Fresh! Results29th November 2005
Most Haunted I
FEATURING: RED ROCK, BOOLIE, DEREK ACORAH
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
The scene opens up outside the area in the parking area. It is a bitterly cold evening and we notice Red Rock and Boolie standing close together each wearing thick winter jackets. Red Rock has his fluffy hood over his head and bounces up and down to maintain some body warmth. It appears that they are waiting for someone and at this moment a black 4 x 4 vehicle pulls up.
Red Rock: AH HA! This will be him Boolie! I can't believe it I'm so excited!
Boolie: I know! Me too!
The door of the 4 x 4 opens and a man with gray swept back hair steps out. He is wearing a black suit with the top button undone without a tie. He has a diamond earring in his left ear and his shoes look very expensive. Red Rock advances at the man and extends his hand with a huge grin on his face.
Red Rock: Mr Acorah It's a pleasure to meet you!
The man turns out to be none other than world famous Physic Medium Derek Acorah, also star of Living TV's Most Haunted and recently Ghost Towns with Derek Acorah. Derek replies in his distinguished Liverpool accent.
Derek Acorah: It's my pleasure, Red Rock is it?
Red Rock: That's right! I'm so excited to have you here tonight!
Derek Acorah: As am I my friend as am I, but lets get straight down to business. Whilst my crew set up you can tell me a little bit more about yourself.
God's Will
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, TECHIE
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
The scene opens up with a truck flying into the parking lot. It is going way to fast, the speed of it dangerous. It is about to hit the camera, when…
SCREEEEEEEEECH
It comes to a halt. The doors burst open and, along with a chorus of boos, The Furious Fists of God step out.
Dave Kern: And here are the The Furious Fists of God. I’m glad Liam and Tim can show up on time like the rest of us!
Jeff Marx: Hey, be understanding! Maybe church just got out? God never sleeps, Dave!
Dave Kern: But Je-
Jeff Marx: I SAID GOD NEVER SLEEPS!
The two men start walking at a vicious speed, the camera following them from behind. Suddenly, Tim pulls out a piece of paper.
Liam Martin: Tim, what’s that?
Tim Martin: This, Liam, is a list.
Liam Martin: Well, gee, thanks, but what’s on it?
Tim Martin: It’s just a list of sinners in the league.
Liam grabs the list and looks it over, and then gives Tim a confused glance.
Liam Martin: But…but Tim…it’s the whole roster, minus us!
Tim Martin: EXACTLY! Every one of these fucking assholes is a sinner. Each one of these little cock-sucking, black-man loving hippies worships the devil between sloth sessions of the latest Xbox violence game! PHOOEY, I SAY! FUCKING PHOOEY!
Dave Kern: You know, he preaches about God so much, and did you just hear him?
Jeff Marx: Well, maybe God chain smokes cigarettes and swears like a sailor as well?
Steven Smith: This talking about sailors and chains…yummy…
Jeff Marx: Shut up, homo.
Liam Martin: So…so what’re we going to do?
Tim Martin: What’re we going to do? We are going to spread the Lord’s word, Liam! Here, I already have a few people I want to talk to…
The two brothers are walking and, as they pass by a techie, they stop him.
Tim Martin: Heathen, I have a question for you. Do you know where Tim Shipley’s locker room is?
Techie: Um…wait, heathen?
Tim Martin: JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION OR I’LL KNOCK YOUR FUCKING SKULL IN! (pauses and looks up) It had to be done, God, sorry.
Techie: That way, geez!
Tim Martin: I would thank you, but your kind doesn’t deserve anything of the sort.
The two brothers rush off, leaving the camera looking at a confused techie.
Dave Kern: What do they want with Tim Shipley?
Steven Smith: Same thing I want, probably.
Jeff Marx: Hopefully not.
Introduction
FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The screen goes to black then fizzles to life suddenly, the letters “AWC” flashing across in a brilliant white light. A moment of silence dominates, then, backed by “Way Away” by Yellowcard, images of AWC's superstars appear, one after the other. The guitar plays softly first, then goes straight into a strong, powerful riff.
I think I'm breaking out
I'm gonna leave you now
There's nothing for me here
It's all the same
Pierce Lavelle is shown delivering his Whiplash finisher on Paddy O’Shea and then holding aloft the Transatlantic title, which he currently holds in his second reign. A pulsating white light continually lights up the screen, with shots of many AWC superstars in action being shown: Race Alexander, Andy Murray, The Furious Fists Of God.
And even though I know
That everything might go
Go downhill from here
I'm not afraid
Highlights from the last show now cycle as the song moves into its chorus. Chainz beating on Butterfly Hamada; Jack Murphy's Bull Charge sending Alexa Kendericks flying into the security barricade; Tim Shipley slotting the key into his briefcase.
Way away, away from here I'll be
Away, away, away, so you can see
How it feels to be alone and not believe
Feels to be alone and not believe
Anything
Dave Kern: It's Tuesday night, and AWC is LIVE across the globe! Folks, tonight we're coming to you from Manchester, England, in the Evening News Arena that has recently been voted international arena of the year! I'm alongside my announcing partners Jeff Marx and Steven Smith.
Steven Smith: Well, of course I'm here; we're in the MEN Arena! How could I pass up that kind of opportunity?!
Dave Kern: There'll be plenty of action tonight...
Steven Smith: Oh yeah.
Jeff Marx: Not that kind of action, you absolute homo.
Steven Smith: Um...
Jeff Marx: Yes I know.
Suddenly, the commentators are interrupted as the familiar music of Yellowcard cuts abruptly to be replaced by...
Mother Russia
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
...the morose beginnings of “Yoga Means Union”, the instrumental from Ambulance Ltd..
Dave Kern: What the... this isn’t on our schedule!
Jeff Marx: I think we established last week that Dave’s schedule isn’t quite exhaustive...
The house lights slowly fade, as a white spot trained on the entrance-way slowly rises in intensity, as does the song playing over the speakers, entrancing the 17,000+ fans filling out the huge Manchester Evening News Arena. A good couple of minutes of it pass, with further spotlights now flitting in and out of the ring area, over the crowd and right to the back as they search through the darkness for something worth their focus. All the while, the four-note arpeggio continues, and the harsh white light over the stage goes ever stronger. Finally, at roughly 02:45 in the song if you’ve sparked up your iTunes while reading, there is a little lull in the song, and at this point, we have some movement, with a commanding figure stepping through the curtain.
It’s a figure we’ve seen before, but never in person, and as it begins to glide slowly up the aisle, a long white furry coat trailing at its feet, lights reflecting off the perfect grouping of hairs at its head, we can identify the figure. The female figure.
Jeff Marx: This is that Russian wench, huh?
Dave Kern: No need to put it so crudely, Jeff, but yes, this is the mysterious lady we saw on last week’s broadcast, when a film of her visiting AWC headquarters in London earlier in the week was shown. At some point, AWC’s major shareholder Sam Newman let this lady know that the office marked “ENTERTAINMENT MANAGER” was her new home, and so internet sites have been rampant with speculation over her identity and her role with the company!
Steven Smith: She kinda scares me...
The sight of her truly is awesome, the white fur neck-to-floor gleaming in the intense light and making her face hard to make out for fear of blinding oneself on the lights behind and around. The spotlight that was previously fixed on the stage follows her down to the ring as she ploughs her lonely furrow, expressionless, perfection in every step indistinguishable from a fluid movement along the ramp and towards ringside.
Dave Kern: “Ms Volkyeva” is all we have in terms of a name, and as to her role in the company we can only speculate!
Jeff Marx: Ya, well it’s kind of obvious... she’s replacing Pearl!
Dave Kern: That can’t be true! David Harber’s done a lot for AWC and his popularity is unmatched, perhaps even by the leading lights of the roster.
At the ring steps, she doffs her coat, letting it fall to be caught up graciously by ring announcer James Brunt, whom she thanks with a cold glance. Brunt turns away, rolling his eyes as he drapes the pristine coat over his shoulder.
Steven Smith: Brunty isn’t liking being treated as a servant.
Beneath, her attire is a knee-length black dress, split six inches up at each side, the plain yet expensive-looking cut telling us perhaps rather more than she intended.
Steven Smith: Black beneath white, truly clinical, darling.
Dave Kern: Character assessment, Steven?
Steven Smith: Simple yet elegant... a businesswoman, she likes to get things done but wants to look chic in the process.
Jeff Marx: Sounds like your stereotype to me, rich Russian husband, oil dollars...
Realising she is waiting for him to help her into the ring, James Brunt rushes under the bottom rope to stand in an ungainly manner (at which she turns her nose down) and takes the hand she primly extends. Somehow managing to retain elegance in such a clumsy action as coming between the top and middle rope, she wrinkles her nose once more as she nods primly to Brunt, before snatching the microphone from him. Brunt stares after her, helpless, as the music at last fades away.
”VOLKY! VOLKY! VOLKY!”
Dave Kern: The fans are undermining this woman before she’s even begun!
Steven Smith: VOLKY! Ah, tongue in cheek is always good... but cock in cheek is better.
Ms Volkyeva looks disapprovingly out at the Manchester rabble, waiting perhaps for silence. Realising that it isn’t going to come any time soon, her new tactic relies on the theory that breaking her own silence might induce theirs. Her cutting tones do just that, as fans shut up to listen.
Ms Volkyeva: I had hoped to talk at length with the followers of AWC about the future of the company, but perhaps I picked the wrong date on the tour for this. Evidently, I shall have to wait until we visit a civilised country.
Immediately invoking the sense of patriotism among the Mancunians here tonight, chants of ”ENG-ER-LAND! ENG-ER-LAND! ENG-ER-LAND ENG-ER-LAND NAA NAA!” go up in defiance. Noting them with a pursing of the lips, the lady continues regardless.
Ms Volkyeva: Nevertheless, I feel that introducing myself is appropriate, since from next week you are all going to be seeing a lot of me.
Boos from the fans, who turned against her the moment she was linked with Pearl’s job.
Dave Kern: Bad move on the UK-bashing, but let’s see where she can go from here.
Startled by such a negative response so soon, she adds, with a tone of annoyance:
Ms Volkyeva: Whether you like it or not!
This only serves to intensify the anti-Volkyeva atmosphere.
Ms Volkyeva: My name is Sasha Volkyeva –
Her pause is forced, not having anticipated the instantaneous buzz caused by the simple statement of her name.
Dave Kern: Sasha Volkyeva!
Jeff Marx: I still prefer “Mother Russia”.
Sasha Volkyeva: – and my job in this promotion will be one that you are already familiar with!
She is almost shouting by now to make herself heard over the booing and chanting, but a glossy veneer of cold still shields her face from emotion.
Steven Smith: Uh-oh... DON’T LEAVE US PEARL!
Smiling as she delivers the words most fans are dreading, Sasha Volkyeva goes on:
Sasha Volkyeva: En-ter-tain-ment Manager. A position that your David Harber has completely – how you say? – screwed up.
A barrage of boos hits her square in the chest, but she blocks and returns fire.
Sasha Volkyeva: The injuries at Triangles! The deaths of two high-profile employees! And then last week, the astonishing lack of security as a BOMB was brought into the building! By Mr Harber himself! Ignorance is not an excuse!
Dave Kern: She isn’t telling us... Pearl’s been fired?
Jeff Marx: We can pray.
A little more animated now as she gets into her diatribe, Sasha Volkyeva turns repeatedly to address all sides of the arena.
Sasha Volkyeva: Share values have plummeted! The public image of the promotion is destroyed! Atlantic Wrestling Club is in crisis!
Dave Kern: No way! Things are going better than ever!
Jeff Marx: Yeah, with us in these seats to save the shabby shows.
Steven Smith: There will NEVER be a crisis as long as a hottie is champion!
Sasha Volkyeva: (insistent) I am here to IMPROVE things for our fans and for our employees! Safety is at the forefront of my concerns. The new rings that Mr Harber introduced contravene regulations! They are too hard and will be replaced from next week with the old-style wrestling rings. Secondly, there have been many instances of danger when wrestlers and fans have come into contact from each other – so a six-feet-high wire fence will be added on top of the security barricade as extra protection!
Jeff Marx: WHAT?
Dave Kern: This is outrageous!
Steven Smith: They’ll be caged up like animals!
Dave Kern: So will we!
Sasha goes on despite the tirade of abuse heading her way from the angry fans.
Sasha Volkyeva: The commentary table is an unnecessary and unsafe obstacle and will be relocated to the stage!
Jeff Marx: So now we’ll HAVE to watch our monitors? GREAT!
Dave Kern: Hey, at least that eliminates any danger for us, that’s got to be good.
Jeff Marx: Gotta live for a little excitement, Dave...
Sasha Volkyeva: And matches will be scheduled with SAFETY in mind! Referees will be extra vigilant! Count-outs will be reduced to a five second time limit outside the ring!
Steven Smith: She can’t just rewrite the rulebook!
Sasha Volkyeva: There will not be use of illegal objects! Each wrestler will be subject to more rigorous medical examinations before and after every match! The –
Volkyeva stops suddenly, and looks accusingly towards the stage, about a second after everyone else does.
Because about a second ago, “Bohemian Like You” started playing.
Steven Smith: GO GET HER PEARL!
The cheer is absolutely enormous as David Harber emerges, a sour expression on his face as he stares daggers at the tall middle-aged Russian standing prudishly in the ring. He whips out a microphone and address her from the ramp.
Pearl: How lovely to meet you, Ms Volkyeva.
”PEARL! PEARL! PEARL!”
Dave Kern: Doing things the proper way, that’s David Harber.
Sasha nods uncomfortably.
Pearl: It’s so nice to hear your plans for the future of AWC.
Dave Kern: So... is she in charge, then? Or not?
Jeff Marx: Does it surprise anyone that I could care less either way?
Pearl: But there are just... TWO problems.
Volkyeva raises an eyebrow.
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh?
Pearl nods.
Pearl: Oh.
Dave Kern: HAHA!
The crowd firmly behind him, Harber elaborates.
Pearl: PROBLEM NUMBER ONE, is your job title.
A hush suddenly descends over the MEN Arena.
Pearl: As we are all aware, up until tonight I was the AWC Entertainment Manager – indeed, I still am, until the end of the night.
A murmur of voices sweeps the crowd.
Dave Kern: So it IS true!
Steven Smith: It can’t be!
Pearl: From next week, Sasha Volkyeva takes a role at AWC.
Volkyeva nods arrogantly.
Sasha Volkyeva: The new Entertainment Mana-
Pearl: Ah ah ah!
Pearl waggles a finger.
Pearl: The new Entertainment Co-Manager, Sasha!
Volkyeva stares at him as the crowd explodes.
Pearl: Did you really think Newman was cutting me out? After all I’ve done? I live and die AWC, Sasha! I breathe and bleed AWC!
The fans roar in response to his words, sense of patriotism again invoked.
”A-W-C! A-W-C!”
Pearl: I look forward to a simply wonderful working relationship with you... colleague.
Harber winks.
Dave Kern: He’s staying!
Steven Smith: WOOOHOOO!
Jeff Marx: But in joint control... this is a recipe for disaster.
Pearl: Oh – and the second problem, mm?
The crowd quietens itself down again.
Sasha Volkyeva: What is it, David?
Pearl smiles apologetically.
Pearl: Well, you mentioned the security aspect... and the thing is, you aren’t really an AWC employee... not yet... so I'm afraid I’ll have to ask you to go...
Volkyeva stares.
Sasha Volkyeva: What are you saying?!
Harber purses his lips.
Pearl: Let me put it more plainly, Ms Volkyeva.
Harber raises his head and looks out at the fans either side of him, then roars into the microphone:
Pearl: GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!
The Dandy Warhols are back on as Taz Yorke and Butch Radder appear behind Pearl, grim expressions on their faces. Catching sight of them, Sasha’s eyes pop, and she quietly exits the ring, slipping on the ring steps to fall into James Brunt’s patronising arms. He pops her coat on her shoulders and gives her a slap on the back with a massive smile on his face. Harber halts the bodyguards and watches her go by, also smiling, before turning to Brunt and giving him a wink.
Steven Smith: Round one to David “Pearl” Harber!
That Gypsy Goon
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, PADDY O'SHEA
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND MICHAEL DOHERTY
The scene opens up with Paddy O’Shea in his caravan, reading something while having a drink. There is nothing for a few moments, until…
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Paddy O’Shea: Who is it?
Voice: OPEN UP, DAMN IT! WE NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU!
Dave Kern: Is that who I think it is?
Jeff Marx: (speaking as if he’s speaking to a 3 year old) Who do you think it is Dave? Is it Santa? Is Santa bringing Paddy a bike? Do you want a bike, Dave? Do you?
Dave Kern: Sigh…
Paddy O’Shea: Jeez, ok, Aye'm getting' it, jeez!
Before Paddy can even make it to the door, it bursts open and in comes Tim and Liam. Liam rushes over and grabs Paddy, forcing him to sit down on the bench. Liam sits next to him, pulling out a bible and opening it to a page.
Tim Martin: PADDY O’SHEA, WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU FROM A CERTAIN TRIP TO HELL UPON YOUR DEATH!
Liam Martin: LEVITICUS 18:22: YOU SHALL NOT LIE WITH A MALE AS THOSE WHO LIE WITH A FEMALE; IT IS AN ABOMINATION!
Paddy O’Shea: Wait…what? What's the meaning o' this!
SLAP!
Tim strikes Paddy hard across the face with a flap, and then sticks his finger in his face.
Tim Martin: Quiet, pikey! We are here to save you! Do not speak back to the Prophets of the Lord!
Liam Martin: Leviticus 20:13: IF A MAN LIES WITH A MALE AS THOSE WHO LIE WITH A WOMAN, BOTH OF THEM HAVE COMMITTED AN ABOMINATION AND THEY SHALL SURELY BE PUT TO DEATH.
Paddy O’Shea: Why are ye sayin' this stuff? Why are ye savin' me? Wha' is happenin'.
Tim Martin: Repeat after me: LORD! I DENOUNCE MY HERITAGE OF GYPSY-PIG! I WILL SERVE AS YOUR SLAVE TO BE ACCEPTED INTO YOUR WHITE KINGDOM! I REALIZE THAT, TO BE PROUD OF MYSELF, I WOULD HAVE TO BE DOOMED FOR ETERNITY!
Liam Martin: Romans 1:26-27: FOR THIS REASON GOD GAVE THEM OVER TO DEGRADING PASSIONS: FOR THEIR WOMEN EXCHANGED THE NATURAL USE FOR THAT WHICH IS AGAINST NATURE. AND IN THE SAME WAY ALSO THE MEN ABANDONED THE NATURAL USE OF THE WOMAN AND BURNED IN THEIR DESIRE TOWARD ONE ANOTHER, MEN WITH MEN COMMITTING INDECENT ACTS AND RECEIVING IN THEIR OWN PERSONS THE DUE PENALTY FOR THEIR ERROR.
Paddy O’Shea: Um…are ye saying aye'm gay?
Liam Martin: You are Tim Shipley, aren’t you?
Paddy O’Shea: NO! AYE'M PADDY O'SHEA!
Steven Smith: Wait, Tim Shipley is gay? When were you guys going to tell me?
Dave Kern: No, he is not, Steve, these men have no idea what they’re talking about.
Liam Martin: Oh. Um. Sorry, heh, disregard everything I said.
Tim Martin: It’s useless, Liam! He’s gone! We cannot help you, Paddy…ENJOY YOUR TIME IN HELL!
The two get up and storm out, Tim shaking his head. The camera leaves Paddy sitting by himself, not sure of exactly what just happened.
