Fresh! Results18th October 2005
Introduction
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The screen goes to black then fizzles to life suddenly, the letters “AWC” flashing across in a brilliant white light. A moment of silence dominates, then, backed by “Way Away” by Yellowcard, images of AWC's superstars appear, one after the other. The guitar plays softly first, then goes straight into a strong, powerful riff.
I think I'm breaking out
I'm gonna leave you now
There's nothing for me here
It's all the same
Pierce Lavelle is shown delivering his Whiplash finisher on Paddy O’Shea and then holding aloft the Transatlantic title, which he currently holds in his second reign. A pulsating white light continually lights up the screen, with shots of many AWC superstars in action being shown: Mike Wade, Jack Murphy, Alcaeus.
And even though I know
That everything might go
Go downhill from here
I'm not afraid
Highlights of last week’s show flash across the screen as the song moves into its chorus. Tony Aliso giving his first in-ring speech since his return; the diving double splash from The Killer Pirates From The Outer Caribbean combined with the gorilla press slam from Cave Hulk that leaves Mike Wade incapacitated for a good while; Crimson O’Malec’s return rushing into the ring with a baseball bat to defend partner Paddy O’Shea.
Way away, away from here I'll be
Away, away, away, so you can see
How it feels to be alone and not believe
Feels to be alone and not believe
Anything
Truth Waters: Welcome to the show of friends and enemies, heroes and villains!
George Cassidy: Ignoring my commentary partner Truth Waters’ ridiculous spiel, this is AWC Fresh!, and just make sure you stay tuned in to help the Nielsens. My name is George Cassidy and I’ll be your genuine announcer for the night...
Truth Waters: Cassidy and I will take you on a journey to the unexpected! A quest to the unknown! A –
George Cassidy: ...number of wrestling matches along with some pointless backstage bits too.
Truth Waters: If you’ve been keeping up with developments in the wrestling world you’ll know that two AWC stars, Paddy O’Shea and Adam Dick (more commonly known as The Illustrious Face-Eater), are now doubling up with roles in the world’s premier promotion PRIME...
George Cassidy: Boo. Nothing beats AWC.
Truth Waters: I thought you didn’t even like being here? Anyhow, the two met in a four way match showcasing PRIME’s latest crop of new talent, and it is my duty to report to you that Paddy O’Shea’s disappointing showing meant that the Face-Eater came out on top, pinning the Irishman to the mat for three. What effect could this have on happenings in AWC?
George Cassidy: None, since we don’t take into account externalities, so boo to that. Let’s focus on what’s important – like the second batch of newcomers that will be debuting tonight! Last week, Alcaeus, ‘Mare, Butterfly Hamada and Jack Murphy made first appearances, with all but Hamada winning their matches. Tonight, another four will debut: Alexa Kendericks, Johnny Noble who appeared on last week’s show, Norman Quiry and of course Tony Aliso.
Truth Waters: We’ll also get some resolution on Butterfly Hamada vs Juri Hyobanshi which ended in double count-out last week. The two ladies meet again in a match in which there will be no count-outs!
George Cassidy: And our HUGE main event was announced via the website earlier in the week: Pierce Lavelle and Hate in an Escape match for the Transatlantic title!
Truth Waters: I wonder if we’ll find out more about the upcoming event Triangles, too...
George Cassidy: Not to mention Farmer's turn and O'Malec's return!
The Plastic Paddy
FEATURING: CRIMSON O'MALEC, PADDY O'SHEA
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY
The scene opens backstage, in a changing room. Because of his presence, it’s assumed this room is being used for the superstar sitting on a bench in here – Crimson O’Malec. He looks different from the last time he was seen. He’s paler for a start and the perkiness on his face seem to be completely revamped with intensity. But he’s back, and despite any obvious shortcomings, the fans appreciate that fact.
O’Malec glances around the room, his arms gently crossed over in his hunched position. His delicately blue shirt seems to fit in well with the welcomingly ivory coloured walls, as does his faded jeans. Suddenly, the door handle begins to turn. There seems to be a struggle to do so however. Eventually the door is pushed open and in swans Paddy O’Shea.
Crimson O'Malec: Paddy! Where’ve you –
O’Malec is suddenly cut off when he sees the crutches supporting Paddys weight. Despite a frown from Paddy at being scanned from top to bottom, O’Malec persists, seeing every detail – the taped up fingers, the swollen face and most predominantly, the ankle, set hard and rigid in a plaster-of-Paris. O’Shea hobbles in then makes his way over to the bench beside O’Malec, sitting down with a sigh.
Crimson O'Malec: Oh no.
Paddy O'Shea: Aye know, aye know. Yes… it be fairly bad.
Crimson O'Malec: Broke?
Paddy looks at O’Malec’s worried face and forces a smile. It’s nice to have someone caring about him. He thought he had that when he was with Mickey Fitz but he’s been constantly asking himself all week if all that was an act.
Paddy O'Shea: Not quite. Aye’m no’ sure o’ the extent o’ it really, aye never could understand them doctors gooble-de-gook. All aye know is, aye won’ be wrestlin’ fer about three weeks.
O’Malec bares his teeth and genuine anger wells up in his eyes. However he pushes this away for Paddy’s sake and instead pursues a different line of conversation.
Crimson O'Malec: Why didn’t you answer my calls? You know it was me trying to get to you all week.
O’Shea drops his head for a second and now seems to talk to the floor.
Paddy O'Shea: Aye’m sorry… it’s just… aye didn’t want t’ tell ye the damage until aye was certain. Until aye was here. In case, ye did somethin’… irrational.
Crimson O'Malec: IRRATIONAL! Those bastards would have cracked your skull if I hadn’t been there. I hate to think of where you’d be now if I hadn’t have decided to check up on you guys.
Paddy O'Shea: Mickey… doesn’t kno’ wha’ he’s doin’. He’s a good boy. He’s just… easily led…
O’Malec now doesn’t hold back his anger and he gets to his feet. He stares down at the confused O’Shea.
Crimson O'Malec: Don’t do that Paddy! Don’t make excuses for him! It’s simple; he turned on you AFTER Wade swerved you. They were in it together and that’s obvious. It’s as simple as that; so don’t complicate the matter O’Shea!
Paddy thinks about this for a second then sighs. He’s unconvinced and O’Malec picks this up immediately and snatches at the loose ends.
Crimson O'Malec: Look Paddy, I know you couldn’t care less about beating the hell out of Mike Wade. Because you weren’t always 100% with him. And I also know you thought you had something with Mickey. But he dropped you like that. Now it’s very simple. It’s me and you, against Wade and Mickey. Hell, they can have Facey in if they want him too. And here’s another simple fact, as soon as you get better, we’re going to get back that belt and we’re going to put this whole thing behind us. And you want to know why? Because we ARE the Alliance champions. We won them through blood and sweat and because we were the best team going. We may not have been the hardest men in AWC but you and me could sure give a hard man a hard time. We’re going to get that belt back because you know as well as I do, it’s the right thing to do. These Alliance belts mean nothing if we surrender yours over just because Mickey stole one. But before we can do anything you’ve got to let Mickey go… understand?
O’Malec looks pleadingly at O’Shea who seems unable to look at him.
Crimson O'Malec: Please Paddy… will you? Come Super Series, the whole Hate issue will be over and he seems okay with leaving the situation until then. It’s bastards like Wade who want to seize on these opportunities to fuck your head up. Don’t think for one second that Mickey isn’t the same though. He’ll pull you apart in your state now if he got half a chance. SO please Paddy, let him go. He won’t have mercy on you, don’t give any to him.
O’Malec looks at O’Shea hopefully. A few seconds pass and then Paddy raises his head. The corners of his mouth are tweaked but he isn’t wearing a smile. Eventually he nods.
Paddy O'Shea: Okay Crimson… me and Mickey are finished.
O’Malec is far from satisfied but decides to drop the issue for now. He now turns to the door and begins to exit.
Crimson O'Malec: I’m off for a bit. Just focus on what you’re going to do to Mike Wade when you get fit if it makes you feel better. But for now, under no circumstances, go near any of them. Okay?
O’Shea smirks at him as he leaves.
Paddy O'Shea: Yes da.
As soon as O’Malec leaves the smirk immediately disappears and O’Shea finds himself alone in a suffocating room. He glances at his leg and has a sudden charge of anger. Then he remembers how The Farmer saved his fathers life almost four months ago. Tears emerge on Paddy’s eyes now because whether you agree with him or not, he was losing one of only three or four who had really and truly cared for him. And the only thing that was stopping that from slipping away was his grip on the past. He couldn’t let go even if Mickey already had.
There was only one way to cancel out the equations in Paddy’s mind now as he slipped a hand into his jacket then revealing a half bottle of Southern Comfort. He slipped the lid off the top of the bottle and began downing the brown mixture noisily. Eventually he pulled back from it and put the lid on and pushed it back into his pocket.
As the scene began to fade on a weepy Paddy O’Shea, the irony of the implications of this turn became clear: maybe not before, but undoubtedly now, O’Shea was living up to the stereotypical Irishman, Mike Wade had labelled him. Here comes the plastic Paddy in all his glory. Here comes the mess from the past.
Differing Opinions
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, JACK MURPHY
AUTHOR: FERGUS
As the feed opens, a knock is heard on the simple office of David “Pearl” Harber, the Entertainment Manager for AWC. He’s casually sitting behind a desk, signing papers and more than likely looking over the notes for evening’s Fresh!. As he hears the knock he looks up from the papers and towards the door.
Truth Waters: Ah, someone to see our entertainment manager Pearl Harber.
George Cassidy: Probably Shipley realising he’s way out of his league with Aliso. He should’ve handed over that title last week.
Pearl: Come on in.
The response to the knock is easy-going and welcoming and the recipient of the expression wastes no time in entering. It seems that this man isn’t very happy however. ‘The Bull’ Jack Murphy strides in, wearing sweat pants and a simple black t-shirt. His blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and other than this he’s his usual self. Emblazoned on the t-shirt is the message ‘I’m as good as it GETS!’ He looks once at the surroundings before heading right up to the desk.
Truth Waters: It’s ‘The Bull’ and he’s not looking too pleased.
George Cassidy: I gotta say, I was impressed with this guy’s power last week. Now, whether he’s cool enough to stay impressive is another thing.
Truth Waters: Certainly his trademark move left people feeling amazed.
Pearl: Ah welcome Jack, it’s good to finally meet you.
Jack Murphy: Don’t give me none of that crap Harber. You’re not being welcoming at all. Where’s my match?
Pearl: What do you mean?
Jack Murphy: I came here looking for competition and already I’ve had a week off from competition. It smacks of disrespect within the first two weeks that I’ve been here and I don’t like it.
George Cassidy: True enough, he’s speaking sense there Waters.
Truth Waters: Yeah, although to be fair we’ve had about ten new people on the roster and how can we debut them all and keep others involved at the same time? And anyway, we don’t talk over backstage segments...
George Cassidy: Well, we do now. Apparently. The new guy said so!
Pearl takes the opportunity to get out of his chair now, wanting to get a more equal platform, while still keeping the desk between the two of them.
Pearl: Jack, you were the first part of a wave of new talent that’s come into AWC and it’s unreasonable to promise you matches each and every week. We simply don’t have the time to fit in everybody in our show.
Truth Waters: See?
George Cassidy: It’s his job Truth. He’s supposed to make sure the important people are booked and Murphy is putting forward a strong case. Wasn’t he impressive last week?
Truth Waters: Well yes…
George Cassidy: Well then why hasn’t Pearl booked him?
Truth Waters: Eh…
George Cassidy: Case in point.
While the two commentators have been bickering Murphy continues.
Jack Murphy: Now that just doesn’t hold water Harber. I worked my ass off last week for the company and I got nothing in return. No follow up and what’s worse you gave others a follow up.
Pearl: Now if you mean Hamada…
Jack Murphy: (slamming the desk) You’re damn right I mean Hamada. And it’s a further example of what I was telling Sarah Kennedy last week. The first instance of ‘hardcore’ violence and the fans not only go nuts, but you go nuts too and immediately sign a return match.
George Cassidy: The guy is right. Whatever happened to good proper wrestling.
Truth Waters: Nothing, it’s still here.
Pearl: I understand where you’re coming from but I have to go with what I feel sells and what will attract the customers and viewers. Simple economics and something that I’ve been doing pretty well for the last while I reckon.
Jack Murphy: So you’re saying I don’t draw?
George Cassidy: Oh that’s it. Stick it to him!
Pearl: I didn’t mean that…
The Bull blows air forcefully out of his mouth and looks quite pissed off at Harber. He blows out air once again before calming himself down and continuing.
Jack Murphy: It’s ok, I think I know what you’re trying to get at. You’re telling me I’m old hat, what I’m pushing is behind the times and obsolete.
Truth Waters: Murphy’s putting words in Harber’s mouth now. This is unfair.
George Cassidy: Unfair, the guy told him that he goes with what sells. How is that NOT telling him he doesn’t sell?
He moves round the desk now, putting his arm round Pearl, grabbing him firmly and making sure that he can’t get away. Harber, understandably, looks a bit concerned for himself, definitely aware at Jack’s reaction to Kennedy last week on Fresh!.
Jack Murphy: You don’t want the basic, hard hitting, in your face wrestling of old. Who needs a well-executed suplex when you can have women clattering each other until they bleed because they couldn’t finish the match properly? Why bother with a fine physical specimen when you’ve got overweight, obese and pathetic men willing to bleed and take severe amounts of punishment with objects that aren’t even worthy of being near a ring?
George Cassidy: Well said! I’m liking this Murphy. Not afraid to tell it straight.
Truth Waters: Not afraid to warp words and minds…
George Cassidy: Ah you’re just jealous of ‘The Bull’!
While Cassidy applauds The Bull, Murphy pauses again and this time his face becomes more serious, looking to Harber, eyes full of intent and purpose.
Jack Murphy: So tell me Pearl, is that what you want?
Harber considers the question carefully, looking out at the camera, not quite sure what he’s going to say and looking hopefully that somebody can provide a much better answer for him. Murphy can see his agitation and begins tapping the watch on Pearl’s wrist.
George Cassidy: Look at him squirm!
Jack Murphy: The sands of time are slipping away Pearl. Keep on going like this and I’m going to be angry.
He says this matter-of-factly, like nobody had assumed he was angry in the first place. Now Pearl looks to him to try and answer.
Pearl: (stuttering) Well…I put on what sells…whatever it is….
