Fresh! Results20th September 2005
It's A Knockout!
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It’s an office.
Tonight, it’s David Harber’s office. The Entertainment Manager will spend the night here, overseeing the show from his central shell which will undoubtedly be invaded by a wrestler or two demanding a booking or three for a show or four.
Wait, no he won’t.
Because he’s lying on the floor unconscious with blood clotting over a wound to the back of his head.
Common Ground
FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY, JOHN EDWARDS
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Tim Shipley wanted to go to PRIME. I think we all know that. He was awestruck by the display of athletics and dramatics that was ReVolution 64, back in May, when he was invited as a Primetime Central guest to watch the show free of charge from a ringside seat.
But that wasn’t the extent of it.
The PTC Global title match between the then-champion Emilio Rage and winner of Seven Of The Best Karina Wolfenden degenerated into an all-out brawl involving pretty much the entire PRIME roster and the cohort of PTC invitees. For a few minutes, Shipley was able to forget the logistics and the difficulties of actually being an active wrestler as he flung himself enthusiastically into battle with anyone and everyone around. This was his second point of contact with the eventual winner of that match, having first faced (and lost to) the Negasonic Lupine in the final of Seven Of The Best – a match whose outcome Shipley, who came third, was never really satisfied with. For a time, he viewed Wolfenden and the “unfinished business” the naïve Englishman deluded himself that they had as his route into PRIME. So he went to see Hin See.
And got shot down.
Now, it’s September. He’s coming to the end of his summer contract, not in PRIME but AWC, and he’s changing into his wrestling gear. He’s in the opening match tonight so he’ll have to be quick. Instead, though, someone has caught his eye.
John Edwards.
PRIME.
He racks his brains – no, he doesn’t remember this guy at all from the big brawl. A shame. A real shame. But he’ll introduce himself anyway, because his racing mind has jumped several steps and is now convinced he can get what he wants before he turns away from the business and back to college education for a second time – well, not quite before, since the new term at Harbrook College starts in two days; for a couple of weeks he’ll be juggling AWC and Harbrook. But he can get what he wants, his eager mind tells him:
A match with Karina Wolfenden.
Tim Shipley: Hi – er – it’s John Edwards, right?
Having been quite content to dump his bags and go, Edwards turns to face the seated Shipley with a short sigh. He’s already clad in his customary, though ill-advised, ring wear of plain blue jeans and nothing on top, and quite willing to get out there and soak up the atmosphere. Being relatively new to AWC, though, he’ll spare a moment.
John Edwards: Yeah...
Tim Shipley: I'm Tim Shipley.
John Edwards: Yeah, I know.
Ooh. That’s quite a jolt – quite a nice one, too. Although he doesn’t know it, Shipley has once more built up quite the following, more quickly this time due to some fans having the background knowledge of his stint in Core Wrestling. He’s famous, and sooner or later he’ll come to terms with it, but for now, the recognition from someone he’s never met is... pleasant.
Tim Shipley: I – er – I heard you mentioned Karina Wolfenden on last week’s show –
Edwards flinches, and Shipley breaks off, curious about this reaction. For the former PRIMEate, though, it’s a simple code of honour.
John Edwards: Yeah, sorry about that, it’s not right of me to try and talk my way up the ranks. I am happy to earn my kudos here, starting from the bottom, so to speak... I didn’t intend to name-drop like that.
Shipley frowns, but nods.
Tim Shipley: OK. But that’s not really what I meant. The reason I brought it up is that – well, I’ve lost to Karina in the past too.
Edwards smiles.
John Edwards: Common ground, eh?
Summer’s Son nods, though again, this isn’t his point. He’s not in this to reminisce about having lost to someone... he’s in this to earn himself a chance to set the record straight.
Tim Shipley: I'm actually kind of keen to face her again –
He stops and laughs at the appalled expression on the face of John Edwards.
Tim Shipley: No, really. I’ve only got ten days left on my AWC contract before I stop wrestling again... and it’d be nice to go one-on-one with her.
Edwards raises a loaded eyebrow; Shipley, on his wavelength, sniggers and shakes his head.
Tim Shipley: (grinning) Stop it, I'm serious! Last time was a battle royal... Seven Of The Best... I don’t know if you saw it, but the end was kind of... abrupt.
John Edwards: You think you could take the K-Wolf?
Edwards’ question stops the friendly banter. The directness cuts through Shipley like a knife, and tension fills the air as there is a short silence, Edwards and Shipley watching each other’s eyes. After a while, Shipley grins apologetically.
Tim Shipley: Not really, but I’d like to try.
John Edwards: Good luck... but I doubt PRIME will be too keen... I doubt Karina will be too keen.
Shipley shrugs.
Tim Shipley: There’s no harm in trying.
Signalling an end to the conversation, he settles down to put on his boots. Edwards, though, lingers.
John Edwards: Nice talking to you...
Shipley looks up.
Tim Shipley: (quickly) Good luck in your match.
John Edwards: And you. See you later.
Edwards picks up his kitbag and shoves it into a tall locker before slamming the door shut and locking it. He pushes the key into his pocket and leaves the room.
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 on Fresh! three weeks ago, and then holding aloft the Transatlantic title which he went on to gain for the second time. A pulsating white light continually lights up the screen, with shots of many AWC superstars in action being shown: new Livewire champion Red Rock, The Illustrious Face-Eater, one half of the Alliance champions The Farmer.
And even though I know
That everything might go
Go downhill from here
I'm not afraid
A quick collection of highlights from recent events flash across the screen as the song moves into its chorus. John Edwards giving his first AWC interview; Jonny Sake getting the one-two-three over Hate; T.T.S.’s DoublemochalattefrappuccinoDECAF! on Gakuto.
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: Anaheim, California... IT’S TIME TO FRESHEN UP!
George Cassidy: I –
But without time for Truth and George to get started on this week’s introduction, music begins to play.
Yeah, We'll Take The First Half-Hour
FEATURING: THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER, TIM SHIPLEY
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND PIERRE HYDE
“Welcome Home,” for all your face-eating goodness!
Truth Waters: Well, fine. No intro. And now I think trouble’s coming our way.
George Cassidy: You’re such a pessimist! Why can’t you be proud of what the Face-Eater has achieved in his short time here?
Truth Waters: Because his success is at the expense of others, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets what’s his.
George Cassidy: And that time is later tonight, when he finally takes what The Educator robbed of him at The Battle Of Britain.
Truth Waters: My colleague, of course is referring to the chemically-enhanced superstar and his win at the last pee-pee-vee, then subsequent loss to Andy Murray the following week whom The Illustrious Face-Eater will be facing tonight.
The few fans that weren’t jeering when that first acoustic bar echoed throughout the arena, as soon as the rockin’ and rollin’ chords kicked in and Facey stepped from behind the black curtain there, they began to eclipse what music they could hear by the sounds of their own displeasure. But The Illustrious Face-Eater enjoys all of this.
Their reactions. Their emotions. It was all fuel for the flames of chaos that this man loved fanning. And as he stares in to the faces of those in Anaheim, whom returned their looks of disdain to him, he can’t help but “feel the love”. His cape dangling in his wake, The Illustrious Face-Eater glides down the ramp and jumped in the ring, where James Brunt just drops the microphone for him to pick up.
No, the vindictive ring announcer doesn’t even bother to declare The Illustrious Face-Eater’s presence. Instead, he abides by his usual routine of “bailing the fuck out and keeping your mouth shut.”
‘Smart move,’ Facey thinks to himself FOR James Brunt, as he picks up the mic off the canvas and immediately leaps in to his promo. There was no time to be wasted tonight.
Face-Eater: HELLO MINNEAPOLIS!
Okay, what?
Face-Eater: Boy, I was so excited when the Harb told us that the AWC was having a show in the very heart of MIGHTY DUCK country!
Truth Waters: Am I lost? Is Facey actually complimenting the local sports team?
Take a picture, it’s The Illustrious Face-Eater getting a cheap pop from the fans.
Face-Eater: I must have seen that movie, like, eleven times! Charlie and Goldberg and Fulton and that weird red-headed kid. Lest we forget Emilio Estevez, the best fucking thing Martin Sheen’s ever done since being the bad guy in Spawn! Oh yes, the movie had it all; Emilio with a drinking problem, children with the hearts of gold, and a rag-tag team of misfits that comes together in the end and actually brings prestige home to their worthless city…
Face-Eater: AND IT WASN’T EVEN IN THIS FUCKING TOWN! ANAHEIM IS A BITCH-MADE-POSEUR OF MINNEAPOLIS, AND THAT’S A FACT!
Oh, there we go.
Face-Eater: You guys think you can con your way to hockey success? You think stealing the name of a children’s movie will help you out? Pathetic, I say! Your efforts are wasted. The Mighty Ducks can buy their fucking players and coaches but they’ll still be lame, second-rate posers to a group of children that actually did something with their efforts. Pfft, that’s disgusting.
George Cassidy: He’s right! Mighty Ducks was a BAD ASS movie! This hockey team sucks.
Face-Eater: Any accomplishment this city has ever had; OVERSHADOWED by the actions of some fucking kids. It’s like this guy I know, maybe you’ve heard of him; Tim Shipley.
The crowd cheers in mention of his name.
Face-Eater: He’s had success before, right? He’s a former Frontier champion! He’s a Tag champion in Core! And let’s not forget he’s one of Seven Of The Best.
Truth Waters: The man certainly has a resumé that most young superstars dream of.
Face-Eater: But here he is, being outsmarted and outwitted by a scrawny face-eater in a vinyl mask. Who defeated the former Frontier champion in three consecutive weeks? Uh, that’d be ME! Who destroyed Tim Shipley’s face with his precious Core Tag Team title? Rightio, that’s me again. And we can’t forget who annihilated the Best’s academic livelihood while giving him a concussion at the same time; THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER!
No one was particularly enjoying the facts that the Face-Eater continued to state.
Face-Eater: It seems like I’ve taken FOREVER to get through to Tim, and now that I have his attention he won’t leave me the fuck alone! I destroyed that man’s mind, body, and soul; and what does he do? He pesters me: “Take off your mask!” “Tell me your name!” “How come I can’t meet your parents?” THE FUCKER PRACTICALLY WANTS TO GET MARRIED! Because, my identity is a big deal. It’s a commitment. That means, Tim, when I show you my face… it’s over. When you know who I am, this whole game is done.
George Cassidy: The game can’t be done!
Face-Eater: And I’m not quite done playing this game yet, but soon. You see, tonight isn’t all about Tim Shitley. Tonight I’m calling a time-out, so to speak. Time to focus on some other issues at hand. Topics like… the Speducator… And Andy Murray…
Face-Eater: And Pierce Lavelle.
Truth Waters: What could this man have against Pierce Lavelle?
George Cassidy: He’s the Transatlantic champion, you schmuck! Who doesn’t want a piece?
Face-Eater: You see, from what I hear, there’s a guy named The Educator who pokes himself in the ass in more ways than one. This isn’t the guy who you all know and love from his intellect and his fine ‘taste for literature.’ This is the guy who fabricates his past and injects demon-semen in his blood so he can survive in the ring with me. So because this tosser thinks he can hang and squeezes out a win, he thinks its over? He thinks his tarnished win over myself will go forgotten? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK!?! IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK!?!??!?!?!? Harb may be in the process of firing that asshole, but that’s not where the line is drawn. I’ve pledged my career to destroying Tim Shipley’s, but now its time for other hobbies; like destroying yours. I swear to God, Adam Masters, by the pair of testicles that I have and you want, I will eat your fucking face by the time this is through. Prometheus Serum or not, I will tear your flesh from the bones with my teeth. I’ll kill you so fucking dead that you won’t even be able to copy Jesus’ story in the bible to come back. There are wrongs that you’ve committed, Speducator, that I am fixing here in the AWC, and the first one starts tonight…
Face-Eater: With ANDY MURRRRRRRRRRRAY.
