Fresh! Results30th May 2006
The House That Kasidy Built
FEATURING: DR. KASIDY DRAKE
AUTHOR: KYLE MARTIN
Before the opening credits of the show, surprisingly, the scene opens to the face of none other than Dr. Kasidy Williams Drake, who is dressed in a suit and a smug facial expression. Not knowing what else to do, the crowd boos instinctively causing Dr. Drake to smile slightly.
Kasidy Drake: Guten tag to all of the Atlantic Wrestling Club’s loyal fans in Düsseldorf, Germany. In case you have the misfortune of not knowing who I am, my name is Dr. Kasidy Williams Drake, president of the AWC’s major sponsor, Drakewerx Pharmaceuticals. As such, the Executive Board of the AWC has named me the AWC’s Chief Financial Advisor which makes sense because, well, you’re all enjoying the fruits of my money.
Drake laughs in a way that seems as if he really doesn’t find anything funny at all and stops abruptly folding his hands across his desk.
Kasidy Drake: In any event, as Chief Financial Advisor, I have been given the authority to make certain decisions within the AWC that I find to be most… economically sound let’s say? And right now, I’m busy here in Philadelphia with Drakewerx, but I assure you, you’ll all be seeing my face a lot more in a few weeks as I begin to oversee the actions of Co-Entertainment Managers Sasha Volkveya and David “Pearl” Harber. My message tonight is very short and sweet. You see, I really don’t care much for the sport of professional wrestling these days, and hadn’t truly been paying attention to the distribution of salaries until I arrived to find two people doing the job of one for four people’s extremely-large salaries. Rather childishly, you two have wasted millions of company dollars in order to carry out this so-called “feud” of yours and at the behest of the Executive Board, we’re going to put an end to this nonsense in the upcoming weeks. At the next AWC pay-per-view, fittingly called, I exclusively reveal, Divide And Conquer, there will be a brand extension – the West Atlantic Brand headed by “Pearl” Harber and the West Atlantic Brand handled by Ms. Volkveya. These brands will only be temporary and their individual success and/or failure will help me decide who the new and sole Entertainment Manager of the Atlantic Wrestling Club will be. The one that fails will simply be fired. That is all, and have an excellent night as AWC Presents: Fresh!
Introduction
FEATURING: DAVE KERN, JEFF MARX, STEVEN SMITH
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The AWC logo fills the screen, and then fades away to show a darkened arena. Abrupt fireworks on the stage, cheers, and then the lights suddenly flash bright with the grungy beginnings of “E-Pro” by Beck. The fans in the Scandinavium arena go mental, screaming their lungs out as the video screen bursts into action with highlights of the first year of AWC. All the big spots are there: Hate tossing Pierce Lavelle off the bus in the Streets of London match; Jack Murphy’s flying Bull Charge on Tim Shipley in the Triangles structure; Chainz taking a dive through a glass window at Twilight of the Gods; and many more.
See me coming to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles will hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you’re aiming
Don’t forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you
The Transatlantic title belt fills the screen, momentarily fading through to a shot of Adam Dick, cocking his crowned head to one side as he flicks his eyes from side to side. And then it’s white light.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! Folks I’m here with Jeff Marx and Steven Smith but before Fresh! is even underway we’ve heard some MONUMENTAL news from AWC’s new owner and Chief Financial Advisor Kasidy Drake! A ROSTER SPLIT! DIVIDE AND CONQUER! CHOOSING OUT OF PEARL AND SASHA!
Jeff Marx: Have to say I didn’t see that coming. But what an arrogant asshole! Two weeks he’s no-showed us, and even tonight he doesn’t have the decency to turn up, just addressing us on video. Who does he think he is?!
Steven Smith: Well he is worth eighty gazillion dollars Jeff…
Jeff Marx: I doubt that. AND he got Sasha’s name wrong…
Steven Smith: And more importantly her job title! He said Co-Entertainment Manager! Douche.
Dave Kern: As trivial as that sounds, it is a little worrying that Dr. Drake seems out of touch with AWC itself… and not being here tonight isn’t going to help things… but let’s brush that aside for JUST ONE SECOND and think about this! Divide And Conquer, that’s the next pay-per-view…
Jeff Marx: Yeah, dividing the brands and all…
Dave Kern: And… and Jeff, there are no pay-per-views after that before Coast To Coast! That means we’re going into the biggest event of the year with a split roster! THIS IS INSANE!
Steven Smith: And also kinda fun… how do you think they’ll split it? What if they put Chainz on the West and Tracy the East? Or split up Adam Dick and Ellis Nash?
Jeff Marx: TREASON! Don’t even THINK such sacrilegious thoughts!
Steven Smith: But Jeff, if Adam and Ellis are both one side of the Atlantic, WHO WILL OVERSEE THE OTHER HALF OF THE KINGDOM?
Jeff Marx: (puffing out chest) Well, I…
Dave and Steven: (in chorus) GBJ…
Jeff Marx: Oh, yeah, him too.
Dave Kern: So… after we found out during the week that Sasha manufactured a false notice of resignation from Pearl, stepping things up a notch… Kasidy Drake’s had enough and… one of Pearl and Sasha will be FIRED?!
Jeff Marx: I vote Mother Russia to stay. I always thought Pearl looked a little too spaced out.
Steven Smith: W h a t , l i k e t h i s ?
Dave Kern: This is…
Steven Smith: Crazy.
Jeff Marx: Moronic.
Dave Kern: Surprising…
Steven Smith: BUT PRETTY DAMN EXCITING!
Your Move
FEATURING: MR. MARSHALL, LXG
AUTHORS: JC AND COLBY
We open up into a shot of the locker room. It’s early in the evening, hell the show just started, which means that there’s not a whole lot of stuff going on right now. Mr. Marshall is in here, fiddling with his gear idly, but more or less just mentally preparing himself for his match up. It’s quiet for a long moment, before the door opens up again and in walks LXG.
Mr. Marshall looks up from his boots and over his shoulder, seeing the new young talent walk in and he offers him a small smile. LXG offers a smile back, pulling his duffle bag off his shoulder. He looks around the room, spotting the locker with his name on it and he smiles a bit more. He honestly can’t believe that he’s making his in ring debut tonight. He strolls over and tosses his bag on the bench.
Mr. Marshall: Hey New Blood.
LXG looks up to find Mr. Marshall standing behind him, grinning. He extends a hand, shaking respectfully with the new kid.
Mr. Marshall: Looks like we’re kicking things off tonight.
LXG: Looks like. I’m Lincoln, by the way.
Mr. Marshall: Trent. Trent Marshall.
With the handshaking over and all that, Trent figures he might as well strike up a little bit of conversation with his opponent.
Mr. Marshall: I hear this’ll be your first step in the ring. Ever. That true?
LXG: Yeah.
Mr. Marshall: Nervous?
LXG: ...you have no idea.
Trent smiles and shakes his head some, before resting his hand on LXG’s shoulders for a bit of colleague comfort.
Mr. Marshall: Hey, just relax. That’s the most important thing. The rest’ll come to you.
LXG: What good is relaxation if you don’t know how to wrestle?
Trent raises an eyebrow and then smiles some, stepping back and into the middle of the floor, where there’s room.
Mr. Marshall: C’mere, kid. Since you’re new and you don’t have an ego like the rest of these guys around here, I’m gonna’ help you out.
LXG swings around on the bench and hops up to his feet.
LXG: Really?
Mr. Marshall: Yeah, why not.
LXG smiles some, pretty happy that he’s making some friends around here for once. Friends that aren’t insane or just plain weird.
Mr. Marshall: Alright, I’m going to teach you your first wrestling move. It’s simple, but effective and can really turn the tide in a match if you use it right. It’s called the Fujiwara Armbar.
LXG just nods, listening and making sure that he hears everything that he can. Paying attention is part of who he is.
Mr. Marshall: Alright? Gimme your arm.
LXG holds his arm out and Trent latches onto it. Within the next moment, he’s got LXG on the ground, face down and he’s bending back on that arm. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to show him where the pressure should be. He holds it there for a moment or two, before he breaks the hold and stands up, offering a hand to LXG. When they’re both back on their feet, the conversation continues.
Mr. Marshall: So what do you think?
LXG works his arm a bit, trying to get it back into prime working order.
LXG: I like it.
Mr. Marshall: There you go. Now you know how to wrestle... at least a little bit.
They both chuckle a little bit and Trent looks up at the clock on the wall.
Mr. Marshall: Well, it’s about that time. I should let you get ready.
LXG: Yeah. No turning back now, huh?
Mr. Marshall: You’ll be fine. See you out there.
With that said, Trent offers LXG a comical salute and backs his way out of the door, turning and heading off down the hallway. As for Lincoln? He hops back over the bench and takes a deep breath, getting mentally prepared.
Their match is up next, after all...
Untitled
FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, ZSASZ
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
“You did WHAT?!”
Mikey O’Reilly cannot believe what Zsasz is telling him. After his recent health scare with him collapsing in his home last week, him hearing that Zsasz and Psymon kidnapped Tracy last Fresh! doesn’t bode well with his Weapons match against Chainz later on in the evening.
Mikey is visibly shaking with both anger and fear. With Zsasz and Psymon kidnapping Tracy and doing horrible things to her last week, it’ll only fuel Chainz’s rage towards both Mikey and Zsasz. He hasn’t seen Psymon anywhere in the building tonight, but if he’s in the building, Chainz will extract his revenge him as well, since he is involved in this whole debacle.
Mikey O’Reilly: Do you realize what you just done?! You’ve pissed off an unhinged, delusional psychopath! I have a Weapons match with that unhinged, delusional psychopath, and he’s gonna fuckin’ kill me in it! Not to mention I’m still not in the best fuckin’ health!
Zsasz lets out a sigh. He understands how angry Mikey O’Reilly is with him, but what Mikey doesn’t realize is Zsasz knows what he’s doing. After breaking Tracy Stanton down mentally and emotionally last week, he’s done the same thing to Tracy as what Chainz did to him two months ago before Twilight Of The Gods. It justifies his motives to remove the cancer from AWC, and his name is Michael “Chainz” Sloan.
Zsasz: I highly doubt that, Mikey. As far as I’m concerned, he’s too emotionally damaged from what happened to his precious little girlfriend. You see, Mikey, I did the same thing to Tracy as what Chainz did to me: torture. Even though I didn’t lay a finger on her, I physically, mentally and emotionally tortured her with Chainz’s past. Did you see how she looked tonight? It looks like she dropped about ten pounds. My plan is working efficiently. She’ll wilt away and all Chainz can do is blame himself.
Zsasz lets out a diabolical chuckle, savoring what he did to Tracy last week. Without thinking, Mikey O’Reilly grabs the collar of Zsasz’s shirt, pulls back his right hard and clenches it into a fist. Zsasz doesn’t even budge. Instead his maniacal sapphire blue eyes are willing Mikey to strike his mentor, yet Zsasz’s expression and posture is relaxed.
Zsasz: Striking me won’t get you anywhere, Mikey. All you’re doing is exhausting your rage on the wrong individual. You despise Chainz more than me. Extracting your rage and vengeance on me will get you nothing but misery and woe. But if it alleviates your frustrations with me, have at it.
Mikey O’Reilly’s right arm is shaking with fury, yet he’s hesitant to strike his mentor. He does have a certain hatred for Zsasz, but if it wasn’t for the man he’s about to hit, Mikey wouldn’t be where he is today. He has a career in professional wrestling, he’s making plenty of money to support his family and he’s living an exceptionally well life. And the person he’s about to blast is the man who gave him all of that.
Slowly dropping his right arm, he lets go of Zsasz’s shirt collar. He should save his rage for Chainz for tonight. Right now, there is something he must do.
Mikey O’Reilly: I’m gonna go find Tracy and apologize for this whole mess you’ve caused last week. It may not amount to much, it’s something I must do. You, on the other hand, are relieved of your duties for the night. If you pull another stunt like this again, I’m gonna have to fire you. I don’t need any more stress put on me.
With that said, he exits his locker room, closing the door behind him. Zsasz watches his student go, with a not-so amused look on his face. With him relieved of his managerial services this week - like he does anything useful as manager, all he does is collect on Mikey’s investment, whether he wins or loses - he exits Mikey’s locker room to conduct his own businesses.
He pulls out his cell phone and gets to work.
Contract Killing
FEATURING: ACCOUNTANT DEAN, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: BRYAN
Here’s someone you don’t see on camera too often. His name is Dean Darsaw. He’s a mild-mannered accountant for the AWC. He’s high-strung, a workaholic, and a little too nosy for his own good. Which is, actually, what brings him here.
To David Harber’s office.
Accountant Dean: Sir…
Dean fidgets a bit in his cornflower-blue tie and slate-gray suit. Gotta dress his best when talking to the boss, especially during TV time, right?
Pearl: Come on now, I’m a bit busy here.
Pearl sits at his desk, in his temporary office in the back of the arena. Papers abound, but it looks like he’s doing a better-than-passable job of keeping them under control, despite the impression that tonight of all nights AWC is falling apart around him. Dean, meanwhile, still looks more than a little uncomfortable.
Accountant Dean: Sir… this is rather important.
David Harber leaned back in his chair and exhales a laborious sigh. Dean’s a pencil-pusher and a worrywart, not to mention the fact that visits from accounting are NEVER good.
Pearl: Fine, fine. Go ahead.
Accountant Dean: Alright. As you know, the standard AWC temporary contract offer has no downside guarantee, but rather is eligible to be voided in the case of a major injury.
Pearl: Correct. Too many flash-in-the-pan types around.
Accountant Dean: Sir, are you aware that in the past month, five different names have been taken off the books due to this injury clause?
Pearl: You know, as a matter of fact, I am.
Accountant Dean: We’ve been able to void the contracts of both members of Collision Course, and… after the events that took place after the Anniversary Show…
Pearl nodded.
Pearl: Right. Two separate backstage attacks required Mike Stephens, Speed, and Dagoth Kinslayer to receive medical attention of the degree needed to void their AWC contracts.
Accountant Dean: Correct, sir.
Pearl raised a questioning eye.
Pearl: Well, such is the industry. But we both know this, so why are you coming to me tonight?
Accountant Dean: There was the associated matter. The day after the Anniversary Show attacks…
Pearl: …which we have been TRYING to keep quiet, obviously to no avail…
Accountant Dean: …four new AWC superstars were signed to contracts to replace most of those existing contracts. Meaning that the contracts must have been prepared that night. Which would imply that…
Dean shrugged, and looked as if he was sweating a bit.
Accountant Dean: Well sir, the… er, professional ethics of my position compel me to ask you if anything that we, the accounting department of the Atlantic Wrestling Club… is doing anything unethical to defraud these wrestling contracts, and replace them.
There’s a long pregnant pause. Pearl considers the question.
Accountant Dean: Sir?
The corner of Pearl’s mouth perked up a little in an awkward half-smile.
Pearl: Dean, I assure you that the Atlantic Wrestling Club has done absolutely nothing immoral in regards to these attacks, or the new contracts that have been signed.
Dean looks slightly relieved, but still a little uneasy. He adjusts at his tie.
Accountant Dean: Sir, I’m happy to hear that… but the accounting and legal departments still have some hesitation about---
Pearl waves his hand and cuts him off.
Pearl: Dean? Can I show you something?
Pearl sifts through a pile of paperwork on his desk and comes up with a small, impeccably folded letter. It was simple, and black and white. Well, except for a small smear of blood in the corner.
Pearl: Do me a favor and read it aloud.
Dean does.
We have removed five wrestlers from their uninsured AWC contracts due to injury. They are as follows:
Jiro Sennosuke
“Joey Six” Josiah Farnsworth
Michael Stephens
Dagoth Kinslayer
“Speed”
You are welcome. They were all a drag on this company, as you are aware.
But these acts were not out of spite, or goodwill. On the contrary… our good faith shall be replaced with an act of good faith of your own.
In exchange for services rendered, you will sign four contracts for new AWC talent that will come in the mail this Wednesday. No questions asked. The fifth contract is the gift, and will allow you to recoup some of the lost expenses from hiring subpar talent.
These four new wrestlers will not be “subpar talent.” They will help redefine wrestling in AWC. You have already seen what they can do in their brief showing when they took out Collision Course three weeks ago.
Of course, failure to comply with such a request will be met with consequences. We have had no problem accessing your AWC superstars in the past, and would have no trouble continuing to do so. But how would you feel if our next target was a Garbage Bag Johnny, injuring him and removing him from his destiny at Coast To Coast? Or a Jack Murphy or a Mike Wade?
Do you think we would be unable to access Ms. Volkyeva, or even yourself?
For the sake of your roster, your company, and yourself… I strongly urge you to accommodate our requests. You will find it to be, in the long term, an excellent decision. All of the wrestlers you will be adding to your roster are quite qualified.
We look forward to working with you in the future.
-L
Dean looks at the note in some shock, as he processes the information, then hands it back to Harber, who looks at it wryly.
Accountant Dean: Uh, sir… that’s blackmail. Has there been a trace on the letter or…
Pearl just shakes his head. With all the intrigue in AWC that’s gone on so far… this isn’t even the worst of some of the crimes committed.
Pearl: Actually, Dean… it’s… well, the wrestling industry.
The Entertainment Co-Manager shrugs his shoulders.
Pearl: I damn sure hope they can wrestle as well as they ambush people.
Overdue
FEATURING: ADAM DICK, MIKE WADE
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND MIKE
Please keep the reporters at bay
This is a matter of life or death but we deal with things like this every day
Please keep the reporters at bay
You never do what I tell you to do, you never do what I say
Jeff Marx: SCHWEET.
