloan... Shall we dance?

Chainz drops his tote bag and gets into position.

Chainz: Yeah, let’s dance.

Zsasz advances towards the younger, larger man with a power right cross. Chains ducks underneath it, pulls out one of the pairs of cuffs out of his back pocket, kicks the back of Zsasz left knee and throws a heavy back first into the back of Zsasz’s head, sending him down to the floor. Zsasz is taken off guard by the younger man, but recovers with a mule kick into the stomach of Chainz.

Zsasz gets to his feet, ready to resume battle. He drives a knee right into Chainz’s gut, clubs him on his back and throws a hammer fist across the back of Chainz’s neck, sending the man down. Zsasz picks up Chainz, wraps his left hand around Chainz’s throat and is about to throat a huge right hand, but Chainz unveils the handcuffs, cuffs Zsasz’s right ribs, and administers a mighty head-butt right into Zsasz’s face. Chainz laughs at Zsasz as Zsasz realizes the disposition he’s in.

Zsasz has made a tactical error...

He has underestimated Chainz.

Chainz’s green eyes bears into Zsasz’s sapphire blue eyes.

Chainz: It’s time to bring the pain.

He picks up Zsasz and throws him against the wall, and Zsasz bounces off the wall with a sickening THUD! Chainz chuckles loudly, picking up Zsasz and sends him headfirst into the wall. There was enough velocity to temporarily knock the sadistic narcissist out.

Mike “Chainz” Sloan looks down at the damage he’s done thus far, but he isn’t satisfied yet. He has an agenda: to torture Zsasz into getting something we wants. He grabs a hold of Zsasz’s handcuffed arm and drags him to one side of the backstage area. He lifts Zsasz to his feet, taking the other end of the handcuffs, cuffing a long pipe over Zsasz’s head. He pulls out the other pair of handcuffs out, and takes Zsasz’s free arm and cuffs it to the pipe. Now he has Zsasz where he wants him. He goes out of camera and comes back with the tote bag he had earlier and unzips it, taking out a large cattle prod and... a nail gun?!

Chainz looks at the unconscious Zsasz, smiling viciously at him before slapping him awake.

Chainz: What you are about to feel is a nail going into your right kneecap.

Zsasz: Knock yourself out, Sloan. A simple nail gun isn’t going to break me. And I thought you were a sadist. Amateur.

Chainz stops in his tracks.

Chainz: You know something you might be right, these nail guns are so impersonal anyway. Say… Who’s Kiyoko?

Zsasz notices that Chainz is looking at Zsasz’s black Kanji tattoo on the left side of his neck. Better play it cool; Kiyoko is a touchy subject.

Zsasz: Some bitch I was acquainted with a long time ago. She doesn’t have much meaning to me.

Chainz doesn’t buy it, his eyes gleaming with joy.

Chainz: Really, is that why you have here name written on your neck?

Zsasz doesn’t respond, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead tells Chainz everything he needs to know, he’s hit a touchy subject. He looks at the rings hanging around the neck of Zsasz, wedding rings.

Chainz: Aww, was she your wife? How cute.

That hit a nerve for Zsasz.

Zsasz: Fuck you, Sloan, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

Chainz: No?! Why you sweatin’?

Zsasz smiles sarcastically at Chainz

Zsasz: Let me tie you up and see how you react.

Chainz: Come on, I can see you’re not too worried about these toys of mine. So… why you sweatin’?

Zsasz just stares at Chainz, hate and anger spilling our of his soul at the man in front of him.

Chainz: Let me guess, first wife huh, but not the last. Hmm, divorce… no, she dead ain’t she?

Chainz stares Zsasz who turns his eyes to the ground. Zsasz tries to hide his eyes from the truth, but to no avail. Zsasz has been defeated. Emotionally defeated.

Chainz: Hey, HEY! Look at me motherfucker, don’t lower your eyes. Look me square in the eye, I want to see your soul.

Chainz grabs Zsasz by the chin and holds his head up, bringing his own sizzling eyes inches away from Zsasz’s.

Chainz: She died didn’t she? Yeah, I can see she did. Natural? Oooooohhhh boy, not natural. Bitch was killed wasn’t she?

Zsasz tries to kick Chainz, but doesn’t succeed. He struggles with all his might to break the cuffs, but it’s no use. Chainz smiles evilly as he watches Zsasz try to free himself.

Chainz: Who killed her?

Zsasz: (yelling) I DON’T KNOW!!!

Chainz: Oooooo, such anger such passion. Hmm, you actually loved the bitch didn’t you? Wouldn’t think so, knowing the stories about you. You a cold fish you know that?

Zsasz says nothing.

Chainz: You know, I bet she’s having herself a real sweet time in hell. Burning alive, getting fucked by the devil and all his boys. I bet they love that sweet and sour pussy.

Zsasz: She was Japanese you fucking imbecile!

Zsasz starts swearing at Chainz in his native language, Slavic, but Chainz ignores what he’s saying, but he has an idea.

Chainz: Japanese, Chinese, is there really a difference? You chink fuckers look the same anyway and there’s so many of you. Bet going to hell is just like visiting China, nothing but rat shit and yellow bitches as far as the eye can see.

Zsasz: Keep talking, Sloan. When I free myself from these cuffs, I’m going to make your life miserable. I’ll rip your diseased head off!

Chainz takes the cattle prod and shoves it into Zsasz’s gut, causing a flow of electricity to enter the captive man.

Chainz: Oooohh, bet that hurts like a son of a bitch don’t it?

Without waiting for a response he shoves it in Zsasz again, laughing at the screams of pain emitting from his victim.

Chainz: Shut up!

Chainz spits in Zsasz’s face and kicks him for good measure. With a quick grab he snatches the chain and the two rings from around the neck of Zsasz.

Chainz: Mmm, some nice rings here. Bet they’d fetch a nice penny.

Zsasz: Give them back!

Chainz: See, we’re in a quagmire here. You want something from me and I want something from you. Only solution is to have a little trade.

Zsasz: I’m listening. What do you want of me?

Chainz: Well finding out is half the fun, you have five seconds.

Zsasz looks at Chainz, confused. Five seconds pass and Chainz takes the nail gun and shoots a nail into Zsasz’s trap muscle; the intent to cause pain, not injure.

