Fresh! Results23rd May 2006
Times Are Changing
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, TRACY STANTON
AUTHORS: LARA C. AND MIKE S.
Folding her clothing, time wasn’t an issue as her pleated skirts lined neatly within the interior of her own suitcase. The idea of packing so little of her life into one suitcase set a calming fluctuation on her tensed nerves, her frayed tempers and edgy senses. She was no longer comfortable spending so much time alone and needed a break for the strenuous schedule that had become her life; and the bleak, desolate white walls that watched her pack and that once offered the terrifying image of loneliness, now sent an initial thrill through her to think she’d be enjoying the sun, sand and the warmth of his touch.
The bulb flickered aimlessly above her, its filament wearing itself out as it exhausted itself with the surge of constant energy and heat. The suitcase was almost packed and how little she actually had was a tedious thought and one she didn’t dwell on, considering she was always travelling. The rooms sense sent an unnerving chill down Sarah’s back, the isolation, the dreaded lonely nights were a killer and for once she actually understood what Tracy had meant a couple weeks ago.
In a moment’s trance, Sarah never felt the touch of a warm hand. She jumped and her immediate response was a name that sent a wave of hurt through David “Pearl” Harber’s own mind and heart. She stood back when she saw Pearl gazing toward her.
Sarah Kennedy: Christ, David, you trying to give me a heart attack?
Pearl: I’m sorry I scared you.
Sarah just nodded her head and continued packing up her things.
Pearl: I… eh… don’t suppose maybe you’ve spoken to…
Sarah Kennedy: David, I’m not getting involved.
The words startled Pearl, who was beginning to feel isolated himself. The world had become very thin, the walls closing in around him and he was suffocating. Sasha had turned her back on him for competition, Adam Dick was scheming and making a mess of a lot of Pearl’s plans and he needed his old friend once more.
Pearl: I just wanted to know how he was doing.
Sarah Kennedy: Why don’t you ask him!
Sarah said coldly. Pearl’s beady eyes looked at her back with hurt. So much for not getting involved... Pearl thought and took a deep breath.
Pearl: I would, I mean I have, but he won’t answer.
Sarah Kennedy: Can ya blame him?
Sarah retorted zipping up her suitcase. Pearl nodded with the rebuttal and gazed around Sarah’s slender curved body toward her suitcase, travel bag and plane tickets. A light bulb went off in his mind.
Pearl: Are you leaving?
Sarah Kennedy: Taking a break, David. A couple weeks off…
Pearl: If this is about the Adam Dick interview, then I am so sorry. I know he struck a chord with you. I would never schedule you to do…
Sarah Kennedy: That’s just the point, isn’t it, David?
Pearl recoiled, confused as Sarah spun around.
Pearl: Huh – I’m confused…
Sarah Kennedy: You never do anything yourself, you get other people to do it.
Pearl stood aside as Sarah lifted her suitcase off the small bench and threw it to the floor. Hoisting up her travel bag she quickly checked for tickets, general items needed and most important of all her passport.
Pearl: Sarah, it’s not like that…
Sarah Kennedy: Isn’t it? You got Pierce to do everything for you. Isn’t that why you are here now? You want him to come in and deal with your other issues.
Sarah smiled to herself, she knew David all too well. After all they had known one another for quite a well, but she never would have imagined him hurting somebody that held so much respect for him.
Pearl: I never meant to hurt, Pierce.
Sarah Kennedy: Hurt him? You know he suffered withdrawal from the Prometheus drug and went into shock and high fever…
Pearl: I –
Sarah Kennedy: His gun shot wound causes him a lot of pain when it’s cold because the doctor never finished the surgery properly.
Pearl: I – I – I
Pearl couldn’t speak; these were all things he never knew. He always thought Pierce was handling things and he never thought that the drugs would actually affect him, but they had and Pearl had sat idly by and did nothing, instead he slacked and betrayed him.
Pearl: I am sorry.
Sarah Kennedy: Words falling on deaf ears, David. I’m not the one you should be talking to.
Pearl: Sarah, please, we’ve known one another for a long time.
Sarah Kennedy: Past tense, David. I knew you…
Pearl took the uncomfortable silence as a time for him to leave, he looked toward her back once again, receiving the cold shoulder was becoming somewhat of a habit for Pearl.
Sarah Kennedy: Look, David, just be careful okay.
Pearl’s eyebrows creased with confusion, his gaze momentarily lifting from Sarah to a couple of pictures splayed in her bag. He knelt down, rubbing his sore cheek from the scratch he’d received off of Sasha – she had become a woman he barely knew and he had been played. Gazing toward the photo album he opened it and smiled toward the pictures of Sarah, Pierce and a couple of their own friends.
As he became lost in the tranquil of happiness that lay forever in the photos, he didn’t sense Sarah standing by his shoulder, a smile on her face too.
Sarah Kennedy: Talk to him, David. Believe me, just give it time.
Pearl: Thanks, Sarah. Enjoy your break.
Pearl smiled, handed Sarah the photo album and turned on his polished shoes to leave. Before Sarah could even collect her own thoughts, the door was pried open by Tracy, a determined swagger in her step.
Tracy: We need to talk!
Tracy spoke with a determined reverence to her voice. Sarah sighed and placed a picture of her and Pierce down, before looking back toward Tracy.
Sarah Kennedy: What did I do?
Tracy: That was your pregnancy test and you lied…
Tracy says, flinging the door shut with her own high heels. Sarah looks on quite confused at her friend’s outburst over a matter of privacy, well once private, now with her yelling Sarah knew many had heard.
Tracy: Why didn’t you tell me?
Sarah Kennedy: It wasn’t that big a deal, anyway. And I didn’t exactly want the whole locker room finding out thanks!
Sarah opens her arms wide open and sighs, her eyes gazing to the now shut door. Tracy nods her head and looks back at her friend.
Tracy: Not a big deal! It’s huge!
Sarah Kennedy: Shouldn’t you be with the psychopath you call a boyfriend!
Sarah commentated as she leant over and pulled out a bottle of water.
Tracy: I need a break.
Tracy returns the comment with a witty remark and looks once more at Sarah; it was like trying to pull water from a stone.
Tracy: Does he know…
Sarah Kennedy: Uh-huh.
Sarah was too distracted holding a clip in her mouth as she did up her hair. Tracy walked over, excited for some reason or another.
Tracy: And?
No response.
Tracy: Jesus, Sarah, for an interviewer I can hardly get you to talk!
Sarah Kennedy: No, I’m not. Look, what can I do for you, Tracy?
Tracy: I’m just pissed is all.
Sarah Kennedy: (sighs) Look, I chose not to tell you because it wasn’t a big deal, alright.
Tracy holds up her arms in defeat.
Tracy: No, not at you. At Aimz and Mikey and everybody, didn’t you see what happened to Michael…?
Sarah Kennedy: Can’t say I blame ‘em for their actions…
Tracy is sort of shocked by Sarah’s comment, but understands where her friend is coming from as from the get-go, Sarah’s never really liked Michael, and not many have.
Tracy: You’re not at all interested in my thoughts about my boyfriend, are you?
Sarah Kennedy: To be frank, no. He freaks the hell out of me and you know I don’t like him.
Tracy: Alright! I guess I shouldn’t ask if you’d be my maid of honour, huh!
Tracy smiled but the reproach from Sarah was an unexpected one. Sarah looked toward her friend with saddened eyes. She didn’t think Tracy would already be talking of marriage, she remembered her previous words – ‘take things slow’.
Sarah Kennedy: Are you joking?
Sarah asked with confusion.
Sarah Kennedy: I – eh – don’t know what to say…
Tracy: Could say yes…
Tracy replied and gently nudged her friends arm out of sort of plea, but Sarah’s humour wasn’t lifting with the honour. Sarah looked toward Tracy, her smile lighting her pale skin and lavish eyes. I can’t… Sarah thought and realised she couldn’t hurt Tracy like that.
Sarah’s mobile ring and her heart jumps with a fright, gripping her mobile she flips the lid and answers with a high pitched tone, completely unaware of her own nerves.
Front desk receptionist: Ms. Kennedy, the taxi has arrived for you.
Sarah Kennedy: Thanks, I’ll be right there.
Sarah shuts her phone, gripping her suitcase by its pull handle; she stands it onto its wheels and goes to the door, not offering Tracy an answer. Tracy eyes flash pain and hurt as she watches her friend scurry to the door.
Tracy: Sarah please, I know how you feel, but I have no one else to ask. My family refuses to come to my wedding; I want to have at least one person happy for me.
How can I be happy for you, when I know the awful things in store for you? Sarah thought, looking toward her friend, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.
Sarah Kennedy: Okay Tracy, I'll do it, just keep Michael in line, okay?
Tracy: Promise, oh thank you Sarah.
Sarah Kennedy: Don't mention it.
Sarah smiled and gripped her suitcase handle once more. Tracy had a smile across her face, her white cheeks aglow with happiness as she approached her friend.
Tracy: Enjoy your time away, okay!
Tracy winked and the two hugged as Sarah quickly ran out of the room, hoping the taxi had yet to leave.
Introduction
FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The AWC logo fills the screen, and then fades away to show a darkened arena. Abrupt fireworks on the stage, cheers, and then the lights suddenly flash bright with the grungy beginnings of “E-Pro” by Beck. The fans in the Scandinavium arena go mental, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of the first year of AWC. All the big spots are there: Hate tossing Pierce Lavelle off the bus in the Streets of London match; Jack Murphy’s flying Bull Charge on Tim Shipley in the Triangles structure; Chainz taking a dive through a glass window at Twilight of the Gods; and many more.
See me coming to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles will hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you’re aiming
Don’t forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you
The Transatlantic title belt fills the screen, momentarily fading through to a shot of Adam Dick, cocking his crowned head to one side as he flicks his eyes from side to side. And then it’s white light.
Dave Kern: WE’RE IN PRAGUE, BAYBEH!
Jeff Marx: Czechmate for AWC Fresh!
Steven Smith: (sternly) Are the lame jokes done?
Dave and Jeff stop and nod solemnly.
Steven Smith: Good. Now without further ado, I will introduce the show. First, we will see Garbage Bag Johnny versus AgentDash. If AgentDash wins, he will face Adam Dick next week for the Transatlantic title. Then, we will see Mr. Marshall versus “The Violence” Vince Jones. Then, we will see “Exceptional” Dave Hurst versus Relentless champion Red Rock in a non-title encounter. Then, we will see a handicap match; Adam Dick versus The Furious Fists Of God, which features a special guest referee to be announced later. Then, we will see a Three Way Fury Duo Tag match; Kip Brown and Teresa Tomas versus Captain Suleimon and Victor Cage versus Pleasure And Pain; the winners will face Celestial Fury next week for the Alliance titles. Then the main event is Ellis Nash versus Aimz in a No Escape match; this match is for the Frontier title.
Pause.
Steven Smith: Well?
Dave Kern: You… absolutely…
Jeff Marx: SUCK!
Dave Kern: You even no-sold the guest referee! Folks, our most humble apologies for the late start time.
Jeff Marx: (checking his wrist) Yup… we’re now 37 minutes into our slot.
Dave Kern: Unfortunately the arena here in Prague suffered some lighting failures and we’ve only just been able to get this show on the road. Because AWC broadcasts live in a dozen different countries, there’s no way we can run over our time slot; we’re having to bring you a slightly shortened Fresh! this week, with that in mind. We’re offering you up a free new game on the AWC website to make it up to you---
Jeff Marx: Undress Ellis Nash!
Steven Smith: Undress Kip Brown!
Dave Kern: Not a chance, guys. Not a chance.
Garbage Bag Johnny vs AgentDash
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Dave Kern: All right, everybody, we kick things off with a Claim To The Throne match. Garbage Bag Johnny, our 2006 Zero 2 Hero winner, takes on AgentDash. Ever since coming to the Atlantic Wrestling Club, GBJ has been on a roll! He’s undefeated in AWC with seven straight wins and now he’s taking on a tough competitor in AgentDash!
Jeff Marx: Garbage Bag Johnny’s roll will come to an end tonight! I talked to AgentDash earlier in the evening and he told me he’s enraged about this match he’s been put into this evening. This kind of mockery will only drive him to destroy GBJ in the middle of the ring!
Dave Kern: ...We must assume that Jeff is kidding. Folks, to the ring!
James Brunt: The following is a Claim To The Throne match...
“Thrice” by Music Box starts to play as Cedric Riley, A.K.A. AgentDash, walks down to the ring. The look on his face tells everyone that he isn’t looking forward to this match up against the Hero of 2006.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Berkeley, California, weighing in at 190 pounds... AGENTDASH!
AgentDash rolls into the ring and goes to his respective corner, waiting for his opponent.
Dave Kern: AgentDash doesn’t look too happy to be in the ring tonight.
Jeff Marx: Because this asshole is going to get the crap beaten out of... his ass.
Steven Smith: I like assholes... nice, tight assholes...
Jeff Marx: ...I’m simply not going to comment on that. Need to watch my blood pressure.
Dave Kern: You need to watch more than that, Jeff my boy.
Jeff Marx: Shut up, Kern!
James Brunt: His opponent...
“Garbage Bag Johnny Will Win Zero 2 Hero” by Garbage Bag Johnny and Primus starts to play as the 2006 Zero 2 Hero winner walks out onto the stage, as the Czech fans cheer for GBJ.
James Brunt: From Urbana, Illinois, weighing 219 pounds, he is the Hero of 2006... GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!
Dave Kern: Listen to his ovation from the Prague fans, ladies and gentlemen! Garbage Bag Johnny is a worldwide phenomenon!
Jeff Marx: Exaggeration isn’t your strong suit, Kern.
Steven Smith: Oh what are you talking about, you silly goose? Garbage Bag Johnny is a worldwide phenomenon! He just needs a bit of a wash, that’s all...
Jeff Marx: Isn’t his music a little outdated?
Before Garbage Bag Johnny enters the ring, Cedric Riley, also known as AgentDash, also known as Charles Kensrue, also known as Sean Aspinall, charges at the 2006 Zero 2 Hero winner and knocks him off the ring apron with a forearm shot. Referee Aaron Davies calls for the bell as AgentDash exits the ring. He picks up GBJ and throws him shoulder first into the steel ring steps! “The Dirtiest Dude in AWC” clutches at his shoulder after flying into the steel ring steps. Cedric picks up GBJ, attempts to whip him into the ring post, but GBJ counters, sending Riley into the steel ring post! AgentDash bounces of the post and falls to the floor.
Dave Kern: AgentDash had the upper hand for a brief moment now Garbage Bag Johnny is in the driver’s seat, sending AgentDash into the steel ring post!
Garbage Bag Johnny walks over to AgentDash, picks him up and sends him into the ring. GBJ, the self-proclaimed “Dirtiest Dude in AWC,” slowly rolls into the ring and gets to a vertical base. AgentDash is on his feet before GBJ and throws a spinning back kick into GBJ’s stomach, then takes him down with a Guillotine Face Driver (or Rocker Dropper/Fame Asser to you trademark laymen). Dash goes for the first pin fall of the night...
ONE!
Easy kick out by Garbage Bag Johnny! “The Agent” gets to his feet, grabbing a handful of GBJ’s hair and sends him into the ropes. Dash jumps into the air for a Dropkick, but GBJ stops himself by holding onto the top ropes and watches Cedric Riley fall on his side. Still facing Dash, GBJ jumps onto the top rope, uses it as a springboard and executes a textbook Senton Bomb onto Dash! Now GBJ goes for the first cover of the match...
ONE!
TWO!
Kick out by Cedric “AgentDash” Riley.
Dave Kern: Nice Springboard Senton Bomb by the Zero 2 Hero II winner, Garbage Bag Johnny, but it isn’t enough to put AgentDash away!
Jeff Marx: Really? I almost thought... never mind.
Steven Smith: My Johnny can beat me with a Senton Bomb any day!
Garbage Bag Johnny, winner of Zero 2 Hero, gets to his feet and picks up Cedric Riley. He whips AgentDash into the ropes and attempts a Hurricanrana, but Dash catches GBJ in midair and drives GBJ into the mat with a Sit-out Power Bomb! The Prague fans jeer at Dash as he rolls backward from the Sit-out Power Bomb and gets to a vertical base. He turns around, springboards off the middle rope and administers an inside Asai Moon Sault! He connects with the maneuver and hooks the leg...
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
NO! Garbage Bag Johnny kicks out! Cedric Riley gets to his feet, goes for another inside Asai Moon Sault, but GBJ draws his knees up! AgentDash falls onto the mat, clutching his stomach. The Zero 2 Hero II winner kips up to his feet and gets AgentDash to a vertical base. He kicks AgentDash in the gut and sets him over his shoulder. Next he positions Dash’s underneath the crook of GBJ’s left arm and drops down, delivering the Upside Down Trash Compactor! (Mountain Bomb.)
Dave Kern: Upside Down Trash Compactor by Garbage Bag Johnny! He just drilled AgentDash’s head into the mat! He’s going for the cover... One! Two! Three! NO! AgentDash got the shoulder up!
Jeff Marx: Whew! What a close call! AgentDash really stands a chance now...
Garbage Bag Johnny picks up AgentDash, kicks him in the gut, hoists him over his shoulders and drops him with the Tragically Hipbuster! But GBJ isn’t done yet! He goes to the upper left-hand corner, climbs to the top turnbuckle and launches into the air with a Dumpster Dive Five Star Frog Splash, pressing all of his 219 pounds on top of AgentDash! After the Dumpster Dive, you think he’d be done, but he isn’t! GBJ gets to his feet, walks over to Dash’s legs, picks him up, turns Dash over and buries a knee into the small of Dash’s back, while elevating Dash’s legs for an Elevated Boston Crab!
Dave Kern: D.C. Crab by Garbage Bag Johnny! He normally does a single leg version, but he has both legs secure in the submission hold!
Jeff Marx: AgentDash needs to hang on in order to continue in this match! But the way he’s being bent, I doubt he won’t last long!
Steven Smith: AgentDash is tapping out!
Steven Smith is right! Cedric the Entertainer - er, Cedric Riley, sorry - is tapping out to the D.C. Crab! Referee Aaron Davies calls for the bell and Garbage Bag Johnny relinquishes the submission maneuver. GBJ’s theme hits as ring announcer James Brunt announces the winner...
James Brunt: The winner... GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!
Dave Kern: What a way to open up the evening with a fast paced match between two cruiserweights! Garbage Bag Johnny has beaten AgentDash and his undefeated streak continues! No title shot for AgentDash!
Jeff Marx: Meh, that match was mediocre at best. I was hoping for at least some form of contest, but AgentDash couldn’t match up to Garbage’s power. Adam Dick hands onto the belt! Haha! Everything’s going according to plan...
Dave Kern: Folks, we got more action. Hopefully we’ll see something that’ll keep Jeff’s interest. We’ll be right back!
Trouble At The Top
FEATURING: SAM NEWMAN, EXECUTIVE SLIMEBALL, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Backstage, Sam Newman, AWC majority shareholder until Dr. Kasidy Drake came into the game, is, sombre-suited, talking with an Executive Slimeball.
Sam Newman: So what are you saying? Dr. Drake no-showed again?
The Executive Slimeball smilesbutdoesn’t, apologeticallybutnot.
Executive Slimeball: Kasidy Drake is a very busy man, Sammy my boy!
Newman visibly stiffens, but lets the Slimeball continue.
