Fresh! Results17th January 2005
Preparation
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES
AUTHOR: RYAN KEANEY
“Are you sure about this?”
The nervous words floated through the cold Cincinnati air as the camera opened to welcome two new faces to AWC broadcasting. Looking a little confused Russ Bridges was holding his guitar and wearing his gigging gear but he was on a stool OUTSIDE the arena. “Recorded Earlier” appeared in the bottom corner of the screen as Russ looked across at Chuck Norton, wearing the same outfit for confirmation.
Chuck Norton: Of course, I’m sure…
The two men were dressed in red shirts and black jeans with chaps. They each had their guitars resting on their laps and on the ground was an upturned hat. The new AWC duo were busking on their first night with the company.
Russ Bridges: I can’t believe we are out here on our first night…
Chuck Norton: We don’t have a match so we may as well make a little money on the side…
Russ decided against complaining and simply sat with the guitar on his knee.
A few silent seconds passed.
…
…
Russ Bridges: Shouldn’t we play something?
Chuck Norton: With no one around… We need to save our voices… They are going to make us millions…
Russ nodded. It made sense not to bother singing until someone could hear them. A few more silent seconds passed.
…
…
…
Russ Bridges: So are we going to just wait here for people to turn up?
Chuck nodded.
Russ Bridges: But I’m a little cold…
Voluptuous
FEATURING: PATRICK MAPLELEAF, CEDRIC, AWC WORKER
AUTHOR: PATRICK
The scene cuts to the backstage area. Patrick Mapleleaf is in the locker room. His best friend is there with him, Cedric the Black Goth. Mapleleaf is wearing a red and white “Team Canada Hockey” jacket and blue jeans, along with a black pair of Chuck Taylor converses. He reaches into a black Coleman cooler and pulls out a Molson Ale. He pulls the cap off and takes a long swig. Cedric has a blonde, long wig on his head. He is wearing lipstick and eyeliner, with blush on his cheeks. His fingernails are painted black, and he is wearing a tight black tank top and jeans, with the breasts obviously stuffed. To top off the look, he is wearing heels. The two men are talking quietly, and the cameras seem to have interrupted them in the middle of a conversation.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Look, I’m telling you, it’s perfect. Kingfisher will never see it coming. That guy thinks he’s the shit because he won a title in Core! Ha! My left testicle could win a title in Core if it went inside Lanier’s mouth. Now, Cedric, let’s go over this again.
Cedric: This doesn’t feel right. I’m telling you…
Patrick Mapleleaf: Silence! He not only insulted me, but the honor of the great nation of Canada! Now, read the script. You be you, and I’ll be Kingfisher.
Cedric: Fine. (reading) Excuse me, Mr. Kingfisher…I’m a voluptuous female fan, and I was wondering if you can wine me, dine me, and have your way with me…
Patrick Mapleleaf: (reading) Oh, okay, mysterious woman. Let us go.
Cedric: First of all, how do you have the script for what HE says? We don’t know what’s gonna say!! Second, this dress and makeup STILL doesn’t make me look like a woman. For God’s sakes, I have a beard!
Patrick Mapleleaf: Fine, let’s do this again. This time, I’ll be you, and you be Kingfisher.
Cedric: What?!
Patrick Mapleleaf: (reading) Excuse me, Mr. Kingfisher…I’m a voluptuous female fan, and I was wondering if you can wine me, dine me, and have your way with me…
Cedric: ….
Patrick Mapleleaf: Say your line!
Cedric: Why do we have lines for Kingfisher?!
Patrick Mapleleaf: Okay, fine! This time, I’ll be you, and you be Ward Clever from Leave it to Beaver!
Cedric: This is pointless.
The door opens. A worker from AWC television walks in, wearing an AWC team shirt and blue jeans.
Worker: Excuse me, Mr. Mapleleaf. You’re scheduled to go out for a promo shortly… oh… I… didn’t know you had company.
Patrick Mapleleaf: What? This?! I can get hoes better than this! Get out of here! We’re plotting against Buddy Kingfisher! Say, have you ever worn a dress?
Worker: Mr. Mapleleaf, Buddy Kingfisher did not sign on to AWC.
Patrick Mapleleaf: What… did you just say?
Worker: Yeah… he left for personal reasons. Shouldn’t you be relieved?
Mapleleaf grabs the man by the collar and smashes him against the wall.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Why would I be relieved?! I was gonna punk that kid out! Now get out of here, you sweat-haired samapuss!
The worker scurries out.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Kingfisher bows out… I can’t believe this! He humiliates me on live TV and gets away with it!
Cedric: Well, maybe you should focus on your career instead of grudges.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Quiet, you she-male! No… no… maybe I can go after that Tomas bitch! Yes, take my aggressions out on women. After all, they’re not human beings… they’re tools created by the Lord Jesus Christ for our amusement… Now, the time draws near. I must address my public!
Mapleleaf storms out of the room as the cameras go back to the arena.
Introduction
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
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. Registering that they’re hearing Fresh!’s new theme music for 2006, the fans in the Cintas 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 Lavelle astride a turnbuckle, the belt around his waist as he spreads his arms to the crowd. And then it’s white light.
Truth Waters: We are BACK! Truth Waters and George Cassidy bringing you AWC Fresh!, LIVE from the Cintas Center in Cincinnati!
George Cassidy: And why the HELL am I sitting out here on the stage?!
Truth Waters: Lots has changed since we were on TV last; the East Atlantic tour has been very successful in bringing AWC new European fans and AWC has been growing HUGELY!
George Cassidy: Yeah, that’s right, they don’t need us...
Truth Waters: There’s no doubt that AWC had a nothing short of SPECTACULAR end to 2005 in terms of quality to put out! But if you thought this return to America was gonna put a damper on that... think again!
George Cassidy: We’ve got a whole load of new signings tonight, but disappointingly, still no Chris Storm...
Truth Waters: You’ll have to forgive my commentary partner – he’s still in mourning...
George Cassidy: DON’T you bring it up!
Truth Waters: The tragic death of Alexander Strider has –
Cassidy lets out a strangled cry and ducks under the desk.
Truth Waters: – taken its toll on all those around AWC, and these are solemn times for the wrestling business. We may not have liked the guy, but there’s no doubting that he was a great athlete –
George Cassidy: (from under the table) The BEST!
Truth Waters: – and it’s a terrible thing that he had to leave this world prematurely.
George Cassidy: (from under the table) WHY did you do it, Alex?! WHY?! You had EVERYTHING –
Truth Waters: (cutting in) A stacked card tonight, the first show of 2006 bringing us our first Transatlantic title match of 2006! And Cassidy, can you BELIEVE these allegations surrounding Pierce Lavelle? Cassidy?
Silence.
Truth Waters: Personally, I can’t believe Lavelle would do something like that, but they say every rumour sparks from a grain of truth – let’s let it be until we get something concrete. Lavelle’s primary concern tonight will be his scheduled match against Adam Dick! After a VERY impressive oh-five Dick is ironically becoming the kind of performer whose name, were someone to be unmasking about NOW, people would be suggesting for the real identity – but of course when Dick took the Face-Eater mask off, his name was so... MINOR LEAGUE that it was a big letdown. Tonight he can achieve something we might never have dreamt possible for the former Core Wrestling Classic champion... (coughs) a very, er, respectable title belt... Dick could have him the Transatlantic championship! – Cassidy!
George Cassidy has at last emerged from under the announce table, his red face showing signs of tear streaks. Truth turns away, a trace of amusement on his face, respectfully making no comment.
George Cassidy: Panic over! Panic over. I'm OK. This insensitive jerk next to me –
Truth Waters: Hey!
George Cassidy: Oh, never mind... let’s get on with announcing the card. The main event features –
Truth Waters: Done that. Jerk.
George Cassidy: Oh, fine. Then it’s left to me to tell you that AWC’s next pay-per-view event is –
Truth Waters: No! Cassidy, that’s gotta wait!
George Cassidy: Bite me. Called Bloodlust, and on February 17th. Ha.
Truth Waters: You are so, so lucky to have a job.
The Truth
FEATURING: PATRICK MAPLELEAF
AUTHOR: PATRICK
As soon as “Oh, Canada” hits the sound system, the fans immediately begin to boo. Patrick Mapleleaf walks down, a look of frustration on his face. He walks straight down the ramp without stopping and taunting the fans.
Truth Waters: Not the usual Patrick Mapleleaf. Something’s on his mind.
George Cassidy: Leave him alone. I’d be pissed off too if my rival ran out on me!
Truth Waters: Well, let’s see what bee is in his bonnet.
He looks straight ahead, occasionally muttering under his breath. He makes his way under the ropes and grabs a mic from the ring announcer, then shoves him to the ground. The music cuts off as Mapleleaf does a motion with his hand across his throat. The boos, however, do not taper off.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Shut the hell up! I’m not in the mood!
The fans boo even louder, and a chant starts.
“CANADA SUCKS!”
“CANADA SUCKS!”
“CANADA SUCKS!”
Patrick Mapleleaf: I don’t need this today. I just found out from a mere worker bee of AWC that Buddy Kingfisher has walked out. Now, I can come out here all I want and tell you… ahem… fine people of Ohio how much of a pussy he is, but that would be unoriginal. I’ll just say he’s… a chicken! And not because he’s scared, but because he’s only going to get laid once, and THAT’S BEING GENEROUS!
George Cassidy: OOO! Good one!
The fans half laugh, half boo. Mapleleaf puts his hand up.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Shut up! I didn’t come out here to be your monkey. Did you want me to come out here to be your monkey? Did you expect me to come out here and be your monkey? Well, I’m not your monkey! Now, before I burst into song, let me reveal a couple of truths to you all. First truth… yes, Buddy Kingfisher was the former Core Wrestling Legacy champion. But also consider, in order to get a title shot in Core, all you have to do is buy owner Matthew Lanier a drink and a motel room for the night! Second truth… yes, Buddy Kingfisher was expected to make an impact here in AWC, and I know that the big shots in the AWC offices had big plans for him, but his reputation was going to be grounded out like a cigarette beneath the heel of my boot. Finally…the final truth. Buddy Kingfisher couldn’t handle the AWC. He couldn’t handle competing on a professional level, and that’s why he left.
Truth Waters: Untrue! Kingfisher just felt AWC wasn’t right for him!
George Cassidy: Or so they say.
The fans boo in response. A fan throws a soda bottle into the ring. Mapleleaf takes it and puts it in the pocket of his Team Canada Hockey jacket.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Thanks! I need a bottle to pee in later when I’m drinking your horrible beer later after the show. Oh wait…I’ll confuse the pee bottle and the beer bottle.
The fans boo again. Mapleleaf laughs.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Ya know, my mood is improving already! Let’s bring it all to tonight. I have a couple of issues to bring up. First of all, this tag match… bad idea. AWC bookers, never do this again. The last thing I need is for someone to be cramping my style. Even if it is someone as fine as…
Mapleleaf takes out a sheet of paper and reads the name.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Captain… what the hell is this… Captain Semolina? Captain Salmonella? What kind of asshole is named Captain Sule… Suli… Salmon. Yes, Salmon. Salmon, you better stay out my way, boy.
Truth Waters: It’s Suleimon.
George Cassidy: I don’t think he cares.
Truth Waters: That makes two of us.
The fans boo in response.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Me and Captain Salmon are destined tonight to show these people in Ohio exactly how it’s done. I can execute my devastating moves on…who was it we’re facing Pleasure and Pain? That sounds like me, having my way with a Belgian prostitute, in a ring of fire! Come on, you know that was funny!
The fans boo.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Tonight, you will all once again get to see a Patrick Mapleleaf victory as I lock in the Full Blown Canadian on one of the unlucky opponents we have to face tonight… or maybe both! As for Salmon… you paint yourself pink and flop around in the ring for all I care! Just stay out of my way.
Mapleleaf turns to leave, and “Oh, Canada” starts to play, but he stops.
Patrick Mapleleaf: WAIT a second… I almost forgot. You can all go suck an egg!
The music starts back up. Mapleleaf leaves the ring, the fans booing as he taunts his way back up the ramp.
Say WHAT?
FEATURING: RED ROCK, SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
We switch to the backstage area where we find a lonesome Red Rock. For you see under the pressure of GTT5 and the stacking debt and life style of Red Rock his good friend and manager Boolie has been driven back to his parents’ home in New York. Red Rock sports a bored and fatigued grimace after the effort he put in during GTT5. He is the only one occupying a picnic bench but you can tell from looking at him that he isn't happy. Red Rock expels a loud sigh from the bottom of his lungs before getting to his feet for a wonder. Red Rock slips his hands in to his pockets then paces off towards the refreshments area. From nowhere the beautiful interviewer Sarah Kennedy appears, how ever she has gone unnoticed to Red Rock. She taps Red Rock on the shoulder expectantly making Red Rock jump.
Red Rock: OH GOD! Sorry I didn't see you there I was in a world of my own!
Sarah Kennedy: Oh sorry to startle you! I wanted to ask you a few questions!
Red Rock: Oh right... go on then... it's not like I have anything else to do.
Sarah Kennedy: First of all I'd like to say bad luck on loosing out in GTT5
Red Rock: Pffft... well I had my mind on other things, I did ok though!
Sarah Kennedy: That's a shame you looked like you were in your best form yet.
Red Rock: Really? Thanks!
Sarah Kennedy: But now you can focus fully on AWC, which brings me to my next point. Captain Suleimon.
Red Rock: Oh... that guy. What about him? I'm not talking to him anymore because he ruined my shot at the Frontier title FOR NO REASON! He obviously has a lot of sand in his vagina.
Sarah Kennedy: But it wasn't for no reason because Suleimon's people are saying you said something to Suleimon at the Christmas party, which greatly offended him. This begs the question, what did you say that has upset him so much to the point where he refuses to talk to anyone and to the point where he will cost you a chance to be Frontier champion?
Red Rock pulls a particularly confused expression as he scratches his head.
Red Rock: You what? I didn't say anything to him! I can't even remember what we were talking about. I said one thing next thing I know he's humping my damn leg!
Sarah Kennedy: So you don't even remember what you said?
Red Rock: But I didn't say anything!
Sarah Kennedy: God, I hate it when they make me talk to you. You are so stupid!
Sarah Kennedy rolls her eyes before she storms off away from Red Rock. Red Rock is now left feeling completely in the dark as to what is going on with Suleimon.
Red Rock: Yeah, she wants me!
Rocky I
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND MIKE WADE
Adam Dick has a routine.
Before every episode of Fresh!, he sits in his car in the parking lot of the arena (sans Mike Wade) with a bag of chronic and a blunt-wrap. The chronic is usually Blueberry Kush whenever his dealer had it, as he found the Blueberry flavor strong with a long-lasting, energetic high; while the blunt-wrap was always Platinum© Brand Watermelon.
A blunt-wrap is comparable to a cigar in these situations. Most pot-heads would buy a cigar, usually a Shwischer© Sweet or a Peach Optimo™, to cut it open and fill with pot and re-seal. Not Adam, who considered such a “pussy way out.” Adam thought the blunt-wrap, which was basically the outer-casing of a cigar (coming in a variety of flavors) in the form of a joint paper, was considered “professional” for true pot-heads.
He didn’t need a pre-shaped cigar to contain his chronic; Adam was a man that could form his own destinies. Adam found that with blunt-wraps, packaged misleadingly like a single Fruit Roll-Up, he could blunts so fat that no cigar could contain.
At the start of his wrestling career, when he began making more money and amounts of chronic were never a question of budget, he would challenge himself to roll the fattest blunts a wrap could allow. Needless to say, Adam could roll some fat ass fucking blunts, but that’s beside the point.
Now, Adam didn’t need fat ass blunts to prove a point to anyone. Now he was only concerned about getting himself at the right high for the night.
Controlling his destiny, something he’d become rather good at lately. Something that, if his preparations paid off, would result in the Transatlantic Title later in the night.
What’s at the core of every blunt-wrapping (in almost every company’s wraps), is a little plastic tube that’s used for packing chronic into the ends of the blunt. Adam finds these little straws filled with flavor, and sort of took it on as a custom to chew on them as soon as he finished off the accompanying blunt.
It is such a subtle idiosyncrasy that, if anyone noticed, would be a dead give-away that Adam was stoned when caught with these little plastic straws in his mouth.
The sound of Adam gnawing away at the straw while he slimes his way through the arena is the only sound that fills the hallways while his dank-reeking ass nonchalantly searches for the Unfuckables’ dressing room.
The shit-eating grin on the Alliance champion’s face spoke volumes; he was prepared. It was as if he could taste the Transatlantic championship already. Maybe he was able to do what Paddy O’Shea couldn’t — his alter ego, Bizarro Facey, did happen to best Paddy over in PRIME.
The Illustrious Face-Eater was not filled with doubts, however. No ‘maybe’s lingered in his mind; he was ready for action. He wished the curtain would be jerked and the mid-card would be squashed A.S.A.P. so he could finally get in the main event.
Yes, Adam Dick was right where he wanted to be, all impatient nerves aside; on the cusp of breakthrough, where he seemed to be so comfortable before. By all of his definitions of the word, he was, in fact, prepared.
But maybe, to the Unfuckables camp, his definition just isn’t good enough.
Mike Wade: DUDE! Where have you been?
Mike jumped in Adam’s face the second he walked into their collective dressing room. It was obvious the Relentless champion was more than pumped for his partner’s title shot, and like a giddy school girl wished to talk about his expressive feelings.
Adam Dick: Blazing. What’s up?
Mike Wade: You’ve been getting high? On the night that will make your career!? That simply won’t do, pal!
Mike slaps Adam on the back, keeping a firm grip entrenched on his shoulders, and begins guiding him around the room towards his gym bag.
Mike Wade: This is the night, my friend! The night where the Unfuckables take their throne on the top of this federation! It’s all up to you, Face, to take the crown of the king and kick that steroid-using mother fucker out of his throne! I hate that fucking cunt.
The duo stop by a bench, which Mike Wade’s bag sits upon menacingly. Adam seems somewhat annoyed already, someone so hell bent on killing his high.
Adam Dick: What exactly do you have in mind, Mike?
His hand searching in the bag for a few frantic moments, Wade withdraws and places on his own head what is best described as a black skully cap that barely encompasses the entirety of Mike’s hairline.
Mike Wade: Well I had a lot of free time over Christmas - in between banging chicks I mean.
Adam Dick: Of course…
Mike Wade: Well I was watchin’ some movies. And guess what came on TV?
Adam Dick: In Diana Jones and the Temple of Poon?
Mike Wade: No man. Rocky. I’m gonna be the Apollo Creed to your Rocky Balboa and train you for your Transatlantic title shot against the Transatlantic Transsexual Purse Lavelle.
Adam Dick: I am NOT going to parody Rocky — I haven’t even seen it!
Mike Wade: That don’t matter man. Besides, all underdogs facing an unstoppable champion need to go through all of the Rocky clichés if they hope to end up on top! It’s, like, fate or something.
Adam reaches in Mike’s bag and withdraws a gray sweat-suit that he stares at with reluctant eyes.
Adam Dick: Alright, if Rocky did it.
Mike Wade: And Rocky beat Mr. T! Who, last time I checked, Pierce Lavelle doesn’t even come fucking close to! He doesn’t have any funny catchphrases. Mr T has loads. Like “I pity the fool” and “I ain’t getting on no plane”. I see Lavelle getting on planes all the time- that’s not cool.
Adam Dick: Mr. T is the shit.
Infiltration
FEATURING: GUARDS, BUSINESSMAN, MUSCLE
AUTHOR: ???
The camera slowly fades into the outside of the arena. The night is cold and all seems pretty quiet at the moment. The camera catches sight of two security guards sitting on folding chairs at a side entrance keeping a careful watch on the vicinity. The guard on the left begins to let out a long yawn as he stretches a bit and shifts his position in his chair and leans back a little to make himself a bit more comfortable while on duty.
Guard #1: Well Stu, another night of watch duty.
Stu: Yeah. You got that right, Tim. (sighs) It gets kinda boring out here though. Wish I was inside watching the show like Bruno, Butch, and Taz.
All of a sudden the two take notice of a man in a business suit steadily approaching them. The two security guards rise to their feet to greet the man upon his arrival. The businessman's face is out of view to us because his back is to us. The man tips his hat to the two security guards.
Businessman: Well, hello there. Fine evening we have here. Now if you'll excuse me. I have a little bit of business to attend to here tonight.
The businessman begins walking past the two guards, but they slide together to block his path.
Stu: Hold on there, buddy. Now who do you think you are tryin' to just waltz on in through here? If you've come for the show all you have to do is walk around the complex and make your way through the double doors in front.
The businessman stops in his tracks and shakes his head.
Businessman: Gentlemen, you don't quite understand. I'm here to take care of some official AWC business here tonight. Now if you'll excuse me!
The other guard throws up a hand to stop him.
Tim: Not so fast, pal. No one goes through these doors unless they've got an AWC backstage pass or some kind of proof that they are affiliated with AWC. Do you have either of that on ya?
The businessman begins fumbling around through his pockets and pulls them back out revealing empty hands. He shrugs a bit sheepishly.
Businessman: I'm sorry, sirs. Its seems as though I must have left my wallet in the building. Would you be so kind as to allow me back inside to go find it?
Stu the Security guard shakes his head.
Stu: Nope! You're not pullin' the wool over our eyes out here, pal. Are you even affiliated with AWC in any way, shape or form. Do you even have any business being out here?
Businessman: Well, I...
Tim: Look, I'm sorry, sir, but we're gonna have to ask you to leave.
The businessman begins waving his hands around in a frenzy.
Businessman: What?? This is an outrage!! Let me through!!!
The businessman tries to scurry past the guards but they seize him and shove him to the ground. The businessman tries to calm himself down as he brushes himself off and stands to his feet.
Stu: Alright. Take off before you get yourself into any major trouble.
Businessman: How dare you!? Do you even realize who I am? Do you? You better let me in through those doors right now or else...
Stu: (laughing) Or else what?
All of a sudden two sickening thuds can be heard as the two security guards both fall to the ground in a heap at the feet of the businessman. The camera catches sight of two rather large men dressed in all black with ski masks covering their faces. The businessman just shakes his head and looks down at the two security guards in disappointment.
Businessman: 'Tis a shame it had to come down to that, boys.
All of a sudden one of the masked men rips the ski mask off his face revealing long brown hair, blue eyes, and a trimmed goatee.
Businessman: Good work, Crusher, another spectacular highlight.
Crusher: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever Reno. All I know is that I better get my money for this gig. Ya hear me?
Crusher turns towards the other masked man and snarls.
Crusher: And as for you. You better make a splash out there tonight because Crusher 'The Human Highlight' Helix don't be doing favors like this very often especially for the likes of you, man.
The masked man raises a middle finger and sticks it square in Crusher Helix's face and marches off through the double doors.
Crusher Helix: Oh yeah. That was real classy there, man. Real classy.
Reno: Enough out of you, Crusher. Your work here is done. That'll be all. Good luck with your match in Phoenix this week.
Reno enters through the double doors. Crusher exits the scene as the camera slowly fades to black.
Butterfly Hamada vs Liam Martin
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: DAVE LARKIN
George Cassidy: Isn’t it just great to be back after the long winter break? I certainly missed calling the action with you, Truth my man!
Truth Waters: Really? You did?
George Cassidy: No, but I had you going there for a second, didn’t I? I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time away from you, in fact. But alas, duty calls. What are your thoughts on this one?
Truth Waters: Well, you’re –
George Cassidy: No actually, I’ll do this for a change. You’re looking at a loser in Butterfly Hamada, who has only won two of her twelve matches in AWC. Her spirit has to have been crushed over the holiday period by watching those tapes of her constantly being defeated and tying contests. Her career is a shambles.
Truth Waters: Umm, okay. And what about Liam Martin? I feel he’s a little cocky and all about himself.
George Cassidy: Completely disagree with you on that one, Truth. Your name is deceptive sometimes. The truth is that Liam Martin is one of the shining lights of AWC and will no doubt explode onto the main event scene in due course. His record, unlike Hamada’s, is impressive. Five wins, one draw, three defeats.