Truth Waters: Looks like Facey has some words for his opponent tonight.
Face-Eater: It starts tonight with the guy comparable to a mantle on a fireplace; displaying my possession and keeping it warm until I decide to take it down. This man was NOT the man that got fucking cheated by Speducator at Battle Of Britain. No, he’s just a dirty Scot who happened to be in the right place at the right time. Do you think I would have had any trouble beating The Educator that night at Fresh!? We all saw him, he was a wreck! I’d probably be Livewire champ, too; we all know Old Man Xandrous can’t hang with the Facey. So the Murr got lucky, whoop-whoop! And now you’ve got to face one hundred and eleven pounds of the most ferocious luchador the AWC has ever seen; not smart! It’s not like you had any choice in the matter, either, Murray. Evolution must take place, and the most dominant must take his place at the top of the food chain. You can beat Shipley, you can beat Mike Wade and more than likely you can beat the Farmer and everyone in between. But you can’t eat The Illustrious Face-Eater, and there’s no hiding this fact. That Frontier title will be around the waist it should have been four weeks ago. And that leaves us one more question; what will Facey do when he A) Destroys Tim Shipley’s career, B) Kills the Speducator, and C) Takes back the Frontier Title?
Face-Eater: The answer’s simple friends; Pierce my way through the top.
George Cassidy: Yes! He’s calling out our champion!
Truth Waters: I’m just wondering whether he’s really going to take all night.
Face-Eater: Our so-called champion has ran around unopposed for too long! He’s already destroyed whatever threat the so-called “Legendary” UWF failed to pose. Hate’s proved that he can’t even hang with the likes of Jonny Sake (Educator-redux, anyone?)! O’Malec? Wahhhhhhh. Strider? BOOOOOOOOO. Paddy O’Shea? I think he’s too busy crying over Red Rock. So that leaves a man with perkier tits than Maddy Estelle sitting at the top, and we can’t have that!
Face-Eater: I’ve destroyed Pierce in the ring before, so I know what it’s like. I know what its like to be looking out from the top, but no one shows off from up there! We need a champion that people love to hate! Not a champion that people are okay with watching! PIZZAZZ! FINESSE! All these things I have, that Pierce Lavelle doesn’t. You know, I wouldn’t normally have this big a beef with him, if he weren’t actually a woman in disguise. The fact that I feel he’s a woman playing a man’s sport; that’s too much for even me to comprehend. Now I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, until he started getting all girly. I sorta feel bad for Tim Shipley. “Think about what YOU want, then come talk to me!” “Stop comparing me to Tony!” “We can never have the relationship I want!” Talk about a fucking chick, right? If I wanted to be nagged incessantly, I’d date Laura Winters. Then again, no I wouldn’t. Seymour Almasy, anyone?
Face-Eater: What I’m trying to get at, is that something is wrong here with AWC. And I’m trying to fix it, believe me, I am. But there’s only so much that one man can do –
Error, does not compute, does not compute…
Truth Waters: THE SHIPPER!
Fucking explosion.
That’s how much it matters to these fans that Tim Shipley is coming out to shut the Face-Eater’s mouth.
That’s how much it means that he’s firing up his music mid-Facey-sentence.
That’s how much it takes to give Summer’s Son the backing he needs to stride out onto the stage with a microphone in his hand and a glare on his face.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring… TIM SHIPLEY!
Defiant, angry, confident – that’s not the Shipley we’re used to seeing. But there are ten days left for him; his contract ends at Testimony; there’s nothing to lose. And anyway, he can’t stand one more second of this.
Tim Shipley: Are you aware how much rubbish just rolled out of your mouth?
There he is – breathing hard, his face flushed, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’s wearing his ring attire – orange boots and white tights – but is bare-chested, to afford himself some cool-down in the heat of the stage, not to mention the heat of the moment.
But he can relax a little, as everyone’s cheering him and chanting his name.
“SHIPLEY! SHIPLEY! SHIPLEY!”
Tim Shipley: You seem to think you can twist any words to your advantage, but the fact is, we all would like to know what’s hiding behind that ostentatious mask of yours. A spoilt brat or a modest mouse?
George Cassidy: The question of the Face-Eater’s identity may forever remain a mystery, especially if Shipley continues to fail to grasp any foothold in the argument.
Truth Waters: I think the fans would beg to differ from your assessment…
Tim Shipley: Who wears masks, anyway? People who have a reason to hide. People with something to hide from. People too scared to say things, to do things for themselves… to act on their own behalf…
Tim Shipley: That’s why you take up Drama at school. Sure, it’s a bit of light relief from History essays and Maths exercises, but it’s just as much about development, developing yourself, self-confidence. But then there’s those too shy, too scared, too tortured inside… that slightly scary guy who stands at the side of the class. He doesn’t participate; he doesn’t even speak. And he goes through school not knowing quite how to assert himself in the classroom, or the playground; how to work together, how to socialise –
Face-Eater: What the FUCK are you talking about?
And there’s silence.
Shipley’s lost his thread.
Nerves are getting the better of him. That interruption has ruined his flow, destroyed any self-confidence he’s managed to build up. What’s next? Derision, scorn, embarrassment, and another victory for The Illustrious Face-Eater?
Not tonight.
Clearing his throat, Shipley gets right back on track, his eyes focused on the front of the Face-Eater’s mask with a steely glare.
Tim Shipley: Then one day, he finds his escape. Some choose self-harm. Some run away from home. But some want to hide… hide behind a mask.
The crowd, having settled down to listen to a pretty intricate sequence of speech from the Englishman, start to buzz as they see the connections the college student is making.
Tim Shipley: But there is no escape. You can’t hide from yourself, Face-Eater. You can’t hide your existence behind a mask. You are a person, and that person is you, and someday –
Growing in confidence, Shipley stands with his legs further apart and extends an arm pointing down the rampway towards the ring, where The Illustrious Face-Eater stands in silence.
Tim Shipley: Someday you’re going to have to realise that. You’re lost, and you want your escape, you want a way out of the madness your life has become. But you’re deluding yourself. There’s no way out for you; you’re too far gone. Reduced to latching onto and tormenting someone you view as vulnerable. But you picked the wrong fall guy, Face-Eater, and now you’re in for a shock.
Tim Shipley: There is no fucking escape.
The fans spontaneously burst into wild cheers. They’ve never heard him swear like this before, and this isn’t Madonna I’m-on-stage-so-I’ll-say-fuck-to-appear-cool swearing. This is the ultimate fuck. The perfect context. Adding bite to his words and menace to his threat. Now, finally, Tim Shipley appears a worthy opponent.
Face-Eater speaks up.
Face-Eater: No escape for me, huh? Then tell me, Shitley, tell me how you are going to escape from this cycle you’ve got yourself into. It’s lose, lose, lose; every time I’m better than you. Don’t you think it’s time to give up?
Tim Shipley: (immediately) No, I think it’s time to break the cycle.
Truth Waters: Strong words!
The Illustrious Face-Eater feigns a huge laugh, which goes on for at least ten seconds. Shipley places his hands on his hips and watches him, unimpressed.
Face-Eater: Alright, alright. So you seriously want another go; you want to be put in your place one more time.
Shipley nods silently.
Face-Eater: OK, but let’s give this some closure. I don’t want you coming to me and whining yet again after your fourth loss to me in a row. I’ll take you on at Testimony –
Facey stops to allow a brief crowd pop.
Face-Eater: But in a 10-Count match.
Truth Waters: A 10-Count match… what’s that?
Buzzing, the crowd listens intently, knowing that TIFE is about to explain it.
Face-Eater: Anyone heard of a concept called… last man standing? Yeah, I thought so. It seems it’s not enough for me to hold Tim down for three seconds… it’s not enough for me to decimate him with the Eaterplex ’05… so this time, we’re giving this some conclusion. At the end of a 10-Count match, there can be no doubt about which of us stands higher than the other… because that’s literally how it ends, Tim. We go until one of us can’t stand. For ten counts.
The crowd like it, which is hardly surprising.
George Cassidy: Well, it seems like this feud is going to get quite a finalé…
Truth Waters: If it even is a finalé. These two can just run and run… there are so many unresolved issues here.
Tim Shipley: I like your thinking, Face-Eater… but it seems a little too much like this is on your terms…
Face-Eater: Oh, don’t worry, Tim, I’ve already allowed for that. Here’s the second stip.
Truth Waters: There’s something ELSE?!
Face-Eater: We all know there is ONE thing Shitley wants to know about me…
George Cassidy: Who he is, of course.
Face-Eater: Where I buy my clothes! That’s right, you in the front row. But I can’t tell him that, so we’ll compromise at the next best alternative: my identity. That’s right, I, The Illustrious Face-Eater, make a pledge to remove my mask right after the 10-Count match. Either I will stand over Shitley’s body and show him what he’s been afraid to see for months, or in the unlikely event that he wins, he can prise it off my unconscious face. You could even call this my… testimonial…
The crowd cheers loudly.
Truth Waters: We’re going to find out who the Face-Eater is! The man behind the mask who’s been making Tim Shipley’s life hell!
Face-Eater: But the question is, Tim… do you even want to know my identity? You think you want to know but if you knew that you’d know that you don’t want to know. Finding out who I am could terrify you, Tim… it could bring up more questions than answers… I’m not just some roadie who stumbled across an AWC contract by offering sexual favours to Harb, I’m someone who could snap his fingers and have your neck broken. I’m good, I’m powerful, and I’m famous. A big name hides behind this mask. Do you really want to know who you’ve got on the wrong side of?
George Cassidy: That puts an interesting spin on things…
An uncomfortable silence for Shipley is broken by the sound of his own voice.
Tim Shipley: Of course I do, because after that night, you can’t touch me anyway. One thing you appear to be forgetting is that my AWC contract runs out on the 30th, and I have no intention of renewing. I was here for the summer, and summer’s been and gone. This 10-Count match – this Testimonial match – is the end for me in AWC. And I want answers.
Tim Shipley: I’m a mathematician, Face-Eater. You know that. I need a conclusion that makes sense. I want reasoned logic giving me the answers to what’s been happening to me for the past few months. And the key to that is knowing who you are. So yes, Face-Eater, I will pull that mask off your face and that cape off your shoulders, and whatever news I get can only be good news.
Face-Eater smirks.
Face-Eater: See you in Las Vegas, then. It’s going to get ugly!
Coheed & Cambria rock the speakers, giving Shipley no chance to respond, and he storms away through the curtain, aware that he’s just thrown himself out on a line for The Illustrious Face-Eater to cut him down, but also knowing that for the first time ever, his own presence has dominated an arena.
Truth Waters: It’s all heating up folks! It goes down at Testimony, which is one event you sure don’t want to miss! 30th September from the Thomas & Mack Center, Las Vegas, Nevada!
George Cassidy: Ooh. Vegas. Baby.
The Prometheus Serum I
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, KASIDY DRAKE (cW)
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Earlier
Pearl: Glad you make it, Dr. Drake.
Kasidy Drake nods, handing his coat to a hovering intern as he follows AWC’s Entertainment Manager through the double doors at the back of the arena.
Pearl: I’ve made sure you’ve been allocated a comfortable room, though in reality I'm going to ask you to come straight through into my office as soon as you’re ready for our little chat.