Executive Slimeball: This isn’t some minor-league hitter who’s stepping out to bat for you... Drakewerx Pharmaceuticals is one of the biggest companies in the world. He can’t just drop everything for this little operation you’ve got going on here!
ES looks pointedly, disdainfully, at the peeling paint on the walls of Prague’s flagship T-Mobil Arena.
Sam Newman: He can’t honour his commitments?
Executive Slimeball: In the industry Kasidy works in, he –
Sam Newman: Oh, never mind. But just tell him this: people want to know. The fans want to know, the employees want to know. I want to know – I'm stuck in limbo here; my shares are gone but I still find myself responsible for this firm.
Slimeball shoves a hand along the top of his slicked-back hair, just in case a single follicle has misaligned.
Executive Slimeball: Know what, I'm sorry, Sambo?
Sam Newman: Know what he’s going to do. His plans for moving forward, this whole action-plan to save the economics of it all... we’ve heard a lot of talk; now we’ve got to see Dr. Drake for real!
Executive Slimeball: I’ll see what I can do.
You know he won’t.
Executive Slimeball: (sneering) Now shall we continue with our... ah... tour?
Backtrack fifty yards, and David “Pearl” Harber is just turning into the corridor. He spots Newman and hurries over.
Sam Newman: Certainly, if you’ll just---
Pearl: Sam! I need a word!
Newman turns around with a touch of irritation.
Sam Newman: Save it, David; can’t you see I'm with an important guest?
Pearl: I just needed to tell you something imp---
Sam Newman: (frowning) I already know what you’re going to say, and a response is sitting in your inbox. It’d be nice if you actually checked your email from time to time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am conducting a tour!
Pearl: But---
Newman brushes him off, portraying a surprisingly angry demeanour against Pearl, and strides away with the Slimeball, leaving Harber in their slipstream.
Pearl: (to himself) What the hell is he talking about?
Pilfering Something Precious
FEATURING: TRACY STANTON, ZSASZ, PSYMON
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.
We cut to the backstage area, where everything is running smoothly. All the facets of an AWC show are present; random crew members, a wrestler here and there, Maddy Estelle itching her cookie, etc.
Suddenly Tracy walks across frame, immediately taking the camera crew with her. She’s looking quite lavish, decked out in a slinky black dress that shows off her wonderful curves; her blonde hair hanging elegantly about her shoulders. She’s wearing high heels and a fair amount of jewelry, obviously some reconciliation presents from Chainz. Out from behind a corner, Mikey O’Reilly’s manager Zsasz appears with a smile on his face as Tracy comes a tits length from bumping into him.
Tracy Stanton: Hey watch it, I almost ran into you.
Zsasz: I wouldn’t say that you would’ve ran into me, my dear Tracy. Besides, that porn star chest of yours would made an exceptional airbag.
Tracy crosses her arms across her chest as she looks up at the massive man in front of her, showing no fear. Maybe it’s because she knows what Chainz did to Zsasz the last time he had tried anything.
Tracy Stanton: Look, I’m actually in a hurry.
Zsasz: Not to worry, Tracy, I won’t take up too much of your precious time.
Tracy Stanton: How bout none of my time, I don’t wanna have anything to do with you.
Tracy tried to walk by Zsasz, but the giant freak moved to the side to block her path.
Tracy Stanton: Umm, excuse me.
She tried again to no avail.
Zsasz: I’m afraid, Miss Stanton, that I’m going to have to detain you momentarily.
Tracy’s beautiful face suddenly twisted into a look of worry knowing full well that Zsasz could be capable of anything.
Tracy Stanton: You touch me and I’ll make sure Michael hears about it.
Zsasz: If you think I should quake with fear, I won’t. Sloan may have gotten the best of me last time, but I have his psychology perfected to a science. So tell him anything you like, it’ll all be futile in the end. Besides, I’ve figured out his key weakness.
Tracy was nervous now; she saw a sick glint in Zsasz’s eyes that she had seen before in the eyes of her lover.
Tracy Stanton: And what’s that?
Zsasz: I’m looking right at her.
Zsasz reached out and grabbed Tracy by the arm, squeezing it and holding her in place.
Tracy Stanton: Ouch, that hurts, let me go!
Tracy began slapping the beast in the fact, using her nails to try and scratch him as best as possible. She somehow managed to loosen from the grip of the villain and turned to run, but she ran face first into another animal, Psymon.
Psymon: Where do you think you’re going, Ms. Porn Star?
Psymon grabbed her by the arm and picked her up, all 110 pounds of her. He reared back as to throw a punch.
Zsasz: There will be no need for that senseless violence, Simon. Take her and let’s make haste.
Tracy opened her eyes not fearing the punch anymore. Psymon seemed disheartened as he had really anticipated ruining Tracy’s good looks.
Instead, Psymon reached behind him and pulled out a rag. The rag looked wet and as he placed it to the blonde’s mouth, it became evident that it was soaked in chloroform. Tracy struggled a bit, but it was like a tiny mouse struggling in the grips of a hawk. She was unconscious quickly and slumped to the ground. Psymon held her up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her like a prize he had won at a carnival.
Zsasz: Take her to the basement. I’ll be down momentarily. Make haste, young Simon.
Following orders, Psymon carries Tracy Stanton’s unconscious body and takes her to Zsasz’s destination. Zsasz watches on, smiling sadistically and covers all this tracks before he away.
Mr. Marshall vs Vince Jones
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: MATT
We’re brought back to ringside to see Mr. Marshall already on guard in the ring, because he’s too cool for entrance music and I can’t be bothered to make one up.
Dave Kern: And we’re back! with Mr. Marshall awaiting his opponent, Vince Jones, in what should be a very interesting duel for dominance.
Pause.
Jeff Marx: Are you kidding me?
Pause.
Dave Kern: …Oh, to hell with it. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m positively certain that this will be the most boring AWC match to ever be broadcasted.
Jeff Marx: And… thank you.
Dave Kern: You’re welcome.
Jeff Marx: Shut up.
The lights in the arena dim and a small fog begins to rise lining the rampway leading down to the ring. All of a sudden a loud, booming, demon- like voice bellows out the message...
"PREPARE TO ENTER MY HELL, MY REALM, AND MY GAME..."
...as the words flash up on the screen in pulsing red letters. The message quickly fades away and the voice bellows out the message...
"...ENTER THE VIOLENCE"
Those words appear embossed by flames. All of a sudden a loud gunshot rings out through the arena. The opening chords of 'Thug Luv' begin to play as the oh so familiar voice of 2Pac is heard throughout the arena…
Fool, we doin' this shit from Cleveland to L.A.
Whatever you bitches want. We bringin' it!
Thug luv, bitch! What time is it?
Yo, I don't give a fuck where you lay at, fool!
It's time to slay these Bitch-ass killas
They ain't even knowin' what type of thugs we is. Where my thugs at?
The sound of a cocking of a gun, followed by gunshot repeated throughout is heard ringing out in the arena.
Bone thugs-n-harmony
I know you fools been waitin' for this shit for a long time
Well, here it is! Here it is!
What you gonna do with it?
"The Violence" Vince Jones emerges from the entrance and makes his way to the edge of the rampway with a black baseball bat in hand followed by the lovely Jasmine. He stops and raises the baseball bat in the air and flashes the hand sign of his old gang from New York as red pyro explodes behind him.
Jeff Marx: Werd.
Jones slowly makes his way down ringside, oblivious to the flickering camera flashes and the hatred of the crowd.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring... from New York City, New York, weighing in at 269 pounds..... “THE VIOLENCE” VINCE JONES!
Vince slides into the ring, ignoring Mr. Marshall's glare.
Dave Kern: Mr. Marshall shooting lasers in Vince Jones’ direction!
Steven Smith: Strangely, this is doing nothing for me… hurry, someone slap the gay back into me!
Simultaneously and gladly, Dave and Jeff smack each side of Steve’s head, causing Steve to first wail like a little bitch and, then, scream his rhetorical-statement intentions. Meanwhile, Vince Jones has ascended a turnbuckle and is staring at the Prague audience as if he's in a trance, drawing in energy from the hatred the crowd is happily expelling.
Steven Smith: RHE-TOR-IC!
In the ring, Vince Jones finally awakens from his trance. He points the baseball bat out at the members of the crowd and it above his head, once more flashing the hand sign of his gang.
Steven Smith: RHE-TOR-I --
Dave and Jeff smack him again.
Steven Smith: OW!!!!
Vince descends the turnbuckles and drops his baseball bat. It rolls to the corner of the ring, coming to a stop beneath the bottom rope. The Violence points at Mr. Marshall and begins the customary bad-boy before-match trash-talk, while James Brunt takes his leave from the ring.
Steven Smith: I’m suing.
Jeff Marx: Pft, like I’d want that hideous pink Beetle in return? Please.
Steven Smith: It’s lavender!
Mr. Marshall ignores Jones’ arrogance, knuckling his nose as the two circle around the ring, sizing each other. They complete a one-eighty before Vince loses his patience and runs in towards Mr. Marshall; Mr. Marshall seizes the advantage with a drop-toe hold, sending Vince face first into the mat.
Jeff Marx: It’s gay.
Steven Smith: I know you are, but what am I?
Jeff Marx: Gay?
Steven Smith: Well. Yes.
Dave Kern: And we’re underway!
Marshall backs up as Vince scampers to his feet and this time, it’s Mr. Marshall who’s grinning. Vince snarls in return and they begin another circle-‘round-the-ring game. After a few seconds, the two finally lock up in the center of the ring. Jones, a few inches taller than Marshall, leverages the lock to his advantage – he pushes Marshall all the way back into the turnbuckle and follows through with three fists to the face. He’s about to go for a fourth, but referee Richie Travis informs/barks at him of the no closed-fist rule. Jones relents, holding his hands up, and backs off; but not before the New York City badass can greet Mr. Marshall’s nose with one more closed-fist.
Dave Kern: And Vince Jones indulging in complete disrespect for referee Richie Travis and Mr. Marshall!
Jeff Marx: (cheerfully) And Dave Kern indulging in complete loserdom!
Dave Kern: …What did you just say?
Jeff Marx: You heard me, loser.
Dave Kern: You little –
Steven Smith: I LOVE MEN tildeexclamationpoint! (ban that!)
Jones grabs a hold of Mr. Marshall’s palm, grasps it, and sends him into the opposite turnbuckle. Jones is right on Mr. Marshall’s feet and collides into the Chicago native with a body splash, sending Mr. Marshall crumbling to the mat. Jones then beats Mr. Marshall further with boots to the chest before grabbing a hold of the back of Mr. Marshall’s head and sending a rising knee right under his chin.
Dave Kern: Vince Jones on top of Mr. Marshall early on in the match! Things already aren’t boding too well for Mr. Marshall.
Jeff Marx: Oh, pity.
Jones grabs a handful of hair and pulls Mr. Marshall up to his feet. Mr. Marshall slumps against the turnbuckles. Jones raises an arm and signals to a crowd before unleashing a resounding knife-edged chop against Mr. Marshall's chest, causing the crowd to jeer in response. Mr. Marshall clutches at his chest, stumbling from the corner and chest-first into the ropes. Jones capitalizes, spinning Mr. Marshall around by his forearm, winds back and lays a sharp closed-fist right into Mr. Marshall’s cheek, causing Mr. Marshall to stumble over the top rope and fall to the mat outside!
Dave Kern: Another closed-fist!
Jeff Marx: That’s right, Vince! Now get on top of that loser babyface and pummel him straight into the ground!
Richie Travis begins the count-out while Vince backs from the ropes and proceeds to taunt the crowd.
ONE!
TWO!
Mr. Marshall gets to his knees.
Steven Smith: Hmm. He’s kind of fat.
THREE!
Jeff Marx: Does this match even matter? Someone just schoolboy someone already!
FOUR!
Mr. Marshall is now climbing onto the apron. Jones, showcasing his nearly childish impatience once more, paces over to the ropes and grabs Mr. Marshall by his hair, pulling him up to his feet. Mr. Marshall retaliates with his forearm, and then two more, causing Jones to lose his grip and stumble backwards, clutching at his nose.
Dave Kern: Looks like Mr. Marshall is finally getting in some offense!
Jeff Marx: Stop pretending like anyone cares.
Jones, intent on returning the favor, turns around only to be met with a Revolving Spinebuster from Mr. Marshall! YOWZA! Mr. Marshall hooks a leg, and Richie Travis drops to the mat for the first time.
ONE!
TWO!
Nope. Unfortunately, Jones kicks out before the three count is completed. God damnit.
Jeff Marx: GOD DAMN IT.
Mr. Marshall pulls Jones up to his feet, hooks an arm and a leg, and hits a textbook Capture Suplex. He hooks a leg again.
ONE!
TWO!
Ehhh. Wrong again.
Mr. Marshall smacks the mat in frustration before climbing to his feet, pulling Mr. Jones with him. Mr. Marshall irish whips Mr. Jones into the ropes. Mr. Jones comes bouncing back. Mr. Marshall tries for a clothesline, but smartypants Mr. Jones ducks Mr. Marshall’s arm and, utilizing the momentum, hits a Shoulder Neck Breaker! Jones scrambles for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Nope.
Jeff Marx: (facepalm)
Dave Kern: This is actually turning out to be a relatively fast-paced match. Control continues to change between the two.
Steven Smith: Not even my usually-fantastic homosexual commentary could bring this match up from the depths of ultimate suckitude, Dave. Stop while you can.
Dave Kern: (sighz, because everything cool ends with a Z nowadays)
Mr. Marshall and Mistuh Jones both move to their feet, albeit Mistuh Jones is a wee bit faster because he like, just didn’t get hit with a Shoulder Neck Breaker and stuff. Mistuh Jones tackles Mr. Marshall down by the legs, mounts him, and rains down punches. Then he gets bored, gets up, and totally T-Bone Suplex’s Mr. Marshall’s ass. Jones with another pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THR--NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Jeff Marx: DOES GOD HAVE NO HEART.
Jones gets to his knees, shrieking at Richie Travis.
Vince Jones: WUTDAHELL MANG, DAT WUZ TOTALLY A 3 COUNT, YA STUPID MOFUG I’LL CUT YO BITCHASS TILL YOUS A --
Mr. Marshall school boys Jones!
ONE! TWO! Nope. Jones kicks out. And now, Jones is infuriated. Uh oh.
The two men are both up to their feet but Jones is the first one to claim offense, punching at Mr. Marshall left and right. After the sixth, Mr. Marshall is up to his feet -- and just like that he’s down again, because Jones is all up in his bidnas with a clothesline. Mr. Marshall tries again; clothesline. Again; clothesline. Again; well, you get where I’m going. After the fourth clothesline, Mr. Marshall stumbles to his feet -- Vince is immediately on him with a kick to the gut and a Cradle DDT! On the outside, Jasmine claps for her honey.
Jeff Marx: Okay. That’s good. NOW PIN HIM.
Vince ignores Marx’s advice and instead, preys on Mr. Marshall. Mr. Marshall, oblivious, staggers to his feet once again. He turns around, and is met with a Dragon Screw legwhip!
Dave Kern: And nice offensive tactics by Jones! He’s on fire! Jones with the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT?
KICKOUT!
Jones is annoyed. That’s it! Here comes The Silencer!
He preys for the third time in the last two minutes, waiting for Mr. Marshall to find his feet. And find his feet Mr. Marshall does; from behind, Jones applies an inverted facelock, hooks Mr. Marshall’s wrestling tights and goes for The Silencer!
But gets nothing.
Because Mr. Marshall somehow slides from Vince’s loving arms, landing right behind him. High Angle Back Suplex!
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD!
Both Jones and Mr. Marshall lay on the mat, tired and beat. Richie Travis begins the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Mr. Marshall stirs.
FOUR!
Mr. Marshall gets to his knees, while Vince Jones stirs.
FIVE!
And Mr. Marshall is up! Richie ceases his counting as Mr. Marshall grab Jones by his arm and pulls him up. With a hold on Vince’s arm still, Mr. Marshall whips him into the ropes again. Jones comes back, and Alabama Slam by Mr. Marshall! The cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Wait a minute...
Jasmine is on the apron!
Jeff Marx: THAT STUPID BITCH!
Travis immediately breaks the count and heads over to Jasmine, yelling at her to get back down. Mr. Marshall, confused, stands up.
And that’s when Vince fists his nuts.
Steven Smith: Hehehe.
Mr. Marshall doubles over in testicular pain. Jones, of course, seizes the opportunity: inverted facelock, hook of the tights, a lift in the air, and The Silencer is hit just like that!
Jasmine, who’d previously been arguing and waving her arms around wildly like a black girl would, (I hope she’s black....) happily hops down from the apron after her boy-toy hits his finisher, holding her hands up towards Travis in surrender. Travis, shaking his heads, turns around to continue calling the action, only to find Vince now on top of Mr. Marshall (Steven Smith: Hehehehe.) with his leg hooked.
With a sigh, Travis drops to the mat and counts off.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING!!!!
Dave Kern: And Vince Jones with the win!
Jeff Marx: In a match of nobody gives a shit. God. Even that dumb Aimz promo last week was more entertaining than this.
Steven Smith: Shudder.
Dave Kern: I hate my job.
Your Grave
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
The scene starts out in brackets. I mean… erm, the scene starts out backstage with Liam and Tim Martin staring at a cut out of Adam Dick. The Dickster is standing there with a crown on and a cocky smile. Liam and Tim are shaking their heads at it.
Liam Martin: Disgusting.
Tim Martin: Pitiful.
Liam Martin: Grotesque.
Tim Martin: Horrible.
Liam Martin: …
Tim Martin: …
Liam Martin: Disgusting.
Tim Martin: Yes brother. And tonight, our prayers are answered. We’ve been preaching about a change in the AWC, and here is where it begins. Now, we show our dominance.
Liam Martin: King Dick? I spit on you. No, fuck that, I PISS on you!
The sound of a zipper is heard and then the sound of water hitting the card board cut out, except it’s, erm, not water. Tim ignores this and continues to preach.
Tim Martin: Tonight we will wrench the body of the Dick.
Liam Martin: Uhhh… I haven’t pissed ALL DAY…
Tim Martin: Tonight, the White Lord will look down upon us and SMILE with a gleam in his eye!
Liam Martin: Oh, MAN! WHAT A PISS!
Tim Martin: Tonight, we will…
Liam Martin: DAMN!
Tim Martin: CHRIST, BROTHER, WHAT THE FAG HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?! Do not get turned on, brother!
Liam Martin: No, brother! Agggh… I haven’t peed in about a day…
Tim Martin: But… but why?
Liam Martin: LORD I DO NOT KNOW, BUT EVERYTHING I HAVE DRANK IS COMING OUT RIGHT NOW!
Tim Martin: Jesus Christ, finish up already.
The sound of the piss hitting is heard a few more times while Tim stands there, looking everywhere but at Liam’s… you know.
Liam Martin: Ah… ah… done.
Tim Martin: Good… fuck, fuck, Christ, that is RANCID!
Liam Martin: Timothy, I told you, I haven’t peed in forever! MAN! THAT WAS GREAT!
Tim Martin: Christ, we can’t stay here, you fucker. Let’s go.
Liam Martin: Whatever, man.
The two brothers walk out and the camera goes down to see the cut out, now dripping in yellow piss. The scene ends.
