Storm And Stress (reused segment title no. 384)
FEATURING: DAVID HARBER, DRAKEWERX GUARDS, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It was a dark and stormy night…
David Harber shivered. He’d never liked the northern states. California born and bred; surf and sand and sun… but that was all behind him now. He was about… this now.
The crack of lightning pierced the night and growling thunder approached the desperate limousine, wipers flailing helplessly against the driving rain. Harber took a deep breath and stepped out of the open door, not bothering to thank the driver as he walked, head down, across the car park, ignoring the calls of autograph-hunters in their plastic waterproofs and thick socks. His long black coat trailed perilously close to the flooded tarmac, rivulets of water threading their paths around his shoes. They were leather, of the highest quality, and already wet through. It didn’t matter.
Yes, it did.
He’d gotten so good at lying to himself.
Dr. Kasidy Drake was more enigmatic than ever. Initially he’d hated the ultra-efficiency of Drake’s business persona, but now David Harber almost found himself pining for it, for some sense of organisation to the turbulent whirlwind that was The Empire. How had structured unravelled so uselessly?
The water was streaming down his forehead, filling his eyes with a flood of pH 5 rain. The hydrological cycle; it never changed. Not properly. Sure, you could melt the glaciers and shoot sulphur into the clouds, but there were years, centuries before a real difference. It was just going through the motions. Much like himself.
He didn’t even really have a job anymore. Wade ran the show. He sat in his skybox, eating. He’d put on three pounds. Three pounds wasn’t much, but it was the principle. And he’d even acquired a taste for red wine. Red wine. What was wrong with him?
“ID,” a Drakewerx guard intoned dully. Harber rolled his eyes, fishing into his pockets. This was the moment Pierce Lavelle chose to step up to the arena door behind the black-clad Drakewerx contingent.
Pierce Lavelle: David…
David Harber: Pierce.
He couldn’t tell anymore. He couldn’t tell.
David Harber: Gabs here?
Lavelle nodded; Harber breathed a sigh of relief. That, at least, was something. He’d had more than an inkling Gabriel Afeaki might have been tempted to skip the show entirely – again – after his surprise defeat to AWC stalwart Jack Murphy for the Relentless title a week before.
But there was something in Lavelle’s face.
David Harber: What is it?
Harber stepped through the door, dripped on the shining floor.
Pierce Lavelle: Dr. Drake, and Kintu. There’s no sign.
He just looked at him. He just looked at him.
David Harber: Oh, for God’s sake…
Introduction
FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The big screen flicks on, displaying a large image of a candy bowl. The camera drifts over the top of it, looking down into the assorted treats, and the superimposed words AWC Fresh!special – Hallowe’en edition appear over the top of them. Then as the camera swings backwards, the bowl suddenly tips towards it, the sweets spilling out as Mike Wade’s gleaming face appears behind. We move swiftly away from the man who upturned the bowl to follow the stream of sweets, now heading through some kind of vortex of images, and it’s all AWC, AWC wrestlers being… killed. In really quite grisly ways.
There’s Pierce Lavelle being stabbed repeatedly through the chest with a trident. There’s Ellis Nash being beaten with her own rib. There’s Andy Murray, with over fifty lacerations across his chest from the huge kitchen knife brandished by his faceless assailant. There’s Johnny Lexicon tumbling over a precipice, and Darcy Crisis having his scalp ripped off, and Aimz with a drill through her temples; Wesley Reno’s body is punctured hundreds of times by needles; Jonny Kae is pinned against a dartboard by a dart through each shoulder; Red Rock is being boiled in a huge bathtub of scalding water.
Then they all come back to life with beaming smiles on their faces.
Kasidy Drake needs to fire the audio-visual department, because it looks like all of this was just an incredibly poorly judged portrayal of the immortal Hallowe’en words:
TRICK OR TREAT?
Truth Waters: …
George Cassidy: That was excellent!
Truth Waters: Cassidy, what the hell was that all about?
George Cassidy: I don’t know, but it sure got me excited!
Truth Waters: Cass, I – what are you doing with your cellphone?