Race Alexander vs Red Rock
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE:
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
After three minutes of back-and-forth action, it looked as if the stern nature of debutant Race Alexander was gaining him the upper hand. Red Rock kicked out of a hanging vertical suplex at two-point-five, and Alexander's valet Connie hopped up onto the apron, waving to get the attention of her client. Boolie, also at ringside, took offence and reached up to grab hold of her waist with his ham-sized hands, pulling her roughly back to the floor where she stumbled against Red Rock's 7'7" valet's legs on her way to the floor. Alexander raced (ha, ha) over to the ropes, horrified, but Red Rock had no sympathy. She shouldn't have been on the apron in the first place. One RDT and three slaps of the mat later, Red Rock had it wrapped up, much to the chagrin of Connie, who immediately slid into the ring on the match conclusion to see to her man.
Plotting
FEATURING: ANDY MURRAY, THE MURRAY ENTOURAGE
AUTHOR: ANDY MURRAY
As the words “Earlier Today” appear at the bottom of the screen, the camera fades into the backstage area. We find Andy Murray, the self-styled Scottish King of Cool, loitering around with three quarters of his posse; Grobschnit, Snowball, and his brother Cayle. Andy is decked out casually, wearing a short-sleeved black shirt and a pair of beige cargo trousers, while Cayle wears a white, sleeveless “Daytona Beach” t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The creature Grobschnit, as ever, stands with his arms crossed in some kind of ghetto pose – looking gangsta as fuck in a black bandana. The fire-breathing badger, Snowball, sits on the floor, once again looking like the meanest beast of the universe.
Andy Murray: Okay chaps! I have a plan! Tonight, the occupant of this here locker room will not know what hit ‘em!
Andy steps to the side, to reveal a small paper poster pinned to the door, reading “Aimz” in big type.
Cayle Murray: Eh? She won’t be here yet… how do you expect to get inside?
Andy Murray: Why brother, I have already thought that out…
Andy reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt, and pulls out a small set of keys.
Cayle Murray: How did you get those?
Andy Murray: I slipped the fat guy at reception a couple of Twinkies; needless to say, he handed these bad boys over in a jiffy! Now come on! There is much work to be done!
Grobschnit raises an eyebrow.
Grobschnit: Wot doo u meen AnDee?
Andy Murray: This mother’s gettin’ booby trapped!
And with that, we leave the group.
Tokyo Meets Manchester
FEATURING: BUTTERFLY HAMADA, COSMIC LION FUJITA
AUTHOR: TASO
Dave Kern: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us once again. And for all our American fans and our fans all over the world, this week we are coming to you from Manchester, England! The fans here love us, and the wrestlers love coming here as well!
Butterfly Hamada and her boyfriend, Tozen Fujita, are shown standing amidst a circle of AWC fans with Big Ben in the background. They are signing autographs for many of the little children.
Jeff Marx: That's Butterfly Hamada!
Steven Smith: Big Ben is in London, not in Manchester!
Dave Kern: This is Butterfly Hamada's first trip with the AWC into the U.K. (well, except last week… -Ed.) and she seems to be having a heck of a lot of fun!
Hamada and her companion are sitting outside the Manchester Art Gallery, reading City Life magazine and eating fish and chips. Hamada laughs at Tozen when he stuffs his mouth full of fries.
Steven Smith: That's disgusting!
Dave Kern: So many beautiful sights to see here in Manchester, like the Manchester Art Gallery, Urbis, the Imperial War Museum, the City of Manchester Stadium...
Hamada and company hold up Manchester United shirts and kick a football around with some kids in front of the stadium. They then pose in front of a life-size David Beckham cut out as people take pictures of them.
Dave Kern: There's David Beckham!
Steven Smith: That's not David! I know David Beckham... we like to BEND IT together!
Jeff Marx: He doesn’t even PLAY for them anymore… he decided to go to a GOOD city, Madrid…
Butterfly and Tozen walk through Piccadilly Gardens, hand in hand.
Dave Kern: This is such a beautiful city. And we here at AWC would like to thank everyone here in Manchester for coming out to see our shows!
Steven Smith: Wait a minute! Who is THAT guy and why does he get more airtime then Steven Smith?
Dave Kern: That is Tozen "Cosmic Lion" Fujita. He is Butterfly Hamada's boyfriend and he is here with her enjoying the beautiful city of Manchester!
The segment ends with Hamada and Tozen drinking a beer in a Manchester pub, and the whole bar holding up AWC t-shirts and waving at the camera.
Dave Kern: What a great city! What a great town! Manchester, we love you! Thanks for having us!
Steven Smith: If she could bring her boyfriend with her, why can't I bring mine?!
Jeff Marx: I thought you couldn't fit your blow-up Ken doll in your suitcase because you couldn't do without all your Celine Dion albums?
Steven Smith: Blasphemer!
Dave Kern: We want to thank Butterfly and Tozen for allowing us to follow them around beautiful Manchester, England! What a great town! Now let's get right back to some awesome AWC action!
Most Haunted II
FEATURING: RED ROCK, BOOLIE, DEREK ACORAH, THE SPIRIT OF "THE BRITISH BOMBER" STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
We now find ourselves in a dark room but everything is all gray as we see everything through a night vision camera. As it happens we are in one of the dressing rooms backstage where The British Bomber used to get changed. (Work with us: WE KNOW that AWC uses a different arena every week, but let’s just assume not -Ed.)
Derek Acorah: Right I'm getting a feeling straight away in here of deep enthusiasm, its not a spirit it’s residual energy. It’s a young man I'm getting a name!
Red Rock: What’s the name?
Derek Acorah: Say it to me Sam!
Boolie: Who's Sam?
Red Rock: It's his spirit guide you idiot! He tells him stuff!
Derek Acorah: I'm getting the name Steven. He spent many days in this changing room I'm also getting the impression that this is the place where he spent a lot of early days in a job.
Red Rock grins as he hadn't disclosed any information about The British Bomber's name.
Derek Acorah: Oh! I've suddenly picked up on another energy in here, there's a spirit person with us now! What's his name Sam?
Derek Acorah: He's saying his name is The British Bomber!
Red Rock: OH MY GOD really?
Derek Acorah: He's giving a message to you he's saying “Fuck you Red, you fucking queer I wish I hit you!”
Red Rock: Oh really? WELL FUCK YOU STEVEN YOU RASCLART!
Derek Acorah: The spirit has gone now! He just tried to possess me thankfully my spirit guide Sam stopped him! But he was a negative soul full of hate for you Red Rock he's out to get you but I can show you how to protect your self against negative spirits.
Red Rock: Okay then...
So This Woman Walked Into The Kitchen...
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, ELLIS NASH
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY AND LIA
The scene begins with the camera following The Furious Fists of God. As immediate booing occurs, it is seen that Liam is holding a box, but the contents are unknown.
Dave Kern: Here they are again. You wonder what they have up their sleeves now after what we saw them do to Paddy O’Shea – seemingly on mistaken identity.
Jeff Marx: I have a feeling it will involve God…but that’s just a guess.
Liam Martin: So, Tim, where to now?
Tim Martin: Well, I think our last approach didn’t work well. We kept the demon inside of Paddy scared, made it seem like we were going to kill it. So, I think we should be nice this time around.
Liam Martin: And who is it now, by the way?
The two stop in front of a locker room, the name on the door saying “Ellis Nash”.
Tim Martin: Bingo.
Tim knocks on the door. The two wait there until Ellis opens the door, peering out.
Ellis Nash: What?
Tim Martin: We’d like a word with you…we admire your work.
Liam Martin: Yeah, really! We do!
Dave Kern: I don’t know what they’re trying to pull, but anyone could see right through it!
Jeff Marx: Apparently not, Dave! You see, this cunning tactic is known as “ass kissing”…maybe that’s how you got this job here!
Dave Kern: Sigh…
Ellis gives them a suspicious look and then opens the door wide, walking back inside.
Ellis Nash: Hurry up.
Tim and Liam walk inside, but before they close the door, Liam looks out in the hallways to make sure no one is there. Once everything is clear, the camera goes inside and Liam closes and locks the door. He then brings over the box and places it next to Ellis Nash.
Ellis Nash: What do you want?
Tim Martin: We actually don’t admire your work at all…we’re not even sure what a lazy slob like yourself does.
Ellis Nash: (shocked) Excuse me?!
Tim Martin: QUIET! We have found out that you’re one of those women who think there is more to their lives than the kitchen, and we have come to change that!
Ellis Nash: (standing up quickly) WHAT?!
Liam Martin: Sit down and shut up!
Liam pushes her down into her seat. Ellis, noticing she is out-numbered and grossly out-muscled, unhappily complies.
Ellis Nash: Can you make this quick? I have to pee.
Tim Martin: Well, Ellis, we’ll see what we can do…but the Lord’s needs and wants isn’t an in and out thing that a whore like yourself would understand.
Ellis Nash: A WHORE?! You motherfuc-
Tim Martin: (cutting her off) You see, Ellis, the White Lord has places for women like you. And, last time I checked, only one of them involved leaving the house.
Liam Martin: The kitchen, the bedroom, and the hospital when you’re spitting out babies.
Tim Martin: So, now, we’re going to give you a run through on the items that a lost soul like yourself needs to get back on the right path…the LORD’S path!
Tim opens the box up and pulls out a frying pan.
Tim Martin: This, Ellis, is a frying pan. You use it in the kitchen. On it you can fry your potatoes, cook your eggs…hell, even make me a sandwich.
He hands it to Ellis.
Tim Martin: Here, examine it, you might grow to love it…now this ite-
BOOM!
Ellis, without a word’s notice, takes the frying pan and slams it against Tim’s head. He drops like a sack of bricks, slowly writhing. She then holds the spatula in a threatening manner towards Liam, who backs up.
Liam Martin: Jesus, what a swing!
Ellis Nash: Take your brother and get out!
Liam Martin: Alright, alright, Jesus! Come on now, Tim, let’s leave this whore by herself.
Ellis Nash: WHAT?!
Quickly, Liam grabs Tim and puts him over his shoulder, sprinting out. The camera follows Liam out of the room, running with Tim over his shoulder.
Dave Kern: Finally! Someone put these goons in their place!
Jeff Marx: Well, maybe Nash will cook a decent omelette now!
Liam Martin: (whispering to Tim) Alright, well, maybe next time we won’t give out the things that could be used to kill us first, eh? Who’s next?
Tim Martin: (shaken) Ah…fuckin…shit…Shipley, maybe? We won’t have to worry bout him…fairies can’t hurt, can they?
The two laugh as the scene ends.
Hate To Burst Your Bubble
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, CHAINZ, BRUNO HAGUE
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
A backstage hallway is empty, quite, devoid of any activity. There are no crew members hustling about getting the show together. No superstars chatting or hanging out. Everything seems calm, quite, and peaceful.
A faint sound of footsteps can be heard down the hallway. As the noise becomes louder it becomes obvious that the footsteps are feminine and are heels striking the hard concrete. The camera pans up to reveal the feet belong to the lovely Sarah Kennedy who seems to be in a sour mood. She looks great however, wearing a short skirt that shows off her firm and fit legs. Her shirt is doing wonders for her ample chest and she has a whole air of radiance about her.
She seems to be in a bad mood however.
Sarah Kennedy: (muttering) Got to interview that freak, damn it.
Sarah Kennedy continues along the hallway and finally stops in front of a door. Looking over her shoulder we see that she is standing in front of Chainz’s door.
She shudders as she knocks on the door. From within we hear Chainz’s unmistakably haunting and creepy voice.
Chainz: Come in.
Sarah Kennedy makes a cross with her fingers and opens the door. She walks into Chainz’s locker room. Chainz is sitting in a chair with his feet up on a bench. He has dress khakis pants on and an unbuttoned red dress shirt shoving off his massively ripped body and great abs. He has alligator shoes on and an air of superiority about him. He has a big grin on his face as he is greeted by the ultra sexy interviewer.
Chainz: Well hello sexy, come to give big daddy some loving?
Sarah Kennedy: Look, Pearl ordered me to come and talk to me. We’re going to keep this strictly professional, you got it?
Chainz stands up and approaches Sarah Kennedy, suddenly much more serious than before.
Chainz: Anyone ever tell you you’re a fucking tease? Prancing around, ass and tits all over the place, sex just oozing of your body. Don’t lie; under that pretentious attitude of yours you’re just a sleazy slut looking for a big cock like me to drive you wild.
Chainz leans in and sniffs Sarah Kennedy’s hair, driving shivers of ecstasy through his massive frame. Sarah Kennedy pulls a whistle out of her pocket and blows on it. The high pitch note echoes through the room and the empty hallway behind her. Chainz backs up holding his ears.
Chainz: What the fuck is your problem?
Before Chainz can do anything else Bruno Hague comes barreling through the open door. Chainz looks up at the enormous man, not used to facing someone bigger than him.
Chainz: Thought I saw some banana bunches out on the food table, go get some, sure your kind adores em.
Bruno snares and begins to approach Chainz, but Sarah Kennedy gets in between the two behemoths. Bruno backs up.
Chainz: Ah come on, I thought we were gonna make a lovely sandwich.
Sarah tries to hide her revulsion, but it’s evident on her face.
Sarah Kennedy: We don’t need any violence, let’s just get this damn interview over. Now, if you try anything I’ll have Bruno here teach you a lesson.
Chainz looks at Bruno and thinks that this fight would be better avoided. Chainz scoffs and goes back to his chair.
Chainz: Fine, proceed.
Sarah Kennedy composes herself, feeling like she has control over Chainz, something no one has yet to accomplish in the AWC.
Sarah Kennedy: I would like to get your thoughts on your match last week with Butterfly Hamada, if you can call it a match.
Chainz: What are you getting at, it was a fine match. Went just the way I planned with me completely dominating my opposition.
Sarah Kennedy: You punched a female into unconsciousness.
Chainz: Hey, I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy. There ain’t no male or female when it comes to that ring. Anyone that steps inside those ropes is fair game, dig?
Sarah Kennedy: Still, that was an unrelenting unremorseful assault on a woman. I’m surprised you weren’t charged.
Chainz stands up seemingly annoyed by the questions and comments presented to him.
Chainz: Man fuck that, I did what anyone would do. I stepped in the ring and I didn’t take my opponent lightly. That’s what you do if you want to be successful in this biz. Plus, that ugly bitch doesn’t even come close to being a woman; I saw her coming down the aisle my dick went inside my body. I dry heaved inside when I saw her ugly mug, almost considered pulling myself out of the match. Didn’t known if I could stomach a whole match with an ugly bitch like that so I prettied her up, gave her a nice red facial.
Sarah Kennedy just stares at the sick bastard with disdain in her eyes for the atrocities he has committed to the female gender.
Sarah Kennedy: You know what, I’m getting sick just looking at you and being in your presence. This interview is over.
She turns to leave.
Sarah Kennedy: Oh before I go, I just want to tell you about the fine that Pearl levied on you.
This is news to Chainz as he perks up.
Chainz: What you getting at. Come on; don’t hold your tongue witch.
Sarah Kennedy: Didn’t you hear? For your senseless violence towards women in the past couple weeks, especially last week, you’ve been fined ten thousand dollars.
Chainz: What! He can’t fine me! Motherfucker!
Chainz brushes past Sarah Kennedy and Bruno Hague as he storms out of his room and races through the hallway. Sarah Kennedy is left in the locker room with a satisfied grin on her face.
Sarah Kennedy: Serves him right.
Mike Carman vs Acey Lavado
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: TASO
James Brunt is in the ring to call the next bout.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. First, approaching the ring, from New Castle, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 237 pounds... "THE SAINT" ACEY LAVADO!
Dave Kern: Well, Acey has his work cut out for him tonight as he is taking on a new wrestler here in AWC.
Jame Brunt: And coming to the ring at this time...
A noise begins to fill the arena and the lights slowly begin to dim. "Stink fist" by Tool continues to play as a man appears on the ramp way.
It's not enough.
I need more.
Nothing seems to satisfy.
I don't want it.
I just need it.
To feel, to breathe, to know I'm alive.
Pyro erupts in front of the man and he begins to walk down to the ring. He wears black tights with his name running down the sides. He bares no shirt and his hair blankets his face and eyes. He puts one hand through his hair and then charges towards the ring. He slides in.
James Brunt: ...weighing in at 218 pounds, from New York City... MIKE CARMAN!
Dave Kern: The competition is getting better and better every week. Lots of wrestlers, lots of action, that's the AWC!
Jeff Marx: Like, UGH, Dave.
Collar and elbow tie-up and Carman takes Acey to the ropes by pushing him back. Irish whip across the ring, spinning back kick from Mike Carman. Carman hits the ropes as Acey stumbles to his feet, and Acey takes a flying neckbreaker from Mike Carman. VICIOUS lightning kick by Carman on Acey. SHINING WIZARD on Acey by Carman! Mike Carman has Acey Lavado down on the canvas and is ascending the corner.
Dave Kern: Off the top... missile dropkick! The dropkick connects to the butt of the jaw and Acey goes down. Carman just WAFFLES Acey with a STIFF chop!
Steven Smith: That hurt ME to watch!
Jeff Marx: Spin kick by Mike Carman to the face sends the opponent FLYING across the ring. But Acey bounces off the ropes and with a bit of desperation Mike Carman gets taken DOWN out of nowhere! He didn't expect it!
Dave Kern: Desperation is right, Acey's getting his butt kicked.
Dropkick connects to the butt of the jaw and Carman goes down. Hammerlock by Acey, but then Carman reverses the Acey Lavado hammerlock.
Dave Kern: Carman cinches in the hammerlock and Acey going for the ropes... Carman leading him to the corner and they SLAM into the turnbuckle! Punch to the back of the head by Mike! Elbow to the neck! He jumps on the second rope... Diamond Dust from Mike Carman! Acey is out!
Jeff Marx: There's the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: Kick out by Acey! Mike Carman with a handful of hair picks Lavado up off the mat. OH! Acey goes to the eyes! And a punch to the head! Bearhug by Acey and now he headbutts Mike Carman in the face!
Jeff Marx: Hey Steve, what do we know about this young kid, Mike Carman?
Steven Smith: Mike Carman is a rookie. From what I have heard…
Jeff Marx: STOP! You really think I care?!
Dave Marx: Well I say we make the most of this rare preparedness from Steven. Tell me more!
Steven Smith: Teehee… I’m in demand… okay he had a rough and troublesome childhood. But he's a tough kid and a real good high flyer. They say wrestling has helped Mike stay out of trouble and become a better person. Hey, who writes this sappy Hallmark stuff?
Dave Kern: Mike Carman is a promising young prospect in the wrestling world and he is here in the AWC! He made the trip to Manchester, although right now I don't know if he wishes he were here as Acey Lavado whips him to the ropes... big clothesline!
Steven Smith: Lavado's big move is called The Whiskey River piledriver. And he is going for it right now! Second rope piledriver!
Jeff Marx: Lavado on the second rope and he grabs Mike Carman... but Carman jumps up... CARMAN CUTTER! CARMAN CUTTER OFF THE SECOND ROPE!
Dave Kern: That's a 3/4 facelock bulldog he hit off the second rope!
Steven Smith: A move some say Carman has perfected, the Carman Cutter. Now look out for it... SILENT DWELL! Cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Steve Smith: Quick victory by Carman!
Jeff Marx: Are you some kind of Mike Carman enthusiast or something?! HE’S JUST A JOBBER LIKE THE REST!
Dave Kern: Jobber or not, he takes home the early victory in his first match.
Extreme Terror!
FEATURING: AIMZ, ANDY MURRAY, THE MURRAY ENTOURAGE
AUTHORS: ANDY MURRAY AND KATIE
Once again we turn backstage; this time we find AWC newcomer Aimz pacing through the halls, a sports bag slung over one shoulder, probably headed towards her locker room. After a short walk, she eventually comes across the door which Andy Murray and his posse had been lingering outside not too long ago. As she unlocks the door she makes a quick glance around the corridors – failing to notice the top of Andy Murray’s head ducking behind a metal crate – before slipping into her dressing room. Almost immediately, Aimz places her bag down on the bench, before taking a quick look around the room in which she had been allocated tonight.
Aimz: Eh, does its job.