Truth Waters: So you see Martin running out the winner here? You’re sure the fans won’t have an impact. They pretty much hate his guts, as they hate yours.
A fan behind Cassidy goes to chuck a paper cup onto his head, but a security guard steps in the way of the projectile as it loops over the fence. The contents soak the security guard, and turning around, Cassidy sniggers at his misfortune.
George Cassidy: Hey, thanks for taking the hit for me… you piece of crap.
Truth Waters: Hey, Jerry D is my bro. Don’t disrespect him, Cassidy!
George Cassidy: I only respect talented athletes, myself, and anyone who gives me at least ten compliments a day.
Truth Waters: (under his breath) Weirdo…
The explosive rock beat to the start of Foo Fighters' "Times Like These" causes everyone to jump to their feet as Butterfly Hamada bursts out from curtain and heads toward the ring.
The energetic young girl wears white trunks and a white top with the same color boots and knee pads, all trimmed with royal blue. Sequins of silver create patterns of flowers on her gear, and a great big butterfly in dark blue and aqua jewls rests on her blouse.
She slaps hands as she heads to the ring, but her attention focused on the ring. She climbs the steel steps up to the apron quickly, slightly bowing before entering the ring. She exudes a seriousness, and a traditional attitude with a healthy respect for her sport, as she wipes her feet on the apron before entering the ring.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 160 pounds... MEGUMI "BUTTERFLY" HAMADA!
Butterfly walks to the center of the ring and strikes a taunting pose as she flexes her biceps. Japanese-style streamers in blue and white drape over her as they are thrown in from the crowd.
Truth Waters: Hamada is in the ring and she looks fired up for this one!
George Cassidy: Well, she’ll soon be fired... down!
“Hallelujah” begins to play all around the arena, and the choir’s vocals eeriness is only surpassed by Liam Martin’s entrance from behind the curtain. With a huge smile on his face, the twenty-five-year old strolls confidently down the ramp way, blowing kisses sardonically to Hamada, who is disgusted by his behaviour.
James Brunt: And her opponent, from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 301 pounds… LIAM MARTIN!
The crowd responds with resounding boos for Martin, who ignores their criticism, obviously believing himself to be God’s gift to wrestling. Dressed in simple ring attire, Martin enters the ring and his music fades out. The crowd instantly come to life, getting behind Butterfly Hamada. The bell rings to start the first match back after the AWC’s winter break.
Truth Waters: One thing we’ve neglected to point out is that Martin is almost double Hamada’s weight and a good bit taller than her. This could be construed as a mismatch, couldn’t it?
George Cassidy: Oh, I fully expect it to be. Where’s my popcorn? I’m starving here!
Truth Waters: Your popcorn? Where’s mine?
George Cassidy: I sent my manservant to fetch it.
Truth Waters: Seriously?
George Cassidy: Geez, can’t you take a joke, numbnuts?
Martin and Hamada tie up in the middle of the ring, a tame start to the match. Hamada is backed into the corner as a result of Martin’s tremendous strength, and a wild swing from Martin almost connects with Hamada’s head. Luckily for her, she has the agility to duck and roll out of harm’s way. Hamada runs straight into Martin’s midriff with an elbow drive, winding the 6’ 6’’ monster. Martin responds with a hammering blow to Hamada’s spine, however, and stomps her down to the mat.
Truth Waters: This Liam Martin lacks any class at all. Remember the days when women were respected and never beaten?
George Cassidy: No, I always beat my wife. I mean, I didn’t do anything of the sort. Yes, it’s wrong!
Truth Waters: Whoa, you beat your wife? And here comes Hamada with a super kick to Martin’s nose!!!
Hamada bounces back to her feet and looks to take advantage of her wise decision to use her super kick. Hamada takes Martin down with a back mounted side roll cradle and goes for the first pin cover of the match-up thus far.
ONE!
TWO!
Martin easily powers out, hoofing Hamada over to the far side of the ring with his kick-out. Martin regains his balance and stands up, weighing up his options. Martin begins chatting with the referee, trying to indicate that Hamada has something in her boot which could serve as an unfair advantage to her. He asks the referee to check it out. Richie Travis asks Hamada if she has anything in her boot, and she vehemently denies it. Suddenly, Martin charges at Hamada with a clothesline and sends her flying over the top rope and into a heap on the outside. Martin wipes his hands and chuckles at his good work as the fans boo him furiously.
George Cassidy: What is wrong with these fans? Can’t they appreciate good tactics from a professional wrestler anymore? Do what it takes to win!
Truth Waters: These fans appreciate honest and fair matches, I think. So, tell me about you beating your wife.
George Cassidy: This is neither the time nor the place…
Truth Waters: I beg to differ! I’ll find out… someday… somehow…
Martin perhaps labours with his cockiness a little bit, and Hamada resurfaces quickly. Hamada explodes at Martin with a hurricanrana from the top rope, taking the monster down. Hamada urges the fans to get behind her, and they do so with aplomb. Hamada helps Martin up, only to DDT him back to the canvas with a thud. Hamada makes the pin cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Martin’s shoulder shoots up from the mat, possibly in desperation. Martin cradles his head after the hurricanrana and DDT, which have clearly done considerable damage. Hamada charges at Martin as he wearily gets back to his feet, but Martin surprises Hamada with his Biblical Bomb right in the middle of the ring. The cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Still no joy for Martin, as Hamada kicks out to the relief of the fans in attendance. Hamada lies on her back in the middle of the ring, winded from the impact. Martin drags her to her feet and head butts her back down to the mat.
George Cassidy: It’s a masterful performance here from Liam Martin. He was down and he got right back up again. There’s no stopping him.
Truth Waters: Butterfly Hamada needs to utilise her high-flying abilities if she wants to win this one.
George Cassidy: She can utilise me whenever she wants…
Truth Waters: I’m not even gonna comment.
Martin looks to finish Hamada off, bouncing off the ropes and going for a clothesline. Hamada ducks, however, and grabbing Martin by the arm, bounces off the second rope and nails him with a springboard DDT! The fans erupt and applaud Hamada’s quick thinking. Just as Hamada is about to go to the top rope for her finishing move, Arco Celestial, Tim Martin rushes down to ringside. Hamada is prepared to fend him off, and despite the referee’s protests, Tim Martin remains standing at ringside, looking like he has no intention of interfering.
Truth Waters: There’s a distinct glimmer in Tim Martin’s eyes right now that does not bode well for Hamada.
George Cassidy: Oh, you mean you have a feeling he’s going to interfere? Honestly, what kind of sick person are you?
Richie Travis concentrates on Tim Martin, who seems to slide something into the ring just as Travis turns to him. It seems to have escaped Travis’ view. Liam Martin, still groggy, picks up the weapon, which appears to be brass knucks, and punches Hamada’s lights out to a chorus of boos and jeers from the fans. Tim Martin chuckles, knowing his job is done. Liam Martin rolls Hamada into a pin cover, copping a feel of her frilly underpants in the process.
ONE!
Truth Waters: Come on! Not this way!
George Cassidy: This way? What way? I saw no infringements…
TWO!
Truth Waters: Then you’re either blind or have selective sight.
THREE!
The bell rings, and the match is awarded to Liam Martin. Tim Martine enters the ring to congratulate his brother and tag team partner. Without hesitation, the Martin’s begin stomping away on Hamada. Hamada is helpless in the middle of the ring and the bell rings multiple times to break it up. Travis is shoved aside by Tim Martin and Liam Martin kicks Hamada in the gut.
Truth Waters: No! This is going too far.
Martin executes his finishing move, To The Gates, forcing Hamada’s face to land right on his patella. The young woman can barely breathe after the impact. EMTs immediately rush down to the ring as the Martin’s make their exit.
George Cassidy: Classic move there to cap a great match!
Truth Waters: Let me tell you, there wasn’t anything classic about that. These Martins need to learn their lesson. And it’ll happen sooner rather than later.
Conspiracy Theory I
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, PIERCE LAVELLE, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE
Pearl is sat peacefully at his desk, reading a recent article written for the AWC home page, his eyes widen with the words of the story. His posture becomes slouched as he sighs and places the article onto his wooden desk, his arms bent as he leans over for his phone. The door bursts open and Pierce Lavelle comes into view, dressed in casual clothing - jeans and a shirt. His hair growing back, a cropped hairstyle.
Pierce Lavelle: Pearl? What in the hell is going on?
Pierce demands as he throws an article onto Pearl's table. Pearl stares toward Pierce, ignoring the flying news article.
Pearl: I have no idea.
Pierce Lavelle: Oh, really?
Pierce replies sarcastically and paces from side to side, his hands behind his head.
Pearl: I really don't know who wrote this, but we'll figure things out.
Pierce Lavelle: None of that's true Pearl, you know that, god damn it, the whole LAPD station knows that. Who wrote the article?
Pearl: I wish I knew...
Pearl sighs and gazes toward the distressed champion.
Pierce Lavelle: Adam Dick...
Pierce mutters and places his title onto Pearl's desk.
Pearl: What?
Pierce Lavelle: It was Adam Dick.
Pierce says again with a reinforcing tone.
Pearl: Might be possible.
Pearl nods his head and stares toward the door. The new Entertainment Co-Manager is standing in the doorway, her arms folded. Her eyes shoot a glare toward Pierce Lavelle.
Sasha Volkyeva: Glad to see you have your priorities in check, Pearl.
Pearl: Excuse me!
Pearl stands up, his chair bouncing off the opposite wall.
Sasha Volkyeva: Joining forces with a frequent drug user. I expected better.
Pierce turned sharply, almost knocking his colleague over.
Pierce Lavelle: I'm not taking drugs, you ignorant c-
Pearl: Pierce! I'll handle this.
Sasha Volkyeva: Yes! (Sasha comments as she moves away from Pierce, slightly) Drugs must be wearing off by now!
Sasha smirks behind a large lump of red lipstick.
Pearl: That's enough!
Pearl yells, breaking the glare between Pierce and Sasha.
Sasha Volkyeva: I want a blood test from you...
She shoots a glare toward Pierce and smirks.
Pierce Lavelle: Fine by me.
Pearl: Hold on one moment. Pierce has done eight blood tests and has come clean in each one. I won't subject him to another, you can't believe everything you read. You should know that...
Sasha Volkyeva: Quiet. I believe the article to be true; it came from a very credible witness...
Pierce Lavelle: Adam D-
Sasha Volkyeva: That's enough, Lavelle... You'd want to watch yourself... Don't want to lose your job.
Sasha hands Pierce a letter, she smirks once more toward Pearl and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
Pearl: We'll sort this out.
Pierce Lavelle: ...He's done it again... all because of that title.
Pearl: You'd best take that test, it'll keep Sasha quiet. We might be able to get some progress on the bigger issue.
Pierce Lavelle: Sure...
Pierce's head dips as he stares toward Pearl and leaves the room.
Piano-Sized Babies
FEATURING: BUTTERFLY HAMADA, THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND TASO
Backstage, Butterfly Hamada is walking after her match, sweaty and tired. As she turns a corner briskly, from the background a familiar voice is heard…
Tim Martin: WOMAN! STOP! THE LORD COMMANDS YOU!
Butterfly rolls her eyes and turns around to see Tim and Liam Martin running towards her. Liam has a thick book in his hand, following closely behind Tim.
Butterfly Hamada: Must I suffer nothing but fools here?
The Martins reach Hamada, and stand up close to her. At a combined 600 lbs. and over 6'3" tall each the two men dwarf the young female wrestler. Still, Hamada keeps her confidence about her and looks way up right in Tim Martin's eyes, hands at her hips.
Butterfly Hamada: What could you possibly want?
Tim Martin: Look, woman…
Butterfly Hamada: My name…
Tim Martin: Whatever. We’ve come to give you something…
Butterfly Hamada: What, trying to add insult to injury?
Tim Martin: I don’t think we could add much more to that loss… you’ve become the poster-bitch for "Why women shouldn’t wrestle."
Butterfly Hamada: Tell me what you want or I am calling security.
Liam Martin: No… you’re not. Last time I checked, we have immunity! So, God help you, you’re gonna sit here and listen!
Butterfly Hamada: …
Tim Martin: Good. Now that you’ve FINALLY shut up, we’d just like to say that you were, to say the least, pathetic. At first, we thought it was because you were a woman. We figured that since you were out of your element of the kitchen or in Nun-school that that’s why you acted like you did.
Liam Martin: Pathetic, really.
Tim Martin: So, we’ve decided we’d try and help to get you get to heaven when you die soon…
Butterfly Hamada: Soon? How do you know…
Liam Martin: All it takes is one night, all alone in the streets, you’re flaunting your forbidden sexuality…
Butterfly Hamada: WHAT?!
Liam Martin: SHUT UP, FEMALE! You’re acting like a whore, and some dude rapes your ass and then kills you. Bam. Done. And where will you be going?
Tim Martin: You’ll be in Hell, continually splitting open your uterus with Piano-sized babies.
Butterfly Hamada: EXCUSE ME?! My English is not that good.
Tim Martin: Haven’t you ever read The Woman’s Bible?
Butterfly Hamada: I don’t think such a thing exists. I am a Buddhist...
Tim Martin: Ya, ya, no one cares. The Woman's Bible, it exists.
Liam hands Tim the book, and Tim holds it up in front of him, revealing the title of the book: "The Eagle Nest’s Woman’s Bible, Version V". Butterfly looks at it with disgust.
Butterfly Hamada: This is a part of your religion? This is silliness. This is foolishness. You are as crazy as Chainz and Jack Murphy.
Tim Martin: But we are not. This bible has some beautiful passages, guidelines for any prostitute like yourself who is trying to find the light. Take this one for example…Liam?
Liam Martin: AND GOD CLEANED THE FILTH OF THE WORLD! HE SMOTE THE HOOKERS, BLUDGEONED THE SLUTS, AND LEFT THE REST OF THE DIRTY WOMEN TO BE RAPED! AND WHILE THOU HAST…
Butterfly Hamada: Listen to me. If you ever call me a whore or a prostitute again, I am going to break your face. I think my English is very clear on this. And I don't think the bible says anything anywhere close to the babbling –
Tim Martin: DO NOT QUESTION THE WHITE LORD’S WORD! Now, will you accept this guidance, or would you rather Hell?
Butterfly has finally had enough. She endured the closedmindedness of Jack Murphy. She even took a violent beating from Chainz. But the insanity had finally turned a corner in her eyes. No longer was she dealing with competitors and opponents. She was dealing with madmen. Butterfly swiftly kicks Tim right in the nuts, crippling him and sending him to the ground.
Tim Martin: (gasps) SON OF A…
Butterfly Hamada: THAT is how I am going to deal with the people around here from now on. Good day to you.
Liam Martin: (to a walking away Butterfly) THE LORD WILL REMEMBER THIS! (to Tim) Brother, how do you feel?
Tim Martin: (cringing) HOW DO YOU THINK! We will get that…that whore! We’ll think of something, Liam…something…
The scene ends with Tim in the fetal position, clutching his crotch as Liam looks off camera towards the direction of where Butterfly left.
A Southern Welcome
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, PLEASURE & PAIN
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY AND ADAM ST. OURS
"Recorded Earlier" appears in the bottom corner of a black screen as the camera pans from the Cincinnati sky down into the Cintas Center parking lot where Chuck Norton and Russ Bridges are standing in the cold.
Russ Bridges: Where is everyone?
Chuck Norton: They'll be here…
Accompanied by the magic that is television, Chuck's words are greeted by the sound of a taxi approaching the arena and then stopping. Climbing out are the newlyweds Wayne Russell and his wife Tiara Belle. The pair step round to the trunk of the taxi and they grab their bags and head towards the doors of the arena, in preparation for their debuting night.
"Everytime you try to think…
I'd slap you round the head…"
Stopping in their tracks the newlyweds are forced to turn round and see Norton & Bridges signing their own cover version of Britney spears' “Everytime”. Taking a step closer, Tiara is quick to realize that the song has been changed.
"And everytime you cook…
I realise your only good in bed…
You should feel small… You're a woman…
Of course you'll need me baby…"
Ending in a three strum flourish Chuck Norton and Hash Brown possess huge delighted grins, which totally contrast the angry reactions on the faces of Pleasure & Pain.
Chuck Norton: What do you think?
Chuck stepped towards the pair. The first meeting of the two new duos in AWC.
Tiara Belle Russell: That was disgusting… and vile… and sexist… and wrong… and ARGHHH!
Chuck Norton: No, no… I wasn't talking to you… I was talking to AWC's new signing… Wayne Russell…
Tiara Belle Russell: And his wife… The other NEW signing…
Chuck Norton: What? Are you his manager? Dude… Never bring the wife to work… then you won't get a chance with Aimz…
Tiara Belle Russell coughs.
Chuck Norton: What?
With a look of pure disdain, Tiara Belle Russell spins on her heel and storms into the arena.
Tiara Belle Russell: COME ON WAYNE!
Wayne follows closely behind.
Norton & Bridges: BYE WAYNE!
Chuck Norton: This Alliance division is going to be a piece of piss if we only have that married couple to worry about…
Oh The Indignity
FEATURING: CAPTAIN SULEIMON, SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHOR: TOM HOLZERMAN
The scene shifts backstage at the Cintas Center, where Captain Suleimon is standing by with Sarah Kennedy.
Sarah Kennedy: Alright guys, I’m standing by with Captain Suleimon, who made quite the scene the last time we saw him at the AWC Christmas Party. Suleimon, you were quite upset with a comment that Red Rock made at the party, which was the reason for your attack on him. What was that comment?
Captain Suleimon: Tell me something, when you went to whatever clown college that passes for a University over here, did they ever offer a course on ethics? Or did they just teach you to dig for the story, no matter who you hurt or whose trust you’d betray in the process?
Sarah Kennedy: What? I asked you a simple question. I honestly think that the words that sparked a full-on brawl at a company function should be known to our viewing audience.
Captain Suleimon: Even if those words were hurtful and distasteful and outright disrespectful to me, so much so that if I even repeated them that I would be dishonoring not only myself, but my family, my people and Allah Himself? No, the disrespect I heard reaches further than any accusation of being a terrorist could. I... I get a knot in the pit of my stomach just thinking about those words.
Sarah Kennedy: Don’t you think that you’re overreacting just a little bit? When Red Rock had his interview earlier, he said he didn’t even remember what he said.
Captain Suleimon: That is because Red Rock is an abomination before the human race, and just another Anglo-American supremacist who thinks that just because his people sold out my people in World War I and pillaged my Empire that he can just do and say what he pleases. Well, I shan’t give him the dignity of hearing the evidence against him again, and mark my words, he shall rue the day he ever dreamt of instigating with Captain Suleimon!
Sarah Kennedy: Alright Truth, I tried. Back to you.
Rocky II
FEATURING: ELLIS NASH, MADDY ESTELLE, THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: LIA, JOE SCHMIDT AND MIKE WADE
Ellis Nash: Hey, Maddy!
An unusually chipper Ellis Nash beams like a hooker on First. Maddy Estelle covertly stops stuffing her bra with napkins and turns from the concessions table, plastering a smile.
Maddy Estelle: Hey, babe!
Ellis Nash: Want to know something?
Maddy Estelle: Sure! Well, wait. I don't know.
Ellis Nash: I'm in the main event!
Ellis giddily claps her hands, lip corners stretching even further. Maddy Estelle blinks, tilting her head.
Maddy Estelle: You are?
Ellis Nash: Yeah! You know, the four way? With Aimz?
Maddy Estelle: Aimz? No, no, Ellis. That match was pushed back.
Ellis Nash is suddenly not so giddy. In fact, she is so not giddy that her eyes almost narrow to the size of a pin tip.
Ellis Nash: What? What are you talking about?
Maddy Estelle: Yeah, Pearl put Lavelle and Di-
It is at this time that Mike Wade and Adam Dick decide to prance down the hallway.
Mike Wade: Strike that chicken with your Zelda sword! But be weary; for the Chicken Gods may strick you with a tornado of chickens, hell bent on your demise. The demise of the chicken killing beast that has killed their fellow chickens.
Adam Dick: Like this?
Adam slashes at the irregularly slow chicken, causing it to cluck in pain.
Mike Wade: Yes, Adam! Brilliant slash! You’re quite the craftsman.
Adam Dick: Well, hey there little lady.
Adam has stopped his training exercise, instead using his sword as an arm rest as he leans against the wall, looking towards Ellis and Maddy.
Maddy Estelle: How's it going, Ad-
Adam Dick: Quiet, bitch! I said 'lady.'
Adam winks at Ellis, causing her to gag. The Relentless champion decides to stop the useless, one-sided flirting by picking up the frantic chicken and shoving it in Adam's face.
Mike Wade: C'MON! We've got Transatlantic titles to win, Face. Talking to bitches and ladies ain’t gonna bring home the gold. If we’re doing this we gotta do it right!
Adam Dick: Hold on, I'm talking to a chick that totally digs me.
Ellis is irate.
Ellis Nash: Who DIGS you?
Adam Dick: Erm... you obviously do. It’s so obvious.
Ellis Nash: Hello? You're hitting a chicken. With... a sword. Loser.
Adam Dick: WHATEV, it's called TRAINING for a MAIN EVENT TRANSATLANTIC TITLE SHOT. You wouldn't understand; you've never experienced the Tri-Forcey goodness that is ZELDA!
Adam holds the sword up, while his Relentless partner rolls his eyes.
Mike Wade: Can we PLEASE go? This is obviously going nowhere. We still have to move onto the Zelda: Ocarina of Time training challenge.
Adam glares at him, lowers his sword and turns back to Ellis.
Ellis Nash: Main ev-
She whirls around to a boob-checking Maddy Estelle. Maddy, oblivious to the sudden attention, rubs her areolas, securing the napkins in place. Ellis rolls her eyes.
Ellis Nash: MADDY!
Maddy's head snaps up.
Maddy Estelle: HUH WHAAA!?!!!
Ellis Nash: THIS is the FOOL who took MY main event away from ME?
As if it is his fault, Ellis turns around and glares at Adam. He shrugs and smiles to himself.
Adam Dick: The people get what they want. Maybe I could show you a few moves to up your game; make sure this type a shit doesn't happen again.
Ellis Nash: I'll happily pass. Thanks for the offer, though, and here's to Pierce having your ass tonight. I don't think a chicken is going to help.
Wade takes her comments slightly to heart.
Mike Wade: I'll have you know, he's chasing the chicken to raise his endurance! You wouldn't know the meaning of that word, would you? Or else you'd be Relentless champion. Hey didn’t I beat you already?
Mike smiles to Adam, who smiles back to Mike, until he sees that Ellis isn't pleased. Then Adam turns his face to a furrowed brow.
Adam Dick: Not cool, dude.
Mike Wade: Shut up Face.
Ellis Nash: Okay, whatever. I have a pre-main event match to go stretch for. Have fun, boys and chicken. And Maddy, take out a napkin or two. Your tits look like they're about to fall off.
Indignant, Ellis shoves her way past The Unfuckables, muttering to herself.
Adam watches her ass shake with each step Ellis takes, almost as if she enjoyed teasing him. Mike just stares at Maddy Estelle's breasts, until she catches him red-handed.
Mike Wade: Care to go out sometime... again?
Maddy Estelle: Uck, drop dead.
As she begins to walk in the opposite direction, Mike calls out to her.
Mike Wade: You're a whore, skank! Come on, Adam, let's hit this chicken! STRIKE IT WITH YOUR SWORD!
Mike drops the chicken, and Adam slashes it another two times. The chicken begins to cluck wildly, as if making a war cry.
COCK A DOODLE FUCKING DOOOOOOO.
Yes, we know it's a chicken and not a rooster, but you fucking suck and it shouldn't matter.
All of a sudden, Adam and Mike are being dive-bombed by chickens swarming them, attacking them.
Adam tries to slash his swords at the chicken, but it is no use.
Adam Dick: Bail bail bail!
Mike Wade: I fucking HATE chickens! We should’ve gotten penguins.