Dave Kern: What?
Jeff Marx: Oh shut up and bow, fool! Bow to the Royal Greatness that graces us with his presence.
Jeff bows, of course. Dave looks at his broadcast partner as if he were an idiot. And Steven grabs Jeff’s head to force it towards his lap.
Jeff Marx: No means NO, Steven!
Dave Kern: Well, Adam Dick seems to be coming to the ring WITHOUT his Royal Court tonight.
Steven Smith: Not surprising after that dirty, dirty man ruined the Dick’s chances at rubbing out the Fistings.
Jeff Marx: Um... what?
The Face-Eater, completed with his Transatlantic Crown and a Refused “INSERT HARDCORE QUOTE HERE” T-shirt, storms quickly towards the ring. He points at James Brunt and motions for the announcer to drop the microphone. Of course he obliges to save himself from any more interaction with the Uber Asshole.
Adam climbs into the ring and scoops the mic from the floor. “Flying at Tree Level” by Brand New fades out, but the crowd’s jeers are loud enough to throw his train of thought off base.
Adam Dick: SPRICKEN ZEE FUCK UP. Even you primitive eastern European assheads know that means to SHUT THE FUCK UP. The KING has arrived and he’s not here for silly antics with you idiots!
Of course, the crowd doesn’t exactly take to Adam’s kind words.
Adam Dick: Let me put this out there right now — I don’t like it when people think they can throw my name around like I’m their fucking brother-in-law. IT DOES NOT WORK LIKE THAT. It’s a simple process, really, but for some reason even the simpletons of AWC’s roster aren’t catching on. I fuck your shit up; you smile politely and shut the fuck up; I fuck your shit up; and repeat. WHERE DO YOU IDIOTS GET THE IMPRESSION THAT YOU’RE ALLOWED TO ADDRESS ME IN YOUR PROMOS, SAYING IT’S MY FAULT THAT YOUR LIFE-OF-DOUCHE IS SO DOUCHEY, AND GIVE EVERYONE THE IMPRESSION THAT I OWE YOU FUCKERS SOME SHIT?!
Jeff Marx: What does Adam Dick owe to anyone?
Dave Kern: You can’t say that he shouldn’t give Mike Wade a shot at the championship.
Jeff Marx: What did Mike Wade do to deserve one? Lose to Ellis Nash?
Dave Kern: It’s arguable that he was the workhorse in the Unfuckables reign.
Steven Smith: No doubt about that — Mike Wade knows how to break a sweat.
Jeff Marx: Okay, I don’t even want to know how you know that.
Adam Dick: Hey shitheads — THE KING IS SPEAKING. THAT MEANS YOU TWO SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Jeff Marx: HEY!
Adam Dick: Not you, Jeff. You can speak.
Jeff gives Adam an air-high-five while the other two announcers fold their arms and sink in their shoulders. Dick continues with his charismatic bitching.
Adam Dick: No one cares about your opinions on how I do my business and what you think of me as a person because the truth is you aren’t important enough to register on my radar. I’m surrounded by assholes twice my size, yet no one can sit here and compare to me. Are any of you assholes TWO-TIME TRANSATLANTIC CHAMPIONS?! How about Overall Best Wrestler THREE QUARTERS IN A ROW!? Or even the LORD OF THE NEW FRONTIER!? No. You’re either “Most Underrated!” or “Sweetest Asskisser!” but sorry, Turks and Irish Stereotypes get NO RECOGNITION from me.
Obv.
Adam Dick: So I gave you guys your shot at glory but you still aren’t happy. As if asking you to beat my buddy Garbage Bag is too much to ask for. You greedy hogs shouldn’t even be getting the chance to get the chance at my crown! But here I am, generous ole’ Face-Eater, gracing you hideous human beings with two stepping stones to AWC glory — and you say it’s unfair. PAH! UNFAIR! You shit heads don’t know the first thing of unfair! UNFAIR IS HAVING TO FIGHT IN BULLSHIT HANDICAP MATCHES ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME! Unfair is having bitter transgender wannabe referees trying to fuck me over all the time because I literally took a dump on its chest in the ring. Unfair is their transgender dyke girlfriend trying to kill my girlfriend merely so they can fulfill their hideous fantasies of necrophilia.
Jeff Marx: I think he’s talking about Darcy Crisis and Aimz.
Adam Dick: But unlike the rest of you assholes, I know when to stop talking---
Yeah, right. The a small pocket of fans in the front few rows begin their own renegade “bullshit” chant.
Adam Dick: ---I said I know when to stop talking, and I know when to start reacting. And it starts by correcting a stupid mistake that happened last week.
A few cheers surface for Adam’s reference to his loss against The Furious Fists Of God.
Adam Dick: You’re probably all expecting me to blame my good friends, Zomby Knight and Garbage Bag Johnny, for their display in my match. But that is not necessary, for it is my fault for allowing them to get involved and be manipulated against me! But that shall not happen again! NEXT WEEK, Facetious Fuckers of GAY, IT’S ON ONCE AGAIN! YOU, YOU, AND ME IN ANOTHER HANDICAP MATCH! You can even bring your she-male, Darcy Crisis, to don the stripes once again because it won’t matter. I’m going to skullfuck the both of you in consecutive fashion and there isn’t a damn thing your penisless friend can do to stop me from winning.
The fans pop.
Jeff Marx: The Furious Fists! The Face-Eater! REMATCH! NEXT WEEK!
Adam Dick: There won’t be anyone to get in the way of our certainly unfinished business this time. It’ll be you two faggots and me, and that way when I pin your asses, I’ll get to see that look in Darcy’s eyes as he helplessly watches me dismantle two more valiant young lads hopeful paths. But sorry to say, Darcy, that’s the closest you’ll ever get to another match with me unless you beat Garbage Bag, which I don’t see happening. Maybe if these Backwater Boys can get another win over me without taking advantage of a brain-thirsty zombie, I’ll consider giving them a shot at the crown but that isn’t looking likely.
He takes a moment to rub his chin in reflection.
Adam Dick: Once again, the AWC roster is looking like a barren wasteland of talent. There isn’t one good candidate for me to recognize worthy of a shot to this Crown! Not a single person capable of carrying the deadweight of this company on their back should I retire. That makes me sad. But then again, it’s good to know that there isn’t a single fuck around that can compare to my level---
“Jump Around” by House of Pain.
The fans jump to their MOTHER FUCKING feet for His Swerviness.
Dave Kern: MIKE WADE IS HERE! HE HASN’T BEEN SEEN SINCE THE LATEST SWERVE AT THE ZERO 2 HERO FAN FESTIVAL!
Jeff Marx: You’re not allowed to speak!
Dave Kern: Shut up, Jeff, I’ve got a lot to say! And so does Mike, who until now has kept quiet!
Mike Wade appears at the top of the ramp, wearing that cocky smile he’s known to sport from time to time. Adam returns the gesture with a smile of his own, masked in bitterness.
Adam Dick: SUP PAL.
Mike Wade: Oh shut up and quit being belligerent for two minutes, right? You knew this was coming and you didn’t even try to neutralize the situation. That’s the one reason I have to kill you right now but you know what Face? I’m a nice guy. I’m going to let it slide. You fucked over the Unfuckables so you could get to Jack Murphy, you fucked me over so you could get with that ho-bag Ellis Nash, and you fucked over our friendship when you thought you could abuse me. I’M A PERSON, FACE! I HAVE FEELINGS!
Adam Dick: I KNOW YOU HAVE FEELINGS, JERK. THAT’S WHY I INVITED YOU IN ON THE IVAN SCAM — YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO TRY AND CAVE MY FACE IN.
Mike Wade: Oh but I did, you see that’s the only way to get your attention — grandiose actions. If I were to complain to you about being ignored, well, I’d be ignored. I had to speak with dramatics, and what better way to do that than to turn the tides on you after you think the night is in the palm of your hands. One thing that surprised me, though, is your selective memory on the viable contenders on the roster.
The fans begin to boo.
Mike Wade: What, man? Humiliating you isn’t enough to get your attention? Didn’t piss you off like the Fists to get a match? Or is it just that you’re afraid because you know more than anyone that I’ll take that Crown off your head?
Adam Dick: You couldn’t even hold my girlfriend’s panties, Mike!
Mike Wade: I already have, Face! My time in the ring is winding down, and it’s only a matter of time before I decide to finish things off by completing that Grand Slam. Don’t matter if I need to go through you or a Bum to do it. So the only advice I have for you, Adam Dick, is to keep that crown polished because it’s going in the Wade Manor trophy case!
Mike turns to leave, but Adam screams into the microphone.
Adam Dick: MINIONS! ATTACK!
The fans expect the Royal Court to appear on stage and dismantle His Swerviness, but Wade smiles.
Adam Dick: What’s the point of having Goons if they can’t even sneak attack anyone?!
Mike Wade: Don’t even try it, Face, I’ve got every single one of your resources blocked. Mickey Moore locked Ji-Himmy Jihad in a closet with Israeli sympathizer, Bitty and Bob the Bullshitter are bickering in the back over whose Platinum Time Machine has more Platinum, and I’m pretty sure Nana Wade ate Zomby Knight’s brain for a change.
Adam Dick: Fuck you, Mike Wade!
Mike Wade: See you around, Face.
Cut that mo’fuckkin feed.
Invitation Only I
FEATURING: RED ROCK, D'AVID, LXG
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND JC
Last week Red Rock successfully continued his winning streak by destroying the GTT4 finalist and the man who defeated Angelo Deville. This week Red Rock is over the moon at his recent success of 6 wins in a row, sure it’s no 8-0 like Garbage Bag Johnny but Red Rock is in the best form of his career and this week it is a time for celebration. Red Rock is now wondering backstage with a bag of home made invitations accompanied by D’avid Bulrat.
Red Rock: You thinking about it, I am actually pretty awesome! I beat Dave Hurst who beat Angelo Deville. That validates the fact I’m better than Angelo Deville!
D’avid: Heh… errr…
Red Rock: You know what as well? That makes me better than everyone who was in GTT3! WOW I really am awesome!
D’avid swallows with his finger raised, trying to bring Red Rock down to earth slightly but Red Rock is too over excited.
Red Rock: This party is going to be hot! Everyone will be there to see how awesome I really am!
D’avid: Since when did you start using the word “awesome?”
Red Rock: Since I realised I was awesome! Hey look there the new chap LXG, HEY LXG!
LXG is sat by himself nursing a plastic cup of coffee; he tilts his head up and smiles at Red Rock.
LXG: Hey, Red Rock isn’t it?
Red Rock: That’s me! The guy who beat the guy who beat Angelo Deville, you know that means I’m better than Deville right?
LXG doesn’t seem to have a clue who Angelo Deville is, because of his lack of knowledge about wrestling. LXG nods and smiles to avoid any awkwardness and takes a sip of his coffee.
LXG: Oh yeah? That’s... cool. Angela Devil…
Red Rock: it’s Angelo Deville… winner of GTT3 and general legend… ANYWAY! I’m having a party to celebrate my new-found awesomeness; it’ll be in my locker room!
LXG extends his hand and accepts the homemade invitation from Red Rock.
Red Rock: See you later matey!
LXG: See ya’!
Red Rock wonders off leaving LXG to his coffee. Though, he looks at the invitation, turning it over in his hands and raising an eyebrow.
LXG: Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be the only one at this party...
He chuckles to himself and goes back to sipping at his coffee.
Rufio vs Gadget
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: MATT
James Brunt: The following is a singles match!
Steve Smith: You guys think Brunt’ll let me borrow his top hat?
Dave Kern: What?
Steve Smith: It’d look stellar with this two-piece I have in mind..
Silence.
Jeff Marx: Hey, Dave?
Dave Kern: What?
Jeff Marx: This is the only open invitation you’ll ever get: kill. me.
“Burn It Down” by Avenged Sevenfold hits the speakers, signaling the entrance of our first competitor.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring... from Greenwood, Alberta, Canada... weighing in at 223 pounds... RUUUUUFIO!
From the stage, Rufio strides down the ramp, fist in his palm. The crowd reacts mildly; some pop the newcomer for the hell of it, while others simply don’t bother.
Steve Smith: Also, I was thinking a little glitter. Perhaps just a little dabble around each eye..
Rufio slides into the ring stomach-first and, quick like lightning, is up to his feet in one swift movement.
Jeff Marx: Dabble?
Avenged Sevenfold is suddenly interrupted by Story Of The Year’s “Take Me Back”, the riffs of the song causing the speakers to reverberate. Gadget strides out from behind the curtains, a small smile pulling at his lips.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Newark, New Jersey... weighing in at 221 pounds... GAAAADGET!
Gadget begins his stride towards the ring, keeping his gaze locked with Rufio’s as Rufio stands in his corner of the ring, cracking his knuckles. The crowd isn’t too receptive towards Gadget, either; they show him the same reaction.
Upon reaching the ring, Gadget hops up onto the ring apron and climbs through the top and middle ropes. His stride is not broken once as he takes the center of the ring and, after a pause, raises his arms. The crowd’s response is, unsurprisingly, the same as before.
Dave Kern: Ladies and gentleman, we have a newcomer versus a man who’s looking to make a name for himself in this ring tonight... let’s see what happens!
Jeff Marx: DABBLE?
Steve Smith: Like a dollop, only smaller.
Jeff Marx: ... A dollop?
James Brunt takes his exit, leaving Joseph Reid in the ring with the two competitors. Reid backs up as the bell is rung, and Gadget and Rufio begin to circle around each other. Rufio seems to be a little lighter on his feet, while Gadget takes his time.
Dave Kern: Looks like we’re getting started, folks!
Jeff Marx: What the hell is a dollop?
Steve Smith: (scoffing) Jeffrey, really. Did you learn nothing in grade school? Anyway, back to my two-piece..
Jeff Marx: (looking at Dave) What the hell is a dollop?
Dave Kern: (ignoring Jeff, for he is extremely professional and will, unlike some people, call this match) And we’re off with a shoulder-to-shoulder lock up!
That’s right, Dave. Rufio and Gadget lock in the center of the ring; they are both nearly the same weight and exactly the same height, so neither can utilize either of those attributes to their advantage. The lock is broken when Gadget throws his arms down and instead, throws a punch. It connects with Rufio’s face and Gadget, seizing the day, throws a few more. They all connect and in response, Rufio staggers back until he hits the ropes. Gadget, quick, is right on him with two consecutive backhand chops before Irish whipping his opponent into the opposite ropes. Gadget spins to meet Rufio but Rufio has other plans: he leapfrogs right over Gadget’s head, bounces off the ropes, and flies right into a surprised Gadget’s chest with a crossbody! Pin!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Dave Kern: That could’ve been a major disappointment, folks!
Jeff Marx: This booking is a major disappointment. THERE’S NO HEELS!
As soon as Gadget kicks out, Rufio is up on his feet. Gadget begins to sit up; Rufio bounces off the ropes yet again and greet Gadget’s chin with a sliding dropkick! Another pin!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Dave Kern: Another pinning attempt by Rufio! That one was close!
Steve Smith: And if Rufio’ll move just a tad bit more closer over here, I could see the imprint of his –
Jeff Marx: Dollop?
With a handful of hair, Rufio drags Gadget up to his feet and starts laying into him with quick but stiff jabs. Six of them later, Gadget is against the ropes himself – Rufio’s knees bend and he jumps, shifts a one-eighty, and sends a heel right into the cave of skin below Gadget’s chin, causing Gadget to topple over the ropes!
Dave Kern: A textbook Jumping Heel from Rufio! Gadget’s right in front of us!
Jeff Marx: And it looks like Rufio’s following. Let me now prance around the ring with joy.
Rufio jumps over the ropes, landing on the apron. From inside of the ring, Joseph Reid yells at the both of them to get the hell back in the ring; Rufio heeds not Reid’s requests and, as soon as Gadget is up to his feet, is flying from the turnbuckle with his legs seperated..
..the crowd pops..
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! Thesz Press from the apron!
Steve Smith: More like straddle from the apron..
Steve giggles. Dave and Jeff simultaneously sigh and shake their heads. Meanwhile, Rufio rains down punches while Gadget desperately tries to defend himself, shielding his face with his arms. Joseph Reid, tired of yelling, has no other choice:
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Finally, Rufio relents. He climbs to his feet, grabs Gadget by his hair, and slides him into the ring. Gadget obliges and rolls onto his back. He tries to get to his feet, but Rufio is too quick for him: a bounce off the ropes, and another sliding dropkick – this one to the back of Gadget’s head. Pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Gadget gets his shoulder up before the three count!
Dave Kern: Another close call for Gadget! He needs to start getting in some offense before Rufio completely takes over this match!
Jeff Marx: ... I’m sorry, but are you *supposed* to be completely generic?
Dave Kern: (gritting his teeth) At least I’m doing my job..
Jeff Marx: Oh, Dave. It’s not like I’m completely *incapable* of doing my job.. it’s that I have no interest in doing it *right now*.
Steve Smith: I wish I had something gay to say.
Rufio is on his feet while Gadget struggles to make it to his feet; this time it’s Rufio who seizes the day with what looks to be a..
Dave Kern: Arm triangle choke!
Rufio slaps on an Arm Triangle Choke, and Reid starts the count off.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Rufio lets go. Then, he slaps it on again.
ONE!
TWO!