She took a step towards the wardrobe, which was lined up against the wall to her right, and gently pulled the doors open. Suddenly…
Grobschnit: BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE!
Andy Murray’s green brother in arms leaps out of the cupboard like some kind of creature from a bad 1940’s horror film. Aimz recoils at the sight of the beast, through revulsion more than anything else; clearly not the kind of reaction that Grobschnit, or Andy, had hoped to provoke.
Grobschnit: RAAAAAR! FEER DA ‘SCHNIT!
Aimz paused for a moment, before letting out a short burst of laughter.
Aimz: Jesus Christ, you're the best Andy can do?
Grobschnit: Shutt upp ohr izz kik ur azz, fagit!
The redhead again laughs to herself. This time, however, she removes what looks like a packed of sweets from her pocket, extending them towards the notorious S-C-H-N-I-T.
Aimz: Care for a breath mint? Sounds like you could use one…
Grobschnit: Wtfz!?! Dis nott gud! EGGSCAPE!!!!111
With a click of his fingers, Grobber disappears from the room, clearly taking advantage of his legendary teleportation powers. Aimz, meanwhile, is left to mutter to herself, shaking her head.
Aimz: Nutjob. He really needs to try the scary ''I'm crazy''. This goofiness doesn't suit him.
Meanwhile, peering through the crack of the door…
Andy Murray: Ah dammit! Maybe Snowball will get ‘er…
Andy watches on as Aimz continues to go about her business, clearly oblivious to his presence.
Aimz: What next, a dragon?
Suddenly, almost at the same time as Aimz spoke, a lick of flames creeps under the bathroom door, startling the AWC newcomer. Feeling the heat at her feet, Aimz immediately swings around the pulls the door open. Dragon? No. Badger? Hell yes. Snowball sat in the centre of the floor, launching small fireballs around the place.
Aimz: Oh God, that week in rehab did NOTHING.
She raises an eyebrow at the little monster, a plan twinkling in her eye.
Aimz: I've got three dogs, I can do this...
Amy takes a step into the room, tactfully dodging the badger’s incendiary bursts, before kneeling over and petting Snowball on the head. Immediately the badger stops her attempts to burn some shizzle, and began to purr like a cat. With a shrug, Aimz kneels forward and picks up Andy’s pet, cradling it in her arms much like a baby. Snowball continues to purr away as Aimz walks back through to the locker room, Andy watching on from the other side.
Andy Murray: God damn it Snowball, you pussy! Time for plan C!
A couple of seconds later and there is a chapping on the door. Aimz gently places Snowball, who is now dozing off into a gentle slumber, down on the bench, before reaching over and pulling the door open.
Cayle Murray: RAAAAARRRGGGHHH!
There, stood before her, was a poorly disguised Cayle Murray, dressed up like some kind of Orc/Goblin/Troll/Condoleezza Rice/Thing. He wears a silver suit of armour, which looks incredibly heavy, and clutches a plastic battle axe in one hand, probably a kid’s toy. Not only that but his face is plastered with dark green make-up.
Cayle Murray: AAARGH! THE WRATH OF MORDOR IS UPON YE!
Cayle shakes his toy axe around in a poor attempt to be scary.
Aimz: There were much better lines in that movie. And you suck at the whole scary critter bit... Minion The Imp did it better. Aren't you Andy's little brother or something?
The super-evil goblin look of death on Cayle’s face fades.
Cayle Murray: Uh, no… who’s Andy? Oh crap, is that the time!?! Gotta go, later!
Like Road Runner, Cayle takes off down the corridor, having ultimately failed in his attempt to scare away Andy’s opponent for the night. He dashes past Andy, once again hiding behind a crate, who mutters…
Andy Murray: By Jobe! Is this she-beast un-scareable!?
Andy stands up from behind his crate, which is easily noticed by Aimz, who smiles and waves at him mockingly.
Aimz: Hey there, stranger. Having troubles? I've got a bit of a headache, myself.
Andy Murray: DAMN YOU VILE OSW CRETIN! I’LL GET YOU YET!
With that, Andy shakes his fist and soon turns heel, heading in the same direction as his sibling moments ago. Aimz stands in the doorframe, chuckling to herself, as we fade out.
What The Fuck
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, CHAINZ
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Pearl is sitting in his office busily jotting something down in some papers. Suddenly the door bursts open and a pissed off Chainz stomps into the office.
Chainz: Pearl, what the fuck?
Pearl, taken completely off guard has no clue as to what is going on.
Pearl: Uh, excuse me.
Chainz: What’s the deal with you fining me?
Pearl: What can I say, you earned it.
Chainz, not pleased, approaches Pearl’s desk, hulking over it. Chainz towers over the desk and Pearl and looks like he’s on the verge of losing it.
Chainz: Don’t get smart with me. I’m not like the rest of the ponies in the AWC that you can ride on.
Pearl: I’m sure there’s a sexual reference somewhere in that analogy, but pardon me if I don’t go looking for it.
Chainz: So let me get this straight, I win a match and you fine me?
Pearl stands up and squares off with Chainz.
Pearl: No, I fine you when you use a closed fist to punch a woman thirty times in the face.
Chainz: She had that coming.
Pearl: Do you hear yourself talk? How can you honestly say she deserved that? She never even said a word to or about you.
Chainz: Hey, she stepped into the ring with me and she got exactly what was coming to her.
Pearl: You know, they told me this might happen. When I brought your name up I was told that you were a sick, merciless, sadist.
Chainz: You forgot violent, sexy as hell, and a sociopath.
Pearl shakes his head.
Pearl: That’s nothing to be proud of. They said you were sick in the head and you had some deep psychological issues especially regarding women. I saw the potential you had and I took a chance. Looks like I made a grave error in judgment.
Chainz: Error in judgment, I’m a monopoly of greatness mother fucker. Save that bullshit, you thought what I did to Hamada was vile you just wait till I get my hands on that fine piece of ass Alexa Kendericks.
Pearl: Oh on that note, if you get involved in her match tonight than I’ll be forced to suspend you.
Chainz ponders and looks surprisingly calm for what he’s heard. After a few minutes a smile creeps across his face.
Chainz: Alright boss, no problem.
Chainz smacks Pearl on his back.
Chainz: I’ll get her fair and square sooner or later anyway.
Chainz laughs a sick laugh as he exits the office.
The Lion, The Butterfly And The Bull
FEATURING: BUTTERFLY HAMADA, COSMIC LION FUJITA
AUTHOR: TASO
Butterfly Hamada is in her dressing room standing in front of a mirror. She adjusts her elbow pads for the hundredth time, then with a sigh of frustration puts her hands on her hips and looks down at the ground. From behind her, the face of Tozen "Cosmic Lion" Fujita appears in the mirror. He looks disquieted by Butterfly's body language.
Fujita: That's not the look of a winner. That's not the look of a champion.
Butterfly: You must have the wrong dressing room. Jack "The Bull" Murphy is a few doors down. Maybe you would rather be with him.
Butterfly gives him a weak smile in the mirror and bows a strand of hair out of her eyes.
Fujita: Ha ha! Don't get mad at me, I'm just worried about you. Why are you so depressed? You look very down.
Butterfly: I came here to make my mark. And so far, I have done nothing to prove I am worthy to even be in this promotion. I should have stayed in Japan wrestling girls.
Tozen puts his hands on Butterfly's shoulders and turns her around to face him. He tries to give her a warm smile.
Fujita: That's not the Megumi that I know.
Butterfly: Jack Murphy is a pig and a bully and has no honor, and he is the Livewire Champion. He does not respect women, he does not respect wrestling, and he does not respect me. And last week when I got my first chance to prove to the world that I am a complete wrestler and people like Jack Murphy are ignorant and their beliefs outdated, I lose to the most repulsive individual I have ever laid my eyes upon, Chainz. Not to mention Andy Murray HANDING me a win at Triangles, as if I needed anyone's help!
Fujita: Tough match. Hard to get used to your new surroundings. Your time will come.
With a gentle nudge, Butterfly moves Tozen's hands off her shoulders and walks over to a chair and sits down. She grabs a towel from inside her locker, then throws it back in disgust.
Butterfly: My time is now. I did not come here to fight for women's rights and set the movement back 100 years. That was not my job, that was not my intention. Now I have this shadow cast upon me by Jack Murphy that I can't get the job done against men inside the ring. First impressions are hard to change, Tozen. I do not want to be known as a little girl who cannot... cannot... DAMN IT!
Hamada kicks her chair away in disgust. Tozen looks surprised and shocked at her outburst as she walks out of the room.
Fujita: Megumi! Wait a minute...
She's gone, the door closing one her as she walks out of the room. Tozen opens the door only to watch her as she walks down the hallway, anger in every footstep. Tozen wants to help her, but there is nothing he can think of to say that would calm her down. Then an idea crosses his mind.
Fujita: Hmmm. I think it's time for "The Bull" to meet "The Lion".
We Got One! Jesus, We Got One!
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND MIKE S.
The scene opens with the Furious Fists walking through the hallway. Liam is looking at Tim’s face as Tim rubs it in pain.
Dave Kern: Haven’t we had enough of these guys?
Steven Smith: I can never get enough of these hunks!
Jeff Marx: Alright, I don’t want to think of a good comeback, so I’ll summarize it for you: you’re gay, Dave is dumb, and the bad guys rock. Sound good?
Dave Kern: Sigh…
Tim Martin: Jesus, that crazy motherfucker Nash! What the fuck happened?
Liam Martin: Well, it went like this. You handed her a frying pan. She grabbed it. She hit you in the face. You fell to the ground. We ran away. Did I miss anything?
Tim Martin: Probably not. Oh well. She can have fun spending the rest of her life giving birth to an endless stream of babies in hell.
Liam Martin: God have mercy.
As the Fists are walking, Chainz brushes past them, heading off somewhere. The Fists don’t notice it at first, but Liam stops and pulls out the list.
Liam Martin: Wait…I recognize him…
Tim Martin: Ugh…who?
Liam Martin: That person! Him! It! Whatever! Let’s see… Hamada… no… Murphy… not even close…
Tim Martin: (yelling out) CHAINZ!
Chainz stops in his path and turns around, staring in the direction of the Fists. They run after him, Chainz waiting for them to catch up.
Chainz: You are?
Tim Martin: Unimportant. This isn’t about us now. This is about YOU and your FUTURE!
Liam Martin: PRAISE THE LORD! LORDY LORD!
Tim Martin: (whispering) Last time I checked, you weren’t Jesse Jackson, fuckhead.
Liam Martin: (coughs) Right, um…THINK OF YOUR FUTURE!
Dave Kern: I think Liam and Tim are too thrown off to be doing this…are you hearing this?
Jeff Marx: No, they’re geniuses! Look at this! It’s the “look like a dumbass” method of conversion! Perfection!
Chainz: Come on fellows, I got shit to take care of so start making some sense.
Tim Martin: Oh, again, do not worry about us at all. We’re here to talk about your faith. Your life. EVERYTHING!
Chainz: My faith?
Tim Martin: YES! Your faith! You see, we’ve been going around the arena tonight, successfully converting your fellow co-workers into Eagles of the Lord…
Chainz: Eagles of The Lord?
Liam Martin: Yes, Eagles!
Tim Martin: You see, we’ve told all the others about beliefs. Beliefs that the White Lord wants us to succeed, and to do so, we need to believe in a White Lord and his White People.
Liam Martin: Do you get what we’re saying?
Chainz: I’m picking up what you’re laying down.
Tim Martin: Ok, “Mr. Cool”, enough with the attitude.
Chainz: You getting smart with me?
Tim Martin: You’re obviously not getting it…
Chainz: But, I do get it…
Liam Martin: He does get it Tim…
Tim Martin: No he doesn’t! He thinks the blacks invented jazz, the Mexicans invented the burrito, and that women are the greatest thing in the Earth! He’s a non-believer in the ways of the Fists! This is fucking ridiculous!
Chainz: Don’t care about the blacks, and don’t give a shot about the Mexicans either. Women are the greatest thing in the world if they’re cooking or sucking my dick. Now I feel what you’re saying and I can respect you guys for having some balls around. Better than all the pussies round here.
Tim Martin: Re…really?
Chainz: Why, yes…
Liam Martin: You believe in our ways?
Chainz: Well, I…
Tim Martin: WHITE LORD, DID YOU HEAR THAT?! He believes in our ways!
Liam Martin: Your soul is saved, Chainz! SAVED!
Chainz: Um… ok…
Tim Martin: We’ll see you in heaven…now, though, we need to find someone else…
Liam Martin: You got allies in us, Chainz! Remember that!
The two walk away, leaving Chainz dazed and confused from what just occurred.
Dave Kern: That’s a lethal trio right there!
Jeff Marx: I doubt it’ll work out. The Fists are acting as thick as Smith’s skull.
Steve Smith: Thickness… deee-lightful!
Jeff Marx makes a puking noise off camera.
Murphy's Law
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Dave Kern: Welcome back fans and it looks like we're set for...
Kern is immediately interrupted as 'Seven Faces' by Slayer hits the PA in the Manchester Evening News Arena. The crowd violently responds to this, full in the knowledge of who is about to walk through that curtain. He doesn't disappoint.
Dave Kern: What the hell is Jack Murphy doing here? We've got a three way women's...
Jeff Marx: Mmmmm!
Steven Smith: Icky!
Dave Kern: ...wrestling match up next. Who does he think he is?
The Bull has indeed made his way into the aisle and the crowds boos are defeaning, Murphy pulling off double heat this week, not only from his current antics in and around AWC, but also from his Republican views on Northern Ireland. Some habits die hard. He is strutting slowly to the ring with the Livewire championship over his right shoulder. Strangely however, there is another covered belt on his left. Some of the fans are noticing this quite clearly in the aisle, almost gawking at Murphy in an attempt to try and uncover what is in there. Murphy smiles sickeningly keeping his distance from them and entering the ring.
Jeff Marx: Looks like our saviour has deemed himself worthy to be in the ring for the evening. Harber yet again has sullied and disrespected Jack Murphy like a common mongrel.
Dave Kern: Don't give me any of that, Harber is simply resting him. You think you run your best stars into the ground week in week out? You see Lavelle with a match this week?
Jeff Marx: Marx is clearly a wuss though.
Dave Kern: Breaking out the curse words are we?
Jeff Marx: Well I was going to call him a shi...
Dave Kern: SHUT UP!
By now The Bull has arrived in the ring and has taken a microphone from James Brunt. Casually he places the Livewire title hanging over the top rope in front of him and proceeds to address the crowd.
Jack Murphy: My seals...how are we this evening?
He is greeted with a cacophony of boos to which Murphy smiles.
Jeff Marx: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Jack Murphy: Works like a charm....Now, what has your own personal wrestling god got in store for you this evening huh? Another workout to whip you guys into shape? Another humiliation of a woman? No I'll leave that for the three ladies to do that to themselves after me.
Again another chorus of boos.
Jack Murphy: (laughing) Perhaps a deabte on some political matter that is pressing at the moment? None of these, none my seals. What I am here for, is to lay down Murphy's Law.
The crowd, as well as the announce booth are left in confused mutterings. All that is except Marx who looks smug and is showing off, sticking his tongue out at Steven Smith.
Steven Smith: Oh Jeffy I've been waiting for a chance to slobber on your big wet one!
Jeff Marx: NOOOO!!
Dave Kern: Thanks Steven.
Jack Murphy: You see, looking around this federation, two things stick out to me as clear as the day I became a man. Firstly, Pearl Harber doesn't know crap about wrestling talent in this company. What I've seen from him is bloated contracts given to old hacks like Johnny Noble and liabilities like Alex Strider!
The crowd is in uproar at this, fully aware of the recent events surrounding "The Mongoose" Alexander Strider. Kern is obviously livid also.
Dave Kern: What a low-life! I may have thought he was an irritable and arrogant man but this! This is crossing the line!
Jeff Marx: The man speaks the truth Dave, how would you feel if somebody basically landed a multi-million dollar contract ahead of you and it was clear from the get go that they weren't fit to compete on a level that you clearly could?
Dave Kern: That's not the point! Whatever gripes Murphy has, it is certainly not the time and place to air those grievances live on national television, especially so soon after the very man he's complaining about has passed away!
Jack Murphy: (grinning) These kinds of people have no place in a vibrant organisation such as this and they are...or were...
Dave Kern: OH COME ON!
Jack Murphy: ...Hogging spots that were made for people far more deserving. People like myself, people like Race Alexander.
Boos litter the stadium in response to the mention of the upstart who arrived last week on Fresh!. Murphy nods his head affirmatively, pulling at his beard a little before continuing.
Jack Murphy: Guys like us are the future of this company and this business itself! Pearl Harber is a fool to overlook tried and true talents that can shape and mould this company into a better one for all. What he needs to realise is that the time of extreme wrestling is over! The time of larger than life, comedic, idiotic wrestlers is OVER!
Dave Kern: Has this guy been a part of the wrestling business at all? Some of the most famous men in this business are larger than life! Like Johnny Noble!
Jeff Marx: Oh don't you jump on the bandwagon.
Steven Smith: I want to jump on a bandwagon....especially when it's bouncing.
Kern and Marx: SHUT UP!!!
The Bull is pacing the ring now, looking more worked up on this subject, easily distinguished that he has been troubled by this for a long time. He will not rest in walking the ring, snorting occasionally and trying to slowly calm himself down before continuing.
Jack Murphy: (breathing heavily) This just can't go on....there has to be change...there will be change...otherwise, bad things will happen for Mr. Harber, things that I discussed with him last week.
Murphy wipes his forehead with his arm, breathing heavily again and blowing hot air right out of him in one long slow action. He now turns to the Livewire title which is still slung on the top rope of the ring.
Jack Murphy: (pointing to the belt) And secondly...this.
Dave Kern: What's he on about?
Jeff Marx: Haven't you got it by this stage after all these years? You've got to let the evil supergenius deliver his grand plans to the masses so that whatever hero has a chance to escape you fool! Except the greatness about this supervillain is that he cannot be outsmarted! BWAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!
Dave Kern: Stop drinking the koolade buddy boy.
Steven Smith: Mmm..........can I slurp it?
Jeff Marx: Two weeks in.....and already I'm sick of you!
Jack Murphy: This...title, for the want of a better word, is something that does not command respect, it does not mean anything to anyone here. The casual observer doesn't care who holds this belt, who is the champion behind it and proudly wearing it because he is a champion. I myself have seen this in action....people look quizzically at me from time to time, almost flabbergasted that Red Rock lost the championship, and they are the ones that call themselves fans. And why? Because this goddamn company doesn't even respect this title!
Jeff Marx: He speaks the truth, nobody cares here. Preach to the converted!
Dave Kern: Give me a break, he's just a crybaby.
Jack Murphy: Not only that, but they feed me pathetic, worthless and unsuitable contenders. Alexa Kendericks? Nothing but an afterthought in my mind and the result was never in doubt. Harber has disrespected me one too many times...but I have found a suitable response to his ignorance to my attempts for him to see my side of things.
Dave Kern: Attempts my ass!
Jeff Marx: Getting annoyed now are we Dave? Ooh I love it when you're angry!
Steven Smith: Can you be quiet for two seconds?
Marx looks in astonishment at Steven who has refrained from saying something overtly homo-erotic for once. Until now.
Steven Smith: I'm trying to watch my feed of Boca~! in the showers! MMM!!
While normal service resumes at the announce booth, The Bull continues with his machinations.
Jack Murphy: (smirking) It has come to my attention that there was a long lost stipulation put in place as a precedent for this title which has never been invoked....until now.
With a smile on his face, Murphy peels off the covering revealing a belt that is very plain but at the same time very well made. It is one large plate of metal, of which the camera can't tell what kind. There is no distinguishing features of etchings other than a simple screw on plate on top of it that allows the holder to be changed whenever a title change occurs. It currently says Jack Murphy.
Jack Murphy: A precedent which allows....rules to be set by the holder of the belt. A criteria of sorts that need to be met by the challenger each and every time that the holder defends the belt. As such, this allows me to produce my own wrestling utopia! This allows....