Hard Bargain
FEATURING: HATE, LUIS FERRARA
AUTHORS: JAAKKO OKSA AND OBINNA ONWUKA
We open up backstage in a locker room, devoid of any other furniture beyond a single wooden bench set against a bare concrete wall. “The Fifth Horseman" Hate is seen sitting on the bench, his gas mask lying idle next to him, his face buried deep within his hands. His facepaint seems to be haphazardly put on, flaking off here and there even before tonight's match. He is obviously deep in his thoughts, not bothered by the world around him.
Until there's a knock on the door.
Not even lifting his gaze up, Hate takes his hands away from his face and crosses them on his lap.
Hate: Begone, filth!
The knocking repeats itself, and Hate spits on the floor, grimacing at every bang from the door.
Hate: I said BEGONE, maggot, whoever you are.
The sound of the door opening can be heard, and soon an Venezuelan man walks into the picture. Dressed in a nice suit with no excessive flash, the man rubs his chin as he surveys the room. Hate won't raise his head to meet the impromptu visitor, staring at the floor between his legs instead.
Luis Ferrara: Eh, mang, chill out. Chill for a secon', y'understand? Just wanna talk a little bit, huh? Mind if I sit down? Walkin' around all the time…
Hate: Get out. Just... Get out, now. I will not be responsible for what will happen otherwise.
Luis Ferrara: Whoa, whoa, easy, holmes! I just wanna talk a little bit a'… business. Name's Luis Ferrara, at your service. I have an offer for you, Mistuh... Hate?
Hate still doesn't show any interest, but Ferrara takes the silence as a positive sign and continues.
Luis Ferrara: I manage your opponent for tonight — the Lion — and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about the match, huh?
Hate: I have told you two times to get out. Do not make me raise my hand against you. I am... not in the mood.
Ferrara stifles a little laughter and coughs a few times to clear his throat. He then steps forwards and cautiously puts his hand onto Hate's shoulder, sitting down on the bench next to him.
Luis Ferrara: Just, uhh… just gimme a chance to speak, holmes. The Lion has an opportunity to make a big impact. He's facing you, an AWC original, in his first match, and if he wins this match, he's gonna be big stuff, y'understand. If he loses… well, his reputation ain't golden, y'understand.
Hate slowly shakes his head, but stays silent, opting Ferrara to continue.
Luis Ferrara: I can see you don't want to beat around the bush, so I'll tell ya how it is: I want the Lion to win tonight, so you're gonna have to throw the match. Understand? You get a hundred dollars if you let 'im take it tonight. You can fight him as much as you want, just let him get that W and let him look good doing it.
Slowly, Ferrara pulls a wad of bills from his suit pocket and offers them to Hate, who again goes completely unmoving, like a statue. Ferrara raises a questioning eyebrow and then fishes around his pockets, adding another wad of bills.
Luis Ferrara: Okay, holmes, I can see you drive a hard bargain. Two-hunned 'n fitty. More than what you'd earn out of the match from AWC.
Ferrara pauses, extending the bills towards Hate.
Luis Ferrara: Take it, mang. People ain't gonna care if you lose one or two matches, and think about what it would do for the future of the company. Company gets more rep, more money flows in, more money for you, eh? Win win situation, mang.
Again, Hate says nothing. Ferrara's face takes on an expression of puzzlement, but then he smiles and puts his hand in his pockets again.
Luis Ferrara: Ah, going for the big bucks, are you, holmes? It's a good quality, man, good stuff. Tell ya what: here's three-hundred and twenty-five dollars for you, if you let the Lio-
Suddenly, Hate's hand shoots out, faster than what Ferrara can react, and the manager soon finds Hate's vice grip around his throat. Ferrara's eyes open wide in fear as he tries to claw out of Hate's choke, to no avail. Hate slowly stands up, still choking Ferrara, and then lifts him into the air with one hand, holding him at an arm's length. Now, Hate lifts his head up, and the camera catches a glimpse of his eyes: they are bloodshot, burning with the fires of madness and uncontrollable rage.
Hate: I told you to get out, didn't I? I told you to get away. But you wouldn't listen. You Latino bastards, untrustworthy and money-hungry. You want me to lay down for your black boy? Well, here is my answer...
Ferrara tries to plead, but all he can do is spit and cough at the end of Hate's grip. Slowly, Hate lowers Ferrara, but as soon as his feet touch the floor Hate swings his left arm, connecting with a punch to Luis Ferrara's midsection. The smaller man slumps down onto his knees, gasping for breath. Hate quickly raises his arms up and lays a double axhandle to the back of Ferrara, laying him out on the floor. Hate then presses his combat boot against the head of the beaten man, squeezing it against the concrete floor until Ferrara begins to claw away at Hate's foot to get it off.
Hate: You should have gotten out when I gave you the chance.
Hate shakes his head and spits on the form of Luis Ferrara before grabbing his gas mask from the bench and exiting the locker room, leaving the beaten man on the floor with the wind knocked out of his lungs and some fresh bruises all over his body.
Suleimon/Mapleleaf vs Pleasure & Pain
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Truth Waters: Enough of this nonsense, lets just get back to the ring shall we.
George Cassidy: What for, nothing exciting is coming up.
Truth Waters: What are you talking about, we have a huge duo match coming up with a team making their debut in AWC that being the married couple of Pleasure and Pain.
George Cassidy: Pleasure and Pain, hmm, sounds like my marriage if you take out the pleasure part.
Truth Waters: You still harping about that?
George Cassidy: Eh, why shouldn’t I? It’s my God given right as a man to tell the whole world that my ex-wife is a bitch.
Truth Waters: Feel better?
George Cassidy: Know what, I do. Alright lets get this joke of a match underway, what’s keeping those four.
As Cassidy is venting the Canadian National Anthem “Oh, Canada” blares out of the sound system as the American crowd goes into a frenzy of boos and jeers. Patrick Mapleleaf steps out from the back to a fresh batch of boos emanating from the very rafters of the Cintas Center.
Truth Waters: Would you listen to that response for Patrick Mapleleaf. Guess it’s clear what these fans in Cincinnati think of him.
George Cassidy: I highly doubt he gives a damn what these people think of him.
Truth Waters: You’re probably right.
George Cassidy: I’m always right, remember that.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Toronto, Canada, weighing in at 254 pounds… PATRICK MAPLELEAF!
Another chorus of boos sounds from the mention of the name. Patrick Mapleleaf doesn’t seem to mind as he walks down towards the ring with a cocky smile on his face. He slides into the ring and awaits his partner.
James Brunt: And his partner.
“The Turkish March” by Mozart blares as the crowd boos again as Captain Suleimon steps out from the back with a similar response that his partner received only a minute ago.
Truth Waters: Well aren’t they the popular couple.
James Brunt: From Istanbul, Turkey, weighing in at 198 pounds… CAPTAIN SULEIMON!
More boos cascade down towards Suleimon, but like his partner he shrugs them off and heads for the ring. He slides in and exchanges a few words with Patrick Mapleleaf as the crowd finally begins to settle down.
Truth Waters: Did you hear the boos that these two received, I thought those boos were only for people like Adam Dick, Chainz, and Jack Murphy.
George Cassidy: Yeah the crowd boos those three fiercely and yet they seem to be three of the biggest names in our business, hmm, guess getting the fans respect and adoration isn’t as important as some think.
“We going to be alright” by 112 plays as the crowd looks to the entrance to get a first look at the new duo of Pleasure and Pain. Wayne Russell and his wife Tiara Belle both step out of the back holding hands. The crowd doesn’t know whether to cheer or to boo so they amuse themselves with a wave.
James Brunt: And their opponents, from Newton, Massachusetts, at a combined weight of 451 pounds… Tiara Belle and Wayne Russell, PLEASURE AND PAIN!
A few cheers here and there sound as the couple makes it’s way towards the ring, hand in hand.
George Cassidy: Would you listen to that ovation, I think my ear drums are about to burst.
Truth Waters: Your sarcasm and wit are about as dry as your wife’s vagina.
George Cassidy: Ain’t that the truth.
Pleasure and Pain slide into the ring and stare off on Patrick Mapleleaf and Captain Suleimon. Selena Sumner steps into the middle of the ring and ushers for one member from each team to step on the ring apron. Tiara Belle gives her husband some encouraging words and steps out of the ring as Patrick Mapleleaf steps out leaving Wayne Russell and Captain Suleimon in the middle of the ring.
Truth Waters: It looks like Wayne Russell will start it off for his team and will lock up with Captain Suleimon. The size advantage definitely to Wayne Russell right now, but won’t be if his wife enters the match.
George Cassidy: Just another reason that women shouldn’t be allowed in the ring unless they’re about to flash us.
Truth Waters: That would indeed be nice.
Wayne Russell and Captain Suleimon square off and lock up which goes in the favor the Russell who slams the much smaller Suleimon into the mat. Russell poses and applauds himself for his achievement. Captain Suleimon stands up with a frown on his face. He charges at Russell who swings his arm out for a clothesline, but misses. Suleimon jumps and kicks Russell in the face bringing him down to the ground.
Truth Waters: Great kick by Captain Suleimon there bringing the bigger man to the ground.
George Cassidy: Size doesn’t matter.
Truth Waters: Is that the underlying issue of your divorce?
George Cassidy: Wow, you’re hilarious aren’t you.
Truth Waters: I do find myself quite the comedian every now and then.
Captain Suleimon drops a knee on Wayne Russell’s arm trying to work on it. Captain Suleimon backs up and tries another leg drop, but Wayne Russell rolls out of the way leaving only the mat. Russell stands up and drops Suleimon with a clothesline as he rises. Russell picks Suleimon up and scoop slams him to the ground, tagging in his wife Tiara Belle immediately afterwards. Tiara climbs the top rope and comes crashing down on Suleimon with a splash. She goes for a cover as Selena Sumner drops in for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Suleimon kicks up after a two count. Tiara picks him up and begins hammering away with closed fist punches. Suleimon blokes one and quickly tags in his partner Patrick Mapleleaf.
Truth Waters: Well there’s the drastic change in size advantage I was talking about.
George Cassidy: Good, that wench needs to be put in her place. Does she think she’s an actual wrestler just because she can jump off the top rope and throw a punch.
Truth Waters: She is a wrestler George, she’s gone through years of trainer to get to this point.
George Cassidy: I still say a woman’s place is either in the kitchen or in the bedroom.
Truth Waters: You’re starting to sound like Chainz.
George Cassidy: Eww, don’t put me in the same bag as that freak.
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy?
George Cassidy: Now there’s a man I respect and can relate to.
Patrick Mapleleaf charges Tiara Belle who slides down and takes the leg out of Mapleleaf who comes tumbling down. He gets back up without any problems and charges again, this time slamming a shoulder into Tiara Belle who goes flying across the ring and lands in the turnbuckle. Patrick Mapleleaf charges and raises a knee that goes square in Tiara’s face.
Truth Waters: Oww, what a shot.
George Cassidy: Guess she won’t be pretty much longer.
Truth Waters: Gotta agree with you, she clearly can’t take many more of those.
Patrick grabs the woman by the hair and throws her across the ring. She gets back up and is met with a huge clothesline that rocks her head backwards. Patrick Mapleleaf smiles and quickly tags Captain Suleimon back into the match. Suleimon goes to the top rope and comes down with a drop kick from the top rope, knocking Tiara down and out. He quickly goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Wayne Russell comes back in and breaks up the pin with a vicious stomp to the back of the head. He picks Suleimon up and places his head between his legs and finishes a mighty powerbomb that shakes the ring. Selena Sumner somehow ushers Russell back over to his corner who now waits for his wife to come to. After what seems like ages both Tiara Belle and Captain Suleimon begin to stir and make their way over to their respected corners.
Truth Waters: Both members trying to reach their corner and you have to assume the first to tag their partner in will have a great advantage.
George Cassidy: You know, you really have a knack for stating the obvious.
Truth Waters: That’s what I do Cassidy.
Captain Suleimon is the first to tag his partner in and Patrick Mapleleaf charges the ring trying to keep Tiara Belle from tagging her husband. He grabs her but is rewarded with a mouthful of foot as Tiara Belle kicks him off her and dives for the tag. She barely gets it, but she does and Wayne Russell enters the ring to a modest pop from the crowd. Patrick Mapleleaf goes for a clothesline, but it has no effect on the bigger man who picks Mapleleaf up and slams him. Patrick Mapleleaf is back to his feet quickly, but is planted with a spine buster. Wayne Russell picks Mapleleaf up and nails a vertical suplex, rolls over and nails another one in succession.
Truth Waters: Beautiful pair of suplexes there from Wayne Russell of Pleasure and Pain.
George Cassidy: It’s just a pair of suplexes, nothing special.
Wayne Russell picks Patrick Mapleleaf up off the ground, but is jabbed in the eye. Mapleleaf bounds off the ropes and jumps at Russell who catches him midair and drops him over his knee.
Truth Waters: What a stiff backbreaker from Wayne Russell. Mapleleaf’s gonna be feeling that one tomorrow.
George Cassidy: It’s not enough though, you have to do much more if you plan on putting away a superstar the caliber of Patrick Mapleleaf.
Truth Waters: The momentum has definitely switched over to the side of Pleasure and Pain ever since Tiara Belle got the tag to her husband.
Wayne Russell goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: No, Captain Suleimon came in and made the save. Now he’s attacking Wayne Russell, come on Selena get him out of the ring.
George Cassidy: You still think women belong in the ring?
Selena Sumner tries her best to get Captain Suleimon to return to his spot, but he doesn’t heed her warnings. Instead Suleimon and Mapleleaf double team Wayne Russell and deliver a double DDT. Tiara Belle comes into the ring and attacks Suleimon from behind throwing him to the outside. She jumps on the ropes and leaps to the outside crashing down on Captain Suleimon. The two slowly get up, but Captain Suleimon gains the advantage with a super kick that floors Tiara Belle. Meanwhile in the ring Wayne Russell has recovered and is throwing punches at a furious pace at Patrick Mapleleaf who is doing his best to shield his face. Captain Suleimon jumps up on the apron and goes to attack Russell.
Truth Waters: Suleimon now trying to go after Russell, but he’s not allowing the Captain in the ring.
George Cassidy: Hey what the hell?
Truth Waters: Oh my god that’s Red Rock, what’s he doing?
George Cassidy: That fool should stay in the back and not interfere with the matter.
Truth Waters: He and Captain Suleimon have had some problems in the past.
Red Rock runs out from the back and grabs Suleimon’s leg and keeps him from entering the ring. Suleimon jumps down and goes after Red Rock who backs up. Suleimon starts yelling at Red Rock and doesn’t notice Tiara Belle getting up and charging at him. The two collide and go rolling around the ground as Red Rock heads to the back with a grin on his face. Wayne Russell looks as his wife attacks Captain Suleimon, taking his eye off Patrick Mapleleaf. Mapleleaf turns Russell around and picks him up for a Samoan drive and slams him to the ground. With great speed he locks on the Full Blown Canadian. Wayne Russell struggles to the ropes as his wife and Suleimon continue fighting on the outside. After exerting all his effort, Wayne Russell has no choice but to tap out.
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, the winners, Captain Suleimon and Patrick Mapleleaf!
Truth Waters: Damn, the Full Blown Canadian claims another victim.
George Cassidy: Damn straight.
Truth Waters: A hard fought contest, but not enough experience for Pleasure and Pain.
George Cassidy: Let’s move on to a better and more interesting match shall we…
You And I... Collide? An Intro.
FEATURING: COLLISION COURSE, ALLISON
AUTHOR: BRYAN GROSNICK
We, the viewing audience, are treated to a large AWC logo.
How nice. How interesting. Never seen this before.
Stepping in front of the logo, is a Japanese man in a black t-shirt. He's a little short, but pretty good looking. Looks young, though.
Uh-oh. We know what happens with Asian people in AWC. He'll be gone in a few weeks.
Jiro Sennosuke: Hello there. My name is Jiro Sennosuke. I am –
Another young man, this time...much whiter, runs into the picture, slamming into Jiro and knocking him a step back. This young man wears a white t-shirt, and an orange trucker hat. It reads "Fun Time America." He looks young too.
Joey Six: Am I late?
Jiro simply nods, his long black hair unmoving. Still and perfect like a calm winter stream, along the banks of Mt. Fuji... where the winter blossoms –
Joey Six: FUCK!
There's an awkward silence for a moment.
...
Joey Six: Should I leave, and then come back?
Jiro shrugs.
Joey Six: Alright. Fine.
He walks out, disappearing out of the view of the camera. Jiro takes a deep breath, looks at the camera, and goes on.
Jiro Sennosuke: Greetings. I am Jiro Senn-
Joey Six leaps into view, in front of Jiro, nearly obscuring the young Asian with his skinny frame.
Joey Six: HOOO-YA! The name is Joey Six, but you can call me the Jay-6, if you dig. Me, and my buddy Jiro here –
Jiro waves weakly, from behind Joey.
Joey Six: – we are the AWC Alliance division champions.
Another awkward pause.
...
Jiro Sennosuke: (slightly muffled) No, we're not.
Joey Six is nonplussed. Or he would be, if he had any idea what that word meant.
Joey Six: FUCK THAT!
A third awkward pause, more awkward than the last.
...
Jiro Sennosuke: Maybe you should leave again?
Joey Six, defeated, just nods and heads offscreen again.
Jiro Sennosuke: Take a whole minute.
Jiro turns his attention back towards the camera.
Jiro Sennosuke: Right. I'm Jiro, and that was Joey. We're called Collision Course. We'd like to be your AWC Alliance champions. So we're going to go out every night, and give everything we've got. We're a mix of speed and tech-
Joey darts back into the frame, pulling along a very attractive young woman. She's possessed of curves in all the right places, a pert nose, and lustrous blonde hair.
Joey Six: I forgot, Jiro... have you met Allison yet?
Jiro barely resists the urge to slap himself in the forehead. I do mean barely.
Jiro Sennosuke: No, I –
Joey Six: Babe, say hi to Jiro.
Allison just smiles at Jiro, a pleasant warm smile. She's got nice teeth.
Allison: Hiya, Jiro. Joey speaks very highly of you.
Jiro bows to Allison, as is his custom.
Joey Six: Check her out, man. She's classy AND I think she likes me.
Jiro Sennosuke: (under his breath) That makes one of us...
Joey wraps his arms around Allison from behind, and she grins.
Allison: So, you guys are pretty good wrestlers, right?
Joey does a take offstage, and Jiro's brow furrows. Joey speaks with perfect clarity and bravado, Jiro on the other hand, is sarcastic.
Jiro and Joey: Oh yeah. The best.
Allison takes a moment and looks confused.
Allison: You guys booked tonight?
Both young men shake their heads.
Allison: Hungry?
Both nod.
Joey Six: Let's hit catering! Free food is the BOMB!
Joey runs off, dragging Allison behind him. Jiro takes one plaintive look at the camera.
Jiro Sennosuke: We're Collision Course. And now you know why.
Just Visiting?
FEATURING: "THE VIOLENCE" VINCE JONES, JASMINE
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera fades in and we catch sight of Truth Waters and George Cassidy sitting at the announcer's table.
Truth Waters: Well, what do we have coming up next on the show, Cassidy?
George Cassidy: Hmph! Aren't you supposed to be on top of those kinds of...
All of a sudden the lights in the arena dim and the audience members begin looking around in confusion as well as Truth Waters and George Cassidy.
Truth Waters: Hold up! What's going on here? What's up with the lights?
George Cassidy: Don't ask me! How should I know? For all I know they forget to pay the electric bill around here or something.
A small mist or fog begins to rise up from the entranceway and down the rampway leading to the ring. Next, a loud, booming, demon- like voice bellows out the message…
PREPARE TO ENTER MY HELL, MY REALM, AND MY GAME...
…as the words flash up on the screen in pulsing red letters. All goes silent.
Truth Waters: I don't know about you, Cassidy but there seems to be something eerily familiar about those words. Its like I've heard them somewhere before.
George Cassidy: I hate to say it, but you've got a point. I've heard those words somewhere too.
Wrestling fans around the arena begin to rise to their feet in anticipation of what is about to go down. The most hardcore wrestling fans around the arena begin to become even more antsy at the familiar message that lingers on the screen as well as the familiar voice in the air. The message quickly fades away and the voice bellows out the message.
...ENTER THE VIOLENCE!!!!
The words appear on the screen embossed by flames.
Truth Waters: Enter the violence? Oh no. It couldn't be.
George Cassidy: Huh? What are you talking about?
The most hardcore of wrestling fans recognize these words and become even more amped while others around the arena continue to look on with confused expressions across the faces. All of a sudden a single, loud, gunshot rings out through the arena shocking the fans in the audience. Suddenly the opening chords of 'Thug Luv' begin to play as the oh so familiar voice of 2Pac is heard throughout the arena…
“Fool, we doin' this shit from Cleveland to L.A.
,Whatever you bitches want. We bringin' it!
Thug luv, bitch! What time is it?
Yo, I don't give a fuck where you lay at, fool!
It's time to slay these Bitch-ass killas
They ain't even knowin' what type of thugs we is. Where my thugs at?
The sound of a cocking of a gun, followed by gunshot repeated throughout is heard ringing out in the arena.
“Bone thugs-n-harmony.
I know you fools been waitin' for this shit for a long time.
Well, here it is! Here it is!
What you gonna do with it?”
A loud explosion is heard as a bright flash of light appears in front of the entranceway which pierces the darkness in the arena. The entranceway curtains part and the man the wrestling world has come to know as 'The Violence' Vince Jones to the bewilderment of the crowd at hand.
Truth Waters: Oh my god! What the!? 'The Violence' Vince Jones?? But, but he's not a member of AWC! What's he doing here tonight?
George Cassidy: I agree! What's that lunatic thug doing in the building? He doesn't belong here. Where's the security when you need him? SECURITY!!!
Vince Jones slowly marches his way through the fog to the edge of the ramp way with a black baseball bat in hand followed by his lovely valet, Jasmine “The Crown Jewel of Wrestling”.
Truth Waters: Hmmm... well, I don't mind her sticking around for a little while.
George Cassidy: Bah! She can go too! SECURITY!!!
The cameras begin flashing from all corners of the arena in response at what appears to be a rather unexpected guest appearance. Vince Jones stops in his tracks looks around the arena with a rather smug look on his face and raises his trademark, black, Louisville Slugger baseball bat in the air and flashes the hand sign of his old gang from New York. As if on cue red pyro explodes behind him. A loud chorus of boos begins to ring out from the audience members that know his history.
Truth Waters: Well, it seems like some of these fans out here know him pretty well.
George Cassidy: And they're probably wishing they could forget him.
He slowly makes his way down to ringside, yelling and threatening to fight with rowdy AWC fans along the way. Jasmine follows close behind him and teases the male audience on her way to the ring. He slides into the ring, climbs the nearest turnbuckle and looks out at the crowd as if he's in a trance, drawing in energy from the hatred of the people that know him from other federations and the people in the audience that are now learning to not like him at all.
Truth Waters: Ah c'mon now! What the hell is this all about, huh? That arrogant bastard! Look at him out there! Who does he think he is? He's already trying to act like he's bigger than life around here and he doesn't even work here!
George Cassidy: Yeah! Get down from there, you good for nothing street thug! We don't want you here!
He finally comes out of the trance and steps down from the turnbuckle. The lovely Jasmine slides over towards, James Brunt, the ring announcer, smiles a sweet smile, and beckons for the mic. Vince Jones turns and just sneers at the man and James Brunt quickly hands it over not wanting any problems from the thuggish Vince Jones.
Jasmine: Thanks, babe.
She waves goodbye to the ring announcer and blows him a kiss as he quickly exits the ring. Jasmine raises the mic to her lips as the boos in the arena get even louder. She looks around the arena and begins to giggle to herself.
George Cassidy: Well, that has to be the fastest I've ever seen ole baldy move in all my time here.
Truth Waters: Yeah. That's for sure.
Jasmine signals for the music to be cut and it finally stops.
Jasmine: Well, isn't this crowd friendly tonight. Not the kind of reaction I'd expect from people like you. I mean when you all have had to deal with sour entertainment in the form of the numerous rejects that call this little federation home. You've got the likes of...
Jasmine pauses in thought.
Jasmine: ...an Adam Dick?
She turns her nose up at the name in disgust as the crowd boos
Truth Waters: Adam Dick may not be the greatest guy, but you've got to give the man his due respect for his ability in that ring.