Chainz: Hell, I know just the right spots to shoot to keep you conscious and in a world of pain. These hands are quite skilful you know. Five more seconds.

They pass and another nail is shot into the other trap muscle as Zsasz screams in pain and anguish.

Chainz: Give me what I want!

If Zsasz continued to be a stubborn asshole, he’ll receive more nails to the body. There is no point to continue. He is now emotionally, mentally and physically defeated.

Zsasz: You want a match against Mikey O’Reilly? Very well, you’ll get your match...

Zsasz flashes his signature sadistic smile.

Zsasz: I’ll even do one better and give you a match that’ll suit you... A SADIST MATCH!

Chainz gets into Zsasz’s face, about to do something diabolical. He grins at the helpless man in front of him and slowly backs off.

Chainz: A Sadist match would suit me just fine. I’ll let you make the arrangements... soon as you can figure out how to break out of those handcuffs. Tell O’Reilly that I’m gonna eat his heart for lunch next week.

Chainz takes the rings and shoves them down his pants. He jumps around a bit, getting his stench all over them and finally chucks them on the ground only inches out of reach from Zsasz.

Chainz walks away from the scene as if nothing has happened. Zsasz feels drained after the ordeal he went through against Mike “Chainz” Sloan. His energy had been spent against the man who he underestimated. A few seconds later, Mikey O’Reilly is on the scene, checking on his manager.

Mikey O’Reilly: Holy shit Jack! What the fuck happened?

Zsasz: Chainz is what happened. Don’t just stand there gawking at me, unshackle me from these fucking handcuffs.

Mikey O’Reilly grabs the handcuffs and with a hard jerk, he breaks them both, sending Zsasz to the floor. Zsasz tries to stand up, but can’t do it. The volts through his body having an effect on his legs. Mikey notices the two nails in Zsasz’s traps right away. He starts pulling them out, hearing Zsasz scream in pain. He looks at the nails in horror, then down at Zsasz.

Mikey O’Reilly: What have I gotten meself into? I knew I shouldn’t have punched him, I even knew the stories about him. Why the fuck did I punch a man who’s as sadistic as him?

Zsasz: You got yourself into a Sadist match against that same man at Twilight Of The Gods. I’m sorry, Mikey, he tortured the match out of me, I had no choice, he’s a professional. I underestimated him and now you’ll have to figure out a way to deal with him next week.

Mikey O’Reilly notices the burn marks that Chainz left from his cattle prod. He slowly shakes his head.

Mikey O’Reilly: How am I gonna fight against a man like that? He’s gonna fuckin’ kill me, Jack!

Zsasz lets out a frustrated groan.

Zsasz: If you haven’t noticed, Mikey, I’m in excruciating pain here. Get me up and get me some fucking medical attention!

Mikey O’Reilly comes back to reality. He would have stayed in the state of horror if he didn’t hear Zsasz say that he was in pain. He gets to his feet, helps Zsasz up and half carries, half drags Zsasz to the medical facility. Zsasz looks down at his rings on the floor. He’d almost forgotten about them.

Zsasz: Wait... my rings.

Zsasz points down at his rings. Mikey O’Reilly goes over to them, picks them up and hands them to Zsasz. He shakes his head.

Zsasz: I’m not touching those after Chainz defiled them. They’ll need to be sterilized before they go around my neck. Don’t want to smell Chainz’s crotch-stink.

Mikey O’Reilly doesn’t make any comments. It’s better to leave the whole situation alone for now. He helps walk Zsasz into the medical facility.

Things have taken a turn for the worse.

---

Push

FEATURING: AIMZ, DARCY CRISIS
AUTHORS: KATIE AND NATHAN

---

Most relationships are miserable. Some are wonderful celebrations of love.

Aimz usually gets the former. At the moment, her heart is in a gray area. More accurately, a red and irate area where Darcy Markson's testicles are essentially being doomed to life in prison. She walked into the arena late that day, after meeting with an old friend in the city while Darcy went to a gym. Upon entrance, she looked to the next week's card to see what matches were currently booked and found herself in a tag match with Jack Murphy... against her boyfriend. She trusted in him enough to assume that it was a sick ploy from management, and promptly entered a screaming match with David Harber that she ultimately won by getting him to relinquish the information she wanted or, technically, didn't want. He told her that Darcy had asked for the booking.

As little sense as it made, she was on a warpath from that moment on. Her sights were set to kill.

So everything catches up as she's stomping down the hallway in her Converse All-Stars, leaving a trail of scuff marks to signify her hurried anger. It was always easy to find Darcy's locker room, as he usually requested it to be near the building's main exit to meet with fans. Maybe he thought it was a crazed fan banging down the door to his room when he opened it, or maybe he knew the ire he'd raised. Either way, Darcy had to duck a sucker punch when he opened the door and looked down to see Amy Campbell, tattoos and chest puffed out for the toughest possible appearance, looking ready to tear his prostate out.

Darcy Crisis: ...hard day at the office?

He knew it would do nothing to deflect her anger, but you still can't blame a man for trying. Well, she could.

Aimz: You motherf---

She cuts herself off, tightly balling both fists and exhaling sharply in an attempt to contain herself.

Aimz: GOD, I could kill you right now. What the hell are you thinking, huh?!

Darcy Crisis: I'm thinking that it looks like you found out about what's going down next week... and that you're taking it surprisingly better than expected.

Amy is seething, eyes wide and hair a mess. Frankly, she couldn't look hotter to Darcy... but it wasn't the time nor the place. That, and she was still prepared to pickle his dick.

Aimz: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! Seriously, how did four years of me being as far away from you as humanly possible NOT bring home the message that I don't like being treated like shit?! This is bullshit, Darcy. It's dishonest, and it's fucking lame. What's your problem?

Darcy Crisis: Exactly how am I treating you like shit? The way I see it, you and I PROFESSIONALLY have a problem. So, like PROFESSIONALS, we're going to resolve it in the ring. You were the one who asked to see the Darcy Crisis of old. Well Amy, here he is. And his first order of business is to deal with anybody who tries to screw me over. You and Murphy teamed up to do it two weeks ago, so I'm dealing with the both of you at once...and we'll find out just how good your little team can function.

She takes a few steps forward, even closer to him, and cranes her neck to get in his face.