And lets go again. Gadget staggers to his feet, but Rufio gifts no time to recuperate; he’s right on Gadget with a swift yet strong punch and kick combination, sending Gadget right into the turnbuckles. Rufio, grasping a palm, throws Gadget across the ring into the opposite turnbuckles, and then makes possibly the biggest mistake for his momentum: he runs towards Gadget, fulling intent on a flying body attack. Gadget, however, sees otherwise.
A boot to Rufio’s chin sends the Greenwood native stumbling back, giving Gadget just enough time to maul into him with a clothesline.
Dave Kern: And it looks like Gadget is getting in some of that offense!
Rufio is right back up to his feet, and Gadget is back on the offense with a clothesline. And another. And another. The audience doesn’t know how to react to this sudden change of control; there’s a fair share of cheers, as well as a few jeers.
Steve Smith: I’d totally like to get in –
Jeff Marx: – Honestly, Dave. When are we having a show in Paris and can we somehow lose Steven?
Clearly dazed from the clotheslines, Rufio tries to get up. He succeeds in doing so, but nothing more; Gadget is right there with an amazing Belly-to-Belly!
The audience decides: pop!
Dave Kern: What a stunning Belly-to-Belly Suplex from Gadget, ladies and gentlemen! Control switches hands just like that, and it may be over!
Gadget crawls on top of Rufio and hooks the leg. Reid drops for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THR–
KICKOUT!
Jeff Marx: But God is not that kind.
Gadget scrambles to his feet, pulling Rufio with him. A facelock and a throw of an arm later, Rufio is down on the mat with a Snap Suplex! He clutches at his back and Gadget backs up, signaling towards the crowd. He’s had enough, and he’s going to put out Rufio while he can; it’s time for the M203!
Steve Smith: Oh my God! Quick, guys, what goes best with baby blue: yellow or orange?
Jeff Marx: What?
Steve Smith: My shirt! It’s baby blue! And I only have a yellow tie and an orange tie.. well, with me, of course. Of course, I have a magnificent collection of ties at home. It’s just, well, I was in a hurry while I was packing for Germany and I could only grab two, so I grabbed the first two I could find, and..
Dave Kern: THIS IS OVER, FOLKS! GADGET’S SIGNALING FOR THE M203!
Rufio’s clueless as he gets to his feet, back towards Gadget. That’s all that Gadget needs; his arms are around Rufio’s midsection in no-time.
Dave Kern: THIS IS IT, FOLKS! M203!!!!!
Rufio’s back meets Gadget’s chest as Gadget lifts him up into the air, nearing the hit of his first German Suplex. But..
Dave Kern: Wait a minute...
Jeff Marx: Go for the yellow.
Steve Smith: Are you sure? Because I don’t want to clash..
Dave Kern: NO!
Rufio senses the end is near, and by God will he let his first match in the AWC be a loss; as Gadget is about to send him crashing down, Rufio slides out from the Newark native’s arms, landing behind him. And that’s all it takes.
Dave Kern: RUFIE!!!! He’s locked in the RUFIE!!!
Jeff Marx: Well, it all depends on the shoes. Are they black or brown?
Steve Smith: Black. I was going to go for brown, but then I realized that I never wear the same pair of shoes two days in a row.
Dave Kern: LOOK AT THAT!! Folks, Rufio has his Rufie locked in, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to let go anytime soon!
He’s not. With one arm, Rufio has applied a half-nelson; with the other, he’s grabbing at Gadget’s throat. Gadget struggles against the lock at first, arms flailing, but Rufio holds it, steady and determined to break his opponent. Joseph Reid keeps a close eye.
Jeff Marx: I’d go with the orange, then.
Steve Smith: You’re positive?
Gadget’s arms stop their flailing. He grits his teeth and tries to fight back the pain, but it does no use.
Dave Kern: GADGET’S TAPPING OUT!!! IT’S OVER!!!!!
Jeff Marx: Positive. It’d contrast better with the shoes.
Steve Smith: ...Hmm. Okay!
Dave Kern: IT’S OVER!!!
The bell rings as Rufio lets Gadget crumple to the mat from his grasp. Gadget, on all fours, clasps at his throat.
James Brunt: Here is your winner... RUFIO!
Reid holds up Rufio’s arm in the center of the ring. Rufio, triumphant, smiles as some of the crowd cheers for him.
Dave Kern: What a great match, everyone, but it was our newcomer Rufio who came out on top!
Steve Smith: I’d like to be on top of –
Dave Kern: AND CUT!
ReKKKruitement!
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND JOSH K.
The Furious Fists of God are walking around backstage when Liam Martin gets a little… thirsty. They are looking for a water fountain.
Liam Martin: Timothy, before we head out of here, I need to quench my thirst.
Tim Martin: Liam, my brother, the fountain is just there!
They approach the fountain and stand behind a man, very dirty, who is hunched over the fountain. Tim shakes his head while he waits.
Liam Martin: Brother, what is the matter?! We are coming off one of the BIGGEST wins in the history of White Godmanship, and you are...
Tim Martin: Brother, I am FURIOUS!
Liam Martin: Living up to the name, eh?
Tim Martin: Quiet, brother, do you not see how DRASTIC the measures were that not only did Nash interfere, our favorite spread-eagle whore, but also that pile of gangrene monkey splooge...
Liam Martin: That dirty foul beast...
Tim Martin: That disgusting putrid...
But before they can finish, GBJ turns around, holding his Z2H trophy, polishing it with an old washrag, the yellow one he washes his body with.
GBJ: Excuse me, gentlemen.
Tim and Liam: GARBAGE RAG JOHNNY!
Garbage Bag Johnny looks over the two large men in front of him. They look vaguely familiar, but Garbage Bag can't place them from anywhere, so he tries to slip between them to avoid any trouble.
GBJ: Well, it was nice catching up with you two. I have to drop this off back in my locker room, but you keep doing what you've been doing!
Tim Martin stops Garbage Bag from walking through the Furious Fists. Tim holds GBJ by the shoulder, looking him right in the eyes.
Tim Martin: Garbage Hag Ronnie, you will go no where from here unless you would enjoy flying backwards through that wall. The power of the White Lord requires a session...a session of great PREACHING to be DONE UPON YOU!
Liam Martin: You see, Tar Bag Lag Bonnie, we see potential in you. A young individual like yourself can really amount to something. A few bible readings there, a lashing here, maybe a couple Hail Marys to the White Lord...
Tim Martin: ...and you're a prophet, alongside us!
Garbage Bag Johnny rolls his eyes. He's half Jewish by blood, and has never been much for reading. And the Bible is a long goddamn book. And Garbage Bag Johnny got through some chapters of it once, but the book of Numbers was complete crap - like reading a math textbook or something. Garbage Bag tries to handle it.
GBJ: I'll tell you what, guys. You seem like nice enough fellows, so I'll go think about it and get back to you. Uh...Sieg Heil?
As Garbage Bag Johnny holds his outstretched palm into the air, Tim buries his face in his hands. Liam notices this and puts a hand on GBJ's shoulder.
Liam Martin: Look, Gum Slam Bam, we're not looking for you to be the best pupil. In fact, we're not looking for much at all! The only thing we really want is...
Gum Slam Bam? That doesn’t even make sense, thinks Garbage Bag Johnny before Tim Martin slams the wall to scare GBJ, regaining his attention.
Tim Martin: ...APOLOGIES FOR YOUR FOOLERY DURING INTRUSION OF OUR MATCH!
Liam Martin: Yes, that... but then, we want you on our side! For too long have the Fists walked these walls alone. For too long have the Fists preached to deaf ears.
Tim Martin: And with you abandoning that Dick, we can become more powerful than we could ever imagine!
Liam Martin: We could crush the niggers, the spics, the Jews...
Garbage Bag Johnny tugs at his collar nervously, hoping his nose doesn't give him away and remembering the fiasco in the ring with Zomby Knight trying to gnaw Darcy Crisis' brains out before GBJ heroically rescued Darcy Crisis- and for what? No thank you! He could've at least sent a fruit basket...
GBJ: Yeah, uh, how about you guys stay here... I'll go put this in my locker room and get my oversized mallet that I use to crush said...
Garbage Bag Johnny checks the hallways.
GBJ: ...niggers and spics and Jews and the like... I'll be right back!
Garbage Bag Johnny takes off running in the opposite direction clutching his Zero 2 Hero trophy. After about ten feet, he stops to catch his breath. He turns around, sees the Furious Fists of God looking at each other and disappears behind a conveniently placed potted plant.
The Fists shake their heads.
Tim Martin: Tea Bag Honey, look, we may be White Lord lovers, but that doesn't equal...
Tim walks over and pulls GBJ out from behind the potted plant. Garbage Bag must have thought out loud that “Tea Bag Honey” isn’t even remotely clever.
Tim Martin: ...dumb. Now, before you mock us again and again, we will lay the offer on the table...
Liam Martin: ...and we're leaving, so, consider it and come back to us next week.
Tim Martin: If you'd like, please, take these into consideration...
Liam Martin: Option one: You join our furious force and we dominate in the AWC. Or, option two.
Tim Martin: We mock you and your ways, possibly pushing for a ban of ALL marijuana products IN or NEAR the vicinity of the AWC stadiums!
Liam Martin: AND DON'T THINK WE DON"T SMELL THAT DEVIL BUSH!
Garbage Bag furrows his brow a little bit before thinking. He takes off running again clutching a trophy and disappears around a corner before peeking out again, and cupping his free hand around his mouth.
GBJ: Marijuana's already illegal, you jackasses. That's why I smoke up in the bathroom stalls when nobody's in there!
Garbage Bag takes off again around the corner. The Martin brothers look at each other before giving chase.
Invitation Only II
FEATURING: RED ROCK, D'AVID, TERESA TOMAS
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND SONYA
We now find ourselves backstage outside the locker room of Teresa Tomas. Red Rock with his Relentless title strapped around his waist stands in front of the door. Given the rumours going around about Teresa’s private life Red Rock comes across slightly nervous. Also joining Red Rock is D’avid who is sporting his maroon velvet suit with a comedy slogan t-shirt underneath. In Red Rock’s right hand he is holding an old Tesco bag full of pieces of paper. Red Rock continues to knock on the door the puts on a grin.
Teresa Tomas: It’s open, come in!
Red Rock pushes his the door open to catch a glimpse of Teresa just pulling her top on, Red Rock recoils quickly as his face turns red like a tomato.
Red Rock: Shit bags! Sorry I didn’t know!
Teresa Tomas: Nah its fine I’m decent. What’s up?
D’avid: Heh… oooOoo!
Red Rock rolls his eyes towards D’avid; he’s known him long enough to know what he is thinking when he makes those noises.
Red Rock: I was wondering if you wanted to come to my “I beat the guy who beat Angelo Deville; therefore I am better than Angelo Deville” party.
Red Rock reaches in to his Tesco bag and thrusts it towards Teresa who is picking up her boots. Teresa accepts the invite with haste; jumping at the chance of free booze, whilst trying not to laugh at Red Rock’s poor use of Microsoft Word clip art.
Teresa Tomas: Sure I’ll be there!
Red Rock: Super! It’s going to be a hot party! Anyway all the info is there so I’ll see you later!
Red Rock claps his hands together with excitement before walking away towards the door.
D’avid: OoOh by the way Teresa, is it… true?
Teresa looks up from putting on her boots over to D’avid.
D’avid: That you’re a lezzer?
Red Rock: D’AVID!
Red Rock slaps D’avid over the head as he swells with embarrassment.
…
Teresa Tomas: What do you think?
Teresa gives Red Rock a wink; making Red Rock giggle as he leaves to find more guests.
Don't Patronize Me!
FEATURING: CAPTAIN SULEIMON, GENERAL RAHMAN
AUTHOR: TOM HOLZERMAN
"The Turkish March" in all its pomp cues up on the PA as boos begin to rain down upon the arena.
Steven Smith: My my, it's my little Turkish boy-toy, coming out to spew that vitriolic goodness all over our faces.
Jeff Marx: That may very well have been the fruitiest damn thing you've ever said in your life.
Steven Smith: Thanks, love. I try.
Captain Suleimon, flanked by his flag-waving manager, walks, almost goose-stepping to the ring. He yells obscenities to the fans, knowing they can't lunge at him through the cage.
Dave Kern: Quite the abrasive one he is.
Jeff Marx: Well, you try performing for monkeys who don't appreciate you.
Suleimon angrily leaps up on the apron and violently throws the ropes open. He grabs a microphone from James Brunt.
Captain Suleimon: Well, it looks like Harber has done it this time. In an attempt to try and placate me, the little Muslim stereotype, for all the misgivings I have suffered, he has decided to give me a little plaque that says I am the most underrated wrestler in this cesspool of a wrestling company.
Dave Kern: He's obviously referring to his Q3-4 Award he received at the Anniversary Show.
Captain Suleimon: Charming, it really is. Give the stereotype a placard that tells him he's a good little brown-faced soldier for putting up with indignity after indignity, and let's make one thing clear. I have done nothing but suffer indignity since I stepped foot in the Club. The Ottoman Torture Chamber match, which should have been most crowning achievement, was ruined when that ginger D'avid stuck his nose in.
Dave Kern: Only after Rahman had stuck his nose in first.
Jeff Marx: Quiet! He's speaking!
Captain Suleimon: The Trivial Punishment match, where I should have humiliated Darcy Crisis for the androgynous fraud he really is, was ruined when Aimz stuck her nose in. My grand moment against the team of Champions, blemished by a certain Swerver Parading as a dimwitted Communist.
Dave Kern: What a fountain of misinformation! That was after the match had ended!
Captain Suleimon: Wrestling Liam Martin was like wrestling both Filthy Fists of Gomorrah. And don't get me started on tagging with someone utterly useless like I had to last week.
Dave Kern: Whine, whine, whine, he's just like all those getting their panties in a bunch over those Mohammed cartoons.
Jeff Marx: How dare you! Such an insult!
Dave Kern: Spare me.
Captain Suleimon: Yet, here I am, I'm supposed to be shut up with this award. They think they can silence me, like those in Denmark tried to silence the mass of Muslim protesters with censorship. Well, it's not going to work, mainly because I'm not a stereotype. Unlike my quote-unquote brethren that ignoramuses like Harber and you inbred German weasels lump me in with, I do not just make noise for the sake of making noise. No, I am no stereotype. You see, the stereotype would sit back and whine, and whine some more. And then, maybe after a year or so, they'll strap a bomb onto their chest and go attack women and children. Or maybe they'll go fly a plane into a building and then go into hiding for another five years.
Suleimon sneered. Obviously the crowd is uncomfortable with the 9/11 reference.
Captain Suleimon: But I... I do not stand for such insults! I will not stand here and take some award, smile and pretend that everything is going to be alright! I will attack! Mercilessly, endlessly! I shall reign terror upon everyone who has wronged me since I have arrived here. And I shall begin next week, on Fresh!. One person will experience the true wrath of the Ottoman Empire, of the Pasha Dynasty, the torment ingrained in our name! Whom shall that person be?
Suleimon smiles wryly.
Captain Suleimon: What, did you think I would tell you? Just so you could scream out to try and warn them of their fate before I gave them retribution, retribution they so desperately deserve? You fools. But I shall say this. It could be any one of the people I have mentioned before. Or it could be anyone else I deem foul, for there aren't many people on this roster whom I don't hold in loathsome regard. But, until next week, I shall leave you with what I really think about this stupid award. Rahman!
General Rahman pulls the AWC Q3-4 Most Underrated Award out of his jacket. He hands it to Suleimon, who holds it up high before SMASHING the award on the canvas.
Dave Kern: Oh, this is not right! He was given that award as a combination of fan voting and from his peers! He's totally destroying the only sign of respect he's gotten since he arrived, and I don't even think he deserved it.
Suleimon is going to down, stomping and whacking the award with the flagpole.
Jeff Marx: He's being patronized! He deserves to react like this.
Steven Smith: I don't know about you, but I think he looks hot when he gets all worked up.
Suleimon makes one final stomp on the debris before spitting on it.
Dave Kern: Despicable! I... I really hope whoever he tries to attack next week gives him what he deserves. And Duke Williams tonight as well.
All Apologies
FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY, TRACY STANTON
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.
Mikey O’Reilly is seen in the backstage area looking for Tracy Stanton. He knows he’s entering a war zone if he finds her. If he runs into Chainz, it’ll definitely be a war zone. Mikey knows Chainz will be looking for Mikey, Zsasz and Psymon. Even though Mikey wasn’t involved with the whole kidnapping stunt - in fact he was home when this whole thing happened - he’s a target.
A few seconds later, he stops in front of a door that has a “CHAINZ” sign bolted on it. Steeling himself, he grabs the doorknob, turns it and wraps on the door. As he opens the door, he sees that Chainz’s locker room is in shambles. Zsasz’s documents on Chainz are strewn all over the floor. Polaroid pictures are torn up, journal entries lay on the floor ripped to pieces, and it looks like a lot of the documents have either been ripped or burnt with a lighter. Thankfully no one’s in the locker room.
Before he heads out of the locker room, he hears soft crying emanating from the corner. Mikey pops his head back in, trying to find the source of the crying. He looks left and sees Tracy sitting in a chair crying. She looks to be in bad shape. She looks unhealthy and gaunt, about ten pounds lighter as Zsasz predicted. Whatever Zsasz and Psymon did to Tracy has really taken its toll on her.