George Cassidy: I have a video function now…
Truth Waters: You recorded that?!
George Cassidy: YouTube is going to love me!
Truth Waters: …so welcome to Hallowe’en Fresh! guys… that was somewhat of a strange opening, but I suppose things can only get better, huh? And it’s true that we do have a very much stacked line-up tonight!
George Cassidy: Yeah. Ellis Nash. In more ways than one.
Truth Waters: Wesley Reno, one half of the new Alliance champions, indeed takes on Ellis Nash in our main event. But before we go through what else is lined up, a brief update on Chainz, who was hospitalised with bad head injuries… he’s thankfully out of hospital now and is reported to be resting at home. Doctors are optimistic he’ll make a full recovery.
George Cassidy: Aw. Bless.
Truth Waters: Now let’s get to the meat and potatoes!
George Cassidy: No Truth, you’ve gotta eat your greens…
Truth Waters: Maybe you do, in your old age. I’m a steak man!
George Cassidy: You’re a freak man.
Truth Waters: Wow. Great burn, man…
George Cassidy: Leave me alone. I’m… fragile.
Truth Waters: What?!
George Cassidy: I don’t like Hallowe’en…
Truth Waters: Why not?! Hallowe’en’s great! Free food!
George Cassidy: We get all the kids round the neighbourhood banging on the doors… and some shouting because we haven’t decorated… and once in a while I’ll open the door and toss them a cookie or something and they’ll give us that look, and they’ll say how ‘bout a couple dollars mister?, and I’ll tell the cheeky little bastards to get a job or something, earn some money, and next I know I have egg in my f--- never mind.
Truth Waters: You’re a pathetic old man, Cassidy, aren’t you?
George Cassidy: Maybe.
Truth Waters: So tonight! The Relentless Frontier Gauntlet continues! Jack Murphy defends against Captain Suleimon, a mouthwatering clash… those two have history alright. And in a Buried Alive match!
George Cassidy: Perfect family entertainment at Hallowe’en.
Truth Waters: I’m never having kids…
George Cassidy: No shit; you’re too old to get a wife.
Truth Waters: You just got a damn divorce, man! And you’re old enough to be my… well… older brother…
George Cassidy: But this Gauntlet Truth… it’s a scandal, y’know? Chainz wasn’t fit to compete tonight so they stuck Tyson DeBough in for a Frontier shot? There’s something up with that… I think he’s in with The Empire…
Truth Waters: Oh I’d highly doubt that Cassidy. I think maybe just Mike Wade wanted to mix it up a little. I agree though, it’s a funny schedule, but that’s what makes AWC so unpredictable! And speaking of unpredictable, Scott Taylor’s gonna make his AWC debut in just moments, teaming with Frontier champion Darcy Crisis, who has two matches tonight.
George Cassidy: Can’t bet against Taylor.
Truth Waters: I don’t know, he has a tough assignment, with Teresa Tomas and Blue Ruin on the other team in this Lethal Lottery match… and Crisis could have one eye on his title match…
George Cassidy: Truth, I’m the OSW mark here. Take my word for it.
Truth Waters: Let’s see if he lives up to Cassidy’s hype then. Plus we’ve got Andy Murray’s official return match against Jonny Kae!
George Cassidy: Not to mention the Trick Or Treat match!
Truth Waters: I’d rather not mention that…
The Glass Slipper I
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, TRACY STANTON
AUTHORS: LARA C. AND MIKE S.
So what else could she do? she thought as her hand gripped the door knob and opened the door gently, peering in through the small crack created. Seeing the place was empty she entered and shut the door, freezing when footsteps arose outside but soon disappeared. Her heart was racing, she wasn’t the snooping type, but something was going on and her interviewer and investigative juices were bubbling and wouldn’t rest till she quelled the curiosity.
The place was littered with clothing and magazines. A small suitcase lay open by the bench, her instinctive urge was to go straight for the suitcase but she hilted the urge and turned to get a better look around the room. She was looking for something simple, something that would quell the worry and curiosity in her.