Jack Murphy: That’s the worst answer you could’ve given Pearl and you know, if I wasn’t so respectful of the people in authority here, (pointing) I’d put you right through this table, right now.
Harber looks horrified at this and you can hear a muffled chorus of boos echoing through the arena as obviously now the fans are beginning to loathe Murphy.
Jack Murphy: But I won’t. Instead, I think I’ll show you the error of his ways. You just wait for later on tonight. It’s going to be the beginning, the beginning of a new era to replace this ridiculous age of extreme wrestling.
Without another word, the Bull straightens the suit of Pearl, and leaves his office. Harber looks to the camera flabbergasted as it fades. We switch to the announce team booth back in the arena.
Truth Waters: Well that was certainly interesting folks. We’ll be looking forward to seeing what ‘The Bull’ has in store for us tonight. As for now, let’s get back to the action!
Johnny Noble vs Red Rock
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: CONRAD
James Brunt: The following is a singles match! Introducing first, from Aldershot, England, weighing in at 197 pounds... the Livewire Champion…
The opening feedback of "Blame Thrower" by Reuben hits as the lights lower to darkness. The riff begins and the lights flicker red, and Red Rock's logo hits the big screen. The heavy riff kicks in to big-time face-heat from the crowd.
We all have responsibilities,
we all have a social debt
and if there is a man free of guilt,
I haven't met him yet
James Brunt: RED ROCK!
...and Red Rock bursts out from behind the curtain with huge amounts of energy. Boolie comes out swiftly afterwards and stands with his hands on his hips.
So now you’re backed in a corner,
you’re under verbal attack
they’re pointing fingers like guns in your face and
nobody’s got your back
Red Rock walks down to the ring with a cheeky smile on his face giving members of the crowd a nod and a thumbs-up but making an effort not to touch anyone. Red Rock reaches the ring and pulls himself up on to the apron and hops over the top rope and poses to the crowd, pouting with his hand on his hip.
George Cassidy: Red Rock, the current Livewire champ is in the house!
Truth Waters: Are you mocking me?
George Cassidy: What are you talking about?
Truth Waters: “In the house”? What does that mean?
George Cassidy: Well, I’ve always understood it to mean that –
Truth Waters: Shut up. White boy.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Bellingham, Washington, weighing in at 290 pounds…
The trumpets sound and the audience explodes! The trumpets sound again and they're on their feet. The bass kicks in and the blue & white lights roam and flash about the arena.
James Brunt: “MR. INCREDIBLE” JOHNNY NOBLE!
'Mr. Incredible' Johnny Noble walks out and the roof comes off the building!
Truth Waters: 12,000 plus giving a HUGE ovation to the returning Johnny Noble!
George Cassidy: This guy is old.
Truth Waters: Clever.
He walks down wearing a New Orleans Saints football jersey, slapping hands and posing for photos. Then he stops at the base of the ringsteps, pulls off the jersey and gives it to young ringside fan in a wheelchair. Then he gets in the ring and points to north side of the arena, beating his chest after to work the crowd. Then the east, then south, then west. He does a circular overhead motion (like a tornado) and beats his chest again with the whole arena being worked up.
Truth Waters: Red Rock is none too impressed, rolling his eyes in the corner there.
Noble motions for a microphone, which he is given by James Brunt.
Johnny Noble: Thanks, dude!
He gives Brunt a thumbs-up.
Johnny Noble: You know, people give the New Orleans Saints a hard time for a poor pre-season showing.
The crowd boos.
Johnny Noble: But they finished 2004 second in their division and fifth overall and by God they can do it again and better!
The crowd cheers.
Johnny Noble: And just like Louisiana can bounce back from a loss and can stand up against a hurricane…
More cheering.
Johnny Noble: Just like that Johnny Noble’s gonna kick this little punk’s ass here tonight!
A mixed reaction, with the cheers prevailing.
Truth Waters: Red Rock is pretty popular. Noble’s got his work cut out for him to get the crowd rallying behind him here.
Noble tosses the mic back out to Brunt and waves Rock to move in and start the match. Aaron Davies rings the bell and the match is officially underway. Noble jumps in with a shoulder-and-elbow tie-up, which Rock spins through into a high wrist lock and kicks Noble stiffly in the chest.
Truth Waters: Red Rock quick to the offence, setting the pace early in this match!
With Noble stumbling backward Red Rock latches onto his head with a side headlock and goes for a Bulldog. As he jumps Rock finds that he continues to go up. Noble picks him up and walks over to the ropes with him and tosses him to the outside.
Truth Waters: An impressive show of strength from Mr. Incredible.
George Cassidy: I like that movie.
Truth Waters: (sigh)
Noble points to his fallen foe and the crowd cheers as he starts pounding his chest then rolls out of the ring. Johnny walks over to Red Rock just as he’s getting to his feet and lays a hard right across his jaw. Then a left. Then a right. The crowd starts getting riled up! Noble delivers one more big punch to the face of Rock that turns him inside out!
George Cassidy: Noble rolling into the ring to break the count. Now he’s going to go dish out some more punishment to Red Rock.
Noble grabs Rock’s hair and gets a thumb to the eye for his troubles.
George Cassidy: Finally, some strategy!
Truth Waters: That was NOT strategy.
George Cassidy: He was playing possum!
Noble turns round, barely able to see and walks directly into a face crusher from Red Rock. Again Noble goes recoiling backwards onto the mat a slight trickle of blood pouring from his nose.
Truth Waters: Oh my god! Red Rock has drawn blood!
George Cassidy: Johnny Noble’s nose could be broken!
Red Rock picks up his opponent by the hair and tosses him into the ring on the count of nine and then quickly slides in after. Noble is trying to get up, but not doing very well. He starts pounding the mat with his leg rhythmically. The crowd catches on and starts clapping.
clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap
Rock picks up his foe again by the hair, but gets a shot to the gut.
clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap
Then another. Two more. Another! Now Red Rock lets go of Noble and Mr. Incredible grabs and whips the smaller man to the ropes with and Irish Whip. On the return Johnny picks him up with a military press.
The crowd explodes.
Truth Waters: Noble’s feeding off the power of his IncrediBuddies!
George Cassidy: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
Truth Waters: Tell that to the guy in the military press.
Noble drops Red Rock behind him then leans into the nearby ropes and come back with a huge elbow drop to the sternum of the smaller man. Then covers for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Noble quickly rolls up and pulls Rock off the ground with him and locks in a Half Nelson. The Ref moves in to examine the hold and Red hits a cheap shot on Noble who instantly relinquishes the hold. Red Rock turns around and jumps up with a big dropkick to the face.
Truth Waters: What air!
Noble falls into the ropes. Red Rock builds up steam by running off the opposing ropes then charging at Mr. Incredible. At the last moment he leaps into the air and locks on a head scissor, spins around behind Noble and pulls him over the top rope, crashing to the floor outside.
“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”
George Cassidy: That was good.
Before the ref can get over Rock gets up and steps on Noble’s face, twisting his heel about.
Truth Waters: That was not!
The Ref comes to check on Noble so Rock slides back in the ring and postures for the crowd, who eat it up. Noble uses the barricade to pull himself up, blood all over his face, and he looks into the ring at Red Rock. Noble nods as Red Rock points at himself. Noble slides in the ring, but Rock rushes over and lays the boots into Noble’s back.
Truth Waters: It’s been pretty back and forth, but I think Red Rock and remained solidly in control for most of this match-up.
Rock backs up and lets Noble get up, when he finds a knee Rock moves in with a series of brutal kicks.
Truth Waters: We’ve seen this before!
George Cassidy: The Funstigator!
Noble tries to fend off the kicks valiantly, but eventually gives up and lets his hands fall only to get a football style punt to the head. Noble’s head snaps back, a glazed look in his eyes then slumps over onto the mat.
“NOBLE! NOBLE! NOBLE!”
Rock rolls him over for the pin. The crowd chants louder.
Truth Waters: The fans rooting for the debutant but I don’t think anyone would be unhappy to see their favourite antihero Red Rock win.
“NOBLE! NOBLE! NOBLE!”
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Truth Waters: As the hand was grazing the mat for a three Johnny Noble broke free! I can’t believe it!
The roof began coming off the stadium as 12,000 plus were cheering for Noble, the underdog so far. Red Rock just sat up for a second. He was sure he had it in the bag. Rock gets up to find Noble already standing in front of him, looking down, way down, at him. Rock reaches back with a big punch, but Noble grabs the speeding fist, stares in the eyes of the smaller man and thrusts a big head butt into the face of Red Rock. Rock turns away from the force of the blow and Noble grabs him around the midsection, gripping him as tight as possible, and launches him high in the air in a fantastic release German suplex.
The crowd explodes again.
Noble walks over to Rock and starts stomping him into the ground.
Truth Waters: What a turnaround!
George Cassidy: Yeah, Noble’s really taken charge here.
Red tries to get up, so Noble helps him and sends him into the ropes. As he’s coming back he walks right into the big boot of Mr. Incredible and hits the mat hard but bounds back up right away from the impact. So Noble grabs him by the head and hits an almost standing fireman’s carry and holds it upon impact and starts wearing the man down with an inverted headlock.
Truth Waters: Mr. Incredible wearing his opponent down with the submission move!
Noble pulls Rock to his feet awkwardly without releasing the move, spins him around, kicks him in the gut and plants him with a HUGE pulling piledriver! With Rock sprawled out on the mat Noble backs up and lunges forward with a big body splash and stays on him for the pinfall.
Davies drops to the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Noble gets up points at the man on the mat, then at the crowd, then does a phantom body slam. The crowd goes nuts. So Noble picks up his opponent, whips him into the ropes again and on the return hoists him up for the big body slam finisher. Noble pauses in mid-move to gesture for the crowd, who lap it up.
Truth Waters: Wait! What’s this?
Noble goes to slam down Red Rock, but Red reverses the move and hits a makeshift version of his own finisher – the RDT!
George Cassidy: Noble just got planted!
Red Rock hooks Noble’s leg and rolls him up for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner... RED ROCK!
Rock quickly sits up, shaking off the cobwebs and Noble does the same. He’s just had a win snatched out of his hands by a quick-thinking competitor. Both men stand and come face to face.
George Cassidy: What’s gonna happen here!?
Truth Waters: Let’s see.
Noble and Rock jaw a bit.
Truth Waters: This is getting heated!
Suddenly, Noble thrusts out his hand for a handshake. Rock looks around. The crowd seems to think it’s alright. They shake hands!
The crowd is frenzied!
Then Noble raises Rock’s hand and points at him as the crowd give him an ovation for a big win.
Truth Waters: What a way to kick off Fresh! this week!
Any Relation?
FEATURING: ALEXA KENDERICKS, JONATHON WINTERS (WWA), MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: KRIS
The camera opens up to see an empty corridor within the backstage area of the CenturyTel Center. We hear voices in the distance, as well as heavy footsteps pounding against the floor, becoming more and more audible as they draw ever closer. Then we see the rather beautiful face of future AWC superstar Alexa Kendericks appear first around the corner, closely followed by the slightly taller WWA superstar Jonathon Winters – whose semi-namesake Laura Winters will take Kendericks on soon.
Jonathon Winters: Are you absolutely sure about this?
Alexa smiles.
Alexa Kendericks: Of course I’m sure, Jonathon.
Jonathon Winters: It’s a big step you know.
Alexa Kendericks: Of course I know it’s a big step. I want to do this Jonathon.
Jonathon Winters: It’s a dangerous occupation you know. You could be hurt.
Alexa chuckles, playfully whacking Winters on the arm.
Alexa Kendericks: And my other occupation is any less dangerous? Jonathon, I know you’re to protect me for some bizarre reason I’ve yet to work out, but I amgoing to do this.
Winters smiles.
Jonathon Winters: You know full well that you’re only doing this because you’re trying to emulate me in some sort of sad, but utterly adorable way.
Alexa sighs.
Alexa Kendericks: You know I’d deny that if it weren't completely true.
Jonathon Winters: Is that right?
Alexa’s face turned from a playful expression, to a more serious one.
Alexa Kendericks: Yeah.
Winters stops in mid-stride, forcing Alexa to do the same. This time his playful expression evaporates into nothingness, replace with an equally serious one.
Jonathon Winters: Really?
Alexa is just about to answer the question, but before she can do so is interrupted by the sound of stilettoed feet drubbing the corridor floors. Alexa sighs.
Alexa Kendericks: I don’t like the sound of this!
Jonathon Winters: I couldn’t agree more!
Then we see the familiar face of AWC backstage reporter Maddy Estelle rush onto the scene, completely out of breath.
Maddy Estelle: Jonathon…(gasp)…Winters…(gasp)…
Winters gingerly rubs his eyes, sighing. Alexa puts her hands upon her waist, glaring at Estelle with anger in her eyes.
Alexa Kendericks: What in the hell do you want?
Maddy Estelle: Are you serious? (gasp)...WWA superstar Jonathon Winters on AWC Fresh! and you’re wondering what I’m doing here?
Winters just grunts and turns to walk away, but Estelle rushes past Alexa and heads him off before he can get away.
Maddy Estelle: Are you planning to ditch the WWA and come work for us? Have you come here for contract discussions?
Winters icily glares at the woman with disgust and remains silent. Estelle develops a confused expression.
Maddy Estelle: Did I actually ask that question out loud?
Alexa grunts something under her breath and positions herself between Winters and Estelle.
Alexa Kendericks: He’s here because of me. He's giving me a few words of encouragement since it’s my debut here tonight. I wrestle Laura Winters.
Estelle glances over Alexa’s shoulder.
Maddy Estelle: Any relation?
Winters grunts and turns his back to the reporter, lazily propping himself up against the wall, shaking his head the whole time.
Alexa Kendericks: There’s no exclusive here. Go away.
Estelle glares at her.
Maddy Estelle: And who, precisely, was talking to you?
Alexa points at Winters.
Alexa Kendericks: He was, so fuck off.
Maddy Estelle: And why would he talk to someone like you?
Alexa Kendericks: Okay. Let me put this straight to you to avoid any misunderstanding. Fuck off or I’ll rip your face off. Understand?
Estelle’s eyes widen and for the second time she looks over her shoulder to Winters.
Maddy Estelle: When you’re finished with this bitch, come talk to me. I’ll get you an exclusive...
Winters simply grunts in response, raising her hand to wave goodbye. Estelle walks away angrily and Alexa whacks the corridor wall, hard, destroying some of the more delicate plasterwork.