Drake nods again. Tonight, the businessman formerly and, recently, occasionally responsible for the appearances of “The Demoticon” Smiley in Core Wrestling, doesn’t seem the talkative type. The originator of the Prometheus Serum, most famous in these parts for being the illegal substance taken by The Educator to facilitate his triple win at The Battle Of Britain on 19th August, disappears through a door at the side of the corridor. David Harber pauses to think before continuing down towards his office.
Conspicuous By His Presence
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, IAN ENGLISH, THE BRITISH BOMBER
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
Backstage in the Convention Center, Anaheim, California and Mike Wade is standing with his mobile phone to his ear in his dressing room. He is already dressed in his ring gear as he is facing The Farmer tonight one on one. His ever-present side kick Mickey Moore is conspicuous by his absence as Mike lost him in a game of cards with some pikeys during the week. We join Mike midway through his conversation on the phone.
Mike Wade: Yeah I know... Where are you now? Oh you're here? Ok then will I come and meet you? Cool see you in a sec...
Mike folds back over his flip phone and opens the dressing room door to reveal perhaps who was on the phone. Why? Because on the door it reads "Mike Wade and Ian English". At the sight of the sign on the dressing room door we hear a side of boos from the crowd back in the arena for the never-present Relentless champion. Mike is seen walking through corridors as he finally reaches the parking lot. Ian English is stood waiting for Wade with 3 large bags by his side and he is tapping his watch. Wade looks a little ticked at the consistent watch tapping.
Ian English: What kept ya? Me feet are fackin’ killin’ me!
Mike Wade: What from standing there the last ten seconds?
Ian English: Exactly. I had to drag them bloody bags out of the car meself.
Mike Wade: Pity about you. Maybe if you got here before the show started like everyone else there wouldn’t be a problem.
Ian English: Look Wade I ain't got time for this fackin’ arguing let's get to the dressin’ room and cause a bit of agro!
Mike Wade: Cool let's go.
Both men go to leave Ian without his bags.
Mike Wade: Erm Ian aren't you forgetting something?
Ian English: What you want me to tip you?
Ian walks ahead as he assumes Wade will get his bags. Wade being the pushover he is actually picks up the bags and walks with them, with some difficulty mind you as he mutters to himself.
Mike Wade: Jesus what the feck is in these bricks?
As Wade begins to walk after Ian with his bags in hand The British Bomber just happens to be walking by.
Bomber: Jesus Wade going from owning a fed to sucking up to Paddy O’Shea and now a baggage handler and sidekick to a guy who ain't even employed here? Bad times eh? Ha ha.
Mike Wade: Oh yeah? Well...
Bomber: Jesus you've even lost your ability to come back. You should ask English for one as your tip for carrying his bag.
We can hear the "Ohhhhh" from inside the building at the burn Bomber has just gotten Wade with. Wade grimaces with anger as the scene closes.
Titan/Deliverance vs Shipley/Locke/Delorian
STIPULATION: TRIO TAG
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: LJ
This match has not yet been received.
Kicking The Sidekick
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, IAN ENGLISH
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
We are now taken back to the dressing room of Ian English and Mike Wade. Wade has just arrived back with the bags. He walks in the door, dropping them in a heavy heap on the floor. Ian is sitting down on a bench in the locker room playing with his AWC Relentless championship belt.
Ian English: Oh you're here? Movin’ slow tonight Wadey.
Mike Wade: I'm sorry?
Wade’s head lifts all of a sudden.
Ian English: Oh you’re touchy as well? That time of the month is it? You fackin’ Irish!
Mike Wade: Us fackin’ Irish what?
Ian English: Jesus mate calm down for fack sake. Anyway tell me about this Paddy you're fightin’ tonight.
Mike Wade: It's not Paddy, Paddy is me friend. I'm fightin’ The Farmer tonight.
Ian English: The Farmer? Oh he's definitely Irish. So how do you want me to 'elp you beat this bum basher?
Mike Wade: Help me?
Ian English: Yeah 'elp ya.
Mike Wade: I don't need your feckin’ help to beat anyone.
Ian English: You don't need me fackin’ help?
Mike Wade: That's right I'll gonna beat him fair and square and gain his trust once and for all.
Ian English: Earn his trust? 'ave you been bummin’ men since I seen you last?
Mike Wade: Tell you what I'm not your feckin’ sidekick and I sure as hell don't need your help to beat someone so if that's why you came here tonight you can piss back off again cause I don't need you.
Ian English: Oi don't be –
Mike Wade: And carry your own fuckin’ bags in future!
Wade then leaves, slamming the door behind him.
Ian English: What's up 'is arse?
The Prometheus Serum II
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, KASIDY DRAKE (cW)
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
A Little Less Early
Pearl: So, Dr. Drake –
Kasidy Drake: Please, call me Kasidy.
Pearl: And you can call me Pearl – or David – or whatever you like, really.
Harber chortles, but Drake doesn’t seem amused, and the Entertainment Manager shuts himself up quickly.
Pearl: So I was thinking perhaps you could just tell me a little about who you are – obviously I'm familiar with you and your history, but some AWC fans may not be so aware of this, and we are planning to broadcast some or all of this interview depending on how... suitable it is.
Drake nods.
Kasidy Drake: Sure thing. I was first known as a backstage interviewer in Core Wrestling a while back, where I received minimal money for minimal on-air appearances. What wasn’t public knowledge was that I was in fact doubling up in Core; as well as appearing as a backstage interviewer I was also taking part in the more active side of things as the wrestler Smiley. Smiley was in a way an extension of myself – but taken to the extreme. Smiley could do things that I, Kasidy Drake, could never do.
Pearl: You kept your identity secret.
Kasidy Drake: That’s right; when I appeared as Smiley, I wore a mask. First this was yellow, but later on I switched to a white latex mask.
Pearl: I understand that as Kasidy Drake, you befriended AWC’s own Tim Shipley at a time when he was undergoing something of a rivalry with your alter ego, Smiley.
Drake’s face etches itself into a look of regret.
Kasidy Drake: Tim was in the wrong place at the wrong time – for Smiley. I appreciate everything he did for me – for Kasidy, that is – he let me share his room at Harbrook, for which he could have got into a lot of trouble... but he got in the way of Smiley, and I had no control over how Smiley reacted to that.
Pearl: And you mentioned that Smiley could do things you could never do – how was this possible?
Drake grins, showing gleaming teeth.
Kasidy Drake: Ah, this was only possible by means of a little discovery of mine, called the Prometheus Serum.
Omniscient
FEATURING: TIM SHIPLEY
AUTHOR: ???
The figure of Tim Shipley walks down a corridor backstage just moments after competing in the trio tag match. Shipley looks suitably drained physically from the match, and he sips a bottle of water as he approaches what we assume to be his locker room. Our assumptions are proved correct when Shipley pushes the door open. Inside, the place is an absolute mess. Shipley’s clothes are strewn across the floor; his spare wrestling gear is creased and hanging from the wrong place; his bag has been turned inside out. The one thing that stands out is a small piece of paper on the bench. Shipley slowly walks towards it and gingerly goes to pick it up.
It reads these words:
“Always lurking in secret…”
And that’s it. No indication of who it’s from or what it means or why it’s there.
Shipley shudders upon reading these eerie words, and turns around to leave his locker room, hoping to tell someone of his find.
He jumps.
There’s paint on the door.
Spelling a word:
“OMNISCIENT”
Shipley shakes his head in disgust, possibly thinking this to be the work of The Illustrious Face-Eater, the man who has been tormenting him for weeks. He sniffs – surely these childish games should have ended by now, after the impressive war of words between the two a little earlier. Shipley leaves the room and walks back up the corridor.
Darkness Falls
FEATURING: PADDY O'SHEA, THE FARMER
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY
The scene opens in the parking lot of the arena. The chilling yet stagnant evening air moves in waves and niggles at the skin. This is strongly associated now with the darkness now falling outside and in the darkening blue sky, the semi translucent moon can be seen from behind a lone cloud. Suddenly into view comes a car, a silver Mercedes-Benz Kompressor, its bonnet streaked with moving light from the streetlights overhead. The car pulls to a stop near the camera and almost immediately.
Paddy O’Shea jumps from the car to a distant cheer from the crowd. He is wearing casual attire – a black leather jacket over a white vest and a pair of khaki combats. His face is unshaven and in unmistakeable gloom. However there is clear anger etched on his face. One reason he has been escorted to the arena is because two weeks ago he became homeless upon the burning of his home. Now his life is gone. He is wearing the same clothes he wore last week. Everything he ever had or hoped for seems to have just gone up in the blazing inferno. He can still remember pulling a very charred picture of him and his brother from the fire with a shaking hand.
He expects trouble tonight from Hate after his revenge attack last week but he welcomes it. Now he wants trouble. Only when we’ve lost everything can we truly lose all fear and push forward. And goddamnit, he needs to be fearless right about now.
Paddy O’Shea, absent of wrestling gear, now walks past the camera and as it pans around, we see him entering the building. The camera follows but from a distance. We see Paddy O’Shea striding with a purpose down the corridor, darting left and right as if he expects a fight around ever corner. Paddy sees The Farmer walking past him now. Mickey gives him a smile but it isn’t returned. Mickey opens his mouth to speak but he’s cut off by Paddy.
Paddy O'Shea: Can’t talk now Mickey. Aye’ll see ye after.
Mickey shrugs and lets him walk past him. Paddy walks on another few metres before opening a door labelled ‘Paddy O’Shea’. As the door creaks open he palms at the wall then flicks on the light. Paddy, so accustomed to something of Hate’s pets nailed to the wall, has to look twice before nodding that all was in order.
Yes, tonight he was here for a fight. But first he had to get a date set. He needed to make Paddy versus Hate, engraved in stone. He would end it then and the quicker it came, the better.
Paddy sits down with a sigh and immediately puts his head in his hands. These few weeks haven’t been easy and this Hate thing has been escalating instead of subsiding.
Suddenly another voice is heard in the room. The unmistakeable croak of Hate.
Hate: Hello Paddy.
Paddy jumps up and looks around, his fists raised, his elbows tucked, he swings around 360 degrees once to find the owner of the voice.
Hate: Hmm. Jumpy, aren’t you. I suppose that can be understood.
Paddy O'Shea: Show yerself… NOW!
Paddy is now breathing heavy. He doesn’t like these games. He’s tried to play them with this man but he often finds Hate’s stakes much too high. Just one on one… that’s all he needs. But no one comes forward.
Hate: It could be understood after all I’ve put you through. Kidnapping your father, almost killing him. Then brutalising you week after week. And burning your home two weeks ago. Hmm, I really am a meanie, aren’t I?
Paddy O'Shea: SHOW YERSELF COWARD!
Once again the room stays silent apart form Paddy’s persistent breathing, he’s becoming hysterical as he swings around once again, scanning the room, his eyes focusing in on every shadow, where darkness falls and where this bastard loves to reside. Suddenly Hate’s tone becomes so much more sinister.
Hate: Yes pig, I have put you through hell. But let me assure you, when we meet I’m going to take you to a new level of torture. Everything you’ve ever experienced these last months, every little bit of pain in your body and in your mind that you have felt, will all be inferior to what I’m going to do to you. I’ve waited a long time for my revenge and I will not fail in my task.
Paddy O'Shea: WHAT REVENGE?
Hate: And one last thing, check under the bench you fool.
Paddy swings around to the bench and sees the shine of something plastic. He falls onto his chest and sees it. A tape recorder.
Hate: Getting so hysterical over a simple piece of plastic? You really are losing it pig.
Paddy lifts it up into his hand.