Knight To E4
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, BUTCH RADDER, LXG, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHORS: JC AND PIERRE HYDE
Welcome to The Oyster, or as it’s likely more well known as, Pearl’s office. David Harber is, as usual, seated behind his desk and his fingers are angrily smacking against the keys of his keyboard. On the screen of the computer is some random error message that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to anyone and probably not even to the computer itself. But that’s neither here nor there, actually.
Pearl: So you want me to check my emails, huh, Newman? Well CHECK THIS!
Harber slaps the side of the monitor, which, of course, does absolutely nothing. He exhales heavily, reaches over and presses the button on his phone, contacting his secretary quickly.
Pearl: Get me a gun. Pronto. Bill Gates is going to die.
Before she can respond, he lets go of the button and leans back in his chair. Sighing and trying to calm himself down, he runs a hand through his hair and spins in the chair idly. Within the next moment, the door of his office opens up and through it steps good ol’ Butch Radder. He’s escorting a not so familiar face into the room by the shoulder.
Butch Radder: Hey Davey...
Harber whirls around in his chair, immediately raising an eyebrow at the newcomer.
Pearl: I hate it when you call me that.
Butch Radder: I know. S’why I do it.
Butch smirks some and shoves the guy forward.
Butch Radder: Caught this guy wandering around backstage. I don’t recognize his face, so I thought I’d bring him in.
Pearl: Thanks. Now go guard something. I’ll handle this.
Butch rolls his eyes some, before turning and heading out of the office. The door closes behind him, a bit harder than usual, but it leaves Pearl and the trespasser alone. Pearl stares across the desk at him, sizing him up a bit and wondering where to begin. The guy just stands there, arms crossed at the wrist and looking politely in Pearl’s direction. After all, he seemed to be the head honcho around here and getting on his bad side would probably not be a good thing.
Pearl: So. Either you’re here to sabotage my show or I’m being Punk’d. Which is it?
LXG: Punk’d, sir?
Pearl blinks and shakes his head.
Pearl: Never mind.
Pearl’s about to continue, but that’s when the computer decides to beep loudly in his ear and causes him to pay attention to it, once more. That error message has decided it wants more attention and it’s going to get it, by george or high water!!
Pearl: Argh! I am not in the mood for this!
LXG blinks a couple of times and furrows his brow. Without really any reason in place to not help this guy, he takes a step towards the desk.
LXG: May I?
LXG nods towards the computer. Pearl raises an eyebrow and scoots back from the desk, seemingly washing his hands of the whole ordeal.
Pearl: Be my guest.
LXG nods and leans onto the desk, turning the monitor a bit so that he can see. He frowns, but looks more contemplative than anything else. And that’s when he (with one hand!) gets to typing a couple of keys. Less than forty keystrokes later, the error message is gone and the computer seems to be in perfect working order.
LXG: There.
Pearl blinks. Then he blinks again. Scooting back up to the desk, he swivels the monitor back around and works the mouse a bit. He smiles as he can once again use his computer without it cursing him out.
Pearl: ...Whoever you are, kid, you’re a lifesaver.
LXG: Name’s Lincoln, sir. Lincoln Xavier Gabriel.
Pearl: Well Lincoln Xavier Gabriel, looks like you’ve got a real gift there. Got the whole magic touch thing going for you.
LXG: Thank you, sir. Glad I could help.
Pearl blinks, turning his attention to the computer screen again. Within moments he’s reading his new message. Within moments after that, he’s frowning at the message. And within even more moments after that... he’s clenching his hand around the mouse. This causes LXG to raise an eyebrow and he stealthy repositions himself behind the desk, and Harber, so that he can read the message too.
Pearl: Mother... grrrr. I don’t believe her, I really don’t...
At this point in his mumblings, Pearl realizes that LXG’s standing behind him and he turns in his chair.
Pearl: Excuse me?
LXG: Oh! Sorry, sir! I thought maybe the computer was on the fritz again.
Pearl: Uh-huh. Listen, buddy. Thanks for fixing it, but I’ve got a show to run. So, I think you should probably go now.
LXG: Okay.
Pearl watches as LXG steps around the desk and makes his way back towards the door. It’s not until he gets to the door, does he actually stop. He can’t help it. He honestly can’t. Something inside of him is telling him not to just walk out.
LXG: You know... I could help you with that.
Pearl blinks and looks up, shocked that this guy is still here. He could’ve sworn he just told him to leave. This is not boding well for being on his good side.
Pearl: What?
LXG: With Sasha. You seem to be having trouble. I can help you.
Pearl: Oh really? And you just happen to be some expert in dealing with power hungry women or something? Too much Oprah, pal.
LXG: No sir, but I am a “master” of chess. And what we have here is a classic offensive push from a Black Queen. What you need to do is protect yourself, the White King, with your Knights. That will leave you your Bishops and Pawns to mount a more effective defense against her attacks.
Pearl stares. For at least a minute.
Pearl: ...what?
LXG smiles some, before turning around and bringing himself back over to the desk. He falls down into the chair on his side and pulls it up to the desk. Leaning in, he once again tries to explain this to the bossman.
LXG: You see, from the way she’s acting, I can tell she’s an aggressive player. She went behind your back, yeah? And then notice the way she just tells you what’s going to happen. She doesn’t leave any room for discussion. That means she’s coming in fast and she’s coming in hard. It’s a classic pressure play. She’s trying to force you into playing her game. Personally, I’d strongly advise against it, because that will leave you wide open for her power plays.
Pearl blinks some, but nods. He’s starting to understand.
Pearl: And you’re suggesting I do what, then?
LXG: Nothing. Relax. Don’t make a move, unless you have to. The way she’s acting, she can only be seeing into the near future. She’s seeing a smaller picture, the immediate victory. She’s the type to snatch up pawns without looking across the board for your own strategy. Play it cool. Let her dig her own grave. She’ll run out of moves soon enough and that’s when you hit her with a move or two of your own. By that time, she’ll have left herself wide open and I guarantee you Check in less than four moves.
Pearl is, for lack of a better term, stone cold stunned. Everything he just heard actually seems to make sense. And this from some kid that hasn’t even been in his office more than ten minutes. It’s like a sign from God or something. Or better yet, just some really, really, good luck.
Pearl: What’s your name again?
LXG: Lincoln Xavier Gabriel, sir.
Pearl: Lincoln... Link. What do you do for a living? You in school or anything?
LXG: No sir, I’m too smart for school. I live with my friend, Meredith and her children, but I tend to spend the most of my time on the road.
Pearl smiles a somewhat mischievous smile. He’s got an idea.
Pearl: Is that so? Well... how would you like to become part of the AWC family?
LXG smiles a little bit, sitting up in his seat and looking interested.
LXG: Really? You’re... you’re offering me a job? Here?
Pearl smiles.
Pearl: That’s right. I could use someone like you around. Help me keep my head out of the clouds. And keep my computer from being thrown out the window.
They both chuckle a little bit at that.
LXG: Wow. Um, I don’t know what to say...
Pearl stands up, extending a hand.
Pearl: Say yes.
LXG looks at Pearl’s hand for a moment, contemplating this decision. It’s a wrestling federation. They travel all over the place. This could actually help him find someone that could help him with his own personal problem. Maybe find out who he really is. Find his real family. Finally, he stands and smiles, reaching out to shake Pearl’s hand.
LXG: I acce---
BAM! The door to Harber’s office opens up with the kind of overdramatic flair that comes part and parcel with Sasha Volkyeva.
Sasha Volkyeva: David! We’ve got a problem.
Pearl rolls his eyes, dropping his hand and looking at the woman. He gives her a “not now!” look, but doubts she’ll pick up on it...
Pearl: Sasha... what an unpleasant surprise. I’m in the middle of something, here...
Sasha Volkyeva: Yeah, yeah. Look. I’ve got a full card next week, but I’ve got doctors and trainers breathing down my neck. I’ve got to pull someone next week, but I don’t have a replacement. So you’re going to have to fix this. Okay? Okay. (coolly) Oh, and Sam tells me that you need to check your emails…
Pearl sighs. He really doesn’t have time to fix her problems – nor does he really have any desire to, whatsoever, after what he just read – as well as his own. So right now, he’ll just ignore what she’s talking about, for the most part and reluctantly introduce the new young man.
Pearl: Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But, Sasha, I’d like you to meet a new hire to the AWC family, Mr. Linc---
Cue the classic Sasha interruption.
Sasha Volkyeva: New hire?
Sasha’s eyes practically light up as she’s now willing to actually pay some attention to the young man that’s quietly listening in on this conversation. She turns to him, brushing some stray locks from her face and offers his hand a quick shake.
Sasha Volkyeva: Sasha Volkyeva, Head Entertainment Co-Manager of AWC. And you are?
LXG: Lincoln Xavier Gabriel, ma’am. Nice to meet you.
Sasha blinks at the manners that come from this new kid and she turns to Pearl.
Sasha Volkyeva: Respectful and cute? I like this one, David.
Pearl: I was afraid of that...
Sasha’s attention turns back to LXG at this point.
Sasha Volkyeva: You. You’re wrestling next week.
Pearl: Sasha!
LXG: I am?
Sasha Volkyeva: Mmhm.
Pearl: Sasha!
Annoyed as all hell, Sasha whips her head around to glare at Pearl.
Sasha Volkyeva: What?!
Pearl: What I’ve been trying to tell you, is that I’m not hiring him as a wrestler. He’s actually going to be my personal business advisor.
Sasha rolls her eyes, turning back to look LXG up and down.
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh, David, don’t be so selfish. Perhaps I could make him a... better... offer.
Pearl: But I...
Sasha smiles her devious smile and throws an arm around LXG’s shoulders, moving towards the door.
Sasha Volkyeva: Come Lincoln. Walk with me. Talk with me.
Before Pearl can actually mount some sort of verbal defense, Sasha has escorted the new guy out of the room. Harber frowns and sighs, slumping back down into his chair and he even growls in slight frustration for a moment. He leans up, reaching for the mouse and suddenly that same error message pops back up on his computer screen, causing it to beep loudly!
Needless to say, Harber is now furious.
Pearl: Son of a bitch!
Plea-Bag Johnny And The Ref-inator
FEATURING: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY, NON-EXISTENT GENERIC REFEREES, DARCY CRISIS
AUTHORS NATE AND JOSH K.
Garbage Bag Johnny is wandering around the halls after his match with AgentDash earlier in the night. He probably still hasn’t taken the post-match shower that most wrestlers would normally use to cool down. Instead, Garbage Bag Johnny is reading some crudely drawn treasure map scribbled on a napkin. He counts a series of doors before coming to an unmarked door with stripes on it. It’s a curious door that Garbage Bag has never seen before: one that usually remains out of public view, only existing in oral tradition passed down in fable from one generation to the next. GBJ raps on the door, notices it’s open just a crack, and slowly peeks in.
GBJ: Hello?
He asks to no one in particular. Instead, Garbage Bag is amazed at what he sees. It’s the referee locker room, and all the referees are gathered there, wearing their uniforms. Perhaps they always wear their uniforms. And perhaps they never leave their den. Seeing a referee in a grocery store is like seeing one of your schoolteachers there. It’s weird, and it’s rare…like catching a glimpse of the Sasquach off in the forest on a long drive through wooded country.
Garbage Bag Johnny grabs the first referee he can by the shoulders.
GBJ: Excuse me, referee, but which one of you is refereeing the Adam Dick match tonight?
When GBJ lets go of the referee, the referee falls unconscious. The species known as referee is very susceptible to attack, falling comatose at the slightest touch for a period of time equivalent to the time it takes for a dirty wrestler to utilize an illegal weapon on his opponent. Knowing that the referee will come to, Garbage Bag Johnny grabs a folding chair and knocks a second referee unconscious, or perhaps dead, with it. The first referee wakes back up just as GBJ has put the chair back in place.
GBJ: I’m sorry I grabbed you earlier, but can you tell me which one of you is assigned to the match between Adam Dick and The Furious Fists Of God?
The referee kindly points to the back of the locker room where a man is putting the finishing touches on his refereeing gear. There’s something odd about this man. He’s much larger than a normal referee, and he looks to be in tremendous shape… almost as if he was some sort of super referee. GBJ walks up to him, and although it isn’t apparent to the constantly hazed Garbage Bag Johnny at the time, the man in referee gear is none other than Darcy Crisis.
Darcy Crisis: Somethin' I can help you with, champ?
GBJ: Yes, referee. I heard you’re officiating the match between Adam Dick and the Furious Fists of God later tonight. Anyway, I was talking things over with Adam, and we decided that a handicap match is kind of unfair, so to even things up, I was wondering if you would allow me to be Mr. Dick’s tag team partner. By the way, you look really familiar.
Darcy Crisis: Yes, I believe we've met on several occasions. Anyway... Mr. Harber DID anoint me the special guest referee for King Dick's match, giving me the power to call the match as I see fit. So let me give it a little bit of th- NO! Of course not! This match is DESIGNED to be unfair, as to punish your little buddy. And as long as Dick's getting the, *ahem* ...shaft, I figure I'll get in while the gettin's good and show him that when he screws Aimz, he screws Darcy Crisis. And it's generally a bad idea to do that.
But by this time, Garbage Bag Johnny is already talking to another referee, whom he has mistaken for Darcy Crisis. Darcy clears his throat, and Garbage Bag turns to him again.
GBJ: Sorry, no offense, but all of you referees look the same to me… like Chinamen. So, uh, what did you just say? Not the whole thing - just a summary will do.
Darcy can't help but let out a chuckle, having an unfortunate weakness for racist jokes.
Darcy Crisis: The short version is no. You, nor anybody else, will be joining Adam Dick in his HANDICAP match. And if you don't mind my saying so, I don't think you should be conspiring with Mr. Facey. You're a good kid, albeit smelly kid, and he... well, he's not.
GBJ: Nah, he’s just got a bad rap, that’s all. Deep down, I think he’s a good guy… generous with the weed, and he doesn’t ever complain about my stench. It’s not my fault if I smell like dirty laundry drenched in spilt bong water… well, maybe it is my fault, but the point is, I just don’t see why you two can’t get along.
Darcy Crisis: Really. Well I can give you three reasons off the top of my head. Number one - he's an obnoxious prick. Number two - he's now clocked both me AND my girlfriend in our respective skulls with steel chairs, screwing Amy out of the Frontier title to boot. And number three - and this one's crucial - he's wearing something around his waist… well, head… that I want. So not only do I hate Adam Dick's guts... he's now pressured me to act on that hatred.
At that, Darcy covers his ear to more accurately hear the message radioed through his earpiece.
Darcy Crisis: Well, it looks like they're ready for me out there. So let me give you this last piece of advice, Johnny. "King" Dick screwed up majorly in getting my attention. And the last thing you want, Mr. Title Shot... is my attention.
Darcy Crisis leaves the referee locker room to get ready to officiate the upcoming match. Garbage Bag Johnny, however, in his perpetual haze does not notice. Instead, he turns to another referee, almost reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders, but backing off out of fear of injuring him.
GBJ: Come on, man. If you let me in the match, I’ll put in a good word for you with the King. Maybe he’ll even apologize for banging on your girlfriend with the chair.
Referee: Huh, Elvis had sex with my girlfriend?
GBJ: What?
Referee: Huh?
GBJ: So, do we have a deal?
Referee: Uh, I don’t know what you’re babbling about, but sure… if that’s what makes you happy.
Garbage Bag Johnny pumps a fist.
GBJ: Fresh! Thanks.
Garbage Bag then leaves the referee’s locker room, stepping over the still comatose referee that he clocked with a chair earlier.
"Exceptional" Dave Hurst vs Red Rock
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Dave Kern: This now could be a momentous step on the path of AWC’s future, as we see the debut match of onetime GTT finalist “Exceptional” Dave Hurst!
Jeff Marx: Oh Lord. How that joker ever reached the first round of a major tournament is beyond me… let alone the final…
Dave Kern: He defeated Angelo Deville along the way!
Jeff Marx: Couldn’t we have signed him instead? Get a little more bang for our buck, you know… The Deville would’ve torn through this job-heavy roster!
Dave Kern: Hurst hasn’t wrestled full time in years, but after he appeared on Fresh! last week, hired by Pearl to get rid of the duck infestation, there was such a positive fan reaction that AWC gave him a contract.
Steven Smith: He has a manager called Ducky. Ducky is a yellow plastic duck. I can, therefore, look down on him with pity.
Jeff Marx: Better that than you look up at him and spitty---
Dave Kern: I’m slightly dubious as to what caused the duck problem in the first place…
Jeff Marx: Hurst did, you moron! It was his foot in the door! Embarrassingly enough, it worked perfectly!
“The Piper Never Dies” by Edguy begins to play, and a combination of hardcore fans and duck enthusiasts (you can enthuse about anything in the Czech Republic) rise to their feet behind the mesh barriers to herald EDH’s first moments as an official AWC wrestler.
Dave Kern: Here comes EDH, and the fans are already loving it!
James Brunt: The following is a non-title singles match. Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Ducky, from Brighton, England, weighing in at 200 pounds… “EXCEPTIONAL” DAVE HURST!
Carrying Ducky in his caring hands, Hurst nods appreciatively at the fans before jogging the rest of the way down the ramp. He sits his manager down on the ring apron just next to the steel steps, then bounds up them and into the ring, throwing his arms high in a fan salute.
Jeff Marx: Would somebody let the men in white coats know their next appointment is here?
Steven Smith: That’s no way to talk about Dave Hurst! Have you seen what he does for those endangered ducks? He’s a treasure to society, a truly incredible man!
Jeff Marx: Incredible – yeah, I’ll believe that.
The 26-year-old adjusts the waistband of his trunks as he awaits his opponent. Reuben’s “Blame Thrower” rocks the house; Red Rock doesn’t get his proper entrance with lyrics and all that because Hyde can’t get school internet access on his laptop.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Aldershot, England, weighing in at 197 pounds… the AWC Relentless champion, RED ROCK!
Jogging solo down to the ring, Red Rock carefully places his title belt on one corner of the canvas, in precisely the manner that EDH used with Ducky.
Dave Kern: These two share many similarities – they’re English, they’re cruiserweights, they’re---
Jeff Marx: Goofballs.
Dave Kern: Well yeah. But their fighting styles differ somewhat. EDH prefers a technically-based game, while Red Rock relies on quick improvisation and below-the-belt brawling. Wait, I don’t literally mean---
Steven Smith: Mmm, below-the-belt brawling sounds just fine to me.
Dave Hurst and Red Rock share a jovial handshake before Selena Sumner calls for the opening bell.
DING! DING! DING!
Hurst backs up, bends forward, shifting his weight from toe to toe, his arms circling the air in front of him as he looks to apply an orthodox grapple with his opponent. Red Rock raises an eyebrow, and kicks him in the shin.
EDH: OUCH!
Hopping on one leg, Hurst looks daggers at Red Rock, who smiles apologetically and kicks the other leg. Hurst collapses to his knees.
Dave Kern: I don’t think that’s quite the start Dave Hurst envisioned…
Jeff Marx: He don’t know how we roll in AWC!
Steven Smith: And since when does Jeffy-kins show any commitment to his employer?!
Jeff Marx: (snarling) I’m still PCW at heart, gayboy.
The crowd are lapping it up, as Red Rock mockingly applies a sleeper hold. EDH pushes up onto his angry feet and wrenches Red Rock’s arm down, flipping him over his body in a judo throw. Red Rock lands on his back, and without letting the arm go EDH comes through into an armbar. Red Rock won’t let him apply it properly, shifting onto his side and lashing out, but he can’t shake off the 26-year-old, who now finds himself applying a hammerlock with both men lying on the canvas.