George Cassidy: I see she's smarter than she looks.
Jasmine: What kind of name is that, huh? Who else do you people have the misfortune of watching? Paddy O'Shea?
All of a sudden the crowd begins to erupt with Paddy chants.
”PADDY! PADDY! PADDY! PADDY! PADDY! PADDY! PADDY!”
Truth Waters: Now that's a star! How dare she talk about ole Paddy like that!
Vince Jones and Jasmine look around the arena in confusion at their reaction. Vince Jones just leans against the corner turnbuckle and acts as if he is disinterested with their chants while pretending to yawn and stretch.
Jasmine shrugs her shoulders and just shakes her head in disappointment.
Jasmine: C'mon now. Are you all that ignorant? My man, V, and I have been through our share of wrestling organizations so we've seen our share of idiots, but right now you guys just come off as the most dense crowd yet.
George Cassidy: Yes, I tend to agree. These hooligans can be a bunch of idiots sometimes.
Truth Waters: Oh, hush up, Cassidy!
Jasmine rolls her eyes as she turns around and spots a fan on the front row that is screaming at her at the top of his lungs and flipping her off. She just laughs to herself at the gesture.
Jasmine: Yeah. If I were you I'd go ahead and put that lil toy away because you may be needing that later for that whale of a girlfriend I see you with right now to make up for your possible..."short comings"?
Jasmine covers her mouth as some of the people in the crowd begin laughing a bit.
Jasmine: Oh, did I just say that out loud? I'm sorry... little man. She smiles innocently and laughs out loud.
Jasmine: Yeah. I'd be embarrassed to be seen with him too sistah girl...
Jasmine turns around and looks out at the crowd once again.
Jasmine: Now where was I? Ah yes! You people out there should feel honored to know that you get to feast your eyes on a real athlete for a change, a man that needs no introductions, a man whose reputation in this business will forever proceed him. AWC I, Jasmine 'The Crown Jewel of Wrestling' am proud to present to you tonight straight from GCW...
Truth Waters: Oh God no...
She turns and points to Vince.
Jasmine: Vince Jones... a.k.a The One Man Dynasty... a.k.a... The Conqueror, The Killa, and The King... a.k.a... NYC's Most Rough, Rugged, and Raw ...a.k.a...
George Cassidy: AKA... the king of incessant, arrogant, self-promotion.
Vince Jones slides over towards Jasmine and snatches the mic out of her hand and slowly raises it to his lips. He pauses for a moment taking in the hatred of the crowd and slowly parts his lips.
Vince Jones: A-K-A... The Violence!
Vince Jones nods his head slowly and begins peering around at the capacity crowd who are angered by his presence.
Vince Jones: Ya know somethin'? You cats can yap, cry, bitch, whine, and moan all you want up in here tonight. You cats can even make all the damn noise you want in here. Blow the fuckin' roof off this joint with all yo hate on V, but keep in mind that V the one with the mic in this ring tonight, not you pack of bitch mades! Whether you cats like it or not V. Jones' voice will be heard. 'Nuff said on that shit.
George Cassidy: Will someone please cut his mic?
Truth Waters: Well, look on the bright side, Cassidy. At least that arrogant jackass and his little sidekick aren't a part of AWC. Although I wouldn't mind replacing her with you. She'd be nice company up here.
George Cassidy: Oh, you would.
Vince Jones raises his middle finger and flips off the capacity crowd and laughs to himself.
Vince Jones: Now V. Jones wanna holla at you people for a few. What a difference a few days makes in this biz. That's right. The man this damn game has loved to hate since day one is up in the buildin' lookin' to bring the reign, the pain, and the noise.
George Cassidy: Oh, he's bringing a lot of noise right now. That's for sure.
Vince raises the Louisville Slugger bat and points it out at the crowd.
Vince Jones: You people prolly wonderin' right now what a man like V. Jones is doin' here in an A-Dubb C ring right now. You people prolly thinkin'...
Vince cups his chin as he props the ball bat on his shoulder.
Vince Jones: ..."Ain't The Violence G-C-Dubb property?"
Truth Waters: Good question. What is he doing here when he's a member of GCW anyways?
George Cassidy: I don't know, Truth. Maybe if you shut up and listen he just might tell us!
'The Violence' Vince Jones shakes his head in disappointment at the thought.
Vince Jones: Well, it goes like this. G-C Dubb was holdin' back on V. Jones' paper. That shit don't sit right with V. That shit kinda pissed him off. When V. Jones is pissed off that ain't good. Cuz V. Jones don't like to be pissed off. When you piss off a man like 'The Violence' Vince fuckin' Jones you lookin' to get yo punk ass pissed on so don't piss V off! Get it!? Got it!? Good!
Truth Waters: Well, I'll be. Seems like someone's a little pissed off at the moment.
George Cassidy: Hmph! That's the way I feel every time I have to work with you! They just don't pay me enough to deal with you.
Vince Jones slowly tries to regain his composure and a cocky smirk begins to cross his face.
Vince Jones: So, The Violence comes here on a lil business trip or somethin', a lil visit and all. V. Jones comes to the arena tonight thinkin' that word of his arrival would've gotten out by now...
Vince Jones shakes his head 'no' with a rather angry scowl across his face.
Vince Jones: ... but that shit weren't the case. He thinkin' he'd show up at the front door with an A-Dubb C punk ass like Pierce Lavelle rollin' out the red carpet and all kissin' the ground V. Jones walks on hopin' he'd sign to make this damn promotion that much betta...
Truth Waters: Hey now! Is this guy crazy calling out Pierce Lavelle like that?
George Cassidy: With a name like 'The Violence' and all this speaking in third person talking like you're a god amongst men you've got to be a little bit off in the head.
Vince Jones shakes his head once again.
Vince Jones: ...but that weren't the case. V thinkin' he gonna walk through those double doors and be greeted by a lil Mikey Wade sayin' –
Vince speaks in a whiny voice.
Vince Jones: ..."Oh, Mr. Violence can I carry your bags for you?"
Vince Jones pauses, looks around at the angry crowd, and shakes his head once again.
Vince Jones: No, that shit weren't the case! V thinkin' after that he gonna stroll down the halls and run into a runt named Chainz who The Violence would snap his fingers at and be like 'Bitch get the hell on and get V. Jones somethin' to grub on!'
Vince snaps his fingers.
Vince Jones: ... and you'd see that lil bitch made go runnin' tryin' to round him up some steak and potatoes or somethin' to make V feel at home around this joint and hopin' V wouldn't be about to whup up on his punk ass.
Vince Jones shakes his head once again and begins pacing around the ring.
Vince Jones: But guess what? That weren't the damn case either! In the meantime, V'd sit back, relax, and chill while all the rest of these A Dubb C cats would gather around the man they'd wish to call this damn promotion's savior, cuz you know it, The Violence knows it, and all you people watchin' at home know it, this trash heap needs all the help it can get!
Truth Waters: Am I here when all this ass kissing he's talking about is occurring? I don't see myself here. You wouldn't see me kissing Vince Jones' ass.
George Cassidy: Oh, I could see you hop, skipping, and jumping to be the first in line.
All of a sudden AWC chants begins to ring out from all over the arena.
”AWC! AWC! AWC! AWC! AWC! AWC! AWC!”
Vince Jones stops and looks around in amusement at the chanting and begins chanting as well in a mocking tone.
Vince Jones: Yeah! That's right! A Dubb C! A Dubb C! A Dubb C! That's what the whole world been chantin' for the past few minutes after they turned on the t.v and realized that a man like V. Jones was standin' in the middle of its ring. You Ohioites can thank The Violence lata.
A smirk crosses Vince's face as the crowd boos.
Truth Waters: What's he talking about? I think it was more like Vince go home.
George Cassidy: Sorta like what I say whenever you show up for for work. Truth Go Home! Truth Go Home!
Truth Waters: Shut up, Cassidy!
Vince Jones: Anyways, V. Jones thought he'd be relaxin' with all these A Dubb C cats that line the locker room singin' V's praises and kissin' his ass like they've neva done before; but, that shit weren't the case.
Vince Jones stops in his tracks and looks around at the crowd in disgust.
Vince Jones: Instead of all that V. Jones ends up havin' to holla at a b*tch made named Crusha Helix to help V break into this joint just so he could speak his damn peace tonight. What kinda shit is that, huh? That ain't the way you go about welcomin' a V.I.P to the buildin'.
Truth Waters: V.I.P??
George Cassidy: Yep! He's crazy!
Vince Jones: We talkin' 'bout "The Violence" Vince Jones here. We talkin' 'bout a man that's takin' a huge step down to even be wastin' his damn breath spittin' some truth at you cats here tonight.
The crowd begins booing at Vince's comments as he chuckles to himself at their reaction.
Vince Jones: Oh, don't even start with all that shit. You people know what's up. You cats know V speakin' nothin' but the truth here. Truth hurts, don't it?
Vince Jones sneers at the crowd and continues on with his spiel.
Vince Jones: We talkin' 'bout a man that's here offerin' the head honchos in A Dubb C an opportunity of a lifetime, to sign a real superstar for a change.
Truth Waters: Real superstar? Now the man has talent and all, but I think this guy's getting a little bit carried away here. He's never set foot in an AWC ring.
George Cassidy: Well, he sure blows a lot of hot air like some of these other AWC wrestlers so I guess he'd fit in just fine.
Vince Jones: So, A Dubb C powers that be, if you fools hearin' this right now it goes like this V. Jones is here, standin' in the middle of your damn ring with two questions. Do you cats got the guts to sign a man like The Violence? Are your lil pee wee leaguers that call themselves superstars around this even joint ready to deal with a man like 'The Violence' Vince Jones? Look, V askin', no, no, no scratch that. V beggin' you people to sign V. Jones. Why?
A rather sadistic grin crosses his face
Vince Jones: Cuz by the looks of things there's a whole lot of lambs around this joint that need to be slaughtered. A Dubb C, get that contract up and runnin' and holla at ya boy. V. Jones and his agent, Reno Banks, ain't hard to find. 'Nuff said!
'The Violence' Vince Jones slams the mic down on the mat. The crowd begins to roar with a chorus of boos as the instrumental of 'Thug Luv' begins to blast through the arena. Vince climbs the turnbuckle, raises the Louisville Slugger bat high in the air, and begins flashing the hand sign of his old New York gang once again at the crowd. Jasmine walks over to the ring ropes and begins blowing kisses and flirting with the fans in the crowd as well.
Truth Waters: Look at this! I can't believe him! I hate his guts already! We don't need a man like that around AWC, not at all!
George Cassidy: Yeah. He and that lil tramp of his are too cocky for even me. I kinda hope he does get signed so someone can just pop him in the mouth one time and shut him up forever!
Vince Jones ends his showboating and climbs back down from the turnbuckle. He and Jasmine exit the ring and slowly make their way back up the rampway.
Truth Waters: Well, I'll tell you one thing, George. I've seen and heard a lot about this Violence Vince Jones guy and his track record. He's not the type of guy you want lingering around because there's no telling what he might do even when he's unprovoked.
George Cassidy: Yeah. This Vince Jones guy seems like nothing but trouble.
Truth Waters: Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens.
The camera slowly fades to black as Vince and Jasmine exit the arena.
Rocky III
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: MIKE WADE AND JOE SCHMIDT
As Facey waits for his partner to return in their dressing room, he jogs in place covered in his gray sweat-suit while swinging at the air.
Obviously, he’s pumping himself up because only badasses like the Face can pull off the air-punching move with a pissed off facial expression and actually pull it off.
His serious training and preparation is cut short by Mike Wade, who enters with a translucent trash bag that, if my eyes don’t deceive me, is filled with eggs. Why would this idiot have a trash bag filled with eggs?
That can’t be a trash bag filled with eggs. It just can’t. That’s too stupid, even for the Unfuckables.
Mike Wade: I finally finished filling this trash-bag with raw eggs! I saw Rocky punching some meat that was hanging up now help me hang up these punching eggs and we can get to work.
Fucking A!
Adam helps his partner secure the bag on a hook that dangled from the ceiling, but cannot hide his look of concern.
Adam Dick: Alright, explain again what I’m doing?
Mike Wade: Well, in Rocky, Sly Stallone does a bunch of crazy shit like running up a hundred steps -
Adam Dick: FUCK THAT!
Mike Wade: EX-actly, which is why we’re doing the other stuff. His training regiment consists of shit like, um, punching raw eggs and drinking raw meat.
Adam Dick: Punching raw eggs and drinking raw meat? Shouldn’t it be punching raw meat and drinking raw eggs.
Mike Wade: Yeah, maybe - if you were a jew. Are you a jew Face? Or are you a Transatlantic contender?
Adam Dick: Well, if it’s in the movie.
The Relentless champ takes a spotting position behind the bag, holding it still while Adam readies his fighting stance.
Mike Wade: Now, pretend the bag’s Purse Lavelle! ATTACK! BREAK HIS EGG SHELL FRAME!!
Adam begins hitting, eggshells breaking with every punch. Yellow and clear gooeyness begins oozing through ripped parts of the bag from jagged fragments of the eggshells, sending yolk all over the room.
Mike Wade: That’s it! Hit those dead baby chickens! We HATE chickens!
Adam hits ferociously with an uppercut, breaking many shells and shooting a splatter of liquid-egg from tied off opening and all over the room.
Mike Wade: FUCK! That shit got in my eye.
Adam Dick: Aw, dude, my bad! You okay?
Mike Wade: Never mind, I just hate chickens, even dead sperms - just keep punching those ovaries!
Adam keeps hitting, and with each hit more yellow substance comes squirting out. As the punches wore longer, the bag became less bulging from the eggs being broken, forcing the weight to sag to the bottom of the bag until it created a squishy mess of grossness.
Adam Dick: Uh, dude, the bag’s leaking shit.
Mike Wade: Do your hands feel all tensed up and ready for fucking killing?
Adam Dick: Not really they feel more damp then anything.
Mike Wade: Hmm, that wasn’t as effective as I thought. I’ll be back — gotta fill another egg-bag!
Adam Dick: Alright dude. I’m going to make an omelet or something.
As Mike leaves, Adam withdraws a frying pan from his back and places it under the hanging trash-bag, catching the liquid egg as it seeped out of the bottom of the bag.
Norton & Bridges Meet... Aimz
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, AIMZ
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY AND KATIE
Once again the camera manages to find its way out to the parking lot as the “Recorded Earlier” sign appears in the bottom of the screen. The sky has been getting progressively darker as Chuck Norton and Russell Bridges sit with their guitars on their laps in front of a barrel fire they have presumably constructed to keep themselves warm.
Russ Bridges: I’m bored…
Chuck Norton: Shut up! Here she comes…
As though a switch has been flicked, the duo move from laid back, tired positions to sitting forward over their guitars.
Panning to the left, the cameraman picks up on the person that has caused the jump to action of the AWC duo… Aimz.
Striding through the parking lot, Aimz has her head down and her bag on her shoulder. Her mind is probably already focused on her semi main-event, but will be sure to change.
“She’s a bitch,
She’s a whore,”
Grabbing Aimz from her thoughts, Norton & Bridges have crashed straight into another of their instant classic covers. This time it’s a delicious version of Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch.”
“She will take it,
On the toilet floor,
She’s done drugs,
And tried women,
She should feel well ashamed...”
Standing less than five feet from the country and western duo, Aimz has her hands on her hips and is simply grinning at them.
“She’ll have me,
In her dreams,
And nothing in between,
And you know you wouldn’t let in your bed on any day…”
Adding a customary furious finish to the song, Chuck Norton and Russ Bridges are stood in silence awaiting the verdict of another happy listener.
Aimz continues to grin, and then lifts her hands up to clap the pairing.
Chuck and Russ look at each other with a look of satisfaction at a job well done.
Aimz: That was easily…
Chuck Norton: The greatest thing…
Russ Bridges: You have ever heard…
Aimz: Incorrect. That was easily THE most contrived and unoriginal burn I've ever heard. You get points for poetic discourse, but where are you getting your material? Shouldn't you country fucks be singing about wheat and chicks with cowboy hats and tit jobs?
Chuck shrugs.
Russ Bridges: You’re a whore… It works…
With a groan of disgust Aimz heads off.
Chuck Norton: Hey! Hold on! You heard the song… Now pay up…
Aimz turns around to see Chuck motion at a small hat on the ground with a collection of small coins in it.
Aimz: Are you kidding me? I mean, I heard that Chuck Norris here doesn't read books - he just stares them down until he gets the information he wants... but you guys are CLUELESS.
Without looking back, Aimz slides through the arena doors and out of sight in a calm strut.
Chuck Norton: Did she just compare me to the Walker Texas Ranger? SWEET!
Russ Bridges: Can it. God-dam tight fisted little slut…
Damian D'Angelo vs Damien Wilson
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
Truth Waters: Now here’s an interesting one, Cassidy. In one corner, we have Damian D’Angelo. In the other, debutant Damien Wilson. Damien versus Damian!
Geroge Cassidy: And, honestly, we know very little about either. Who should I hate? Who should you love? Blah blah blah.
Truth Waters: Cassidy, don’t you hate everyone?
George Cassidy: I don’t hate you, Truth!
Truth Waters: …
George Cassidy: I just think you’re wrong about 100% of the time about everything!
Truth Waters: Gotcha.
And God I wanna know why
whoever said it was painless
should try and be famous
As the words shoot from the PA system, the music begins to kick in, and the song shoots out in full force. Purple lights shoot across the crowd, sending the crowd into a frenzy of boos. Damian D'Angelo pushes through the curtains, a smug look on his face, as he steps to the top of the ramp. A pair of wraparound glasses cover his eyes, hiding his darting eyes from plain view, as he stands there sucking in the energy.
Truth Waters: That D’Angelo thinks he’s it, with that smug look on his face.
George Cassidy: That’s how you gotta win, Truth… by being a complete dick. Duh!
You know I'm just livin' life
but nothing's for free
let's see what they say first
front page of the papers
James Brunt: The following is a “Double Dami(e/a)n” singles match! Introducing first, DAMIAN D’ANGELO!
He somberly walks down the ramp, focused on the task at hand, and the horrific ring that looms in front of him. As D'Angelo reaches the ring, he slowly makes his way up the stairs, before stepping gingerly through the middle ropes. Crawling over to the corner, he rests gently against the ropes.
Some days I find that even I
don't wanna be me
Just tryin' to be me
why don't they leave me the hell alone
The music suddenly cuts and the lights return to normal as D'Angelo continues to sit idle upon the corner ropes.
James Brunt: And his opponent, weighing in at 214 pounds, “The Raw Talent” Damien Wilson!
Wilson comes from out back and runs up and slides into the ring. He stands up on the turnbuckle, putting his arms to the side. He then jumps back down and starts a stare off with D’Angelo.
Truth Waters: This Wilson was born on July 6th in 1988… he’s not even old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes!
George Cassidy: He’s young enough to be my son! Well… that is if that dirty bitch Helena was ever able to carry a child.
Truth Waters: Back on that Cassidy?
George Cassidy: Been “back on that” for about two years now.
The match bell rings and Wilson and D’Angelo circle around the ring. They eventually lock up, with D’Angelo pushing Wilson down to a knee. D’Angelo breaks the hold by sending a right into Wilson, hitting him square in the jaw.
George Cassidy: Manhandling already! D’Angelo has 5 inches and about 30 pounds, and it’s showing right now.
D’Angelo pulls Wilson to his feet and irish whips him into the corner, Wilson crashing into it back first. D’Angelo walks over and lays a few rights into Wilson before pausing for a moment, lifting his hand up…
*SLAP!*
D’Angelo drops Wilson to his butt, the look on Wilson’s face of pure pain. D’Angelo lifts Wilson up and leans him on the turnbuckle again, pausing before…
*SLAP!*
Wilson is now writhing in the corner, his eyes clenched closed as D’Angelo laughs a little, looking at what he is doing.
Truth Waters: D’Angelo is really laying into Wilson with these little bitchy-slaps. Fight like a man, D’Angelo!
George Cassidy: So, he wouldn’t take tips from you, would he?
Truth Waters: Hm?
George Cassidy: On how to fight like a man, right?
Truth Waters: You’re just a sucka, straight up
Wilson gets dragged from the corner to the center of the ring. D’Angelo, after kneeing Wilson in the gut, tries to go for a suplex, but Wilson slides down D’Angelo’s back and pulls one of his legs from under him, landing D’Angelo on his face. Quickly, he moves up to D’Angelo’s head and locks in a side head lock, keeping the grip tight. D’Angelo is flailing his arms, trying to get out.
Truth Waters: That Wilson sure has a strong background in amateur wrestling. Look at that head lock! Perfect!
George Cassidy: Yeah, but it’s a real snoozer! Never been more bored before in my life!
After a few more moments in the lock, D’Angelo works his way to his feet with strength and pushes Wilson off of him and flying into the ropes. As Wilson comes running back, D’Angelo goes for a clothesline, but Wilson ducks underneath. Immediately, Wilson jumps on the back of D’Angelo and begins laying elbows into his head, lowering him to his knees and eventually Wilson locks in a rear-naked choke, wrapping his legs around D’Angelo.
Truth Waters: Look at that! Wilson may not be as big as D’Angelo, but you bring a bigger man to the ground and everything is up for grabs!
It is too early in the match, though, as D’Angelo quickly realizes that he could eventually be in trouble. He throws a fist at Wilson, hitting him right in the eye. As Wilson lets go, D’Angelo rolls off of him and towards to rope. He lifts himself to his feet and then runs towards Wilson, who is on his knees, his hands around his eye in pain. D’Angelo lays a knee into the side of Wilson’s head, laying him flat-out.
Truth Waters: What a rat! Using his knee like that…he could’ve KILLED Wilson!
George Cassidy: Then maybe we could’ve moved on!
D’Angelo lifts up a semi-conscious Wilson and immediately drops him back down with a fist. He picks him up again and send him into the ropes. When Wilson comes back, D’Angelo grabs Wilson and spins around, executing a power slam into immediate pin…
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out by Wilson. D’Angelo stands on his feet and shakes his head, staring down at the young Wilson with disgust. D’Angelo drops a boot onto Wilson’s chin, again and again. While Wilson continues to writhe, D’Angelo drops a heavy knee onto Wilson’s head, Wilson screaming in pain.
Truth Waters: D’Angelo is focusing on that head of Wilson. He knows that, maybe with a few more hits, Wilson won’t be able to tell the difference between Cassidy and the dude Helena is fucking on her free time.
George Cassidy: Had to go there, didn’t you?
Truth Waters: Cheer up, then I won’t.
D’Angelo picks up Wilson and grips onto his head, but Wilson kicks D’Angelo in the stomach. While D’Angelo is bent over, Wilson drops a fist onto his back, sending him into the mat. Wilson runs and bounces off the ropes and comes back with an elbow drop, landing right on D’Angelo’s head. Immediately he turns this into another side headlock, D’Angelo back to writhing around again.
Truth Waters: This Wilson, he has heart. You can see it in him. No matter what, he goes right back to his roots, wearing down D’Angelo.
George Cassidy: I wish he’d go back somewhere, anywhere! Get him out of here! YAWN!
Wilson holds the headlock for a little longer. He then brings D’Angelo to his feet, spinning around out of the headlock to behind D’Angelo, gripping D’Angelo’s waist. He tries to go for some type of suplex, but D’Angelo throws an elbow back, Wilson staggering backwards. D’Angelo turns around and gets behind the retreating Wilson, throwing him into the ground with a back suplex.
Truth Waters: And like that, the match has turned around! These are two great wrestlers here, George, both with great skill!
D’Angelo lifts Wilson up and whips him into the corner. Once Wilson crashes into there, D’Angelo follows with a heavy clothesline, lifting Wilson off his feet and having him fall on his ass. D’Angelo puts a few boots into Wilson before lifting Wilson up and grabbing him, lifting him for a suplex. He holds Wilson in the air in the corner for a few moments, before dropping him outside of the ring, crashing into the mats! Wilson lands with a thud, the crowd popping loudly for this.
Truth Waters: Wilson has been thrown right out of the ring! Somebody warn the morgue, someone could die here!