Hate: Cleanse the impure –
Hate’s voice is interrupted as the recorder shatters off the wall leaving the room once again silent. Paddy breathes hard once then props a hand on the wall to keep him straight. The door suddenly swings open and Paddy raises his arms once again to fight. However the man that enters is only The Farmer who is looking alarmed.
The Farmer: Wha’ the? Paddy are ye alright, ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.
Paddy O'Shea: Aye need t’ be alone.
The Farmer: Okay Paddy but aye’ve just found out when yer fightin’.
Paddy grabs Mickey by the shirt even though the difference in height is significant.
Paddy O'Shea: When?
The Farmer: Super Series Paddy. Yer takin’ on Hate at the event. Hardcore Lumberjack match. It’s goin’ t’ be fair Paddy, yer getting’ yer chance.
Paddy smiles sadistically at Mickey and laughs. But his laughter is hollow and devoid of humour; he simple looks at him with those desperate eyes then pushes past him into the corridor as Mickey looks on worried.
Suck Lemons!
FEATURING: PATRICK MAPLELEAF
AUTHOR: PATRICK
“Oh, Canada” plays over the loud speaker. The fans immediately start to boo and file out of the arena. Patrick Mapleleaf appears at the top of the ramp. He is wearing a long red robe. On the back of the robe, there is a Canadian flag. The robe is trimmed in white. His long blonde hair flows behind him as he makes his way into the ring. He squeezes under the middle rope and raises his hands in the air. In one of his hands, a red pack of playing cards is seen. The fans boo even more in response. Mapleleaf rolls his eyes and grabs the mic rather forcibly from the ring announcer.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Your new favorite wrestler… has arrived!
The fans boo.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Now, now… wait, this doesn’t seem right…
Mapleleaf takes off his robe and throws it into the corner of the ring. He is now only wearing his red and white checkered boxer shorts.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Much better! Anyway, I’m not out here to start a war. This country is good enough in that regard on their own. I’m out here tonight to get my 3.4 minutes of airtime. After that, I will return to my locker room, and the rest of you can enjoy the rest of this mindless dribble before my match with the Winters bitch. Now, many of you might be wondering… does Patrick Mapleleaf really hit women? I mean, I’ve proven to you all that I am not exactly Mr. Smiley Face. However, I do not, and never will, hit women. They are inferior beings.
The fans, especially the women, boo and hiss.
Patrick Mapleleaf: It’s true! Would you California hicks hit your cows?
“Asshole!
Asshole!
Asshole!”
Patrick Mapleleaf: Say what you’d like, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. Men are and always have been the supreme beings. Just look at the facts… caveMEN… policeMEN… mail MEN…There is no –woman added to any of those prefixes. Well, maybe except when it comes to the kitchen. Now, I realize the hour is growing later. In Toronto, we are an hour ahead, so we schedule things by real time, not this Pacific hippie hour-earlier time. Therefore, I am going to make this brief. Laura, I know that you had a victory last week. Bravo. I am proud of you. Really, I am. But tonight you are going to go one on one with a REAL MAN!
Fans chant “Who?!”
Patrick Mapleleaf: Very funny, assfaces! Just for that, I’m not gonna show you my card trick. Oh, I’m only kidding. I’m too nice for that. Here is what I am going to do. I am going to draw out a card with my eyes closed and show it to all of you.
Mapleleaf takes out the deck of cards. He opens up the pack and closes his eyes. He then draws one and shows it to the crowd, not looking at the card.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Behold!
Mapleleaf shows a four of clubs on the big screen.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Now, I will shuffle the deck…
Mapleleaf begins to shuffle the deck. He loses his grip and drops all the cards. They are all revealed to be four of clubs. A rigged deck, in other words. The fans boo and hiss in response.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Fine! I am not here to entertain all of you! Do I look like a monkey? Tonight, you will see my finest hour. I will defeat Laura Winters. She will not be the first woman to fall for the Full Blown Canadian. Now you can all go suck a lemon!
The fans boo as “Oh, Canada” plays. Mapleleaf reaches for his robe and begins to leave the ring.
Truth Waters: Looks like we didn’t do any commentary again during Mapleleaf’s interview.
George Cassidy: Well, it’s rumored that Patrick doesn’t like to write that way and doesn’t appreciate certain people trying to correct it.
Truth Waters: Well, I look forward to Mapleleaf’s first actual match, not just a sentence of a spoiler.
George Cassidy: Oh, indeed. Wait, what?
The Prometheus Serum III
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, KASIDY DRAKE (cW)
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Right After The Last One
Pearl: What exactly does Prometheus do?
The setting’s the same as before; the timing’s just after.
Kasidy Drake: The Prometheus Serum, when injected, transforms the user into a genetically enhanced version of himself. Stronger... quicker... he sees things that he wouldn’t otherwise have dreamed of...
Pearl’s eyes flash as Drake’s roll back in his head, his face creeping into an expression of ecstasy. There is a short silence as Drake lets his eyelids drop, seemingly in some kind of bliss – which Harber snaps short.
Pearl: Kasidy?
Kasidy Drake: Sorry –
Dr. Drake shakes himself and brushes down the sleeve of his jacket.
Kasidy Drake: Where were we?
Varga/Edwards/Zagarovsky vs Lavelle/Bomber/Hyobanshi
STIPULATION: TRIO TAG
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: SEAN WILLIAMS
Truth Waters: Up next folks, we’ve got a six person tag team match!
George Cassidy: And with the competitors in THIS one, it looks like anything could happen, so let’s not waste any more time!
We go up to AWC ring announcer, James Brunt
James Brunt: The following is a Trio Tag match! Introducing first…
“Chop Suey” by System of a Down begins to play, as John Edwards, James Varga the Handler, and Katerina Zagarovsky come out together in a surprising show of solidarity.
James Brunt: The team of JOHN EDWARDS, JAMES VARGA THE HANDLER, and KATERINA ZAGAROVSKY!
The three teammates walk down the ramp, and slide into the ring, trying to discuss strategy and figure out who will start the contest off.
James Brunt: And their opponents!
Muse’s “Stockholm Syndrome” blasts, as Pierce Lavelle leads his team of Juri Hyobanshi and The British Bomber down to the ring. All three look focused, gazing on the opposition in the ring.
James Brunt: The team of PIERCE LAVELLE, JURI HYOBANSHI, and THE BRITISH BOMBER!
Truth Waters: The hell do we expect out of this thing?
George Cassidy: I have zero idea. None of these teams makes sense, but we’ve got some good competitors and James Varga the Handler in the ring getting ready to go at, so let’s see what the heck happens, shall we?
Varga and Lavelle seem ready to start for their teams, as the other four competitors step to the ring apron.
DING DING DING!
James Varga the Handler: HAH! U R ABOUT TO GET PWNED!
Lavelle doesn’t answer in words. Instead, he ROCKS Varga with a hard forearm shot, and follows up with a few more.
Truth Waters: Varga’s learning it’s not wise to mess with Pierce Lavelle! The man doesn’t lose, period. He’s only got one loss here in AWC!
George Cassidy: No, you’re reading the W-D-Ls wrong. Get your story straight, geez!
Pierce Irish-whips Varga into the ropes, but James shockingly manages a reversal, and takes over the once-defeated Lavelle with a pretty damn nice looking arm drag. Varga follows up with a second, holding down Lavelle with a makeshift armbar.
Truth Waters: I’ll be damned, Varga looking good here so far!
George Cassidy: Say what you will about him, but he seems to have decent skill inside the squared circle.
Varga drags Lavelle over, tagging in his partner Katerina Zagarovsky. Katerina peppers Lavelle with a pair of open-handed palm thrusts, but Pierce manages to catch her attempted axe kick, and pulls her into a quick Fisherman’s suplex!
ONE!
TWO!
The fresh Katerina kicks out relatively quickly, and kicks Pierce square in the face. Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, Lavelle takes a step back, tagging in the British Bomber.
Truth Waters: We’ve got tags on both ends now, and we’re going to see a new matchup in there.
George Cassidy: Should be a good one between these two.
Zagarovsky and the Bomber circle one another briefly, before Katerina charges. Not missing a beat, the British Bomber simply scoops her up, planting her with a hard spine buster in the middle of the ring. The Bomber hesitates a few moments, before dropping an elbow. The wasted time costs him, as Katerina manages to roll out of the way.
Truth Waters: Zagarovsky’s a resilient competitor, George. The British Bomber can’t give her time to recover like that.
George Cassidy: Agreed.
Katerina grabs her foe by the right arm, Irish whipping him into the corner. With practiced grace, she follows, hand springing into a back elbow that slumps the Bomber back down to the canvas.
Truth Waters: She calls that Heaven’s Bliss… though I can’t imagine the British Bomber is thinking of it so highly.
George Cassidy: Absolutely not. Katerina’s established herself in command right now, and it looks like she’s going to go make the tag.
Dragging the Bomber over to her corner, Zagarovsky makes the tag to Edwards. Both leap simultaneously, connecting with a standing dropkick, and the now legal Moraless goes for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
The Bomber kicks out at a solid two, but Moraless shows little desire to let up, picking the British Bomber back up and firing off a hard right hand. Being one for a good fight himself, Bomber fires back with hard rights and lefts of his own, rocking Edwards enough to shoot him into the ropes and score with a hard shoulder block.
Truth Waters: We’ve got two damn tough men in the ring right now. Edwards is a former PTC Extreme champion, and The British Bomber can brawl with the best of them!
George Cassidy: Damn right! AWC brings all styles of wrestling, be it high flying, submission, brawling… we’ve got it all!
Bomber leans over to continue the attack, only to get his jaw ROCKED by a vicious Edwards uppercut!
Truth Waters: DAYUM!
George Cassidy: VICIOUS shot by Edwards! The former Moraless pulling no punches here tonight!
Edwards returns to his feet, picking up the Bomber and scoring with a HARD backbreaker! He floats over, and covers, hooking the leg.
Truth Waters: COVER!
ONE!
TWO!
BROKEN UP BY HYOBANSHI!
George Cassidy: What a move there by Juri! She comes in the ring with the somersault leg drop to the back of the head, and that breaks the count!
A stunned Moraless returns to his feet, only to eat a dropkick from the over-eager Hyobanshi. The official tries to stop Juri, but she shows no signs of being willing to leave the ring. Finally, Katerina Zagarovsky has no choice but to enter the ring, and tackle Juri to the ground, opening up with measured shots.
Truth Waters: Well, that’s one way to take care of the problem!
George Cassidy: Yes, but now we’ve got MORE disorder!
Truth Waters: Pah! Who needs order anyway! Order’s for pansies!
Pretty soon, the remaining competitors give up on any form of order, and enter the ring.
George Cassidy: Well, it looks like we’ve degenerated!
The contest clearly has broken down, as all six competitors brawl in the middle of the ring. Katerina Zagarovsky and Pierce Lavelle fight on one side of the ring, knocking one another through the ring ropes.
George Cassidy: We’ve got a pier six brawl on our hands!
Truth Waters: What’d you expect? These six man tags break down, FAST!
James Varga the Handler lunges, tackling the British Bomber with a perfectly acceptable spear. Like Katerina and Pierce before them, Bomber and Varga spill between the ropes, leaving Juri and John Edwards alone in the ring.
Truth Waters: This is the chance for Hyobanshi and Edwards! No one to make a save, so if one of them wants to take this contest, they’d better do it now!
Before Edwards can react, Juri charges, leaping in the air and catching the former Moraless with a snapped-off flying head scissors! Edwards flies head over heels to the mat, while Juri backs off, simply waiting for Edwards to stand.
George Cassidy: If Edwards doesn’t pull his head outta his ass soon, Team Hyobanshi’s got this thing won!