Steven Smith: Well that’s a bit forward of him!
Red Rock throws his head back, cracking his skull against Hurst’s forehead. He doesn’t quite get the hard-soft balance right, and both combatants groan as they roll away from each other seeing stars.
Jeff Marx: Unorthodox smash of heads… but hey, it got Red Rock out of the hold at least.
Dave Kern: I don’t think Red quite intended to give himself the same headache as his opponent!
And indeed, the GTT4 finalist is the first up; he’s immediately bringing Red Rock to his feet and then across his body in a fireman’s carry drop.
Dave Kern: Neat fireman’s carry by EDH.
Steven Smith: He can slide down my pole any day!
Dave Kern: Hurst got up a lot faster than Red Rock there after the clash of heads… perhaps something to do with Red Rock’s strenuous title defence last week; he’ll be feeling the after-effects of a match with Anton Assault, as anyone would, while Dave Hurst is fresh.
Hurst places his arm across the front of Red Rock’s neck from behind, before shovelling his upper body up with the use of his knee. The dragon-sleeper-cum-crossface detains Red Rock for just a few seconds before Red shunts back and throws his leg as high as he can, catching EDH high on the cheekbone. Hurst falls away, but Red Rock throws his hands to his groin.
Dave Kern: He’s pulled something!
Steven Smith: Yeah, an ugly girl, is what I heard.
Adamant on shaking it off, Red Rock gets immediately to his feet and hobbles across the ring towards the turnbuckle. He gingerly tries placing some more weight on his leg, but hesitates as Hurst gets to his feet. EDH motions for him to continue, backing away to the ropes.
Dave Kern: This is wonderful sportsmanship! “Exceptional” Dave Hurst permitting Red Rock to see to his injury while he backs off!
Red Rock gives Hurst a broad smile, tentatively flexing and bending his leg.
Steven Smith: Sportsmanship my dainty ass! Watch Ducky!
Ducky the plastic duck miraculously flies into the air and clocks Red Rock on the back of the head, instantly knocking the Relentless champion to the mat. Ducky moves impossibly back to his position and sits as innocently as a yellow plastic duck can sit. Dave Hurst sighs, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head at Ducky. Red Rock doesn’t move, incapacitated by the fierce blow. Selena Sumner blinks. And blinks again. And decides what she saw was indeed real.
Jeff Marx: Ducky just… Ducky just took out Red Rock!
Dave Kern: But… that’s impossible!
Jeff Marx: How did that stupid plastic thing move---
Dave Kern: I don’t believe it, Selena Sumner’s calling for the bell!
Jeff Marx: (simultaneously) The referee is bringing it to an end!
Steven Smith: Er… all I heard was bellend…
James Brunt: The winner by disqualification… RED ROCK!
Dave Kern: Well that’s not quite what any of us had in mind for Dave Hurst’s debut! His manager costs him the match! …Somehow!
EDH purses his lips and angrily strides over to Ducky as Red Rock begins to rouse himself and we cut elsewhere.
Duck Hunt I
FEATURING: GADGET, LXG
AUTHORS: JAMES JOHNSON AND JC
“Quack… Quack… Quack!”
“Those F**king ducks are getting on my last nerve!”
(Yep, apparently Hursty brought a few ducks again this time, but only James got the memo - Ed.)
A shuddering Gadget can be seen sat in his locker room, with his head in his hands, crying for sheer life as the sharp quack of the ducks finally sends Gadget insane. (We’ll assume he dumped the name “Sgt. Jacobs”, then - Ed.)
Gadget: Right, that’s it! Where is my bloody rifle? I’m going to bring it to you ducks like I brought it to those Iraqis in Vietnam.
Clearly delusional, Gadget forgets that he was not in the Vietnam war, and there were no Iraqis, and reaches for his hunting rifle, that he was going to use on some Crouts later, and starts to move stealthily into the corridor.
Gadget: There’s one!
Gadget's fierce eyes gaze upon a small brown duck that is waddling behind the fake fern tree that is perched in the corner of the corridor.
Gadget: (whispering) Let’s get him boys!
Gadget taps the stock of his gun, and… erm… stealthily dives behind the bench outside of his locker room, and tries to line up his shot.
Duck: Quack… quack… quackidy-quack.
The duck slowly waddles from behind the plant and farther up the corridor.
Gadget: He’s on the move!
Gadget cocks his gun, lines up his shot. And:
Bang!
Gadget misses the duck and puts a giant hole in the next locker room’s door.
Gadget: Oh crap!
The duck stops dead in its tracks, and stares at Gadget, mocking him with those small… evil… beady eyes, as if to say:
Duck: Ha, what a war hero you are, you got outsmarted by a duck. Shame on you.
And at that moment, LXG peers through his newly acquired peephole in his newly acquired locker room as part of his newly acquired role as a wrestler, and watches as Gadget arches his back, and high-tails it after the duck, that is merrily quacking down the corridor, purposely mocking Gadget.
LXG:…
LXG just stares at Gadget like he’s a fucking lunatic, and listens out for the failed gunshots and the cries of insanity from Gadget.
When Harry Met Harry
FEATURING: KIP BROWN, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: MATT
Note: The following segment took place an hour before Fresh!’s broadcast. For some peculiar reason, there was a camera around.
FILMED EARLIER, says the screen.
Then, we’re in the backstage area of Prague’s T-Mobil without an E arena. In front of us is an empty hallway, long and daunting and -- empty. That is, until one of the doors is nearly sent off of its hinges by everyone’s favorite buttmuncher, Mr. Steven Smith. Steve bounds from what we’ll assume is his dressing room – lavish with Pier One furniture and painted a shade of sensual hot pink – and begins sashaying the fifteen feet to the men’s restroom.
This is when, coincidentally, Kip Brown exits said men’s restroom.
Steven Smith: Kippy? Is that you?
The man in question automatically winces.
Kip Brown: Uh… hey, Steve.
AWC’s gayest announcer approaches/dances towards him, smiling his approval.
Steven Smith: You! are looking fabulous!
And a blink.
Kip Brown: Th-thanks?
Steven Smith: What a coincidence, running into each other like this! Next thing you know we’ll have an studio in Chelsea and I’ll be cooking you pancakes for breakfast!
Kip Brown: …What?
Steven Smith: And we’ll have a dog named Madonna and a cat named Cher and a monkey named Baby Luv!
Kip Brown: …Baby Luv?
Steven Smith: Look! We’re basically the same size! We could share each other’s closet!
Kip Brown: …But, you’re like, three inches tall –
Steven Smith: And I could cook you dinner and read you bedtime stories and fold your laundry and we can watch Best Week Ever and go on walks and hold hands and go shopping in Saks and –
Kip Brown: Steve!
Steven Smith: Hmmwhat?
Kip Brown: Stop it!
Steven Smith: Stop what?
Kip Brown: Just – everything, man! It’s too much!
Steven Smith: What.. what’s too much?
Kip Brown: Everything! This whole thing! It’s like you’re proposing to me or something! Just.. stop!
And with this, Kip ducks out of the way and continues to his own, non-gay dressing room. The camera shifts angles as Steve turns to watch his lover go, but not with sadness; rather, his eyes gleam with something… else.
Adam Dick vs The Furious Fists Of God
STIPULATION: HANDICAP
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Dave Kern: We are back with more Fresh! action here in the Czech Republic! Coming up next, the AWC Transatlantic champion, Adam Dick, takes on the recently returned duo of Liam and Tim Martin, the Furious Fists of God, in a Handicap match! Adam Dick really got himself into trouble with Pearl with his “champ can do what he likes” complex and this is his punishment.
Jeff Marx: Meh, King Dick is the man. He can defeat those Aryan wannabe assholes with both hands tied behind his back. He’s the king, he’s the champ and he’s a bigger God than those two put together!
Steven Smith: And he has “Dick” in his name, which makes him cool in my book! All hail King Dick!
Dave Kern: With that said, let’s go down to the ring! James Brunt, take it away!
James Brunt: The following is a Handicap match...
The arena goes dark. On the jumbo Tron, a face that is half Liam, half Tim Martin shows up, with the words “The Furious Fists of God” coming up in Bold Letters. Then, pyros burst at the top of the ramp as the song “Hallelujah” hits.
Hallelujahhhhhh...
Hallelujahhhhhh...
Out of the smoke and fire are Tim and Liam Martin, kneeling there in prayer. Above them video of the two executing moves against opponents are flashing by. Once they finish prayer, they walk down the ramp, side by side, to the ring. They climb in there and jump on the turnbuckles to a combination of church music and boos.
James Brunt: First from Boston, Massachusetts, at a combined weight of 607 pounds... Liam and Tim Martin... THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD!
Dave Kern: There they are, ladies and gentlemen, the former AWC Alliance champions, Liam and Tim Martin - the Furious Fists of God. They’re back in action and they only have one thing on their minds: regaining the Alliance titles...
Jeff Marx: And putting King Dick in his place, WHICH FUCKING WON’T HAPPEN, BITCHTITS!
Steven Smith: Ew, bitchtits... I don’t like tits. I like cock!
Jeff Marx: (with the utmost trepidation) Ugh...
James Brunt: Their opponent...
“Family Business” by the Fugees starts to play as Adam Dick steps onto the stage. The king is wearing a king’s cape that wrapped around his body and his crown. A few moments later, he opens up his cape, exposing his wrestling attire and the Transatlantic title belt around his waist. The fans jeer at the Transatlantic Champion as King Dick walks down to the ring.
James Brunt: From a castle somewhere in the United States, his weight is un-weighable; he is the Transatlantic champion and he… ugh… is your king... ADAM DICK!
Adam Dick enters the ring, removing his cape, crown and TA title and places them outside of the ring. He struts around the ring - walking like an Egyptian - his eyes locked on his opponents. Ignoring the repulsive champion, Liam and Tim Martin talk strategy.
Jeff Marx: King Dick is so awesome! Look at that smug strut, his obligatory superiority and he oozes cool! HE PWNS ALL!
Dave Kern: “Pwns,” Jeff? You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?
Jeff Marx: After calling commentary with the both of you for so long, I haven’t been of sound mind. I BLAME IT ON FAG-BOY!
Steven Smith: OH, SURE, BLAME IT ON THE GAY GUY!
Dave Kern: STOP WITH THE YELLING!
“Open Your Eyes” by the Guano Apes start to play as Darcy Crisis steps onto the stage, wearing a referee’s shirt and his signature baggy wrestling pants and boots. The fans are on their feet, cheering for Darcy, as he makes his way down to the ring to be the special guest referee.
James Brunt: And the special guest referee… DARCY CRISIS!
Dave Kern: Here comes Darcy Crisis to fulfill his refereeing duties for the evening!
Jeff Marx: Aw, hell! I thought Chainz killed her last week. Oh well, can’t always get what you want.
Steven Smith: Obviously you didn’t listen to the announcement of Darcy Crisis being the special guest referee earlier in the evening.
Jeff Marx: I like my selective deafness, thank you.
It appears that Liam Martin has decided to start the match against King Dick. Adam Dick is ready to lock up with the much larger opponent. Liam steps in to administer the collar-and-elbow tie-up, but Dick ducks underneath the attempt, motions a timeout and goes over to the ropes and stretches for a few moments, evidently stalling for time. Pretending to be warmed up, he is ready to lock up against the white-loving Aryan asshole. He gets his arms up, ready to lock up against Liam. They step in for the lockup, but King Dick ducks underneath it again! This time, the fans are jeering the Transatlantic champion, as he motions an agitated timeout sign, yelling obscenities at one half of the former Alliance Champions.
Dave Kern: Aw, c’mon, Dick! Quit your damn stalling and wrestle!
Jeff Marx: The King never stalls! You should be beheaded after such a slanderous remark! ARREST THIS HEATHEN!
Steven Smith: Yeah, arrest this heathen!
Dave Kern: STOP GAINING UP ON ME! GOD YOU BOTH FUCKING SUCK! I mean… oops…
Jeff Marx: DAVE!
Silence followed by snickering by Jeff Marx. Meanwhile, after yelling obscenities at Liam Martin, the King walks back to the ropes to stretch. Obviously he isn’t warmed up enough to combat the Furious Fist of God! (He’s stalling. We all know it.) Before Adam Dick made it to the ropes, Liam charges at the TA champion and Clothesline him in the back of the head. The fans cheer (CHEER?!) at the former one half Alliance champion Liam starts stomping a mud hole in the Illustrious Face-Eater’s ass, stomping the hell out of the King. Referee Darcy Crisis steps in and ends the onslaught before Liam literally kills the TA champion (which would benefit the AWC. Love ya, face fucker! :D).
Jeff Marx: Look! Darcy Crisis is doing her job as a referee! What a good job she’s doing!
Dave Kern: Is that sarcasm I sense, Marx?
Jeff Marx: Me? Sarcastic? NOOOOOOOOO. I’m never sarcastic, Dave. It’s all in your imagination.
Steven Smith: That was sarcasm right there, Jeffy-kins.
Jeff Marx: LIKE, OMIGOD, SOMEONE GIVE STEVEN SMITH A MEDAL! And don’t call me “Jeffy-kins” faggot!
Dave Kern: Can we focus on the match at hand please? And also maybe just remember that DARCY CRISIS IS MALE?
Adam Dick rolls out of the ring, throwing a king size temper tantrum. He starts kicking at the barricade, swearing at the Prague fans, who continue to jeer Dick’s childish attitude. After exhausting his temper, he collects himself and hops onto the ring apron, telling Darcy Crisis to order Liam Martin to back up. Before Crisis can fulfill the order, Liam walks toward the Illustrious Face-Eater, grabs him by the throat and throws him into the ring. A pop emanates from the fans as Facey is slammed on his back. Liam is about to pick up King Dick, but Dick counters with a Schoolboy Rollup! “D to the C” is slow to get into position...
ONE!
Easy kick-out by Liam Martin. Instead of arguing with Darcy Crisis, Adam Dick, the Transatlantic Champion, sets his attention on Liam, throwing forearm smashes into Liam’s face. Unbeknownst to the King, Tim Martin gets a blind tag in before Dick whips Liam into the ropes. Unfortunately for the Illustrious Face-Eater, Liam reverses the Irish Whip and sends the King into the ropes. Tim enters the ring, gets in position and waits. After rebounding off the ropes, Liam sends Dick into the air with a Back Body Drop, while Tim catches Dick in midair and attempts to drive Dick into the mat with a Power Bomb. Facey counters, throwing his weight backward and drills Tim’s head onto the mat with a Hurricanrana! Liam charges at the Transatlantic champion, but is tripped up by a Drop Toehold, throttling Liam on the middle rope. Facey gets to his feet, bounces off the top rope and jumps on the small of Tim’s back.
Jeff Marx: The King is showing off his awesomeness on the Furious Fists of God! Hurricanrana on Liam Martin and a Drop Toehold followed by a seated Senton on Tim Martin!
Steven Smith: ALL HAIL KING DICK, THE RICHARD GERE OF AWC!
Jeff Marx: I’m not touching that comment with a forklift.
Dave Kern: Agreed. Let’s move on.
Special guest referee, Darcy Crisis removes Liam Martin out of the ring while Adam Dick is showing everyone why he’s the king of AWC. With a grunt, he pulls Tim Martin’s 300-plus pound bulk off the middle ropes. He steps on the back of Tim’s knees, wrapping his ankles around Dick’s shins and slaps Tim’s sides. He grabs Tim’s arms, pulls back with a Mexican Surfboard and sits down, then locks in a Chin-lock, completing the Romero Chin-lock! Darcy Crisis watches on as the Illustrious Face-Eater cinches in the Chin-lock, and pulling back on the Mexican Surfboard.
Dave Kern: The Transatlantic Champion has that Romero Chin-lock cinched in tight, and pulling back on the Mexican Surfboard is inflicting more pain! If Dick pulls farther back, he’ll split Tim’s sternum!
Jeff Marx: KEEP PULLING BACK ON THAT SURFBOARD, KING DICK! KILL THE ARYAN!
Dave Kern: You’re beginning to vex me with your yelling.
Jeff Marx And you suck using big words!
Steven Smith: Mmm... sucking...
Adam Dick, the Illustrious Face-Eater, breaks the Romero Chin-lock, knowing that Darcy Crisis won’t ask Tim Martin if he wants to surrender or not. Facey slams Tim’s face into the mat and gets to his feet, looking over at Crisis. Surprisingly, he keeps his composure and looks down at Tim Martin, who has rolled forward and tagged in his brother, Liam Martin. Liam steps over the top rope, about to enter the ring. Before he enters the ring, Dick runs over and kicks the top rope, using the rope as a weapon to accentuate a low blow! Liam falls into the ring, holding his family jewels. The fans boo at the Transatlantic champion, as he showboats in the ring, telling everyone that he’s the king.
Jeff Marx: You tell ‘em, Dick! You are DA KING!
Pierre Hyde: Would you fucking STOP turning Jeff into an ass-kisser, Jeremy?!
Dave Kern: If it wasn’t for Adam Dick kicking the top rope, Liam would’ve flattened the Transatlantic Champion!
Steven Smith: I don’t think Adam Dick posing as a pizza wouldn’t be that flattering.
Adam Dick, the king of AWC, and your current AWC Transatlantic champion, picks up his larger opponent, kicks him in the gut and spikes Liam Martin’s head onto the mat with a textbook DDT! Dick kips up, does more showboating and fuels up on the Prague fan’s jeering. Tim Martin enters the ring and chases after the Transatlantic champion. The Illustrious Face-Eater damn near shits himself (not to mention lets out a high-pitched girly shriek) and runs away from the larger ill-tempered opponent. King Dick jumps onto the top rope, uses it as a springboard and does a backflip, evading the charging Martin brother. Tim stops at the ropes, looking for the TA Champion, blissfully unaware that Adam is behind him. Dick Dropkicks Tim out of the ring and onto the floor. Unbeknownst to Dick, Liam is on his feet, waiting for Dick to turn around.
Jeff Marx: TURN AROUND! LIAM MARTIN IS ON HIS FEET!
Dave Kern: Adam Dick dropkicked Tim Martin out of the ring and is putting on his verbal smack down on Tim! When Adam turns around, he’s gonna get decapitated by Liam Martin!
Steven Smith: And he does! What a beautiful backflip the king does after getting leveled by a Lariat!
Indeed it is, Steven Smith! After expressing how much he’s God among men, Adam Dick turns around to see a charging Liam Martin. The Illustrious Face-Eater doesn’t have enough time to evade Liam’s charging attack, and gets destroyed by a Running Lariat by the 6’6” 300-plus pound Aryan! Facey does a backflip to accentuate his sell and falls flat on his front, laying motionless on the mat. Seeing that his brother is incapacitated for the moment, it’s up to Liam to annihilate Adam Dick - with nigger-hating vengeance and white lord fury, I might add.
Liam Martin picks up the Transatlantic champion, Adam Dick, A.K.A. the Illustrious Face-Eater, A.K.A. King Dick, and also known as “That Royal Motherfucker Who Owns Your Soul,” and picks him up high over his head with a Gorilla Press Slam. Liam walks around in the ring for a few seconds, showing off his strength to everyone in the area. (Well, it doesn’t take much for a 300-plus pound man to press someone who weighs 200 pounds over his head.) Liam drops him across his knee gut first with a Gut Buster! The fans cheer (they’re cheering again!) for Liam as he picks up King Dick, grabbing the TA champ’s head with both of his hands. Then Liam throws Dick down has hard as he can, smashing Facey’s face into the mat.