George Cassidy: Truth Waters over dramatic! What a surprise!
Truth Waters: Shut your mouth.
Wilson pulls himself onto the barrier outside while D’Angelo stands in the ring near the ropes, waiting. Once Wilson is leaning against the barrier, D’Angelo grabs the top rope and launches himself over it towards Wilson. D’Angelo is about to hit Wilson, but instead Wilson ducks, with D’Angelo crashing into the barrier! He bounces off it and lands next to Wilson, both men tired and worn out.
Truth Waters: WHAT’S THE NUMBER, BECAUSE I THINK D’ANGELO JUST DIED!
George Cassidy: Idiots! Do they want to end their careers this quickly?!
ONE!
The two men struggle to get to their feet, with Wilson rising fast. While D’Angelo is on all fours, Wilson is staggering on his feet, looking around. Regaining his consciousness, he pulls D’Angelo to his feet and punches him a few times. D’Angelo is still groggy as Wilson irish whips him turns the edge of the ring on the outside of it, D’Angelo smacking right off the pole and right onto the ground with a thud. The crowd pops for this loudly.
TWO! THREE!
Wilson jumps onto the outside of the mat and stands on it, waiting for D’Angelo to get up. Once D’Angelo is on his feet, Wilson leaps off with a cross-body splash, but D’Angelo catches him and quickly spins around, throwing Wilson into the steel mesh wall separating ringside from the crowd! Wilson crashes into the barrier and falls in a heap, as D’Angelo rolls into the ring to stop the count for a moment and tries to can some push by putting a finger in the air towards the crowd. They all boo ferociously for the cocky D’Angelo.
Truth Waters: What is this, a death match?! These men are putting everything they have into this!
While Wilson is regaining consciousness, D’Angelo gets on the turnbuckle and stands straight up on it. Keeping balance, he sets his eyes on Wilson, who doesn’t realize what is happening. D’Angelo then launches himself off the turnbuckle towards Wilson, but Wilson somehow gets to his feet and, as D’Angelo goes flying towards him, Wilson stops D’Angelo in mid-air with a super kick! D’Angelo hits the barrier, seemingly breaking his back as he slumps back onto the mats. Wilson looks at D’Angelo, breathing heavily. The pain on both men is evident.
Truth Waters: ARE YOU WITNESSING THIS?! This might be one of the most violent matches on Fresh! in a long time! These two men are putting everything on the line!
George Cassidy: Yeah, finally! Thank God for some action!
Wilson somehow drags D’Angelo’s barely conscious body to his feet and rolls him into the ring, following soon after. Wilson goes for the pin, rolling a leg up…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
NO!
D’Angelo gets a shoulder up, Wilson’s hopes instantly deflating. As D’Angelo breathes heavily, Wilson pulls D’Angelo to his feet and lays a forearm into him. He lands one and as he tries to go for another, D’Angelo catches it and throws his own. Wilson tries to stand up straight, but D’Angelo grabs him and executes a Fisherman’s Suplex with his last bits of energy, immediately going for the pin…
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Truth Waters: Somehow, someway, D’Angelo had the energy for that. Going for the pin against Wilson who had ALL the momentum could be a dangerous move, as D’Angelo can’t have much left.
D’Angelo slowly sits up as Wilson rolls to his stomach. D’Angelo reaches his feet and walks over to Wilson, lifting him up. Standing near the ropes, D’Angelo whips Wilson into the opposite ones, D’Angelo’s back about 4 inches away from his side of the ropes. Wilson comes running back and, to the surprise of a cocked and ready D’Angelo, dives into D’Angelo’s torso and spears him through the ropes, out of the ring! Both men go crashing and land on the mat, eyes closed and chests moving fast.
Truth Waters: SPEAR THROUGH THE ROPES! WILSON IS DONE! D’ANGELO IS DONE! THIS COULD BE A DOUBLE DQ!
ONE!
D’Angelo blinks for a moment, looking around, as Wilson grabs onto the ring. Wilson pulls himself to his feet, shaking his head, trying to get a grip.
TWO!
Wilson grabs D’Angelo and pulls him over to one of the steel steps on the outside of the ring. Lifting D’Angelo to his feet, he sets him up to DDT him onto the steps. Wilson tries to drop D’Angelo, but D’Angelo just throws a few rights into Wilson’s side, stopping it. Suddenly, D’Angelo lifts and drops Wilson into the steps, the loud CRACK! echoing throughout the arena as Wilson bounces off the steps. D’Angelo staggers towards the barrier, shaking his head and grinning.
Truth Waters: That evil D’Angelo! He seems HAPPY that he almost killed Wilson!
D’Angelo lifts up Wilson and rolls him into the ring. Following him into it, D’Angelo lays on Wilson for the cover…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
NO!
Wilson kicks out. D’Angelo seems frustrated, standing up and mouthing obscenities. D’Angelo then turns and sees Wilson trying to get to his feet. Wilson gets up, and before D’Angelo can grab him, Wilson lays a boot into D’Angelo. Grabbing D’Angelo, he executes one belly to back suplex… then another… then another!
Truth Waters: That’s the beginner’s luck right there, Triple Belly-to-Back suplexes.
With D’Angelo on the ground, Wilson stands over him and grabs his legs, crossing them over one of his own and turning D’Angelo on his back. Wilson pulls back on the legs, D’Angelo screaming from the pain.
Truth Waters: THE RAW TALENT! Will D’Angelo give in?
For a few moments, D’Angelo grits his teeth and tries to reach the ropes. It is to no avail, though, as he taps out. The bell rings, but Wilson holds it for a few more moments before he stops.
James Brunt: The winner…“THE RAW TALENT”, DAMIEN WILSON!
Truth Waters: There you have it! Through heart and perseverance, Damien Wilson wins the battle of the Dami(e/a)ns by defeating Damian D’Angelo!
George Cassidy: Somebody had to be the loser, even though everyone is when your name is Damien… or Damian…
Truth Waters: Cassidy, you can’t take anything away from these two competitors… they competed in a hard fought match, that’s for sure!
George Cassidy: If Helena can take away my dog Rex, I think I can take away credibility, thank you.
Truth Waters: You’re just a hater.
Spring Pep
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, JESSICA O'GRADY
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Jack Murphy: Hey, I was wondering where you were.
The boos coming form the main arena are the usual as the screen is filled by the frame of 'The Bull' Jack Murphy. He's had a bit of a shave and so the goatee is not joined by the usual shaggy overgrown stubble and all in all he looks in good spirits. He's looking towards the door of the locker room he's in and in the door stands Jessica O'Grady, his agent.
For this lady style is everything and she stands there with a neatly trimmed and cut business suit, with heels to match the ensemble. She isn't stunning but there is a certain quality to her that would intrigue the majority of men. The flash in her eyes leads us to believe that something more lies inside of her. Her blonde hair is loose and cascades down her neck and shoulders, swaying lightly as she wanders up to Jack.
Jessica O'Grady: Where have I been? Where have you been the past week and a half? I've been doing all this work, preparing for the year of the Bull.
Jack Murphy: (quizzically) Year of the Bull?
Jessica O'Grady: Of course! If you're going to climb that mountain and gain the title you deserve then you've got to have the publicity behind it to make it happen. These things don't do themselves you know.
Swishing her skirt slightly, she twirls into the couch that is sitting in the corner and she lets it envelop her as much as possible. She kicks off the heels absent-mindedly and sighs.
Jessica O'Grady: (impatiently) Well? You never answered my question... where were you? You just disappeared right after Warfare and I never heard from you. In fact, no one heard from you.
Jack Murphy: Well, it was a week and a half of relaxation and recuperation for the year ahead. You're hardly going to be able to work with a tired wrestler now are you?
Jessica O'Grady: (scoffs) You tired? And pigs fly...
Jack Murphy: Oh how little you know.
Murphy moves toward his bag and puts his hands in it without really any intention of doing or getting anything. The silence is quite profound and nothing seems to be able to break it. Jack looks nervously towards her, his brow furrowed and biting his lip. Jessica looks back at him, her brown eyes opening slightly to take in the expression, see if she can determine what's ticking inside that head.
Jack Murphy: Jessica?
Jessica O'Grady: (expectantly) Yes?
Jack Murphy: (stuttering) I... well.... so what have you been doing?
Jessica O'Grady: (disappointed) Just some different things you can do towards ballooning your profile in the public eye, promotional appearances and the like. A lot of it is dependent on wins though....
Jack Murphy: Oh...
Jessica O'Grady: (hurriedly) Now don't you start that talk again Jack! You are in the prime of your career and fresh off a win that surely re-energised your perspective. Don't forget you have that briefcase babe which has ten months left to cash in. There are plenty of opportunities lying in wait for you and you know that there's nothing that can stop you from gaining whatever you want. Look, the Frontier title has been declared vacant after Shipley's run in with a bad Steven Seagal film villain end and the time is ripe for a proper champion to be finally installed. There is no reason why you can't do whatever you please in this federation. You are the Bull!
Murphy looks at Jessica, who having stood from the couch, is clenching her fists as if she were the one that was expecting to head out into the battle. A smile creeps out across the face of Jack, staring at his agent in her provocative gesture.
Jack Murphy: You know... for a moment I saw the Firebrand there in you.
Jessica O'Grady: Really?
Jack Murphy: Yeah... thanks.
With no inhibition Murphy curls his arms around Jessica and pulls her tight into his chest, giving her a warm, tough hug. She splutters a little at it and Murphy lets go.
Jessica O'Grady: (coughing) Hey don't kill me alright?
Jack Murphy: (laughing) I couldn't if I tried.
Keep It All In
FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA
AUTHOR: MICK DOHERTY
The camera sweeps across the arena taking into account the vast numbers who have come out to see their favorite superstars this night. The camera then pans down so that the West Coast announcers, George and Truth, are in view, sitting at their announce table at the top of the stage.
Truth Waters: Early days folks, I’ve got a GREAT feeling about tonight. Hate makes a return to the ring, so many debuts AND a Transatlantic match up.
George Cassidy: I know one guy who won’t be here tonight. And that’s Paddy O’Shea. Bwhahahaha!
Truth Waters: Thanks for reminding me Cassidy; Paddy O’Shea has been hospitalized since Winter Warfare with trouble with his spine. Nothing long term but he’s been sidelined for a further few weeks to clear everything up. Tonight, he transferred himself to the St Jacob’s hospital just a few miles away from the arena so he could meet up with his girlfriend, who happens to be part of the staff team for AWC. And -
The big screen suddenly lights up revealing a hospital room. The blinding whiteness of wall and floor are quite dazzling to behold but the figure of Paddy O’Shea can clearly be seen perched up on his bed. With checkered pajamas poking over the top of the duvet, he smiles to the camera and waves. The crowd begin to cheer in admiration.
Paddy O’Shea: Top o’ the morning’ t’ ye lads. How are ye’s?
Truth Waters: Paddy? Wow, we didn’t expect a feed down there.
George Cassidy: …consider this an unwelcome intrusion to the programme.
George sneers but Paddy pretends he hasn’t heard, instead he presses on.
Paddy O’Shea: Aye, down here indeed. Aye just wanted to come on t’ tell me fans, we’ll get her next time, an’ aye’ll be back in a few weeks fer action.
Paddy beams to the cameras with the cheesy smile you ever did see.
Truth Waters: Okay, thanks for that Paddy. We wish you a speedy recovery.
George Cassidy: Oi, speak for yourself!
The feed cuts.
Thing was, despite the smiles and despite the jokes, he was hurting. And he was hurting from all directions. Once again that Transatlantic title slipped away from him, once again he fucked it all up at the last hurdle. Would he get another chance, did he deserve another chance. A voice of reason told that no, he didn’t.
So now he sits, wallowing in annoyance, although these tablets are doing wonders for him. The idea that he is taking these anti-depressants scared the shit out of him at the start, they were a giant billboard saying “you have a problem”. No, no, the doctors had exclaimed, quite common. Yeah, well not everyone tries to kill their mother. One minute he’s bursting with euphoric obsession, loving every lease of life. The next… well, the next could be his last step on this world.
But as long as he keeps taking the tablets, the monster stays inside. So, the doctor says.
And it isn’t just annoyance now, it’s confusion.
Why?
Why the hell has Hate saved him once again? At the bridge, at the PPV. Why is the man that surely would have hung his father and executed him if he had yet mere seconds more, why does he choose to help him now? Could it be another one of his mind games? I mean, the last involvement he had with him was when they discovered Mike Wade had framed Paddy for things, knowing that he would try and tear Paddy apart. Maybe that sick bastard now wants to finish him. After all, one Irishman is the same as the other.
Is this just another one is fucking mind tricks?
Just like that fucker Wade’s…
The Christmas Party flashes into his head. Spin the bottle and Mike kisses Shelly. And Paddy knows, and Wade knows, and Shelly knows… those itty bitty things just wind him up so much. When you have something you’ve never had before, you fight in every shape and form for it to keep the connection. And Wade thought he would test how tensile those connections are…
And where the hell IS Shelly… four times she’s visited him since he went into hospital, that’s why he came here. Because she said she’d BE here. What has he done wrong, has he insulted her? He can’t go see her, not in this state… if only he knew he’d right it. Are girlfriends even supposed to visit boyfriends in hospital often? Paddy wouldn’t know of course so he pins his hopes on that…
But for now, he’ll put on a smile, take his tablets and keep all his anxieties and fears inside. Woe be tide he that brings all that out.
The Golden Locket
FEATURING: CHAINZ, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND LIA
The scene cuts to the backstage area where the arena is relatively quite for the time of night. We scan across the empty hallways and begin to pick up on a faint sound; light and easy music coming from one of the rooms coming down the hall. We follow the sound passing by several open rooms on the way; Maddy Estelle putting on an excess of lipsticks and checking her figure out in the mirror, the AWC security guards sitting around a table boozing it up and playing cards, and various crew members setting tables and wires up trying to look busy.
We follow the faint music which now begins to grow. The crescendo finally hitting it’s peak as we now stand in front of a door. The door is parted slightly allowing the music to escape from the crack. Inside sits Ellis Nash, listening to the faint music which is coming out of a small, golden locket. With her back to the door, Ellis sits still and silently listens to the tune. The locket rests on her palm. A picture is visible inside of it; it appears to be a younger Ellis Nash. The tune plays several notes and repeats, slowly growing quieter as the notes begin to fade away.
As the music stops, it suddenly picks up again in full force from the beginning. Ellis Nash quickly turns in her chair to see where the music is coming from. She turns to face the door and her eyes shoot open wide, as like she’s seen an apparition or, worse.
An enormous body steps into frame, blocking the entire scene and slowly makes his way across screen. We can see a huge figure walking towards a chair on the other side of Ellis Nash and as he turns to have a seat, we make out the appearance of Chainz. He has a smug grin on his face, but a serious mood to him. He sits in the chair and holds a gold locket in his hand. It is exactly similar to Ellis’ locket and produces the exact same tune, but there is one subtle difference: the picture in the locket doesn’t belong to Ellis Nash, though a resemblance can be seen.
Chainz sits in his chair, starring dead through Ellis, who, in turn, stares straight back, fear and anger twinkling in her eyes. The tune begins to come to an end. After it does, Chainz shuts the locket and places it in his pocket. He sits up straight in his chair, fixes his tie and casts his eyes from Ellis’ face to the rest of her rather pleasant body.
Chainz: Say now, beautiful. What’s a girl like you doing all alone back in this big room?
Ellis Nash: Uh. It's my locker room. I'm sort of supposed to be in here.
Ellis pauses, regarding Chainz with a more displeased gaze.
Ellis Nash: Where did you get that?
Chainz: A little bird dropped it into my lap. Wouldn’t you know you and her have a certain resemblance that I just find… charming.
Chainz scratches his chin like he’s deep in thought as he scans Ellis’ body.
Ellis Nash: What did you do to her?
Chainz: What’s it to you?
Ellis Nash: My dad. He gave me and my sister one of those lockets for Christmas. 1995. I see that, in some twist of events, hers has somehow ended up with you.
Ellis goes to stand up, but Chainz holds out his hand prompting Ellis to sit back down and listen to what he has to say.
Chainz: Relax, don’t go all gung ho on me because I can guarantee you won’t like the results. I came here to have a nice and orderly chat with you; see, I figured since my girl Alexa Kendericks felt it necessary to bail ship and leave AWC that I would pick another lucky girl from the crowd and naturally I was drawn to you. You should feel honored at being picked from so many fine choices.
Ellis Nash: Right. What do I owe the honor?
Chainz: You remind me of my first true love.
Ellis Nash: And who might that be?
Chainz points to the locket in his pocket with a grin.
Ellis Nash: My sister's been missing for seven years. She ran off. No one’s seen or heard from her since.
Chainz: Maybe she died?
Chainz asks with a smug grin, obviously knowing more than he’s letting on.
Ellis Nash: I won’t believe it until someone finds a body.
The smug smile disappears from Chainz’s face and is replaced with a look of moderate concern. Chainz loosens his tie a bit and looks her directly in the face.
Chainz: They never found a body?
Ellis raises an eyebrow, locking Chainz’s eyes with hers.
Ellis Nash: You motherfucker.
Ellis nearly springs up and grabs Chainz by the throat, but her hands are much too small to do any real damage. Chainz whips his tongue out and attempts to lick Ellis’ hand briefly doing so. Ellis slaps Chainz across the face and begins to head off from the room.
Chainz: Mmm, well I’ve had the taste of one Nash sister. Wonder how you taste like.
Ellis stops and turns to face Chainz.
Ellis Nash: I’m not scared of you, asshole. I saw the way you acted around Alexa. You’re all about intimidation, but you fool me. You cross me again and I’ll rip your balls off.
Chainz: You would be wise not to fool with me, girl. The last Nash who messed with me wound up with a bit of tummy ache.
Ellis runs for her bag, but Chainz is quick to his feet and grabs it first. He places it behind his back out of Ellis’ reach, who tries frantically to get at it.
Chainz: Whoa, you’re all full of energy. I like that in a girl. Don’t you hate it when you’re the one doing all the work?
Ellis Nash: Maybe you shouldn’t fuck dead bodies.
Chainz: Eh, necrophilia has its advantages. Don’t have to worry bout a struggle.
Ellis Nash: Oh my god! What the fuck is wrong with you? Ellis is clearly disgusted as she backs away from Chainz. She shakes her head in revulsion and looks off to the side, now unable to look him in the eye. Chainz just smiles as he sees the effect it has on Ellis Nash.
Chainz: See, I wasn’t quite like this my entire life. Once upon a time I was a troubled kid, but I finally found someone who I thought was perfect for me. Your sister. I thought me and her would start a new life together. I was going to give up my ways. I had a good job set up and we were gonna have a good life together. Your sister had other plans.
Ellis Nash: You killed her.
Chainz: Careful how you sling accusations about. I don’t like being blamed for things I never did. I didn’t kill your sister. I loved her. She was my escape from a world of violence and crime. I would never hurt her.
Ellis Nash: You’re a fucking liar.
Chainz: No, baby. I never lie. Enough about her and the past, though. I’m here now and what I see before me is a sight of beauty.
Ellis backs away from Chainz and heads to the door, never taking her eyes off of him.
Chainz: Ahh, come on. I saw that exchange between Dick and you. You showed them double d’s and bounced around. Where’s that slutty girl now?
Chainz advances with bad intentions, but receives a punch to the face for his trouble. Chainz holds his mouth as a small amount of blood trickles out of his mouth. Ellis backs out of the room and leaves him standing and smiling. He goes back and sits in Ellis’ room and, with a sigh, takes the locket out of his pocket. He begins to play the tune and looks solemn as he listens with downcast eyes.
Norton & Bridges Meet... Actually, Who Are You Again?!
FEATURING: NORTON & BRIDGES, THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHORS: RYAN KEANEY AND SAM LANDRY
Cutting to the parking lot, the AWC cameraman once again finds himself in the front row for the impromptu Norton and Bridges gig that was occurring prior to the Fresh! Broadcast. Sitting over the barrel fire they have constructed, Chuck and Russell were warming their hands when Tim and Liam Martin approached.
Tim Martin: I see a new team to blemish our division. But, as far as I can tell, you have taken the White Lord's advice and you are keeping your woman in place. You have secured yourself a place in heaven. I hope you are prepared for an eternity of sex and grapes fed to you by beautiful maidens.
Chuck Norton: Hi!
Tim Martin: ...or hi. I guess hi works too.
The two teams nodded at each other as the Furious Fists of God studied the two new men.
Liam Martin: What in the White Lorrd's name are you doing? If you want something to read, I've been reading Luke lately. It's excellent. I suggest chapter 4.
Russ Bridges: Oh, no… We are one of AWC's new duos and we are performing some cover songs for the AWC roster as they go inside…
Tim Martin: Ah, Bible Hymns! A woman should know how to play those!
Russ Bridges: No, um...
Tim Martin: Play us our hymn! Serenade up with the White Lord's voice!
Standing back, the Furious Fists of God await they musical insult from the new tag team, but instead Chuck Norton and Hash Brown simply look at each other in disillusion. The duo then turns back to the Furious Fists.
Chuck Norton: Who are you?
Tim Martin: You must have forgotten, but as a follower and White Lord loves, we forgive you. We are the Furious Fists of God…
Again the country and western duo seem confused.
Tim Martin: You know…God's favorite wrestlers... the #1 contenders to the Alliance belts…
Russ Bridges: There are number one contenders to the Alliance belts?
Liam Martin: Yes! US! What in the White Lord's name are you thinking?!
Chuck Norton: Sorry… We don't have a song for you guys… Maybe next week…
Tim Martin: HEATHEN! DEVIL WORSHIPPER! RESEMBLER OF LIZA MANELLI! YOU HAVE SINNED A SIN GREATER THAN BILL COSBY ON TV!
Liam Martin: (quietly) Ouch.
Tim Martin: I believe I just felt a breeze... that must've been GOD saying that you are NO LONGER WELCOME! Enjoy fornicating with Yokozuna in hell for the rest of eternity!
Shaking his head furiously, Tim walks off. Liam follows close behind.
Russ Bridges: They actually looked annoyed about the fact we didn't have a song made out for them…
Chuck Norton: What can I say… Our reputation is building quickly…
Hate vs Anton Assault
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: MICK DOHERTY
Truth Waters: On we go, and next we have Hate versus the debutant Anton Assault.
George Cassidy: I've lost so much respect for Hate. He used to be about kidnappings and mayhem. Now he's HELPING people. Pfft, what a gay. Come on Anton you noob, beat his block in!
Truth Waters: Subtle Cassidy, subtle.
Without any warning, Agoraphobic Nosebleed's ”North American Corpse Desecration” begins to grind away at the speakers, filling the audio system with utter aural chaos. Hate appears in the entranceway, with a black gas mask covering his head and wearing a long, black trenchcoat. In the ring, the referee eyes Hate carefully, having not forgotten the danger of this man.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match; introducing first, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 225 pounds… The Fifth Horseman, HATE!
The crowd don't consign themselves to cheers or boos as Hate emerges from the top of the stage. As he walks down to the ringside, shouting abuse at the front row fans, yet they still don't boo him. Hate rips his gas mask off, looking as pissed off as ever as he slides into the ring to remove his trenchcoat.
George Cassidy: Now for those viewers who haven't watched the AWC before... don’t change things now! The red button is calling –
Truth Waters: Cassidy! What he meant to say was, that if you didn't know the Hate story, well get ready to be confused because this man has attempted murder, blown up homes and been a... well, a proper bastard. But ever since it's been revealed Mike Wade was the cause of the Hate vendetta against O'Shea, Hate has helped O'Shea and even SAVED his life. Unfortunately this guardian angel doesn't talk much so we don't exactly know the situation.
George Cassidy: If that guy appeared with wings at the bottom of my bed, I would shit myself, no doubt.
"Vomitself" by Boris now blasts from the speakers as the fans finally decide to commit themselves to something - they begin booing as the Frenchman appears at the ramp and makes his way to the ring.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Paris, France and weighing in at 229 pounds… ANTON ASSAULT!
Assault ignores the stares from Hate and simply slides into a ring, taking a second to sneer in his general direction. The referee deters a possible early show-off by attempting to hold Hate back.