Kennedy knelt down seeing the corner end of a mobile jutting out from under a copy of the USA Today newspaper, as she shifted it to the side she saw a small message across the title screen, her heart pouncing.
Tracy: Sarah, what are you doing here?
Kennedy looked up, half dazed, the mobile still clenched in her hand. Tracy stood before her in a cream towel, wrapped around her delicate physique, her blonde hair soaking wet and dripping along her shoulders as she moved forward.
Sarah Kennedy: I wanted to see how you were doing.
Tracy eyed her with suspicion before sitting down and pulling out a hairbrush.
Tracy: I’m fine, thanks.
They both remained in an awkward silence. Tracy gazed toward her costume hung on the small hanger, dangling magnificently in front of Sarah who remained in casual dress, choosing not to take part in the Ball Mike Wade had planned.
Sarah Kennedy: That’s good, and Michael?
Tracy: He’s disappeared, said he had some stuff to figure out.
Kennedy nodded in acquiescence having read the news report on the website, she was looking for a meaningless chit-chat to cover-up her true reason for being here.
Tracy: Is that my mobile?
Tracy questioned, eyeing the mobile in Sarah’s hand. Instinctively Sarah handed it back, blushing slightly and remembering to once again lock the keypad.
Sarah Kennedy: Yeah, I heard it go off when I arrived.
Kennedy said speedily and stood awkwardly, arms folded as she looked toward the beautiful dress on the hanger.
Tracy: That’s funny, I thought it was on silent.
Sarah Kennedy: Really? You sure?
Tracy looked at Sarah sceptically, placing the mobile to one side, she knew exactly why her friend was here and knew what she had been up to and lucky for her, she hadn’t found anything that could be held against her.
Tracy: Alright, why are you really here?
Sarah Kennedy: Okay, so I didn’t come to check-up on Michael.
Tracy smiled.
Tracy: I figured as much.
Sarah Kennedy: I know you saw him last week and I was just wondering …
Tracy: If he mentioned you at all?
Kennedy moved forward, turning her head to the side.
Sarah Kennedy: No. I’m not desperate. Ok. Fine. Did he?
Tracy stood up, wringing her saturated hair and pulled out her underwear from her suitcase, feeling less uncomfortable without the eyes of a sexually active Sloan watching her. She was feeling much more sensitive and sore these days.
Tracy: I only saw him once but he didn’t mention you.
She was lying, but for Sarah’s own good, he wanted to protect her and so did she. Her mind was more focused on the meeting she had in main ball room to get to, she couldn’t allow Sarah to be there at the same time.
Sarah Kennedy: Oh, I understand, I mean, he’s busy and under pressure.
Tracy could see the hurt and disappoint in her friend, but she had to keep her in the dark.
Tracy: He’ll come around, you’ll see.
Kennedy looked toward Tracy, her eyes wide and alert.
Sarah Kennedy: Unless he has feelings for somebody else…
Tracy: Like who?
The question hung in the air like a bad smell, neither wishing to conform an answer as Tracy unhinged her dress from the hanger and moved toward the bathroom.
Sarah Kennedy: You going to the ball?
Tracy: Yeah…A PR thing…
Sarah Kennedy: News conference?
Tracy turned around; she was digging a deep hole and couldn’t stop for a second. Sarah was quick at prying, but a simple answer would suffice to keep her distracted, at least for a while until she could formulate some sort of plan to keep her rendezvous’ a secret.
Tracy Stanton: I’m going for Michael, just going to keep an eye on the Empire goons. Try and make sure no more harm comes to Michael.
Sarah Kennedy: I understand.
Kennedy said while nodding, turning toward the door.
Sarah Kennedy: I think I’m going to head back to the hotel, have a good night.
Tracy watched Sarah leave and opened her mobile, reading the message as a smile crept along her cheeks before disappearing into the bathroom.
Ruin / Tomas vs Taylor / Crisis
STIPULATION: DUO TAG - LETHAL LOTTERY - TRIANGLES QUALIFICATION
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: ???