Suddenly "Bohemian Like You" hits the PA and to a big chorus of cheers, David "Pearl" Harber arrives onto the scene, microphone in hand.
Dave Kern: Finally!
Pearl: Mr. Murphy, whilst I am sure this is very important you are interrupting my programming schedule and there is a match to be held now, not this... one man show of self-flattery. Remove yourself now, or there will be much more serious consequences... like stripping you of your title!
Dave Kern: Woo!
The crowd joins in on Kern's cries of joy and Marx is mysteriously quiet, however Murphy is standing quite happily in the ring, smugly looking back at him.
Jack Murphy: (grinning) Ah Pearl... were you not listening? Or are your own ingenious flaws in the system you created beyond you? This title... the PLATINUM Title, which I have deemed it to be worthy of its metal namesake, is a belt that the rules are created by the owner of said belt...and what the owner says goes. Oh and I don't know... I think my first rule that I shall pass is that... the title cannot be stripped by ANYONE!
Boos erupt in the arena, denied of their moment of glory by seeing The Bull taken down a notch. Instead, he's taken his humiliation of Harber to another level.
Jeff Marx: BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Pearl: You can't! You have no right!
Jack Murphy: So... you can't do a damn thing Harber. Are you even in charge anymore? How’s Mother Russia treating you? You're stuck with my law-making for as long as I feel like it. I warned you of repercussions Harber... now it's time to pay the piper. Why? Because I'm... as GOOD AS IT GETS!!!
With that 'Seven Faces' hits the PA again, the crowd still violently voicing their discontent of what has transpired. Pearl Harber is standing in the aisle, staring a hole at Jack Murphy, who is totally content to smile wickedly back at him, the Platinum title over his right shoulder.
Dave Kern: I don't believe this, he's got complete control of the destiny of the belt....and there's nothing Harber can do to stop him!
Jeff Marx: I love it!
Steven Smith: I love him. (licks lips)
Dave Kern: (shuddering) Did not need to know that! Folks we'll let these two leave the arena and then we'll be right back with our women's three-way match!
Kern finishes his announcing and the camera is just in time to see Murphy walk past Harber, dropping the Livewire championship at his feet. Harber looks enraged but can do nothing as Murphy waves goodbye, patting the Platinum title on his shoulder.
Alexa Kendericks vs Butterfly Hamada vs Ellis Nash
STIPULATION: THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Tristania’s “Angellore” begins to wash over the arena as our cameras cut back to join Dave Kern, Steven Smith and the eternally obnoxious Jeff Marx at ringside.
Jeff Marx: So, hands up who’s enjoying the show. Anyone? Nah, didn’t think so.
Dave Kern: (ignoring Jeff) Up next we’ve got an all-female match-up to savour –
Jeff Marx: ...and now I might just kill myself.
Dave Kern: ...putting Alexa Kendericks, Butterfly Hamada and Ellis Nash in a Three Way Fury with Selena Sumner refereeing.
Steven Smith: None of these ladies has been anywhere close to consistent since joining AWC – all sport negative win/loss records.
Dave Kern: Statistically, though, the likelihood of a negative record is greater than that of a positive record because in multi-wrestler matches –
Jeff Marx: We could listen to Dave go on and on arguing technicalities, or we could gawp as Ellis Nash comes down to the ring.
Steven Smith: Neither interests me.
Nash rolls her eyes as the male fans get a little excited, leaning desperately over the barricade to try to grasp her toned body.
Jeff Marx: Gotta love a lady with attitude.
James Brunt: The following is a Three Way Fury match! Introducing first, from Cortland, New York, weighing in at 117 pounds... ELLIS NASH!
Dave Kern: Ellis Nash has some impressive wins under her belt from her first spell in AWC; she actually holds a straight singles victory over Pierce Lavelle which means that soon enough she should be able to cash in a title shot, assuming Lavelle stands tall in his match with Paddy O’Shea at the December pay-per-view.
Steven Smith: And that’s a big assumption to make.
Dave Kern: True. O’Shea is a fierce competitor.
Jeff splutters.
Steven Smith: No, it’s not that, he’s just a bit... ragged. I like a well-groomed man.
Dave Kern: And that is relevant to the match how?
Steven Smith: (insistent) Because Lavelle’s not likely to... “stand tall” when wrestling him!
Silence.
Steven Smith: EREC –
Kern and Marx: Eww.
Megumi “Butterfly” Hamada is now entering the ring, having come down to the ring without music as usual.
James Brunt: And her opponent, from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 160 pounds... MEGUMI “BUTTERFLY” HAMADA!
Dave Kern: Butterfly Hamada really came into her own at Triangles, where Paddy O’Shea was genuinely hard-pushed to take the match against her two falls to one to obtain Transatlantic title contendership. She nearly upset the odds.
Jeff Marx: ...Sorry, I just can’t get used to this, referring to a thoroughbred jobber as somewhat good. Do you not REMEMBER O’Shea? His gimmick was that he was Irish!
Steven Smith: And things have changed how?
Jeff Marx: (surprised) Thank you, Steven!
“Awake” by Godsmack bawls out from the speakers piled up a little haphazardly either side of the stage, and to some cheers from the crowd Alexa Kendericks emerges at the back of the stage.
Dave Kern: The anti-Chainz guys letting Kendericks know she has their support.
Jeff Marx: I don’t see why she needs it. Did you not SEE what he did last week?
Steven Smith: I just love the homoerotic kinks in this storyline...
Jeff Marx: Kinky?
Dave Kern: As a matter of fact I did see it, Jeff. AWC headquarters received ninety-seven complaints from parents who won’t let their children watch our product ever again.
Jeff Marx: Ah, so Chainz is benefiting the education system, at least.
James Brunt: Finally, from New York, New York, weighing in at –
Brunt has to cut himself off as Kendericks sprints down the ramp and throws herself into the ring, surprising Hamada with a fast-paced sequence of chops to the abdomen and finishing off with a spinning kick, hopping backwards with the execution. Butterfly doubles up, winded, as Selena Sumner excitedly calls for the bell and rushes over to the action.
Dave Kern: Alexa Kendericks, with her one-four record, is desperate to make an impact against these two. While she has clearly got a lot of potential, she’s currently not realising that by converting impressive displays into victories.
Nash comes from behind Hamada to sweep out her legs and take her down to the mat with a faceplant. Before she can roll away, Butterfly grabs her arms and wrenches the lighter Nash towards her, trying to move around into an armbar variant.
Jeff Marx: I’ll tell you what’s a more impressive display: Tracy’s chest.
Nash brings up a knee into Butterfly’s groin, and while the effect isn’t as great as it would have been on a male opponent, Hamada is still sufficiently stunned for Ellis to roll away and find her feet. She comes back up in a fighting stance, but there’s no need for it, as Alexa Kendericks has now taken it upon herself to occupy Hamada, kneeling with her left leg and slipping her right beneath Butterfly’s head to pull her neck back over her knee.
Steven Smith: Jeff, don’t be selfish. You’ve got three ladies in the ring now, can’t you make do with them? Think about me. Think how boring this match is for me.
Dave Kern: Steven, you are aware that wrestling announcers are supposed to actually LIKE wrestling – or at least, pay attention to it?
Steven Smith: ...Really?
Dave sighs.
Dave Kern: Look at this improvised hold by Alexa Kendericks. She’s using her upper arm as a vice, clamping down Hamada’s chin to bend her spine back over Alexa’s leg, which is simply a pivot.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, nice except...
Ellis Nash runs up towards a corner and leaps as she approaches, planting both feet on the second turnbuckle. She pushes off at once and twists to land a two-footed kick to the side of Kendericks’ head and then lands carefully on her posterior as Kendericks falls away, her upper body resting against the bottom rope.
Steven Smith: Ellis Nash injects a little energy into things... now if only I had someone to inject something slightly different into.
Jeff Marx: Will you never develop a personality?
Steven Smith: Not this side of Christmas.
Nash grabs Hamada by the head and brings her up, a backhand slap across her breasts causing Butterfly to flare her nostrils. She ducks an aimed punch and locks her arms around the 117 pounder from Cortland, slamming her to the mat with a side belly-to-belly and going for the pin.
Dave Kern: You’ve been saying that for five winters now.
Steven Smith: I don’t like winter. It’s cold.
ONE!
TW-
Referee Sumner scrambles to her feet to announce just one count on the fall, as Kendericks aims a kick squarely between Hamada’s shoulderblades.
Dave Kern: Ah, I love the chance to snuggle up in front of the fire...
Kendericks now takes Nash from behind as she starts to rise and drags her back into a seated position, before pushing her knee into the spine of the fellow New Yorker looking to apply a dragon sleeper. Sensing the danger from Kendericks’ trademark Assassin’s Honour, Nash springs forward suddenly and twists, her right leg lunging out to just catch Kendericks’ cheekbone as Nash falls away. Kendericks stands straight, a hand shooting to her face, as she takes a wobbly couple of steps backwards.
Jeff Marx: Dave, you have no one to snuggle with.
Steven shoots an arm into the air and begins bobbing on the balls of his feet.
Steven Smith: Ooh, me, pick me!
Jeff Marx: You should say that to the army. They’d have you like a shot.
Kendericks inadvertently backs into Butterfly Hamada, who instantly acts on this opportunity by applying an abdominal stretch. As Ellis Nash gets back to her feet, she makes eye contact with Alexa, who stares back, her gaze steely. Nash now moves in on the two of them and slams a left fist straight into Hamada’s unprotected face. Ellis now gives Kendericks a challenging glare; she grins in response. Nash does it again, and there is an ”OOH!” from the crowd following the ugly blow.
Dave Kern: They’d probably have him shot, too, for betraying their whereabouts with a loud comment about how out of season the enemy forces’ camo is looking.
Jeff Marx: Burn~!
Nash throws another left hand, this one turning Hamada’s head on her neck, the Japanese letting out a small cry as Nash targets precisely the same spot.
Steven Smith: When you type “burn”, it looks like “bum.”
Now as Nash goes for a fourth punch, Alexa Kendericks suddenly releases Butterfly. She slumps to the canvas, nursing her bruised cheekbone, as Nash swings through to connect with nothing but empty air. She turns furiously to confront Kendericks, but on the half-turn is met with a rising dropkick! Nash is thrown back and falls between the middle and top ropes to lie on the apron.
Jeff Marx: You like burn, Steven?
Steven Smith: You could say I'm a pyromaniac...
Dave Kern: WILL NOBODY PAY ATTENTION TO THIS FINE DISPLAY OF THREE WAY WRESTLING?!
Nash rolls aggressively back into the ring, but Kendericks is at her with stomps before she can even get up. Kendericks grabs a boot and twists, Nash wincing in pain and momentarily turning away, and this is enough for Kendericks to athletically flip to her feet and commence a series of martial arts kicks to the back of the thighs and the lower back.
Dave Kern: Chopping It Down! This combo is a regular for Kendericks, she’s always seen practising this in the gym!
Jeff Marx: And since when do you hang out with the wrestlers, Dave? Don’t even answer that, no you don’t, so yes it’s a lie, so shut up.
Nash falls to one knee, helpless against the punishment, and Kendericks moves round looking to use the knee as a springboard to finish off the move, but the recently-upright Butterfly Hamada gets there first flying off Ellis Nash’s bent knee to smother Kendericks with a cross body block! The pinfall –
Steven Smith: Butterfly from nowhere!
Dave Kern: CROSS BODY! THIS COULD BE OVER!
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: OH! No fall!
Kendericks thrusts up and back with her legs, rolling the both of them over to in turn make her own pin.
Dave Kern: REVERSED! AND THIS IS IN THE BOOKS!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES! AND THE REFEREE SEES IT!
Jeff Marx: Pheeeeeee-yoo.
Steven Smith: Let me remind you both in this quiet period that “Butterfly” is a delightfully camp name.
Dave Kern: QUIET PERIOD?!
Steven Smith: Hmm, perhaps not then, I hear Butterfly’s nickname is “Camel” for all the noise she makes in the toilet...
Dave Kern: THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT, YOU SICK... GAY!
Jeff Marx: Now now, Dave. Family show. Can’t have homophobia...
Dave Kern: YOU’RE MOCKING ME, BUT I CAN’T EVEN TELL HOW!
Ellis Nash drags her two opponents apart and backs off, waiting for one to get to her feet. Alexa Kendericks is the first to rise, and she spins straight into a high kick, but Nash blocks it and throws a straight forearm to Kendericks’ forehead. Nash ducks in quickly to take her leg...
Dave Kern: That’s all the opening she needs!
Steven Smith: I, on the other hand, need quite a large opening. Butt plugs help.
Dave Kern: DECREE!
Ellis Nash slams Kendericks to the mat with her trademark capture suplex, and comes back up, exhilarated. But before she can think about pinning Kendericks, Butterfly is in her face with a collar and elbow.
Dave Kern: Butterfly won’t let up...
Nash shadows the tie-up, but shifts her weight backwards to throw a side kick into Hamada’s thigh just above her knee. Megumi Hamada falls to one knee and Nash leaps into action with a shortened DDT!
Steven Smith: Ellis Nash is all over these two!
Jeff Marx: Pity she ain’t all over the kitchen floor like she should be.
Nash now looks back at Kendericks, whose arms flop uselessly as she struggles to find the strength to get back up.
Ellis Nash has other plans.
Dave Kern: ROCKABYE! That’s it! The rolling crucifix armbar!
Nash’s finishing hold locked on tight, Kendericks has no option but to submit, her decision coming quickly as the pressure takes its toll on her back and shoulder.
Jeff Marx: Kendericks taps! Making it, what, one-five? Can I say JOBBER –
Dave Kern: No, since Alexa Kendericks is in fact a very accomplished competitor. AWC is just so damn competitive now! She can’t buy a win. Same goes for Butterfly, who likewise has just one victory in AWC!
Nash gets to her feet, brushing away the arm of James Brunt with mock indignation as he attempts to raise her hand as the winner.
James Brunt: The winner... ELLIS NASH!
Jeff Marx: Girl wins out over two other girls in battle of who could care less.
Dave Kern: No way! They all wanted that win BADLY!
Jeff Marx: ...I was talking about the people watching. Specifically... me.
The Letter
FEATURING: HATE
AUTHOR: JAAKKO OKSA
The feed suddenly cuts to the backstage area. After some static, we see ”The Fifth Horseman” Hate standing in front of the picture, his legs spread at about shoulder-width. He is staring at something off-camera, presumably the cameraman.
Hate: Do we understand each other here? You keep filming, and I won’t do anything drastic that I might feel like doing. A deal?
The camera shakes up and down, and Hate cracks a smile. His painted, red head turns towards the camera, staring straight into it.
Hate: Greetings, AWC. I will not keep you long: my purpose is not to entertain tonight. My purpose is to announce something.
Hate fishes out a small manilla envelope from the pocket of his trenchcoat, holding it with his left hand so that the camera can get a good look. After a moment, he puts the letter back into his pocket, still smiling.
Hate: For those of you who are wondering, this little letter contains a request for a match and the person who I want it with. Now, from what I have understood, David Harber is too ’busy’ to meet me tonight. Typical Pearl. So instead, consider this a sampler: I will set my request down on Pearl’s desk next week. And truly, woe will be the person whom I have chosen, for from that moment on the forces of Pandemonium walk behind him. Trailing, sniffing, hunting. Never resting, never sleeping. Merciless. Deadly. And I will lead them.
Hate shakes his head in mock concern before he picks his head up again, his smile gone.
Hate: Cleanse the Impure. Raise the Warcry.
Hate steps out of the picture, and the cameraman is all too eager to turn off the feed.
No Horseplay
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
We cut backstage and outside the door of the office of David "Pearl" Harber. We see AWC Relentless champion Mike Wade take it upon himself to walk straight into the office. Of course not closing the door behind him.
Pearl: Mike Wade. To what do I owe this pleasure?
Mike Wade: At least you realise it's a pleasure that's a start.
Pearl: What can I do for you?
Mike Wade: You can feckin’ fire that Paddy O Shea prick for starters.
Pearl laughs it off.
Pearl: Heh, yeah, and what would happen to the main event?
Mike Wade: Well you can't be a tag team with one man so you might as well give us the belts anyway.
Pearl: I actually admire Paddy for carrying both belts himself.
Mike Wade: I see and do I need to explain what an Alliance is to you?
Pearl: You want Paddy suspended for his partner turning on him? To side with you might I add.
Mike Wade: No – and by the way that turned out uneventful, lazy Farmer bastard... No, I want him fired for feckin’ sending me to Mexico in a feckin’ BOX! I had just fought against 5 men and won and then the coward sneaks up on me, locks me in a box and sends me to Mexico. Do you know what their spicy food did to the tender loins of my belly?
Pearl: Loins of your belly?
Mike Wade: Yeah! What the hell are you gonna do Harber?
Pearl: To be honest Mike, I don't think it's anything like the shit you've done to him.
Harber grins, emboldened by his first real use of profanity on worldwide TV.
Mike Wade: You're doing nothing about this?
Pearl: In a word, no.
Mike Wade: OK tell you what I'll sort it out meself. Just gotta get the Face...
Pearl: Oh there is one thing.
Mike Wade: Yeah?
Pearl: If you lay a hand on Paddy O’Shea before tonight's match, not only will you forfeit tonight’s match and your team’s shot at the Alliance titles, but I'll strip you of that Relentless title too.
Mike Wade: THAT'S A GOD DAMNED JOKE!
Pearl: The same applies for Paddy.
Mike Wade: And what are you gonna strip him of, his pants?
Pearl: On the contrary. His Alliance title, and his Transatlantic title shot, too... and give the belt to the Unfuckables by forfeit.
Mike Wade: Oh... well this makes things a little different. See ya later Harber.
A smile grows larger than ever on Mike Wade’s face. A good plan is coming together!
You Can't Even KILL Yourself?!
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, TIM SHIPLEY
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND PIERRE HYDE
The scene opens up with Liam and Tim of The Furious Fists of God walking down a hallway, big grins on their faces. Tim has his arm around Liam affectionately.
Tm Martin: Jesus, Mary, and probably even Joseph, that was great! Who'd-a thunk it'd be that easy?
Liam Martin: Well, that was one. There was also Ellis…
Tim Martin: True…
Liam Martin: And Paddy…
Tim Martin: Oh, forget them! They're lost! They're fucked! They're yesterday’s news!
Liam Martin: Hallelujah! So, where to now?
Tim Martin: We're going for one of the big fish now. Someone up there.
Liam Martin: Who, like, Adam Dick or Jack Murphy?
Tim Martin: No, not one of those mid card duds! I'm thinking BIG!
They walk up to the door that says "Tim Shipley" on it.
Liam Martin: I thought you said he'd be big.
Tim Martin: Yeah…well…I tend to exaggerate. Should we knock?
To answer, Liam bursts in the door to find a pale-looking Shipley sitting quietly on a bench.
Liam Martin: (whispering) Uhh, Tim, aren’t we meant to plant him on the bench?
Tim Martin: Right on!
They grab Shipley, lift him to a standing position, and then plant him back down on the bench.
Tim Martin: Tim! We are the Furious Fists of God!
Liam Martin: DO NOT SCREAM THE LORD'S NAME, FOR HE HAS SENT US! HE WILL NOT SAVE YOU!
Tm Shipley: (shrugging helplessly) I don’t underst-
Tim Martin: Be quiet, fiend! We have come to rid your soul of the devil!
Tim Shipley: What? The… the devil?
Shipley’s demeanour isn’t as chipper as we have come to expect, last week’s bomb threat seeming to have severely shaken up the young Englishman. This intrusion from the Fists is, to Shipley, as unwelcome as it is ridiculous.
Liam Martin: QUIET!
SMACK!
Tim M. dope-slaps Tim S., sending him flying off the seat. They then pull him off the ground and plant him on the bench again.