Aimz: If you think for ONE FUCKING MINUTE that I teamed up with Jack fucking Murphy, you really have completely lost your mind. I hate that guy almost more than I currently hate the fact that I ever bothered walking back within ten feet of you.

Darcy Crisis: I don't care what you think of the man... the fact is, he couldn't beat me without your help. In my eyes, that makes you a team. You stood with the wrong man, Amy... and now you're going to find out just what that entails. What you pulled was nothing short of malicious, Amy. And if you think, for ONE FUCKING MINUTE, that I can't be just as malicious... then you'll be in for a big surprise next week when you go toe to toe with Darcy Crisis.

Amy shook, but staved off the urge to completely break down in a fit of sobbing rage. Her eyes grew wider and her stare got colder the moment he said that. She's practically snarling at him, but at the same time looks as if a hug might not be far off. Thus was the unusual bond between them.

Bonds out the window, she was pissed as a redhe... well, she was a pissed redhead.

Aimz: I won't be going 'toe to toe with Darcy Crisis'. I do not step in that ring with you and step in with Darcy Crisis, I go in and see straight through the halfway false confidence. I see you, the same guy I've seen cry. Same one I've seen crippled. Same one I've seen without a stitch of clothes in the dead of winter on a drunken dare that didn't flatter any part of you. Who the hell do you think you are to tell me I'm stepping into the ring with some amped up version of Darcy fucking Markson that I helped bring back? And what's with all the big talk, anyway? You're the one calling in reinforcements.

Darcy begins taping up his wrists, seemingly more focused on his upcoming match than Amy's evident anger.

Darcy Crisis: It's too late to argue reasoning now, Amy. The match has been signed. It doesn't really matter who you see now... because next week you're going to be seeing Darcy Crisis standing across the ring from you. Take all the credit for bringing him back that you want. The point is he's back... and he's coming for you.

Aimz: You snuggle me on a daily basis. Lose the schtick.

He looks up, staring right back into her.

Darcy Crisis: That's right. You mean a lot to me personally, and you know that. But don't forget what you mean to me professionally. I've let you put off the match I've been pining for indefinitely to make you happy. But I'm not going to let you think you can just walk away like nothing will come of it after the stunt you pulled. I can pull stunts too, Amy. You said yourself that us out there at the same time equals ratings... well, I can hardly think of a way to top this, can you?

She chuckles with a bitterness unsurpassed by Darcy's deliberate ignorance.

Aimz: If I meant anything to you personally, you wouldn't be sneaking behind my back to get matches that team me up with a prick. You wouldn't put yourself on the other side of those matches. You wouldn't want to stomp on me or lessen my worth by trying to be the big knight in shining armor just to sell some fucking 'Hi, I'm a big handsome face!' t-shirts. And what you think of me professionally obviously doesn't mean jack all, putting me in pathetic tag team bouts.

Darcy rolls his eyes and momentarily glances at the one-man camera crew, trying as hard as he possibly could to disregard the presence. Amy, in her rage, had already done so.

Darcy Crisis: First of all, I didn't sneak, I just chose not to tell you because I knew you'd blow a gasket. Second, even if that weren't the case, since when do I have to make sure it's "okay" with my opponents that we're going to be in a match together? I care about you Amy, I really do, but don't forget how the nature of this business we call home. We're both gunning for the same spot, and I can offer you no quarter. If anything I should be going after you, but you've done your best to put the nix on that. Two weeks ago, you got in my way. I'm not going to let that slide, Amy, and I accept whatever consequences come with that. And if you CAN'T accept those same consequences... you shouldn't have stuck your nose where it didn't belong.

Aimz: YOU stuck your nose where it didn't belong. My playful revenge is in a completely different UNIVERSE in comparison to this stunt. I call East Bay home now, not a lockerroom. Think about that for a second.

Darcy Crisis: Well what makes you think this can't be playful? It's not like I'm going to try to murder you out there...it's just a MATCH. I fully intend on being the first to take down the incomparable duo of Aimz and Jack Murphy, but when it's over, that's it. You might be a little sore afterwards, but you'll still come home to East Bay. I'll still be there waiting for you. Not a damn thing has to change. Don't you still like wrestling, Amy?

She sighs and starts for the door.

Aimz: I never liked wrestling, you know that. I like FIGHTING. I like going out there and pummeling whoever's across from me to the best of my ability at the time. I don't want to go in there with you and have to see you as 'Darcy Crisis'. I don't want to hurt you, but I go on autopilot out there. It's unavoidable, don't you get it?

One swoop and Amy's out the door. Darcy's ready for his match... but he hadn't been entirely prepared for what just happened. Despite it, he smiles and finishes taping his wrists.

Darcy Crisis: Pfft, like I'd ever want the great "Red Raver" at anything less than her best.

And with another swoop, Darcy is out the door as well, on his way toward the ring.

---

Darcy Crisis vs Anton Assault

STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

Truth Waters: Now this next match could give us some hints about where AWC is gonna go in 2006. Darcy Crisis and Anton Assault are great athletes who still aren’t quite recognised as being amongst the top dogs of AWC; the next months are gonna tell us which of them, if not both, has the true star calibre. Starting tonight as the two face off!

Hide your face forever... Dream and search forever... A heavy guitar riff hits, marking the opening of "Open Your Eyes" by the Guano Apes. Darcy bursts through the curtain with his arm raised high. He points at the fans who give him the biggest reactions, trying to get everybody fired up. George Cassidy: Crisis fed us some bullshit recently about how things are going to change, how we’re going to see the ‘real’ Darcy Crisis from here on out.

Truth Waters: He’s an ex-World champion of Pier Six Wrestling so –

George Cassidy: Champion of what? Sorry Truth, that isn’t going to cut it.

Truth Waters: Pier Six, the fed that made Aimz as well as Darcy Cr---

George Cassidy: He’s getting no respect from me for being champion of a place that gave Aimz a push.

James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from East Bay, California, weighing in at 227 pounds... DARCY CRISIS!

The lights dim abruptly and the opening, disgusting chords of 'Vomitself' by Boris hit. The crowd falls into a hush as a single, white spotlight opens up on the entrance area. As the droney, soul-crushing guitars continue to lope on, the solitary figure of one Luis Ferrara, dressed in an impressive suit. He lifts his eyes to the light, shielding his face as he starts down. Tortured screams accompany the slow guitars now, heralding the appearance of Anton Assault. He doesn't look incredibly intimidating, wearing a colorful dashiki and dressed in his black short trunks and boots under that, but his demeanour is ugly and aggressive.