George Cassidy: Yeah right ref, you can't hold Hate back... no wait, he's a pussy now.
Truth Waters: Well, Anton Assault certainly isn't intimidated by the scariest man in AWC.
George Cassidy: He's the Queer formerly known as Scary. Please get it right.
In the ring, Assault gets into Hate’s face, trying to intimidate the almost perfectly equally sized opponent, but gets no reaction as Hate just smiles at his threats. The referee carefully slips in between the two wrestlers to explain the rules and slips out just as quickly, calling for the bell. Hate motions for Assault to hit him, but as the big man draws back for a punch, Hate quickly sucker punches him in the jaw and follows it up with a hard kick to the guts, doubling the Frenchman over.
Truth Waters: See, right there. Hate hasn't lost a thing in the ring.
Hate grabs Assault by his hair and pulls his face upwards before laying into his face with a couple of hard left hands. Hate then releases Assault’s hair and slaps him hard across the face, sending Assault reeling to the ropes. Hate just stands his ground in the middle of the ring, looking confident.
George Cassidy: Hate quickly establishing himself to Assault here, just completely disrespecting him with a slap across the face. I think the effect is more psychological than physical, Truth.
Truth Waters: It takes a lot to bring down a man of Assault’s size, if nothing else. That’s an advantage for him for sure.
Assault, clearly angered by Hate’s antics, launches off the ropes and lunges back, trying to take Hate’s head off with a clothesline, only to get his move dodged by Hate. Hate comes back by kicking Assault in the back and sending him to the ropes chest-first, and follows it up with a jumping knee to the spine of Assault. Assault collapses to the mat, holding his back in pain while Hate laughs above him.
George Cassidy: Brutal but effective. That’s just what Hate is.
Hate stomps on Assault’s head until the ref comes to pull him off, and even then Hate just shoves him aside. Hate helps Assault up and instantly awards him with a kick to the side of the head. Hate backs Assault up to the ropes and ties him up, chopping him furiously in the chest and making the crowd ”OOOH” as the hard smacks echo around the arena. Assault takes the punishment for a while, but then Hates barrage takes a pause and Assault flares back with a punch that doesn’t do much more than make Hate laugh. However, Assault wipes the laugh off with a nice standing clothesline, hitting Hate square in the jaw and knocking the Fifth Horseman onto his back.
Truth Waters: There we go! Assault finding his feet in this match after the unorthodox tricks of the Fifth Horseman.
Assault gloats over the ropes to the audience, Hate has already gotten up and advances onto his opponent once again. Hate punches Assault hard in the back of the head and then grabs him in a waistlock. In a show of sheer power, Hate lifts Assault over in a slow-motion German suplex, sending him crashing onto his upper back. Assault holds the back of his head and tries to roll away while Hate straightens up and advances onto him, stopping him with a hard stomp to the head.
George Cassidy: Damn, you wouldn't see something like that even on the street.
Truth Waters: I could demonstrate...
George Cassidy: Possibly... not.
Hate brings Assault up to his feet, the Frenchman obviously wobbly from the big hit he just took. Hate slaps him across the face again before giving Assault a thunderous headbutt, probably killing a few brain cells in the process. Hate follows with a standing clothesline of his own, smacking his arm across the face of Assault and knocking him back against the turnbuckle. Hate rams his knee into the midsection of Assault and then steps aside, letting the big man slump down to the mat onto his knees. Hate just spits on Assault and then begins to ascend to the top rope.
Truth Waters: Here’s Death From Above...!
Hate climbs to the top rope and without further ado jumps off, connecting with the Death Of Above against the head of Assault. Assault comes down face-first on the mat, crushed between Hate and the canvas. Hate then rolls him over as the crowd ”aaah!”s the big move, with the ref making the count.
Truth Waters: My God!
George Cassidy: Not very fancy though.
ONE!
TWO!
Shockingly, Assault shoulder rises up into the air, and Hate looks at the ref with a smile on his face. He starts explaining that it was a two count but Hate is having none of it. He stands up and gets into the ref's face pleading his case. Eventually he abandons this and instead turns around to help Assault to his feet. As Anton gets up, he low blows Hate, with the referee not watching.
Truth Waters: Ouch... even Hate has REGIONS~!
George Cassidy: Maybe Assault can get something done.
Assault immediately hits Hate with a striking cross punch that sends Hate flailing into the ropes. On his return Assault puts him down with a spear. Assault gets to work with an armbar which the unaccustomed Fifth Horseman is struggling with.
George Cassidy: A technician... I bet Hate wasn't expecting that.
Truth Waters: Hate doesn't expect to be on the mat at all. Maim, destroy, pin.
George Cassidy: When does he sleep?
Hate manages to pull his arm around a little so Assault lets go and pulls him to his feet. Anton leaps into the air, hitting a flash kick to the face that sends Hate back into the corner. Assault lands in a crouch, sending himself forward with a rolling heel kick to the chin. Hate stumbles forward just as he rises. Assault hits him again with a knee to the stomach and spins about, leaping into the air and flooring the Fifth Horseman with an axe kick.
Truth Waters: What a shot! Guillotine Combination!
George Cassidy: I wonder how many of those he has?
Without any thought, Assault locks in a Texas cloverleaf, the submissionist moving to end this match. Hate writhes in pain, his lack of knowledge on reversing the move obviously limited. He claws his way to the ropes, Assault tries to hold him back. Hate moves forward a bit. Assault struggles a little. Hate then lunges forward and manages to get a weak grip on the rope. Assault doesn't wait around, he simply runs over and kicks Hate in the jaw.
George Cassidy: Hm... Hate did well there.
Truth Waters: Definitely that lock was iron tight.
Assault now brings Hate up to his feet and hooks him up for a butterfly suplex. However, Hate headbutts Anton in the gut and he keels over. Hate doesn’t waste a second. He hooks Anton himself and acquaints the debutant with his finisher move.
Truth Waters: Eleventh Commandment out of nowhere!
Hate hooks the leg quickly.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner... HATE!
Truth Waters: By no means a simple task for Hate, but ultimately Anton Assault couldn’t stand up to him.
Helllllo Miss Harber
FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA, RACHEL HARBER
AUTHOR: MICK DOHERTY
Paddy O’Shea: Nurse! Where’s me dinner, aye’m feckin’ starving!
Paddy, perched on his hospital bed, is screaming through the open door at anyone who will listen. Watching a little Fresh! of course. Great show, tell your friends!
Paddy O’Shea: Come on woman! Hurry would ye!
Paddy pauses a few moments then curses beneath his breath and slumps back onto the bed, closing his eyes in the process.
It’s not easy being the joker all the time, he muses. No one takes you serious.
The sound of a polite cough causes Paddy to open his eyes.
Paddy O’Shea: It’s about bloody time wom-!
Paddy catches his tongue with his teeth when he sees she that addresses him. She looks like a nurse, in the hot and sexy stereotypical sense but she wears no uniform and carries no dinner. Don’t worry, Paddy isn’t hungry anymore, not in the nutritional sense anyway.
Rachel Harber: Hello Paddy.
Rachel flicks her soft brown hair back, a coy smile affixed on her face. Dressed in a figure hugging black number, and short matching black miniskirt, she shimmy’s over to where Paddy lies and sits down on the bed, allowing Paddy the pleasure of the full view of her beautifully tanned legs. Rachel catches Paddy drooling and the sister of YOUR AWC Entertainment Co-Manager Pearl Harber, giggles, making sure to flutter her eyelashes a little (not too much) for extra sexiness.
Paddy O’Shea: Ah... er… Rachel… isn’t it?
Rachel Harber: Oh Paddy…I didn’t think you’d forget about me so soon after we met at the Christmas Party.
Paddy babbles for a second, looking left, right, legs, left right, boobs (note to self, nice boobs) then curses himself because this was cheating in his head.
Paddy O’Shea: O-o’ course aye didn’ ferget ye… aye was... was only messin’ about see.
Paddy grins broadly, realizes how stupid he looks and looks left, right etc.
Rachel Harber: No, I know you didn’t forget me… How’s your back… your poor poor back. Can I maybe help you with it?
Paddy considers for a second as Rachel creeps her hand onto his chest, slowly moving it in a circular motion. Paddy panics and fakes a massive coughing fit so she moves her hand away.
Paddy O’Shea: Sorry Rachel, these drugs aye’s takin’. Don’ worry about me back, it’s fine. Er, wh-what are ye doin’ here?
Rachel pretends to be slightly offended.
Rachel Harber: Paddy! Does the EM’s – ECM’s – sister need an excuse? I’m here to help you in your hour of need… after being so nice at the party, it’s the least I can do.
Rachel pauses for a second as she calculates which order to put her words in.
Rachel Harber: Paddy… you know Dave, he’s always so protective of me, saying I can’t go out with rock stars or wrestlers… but you can’t tell your heart not to love, right?
Paddy thinks for a second and nods nervously. Rachel moves closer so that her face is only a short distance from his.
Rachel Harber: And we shouldn’t try to go against what’s right… right?
Paddy nods again, hoping to end this conversation as quickly as possible. Rachel moves closer.
Rachel Harber: And Paddy… it’s people like Dave who say against these things, but it’s those people who are famous. What about those ordinary people who need someone famous to make them more than ordinary…
Paddy stutters as Rachel moves further still, her eyes clamped onto his lips.
Rachel Harber: Someone like you.
Rachel locks lips with Paddy who fights a little, melts, then fights stronger, melts, then finally manages to fight the kiss away. Paddy grabs her by the shoulders and gently forces her away.
Paddy O’Shea: Rachel, aye’s flattered but -
Rachel struggles from his grip and goes to kiss him again.
Paddy O’Shea: Listen t’ me!
Paddy pushes her away more forcefully, this time her attention is gained and she simply stands flustered.
Paddy O’Shea: Aye don’ know yer game, but ye should never have come here. Aye have a girlfriend, ye know tha’! Aye’m happy with her, she means everythin’ t’ me… look, aye’m flattered but aye just can’t.
Paddy looks at Rachel who looks back with annoyance etched all over her face. She turns on her heel and walks out.
Rachel Harber: What about me!? I’m sick of being told what to do, why can’t I get what I want?
As Rachel disappears, Paddy sighs heavily then rubs his face. Then he arranges his groin as the scene fades to black.
The Violence Ain't Talking!
FEATURING: RENO BANKS, "THE VIOLENCE" VINCE JONES, JASMINE, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: JAY
The camera slowly fades into the backstage area where free agent, 'The Violence' Vince Jones, his valet Jasmine, and his agent Reno Banks, 'The Agent of the Stars’ can be seen walking down the hallway together. Reno Banks appears rather excited. Jasmine appears level. Vince Jones appears a bit disinterested with his situation.
Reno Banks: Mr. Jones, your address to AWC was simply marvelous out there tonight if I do say so myself. I mean you really had that crowd going. You had them captivated like I'm sure they've never been captivated before.
Vince just shakes his head and snarls at Reno's incessant praise.
Vince Jones: Reno, will ya cut the crap?
Reno appears a bit taken back Vince's statement.
Vince Jones: Damn! V. Jones knows he had that crowd goin' out there. V been doin' this shit for a long time. 'The Violence' Vince Jones knows how to take care of business out there when he spittin' it on the mic. Its natural. Its what V do. Get it!? Got it!? Good!
Jasmine turns and looks up at Vince with adoring eyes, but Vince keeps his eyes focused forward as they continue on down the hallway.
Jasmine: And what about me, V?
Vince stops in his tracks and Reno and Jasmine do the same. Vince turns and looks down at her with a stern look.
Vince Jones: Yeah? And what about you, huh?
Jasmine: Well, I was thinking that I did a great job of setting you up. I mean I put you on that pedestal out there with those people and gave you the best intro I could. From then on the people were eating out of the palm of your hands.
Vince Jones chuckles to himself at the thought and just shakes his head.
Vince Jones: Jasmine, you thinkin' way too much for your own good here. You seem to be forgettin' somethin' here. When V in that ring it don't matta where he at. The people gonna take notice. Why? Cuz V got it like that. That's a given. The shit you were spittin' out there was only secondary.
Jasmine appears a bit angered by his comments and folds her arms across her chest and pouts.
Jasmine: Fuck you, V! Fuck you! You know you need me.
Vince just shakes his head.
Vince Jones: All you need to do out there is smile and look good, Jasmine. The rest...
Vince Jones slaps her on the ass.
Vince Jones: ...will take care of itself. T and A, Jasmine, T and A. That's all there is to it. You feelin' V on this?
Jasmine: Excuse me!? How many times do I have to tell you!? I'm way more than T and...
Voice: Hello!
Vince, Reno, and Jasmine all slowly turn in the direction of the voice in unison and spot AWC interviewer, Maddy Estelle standing there with a smile on her face as she tries to straighten herself up and look good for Vince Jones. Jasmine looks Maddy up and down in disgust and begins to cop an attitude as she circles around her.
Jasmine: Well, look at what the cat dragged in. And who might you be??
Maddy rolls her eyes at Jasmine's rudeness.
Maddy Estelle: The name's Maddy Estelle, pleasure to meet you too, Jasmine. Anyways...
Maddy gently shoves Jasmine to the side and moves towards Vince. Jasmine looks at her with an angry look.
Jasmine: Oh, I know this bitch didn't just push me like that!
Maddy gives Jasmine the hand. Jasmine appears totally appalled by this gesture, but tries to keep her cool.
Maddy Estelle: So Vince, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me.
Vince looks down at her and folds his arms across his massive chest.
Vince Jones: V. Jones ain't got nothin' to say at the moment, lil Maddy. So, it might be a good idea for yo lil tight ass to run on along. Go find some other cats you can interrogate and shit cuz V ain't got the time. 'Nuff said!
Maddy Estelle:But why AWC? Why the sudden arrival here? Why would you go out there in the middle of the ring tonight name dropping and calling out AWC wrestlers like Chainz, Mike Wade, Pierce Lavelle, Adam Dick, virtually the whole AWC locker room?
Reno Banks steps over and gently takes a hold of Maddy's hand to get her attention.
Reno Banks: Excuse me, Miss Maddy. The name's Reno Banks 'The Agent of the Stars' and I represent the interests of my client here, Mr. Jones. And according to Mr. Jones it isn't in the best interest right now for him to be answering any of your questions at the moment. With that said, I assure you that Mr. Jones will have a deal ironed out and a contract signed with AWC by week's end. When that is all said and done Mr. Jones will then begin taking care of business with the whole of AWC, one by one, as well as making his rightful ascent to the summit of this federation to give this place a much more right and justifiable figurehead. That is all for now, Miss Maddy.
Jasmine: Yeah! What he said! Now go!
Vince Jones nods his head in agreement, Maddy appears unwilling to give up in her pursuit for answers.
Maddy Estelle:No, I want answers. The AWC fans want...
Vince Jones seizes her by the throat, whirls her around, and slams her against the wall in fury.
Vince Jones: Look bitch! You retarded or somethin'??
Reno tries to calm Vince down while Jasmine just laughs in amusement at Maddy's predicament.
Reno Banks: Now, now Mr. Jones. You need to calm down. Just calm down a bit! We don't need any kind of outbursts hindering the negotiation process with AWC!
Vince turns towards Reno and snarls.
Vince Jones: Nah fuck that shit! V needs to holla at this lil chickenhead for a sec cuz she just ain't gettin' it here!
Maddy begins gasping for air and trying to struggle from Vince's grasp as he turns around and peers deep into her eyes.
Vince Jones: Look! V. Jones new to this A Dubb C block and all so you may not have caught the memo yet. Its like this. When V. Jones say he ain't talkin' 'bout shit. He ain't talkin' 'bout shit. Its as simple as that. Understood!?
Tears begin to well up in Maddy's eyes as she notices the slightly crazed look in Vince's eyes and knows that her efforts to free herself are in vain.
Vince Jones: You hard of hearin' or somethin' now too!?
Maddy shakes her head.
Vince Jones: Alright then! You followin' The Violence on that shit? He make himself clear enough for you this time?
Maddy nods in agreement. Vince Jones' tension slowly eases and he laughs to himself.
Vince Jones: Good! Glad we had this lil heart-to-heart, shawty.
Vince lets her go and she slides down the wall and falls into a heap on the floor as she tries to catch her breath once again. Vince kneels down in front of her and gently lifts her chin up so she's looking right at him. The tears run down her cheeks as she looks up at Vince in fear of what he might do next. Vince Jones just shakes his head at her.
Vince Jones: Buck up, girl! And don't forget to pass on that message. We wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty lil face of yours.
Vince gently taps her on the cheek and stands to his feet. Vince begins walking off down the hallway along with Reno. Jasmine walks up to Maddy, folds her arms across her chest, and looks down at Maddy in disgust.
Jasmine: Bitch!
Jasmine turns and trots along behind Vince leaving Maddy alone leaning against the wall trying to regain her composure. The camera slowly fades to black.
The New Evolution
FEATURING: SHAWN HARRIS
AUTHOR: JEFF
The scene goes back to the arena, the lights go out and the big screen goes dark, the fans begin wondering just what in the hell is happening. The big screen then lights up with the words “Countdown To A New Evolution” and the numbers count down from 10, the crowd begins cheering and going along with the count.
Crowd: 10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1!
As the countdown ends the screen turns back off again, images of primates are then shown, then Neanderthals are seen fighting each other, and then it cuts to business men walking in the street holding brief cases, the words “The Evolution Has Arrived” before showing scene’s of a wrestlers past matches doing various high risk moves, “Cruci-Fiction In Space” by Marilyn Manson starts up.
This is evolution
The monkey
The man
And then the gun
If Christ was in Texas
The hammer
The sickle
The only son
This is your creation
The atom of Eden
Was a bomb
If jack was the Baptist
We’d drink wine
From the head
This is evolution
The monkey
The man
And then the gun
Images are then shown of a wrestlers face, then the words “The Evolution” are seen and “Shawn Harris” underneath it, the fans begins chanting for Evolution as Shawn Harris walks out onto the stage wearing leather shoes, blue denim jeans and a “It’s Time For A New Evolution In AWC” t-shirt, he looks at the crowd and grins almost sadistically; he then begins his decent down the ramp.
James Brunt: Making his debut in the Atlantic Wrestling Club, from Clearwater, Florida and weighing approximately 220 pounds, “THE NEW F’N EVOLUTION” SHAWN HARRIS!
Shawn gets to the bottom of the ramp and walks slowly up the ring steps; he brushes back his long blonde hair away from his face before stepping through the middle rope and steps for the first time into an AWC ring. He takes the microphone off of Brunt and motions for him to the leave the ring, the music fades and the crowd continues to be excited about Shawn’s debut in AWC. As the crowd begins to calm down, Shawn raises the microphone to his mouth.
Shawn Harris: Look at all of you, you know it was only about a month ago when you were all jeering the hell out of me in a what was to be a growing promotion named Bloodbox when I defeated Anthony Taylor to win the Belt of Excellence Championship, I come to the big leagues at last and you’re all on the Shawn Harris bandwagon? Well forget it because I didn’t need your support before and I certainly don’t need it now. For the past four years I have lived in a constant shadow, I am constantly referred to as the son of “All Fucking That” Jeff Harris and when I try to make a name for myself he just pops up whenever he damn well pleases and takes the spotlight, I can assure you right now ladies and gentlemen that Jeff Harris has well and truly left the building, the door has been locked and the locks have been changed.
The crowd cheers return to the jeers that Shawn has been accustomed to at the disrespectful comments towards his father. This however just fuels Shawn’s hate.
Shawn Harris: I could list off my accomplishments and brag about defeating a great number of legends with twice the experience that I have, or how brilliantly I did in Bloodbox, but you know what that means here in AWC? Absolutely nothing, because AWC is an entirely different league all together, this is where the strongest survive and the weak are killed, this is where money is to be made and the finest wrestling is showcased, this is where I was destined to be, in twenty years time people won’t remember the names Pierce Lavelle, Adam Dick, Tim Shipley, Paddy O’Shea or even Jeff Harris, but the one name that will be synonymous with this business will be “The Evolution” Shawn Harris, I will no longer be known as the son of Jeff Harris, but Jeff Harris will be known as the father of the greatest wrestler this sport has ever witnessed and you won’t have to wait long to witness the epitome of technical finesse to showcase his skills. It doesn’t matter who I'm put against, because the result will always be the same, I will stand victorious while my opponent will be laid out on the mat, looking at the ceiling lights and knowing full well that Evolution had just passed him by.
The crowd really starts ripping into Shawn at this point, Shawn on the other hand, learning from experience just ignores the reaction he’s getting and continues.
Shawn Harris: You see every million years or so the evolutionary process makes it’s natural selection and I am it!
Shawn drops the microphone and “Cruci-Fiction In Space” starts up again, he takes another look at the crowd then leaves the ring and heads up the ramp with a smile on his face.
The Smell Of Opportunity
FEATURING: DARCY CRISIS, SARAH KENNEDY, CAMERAMAN
AUTHOR: NATHAN
The scene opens during what is in most countries taken as a commercial break, with Darcy Crisis standing by for an interview with Sarah Kennedy, moments before his match with Jason Warr. The camera crew is scurrying about in preparation as Kennedy and Crisis stand facing the camera.
Sarah Kennedy: Nervous?
Darcy Crisis: Petrified.
Sarah Kennedy: Don’t worry. I’ll ask the questions, you just say what’s on your mind.
Darcy Crisis: Are you kidding? You just try to keep up with me, sister.
Cameraman: We’re on in 5, 4, 3…
The cameraman flashes the last two digits of the countdown as the feed goes live.
Sarah Kennedy: We are mere moments away from a highly anticipated match between two of AWC’s newest acquisitions. I’m standing by with one of them, Darcy Crisis, who’s having his first televised match in over four years. Darcy, how do you feel?
Sarah moves the microphone towards Darcy as the camera zooms in on him. He stares straight ahead seemingly at nothing for a couple of moments, almost looking lost. But just before Sarah can prompt him again…
Darcy Crisis: It’s ELECTRIC in here, Sarah! First Fresh! of 2006. Back here in the good ol’ U S of A. Words can’t describe what I’m feeling. It’s… it’s… umm… *SNIFF*
Darcy sniffs the air, glancing around.
Darcy Crisis: What’s that smell?
Sarah Kennedy: …Excuse me?
Darcy Crisis: Seriously, what’s that smell? Did you…?
Sarah blushes, nervously exchanging glimpses between Darcy and the floor.
Darcy Crisis: Be honest…
Darcy stares at her accusingly for a few moments before a wide grin overtakes his face.
Darcy Crisis: I’m just kidding Sarah. But in all honesty, I do smell something. I know you can too, and so can all the people here in Cincinnati. It’s the smell of opportunity. You see, I came back for one reason and one reason only – Amy Campbell. I’m not going to lie to you… things have changed quite a bit since I left the business. I’m part of the old guard. I look around me and I no longer know in my heart that I can hang with the guys today. But turn back the clock, all the way back to 2001… and you have a different story. Aimz and Darcy Crisis were the best in the business, BAR NONE. We may have worked for a POS promotion that nobody ever heard of, but the fans we had were captivated night in and night out by the shows she and I put on. I have no regrets about leaving the way I did, but one question still lingers… who really was the best of that era? That’s why I came back, to have that question answered once and for all. But so far, Aimz has been less than receptive to my challenge… she doesn’t want to “dirty her hands” against a wrestling washout. That’s why the smell of opportunity is in the air tonight, Sarah… I have the opportunity to show that I’ve still got plenty left in the tank. I have the opportunity to prove to Aimz that the Darcy Crisis of old is still alive, he’s still well, and he’s got his sights set on his old arch-nemesis once more.
Sarah Kennedy: Well tonight, your opportunity comes in the form of Jason Warr, who also just signed with AWC and is looking to make quite the impact himself. Any thoughts?
Darcy Crisis: Well, I’ve never met the man… but I make it my business to know things about people of interest to me. And my sources have told me a thing or two about Mr. Warr. Specifically, I heard about an incident where he accosted a shop owner somewhere down south and stole his truck… all to get at this Teresa Tomas character. Well you know what they call that where I come from, Sarah?