Jeff Marx: Heh, I bet Sam didn't realize how confusing two Tims would be in one scene.
Dave Kern: Who's Sam?
Jeff Marx: Don't worry about it.
Dave sighs.
Tim Martin: Now that you've finally shut your mouth, fiend, we can get a word in!
Liam Martin: You have the devil inside of you!
Tim Shipley: I really don’t think –
Tim Martin: A devil that stopped you…
Tim Shipley: (sighing) Stopped me from what…?
Liam Martin: From sending yourself to heaven!
Tim Shipley: Look, I had enough of this with Rzarector; there was a time when I would listen, but now, my ears… are shut.
Shipley looks up at the Martins, pleading with them to leave him. But they have more to say.
Tim Martin: SHUTTING YOUR EARS TO THE WORD OF GOD? But martyrdom COULD HAVE BEEN YOURS! That’s right…YOU, Shipley, had the opportunity to destroy those heathens in the crowd that night…but instead, you GAVE IN!
Shipley’s face contorts with a sudden fury.
Tim Shipley: Are you suggesting I should have purposely set that bomb off last week?
Liam Martin winks.
Liam Martin: We’ll just keep it between us, eh?
The Fists walk quickly away from Shipley, who rises suddenly to his feet, his body shaking with rage. He turns and slams his fist into the wall, gritting his teeth as he silently cradles his hand, easing the self-induced pain, and we leave him.
Aimz vs Andy Murray
STIPULATION: WEAPONS
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Steven Smith: We’re back and can I say I look more fabulous than ever.
Jeff Marx: I think I just vomited a little on the inside.
Dave Kern: Oh come on, you two ever shut up?
Jeff Marx: You’re one to talk.
Dave Kern: Ughh, anyway we’re ready for our next match.
Jeff Marx: Who we got on the show next?
Dave Kern: Lets see, it’s the weapons match between Aimz and Andy Murray.
Jeff Marx: God damn I hate that PCW jobber bastard.
Steven Smith: I don’t know he’s got his charm.
Dave Kern: I don’t know about you, but I respect Andy Murray going back to his days in PCW.
Jeff Marx makes a vomiting motion by sticking his finger down his throat.
Steven Smith: You wanna test my gag reflex?
Jeff Marx immediately stops and shudders.
Jeff Marx: I really hate you.
The lights in the arena suddenly cut out, and a newish yet familiar theme tune (WHICH ANDY NEEDS TO ADD TO THE APPROPRIATE THREAD ON THE FORUMS) immediately hits. “Hand of Blood” by Bullet For My Valentine kicks out across the arena, and the lights begin to flash red throughout the place.
BANG!
A massive burst of pyrotechnics explodes at the top of the ramp as the song kicks in, leaving a cloud of smoke behind in. In this puff of smoke stands the silhouette of a tall, well-built figure, the letters “S.K.C.” flashing on the screen behind him.
There goes my valentine again,
Soaked in red for what she said,
And now she’s gone…
With another, small pyro burst the smoke cloud is gone, and the man at the top of the ramp is met with a steady wave of cheers. He wears a pair of beige cargo shorts and a black sleeveless t-shirt reading “Murray is Back, Bitch!” and has a mile-wide grin planted across his face.
Oh my god have I done it again?
There’s a pulse and it’s deafening,
I can’t help what I hear in my head,
It’s the switch that I flick when he says…
Former AWC Frontier champion Andy Murray is in the house.
The Scottish King of Cool begins his descent down the ramp, slapping hands with some fans as he goes.
James Brunt: The following is a Weapons match! Introducing first, from Aberdeen, Scotland, weighing in at 270 pounds, The Scottish King of Cool… ANDY MURRAY!
Hand of blood, I don’t wanna feel, my heart is breaking,
Hand of blood, I don’t wanna see, my life is burning…
Murray slides into the ring under the bottom rope.
Jeff Marx: Look at that jobber, hated him back in the good old days and I’ll be damned if I don’t hate him even more now.
Dave Kern: What’s your problem with him?
Jeff Marx: He’s old school, sucked back in PCW and things won’t be any different here.
Dave Kern: Whatever, we’re all entitled to our opinions.
“Rock Shit” by Hush hits and Aimz comes out from the back. She has a homemade weapon in her hands, a baseball bat covered in barbwire. She looks surprisingly relaxed and ready for a fight.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Halifax, Canada… AIMZ!
Steven Smith: Oooo, I don’t like her.
Dave Kern: I know this is a Weapons match, but did she have to bring her own?
Jeff Marx: Eh, why the hell not.
Aimz tries to get in the ring, but Andy Murray knocks her down off the ring apron. He has a nervous look on his face as he sees the disadvantage he’s at due to Aimz already possessing a weapon.
Jeff Marx: That’s not very gentlemanly of him, he should help the lady into the ring.
Steven Smith: He can help me into anything he wants.
Dave Kern and Jeff Marx just shake their heads in disappointment.
Aimz circles the ring as Andy Murray follows her, concentrating on keeping the upper hand. Aimz quickly hopes up on the apron and before Andy Murray can hit her she swings her bat. It barely misses Andy Murray’s face, but gives her enough time to get in the ring. Andy Murray quickly scampers out of the ring and to the outside.
Jeff Marx: Look at that coward run.
Steven Smith: You’d run to if that crazy bitch was chasing you.
Jeff Marx: I don’t know, chicks with weapons, that’s hot.
Dave Kern: Not if she’s looking to bash your skull in.
Andy Murray goes over to the ring announcer’s chair and pulls it out from under him, much to James Brunt’s chagrin. Murray smiles apologetically at him, then, hoisting it like a weapon he tries to get into the ring and after a few failed attempts he does. Aimz charges at him with the bat and swings wildly. After a few misses she sinks the barbwire into Andy Murray’s stomach who at the same time smacks Aimz across the head with the chair. Both fall to the ground in pain unable to keep hold of their weapons which lay in the center of the ring.
Dave Kern: Brutal shots.
The two finally get to their feet and begin exchanging punches. Aimz gets the upper hand and connects with a few in a row. She bounces off the ropes and charges at Andy Murray who attempts a sidewalk slam, but Aimz spins through it throwing Andy Murray through the air.
Aimz picks up her bat and as Andy Murray gets up she swings for the fences. Murray ducks and Aimz losses a hold of the bat and sends it flying into the audience, barely missing hitting a kid in the face. The crowds boos rain out as the two lock up. Andy Murray tries a spine buster, but Aimz squirts out and grabbing the chair she cracks it over Murray’s head. Murray drops to a knee and gets another stiff shot for his trouble, this one dropping him to his back.
Dave Kern: Good god what a shot, his brains must be scrambled.
Jeff Marx: What an embarrassment to all the great wrestlers from PCW. Murray’s going to lose to a woman!
Steven Smith: He’ll get up, he always manages to get it up.
Dave Kern: How do you sleep at night?
Steven Smith begins to answer but is cut off by Kern.
Murray tries to get up, but Aimz hits him across the back with the chair. She stops the assault to yell some obscenities at the audience giving time for Andy Murray to recover and get to his feet. Aimz finally turns around and swings the chair, but Murray ducks. As Aimz turns around Andy Murray super kicks the chair into her face.
Dave Kern: There we go, keep it up Andy.
Steven Smith: Yes, keep it up all night long.
Andy Murray quickly goes for a pin fall and Richie Travis, who had been non-existent until now, drops for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
As Travis’ arm is coming down for the three count, Aimz manages to get her shoulder up. Andy Murray picks her up and gets behind her, driving her down with a full nelson slam. He rolls out of the ring and goes rummaging beneath the ring for toys.
Dave Kern: Murray now going shopping for some hardware.
Steven Smith: Oh yeah.
Murray pulls out another chair, a trash can lid, a kendo stick, a fire extinguisher, and a bag of tacks.
Dave Kern: Oh, this is going to get ugly real quick.
Murray throws everything to the ring and slides in himself, unfortunately Aimz is up and ready. She runs to the turnbuckle, runs up it, and flies at Andy Murray knocking him down. She looks over the weapons and finally settles for the kendo stick.
Andy Murray gets up and receives a stick shot on the head with the kendo stick. He falls like a ton of bricks to the mat, blood trickling down his face from the rather substantial cut. He tries to recover but Aimz begins wailing on his body with stiff shots from the kendo stick, each forming welts on Murray’s muscular body.
Dave Kern: She’s going crazy.
Steven Smith: I haven’t seen a beating like that since I wandered into the Rear Entry club.
While the announcers bicker, Aimz drops onto Murray’s body for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
No, Murray kicks out at the last second. Aimz examines the kendo stick which is now splintered and fairly worthless. She goes over to the pill of weapons and picks up the trash can lid. Murray somehow manages to get up, but is immediately hit over the head with the lid. The cheap aluminum bends, doing very little damage. Murray slaps the lid out of Aimz’s hands and drives her head into it with a massive DDT.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD, the WAKE UP! Cover her, cover her.
Listening to the announcer Murray drops for the cover, but Aimz is still too fresh. Murray picks up a chair and as Aimz gets up he grabs her throat and places the chair against it, than slams the chair into the mat driving it into her throat. Aimz spits up massive amounts of blood as she goes to the ground holding her throat.
Dave Kern: Good lord, that was vile.
Steven Smith: She won’t be deep throating any time soon. Ya, more for me.
Jeff Marx: Am I surrounded by idiots, Murray has to resort to cheap tactics just to beat a woman. Women shouldn’t even be in the ring because they’re so inferior, so why is this such a contest.
Dave Kern: I don’t know what planet you’ve been living on, but Aimz is one of the top wrestlers period.
Jeff Marx: Ah, she can wrestle deez.
Murray scours the now smaller pile of weapons and picks up the bag of tacks. With a smile he pours the tacks into a pile near one of the turnbuckles. The crowd begins chanting “PCW, PCW” as Murray eggs them on. After the bag is empty Murray picks Aimz up and throws her head between his legs. He lifts her up looking for a power bomb onto the tacks, but Aimz reverses it into a hurricanrana throwing Murray into the tacks himself. Murray screams in pain as his back is penetrated by hundreds of tacks. Small traces of blood coming out of each tiny hole caused by the small pieces of metal.
Jeff Marx: Come on you idiot, don’t embarrass PCW anymore.
Dave Kern: Each of those tacks just found a new home in the back of Andy Murray.
Andy Murray gets an adrenaline rush as he rises to his feet and charges at Aimz who ducks his clothesline. Murray bounces off the ropes and is met with a drop kick to the face from Aimz. Aimz grabs the chair and as Murray gets to his feet bends it over his face. Murray falls to the ground with the chair still bent all around his face.
Aimz drops down for a pin fall.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
No, Andy Murray somehow managed to put his foot on the ropes and miraculously Richie Travis noticed it.
Dave Kern: Yes, this match will continue.
Aimz grabs the fire extinguisher and stands over Andy Murray. She raises the extinguisher high in the air and drives it down onto Murray’s, unfortunately Murray manages to roll out of the way. The extinguisher hits the mat with a thud and almost bounces out of her hands. Andy Murray gets to his feet as Aimz tries again to crash it into his head. Murray ducks again and scores on a few punches. He bounces off the ropes and comes flying at Aimz. Aimz sidesteps him and as Murray turns around she drives the fire extinguisher right into his forehead.
Murray drops faster than a girl’s panties on prom night, eyes glazed over and blood racing from his forehead. He’s fortunate that he’s so close to the edge of the ring allowing the shot to drive him to the outside.
Dave Kern: Bad luck for Aimz, had Murray stayed in the ring this match would have been a formality.
Jeff Marx: I can’t believe that idiot is being beaten by a woman. This is embarrassing.
Steven Smith: Yeah, why can’t I pound him like that.
Jeff Marx: Oh god.
Aimz goes to the outside and stomps violently on Murray’s head. Murray lays rather motionless the signs of a concussion or worse. Aimz tries to force Murray back into the ring, but the man is too heavy. She gives up and goes searching under the ring for some more weapons. She pulls out a table and slides it into the ring. Andy Murray finally begins to stir, but is still woozy. Aimz rolls Murray back in the ring and slides in herself. She sets up the table and rolls a groggy Andy Murray onto it.
Dave Kern: Oh this is looking bad.
Jeff Marx: What are you saying this is finally looking good.
Aimz climbs the turnbuckle and looks around at the booing public. She rears back and proceeds to nail a 450 splash onto Andy Murray driving him through the table.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD, SHE HIT THE DEAD AIM!!!
Aimz falls into the pin immediately from the 450 splash as Richie Travis counts.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
It’s over, Aimz rolls off of Murray and slowly gets to her feet. The crowd boos like crazy as Aimz rolls out of the ring. She jumps the barricade and searches for her homemade baseball bat. She retrieves it and hopes back over the rail. She raises her weapon above her head as she walks up the ramp and towards the back.
Dave Kern: Damn, what a brutal match. We’ll be right back.
Fateful Confluence
FEATURING: COSMIC LION FUJITA, JACK MURPHY
AUTHOR: TASO
"Jack Murphy. I want to talk to you."
The Bull is walking towards some unknown destination deep inside the Manchester Evening News Arena when a rumbling voice catches his attention. He turns around to see someone new to AWC television. At least, with this look.
Jack Murphy: And who the bloody hell are you?
Out from the shadows steps a man wearing a red and yellow wrestling mask, designed to look like the snarling face of a lion. A fur trimmed red robe hides the rest of his costume, but long brownish-red fur trims the back of the mask to give the impression of a mane. The eyes are cut out and there is a strap under the chin the wearer has left unclasped. By his wide, brown, searing eyes it is obvious the man is Asian. His identity is not long in secret.
Fujita: I am someone you do not want to cross, Murphy. I am someone who with the snap of a finger could break you down faster then anyone in the AWC.
Jack Murphy: You're Fujita, right? You're Hamada's boyfriend. Ha ha! What's wrong? She can't fight her own battles now, she needs to send her boyhunk after me?
Fujita: Why is it those with the smallest brains have the biggest mouths, eh? Listen closely, Murphy-san. I will not say this twice.
Jack Murphy: Hit me with your best shot, pal. Go right ahead.
Fujita: You can continue to play your foolish games here in AWC but they will not last long. Your "campaign" against women in wrestling hides many of your insecurities, doesn't it Murphy-san. You cannot hide behind that Livewire championship for very long. Someone will put you down. I will put my money with Butterfly.
Jack Murphy: Then you're a fool.
Fujita: No –
Jack Murphy: Yes, you are.
Murphy raises the belt in his hand.
Jack Murphy: The Livewire title? I have no need for it. Jack Murphy is now the PLATINUM champion of AWC, thank you very much.
Cosmic Lion looks surprised, but goes on regardless.
Fujita: Either way. I am no fool. Because it is good to have friends, Jack-san. Because whether or not I am right, if Butterfly doesn't neuter "The Bull" then Cosmic Lion Fujita will be there right behind her.
Jack Murphy: You think I'm afraid of you?
Fujita: I think you are afraid... period. Give Butterfly a match for your title… whatever it’s called now. Let us ALL see the kind of man you really are, Jack Murphy.
Without turning his back, Fujita slowly takes a few steps back before disappearing back into the shadows of the arena's underbelly.
Jack Murphy: You PUNK! I'm Jack Murphy! I am...as good as it GETS!
"The Bull" stands there for a few moments, taking in what Fujita said.
Jack Murphy: Time to up the stakes... heh heh heh...
With those foreboding words Jack Murphy leaves the scene intent on some new dark design.
The Cold War Has Begun
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, JOHNNY NOBLE
AUTHOR: CONRAD
Pearl goes about his work of co-EM-ing and the like blissfully unaware that an angry, bandaged, man is approaching his office. “PEARL!!” the voice bellows from the hallway. David Harber looks up from his desk with a gulp. His pretty-boy California smile may not save him from this one. In walks the 6’7” Johnny Noble. He pounds his fists on the desk and looks Pearl in the eye, glaring.
Johnny Noble: Dude, this is totally uncool, man!
Pearl: I’m sorry… I’ll book you next week?
Johnny Noble: See this arm?
Mr. Incredible points to his massive 25” Boa. From the camera’s angle only Pearl’s wide eyes are visible over top of the flexed muscle, he gulps again.
Johnny Noble: This arm is only 10 inches shy of your waist, bro. Now, see this bandage?
Mr. Incredible points to his head.
Johnny Noble: Still wrapped up from the malicious attack last week by that young, wet-behind-the-ears punk, Race Alexander! That’s radically ungnarly!
Pearl: Gnarly?
Noble pounds his fist on the desk again. A thunderous vibration leaps from the desk setting Harber down in his chair.
Johnny Noble: This kid wants to attack the Legend of Mr. Incredible to try and gain a few places on the card!? It shall not come to pass, dude. I want a match with this kid. Tonight!
Pearl: I understand, Mr. Noble, but –
Johnny Noble: NO BUTS! Are you a commie?
Harber winces at another unfortunate reminder of the events earlier tonight.
Pearl: A – a communist?
Johnny Noble: Yeah, you commie!
Pearl: I am not! I love America!
Noble leans in hard on the desk, his weight causes it to bow and shift a little.
Johnny Noble: Well, dude, I come from America! The land of opportunity! A land where men have to work to earn their stripes! The American Dream - a job and a place to live. Liberty and Justice for all! I want some justice! Alexander thinks he can just jump me from behind and soar up the card because of it? That’s not how it goes, brother!
David Harber’s sense of Americana is stirred and he almost wants to stand up and sing the Star Spangled Banner. A single tear rolls down Pearl’s cheek.
Pearl: You’re right. He is a communist. He wants something for nothing – like Gorbachev!
Johnny Noble: Damn right!
He declares standing to his feet.
Johnny Noble: But Reagan, a damn good man. Who was shot long before 50 Cent and survived with more grace and less gimmick. Reagan kept Mikhail in check… get it? In Czech? HAHAHAHA! Followed by George Bush Sr! These – these were good men.
Pearl: But he’s already had a match.
Johnny Noble: You’re worse than Nixon or… Clinton! I like Ike, man. I voted for Ford and I idolized Lincoln. Besides, God’s a Republican! I want that match!
Pearl: Next week is the best I can do.
Johnny Noble: I can wait. But if it doesn’t happen next week I, like Uncle Sam, want YOU!
Pearl: Right.
Pearl sits back in his chair and breaths again now that Noble’s gone. And is a little saddened at his lack on knowledge of American history. Then Noble pops back in...
Johnny Noble: COMMIE!
Hate vs Tim Martin
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: JAAKKO OKSA
Dave Kern: And up next, we have the semi-main event for tonight, featuring one-half of The Furious Fists Of God and the RETURNING ”Nondivine Juggernaut” Hate! I really don’t like the sounds of this.
Jeff Marx: (high-pitched voice) I really don’t like the sound of this! (normal voice) Seriously, what the hell are you, Dave? A pussy? We have seen Weapons matches and all kinds of wackoes over here in the AWC, and this is only our second show announcing!
Dave Kern: Oh, wait. Didn't we see Hate at the PTC Super Series? I think we did.
Jeff Marx: Oh, that's right, we did. He's the one who made the goody-two-shoes Irishman, Paddy O'Shea, his bitch in the Fans Bring The Weapons match! That was awesome.
Steven Smith: I thought you hated the match. I didn't hear you scream once, not even after I loaned you my remote-control vibrator.
Jeff Marx: Shut the hell up, Steven. I was drunk that night. Or high. Or both. But at least I wasn't gay like you!
Dave Kern: (sigh) Well, James Brunt is about ready to put this show on the road, should you be interested.
Brunt slides into the ring, and almost immediately "Hallelujah" starts to blare through the speakers, the overtly intimidating bells and horns playing at full volume.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, weighing in at 306 pounds and hailing from Boston, Massachusetts, he is one-half of The Furious Fists Of God... TIM MARTIN!