Truth Waters: I’ve seen Anton Assault in the gym, and Cassidy, he hits those punchbags hard.

George Cassidy: Furious fists, eh?

Luis leads his prospect down to the ring and he stands off to the side, letting Anton climb into the ring by himself.

James Brunt: And his opponent, being accompanied to the ring by Luis Ferrara, from Paris, France, weighing in at 229 pounds... “The Lion” ANTON ASSAULT!

Once inside the ring, Assault carefully pulls off his dashiki and hands it down to Luis Ferrara, who rolls it up and heads over to set it with the timekeeper. Assault begins to limber up inside the ring, doing stretches and generally looking focused.

Truth Waters: These two men weigh roughly the same, but while Crisis has an all-round game, Assault’s focus is very heavily on strikes and submissions.

George Cassidy: Yeah, the obvious strategy would be for Crisis to make the more typical power moves count – body slams, backbreakers, suplexes. They’re the kind of things you won’t really see from Anton Assault.

Michael Ryan makes his customary checks on the two men and then allows them to begin, Assault jumping from foot to foot, keeping his muscles warm, while Crisis shakes off his glistening arms. The bell rings, and Assault immediately springs forward, sending a few test punches that Crisis swats away, the third narrowly missing his left ear.

Truth Waters: Assault showing us where he got his handle – leaping into action just like the lion he embodies!

A fourth forearm strike follows before Crisis can even think about mounting a response, and this one grazes his ear, temporarily knocking the Darcinator off his mental course. The Lion is quick as lightning to register this and sends a brutal right hook across the jaw as he prepares his left knee; this now slams repeatedly into the abdomen of Darcy Crisis, who coughs phlegm onto the mat as the patella ratchets against his tensed muscles again and again.

Truth Waters: Anton Assault’s come out of the blocks like a 100-metre sprinter!

George Cassidy: Crisis can’t do a damn thing about it, those knees smashing into his gut like a playlist on repeat.

Truth Waters: Cassidy, we are ROCKING these metaphors!

George Cassidy: ...like Assault is rocking Crisis’ world.

With Crisis now backed into the turnbuckle, Assault now calmly brings him out by one arm, continuing to grasp the left forearm as he eschews the knee attacks for elbow strikes to the side of the neck.

Truth Waters: He didn’t want Crisis getting tangled up in the corner... if Assault has a weakness, it’s a tendency to stick with the centre of the ring, not using the given environment to his advantage.

George Cassidy: As things are going for Darcy Crisis I don’t think that’s all that important Truth!

”DAR-CY! DAR-CY!” But the fans’ clamour cannot help Crisis, who is powerless as Assault now bends him down, separating his neck and shoulder out with a quick single arm DDT to take him to the canvas. He quickly turns it into an armbar, Crisis twisting and turning but ultimately succumbing to the roughly-applied hold.

Truth Waters: Armbar in place. It looks like The Lion has settled on his target area: the neck and shoulder of Darcy Crisis’ weaker arm.

Crisis manages to gain some elevation and thrusts his free arm through the gap to catch Assault in the kidneys. Gasping, Assault’s grip slackens and the Darcinator seizes the opportunity to roll away, shielding his head from any attack as he catches his breath, but he needn’t worry since the kidney punch took The Lion by surprise. Luis Ferrara slams his hands on the mat, yelling for Assault to get up.

George Cassidy: Crisis was getting desperate down on the mat! A lucky escape, landing a strike to wind Assault, but if The Lion had taken the time to apply a better-constructed hold... who knows!

Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis will still have plenty in the tank, though. Perhaps he would have been able to resist or reverse an attempt at a more complicated submission.

Crisis now comes up slowly, feeling the effects of the whirlwind of early attacks he has suffered. Assault is also on his feet, and prances lightly from side to side.

Truth Waters: He’s so comfortable on his feet, Anton Assault. Like a panther, ready to move at any moment...

George Cassidy: Or maybe someone put itching powder in his shorts.

Crisis takes a very measured approach, coming forward slowly until he adjudges the moment right, and applies a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Assault brings up a knee, but it catches only the air as Crisis has already spun around him the other way to take The Lion up in a back suplex. Assault’s body hits the canvas hard and Crisis rises unsmiling despite the onslaught of cheers.

George Cassidy: Finally, Darcy Crisis has found some way to hurt Assault.

Truth Waters: Performances like what we’ve seen so far tonight from Anton Assault make you wonder why he hasn’t gone further in AWC yet.

George Cassidy: To be fair, he almost became Relentless champion last week, and if it wasn’t for Red Rock creeping up when he least expected it...

Truth Waters: That’s true.

Crisis now has Assault by the head, and plunges a fist into his abdomen to subdue the Frenchman of Nigerian origin as he brings him up. A slow vertical suplex follows, Crisis taking the time to calm his heartbeat and settle more into the flow of the match as he lands the punishing manoeuvre.

George Cassidy: I called this. Crisis going for the slams and the suplexes, not letting Assault use his arms and legs for those ferocious strikes – that’s crucial.

Crisis rolls straight over from landing to cover the body of Anton Assault in a lateral press. Michael Ryan betrays no surprise at being called into action early, business as usual as he makes the count:

ONE!

The Lion kicks out before even a second count can be made, to the very vocal pleasure of his manager Luis Ferrara.

George Cassidy: Wasteful. He was never gonna have him there! Two moves, Truth, two! If this is how the old Darcy Crisis that we were promised performs in the ring, I think I’ll take a rain check next time out...

Crisis keeps a cool head, getting to his feet and running a hand absent-mindedly across the top of his tied-back hair. The Californian gives Assault a stern kick in the side, hurrying his rise, and as Assault stands Darcy times his leap perfectly to score a dropkick, knocking him straight back down. Assault scrambles right back up, determined not to lose ground, but moves right into Crisis’ Irish whip. Careering out of control into the ropes, The Lion is unable to stop himself as he normally would, but takes the next best option, leaping high into the air as he rebounds. The movement surprises Crisis who does nothing to prevent the diving clothesline sending him to the mat.