Truth Waters: I’ve got faith in Moraless. He’ll take this thing, you’ll see!
Varga introduces the British Bomber head-first into the barricade at ringside, moments before Katerina catches Lavelle off guard with a Russian leg sweep on the mats. With the four competitors on the floor subdued, all attention turns back to the ring, where Juri has mounted the top rope, poised to fly off onto Moraless.
George Cassidy: INCOMING!
Truth Waters: LOOK OUT, JOHN!
George Cassidy: Jesus Christ, the hell’s Juri going for?!
Hyobanshi comes off the top rope with a front flip, landing astride John’s shoulders in an attempt to execute a dragonrana. The veteran Edwards however, counters the attempt by holding on, leaving her dangling upside down!
Truth Waters: That’s my man!
George Cassidy: Edwards counters the hurricanrana attempt, but where’s he going to go with it?
Edwards adjusts his grip, hoisting Juri up in the air slightly, before driving her headfirst into the mat with his patented cradle piledriver!
Truth Waters: THE MORAL JUDGMENT!
George Cassidy: She’s not going to kick out of it, so her team’s got to get in there and help her!
Truth Waters: Not gonna happen! Everyone either fighting or down on the outside!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: That’ll do it! Edwards, Katerina, and James Varga the Handler pick up a big win here tonight on Fresh!
Truth Waters: That may be the most bizarre team we have ever had on a show before.
George Cassidy: James Varga the Handler with ANYONE is the most bizarre team we’ve had on a show.
Truth Waters: Nonetheless folks, you just saw a great trios tag match! We’ll be right back with more Fresh!, and more great Atlantic Wresting Club action!
Boolinapped!
FEATURING:BOOLIE, ???
AUTHOR: ???
The shot cuts to Red Rock's backstage locker room. Red Rock isn't anywhere to be seen, however Boolie is sat down on a chair listening to his CD player and singing along.
Boolie: Naa nanana nana nana! Can't touch this!
Suddenly the door creeps open, but Boolie does not notice as he is listening to his music too loud. A figure wearing black walks in covering his face with a balaclava. In one hand he is holding a rag and in the other he is holding a big sack.
Boolie: HAMMER TIME!
The unknown figure jumps Boolie from behind covering his face with the rag!
Boolie: MppMPPHh!!!
Boolie begins to wither away as the sedatives take effect. Boolie slumps to the floor and the dark figure puts the large sack over Boolie, failing to realize Boolie is 7'7”.
???: Damn it!
The bag covers Boolie just halfway down his thighs and the unknown figure ties the rope around Boolie's legs before leaving a note on the chair Boolie was sat. He then grabs one of Boolie's legs and starts to drag Boolie away.
The Prometheus Serum IV
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, KASIDY DRAKE (cW)
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
A While Ago
Pearl: And while you were using the Serum – no one in Core found you out?
Drake shakes his head simply.
Kasidy Drake: Well, how could they? Nobody knew that Kasidy Drake was Smiley, and of course Smiley never stuck around for substance tests. He was elusive... the enigma... no one knew where he was and when, whether he was coming or going... unreliable, mercurial... the perfect enigma...
Pearl: You talk about yourself with such clarity, yet such detachment.
Kasidy Drake: Smiley and I parted ways long ago, but recently, there have been... certain events...
Harber frowns.
Pearl: I won’t press you. I don’t need to know the details. But now let’s turn this investigation more towards AWC. The Educator reportedly took the Prometheus Serum before The Battle Of Britain. How could he have sourced this substance?
Kasidy Drake: (sternly) He stole it. I noticed some was missing from my laboratory a number of days later, but naturally couldn’t report the theft. Only when I read about The Educator’s startling victories, and the substance tests bringing up something unknown but certainly something, did I realise just what had happened to the Serum.
Pearl: And is it viable that this Serum could transform a fairly average midcard wrestler into someone capable of winning three matches in one night against highly able opponents.
Dr. Drake nods immediately.
Kasidy Drake: Definitely. It’s in essence a form of cheating. But I think the problem for The Educator was that he took too much of it...
Laura Winters vs Patrick Mapleleaf
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
The lights in the arena grow somehow brighter, tinted with a light blue hue. For a few moments, seeing anything is impossible. This blinding brightness corresponds with the opening of Within Temptation’s “Ice Queen”.
When leaves have fallen
And skies turned to grey
The night keeps on closing in on the day
A nightingale sings his song of farewell
You better hide for her freezing hell
From behind the curtain emerges the self-proclaimed “Queen of Submission”, Laura Winters. The queen is clad in a long, purple robe as she walks up the aisle way.
On cold wings she's coming
You better keep moving
For warmth, you'll be longing. Nightingale
Come on just feel it
Don't you see it?
You better believe.
She shrugs out of the robe, handing it to an official at ringside. Wearing her usual pink and blue lycra singlet, she enters the ring.
When she embraces
Your heart turns to stone
She comes at night when you are all alone
And when she whispers
Your blood shall run cold
You better hide before she finds you.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Newark, Delaware, weighing in at 137 pounds... “The Queen of Submission” LAURA WINTERS!
Settling back into the corner, the former Primetime Central Tag Team champion begins to stretch out as her music finishes.
Whenever she is raging
She takes all life away
Haven't you seen?
Haven't you seen?
The ruins of our world.
Truth Waters: Here we’ve got both of the newcomers who won matches last week up against each other. It’s Laura Winters, who’s in the ring now, and the already-disliked Canadian Patrick Mapleleaf.
“Oh Canada” the Canadian national anthem hits which is instantly drowned out by a barrage of boos!
Crowd: BOOOOOO!
James Brunt: And her opponent, from Toronto, Canada, weighing in at 254 pounds... PATRICK MAPLELEAF!
Mapleleaf struts to the ring smiling as the crowd throw cubs and bits of rubbish at him. Mapleleaf flips members of the crowd off as he reaches the ring.
George Cassidy: Isn't he great? He makes ME want to be a Canadian!
Truth Waters: He doesn't appear to be THAT popular with the crowd.
George Cassidy: He doesn't need them!
Laura Winters stares dangers at the cocky young Patrick Mapleleaf. Patrick Mapleleaf looks back at Winters and laughs at her.
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf seems to be confident tonight, I don't think he saw Laura Winters in action last week.
George Cassidy: He'll be fine!
The bell sounds and the match gets underway. Mapleleaf stands in his corner with his hands on his hips looking up Laura Winters up and down.
Patrick Mapleleaf: Hey how about me and you get jigg –
Before Mapleleaf can finish his sentence Laura Winter drives her boot in to Patrick Mapleleaf's groin. Mapleleaf’s eyes roll in to the back of his head and Mapleleaf drops down to his knees.
George Cassidy: SHE CAN'T DO THAT!
Truth Waters: Someone won't get to jerk off tonight.
Laura Winters laughs to her self and instantly gets to work on Mapleleaf's arm with an arm bar. Mapleleaf yells out and grabs the rope straight away. Laura Winters breaks the hold and Mapleleaf rolls outside the ring and begins to walk away limping and holding his crotch.
Truth Waters: Where is he going?
George Cassidy: She just kicked him in the nuts I don't blame him! I'd do the same
Truth Waters: The crowd don't like it!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOO~!
Truth Waters: Laura Winters doesn't look happy either, she wants to fight!
Patrick Mapleleaf turns around and appears to be changing his mind. He beats his chest and charges to the ring but before he can get there Laura Winters launches her self over the top rope and hits Mapleleaf with a flying cross body!
George Cassidy: OOOOOH!
Truth Waters: What a move!
Laura Winters gets to her feet and staggers backwards, obviously feeling the effect of her high risk move. Mapleleaf lies on the floor holding his head. Winters walks over to Mapleleaf and picks him up by the head and sets him up to whip him in to the ring apron. But Mapleleaf counters and uses Winters own move against her. Winters back arches against the apron and Mapleleaf capitalizes with a knee to the mid section. He rolls Winters back in the ring and enters himself.
George Cassidy: I knew he had a plan! He's a genius!
Mapleleaf grabs winters and boots her in the gut and plants her head in to the mat with a DDT and covers.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Truth Waters: A close call!
Mapleleaf rolls his eyes and lifts Winters off the mat and whips her in to the corner. Mapleleaf charges at Winters but at the last second she thrusts her self up in the air and wraps her legs around Mapleleaf's head and hits him with a hurricanrana. Winters covers!
ONE !
TWO!
Truth Waters: Mapleleaf kicks out!
Winters applies a front face lock on Mapleleaf to keep him grounded to the mat but Mapleleaf manages to force his way back to his feet and breaks the hold. Mapleleaf shoves Winters down to the ground. Mapleleaf begins to grow frustrated and applies a blatant choke to Laura Winters. She kicks her legs and tries to pry Mapleleaf's hands off her throat. The referee starts to count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
F-
Mapleleaf releases Winters and gasps for oxygen as Mapleleaf backs off.
Truth Waters: A display of a mean side of Patrick Mapleleaf.
George Cassidy: He's all business baby!
Truth Waters: It's not looking good for the former partner of Seymour Almasy!
Patrick Mapleleaf allows Winters to get to her feet but not long after he continues his assault by whipping Winters in to the ropes! Mapleleaf grabs Winters by the arm in an armbar position and spins her around before forcing her to the ground.
George Cassidy: He's going for FULL BLOWN CANADIAN!
Mapleleaf sloppily locks the move in!
Truth Waters: a very similar move to one of Winters’ own! She should know a reversal for it!
George Cassidy: Or she'll know what damage it can do and save her self the bother and tap!
Laura Winters screams out in pain and looks for the ropes, but Mapleleaf has her in the middle of the ring. It doesn't look good for Winters as Mapleleaf wrenches Laura winter's neck and stretches her arm socket. Winters tries one more time to drag her way over to the ropes, but Mapleleaf pulls back in the other direction leaving Winters with no choice but to tap!
DING DING DING!
James Brunt: The winner... PATRICK MAPLELEAF!
Boolie Where Art Thou?
FEATURING: RED ROCK, THE BRITISH BOMBER
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
The camera cuts to a backstage just outside Red Rock's locker room. He steps through the door holding two bottles of Coca Cola.
Red Rock: I got you a Coke Boolie.
Red Rock looks around the room and notices Boolie is absent.
Red Rock: Boolie?
Red Rock scans over the room and notices the chair he was sat in is now turned over. Red Rock's suspicions automatically hit. He runs over to the chair and notices there is a letter attached to the chair.
“I won't kill Boolie if you face me in a match. If I win, Boolie lives and I leave you alone, and if you win, you get out of here for good!"
Red Rock screws up the letter and instead of panicking like he usually would he switches to rage.
The shot changes to a shot of a set of double doors. The doors fly open and slam with an deafening noise against the walls and Red Rock comes bursting through with a face of rage and a feeling of concern.
Red Rock: BOOLIE?!
Red Rock storms down the corridor pushing doors open and checking behind them as he does!
Red Rock: BOOLIE!!!
Red Rock pushes more doors open as his breathing increases.
Woman: EEEEKKK!
Red Rock: Oh sorry dear!
Red Rock scurries off biting his bottom lip and darts round the corner where he sees The British Bomber zipping up his sports bag on a bench.
Red Rock: BOMBER!
Bomber: Fuck’s sake...
Red Rock catches up with Bomber and puts both his hands on his shoulder and looks at him.
Bomber’s Interpretation: Red Rock sensually places his hands on Bomber's shoulder and gazes lustfully in to his eyes.
Red Rock: I have something VERY important I need to ask you Bomber and don't be freaked out!
Bomber's skin begins to crawl and he tries to back off but Red Rock stops him.