Dave Kern: The Lord’s Anger by Liam Martin! He could’ve easily killed Adam Dick with such a impact maneuver!
Jeff Marx: King Dick isn’t moving! GET UP, DICK! SHOW EVERYONE WHY YOU ARE THE KING!
Pierre Hyde: IF JEREMY HAS JEFF CALL HIM KING DICK ONE MORE TIME I’M GOING TO SCREAM!!!
Liam Martin picks up Adam Dick, grabbing a handful of hair to add insult to injury. He kicks the Transatlantic Champion in the gut and sets him up for a Power Bomb. Liam then picks up the Illustrious Face-Eater for the Power Bomb, spins around and then executes a Sit-out Power Bomb, completing the Biblical Bomb! Special guest referee Darcy Crisis is in position, ready to count Dick’s shoulder to the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
Adam Dick quickly kicks out of the fast count administered by Darcy Crisis.
Jeff Marx WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! DARCY CRISIS IS TRYING TO SCREW ADAM DICK OUT OF THIS MATCH! THAT WAS THE FASTEST COUNT I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!
Dave Kern: Are you having fun making an ass out of yourself like “King Dick” does weekly?
Jeff Marx: SOMEONE SHOULD ARREST THIS HEATHEN FOR INSULTING THE GREAT MARX!
Dave Kern: Since when are you “The Great Marx”? Dude, deflate your ego and come back to planet Earth.
After delivering the Biblical Bomb on Adam Dick, Tim Martin climbs back into the ring, looking at his brother and then down at the fallen Transatlantic champion, grinning evilly. Liam Martin gets to his feet, picking up the Illustrious Face Eater while he’s at it and whips King Dick into the ropes. After bouncing off the ropes, Liam executes a Back Body Drop, sending the champion towards Tim. Tim catches Facey in midair and drills the Transatlantic champion into the mat with a thunderous Power Bomb! Darcy Crisis goes over to the corner, sits on the top turnbuckle and watches, as the Furious Fists of God dismantle the king of AWC.
Dave Kern: My God, what a backbreaking Power Bomb by Tim Martin, catching Adam Dick in midair after the Back Body Drop by Liam Martin!
Jeff Marx: AND DARCY CRISIS HAS THE AUDACITY TO SIT ON THE TURNBUCKLES AND WATCH KING DICK GET HIS ASS KICKED! SOMEONE THROW CRISIS’ ASS OUT OF THE RING AND GET A REAL REFEREE IN THE RING! THIS IS THE MOST HEINOUS THING I’VE HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF WATCHING! IT’S MADNESS I TELL YOU, MADNESS~!
Steven Smith: Gawd, you’re, like, such a windbag!
Dave Kern: My sentiments exactly, Steve.
Jeff Marx: SHUT UP YOU JOBQUEENS!
The Liam brothers stand over the motionless body of the Adam Dick, the so-called “king” of AWC. He doesn’t look like much of a king now, getting his ass handed to him by the Furious Fists of God, Liam and Tim Martin. Liam picks up the Illustrious Face-Eater, kicks him in the gut and sets him up for another Power Bomb! Liam picks up Facey for the Power Bomb, but Tim participates as well, taking Facey’s head and wraps his large arm around King Dick’s head, locking in an Inverted Headlock. At the same time, the Liam brothers drop at the same time: Liam executing a Sit-out Power Bomb while Tim delivers a Diving Inverted DDT! Dick is on the mat, twitching like a retard going through analeptic shock!
Dave Kern: What a tandem maneuver on the Transatlantic champion! Adam Dick is going to get destroyed by the former Alliance champions, and I’m loving each and every minute of it!
Jeff Marx: THIS IS A FUCKING TRAVESTY! ADAM DICK SHOULDN’T BE IN THE RING AGAINST THOSE TWO NIGGER-HATING ASSHOLES! DAVE HARBER IS TRYING TO SCREW---
Jeff Marx’s headset is cut off in mid sentence. The culprit: Steven Smith. Dave Kern starts to laugh, high-fiving his gay broadcast partner.
Dave Kern: Way to go, Steven Smith! You shut the loudmouth up---
Jeff Marx: I OUGHTA HAVE YOU BOTH FIRED!
Dave Kern: Oh well, easy come, easy go.
Liam and Tim Martin stand over the fallen Transatlantic champion, feeling rather high and mighty about themselves after planting Adam Dick with the Sit-out Power Bomb/Inverted DDT combo. Only a few seconds after that tandem move comes a commotion on the steel stage. Garbage Bag Johnny and Ellis Nash are leading out Zomby Knight.
Jeff Marx: HERE COMES THE CAVALRY! THE ROYAL COURT ARE HERE TO SAVE THE DAY!
Dave Kern: I still don’t understand the pairing of Garbage Bag Johnny and Adam Dick. GBJ is going to face Adam Dick at Coast To Coast in summer for the Transatlantic title. Why’s he joining forces with him?
Jeff Marx: BECAUSE GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY IS SMART ENOUGH TO JOIN FORCES WITH THE KING OF AWC!
Crisis has his back turned, not seeing the unlikely trio’s shamble to the ring. Zomby Knight slowly enters the ring and grabs Crisis by the neck from behind!
Dave Kern: Hey! Zomby Knight is choking Darcy Crisis!
Steven Smith: Get your filthy hands off him!
In no time at all Crisis is falling to the mat, his face purple as he slips into unconsciousness. GBJ and Nash leap into the ring and clean house, taking both Liam and Tim Martin and throwing them out of the ring.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD, ZOMBY KNIGHT KILLED DARCY!
Steven Smith: THAT DEAD BASTARD!
Jeff Marx: DON’T TRY TO IMITATE THE GREAT M---
Jeff Marx starts to cough and sputters.
Jeff Marx: (hoarse voice) Damn it... My voice is gone...
Dave Kern: YES! THERE IS A GOD!
Back to the ring. Zomby Knight gets on his prayer bones and starts gnawing on the back of Darcy Crisis’ head! Crisis is screaming in pain, trying to get away from the death grip of Zomby Knight, but to no avail.
Dave Kern: He’s out of control! Someone help Darcy!
Jeff Marx: There’s no ref to stop this, because he IS the referee! Brilliant!
Garbage Bag Johnny scrambles into the ring, desperately trying to pull away the zombie whose purpose has been served, but Zomby goes right back to Crisis and continues to attempt to nosh on “The Darcinator’s” head! Nash reaches under the ring and tosses something shiny to GBJ.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny is coming back with a... handsaw?! Is that a handsaw in his hand?!
Steven Smith: OH MY GOD! HE’S SAWING OFF ZOMBY KNIGHT’S ARM AT THE SHOULDER. I’M GONNA BE...
Steven Smith faints and falls out of his chair. Dave Kern watches on in horror - as does the rest of the Prague fans - as Garbage Bag Johnny takes the handsaw and starts sawing off Zomby Knight’s arm off at the shoulder.
Jeff Marx: Oh come on, you idiots, it doesn’t hurt him. He’s undead!
Zomby looks around nonchalantly as his right arm falls onto the mat. For good measure, GBJ starts beating Zomby over the head with his arm, adding insult to injury! Not to mention some humor!
Dave Kern: This has got to be the more bizarre, deranged match I’ve ever seen in my commentating career. This is the oddest match in AWC history!
Jeff Marx: Now come on Garbage Bag, you’re forgetting your purpose!
The Martins watch calmly from outside the ring, knowing Dick’s contingency plan has backfired, his out-of-control zombie going too far… far too far. Referee Lars Larsson runs down to the ring and orders everyone out of the ring - except for the participants in the scheduled match - and bars them from ringside.
Jeff Marx: Oh, ruin the fun! I give up on this match!
Frontier champion Ellis Nash throws a monstrous fit as Garbage Bag Johnny drags Zomby Knight - and his arm - out of the ring. Adam Dick’s cavalry exits ringside and back into the backstage area.
Dave Kern: Finally, sanity has been restored and we can continue with this match, and it looks like I’m doing solo work. With Steven Smith fainted and Jeff Marx sulking, I’ll give you all my play-by-play expertise on my own!
Adam Dick, the Transatlantic champion, has dragged himself into a corner, trying to recover as Tim and Liam Martin are back in the ring, talking more strategy. They know they have King Dick where they want him and it won’t be much longer until they taste victory. Tim decides to stay in the ring to inflict more pain on Dick, as Dick slowly pulls himself up to his feet. There is a glazed look in his eyes. Tim charges at Dick and crushes him in the corner with an Avalanche Splash, then throws him onto the mat. Tim then stalks his opponent, grabbing a handful of hair and gets Facey to his feet. Tim palms Facey’s face and then picks him up with the other hand, spine busting the Transatlantic Champion and goes for the immediate pin.
Dave Kern: Eagle’s Claw by Tim Martin! Lars Larsson is in position: One! Two! And Tim Martin purposely breaks the count by lifting Adam Dick’s head up. The Furious Fists of God aren’t done with Adam Dick yet!
Tim Martin gets to his feet, dragging Adam Dick’s carcass into the center of the ring. Tim then goes to the upper left-hand corner of the ring and climbs the turnbuckles. Tim then turns around, balancing himself on the top turnbuckle and launches himself into the air, crushing his 300-plus pounds on the Illustrious Face Eater! King Dick is clutching at his ribs and coughing up blood after that exchange.
Dave Kern: Eagle Splash by Tim Martin! Adam Dick may have broken ribs and internal bleeding!
Tim Martin does to his feet and stands over Adam Dick in a crucifix pose. Afterwards, he goes over to his corner and tags his brother in. Liam enters the ring and they both pick up the fallen Transatlantic champion. Tim whips King Dick into the ropes and Liam throws a heavy right hand, leveling Dick hard after bouncing off the ropes!
Dave Kern: The Fist of God by Liam Martin! It’s academic after this! Liam Martin goes for the pin: One! Two! Three! The Furious Fists of God have beaten the Transatlantic champion, Adam Dick!
The Martin brothers stand over the fallen, broken body of Adam Dick to do a crucifix pose. Some fans are cheering while others are booing as “Hallelujah” starts to play. Ring announcer James Brunt announces the winners.
James Brunt: The winners… THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD!
Dave Kern: What a match, ladies and gentlemen! The Furious Fists of God have taken out the Transatlantic champion!
Jeff Marx: Adam Dick’s going to be having words with his Court, let me tell you… that was shambolic!
Duck Hunt II
FEATURING: "EXCEPTIONAL" DAVE HURST, GADGET
AUTHORS: DAVE HURST AND JAMES JOHNSON
‘Exceptional’ Dave Hurst is seen sat on a bench minding his own business; with his head buried in a “Wrestling for Dummies” book. Little did he know he was about to be disrupted by the sheer insanity of the duck-hunting freak they call “Sgt. Jacobs” or “Gadget”. (Ah, now I see - Ed.)
Gadget: C’mon ya varmint! You ain’t scared of no little bullet now are ya ducky?
Gadget comes diving from the rafters above EDH’s head, waving his rifle above his head, and screaming battle cries at the top of his voice.
EDH: Who's this flaming mentalist?!
Gadget lands right in front of EDH, in a traditional army crouch position, trying to scout out his enemy…or in this case a duck.
Gadget: Come out… come out wherever you are!
Gadget sharply turns his head, to notice the dreaded duck waddling away down the corridor towards the backstage cafeteria.
Gadget: Oh no ya don’t!
Gadget begins to chase the ducks down the corridor to the cafeteria, but is suddenly met with the challenge, of actually shooting the duck while there were hundreds of grufty chefs and mustached waitresses, not to mention the 30-40 big strong… and rippling… *comes back from gay nightmare* wrestlers.
Gadget: God damn it, I’m going to strangle you, once I’ve shot you dead!
But with a stroke of luck, the duck serpentines and turns right around and heads back up the corridor towards EDH.
Duck: QUACK.
Gadget, who is completely bricking it at this point, turns and runs away from the duck who is now in attack mode, and aimlessly fires his rifle at the duck, before grabbing Hurst, shoving him into the duck’s path of attack and dives behind the bench and cowering in fear.
EDH: I thought you were some amazing war hero.
Gadget: I am!
EDH: Well you’re hiding from a duck, and cowering in fear.
Gadget: I’m not hiding or cowering, it’s an old army trick… yeah that’s right an old army trick, it keeps your body heat up.
EDH: It’s a hundred degrees in here, why the…
Gadget: Shut up!
The One Where Hyde Changed Aimz' Dialogue
FEATURING: AIMZ, CHAINZ
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
The night had been long for Amy Campbell as the anticipation for her title match continued building. Everyone she walked by had something to say; whether it was to wish her luck or it was to ridicule and make fun of her. She had been used to both, but not in the quantity that they came now that she was once again facing Ellis Nash for the Frontier title.
She needed a break from it all, from all the eyes glued to her. From all the pressure that she was feeling. She needed a break to fully rest, to be ready to take the title home.
She strolled through the arena until she reached the parking lot. She had found the one place that was calm and quite, devoid of the hustle and bustle of the inner sanctums of the arena. There were backstage workers looking her way, no wrestlers wishing her luck, no nothing; just calm and quite, just what she needed.
She reached her car and opened the door, sliding in and shutting it behind her. The car was dark and quite, sitting in the corner shadows away from the dim lights that lined the garage. She locked the door and reached below her seat to recline it. She leaned back, but something blocked her path, keeping the seat in an upright position.
She looked behind her and her eyes shot open in panic. Before she could reach the door handle, a large hand was around her neck; squeezing just tight enough to keep the Red Raver in her seat, but not hurting her. The man leaned forward into the dim light that did enter the car. The bald head immediately giving away his person.
Chainz: Where do you think you’re going so fast?
Aimz tried frantically to get out of the man’s grip, but it was no use. He was behind her and had all the leverage in the world; she was in all sense of the word, stuck.
Aimz: What the hell do you want?
Chainz: Don’t you worry your pretty little head off, I’m just here to talk.
For some reason Amy believed him. For all the rotten things he was known for, he wasn’t known for fighting backstage. In fact, for a sick freak as he was, he rarely was seen in altercations outside of the ring, save the special occasion. She believed that he wouldn’t harm her mainly for the fact that he could crush her neck right now, but was keeping his grip loose enough so that she could breathe freely.
Aimz: Talk, what do we have to talk about? I thought you were more of a hot action kinda guy, or am I not underage enough for ya?
Chainz: Well for one, that beating you gave me last week.
With those words he squeezed just a bit more sending a sense of panic through Amy’s body, but she kept her composure.
Aimz: You deserved it.
Chainz: And how.
What?
Chainz: I deserved it more than you know. You sure did give my girl a scare though. You can’t do that, she’s so fragile and gentle, you gotta treat her nice and gentle.
Aimz: And I bet you do…
Chainz: I do indeed.
Chainz released Amy’s neck and leaned back in the back seat. Amy reached for the door, but something held her in her seat. She wanted desperately to get out of that car, to find comfort in Darcy’s hands, and to forget the sickening feeling she got every time Chainz was around. Something inside her told her that she needed to listen to this man and for some reason she felt obligated to stay in her seat.
Chainz: You wanna run, don’t you? I know you do, but something inside is making you stay. You know this is a bad spot for you, but for some reason you feel right at home, don’t you? That’s why I’ve had my eye on you.
She was now in a state of curiosity. Why was this man stalking her? Why was he not angry about the vicious attack he suffered at her and Mikey’s hands last week? How the fuck did her get into her car?
Aimz: Oh gee, I thought it was ‘cause you wanted to sell me goats for Africa. Oh, or maybe because you’re a sick pervert. Ya, probably the latter.
Chainz: Please, I have much higher hopes for you. You’re special.
Special, just what kind of special did Michael Sloan think she was?
Chainz: I know about you, about your past. See I was just like you, angry at the world, but too scared to do anything about it. You’ve come close to achieving all your goals, but just as you near them you choke and fail. You’re weak, just like I used to be. I was plagued with feelings, with emotions, with humanity.
Aimz: Most people wouldn’t use the word plagued.
Chainz: Yeah and most people are weak, mindless fools who pass day after day in a routine and ordinary life. Never achieving what they want and never being more than just another face in the crowd. I’m becoming more than that, I’m becoming more than human.
She knew he was crazy, but she had no idea just how warped his mind had become.
Chainz: I’ve removed almost all of the weaknesses from my body; all the feelings of guilt, remorse, sadness; they’re all gone. I’m on the next level of human kind, the next step in the evolutionary ladder and I’ve been placed on earth to help others reach that level of perfection. I will become like a God and I will become the Shepard to my very own flock of sheep and you my lovely are going to be one of those sheep. I’m here to help you become a God, just like I will be. You’re the final piece to the puzzle and once I figure you out I’ll be complete. I’ll sit on the right side of God himself, his other son on the left side and I will reign over a new breed of mankind.
That’s all she needed to hear. Amy quickly reached for the door handle, but Chainz had her by the throat instantly, almost as if he had been expecting her to bolt at any moment.
Chainz: Don’t you see, I’m here to help you and the rest of mankind. All the things I’ve done have been in the name of progression. I’m not the sick bastard everyone thinks I am; I’ve never done one wrong thing in my life.
Aimz: What the fuck have you been smoking? What about all those little girls, all those innocent people you’ve…
Chainz: Necessary sacrifices for the greater good. After I achieve perfection they will live on in infamy. In the afterlife they will know they were the start of something great, something much bigger than they could ever imagine. They will thank me when I see them again; they’ll thank me for what I put them through because they’ll see the fruits of my labor.
Aimz: Have you completely gone insane? You’re about as crazy as that new guy on the forums.
Chainz: They may not thank me in this lifetime, but they will in the next. You’ll see you’ll thank me too.
What the hell did he mean by that?
Chainz: You, Miss Campbell are special and when I’m through with you you’ll be just like me.
Just the thought of being compared to Michael Sloan nearly made Aimz gag and vomit, but the hand around her neck kept everything bottled up.
Aimz: Yeah, I’ll be like you, and Bush’ll sort out New Orleans. When I get out of here, Darcy and---
Chainz: See now there’s someone who will never be more than just another weak man. He’ll never be like us, and he’ll never understand us. People like him and Mikey O’Reilly think they know what’s going on, but they have no idea. They’re weak; they’ll never reach the next stage of mankind. Their time will come and pass and they’ll fade into dust and distant memories, leaving behind nothing to remind anyone of their existence.
Chainz released Amy and opened up the back door of the car.
Chainz: Now I better go. Now this conversation was for your ears only. You tell anyone about, say Darcy, and last week will be nothing compared to the hell I send him too.
Michael Sloan stepped out of the car.
Chainz: Oh and good luck with your match, I’m rooting for you.
Chainz slammed the door shut and strolled off, quickly disappearing in the darkness of the garage. Amy Campbell felt the sickness boiling back up and quickly opened the door, throwing chunks onto the cold pavement. She thought maybe Chainz would leave her be after last week, but now she knew that a simple beating would never be enough to stop him. She shuddered at the thought of how low she’d have to sink to rid her life of the menace that had entered it.
Brown/Tomas vs P & P vs Suleimon/Cage
STIPULATION: "THREE CORNERS" FURY DUO TAG
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: TASO
'We going to be alright' by 112 starts to play and out from the back come Pleasure And Pain.
Jeff Marx: Look who’s back! Tiara Belle and Wayne Russell!