Martin makes his way to the ramp, and the crowd start booing the über-fundamental Christian man. Martin shows his displeasure, but doesn't make a move against the crowd, instead walking down to the ring and quickly blessing himself before entering the squared circle.
Dave Kern: What's notable is that Tim is in this match alone: his brother, Liam Martin, is nowhere to be seen at ringside.
Jeff Marx: I bet it's some super-secret Jesus business that he can't tell anyone about unless he wants to be turned into a nun by the Vatican.
Dave Kern: You probably offended so many religious groups with that statement that it's not even funny anymore. And it wasn't funny to begin with!
Jeff Marx: Well, I had a chortle.
Steven Smith: That's not the only thing you had, sweet-cheeks.
"Hallelujah" dies away, and the fans start waiting for the other contestant. Brunt looks up to the entrance ramp, but failing to see or hear anything, he begins his announcing spiel.
James Brunt: And his opponent, weighing in at 225 pounds and hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania... The Fifth Horseman, HATE!
Marduk's 'Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transilvania' begins to grind away at the speakers, filling the audio system with doom and darkness. Hate appears in the entranceway, with a black gas mask covering his head and wearing a long, black trenchcoat. The fans start booing intensely as Hate makes his way to the ringside, shouting at the fans through his gas mask.
Dave Kern: The last we saw of Hate was at the PTC Super Series, where he fought a brutal WAR of a match with Paddy O'Shea. Luckily, no weapons are allowed in tonight's match-up, which should tone it down a little.
Jeff Marx: With this man in the ring? I HIGHLY doubt it.
Hate pulls off his mask and throws down his trench coat, sliding into the ring. Referee Joseph Reid eyes Hate suspiciously, fully aware of the history the painted cultist has on assaulting AWC officials. Hate only gives Reid a sarcastic smile in return, not bothering to let the referee search him for foreign objects. Seeing his opponent's arrogance, Tim Martin also forgoes the search, instead assaulting Hate before the bell rings. The crowd remain kind of muted, as they really don't know who to cheer for as Martin lays a bunch of huge right hands into the forehead of Hate.
Dave Kern: And we're off! Tim Martin assaults his opponent before the bell, which mind you rings right THERE, and we're OFFICIALLY underway!
Jeff Marx: I can only hope that one of them has a shotgun in their pants and then kills the next guy, thus ending this match as soon as possible.
Steven Smith: Well, if you want a blast of something, I have just the thing you need in my pants...
Hate leans back on the ropes, allowing Martin to hammer him with haymakers. Finally, Martin ends the onslaught with a massive overhead chop to the exposed chest of Hate, making the crowd OOOH sympathetically. Hate, however, steps forwards and fires back with a blistering chop of his own before hitting an elbow squarely in the face of Tim Martin, sending him packing for a few short steps, which are enough for Hate to hit a running kick to the guts and bring Martin down to his knees. Hate boots Martin to the side of the head and presses his leg on Martin's chest for the pin, but the bigger man kicks out even before Joseph Reid gets down for the count.
Dave Kern: DEVASTATING strikes from both men to start off with this match. Although they seem to be evenly matched in spirit, it's worth of notice that Tim Martin outweighs Hate by...
Jeff Marx: Hold on there, Goody-Kern, I've just been handed an important announcement: "All future references to the size difference between Hate and his opponents and to the ease with which Hate seems to perform the moves he does are banned from now on". Huh, that's odd.
Dave Kern: That's... That's CENSORSHIP! How can that be allowed?
Jeff Marx: Beats me.
Tim Martin tries to stand up, but with Hate putting the boots on him, it soon becomes an impossible task. Martin rolls out of the ring, and predictably Hate follows him. Not as predictably, however, Tim Martin launches a standing body press at Hate, crushing him against the ring apron. Hate flops onto his knees, but Martin quickly picks him up, bodyslamming him on the floor before dropping a vicious elbow into the face of Hate. The fans cheer for Martin, especially the ones in front of the carnage happening, but Martin ignores the support he's getting, instead focusing on damaging Hate's lower back with kicks. Martin finally pulls Hate up and then immediately sends him head-first into the guardrail, with enough force to send Hate clear over the railing.
Jeff Marx: Well, that poor bastard Reid doesn't seem to have a clue on what he's doing in the ring.
Dave Kern: I'd imagine it'd be hard to keep people of Hate and Tim Martin's size in check. You can go ahead and give it a try, Jeff, if you felt like it.
Jeff Marx: What, and miss a WONDERFUL match alongside you two idiots? Never in a million years.
Tim Martin goes to pick Hate up, but instead gets a stunning fist to the face as a result. Martin winces and comes back, but Hate blocks the attempted punch and instead headbutts Martin square in the face. Martin staggers back, allowing Hate to climb over the guardrail and hit another headbutt on the bigger man. Martin staggers back, and Hate quickly floors him with a sort of a spear. Hate lays some punches into Martin's forehead before picking him up and rolling him back in the ring, sliding in after his opponent. However, Tim Martin is bruised but not down, as he surprised Hate with a kick to the back of the head before picking him up and nailing a big suplex with relative ease.
Steven Smith: A boner-jarring suplex from Tim Martin!
Dave Kern: (cough)
Steven Smith: What? What?
Jeff Marx: I hate you, Steven. Consume excrement and perish.
Tim Martin keeps pressing the advantage, assaulting Hate before he can get up. Martin pulls Hate up and lays into him with a few nasty forearms before shooting him to the ropes. As Hate comes back, Tim Martin goes for a powerslam, but Hate manages to flip onto his feet, if rather unsteadily. Hate quickly turns around and goes for the Hatebred, but Martin has enough sense to duck and quickly hook Hate up, delivering a nasty back suplex which sends Hate bouncing on his upper back. Hate holds his neck as Martin rolls him up, hooking the leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Hate kicks out.
Dave Kern: First pinning attempt of the match, and Hate clears it with a two count.
Martin doesn't delve too long on the failed pin attempt and instead rolls Hate back onto his feet, backing him up into the corner. Martin throws Hate to the opposite corner and comes charging in with a clothesline, crushing Hate in the corner. Martin delivers a few extra clotheslines for good measure, but as he steps back Hate suddenly rakes the eyes. No-selling the damage, Hate runs forwards and delivers a nasty knee kick to the face of Tim Martin, knocking him down. Martin tries to roll onto his feet, but Hate catches him with a stomp and he stays on his knees and elbows. From there, Hate jumps into the air and comes crashing down with a nasty double foot stomp to the back of Tim Martin's head, smashing his face into the canvas. Hate hooks the leg for the cover, as the crowd again OOOH's the hard hit delivered.
ONE!
TWO!
Tim Martin gets the shoulder up and then rolls to his side, holding his head.
Dave Kern: LOOK AT THAT! That was 225 pounds of muscle straight to the back of Tim Martin's head! What a sick move.
Jeff Marx: Doesn't he have a top rope version of that as well?
Dave Kern: Yeah, the Death From Above... Why?
Jeff Marx: Because he's going up right now, and looks about ready to kill Tim Martin. Mind you, I would be about ready to do it as well to end this match.
Hate is indeed ascending to the top rope, and he stands tall as he eyes the downed Martin on the mat. Hate spreads his arms, and the fans start to boo. Hate cracks a smile and then jumps, ducking his legs in air to create more distance between him and Martin. He descends quickly and at the last moment, shoots out his legs, landing squarely in the middle of Martin's chest. Hate rolls forwards and holds his knees in pain, but then quickly crawls to cover the beaten Tim Martin, who apparently has some trouble breathing.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
NO, Tim Martin kicks out at the last second!
Dave Kern: TIM MARTIN KICKS OUT OF THE DEATH FROM ABOVE! Did you see how VICIOUS that stomp was? He could have easily broken some ribs there!
Jeff Marx: How in the... Dave, you stupid bastard. Hate can't break any ribs if he's landing feet-first! I seriously doubt your knowledge of the human anatomy.
Dave Kern: You know what I meant, stop being a jackass.
Hate shakes his head and helps the badly beaten Tim Martin up from the mat into a standing position. Hate gives Martin a standing headbutt and then springs off the ropes, landing a running headbutt to the face of Tim Martin. Martin staggers back, but amazingly stays on his feet, which puts Hate off just a little. The Fifth Horseman runs to the ropes again and comes back, going for the Hatebred, but suddenly Tim Martin grabs Hate off the run and lifts him up into the air as if for a spinebuster. However, Martin suddenly sits out, sending Hate crashing jaw-first on Martin's shoulder. The stunned Hate stands up, only to be caught by Martin in a bearhug.
Dave Kern: That modified jawbreaker is called the White Light of God by Tim Martin, and look at how it stunned the monster Hate! That could have easily broken his jaw had Martin wished for it!
Jeff Marx: That was just lame. Hate didn't even land on his head or anything! Which reminds me, no-one has landed on their heads in this match yet. it sucks.
Martin grinds the bearhug in, wrenching on the damaged back of Hate he targeted earlier in the match. Hate tries to wriggle free, but even his impressive strength seems to be not enough after the mighty jawbreaker he just received. Hate is seemingly start losing consciousness, when he suddenly tries to rake Tim Martin in the eyes. Joseph Reid moves in to stop this, but suddenly Martin lets out a mighty roar and lifts Hate to the air, planting him to the mat with a mighty slam out of the bearhug. Hate is left breathless on the mat as Tim Martin covers him, putting more pressure on the chest and ribcage of Hate.
ONE!
TWO!
Hate kicks out just before the three, leaving Martin cursing on the mat.
Dave Kern: Not enough to put the Fifth Horseman away.
Steven Smith: I could put away some of the Fifth Horseman and maybe get to know him better later, oh yes...
Jeff Marx: ... You do know what he'd do to someone like you?
Steven Smith: No I don't. What would he do?
Jeff Marx: On a second thought, I think you should go over right now and give him a playful slap on the ass, Steven. It'd really pay off.
Dave Kern: STEVEN, DON'T DO IT.
Jeff Marx: Aww, rats...
Tim Martin pulls the Nondivine Juggernaut upwards and blasts him with a punch to the face, trying to figure out what to do. However, the hit to the face seems to reinvigorate Hate, who fires back with a punch of his own, and a full-scale slugfest breaks out. Hate blocks a punch by Martin and just lets loose with a series of palm blows to the face of Tim Martin, disorienting the bigger man and backing him to the ropes. Hate smacks Martin in the chest with a hard chop before shooting him to the opposite ropes. As Martin comes back, Hate quickly springs forwards and nails the Hatebred, clubbing Tim Martin straight in the jaw with the humongous clothesline which is easily enough to send Martin to the mat. Hate stands triumphant over his opponent, holding his arm in the air as a sign of sure victory.
Dave Kern: THE HATEBRED! One of the most powerful lariats you'll ever see in this business, and that's because –
Jeff Marx: Because Tim Martin is a freaking glass-jaw, that's why.
Dave Kern: Stop calling him with derogatory terms, Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Or you'll what, hit me with Steven's handbag?
Steven Smith: NOBODY IS TOUCHING THE HANDBAG.
Instead of going for the cover, however, Hate points to the turnbuckles, again. He starts climbing, as Joseph Reid starts up the count and the fans start murmuring. Reaching the top, Hate turns around again and spreads his arms.
Dave Kern: What, ANOTHER Death From Above? The first one almost BROKE Tim Martin, but a second one? Could it be...
Hate leaps and tucks his legs again, but this time he isn't going for a stomp. Instead, he goes for a double kneedrop, but finds no-one home as Tim Martin moves just in the nick of time. Martin is up quickly and pulls Hate up, who seems to have damaged his knees badly. Martin chops Hate in the neck a few times, before he grabs Hate in a powerbomb position. Instead of a regular powerbomb, however, Martin just launches Hate backwards through the air with the Confessional, with Hate landing squarely on the top of his head and staying down for good and proper.
Dave Kern: FOR ALL THAT IS HOLY! TIM MARTIN JUST DUMPED HATE ONTO HIS HEAD!
Jeff Marx: OK, that was impressive, to say at least.
Dave Kern: And now Tim Martin has Hate up for a powerbomb, yes... No! IT'S THE
THE LORD'S WISH, which brings Hate cracking down onto his hurt neck. Martin quickly hooks the cover, pulling on the leg as much as he can!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE! Dave Kern: Tim Martin takes it!
Jeff Marx: Unbelievable!
Hate springs up into a sitting position, but a second too late as Martin is already off celebrating his victory. Hate rolls out of the ring, leaving Martin in the ring with Joseph Reid, who raises the ecstatic Martin's arm high in the air.
Is That Crossing The Line?
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, PADDY O'SHEA, SHELLY
AUTHORS: MICHAEL DOHERTY AND MIKE WADE
We cut again backstage and we see Mike Wade in the hall warming up for tonight’s match. Mike is wearing a shirt that reads "I've been to the land of Oz- And all I got was this lousy t-shirt". Out of the corner of the shot walks Paddy O’Shea, we can hear a buzz in the arena as the two most hated rivals, perhaps in AWC history come face to face. Mike stops stretching and stands to attention in defense mode.
Paddy O’Shea: How goes it buddy. How was Mexico?
Mike raises his fists as Paddy sidesteps around him, grinning from ear to ear. Mike seems to be shaking slightly with anger after all he spent two weeks in captivity on the head of this man standing before him. Mike refuses to answer however.
Paddy O’Shea: Relax Wade. Aye know about the stip Pearl put on the pre-match shenanigans. Do ye think aye'm dumb enough t’ hit ye?
Mike Wade: Must I answer that?
Paddy chuckles while Mike eyes him suspiciously. Although a good bit taller than O’Shea, Wade is well aware of the threat Paddy poises, and unlike Hate, he hasn’t been able to get the upper hand recently he’d so desire.
Paddy O’Shea: Oh aye forgot yer such a comedian Wade.
Mike Wade: Yeah we'll see how funny things are when I get my fuckin’ hands on you tonight.
Paddy chuckles again and now Mike is just plain pissed off. His cheeks begin to come out in splotches of redness. This deep colour spreads down his neck and up his brow. Paddy clasps Mike on the shoulder, still giggling, which Wade pulls away from with a flash
Paddy O’Shea: Aye’m shakin’ Wade aye really am. Hey just like ye in yer locker at Triangles. Remember this? “LEMME OUT, LEMME OUT! AYE’M A FECKIN’ CLAUSTROPHOBE!”
Mike Wade: Hey!! I thought I left something inside like a contact or something and went in looking for it.
Paddy O’Shea: A contact… or SOMETHING? Ye really are a bad liar Mike.
Paddy now decides to dance about Mike just because it’s the so right thing to do. He begins Russian hopping around him, his arms crossed in front of him.
Paddy O’Shea: So ye can’t hit me then? Come on, come on then Mikey. Like me Mexican dancing, do ye. Where’s me maracas?
Paddy pretends to shake maracas that aren’t there.
Paddy O’Shea: Shake shake shake Mikey. Come on, hit me ye big poofter!
Mike grinds his teeth then closes his eyes so tight it looks like his face is going to eat itself. He tries to block the sound out by covering his ears but the image of Paddy locking him in that locker is still there. Now he’s dancing naked again. Naked? What the hell Wade.
Then he’s saved.
At that moment a young lady walks past. If you’d seen the last few editions of Fresh! you would know this girl. Shelly, part of AWC’s backstage team and who also happens to be Paddy’s girl walks past. She gives a quick wave to Paddy as she sees he's in business. She doesn't even make eye contact at Wade. But does pass a darting look in his direction, her back still turned to him.
Paddy melts, love smitten and waves back at her with the tips of his fingers, his smile so large it seems his face is in danger of fragmenting.
Paddy O’Shea: Hi hunny…
Shelly giggles and squeezes past the two. However as she passes Mike he slaps her square on the butt cheek. Paddy’s eyes seem to double in volume, bulging so much they look like they’re about to pop out.
Shelly: What do you think you're doing?
Mike Wade: Relax toots. Getting a feel of your arse there.
He’s shaking now, shaking so hard the loose change in his pocket begins to rattle. Drenched in rage he reaches for Mike Wade.
Shelly: No Paddy! Don’t!
Struggling to breathe, even to talk he punches the wall so hard that it seems to dent inwards. And Mike Wade is smiling right in his face, his nose millimeters form Paddy’s.
Mike Wade: That’s not all I’ll be getting.
Paddy spits venom at Mike, right on his nose and inches backwards never taking his eyes from Mike. Shelly grasps Paddy’s hand and pulls him away. The two walk down the hall, Paddy clearly still livid.
Mike Wade: That’s right Paddy, hide behind your woman like the coward you are!
Now Mike’s smile turns into a bitter frown. Now he has to play fair… and he doesn’t like it one bit.
10% Extra Free!
FEATURING: THE UNFUCKABLES, HATE, ???
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT, MIKE WADE AND JAAKKO OKSA
We’re more than static and dial tone
We are the image of the invisible
We’re emblematic, of the unknown
We are the image of the invisible
Raise up the banner, bend back your bows
We are the image of the invisible
REMOVE THE CANCER, TAKE BACK YOUR SOULS
We are the image of the invisible
I think you get the picture by now.
Unfuckables? You god damned right!
Steven Smith: I really don’t get why they call themselves Unfuckable. I mean, from here they look totally -
Jeff Marx: You did this joke last week — SHUT UP.
Adam Dick, not clad in his usual Illustrious Face-Eater gear, and Mike Wade exit from the curtain and the shower of boos immediately follows. The two scoff of course, then begin their path to the ring. James Brunt doesn’t even acknowledge their presence. He merely drops the mic in the center of the ring and escapes to ringside, hopeful not to share any experiences with the fast-coming duo.
Mike and Adam both climb opposite sets of steel steps into the ring, with Adam picking up the microphone that Brunt had left behind. He shoots the finger-gun at Brunt, winking whilst doing so, just to emphasize his satirical camaraderie with the ring announcer.
Dave Kern: I don’t get how the Unfreakables wormed their way into an Alliance shot after they lost to the Academy.
Jeff Marx: Because the Unfuckables are smart fellas, and they didn’t lose to the Academy! Adam Dick was outnumbered!
Adam surveyed, allowed the crowd and music to die, thought for a moment to his self, and then spoke. In that order.
Adam Dick: UnFUCKable. THAT IS OUR FUCKING NAME. So, is it some joke that God’s trying to play that puts us in the exact opposite position our name says we’re in? I mean, we saw Triangles, I don’t even want to fucking think of it anymore. But then, Fresh! came around. I had my chance for revenge. All of the sudden, Mike Wade’s in fucking Mexico? WHAT THE TERRIBLE SHIT IS THAT? I get beat by the Academy, when all I’m concerned for is that hypocritical “good guy,” Pierce Lavelle. But no, Tim Shipley decides to get his licks in, and all of a sudden I’m getting DP’d by two homos with a flair for reach arounds.
Jeff Marx: I know what a reach-around is, but what the hell does DP mean?
Steven Smith: Double Penetration.
Dave Kern: ...
Adam Dick: All we’ve been concerned about, from day one, is kicking ass.
Lateral to Wade.
Mike Wade: The Unfuckables originate from a very simple idea. From the time that both the Face and I arrived here in AWC it became apparent very quickly that a cartel was in place. The top guys were the top guys, the bottom of the rung was just that and nothing was set to change. Coming from such success that I have, I found it a very hard and bitter pill to swallow. At the Battle of Britain pay per view we all witnessed a dramatic happening in AWC history. Something that will forever be considered history making. A wrestler, who we will call T. Educator.
Adam Dick: No man that’s too obvious.
Mike Wade: OK we'll call him. The E. Well this man won 2 belts in one night and defended his already won Livewire title. Yes The E was the first man in AWC history to win TRIPLE GOLD. Of course the biggest night in AWC history also became the biggest black eye on AWC's history. It was found that "The E" had used certain unsavory methods to win those belts. And was subsequently stripped. Something must've clicked with those upstairs. "We let this new guy into our upper tier and he threw it back at us. That can't happen again." So instead we get the same old tripe from the same old bores. Purse Lavelle, Tim Shipley, Hate, Paddy O Shea.