Mikey feels sorry for Tracy. He’s sorry that Zsasz had to involve himself to destroy Chainz, a goal Mikey himself wants to do. He has nothing against Tracy - in fact, Mikey thinks she’s a beautiful girl who can do better than involving herself with a monster like Chainz. Even though everyone is telling her to be careful of Chainz, not to trust the man, she always sticks with him, through hellfire and brimstone.
Mikey slowly walks towards her, trying to figure out what to say to her. Will she listen to a man who’s associated with Zsasz? Will she attack him because of his association with Zsasz? Mikey doesn’t really know what Tracy is capable of doing, but he knows she isn’t like Chainz in any way. She isn’t a monster like Mike “Chainz” Sloan, and Mikey is thankful that she isn’t.
Mikey O’Reilly: Tracy?
Tracy doesn’t respond. Perhaps she didn’t hear Mikey call her name. He takes a few more steps, slowly reaching out to her, about to place his hand on her shoulder.
Mikey O’Reilly: Tracy?
This time she responds. She gets up from her chair, kicking and screaming at him. She takes her steel folding chair, folds it and is ready to blast Mikey in the head if he comes any closer.
Tracy: Get away from me, Mikey! Come any closer and I’ll bash your damn head in!
Mikey O’Reilly: Whoa, take it easy, Tracy! I’m here to talk to you, not get into a fight. Please put the chair down.
Tracy isn’t sure if Mikey O’Reilly is telling her the truth. She continues to keep her guard up, dividing herself and Mikey with the steel chair in her possession. Mikey knows if he tries to come any closer, his skull will meet Tracy’s chair, and that’s something he doesn’t need. Plus he’ll get ridiculed by his friends, family and fans that he gets knocked out by a 5’7” 100-pound girl with a porn star chest.
Mikey O’Reilly: Please, Tracy. I’m not here to hurt you. Neither Zsasz and Psymon are with me. Put the chair down.
Tracy looks into Mikey’s eyes. His eyes are telling her that he’s telling the truth. Mikey isn’t here to hurt Tracy. He wants to hurt her boyfriend for what he did to his manager before Twilight of the Gods and for what he did to Mikey at Twilight of the Gods.
Slowly, she puts down her chair, keeping her eyes locked on Mikey. After putting her chair down, she keeps her eyes on Mikey, folding her arms across her chest. Something inside her is telling her that she shouldn’t trust Mikey.
Tracy: What do you want, Mikey?
Mikey O’Reilly: Please, sit down.
Mikey leads her to a bench, sitting her down. Mikey isn’t sure where to begin, but he starts talking.
Mikey O’Reilly: Tracy, I apologize to you after what happened last week. After what Zsasz told me...
That name. Mikey O’Reilly has mentioned that name! Tracy starts freaking out, getting up from the bench stepping back from Mikey.
Tracy: You son of a bitch! He’s here isn’t he? He’s here with you! You’re a goddamn liar, Mikey! Get out of my locker room, you liar! Get out of here, or I’m gonna get---
Mikey O’Reilly does something he has never done before - he gets up from the bench, grabs Tracy and slaps her. Mikey doesn’t mean to slap Tracy but she was acting like a raving lunatic.
Tracy’s eyes are wide. She looks up at Mikey in shock.
Tracy: You slapped me. You son of a bitch! You slapped me!
Mikey didn’t slap her hard, but he knew a bruise would be left. Tracy was so thin and weak that practically any bump would leave a bruise on her; and he was surprised to not see any. He figured Chainz would manhandle her, but perhaps he was gentle with her like he said. Mikey was kicking himself for slapping Tracy. He knew Chainz would see the mark and it would only fuel his rage; something Mikey didn’t want. Mikey O’Reilly: Calm down! Now, I don’t mean t’ slap ya, but you’re actin’ like a lunatic. Zsasz and Psymon did nasty things to you, I know that, but I would never do anything to harm you.
Tracy falls silent. After last week, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t even look at her fiancée. She has had a hard time trying to believe what kind of a man her fiancée is, but after being kidnapped and presented with everything in Chainz’s past, she isn’t sure what she wants - or has - to do with Chainz.
Mikey O’Reilly: I feel it’s my fault that all of this is happening. If it wasn’t for me befriending Teresa Tomas and running into Chainz like that two months ago, we wouldn’t be entangled in this feud. Then Zsasz has to involve himself and... well, you know the result of that...
He lets out a sigh, then ran his fingers through his hair.
Mikey O’Reilly: What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for everything that’s happened in the past two months. Maybe me apologizing to you isn’t enough. It certainly isn’t enough for your boyfriend. After what happened last week, he’s gonna kill me in the ring, and there’s nothin’ I can do about it. Only thing I can do is fight back. I hate Chainz with a passion, Tracy, and you know that, but I don’t hate you.
Mikey looks over at Tracy. Looking at her makes him feel sorry for her even more.
Mikey O’Reilly: I bet everyone has told you that Chainz isn’t the right man for you, that’s he a sadistic monster, a murder and a serial rapist, yet you continue to say with him. You’re a beautiful young woman and you deserve better than this. Why you stay with him is beyond me...
Tracy: It’s not as simple as everyone thinks. What am I supposed to do, go get another boyfriend? Run away? He’ll find me; he’ll never let me go, and for some strange reason a part of me loves him for it. You don’t know him like I do...
Mikey O’Reilly: You’re right, I don’t know him like you do, and I don’t care to know him. The fact of the matter is that I hate the bastard, and I’m gonna do everything in my power to stop him, even if it means ending his career in this Weapons Match. I’m sorry to tell you that, Tracy, but that’s how I feel about him.
Before Tracy can say anything, Mikey O’Reilly gets to his feet and heads toward the door. Before he leaves, he turns and faces Tracy.
Mikey O’Reilly: If you see Chainz, tell him I’ll be waiting to destroy him later tonight.
He leaves the locker room, closing the door. Tracy watches him leaving, swearing under her breath and shakes her head.
Tracy: Good luck Mikey, I think you’re going to need it.
Captain Suleimon vs Duke Williams
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JOSH K.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Istanbul, Turkey, Captain Suleimon!
“The Turkish March” by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart begins to play, and Captain Suleimon walks out as the fans adamantly boo the Arab. Captain Suleimon ignores the crowd and walks to the ring, thumbing his nose on the way.
Dave Kern: Did you know that Mozart, although having composed his first piece at three years old, died penniless because he got tired of composing later in life?
Jeff Marx: No, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t really care either.
As Suleimon waits in the ring, James Brunt calls out his opponent.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Missoula, Montana by way of Chicago, Illinois, DUKE WILLIAMS!
Duke comes out to a nice ovation from the German crowd. He’s carrying and sipping a bottle of Wild Turkey as he makes his way to the ring. He gives a sip to a lady in the crowd before setting the bottle on the ring steps and getting in. The bell rings to start the match, and the two competitors eye each other up before getting into a collar and elbow tie up in the middle of the ring.
Dave Kern: Looks like this match is under way, and a tie up greatly favors Duke, the much larger man.
Steven Smith: I’d always heard Arabs were small. They just grow long beards to compensate.
Jeff Marx: I don’t know why Pearl feels that you’re necessary to this announce team.
Steven Smith: Still, I’ve never tried Middle Eastern. I hear it’s spicy!
As Dave Kern called, Duke pushes Suleimon down easily, but the Turk gets up quickly and the two lock up again. Duke pushes Suleimon right back down, and the Captain stays on one knee, rethinking his strategy while Duke elicits a pop from the crowd. Duke turns to Sully, who is down on one knee still, and Duke charges with a knee lift to the face, but Captain Suleimon springs up and knocks Duke to the ground with a front dropkick! The crowd jeers.
Dave Kern: Suleimon just sprung out of nowhere with that dropkick!
Suleimon stomps Duke a few times for good measure before taking off towards the ropes. Suleimon bounces off the second rope and flips back attempting an Asai Moonsault, but Duke rolls underneath and gets to his feet. Captain Suleimon, however, notices the movement flips his legs over his head harder and lands a backflip, but he is soon leveled by a clothesline from Duke Williams.
Dave Kern: That clothesline literally turned Captain Suleimon inside out!
Jeff Marx: No, it didn’t. Otherwise, Sully’s skin would be on the inside and his guts would all spill out.
Dave Kern: Duly noted.
Duke pulls Captain Suleimon up off the mat and lifts him up for a back breaker that sends the Arab rolling back to the canvas where Duke drops an elbow on the small of Captain Suleimon’s back. Suleimon continues rolling, but Duke grabs him by the legs and starts spinning around.
Dave Kern: Airplane spin by Duke Williams!
Duke, however, being larger and older than Captain Suleimon starts to get dizzy a bit faster than Sully, and the Sultan of Smackdown pulls his way up, wrapping an arm over the head of the spinning Duke and hanging on before kicking his legs out and planting the legend with a DDT! Suleimon goes for the cover!
ONE!
Dave Kern: What a counter by Captain Suleimon!
Jeff Marx: Kind of an early pin, though, but Duke’s about three hundred years old.
TWO!
Jeff Marx: Nope.
But Duke powers out of it with vigor, pressing the Captain off of him. Both men get to their feet at the same time, and the Captain, wanting to keep the pace quick runs into Duke, leaping with a cross body block. Williams catches the Turk in the air, however, and shifts Suleimon over his shoulder.
Dave Kern: It looks like Duke is setting up for Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound!
Duke takes off towards the turnbuckle, but Captain Suleimon wriggles his feet, sliding behind Duke and sending Duke sternum first into the corner. Duke stumbles back, and Captain Suleimon catches him in a reverse butterfly lock before mustering all his strength to throw Duke over his head with a tiger suplex! Suleimon goes for another pin!
Steven Smith: Wow! I can’t believe Suleimon snapped Duke over his head.
Jeff Marx: I thought you only spoke when you had something gay to say.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: Almost!
Duke kicks out at the last second, and Suleimon yells at the referee, thinking the count must have been slow. After slapping his hands together to signal a faster count, Suleimon brushes the referee off and decides instead to climb to the top rope, waiting for Duke to get up. Duke, instead of fully standing, however, stumbles right into the ropes sending the Turk crashing down, smashing his Turkish nuts on the turnbuckle.
Jeff Marx: Suleimon takes one to the Istan-balls.
Steven Smith: That’s a shame. At least I can still admire his Constanti-nipples!
Dave Kern: You make me wonder, sometimes, Steven.
Steven Smith: Bi-curiously?
Dave Kern: Not in that way.
Duke Williams begins to scale the turnbuckle, and from the second rope, he starts landing punches down into the Captain’s brow line. The audience counts out nine punches for Duke until Duke signals for the coup de gras, jumping back down from the turnbuckle and dropping an axehandle elbow on top of the Captain’s skull. The Captain leans forward from atop the turnbuckle, and Duke lifts him up with a gorilla press slam into the center of the ring. Suleimon rolls into a sitting position, holding his back, and Duke steadies himself in a three point stance.
Dave Kern: Captain Suleimon’s going to have a hard time with his high flying game if Duke keeps slamming him on his back.
Steven Smith: Duke’s a little too old and grizzled for me to even remotely consider slamming me while I’m on my back.
Dave Kern: Will you pay attention to the match?
Duke charges forward with a spear, but Suleimon moves out of the way. Duke goes right between the second and third ropes, spearing the ring post before sluggishly falling through to the outside. Suleimon waits a little bit for Duke to get up before taking off, completing a handspring over the top rope and knocking Duke back down with a cross body sending both men crashing to the floor in a heap!
Dave Kern: Space Flying Tiger Drop! What athleticism by Captain Suleimon!
Jeff Marx: I’d be wary of anything that Arab flying through the air like a projectile. I officially raise the AWC Security Alert color to orange!
Steven Smith: Orange? After Memorial Day? Puh-lease!
Suleimon gets to his feet and pulls Duke up by the hair before slamming his face into the security fence and raking it back and forth. Duke yells out in pain, and Suleimon lets him drop to the ground. Duke’s forehead is a bit cut from the fence, and Suleimon, conscious of the referee’s count, rolls Duke back into the ring before getting back in himself. Suleimon gets to his feet and pulls Duke up with him. Suleimon whips Duke into the ropes, and when Duke returns and ducks under a chop attempt. Suleimon turns into a boot to the gut and a DDT from Duke. Both competitors stay down, and the referee starts counting.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Dave Kern: This has been a back and forth match-up with neither competitor gaining the clear advantage.
Jeff Marx: It’s been kind of boring if you ask me.
Dave Kern: Well, I actually didn’t.
FOUR! FIVE! SIX!
Dave Kern: I see some movement from Duke!
Steven Smith: He must be on Viagra.
Duke is indeed stirring, and now he’s up, shaking his fists violently and waiting for Suleimon to get up. Suleimon gets up, but he’s met by a charging Duke Williams who nails him with the spear. Duke hooks the leg as the fans cheer.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: I can’t believe it! Suleimon just kicked out. That’s a shame, we need to…
Dave looks anxiously at his watch.
Jeff Marx: The air just went out of the crowd like the Hindenburg.
Steven Smith: That wasn’t funny.
Jeff Marx: Too soon?
Duke Williams can’t believe it either. He scrapes Suleimon up off of the canvas and kicks him in the stomach stiffly, blatantly. Captain Suleimon hunches over, and Duke Williams flips him up for the Shot of Whiskey. Suleimon counters! While on Duke’s shoulders, Suleimon flips again, over Duke’s head, grabbing Duke by the waist and rolling him up with a sunset flip.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: Now Duke kicked out! He was almost surprised there!
Duke and Sully get up at the same time, and this time Duke, fueled with the sight of his own blood trickling from his forehead charges at Sully first, but Suleimon ducks a clothesline and Duke turns just in time for Suleimon to quickly tangle up his arms and grab his chin.
Dave Kern: Sultanbreaker on Duke Williams! Duke is down on the floor after that fierce chin breaker.
Jeff Marx: Captain Suleimon’s the only one around here nicknamed the Sultan. There aren’t any sultans to break. It doesn’t make sense.
Suleimon is calling for the end, here. He drags Duke by the head towards the turnbuckle and pulls him up in a sleeperhold. Captain Suleimon climbs up to the second rope holding Duke now in an inverted facelock.
Dave Kern: Suleimon looks like he’s going to hit the Whirling Dervish!
Suleimon sails around Duke Williams with a tornado reverse DDT, but Duke straightens his back and stands upright, overpowering Suleimon and catching him in position for a running powerslam again. Instead, Duke Williams runs Suleimon straight into the turnbuckle before turning around and delivering on the Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound! Duke goes for the cover.
ONE!
Dave Kern: Whiskey Bent!
TWO!
Dave Kern: And Hell Bound!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner… DUKE WILLIAMS!
A Seg Called Dude (Which Is Probably In The Wrong Place)
FEATURING: LXG, GADGET
AUTHORS: JC AND JAMES JOHNSON
Tonight has been a busy night for LXG. He's the new kid, but somehow he's managed to become popular overnight. This likely has something to do with either Sasha or coincidence and chance. LXG is willing to lean closer towards the latter duo than anything else. At any rate, he finally makes it back to the locker room and heads inside. His hand reaches over to turn the light on, but flipping the switch does nothing.
LXG: ...huh.
LXG tries the switch a couple more times, but nothing comes of it. He sighs and just steps further into the room. Suddenly, the door slams closed behind him and within the next moment, LXG is being gripped up and a large combat knife is brought up to his throat. It's hard to make out who his attack is, but when he speaks, the voice is undeniable.
Gadget: Where is she?!?!
LXG is somewhat scarily calm, though nervous, as he responds to the maniac.
LXG: Who?
Gadget: Don't you fuckin' patronize me! You know what I'm talking about!
LXG: Seriously, Sarge. I have no clue...
Gadget snarls, spins LXG around and brings the knife right back up, putting it right in LXG's face!
Gadget: My gun! You stole it from me! I want it back! NOW!
LXG: I don't have it...
Gadget's eyes narrow and he becomes even more dangerously unstable. This is not good, because he has a GIANT KNIFE in his damn hand.
Gadget: WHAT?!?!
LXG realizes that his words are only making Gadget more furious and he figures he's going to have to change his strategy. Maybe even play along a little bit.
LXG: Yeah, that's right. You think I would be stupid enough to bring it here? Oh ho, how little you know me.
LXG's seriously hoping this vile villain act he's putting on is working.
LXG: Listen. If you want your gun back, there's some things you have to do for me first.
Gadget: I will not bow down to the demands and whims of a terrorist!!
LXG: Then you'll never see her again.
Gadget frowns, lowering the blade and taking a step back. He seems to either be considering this or trying to fight the voices in his head. Either way, he's quiet enough to listen, until...
Gadget: (sighing) ...what do you want?
LXG: Just a... small favor...
LXG smiles and walks over, sliding his arm around Gadget's shoulder. Gadget looks up at him like this is the beginning of a terrible relationship...
Fisting (And More) In The Bathroom
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
The scene begins with Tim and Liam Martin bursting into the bathroom. Liam starts kicking doors in as Tim begins to speak.
Tim Martin: Hard Hat Randy Johnson, you think we are dumb, ignorant, and, to the stereotype, nothing but nigger-hating redneck zealots, no?
Liam Martin: COME OUT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!
Tim Martin: But, you see, you TOLD us you’d be in here. Didn’t think we’d pick up on that clever drop, eh?
Liam Martin: THE POWER OF THE WHITE LORD IS TOO STRONG FOR YOU!
They eventually kick their way down to the end stall. They hear someone sucking on something…
Tim Martin: And, alas, we have found you.
Tim rips the door off and, almost simultaneously, grows a face of disgust. Liam spins around and starts screaming.