Dave Kern: Pleasure And Pain have returned to AWC! These two have something to prove, that is for sure. They think they are better then everyone else, the best duo in AWC. Now is a great time to prove it.
Steven Smith: Best looking couple in AWC, that's definitely true. Think we'll be on E! tonight? How's my hair?
The lights in the arena dim and a small fog begins to rise lining the rampway leading down to the ring. "Brainstew" by Greenday blasts across the arena as Victor Cage heads to the ring.
Jeff Marx: What an entrance!
Dave Kern: He's a trash talker, he's a tough guy, and he is a master of mind games.
Steven Smith: So what's he doing tagging up with THIS guy?
To make his point, Steven points to the wrestler's entranceway, when 'The Turkish March' starts to roll and the fans boo mightily as Captain Suleimon heads out. He admonishes the fans for their rudeness, then claps his hands as he motions to Victor Cage.
Dave Kern: The master of the Whirling Dervish is here and he's going to hook it up with Cage, a very odd duo to say the least.
The famous horn of the Dukes of Hazzard’s General Lee seeps through the P.A. system, blasting “Dixie.” This is followed by Waylon Jennings picking the intro to “Good Ole Boys” A record scratching abruptly stops the Southern anthem, followed by utter silence. Without warning a cannon is heard blasting through the speakers and the lights begin to flicker violently, “Big Guns” by AC/DC floods the building. Teresa Jane Tomas, Top Rope Temptress, THE American Woman, and AWC’s own Redneck Princess marches down the entrance ramp with a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. She stops mid-way, takes a long swig and chucks the nearly full bottle of booze over her shoulder into the crowd for a thirsty fan to enjoy before she completes her journey to the bottom of the ramp.
Jeff Marx: I thought I recognized that trailer in the parking lot on two cinder blocks. Hey look, it's Teresa Tomas!
Dave Kern: She's got on her camo and her black wrestling boots, baby! And probably high on the hog as well and ready to fight!
'Live to Die' by Since October begins to play. Kip Brown jumps out and the fans cheer. He riles them up with waving hands and they give it to him. Teresa smiles as he heads toward the ring. She smacks his hand as he passes her by and winks at the camera.
Dave Kern: And her partner looks pretty damn ready to go here too! Kip Brown is hyped for this match! He's hot!
Steven Smith: Excuse me, I'm the one who gets to say whose hot and whose not. And by the way, Tiara Belle's ringwear? That's hot.
The three teams take a corner each. Captain Suleimon points his finger at the referee and pokes him in the chest, while Teresa Tomas and Tiara Belle eye each other maliciously.
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, the following will be an AWC "Three Corners" Fury Duo Tag match!
The fans cheer!
James Brunt: Introducing first, to my left, in the matching black attire... weighing in at a combined weight of 450 pounds... Tiara Belle & Wayne Russell.... they are PLEASURE AND PAIN!
Mixed reaction from the fans bothers Tiara Belle while Wayne gets hissy with a man in the front row who is cat-calling his wife.
James Brunt: The second team in this match... to my far left... weighing in at a combined weight of 425 pounds... CAPTAIN SULEIMON & VICTOR CAGE!
More boos from the huge arena crowd. People are chanting something in Czech which sounds very nasty. The Captain is pissed and spits at the mat.
Steven Smith: That is so gross, spitting like that. Except when I'm in the right position...
Dave Kern: PLEASE!
James Brunt: And team number three... weighing in at a combined 370 pounds... TERESA TOMAS & KIP BROWN!
YAY! Everyone is cheering. The favorites to say the least in this match.
Dave Kern: Three teams, one goal. Get a shot at Celestial Fury and the tag team championships. Very important match-up right here gentlemen.
Steven Smith: I can't wait for Pleasure And Pain to walk down the rampway with the AWC Alliance titles. Tiara Belle looks beautiful in gold. So do I, for that matter.
Jeff Marx: Really? I picture you in more like... a ditch with your head chopped off and your d@#$ in your mouth!
Dave Kern: EXCUSE ME!
DING! DING! DING!
Dave Kern: Thankfully there is the bell and the referee is getting everyone in order. They should have waited for the ref to get these tag teams situated before ringing the bell there, but this a highly important match up and they're trying to figure out whose in and who isn't... and Pleasure And Pain just exit to the apron. They want no part of it to start off.
Jeff Marx: Looks like you got Kip Brown in there and Captain Suleimon just elected Victor Cage to start it off for their team.
Dave Kern: He pushed him in the middle of the ring! Nice team work there by the Turkish Terror. But it looks like Victor Cage versus Kip Brown to start off this Triple Team Fury match.
Kip and Victor square off, and Victor puts his hands up for a Greco-Roman knuckle lock. Kip looks out at the fans who give him their support, and then reaches out carefully toward Cage. But before they can even touch hands, Captain Suleimon rushes into the ring and attacks Kip from behind and throws him out of the ring.
Dave Kern: Holy crap! What the hell was that!? He should be DQ'ed for that! On the outside, Victor and Captain Suleimon just SMASH Kip Brown into the steel mesh surrounding the metal gaurd rail! Here comes Teresa with a dive off the apron... she's CAUGHT! OH MY!
Jeff Marx: Look out!
BAM! Suleimon and Cage toss Teresa right across the steel post, back first. Teresa rolls around on the mat clutching her back.
Dave Kern: Just like that Tomas and Brown are in deep doo-doo. Suleimon is working over Teresa on the outside while Cage throws Kip into the ring at the behest of the referee.
Kip rolls to the middle of the ring and Cage follows. He looks over a stunned Kip and then heads for the ropes. Kip scampers on all fours and then drops right back down again as Cage has to jump over him. He hits the opposite ropes and Kip is up and leapfrogs the charging Victor Cage. Kip rolls forward and Cage leaps over him into his own roll. They get to their feet and Cage throws a kick but Kip catches it and spins him around and strikes with a hard chop. Cage tries to chop back but Kip grabs his arm, twists it, then does a standing flip while still holding Cage's hand, and then dropkicks Cage to the mat. Cage rolls to the outside.
Dave Kern: Kip Brown brought his brother to Prague with him, did you know that? His brother is in the audience watching this match.
Jeff Marx: Whoopity-damn-doo.
Kip sees Cage is a little stunned so he hits the ropes looking for a crazy lucha dive, but Cage miraculously does a wheel kick on the outside and kicks Kip right before he comes through the ropes. The fans ooh and aah at the move as Cage rolls back into the ring and grabs Kip by the hair and throws him into his corner and tag in Suleimon.
Dave Kern: Captain Suleimon was against this whole idea of wrestling in a team, as part of a team. He was against trying to bolster the AWC Alliance division. He's a bastard!
Jeff Marx: A magnificent bastard!
Suleimon punches Kip in the face but a low kick to the gut stops Suleimon's attack. Kip whips him to the ropes but the move is reversed. Kip leapfrogs another charge and then arm drags Suleimon to the floor. The Captain gets up and charges again but Kip grabs an arm, spins and latches on to the other arm, and tosses Suleimon to the mat for a second time. Suleimon is pissed and comes at him again, with Kip hip tossing him onto the ropes, Suleimon bounces back in, and Kip again chucks him across the canvas with another arm drag.
Jeff Marx: The Captain is tired of people telling him what to do. Americans, Russians, Czechs, whatever. He is his own man. Harber can go "f" off for all Suleimon cares.
A head scissors take down by Kip on Suleimon and the fans get louder. Kip hits the ropes but Suleimon is up just in time to catch him for a front dropkick. Suleimon cries out to the fans in his foreign language, then hits the ropes. Kip is on his feet by now and back body drops him out of the ring but Suleimon holds onto the ropes. From the apron he smashes a forearm across Kip's face. He then grabs Kip by the head and jumps to the arena floor, executing a stun gun on Brown. Kip grabs his throat as he drops to one knee, and Suleimon pulls him out of the ring. Victor Cage climbs into the ring while Teresa Tomas catapults over the top rope to meet him.
Dave Kern: What are we doing here? Lucha Libre rules? There was no tag there.
Jeff Marx: "Nacho Libre" debuts next month! One of the high up muck-a-mucks must have cross-promoted the thing.
Victor rushes at Teresa and runs right into a spinning back kick. Teresa leaps to the second rope and connects with a nice back springboard elbow, then nips up to her feet. She hits the ropes and smashes into Victor with a flying clothesline.
Dave Kern: Captain Suleimon and Kip Brown beating the holy hell out of each other on the outside while the action continues inside the ring.
A series of chops to the chest don't seem to faze Victor, who cries out with rage. Teresa backs off slowly and when Victor charges at her she dodges and trips him up with a drop toe hold. Victor's face smashes into the bottom turnbuckle. On the outside, Suleimon and Kip Brown bash each other's faces into the fence as the fans start to get unruly and shake the steel separation with glee.
Dave Kern: It's like the movie "Rollerball"! I hope the Czech Riot Squad don't have to shoot anyone! Except maybe Captain Suleimon.
Teresa stomps away at Victor's head as he tries to get to his feet. She kicks him in the ribs once to stop him, hits the ropes across the ring, and connects with a dropkick to the face. Victor lies out like a dead man. Teresa heads right to the top turnbuckle as the fans cheer. Victor stumbles to his feet and BAM! Somersault dropkick off the top rope by Teresa Tomas, one of her trademark moves.
Dave Kern: Just like that Teresa has laid out Cage! And now she is going to the top again, this time I think for her awesome moonsault... NO! My Lord! Tiara Belle just kicked the top rope and crotched Teresa! OH NO! Now she kicks her right in the face to knock her off the top!
Jeff Marx: And Wayne is dragging a half-dead Victor to the corner, and now tags himself into the match!
Dave Kern: The referee needs to take control here, these wrestlers are doing whatever they want in there! Suleimon and Kip Brown are still fighting it out on the outside!
Wayne Russell picks up Teresa and then just as well flips her to the mat with an arm wringer. He kicks her in the spine for good measure, and then gives her a nasty boot scrape across the forehead. Grabbing her sandy blonde hair he picks her up off the mat and looks out to the fans, who boo his arrogance. He wallops her hard in the jaw with a forearm, spit flying out of Teresa's mouth. But not to be outdone, Tomas screams out, showing Wayne that he can't take her down with one shot. Wayne levels her again with a forearm but Teresa won't fall, and slaps the snot out of Wayne's face. The rich suburbanite quickly rips at her eyes and tags in his wife, Tiara Belle.
Dave Kern: Tiara Belle Russell & Wayne Russell are such snobby debutantes. I can't believe the AWC would sign them up again after their first run. I mean, where do they get their bloated egos from?
Jeff Marx: They are from New England, Kern. They are better then you, then all these Czech Re-Pubic idiots out here... the Russells are better then us. Got it?
Double Irish whip by Pleasure And Pain, and Wayne catches Teresa in a front waistlock and holds her up while Tiara runs the ropes. Like a tactician, Tiara Belle takes Teresa's head off with the Heart Attack clothesline.
Steven Smith: I'm just happy to see Tiara Belle back, she has such great fashion sense. Not like Teresa Tomas, that pig farmer of a woman! That's what AWC needs more of, fashionable, fabulous people.
Dave Kern: Well, Pleasure And Pain have made their return to the AWC and that spells more competition for everyone whose got their eyes set on those Alliance titles.
Tiara Belle slaps on a nice STF and her husband decides to waltz back into the ring and dropkick Teresa in her face. The ref counts away and Wayne waltzes right back out of the ring as Tiara applies a figure four leglock. Teresa fights it but the pain is intense. She yells out, the referee asking her if she is giving up. The answer is a resounding NO! and Teresa begins to pull herself toward the ropes.
Jeff Marx: I think she's got her! I think the Redneck Bitch is going to tap out here to Tiara Belle's leg lock! Hey! No! She grabbed the ropes! Damn!
Dave Kern: I knew she wasn't going to give in that easy, pal. But Tiara is not wasting time as she tags in her husband, Wayne. And he comes in and clobbers Teresa in the back with a forearm. And Tiara is bashing away as well. They are beating her down in their corner. Double whip across the ring to the corner and Teresa hits hard! Here comes Tiara... WHAMMO! Elbow to the face! And here comes Wayne... OH MY SWEET POTATO PIE! What a running clothesline by Wayne Russell!
Steven Smith: Wayne is putting Teresa on the top rope... and Tiara is climbing up as well... top rope hurricanrana! Teresa Tomas in trouble for sure after that move!
Dave Kern: The referee is so preoccupied with Kip Brown and Suleimon on the outside he can't stop these two dastardly people from cheating!
Jeff Marx: Well, this idiot Kip Brown has realized that his partner is getting her ass beat and he's finally left the good Captain alone and gone to his corner.
Dave Kern: I think the referee had more to do with getting the "good" Captain Suleimon to get back to his own corner. HOLY SHAZZBOTS! Double brainbuster on Teresa Tomas by Pleasure And Pain!
Jeff Marx: Cover by Tiara Belle!
ONE!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: Tomas gets the shoulder up, but she is in no way out of trouble. Tiara has her by the hair and she is picking her up off the mat. Short arm type manuever by Tiara Belle... duck under by Tomas... head butt to the back of Tiara's head! And again! And again! Dropsault to the back of Tiara by Teresa!
Steven Smith: Miscalculation by Teresa because she kicked Tiara into Suleimon and Cage's corner... AND HERE COMES THE WHIRLING DERVISH HIMSELF!
Suleimon rushes into the ring like a maniac and goes for a flying knee on Teresa but she rolls under it and then comes up floating in mid-air with a wheel kick to the face. Suleimon stumbles back in shock, but Teresa is right there with a magnificent move as she runs at Suleimon and climbs up his body with kicks and a final heel to the face before she somersaults back to her feet. Suleimon is steaming as he rushes at Teresa but she leapfrogs his attack and then nonchalantly walks over to the Russell's corner and then MUSHES Wayne Russell in the face for the tag.
Jeff Marx: No respect! No class! To do that to a man of Wayne Russell's stature and respect!
Wayne Russell doesn't like what Teresa just did to him and it shows on his face. He enters the ring and looks across at Suleimon and then smiles. He talks to the Captain and then pats him on the shoulder and heads over to Kip and Teresa's corner to tag one of them in but they both jump down off the apron.
Dave Kern: Ha ha! The fans love it! Wayne Russell is such a big wussy!
Wayne shakes his head in disgust and then heads over to his own corner to tag in his wife, Tiara Belle, but she gives him the same treatment. He yells at her but Tiara points to Suleimon and hurls her own insults back at Wayne. The fans laugh along at Wayne's expense.
Dave Kern: Wayne having no luck tagging out... and now he's heading over to Victor Cage! AND VICTOR FOREARMS HIM IN THE FACE! Wayne is such a knob!
Jeff Marx: LAY OUT NECKBREAKER! Suleimon caught Wayne big time! Suleimon working quick... DANGEROUS TIGER SUPLEX!!! He goes for the cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: Everybody runs in to break up the count... INCLUDING VICTOR CAGE! What the hell!? HA HA! Suleimon doesn't see the humor in that! He's lashing out at Victor... schoolboy roll-up by Wayne Russell!
ONE!
Dave Kern: And now Victor makes the right move by breaking up the pin!
Suleimon kicks Wayne Russell very low, the referee giving him a warning, but Suleimon ignoring it to hit the ropes and connect with a guillotine leg drop across the back of Wayne's neck. With his opponent prone on the mat, Suleimon jumps to the second rope and connects with a nice Lionsault. He grabs a leg for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: Kick out by Wayne Russell, and Tiara Belle breaths a sigh of relief. But Suleimon isn't done yet as he heads to the top rope... MISSILE DROPKICK! Nice move by Captain Suleimon! Cover...
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: Teresa Tomas and Kip Brown break up the pinfall and Suleimon complains to the referee. He's not happy at all about that because he thought he had this one in the bag. Now he is pointing up to the sky, maybe he is asking for Allah's help, I don't know. But he's climbing the top rope. MOONSAULT!
Steven Smith: Misses!
The fans go crazy at Suleimon's missed attempt. Wayne Russell fights to get to his feet, but he sees Suleimon dazed as he gets up in the corner, and Wayne decides to charge. But Suleimon is one step ahead of him when he pulls the referee into the mix and the ref gets bulldozed.
Dave Kern: Ref bump! The ref is down! Wayne can't believe it... GAWD DARN IT! And now, Suleimon just punched Wayne Russell in the nutsack!
Jeff Marx: Wayne collapses to his knees clutching his balls as Suleimon laughs at him... HOLY SHIT! LOW BLOW IN STEREO! Tiara Belle hit the ring and she just gave Suleimon a low blow as well! And she is ripping into him as only a high society blueblood from New England knows how!
Dave Kern: Mayhem! Mayhem! Here comes Victor Cage! BAH! He just got kicked in the balls by Tiara as well! PEDIGREE! Tiara just hit a pedigree on Victor Cage! And she is basking in the spotlight! And the fans are actually cheering that move!
Jeff Marx: Tiara! Turn around! It's that no good Redneck Princess! Teresa Tomas! Dropkick to the knees... SOUTHERN COMFORT! She's slapped on that submission move... and Tiara is tapping out! SOUTHERN COMFORT! But there's no referee!
Dave Kern: Wayne Russell is up to his feet somehow and he's angry! He's going to kick Teresa in her face! He... needs to look behind him! Kip Brown... RELEASE DRAGON SUPLEX! THE REQUIEM! Oh my stars and garters! He dumped him on his neck!
A large cracking sound rings through the arena and Kip Brown turns to see that Suleimon has kicked Teresa in the back and she has released the Southern Comfort. Kip smashes Suleimon in the face with a forearm and then whips him across the ring but Suleimon reverses. Kip bursts to the ropes with speed and power and in a moment of incredible agility he slides between Suleimon's legs and connects with an Inverted DDT!
Dave Kern: THE EFFECTUATOR! Suleimon eats a killer move! WHOA! Victor Cage... with a roundhouse kick catches Kip Brown in the liver. Now Victor calls out to the fans for a move... HE DOESN'T SEE TERESA!
Steven Smith: TOP ROPE BULLDOG ON VICTOR CAGE!
And with Cage down, Wayne Russell gets to his feet in a daze and Kip Brown is right there to lift him up on his shoulders.
Dave Kern: Torture rack by Brown... VELLOSO! VELLOSO!
Teresa grabs the ref and throws him into the middle of the ring as Kip makes the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: THEY DID IT! Teresa and Kip win the match! What a crazy match! Insane!
James Brunt: The winners of the match... TERESA TOMAS AND KIP BROWN!
The winners celebrate as the ref raises their arms in victory.
Dave Kern: Teresa and Kip are going to get a title shot at the AWC Alliance titles! Can you believe it! Unreal! But can they top this match? We will have to wait and see!
Don't Believe The Truth
FEATURING: TRACY STANTON, ZSASZ, PSYMON
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND JEREMY J.
Tracy Stanton is scared to death. She awoke about fifteen minutes ago and found herself in a room, bare expect for a steel table in the middle of the room, and there is a naked bulb illuminating only the center of the room. Everything else is dark. Tracy has also discovered that she’s tied to a chair and her mouth has been gagged with rope. She tries to escape her bondage, but to no avail. She whimpers helplessly, wondering why Michael isn’t here to save her. Perhaps Zsasz and Psymon have gotten to him, beat him up and left for dead somewhere.