The crowd pops for the names. Except Hate of course.
Mike Wade: Four men everyone is sick and tired of having shoved down their throats! One of whom is gay and has the most generic name I've ever hear din my life. Hate isn't a name it's a fucking emotion! Out of this frustration came the Unfuckables. We were tired of the lack luster AWC upper card. We decided if a piss ant like the Educator can turn this place on it's head imagine what the combination of Wade and Dick would do! Myself and Adam showed what Lavelle, Hate and O Shea were made of at Testimony. More like cotton candy then steel. We picked off 3 of AWCs top stars in one foul swoop. Unfortunately Shipley has avoided most of our Unfuckable wrath. But I think that's obvious why right? I bet you thought to yourself "Who can I team myself with that could possibly rival the Unfuckables?" I know! The Transatlantic champion of course. And how can we beat them? Oh I know! Let's get one of our little bum chums, ie the Scruffiest cunt on the plant, Paddy O Shea to send one of them to Mexico. 2 of us must be able to beat one of them right?
Adam Dick: OF FUCKING COURSE, because that’s what happened! But let me tell you. Next week, you’ll be looking at the FIRST PURE DOUBLE CHAMPION in AWC HISTORY!
A "You suck" chant starts up from the crowd.
Mike Wade: Oh very original. Well let me tell you something. We started a renaissence of sorts here and tonight we top it off with the AWC Alliance belts. There's an old expression that the silent pig eats the most. Well the bigs raise their voices tonight and tonight, WE FEAST!
Uh oh. ‘Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transilvania'.
The crowd pops, oddly, for the interruption in the Unfuckables’ verbal foray. It didn’t matter if it happened to be the red sadist known as Hate, but they didn’t particularly care at this point.
Hate was a fucking bad ass; bad enough to take down both of the Unfuckables on his own merit alone.
Mike Wade: Feck off, you walking tool, before we start another riot on your ass!
Hate has his own microphone. Huh, how convenient is that?
Hate: Enough. Week in, week out, I hear your empty words, echoing from empty heads. I despise people like you. All the speech, none of the action. Yes, you are "the Unfuckables". But let us see if you are "the Unbeatables" as well.
That’s all he says. The mics are dropped, big man sprints to the ring, double clothesline drops both Mike and Adam.
Mike is first on his feet, beginning an exchange of blows with the Fifth Horseman. Mike takes to the ropes, attempting to bring Hate down with a shoulder block. His small frame compares to Hate in the most humbling of lights.
Dave Kern: Those shoulder blocks are barely moving Hate!
Steven Smith: He seems to be going only a couple inches back with each blow.
Jeff Marx: Watch, fellas, how the masters do their work.
Adam has tactfully rolled behind Hate’s legs. The next shoulder block offsets his balance; the big-man falls over.
Bam, Unfuckables trademarked that shit, mother fuckers.
As Mike Wade sits on top of Hate’s chest to unleash a fury of blows (or perhaps shit on him) Hate powers out by grabbing the man’s neck. Tossing him off like a set of sticks, Hate turns his direction to Adam Dick. He hoists the Illustrious Face-Eater over his shoulder, ready to toss him out of the ring to deal his own vengeance on Wade, something catches his eyes.
And ears.
JITTERBUG!
...
JITTERBUG!
You put the boom-boom into my heart!
You send my soul sky high when your lovin’ starts!
Dave Kern: I’ve never heard this song before...
Jeff Marx: It sounds familiar..?
Steven Smith: WHAM!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!
Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah)
Wake me up, before you go go. Yes, that’s the fucking song. Even worse, is the group of flamboyantly dressed men running through the curtains and ambushing the ring. There had to be about seven of them, all carrying pink and shiny balloons. Not those lame elastic ones. The quality ones that you pay three bucks for. Some of the obviously gay people (dressed in things like novelty sunglasses that are three sizes too big, tight pink corduroys or even belle-bottoms, and jackets sipped to a point that reveal a sizable amount of chest hair) carry posters that read “GLITTER MAGAZINE”
Steven Smith: Whoa! I read this magazine every month! What are they doing here!
Adam Dick crawls out of Hate’s grasp, who is now too confused by the happenings. He takes a step back, wondering why these Gay people happen to be crowding him.
Meanwhile, the Unfuckables watch from the corner of the ring, smiling deviously as they do so.
Gay Man 1: Well, hello there Mr. Hate! My name is (it doesn’t matter), and me and my friends here represent a lil’ publication called Glitter Magazine; the zine for the expressive male!
Hate: ???????
Gay Man 2: Don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’ve been running a contest where we’re searching for the most flamboyant and supportive man of our agenda, in hopes to crown our Annual Prestigious Award, THE GLITTER BOY!
Steven Smith: THIS MEANS I DON’T WIN?!
Dave Kern: What the hell is going on here?
Steven Smith: Being the Glitter Boy means you’re the poster child for gay rights everywhere! And not just general gay rights, but the SUPER GAY RIGHTS! The ones where the guys are on the verge of cross-dressing and committing sexual acts in public!
Jeff Marx: That is just wrong.
Dave Kern: Oh shut up, you recognized a Wham song.
By now, Hate is looking bewildered.
Gay Man 1: After searching through all of our applicants, we’ve decided that YOU, Mr. Hate, are the number one man for the job! Congratulations! You’re the Glitter Man!
And how does he react? Does he break their necks? Does he rip his the arms right out of their sockets?
Nope, he stands idly.
Gay Man 2: That’s right, Mr. Hate! From your application, we’ve determined that no other man compares to women like you do! From your loud, attention grabbing tactics to recognize our agenda, to your heavy application of make-up, you DEFINITELY are the Glitter Man!
Adam Dick and Mike Wade have since left the ring. Standing at the top of the ramp with their mic, the two stand hunched over and laughing wildly. Adam was grabbing his side, while Mike points to the ring and laughs.
Mike Wade: Enjoy our present to you, Glitter Man! And congratulations, you deserve it.
The Unfuckables exit, while Hate is flanked with homos.
Dave Kern: The Unfuckables rigged this! It makes sense now.
Steven Smith: This guy’s a flippin’ cheater! He’s no homo-gay! I SHOULD BE THE GLITTER MAN!
Jeff Marx: Let it go, man.
Hate stands amidst everyone, decorating him with scarves and those puffy things people wrap around their body to look even gayer. Streamers and balloons, of the pink and white variety, begin reigning from the rafters as the words GLITTER MAN: HATE flashes over and over on the megatron.
Wham’s hit plays once again, leaving Hate shocked and speechless in the ring.
Whenever he recovers from the shock, there was no doubt; the Unfuckables would have hell to pay.
But for now, it’s time to celebrate the reign of the GLITTER MAN!!!
Most Haunted III
FEATURING: RED ROCK, BOOLIE, DEREK ACORAH, THE SPIRIT OF "THE BRITISH BOMBER" STEVEN SMITH
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND NEIL PETERS
The opening feedback of "Blame Thrower" by Reuben hits as the lights lower to darkness. The riff begins and the lights flicker red, and Red Rock's logo hits the big screen. The heavy riff kicks in...
We all have responsibilities,
we all have a social debt
and if there is a man free of guilt,
I haven't met him yet
...Red Rock emerges from the back with a grin on his face as the crowd lavish him with a huge pop. Boolie wonders out behind Red Rock also receiving a huge pop!
So now you’re backed in a corner,
you’re under verbal attack
they’re pointing fingers like guns in your face and
nobody’s got your back
Red Rock walks down to the ring which has a small circular wooden table and 3 chairs positioned around it.
Jeff Marx: Who the hell is this?
Dave Kern: It's Red Rock!
Jeff Marx: Who?
Dave Kern: Oh come on, you must remember him from PCW?
Jeff Marx: I try not to remember worthless jobbers...
Steven Smith: Oooh he's got hot!
Dave Kern and Jeff Marx sigh at Steven Smith as Red Rock reaches for a microphone and addresses the masses!
Red Rock: Hello rasclarts! How are we all in Manchester?
The crowd pop for their anti hero.
Red Rock: As you know today I have been taking part in a paranormal investigation! And I would like to introduce a very special friend of mine you might know him from Living TV's most Haunted... DEREK ACORAH!
The Most Haunted theme tune hits and Derek Acorah comes out from behind to curtain to loud cheers from the crowd. He walks down with an aura of confidence as he waves to the public. Red Rock opens the ropes for Derek who walks up the steps and in to the ring before taking another microphone.
Derek Acorah: Thank you Red Rock, and thank you Manchester it's a pleasure to be here! My name is Derek Acorah and I'm a spirit medium. I am able to contact spirits who have passed on to the spirit world with my medium and physic abilities.
Red Rock: Up until now we've been backstage trying to find the ghost of the fallen AWC stars who recently passed on! And tonight Derek, Boolie and myself will conduct a séance in an attempt to contact The British Bomber.
Steven Smith: Me?
Dave Kern: No Steven, The British Bomber.
Jeff Marx: How does “The British Bomber” sound like “Steven Smith”?
Dave Kern: Because that was The British Bomber's real name also.
Red Rock: Please lower the lights so we can begin.
The lights lower and Red Rock, Derek Acorah and Boolie position themselves in a seat around the table. The three men join hands and Derek Acorah offers a spiritualist prayer of protection before beginning. There is a dramatic pause as the three men begin to focus.
Steven Smith: Ohh I'm scared!
Steven Smith clutches to Dave Kern's shoulder and the camera tracks out to show Jeff Marx clutching his other shoulder but he swiftly retracts it when he notices he's on camera.
Derek Acorah: Ok. Now imagine a bright white ball of light above you head. Now imagine it slowly coming down towards your head, down your left arm and through in to the person to your left.
The crowd fall in to silence as Derek Acorah begins to make contact.
Derek Acorah: Steven Smith if you are here please let us know please contact me through my spirit guide Sam, or speak to me directly if you can.
Jeff Marx: This guy has an imaginary friend called Sam... and we're supposed to listen to him? Pffft!
Dave Kern: Shut up Jeff!
Steven Smith: SKEPTIC!
Red Rock, Boolie and Derek Acorah concentrate hard when but no one notices suddenly out of no where a dark figure appears behind Red Rock and the crowd gasp at the sudden appearance of this unknown hooded figure
Derek Acorah: Don't turn around Red Rock, but I can see an full apparition behind you. I will now try and communicate with him.
Derek Acorah cracks his neck as he begins to talk to the apparition.
Derek Acorah: What's this man's name Sam?
Sam: ...
Derek Acorah: He's saying his name is Steven, I'm getting a second name... Smith.
Dave Kern: We should mention that Derek hasn't been told what happened to The British Bomber.
Jeff Marx: He's probably looking at gay boy!
Steven Smith: You think so? I like the older man!
Red Rock begins to look a little bit nervous.
Red Rock: What does he have to say?
Derek Acorah: Steven, do you have any message for any loved one that you wish for me to pass on?
The British Bomber: As a matter of fact...
Red Rock's eye bulge open as he hears the voice of The British Bomber, he breaks the circle and turns around in complete shock as everyone else in the building screams with fright.
The British Bomber: I thought I would deliver the message, personally.
Jeff Marx: ARGH GHOSTS ARE REAL! HOLD!
Steven Smith dives at Jeff Marx
Jeff Marx: Not you! Get off!
The British Bomber drops the hooded jacket to the floor, and a very much alive Bomber nails Red Rock with a chair first, and then cracks Boolie over the head with a chair, followed by a final chair shot to Derek Acorah.
Dave Kern: WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY IS THIS?! DEAD PEOPLE CANNOT DO THAT! DEAD PEOPLE ARE DEAD!
Jeff Marx: Words of wisdom, Dave!
The British Bomber: You thought I was dead? Did you see them recover a body? Did you see them pull me out the carnage? No, you didn’t Red Rock.
Bomber kicks all three men in the face to keep them down and then places the chair over Red Rock’s throat to keep him still.
Dave Kern: WATER IS WET, FIRE IS HOT, YET DEAD PEOPLE ARE ALIVE! IT’S INCONCEIVABLE!
Jeff Marx: Calm down Dave, I think the implication might just be that Bomber NEVER DIED.
The British Bomber: You see Red Rock, the crash was pretty easy to set up and make idiots like you think I was dead, its amazing what a bit of money can sort you out. A few plastic explosives, extra strengthening to a car, and paying off a cameraman. The five seconds or so you was down gave me just enough time to get out and get out the arena and city. And why tonight, why make such a big impression tonight? We are in Manchester, and next week we go to my place of residence, Sheffield. Now, I am very sure I can get this cleared ready for next week, so in my town, me and you to end this Red Rock. Main event. We’ll fight until one man can’t… for ten of those glorious counts. And I know you, how you’re likely to have Boolie at ringside so I don’t want him anywhere near the ring that night. Just to make the playing field level. Red Rock, enjoy the rest of your evening, and watch your back because you never know when I might jump.
“Enter Sandman” by Metallica starts playing and The British Bomber gets up off the chair to release Red Rock, he holds his arms up to the crowd, laughing at the booing he is receiving. He exits the ring and walks backwards to the entrance staring at a fallen Red Rock.
Dave Kern: Unbelievable! Impossible! The British Bomber is alive and well and we’ll be seeing him WRESTLING next week in our main event! A 10-Count match with Red Rock to end their bitter feud!
Steven Smith: I thought that had ended with Bomber’s death, Dave.
Jeff Marx: Ha! Did you not see the GTT5 brackets?
Is This The End For The Fists?
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, AWC SECURITY
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
The scene opens up with Tim and Liam Martin sitting backstage. Tim has an ice pack to the head, with Liam walking around, ranting.
Liam Martin: Tonight has been GREAT! We’ve converted a few followers to the White Ways, you WON your match with Hate… we’ve come out on top, Tim, we really have!
Tim Martin: Ugggghhh…
Liam Martin: What’s the matter?
Tim Martin: My head, you doofus. My… ugh… freaking head.
Liam Martin: Oh, don’t worry about that… it’ll get better! And, hey, the White Lord will always have your back!
Voice: Oh really?
Liam and Tim turn their heads, their eyes immediately bulging.
Tim Martin: Shit.
From off camera, Bruno Hague, Butch Radder, and Taz Yorke come. Taz is holding a baseball bat, gripping it ferociously.
Bruno Hague: Remember last week, boys?
Tim and Liam stay silent.
Bruno Hague: You know you gotta be punished, now…
Liam Martin: (looking at Tim) Is this the end of the Fists?
Tim Martin: (smiling) I wouldn’t worry about it.
Immediately, the two get beaten down, Bruno, Butch, and Taz laying down beating after beating on the two. The scene fades away.
Paddy O'Shea (C) / ??? vs The Unfuckables
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Jeff Marx: It’s time for our main event, and The Unfuckables are about to get the title shot their top performances have been demanding for weeks.
Dave Kern: Their “bonanza” tour ended last week when they were comprehensively defeated by Pierce Lavelle and Tim Shipley; admittedly only one half of the duo competed –
Jeff Marx: Mike Wade was holed up in Mexico!
Dave Kern: – so Paddy O’Shea agreed to put the Alliance titles on the line against Adam Dick and Wade on this week’s show.
Jeff Marx: Managing to forget that he doesn’t actually have a partner anymore. O’Shea has somehow contrived to hang on to an Alliance title belt ever since he first won one as part of Emerald Isle at Solarized, first partnered by Crimson O’Malec and then by The Farmer, but now he’s actually the sole champion. As he’s Irish, he kind of overlooked this when offering Dick the match...
Steven Smith: Paddy never offers me dick!
Dave Kern: So Paddy O’Shea has, we hear, spent the week trying to find himself a partner to fight for the belts.
Steven Smith: (continuing) It doesn’t matter, though, he’s an ugly bastard and needs a shave.
Jeff Marx: How does that prevent him from requiring a partner?
Dave sighs.
Dave Kern: Anyway, word on the grapevine was that Paddy would ask his friend Red Rock to fight alongside him, but since we saw Red Rock in action earlier against the debuting Race Alexander I’d say that’s an unlikely option.
Steven Smith: Pierce Lavelle!
Jeff Marx: Wishful thinking, Steven. Lavelle isn’t even here tonight. Some champion.
Steven Smith: Don’t you dare blaspheme the image of The Perfect One!
Thrice’s “Image Of The Invisible” suddenly blasts out of the speakers, and James Brunt, in the ring, brings the microphone to his lips to compete with the music.
James Brunt: The following is a Duo Tag match for the AWC Alliance championship! Introducing first, the challengers, from Waterford, Ireland and Somewhere, Else respectively, the Relentless champion “His Swerviness” Mike Wade and “The Illustrious Dick-Eater”...
Brunt pauses theatrically, a wide grin on his face, and the crowd catch on, laughing.
Jeff Marx: STEEEEVEN SMITH...?
James Brunt: Adam Face... THE UNFUCKABLES!
Dick and Wade emerge, seemingly unaware of the ring announcer’s trick, and Dick looks a little surprised to see the fans laughing at him. With him might be expected from small pockets of the crowd who enjoy the bad-ass image of The Unfuckables, but at him? Is the mask askew??
Dave Kern: Ring announcer James Brunt just took a shot at Adam Dick. I'm not sure if that was inten-
Jeff Marx: Of course it was intentional! IGNORANT IGNORAMUS!
The Unfuckables saunter into the ring, Wade swinging his arms either side of his trunk as a final warm-up.
Steven Smith: Mike Wade’s hair is pretty damn neat.
Dave Kern: Hyde painted it himself.
Steven Smith: ...?
Jeff Marx: !
The music fades, senior referee Michael Ryan moving up the ring steps with a serious expression on his face.
Dave Kern: Mike Wade made it back from Mexico in time for the match, then.
Jeff Marx: Looks like O’Shea’s bid to relocate his fellow Irishman didn’t have any long-term strategy behind it.
The call of the uilean pipes booms from the speakers and fills the arena in a short solo of beautiful intent. As the crowd look on in awe, the video screen slowly fades from black into the flag of Ireland - the green, white and gold of the tri-colour, rippling in the wind.
James Brunt: And their opponents, both from Galway, Ireland, at a combined weight of 353 pounds... Owen O’Shea and the Alliance champion Paddy O’Shea... THE O’SHEA BROTHERS!
The spotlights suddenly pan down to the entrance, just as the uilean pipes are replaced by "Raggle Taggle Gypsy" by Christy Moore. The roar of an engine is heard, just before a mobile home emerges, being driven by Paddy O'Shea, who has a worried look on his weather-torn face as he addresses some last-minute instructions to his brother Owen, in the seat next to him. O'Shea drives the mobile home down the gantry and parks it by the ring before hopping out to a cheer of admiration.
Dave Kern: There’s our mystery solved! Paddy O’Shea’s partner is none other than brother Owen!
Jeff Marx: I CRY FOUL~! He isn’t contracted to AWC!
Dave Kern: There’s no rule against one-off appearances... what about independent wrestlers?
Jeff Marx: Do we ever?
Dave Kern: No... that isn’t to say we couldn’t!
Jeff Marx: Why?
Dave Kern: Some top TV promotions do now... Core Wrestling made a big announcement this week that they’re going to start featuring independent talent!
Jeff Marx: How’s that even NEWS?
O'Shea pulls the door open for his brother, who hops down to the floor. He looks very similar to Paddy, an inch or so taller in height but not so muscular (and Paddy isn’t exactly ripped himself). Owen’s hair is shorter and darker, and he wears standard blue wrestling trunks, standard blue knee pads and standard blue boots.
Steven Smith: Hmm, he’s a little more attractive... palatable, perhaps...
The O’Shea Brothers slide into the ring, rising quickly to stare down The Unfuckables. Paddy O’Shea hands his Alliance title belt to James Brunt; the ring announcer already holds its twin, the belt having been surrendered by The Farmer following his leg fracture at Triangles.