Truth Waters: Fine athleticism! Anton Assault jumped so high with that clothesline Darcy Crisis lost sight of him!

George Cassidy: He’s lost sight of where he’s going, too, downed by the simplest of momentum counters.

The Darcinator is now in a seated position, and Assault bends over him to apply a three-quarter nelson before dragging him up to his feet, and persisting with the hold.

George Cassidy: Assault holding Darcy Crisis in a three-quarter nelson, further pressure on that sensitive left collar.

Truth Waters: No sign of Aimz getting involved in this one yet... with Crisis in trouble, would we have expected an appearance?

Assault angles his arms upward, cinching the nelson as Crisis grits his teeth and attempts to throw a leg back. He doesn’t connect with The Lion.

George Cassidy: Too hard to call. She cost Darcy Crisis his chance at beating the Transatlantic title holder in the match with Jack Murphy! The Bull would’ve gone on to win anyway, because... well, he’s Jack Murphy... but a glimpse of Aimz was all that was needed for Darcy to take his eye off the ball... not ready for the big time.

Crisis attempts to muscle forward, but Anton Assault reins him in, dragging him back so that now Crisis doesn’t have a firm foothold on the mat, relying on Assault’s grip for his only upward support. Ferrara urges The Lion on from ringside.

Truth Waters: But when you consider their convoluted relationship, you can hardly blame Crisis for stopping to wonder what The Red Raver was doing at ringside –

George Cassidy: Truth. It’s a match. Anything external – ignore it.

Truth Waters: And talking of the match Crisis is a rag doll in Assault’s arms here! Anton Assault is rapidly making the ring his den tonight on Fresh!

Assault finally dives forward, converting the nelson into a faceplant; Crisis’ locked arms are powerless to prevent his face dropping hard against the canvas. Assault shoves Crisis over onto his back and hooks the leg.

Truth Waters: Faceplant and the fall!

ONE!

TWO!

Crisis kicks out defiantly. Luis Ferrara gives a very melodramatic reaction, throwing his arms up onto his head in shock, much to the amusement of those in the front row.

George Cassidy: Kickout. Is it a matter of time?

Truth Waters: Crisis wants to show us that he’s no one-shot wonder, that he’ll be fighting with Jack Murphy again before long, but dropping this match to Anton Assault won’t help his cause.

Assault brings Darcy Crisis to his feet, and steps back to survey his dazed opponent.

George Cassidy: This is step one on Assault’s journey to another shot at that Relentless belt. Mike Wade gave that title belt a pretty fearsome name; no fluker like Red Rock can last as champion. And Assault is the man to take his belt away.

Conservatively, Assault shoots his open palm into Crisis’ stomach; the impact doubles up the Darcinator. The Lion repeats the movement but this time follows through, bringing a high knee into the face. An incensed sequence of forearm strikes to the head then sends a defenceless Darcy Crisis stumbling back, his arms grasping the top rope.

George Cassidy: Shotei combination, and Crisis is clueless.

Truth Waters: His game truly is relentless: elbows, kicks, knees, and then the submission holds and power moves... we haven’t actually seen a whole lot of what Anton Assault can do in AWC just yet! The Lion’s varied arsenal comes from time in the gym and I’ll tell you, there are plenty of signature moves of his that he hasn’t even had the opportunity to attempt in AWC as yet.

Assault spreads his arms to hold the rope himself, either side of the slightly lighter man’s body, before dipping his head low and nudging it into Crisis’ abdomen. The intended effect comes off: Crisis lets the top rope go, and falls heavily on his posterior. Assault bends, hooking his arms under those of Crisis and pulling him up, before bringing him closer and securing his arms around Crisis for the T-bone suplex. He lifts the Californian overhead and Crisis hits the canvas hard, a yell escaping his tired lips.

Truth Waters: T-bone!

George Cassidy: All of that means nothing if he can’t make the moves count. But against Darcy Crisis, he certainly can.

Again, Assault, concentrating hard, makes the cover, sure as always to conscientiously hook the leg to maximise his chances. Michael Ryan’s count is music to his ears.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout.

George Cassidy: Another escape by Darcy Crisis.

Ferrara’s hands go to his head again.

Truth Waters: He’s resilient, at least.

George Cassidy: T-bone suplex... two count at best, Truth. No plaudits to Crisis for kicking out of that.

Assault sits up, applauding the fans briefly (their reaction is unspectacular, being defiantly on the side of the Darcinator) before standing and looking down on Darcy Crisis, who clearly needs a few more seconds’ rest. Seconds that The Lion will not afford him. An inverted face lock is swiftly applied.

Truth Waters: Dragon sleeper on lock. Anton Assault is really working that shoulder joint.

George Cassidy: He’s a very focused competitor, I’ll give the boy that much.

Truth Waters: You’ll give him whatever damn praise he deserves if you don’t want a fist in the face! Have you heard the rumours about how he treats Ferrara?

Cassidy turns his gaze to watch Anton Assault’s manager, who is issuing instructions from his motor-mouth to tighten, twist, crank up the hold. The sneer on Assault’s face as he ignores him tells its own story.

George Cassidy: Luis Ferrara is clueless about how to fight in the ring. Assault doesn’t need his advice.

Truth Waters: The Venezuelan’s no more than a mercenary, if you ask Truth Waters.

George Cassidy: I didn’t.

Clutching Assault’s leading forearm tightly with both hands, Crisis’ face is screwed up as he fights for breath in the dragon sleeper. His body seems to slacken, and Michael Ryan catches on at once, bending close before gently removing the Darcinator’s hand from Assault’s arm and lifting it up into the air.

Luis Ferrara: Come on, man! Break that neck!

Crisis’ arm falls.

Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis may be unconscious in Assault’s sleeper variant here.

Luis Ferrara: Break ‘is frickin’ neck!

Assault grits his teeth, endeavouring to block out the irritatingly flawed advice of his manager while keeping the hold tightly in place. The referee raises Crisis’ arm again, drops it – it falls without response.

George Cassidy: That’s two – Anton Assault could take victory right here.

Luis Ferrara: What the fuck, man? Get on with –

And that’s when Anton Assault breaks. Not the neck, but the hold. Releasing Darcy Crisis (the Californian slumps back on the canvas, his eyes shut), Assault turns and storms over to the ropes, grabbing the top rope to contain his anger as much as anything else as he yells back at his manager. Ferrara’s sleazy grin only grows as he sees the fury on his client’s face.