The opening riff of “Superunknown” by Soundgarden overtakes the arena as the crowd comes to life. With the opening crash of the cymbals, a flash of gold fireworks is followed instantaneously by the thundering report.
BOOM!
Out from beneath the sparkling shower steps the East Bay Executioner himself, MISTER Darcy Crisis. Darcy's fist is raised high as he makes his way down the ramp to the tune of Chris Cornell's opening croons:
If this isn’t what you see, It doesn’t make you blind…
If this doesn’t make you feel, It doesn’t mean you’ve died…
James Brunt: The following contest is a Lethal Lottery Tag Team Qualifier Match! First making his way to the ring, from East Bay, California... weighing in at 227 pounds! He is your AWC Frontier Champion! DARCY CRISIS!
Darcy slides into the ring under the ropes, taking in the fan reaction for a few moments before climbing the turnbuckle, thumping his chest twice and throwing both arms into the air.
Truth Waters: Darcy looks like he’s ready to go for his match. It’s the first of two matches tonight for him. Not to mention… is he dressed like a member of the Scottish National Soccer team?
George Cassidy: It’s football Truth! Football! Maybe he is ready, but I wonder if he can coexist with the Scott Taylor?
Truth Waters: That new dumb ass that is a former Old Stranded Wrestlers World Champion?
George Cassidy: Not to mention, there’s no way he can take the punishment of two matches. I don’t see him holding that Frontier title for too much longer. And Teresa Tomas…
Truth Waters: I keep telling you, she’s not drunk… much.
George Cassidy: Well, I have a hunch that she will be a little more drunk than usual tonight, it is Hallowe’en night you know.
“30/30 150” by Stone Sour blares over the PA system as the newest addition to the AWC roster makes his way out to the ring.
James Brunt: And his tag team partner… weighing in at 220 pounds, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana! Scott Taylor!
Scott stepped out through the curtain on cue with James and receives a mixed reaction from the crowd. Almost immediately you see the bandage that Scott has covering the area that Teresa Tomas hit him with a tire iron. He looks to still be in some pain, but he’s definitely willing to go through with his AWC debut. Scott makes his way quickly down to the ring where he climbs onto the apron and then steps into the ring.
George Cassidy: The former OSW World Heavyweight Champion looks like he’s ready for his first AWC match.
Truth Waters: So what if he’s a former Overweight Samoan Wrestling World Champion? Doesn’t mean he’ll know how to do anything in the ring!
George Cassidy: Well, he’s also a former NTICW World Champion.
Truth Waters: Oh you mean Now Testicles Impair Castrated Wrestlers?
George Cassidy: Huh?
Truth Waters: …Huh?
Lights grow dim. A red glow emits from the entrance. Within the glow is a silhouette of a long-haired female. Without warning a cannon is heard blasting through the speakers. White pyros explode from either side of the entrance ramp creating a thick blanket of white smoke. “Big Guns” by AC/DC floods the building.
James Brunt: And their opponents, introducing first from Nashville, Tennessee she weighed in at 145 pounds, Teresa Tomas!
Teresa Tomas steps through the smoke. A cigarette hangs from the corner of her mouth. She is decked out in faded Levi’s and a black ¼-sleeve t-shirt with the words written in metallic chrome “What’s YOUR Excuse?” Teresa stops midway down the ramp to release a final puff of cigarette smoke before removing the cancer stick from her lips. She glances to her right, then to her left giving the fans an empty stare before dropping the burning butt to at her feet, then stomps it with her boot before making her journey to the ring.
Truth Waters: See, she looks completely norm…
And as if just to prove Truth wrong Teresa stumbles over her own feet as she makes it to the bottom of the ramp.
George Cassidy: Ok, got anything to say to that?
Truth Waters: Ok… she’s a little drunk tonight.
Teresa tried to play off her stumble as she put on her biggest smile and grabbed a hold of the ring apron for support. Scott Taylor looked down from inside the ring and looked as if he was more than ready to get his hands on Teresa.