Alexa Kendericks: Jesus H. Christ that was annoying!
Jonathon Winters: I know. I tend to avoid the reporters at every opportunity.
Alexa Kendericks: Good advice.
Jonathon Winters: God, don’t I know it.
Alexa Kendericks: So thinking of joining AWC? Is it to be with me?
The camera cuts elsewhere before Winters can answer her.
Inishiayshun
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES, THE WADE PARADE
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Mike Wade: I’m telling you, it’s so much more fun.
Adam Dick: I don’t believe you!
The duo united as the Unfuckables walked impatiently in a narrow back alley. Relentless champion Mike Wade led his partner down the tall path, dodging various plumbing obtrusions from the walls or discarded remnants of nomad living.
Adam’s face was that of an unhappy man. A very unhappy man.
Adam Dick: We’d better not be late; I have big plans!
Mike Wade: We have big plans, yes I know, now shut it.
Adam Dick: You’re sure this is right?
Mike Wade: Actually, no I’m no – Yes I’m SURE! It’s right there, why can’t we go in it?
Adam Dick: It just doesn’t feel right!
Having found the door, Wade knocks loudly exercising his power, and within moments the door swings open widely, and a group of kitchen staff all hover around.
Kitchen Staff: HOLA!
Mike Wade: See, I told you going through the “back door” is fun!
Adam paces through cautiously.
Adam Dick: It feels so… violating.
The Unfuckables make their way through the kitchen of the arena, working their way through catering and into the backstage corridors that house the superstars of the AWC.
Mike Wade: Let’s hurry, we have something to discuss back at Unfuckables HQ.
Adam Dick: You mean the trainer’s office so we can steal pain-killers?
Mike Wade: Correctamundo, my friend, but there’s something else…
Adam Dick: What else?
Wade had lead Adam around the corner of a corridor, leading his partner into an unexpected surprise that Mike had spent the entire day prior to plan.
Mickey Moore: SURPRISE!
Bob the Bullshitter: THIS IS NOT A SURPRISE
Nana Wade: Go lick yer American arse!
Bob’s annoyance, Mickey’s lack of height, and Nana Wade’s sheer ugliness all impacted the Illustrious Face-Eater in one intense moment, literally knocking him on his ass.
Adam Dick: Oh my God it’s hideous!
Mike Wade: Calm down, mate, he’s only a wee lad and means you know harm.
Mickey took a puff of his pipe, we can only assume it is magical.
Adam Dick: Not him, THAT!
He pointed at Nana Wade, who’s probably seen better days before anyone could say that about Abe Lincoln.
Nana Wade: Go suck the smoke out of a dead Arabian’s arse ye druggy feck.
Adam Dick: Mike, what the hell is this?!
Mike Wade: Your party! The Wade Parade decided to welcome you to the group, and I thought, “why not do it in style?”
Adam Dick: The Farmer’s not coming, is he?
Mike Wade: Uh… no.
Adam Dick: Good. That guy is soooo Fuckable.
Mike Wade: But, he did help us out. Anyways, what do you think of the party?
They scoped out the room, which Mike Wade happened to think was pretty kickin’. Adam, however, wasn’t turned on by the solitary sub-woofer that seemed to huff out “Blue” by Eiffel 65. Oh yes, you know the song.
I’M BLUE DA BU DE DA BU DA BU DA BU DE DA BU DA BU DA BU DE DA BU DA.
Adam Dick: Dude, every time this song is played, a black hole opens and destroys a bunch of fucking planets and shit! One day, it’s gonna be us, and do you want to be the guy that destroys the universe for listening to Eiffel 65? Cause that’d be pretty fucking stupid!
Mike Wade: What? Black holes, what the hell are you on about, el Face-o?
Mickey Moore: He’s referring to the Eiffel 65 paradox. Apparently the song hits a frequency that’s so annoying, it actually tears the fabric of the space-time continuum. Hence corners of reality start ripping apart and entire galaxies are destroyed.
Adam Dick: Don’t forget that lame ass music video where the guys were running from space aliens and that bullshit. First we get shitty Euro-trance like Kylie Minogue, and now we have to deal with that shit?! Fuck, man.
Mike Wade: Dude, you do know that Kylie Minogue has cancer, right?
Adam Dick: So cancer magically eats the crap-cells out of her music? Because last time I heard, it still sounds like shit. In fact, it sounds like it was written, BY SOMEONE ON CANCER!
Mike Wade: I don’t think you say that they’re “on” cancer, mate.
Adam Dick: Whatever.
Mike Wade: What’s wrong? If I’m not mistaken, it seems like you’re unhappy my bum little chum.
Adam Dick: It’s just that, I thought we were going to be this fucking wrecking force; the people everyone jumps out of the way of. We asked for Alliance title shots last week, and what do we get?! Nothing!
Mike Wade: You’re right!
Adam Dick: We need to start kicking asses! If we can’t get management to give us a shot at those belts, then we’ll fuck everyone in our way up until they decide they don’t have a choice, BUT TO give us our shots.
Mike Wade: Of course, and I have the perfect idea to convey our new agenda!
Adam Dick: What’s that?
Mike Wade: BACKSTAGE INTERVIEW!
Adam Dick: Genius, Wadey!
The Unfuckables run off, leaving the Wade Parade to rock out with their proverbial cock out to Eiffel 65.
Norman Quiry vs The Farmer
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY
Truth Waters: Okay, next up we have the debutant Norman Quiry versus the Farmer who one week ago, shocked the whole of AWC when he turned on his friend and Alliance partner Paddy O’Shea.
George Cassidy: Funny thing is, those two are still the Alliance champions.
Truth Waters: Not officially Truth, as you know, Crimson gave the belt to Farmer to keep while he went in search for Alexander Strider. And something tells me, Crimson won’t be happy with Mickey’s sudden swerve.
George Cassidy: Okay enough yap, over to Brunty so we can get this show on the road.
Hm. When the match writer wrote this, Quiry’s roster page wasn’t up. I’ll correct some things, but bear in mind Mick was working from nothing here.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Blackpool, England, weighing in at 241 pounds…
The lights dim to darkness. Out steps Norman Quiry. His presence is so daunting I can’t even describe the clothes he’s wearing to justify the entrance.
James Brunt:…NORMAN QUIRY!
Norman walks to the ring, a confident smile fixed onto his face then slides into the ring and plays to the fans.
Truth Waters: Heel or face? The mystery continues…
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Dowra, Ireland, weighing in at 233 pounds (or 296 if you believe Mick though I don’t know where he got that)…
Pennywise’s “Not Far Away” begins to play and The Farmer walks onto the stage, sombrely and composed. The look on his face says it all really. He’s cocky and he’s angry and he seemingly has trouble hiding it. The fans don’t know what to make of this new model of the superstar they had loved up until last week and so simply stay silent, not sure whether to cheer or jeer.
James Brunt:…THE FARMER!
He eventually reaches the ring then slides in, immediately walking over to Quiry and squaring up to him, nose pressed against nose. Quiry is having none of it however and the equally built men simply throw some trash before Mickey turns to walk away. Quiry begins to walk to his corner now but suddenly Mickey turns back around and clubs Quiry on crown of his head and he falls to the mat.
George Cassidy: Wow. I have so much more respect for the Irish lug.
Truth Waters: Well, if it wasn’t clear last week, that little stunt proves it all about Mickey Fitz-McCarthy. And the fans are showing what they think of him.
The fans indeed begin booing and hissing with a passion and their calls, alien to The Farmer, shake him into an angry reaction himself and he begins screaming at the fans. He now turns back around to Quiry and begins applying boots to his ribs, as Norman struggles to defend himself from his based position.
George Cassidy: Okay ref. Ring the bell!
Truth Waters: Give the new guy a break Mickey!
The referee to ring the bell to start the match. As soon as it rings, The Farmer jumps into the air and comes down with a body splash on Quiry. Mickey sees that Quiry is close to the ring apron so he runs off the opposing rope, bounces back and baseball slides Hate to the outside.
George Cassidy: The more sadistic Farmer moving things to the outside. An interesting tactic indeed.
Truth Waters: Seemingly, he’ll want to test Quiry’s adaptation to the relentless aspect of the AWC.
The Farmer climbs through the rope and jumps onto his feet as Norman gets to his feet. Quiry lands a few punches into The Farmer’s gut but a hefty knee to the face stops this attack. And Mickey is smiling happily. Mickey now picks Quiry up easily despite the near matching weights and then charges him into the barricade. Quiry sinks to the floor clutching his back.
Truth Waters: The Farmer showing his strength there it has to be said.
George Cassidy: I like the new look farmer. He’s everything a man should be – quick-thinking, opportunistic-
Truth Waters: What about loyal? Like to his friend?
George Cassidy: Screw that! You don’t win anything with that attitude.
Truth Waters: What about the respect of your fans and friends? What about that George?
George Cassidy: (sarcastically) Oh Truth, you’d bring a tear to a glass eye.
The imposing figure of the Farmer now looms over the fallen Quiry who is clutching his back in pain. Mickey grabs Norman around the midsection and lifts him into the air. He then nails him with an atomic drop, and then follows up with a bulldog onto the concrete floor. Farmer then walks up the first few steps at the corner of the ring and jumps off and connecting Quiry’s chest with a vicious leg drop. Norman seems to struggle for air for a few seconds and then rolls over. He struggles to his feet but is put straight back down with a running big boot from Mickey Fitz.
George Cassidy: Whoa! Farmer mark 2 is giving absolutely nothing to Norman in this match. Look at the dominance here!
Truth Waters: Mickey’s showing the killer qualities of even the best of relentless champions here, using the wider surroundings effectively to his advantage.
Mickey surveys the crowd as they boo at him and he seems to hiss a warning through his teeth at one particularly irritating fan. He grabs Norman by the scruff of the neck and slides him back into the ring. Quiry rolls onto his feet however and connects a running dropkick just as The Farmer enters. Mickey stumbles backwards then bounces off the ropes and returns with a clothesline!
Truth Waters: My God! Mickey almost turning the newcomer inside out. What the hell has set the Farmer off like this!
The Farmer now pulls the struggling Norman to his feet once more and launches him into the ropes. Another intended clothesline is ducked however and Quiry in desperation dives off the far rope with a flying forearm that knocks The Farmer over. Norman, seeing his chance is quickly to capitalise and he begins knocking stinging jabs into Mickey’s temple. Quiry grabs The Farmers arm and applies a sitting arm bar. The referee asks The Farmer if he wants to give up but he defiantly shakes his head and somehow pulls himself to the ropes. The referee makes Quiry break the hold immediately.
Truth Waters: The Farmer resisting the submission hold and getting to the ropes easily enough.
George Cassidy: Well, if Quiry wants to stand any chance in this match, he has to seize this momentum he’s got right now.
Quiry seems a little frustrated at the unsuccessful hold and he once again begins to punch The Farmer. Quiry steps back a few steps and allows a slightly dazed Farmer to get to his feet. He turns around to face Quiry but is caught with a powerful kitchen sink to the gut and Mickey falls onto his back. Norman moves quickly, bounces off the ropes and leg drops McCarthy. Throwing caution to the wind, Norman runs to the turnbuckle and hops on top. He dives off with a body splash only a heavyweight could muster and he hurts himself in the process when he connects with The Farmer. The two lie on the amt now, struggling for air.
Truth Waters: High risk manoeuvre there by Quiry. But if he doesn’t get up first then I doubt if it’s going to be worth the effort.
George Cassidy: Why the hell would a heavy heavyweight do that?
Truth Waters: He’s the man of mystery, remember?
The two men are lying for a further few seconds before Mickey rolls over slowly onto his knees. Quiry eventually begins to stir as Mickey pulls himself to his feet. A reinvigorated and seemingly unscathed Farmer now locks horns with Quiry. He powers Norman out and throws him to the mat. Norman, showing incredible quickness for his size, quickly springs to his feet and manages to duck lumbering clothesline from Mickey. The Farmer stops before he reaches the ropes but before he can turn around, a belly to back to hold is applied on him and he’s thrown over Quiry’s head
Truth Waters: Wow! Quiry is really starting to make this match his own.
Mickey, now quite shell-shocked slowly gets to his feet. Quiry waits until he is erect then hits a few elbows and throws him off the far ropes. Quiry catches the Farmer with a scoop slam which is turned into a vertical splash and Mickey’s neck seems to fold up like an accordion. Quiry rolls over onto Mickey’s body and hooks the leg, much to the delight of the fans.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Truth Waters: Wow! Quiry, this close form making an impressive debut in the AWC over one of its more veteran superstars.
George Cassidy: Now, the old Farmer would have just folded there and then. THIS Farmer is a badass motha, who doesn’t take no shit from no one!
Truth Waters: YOU STOLE THAT FROM COOL RUNNINGS!
George Cassidy: What are you talking about? I see pride…I see power…I se-
Truth Waters: Oh. Never mind.
Quiry looks perplexed as he watches the resilient powerhouse get to his feet once more. Quiry laxly hoists Farmer around the neck to pull him up but is suddenly grabbed in a bearhug by Mickey. The Farmer then runs with him in his arms and smashes him into the corner. Mickey, still keeping the hold hits several undefendable head butts then stands back and allows Quiry to stagger out holding his head. The Farmer now lifts Norman into a torture rack and slams him sideways and planting Norman Quiry’s head with a modified Death Valley driver.
Truth Waters: Jesus Christ! Did you hear the impact Quiry’s head made on that mat!
George Cassidy: Mickey saw the opportunity before him to counter on his opponents laxy-daisy attitude and made him pay for it. When he’s getting examined for neck injuries years from now into his career, he can thank himself for allowing it to happen.
Mickey cockily pulls himself to his feet and is met with a series of boos from the crowd. The Farmer, once again matches their hostility and lean over at the ropes to scream his abuse. He then decides to put that aside temporarily and pins Quiry.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Truth Waters: But Norman doesn’t want to give up and the crowd is showing their admiration as they chant his name!
Mickey once again shows his feelings to the crowd and roars angrily at them. He then turns his anger to Quiry and lifts him up aggressively. He nails a few punches then a swift low blow. As Quiry bends over, cupping his groin, The Farmer lifts him up in a sideways powerbomb and hits it with a fall away motion. Once again, he goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Truth Waters: No way, no how says Quiry once again!
George Cassidy: he’s gargling on his own blood Truth, I didn’t hear him say anything at all.