Luis Ferrara: Good, Anton! Now take that rage and hit him with all you got!

Assault looks daggers at the Venezuelan, whose brow now furrows.

Luis Ferrara: But what the fuck, man? You had him! Why you let him go?

Assault slowly inclines his head to look up at the sky, taking deep breaths.

George Cassidy: Anton needs to count to ten before he responds to this idiot.

Ferrara’s abuse continues as Assault stares up at the sky, but the noise from the fans changes to a rising cheer.

Truth Waters: Crisis is almost on his feet!

Still massaging his throat and rolling his shoulder, Darcy Crisis steps up to a vertical base, looking shaky, but conscious nonetheless. He stumbles into the ropes nearest him and leans back into them, now able to see Assault directly across the ring from him.

George Cassidy: The Lion has no clue that Crisis is up!

Truth Waters: But Ferrara does!

Luis Ferrara is cut off mid-sentence and suddenly leaps up onto the apron, pulling something out of his pocket and brandishing it close to Assault’s face.

Truth Waters: Brass knucks!

Luis Ferrara: Take ‘em, hey, take ‘em quick –

Assault slowly tilts his head back to a normal level to look at the Venezuelan prancing around in front of him.

Anton Assault: Take what? I don’t take any of your shit.

Assault extends his arm and gives Ferrara a firm push. Luis Ferrara falls off the apron and rotates backwards through the air, landing brusquely on his front as the fans jeer and deride the much-disliked manager. Assault looks down on him with raised eyebrows.

George Cassidy: The Lion didn’t want any of Ferrara’s shit but now he may have put himself in some shit of his own making!

Suddenly, The Lion feels his head wrenched back, and a moment later his neck’s slamming against the shoulder of Darcy Crisis (the one that Assault hasn’t been working on) as Crisis drops to a seated position with Assault’s head pulled firmly against the bone.

Truth Waters: Shoulder neckbreaker!

George Cassidy: Assault paying the price for his manager’s involvement!

Truth Waters: And Crisis pins!

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Truth Waters: NO! Foot on the ropes!

Michael Ryan breaks the fall, ordering Crisis up.

George Cassidy: That was close.

Truth Waters: And look, Luis Ferrara is back up, livid!

The oily-faced South American is on his feet once more, yelling obscenities at both his client and his opponent. The brass knuckles are nowhere to be seen as Crisis pulls Anton Assault up.

Truth Waters: This is a golden opportunity now for Darcy Crisis, all presented to him on a plate by terrible cooperation between Assault and Ferrara.

Crisis slings The Lion into the ropes. Assault rebounds back, and Crisis turns, grabbing his head as if to pull him through in a snapmare, but The Lion raises a knee and clobbers it into Darcy’s spine. Crisis falls to both knees and Assault sidesteps into position before bringing his legs up and lacing them around Darcy’s neck, letting gravity carry him back to the canvas and causing Crisis’ body to arch backwards.

George Cassidy: Wait a minute, this is the setup for Thus Always To Tyrants! One of The Lion’s major-damage submissions!

Truth Waters: If Darcy Crisis lets Assault lock this on he is finished!

But as Assault thrusts his legs forward – the intended effect being to render Crisis prone – Crisis pushes up with both grounded legs. Anton’s simultaneous thrust ensures that the Darcinator is thrown upwards, careering into the ropes as Assault’s legs disentangle themselves from his neck and The Lion backward-rolls onto his front.

Truth Waters: Crisis evades Thus Always To Tyrants! And now Assault is vulnerable!

Ferrara spits out further insults or instructions – possibly both – but whatever it is is useless as Crisis hops back over to Assault and stands over him. From above, he reaches down and pulls Assault’s head up, hooking his arm underneath and pulling him up to his feet like that, going straight through into...

Truth Waters: THE MIND CRISIS!

George Cassidy: Damaging reverse DDT from the sleeper, and now...

Crisis is quick yet thorough in locking on a triangle hold!

Truth Waters: DARCINATOR! That’s the Darcinator, and this one’s over!

Assault jack-knifes his body as best he can, but the pain, and the noise of the crowd cheering Crisis on, and the resentment at how his manager’s interference turned this match around for the worse, and concern that he might not be OK for Twilight Of The Gods if he sticks this out too long... they all add up.

George Cassidy: Assault doesn’t look good – I don’t believe it, he’s going to – he taps!

Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis with the victory!

The bell rings, and not even needing the instructions of Michael Ryan Crisis courteously steps off his opponent, immediately moving to the turnbuckle to herald the fans. Assault curls into a ball, nursing his wounds and perhaps reluctant to face the wrath of Luis Ferrara – who is irate, banging his hands against the ringpost – just yet.

James Brunt: The winner... DARCY CRISIS!

Truth Waters: That’s a big victory for the California man, who will be making strides through AWC before long!

---

Mindfuck III

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

---

Jack Murphy: Now Pearl, I want you to decide now!

We interrupt normal programming to bring you yet another Jack Murphy segment and in keeping with the current vein, he's pretty pissed. Currently he's standing in David “Pearl” Harber's office, not too pleased at all.

Pearl: Jack, I've told you a thousand times, I can't give him a title shot until Lavelle gets his own rematch. You know that as well as I do. Now there are plenty of other...

Jack Murphy: Sure there are plenty of other guys and girls who'd be up for this but I don't want to face them now. I want Adam Dick.

Pearl: Well I can't give you that?

Jack Murphy: Why?

Pearl: As I've clearly stated...

Jack Murphy: Oh cut the bull crap Pearl! I'm not asking for you to bend rules I'm asking for something that's perfectly within my right. I am your champion now whether or not you like it and this is what I want.

Pearl: Jack, you're not asking for anything here, you're demanding and as much as we've disagreed in the past, you're a hell of a lot better than Dick ever could be! I see no reason for Dick being involved in the title picture anytime in the future and it's going to take convincing. Besides, he's been slipping.

Jack Murphy: I know that, don't you think I know that? Sure he's been slipping, but he's been irritating the hell out of everyone! Especially me...

Pearl: So you want it like that do you? A personal vendetta over the prestige of the title?