Truth Waters: Teresa double-crossed her former friend Scott Taylor last week when she hit in with that tire iron you know. I bet Scott wants nothing more right now then to get his hands on her.
George Cassidy: You think? Well Truth, I did some research for once and found out that this isn’t the first time that Teresa had attacked him like that.
Truth Waters: Huh? You did research? Well when people like you do research it just shows that you’re pussies.
George Cassidy: I’m not a pussy… anyways, it turns out that Teresa actually blind sided Scott almost three years ago when they were in OSW. So it definitely wasn’t anything new for it to happen again.
Truth Waters: I wonder why he thought he could just waltz in and question her magazine cover if she had attacked him before?
George Cassidy: Well, no matter what you do to try and show you like a woman. They’ll always cut you down in the end you don’t know hell until you know a woman’s scorn.
Teresa finally got her balance back completely and just in time for her tag team partner’s announcement. “Hell’s Kitchen” by Dream Theater hits over the PA system and the fans quickly let out a quick jeer for the deranged wrestler known as Blue Ruin.
James Brunt: And her tag partner, from WacKyWorld! Blue Ruin!
George Cassidy: King Prawn!
Truth Waters: Seriously, this guy is disturbed.
Blue Ruin walks down the ramp and makes his way up the steps and onto the apron. Once on the apron he looks down at Teresa who seems like she’s about to up chuck some.
George Cassidy: She’s really drunk this time!
Truth Waters: I’m starting to believe you.
Blue Ruin just looks down and shakes his head as he holds his hand out to try and help his tag team partner onto the ring apron. Teresa climbs up onto the apron with the help of Blue Ruin and then walks over to the corner of the ring.
Truth Waters: I seriously doubt that there is anyway she can participate in this match. Looks like Blue Ruin will have to at least start it.
Blue obliges without any argument and enters the ring to see Scott Taylor dancing around in the ring, almost as if he were a boxer ready for a big fight. The bell rings and the tag team match is under way!
Truth Waters: Let’s see if Scott Taylor has what it takes!
Scott doesn’t look like he can wait another second as he runs towards Blue Ruin and corners him quickly into a corner. Scott immediately lets out a few right and lefts and it’s looking like he’s completely forgotten about his hurt shoulder in the process.
George Cassidy: Wow, look at him go!
Truth Waters: Blah! I can throw a punch better than that pussy! Did I tell you about the belts I won when I was box---
George Cassidy: Yes.
Scott punches Blue down into the corner and then picks him back up to deliver even more punishment. The referee eventually steps in after warning about the punches and pushes Scott off of Blue so Blue can start protecting himself.
Truth Waters: Taylor will have to watch out that he doesn’t get over zealous and get disqualified.
Scott charges back into the corner and lands a quick right to Blue’s jaw and then whips Blue out of the corner and into the other corner. Blue hits the opposite turnbuckle hard the force bounces he back towards the center of the ring into Scott Taylor’s grasp.
George Cassidy: Kick to the midsection! Yes, Suplex!
Truth Waters: How lame.
Scott picks Blue up and steps over to Darcy and tags Darcy into the ring.
Truth Waters: Looks like these two could work well as a team.
George Cassidy: If only we could say that much about Teresa Tomas who’s still swaying in her corner… is she singing to herself now?
Truth Waters: Yeah, looks like she thinks she’s on stage at the Grand Ole Opry. I really don’t think she’s going to be much help in this match now.
Darcy enters the ring and takes over where Scott left off. Darcy lands a few stomps and then picks Blue Ruin up off the mat just to deliver a superkick to drop Blue Ruin back down the mat!
George Cassidy: Get up! Get up! Tag out! Tag out!
Truth Waters: It looks like this match is over before it even gets started!
Darcy dropped down to pin Blue Ruin.
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Truth Waters: Wow, that superkick took a lot out of Blue Ruin didn’t it?
George Cassidy: Or maybe it’s signs of a writer’s ring rust.
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: Nothing… Nothing…
Darcy gets back up and this leaves him open momentarily by the quick kick to the gut from Blue Ruin who looks as if he was playing possum. Blue punches Darcy as he backs him away from Scott Taylor who’s trying to tag himself in.