Despite the failed pin, The Farmer smiles at the damage caused. He stalks Quiry as he once again gets to his feet, then spears him into the far corner with a thud. Mickey climbs the first ropes, grabs Quiry by the hair and begins punching him on the brow. Not so long ago, the crowd would have counted his punches, but not tonight, and maybe not again. Mickey seems annoyed by the silence for a second then hops back down, allowing Quiry to fall face first onto the mat.
Truth Waters: The Farmer without his ANY participation at all in that 10 punch. Think he’s seeing the error of his ways?
George Cassidy: Wow. Now he can’t teach a pack of inbreeds to count, let the world drown in its own tears.
Mickey climbs to the second rope, then jumps off, STAMPING into Quiry’s lower back who screams in pain.
Truth Waters: OUCH! Now that was uncalled for there!
George Cassidy: Unorthodox? Yes. Effective? Also yes.
Mickey, seeing that his opportunity is before him now pulls Norman to his feet and throws a few haymakers into his gut. Quiry keels over so Mickey slams a knee into his chin. Mickey won’t let him slump to the mat however. Instead, he sandwiches his head between his legs and leans back with a vintage piledriver. Once again, Quiry, cups his neck.
Truth Waters: Hm…I’ve just remembered, a certain Amy Silveira had to leave AWC prematurely in her career because of a certain neck injury inflicted by The Farmer. Back then, it was obvious, his actions were accidental. Now, I’m not so sure.
George Cassidy: Damn you Truth! Now I’m reminiscing about Hugo…damn, I miss that stingy old fart!
The Farmer now feels the need to shout at the crowd as Quiry unexpectedly begins to get to his feet. Suddenly he’s on his feet. And he waits until the farmers little barrage ends. Then when Mickey turns around, he’s nailed with a spinebuster to the mat.
Truth Waters: Recovery!
George Cassidy: Mickey’s stirring already though! Big deal.
Indeed he is, yet Quiry isn’t finished with him. He throws a few kicks to the gut then launches off the far ropes.
Truth Waters: Quiry looking for a clothesline here.
However, The Farmer ducks the clothesline and waits for the return. He swings with the Harvest but Quiry amazingly ducks it and flies off the far ropes. He comes back and almost castrates Mickey with a Harvest of his own!
Truth Waters: OH MY HOLY GOD!
George Cassidy: ILLEGAL! HE STOLE, HE STOLE!
Quiry, manages to drag himself over for the pin and falls on top of Mickey.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner… NORMAN QUIRY!
Truth Waters: Quiry wins! What a debut. Showing the guts and determination here that will take him far in this company.
George Cassidy: Bah. It was a tainted victory.
Truth Waters: I don’t think so Cassidy. Maybe the loss of the fans is hurting Mickey. Maybe when he unleashed this vicious streak he failed to see the benefit of the fans and how he was losing it.
George Cassidy: Oh, write a poem.
Mic Skillz Of The Unfuckable Kind
FEATURING: ADAM DICK, SARAH KENNEDY, MADDY ESTELLE, MIKE WADE
AUTHOR: JOE SCHMIDT
Adam Dick: SARAH KENNEDY! SARAH KENNEDY!
She only glanced at Adam, who was now sprinting towards her from the far end of the corridor. “Please God, don’t let him see me.” She attempted to pray, but it was too late. The Face-Eater’s sights were locked-in on, and he was not going to go idly.
Adam Dick: SARAH KENNEDY! STOP BEFORE I GO LEE HARVEY ON YOU LIKE YOUR PREDECESSOR.
She rolls her eyes, and turns to face Adam.
Sarah Kennedy: What is it, Dick?
Adam Dick: That depends on your connotation of the word ‘Dick,’ Sarah.
Sarah Kennedy: Shut up and spit it out, would you?
Adam Dick: Heh. Heheheheheheh. Ahem.
The glare Adam received can only be measured on the Richter scale.
Sarah Kennedy: What is it?
Adam Dick: My name’s Dick. You said ‘spit it out.’ Heh, sorry. Shit like that just gets to me.
Sarah Kennedy: I don’t work for you and I don’t have to talk to you.
Adam Dick: Well you should! If you worked for me, I wouldn’t put this sexist dress code in to place like David “Perv” Harber. That guy thinks chicks should fit their asses in skirts that are sold in Foot Locker as ‘head bands,’ apparently.
Sarah Kennedy: (who is, by the way, English, and so does not say “asshole”) Actually, I picked this skirt out, wanker.
Sarah began to storm down the hall.
Adam Dick: Fine! We didn’t want the one with the Adam’s Apple anyways, you prissy bitch!
Meanwhile, Maddy Estelle had snuck up and heard Adam’s commotion with her co-worker. She asked him, very conveniently...
Maddy Estelle: Hey, Adam. Looking to be interviewed, or something?
Adam Dick: As Wade as my witness, woman! Don’t sneak up on me like that. Anyways, yes, that is exactly what I desire. Hold on, I must call my partner.
Adam screams out.
Adam Dick: MIKE! GUESS WHAT?! I FOUND THE CHICK THAT HOLDS MICS FOR US THAT YOU LIKE, THE DISEASE RIDDEN ONE! IF WE’RE DOING THIS INTERVIEW I SAY YOU HAVE TO STAND NEXT TO HER. I CAN SMELL HER COOCH-ODORS FROM HERE AND I HEAR THEY HAVE AN ADVERSE HALLUCINOGENIC AFFECT ON THE BRAIN. HURRY BEFORE I START TO THINK SHE’S HOT AND HAVE SEX WITH HER BEFORE YOU!
Maddy’s jaw dropped.
Adam Dick: Don’t worry, love, should only take a moment.
He patted her on the butt, for good luck. Not in any sexual matter; how a football player would smack his teammate after a great play on the field. She was still appalled, until...
Mike Wade: Where’s she at!!?
With a hint of excitement. Hint = orgasm. Adam merely sized Maddy up, motioning a ‘that’s whassup’ gesture to his partner. Mike merely looked around Maddy’s small frame.
Mike Wade: THIS is Maddy Estelle?! I wanted the blonde!
Adam Dick: Dude, I called Sarah Kennedy, you said you got the chick with STDs because you have that thing for double-baggers anyways.
Mike Wade: Uh mate? They’re BOTH disease ridden! Don’t know if you noticed.
Maddy Estelle: Excuse me?
Adam Dick: Hold on, we’re still doing pre-game warm ups! Okay, dude, you ready?
Mike Wade: I guess. No sex after, though.
Adam Dick: ...NO SHIT.
Mike Wade: Okay, brown-bag, let’s do this. Where’s the camera?
Maddy Estelle: Right there! It’s been filming the whole time!
Adam Dick: You mean we’ve been on camera all along?
Maddy Estelle: Yes!
Mike Wade: And that we really don’t need you to make a statement to the people?
Maddy Estelle: No!
Adam Dick: Are you CRAZY, Mike? We can’t do this shit without her!
Maddy smiled a bit at Adam’s chivalry, perhaps defending her journalistic credibility.
Mike Wade: RIGHT! Who else would hold our microphones! Here, imp, hold this.
Mike withdrew a mic and shoved it in her hand. Less than thrilled, she held the mic very limply and not near their faces. The Unfuckables decided to make up for their lack of presence yelling louder.
Mike Wade: Right! So, we don’t need to say who we are! And quite frankly, I’m not going to steal heat by announcing what city we’re in because this place has gotten enough sympathy from syndicated television already. Does it really take a few hurricanes to touch home to get you people to realize that this shit actually exists in the world?
Maddy’s jaw hit the floor.
Mike Wade: What we’re here to do, is put a decree out there.
Adam Dick: A statement, if you will, to the current state of the AWC roster. With all you fuck-holes returning, and all you old guys thinking your time’s still hear, and to all the rookies who want their names in the marquee; LISTEN UP. We. Are. UNFUCKABLE. And its high time we start proving it!
Mike Wade: That’s right. All these people trying to get their feet wet at the same goddamn time, it’s time that the Face and I actually make these people earn their wages! What we’re proposing, is to be called the Unfuckable Team Invitational Tour Bonanza!
Adam Dick: My partner, Mike Wade, and myself are issuing an open challenge to the entire roster! That means ‘Mare can quit alluding to some lurker in the shadows and bring him out to party. That means Johnny Noble can call another corpse from the past we can dismantle. ANYONE IN AWC AND A PARTNER OF THEIR CHOOSING.
Mike Wade: Yes, anyone. It doesn’t matter, because we’ll beat him. You see, the stakes of this Unfuckable Team Invitational Tour Bonanza are that we go until we lose. Which will be never. This Tour will endure as long as our perfect Team record stands, or until we reach our goal; Alliance glory.
Adam Dick: Because it’s time Wade and I start stomping on all those shits stealing ring time! You think we don’t want to wrestle and leave you assholes the chance to shine? Hell no! And you’ll all suffer because of it. We’re going to win, all the way until we win the team titles, and not one combination of you fucks can prevent it! And whichever one cans, whoever pins the losing member of the Unfuckables, gets a TITLE SHOT against Mike Wade!
Mike Wade: WHAT?!
Adam Dick: (whispering) Dude, don’t worry. That’s just, like, to get people to do this. You don’t have to do anything.
Mike Wade: Ah, good call.
Maddy Estelle: HEY! I HEARD THAT!
Adam Dick: Uh... this interview is over!
With that, Adam and Mike darted down the hall and around a corner, leaving a highly offended Maddy Estelle wondering what the fuck just happened.
Watchers And Cowards
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, HATE, AZAGTOTH, ???
AUTHOR: JAAKKO OKSA
We open up in the backstage area of the CenturyTel Center, in front of a large AWC banner showcasing the promotion’s colors. In front of the banner stands Hate, his head already painted red in preparation for the night’s main event. Sarah Kennedy stands to the left of him, as beautiful as ever, while the minion known as Azagtoth looms in the background, staring at Kennedy with hungry eyes. Kennedy acknowledges the camera and her quests with a warm smile, but Hate doesn’t seem to be impressed, instead standing with his arms crossed across his chest
Sarah Kennedy: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I am standing here at the CenturyTel Center in Bossie City, Louisiana with one-half of tonight’s main event, ”The Fifth Horseman” Hate. Hate, how do you feel…
Before Kennedy can finish her question, Hate’s arm grabs her by the shoulder and jerks her closer to Hate, who is smiling a cold, dead smile.
Hate: Dear Sarah… Please. We both know there is no use here for questions. I will give you the answers, and you will walk away. That will be the end of it.
Kennedy slowly nods and lets Hate take the mic from her hands. Immediately Hate seems to completely ignore Kennedy, turning his full attention at the camera.
Hate: Tonight, I once again go after something that is rightfully mine. Something that has been rightfully mine for three months now. Ever since The Battle Of Britain, I have been the rightful champion. I have been the real man on the top. The Streets Of London match… I threw all those people out. I mutilated them and lifted their broken corpses off of the bus. And at the end of the night, another man, a STRANGE man stood as the champion. The Educator. What became of The Educator, I pray?
Hate takes a dramatic pause, letting everyone watching to dig back at the Fresh! opener match about a month ago.
Hate: That’s right. I broke him. I ended his career. It was more than that man deserved, but then again I was feeling generous on that particular night. So I break The Educator, the man who stole the title from me. What then? Pierce Lavelle challenges me for a match for his title. Looks like he isn’t too happy about it. That is fine by me. And what became of Pierce Lavelle?
Another dramatic pause, with Azagtoth giggling on the background and muttering ”Testimony…” to himself.
Hate: I broke him too. I smashed his face, I broke his ribs, and I made him bleed like the sacrificial lamb you offered him as. And yet… Yet, when I finally smashed him to the canvas for the final time, made him an immobile heap in that theater of pain and covered him for the one-two-three your rules require, I still wasn’t the champion. You wouldn’t give me the belt. Now, a lesser man would probably be angry, but I am not a small man, much less a man. I am something far worse. And I am not angry. I am furious.
Hate’s face contorts with waves of anger and he spits on the ground, taking a hateful look at the banner behind him. Sensing his leader’s mood, Azagtoth snarls and bares his teeth before sulking back.
Hate: So tonight, I get another chance. How will you cheat me again? What will your screwjob be this time around? This time, it’s a coward’s match. The person who runs away first wins. What kind of a match is that? I was under the assumption that we were to FIGHT here! Why are we running away all of a sudden? Is it because you’re afraid of seeing Pierce Lavelle suffer again at my hands? Afraid to see your champ bleeding and broken, smashed to pieces like the petty little statue he is? Well, I will do that, escapes or not. I will break him and drink his blood like Dracul the great conqueror. He will fall like everyone else have fallen before me, sooner or later.
Apparently finished, Hate hands the mic back to Sarah Kennedy, who does a small curtsy out of sheer fear and then grabs the mic, apparently feeling much safer with the instrument of her work again in her hands.
Sarah Kennedy: There you have it, straight from Hate. It looks like tonight’s match with Pierce Lavelle will be…
Suddenly, Hate’s hand shoots out and grabs Kennedy by her throat, making her scream in surprise and terror. Hate gives her a light shake to shut her up and then tosses Kennedy back to Azagtoth, who pins the frightened woman against the banner and snarls at her. Hate picks the microphone up and then looks back at Sarah Kennedy, with the expression of someone who is not fully there.
Hate: Did I say that that was it? I do not think so. I would distinctly recall saying something like that. No, I am far from done, I am afraid…
Hate turns back to the camera, his eyes burning with inner flame. His face shines with concentration, but can barely contain the chaos raging beneath.
Hate: For I must talk of another vermin. Another rat. A rat named Paddy O’Shea. You all know what I have done to him. You have all seen the damage I have caused him. But none of you know WHY I have done my deeds. Why have I raised my hand to oppose the Irish pig? You will never know. The knowledge lies between me and Paddy O’Shea, and no matter what O’Shea says, he knows why I have done this. This is revenge, no… This is beyond revenge. This is justice, Paddy. Divine justice, as your mind-polluting pigs would say it.
Hate grins a horrid, mad smile before shaking his head to calm himself down.
Hate: Must not get too excited. After all, there is still time until we fight. But at Super Series, Paddy, that’s where we will meet. Where we will finally settle our score. And the place where I will finally eradicate this planet of your filthy pig presence! A fight is not the word to describe it. It will be a massacre… Or a genocide. You pick, Paddy. Those ten men you bring with you… None of them will walk out on their own feet.