Jack Murphy: (faltering) It's... the reason I want it on the line is because it'll mean more to me... and to him. This will be his opportunity to get back on top of the world... so how do you think he'll feel when it all comes crashing back down to earth? How do you think it's going to be when he sees that he's been totally outclassed in the ring for a second time and his chance at glory slip away, perhaps for the last time?

Murphy halts, looking Pearl straight in the eyes.

Jack Murphy: You won't have to worry about him troubling you again Pearl... because there'll be nothing left of Adam Dick to worry you with. Look at this as a chance to get rid of him for good. Don't you want that?

Pearl: Is that the only thing you want out of this?

Jack Murphy: I want to be the champion... and competition is what I want. Dick will be good competition.

Pearl: Now you see I don't believe that, because I know you don't. You want Dick so you can destroy him, you basically said it just there. You're letting personal feelings get into this Jack and I don't know if that's a good idea....

Jack Murphy: Would you rather you have no title match then?

Pearl: What?

Jack Murphy: Well, I can just sit this one out, if you don't want to give the champion what he wants.

Pearl: Since when am I working for you?

Jack Murphy: I never said that, I'm merely stating that you've provided me with no challengers for Twilight Of The Gods and now that I ask you to give it to one person in particular... you refuse. So, if there's nobody there... then why should I be on the card?

Pearl: (shakes head) Are you sure you want to do this?

Jack Murphy: I'm sure.

Pearl: Alright, I'll inform Adam of his opportunity tonight and get the contract set up for next week.

Jack Murphy: Thanks Pearl.

Pearl: Thank me after the match alright?

The camera fades out as the two men nod to one another.

---

Dumped

FEATURING: CHAINZ, TRACY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: MIKE S.

---

The camera cuts to Chainz in his locker room, a sadistic smiling gracing his lips, obviously feeling quite pleased with himself for what he had done to Zsasz. Tracy walks into the locker room, drained from the busy night she had thus far, little to her knowledge the night was about to get far worse.

Tracy: Where have you been Michael?

Chainz: Me? Oh here and there, you know.

No, she didn’t know and there was something about her man that seemed off. He seemed much more confident and calm than in the past few weeks; something was definitely amiss.

Tracy: What’s going on?

Chainz: Nothing dear, just know that the man who tried to touch you tonight won’t be going anywhere near you in the future.

There was a sinister and sick tone behind his words, a tone she had grown to know and loathe with every breath in her body.

Tracy: What did you do?

Before Chainz can utter a word, a rather annoyed and pissed of Pearl storms into the room.

Pearl: God damnit Sloan, I knew you couldn’t change.

Tracy: What are you talking about?

Pearl: Oh didn’t you know, your boyfriend tortured Zsasz into giving him a match with Mikey O’Reilly next week. A sadistic match at that.

Tracy: Is this true?

Tracy looks at Chainz hoping that he would deny it, at least offer her some false hope that he had changed, but his silence told her the whole story.

Tracy: Why Michael, why?

Chainz: He had to learn not to touch my girl.

Pearl: You’re lucky he isn’t suing you or the company. You’re a real pain in the ass you know that. You know what kind of a risk we’re running just having you on the roster.

Chainz: You gotta take big risks if you want the big rewards, no?

Pearl: Whatever, I hope you get what you deserve next week.

Pearl storms out of the office leaving a grinning Chainz and a stunned and tearful Tracy.

Tracy: How could you, I thought you were finally coming around.

Chainz: I did it for you, I had to show them that hurting you is gonna cost em.

Tracy: I’m such a fool.

Chainz’s grin disappeared, Tracy was serious and something was troubling her.

Tracy: All this time thinking that I could change you and you haven’t changed at all. Still lusting after every woman you meet and still the violent bastard you’ve always been.

Chainz: I’m trying baby, it’s hard to change something you’ve been all your life.

Tracy: I gave up my family and friends for you, just to be with you. I gave up everything for you and you could careless.

Chainz: Come on now, you know that’s not true.

Tracy: Right, so why were you so angry that Mikey O’Reilly was in Teresa’s locker room? Why do you keep listening to what Vince Jones has to say? Why is the first thing you think of in a conflict… why is the first thing you do is resort to violence?

Chainz: God made me this way.

Tracy: Yeah right, God had nothing to do with you.

Chainz stands up and approaches Tracy who doesn’t back down or look scared at all.

Chainz: What’s that supposed to mean?

Tracy: God? God? I’m surprised you don’t burst into flames for merely uttering his name. You have nothing good or right inside of you. Everything you are is dark, evil, and sinful. I don’t know why I stayed with you as long as I did, you’re rotten to the core and I feel dirty for ever being with you.

Chainz: You’re with me because you love me, and you know that I love you.

Tracy: You’re right, I do love you and I know that deep down somewhere you love me as well. But I don’t have the patience to wait for that love to pass through all the layers of wickedness you have.

Chainz: What are you saying?

Tracy: I think we should take a break from each other.

Chainz: Ha ha ha, yeah right, you had me worried there for a minute babe.

Chainz sits down chuckling to himself, thinking what a great gag, but Tracy stands firm and unmoving, clearly not joking.

Tracy: I’m serious.

Chainz looks at her and stops laughing; she clearly is.

Chainz: You can’t leave me, I love you.

Tracy: You should have shown it, I gave you so many chances and you never appreciated me.

Chainz: I’ve been trying to change for you, I’ve been trying.

Tracy: And I’ve come to realize you never will, I’m sorry Michael.

Tracy goes to leave, but Chainz runs over, or more accurately crawls over and grabs her skirt, looking up at her.

Chainz: Please, give me another chance, I’ll change. I need you; you know I can’t go one without you.

Tracy has tears flowing down her cheeks, but something keeps her in the room; maybe her love for this monster is still alive somewhere deep down in her soul.

Tracy: Come back to me in two weeks and if you’ve really changed I’ll consider it.

Without another word she strides out of the locker room, leaving a stunned and destroyed Chainz on his knees. His whole world crushing around him, leaving him feeling as insignificant as an ant underneath your foot.

---

Celestial Fury (C) vs The Unfuckables

STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE

---

Alright, so it’s summarised because Hyde’s filling in for an absent friend and he’s only got forty-five minutes before he’s going out, got it?