Liam Martin: WHORE! WENCH! JEZZEBEL! ARGHHH!!
The camera spins in front of the stall where a studly young technician is pulling his pants up, In front of him is Maddy Estelle, wiping her face off.
Tim Martin: So this is it, eh? Yard Man Lonnie skips town on us and instead, we find a whore, sucking the juice out of this man, stealing away thousands of unborn babies.
Liam Martin: SLUT! SLUT! SLUTTTTT!
Maddy Estelle: Liam! Tim! Uh… I was just, uh… interviewing this man…
Tim Martin: Oh yeah? What’d his cock say? “Well, mouth, clean me off!”
Liam Martin: Wait, Tim…
Tim turns to Liam.
Liam Martin: If Donny isn’t here… then where is he…
Tim Martin: That son of a bitch… whore, we’ll get back to you later!
Tim and Liam run out, leaving Maddy there by herself.
The Clam Baking Contest
FEATURING: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY, ADAM DICK
AUTHORS: JOSH K. AND JOE SCHMIDT
Garbage Bag Johnny and Adam Dick are sitting in a very hazy locker room passing a bong back and forth and clouding up the room so much it begins to resemble Auschwitz only a bit more quaint.
GBJ: Man, dude, they’re going to be so… *snicker*… FURIOUS when they see what we did.
Adam Dick: Gotta mark the territory somehow. By the way, remember to remind me to soak Liam's toothbrush in my urine before we leave. Something tells me if I do it to Sam he'll recognize the taste and know we were in here.
GBJ: Won't they know from the copious amounts of smoke?
Adam Dick: Fuck, dude, I just don't want them to know their toothbrush has piss on it, alright?"
GBJ: Consider it done. Also consider that I gift-wrapped a bit of bulk, too.
Adam Dick: You deuced in their gym bag? That’s going to start to smell, man. We gotta get out of here soon.
GBJ: It’s cool. The weed’s overpowering it. Let’s pack it again.
Adam coughs out something that sounds like a go ahead, so they pass the bong back and forth again. The room is so cloudy now that you can only hear Garbage Bag and Adam talking.
Adam Dick: Look man, you gotta take care of Anton tonight. I've got to concentrate on that Wade fucker and these faggots who's room we're thrashing - I don't need some unworthy Pandemanian skeleton trying to fuck with me. You gotta make up for that clusterfuck for last week, even though it wasn't all your fault. Well it was sort of your fault, but you know, don't feel guilty. Because the doctors that created Darcy Crisis' vagina accidentally opened an energy vaccuum so strong that it sucks up bad vibes. And in the unlikely event that Anton pulls a fast one on you, you’re going to have to take my spot against both of The Furious Fists Of God next week.
Adam Dick lifts his hand for a high five, but Garbage Bag can only barely see it, and his swing ends up missing, sending his momentum forward and smacking his face on Adam’s palm. Garbage Bag slowly peels his stoned ass off the floor.
GBJ: No problem, chief. I am in complete control of my faculties! Tip top shape, sir!
Garbage Bag Johnny salutes before falling into a daze, but Adam Dick hears something, and kicks GBJ in the ribs.
Adam Dick: Get up, man. I hear people coming. We gotta go.
Garbage Bag Johnny gets up and the two start walking to the door. Adam and Garbage Bag look at each other and speak simultaneously.
Dick and GBJ: Wait!
Adam Dick: The bong!
GBJ: My trophy!
The two get their respective bong and trophy, and sneak out of the room, undetected, as a big crown spins towards and quickly away from view to segue into the next segment!
Liberties Taken
FEATURING: JESSICA O'GRADY, MIKE WADE, BITTY, ???
AUTHORS: JOE SCHMIDT AND MIKE
With Ellis Nash out being Ellis Nash, Adam Dick and GBJ clam-baking the Furious Fists of God’s room, and the rest of the idiotic Court Members in a no-holds-barred gang fight with the Wade Parade; Jessica O’Grady actually found the group’s locker room to be tolerable for a change.
Sometimes she wished Jack would come back if only to allow her to room with him. The insanity was too much to bear at times, but she was making due as best she could. It was that spirit instilled from her late father and his ability to make the best out of any situation. Jessica was determined to make her deal with Adam Dick work for the best, even if she hated doing it.
Through t-shirt and endorsement deals, Jessica was making the Transatlantic champ (and subsequently, herself) quite a significant amount of pocket change during the last quarter. With the few moments of quiet time she found, Jess took a pen and began to jot down a few possible slogans for a new t-shirt for Adam Dick’s new shirt:
A Royal Dick
Adam Face: The Illustrious Dick-Eater (new & improved!)
Transatlantic Asshole
The Illustriou.....
After a few lines, she couldn’t fill the small pad of paper any more than she had. For some reason, her mind wasn’t really popping for clever catchphrases for Adam Dick. That’s not to say her mind wasn’t working, because it was. Just on a different subject.
Seein’ Red
Run with the Bull
Charge
You’ll Get Charged
Schooling AWC since ’05
Do your homework
Don’t fuck with the Bu—wha?
She knew the quiet wouldn’t last, but didn’t expect any of the members to knock before they entered. So Jess remains a bit curious as she goes to answer the door, not exactly sure who’s out there.
Mike Wade: Guess who.
Jessica O’Grady: He’s not here.
She tries to slam the door shut, but Mike’s toe halts the path. He forcefully makes his way inside.
Mike Wade: I know, that’s the point.
Jessica O’Grady: Well, Ellis or GBJ aren’t here. And I’m pretty sure you know the Court is all tangling with your Wade Parade.
Mike Wade: I know, that’s the point.
Jessica begins to stumble back towards the heart of the room, somewhat nervous now by Mike’s presence. She mumbles her next set of words.
Jessica O’Grady: I think even that Butler guy is out to stock the mini-fridge.
Mike Wade: Are you trying to be funny?
Jessica smiles coyly.
Jessica O’Grady: I think they’re rubbing off on me.
Taking her off guard, and rather violently, Mike Wade takes Jessica by the throat and clutches her tightly. She’s startled and gasps for air but is unable to get a clean and unobstructed breath.
Mike Wade: You may want to watch that — you’ll start to forget how to TAKE THINGS SERIOUSLY.
Rather quickly, he tosses her to the ground and she coughs for air. He begins to step towards her and says rather loudly.
Mike Wade: It’s time for me to send a message!
Mike raises his arms, and Jessica somewhat shields herself on the ground. After a moment of nothing but a pause, Wade looks around somewhat anxious.
Mike Wade: I said, it’s time for me to send a message!
Again, Mike looks around the room somewhat anxious, but nothing happens.
Mike Wade: He forgot the fucking cue!!
As if Jessica doesn’t matter anymore, Mike begins to march towards the door that leads to hallway. He appears frustrated and throws the doors open with a vengeance.
Mike Wade: I thought I told you to come in when I said, It’s time for me — what the fuck!?
It isn’t the fallen body of Bitty that takes Mike Wade off guard. It’s the series of fists to his face.
It’s too much force that takes him off guard. Quickly after his attacker sends a boot right to his gut to keel him over, he is forced out of the locker room with his head slamming face first into the hallway wall.
Mike Wade = neutralized.
The attacker approaches Jessica back inside the Court’s locker room, who is more than shocked to see who’s entered. The only few words she can muster, conveniently, are the same ones he needs to hear.
Jessica O’Grady: Jack... I’m sorry.
Chainz vs Mikey O'Reilly
STIPULATION: WEAPONS
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.
Dave Kern: Well, er, folks, none of that was on my plan and we really are rather behind schedule so let’s hope this next bout can finish up quickly. Nevertheless, welcome back to more Fresh! action here in Dusseldorf, Germany! Coming up next, we are about to witness a bloodbath: Chainz takes on Mikey O’Reilly in a Weapons match. Two weeks ago, Mikey O’Reilly orchestrated an attack on Chainz, also bringing in Aimz to relieve some pent-up aggression after getting screwed out of the first Frontier title shot against Ellis Nash a few weeks back. Now the last time O’Reilly and Chainz squared off was at Twilight Of The Gods back in March. They participated in a graphic, brutal Sadist Match, where the victor was Chainz. Tonight, Mikey is looking to score a victory, not to mention end Chainz’s career in this Weapons match. Viewer’s discretion is advised for this match!
Jeff Marx: Are you done talking now, Kern? That was the most long-winded introduction I’ve ever heard in my life! All I have to say is Mikey O’Reilly is going to get annihilated by Chainz. After displaying a yellow streak down his back last week, Mikey faked a health scare to push this match until tonight! This match will be a cakewalk for Chainz!
Steven Smith: My hunky Irishman is going to face my anal-rape fantasy monster! This match is gonna be SO hot!
Dave Kern: Right... Anyway, moving on. Let’s go to the ring where James Brunt and referee Lars Larsson are standing by! Take it away, James!
James Brunt: The following is a Weapons Match...
“Cure” by the Wild Colonials begins to play as Mike “Chainz” Sloan steps onto the stage, with his signature chain in his possession. While holding his chain in his left hand, he has a trashcan full of mayhem goodies. As he walks down to the ring, the Dusseldorf crowd jeers the psychopathic monster, chanting in German on how they feel about the AWC superstar...
“Arschloch! Arschloch! Arschloch! Arschloch!”
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing 295 pounds... CHAINZ!
Dave Kern: The crowd is really blasting Chainz with the Arschloch chant! It means “asshole” in German, if you haven’t figured it out.
Jeff Marx: I kinda gathered that, Kern. Thanks.
Steven Smith: I like assholes! Nice, t---
Jeff Marx: You said that last week. Get some new material fag-boy! ...Wait, you speak German, Dave?
Dave Kern: Ja! Ich spreche auf Deutsch. (But only for this match.) It’s a little rusty though.
James Brunt: His opponent...
The melodic, beautiful sounds of a pair of acoustic guitars fill the arena with music. An Italian style solo plays, then the introduction fades into hard, driving metal as “The Enemy” by Team Cazares starts to play. With that, Mikey O’Reilly steps onto the stage, then runs down to the ring.
James Brunt: From Boston, Massachusetts, weighing 230 pounds... MIKEY O... SHIT!
Ring announcer James Brunt bolts out of the ring as Mikey O’Reilly flies at Chainz with a Spear, taking the near 300-pound monster off his feet and down onto the mat. Referee Lars Larsson immediately calls for the bell to start this match up.
Dave Kern: Mikey O’Reilly exploded into the ring with a massive Spear on Chainz!
Steven Smith: Someone Spear me!
Jeff Marx: I’ll shove a spear up your ass in two seconds, and no it’s not as inviting as a dildo!
After taking Mike Sloan down with a Spear, Mikey O’Reilly mounts Chainz (which makes Steven take notice) and starts throwing repeated punches in Chainz’s face. Heavily taped fists rain on Chainz’s face as he tries to defend himself. Finally, Chainz pushes O’Reilly off, slowly getting to his feet. But “Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” is relentless, getting back to his feet, throwing himself at his arch nemesis, but Chainz counters with a heavy Clothesline, sending Mikey down to the mat.
Dave Kern: Massive Clothesline by Chainz to take Mikey O’Reilly down to the mat! Mikey O’Reilly is overdoing it in this match. He continues to do so, he’ll lose this match!
Jeff Marx: Whether he overdoes it or not, Mikey O’Reilly’s gonna get shipped back to Boston in a body bag.
Steven Smith: No don’t say that! Mikey’s too sexy to die!
Chainz goes over to his trashcan full of goodies and dumps them out. There are all sorts of weapons to use in the match, some of them wrapped in barbed wire. Chainz picks up a regular steel chair, takes his chain and wraps it around the chair. After wrapping the chair with his chain, Mikey O’Reilly is on his feet, charging at his mortal enemy. Before Chainz can react, O’Reilly takes Chainz down with another Spear, disarming Chainz of his chain-wrapped chair. Mikey quickly gets to his feet, his eyes catch the wrapped chair. Smiling, he picks it up, examines it briefly and then strikes Chainz in the chest with the chain-wrapped chair! The fans cheer as Chainz bellows out in pain, trying to roll away from “Mr. One Punch!” Mikey stops Chainz, raises the chair into the air and brings it down across Chainz’s back! Mike Sloan rolls out of the ring, recuperating as O’Reilly raises the chair in the air, letting out a victorious bellow!
Dave Kern: What chair shots by Mikey O’Reilly with that chair wrapped with Chainz’s signature chain! Mikey’s determined to destroy Chainz once and for all!
Jeff Marx: Meh, he got a few lucky chair shots in. This match is far from over.
With the chair wrapped with Chainz’s chain, Mikey O’Reilly walks towards the side of the ring, about to make his exit. As Mikey sticks his head out in between the ring ropes, Chainz breaks a 2x4 over O’Reilly’s head! How he got the 2x4 was by rummaging underneath the ring for it. O’Reilly drops the chair, hanging from the middle whilst being temporarily KO’ed from the 2x4 shot to the head. Chainz goes to one corner of the ring, removes the top steel ring steps and charges at the prone Irishman. Chainz bashes the side of O’Reilly head with the steel ring steps, sending O’Reilly onto the floor! The German fans jeer at Chainz, chanting their obscenity at him...
“Arschloch! Arschloch! Arschloch! Arschloch!”
Dave Kern: My God! Chainz could’ve taken Mikey O’Reilly’s head off with those steel ring steps! He’s bleeding from the side of his head after that exchange!
Jeff Marx: First signs of blood! AWESOME! Chainz is making Mikey O’Reilly his bitch!
Steven Smith: OOH! I wanna be next in line!
Chainz walks over to his opponent with an evil smile on his face. He grabs a handful of hair, about to bring Mikey O’Reilly to his feet. Mikey O’Reilly recovers, delivering a hard right hand into Mike Sloan’s testicles! Chainz doubles over, holding himself and bellowing in pain. O’Reilly then picks up the steel ring steps, aiming the bottom step at the back of Chainz’s head and throws the steps down, bashing the back of Chainz’s head in! Chainz drops in a heap after the steel collides against the back of Chainz’s skull! The fans are cheering, chanting O’Reilly’s name...
“MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY!”
James Brunt: The fans are getting behind Mikey O’Reilly now! And what a sickening shot by the Irishman - blasting the edge of the steps into the back of Chainz’s head! Chainz isn’t moving after that!
Jeff Marx: C’mon, Sloan! Recover and kick his ass! Don’t job to this Irish loser!
Steven Smith: Chainz can job to me any day!
Jeff Marx: Know your role and shut your mouth, fag-boy!
Chainz is bleeding from the back of his head after getting hit by the steel ring steps. Mikey O’Reilly picks up and sends Chainz back first into the ring post, bashing the back of Chainz’s head into post! Referee Lars Larsson leaves the ring to break up the onslaught. The German fans jeer at the referee, now calling him an arschloch. Chainz falls to the floor, leaving a smear of blood on the ring post.
Dave Kern: Mikey O’Reilly has lost it! He’s going to kill Chainz in his match!
Steven Smith: NO! Chainz is too sexy to die!
Jeff Marx: Yeah, Chainz is too sexy to... OH GODDAMMIT! SAY ONE WORD AND I’LL KICK YOUR ASS, KERN!
Dave Kern: Watching you blunder is enough for me, thank you!
Lars Larsson tells Mikey O’Reilly to take it back in the ring. O’Reilly picks up Mike Sloan, also known as “Chainz” and throws him back into the ring. Mikey rolls back into the ring and catches something that makes him smile from ear to ear. He sees a cheese grater, the same cheese grater that Chainz used on Mikey almost three months ago. He picks it up, looks at it and then looks down at Chainz with cruel intentions in his eyes. He walks over to the fallen Chainz, sits him up and begins grating Chainz’s forehead! The fans cheer as they watch blood spill onto the mat, along with fragments of flesh.
Dave Kern: Payback is a bitch, Chainz! Mikey O’Reilly is doing the same thing to Chainz that Chainz did to Mikey at Twilight Of The Gods! He’s digging and grating that cheese grater into Chainz’s forehead! Look at that blood pour!
Jeff Marx: I do enjoy bloodshed, but the wrong man is bleeding!
After grinding the cheese grater into Chainz’s forehead for what seems to be an eternity, Mikey O’Reilly throws the back of Chainz’s head into the mat. O’Reilly gets to his feet, looks through the weapons to use on Chainz. He picks up a chair wrapped in barbwire. When he turns around, Chainz is on his feet, charging at O’Reilly. With great athleticism and flexibility, Chainz delivers a Running Yakuza kick, kicking the chair right into O’Reilly’s face! The prickly mesh gouges deep into O’Reilly’s face, slicing at the flesh! The German fans watch on in awe, chanting this in German...
“HEILIG SCHEIßE! HEILIG SCHEIßE! HEILIG SCHEIßE! HEILIG SCHEIßE!”
Dave Kern: Oh my God! Chainz just kicked that barbed wire chair right in Mikey O’Reilly’s face! He could’ve easily lost both eyes after that!
Jeff Marx: TAKE THAT YOU IRISH JOBBER!
Steven Smith: NO! Not his pretty face!
Mike Sloan rips the barbed wire from Mikey O’Reilly’s face and now is in possession of the razor wire weapon. He raises the weapon into the air, repeatedly striking O’Reilly with it - all over his body and head - and one sickening strike right in the face again just for good measure. He drops the barbed wire chair, picks up “Mr. One Punch.” Sloan kicks him in the gut, doubles him over and sets him up for a Power Bomb. Sloan then picks him up for the Power Bomb, stands over the barbed wire chair and drives O’Reilly’s back into the chair! Mikey rolls off the chair, screaming in pain as his back begins to bleed.