Red Rock: Bomber, this is very important to me. You HAVE to listen.
TBB pushes Red Rock away and backs off before exploding!
Bomber: LOOK RED I DON'T FUCKING FANCY YOU!
Red Rock's face drops in to a look of total confusion as British Bomber jogs off in to the distance leaving his bag behind.
Red Rock: Fucking idiot! I only wanted to know if he saw Boolie!
Red Rock looks down and realizes Bomber left his bag behind.
Red Rock: Hey Bomber you left your... Ah screw it I'll give it to him later.
Red Rock picks up Bomber's bag and continues his search.
Picking A Fight
FEATURING: EMERALD ISLE II, SARAH KENNEDY, T.T.S.
AUTHOR: MICHAEL DOHERTY
The scene opens up with Paddy, Mickey and Sarah Kennedy against an AWC backdrop, only the bright orange emblem detracting from the maniacal look on Paddy’s face. Sarah is looking at Paddy with troubled eyes but dare not speak. Suddenly she gets her cue and she begins her interview.
Sarah Kennedy: Okay guys. First of all, good win last week against Deliverance. It’s been ten weeks since Emerald Isle I captured the tag belts at Solarized and the team are still going strong, now under the alias Emerald Isle II. Any comments on that?
Paddy stays silent so Mickey intervenes from behind him.
The Farmer: Well Sarah, although aye wasn’t the one in the ring when the titles were won, aye feel tha’ through evolution, this team has learned to adapt an’ we really are undefeatable at the minute. Last week proved tha’. We’ve fought every team this fed has to offer and still keep going. Me and Paddy are friends, we’re a team and right now we feel confident enough t’ take on anybody.
Sarah Kennedy: Speaking of which, we hear that you are booked against a duo at Testimony for the Alliance belts. The team as I understand is up to you.
The Farmer: Yeah, tha’ be right. Basically, we’ll pick the most challenging team and try our best t’ keep the titles and –
Suddenly Paddy moves away from the backdrop and pushes past the cameraman. The camera swings around to show Paddy walking slowly over to the team of T.T.S. who are standing, looking at each other wide-eyed at the situation now involving them.
Paddy O'Shea: Are you two eyeballin’ me?
Paddy is speaking to them with a menacing rasp, very uncharacteristic of the happy-go-lucky fool the AWC masses fell in love with. The two members of T.T.S. look at each other once again but before they can turn around again Paddy has lunged at them, knocking both men to the ground with a clothesline.
Paddy O'Shea: Bastards! Ye think it’s funny do ye. DO YE!
The Farmer: Paddy! STOP!
Suddenly The Farmer is pulling at Paddy and he eventually manages to remove a squirming Paddy from the wreckage. Harry and John are now being helped up by a few security guards who have finally arrived. Paddy is still screaming as he gets carried away.
Paddy O'Shea: Aye’ll kill ye’s! Mickey let me go! Let’s fight them come on! They’re disrespecting the team.
The Farmer: No Paddy! You’re upset, leave it!
Paddy O'Shea: Aye’ll see ye’s at Testimony! We’ll settle it then tough guys!
The scene fades out as the camera now analyses the confused faces of T.T.S., who through no effort at all have gained shots at the Alliance titles. They smile at each other knowingly.
The Prometheus Serum V
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, KASIDY DRAKE (cW)
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Nearly There
We’re in the office. Again.
Pearl: Too much?
Kasidy Drake: Oh yes. Personally, I have years of experience with the Serum. I know it and respect it. But a new user... a greedy user... does not know the correct methods, the correct amounts. You have to respect the Serum or it won’t respect you. The Educator was greedy and took too much – and that came back to hurt him.
Pearl: Withdrawal symptoms?
Kasidy Drake shifts in his seat.
Kasidy Drake: In a way, yes. You did notice he was strangely below-par in the following weeks?
Harber nods.
Pearl: Definitely. Below his pre-pay-per-view standards, even.
Drake snaps his fingers.
Kasidy Drake: Just like that... Prometheus punished him.
Pearl nods, putting his hand to his chin, then frowns.
Pearl: But it’s – it’s just not possible. I don’t believe – I can’t believe how it works.
Kasidy Drake: I – no, forget that...
Drake trails off and stares into the empty void that is the desktop.
Pearl: What?
Kasidy Drake: I...
He sighs.
Kasidy Drake: I was going to say that I could show you.
Pearl: That would be perfect.
His pupils dilating, Drake’s focus does not move.
Kasidy Drake: (murmuring) Give me just one minute...
Mike Wade vs The Farmer
STIPULATION: WEAPONS
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
"Not Far Away" by Pennywise hits and the crowd pop for the arrival of The Farmer Mickey Fitz McCarthy. He strolls almost immediately out of the curtain, not doing the usual suspense thing that some wrestlers do. Clearly tonight he means business.
Truth Waters: And here he comes. One half of our Alliance champions here "The Farmer" Mickey Fitz-McCarthy. And he wants to prove something tonight.
George Cassidy: He wants to prove something that's not true. Mike Wade is genuinely friends with Paddy O’Shea and The Farmer can't handle it – he's jealous.
Truth Waters: McCarthy just doesn't trust Wade and who could blame him? The guy’s nickname is His Swerviness for Christ’s sake.
James Brunt: The following is a Weapons match! Introducing first from Dowra, Co Leitrim, Ireland, weighing in at 233 pounds... "The Farmer" Mickey Fitz-McCarthy!
The crowd pop again as the Farmer ascends the second turnbuckle to receive his applause. The music dies out and "Jump Around" by House of Pain hits and, surprisingly, only some of the cheers turn to jeers. Most of the crowd actually seem to be behind Wade.
Truth Waters: Here comes the man nobody can make their mind up about, Mike Wade.
George Cassidy: Wade getting a fairly warm reception tonight.
Mike steps from the curtain looking like a man possessed too. He acknowledges the crowd, rather then his usual flipping them off. And comes running towards the ring.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Waterford, Ireland, weighing in at 209 and ¾ pounds... Mike Wade!
Again Wade gets a pop from the crowd as he slides in to meet the Farmer nose to nose in the middle of the ring. Both men begin jaw jacking.
Truth Waters: I'm not a lip reader but I think what's being said by the Farmer is that Wade is a con man and Wade is pleading his innocence.
George Cassidy: I'm glad you left out the profanity. These Irish guys have mouths as dirty as a whore’s panties.
The bell rings for the start of the match and Wade extends a hand to the Farmer who simply turns his nose up at it and says "Just fight" to Wade. Wade simply shrugs his shoulders and throws the first punch, which gets blocked. Farmer then releases on Wade. 1, 2, 3, 4 punches to the head. He whips Wade to the ropes who ducks the returning clothesline and BAM nails a flying forearm sending Mickey to the outside and the crowd applaud in appreciation.
Truth Waters: The crowd behind Mike Wade somewhat here as well and the Farmer.
George Cassidy: Wade really seems to have changed his colours. I must say I'm disappointed.
Truth Waters: I don't know if we can trust him yet.
The Farmer slides back into the ring and both men lock up. Wade goes behind the Farmer with a hammer lock. Mickey swings an elbow to the jaw of Wade, then another, Wade then ducks the third and nails a Northern lights suplex pin on the Farmer. Referee Joseph Reid makes the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Truth Waters: Wade demonstrating his exceptional wrestling skills a little there.
George Cassidy: Wade is well qualified but he seems to have this soft centre after all. Turning down help from Ian English and trying to befriend Paddy O’Shea? Pathetic.
Wade throws Mickey from the ring and both are now in a punchfest on the outside. The Farmer gets the better of it and whips Wade to the steel steps, the sound echoing through the arena as Wade hits. Mickey tosses Wade back in but reaches under the ring and takes out a kendo stick to a pop from the crowd.
Truth Waters: Here we go these crazy Irish bastards now have weapons.
George Cassidy: Definitely the best thing about this match is both these guys will kill each other. Mickey to beat the truth out of Wade and Wade to prove his innocence.
Mickey slides back in with the kendo as Wade is getting to his feet. He swings and connects to the forehead of Wade. Wade however gets straight back up almost no selling the shot. Farmer simply swings again and again it connects with Wades head. However like before Wade goes down only to spring back up again. This time The Farmer takes a big swing and bashes the face of Mike Wade with it sending him down properly.
Truth Waters: Whoa. I'll be suprised if –
As the words flow from Truth's mouth the camera shows Wade's forehead to reveal a trickle of blood coming down.
Truth Waters: As I was saying. Wade is now busted open.
George Cassidy: 3 stiff, stiff shots. Wade is in trouble here.
Farmer picks the groggy Wade up. He places the kendo stick across his neck and hits a side Russian leg sweep with the kendo stick. He then goes for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Truth Waters: Wade is up on 2.
The Farmer picks Wade up and sends him to the ropes. On the return he swings the cane at Wade but Wade ducks. He delivers a kick to the Farmer’s gut causing him to drop the kendo. Wade kicks it up and snaps what was left of it over the Farmer’s head sending him staggering through the ropes to the outside.
Truth Waters: The Farmer falls inadvertently to safety.
George Cassidy: Or was it?
Truth Waters: What do you mean?
George Cassidy: Watch.
Wade takes a run and does a suicide dive out on top of the Farmer sending both men flying into the side of the announce table and the Farmer’s head bounces off of the side of it.
“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”
Truth Waters: AirWade through the sky!
George Cassidy: The crazy bastard. And check out the back of Mickey’s head!
The camera zooms in to reveal a huge gash at the back of Mickey’s head in his hair with the blood seeping through. The referee is in the ring with both men down not knowing what to do.
Truth Waters: I would imagine there are no count-outs in a weapons match.
George Cassidy: The ref doesn't seem sure the dumb idiot.
Truth Waters: Oh what's this?
The camera pans to the entrance way as the crowd begins immense booing as our Relentless champion Ian English makes his way to the ring with a steel chair in hand.
Truth Waters: Here comes the elusive Ian English.
George Cassidy: Our Relentless champ is here!
Finally both men get back in the ring. Wade slaps a snap suplex on The Farmer. He then rolls back up in the same position. He then sticks 4 fingers in the air to signal the 4 corner Wadeplex. Ian English applauds in approval on the outside.
Truth Waters: What is he doing out here?
George Cassidy: It's all about moral support.
Wade hits 2 more suplexes and then a fisherman’s pin for a 2 count. Wade then places the Farmer on the top rope and signals a superplex. However the Farmer pre-empts it and tosses Wade off the top and to the mat. He then comes off with a flying elbow. Upon impact we see more blood gush out of the back of his head and the front of Wade’s in a gruesome scene.
Farmer then picks up Wade and nails a powerbomb on him. Then he goes to the announcers table for... the ring bell?
Truth Waters: It's not looking good for Wade. He's bleeding badly and taken some major bumps. And now the Farmer is getting the ring bell.
George Cassidy: Things are looking up now! Look at English.
As The Farmer is tussling with the time keeper Ian English has folded back up his chair, has it in hand and is approaching the ring. The Farmer slides back into the ring and prepares for Wade to get up. All of a sudden Ian English hits the ring and plants the Farmer square in the back the head with the chair.
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Truth Waters: Right in the busted up head!
George Cassidy: And English is picking Wade up.
English has dropped the chair and is picking the fallen Wade up. Wade takes a look at the Farmer, then at English. Wade then picks up the chair and smiles at Ian as the crowd begin to boo.
Truth Waters: I knew it. Wade is a snake.
George Cassidy: Oh yes here we go!
Wade then pulls back the chair but turns it on Ian knocking him so hard that his Relentless title falls off his waist! And the crowd go wild!