So we might have expected this match to return the Alliance division to its former state. Mike Wade (Frontier champion) and Adam Dick (eats faces) would be far too strong to fall to The Green Grappler (idiot) and Butterfly Hamada (butterfly?) – well, not again. Their records speak for themselves, right? Put their win counts together to get 25 combined. Yet the other side wasn’t too badly off either. The Green Grappler had a 100% record, somehow, while Butterfly Hamada’s record wasn’t impressive but when you considered how awful it had looked, some pretty good recent form showed up.

Still, the challengers seemed clear favourites going into the match – not a normal situation for a title defence in AWC. Six minutes later, though, things looked rather different.

Mike Wade had started the match off for The Unfuckables, Adam Dick seeming more than happy to let a man once almost a lackey for the Face-Eater and now eclipsing him take control in the early stages. Things were pretty even between Wade and the technically excellent Hamada, whose Mexican arm drags and athletic rolls were taking their toll. Wade’s innovation kept him on level terms, however; a 4 Corner Wadeplex floored Hamada for quite some time, allowing The Illustrious Face-Eater into the ring for the first time.

Was his confidence shattered as a result of his recent slide, or was his mind on other things, in particular Jack Murphy? We may never know, but suffice it to say that things just weren’t working for Facey. His forearms were sloppy and his suplexes were slipped out of; Butterfly was running rings around the former Transatlantic champion before she tagged out to give The Green Grappler a chance in the match. The masked ventriloquist was confident enough to make a fool out of Adam Dick, dodging his advances and making his own of a spurious variety, but before long Dick managed to pull out an Estrada Explosion in desperation and an arrogant Grapps barely avoided the three.

Hamada’s screams for a tag were rewarded, and she and Grapps regained control of the situation before TGG left the ring to permit Butterfly to sling Dick into the ropes. The Dick came off with a powerful clothesline knocking Hamada to the mat, but Mike Wade’s subsequent remonstrations in dismay at his partner’s performance thus far meant that Dick was powerless to prevent the Twin Killing from Butterfly after a faster recovery than expected. His Swerviness’ determination in leaping into the ring to break the fall may have been the only thing keeping Hamada from a very early pin.

Facey managed to tag out soon after, but Wade couldn’t carry The Unfuckables on his own, and after a Grappler back body drop sent him spinning into Dick resulting in both crashing down to ringside. Chaos ensued, the two duos brawling on the outside much to the pleasure of the fans, and order was never really restored before Dick, frustration seizing him after missing another haymaker and taking an ass kick from TGG to go sprawling against the security mesh, grabbed the timekeeper’s chair and without a moment’s hesitation brained Grapps with it. Hamada’s attempt to take revenge backfired as she too took an almighty chair shot, its sick sound coinciding with that slightly sweeter noise for Celestial Fury of the bell to disqualify Dick and Wade, who didn’t exchange a single word as they stormed back up the ramp and through the curtain.

---

Intensity

FEATURING: DARCY CRISIS, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: NATHAN AND LIA

---

As the feed goes live, Darcy Crisis is seen in the locker room, garnering a slight pop from the Rhode Island crowd. It can be seen that he is talking to someone, but the camera is showing only Crisis.

Darcy Crisis: Now a lot of people think I might have bitten off more than I can chew here. Aimz and Murphy obviously work well together… they took the title off of Adam Dick, and their combined efforts screwed me out of a one-on-one victory over the man as well. That’s where you come in. Clearly this gruesome twosome is too much for me to handle on my own, but I’d like to see how these two fare when it isn’t two against one.

The crowd waits to see who he’s talking to, but the camera doesn’t move and whoever he’s talking to gives no response.

Darcy Crisis: I haven’t been here in AWC very long, so I don’t have very much in the way of anybody having my back around here. But I know you’ve had some success against Aimz in the past, and I imagine you’d very much appreciate being able to add a pinfall victory over the Transatlantic champion to your résumé. So what do you say… are you with me?

The camera finally pans, revealing the one and only Ellis Nash, who’d previously been picking at her fingernail. After a period of silence, Nash finally realizes that Darcy’s stopped babbling. She snaps her head up.

Ellis Nash: Oh. You’re done?

Darcy nods. Nash uncrosses her legs, sighing in relief.

Ellis Nash: God all mighty, I thought I was listening to a damn sermon. Blah blah blah blah blah blah bl---

Darcy Crisis: Look, are you in or what?

Nash shrugs, a smile curling her lips, and responds simply.

Ellis Nash: Sure.

Darcy smirked. Once again, it looked like he was going to get his way. Still, something seemed like it was missing…

Darcy Crisis: So is it company policy around here for people not to pay attention when there’s business to discuss, or was I personally boring you?

Ellis Nash: (yawning) Maybe a little of both. You’re right, it would look great on paper if I pin Jack Murphy 1-2-3 in the middle of that ring… that’s why I’m on board for this. But as far as your little relationship problems go with Aimz… tell me, why should I care in the least bit?

Upon hearing that, Darcy got in her face, the fire in his eyes indicating that he was all business.

Darcy Crisis: This isn’t a game, Ms. Nash. I’ve got a lot on the line going after these two… and if you’re going to stand with me, so do you. Believe me, I would much rather fly solo than have a partner who can’t match my intensity out there. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Amy in all likelihood won’t stop short of trying to kill me… and I sincerely doubt she’ll have any mercy in mind for you. So if this match isn’t as huge for you as it is for me… you better rethink your decision.

Slowly Ellis rises from her chair, looking Darcy dead in the eye. Quicker than lightning, she rears back and slaps the HELL out of Darcy, right smack in the face, eliciting a vociferous “Ooooooooooooo!!” from the crowd at ringside.

Ellis Nash: How’s THAT for intensity, Mr. Crisis?

Once he’s finished reeling from the vicious slap, Darcy turns to look at her again, surprisingly nodding with approval.

Darcy Crisis: Not bad, not bad… I expect no less. See you at burst, Ellis… and you BETTER bring your “A” game – for your sake and mine.

With that, Darcy turns on his heel and exits the locker room, with Ellis looking on and shaking her head.

Ellis Nash: Boys fighting over girls, girls fighting over boys… and I just slapped a man. Did I just agree to a wrestling match, or a guest spot on “Days of Our Lives?”