Sarah Kennedy: What?
Darcy Crisis: BULLYING.
Darcy now stares straight ahead into the camera.
Darcy Crisis: I never cared much for bullies, especially the ones who think that might makes right above all else. I can tell you this much… bullying isn’t going to work against me, tonight. The man clearly has an agenda, but I’ve got an agenda of my own… one that I might very well have to be killed to be deterred from. So Jason Warr, I wish you the best of luck in beating the crap out of Tennessee rednecks in the future. But unfortunately for you, tonight… you have been targeted for Darcination.
With that, Darcy quickly darts off camera as Sarah Kennedy looks on.
Darcy Crisis vs Jason Warr
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
“Hide your face forever…
Dream and search forever…”
As “Open your eyes” by the Guano Apes begins to echo throughout the speakers, Darcy Crisis appears at the top of the ramp. He stands in his regular wrestling attire, boots and pants, with his wrists firmly taped.
The look on his face said it all; he was prepared.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Making his way to the ring, from East Bay, California… DARCY CRISIS!
The fans pop slightly at the mention of his name. His short time in AWC has been well spent, nipping at the heels of someone like Aimz. Now it was just a matter of making a name for himself.
George Cassidy: We’re gone for, what, like two months?! LOOK at all these shit-heads that have taken over! Where’s Jack Murphy?! Where’s the Unfuckables?
Truth Waters: The card can’t be filled with those three, you dork. Darcy Crisis is a fine competitor, as is the other new signing he’ll be facing in Jason Warr.
“Warheart” by the Children of Bodom replaces Darcy’s theme, and the figure of Jason Warr steps onto the stage.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Albany, New York, he is the Warr Hammer! JASON WARR!
Jason quickly makes his way to the ring, a little anxious for his first match in the AWC arena.
George Cassidy: Warr Hammer? What the FUCK is that?
Truth Waters: It’s his nickname! I think it’s clever.
George Cassidy: You would.
James Brunt climbs out of the ring just as Jason steps in, referee Michael Ryan taking his position between the two superstars. The two wrestlers touch fists as a sign of respect, and Michael Ryan calls for the bell.
Truth Waters: Crisis takes the advantage with a quick headlock! Ooh, impressive agility from Darcy as he grips Jason’s arm and twists it behind his back.
George Cassidy: Fruity people always do moves like that.
Warr combats the hold, falling to a knee and on the mat until it is twisted no-longer. With a final roll, Jason takes the advantaged position over Crisis, wrenching his arm behind his back.
Truth Waters: Reversal by Jason Warr, right into a sleeper hold!
George Cassidy: This match is a sleeper hold.
Truth Waters: But Crisis manages to loosen the grip and send Warr to the ropes!
Upon his return, Darcy hops over his running frame to send him to the ropes again, only on this return Jason receives both of Darcy’s feet in his face.
Truth Waters: Textbook dropkick from the Infinite Crisis!
George Cassidy: Are you just making these names up?
With Jason on the ground, Darcy pulls both of his arms behind his back, almost as if he was trying to pull both arms from their sockets.
Jason screams, and Ryan asks if he’d like to give up. Jason screams, No.
Truth Waters: Look at the determination on this competitor!
George Cassidy: What are you talking about! It’s the first minute! If he tapped out he’d be the next Sage!
Darcy keeps his focused on Jason’s right shoulder, letting go of the left arm then lifting him to his feet. He hoists the larger superstars frame over his own body, them slams him into the mat at an inverted position, landing on Warr’s right shoulder.
Truth Waters: Crisis is beginning to focus his attacks. He’s learning well in the realm of AWC.
George Cassidy: Why is he focusing on the arm? Why won’t he go for the back a region more effective?
Truth Waters: I never said he was the smartest wrestler, did I?!
Warr tries to shake off the blow, getting to his feet. He didn’t see Crisis directly in front of him, which had to mean the man was behind him. Acting purely on instinct, as he turned around, Jason quickly ducked low to the mat.
Truth Waters: Wow, either Jason Warr has eyes in the back of his head or he’s a psychic, because there’s no way anyone else would have ducked that spinning heel kick.
The move allowed just enough time for Warr to take down his opponent with a brutal clothesline, almost sending Darcy into a full back flip. Jason grabs his opponent by his long black hair, and throws him to the corner.
Truth Waters: Warr, now driving his boot into Darcy’s stomach.
George Cassidy: Think the big guy can do some high-stakes work?
Truth Waters: We’ll find out in just a few moments; he’s sitting Darcy to sit on the top post.
Warr steps up to the middle ropes and hooks an arm around Darcy’s neck. As he begins to pull back, Warr doesn’t notice that Darcy’s hands are firmly holding on to the ropes.
Truth Waters: AND JASON TOPPLES TO THE MAT, COURTESY OF DARCY CRISIS!
George Cassidy: Guess that answers my question.
Truth Waters: AND NOW DARCY TAKES TO THE SKIES!
Guillotine leg-drop, through from the awkward position Jason landed on, Darcy had to do some mid-air maneuvering to execute the move perfectly. He does, however, do so.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis makes the cover.
Ryan’s hand hits the mat once.
Twice.
A total of two times. Did you REALLY think this was going to be a three pager? C’mon, baby, we’re AT LEAST going to five!
Darcy shakes the Ref’s head in frustration, PLEADING for him to make a quicker count so he can just go get some rest. Warr is scrambling to his feet, trying to recall the moments that have been escaping him but it isn’t enough to stop the Infinite Crisis.
Truth Waters: Oooh, Darcy flattens Jason Warr with a DDT, and again he rolls Jason to his stomach and hooks the right arm around his back.
George Cassidy: I’d really like to see that limb torn cleanly off, and used to beat him with it.
Truth Waters: You really are a morbid man.
George Cassidy: Hey, I’ve not had my wrestling fix for MONTHS. Spare me if I thirst for a little blood!
Taking a heightened position, the look of malicious intent actually begins to make it’s presence known across Crisis’ face as he holds the arm high behind his opponent’s back.
Again, Jason Warr screams but is against tapping out; tapping out is for pussies. Sudden relieve is granted, as the grip on Jason’s arm is relieved. In that split second, he relishes in the burning sensation that slowly disappears from his joints, instead of worrying about what he should have.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis with a baseball slide into Warr’s shoulder! Man, that bit has to be torn to shreds by know.
By now, the Warr Hammer’s frustrations have peaked, as has his anger. In a jolt of adrenaline, he shakes off the blow and immediately steps to his feet. He quickly scoops up the unsuspecting Crisis and powerslams him to the mat.
Truth Waters: Jason Warr with the cover now.
ONE!
Kickout. Darcy mutters into Jason’s ear as Jason pulls his opponent to his feet. He mutters one simple word that is enough to drive Warr over the edge; “Pathetic.”
Warr snaps, tossing him to the ropes and then drilling him to the mat with another hard Lariat, before kneeling over his fallen body and delivering a series of closed fists to Darcy’s face.
Truth Waters: Wow! It looks like Jason Warr is possessed!
George Cassidy: BLEEEED FOR ME! MAKE HIM BLEEEEED FOR ME!
Truth Waters: You truly are a sick man.
Michael Ryan forces the relentless Warr off of Darcy, giving the smaller superstar a chance to catch his breath, but it is useless.
“Up,” Warr mutters, gripping the youngster by his hair and violently, leaving Crisis no choice but to oblige. He doesn’t struggle in the larger superstar’s grip, for if his plan had been tended to correctly, the next blow of damage Warr dealt would be to his own self.
Truth Waters: Jason Warr, now locking Crisis into the suplex position.
George Cassidy: Why isn’t he lifting him?
Truth Waters: It looks like he’s trying.
For some reason, Jason cannot find the strength to lift a two-hundred pound man over his head. Why? Remember Crisis and that shoulder?
Truth Waters: Well, his left arm is trying to pull him overhead but it just looks like his right arm can’t keep him up!
With one final breath gathered for momentum, Jason tries to execute the vertical press, but it is too much for his shoulder, allowing Darcy to collapse right on top of him.
Truth Waters: Whoa! Crisis’ strategy paid off!
Darcy helps Jason to his feet, and grabs both of his hands as if they were playing a two-man game of ring around the rosie. Lockin his legs around the hands and doing a series of maneuvers that I will never be able to explain, Crisis finishes off the final touch of his signature move, the triangle lock.
With all of his weight pulling down on Warr’s shoulders, forced to stay standing, he begins screaming.
Truth Waters: Where’s Jason going to go?
George Cassidy: With no ropes around, hopefully to the locker room so we can get this show over with.
Darcy pulls back just a tad more on that right shoulder.
Jason has no more options. Broken bones, or a first loss?
TAP TAP TAP.
Ryan calls for the bell, Darcy unlocks the hold and immediately rolls back and to his feet, arms raised by the referee as James Brunt puts the stamp of approval down.
James Brunt: The winner… DARCY CRISIS!
The fans cheer as the Guano Apes kick back in, the frustrated Jason Warr giving a handshake to the winner for his sportsmanship before AWC goes back to the mighty big screen.
AWC In 2006
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Truth Waters: Now tonight’s action so far has shown us that AWC can more than live up to the high standards of last year, but now we’re just gonna take a minute out to discuss what we’ve got to look forward to in 2006.
George Cassidy: A six-figure contract offer from GCW!
Truth Waters: That certainly ain’t on the cards for someone like you Cassidy...
George Cassidy: Alright, alright – well, we’re going to have Zero To Hero in May which marks the start of a new AWC year, having come full circle from our humble beginnings in Tampa in May last year...
A video begins on the screen, showing numerous AWC superstars in and around the “AWC in 2006” logo.
Truth Waters: That’s right, and preceding that on May 6th, a year after AWC’s inception TO THE DAY, we’ll actually be seeing a special anniversary show at which I guess we’ll be seeing old stars compete against some of the new bright lights for 2006.
George Cassidy: Zero To Hero, though, is what will TRULY crown the new rising star. Think back to last year and Alex Strider... God rest his soul... he came out to the ring on AWC’s first night and he won THREE matches to PROVE to all of us that out of those eight men, HE WAS THE BEST. Whoever wants to take the honour of Hero 2006 has THAT kind of legacy to live up to!
Truth Waters: The legacy of a dead man – something you never can live up to. There’s lots to look forward to before that, even – Bloodlust, next month, which promises to take AWC to a new level!
George Cassidy: A new low, most likely. Get out the blood capsules!
Truth Waters: And along with Zero To Hero we’ll be seeing a repeat of another of last year’s big events, and that’s Triangles, which is to become an annual institution in AWC! WHAT a match it was back in November and I'm praying that it’s a West Atlantic show again in oh-six so that we get to call the shots again – conditional of course on Cassidy here still being in a job...
George Cassidy: Hey, what’s with the doom-mongering?
Truth Waters: Telling it like it is Cass...
George Cassidy: Shame. Maybe THIS year we can also recognise when a PRIME UNIVERSAL CHAMPION wants to get into our Christmas Party and not let some big shot doorman turn him away!
Truth Waters: Ah yes, that wasn’t exactly the height of our achievements last year – though to be fair, he wasn’t the champion at the time...
George Cassidy: No shit, Clyde Walkins is a fucking RETARD. Triangles also brings one more thing to light – Jack Murphy’s Grand Slam Package. Shots at the Transatlantic, Frontier, Alliance, Relentless and – according to his contract – Livewire championships are his for the taking anytime before then. Could we see a... quadruple champion in Jack “The Bull” Murphy?
Truth Waters: No, because there’s no way in hell the Livewire title’s coming back.
George Cassidy: He’s got a contract for it –
Truth Waters: Never mind the contract, Cassidy! Pearl disbanded the belt and that’s that. BACK ON TOPIC, I can exclusively reveal the title of a HUGE event that’s going to rock your ’06. BIGGER THAN ZERO TO HERO. BIGGER THAN TRIANGLES. The KING of all pay-per-view events will be AWC’s COAST TO COAST, coming August 2006!
George Cassidy: Ooh. DO I SMELL CHEESE?
Rocky IV
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE AND JOE SCHMIDT
Backstage, Mike Wade is continuing his training ritual with Adam Dick in preparation for Adam's shot at the Transatlantic title tonight. Both men are sitting at a table with a blender placed on it.
Mike Wade: Now Adam, listen up, this is the most important bit of this whole Rocky-esque training session.
Adam Dick: Hmmmmm…
Mike Wade: No seriously, this is the thing that will boost your immune system, keep you going, and give you the ability to cut Purse Lavelle in half, even without your Zelda sword! And you know that's good!
Adam Dick: Mike, Mike, Mike. I'd LIKE to believe you, but this just sounds TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE! Are you telling me that there's a magic elixir that will give me the strength I need to succumb a girly-man like Purse Lavelle?!
Mike Wade: Not just an elixir - but a magic drink!
Adam Dick: Ooooh!
Adam wipes the dumbfounded look off of his face.
Adam Dick: Sorry dude, but I'll have to see it to believe it. So come on, bust out with it already.
Mike Wade: Alright man you asked for it… and trust me this shit works!
Mike reaches under the table and pulls out… raw meat. He thrusts the meat on top of the table and looks to Adam for a typical positive reaction.
Adam Dick: Raw meat! SWEET! Where's the grill?
Mike Wade: Grill? No grill is needed here. Just the blender man.
Mike looks at Adam like an idiot.
Adam Dick: Are we using the blender to make smoothies with our steaks or something?
Mike Wade: Now you're getting it. We're doin’ Nana Wade’s patented Raw Meat Smoothies baby!
Adam Dick: You mean we’re making smoothies OUT OF the raw meat!?!
Mike Wade: It's like Nana Wade always said. Beat your meat - you won't get beat!
Adam Dick: Gross, dude. Besides, doesn't that shit have, like, salmonella or AIDS or shit if you don't cook it?
Mike Wade: Yeah it does - if you're a pussy! You're not turning into a pussy are ya Face?
Adam Dick: I'm no fucking pussy! I'm a bad-ass mother fucker!
Adam takes a handful of the raw meat chunk, and shoves it in the blender.
Adam Dick: BRING ON THE MONEY.
Mike Wade: Well I too am a hard ass mother fucker, and I take TWO helpings in mine so…
Wade takes a second handful and tosses it in the blender and then presses "Blend".
Mike Wade: The money's in the meat baby, the money's in the meat!
Wade then pours the lumpy, raw meat drink into a cup and slides it across to Dick like you'd see in the bar of an old Western flick.
Mike Wade: Lemme see you do it Facey - Beat that meat!
The Illustrious Dick slams his cup of meat, and slowly, it sludges out and into his mouth. Sort of like pouring soft Playdough from a can and into your mouth, it resists the fluid motions that come when pouring water.
Adam Dick: Urrrrrrrgh. Taaaaaaasty.
He bites off the stream of meat pouring into his mouth, chews for a bit, and swallows.
Adam Dick: Tastes like strawberries... I think.
Mike Wade: Ooh, I can't wait to try some of that.
Adam tries to mask his pain with a smile as takes another gulp/bite, before turning to his trainer himself.
Adam Dick: Aren't you going to have some?
Mike Wade: Of course! What do you think I am, a pussy?
He pours the meat from the blender, sloppily it falls into his cup.
Mike Wade: There ain't nothin’ like having some big strong flabby meat between your teeth - yeah babay!
Conspiracy Theory II
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, DR STEVEN BURNS, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE
The atmosphere in the room is immense as Pierce Lavelle, Dr. Steven Burns and David “Pearl” Harber all sit by, idly, as they wait for the blood test results - the machine gurgling away as it processes the information.
Pierce watches the tension in the room increase as Sasha strolls into the room, her head held high, for a reason, unbeknown to anybody apart from her.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well?
Pearl: Patience…
Pearl grumbles, not taking his eyes off the machine. Pierce doesn’t acknowledge her presence, he remains seated, cautious and silent, placing a small band aid over the puncture hole.
Dr. Steven Burns: It’ll only be another moment.
Pearl: He’s got a match, Steve...
Sasha Volkyeva: Yes, hurry up, would you? I am very –
Sasha jumps as the machine beeps, printing the document that now held Pierce’s fate. The room fell into silence, no more edgy looks, all eyes on the printer. Sasha jumped forward to grab the sheet, but Dr. Burns was there a moment earlier and leafed it out of her grip.
Pierce Lavelle: Doc?
Pierce asks with a squeaky tone. Sasha gazes toward Pierce, a cold look in her eyes.
Pearl: Steven?
Dr. Steven Burns: Negative for drugs…
Sasha Volkyeva: You what?
Sasha shrieks yanking the sheet out of the doctor’s hands.
Pierce Lavelle: Something wrong?
Pierce asks with a confident smile on his face, Pearl turns, hands on his hips and glares towards Pierce - a more ‘keep quiet look’ than anything else.
Pearl: You have your evidence, Sasha.
Sasha Volkyeva: …This… This is a scam! I –
Dr. Steven Burns: No scam, I’ll assure you of th-
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh shut up!
Sasha says in a huff, flinging the page in the air and leaving the room with a resonating slam as the door closes. Pearl smirks towards Pierce.
Pierce Lavelle: Sheesh, that woman has one serious attitude problem.
Dr. Steven Burns: You’re all good to go, Pierce.
Pierce smiles and hops off the bed.
Pierce Lavelle: Cool, thanks, doc.
Pearl turns to Pierce.
Pearl: That’s one hurdle out of the way, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing her soon.
Pierce Lavelle: You can’t miss her!
Pierce jokes as he pulls on his t-shirt.
Pearl: Careful, you don’t want to aggravate her too much.
Pierce Lavelle: Alright, I’ll keep the comments to myself.
Pearl: Good luck with the match, I’m going to speak to your lawyers and try and see if we can get you out of this mess.
Pierce Lavelle: Thanks Pearl…
Pierce pats Pearl’s shoulders as he leaves the room, heading toward his locker room.
Nash vs Tomas vs Sage vs Aimz
STIPULATION: FOUR WAY FURY
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: ROB BISHOP
Match to be added. Spoiler winner (highlight to view): ELLIS NASH.
Third Time's A Charm
FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA, SHELLY, MIKE WADE
AUTHOR: MICK DOHERTY
Paddy O’Shea sits upright in the hospital bed as the scene fades in, he looks a little nervy as his eyes show. Beside him, with more suspicion than worry, is Shelly, Paddy girlfriend extraordinaire.
Paddy O’Shea: And then aye pushed her away an’ told her t’ go, ye seen tha’, ye must have!
Already regretting the decision to allow live feeds into the hospital room, Paddy is now finding he must explain his previous encounter to his girlfriend Shelly. Not quite as glamorous as his last guest, Shelly sits without make up in baggy jeans and a black AWC T-Shirt. She’s a pretty girl, with a nice face but she isn’t sexy, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to work that out. Shelly sighs.
Shelly: It’s okay… I trust you.
Paddy smiles a little at her and moves to hug her but she gets up instead, pretending not to have seen the gesture. Paddy’s smile disappears but instead of say anything, he sits back.
Shelly: Paddy, I have to tell you something and I don’t know if you’re going to like it.
Paddy is suddenly anxious, he takes Shelly’s hand gently but she pulls away from him and begins looking at the floor. She begins to open her mouth but the intrusion of another unexpected (and quite unwelcome guest) cuts her off with a gasp.
Shelly: Mike!
Mike Wade: Alright Toots, what’s up with your fine ass.
Paddy faces goes crimson in a nanosecond as he grits his teeth, moving to get up, his back arched. A quick jab from Wade knocks him back onto the bed with a daze as Shelly begins to shout for help. Wade shuts her up when he grabs her by the air and thrusts her outside, closing the door behind him.
Mike Wade: And stay out there bitch.
Bitch? Paddy begins to move again to get up, once again on the brink of tears as he fights the pain in his back. Wade delivers a haymaker that sends Paddy’s head banging on the headboard.
Mike Wade: Just sit still for a second, or I’ll fucking rip your head off.
Wade booms laughter, while Paddy looks up in bitter loathing.
Paddy O’Shea: Get out…
Mike Wade: Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Thing is Paddy, you’re going to listen to me because every time you open your mouth, I’m going to hit you harder. I just wanted you to know that, I’ve had you before, remember the bridge? I had your life in my hand… and I’ll get it again. And I know how you want a match with me sooooo much. So much, you’ve went to Harber every Tuesday for the last month. Well pal, don’t you worry, you want a match, you’ll get a match.
Wade sneers.
Mike Wade: But until then, watch your back…
Paddy moves to grab Wade as he turns around but Wade anticipates and knees him in the face. Wade snickers then walks out. The scene closes as the camera zooms in on an edgy expression, displayed by both Wade and Shelly as they look at each other. Then Wade scuttles off while Shelly comes back in.
The Icebreaker
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: FERGUS
The cold corridor in the cauldron of the arena for the week. A couple of staff are walking to and fro down the long circular corridor and it seems like the distance never ends, it just spirals on and on to eternity. Various men and women of different ages and sizes wander by, all with something of interest do. One man in particular is particularly intent on his goal. For right in the middle of this never ending corridor lies the door to Sasha Volkyeva's office, and the man searching for it is Jack Murphy.
He reaches the door with relative ease and before he knocks and enters he clears his throat, checking his breath and cracks his neck so that he's loose and flexible. It's hard but you can barely hear him talking to himself, a mumbling or mantra that is helping him to do something. When he feels it's done, he knocks slowly but proudly on the door.
Voice: Come in.
The voice is unmistakeably Volkyeva and at the sound of her voice, Murphy audibly clears his throat once again, hesitating to open the door. He then shakes his head and bounds in, a little too eager.
Almost breaking the door on his way in.
Sasha Volkyeva sits at her desk and at the noise looks up, her left eyebrow quivering higher over a pair of steel glasses that must be for reading purposes. The pen she holds in her hand hangs delicately and is poised to drop carelessly to the desk in a clatter. It does not happen however and we are left as she looks with a slight smirk at Murphy's buffoonery.
Sasha Volkyeva: Jack, it is good to see you... how was your break?
Both parties exchange a glance that extends far beyond what it possibly should, like something was still welling in their bodies. Perhaps it was the Christmas Party. Perhaps not.
Jack Murphy: (pausing) It was... refreshing.
Sasha Volkyeva: I am glad. Now, what is it I can do for you, or was door reconstruction all that you require?
Jack Murphy: (bowing head) No... no it wasn't for that.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well what then?
Jack Murphy: Ever since I've entered this company, I have come in with one goal and one goal only; to see that justice is done to wrestling. To bring it back to the pinnacle of sports that it has always claimed to be. None of this ridiculous extreme bullshit or sports entertainment crap. It says wrestling on the marquee doesn't it? Well then why aren't we giving them wrestling? I'll tell you why... one man in particular: Pearl Harber.
Volkyeva again raises her eyebrow but now pushes back on her chair, leaning slightly to take in the Bull fully and appraise the situation.
Jack Murphy: It's no secret that I loathe him Sasha, it's no secret that I can't stand the asshole but I think some people are mishearing me when I speak ill of him. They feel I'm slandering a man of integrity, a man who has morals. Need I remind the people who watch this organisation that he has ensured that for each and every PPV there has been at least one bloody as hell match, the majority of the time involving the top champion of the federation, a drug addict as it occurs. Let's not forget the fiasco between Shipley and his private life as drama spills into melodrama spills into dodgy action flick. This is wrestling Sasha, WRESTLING.
Sasha Volkyeva: And your point?
Jack Murphy: My point? This is bloody WRESTLING. Not a soap opera. When you grew up, why did people go to wrestling shows? To see them ponder the possibilities of the universe and offload their personal problems onto the world? NO. They came to see one guy beat the stuffing out another guy, in a fair balanced contest of strength, pride, ability and tenacity. There was no need for stupid things like barbed wire or exploding mines in a ring, the attraction of the wrestlers was enough. So in my opinion Harber is trying to kill off that attraction, his very bread and butter. Without the wrestlers, you may as well have midgets doing those stupid gimmicky matches. I came here to wrestle, not to be a pawn to a man's whims and fancies.
Volkyeva looks in deep thought and her hands press together in front of her.
Sasha Volkyeva: So what is it that you suggest?