Dave Kern: I have very little detail on Owen O’Shea’s history, primarily because we weren’t informed he was to be competing tonight, but I do recall him having wrestled in the past as a duo with Paddy, though I can’t remember where.
Jeff Marx: Oh dear, Dave. Do your job!
Dave Kern: Look, I try my best! At least I'm not just sitting here making snide comments like you, Jeff!
Jeff Marx: (nonchalantly) Ooh, you cut me deep.
Steven Smith: (irritated) It’ll be Adam Dick and Paddy O’Shea to start us off.
Dave Kern: Ooh, sorry Steven...
Steven Smith: Now can I please resume sitting around not doing a whole lot of anything?!
Jeff Marx: No, since that infringes on my job description.
Dick and the senior O’Shea circle the ring, arms out in front of them in fighting stances as they prepare for a gruelling match. Dick lunges forward, tying up with Paddy, and the two struggle in a battle of strength momentarily until the Face-Eater swings a leg at his knee. O’Shea hops over the kick, pulling down hard on Dick’s shoulders to catalyse his leap, and Dick tumbles into him, unbalanced with the extra weight and only one standing leg to hold it. Slipping his right leg around behind those of TIFE, The Man From The Caravan performs a reverse Russian leg sweep.
Dave Kern: Dick taken to the mat after some quick reflexes by Paddy O’Shea caused the Face-Eater to fall into him.
Jeff Marx: Paddy O’Shea’s rough-and-ready style is exactly what hindered his PCW career. Paradox that he’s doing so well here?
Steven Smith: I THINK SO. He’s far too ugly.
Dave Kern: Hindered his career? He did win Diamond In The Rough, I hope you remember!
Jeff Marx: Sixty-four people fighting to become the lowest of the jobbers in PCW? What a sensible competition.
Dick turns onto his front as he lands and Paddy jumps back up, stomping down hard into Dick’s face to capitalise on his advantage. Dick raises his hands, trying to block the blows.
Dave Kern: O’Shea’s kicks raining down thick and fast on Adam Dick!
Adam Dick rolls aside and throws a left leg up, his boot catching Paddy on the hip. Numbed, Paddy raps urgently at the area of impact with his fist, trying to galvanise his muscles into action, but in this moment Dick comes to his feet and rushes through into a spinning neckbreaker.
Steven Smith: Dick breaks neck. Must be at least twelve inches.
Jeff Marx: Mike Wade is imminent...
Dick strolls over to his corner and slaps the extended arm of Mike Wade, who comes through the ropes not without hurry and stands in the corner, bent over with his hands on his knees, watching intently as Paddy rolls onto his front, still feeling his neck gingerly.
Dave Kern: The temperature just rose a couple of degrees!
Jeff Marx: Yeah, global warming sucks, huh?
Steven Smith: Actually, global warming is more likely to cause a temperature drop here in England due to the decreased salinity in the North Atlantic caused by the melting of Arctic ice, thus slowing down the “conveyor belt” effect of the Gulf Stream and reducing the amount of –
Jeff Marx: shutthefuckupSteven.
Dave Kern: No, no, leave him! A moment of rare insight from our third man...
Jeff Marx: Yeah, but into the wrong thing.
O’Shea staggers to his feet and suddenly Wade rushes him, a fist coming through into his gut. Owen winces on the apron as spittle flies to the mat from Paddy’s mouth, reacting to the shock of the blow. Wade sinks another fist deep into the Galway boy’s abdomen and then puts on a front facelock.
Dave Kern: Things have been quiet since it was revealed that Mike Wade was behind the whole Paddy O’Shea/Hate feud, and now it’s all going to boil over as they meet in the ring!
Jeff Marx: I'm not sure Wade can exactly claim responsibility for the whole thing, after all, he only kicked it off. Hate and O’Shea then took the ball and ran with it...
Dave Kern: But it turned out to be a fake ball.
Jeff Marx: ...How can you have a fake ball? A ball is a ball.
Dave Kern: I was running with –
Jeff Marx: Well don’t. I can run with my own theories myself, thank you very much.
Dave Kern: (under his breath) Marxist.
Jeff Marx: That is my name.
Steven Smith: Mike Wade lands a third successive snap suplex...
Jeff Marx: Yeah so snap out of it, Dave.
Dave Kern: Cool it!
Jeff Marx: You call it! That’s your job!
Steven Smith: Cool it, Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Sure thing, Stevey-boy.
After three snap suplexes from corner to corner, Wade yells out to the crowd, and Dick begins to encourage a clapping sequence. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t happen, with the ”PAD-DY! PAD-DY!” chants simply intensifying. Owen O’Shea slams the palms of his hands against the top rope and screams himself hoarse as his brother finds himself in Wade’s front facelock for the fourth time.
Dave Kern: This’ll be the fisherman’s suplex...
And it is.
Dave Kern: FOUR CORNER WADEPLEX!
Jeff Marx: “His Swerviness” Mike Wade driving the fight out of Paddy O’Shea! Good work from The Unfuckable.
Steven Smith: Did you know that in Australia, they have to bleep that name every time it’s used?
Jeff Marx: Heh, I’d love to have that job.
Dave Kern: (laughing) We must really be making life hard for them by calling a Wade/Dick match, then.
Jeff Marx: Good idea. UNFUCKABLES! UNFUCKABLES! Now bleep me, O Mighty Techies.
Wade hooks Paddy’s leg, holding on tight as he breathes hard – the four consecutive suplexes (three snaps and a fisherman) have taken plenty of toll on the aggressor. The victim, though, has obviously had the worst of it, and Michael Ryan counts him down:
ONE!
TWO!
Paddy O’Shea kicks out.
Dave Kern: Kickout by Paddy! Early attempt by Mike Wade after his Four Corner Wadeplex to capture the belts, but there wasn’t enough keeping Paddy down.
Jeff Marx: So we’ll get to see the newbie in action... assuming O’Shea can even hold Wade at bay for the few seconds necessary to tag out. Right now, I can’t see that happening.
Steven Smith: You know what I can see happening?
Dave Kern: (with a nervous laugh) No, Steven, I don’t think the fans watching at home want to hear about your daydreams!
Jeff Marx: Maybe the gays do.
Dave Kern: Let’s not pigeonhole stereotypes, now, Jeff...
Jeff Marx: Alright. The homos.
Steven Smith: I OBJECT! You shall refer to me as “Quentin”.
Dave Kern: Why?
Steven Smith: (blushing) No particular reason...
Wade pulls O’Shea up, and wraps his arms around his body, looking perhaps for a belly-to-belly suplex. In desperation, Paddy batters away at Wade’s back, hitting his spine with the sides of his closed fists and driving forward. His Swerviness is eventually forced back into a corner, and with one last thrust O’Shea steps off, releasing a mighty knife-edge chop.
Steven Smith: WOOOOO!
Dave Kern: Paddy desperately trying to get this on his terms.
After a breather, O’Shea sends another chop Wade’s way, His Swerviness sucking in air rapidly through his teeth as he deals with the pain signals coming from his chest. O’Shea then puts a hand to the side of Wade’s head and grabs his hair, yelling something into his face before a straight punch to the forehead rocks the heavier man.
Jeff Marx: This is personal.
O’Shea then stomps away, his face red with a combination of fury and the four suplexes he’s taken, and tags in his brother Owen, who is waved in by referee Ryan. There is a roar from the crowd, doing their best to encourage the brother of AWC’s most popular wrestler.
Dave Kern: Here comes Owen O’Shea for the first time in an AWC ring!
Owen, an expression of utter concentration on his face, tracks slowly towards Wade, who is slovenly in extricating himself from the turnbuckle. Something black hits the floor next to Wade, and the referee immediately rushes over.
Dave Kern: The pad appears to have come off the turnbuckle in that corner. That’s dangerous, leaving exposed steel! Luckily, Michael Ryan has already headed over to sort it out.
Jeff Marx: That’s a shame, it would’ve been nice for Owen O’Shea to break in to the business with a broken face.
Wade looks down at the buckle pad on the mat, a blank expression on his face as he treads on it, purportedly by accident. Michael Ryan stands close, insisting that he move at once so that he can replace the turnbuckle. Quick as a flash, Adam Dick ghosts into the ring behind Owen O’Shea!
Steven Smith: Owen, prepare for DICK!
Paddy sees it and hurls himself into the ring, his eyes blazing, but he’s too late, and as he scampers over, the damage is already being done.
Jeff Marx: ESTRADA EXPLOSION!
Dave Kern: Not quite an Eaterplex but the effect is the same, with Owen O’Shea down and out!
Paddy roars in with a nasty clothesline to the base of the Face-Eater’s mask, his chin snapping back as he falls back into a tangle on the ropes. Michael Ryan, the offending turnbuckle pad in his hand, now turns angrily to Paddy, ordering him out of the ring. He protests, pointing to Dick, but his ropes-based slumber is clearly of less concern to the senior referee who insists that the only true Alliance champion exit to the apron. Paddy holds up his hands, turning to walk away, and Ryan moves back to the corner, where James Brunt hops up to the apron to assist the referee in reapplying the padding.
Dave Kern: Paddy’s being ordered out, while his brother Owen is flat out on the canvas! Not a nice way to be introduced to AWC! Adam Dick came from behind with the Estrada Explosion!
Jeff Marx: Owen was naïve, coming too close to his opponents’ corner, and simply paid the price. For being the brother of a worthless jobber.
Dave Kern: In no way, shape or form is Paddy O’Shea worthless.
Jeff Marx: Yes, he is. He’s worthless as a TRIANGLE. That’s a shape.
Dave Kern: Jeff, it’s a figure of sp-
Jeff Marx: Figure of speech, ooh, I'm so clever...
Dick suddenly gets back up with Ryan’s back turned and leaps onto Owen O’Shea’s body, quickly turning to apply the Estrada Lock!
Jeff Marx: Somebody was feigning!
Dave Kern: Oh my! Estrada Lock! A dragon sleeper surfboard type submission move and Owen O’Shea is locked in tight! He can’t struggle out of this!
Brunt finally slides the pad into place and Michael Ryan turns around to see O’Shea propelling himself back into the ring through the ropes. The referee storms over.
Steven Smith: The ref’s had just about enough of this!
Dave Kern: Paddy was about to come to his brother’s aid once more but he couldn’t have timed it worse!
Puzzled at having been completely ignored by the referee, Dick continues to wrench away at Owen O’Shea’s spine with the crippling submission hold. Paddy’s vehement protests are meanwhile doing nothing to impress Michael Ryan, who simply insists that he must leave the ring. Furious, Paddy turns and storms under the top rope; just as Dick hops back out to the apron, Michael Ryan focuses at last on the action... and it’s Mike Wade wrapping Owen up in a La Majistral cradle.
Jeff Marx: La Majistral! Intricate pinning move by Wade and this must be it!
ONE!
Paddy sees Owen in trouble once more, and ignoring the warnings from Michael Ryan, ducks once again under the top rope, his face red.
TWO!
Dave Kern: Here comes Paddy!
O’Shea bears down on the pinning predicament, but he’s too far away.
THREE!
Jeff Marx: Too late, Paddy! Too damn late!
Wade rolls away, a big smile on his face, as Owen O’Shea rolls over, pounding the mat in frustration. Paddy drops to his knees next to him, an abject expression on his face having lost the title belt that has been synonymous with his name for so long.
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea has at last relinquished the AWC Alliance championship! Controversial indeed, but The Unfuckables worked every situation to their advantage to claim the titles!
Jeff Marx: Wade took that buckle pad off deliberately, you know...
Dave Kern: He did?! SCANDALOUS!
Wade and Dick celebrate in the ring as James Brunt bitterly announces their victory from outside the ring.
James Brunt: The winners, and new Alliance champions, The Unfuckables.
Jeff Marx: Cheer up, Brunty! Nothing on Clay, I tell you...
Dave Kern: This is an outrage! Mike Wade knew full well what he was doing!
Steven Smith: Mm, whatever, he’s got good hair, and I heard he’s good in –
Dave Kern: ...DEED! Yes, Mike Wade is good indeed, now a double champion in AWC. That’s it for tonight’s show, then, but I tell you, Paddy O’Shea will not be happy at losing out...
Jeff Marx: We’ve had a hell of a lot of action this week, most of which has been utterly predictable and thoroughly pointless. Hopefully we can bring you something decent on Fresh! next time... but don’t bet on it.
Steven Smith: Something indecent would be more to my tastes.
Dave Kern: Well, we have plenty of that too... see Tracy and Maddy Estelle up next (Yes, Dave can see the future. -Ed.)
Steven Smith: UGH! FEMALES!
Bittersweet Vengeance
FEATURING: MADDY ESTELLE, TRACY, CHAINZ, ALEXA KENDERICKS
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
The backstage area is now a beacon of activity. Crew members are hustling to and fro working on cleaning up the arena. The camera bumps off of people as it makes its way down a busy corridor. We take a right turn and enter a fairly empty corridor. After a few doorways we are standing in front of the women’s dressing room. From behind footsteps sound and Maddy Estelle appears from out of nowhere. She has high heels on, with black stockings under a mini skirt. She has a blouse on that amplifies her femininity.
She pushes the door open and over her shoulder we see a women standing in front of a mirror. The woman is standing with her back to the audience. She is very scantily clad, completely nude save for some red panties and knee high leather boots. The woman turns around, her hands covering or at least attempting to cover her overly ridiculously large breasts. We can now see that the woman in question is Tracy.
Tracy: Hey, cover the door will ya. You’re letting a breeze in, giving me goose bumps all over.
Maddy Estelle walks into the dressing room and shuts the door behind her. She approaches Tracy and looks at her breasts and than despairingly looks at her own, more than ample yet nowhere near as large breasts.
Maddy Estelle: Jesus fucking Christ, I thought that new girl Connie was stacked, but god damn.
Tracy blushes a bit, though not as much as you’d expect, she’s obviously heard the comment before.
Tracy: What can I say, my man likes ‘em.
Maddy Estelle cups her own breasts.
Maddy Estelle: Soooooo, how big are those?
Tracy looks around unsure whether she should say or not.
Tracy: Alright, they’re thirty-seven, double d.
Maddy Estelle’s jaw drops as she absorbs the information. Tracy makes her thirty-four c cup look like a pre-puberty teenage girl’s.
Tracy: Hand me that bra, will ya? I wanna try it on for Chainz.
Maddy looks down to a chair and sees a very skimpy bra with extremely small straps on it. She hands it to Tracy who turns her back to the camera and puts her womanhood in the obviously too small bra. She goes back to strap the bra, but is having trouble.
Tracy: Help a gal out?
Maddy Estelle pulls the bra together and with great might somehow manages to strap the bra. She turns to face the camera, almost red in the face from the tightness of the bra. It’s immediately obvious that something must give. Tracy’s breasts are almost popping out of the skimpy bra.
Tracy: What do ya think?
Before Maddy can answer one of the straps snaps. The left breast comes popping out, but Tracy has the wherewithal to cover it up before the camera can catch a glimpse.
Tracy: Damn it.
Tracy turns her back to the camera and removes the bra. She rummages through her duffel bag and produces a sports bra and fits into it.
Tracy: Well, Chainz woulda torn the shit out of that bra anyway.
Maddy Estelle: I know he’s good looking, and ripped, and powerful, and sexy, but how do you stand that guy?
Tracy sighs.
Tracy: Sometimes it’s hard, but I love him and I’m gonna stick with him through the good and the bad. When he’s not worried about wrestling he’s really great.
Maddy Estelle: What about last week when he pummeled Hamada?
Tracy: Maybe she had it coming, I don’t know.
Maddy Estelle: Changing the topic, you’re going to have to give me the name of your surgeon.
Tracy: You like my breasts?
Maddy Estelle: Yeah, you know that I do.
Tracy: Wanna feel them?
Maddy cups Tracy’s breast. Her hands disappear underneath the behemoth twins. She raises one up a bit and than the other and than jiggles them driving the crowd at home wild.
Tracy: Nice huh?
Maddy Estelle: I’ll say.
The door suddenly bursts open and a pissed off Chainz storms into the dressing room. Chainz looks at Maddy holding Tracy’s breasts freezing Maddy in her footsteps.
Maddy Estelle: Uh, this isn’t what it looks like.
Chainz just stares at the two women.
Maddy Estelle: Please, don’t hurt me.
Chainz doesn’t look like his normal self, he seems agitated and in a foul mood, well he does.
Chainz: I ain’t in the mood right now. Here’s my hotel key card, stop by later.
Chainz rummages in his pocket and fishes out a hotel room key. He flings it to Maddy Estelle who catches it and places it between her breasts. She looks at Tracy who seems to be aware of Chainz’s foul mood and without further hesitation scampers out of the room.
Chainz: Come on, get dressed. I’m tired of this scene.
Tracy puts a skirt on and a tank-top and before she can grab her bag is yanked from the dressing room. Chainz pulls her by the arm almost like a mother pulling a little child.
Tracy: What happened?
Chainz: Politics and idiots; that’s what runs this place.
Chainz and Tracy exit the arena and head into the parking garage. They approach a car and Chainz pushes the remote door opener opening the doors. Before he can open the door Alexa Kendericks comes flying from behind, smashing his head into the drivers’ window. Tracy screams as Chainz falls to the ground, blood beginning to ooze out of his head.
Alexa Kendericks: You like that you sick bastard!
Tracy: (crying) STOP IT!
Tracy tries to get in the way, but is unceremoniously pushed out of the way by Alexa. Chainz slowly begins to get up, a small smile on his face. He stands up to his full height, towering over Alexa Kendericks.
Chainz: Mmm, is that all you got. Tell you what, take your best shot.
Chainz leans forward expecting a punch from Kendericks, but instead Alexa pulls out a chain that she had tucked away in her pants and smacks Chainz across the face with it. Chainz falls to the ground, holding his face.
Chainz: Ah, you bitch.
Chainz tries to get up, but Alexa swings the steel chain and connects across Chainz’s face. Chainz rolls on his back and is met with another whip across the face from the chain. The whip is followed by another, and another, and another, and another, and another. After about seven blows Kendericks stops, breathing hard, to check on her progress.
Chainz is a complete mess, blood all over his face. Welts and bumps have already begun to appear as he is almost unrecognizable.
Alexa Kendericks: You think you’re so big beating on women huh, you still big?
Kendericks kicks Chainz in the side causing a spell of air to burst from his mouth. Chainz rolls over on his stomach and tries to crawl to his feet, coughing up blood all the way. She begins circling around him like a shark in water that’s caught a whiff of blood.
Alexa Kendericks: You thought you could just assault me week after week without any repercussions? I don’t think so.
Chainz crawls to all fours, but a well place kick to the side brings him back down.
Alexa spits on Chainz and dropping the chain she turns and heads away.
Chainz: (muffled) Ahh come on baby, we ain’t through dancing.
Alexa stops and turns around, a confused look on her face. She picks the chain back up and whips Chainz across the back with it. Chainz just laughs as he cringes in pain, a sick laugh.
Alexa looks frightened as she whips Chainz again, but the laughs keep coming.
Alexa Kendericks: Shut up!
She drops the chain and mounts Chainz’s back. She grabs his head and begins ramming it into the concrete floor. Chainz doesn’t offer any resistance, but continues laughing all the way. After a few seconds Alexa stands up, completely spent. Chainz continues to laugh as he rolls around in his own blood.
Chainz: (muffled) Ahh ha ha, come on baby you know how I like it.
Alexa grabs the chain and whips the back of Chainz’s head causing the laughs to stop. Seeming pleased with her work Alexa drops the chain and leaves the scene of the crime. A crying Tracy approaches the completely bloody and bruised body of Chainz. She picks his head up and places it in her lap.
Tracy: Come on honey, come on.
Chainz coughs up some blood before he opens his eyes.
Chainz: You drive.
With Tracy’s help Chainz manages to crawl into the back seat of his car. Tracy picks up the chain and gets in the car. She starts the ignition and speeds of out of the parking garage.