Truth Waters: Mike Wade! Mike Wade just wiped out Ian English!
George Cassidy: The snake!
The Farmer is just regaining consciousness but Wade then nails him in the face with the chair. He then picks up the fallen Farmer and nails the TFW on him.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner... MIKE WADE!
Truth Waters: Mike Wade nailing Ian English but then nailed The Farmer too.
George Cassidy: Hey it's a Weapons match he was 100% right. But nailing English. That was a poor move.
Truth Waters: None the less I think this working relationship between Wade and English is finally over and it happened in AWC!
George Cassidy: That's why his name is His Swerviness, he swerved his friend Ian English.
Back in the ring Wade is celebrating his win with Ian’s Relentless title as English walks back down the aisle holding his head. Wade, blood running down his face is mouthing to Ian "I want this" to him.
Truth Waters: I think Wade is issuing a challenge to English.
George Cassidy: One he'll be all too willing to accept I'd say.
Truth Waters: Nonetheless Mike Wade very impressive tonight and a huge win for him.
The Prometheus Serum VI
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, KASIDY DRAKE (cW)
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Earlier, But The Least Early
SMASH!
That’s Drake’s fist through the desk.
David Harber, his face a mask of horror, backs up against the door, staring aghast at the wreckage strewn around his office.
Pearl: OK – that’s enough... THAT’S ENOUGH! I’ve seen enough!
But Drake doesn’t hear him, grabbing the bookcase and, with a roar, throws it to the ground, tensing his bulging biceps.
Pearl: STOP! STOP!
He won’t stop. He can’t stop. And now – he gets to Pearl.
Pulling the AWC Entertainment Manager towards him, he slams a hard right fist into his forehead. Pearl yells out, but this doesn’t dissuade Drake, who pulls a knee up into his gut and then slams him into the wall, files toppling down over the two of them from a high shelf. He grabs Harber by his collar and lifts him off the ground, throwing him across the room and into what remains of his desk. Kasidy Drake then moves over to his fallen body and flexes his arms.
Kasidy Drake: Big smile now!
With a sneer, Drake applies The BIG Smile, a camel clutch with Harber’s cheeks pulled into a painful smile. His lip split, blood begins to run from Pearl’s mouth, and after twenty seconds or so, Drake releases the hold, Pearl spitting blood as he clings to consciousness. Clinging to consciousness is not where the Serum-affected Drake wants to leave him, and he upturns Pearl’s desk chair before ripping off the leg with almighty force. He raises it into the air and slams the blunt object hard onto Harber’s head with a sickening thud.
The door bursts open. Butch Radder, Taz Yorke and Bruno Hague flood in, knocking Drake to the floor. Yorke brandishes his metal hook, but Drake is not deterred, lashing out at the security man. Hague subdues him with a full nelson just as Radder shoots a punch into his stomach, and not without a struggle, he is pulled from the room, leaving the scene we saw at the start of this show.
Andy Murray (C) vs The Illustrious Face-Eater
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHORS: DAVE LARKIN AND MICHAEL DOHERTY
Truth Waters: This is it. We’ve finally reached the main event of the night. Andy Murray, the self-dubbed “Scottish King of Cool” dukes it out with the man who, over the past few weeks, has been making Tim Shipley’s life a living hell. And speaking of hell, it may break loose in this one.
George Cassidy: I wouldn’t be surprised. Murray’s on an amazing run here in AWC. A record of six wins and just one defeat, he’s a tough cookie to crack. Face-Eater hasn’t got quite as impressive a record, but he’s certainly a force to be reckoned with in the ring and out.
Truth Waters: Indeed. Shipley has learned that recently. What is Face-Eater’s motivation behind this torment, do you think?
George Cassidy: It’s just what he does. Face-Eater gets into his opponents’ heads and makes them paranoid. When he’s done that, he’s won half the battle.
Truth Waters: Interesting observation, Cassidy. You could be a psychologist or something.
George Cassidy: I’m an amateur psychologist, Truth. No-one’s ever told you that, have they?
Truth Waters: No, and I’d rather you didn’t continue. Let’s send you down to the ring where the Illustrious Face-Eater is already warming up for this contest.
The fans boo Face-Eater’s warm-up as he does a quick jog against the ropes. Face-Eater closes his eyes and shakes the sweat off his forehead as he prepares for his opponent, Andy Murray, to make his entrance.
He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man…
The lights in the arena dim as the intro to Avenged Sevenfold’s “Bat Country” begins to play out across the arena. With a burst of pyro at the top of the ramp, the song kicks in and the lights flash on, as Andy Murray steps out from the back, lapping up the crowd’s cheers. He pauses at the top of the ramp, takes a good look around the arena, and lifts an arm in the air in jubilance, before making his way down the ramp.
Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay
These eyes won't see the same, after I flip today
James Brunt: The following is a singles match, and is for the AWC Frontier championship! The challenger is already in the ring. His opponent, from Aberdeen, Scotland, weighing in at 270 pounds... he is the AWC Frontier champion, the “Scottish King of Cool”, ANDY MURRAY!
On his way down to the ring, Andy Murray slaps hands with a couple of the fans, before finally reaching the bottom of the ramp, and leaping up onto the outside of the ring. Facing the entrance, he raises an arm up in the air once again, as white pyros ignite from the ring posts behind him.
George Cassidy: Once more Brunt refuses to announce Face-Eater properly.
I tried to drive all through the night, the heart stroke ridden weather
The barren empty sights…
No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me
As the fireworks die down a little, Murrr enters the ring between the middle and top ropes and paces across the ring, throwing both arms into the air for the fans at the other side.
Can’t you help me as I’m startin’ to burn?
Too many doses and I’m startin’ to get an attraction
My confidence is leavin’ me on my own
Too late to save me and you know I don’t want the attention
Finally, the music begins to die down, as Murray stands in the centre of the ring, ready to go.
Truth Waters: He’s mean, lean, and he’s from Aberdeen!
George Cassidy: Oh puh-lease. Scot’s don’t have any redeeming qualities. All they’re good at is speaking in double Dutch and kilts.
Murray wastes no time in starting the match, diving at Face-Eater with a cross body. Murray lays into Face-Eater with fists to the face, but Face-Eater manages to shield himself from the majority of the blows. Murray chases Face-Eater to the outside of the ring, but Face-Eater blindsides Murray with a thumb to the eye. Michael Ryan calls for the action to re-enter the ring, and Face-Eater throws Murray back inside at the count of three.
Truth Waters: Face-Eater gets the advantage after a bad start against Murray. A thumb to the eye can change a match, you know.
George Cassidy: Anything like that can change a match, but it’s good tactics shown there by Face-Eater. Neither of these men will give up easily.
Already the crowd are getting behind “The Scottish King of Cool”, with chants beginning all over the arena. Face-Eater pounds Murray on his back with an axe handle, and the latter falls onto his stomach. Face-Eater tries the elbow drop, but Murray rolls out of the way. Murray kicks Face-Eater off the ropes and rolls him up into a cheeky small package.
Truth Waters: This could be it here! Quick cover by Murray!
ONE!
TWO!
Face-Eater powers out of the pin attempt, but the momentum of this fast-paced match continues. Murray takes Face-Eater down with a hip toss. Face-Eater is reeling, and falls into a series of knife-edge chops from Murray. Murray salutes the crowd, then whips Face-Eater into the corner. Face-Eater bounces off, dazed, but ducks a clothesline from Murray. Face-Eater explodes at Murray with a spear. Both men are down.
Truth Waters: This one just never stops, does it? Already we’ve seen pinfalls, big moves, and it’s only a couple of minutes into it.
George Cassidy: Like I said, neither one of these guys will give up easily. You’re going to witness a fight from both until they can fight no more.
Michael Ryan begins his count.
ONE!
TWO!
Face-Eater stirs, and seems likely to get back to his feet first. Murray rolls onto his front and pushes himself up.
THREE!
Face-Eater is up to one knee, and grabs Murray by the neck. Murray counters with a jawbreaker. The fans jump up and down in a frenzy as Murray delivers his Wake Up, a sharp DDT to the canvas. Face-Eater’s head connects with the canvas in a sick manner, but Murray begs Face-Eater to get up.
Truth Waters: Murray’s really looking to do some serious damage to Face-Eater here!
George Cassidy: Face-Eater’s up!
Murray explodes at Face-Eater, letting loose with a massive snap suplex, followed by a huge elbow drop to the sternum. Face-Eater rolls to safety, but is pursued by the relentless Murray. Face-Eater is thrown into the turnbuckle by Murray, catching his elbow awkwardly. Murray goes for the splash into the corner, but Face-Eater dodges it and floors Murray with a quick knee to the head.
Truth Waters: Face Eater is right on top of Murray with a sleeper hold now. He’s looking to suck the life out of Murray to prevent anymore violent attacks like we’ve just seen.
George Cassidy: Good strategy by Face-Eater.
Face-Eater holds Murray’s head at an awkward angle in a sleeper hold. Murray’s hand slowly begins to lose its strength, and it falls to the mat. Referee Michael Ryan raises his hand once. It falls. The fans clap and chant for Murray to survive. A second time. It falls once more. Face-Eater’s sick smile says it all: he believes he has won. Suddenly, Murray shoots his left arm into the air and surprises Face-Eater with a back suplex to the mat below.
Truth Waters: Out of nowhere comes Murray with the back suplex! Turning point in the match-up right here.
George Cassidy: Damn right. Both men are down. Only one can take advantage. Who’s it going to be?
Murray seems the more likely to get to his feet first, and does. Murray whips Face-Eater off the ropes tiredly. On the rebound, Face-Eater goes for the clothesline, but Murray ducks it and delivers a reverse DDT to his opponent. Face-Eater holds his neck in pain and grimaces as Murray covers.
ONE!
TWO!
Face-Eater kicks out with authority before the three count, though, and Murray is left to mull over his options. Murray takes his place on the second turnbuckle, and waits patiently for Face-Eater to get back up. Face-Eater does, and Murray dives off. Face-Eater meets Murray’s leap with a strong uppercut to the chin. The fans scream out for Murray as he collapses to the mat in a heap after enduring the vicious blow.
Truth Waters: Oh… my… God! Face-Eater could have just decapitated Murray! This is one of those moments…
George Cassidy: Yup. Just sit and watch.
Face-Eater rubs his right fist as he strolls over to lift Murray up to a vertical base. Murray explodes out of nowhere, however, with a move of as much, if not more, impact than Face-Eater’s. A super kick is the response from Murray, who sends Face-Eater down to the mat in a heap. Murray falls onto his back, and the crawl over to make the cover is slow and difficult. Murray covers, but fails to hook the leg.
ONE!
Truth Waters: Only a one count off that super kick from Murray. Definitely an effective move, but no end product for the Scot.
George Cassidy: This is a very well contested match, I have to say. Both men giving it their all. That kind of thing pleases me.
Truth Waters: You’re obviously easily pleased…
George Cassidy: Not when you live with my wife. If she did so much as say hello to me in a given day, I’d be doing well.
Murray struggles to his feet. The 6’7 frame seems in danger of collapsing but Andy puts a hand on the top rope to steady himself; he then looks to the ring to survey the fallen Face-Eater. However, he’s nowhere to be seen!
Truth Waters: What the?
George Cassidy: Where the?
Suddenly, TIFE jumps up onto the apron behind Andy and as he turns around, Murray finds himself being speared in the gut through the ropes. Face-Eater then flips over Murray’s back and rolls him up for the pin. Michael Ryan is quickly down to count the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: Kickout there by Murray but where did Face-Eater go to?