Hate throws the mic down and goes over to Azagtoth, grabbing the snarling youth by the hair. Half-dragging, half-leading his minion, Hate makes his exit, leaving Sarah Kennedy leaning against the wall and gasping for her breath.
And in the darkness, someone watches. Someone who has watched for over 2,500 years. He has seldom seen anything like this man. He will watch some more. Watch and wait.
He has all the time in the world to do so.
Alexa Kendericks vs Laura Winters
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: TASO
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from New York City, weighing in at 125 pounds... ALEXA KENDERICKS!
Godsmack's "Awake" hits and out comes the very beautiful Alexa Kendericks. It's all business for this martial arts star.
James Brunt: And her opponent, from Newark, Delaware, weighing in at 137 pounds... LAURA WINTERS!
"Ice Queen" plays as Winters heads to the ring, and she too is serious and focused. The fans give both her and Alexa a big greeting, because they know their reputations proceed them and this will be a five star match.
George Cassidy:There's the bell and Laura charges in like a bull! She stuns Alexa with a right! Left hook... NO! Judo takedown by Alexa! Pele kick just clips Lauara's chin and she is retreating on her knees to the corner turnbuckle. BAM! She stops Alexa cold with a straight kick to the gut. PALM SLAP ON LAURA! Oh my God, you could hear that down by the banks of the Mississippi!
Truth Waters:Jumping palm slap! Alexa just knocked Laura right onto the top rope! She climbs up like a cat... BLACK WIDOW PLUNGE! Top rope hurricanrana! Pin attempt, no! Laura kicks out right away! We have had a heck of a flurry of offense right here in the first MINUTE of this match!
George Cassidy:Laura gets to her feet... oh! Knee right to the face by Alexa! Laura started this aggressive but Alexa came right back at her and now she heads for the top rope as Laura was STUNNED by that knee to the face. What is Alexa gonna do? She is a high-flying daredevil... DEATH FROM ABOVE! Swandive senton bomb! Another quick cover...
ONE!
TW...
George Cassidy:Kick out by Laura!
Truth Waters:Both women are up and Laura entangles Alexa with the arms, looking to slow this down, looking for a throw perhaps. She spins around with a hammerlock. Alexa reverses into her own hammerlock... waistlock... RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX! Laura crumples in half like a folding chair! I don't think I've ever seen anyone take it to Laura like this! And Alexa to the apron! She springs to the top rope... TEARFUL DESCENT FROGSPSLASH! NO! NO! Laura rolled out of the way! Alexa misses the frog splash!
George Cassidy: Lighting fast DDT! Laura all over it! Now she grabs Alexa's legs... she is going for a figure four leg lock! Alexa kicks her away and Laura bounces off the ropes into a monkey flip by Alexa! But Laura lands on her feet! WOW! What agility! Alexa gets up unawares and YAAAAAGH! Spinning kick to the face! Oh man, that pretty face of hers just got bruised!
Truth Waters: Laura circles Alexa now, like a cat about to pounce! CROSSFACE CHICKENWING! CROSSFACE CHICKENWING!
Alexa starts writhing in pain, but also flailing her one free arm in hopes of getting some momentum towards the ropes. Laura's eyes widen as she is able to really cinch the chickenwing in hard, and then starts to really work the choke under the neck, and a look of desperation crosses Alexa's face. She stamps down hard on Laura's foot, slamming her heel into her toe. Laura loses her balance for a second and this gives Alexa the little maneuvering room she needs to grab the top rope. She ref calls for a break which Laura gives him, but then immediately kicks Alexa's legs out from under her and she lands on her butt. Laura follows this with a nasty strong-style kick right to the back of the neck.
Truth Waters: OY VEY! She almost kicked her head clear off! Laura now grabs Alexa and lifts her up... BAM! Forearm to the face! And another! Kick to the thigh! Back fist to the face! Tomahawk chop to the neck! Knife edge chop by Alexa! Fighting back! Forearm by Laura! Chop by Alexa! And again! Alexa with an Irish whip, Laura Winters reverses... drop toe hold across the bottom rope! She crushed her larynx with that move! Here comes Laura... OH MAN! Running knee to the back of the head!
Laura drapes Alexa's left leg on the ropes and starts working it over with knees and stomps. She jumps up high and sits down on it, buckling the knee. Grabbing the leg she drags Alexa to the middle of the ring and slaps on a Texas Cloverleaf.
Truth Waters: Both of these women are so dangerous. It's like they are having their periods twenty-four, seven, 365 days a year!
George Cassidy: OK, that isn't necessary, but they sure as hell are great athletes. Laura is unbeaten here in AWC and Alexis is... well, Alexis. Lots of questions about this woman's past.
Alexa Kendericks finally manages to pull herself to the ropes and the fans clap as the ref makes Laura break the submission hold. Without missing a beat Laura moves back in and picks Alexa up and starts in with forearms to the face again. A roaring elbow is timed to finish the match and knock Alexa into the third row, but Kendericks ducks and grabs Laura for a back suplex. Laura flips out of it. Alexa turns around to get caught by a kick to the liver. She responds with a slap to the face. Then she goes for a kick herself but Laura catches it and snaps off a dragonscrew leg whip.
Truth Waters: Alexa is grabbing that leg! That knee might be sprained after that Dragon Screw! Laura with a kick right to the back of the thigh. Now an elbow rop to the chest! Kneedrop to the face! Legdrop across the throat! Now she grabs Alexa's legs... BOSTON CRAB! But NO! Alexa reverses it quickly into a cradle!
ONE!
TWO!
George Cassidy: Whoa! Laura breaks the cradle and the count! Both women up but Laura is faster and she hits a chop to the neck! Back fist! She grabs Alexa for a whip... reversed.... reversed again into a GUILLOTINE CHOKE!
Truth Waters: Oh baby! The fans going nuts! She might choke her out here if she has it on tight! She just pulled her in and floated an arm over her head and clamped it on like an anaconda! Now she is leaning back with her body, trying to suffocate her opponent!
George Cassidy: Alexa trying to pull away but that is only going to make it worse... now she pushes back and Laura can't stop her and they backpedal right into the ropes! The ref is calling for Laura to break it and she does. If Laura had gotten a few extra seconds this match would be over.
Truth Waters: Laura pushes the ref away, trying to keep the heat on. She takes a swing with a closed fist but Alexa ducks and heads to the ropes... SMACKAROONI! Laura hits the rolling elbow! Alexa getting to her feet but she looks dazed. here comes Laura off the ropes from behind... CHOP BLOCK! Alexis goes down like a house of cards! ANKLE LOCK! ANKLE LOCK!
George Cassidy: HEEL HOOK! Laura Winters grapevines the leg! She has slapped it on and cinched it in! But Alexa rolls to the ropes and they roll right OUT OF THE RING TO THE FLOOR!
Truth Waters: Very smart move by Alexa! Laura has come after her with one submission after another and she has proved to be ready for them. Now on the outside, it is anybody’s game! George Cassidy: Both women now gets up with Laura grabbing a handful of hair. She pops Alexa right in the face and drags her toward a ringpost. Alexa grabs Laura's hair as well and POSTS her! Head right to the metal post! She grabs her... COMPULSIVE CRUNCH! On the outside that is deadly! Alexa throws Laura right back in the ring and follows her under the ropes.
Truth Waters: Laura fights to get to her feet but Alexa is super quick. Kick! Kick! CHOPPING IT DOWN! Climbs the ladder for the enziguri to the back of the head! Cover!
ONE!
Truth Waters: Nope! Laura Winters kicks right out! Alexa picks her up and whips her to the corner. SUICIDE CHARGE! Finishing it with the backspring elbow! Laura looks stunned... ASSASSIN'S HONOUR! Dragon sleeper on Laura Winters!
George Cassidy: A TASTE OF HER OWN MEDICINE! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT!
Truth Waters: Laura is kicking, Laura is flailing! She is trying to turn her body around to get to the ropes! She is rocking her body back and forth, looking to gain momentum for a twist... she twists out of it! Now she is on top and she is pounding away! Ground and pound!
George Cassidy: Alexa Kendericks flips her over and now she's on top! She is pulling hair and banging Laura's head onto the canvas!
Truth Waters: They are both grabbing hair now and trying to rip each other to pieces!
George Cassidy & Truth Waters: CATFIGHT!
The fans go crazy as the two women roll around the ring.
George Cassidy: The referee is trying to break this up, all that hair pulling is illegal. But these women won't quit, they are both fighters and warriors and crazy bitches!
Truth Waters: Crazy bitches, yeah!
George Cassidy: The ref getting in the middle of this and he is pushing Alexa away. He can DQ both of them but he is giving them a chance! Laura is not interested and she pushes the ref away to get at Kendericks... LOOK OUT! KNIFE'S EDGE! KNIFE'S EDGE!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner... ALEXA KENDERICKS!
Truth Waters: I blame the ref!
George Cassidy: Blame Winters for not showing some sense! She lost her control and walked right into the Knife Edge from Alexa Kendericks! And Alexa wins her debut match!
Disowning, Disregarding, Disrespecting
FEATURING: TONY ALISO, TIM SHIPLEY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It’s time.
Time for Tony Aliso to shrug off the cobwebs and take on veteran The British Bomber in his first match in over six months... his first since his phoney death on April 2nd this year... his first since his shocking return at AWC Testimony, back from the dead to attack his former partner and friend Tim Shipley.
Aliso’s changed, unless the whole nice-guy persona he thrived on in Neon and Core was all a façade, and his self-important sniff as a backstage worker wishes him “Good luck, Mr. Aliso” is evidence of this. But the glass-like expression of cool confidence on his face shatters when he rounds the last corner and finds someone blocking his path through the curtain.
Tim Shipley stands straight, a Core Wrestling Tag Team title belt hanging from each arm as he awaits the impending arrival of the man whose mind he must attempt to change – whose feelings he has to try and reverse – whose history he wants to recapture. But Aliso steps suddenly into view, too suddenly, and stops dead.
Tim Shipley’s heart misses a beat.
His face turns pale.
His throat contracts and his jaw locks and his voice chokes.
He can’t do it.
He can’t do any of it.
And the spell breaks, and Aliso advances with a broadening sneer of arrogance.
Tony Aliso: Got something for me, buddy?
Shipley stands stock still, his eyelids refusing to bat as his overawed eyes strain to take it all in. This is Tony. This is real. But it’s... different.
Aliso hitches up his right leg and thrusts it into Shipley’s gut, swinging his left fist to catch the Englishman around the jaw. Shipley staggers back against the wall, throwing an arm out to break his fall, but the expression on his face doesn’t change. He just stares at Tony Aliso. Shock and pleading. Surprise and confusion.
Aliso grabs one of the belts that Shipley dropped just as his former partner pulls himself to his feet. Looking down at the gold that he captured with Shipley just one day before Shipley left Core Wrestling, and just two days before Aliso was shot by a Knucks sniper (or so we were told), one cannot imagine the wealth and dearth of feelings knocking about haphazardly in his head. Brownian motion. But it’s all too simple for the changed man. He spits on the belt. And brains Shipley with it. And strides through the curtain.
Tony Aliso vs The British Bomber
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE:
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
Will be added when received. Winner: Tony Aliso.
Finishing School
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, ???
AUTHOR: FERGUS
‘Seven Faces’ hits the PA blaring out as the jagged riff kicks in and the arena recognises the song to be the entrance for ‘The Bull’ Jack Murphy. Right on cue Murphy enters the arena, dressed as he was earlier in the evening at Pearl’s office, wearing the sweat pants and black t-shirt with ‘I am…as good as it GETS!’
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, “THE BULL” JACK MURPHY!
He laps up the boos of the crowd, a grim smile on his face as he walks down purposefully and enters the ring without complaint.
Truth Waters: Ah so Murphy has decided to grace our presence once again. What you think he has in store for us this time?
George Cassidy: I don’t think it matters. It’s going to be good regardless.
Truth Waters: Well we’ll see now won’t we?
George Cassidy: Damn right.
Murphy has entered the ring by now and plucks Brunt’s microphone away from him. With a casual flick of the wrist he dismisses Brunt from the ring.
Truth Waters: Such arrogance.
George Cassidy: Such brilliance.
Jack Murphy: Well, it seems you’re all nicely warmed up by now I take it. How is everybody here in Bossier City?
There is a mild pop from the crowd as the hometown is rung out around the arena but most of them aren’t falling for it.
Jack Murphy: Ah well, didn’t think you’d respond…you never had the intelligence.
That gets a boo from the crowd, the sound erupting around the arena and at the centre of it all is a smiling Jack Murphy.
Truth Waters: That was uncalled for!
George Cassidy: A bit cheap but I’ll give it to him.
Jack Murphy: Anyway…I’m not here to debate the reasons for which your intelligence is lacking, (boos) no I’m here to debate another matter relating to the intelligence of you people. A matter of insult to your intelligence.
The crowd looks confused and remains a bit hushed now, waiting for what he’s going to say.
Jack Murphy: See I told you you were stupid.
George Cassidy: Hahaha! I like his style.
Truth Waters: This is totally shameful.
Jack Murphy: what I’m getting at is the way in which Pearl Harber has been conducting the direction of the AWC.
The crowd pops big time for the mention of the organisation and a couple of Harber chants even break out, congratulating the job he’s been doing.
Jack Murphy: You’re like seals, I could teach you what to do every single time. Not only that I can hear those chants for Harber and you couldn’t be further from right than you think.
Murphy moves round the ring, addressing each side of the ring in turn as he continues to lecture, at length to the crowd.
Jack Murphy: Pearl Harber…is a plague to this company. That’s right, I know you seals find it shocking but go with me on this one. I’ll tell you all you need to know, forget about having to think for yourself, even if it’s clear you’ve never had it to begin with.
The crowd is getting worked up now, clearly insulted by the lack of respect Murphy is showing for them. The camera switches briefly to the announce table and Truth Waters is clearly upset at this also. Meanwhile George Cassidy is cracking up.
George Cassidy: Murphy, you are my saviour!
Truth Waters: Oh shut up, don’t egg him on. He’s insulting our audience!
George Cassidy: I know, and it’s all true!
Jack Murphy: Harber has done nothing for this company than bring bloody, violent and frankly, ridiculous matches. Before you keep on booing, think about it. How much sense did the Janitor’s Closet match at Testimony make to you? Was it a good match?
The crowd screams out for joy at the mention and a couple of chants for FREDROCK~! begin.
Jack Murphy: Nonsense! Absolute and pure filth and who do you have to thank for it? Pearl Harber. Not only this but there’s been countless other examples throughout the history of AWC which I don’t need to go into right now.