A sound emanates from behind Tracy. The sound of a door opening and closing behind her. The sound of heavy footsteps creeping up behind her. Steeling herself, she waits for whatever is about to happen. Walking past her is the sadistic narcissist, Zsasz, carrying what looks like a fat file of documents entwined with a rubber band. He sits on the opposite side of Tracy, removing the rubber band from the file and opens it. Tracy’s eyes watch Zsasz as he goes through the documentation that lay in the file. Zsasz’s eyes look up at her, then back down at the files. A few moments later, his eyes wonder over into the right-hand corner next to Tracy.
Zsasz: Untie our guest, Simon.
Psymon emerges from the darkness, gets behind Tracy and begins to untie her. He then removes the rope from her mouth. Quickly, she raises from her chair and bolts for the door. Psymon is quicker than the 110-pound Tracy and forces her to sit down. Feeling defeated, she stays where she is as Psymon disappears into the darkness, this time in the left-hand corner next to the door. Zsasz looks across the table at Tracy, a warm smile twists his beautiful face into that of a macabre demon.
Zsasz: You’re not to go anywhere, not yet, anyway, Ms. Stanton. We have... things to talk about.
Tracy: What things?
Zsasz: Well, I don’t like seeing young, attractive women like yourself being taken advantage of, so I figured I would bring myself to tell you the things that your fiancee never had the balls to share with you.
A look of worry crossed her face; did she really want to hear this? Did she really want to know the truth of Chainz’s past? She didn't want to hear it, but she had to. If she left now, the curiosity would kill her.
Tracy: What kind of things are we talking about?
Zsasz: Oh so many to pick from, lets just start from the beginning.
Zsasz leafs through his heavily documented folder, skimming through his research on Mike Sloan. How he attained such a vast amount of documentation is his own secret. Let’s just say he paid good money to find what he is looking for.
Zsasz: Let’s begin with... Michael’s parents. Before I begin my session, what do you know about his parents? Do you know that he did anything to them?
Tracy: He told me about them, they were awful people. They tortured and abused him all his childhood until he could take no more. He killed his father in self-defense; his mother was already dead when he got home.
Zsasz smiles evilly at the woman on the other side of the steel table. Such a naive little girl.
Zsasz: Is that what he told you? Well, from what I’ve read, that’s not the truth.
Tracy looks at Zsasz quizzically. How could that not be the truth? That’s what Michael told her, wasn’t it?
Tracy: What do you mean that isn’t the truth? Michael told me what happened...
Zsasz: Well what your precious Michael told you was a lie. In fact, I have all the information in front of me. He actually murdered both his parents...
Tracy’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. This can’t be the truth... it couldn’t be... Zsasz chuckles at the expression on Tracy’s face.
Zsasz: I see that got your attention. You see, Ms. Stanton, his lie was a mere facade to cover up his demonic slayings of his parents. He murdered his mother, then raped - in his case “popped his cherry.” When he was finished with that heinous act, he waited for his father to come home. In his delusional mind, he believed that his father killed his mother, so he took a knife and stabbed his father more than forty times. At twelve years of age, he wouldn’t be tried as an adult.
Tracy looks at Zsasz, obviously not believing everything he’s telling her. She knows how Michael became the monster that he is: his parents.
Zsasz: What, you don’t believe me? I have proof of his confession of the murders. He was stupid enough to tell his psychiatrist everything.
He pulls a tape recorder out of his pocket. There is a tape already loaded in the recorder. He presses the “PLAY” button. Chainz’s voice emanates from the recorder, filling the room with his confessions of murdering both his parents.
Tracy hears the words that Chainz uttered into the tape recorder at his psychiatrist visit after his “attempted” suicide and indeed he confesses to the murders, or more accurately says it as if he’s telling a story. Tracy turns green, looking like she’s about to hurl, but somehow keeps it down.
Zsasz: Oh, I thought I was a sick bastard, but even I wouldn’t resort to something like that.
Tracy can’t stand to look at Zsasz, who seems to be enjoying destroying her entire world.
Zsasz: That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Mr. Sloan has a long list of heinous acts. Each time he did something, he’d be a bit more brave, a bit more daring, a bit more sadistic. Have a look at these pictures.
Zsasz slides a few pictures over to Tracy. She looks at them and immediately drops them to the floor. She runs to a corner and can no longer keep it down. After vomiting, she attempts to make a break for the door, but Psymon intercepts her and forces her to sit down once again. Tracy starts to cry, her eyes pleading with Zsasz and Psymon to let her go. Zsasz is savoring every second of Tracy’s suffering.
Tracy: Please... let me go, I don’t want to be here anymore.
Zsasz: You’ll be free in a matter of minutes. But you must stay here, Ms. Stanton, you need to be armed with the knowledge of your so-called “fiancée.” Now, take a look of these pictures---
Tracy: I - I don’t want to...
Zsasz: LOOK AT THE GODDAMN PICTURES OR I’LL STAPLE YOUR GODDAMN EYELIDS TO YOUR FOREHEAD!
Trembling with fear, her eyes slowly went to the graphic pictures in front of her. She felt her stomach tighten. She feels that she is going to vomit again, but manages to control herself. Zsasz grins maniacally at Tracy, watching her suffer as her eyes scan the pictures.
Zsasz: As you can see, these picture are quite graphic. The first picture is someone you should know quite well. This is Ally Nash, Ellis Nash’s sister. This was when Michael and Ally were dating. Anyway, Sloan impregnated Ally, she freaked out and wanted an abortion. Sloan stabbed Ally, tried to save his unborn child but it died. Enraged, he took Ally and threw her in the river. She survived. Those pictures he took himself, and there’s a few crime scene photos. I don’t have a clue how he got his hands on those.
Tracy: Why, why are you doing this to me?
Zsasz: It’s nothing personal, you’re just a means to an end. That crazy bastard cherishes you above all else, as if you’re something special. Ripping you away from him will do more than I could myself, it’ll be great fun to see him crumble apart. Now then moving on. Now what do we have here? Could it be, why yes, yes it is. Guess your fiancé keeps a journal. Let’s take a gander, shall we?
Zsasz clears his throat and opens to the first page.
Zsasz: (Reading) Finally, I finally did it. I killed someone, and I gotta say it felt great. The sense of power I felt was very good, very, very good. Now I know why people do it.
Tracy’s eyes were already wet with tears, but hearing her fiancé’s own words brought even more.
Zsasz: If you think his murders are bad, wait until you hear of the rapes he committed.
He leafs through his folder, looking for the rape causalities. He looks up at Tracy, seeing that she’s crying again, and smiles at her pain. Her pain is fueling his sadistic pleasures of watching people suffer. Her pain shows her imperfections. Zsasz dominates imperfection.
Zsasz: Not only is he a murderer, he’s made quite a name for himself as a sexual predator. He has a wrap sheet on rapes as long as your hair.
Tracy doesn’t say anything anymore, what’s the point? She’ll be released when Zsasz has had his fun with her. There’s nothing she could do about it.
Zsasz: Ugh, now this truly disgusts me. Rape is such a foul and wicked thing to do, only the low of the low do it. What a pathetic sight.
He slides some pictures of all the little girls, no more than twelve years of age, in front of Tracy. There are at least a dozen little girls he’s raped, especially the little girl that landed him six years in jail.
Tracy can no longer keep her head up, all the emotions filling her head make it as heavy as lead. She just sits there, whimpering and crying as Zsasz looks through the file, no longer enjoying himself. He was fine with the slayings, but the rapes have really affected him, at least he’s acting like they’ve affected him.
Zsasz: Simply, utterly disgusting.
He gathers everything up and slides the folder to Tracy.
Zsasz: Take this with you if you don’t believe me. Arm yourself with the knowledge that your boyfriend is a delusional, macabre sick fuck. Your detainment has adjourned. You may go. Simon, hold the door for Ms. Stanton.
Psymon walks over to the door, holding it for Tracy. She slowly raises from her chair and walks toward the door, being held by Psymon. Zsasz raises from this chair, as if he’s remembered something.
Zsasz: Oh, before you go...
Tracy Stanton stops in her tracks, slowly turns around to look at the sadistic monster.
Zsasz: I forgot to tell you my take on the psychological makeup of your boyfriend.
Tracy: Please, let me go!
Zsasz: You’ll go here in a moment. Just stay and here me out.
Sighing, she hugs the fat folder against her breasts, waiting impatiently for Zsasz to tell her what he wants to tell her.
Zsasz: How your boyfriend became a monster is simple - his upbringing. As you heard on the tape recording, Sloan was raised by two loving parents, who showed him nothing by kindness. Why he chose to kill his parents is his own secret, but here’s my theory on him - he likes to control kindness. When he meets a beautiful girl - like yourself, for instance - he wants to control her, dominate her, like he dominated his mother. It fulfills his “mama’s boy” fantasies. When he sees a family and immediately turns his attention to a young girl, it gives him that mama’s boy pleasure.
When it comes to you, Ms. Sloan, he cherishes you, but your care-giving, nurturing personality perks his dominating fantasies, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He can’t hurt you. If he does lay a hand on you, it’ll kill inside. Why else do you think he tried to commit suicide two months ago?
Zsasz chuckles as he watches Tracy visibly break in front of him.
Zsasz: He’s a sick fuck, Tracy. You deserve better. Now you may go.
Tracy hurries out of the basement room and runs away, hoofing through the basement corridors in her high heel shoes. Zsasz walks towards the door and sees himself out. Psymon looks at Zsasz.
Psymon: Do you think she believes you?
Zsasz: I think she does. If she doesn’t...well, it looks like she’ll be another name on the long list of victims Chainz has killed, another family destroyed because the daughter was associated with a delusional psychopath. It matters not to me anyway, I wanted to have my fun with her.
Psymon: You’re one sick bastard, you know that?
Zsasz grins at Psymon and makes his way out of the basement. Psymon closes the door behind him and follows suit.
Duck Hunt III
FEATURING: LXG, GADGET
AUTHORS: JC AND JAMES JOHNSON
Return to...
The Backstage Cafeteria, sometimes known as Why Do We Want To Eat Here?, but that's sort of beside the point. The fact of the matter, though, is that LXG is having a bit of peace and quiet. After all, he's the newest blood here at ACW (Ooh, standard n00b error! - Ed.) and he certainly needs some time to settle in before all hell starts to break loose in his direction.
BLAM!
Mashed potatoes and green beans fly all over the place as the slug impacts the metal of the cafeteria trays! Other patrons and the food workers all scatter as there's gunfire inside the room. It's not a good thing! Can't die over the veggies!
Standing in the doorway, with his rifle smoking, is Sgt. Jacobs. He looks like he's just been through another World War...
Gadget: Aha! Gotcha cornered now ya feather brained bitch!
The military maniac starts to line up for another shot, but he doesn't notice that LXG is standing right there. How could he notice some person that he's never even seen before? Especially, when he's in the middle of one his psychotic episodes.
LXG moves with more style and grace than any person should have. He hardly even blinks. Twisting on his ankle, he spins himself inward towards Sgt. Jacobs. His movements are too quick for Sgt. Jacobs to even really realize what's going on. Extending a hand, he grabs the barrel of the rifle, from the top and pushes downward, putting his weight on it to pry it from the psycho's hand. At the same time, his left hand comes around and latches onto the guy's shoulder. In a quick instance, he yanks Sgt. Jacobs around to face him, spinning him full circle and slamming him back against the wall!
WHAM!
In that same moment, the rifle is yanked free and literally rolled up LXG's back and over his shoulder. Drops right down into his waiting hands and he takes a step forward, putting the barrel of the rifle into Gadget's face. It's even cocked back and ready to fire!
Sgt. Jacobs, to the say the least, is shocked and scared.
LXG, to say the most, is shocked too. He actually blinks at the gun in his hands, as if realizing what he just did for the first time. It sucks never knowing that you can do stuff, until you just break down and do it suddenly. And, for the record, it's even a little scary. Still though, he's managed to disarm this guy before he hurts someone.
LXG: Guns are bad, mmkay?
Gadget: Why you little~!!
LXG narrows his eyes and presses the barrel of the weapon right into the forehead of this war veteran.
LXG: Don't make me repeat myself.
Gadget: ...gunsarebad.
Satisfied with the muttering of agreement, LXG steps back and gives the guy room to move again. Sgt. Jacobs growls under his breath and shakes a fist at LXG.
Gadget: If you think this is over, you've got another think coming! The war has just begun!!
He turns to hightail it out of the room, but he stumbles right over one of the cafeteria tables. He flips right up onto the table and lands face first in someone's plate. SPLAT!
LXG just rolls his eyes, safeties the weapon, slings it over his shoulder and disappears through the doors.
Gadget: Argh! Remember the Alamo!!
“QUACK!”
Gadget: Nooooooooooooooooo!
Ellis Nash (C) vs Aimz
STIPULATION: NO ESCAPE
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Dave Kern: You’re back at ringside with Jeff, Steve and me for our main event, and what a blistering match it promises to be!
Steven Smith: In more ways than one; I’ve heard rumours about Aimz and STDs –
Dave Kern: I’ve heard rumours that she’d beat you to a pulp for suggesting it.
Jeff Marx: Really, though, why all the fanfare over this match? Look, they’re bringing down the cage, making such a big deal out of what is clearly a formality – Ellis Nash over that cheap whore Aimz.
Dave Kern: Say what you will, Jeff; I won’t censor you. Let me just remind you that Aimz comes into this match with a phenomenal AWC record. Only one defeat, coming in a duo tag match against Ellis Nash and Darcy Crisis – which was a ridiculous booking anyway!
Jeff Marx: She’s had some lucky escapes... and one loss, sure, but only a couple of wins...
Dave Kern: Seven wins, actually.
Jeff Marx: Big deal, Ellis has fourteen!
Dave Kern: With eight losses.
Jeff Marx: But most of those came ages ago when she was all “indifferent”, so –
Steven Smith: Oh would you two shut the hell up! I'm trying to get some shut-eye here!
The three commentators sit in silence and watch the ring crew bolt the enclosed cage in place.
Dave Kern: But we saw with our own eyes two weeks ago that Aimz had the match won! She had the match won, and Adam Dick ruined everything!
Jeff Marx: Do not underestimate the power of friends in high places, Dave...
Steven Smith: Nor that of PlayStation.
Dave Kern: Look, Wii really don’t need you to start yakking about games consoles now...
Steven Smith: Am I opening up a Pandora’s box?
Jeff Marx: Pandora?! It’s all about Xbox.
With the cage now secure over the ring, Michael Ryan, AWC’s senior official and the referee for this contest, steps through the door. Ring announcers James Brunt remains outside the cage, glances at his cue card:
James Brunt: The following is a No Escape match for the AWC Frontier championship!
There is a resounding cry from the crowd.
Dave Kern: That’s right! Cage match, win by pinfall or submission; no disqualifications and no count-outs!
Jeff Marx: Erwellduh. It’s no escape, Dave.
The heat dies down, and she’s back in town. Jem. “24”. Amy freakin’ Campbell rocks the city of a hundred spires.
Dave Kern: It’s Aimz!
Jeff Marx: Wearing something ridiculous as usual...
Steven Smith: I like her fashion sense. It’s kooky.
Aimz appears, looking small and alone under the bluster of lights and video and Jem. But always one to rise to any occasion, The Red Raver tosses her fiery cut and raises an arm, a gesture of solidarity with the packed attendance despite the mixed reception to her presence.
James Brunt: Introducing first, the challenger, from Halifax, Canada, weighing in at 147 pounds... “The Red Raver”, AIMZ!
Jeff Marx: And this time her little girlfriend won’t be coming down here to protect her, because if either Darcy Crisis or Adam Dick appears at ringside the match ends and the title belt is forfeited the other way!
Steven Smith: What if they both come down at the same time?
Jeff Marx: ...
Steven Smith: There’s always a flaw in Sasha’s logic.
Dave Kern: ...Girlfriend?
Jeff Marx: (nods) Darcy.
Dave Kern: ...Girlfriend?
Jeff Marx: What, you think I'm being fruity? Alright, “lesbian lover”, “partner”; whatever!
Brunt offers her a hand up to the cage door, but Aimz brushes him off, entirely capable of entering the ring on her own terms. She jumps on the spot, light on her feet, and practises a couple of high kicks; meanwhile, her music ends and the crowd turns to the entrance awaiting the arrival of a champion.
I'M CHANGING IT AGAIN BBL
Oh. Oh well.
James Brunt: And her opponent, from Cortland, New York, weighing in at 126 pounds... the AWC Frontier champion... ELLISROCK~!
Dave Kern: ...I think he means Ellis Nash?
Jeff Marx: Dude, you’ve got a bad memory! Don’t you remember when FREDROCK~! rechristened her?
Dave Kern: Um, no?
Steven Smith: That won “best comedy segment” in the awards!
Jeff Marx: Yeah man, you should do some research. Tsk. Total lack of preparation there.
And so Ellis Nash goes forth to defend her title in Prague, or “the mother of all cities”, having warmed up with a neat victory over Alliance champion Butterfly Hamada seven days ago while Aimz was busy fraternising with Mikey O’Reilly. Ellis is above all Aimz’ petty midcard dalliances... indifferent, even... All she cares about is her King, her GameGear, and more than anything her title belt. And if defending it means slamming Aimz’ pathetic little skull against the steel until her very morality bleeds, so be it.
So she’s up for it. But Aimz? All the more so. Two weeks ago she had the title belt within reach, but with Darcy Crisis preoccupied thanks to Chainz’ unwanted presence at ringside, Adam Dick had carte blanche to steam through and take her out with a steel chair. The horrific attack gained Aimz a week off from competition last week, but it lost her the title, her dignity, and a night or more of sleeping without a pounding migraine. Still, every cloud has a silver lining, and her rematch tonight comes non-Dickified, guaranteed; a cage of steel and the threat of match forfeit stopping The Illustrious Face-Eater from getting anywhere near helping his Queen in the ring tonight.
BLING! BLING! BLING!
Dave Kern: What the...
Jeff Marx: Haha!
Hardly daring to look, Dave slowly adjusts his eyes to the scene at ringside. Ji-Himmy Jihad has handed James Brunt a note and is leaping around like a maniac, seemingly threatening to blow himself and the entire arena up with the Semtex strapped to his chest if he doesn’t read it out. Brunty knows what’s best for him. Gulping:
James Brunt: And introducing the special guest bell-ringer for this contest: Bitty! And the special guest bell-ringer’s assistant for this contest: Zomby Knight! And the special guest... manager... of the bell-ringers... for this contest: Ji-Himmy Jihad!
Looking thoroughly fed up, Brunt scrunches up the message in his fist, while Aimz angries across the ring and postures, hands on her hips, yelling obscenities at the Royal Court.
Dave Kern: No! This isn’t fair! Adam Dick can’t come to ringside so he’s just installed his lackeys nearby instead!
Jeff Marx: Genius!
Dave Kern: It’s pathetic and he’s crossed the line here!
Steven Smith: What line? He’s champion. He can do whatever the hell he wants!
Heavy boos emanate from all sides as a grinning Bitty blings the bell again, but it’s only a reminder to Aimz – the more on-the-ball Ellis Nash is already halfway across the ring and lifting Aimz into a powerful back suplex!
BLING! BLING! BLING!
Jeff Marx: Lesson number one: pay attention to what is actually going on...
Dave Kern: Aimz was left completely defenceless distracted by those morons at ringside!
Steven Smith: I just hope they don’t come over here, they scare me. Especially Zomby, he’s kinda eww.
Jeff Marx: Being a zombie, that’s hardly surprising.