Dave Kern: Mikey O’Reilly is practically bleeding from every body part! He’s a bloody mess after those chair shots!
Jeff Marx: GOOD! Continue to destroy Mikey O’Reilly, Chainz!
Steven Smith: Ew, Mikey is bleeding everywhere! That’s so not sexy!
Mikey O’Reilly, now wearing a crimson body suit (almost anyway), is laying on the mat, writhing in pain. Mike “Chainz” Sloan leaves his bloody opponent for a moment to find something. Discovering what he’s looking for, he picks it up. He removes his chain from the chair and drops the chair onto the mat. He walks over to O’Reilly, takes one of his legs, wraps part of his chain around the ankle and locks in an Ankle Lock! With the other half of the chain, he wraps it around Mikey’s throat, trying to choke him out! Realizing he can’t pull off two submissions at once - his rookie wrestling skills are preventing him from doing so - he simplifies his attempt by using one manoeuvre - an STF!
Jeff Marx: An unorthodox STF applied by my boy, Chainz! He’s wrapped one half of his chain around Mikey O’Reilly’s ankle and the other half around O’Reilly’s throat! This man can do anything!
Dave Kern: Mikey’s face is turning an ugly shade of purple! Tap out, Mikey! There’s no point in continuing this match! You’re getting yourself killed!
Tightening the chain around Mikey O’Reilly’s neck, Mike “Chainz” Sloan pulls back on the face-lock portion of the Step-over Toehold Face-lock (or STF). “Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” is hanging on for dear life, trying to counter the submission manoeuvre, but to no avail. Chainz tightens the chain around O’Reilly’s neck again, causing him to cough up blood. Referee Lars Larsson immediately interjects himself, forcing Chainz to break the submission. Chainz unwraps the chain from O’Reilly’s neck and ankle.
Dave Kern: Mikey’s neck has got to be crushed! That sick bastard could’ve killed Mikey O’Reilly with his chain!
Jeff Marx: Look! Chainz is whipping Mikey O’Reilly with his chain! This is too good to watch! Chainz is treating Mikey O’Reilly like the bitch that he is!
Steven Smith: You know, all that whipping is making me horny!
Jeff Marx: Then go in the ring and get whipped by Chainz!
Steven Smith: That sounds like a superb idea! (Sounds of Smith leaving his chair.)
Dave Kern: Sit down, you idiot! Jeff, don’t be coaxing Boy George over here.
Mike Sloan is on his feet, exiting the ring while Mikey O’Reilly is laying on the mat, coughing and sputtering up blood. Outside of the ring, Chainz goes underneath the ring and rummages around. Finding what he is looking for, he pulls out a table... wrapped in barbed wire. (See a theme here? I loves me some barbed wire. :-D) Chainz slides it in the ring, then reenters the ring. Chainz picks up the table, and sets it up in the upper left-hand corner of the ring. He walks over to O’Reilly, grabs a handful of hair and then gets him to a vertical base. He kicks O’Reilly in the gut, doubles him over and sets him up for a Power Bomb. Chainz picks up O’Reilly for a Power Bomb, runs toward the barbed wire table and then drives O’Reilly’s back into the table, crashing through it with a Running Power Bomb! The fans are on their feet, chanting their “holy shit” in German...
“HEILIG SCHEIßE! HEILIG SCHEIßE! HEILIG SCHEIßE! HEILIG SCHEIßE!”
Dave Kern: Holy shit indeed! Chainz just drove Mikey into that barbed wire table! I don’t know if Mikey O’Reilly can continue on with this match!
Jeff Marx: He shouldn’t. All Mikey is doing is getting his ass kicked by the most hated wrestler in AWC. It won’t be long until Chainz can claim his second victory over O’Reilly.
Mikey O’Reilly lies in a heap in the corner as Chainz pulls him by the leg to the center of the ring. He steps onto Mikey for a very unorthodox and cocky cover attempt.
Lars Larsson drops to the mat and administers the first cover of the match.
EIN!
ZWEI!
Somehow Mikey manages to get a shoulder off of the ground.
Dave Kern: And still it goes on… Jeff, I think… I think someone’s got to speak to Pearl, this is beyond a joke.
Jeff Marx: Sorry what? What’s yanking your chain Dave?
Dave Kern: Look at the time.
Jeff Marx: Ya, so?
Dave Kern: Look at my schedule.
Jeff Marx: Oh just chill would you? So we’re running a little late…
Steven Smith: Thirty minutes!
Jeff Marx: No one asked for your opinion!
Chainz looks down at his bloody opponent and plants a boot into his jaw, sending the Irishman rolling around the ring in pain. Chainz slides out of the ring and digs around until he finds a sledgehammer. He smiles and slides into the ring. Standing over Mikey he brings the sledgehammer down with all his might, luckily Mikey moves out of the way just in time to see the force of the blow make a hole in the ring.
Dave Kern: That would’ve ended O’Reilly’s life if it connected. Look at the power behind that shot, there’s a hold in the ring.
Steven Smith: Now that’s a real gaper.
Chainz tries to pull the sledgehammer out of the ring, but it’s firmly stuck. Meanwhile Mikey O’Reilly manages to crawl to his feet and get out of the ring. Chainz gives up on the sledgehammer and follows O’Reilly to the outside. Mikey has somehow managed to find another chair and bashes Chainz over the head as he steps out. Chainz stumbles back, before regaining his composure.
Jeff Marx: That shot didn’t even floor Chainz, now that’s a monster.
Steven Smith: I love me a big ole monster.
Dave Kern: Sigh, does everything have to be turned into a gay joke?
Jeff Marx: Didn’t you know.
Dave Kern: Oh why do I even bother.
Chainz stomps towards Mikey with a pissed off look. He motions for Mikey to hit him again, which he does. This shot does even less as Chainz just shrugs it off. Mikey raises the chair, but Chainz just slaps it aside. He goes for a straight punch but Mikey ducks and Chainz hits the ring post with a great deal of force. He shakes his hand as Mikey delivers a stiff shot to the ribs that does very little once again. Mikey looks at Chainz and quickly slides back into the ring and bounces off the other side, he runs towards Chainz and finally floors him with a baseball slide.
Mikey gets up and starts trying to pull the sledgehammer out of the ring like a sword out of a stone. As he does so, Chainz gets back into the ring and approaches Mikey from behind. Just as he’s about to deliver a crushing blow Mikey pries the sledgehammer lose, sending him flying backwards and knocking Chainz down. Chainz gets up, but Mikey is ready and hits Chainz in the gut with the sledgehammer.
Dave Kern: Not even Chainz’s abs of steel could protect him from that shot.
Steven Smith: Oh, his muscles are being tenderized, I thought that was what my ass was for?
Mikey drops for a quick cover, still holding onto the sledgehammer.
EIN!
ZWEI!
Chainz kicks out as Mikey quickly brings the wooden handle across Chainz’s throat and starts choking him. Chainz grabs the handle as well and tries to keep the wood away from his throat. With a great deal of power he flips Mikey to the ground and now he’s pressing the handle into Mikey’s throat. Mikey knees Chainz from behind loosening his grip. He pushes the handle as it hits Chainz in the head and shocks him momentarily. In the next instant Chainz brings down a big fist, but misses and crashes into the mat.
Dave Kern: That same hand that went into the ring post now hitting the mat. There’s got to be some broken bones in there.
Jeff Marx: A few broken bones won’t keep Chainz down for long.
Chainz gets up and struggles to the corner where his chain is unceremoniously lying. He picks it up and faces Mikey who is also up and standing with a sledgehammer. Chainz starts spinning the chain around, giving him a few feet of a protective barrier and forcing Mikey to step back as Chainz begins to approach him.
Mikey finally decides to go for it and charges at Chainz. Chainz effortlessly sidesteps Mikey and slaps his back with the chain. Mikey regroups and tries again with the same result. Mikey lunges again, but this time stops and swings the hammer. Chainz ducks and slaps Mikey’s ribs with the chain before backing up.
Jeff Marx: Look at that, Chainz is picking Mikey apart with his favorite weapon.
Steven Smith: No one’s as good as Chainz is with a chain.
Dave Kern: We’re not talking about the bedroom.
Jeff Marx: To Smith, every wrestler that comes down is just a piece of ass. Have some respect for these fine athletes.
Dave Kern: Huh?
Jeff Marx: Yeah I don’t know, brain fart I guess. Smith, you’re faggoty remarks are screwing me up.
Chainz is laughing at Mikey as he slowly approaches with the chain. Mikey tries lunging but than thinks better of it. Suddenly an idea crosses his mind. As Chainz comes closer he takes the sledgehammer and throws it right at Chainz. Chainz can’t get out of the way and the steel connects with his forehead. He drops the chain and falls to the mat holding his forehead, which is gushing blood.
Mikey goes for a cover.
EIN!
ZWEI! And still Chainz somehow kicks out. His face is a bloody mess, to the point where he has to wipe his eyes just to see where he’s going. Mikey picks him up and delivers a good straight punch right into the mouth of his opponent. He bounces off of the ropes and comes at Chainz, but Chainz recovers and grabs Mikey by the throat. He lifts him and tosses him at the ropes. Mikey’s legs hit the ropes and cause him to angle down towards the mat as his neck hits the edge of the mat hard and then he falls to the outside.
Dave Kern: Hey could’ve broken his neck there.
Steven Smith: My sexy Irish man, no!
Jeff Marx: You think Sloan would care if he broke Mikey’s neck. I think not.
Chainz licks his chops as he knows the end is near. He slides out and rolls Mikey back into the ring. He mounts him and starts head-butting Mikey repeatedly. After about five head to head blows Chainz grabs his chain and starts whipping Mikey. Blow after blow connects as flesh and steel meet, sending Mikey into convulsions on the ring floor.
Dave Kern: Stop it, that’s enough!
Chainz mercifully stops and picks up Mikey O’Reilly. He delivers another powerful Power Bomb onto the ring floor as Mikey’s head bounces off of the steel chain. Chainz drops for the cover.
EIN!
ZWEI!
DREI!
James Brunt: The winner... CHAINZ!
Jeff Marx: Yes, teach Mikey a lesson for having Zsasz lay a hand on Tracy’s beautiful head.
Dave Kern: He had nothing to do with that.
Steven Smith: That harlot is the cause of all this violence.
Dave Kern: Chainz picks up his second win over Mikey O’Reilly and again leaves Mikey a broken, bloody mess. What carnage.
Jeff Marx: Let’s take a damn break from all this.
Hyde Spent Ages Figuring Out The Order Of These So He's Not Making Up A Title Too
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
The scene opens in a room, which is filled with smoke. The door opens and Liam and Tim walk in, waving the haze away.
Liam Martin: FOUL DEVIL BUSH!
Tim Martin: Liam, we’ve been had. HAD, I SAY!
Liam Martin: *cough, cough* Those sons of bitches… smoked this room up!
Tim Martin: Ugh… huh?
Tim picks up a piece of paper from a bench and begins to read it.
Tim Martin: “Dear Fisted Dudes, thanks for the sweet room! Thank the lord for Marijuana. <3 GBJ and Adam Dick”.
Liam Martin: Man… fuck…
Tim Martin: What, brother?
Liam Martin: Did we remember the Recees?
The scene ends with Tim burying his head in his palm.
Invitation Only III
FEATURING: RED ROCK, AWC SECURITY TEAM
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
And Red Rock’s quest for party guests continues in the car park of the arena where standing guard with watchful eyes is AWC security Bruno Hague, Butch Radder and Taz Yorke! Red Rock, with D’avid by his side waltzes up to the 3 hard working men with his bag of party invitations.
Red Rock: Hey guys… WAKE UP!
Bruno Hague: What the fudge?! Oh it’s only Red Rock…
Taz Yorke: What are you doing waking us up like that you idiot!
Butch Radder: Yeah I was dreaming about scoring with… well… that’s best left to the imagination.
Bruno Hague: What do you want anyway?
Red Rock: I’ve come by to ask you guys if you want to come to my “I beat the guy who beat Angelo Deville therefore I am better than Angelo Deville” party.
The three security guards look at each other slightly confused, knowing who Angelo Deville is and knowing who Red Rock is.
Butch Radder: Did you just say you’re better than Angelo Deville?
Red Rock: Well… yeah…
Taz Yorke: And you gen... gen-duh... gen-ah... gen-windy believe that?
Red Rock: Yes, I genuinely believe that I’m better than Angelo Deville… (and if that’s not quote of the week we’re all doomed.)
Bruno Hague: Get the hell out of here and don’t waste our time Rock!
Red Rock: Fine… you’ll miss out on those little sausages and mini trifles! Your loss!
Red Rock spins 180 degrees on his heel and heads back inside the arena to make some final preparations to his party.
Star Wars
FEATURING: KIP BROWN, SASHA VOLKYEVA, LXG
AUTHORS: MATT AND JC
Kip Brown: Woo! Domination!
Kip Brown explodes out of the cafeteria, his eyes focused on the PSP and whatever game he’s playing. From the intensity of his gaze, it’s got to either be a sports game or something involving fighting. Who knows.
Apparently, though, Kip’s not looking where he’s going, because as he rounds the corner, he walks right up to the great presence of Sasha Volkyeva. He practically bumps into her, but his spider sense tingles and he screeches to a halt.
Kip Brown: Oh. Er, ‘scuse me.
Sasha smirks and rolls her eyes, not even really wanting to spend the time walking around this buffoon. Instead, she’s going to stand her ground until he moves.
Sasha Volkyeva: Hello Kip. Make any good movies lately? …Or at all?
Kip blinks, ready to smile and spill all about his latest flick... but then Sasha ruins everything and he frowns. His thumb reaches to pause the game he’s playing.
Kip Brown: ‘Scuse me?
Sasha Volkyeva: You should be grateful you have a job here, Kip. I doubt you would be making any money otherwise.
Sasha smiles. Kip pauses. Then, he frowns, defeated, and steps to the side to allow the Queen of Mean to make her passage to wherever she was going.
But before Sasha can take another step, LXG comes around the corner and her smile widens. Nice and proud. Her puppet appears. Lincoln, though, doesn’t particularly seem to be happy to see her. In fact, his face is already done up into a frown, which becomes more evident as he takes the two steps needed to approach.
Sasha Volkyeva: Ah, Lincoln. Just the man I wanted to see...
LXG: Sasha. I’d say it was nice to see you, but that only applies to when you’re leaving, doesn’t it?
Sasha blinks, but her eyes narrow. Kip also blinks, as he stands to the side, but his more shocked that LXG would say something like that to the woman that hired him.
Sasha Volkyeva: Watch yourself, Lincoln.
LXG: Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?
Sasha’s hand twitches, as if she’s trying to remain calm. Kip, once again, stares at Lincoln. LXG offers him a quick glance and a smirk. Trust him. Sasha practically snarls and steps right up into LXG’s face.
Sasha Volkyeva: (through gritted teeth) What the hell do you think you’re doing?
LXG: Same thing you’re doing, Sasha. Just following in your footsteps. Isn’t that what you want?
Sasha Volkyeva: What I want is respect from my superstars.
LXG: Then why don’t you try giving them some?
It looks like LXG has an answer for everything this evening. Kip’s jaw is a little dropped, but he’s managing to stand here and not look like some kind of fanboy or something. However, watching Sasha’s own boytoy give it to her like this has to be the highlight of his evening.
Sasha Volkyeva: Fair enough. But I want you to remember something, Linky. I’m the one that signs your paychecks. Not them.
Sasha throws on a smug smirk, motioning towards the “talent” known as Kip Brown. Figuring she’s got the last word in, she starts to make a move to brush past LXG. But his arm comes up and blocks her path, hand pressed firmly against the wall.
LXG: And here’s something for you to remember, Sasha...
Kip knows this isn’t going to be good. He knows it. He can feel it. But he watches on...
LXG: If you keep treating my friends like this? I’m gonna’ be the one to kick your ass. Not them.
Sasha and LXG lock eyes for a long moment, in classic stare down style and LXG eventually drops his arm. Sasha smirks, tosses a glare at Kip, and then brushes right past Lincoln to continue on down the hall.
Sasha Volkyeva: Good day, gentlemen.
Soon as Sasha’s out of earshot, LXG breathes and Kip steps right up to him.
Kip Brown: Dude... are you crazy? She could end you.
LXG: Yeah, well... I’ve been through worse. Trust me on that one.
Kip Brown: (smiling) I’m Kip, by the way. Kip Brown.
Kip extends his hand and LXG somehow knows the cool handshake that consists of some elbow touching and snapping of fingers. Kip blinks and looks at his hand, as LXG is walking away.
Kip Brown: Dude, wait. How’d you...?
LXG smiles and turns around.
LXG: What can I say? I’m a fan. See ya’.
With that said, LXG whirls back around on his heels and disappears off down another hall. Kip blinks a couple more times and then...
Kip Brown: That was so awesome...
A Word In Edgeways
FEATURING: GADGET, "EXCEPTIONAL" DAVE HURST
AUTHORS: DAVE HURST AND JAMES JOHNSON
We cut to the men’s toilets, because saying the backstage area every time gets kind of tedious. Sergeant Jacobs walks past the camera and goes to push the door open, but instead the door swings back, almost causing him to fall flat on his face.
Standing there in the doorway is Exceptional Dave Hurst, with his patented cheesy smile.
EDH: Aloooooooooo!!!
Gadget: Hey man, how’s it going?