Truth Waters: Name one!
George Cassidy: Sshh! Let the man talk!
Jack Murphy: Simply put – Pearl Harber showcases brutal, no talent, pointless and ridiculous matches, on the assumption that you seals out here like them!
An eruption of agreement breaks out, signalling that they in fact do like them. Murphy brushes it aside, putting his hand out and waving them off.
Jack Murphy: You’ve been trained to react that way, nothing more. Which is what I’ve come here to do. To begin your education.
Truth Waters: Education?
George Cassidy: He’s going to enlighten us Truth, let the information flow into us.
Truth Waters: I don’t want anything he’s got to sell.
Jack Murphy: Tonight I’m going to begin your tuition on the basics in wrestling and the appreciation that you should have for it. No more blind cheering for a man getting nailed in the head with a 2x4, no more ridiculous stuns like jumping off balconies. No more, instead you’ll be treated to some of the finest technical and high impact wrestling that is around in the world today and all because of me!
Murphy stretches his arms out wide for the applause but all he gets is more booing. Still he is unperturbed by this and presses on.
Truth Waters: The crowd clearly doesn’t want to know any of this and is letting him know it.
George Cassidy: They’re philistines Truth. Come on Jack, bring me to the light!
Truth Waters: You’re pathetic.
Jack Murphy: So tonight I’m going to begin with a demonstration. Considering I’ve no match to show my full repertoire off, this’ll have to do. However this isn’t going to be a simple demonstration no. I’ve found a perfect example of the bane to my wrestling style. Without further ado, come on out!
To the surprise of everyone the ‘ECW Anthem’ from its heady days hits the PA and the crowd goes nuts. All eyes are settled on the entrance to the arena, wondering what former ECW superstar will grace the arena.
Truth Waters: ECW!! Who’s it going to be? Rhino? Raven? RVD? The Sandman?
George Cassidy: Well it could…ah! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!
As Cassidy laughs with perverse pleasure, a relatively short fat man enters the arena. In one hand he has a 2x4 and the other a stop sign. He holds them up to receive a cheer but the crowd is too busy booing Murphy who in the centre of the ring is chuckling to himself. The song fades out as the fat man walks down to the ring.
Jack Murphy: (wiping a tear of laughter from his eye) Ok, ok. Right come on, get your ass in gear and into this ring. We haven’t got much time!
Clearly the man is struggling however and within seconds he’s tripped and fallen to the floor right on his face. Shortly afterwards he begins vomiting in the aisle.
George Cassidy: BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
Truth Waters: This is pathetic…like this is a representation of hardcore wrestling.
George Cassidy: Can’t you see he’s a famous wrestler? It’s the Sandblob!
Truth Waters: Bad joke…bad joke.
Jack Murphy: Oh dear, I take it our friend is a bit drunk so I’ll have to give him a hand into the ring.
The Bull slips out of the ring and taking care not to go near the puke in the aisle, he grabs the man roughly and tosses him into the ring. The man keels over when he comes to a stop and holds his stomach, possibly going to vomit again but managing to hold it in.
Jack Murphy: Alright. What I’m going to show you right now is the faults and flaws of the extreme wrestling that you seals crave. First things first, a simple task which every wrestler should be able to pass.
Murphy pulls the man to his feet and brings his microphone between the two of them. He makes sure not to stay too close to the man though, well aware of what he’s just evacuated from his mouth.
Jack Murphy: If you extreme wrestlers claim to be wrestlers, show me something. Show me a headlock.
Murphy moves back waiting for the man to try the move however the man simply stands there, puzzled and looking sick. Jack looks at him and raises his hands but the man does nothing. The Bull shakes his head and brings the microphone back to his lips.
Jack Murphy: So you don’t know a headlock?
The man shakes his head.
Jack Murphy: Proof positive seals that what you clap and cheer for is no better than you. He has no competence in wrestling, no ability and shouldn’t even have the title of a wrestler. So why do you cheer for him? Is it because of his ability to inflict and take punishment?
The crowd cheers at this, knowing that they are about to see some bloodshed.
Truth Waters: Well at least he’s giving the guy a chance to show what he can do.
George Cassidy: He couldn’t do a headlock Truth, how much do you think he can do?
Jack Murphy: Alright, so you think he’s going to take me out. Let’s play it your way. I’ll give you one chance to hit me, with whichever weapon you want.
The crowd definitely seem to like this idea and roar their approval. Murphy drops the microphone and eggs on the ‘wrestler’ who is priming up the 2x4.
Truth Waters: Well this should be interesting.
George Cassidy: This is dangerous. Don’t hurt yourself Jack, we need you!
Truth Waters: Oh why don’t you marry him!
The fat man gears himself up and goes for a massive swing, only for Murphy to duck underneath. It takes him far too long to turn around and once he has he gets a big boot to the stomach. In a flash Murphy has him in the air, holding him in a vertical suplex.
George Cassidy: I know what’s coming now!
Truth Waters: The Fall from Grace!
As Waters responds Murphy spins the man round into an inverted piledriver, crushing the man into the mat head first. The crowd boos at Murphy who stands up, picks the microphone off the canvas and steps over the man.
Jack Murphy: You see, it’s quite simple; these so called ‘extreme wrestlers’ have NO talent, NO ability, NO experience and NO chance against someone like me! Because this is what you’ve got to get used to and what Pearl Harber better realise. I’m going to be around to stay and these (points down at the man) are one trick ponies. So I’m calling an end to extreme wrestling, it needs to be eradicated, once and for all and nothing is going to stop me. So starting next week I’m calling any and all wrestlers to join me in this and show Harber what is right for this business.
Truth Waters: He’s looking for others? Who’d be that crazy?
George Cassidy: Who wouldn’t? Sign me up Jack!
Jack Murphy: (looking out at the crowd) You can cheer all you want for them and boo the hell out of me, but when all is said and done…I’m going to be left standing. And why…? Because I’m as good as it GETS!!
Murphy drops the microphone and stares out at the crowd, listening to the crowd’s boos as ‘Seven Faces’ hits the PA once more. Slowly he heads out of the ring and back up the ramp way.
Truth Waters: Well it looks like Murphy isn’t going to quit on his intention to eradicate what he perceives to be trashy and ridiculous.
George Cassidy: He’s got something going that Murphy and I can see big things in the future for him.
Truth Waters: Maybe, anyway we’ll be back with more action!
Butterfly Hamada vs Juri Hyobanshi
STIPULATION: NO COUNT-OUT
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Flipping back the previous segment we fix firmly back on the announcing table at ringside. Truth Waters and George Cassidy are idly sitting by, Cassidy it seems reading a book and Waters just looking over notes. As the camera plants itself, Waters addresses the audience.
Truth Waters: Welcome back folks and if you’ve just joined us…what the hell are you doing? George Cassidy: Just catching up on a little light reading…it’s not like there’s anything interesting ahead for the rest of the evening.
Truth Waters: It’s your job! You’re supposed to be commentating on everything!
George Cassidy: Supposed to be…that’s the important word there my friend. Supposed.
Truth Waters: (shaking his head) Alright, if you feel like losing your job…well folks as I was saying, if you’ve just joined us you’re in for a doozy of a match up next as we’ve got the rematch from last week between Juri Hyobanshi and Butterfly Hamada. However to try and avoid last week’s non-result Pearl Harber has stipulated that this be a no count-out match!
George Cassidy: Yawn.
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: Talk about your exciting stipulations. I want some damn wrestling, not wrestlers protected behind gimmick matches, and a very poor gimmick match at that.
Truth Waters: God you’re just cynical about everything aren’t you?
George Cassidy: Yep.
Truth Waters: Anyway folks, for those who missed last week’s match, here’s the final moments of this exciting…and bloody match.
The camera then fades off from the announce table as the footage from last week’s Fresh! begins.
Fresh! 11/10/05 – Butterfly Hamada vs Juri Hyobanshi
Juri looks at Hamada with a smirk and is heading back to the ring, finally.
Truth Waters: NO! Butterfly Hamada just grabbed Hyobanshi by the hair! She has her by the hair and she pulls her back out to the floor! Slams her face right into our announce table! Then on the ring apron! Then into the steel railing! SHORT ARM ROUNDHOUSE KICK! Wow!
Referee Lars Larsson starts counting again.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
RUNNING YAKUZA KICK!
Truth Waters: Hamada, blood everywhere, fighting back!
She grabs a stunned Juri... BELLY TO BELLY SCREW SUPLEX PILEDRIVER!
Truth Waters: Who’s busted open now?! The fans are going nuts! That was amazing and it was nasty!
FOUR! FIVE! SIX!
Truth Waters: Hamada is now heading to the ring. No, wait, she is climbing the turnbuckle from the apron. What the hell is she doing? And Juri is right there with her! Both of them are climbing up... both of them on the top rope... LOOK OUT!!!
CRASH
George Cassidy: YA GOTTA LOVE IT! YA GOTTA LOVE IT!
Truth Waters: Butterfly Hamada and Juri Hyobanshi just DESTROYED our announcers’ table! Shards and splinters flew everywhere! This thing is trashed, and so are our wrestlers!
SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!
Truth Waters: Double count out! But more like a double homicide! The match is over but these two look like they're ready for more!
The fans chant "FIVE MORE MINUTES!"
George Cassidy: And here come some road agents to break this thing up. OH MAN! Juri just kicked Butch Radder right in the nuts!
Truth Waters: Taz Yorke and Big Bruno Hague are out here with their security guys and here comes Dr. Burns and we have a hellcat fight on our hands!
James Brunt: Referee Lars Larsson has proclaimed this match to be a DOUBLE COUNT OUT! DOUBLE COUNT OUT!
George Cassidy: It might be over here and now but I have a feeling this is far from the end. These two will certainly meet again, God help us, everyone!
With that the footage reel ends and we return to ringside.
Truth Waters: So there you have it. Without further ado, James Brunt will give the announcements for this evening’s rematch.
James Brunt: The following is a no count-out rematch…
Dean Evenson’s ‘Breath of Sky’ hit’s the PA and the arena is filled with a solid bunch of chanting and acclaim for Megumi ‘Butterfly’ Hamada. She wastes no time in making her way down to the ring, walking slowly and methodically. It is clear she’s still recovering from last week’s match however as there are a couple of bandages littering her body.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 160 pounds… MEGUMI ‘BUTTERFLY’ HAMADA!
Hamada raises a fist up into the air in response to her name, acknowledging the chants and thanking the crowd for being so appreciative.
Truth Waters: Hamada getting a decent welcome. It seems to me that she’s endeared herself to the fans with her performance from last week.
George Cassidy: That may be but we’ll see if she can keep up the intensity of last week.
Truth Waters: Oh you’re interested now are you?
George Cassidy: Of course, there’s boobs in the ring.
Truth Waters: Right…
As the two of them continue to bicker, ‘Breath of Sky’ is replaced almost instantly by Gazette’s ‘Carry.’ The fans do a complete 180 and boo their hearts out as Juri Hyobanshi makes her way out to the ring.
James Brunt: And her opponent, also from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 121 pounds… JURI ‘ENZERU TENMA’ HYOBANSHI!
No acknowledgement is seen from Hyobanshi, instead she lets the waves of boos wash and flow over her, taking them from each and every person and using it as her strength. She slides into the ring and greets Hamada, heading right up to her. The two compare bandages and strapping on their bodies before Juri walks over to the turnbuckle, straddling the second rope and putting her fists into the air.
Truth Waters: Already you can see the tension between these two. They’re both pumped for it and frankly so are the crowd.
George Cassidy: We’ll see. Both of them look pretty jaded to me. It’s going to be interesting how they react to one another now that they have had a chance to digest their performance from last week.
Truth Waters: Wow, you actually bothered your ass.
George Cassidy: What’d I tell you? There’s boobs in the ring.
While Waters shakes his head, James Brunt makes his way out of the ring, leaving referee Joseph Reid. Addressing both women briefly he motions to the timekeeper and signals for the start of the match.
Truth Waters: And we’re off! Looks like both women are going to be a bit cagey to start this off. They’re both trying to let the other make their move first.
Both women lock up in a clinch and begin the tussle for control. Juri goes for some knees to the gut to start things off, itching to take it to the Butterfly. However Hamada raises her own, blocking and instead spinning Juri with an Irish whip into the ropes.
Truth Waters: Hamada clearly learning from last week of the Angelic Demon’s style. Looks like she’s…no another counter!
As Waters responds we see Hamada going for a hurricanrana to Juri, only for Hyobanshi to halt her in mid air, instead bringing Hamada right down into a power bomb. The crowd gasps at the sequence and applauds the opening exchange. Juri is right on the mark immediately, following the power bomb with a standing somersault leg drop to the canvas.
Truth Waters: Hyobanshi is up for this one no doubt, she’s breaking new ground already to stump Hamada as to what to do.
George Cassidy: I’ll give it to her, that was a top notch move.
Hyobanshi keeps the momentum going, dropping an elbow to the neck of Hamada who is trying to get to her feet. She stumbles at this but manages to fall into the ropes, propping her up. The Angelic Demon bounces off the opposite ropes, heading for Hamada, only to see her slip away. She has just enough time however to react, changing her plan to hit a baseball slide and get out of the ring unscathed.
George Cassidy: Now that’s agility!
Truth Waters: A split second reaction from Juri! She’s congratulating herself now and that’s not going to help her cause…oh my God! Corkscrew splash from Butterfly!!
The crowd explodes as Hamada comes flying over the top rope with the aforementioned move. Hyobanshi has just enough time to turn round and take the move full on, crumpled to the ground with Hamada atop.
Truth Waters: Don’t forget there’s no count-outs here tonight guys!
George Cassidy: Oh for God’s sake! They’re not idiots!
Hamada is unsurprisingly the first one off the pile and to her and feet and brings Juri up from the ground by her hair. She gives her several chops to the chest, each one eliciting a “WOO!” from the crowd.
Truth Waters: Butterfly harnessing the power of the Nature Boy!
She whips Juri from the outside back into the ring and follows, hopping onto the apron. Without a halt in her motion she floats over the top rope with a rolling senton, coming back to her feet at the end. The crowd applauds once more as Butterfly looks around before picking up Hyobanshi.
Truth Waters: These two athletes are so graceful and poised. It’s beautiful to watch!
George Cassidy: I’d agree…but probably for different reasons.
Truth Waters: I don’t want to know…
George Cassidy: I’ll bet you don’t.