George Cassidy: That’s the danger of him. Blink and he’s gone! Blink again and he’s right up your ass!
Truth looks at George in disgust.
George Cassidy: Hypothetically speaking of course!
Truth Waters: Do you even know what that means?
George Cassidy: Nope and neither does the writer.
Meanwhile, TIFE is stomping at Murray’s chest. The Scottish king of Cool tries to defend himself from the base but to no avail as TIFE now pounds at his head. Facey now falls to his knees and begins a blatant chokehold on Andy. The referee gives him the count and he breaks his hold at four. The Illustrious Face-Eater now gets to his feet with a smile and then yanks Andy up after him. Murray is hit with a swift knee to the gut, which is followed up by a spinning neckbreaker.
Truth Waters: Ouch! You could almost feel the strain on Andy’s neck right there.
George Cassidy: Don’t worry about him. He’s 6’7, his neck’s as thick as a redwood. Probably lives in one too…
Face-Eater now leg drops Andy across the chest and then hits a falling elbow. TIFE turns for a second to taunt the crowd and then turns back around. However his time wasting proves costly because Murray is now on his knees and he delivers a stiff punch to TIFE’s gut then an uppercut to the smaller mans chin. Murray now jumps to his feet and runs off the ropes. On his return, he swings a clubbing forearm at the Face-Eater however he ducks it and then kills Murray’s momentum by kicking him squarely between the legs.
Truth Waters: Oh come on ref! You must be havin’ a laugh!
George Cassidy: Wow Truth, you’d make a great football hooligan with an accent like that.
Truth Waters: Sorry, it must have been all that time in Europe we had. I’m not the same man that got on the plane George.
The Face-Eater is now laughing merrily at Murray who is lying in the ring groping his groin. Michael Ryan gives TIFE a warning, which he simply ignores. He runs to the nearest turnbuckle and climbs it with a smile. He pauses to analyze the situation then jumps off. However his big body splash is suddenly interrupted when Murray raises his knees. TIFE’s ribs bounce off them and he rolls around in apparent pain.
George Cassidy: REF! ILLEGAL USE OF THE KNEES!
Truth Waters: Sit down!
George Cassidy: No way Truth! We can’t let that Scottish idiot retain. He’s one of the guys destroying our fed with all their niceness and charm!
Truth Waters: Sigh…
Murray now seems to have found his second wind. He crawls towards TIFE and begins pounding him with vicious head punches. After ten, he climbs to his feet and pulls Facey up with him. He hits him with a large head butt but stops him from falling he then throws him into the ropes and catches with a big boot causing him to be caught up in the ropes. Murray follows this up with a clothesline, knocking TIFE over the ropes and to the outside. Murray follows him out and stands on the ring apron. Spotting Facey get to his feet, Murray jumps off with a double hammer blow causing the Face-Eater to stumble backwards and falls against the barricade.
Truth Waters: Murray now taking the fight to the outside.
George Cassidy: (sexually) Murray likes it on the outside.
Truth Waters: …And what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?
George Cassidy: That he’s a bummer!
Truth Waters: Oh dear Lord, I need a new partner.
Murray grabs Facey’s wrist and throws him against the steel steps, which he plunges into shoulder first. Satisfied with the damage he has inflicted, Murray grabs the scruff of TIFE and slides him into the ring. He follows him in quickly and waits for Facey to get to his feet. Murray waits until he’s turned around then shows his strength once again by grabbing TIFE from behind and German suplexing him. Murray now stalks Facey by circling him. Then when the Face-Eater gets to his feet, Andy plants a boot into his stomach causing him to keel over. Murray grabs him before he falls and positions him for a double underhook powerbomb, which he executes perfectly. He jumps on top of Facey for the pin and in his haste forgets to move Facey from the ropes.
ONE!
TWO
THR-
Facey grabs the ropes and Michael Ryan calls for the break up. An annoyed Murray gets into the referees face, complaining at what he perceives as an apparent three count.
Truth Waters: It has to be said, despite Murray’s domination in the match, it’s the Illustrious Face-Eaters ring awareness that is perhaps the most impressive thing in this match.
George Cassidy: Damn right Truth. Give credit where credits due!
Truth Waters: I just did you moron!
George Cassidy: …you’re mean.
Murray shakes off his frustration and instead looks to the turnbuckle. He walks towards it then casually climbs it. Resting on the top rope, he waits for Facey to stir to his feet. After a few seconds, TIFE rolls onto his front. He then slowly pulls himself up. Eventually he gets into a standing position facing away from Murray. Murray waits until he’s nearly turned around and jumps off with his arm cocked for a lariat. However TIFE has it spotted. He kicks Murray in the gut while he’s still in the air then nails the Eaterplex ’05. Murray twitches for a few second then goes still.
Truth Waters: Holy hell! What a counter!
George Cassidy: Come on Facey! Pin him, take your belt!
Facey surveys the crowd who are currently mixed between chants of ”HOLY SHIT!” and jeers at the AWC public enemy number one. He eventually falls onto his knees and pins Murray with a hook of the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: WOOHOO! New champ!
Facey jumps to his feet and begins jumping up and down at his win. The referee puts the belt into Facey’s hand and he begins to swing it around like a maniac.
Truth Waters: Someone’s happy!
George Cassidy: Yeah TIFE! Swing that bastard!
Truth Waters: Hm. He’s not the only one then.
TIFE now calms down and holds the belt up to the crowd, ignoring the fact James Brunt has refused to announce his win. The ring announcer is sulking at ringside. Murray gets to his feet holding his neck and then looks on in disappointment. Despite this feeling however, he walks over to the Face-Eater to shake his hand. As Murray holds out his hand with a forced smile, Facey pretends to raise his own hand but instead he swings his belt and cracks the Scottish King of Cool around the temple. Andy crumples to the floor and Facey begins to tribal dance around him.
Truth Waters: Oh come on! That’s just a bad winner!
George Cassidy: I know! Don’t you just LOVE it!
Truth Waters: Well the Illustrious Face-Eater is our new Frontier Champion. Whoop-de-bloody-do. Now could he just leave?
The Heat Is On
FEATURING: FREDROCK~!, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
FREDROCK~!: Do you smell what the Fr’ock is cooking?
David “Pearl” Harber doesn’t know what the fuck his janitor is on about, and you’d think he wouldn’t give a shit after the night he’s had, but it’s quite funny, and he hides a laugh as he takes his hand from the wound to the back of his head, motioning for FREDROCK~! to take a seat the other side of the desk in this substitute office, in use after Kasidy Drake destroyed his. FREDROCK~! declines.
Pearl: What’s the story, Rocky?
FREDROCK~!: The Invincible FREDROCK~! has chosen his opponent for AWC Testimony!
Pearl raises an eyebrow, but winces with the pain of doing so.
Pearl: (weakly) Oh, do enlighten me.
Looking fearsome, FREDROCK~! thrusts an arm out to the side into what he imagines is a warrior pose.
FREDROCK~!: Taking me on in the WORLD’S FIRST Uber Extreme Hardcore Weapons Tables Ladders And Chairs Barbed Wire Bat Hell In The Janitor’s Closet match WILL BE... James Varga!
Harber’s face falls.
Pearl: Which one?
FREDROCK~!: Er… BOTH!
Pearl: Hmm, I guess I can do that... Tell you what, Fred, I’ll do my best –
FREDROCK~!: THAT IS NOT ALL!
FREDROCK~! raises a threatening finger.
FREDROCK~!: What did you have for lunch?
Pearl: A bacon s –
FREDROCK~!: IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU HAD FOR LUNCH! Pearl, I am the game, so are you playing?
Assuming this to be rhetorical, Harber offers no response, but FREDROCK~!’s glare tells Pearl this was an incorrect presupposition.
Pearl: Erm... yeah, I am.
FREDROCK~!: GOOD! Then put… Ian English’s Relentless title on the line!
Pearl sniggers.
Pearl: But English isn’t in the match, silly.
FREDROCK~!: Well, he can be in it too.
Pearl: No, no he can’t. You take on both Vargas – the Vargae – in a three way janitor’s closet match. Now run me through the rules once more...
Pride Or Suicide?
FEATURING: FREDROCK~!, PIERCE LAVELLE, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE
Just as Fredrock begins to go through his ideas, Pierce Lavelle pushes past him and into the room. Pearl turns to his janitor and asks him to leave, leaving Pierce and Pearl alone in the main lounge.
Pearl: What can I do for you?
Pearl asks, seating himself into the leather chair behind an oak desk.
Pierce Lavelle: Sorry for disturbing your meeting!
Lavelle remains standing and hoists his title over his shoulder.
Pearl: Don't be, it was just a discussion on… er… janitor stuff.
Lavelle bends his eyebrows in a wary manner and then returns to his reason for being in the Entertainment Manager’s office.
Pierce Lavelle: I came here today because I wanted to talk to you about Testimony.
Pearl: Ah, glad you mentioned that... I have an –
Pierce Lavelle: I want to face Hate.
Pearl, along with the fans in the background all gasp in unison.
Pearl: What?
Pierce Lavelle: I want to –
Pearl: I heard you the first time, I just don't know why.
Pierce Lavelle: Because almost two months ago at the Streets Of London match, Hate was the main man responsible for the brutality I received. I remained in hospital for a week and even afterward, I still wasn't a hundred percent. He completely disrespected me and every other man in that match, and although it would be nice to have a rematch with Paddy O'Shea, I think I would prefer to fight Hate, one on one. He took the belt away from me, left me hanging on the edge of a bus and almost killed me – then he went and practically gave Educator the title belt... I won't go into that in too much detail.
Pearl: Revenge?
Pierce Lavelle: Not revenge... justice.
Pearl: Fitting for the title of the pay-per-view.
Pierce Lavelle: He walked away without a scratch and I never did anything about it. I was a rag doll to him in that match and I won't let it happen again.
Harber’s not too happy. Hate never got his second chance at the title; ever since he had Azagtoth attack the Entertainment Manager, he’s kept The Fifth Horseman down at the bottom of the card, where he can’t cause any trouble. While Paddy O’Shea and Pierce Lavelle had another chance at The Educator, Hate jerked the curtain week to week.
Pearl: Are you sure this is what you want?
Lavelle remains in a straight posture.
Pierce Lavelle: I know I could lose the title belt, but it isn't about that. I've thought about it and I want to face him.
Pearl: Stipulation?
Pierce Lavelle: ...
Pearl: Not decided?
Pearl is about to write it down, when Lavelle puts his hand over the page, blocking Pearl.
Pierce Lavelle: Cage.
Pearl raises his eyebrows.
Pierce Lavelle: Enclosed cage.
Harber leans back, his eyes almost bulging out of his face.
Pearl: You know what Hate is capable of.
Lavelle nods.
Pierce Lavelle: I witnessed it first hand.
Lavelle points the left side of his chest, at what looks like two ribs.
Pearl: Are you sure?
Pierce Lavelle: It'll be a match to remember, right?
Pearl, reluctantly, has no choice but to write down the match. He shakes his head as writes the words “ENCLOSED CAGE”. He can’t believe the Transatlantic champion wants to risk everything against a monster, in a match from which there can be no escape. Lavelle, too, has a sudden wash of colour and stares at the title belt on his shoulder. Pearl lifts his head and stares at the sudden fear in Pierce’s face.
Pearl: I wish you all the best, then.
Harber says and stands. Lavelle, waking up from his sudden premonition straightens his posture and shakes Pearl’s hand.
Pierce Lavelle: Thanks, Pearl.
With that, Pierce Lavelle turns and leaves. Pearl slouches into his chair and looks at the door, worry on his face, as the show ends.