EDH: Pretty good mate. Hey are you on drugs?!
Dave points right at his face, his finger very nearly touching his forehead it being so close.
Gadget: What? No!
EDH: Oh, your eyes are sticking out like that you kinda look like Steve Buschemi.
Gadget: Who? Look I really need to go to the bathr---
EDH: Oooh! You could be one of those aliens! I saw about them on telly last night!
Gadget: I’m not an alie---
EDH: THEY had sticky outy eyes just like you! They were about 2 feet tall though, but that could have just been the babies… or the midgets…
Gadget: Right…
EDH: So what planet are you from?
Gadget: Ear---
EDH: Are you from the planet Zebulon Five?
Gadget: I’m from Ea---
EDH: Or Zargon the Planet of the Fruitful Ice Mines?
Gadget: What?
EDH: I guess you’re probably just from Mars, eh?
Gadget: I really need to go now.
EDH: Oh okay then Mr Alien. Nice talking to ya!
Dave continues to stand in the doorway, waiting for Jacobs to leave.
Gadget: ………to the bathroom?
EDH: Oh right you are mate! Pleasure talking to ya anyway.
Dave reaches out and grabs Gadget by the hand shaking it vigorously before walking off. The camera fades out on Jacobs as he holds his hand up to his face and sniffs.
Gadget: Did you even wash your hands?
Celestial Fury (C) vs Brown / Tomas
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
Dave Kern: It’s just about time for the Alliance championship match but I'm sorry to have to tell you that we’ve just had word from the front office regarding how late we’re running tonight on Fresh!, and there’s no other way... we can’t overrun our live slot, so the PTC feature match that was scheduled for tonight’s main event – the Heaven And Hell match – that’s going to go on after the cameras have finished rolling.
Steven Smith: WHAT?!
Dave Kern: (agitated) I know, I know, my most sincere apologies – but don’t worry! We’ll be broadcasting the taped version, the full match, later in the week as a Fresh!extra show... sometime at the weekend, I guess. I know it’s not ideal but at least you get to see a great match, in addition to your full dose of Fresh! tonight!
Jeff Marx: This is bullshit... are we getting paid the overtime?!
Dave Kern: I'm sure we can sort out the finer details later on... and folks, I'm just hearing that Fresh!extra will also feature a bonus match offered up as an apology from us, out of goodwill... it’s going to be the dark match that took place in the ring earlier on, between LXG and Mr. Marshall. Yes, LXG vs Mr. Marshall, and the PTC Extreme title match in which Hoyt Williams defends against Archibald MacGregor... both in full on Fresh!extra later this week; you’ll have to check your local listings I'm afraid. Again, our most humble apologies...
Jeff Marx: Now on with this title match!
Dave Kern: Ok folks, here we are at the match of the night…
Steven Smith: KIP! KIPPPPPP! KIP!
Jeff Marx: Easy there, killer…
Steven Smith: K! I! P! K! I! P!
Dave Kern: Uh, yes, that’s right, Steven, it’s now the AWC Alliance titles match between Kip Brown & Teresa Tomas and Celestial Fury!
Jeff Marx: I see that Green gonad and that Asian freak losing, without a doubt…
Dave Kern: Jeff, when did you become a racist?
Jeff Marx: Oh, you know, it’s what I do, I guess.
Dave Kern: I guess… well, already in the ring is Teresa Tomas and Kip Brown. They look ready, they look prepared, they look…
Steven Smith: THEY LOOK KIP!
Inside the ring, Kip Brown and Teresa Tomas are all business, talking to each other. They’re probably talking strategy, since Celestial Fury is the only undefeated team in the AWC according to recent quizzes.
From out back, the Celestial Fury music hits and, rather quickly, The Green Grappler walks out with just… him. Where’s Butterfly Hamada?
The Green Grappler continues to walk down the ring and, following him from out back is David Harber. David runs up alongside The Green Grappler and begins yelling, with words such as “GET HER!” and “YOU IDIOT!” seen mouthed. Pearl then slides into the ring and whispers something to James Brunt, quickly sliding out before shooting The Green Grappler a glare. The Green Grappler shakes his head with a look of disappointment on his face.
James Brunt: Uh, ladies and gentlemen, it appears that Butterfly Hamada has walked out on The Green Grappler, prompting a handicap match for the titles! But, Mr. Harber informed me that it won’t be a tag handicap, but rather a Tandem-style fight!
Dave Kern: Did you just hear that? Kip and Teresa’s eyes must be lit up! What great news for them!
Steven Smith: My Kip… with Gold?! Oh my goodness… I think I just splooged.
Jeff Marx: Steven, that’s… OH MY GOD, WHY IS YOUR PENIS OUT OF YOUR PANTS?!
Steven Smith: Um, I don’t know how YOU masturbate…
Dave Kern: *shuddering noise*
DING! DING! DING!
The match starts out with Teresa and Kip slowly stalking The Green Grappler. Grapps is standing there, holding his hands out in defense, but Brown and Tomas ignore it as Kip kicks him in the stomach, keeling him over. They then proceed to knock him down with a stiff club to the back and begin stomping, holding onto the ropes as they do. The Green Grappler is writhing as he takes a bruising.
Dave Kern: I don’t know what Harber was thinking when he commanded that, but this is QUITE the bruising right here!
After a few more moments of this, The Green Grappler is brought to his feet and laid in the corner. Tomas and Brown take turns slapping his chest, exalting loud “WOOOOO!”s after each one. After a little bit more, Kip whips TGG to the opposite turnbuckle and follows him, landing a flying forearm to the chest when TGG hits the corner. As TGG stands there beaten a little, Kip gets on all fours, prompting Teresa to come running and hop off of Kip’s back… but she goes flying into the turnbuckle as TGG makes a desperation move to get out of the way!
Steven Smith: Oh, Kip, forget that whore… just win, baby, win!
Jeff Marx: Let’s cut it with the “baby” talk, ok?
Steven Smith: Looks like we have a grumpy Gus on our hands!
Jeff Marx: No, just a guy who saw your penis covered in man juice about… oh… five, six seconds ago.
Steven Smith: Jealous?
Jeff Marx: No. No, no, no.
TGG scurries over to Kip who is just getting up and pulls him to his feet, laying a stiff fore arm to the face. He then DDTs Kip into the mat, and tries the quick-fall.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Dave Kern: Too early.
Jeff Marx: I’d have to say YOU’RE too early, Dave.
Dave Kern: Jeff, that doesn’t even make sense…
Jeff Marx: I’d have to say YOU don’t make sense, Dave.
Steven Smith: Here comes another one for you if you don’t quit it, Jeff…
Jeff Marx: *grumbling silence*
TGG pulls Kip to his feet and pulls him over to the corner. TGG hops up and tried to execute a tornado DDT, but as he jumps off, Kip spins around and replants TGG on the turnbuckle. Teresa, out of no where, springboards off the closest rope and clotheslines TGG off the turnbuckle and to the mat outside the ring, knocking both down. Teresa rolls out of the way, because she knows that Kip Brown is about to do exactly what he’s doing, which is leap over the top rope and do a somersault, his back landing on Grapps’s chest. Teresa Tomas is up on her feet and slowly rolls into the ring, halting the count.
Dave Kern: And that’s a great example of how fluid to great cruiserweight guys can be.
Jeff Marx: Are you calling Teresa a guy?
Dave Kern: No, I didn’t mean it like that!
Jeff Marx: Well, I guess I could see it…
Dave Kern: Hey, that’s not nice!
Jeff Marx: Fuck, YOU’RE the one who brought it up!
Dave Kern: I SAID I… you know what, never mind.
Kip is now on his feet and he pulls TGG up to. But Kip is only setting TGG for another knock down, as Teresa comes sliding in with a, erm, baseball slide, knocking TGG back into the fences. Kip catches TGG off the rebound and smashes his skull off the side of the ring, leaving him semi-limp on the ground. Kip wants this match over, so he rolls TGG into the ring for a cover-up by Tomas…
ONE!
Kickout.
The surprising one count catches Tomas off guard, who can be seen swearing. Kip isn’t too worried about this event, though, and rolls into the ring where he grabs TGG and pulls him to his feet. He hooks a leg and attempts to go for a Fireman’s Suplex, but while TGG is in the air, he slips behind Kip and pushes him into Tomas, sending Tomas through both the ropes. TGG runs over and clotheslines the scuttling Kip to the ground, landing him with a hard thud. He then gets by Kip’s side and locks in a ground head lock.
Jeff Marx: Idiot!
Dave Kern: Huh?
Jeff Marx: Doesn’t Grapps know that Kip is going to get up from a damn headlock and just elbow his way out?
Dave Kern: Jeff, don’t take away integrity from the move!
Jeff Marx: Just wait…
TGG continues to apply pressure to the head lock, but in a moment Kip works his way to a knee. Sooner than later, he is on his feet, and with a few elbows to the stomach, Kip is out. Kip whips TGG into the ropes and, when TGG comes running back, he is met with a belly-to-belly suplex.
Jeff Marx: Oh Jeff, PLEEEEASE, don’t take away integrity! PLEASE JEFF! NOT FOR POOR WITTLE DAVEY BABY! PUUUUUWEEEESE!
Dave Kern: Ok, ha ha, you---
Jeff Marx: PUHHHHHHHHHHHHHWEEEEEEESE!
Tomas scuttles over to TGG and lifts him to his feet. From here, she backhands him, but TGG somehow has the strength to return a backhand of his own. From there, he throws Teresa Tomas to the ground and charges at Kip. Kip, though, is all too expecting this and just moves out of the way. TGG goes through the ropes, again.
Jeff Marx: Uh, match is INSIDE the ring, dummy.
Kip slides out of the ring and grabs TGG again and picks him up, throwing him back into the ring. Inside there, Tomas is ready for him, hopping off the ropes and landing with a stomach on TGG. From here, she slides down to the legs and locks in a leg lock, all the while Kip Brown pounds TGG in the face.
Dave Kern: Brutal, but great technique.
TGG is struggling in this technique, but won’t seem to tap. After many boots, though, Kip tries to go for a quick pin fall.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Again, Kip goes for the pinfall.
ONE!
Kickout.
Kip has about had enough. He picks up TGG and lifts him on his shoulders like a torture rack. But, instead, he drops down TGG on his head, executing an inverted DDT! Kip is ABOUT to go for the pin… but instead, shakes his head and says “Teresa, want to continue?”
Teresa smiles and nods and picks a fairly lifeless TGG up. She then whips him towards Kip… but he only stumbles to the ground. Kip then laughs and walks over to TGG, slapping him a bit, only to pick him up and give him a release suplex out of the ring! TGG goes crashing into the fence.
Dave Kern: I can see this strategy… a man with as much determination as TGG is no one to take lightly… charge, charge, charge!
Steven Smith: Yes, Kip, charge! Charge! Chaaarrrr - ohhhh… damn. Sorry, Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Sorry for… HOLY FUCK, WHAT ARE YOU, PETER NORTH?! JESUS CHRIST! AND THESE ARE MY NICE CLOTHES! YOU SON OF A BITCH!
Steven Smith: It’s just… I just love Kip…
Jeff Marx: THAT’S NOT LOVE, THAT”S FUCKED UP DOG SHIT!
On the outside of the ring, Kip and Teresa start pounding the shit out of TGG. Kip lifts him up and Teresa stands on the edge of the ring, leaping off with a kick that sends TGG back into the fence.
ONE!
On the ground, TGG receives a boot to the back of the head. He is then lifted to his feet by Kip and whipped into the corner post, landing with a loud thud. Kip moves quickly over to TGG to get him back up.
TWO!
But at this point, TGG shoves Kip off him with a last ditch effort. As Tomas comes running at him, TGG swiftly uses Teresa’s momentum and sends her flying into the ring post! Her head hits it and she bounces off into the ground, seeming barely conscious. TGG now has to deal with an angry Kip.
THREE!
Dave Kern: But this is the disadvantage of continuing working on a guy. He gets a second wind, and shit changes.
On the outside of the ring, Kip and TGG begin exchanging fists to the face. Each one is slow, deliberate, and devastating. Finally, though, Kip knocks TGG to the ground with a heavy one. Teresa is still very out.
FOUR!
Steven Smith: Kip baby, watch out! DON’T GET DOUBLE COUNTED OUT! DON’T GET DOUBLE COUNTED OUT!
Kip is now staggering on the outside. While he moves around, he walks over to Teresa and lifts her to her feet. Unknowingly, though…
FIVE!
DING DING DING!
Dave Kern: A double count out?!
Jeff Marx: A double count out?!
Steven Smith: Uggggghhhh… sorry Jeff.
Jeff Marx: WHAT THE… YOU SON OF A BITCH!... WHAT ARE YOU, MOBY DICK?!?!?! ARGGHH!
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen, the contest ended with a double count out! As of now, Celestial Fury retain!
Dave Kern: Wow, who’d have thunk? I don’t think they’re going to keep these though…
Jeff Marx: Yeah, me either.
Invitation Only IV
FEATURING: RED ROCK, GADGET
AUTHORS: JOSH YOUNG AND JAMES JOHNSON
Earlier we saw Red Rock trying to invite people along to his “I beat the guy who beat Angelo Deville, there fore I am better than Angelo Deville” party. Red Rock is now making some final preparation to his party by paying a visit to the candy machine.
Red Rock: Right! It’s nearly party time and the only thing I’m missing is Skittles!
Red Rock peers through the glass of the large red candy machine and finds the Skittles fairly easily.
Red Rock: Stupid currency how much is that in pence?
Red Rock shrugs and reaches in to his pocket for a handful of loose change, and then proceeds to slot the coins one by one in to the machine. He mutters the key code to himself.
Red Rock: C… 4, ahh splendid!
Red Rock eagerly watches as the coil turns, thus releasing the skittle for his guest’s consumption. But the worst possible scenario comes true as the packet gets jammed against the coil and becomes stuck.
Red Rock: FUCKIST!
Red Rock slams two closed fists aggressively against the glass, producing a loud thud.
Red Rock: GIVE ME MY BASTARDING SWEETS!
Red Rock continues to pound the shit out of the machine whilst heavily gritting his teeth!
Gadget: Hurry up!
Red Rock turns around to see Gadget standing impatiently with their arms folded.
Red Rock: Oh bugger off! The damn thing won’t give me my Skittles! I have a party to be planning!
Gadget: Well you’re not going to get it out shaking it like that!
Gadget takes stance next to Red Rock and encourages Red Rock to shake the machine harder. With both persons strength the machine begins to tilt and the more they do it the more momentum it gains until it reaches the point where it is about to topple.
Red Rock: It’s not working!
Gadget: Don’t be a girl and keep rocking!
Red Rock begins to look a little bit worried as the machine rocks back and as the machine teeters forward so does Gadget and at the last moment Gadget darts out of danger. Red Rock takes his hands off the machine to yell at Gadget.
Red Rock: HEY!
…
Red Rock: OH BOLLOCKS! ARGGGGGGGGGHHH!
Red Rock shields his face as he watches the large red candy machine land on top of him, knocking him out cold.
Gadget: Whoops…
Gadget slowly backs away leaving Red Rock under the machine, with his hands in his pockets whilst whistling to himself.
There Is An Alien In The Building!
FEATURING: "EXCEPTIONAL" DAVE HURST
AUTHOR: DAVE HURST
“The Piper Never Dies” by Edguy plays and “Exceptional” Dave Hurst appears through the curtains, before walking pretty briskly towards the ring, a panicked look upon his face.
Come and fly away with me
And your eyes are gonna see it all
And sleep with the fire - do you feel me?
Go obtain divinity, be the one you wanna be
And don't be afraid to give in
And ride into the shadows.
The piper never dies, never dies
Ride into the shadows
The piper never dies, never dies
Dave dives into the ring and motions to one of the ring crew to pass him a microphone, they quickly hand one to him and Dave turns and almost immediately blurts out.
EDH: We have a situation people! Whatever you do, don’t panic!
Dave’s head darts from side to side, desperately looking for something, or someone.
EDH: It’s okay calm yourselves! There is one minor problem and I hope you all can keep calm, do not panic, and don’t freak out! The thing is… well… to put it bluntly… well… THERE’S A FLAMING ALIEN IN THE BUILDING!!!!!!!
Dave screams and then starts to skip around the ring like a schoolgirl for no apparent reason. The crowd, unsurprisingly, are more worried about the mental stability of the man in the ring than the likelihood that there is actually an alien in the building.
EDH: DON’T PANIC! He calls himself Inspector Gadget, even though he’s a Sergeant, don’t let this thing fool you. He is not Steve Buschemi, even though he looks like one, and those aliens off the telly were just midgets. This guy is the real deal. I advise everyone not to worry themselves, he has not been threatening, but whatever you do, do not mention lasers or phasers or gamma rays, we don’t want to give him any ideas. Silver bullets don’t work, garlic just gives you bad breath, and holy water is cool for christenings, but none will work on this thing. I’ll be asking Geordie La Forge, Scotty and that Irish bloke on the possible course of action for eliminating this threat. Just be warned.
Dave chucks the microphone at the ring crew guy and nearly cracks him on the head before running backstage with his arms flailing like one of those retarded slow motion running through fields people from soppy movies.
Jeff Marx: Er...
This Is Not A Test Of The Emergency Broadcast System (This Is The Real Thing)
FEATURING: ???
AUTHOR: BRYAN
Static. Like crumpling newspaper really fast, or fire. White and black and ugly.
Then… blessed black silence.
And light. And a face.