While Cassidy continues to perv on the two competitors, Butterfly sets up Juri for a simple body slam. A nice crunch into the mat greets the move and Juri is seen clearly wincing at the pain on her back. Hamada drops a leg right to the neck before flipping her onto her back.
Truth Waters: Let’s see what Hamada is going to go for here.
George Cassidy: Looks like she’s going to…
Truth Waters: Just shut up before you regret it.
George Cassidy: Before you rudely interrupted I was going to call the bow and arrow that she has Hyobanshi right now.
Truth Waters: Oh…ok.
George Cassidy: Bwahaha!
Referee Joseph Reid is right up close with the 2 wrestlers as Hamada applies the pressure on a perfect bow and arrow. Juri is screaming out loud, cursing in Japanese but you can see that she has something in mind.
Truth Waters: Looks like there could be a finish coming up here….no wait! Juri with the counter!
Hyobanshi manages to swivel from side to side, rocking back and forth until she rolls right off, tossing Hamada into the ropes. Both women jump to their feet and begin stalking one another. The crowd is on their feet too, relishing more of the action.
Truth Waters: Another lock up and this time Juri brings the knees to the gut. She follows it up with palm strikes right to the body…
George Cassidy: Man she’s flexible with that roundhouse kick!
Truth Waters: Would you stop!
Hamada is on the canvas now and drops and elbow going right for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
There’s a kickout from Hamada just before Reid can slap his hand down and the crowd roars its approval.
Truth Waters: Close one there for Hamada, but look at her! She may be dazed but she’s going right back at it.
Hamada and Hyobanshi trade shots right in the centre of the ring, Hamada taking the initiative and switching the flow once more. Hamada whips Hyobanshi into the ropes who pulls hard onto them, only for Hamada to follow it up with a stiff lariat.
George Cassidy: Ouch!
Truth Waters: And they both tumble to the floor!
Both women indeed do tumble, Hamada landing first due to the sheer force she hit the lariat on Hyobanshi. They barely lie still however as both of them are back on their feet and trading shots once again. An elbow from Juri stems the flow of shots and she follows it with some knees and then a stiff lariat of her own.
Truth Waters: This is vicious!
Juri picks up Hamada and tosses her into the ringpost, hearing the nice clang as Butterfly’s back whacks into it. Juri gives out a screech before charging right at Hamada…only for Hamada to duck sending the Angelic Demon into the ringpost! This is quickly followed as Hamada hits a neck breaker.
Truth Waters: There’s no time for a break here folks, they’re going at it hell for leather!
George Cassidy: And it looks like neither is going to quit! I retract my statement from earlier on!
Truth Waters: Damn right you do!
Hamada calls out to the crowd and rolls Juri back into the ring. She follows but Hyobanshi is ready with a stomp to the head. Butterfly gets to her feet and is about to respond when Juri picks her up into a brain buster.
Truth Waters: Hamada is down! And…oh my god it’s the RAPTURE ETERNAL!!
George Cassidy: You never know when it’s going to come!
The move is locked on in no time and Hamada struggles helplessly on the ground. Within moments she taps, Reid calling for the bell and the crowd roaring as ‘Carry’ hits the PA again.
James Brunt: The winner... JURI HYOBANSHI!
Truth Waters: And just like that the crafty lady has it! You can never count her out of anything!
George Cassidy: That was awesome!
You're Walking
FEATURING: THE BRITISH BOMBER
AUTHOR: NEIL PETERS
We go to the parking lot where we see The British Bomber walking around with his bag on his shoulder, we see him walk past his own car, then other wrestlers’ cars. He stops at one car in particular, and starts looking inside it.
Bomber: Hmm has to be his, it’s a pile of junk so shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll teach that son of a bitch.
Bomber goes into his bag and takes out a towel, wrapping it round his hand. He punches the window and smashes it.
Bomber: I’ll take this pile of crap to the junk yard, Red Rock can damn well walk home.
Bomber gets into the car, and starts looking into the glove box looking for anything he could use against Red Rock, finding nothing. He rips out the stereo and throws it out the window and onto the floor. He hotwires the car and revs it up.
Bomber: Red Rock you little bastard! I’m stealing your car, you made a big mistake pissing me off! First Boolie, now your car, as for what’s next? I think that’s fairly easy to figure out. Red Rock, come and get me, try and stop me, I dare you! I’m taking this to the next level Red Rock, and you wont be able to handle what I have.
Bomber puts the car into gear and drives away in Red Rock’s car, in only what we can presume, is to be going to the junk yard.
Pierce Lavelle (C) vs Hate
STIPULATION: ESCAPE
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
A hush descends over the arena in Bossier City as a big metal structure starts to descend from the roof, on doubly-reinforced cables after the debacle that could have ended in tragedy towards the finish of Testimony.
George Cassidy: I feel like I’ve seen this before...
Truth Waters: Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for that Escape match! Hate and Pierce Lavelle went head to head in a No Escape match at Testimony and after a very confusing finish, Hate, Paddy O’Shea and Mike Wade were all lucky to come out of it alive! With that in mind... we could be in for some interesting times here.
George Cassidy: This time the cage will have no roof and the winner is the first to escape... giving champion Pierce Lavelle more than a hope in hell of retaining his title belt fairly this time around.
As the cage continues to be lowered towards the ring, Muse’s “Stockholm Syndrome” begins to blast out, the strong and heavy chords capturing the anticipation and excitement in the air perfectly. Those in the venue cool enough to know of Muse start jumping around like idiots, but really, the others are the idiots for not knowing and admiring some of the best music to come out of... er... Devon.
James Brunt: The following is an Escape match for the AWC Transatlantic championship!
The crowd cheer the ring announcer’s words.
Truth Waters: Moments away, Cassidy...
Pierce Lavelle comes through the curtain to huge cheers from the crowd, the title belt secured firmly around his muscular waist. The ladies amongst the fans are screaming the loudest, no small number of pieces of female underwear making their magical way through the air to the stage as boyfriends and husbands look on in disgust.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 245 pounds... the Transatlantic champion, PIERCE LAVELLE!
Truth Waters: He’s still looking just a little battered and bruised from what he’s been through in recent weeks, especially at Testimony, where we hear in addition to the Hate-induced wounds he also picked up additional injuries at the hands of Adam Dick backstage.
George Cassidy: That’s just hearsay, Truth.
Lavelle strides down to the ring and gets in, standing on a turnbuckle to play to the admiring crowd. He then tilts his head to look up at the cage, now only fifteen feet above him, and nods confidently.
George Cassidy: Lavelle definitely seems happier with this stipulation. The open roof could be a godsend for the more agile competitor.
Truth Waters: He is heavier than Hate, though you’d never have guessed it.
Without any warning, Marduk's "Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transilvania" begins to grind away at the speakers, filling the audio system with a sense of doom and darkness. Hate appears in the entranceway, with a black gas mask covering his head and wearing a long, black trenchcoat.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 225 pounds... “The Fifth Horseman” HATE!
George Cassidy: Pennsylvania or Transylvania? I do wonder.
As he walks to the ringside, Hate shouts verbal abuse at the fans through his mask before removing it at the ringside, revealing his painted head. Hate slides into the ring and takes off his trenchcoat before putting both the coat and the mask away, utterly concentrated on the match ahead.
Truth Waters: New music.
George Cassidy: Woop?
The cage now hits the ring apron with a clunk and ring crew scramble to bolt it into place – any give could be punished later. Michael Ryan, standing in the ring, is insistent on getting his points across to both men, but neither is paying much attention, two stares boring holes into two heads.
George Cassidy: The cage is in place... now who can escape? Coward’s method is to go for it right now...
Truth Waters: What, before the bell rings?
The bell rings.
Truth Waters: Hmm.
The two men just watch each other, and anticipating (fearing?) a repeat of the opening action-less minutes of the Testimony main event, the fans immediately get behind their hero.
”PIERCE LA-VELLE! PIERCE LA-VELLE!”
Buoyed by this immediate high, Lavelle moves in suddenly on Hate, surprising him slightly with a quick tie-up and a knee to the gut. He doesn’t manage to wind The Fifth Horseman, but quick thinking means he can take the 225-pounder over in a fireman’s carry, bringing heaped applause from the crowd.
”LET’S GO LA-VELLE! LET’S GO LA-VELLE!”
George Cassidy: It’s practically two-on-one when you consider the effect of these loud twelve thousand.
Truth Waters: Or two-on-two considering Hate’s inhuman abilities.
Hate rolls back up and swings at Lavelle but the champion ducks. Hooking Hate’s leg, he swiftly pulls him overhead and down with a fisherman’s suplex!
George Cassidy: Early fisherman’s suplex from Pierce Lavelle, who is really feeling the love of the fans.
Truth Waters: Doubly confident with the crowd behind him, he can go for big moves like that early on and actually pull them off. Lavelle does need to be careful about complacency, though...
Lavelle swiftly rights himself and backs against the ropes before delivering a sweetly-timed leg drop.
George Cassidy: A leg drop while on the run, keeping The Nondivine Juggernaut grounded.
Truth Waters: He’ll need to. Hate can turn the match round in an instant if given the opportunity.
Lavelle pulls Hate to his feet and chops him hard across the chest, eliciting the usual yells from the fans. He shoves Hate brusquely into the turnbuckle and hits a second knife-edge chop.
George Cassidy: This is no time for crowd-pleasing. Hit him with all you’ve got!
Pierce Lavelle digs out a kick to the mid-section but Hate swings an elbow down across the shin, causing Lavelle to spin 180 degrees. Hate quickly applies a sleeper hold and launches forward and down into a sleeper slam.
Truth Waters: Quick thinking from Hate, and now the champ could be in trouble.
Hate brings Lavelle straight up and goes for the Irish whip, but it’s reversed by Lavelle who totters slightly but remains on his feet as he slings The Fifth Horseman against the ropes. Michael Ryan dodges quickly out of the way as Hate powers back off with a clothesline but Lavelle ducks it, placing an arm across the shoulder as he comes round behind Hate and cradles the other arm too to land a faceplant. Straight away, Lavelle skips over to the cage side, propels himself up using the middle rope, and begins to climb.
Truth Waters: Pierce Lavelle goes for the escape!
George Cassidy: Coward’s way out...
Truth Waters: The ONLY way out!
The crowd cheers Lavelle loudly as he makes fast progress up the wall, but Hate is now up and well aware of proceedings. The Nondivine Juggernaut, with an expression of complete confidence on his red-painted face, proceeds to grab the cage side and rock it back and forth as far as the supports will allow.
George Cassidy: Jesus Christ...
Truth Waters: I told you about his INHUMAN STRENGTH!
Lavelle can barely hold on, let alone advance up the cage, and soon loses his footholds, grasping the cage only by two hands.
“LET’S GO LA-VELLE! LET’S GO LA-VELLE!”
But it’s no good; he hangs on, but the thin bars of steel are taking their toll on the champion’s hands, and ten seconds later, he’s done all he can.
Truth Waters: Lavelle falls!
Pierce Lavelle goes crashing to the mat, his knees buckling as he lands, causing him to fall to the mat.
George Cassidy: Hate could win if he’s quick!
But that’s not what’s on the mind of The Fifth Horseman as he takes Lavelle by the hair and drags him to his feet in a not exactly friendly manner. He holds him by the head with one hand while delivering a barrage of punches with the other, and boos ring around the place.
Truth Waters: A consistent sequence of closed-fist punches that are perfectly legal within the cage... Hate is exploiting the leniency of this match stip.
George Cassidy: It’s about time he started dominating Pierce Lavelle.
Hate executes a kneelift into Lavelle’s gut and then scores an awe-inspiring belly-to-belly suplex.
Truth Waters: MONSTROUS belly-to-belly!
Lavelle rolls over with the impact as a small section of Hate fans begin chanting the name of the heel. Hate slowly gets to his feet and stands tall, looking down on the fallen champion with derision and no small amount of superiority.
George Cassidy: Hate knows he’s better. He’s just got to prove it by winning this match!
Truth Waters: I really would not count Pierce Lavelle out of this. You know the kind of high risk moves he can pull off out of nowhere.
Hate now guides Lavelle to his feet and just looks at the Transatlantic champion, who, dazed, is unable to strike a blow. After a few seconds, Lavelle desperately swings a fist, but Hate dodges it easily, pulling the arm through and crashing his knee into Lavelle’s sternum. Pierce collapses to his hands and knees but Hate doesn’t allow it, pulling him right back up after a swift kick to the head.
George Cassidy: Lavelle may need some headache pills...
Truth Waters: He’s going to need a lot stronger medication than that after this!
George Cassidy: Hate is schooling him!
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy wouldn’t approve...
George Cassidy: Heh, I like Murphy. He’s got a bit of Alex Strider in him. I miss The Mongoose.
Truth Waters: Don’t dwell on the past, Cassidy; look at all the talent we have now! Great new faces like Alcaeus, ‘Mare...
George Cassidy: Pierce Lavelle is champion: I rest my case.
Hate whips Lavelle into the ropes, and as he comes back off, takes him through into a powerslam – or so he intends, but somehow Lavelle slips out and rebounds haphazardly across the other set of ropes. Thrusting out a blind arm, he’s fortunate enough to meet Hate with a pretty tough clothesline, and The Nondivine Juggernaut goes down.
Truth Waters: Down like a shot! That’s the way to do it.
George Cassidy: He barely knew what he was doing, Truth!
Truth Waters: To win matches you need luck on your side.
Hate gets straight back up but Pierce Lavelle cuts him off with the thumb to the eye: The Blackout!
Truth Waters: BLACKOUT!
George Cassidy: Out of nowhere!
Truth Waters: And that’s how it happens, Cassidy!
Cheers pour down on the ring as Lavelle now lifts Hate up onto his shoulders for the Whiplash and then, surely, the end. With Hate astride his shoulders, he walks carefully over towards the turnbuckle and prepares to slam him into it.
Truth Waters: He’s about to get some SERIOUS Whiplash!
George Cassidy: Lavelle will NOT be holding back!
”WHIPLASH! WHIPLASH! WHIPLASH!”
But just as Lavelle applies the final thrust, Hate makes his move, pushing off Lavelle’s shoulders with both hands and in effect leapfrogging Lavelle’s plunging head. Lavelle comes back up, looking wildly around for Hate, who greets him from behind with a forearm to the head.
George Cassidy: Hate got out of the Whiplash! Now that’s the mark of a champion.