Nash shows she isn’t unwilling to get nasty in this match by giving Aimz’ long hair a good wrench as she brings her to her feet. She rears back and delivers a knife-edge chop, then raising her eyebrows and inspecting her hand, looking surprised.
Jeff Marx: Ha, I think Ellis is making a point about Aimz’ chest, or lack thereof!
Steven Smith: There’s no question about it, she’s very averagely endowed... though Nash isn’t Pamela Anderson either.
Dave Kern: ...Guys, this is about the WRESTLING!
BLING!
Dave Kern: What is he doing?
Jeff Marx: I think Bitty just likes the sound of...
BLING!
Jeff Marx: Look, he’s even brought his own special bell to ring, made of plat---
BLING!
Dave Kern: OH SHUT UP!
Aimz in the meantime has grabbed another attempted chop from Nash, segueing into a modified arm drag that sends the Frontier champion to the other corner of the ring. The Red Raver shoots a vicious look at Bitty before turning and sprinting; a low leaping dropkick as Nash raises her head connects perfectly.
Dave Kern: Aimz knocking Nash’s lights out! We have an early fall in the cage!
ONE!
TWO!
BLING!
Kickout!
Steven Smith: Isn’t all this bling just a little annoying?
Jeff Marx: Tell that to modern society...
Nash pushes Aimz away as she rises; Aimz snaps a kick back, Ellis taking it in the shoulder but nevertheless gaining a hold on Campbell’s wrist and using it to launch into a twisting wheel kick!
Jeff Marx: Nicely worked! Kick takes Aimz down in the cage!
BEEP! BEEP!
Dave Kern: Oh what is Bitty up to now...
Steven Smith: No, that was me Dave. Sorry. My phone.
Nash heaves Aimz over to the side of the cage. Aimz, reading her intentions, works a punch, but Nash minimises the impact by ducking into it and then bumps a knee into Aimz’ pelvis. Exposed, Aimz cannot stop the champion slamming her head into the cage side.
Dave Kern: Painful!
Jeff Marx: Ellis using the ring environment to her adv---
Steven Smith screams.
Dave Kern: (concerned) What is it, Steve?
Steven Smith: (wails) My boyfriend just dumped me! BY TEXT!
Dave Kern: Oh... oh.
Dave shoots a warning glance. Jeff sniffs, absorbs its meaning, nods solemnly.
Jeff Marx: Get over it, fag.
Aimz slides gradually down from top to bottom rope; Nash plants a boot on the back of her neck, forcing it down with her hands to choke Aimz on the rope.
Dave Kern: (bitterly) This is what you get from aligning with Adam Dick. A tendency to do whatever you can, even if the rulebook threw it out in medieval times.
ONE! TWO! BLING! FOUR! Nash relents; The Red Raver rolls away from the ropes and onto her back, gasping air into her lungs and massaging both sides of her neck.
Steven Smith: I'm... I'm going backstage to OD!
Dave Kern: Oh, hell... no you’re not, no you’re not; sit down...
Jeff Marx: No, do it, Stevie, put us out of our misery!
Nash stomps on Aimz’ forehead. A small section of the Czech crowd cheers. She turns around, a big grin on her face, and does it again. Same reaction, and she likes it, so Aimz gets three, four, five boots in the face. Then Ellis goes the whole hog with a falling headbutt, but Aimz has inadvertently dodged it by crowding into a foetal position. She has quite a shock as she hears Ellis Nash’s head slam into the canvas inches from her shoulder.
Dave Kern: Missed! Karma coming back to bite Nash in the ass.
Jeff Marx: A pretty little ass. But that new nose will cost some.
Dave Kern: Aspiring after the Queen; isn’t that treason or something?
Aimz steels herself and leaps back into action, a falling elbow rocking Ellis Nash.
Dave Kern: Aimz really buried that elbow. Right down into the small of her back.
Jeff Marx: Do you think she’ll be able to dig it out again?
Dave Kern: That was weak.
Jeff Marx: Your mom is weak.
Dave Kern: Jeff, my mom passed last week.
Jeff Marx: ...Doesn’t she pee three times a day like the rest of us?
Dave bursts into tears just as Steven’s weeping stops.
Aimz takes Nash by the back of her strappy top and the waistband of her cheer shorts, marching her over to the side of the ring and dispatching her brutally between the ropes to clang against the cage side.
Jeff Marx: Hey now! Ellisrock~! is taking some head damage!
Dave Kern: (wiping his eyes dry) That’s good news for you, Jeff – maybe now she’ll have forgotten to always say no to you.
With Ellis sprawled over the middle rope, she’s in pain, but a male section of the crowd shows the Frontier champion something rather different to sympathy in response to the extensive section of bared leg.
Jeff Marx: Hey, back off dudes, she belongs to the King! Degrading, isn’t it, the treatment female wrestlers get from the f--- why are you nodding knowingly at me and raising your eyebrows?!
Dave Kern: Folks, we have ourselves a hypocrite.
Aimz gathers up Nash’s legs from behind, setting them either side of her waist. She grabs the back of Nash’s shorts.
Jeff Marx: Aimz trying to cop a feel!
”H-L-A! H-L-A!”
Steven Smith: (confused) Um, no, we’re A-W-C...
Tugging Ellis backwards, Aimz spins her around in a short inverted airplane spin; Nash crashes to the canvas on her front and, groaning, rolls over. Aimz takes a look at the turnbuckle and suddenly the temperature jumps several notches.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD, Aimz is going up top!
Jeff Marx: Whore’s gonna come crashing down, and her title hopes with her.
The Red Raver doesn’t stop at the turnbuckle, however – just a moment’s hesitation, and she buries her fingers in the steel bars of the cage. Wincing as she pulls her body upwards, she doesn’t see Ellis Nash begin to stir below her.
Steven Smith: The champ is moving!
Jeff Marx: Come on Ellis, on your feet.
Dave Kern: Aimz is taking a big risk and climbing the cage side, not deeming the turnbuckle quite high enough! And now she turns – but Ellis is just reaching her feet – OH MY GOD! DROPKICK!
Steven Smith: Plunged in before Ellis Nash was ready... kinda like a dick up a boy’s---
Jeff Marx: SLAM as Aimz’ body hits the canvas! She had to change her mind in a split-second and she hit the dropkick – Nash flew back across the ring; the power behind that... – but The Red Raver effectively just threw herself to the floor from ten, fifteen feet, halfway up the cage side!
The crowd, having “ooh!”d and “aah!”d as necessary with the big move and the bigger bump, now quietens as both competitors stretch out on the ring mat, unable to summon up the energy to continue immediately.
Dave Kern: And if you’ve been holding it in so far in this match, now is the time to make your trip to the bathroom, because these two ladies are going to be down for a while after that.
”ELLIS! ELLIS!”
”RAVER! RAVER!”
”NASH! NASH! NASH!”
”AIMZ! AIMZ! AIMZ!”
But loudest of all:
”A-W-C! A-W-C!”
Steven Smith: I'm REALLY FRUSTRATED!
Jeff Marx: Come on Stevie, be sympathetic; Dave hasn’t gotten any since the PCW era.
Steven Smith: No, not THAT, I was just doing the whole “lots of venting frustration” thing that my boyfriend Joseph mentioned – OH AND NOW HE’S DUMPED ME! Boohoohoohoo! I hate the world and want to die!
Dave Kern: (disdainfully) No you don’t... um... Jeff, can we... get somebody to...?
Jeff Marx: I will play no further part in this shambles.
Ignoring his weeping commentary partner, he turns back to the action in the cage – or inaction, as the case may be. Aimz hasn’t moved since she hit the mat; fortunately her landing was clean, but it was on her side, universally recognised as the least preferable way to take a landing after back and front. Nash’s only development has been to put a tender hand to her throbbing head, measuring the extent of the damage caused by that braining missile dropkick that The Red Raver dished out on demand.
Dave Kern: Michael Ryan, tonight’s referee, isn’t counting the competitors down – it’s a no disqualification match, and intuitively no count-out.
Jeff Marx: We don’t tend to see counting both men down in title matches anyway.
Dave Kern: (with a pointed glance towards his monitor) Or women...
Jeff Marx: Well... if we must.
Steven Smith sighs loudly.
Steven Smith: Can I, like, go home and cut myself now?
Jeff Marx: At least stay till the bell.
”ELLIS! ELLIS!”
”AIMZ! AIMZ! AIMZ!”
Nothing.
Dave Kern: Did you know Aimz has 21 pounds on Ellis Nash?
Jeff Marx: Are you calling her fat?!
Dave Kern: No, not at all, it’s just that I have the stats on my monitor and---
Jeff Marx: Are you saying Ellis is too skinny, then?!
Dave Kern: No, no she’s perfect, but I---
Jeff Marx: Perfect! Taken a bit of a liking to your Queen, huh? King Dick’ll knock that smirk off your face in an instant, jobking!
Dave Kern: I give.
Steven Smith: I take! Or give; I don’t mind which way so long as---
Jeff Marx: Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute...
The special guest bell-ringer, special guest bell-ringer’s assistant and special guest manager of the bell-ringers have risen from their ringside seats and are encroaching on the ring.
Dave Kern: Hey, now we don’t want any foul play...
Michael Ryan spots them and rushes over to the padlocked cage door, barking through the steel that they shouldn’t be getting involved or even anywhere near the cage. Ji-Himmy Jihad’s eyes go wide and his hand creeps into his pocket; Ryan backs away quickly with his hands up for fear of being responsible for Jihad hitting the detonator. Zomby Knight loses interest and wanders off.
Zomby Knight: MNNNNNNEEEEEURRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHNNNNMMMMMM.
Dave Kern: Michael Ryan appears to have left them to it, but there’s no way they can affect the match; the cage door is securely locked. I suggest we ignore their intrusion and---
Steven Smith: HA! Intrusion!
Dave Kern: ...just focus on the ring, where after some considerable time on the canvas, both Ellis Nash and Aimz are starting to sit up. It could still take them some time to regroup, however.
A minority cult chanting ”BITTY! BITTY!” competes with the boos from the rest of the crowd as the arena universally ignores Kern’s suggestion and concentrates its attention on the side of the cage, where Bitty is being given a leg-up by Ji-Himmy Jihad. Bitty inspects the padlock, then sneers, crushing the inferior-to-platinum bolt to dust in his hand.
Jeff Marx: Go Bitty! That lock wasn’t platinum, let me tell ya!
Throwing the door wide open, Bitty charges into the ring, ringbell in his left hand. However, the first basic flaw in his approach is that he has completely forgotten the existence of ring ropes. Bitty trips through the ropes, throwing out his arms to break his fall. His head smacks neatly against the ringbell whose presence between him and the canvas does anything but minimise the damage.
BLING!
Steven Smith: Bitty falls on the ringbell!
A white-looking Aimz finally gets to her feet, clenching both fists into tight balls to try and kick some energy back into herself. She shoots the most cursory of spiteful glances at the face-down Bitty before charging into attack against Nash, who is in a similar position of post-recovery readying. The Red Raver clobbers her down with a clothesline.
Dave Kern: And Aimz is right back into it with a fierce clothesline!
Jeff Marx: I could be wrong, but... I think Bitty just knocked himself out with his own bling.
As Aimz whips the champion against the ropes, Plan B for the Royal Court. Zomby Knight dashes into the ring.
Zomby Knight: MEEEEEUUUUUUUMMMMMMLLLL – ow!
He’s cut off with a raking kick to the side of the head by the energised Red Raver. Still, Knight’s intervention proves costly to Aimz; Nash’s rebound came to nought and she now engages Aimz with a snapmare.
Steven Smith: We have a zombie in the ring!
Dave Kern: Not for the first time tonight, Zomby Knight is having an influence on in-ring proceedings!
Zomby gets back on his feet without protest and continues his empty meander towards the action. As Michael Ryan steps defiantly into the intruder’s way, Nash flips over with a neat somersault splash on Aimz.
Jeff Marx: Knocked the slut right out of her!
Quelle catastrophe; Zomby Knight descends on the referee. ”ZOMBY! ZOMBY!”, but this isn’t what Nash needs, and the Frontier champion takes out the man (?) who was sent in to help her with a climbing enziguri.
Dave Kern: Nice strike! Ellis Nash takes out Zomby Knight with the enziguri! Looks like the Royal Court’s plans might be starting to disintegrate!
The champion spins around to see Aimz on her feet; before The Red Raver can make a move Nash grabs her shoulders and hops up onto them.
Dave Kern: Ellis Nash looking for a hurricanrana… but Amy Campbell is holding her off…!
Aimz slowly turns, still holding Nash up on her shoulders (Ellis’ contingency plan of small strikes to the head isn’t proving highly effective), and the fans begin to roar as they see the future a second before it happens.
Dave Kern: GOD ALMIGHTY!
Jeff Marx: Aimz just threw Nash against the cage with full force! Like a sideways powerbomb!
Her spine frozen by the impact, Ellis Nash’s limp body comes off the cage and into Aimz’ recovering arms. Seize the moment. That’s what makes a champion.
Dave Kern: Belly-to-belly!
Steven Smith: Oh my.
Aimz’ low belly-to-belly skittles her opponent out into the centre of the ring, where she lies, legs akimbo and arms askew. It’s surely, finally, it.
Dave Kern: Aimz covers! New champion, surely!
Jeff Marx: Ellis is a fighter!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
NO!
Dave Kern: …no!
Jeff Marx: ZOMBY KNIGHT!
Now it’s Aimz pinned to the canvas, a putrid zombie clasping her neck in his ravaged hands.
Dave Kern: We saw Zomby Knight choke Darcy Crisis into unconsciousness earlier tonight and he would’ve gone further but for Garbage Bag Johnny’s intervention! And now he’s got a hold of Aimz!
Ji-Himmy Jihad is running laps at ringside, declaring holy war on Amy Campbell. Bitty still lies, unconscious, halfway through the ring ropes at the cage door, the ringbell his pillow. Ellis Nash can do little other than tentatively flex her unwilling muscles. It’s down to senior referee Michael Ryan to save Amy Campbell’s life.
Jeff Marx: Choke that bitch! Choke her to hell!
Steven Smith: JEFFY!
Dave Kern: Someone do something!
How do you stop a zombie? You blow its head off with a shotgun; everyone knows that. But Michael Ryan doesn’t have a shotgun. All he has is his mind, his body, a stopwatch and the clothes on his back.
What do zombies love to do? Kill people, seemingly. But what zombie travels alone? We’ve all played video games. They hunt in packs. What do zombies treasure on a level above the killing of flesh and blood? Companionship.
These thoughts are what possess Michael Ryan to do what he does next.
Michael Ryan: Hnnnnnnnrrrrrrruuuuuuughhhhhh!
Jeff Marx: What in hell…
Michael Ryan: Gnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarlsbarkleyimeanneeeeeeurghhhhh!
Steven Smith: He’s a zombie, Jeff! EEK!
Dave Kern: Michael Ryan appears to be… walking stiffly… a wooden stumble… with crazy eyes… towards the cage door! He’s leaving Aimz to die!
Jeff Marx: Come out from under there this instant, Steven!
Zomby Knight is still taking it to Aimz. The little lady is slipping under, Michael Ryan’s look back tells him. Despair brings on one last effort. And this time, he nails it.
Michael Ryan: BRAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIINNNNNNSSSSSSSS!
Zomby Knight stops. Zomby Knight stands. Zomby Knight stumbles.
Little Anakin: It’s working. IT’S WORRRRRKIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGG!
Dave Kern: Folks, I… I think Zomby Knight sees Michael Ryan as one of his own!
Gulping hard, Ryan brushes away the sweat running from his temples – which confuses Zomby; it’s rather too intelligent a movement for a creature of hell, and besides, do the undead sweat?! HE’S AN IMPOSTER!
Zomby Knight: GRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUAHHHHHHHTHISISSTUPIDAAAHHH!
Knight redoubles his speed, chasing Michael Ryan as if his unlife depends on it. Eyes wide, the referee launches himself through the ropes, tumbling over through the cage door, inadvertently dragging Bitty with him. CLANG! BLING! The door slams on Zomby Knight’s diving head; the ringbell hits the floor.
Jeff Marx: Michael Ryan just ran from Zomby Knight as if his life depended on it!
Steven Smith: It did! Zomby saw him as a fake and went after him!
Dave Kern: But the distraction worked – Aimz is moving!
Jeff Marx: Aw, damn it.
Ellis Nash now comes to her feet, the Frontier champion registering the curiously empty nature of the ring. But with Aimz at her mercy, she thinks no more of it. The set-up is simple: Aimz can barely breathe. Decree.
Jeff Marx: DECREE! THE DECREE! Nash hits her Decree! But damn it to hell, there’s no referee!
Steven Smith: Poetry in motion, Jeff.
Ellis hooks the leg; silly girl. For a shellshocked Michael Ryan is still trying to extract himself from Bitty, who is barely conscious but as if on automatic clutching tight to the watch on Ryan’s wrist.
Dave Kern: The referee is a little tied up right now!
Steven Smith: Bitty wants his treasure!
Jeff Marx: Mike Ryan has a platinum-plated watch? Never woulda known…
Losing his temper, Ryan swings his arm, hitting Bitty square in the temple with the hard of his elbow.
Jeff Marx: I think Adam Dick’s gonna need to press charges against the mistreatment of his Royal Court tonight!
Wrenching the door open, Ryan charges into the ring, making sure to tread rather more heavily than necessary on the outstretched hand of slobbering Zomby Knight before unceremoniously ejecting the intruder from the ring. He slams the door shut – that’ll have to do, the lock crumbled long ago – and charges across the squared circle to count the fall that an irate Nash made three lots of three seconds ago.
ONE!
TWO!
Aimz kicks out!
Jeff Marx: This is an outrage! Aimz was down for ten seconds plus!
Dave Kern: If the referee isn’t there to count it, it can’t be official, Jeff…
Jeff Marx: That’s it, Harber’s never sharing my coke again.
Nash begins to berate the referee, her hot face and hair she’d never wear out undermining any attempt at a cool demeanour.
Steven Smith: Oh snap, there goes “indifferent”.
Michael Ryan protests – there really was nothing he could do, he’d been busy saving Aimz from the clutches of Zomby Knight. Is that your JOB?! Is that your JOB to help Aimz and not help me? Well, no, but… And all the while, Aimz is recovering her strength…
Jeff Marx: If there’s one thing Ellis needs to learn from tonight, it’s that arguing with the referee – however moronic their actions have been – will never get you anywhere.
Shaking her head, Nash turns to deal with Aimz once and for all. Aimz puts up a resistance, but it’s futile and can’t stop a perfect snap suplex. The pressure is bringing out the best in Ellis Nash. The confines of the cage are a stress to some and an aid to others. Top rope.
Dave Kern: This will decide everything! Win or lose, sink or swim… Ellis takes the risk…
Jeff Marx: SPLIT-LEGGED MOONSAULT!
Dave Kern: It pays off!
Enormous pop, and the fight is gone from Aimz; her battered body lays under Nash’s battered body, and Michael Ryan can this time make the fall he was meant to.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: Ellis retains!
James Brunt: The winner, and still AWC Frontier champion… ELLIS NASH!
Dave Kern: Aimz fails to take advantage of her rematch and build on what she achieved two weeks ago! This No Escape match was meant to ensure that the two women fought it out one-on-one but yet again, Adam Dick has left his indelible mark on Ellis Nash’s title defence! Ellis Nash has defeated Aimz… but it doesn’t end here!