Young, male… you could hazard a guess at around twenty-four years of age and not be too far off. Svelte blue button-up shirt, slightly gelled brown hair. No smile. No smile at all.
Sean Underwood: Greetings, wrestlers and fans of AWC. My name is Sean Underwood, but that’s hardly the most important thing that I’m about to say. I’ve been hired to speak on behalf of a few gentlemen that will be integral to the future of the Atlantic Wrestling Club.
Sean Underwood: Three weeks ago, you saw four masked men eliminate the AWC duo of Collision Course. Jiro Sennosuke and Joey Six were injured to the point that their AWC contracts had to be voided.
Sean Underwood: A few nights ago… at the AWC Anniversary Show, after the festivities, three more men met the same fate. The same masked men caused serious injury to several undercard wrestlers, opening up a few more roster spots.
Sean Underwood: I’m not telling you any of this for any reason other than to warn you. These four men are extremely dangerous. They are all highly trained wrestling professionals. If you approach them, they will not speak, they will not deliver their goals and agendas to you. That is MY duty. I am their mouthpiece, the shaded window into the mission.
Sean Underwood: I’d like to introduce you to them now, if I may…
The camera pans back, and four men are lined up, all dressed nearly identically. All wear camouflage pants, black wrestling boots, and black ski masks. All are of similar height, build, and coloration (tan Caucasian), but each are wearing a different colored tank top. The one in gray is the first in line, and seems to be the most muscular.
Sean Underwood: Firstly, Ares. The finest pure technician to never be employed for an extensive length of time by a major wrestling federation. Completely unrelenting, ruthless, and cunning inside of the squared circle, and master of the Warcry, the single most painful submission maneuver known today. Something that makes the Gridlock, the Soprano, and the No Man’s Land all look like warmup stretches.
Next, we see the one in the red tank. Lankier. Red shirt.
Sean Underwood: Susanowa. Destined to redefine modern high-flying. He is able to do things that no other person in this business can do. An innovator of the highest order, and quite possibly the greatest undiscovered wrestling talent IN THE WORLD TODAY.
The blue tank is up next, and he offers a slight nod of the head.
Sean Underwood: Horus. He is a prince of the wrestling industry, trained by the greatest warriors to step into the ring. With this mission, and proper focus, he will be able to take all the styles he’s learned, all the influences, and seamlessly blend them all into one of the greatest all-around wrestling personas ever seen.
Finally, the one in the black shirt. He does not blink. He does not breathe. He does absolutely nothing.
Sean Underwood: Vidar. Named after the Norse god of silence and vengeance. He is a pure fighter on par with an Anton Assault or a Michael Sloan, and possessing a passionate fire that will propel him to the top of any division he enters. Woe be to anyone who is foolish enough to stand between him, and a victory.
He pulls away, and the four men all crisply raise a left fist, almost like a salute. Sean moves in front of them, and gets closer to the camera.
Sean Underwood: Yes, they protect their identities with masks, so they can act without fear of reprisal for their actions… but also so they can act without regard for individual contributions, and for the benefit of the whole. Fear them if you must, but respect them AS YOU MUST.
Sean has now worked himself up into a little bit of a sweat.
Sean Underwood: I hope you understand what I am saying. I’ve thrown my lot in with them for the chance at being part of something… amazing. A real turning point in wrestling history. Starting here, and now, you’re going to watch four careers take off. Four of the most impressive young wrestlers in the world. They… no, we… are going to change the AWC, and even if you don’t like their methods, you will thank them in the end.
Sean Underwood: We are unswayable, unstoppable, untenable.
Sean Underwood: We are the most powerful force for change in AWC.
Sean Underwood: We are the future of this federation…
Sean Underwood: …and we are Legion.
Garbage Bag Johnny vs Anton Assault
STIPULATION: SINGLES - CLAIM TO THE THRONE
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG
The lights dim abruptly and the opening, disgusting chords of 'Vomitself' by Boris hit. The crowd falls into a hush as a single, white spotlight opens up on the entrance area. As the droney, soul-crushing guitars continue to lope on, the solitary figure of one Luis Ferrara, dressed in an impressive suit. He lifts his eyes to the light, shielding his face as he starts down. Tortured screams accompany the slow guitars now, heralding the appearance of Anton Assault. He doesn't look incredibly intimidating, wearing a colorful dashiki and dressed in his black short trunks and boots under that, but his demeanor is ugly and aggressive.
Luis leads his prospect down to the ring and he stands off to the side, letting Anton climb into the ring by himself. Once inside the ring, Anton carefully pulls off his dashiki and hands it down to Luis, who rolls it up and heads over to set it with the timekeeper. Anton begins to limber up inside the ring, doing stretches and generally looking focused.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match as part of Claim To The Throne! Introducing first, from Paris, France, weighing in at 229 pounds… ANTON ASSAULT!
The Anton Assault fans blow the roof off for Anton mixed with the Anton haters making a louder rabble!
Jeff Marx: Didn’t this guy loose to Red Rock?
Dave Kern: Yeah, he came very close to –
Jeff Marx: Meh…
Dave Kern: He could be a big star here –
Jeff Marx: I said meh.
“Garbage Bag Johnny Will Win Zero 2 Hero” by Garbage Bag Johnny and Primus starts to play as the 2006 Zero 2 Hero winner walks out onto the stage. The German fans remain with a vacant, let efficient gaze upon their face as a a few members in the front row tidy their small square moustaches and brush their slick black hair to one side.
James Brunt: And his opponent, weighing in at 219 pounds, he is the Hero of 2006 … GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!!!
The German crowd releases a neutral yet efficient pop for the AWC zero to hero winner.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny will be seeking his 9th consecutive victory!
Jeff Marx: Yes Trashcan Man – I mean Garbage Bag Jobber is looking for his 9th win in a row!
Steven Smith: I like a man with a beard, even if it is a homeless man! But I equally like a black man!
Jeff Marx: You mean Starvin’ Marvin? You’ll lay anything Smith!
Selena Sumner calls the two competitors to the centre of the ring and calls for the bell. Anton Assault eagerly makes the fist attack with his left boot in to GBJ’s gut. Anton continues with a swinging neck breaker.
Dave Kern: An early attack by Anton, starting work on the neck of Garbage Bag!
Anton keeps GBJ ground by applying a head lock and pinning GBJ’s body to the ground using his own body weight to keep him down. Anton wrenches GBJ’s head back with one arm whilst pound GBJ on the top of his head!
Jeff Marx: Anton Assault is trying to beat some sense in to Johnny’s head!
Anton continues relentlessly pounding but GBJ suddenly throws his body over and takes advantage by landing on top of Anton. GBJ gets to his feet with both hands wrapped around Anton’s neck, GBJ pulls Anton to his feet before delivering a series of knees solidly in to Anton’s stomach.
Steven Smith: He’s knocking the wind out of my Anton! Ohhh Anton!
GBJ throws Anton in to the ropes and uses the momentum to deliver a standing drop kick; knocking Anton back against the ropes.
Dave Kern: Anton Assault is hung up on the ropes and Johnny is looking to take advantage of this venerable state
Steven Smith: I’m looking to take of vantage of his venerable state!
GBJ rebounds off the adjacent ropes and throws himself towards Anton with a running flip splash.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny using his body as a weapon against Anton Assault every effectively.
The German crowd claps in unison at GBJ’s efficient attack on Anton Assault.
GBJ swiftly brings Anton Assault back to an upright stance. GBJ follows up by thrusting Anton in to the corner using his body mass to add emphasis to the impact. GBJ steps aside to let Anton stagger back in to the middle of the ring and GBJ works quickly by hoping up on the second rope!
Dave Kern: Johnny’s going up!
Steven Smith: And he’ll be… going down!
Johnny leaps off the second rope to deliver a high risk bulldog; planting Anton’s face in the canvas.
Jeff Marx: And Anton finally gets a meal! A big mouthful of ring mat!
Dave Kern: He’s not that thin!
Jeff Marx: He’s practically an Ethiopian!
GBJ rolls Anton on to his back and makes the 1st cover of the match. Selena Sumner makes the count!
ONE!
TWO!
….
Steven Smith: Ooh Anton!!!
Anton lifts his shoulder off the mat before Sumner could get near the 3 count. GBJ sighs and lifts Anton back up to his feet!
Dave Kern: Anton Assault has a chance to face Adam –
Jeff Marx: KING!
Dave Kern: …King Dick if he can pull this off, but he’s going to need to dig deep to get back in to this match!
Anton suddenly bursts out of nowhere with a small package from nowhere!
ONE!
TWO!
Steven Smith: Anton nearly stole this one like I got my virginity stolen in that back alley!
GBJ recoils from Anton as his heart races as he nearly lost his phenomenal winning streak. Anton Assault reaches a standing stance and looks set for action!
GBJ wipes sweat from his forehead now with a little more concerned expression on his face. GBJ throws a punch towards Anton who sees the attack coming and evades the punch. Anton quickly grounds GBJ with a drop toe hold. Anton drops and elbow against the back of GBJ’s neck and follows up with another. GBJ clutches the back of his neck and is showing a fair bit of pain. Anton wastes no more time by applying another submission the form of an STF.
Dave Kern: Anton is now showing a bit more of that killer instinct needed to take out a man like GBJ!
Anton Assault grits his teeth as he tries to apply more pressure on GBJ. GBJ stretches as far as he can and luck is on his side as the bottom rope is just within his grasp. Anton Assault is told to release the hold. Anton Assault who is now appearing a lot more confident brings GBJ to his feet only to bring him straight back to the ground again with a deadly butterfly suplex!
Dave Kern: That is an astounding suplex from Anton Assault!
Jeff Marx: What? They’re still here?
Anton hastily covers GBJ with an hungry smile on his face.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: No! GBJ still has some battle left in him!
Anton Assault doesn’t give GBJ the chance to recover and instantly lashes out with a vicious armbar.
Dave Kern: Anton Assault is putting a lot in that arm bar, that’ll hopefully impair the effect from any of GBJ’s attacks.
Assault practically tears GBJ’s arm out of the socket as GBJ explodes in pain. Anton show no mercy before slipping GBJ’s arm between his legs as he takes hold of his head adding more pressure to the #1 contender to the Transatlantic title. GBJ raises his one free hand as Anton furious packs on more pressure.
Jeff Marx: Hurry up and tap I need to piss!
Steven Smith: I think he’s going to! Oooh my Anton is going to win!
GBJ lowers his hand to the ground, but at the last possible second he clenches his fist and beings to try and muscle his way out of the hold. He uses the power he has free from his legs to shimmy his way over to the adjacent ring ropes. Anton tries to pile on more pressure as GBJ slowly negotiates his way over to the bottom rope. Sweat beginning to roll over Anton Assault’s head and his muscles begin to weaken from holding on, but not as much as GBJ.
Dave Kern: He’s nearly there! One more push and GBJ is free!
GBJ throws his hand towards the bottom rope and clips the bottom rope with his finger tips and barley manages to hold on. Anton sustains the hold in frustration and Selena Sumner is forced to count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FI-
Steven Smith: Anton is so gorgeous when he’s angry!
Anton Assault finally releases the hold and GBJ clutches his shoulder as his face returns to a normal colour. Selena Sumner orders Anton Assault to back off as GBJ gets back to his feet.
Dave Kern: Anton Assault is looking very good here! He’s all fired up!
Steven Smith: I knew you’d come round Dave!
Dave Kern: I meant competitively, Steven.
Anton Assault and GBJ stare each other down as the try to regain some fatigue. Out of no where GBJ charges at Anton but Anton once again is quick off the mark and ducks GBJ’s clothes line, he anticipates with a waist lock follows quickly by a snap belly to back suplex. GBJ rolls backwards head over heel and Anton jeers at GBJ to get back to his feet. GBJ sluggishly gets to a standing position and Anton charges at GBJ; landing a hard felt spear forcing GBJ in to the corner post. GBJ’s back arches as the roars in pain and Anton allows GBJ to drop to his knees.
Dave Kern: Anton has the #1 contender on his knee!
GBJ struggles back to his feet but Anton once again is quick off the mark. Anton leaps into the air, hitting a flash kick to the face that sending GBJ back into the corner. Anton takes a crouching position before sending himself forward with a rolling heel kick to the chin of GBJ. GBJ stumbles forward just as he gets back to his feet looking dazed and groggy. Anton then hits GBJ with a knee to the stomach and spins about, leaping into the air followed with an axe kick.
Dave Kern: I believe we just witness the guillotine combo from Anton Assault! Surely this is over for GBJ!
Anton lets out an explosion of adrenaline with a huge roar. He then grabs GBJ and rolls his over on to his back for the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: NO GBJ got his foot on the rope! Anton should have seen that but the adrenaline must have clouded his judgment on this occasion.
Anton smacks his hand on the mat, showing a lot of frustration! Anton quickly composes himself before moving in on GBJ. Anton leans over to bring GBJ back to his feet, BUT FROM NOWHERE!
Jeff Marx: GOOCH RAKE!!!
Anton fails to see what effect it had on him and simply stares at GBJ who is getting back to his feet.
Dave Kern: I can only see that hurting if Anton was naked!
Steven Smith: The gooch is a very sensitive area I’ll have you know!
Jeff Marx: Oh… please. Don’t!
Anton boots GBJ in the gut, but GBJ catches the boot and spins Anton 180 degrees and swiftly lift Anton Assault on to his shoulder and bringing him down with an electric chair drop!
Dave Kern: Anton just lost his advantage!
Anton scrambles back to his feet and hastily tries to regain the advantage by springing himself off the ropes towards GBJ, GBJ leap frogs Anton and runs towards the ropes himself, he springboards off the middle rope for a moonsault. GBJ suddenly takes Anton unaware and plants him in to the mat with Taking Out The Trash!
Dave Kern: Anton is down and out! And GBJ makes a cover!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: And it’s over Anton Assault loses!
Dave Kern: He was so unlucky! He has GBJ on his knees for the majority of the match!
James Brunt: The winner… GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!
Dave Kern: Don’t forget to tune into Fresh!extra this weekend for the PTC Extreme title match! And Fresh!special: Day Of The Devil next Tuesday at the normal time! Folks... we’re over and out!
The Lady Of The Night
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, MR. MARSHALL
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It’s been stressful.
Months of plotting are finally coming to fruition, but Sasha Volkyeva, at 48, is starting to doubt whether she is really cut out for this after all. She was recommended towards a low-cholesterol diet by a doctor on Friday, and by another on Monday. Her monthlies long ago ceased to be regular. And now, she reflects with a sniff, she might even need a facelift. Timeless beauty is fading with time; the layers of make-up are starting to garner their own unwanted attention. If she were to lose that innate ability to make any man do whatever she wanted... well, her whole life had been founded on her powers of seduction, so she doesn’t know what she would do.
All she wants now is a bath.
Not a hotel bath. A big, roomy bath; wide and comfortable, with bubbles and scented candles and massage oils. Luxurious and warm. She almost moans with pleasure at the thought, but comes back to earth as she exits the elevator into the underground car park beneath the arena and the stench of oil fills her nostrils. Turning up her nose, Mother Russia strides daintily towards her car, expert in her heels, never the slightest wobble. She takes her leather bag from her fur-coated shoulder and sets it on the bonnet, searching through it for the hire-car keys. Sasha finds them, opens the door, gets in, and starts the vehicle.
No, she doesn’t. Because it won’t.
She really doesn’t need this.
Sasha Volkyeva turns the key again. Nothing happens. Not even a cough, not even a splutter. How is she supposed to get to her hotel with a car that will not cough nor splutter. Honestly. Life is just so against her sometimes.
With a growl of annoyance, she opens the door again, so hard that it slams into the car alongside. Paying no heed to the dents on either, she strides away from her automobile and towards the elevator, or rather, the man who has just exited it: a certain Mr. Marshall.
Sasha Volkyeva: You. Are you a mechanic?
Marshall blinks.
Mr. Marshall: I'm a wrestler, ma’am.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well, we aren’t hiring wrestlers. How would you like a job as a mechanic?
She taps her foot impatiently, then reacts violently to Marshall’s incredulous glare.
Sasha Volkyeva: Would you stop gawping at me and help me please! My car is not working and I need to drive to my hotel!
Mr. Marshall: I... Ms Volkyeva, I'm a wrestler... I mean... an AWC wrestler.
Without missing a beat, the Queen of Mean snaps back at him:
Sasha Volkyeva: I don’t do lower-card. Now either get out of my way or do something useful.
As much as Mr. Marshall is repulsed by the rudeness of Mother Russia, her undercard dig stung. Could this be his chance to get in Volkyeva’s good books, surely the beginning of an inexorable rise to the top? With the impending franchise split, surely Sasha would be looking for someone reliable to lead the line after Divide And Conquer?
Mr. Marshall: I don’t know how to fix your motor, but how about I give you a lift?
Sasha Volkyeva: Oh, and drive me to a secluded beach and sexually assault me, too? No. I don’t think so, goodbye, good night...
Mr. Marshall: Wait!
He grabs Sasha’s arm to stop her turning away. Risky. But actually, he doesn’t just grab her arm. He grabs her attention, too. And tonight of all nights, Sasha Volkyeva could really do with someone to make her feel beautiful.
Sasha Volkyeva: All right. I change my mind. You can drive me.
Mr. Marshall: I can?
Sasha nods.
Sasha Volkyeva: To a secluded beach, please, Mr...?
A slow smile creeps onto the AWC low-carder’s face.
Mr. Marshall: Marshall. Mr. Marshall.