Lavelle is higher on adrenaline than Hate expected, though, and he doesn’t succumb to his attack in the usual way, instead thrusting an elbow deep into the solar plexus of The Fifth Horseman. Turning, he whips Hate into the ropes and hits him with a jarring elbow to the side of the head. Hate totters, and Lavelle relaxes, seeing the effect of his elbow attack, but this is exactly what the non-dazed Hate wanted as he now hits a high side kick to the head and whips the champion to the furthest set of ropes himself. Lavelle comes running back and Hate waits, turning side-on to arm-toss Lavelle up into the cage! Lavelle hits the wall upside down, his back slamming against the metal, and then falls back as if rewinding the tape, to land on his unsteady feet.
Truth Waters: Whoa!
George Cassidy: Hiptoss into the cage side!
Hate quickly hooks both arms and without fanfare delivers the devastating Eleventh Commandment before turning to climb!
George Cassidy: ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT!
Truth Waters: And Hate tries to escape! Lavelle is totally out of it! We could well have a new champion here!
”LET’S GO LA-VELLE! LET’S GO LA-VELLE!”
Truth Waters: The fans desperate to re-energise their fallen champion but Hate is at least a third of the way up that cage and going QUICKLY towards the Transatlantic title!
Hate continues his steady progress, looking out with a completely calm expression at the booing and jeering fans. Suddenly their heat turns to pop, and Hate looks back in shock to see Lavelle rousing himself. He redoubles his efforts to climb.
Truth Waters: Lavelle is up!
George Cassidy: No way!
Truth Waters: Surely the quickest ever recovery from The Eleventh Commandment... it was a hurried execution of the move; perhaps Hate didn’t quite land it with full impact.
Lavelle now launches himself at the cage wall and running on nothing but the fans’ adulation, climbs the cage in pursuit of his opponent.
George Cassidy: He’s gaining on him!
But with Hate at the three-quarter mark and Pierce Lavelle only nearing halfway, it won’t be quick enough.
Truth Waters: Do something! He’s not going to catch him!
”PIERCE LA-VELLE! PIERCE LA-VELLE!”
Lavelle continues to climb, desperation showing in his face as he strains to narrow the gap, but Hate is almost about to mount the top of the wall and Lavelle has to take action. Decisive now, he moves to the adjacent cage side and shuffles along a little before turning his head and torso to face Hate...
Truth Waters: This is going to be one of those crazy Lavelle moments!
Lavelle launches himself through the air, grabbing hold of Hate’s legs to prevent him from escaping! The air is knocked out of the champion’s body as he hits the cage but he holds on tight, knowing this is his one chance to save the title belt he has grown used to.
George Cassidy: Not quite the big move, but...
Truth Waters: Hey, it was certainly intelligent! No way is Hate getting out of there with a 245-pound stowaway around his shins.
Hate tries his hardest to pull upwards, but it’s hopeless, and panic shows in his eyes as he realises the ball is in Lavelle’s court. The Fifth Horseman tries to kick his legs, but Lavelle’s vice grip is too tight.
Truth Waters: Hate is helpless.
Lavelle constructs a plan in the blink of an eye and draws his legs up into an abseiling position. He sails gently the couple of feet into the cage side and stands there, braced, with his legs on the horizontal, before closing his eyes and pushing off hard.
Lavelle is thrown backwards.
Hate’s body goes close to horizontal before he’s pulled down with him.
And both men crash to the canvas.
Truth Waters: God Almighty!
George Cassidy: The... er... abseil crash!
Truth Waters: Lavelle using the laws of physics to bring The Fifth Horseman down!
George Cassidy: Now what’s going to happen?
With both men laid out flat in the ring, Michael Ryan makes a quick tour of the ring, checking on both his competitors and the state of the cage – which appears to pass his safety test.
Truth Waters: Hate had further to fall, which makes me optimistic about Lavelle’s chances of recovering first here.
George Cassidy: But Hate had more left in the tank!
Truth Waters: But Lavelle was expecting the fall...
”LAVELLE! LAVELLE! LAVELLE!”
Truth Waters: And we definitely know who the fans are rooting for.
After a good ten seconds, Lavelle is the first to move, rolling onto his back and drawing an arm across his eyes. The effect is enormous, catalysing the crowd, and this in turn catalyses him.
George Cassidy: Lavelle looks to be getting to his feet! And we have no movement from Hate!
Lavelle, now standing, looks up at the cage once more with a sickening realisation of what he needs to do. With apprehension, he mounts the turnbuckle and transfers himself onto the cage wall.
Truth Waters: Pierce Lavelle is on the cage side and could take victory here if Hate doesn’t get himself up!
The fans cheering him on, Lavelle slowly grows in confidence, ignoring the throbbing pains in his fingers from the steel mesh of the cage. Below him, Hate starts to stir, sitting up from his prone position.
George Cassidy: Here comes Hate!
Truth Waters: Not yet! COME ON LAVELLE!
Half... now two-thirds... and Hate struggles to his feet. He can’t seem to get his bearings... and meanwhile, Lavelle makes progress... three-quarters...
George Cassidy: HATE, DO SOMETHING!
Truth Waters: Not a chance! No time! Just give up now and let Lavelle take it!
Hate throws himself at the cage wall, trying to use the impact of his own body to dislodge Lavelle. But this time, the Transatlantic champion is prepared, and holds firm towards the top of the wall as Hate looks up in despair. He can’t catch him in time if he climbs; he can’t dislodge him. He can’t exactly do a hell of a lot.
And Lavelle mounts the peak of the cage wall, and Hate rattles it in desperation, and Lavelle begins to clamber down the other side, and Hate snarls at him through the bars, and Lavelle drops the last few feet to the floor.
Truth Waters: Lavelle retains!
George Cassidy: NO!
James Brunt hands Lavelle the title belt with a smile and raises his tired arm.
James Brunt: The winner, and still Transatlantic champion... PIERCE LAVELLE!
Fuckupable
FEATURING: RED ROCK, BOOLIE, THE BRITISH BOMBER, JONNY SAKE
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
The scene moves to the backstage area where Red Rock and Boolie are idly wondering around. Red Rock and Boolie are both looking quite bored as they stroll around the corridors.
Red Rock: We need to find something to do when I'm not gorging it up in the ring.
Boolie: Let’s watch TV!
Red Rock: NO BOOLIE! We watch TV at home, I could do the good face thing and find some kids who want autographs?
Boolie: But we don't have a pen!
Red Rock: Ah that's true... we'll do that another time. But for now I think we should try find some fucking pussay!
Boolie: Really?
Red Rock: No... I don't think girls like me that much, but still that is what dreams are made of!
Red Rock walks through a set of double doors in to a much wider area of the building. There are some crew members walking around slaking off and smoking and arguing with the in house staff about their no smoking policy. Red Rock looks over and laughs at the arguing when he suddenly feels a shove behind him!
Red Rock: MOTHERFUCKER!
Red Rock turns around to see The British Bomber standing in front of him with a strangely large sense of achievement occupying him.
Red Rock: Oh it's just you Bummer!
The British Bomber: So Red, how will you be getting home tonight?
Red Rock: The bus probably... why? (cough) WANKER (cough)
The British Bomber: Of course you'll be getting the bus, I suppose you're wondering what happened to your car!
Red Rock: My car?
The British Bomber: YES your car!
Red Rock: Steven... I don't have a car.
The British Bomber: I KNOW THAT! Because I stole it!
Red Rock: Steven... I never had a car. I can't drive.
The British Bomber's sense of achievement deflates and his smile falls of his face.
The British Bomber: Come again?
Red Rock: I don't own a car, I never have owned a car and I can't drive!
The British Bomber: Then who's....
Just before The British Bomber can finish his sentence Jonny Sake walks on to the scene appearing rather distressed.
Jonny Sake: Guys! I can't find my car!
Red Rock looks over at The British Bomber and shakes his head at him whilst trying not to laugh. The British Bomber however is looking extremely angry before storming off.
Red Rock: What a bloody idiot!
Triangles
FEATURING: n/a
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
As last week, the entire screen is suddenly devoid of colour, black engulfing us all, before a triangle of gold fades in. Each side of the triangle now starts to glow a different colour – one red, one green and one blue.
A triangle has three sides.
Pick a side. TRIANGLES. November 11th.
What's That Thing You Do To People When They're Down?
FEATURING: HATE, THE UNFUCKABLES
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND JAAKKO OKSA
This certainly isn’t Hate’s night. The third consecutive title shot, and again he has lost. No, again he has been ROBBED. Bleeding, exhausted, he stumbles through the entrance curtain and to the backstage area, shoving technicians aside left and right. Not helping at all. Third shot he has been screwed over with. First The Educator. Then Paddy O’Shea. Now Pierce Lavelle and David Harber, with their coward’s match stipulations. Definitively not his night.
He headbutts a wall as he walks by it. Not helping at all.
Escape. Escape. ESCAPE? What kind of a way of winning is that? Not a way at all. Wars are not won by escaping. Wars are won by crushing the enemy to the last man. Not by escaping.
He punches a soda machine. Doesn’t help either.
And all because of David Harber. And Pierce Lavelle. And Paddy O’Shea. If Paddy O’Shea had counted at Testimony when Hate had asked for it, Lavelle wouldn’t have been beat up so bad. If Lavelle hadn’t been beaten up so bad, his prissy ego wouldn’t have taken a hit bigger than his face. If Lavelle's ego hadn’t taken a hit, Harber wouldn’t have made the escape stipulation in the match. Logical. Hate liked logic.
He swipes a water machine down with a nasty punch and watches as the water spills across the floor. That helps a bit.
But not enough. Not enough to satisfy him. He needs destruction and mayhem, something he has been denied. He craves the violence.
He rips apart the water machine, and the near-lying bench as well. He destroys what is left of a noteboard, and in a rather uncool moment snaps a potted plant in half. All the carnage feels good. Standing amongst the wreckage of the inorganic matter he has smashed, he feels godlike for a few seconds. Now if it was only a living being he could take his frustrations out on…
As luck would have it, one presents itself.
But not in a way Hate would have wanted.
Adam Dick: Aww, someone have a tantrum over here?
Hate: Easy, boy. Before I decide to add your organs to the pile.
Adam Dick: Attractive, really. But I’ve got other things in mind.
Adam still keeps his distance. The two have never really interacted until now, unless you count Adam’s first loss in AWC back in August. That, and the event at Testimony, and the countless shots Adam’s taken in promos; it all adds up to them not having a liking to speak to each other.
Hate: Oh? I’ve got half the mind to instruct Azagtoth to eat your throat out whilst you sleep. Choose words quickly, or you just may convince the other half.
Adam Dick: Time for YOU to take it easy, my friend. It’s sound like you don’t want to hear my great idea.
Hate: What does your great idea entail... boy?
Adam Dick: You staying the fuck away from my Transatlantic championship.
Okay, that whole thing Hate needed to feel better about? This is it; the best laugh he’s had all night.
Hate: Aahhah! You must be trying that funny stuff you seem to love, because you actually made me laugh. Seriously, do you mean you and your sparring partner’s Alliance titles? Go mess in the Alliance division, where you won’t get hurt.
Adam Dick: Oh, don’t worry, I’m a versatile and very sturdy fellow. I can handle the Alliance division, and a puss like Lavelle in the process. In fact, I may just have time for you when I finish. But in the meantime, stay away. You’ve had your chance and you’ve proved your worth.
Hate: I still find it humorous that a cretin as yourself finds the authority to dictate such a division. Have you ever had a shot at the belt, boy?
Adam Dick: It’s not a matter of if, but when. You and I both know I was on the rise before I even got here. And I’m not mistaken –
Hate: If I’m not mistaken, it was I who crushed your momentum like a bored child crushes snails. What may seem like lightyears to you, is what I take in common stride.
Adam Dick: You know, I never did get to thank you for that. But thanks for reminding me, when was it again?
Hate: You think a date like that holds any resonance in my mind? I destroy tougher pigs than you on a weekly basis; yours was no special occasion.
Adam Dick: Well, I guess you’re not going to take my advice?
Hate: By staying away from the Transatlantic championship?
Adam Dick: Yeah.
Hate: Boy, if you ever decide to speak to me in a tone that doesn’t hold a theme of self-degradation, I will rip your tongue out myself and staple it to the Transatlantic title when it is firmly wrapped around my waist.
Adam Dick: Yeah, I thought you might say something like that.
And with that, the verbal exchange is over. A sick thud, and white powder cracks all over the back of Hate’s skull, sending porcelain shards everywhere. Cuts through the mask affect his skin, and as the massive Goth crashes to the floor leaving a big gash on the back of his head, stands a perky Irishman who just crushed someone with the tank-cover of a personal toilet.
Mike Wade: AMIDST THE SMOKE ARISES A WARRIOR!
The Illustrious Face-Eater doesn’t hesitate a single moment before picking up the stainless steel bowl-piece of the drinking fountain, and begin driving it with the end of the spout into various spots on Hate’s body.
Both Wade and Face take their turns in smashing Hate with everything they can find.
They hit Hate with chairs. Wood planks from the bench. Various pipes from the dismantled drinking fountain.
Wade would hoist Hate up from his shoulders, and Adam would drive down upon him with the force of both elbows, with all of his might.
The point wasn’t clear, as the anger was still in his eyes, as to when Hate went unconscious from the beating. Between the ‘death by toilet-piece,’ the chair barrage and pipe hits, Hate finally became a victim of the Unfuckables.
The pathetic part wasn’t that they snuck up on the Fifth Horseman.
The pathetic part was that they felt the need to beat Hate as bad as they did, an already beaten man.
Adam Dick: AUGUST SECOND, TWO THOUSAND AND FIVE. Not a day goes by that I don’t forget what the fuck happened that day, when you ended my streak. Just like Educator will learn, just like Tim Shipley must be re-introduced; you will be punished for beating me. I don’t forget the day you beat me and I don’t fear the day I get my chance at retribution.
It was hard to tell where the red from Hate’s mask ended and the blood from Hate’s face began. It all became a mixing red of paint, sweat, and blood.
Mike Wade: C’mon, let’s go find those mic-stand broads and see if they want to go back to the Red Roof!
Adam Dick: Red Roof, woot woot! WE GONNA GET LAID!
The Unfuckables make their patented exit, aka running away as fast as they could. Hate’s eyes begin to flutter open only a moment later, and the show closes in the wake of this scene. Production knows, staff knows, and the fans certainly know that no one wants to be near enough to see the aftermath of Hate’s rage.