Jack Murphy: The return I've always wanted, the return I've been calling for for the last six months in this organisation. To look at the fucking marquee for once and remember why everyone is here. At this point, Harber is diluting the product and killing us off, one wrestler at a time. Regardless of their off-screen antics, look at what's happened to Shipley and Lavelle. Shipley would never have been in this way if not for Harber firing that psycho Aliso. That's one down and then look at Lavelle, urged by Harber to get to the bottom of the whole drug scandal for better or worse; and it definitely turned out worse. There's two wrestlers... the two wrestlers who he was promoting as his top tier champions and look what's happened, they will never be the same again, God knows if Shipley will ever be back and Lavelle has a bloody bullet wound in his shoulder, he's lucky to be alive. With the news of Strider's death so close to today, how the hell do you think he'd overcome trying to explain Lavelle? It's fucking ridiculous.
Murphy pauses to take a breath and looks firmly at Volkyeva.
Jack Murphy: We need wrestling.
Sasha nods her head appreciatively and looks very intrigued by the entire thing. She stands up and puts her hand out towards Murphy.
Sasha Volkyeva: Mr. Murphy, thank you for your honesty and appraisal of the state of affairs of the company from someone who hasn't been drinking Mr. Harber's… kool-aid? – from the beginning. I am most certainly interested in your ideas for the future and let's just say that I have no intention of running things the same way. With your insight and knowledge of the industry I could use you... of course for that to happen we would need to re-evaluate your contract to fully show your services due payment no?
Jack Murphy: (shaking hand and smiling) But of course.
Sasha Volkyeva: But of course.
There is a tense moment as again they look at each other intensely. Murphy breaks the hold, only to kiss Sasha's hand politely and then move back slowly. Her face goes a slight bit pink and she looks taken aback slightly. Jack smiles and begins to move off.
Jack Murphy: I presume we can sort out the details over the next few days... privately of course?
Sasha Volkyeva: Of course.
Without another word and still smiling, Murphy backs out of the room, leaving Ms. Volkyeva with a slight grin on her face.
Pierce Lavelle (C) vs Adam Dick
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: JAMIE FLETCHER (narrative) AND PIERRE HYDE (commentary)
A logo flashes on the screen indicating that the following match is going to be a championship contest.
Truth Waters: Well that’s worrying news... Volkyeva seemingly set to increase Jack Murphy’s pay simply for being in her pocket...
George Cassidy: He is WORTH IT. I don’t know why he’s degrading himself to muscle for Mother Russia, though. He’s the best damn wrestler AWC’s got.
Truth Waters: Now it’s time for our main event! Pierce Lavelle’s chance to show us he’s still the best wrestler in AWC PERIOD following all his problems with Adam Dick, and the drug allegations, bullet wounds…
George Cassidy: It seems everything Lavelle does nowadays is shrouded in mystery. What’s he hiding?
Truth Waters: What certainly ISN’T shrouded in mystery is his mastery. He’s held this belt for… well… a long, long time.
“The Final Cut' by Coheed & Cambria” plays as “The Illustrious Face-Eater” Adam Dick appears on the ramp to a chorus of heat from the full house. Sucking it up Adam Dick walks down the ramp to the normal introduction from the ring announcer.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the AWC Transatlantic championship! Introducing first, the challenger, from Salt Lake City, Utah… ADAM DICK!
Diving under the bottom rope he poses in the centre of the ring while his music ends. Then everything darkens… the crowd goes silent and Adam Dick gets checked over by the referee.
George Cassidy: Dick has that confident glare on his face… you know, he really could take the title belt tonight! Then he and Wade, The Unfuckables, would have control of every championship in AWC save the vacant Frontier title!
Truth Waters: God forbid.
“Stockholm Syndrome” by Muse kicks in, the crowd are unsure how to react to the champion. Normally Lavelle is the undoubted hero who is a proud champion of the people. Tonight however this image is clouded by the challenger’s recent allegations which have resulted in this match. Still, Lavelle’s blood test tonight came up clean, so the general atmosphere does indicate an appreciation of the champion from the fans.
Adam laughs as Pierce Lavelle jumps up onto the ring apron. Getting into the ring he gives his title to the referee; Lars Larsson holds up the championship in the middle of the ring for the entire arena to see.
Truth Waters: This is it! Perhaps the last time Lavelle will be seeing his title? Or another notch in the belt for the dominant champion?
The challenger for the Atlantic Wrestling Club Transatlantic championship Adam Dick stands opposite his arch enemy, the at times disgraced but still current Transatlantic champion Pierce Lavelle. Lavelle’s eyes show his complete state of concentration, ignoring the crowd and focusing solely on Dick. The referee calls for the bell but as it sounds neither man moves they both stay in their respective corners staring one another down. The champion wins the battle of minds as Adam Dick is first to move showing lack of patience. He runs towards the champion; Lavelle doesn’t move and allows Adam Dick to connect with a stiff elbow shot.
Truth Waters: No sell!
Adam Dick’s elbow strikes the right hand side of Lavelle’s jaw but Lavelle does nothing. An understandablely shocked Adam Dick is taken back by Lavelle’s attitude towards his assault. Like an animal Adam Dick continues his wild bombardment on Lavelle who in return like a sponge soaks it all up.
Adam Dick punches Lavelle and Lavelle slumps back into the corner. Bemused Adam Dick watches Pierce Lavelle pull himself together, stand back upright and return back to the stare down. Adam Dick spits at Pierce Lavelle and yells “Druggie”.
Truth Waters: Dick baiting Lavelle who seems reluctant to give Dick anything at all to work with here.
George Cassidy: It’s all in the mind.
Truth Waters: Just like the drug allegations…
Still there is no movement still from the Transatlantic champion who has spent time in the slammer this past week. Finally Adam Dick decides enough is enough and turns away from Pierce Lavelle, leaving his eyesight.
Truth Waters: Bad move.
Taking Adam Dick from behind Pierce Lavelle takes him out with a great deal of malice. The revenge piercing through his eyes and running through his veins characterizes every crushing blow he delivers.
George Cassidy: Look at Lavelle!
Truth Waters: He’s all over him!
He beats Dick with fists and forearms, with raging emotions intended to cause more pain then the blows themselves. Continuing his beastly actions of appeasement Pierce Lavelle refuses to lighten the rampage at all. The arena explodes as Adam Dick loses complete control falling from his knees, face first into the canvas. The madman in Lavelle is evident as despite the referee’s urges he continues to pound the back of Adam Dick’s skull with astonishingly brutal double fist smashes.
Truth Waters: We’re seeing what can only be described as shocking brutality from our champion…
George Cassidy: These fans sicken me! Listen! Cheering his every move! If this was the other way around…
Truth Waters: …It’d be a whole new story. It’s not about what you do, it’s about why you do it.
Finally the referee forces Pierce Lavelle off of Adam Dick. The Transatlantic champion rises to an ovation from the sold out crowd who clearly dig his violent approach to proceedings this evening. Like the hammer of a judge Pierce Lavelle lifts his leg and then like justice it crashes down on Adam Dick, corporal punishment for the evil deeds he has done to get this match. Again justice is dealt sweetly upon Adam Dick who is now nothing but a shell on the mat at the mercy of the champion.
Truth Waters: I must say, Lavelle’s tactics, while crude, have to this point certainly been effective.
Lavelle plucks Adam Dick up of off the mat, the champion Pierce Lavelle gently smiles as he applies a front face lock on Face-Eater. The camera pans in however to reveal the truth of the smile, a twisted smile bitter with redemption required to be the only satisfaction and justification of it’s existence. In one sweeping motion Lavelle throws Dick’s arm over his shoulder and grabs a hold of his trunks. Then dominating the smaller man he hoists him up into a vertical position. Holding him in position Pierce Lavelle counts…
“One… Two… Three…”
The crowd begins to join in with Lavelle.
“Four… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT!”
George Cassidy: God!
Truth Waters: This is one hell of a stall!
The shock on the crowd as Pierce Lavelle refuses to drop Adam Dick and keeps him hanging.
“NINE! TEN! ELEVEN!!!”
Pushing himself up onto his tiptoes Lavelle drops back down suddenly onto the full face of his feet ramming Adam Dick’s shoulder into his. He does this again and again… once… twice… three… four times… then Lavelle returns to the static position he was in and has as much concentration as he did before. Meanwhile the Face-Eater begins to be showing a bit of life.
George Cassidy: I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this!
Truth Waters: Dick is going to need a lot more than luck. He’s going to need FATE on his side to beat Lavelle, with the champion in this kind of mood.
“TWELVE… THIRTEEN…” The Face-Eater escapes the move. Having been held up for so long by Pierce Lavelle who was looking to apply too much pain to Dick he forgot the probability of him regaining enough strength to counter. Dick lands perfectly on his feet behind Lavelle, back to back with him and from his standing position is able to snap Lavelle down to his knees.
George Cassidy: And that’s indication that ya took it too far.
Running off to the ropes the eccentric Adam Dick with showmanship explodes into and off of the ropes. On the rebound he camp stars out and takes Pierce Lavelle down his big splash. Despite being the littler guy he successfully manages to control himself on the follow through, displaying an awesome little pose to get the crowd rowdy. Adam Dick then turns and leaps over towards the grounded body of Pierce Lavelle who looks like a dish and a half to the Face-Eater. Before Adam can get anywhere near Pierce Lavelle out comes Lavelle’s hand taking a firm dominating grip around Adam Dick’s throat.
Truth Waters: Oh-oh!
Pushing Dick he sends him tumbling across the ring canvas into the corner. Adam Dick retreats into a further corner to plan his next tactics on Pierce Lavelle who is now on his knees. The Transatlantic champion waits hoping Adam Dick will get fidgety before he does and he is correct in thinking so and the tactic paid off so well. Charging like in war Adam Dick leads with his right foot attempting to knock the context of Pierce Lavelle’s mouth out but Lavelle moves his head out of harm’s way and Adam Dick’s boot screams past him and into the turnbuckle pad.
Truth Waters: In the heat of the moment Pierce Lavelle keeps his cool. That’s been something that’s let him down in the past, a tendency to get too hot-headed… but despite his visceral attitude tonight he knows the stakes and Lavelle has focus.
Lavelle grabs Adam Dick’s foot as he falls out of the corner. Dragon takedown takes Adam Dick down, Pierce Lavelle feeling no remorse for Adam Dick’s pain. The only wrestler in the world with a fetish for the face lies back first on the mat at the mercy of the Transatlantic champion who wraps himself like a cobra around his right leg.
George Cassidy: Do something Facey!
The pain sends Adam Dick into a state of fury, swinging his arms around in an out of control fashion. The referee repositions himself to the side of Adam Dick in case he begins to tap but Dick has too much energy in him to even consider giving up at this stage and instead he ventures for the ropes.
George Cassidy: Lars Larsson isn’t gonna find an “I Quit” from an Unfuckable!
Spraying his arms in all direction he gets minimum results out of his attempt to find the ropes. This effort cannot be denied but he is overcome with pain as the submission friendly champion applies even more pressure to the leg of Adam Dick.
Truth Waters: Lavelle’s persisting, really torquing that leg.
Like a fried fish that has been lifted out the pan Adam Dick feels crisp as he grabs hold of the bottom rope and also a tad relieved. Pierce Lavelle rises to his feet and moves away from the Illustrious Face-Eater, again trying to gain a psychological upper hand in this bout. However unlike previously he doesn’t wait for Adam Dick to mount an assault and instead launches his own crusade with a elevating knee shot to the lower chin which knocks Adam Dick into the ring cables. The cables sag and Adam Dick is propelled off of them into open territory.
George Cassidy: …What happened there?
Truth Waters: Ring crew are in big trouble. The rope just gave way!
Again Pierce Lavelle jettisons Adam Dick with a high rising knee strike to the lower chin; this time it completely grounds the Face-Eater. Flowing with the action Lavelle pivots and drops his right knee into the rib cage of Dick whose head pops up straight into the path of Piece Lavelle’s inner arm. With Adam Dick ready for punishment Lavelle lifts himself up off of the mat this in turn drags Adam along with him.
George Cassidy: The champion smelling the drugs… oops, I mean blood, of Adam Dick, preps him for some power move.
Truth shakes his head, exasperated, as Lavelle is stopped short by the ring smarts of Dick; before he can be jacked up he latches onto the bottom ring cable with his right foot… however his ring knowledge is matched by the Transatlantic champion’s who alters his offensive hitting a perfect snap DDT!
Truth Waters: Sudden DDT to counter!
Taken by surprise Adam Dick can do nothing as his face slams into the canvas unprotected by anything.
George Cassidy: Face-Beater.
Turning over Adam Dick the champion pins him.
ONE!
TWO!
No – Adam Dick kicks out before the three count.
Truth Waters: Lavelle unable to end this title bout just yet.
The accused Pierce Lavelle stares down at Adam Dick the man who had dictated slanderous libel against his foe. Grabbing both of Adam Dick’s feet he re-angles them both, and then with one move he catapults Adam Dick into the ropes with so much aggression. Altering the momentum Dick handstands over the cables and manages to land on the ring apron.
George Cassidy: Now THAT is spectacular!
Lavelle notices and wastes no time before going on a new offensive however Adam Dick is given enough time to devise a plan for attack. Lifting his knee slightly just after the point of no return for Lavelle he administers a stiff dose of revenge. Lavelle stumbles away giving Dick enough room to springboard up onto the top cable… his agility prospers as he rockets through the air as if he was in space. His springboard clothesline isn’t picked up by Lavelle and Dick connects successfully flooring the champion and regaining vital ground in this match.
George Cassidy: Big move! Big move! Adam Dick turns the tides!
Sprinting off to the ropes he has Lavelle in a perfect position in the middle of the ring. He jumps up onto the top rope and hits a springboard moonsa- NO LAVELLE COUNTERS with his knees…. Lavelle brings Adam Dick down with a quick fire roll up!
Truth Waters: LAVELLE GOT HIS KNEES UP! NOW THE PIN!
ONE!
TWO!
No Adam Dick kicks out again and escapes near loss.
George Cassidy: Adam Dick’s failed moonsault nearly cost him the match!
Getting up onto his knees Pierce Lavelle pivots to face the grounded but resilient Adam Dick. Dick fidgets showing small signs of recovery which is quite blatantly annoying Pierce Lavelle who thought he had more time. In an attempt to counter this problem Lavelle nails the rising head of Adam Dick with a strong forearm which buys him a few more seconds’ head start. Up on his feet Pierce Lavelle moves towards the corner of the ring so his attack cannot be limited or avoided in any easy way by the Face-Eater.
Truth Waters: Lavelle is showing good awareness to solidify himself in most minds as the favourite.
Wasting no time Lavelle shoots across the ring and ties up with Adam Dick with a traditional hand to collar lock. Unable to react quickly enough Adam soon loses out to Lavelle who swerves around him and takes a firm waist lock. Both of Pierce Lavelle’s arms easily reach around the Face Eater’s body and some giving him enough leverage to use a bear hug to great effect. With little effort Lavelle hoists Adam Dick into the air holding him high enough for the whole arena to watch his dominance of the challenger adding value to the reasons why he is the Transatlantic champion and why all who walk in front of him should fear. Like an abused five year old Pierce Lavelle clutches onto Adam Dick as if he was the only thing in the world some would say it was a bit Canning like.
Adam Dick refuses to give in and battles on despite the urges from the crowd and the taunts for him to chuck in the towel and tap the champ. Being the true hated man he is Adam Dick doesn’t follow the crowd’s wishes and holds on for his hopes and his pride. Finally getting so annoyed with himself and his inability to finish off Adam Dick with the submission Pierce Lavelle tips backwards and sends Dick packing in a bear hug/release half German Suplex combination.
Truth Waters: Spinning and dropping it like it’s damn hot…!!!
George Cassidy: Ugh, Truth! Leave that to Vince Jones.
Pierce Lavelle makes third pin attempt in a row on the challenger stamping further authority over proceedings.
ONE!
TWO!
Bugger if you’re Pierce Lavelle because Adam Dick managed once again to break the referee before he could grace the mat with his hand for a third second in a row. The camera does a beautiful little close up on Lavelle’s face showing the pure bamboozled look in his face like a seventy two year old man failing the crack the sudku puzzle before the post office opens. Finally Pierce Lavelle thinks he’s found another number… I mean solution to end the match and he tips up onto his feet to show he can equal the Face-Eater in any showman’s battle. Marking out the crowd get a “Fuck him up, Lavelle” chant…
In motion to the claps of the crowd Pierce Lavelle circles the body of Adam Dick like a shark waiting for the prey to come close enough to life to make the kill that ever bit better.
Truth Waters: It’s a matter of time…
Using the ropes Adam Dick rises and Pierce Lavelle gets into place ready barely being able to control his dribble. Bam!!!! Nope Pierce Lavelle does not connect his big right boot with the face of Adam Dick; instead with the referee who was standing just behind the Face-Eater. Down goes the referee like a granny in a room full of ASBO bearing seventeen year olds. The eyes of the Illustrious Face-Eater light up, the little face muncher moves towards the ropes with a spring in his step and the ignorant champion is thrown off his game as he shacks the referee. Drop kick to the back knocks Pierce Lavelle into the corner of the ring… Dick follows up the drop kick with a running jumping grab into a drop of the back into the knees.
George Cassidy: Ouch!
Truth Waters: Come on, pussy.
Lavelle tumbles off of the knees and into the ropes were he clings on trying to rehabilitee for a wee moment while Adam Dick gets up. It’s no good the eccentric villain who loves a face or two for supper is to quick for any sufficient recuperation and before you can count to… exactly very quick… Lavelle speeds across the ring but it’s a fakey Irish whip from Adam Dick who spins him around and using the momentum hikes the champion up onto his shoulders.
George Cassidy: HIGH STAKES HERE…
Spinning around and around… fast… faster… Adam Dick makes up for his weight and size disadvantage with some serious fast action. Overturn drop by Adam Dick results in serious discomfort for Pierce Lavelle as he lands.
Truth Waters: Nice piece of work by Dick who now needs to find a way through.
The Face-Eater is faced with a decision of the up most importance…. Pin Lavelle and win the championship or ummm… EAT HIS FACE!!!! Darn tootin it’s the hardest choice of the night for anyone. Luckily the Face-Eater can see into the long term and he makes the cover as Michael Ryan, senior referee, scrambles into the ring to replace Larsson who is still down.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Truth Waters: No… THE CHAMPION GETS OUT OF THE PIN BY PLACING HIS FOOT ON THE BOTTOM ROPE JUST IN TIME!
Grabbing Lavelle’s face as a consolation prize, Dick’s eyes light up.
George Cassidy: Um…
Truth Waters: Oh dear!
George Cassidy: Are we supposed to take his name literally from now on?!
Truth Waters: Dick? I always did…
But before he can sink his teeth into the dish of the day Lavelle takes a grip of the Face-Eater’s neck applying a sleeper hold on the mat. Getting a little bit of room Dick manages to get enough space to enable an elbow shot to the stomach of Pierce Lavelle breaking the hold he had on him.
Truth Waters: There will be no eating faces here tonight!
Following the elbow with efficient defensive measures Adam Dick rolls out of the way of any further aggravated harm. Then with space he performs an UBER tip up to put a grip on his showmanship in the championship bout. The challenger runs at Pierce Lavelle who lifts himself slightly so he is perched on his knees and bam! Shining wizard grounds the champion again. Throwing himself over the champion again Dick hooks the leg tight.
George Cassidy: New champion!
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
George Cassidy: I don’t believe it! Lavelle kicks out of the shining wizard, a staple of any Jamie Fletcher match!
The heart of Pierce Lavelle comes through as he attempts to fight back against Adam Dick, the man who accused him of being a cheat. The animosity is high and somehow Pierce Lavelle loses his calm and strikes out with rapid attempts but he is too beaten to apply much accuracy and in turn fails to accomplish anything other than the demise of his own physical ability. This allows Adam Dick full control and the time to lift Pierce Lavelle up onto his feet.
Truth Waters: Somehow Lavelle has reached the bottom of a slippery slope with regards to dominance of this match…
Dancing in front of the champion Adam Dick taunts Pierce Lavelle almost sauntering through proceedings. When Adam Dick finally decides it is time to return to serious warfare with a right haymaker, Lavelle recovers enough to avoid it via ducking and escape all harm. Spinning the Transatlantic champion connects with a short jab followed by a full swing and then spinning in a circle Lavelle fluently lands a roaring punch which renders Adam Dick unstable and sends him crashing to the canvas in the middle of the ring. Spotting the amazing position Pierce Lavelle wastes no time in falling to his knees.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Truth Waters: He retains – no!
Adam Dick kicks out of the cover. The champion was thinking in the back of his mind that it was impossible to put Adam Dick away. Again Pierce Lavelle retreats to the old school tie-up but this time out of nowhere Adam Dick gets a quick fire knee into the stomach of Pierce Lavelle… From there it is simple for Adam Dick… The Face Eater sets up Lavelle and Pierce can do nothing as ADAM DICK HITS THE EATERPLEX ‘05 – or is it ‘06 now? But who cares because HE HIT IT!!!!
George Cassidy: EATERPLEX! EATER-FUCKING-PLEX!
Truth Waters: CALM yourself!
George Cassidy: It’s over! New champion! Adam Dick rules all!
The arena goes deadly silent as the Face-Eater and Pierce Lavelle lay next to one another staring up into the bleachers. However it doesn’t take a genius to understand that Adam Dick is going to be a hell of a lot more responsive then Pierce Lavelle.
Nevertheless the referee fufils his normal functions and begins a count.
George Cassidy: Come on… he just needs this pin… just this pin!
One!, Two!, Three!, Four!, Five!…
BANG BANG Adam Dick places one hand over the body of the fallen and seriously weakened Transatlantic champion, Pierce Lavelle.
Truth Waters: Here it is!
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: We need a mirac-
To the whole arena’s amazement Pierce Lavelle shockingly is able to get free of the pin.
George Cassidy: OH MY GOD!
Truth Waters: Did he just – what is this?! Eaterplex – failed?!
George Cassidy: HORROR!!! HORROR!!!
Adam Dick crawls over into the corner and desperately tries to remember those days in wrestling school when you were forced to face the teacher who kept kicking out. He then remembered a perfect piece of advice his tutor had given him!!!
Mounting the turnbuckle Adam Dick stalks Pierce Lavelle… Lavelle walks right into the SHOOTING STAR PRESS takedown!!!!
George Cassidy: ESS ESS PEE!
Truth Waters: Dick with no relent! – eww.
Lavelle lands pretty close to the ropes and Adam Dick covers him on the side that the ropes lay. The referee slides to the other…
George Cassidy: ANOTHER COVER AND THE SHOOTING STAR PRESS SURELY HAS EARNT ADAM DICK VICTORY!
ONE!
Pierce Lavelle’s foot is on the bottom…
TWO!
No it’s not – using his right foot Adam Dick knocks Lavelle’s foot off of the bottom rope before the referee could see and using the second rope for leverage he applies more pressure onto Pierce Lavelle.
Truth Waters: Hey! Foot on the ropes!
THREE!
Truth Waters: Foot on the ropes! Foot on the ropes, come on!
George Cassidy: DICK WINS! DICK IS CHAMPION!
Truth Waters: For God’s sakes! Some sense, please! How could Michael Ryan not see?! He had his foot on the ropes!
George Cassidy: All’s fair in love and, ah, wrestling, Truth! Can’t you just be happy for him?
Truth Waters: No I damn well can’t! Pierce Lavelle has been screwed!
Falling into a heap Adam Dick reveals in his victory while Pierce Lavelle just lies in shock that he has lost.
James Brunt: The winner… and new AWC Tr- no, I can’t, I can’t do it…
The disgust in his voice showing, Brunt throws the microphone down bad-temperedly and the squawk of feedback hits all our ears.
George Cassidy: Ladies and gentlemen, Pierce Lavelle has LOST the Transatlantic championship at last! Adam Dick reigns supreme! The Unfuckables are untouchable!
Truth Waters: And I cry FOUL –
George Cassidy: But nobody cares! I think Nana Wade’s raw meat smoothie worked! Catch Fresh! next week for a new reign of DICK!