George Cassidy: Here comes Blue Ruin!
Blue sets Darcy up against the ropes and then whips him across the ring and into the opposite side ropes. As Darcy comes bouncing back Blue hits stands right in his path and leans out with his forehead targeting Darcy’s.
Truth Waters: No!
Blue lands the horrible head butt on Darcy knock Darcy back on his back and rocking him completely.
George Cassidy: Blue Ruin’s busted open from that head butt!
Truth Waters: Luckily Darcy’s not, I don’t think he’d have time to get stitches before his other match tonight.
George Cassidy: Doesn’t matter, the damage has been done! Go get him Blue Ruin!
Blue drags Darcy over to his corner and turns to face Teresa just in time for her to let out a quick burp in his face.
Truth Waters: Ha! Now that was funny.
Blue just shakes off the smell of Jack Daniels on her breath and tags her. He motions as if he to say “Here!” to her and then steps out of the ring. Teresa stepped through the ropes and almost tripped as she tried to step through them. Teresa then sees Darcy down in her corner and immediately starts to mount her attack.
George Cassidy: Whoa! She’s a feisty drunk!
Truth Waters: Looks like she’s still got that fighting spirit!
George Cassidy: Fighting spirit? Don’t you mean Bar Rage?
Teresa lays in a few kicks and punches on Darcy as he tries to get back up on his feet. She then whips him into the ropes and finishes that off with a quick clothesline.
George Cassidy: Our Frontier champion is getting beat by a girl!
Truth Waters: Ah, shut up! I bet she could kick your ass.
George Cassidy: She wouldn’t even be able to keep up with me.
Teresa stumbles as she gets back up from the mat after laying into Darcy with an elbow drop and stumbles over backwards into the corner where Scott Taylor was just sitting back waiting for her. As soon as she stumbles within reach Taylor reaches over the top rope and jams his elbow into the back of her head, HARD!
George Cassidy: That’s how you do it! Blindside for a blindside!
Truth Waters: I thought he actually was in love with her.
George Cassidy: He may have been, but that bitch definitely deserved that blow!
Teresa landed down hard on the mat and held onto the back of her head as if her brains were trying to pop out. Scott looks over at Darcy and calls for him to get up and tag him in so he can legally get his hands on Teresa. Darcy stands up and shakes off the recent punishment he had taken and stumbles over to tag Scott in.
George Cassidy: Tag! We’re finally gonna see him get his hands on Teresa Tomas!
Scott entered the ring to a huge mixed reaction from the crowd. Some want to see him get his hands on her and others want to protect the defenseless drunk woman.
George Cassidy: Here we go!
Scott looks down at Teresa and seems as if he’s playing around with her now. He kicks her gently and rolls her over and then drops an elbow drop right square into her chest. Scott then shot back up and pointed to the top rope, once again, some fans cheer, others boo. Scott climbed to the top rope make sure that Blue Ruin came nowhere near him as he did. Scott then looked back down at Teresa and quickly jumped landing a moonsault!
George Cassidy: WOW! And you doubted him!
Truth Waters: Blah, anyone can beat on a drunk woman.
Scott got back and signaled that he was just about ready to finish the match. Scott turns around to make sure that Darcy can watch is back of Blue Ruin and then sets Teresa up for the Taylor Made!
George Cassidy: He’s going for it!
Truth Waters: I still say he’s a chump regardless if he wins tonight. He won’t make it anywhere near winning Triangles either way!
Scott hooked up the modified Boston Crab and jammed his knee into the back of Teresa’s neck as he started to wrench on the hold. Blue Ruin tried to enter the ring to interrupt the hold but he was quickly blindsided by Darcy Crisis who took both Blue Ruin and himself out of the ring with his momentum. Scott continued to wrench back on the hold as he the fans started to cheer for the merciful end of the match. Teresa screamed out in pain as she eventually tapped out to the Taylor Made!
DING! DING! DING!
Truth Waters: It’s all over! Scott Taylor and Darcy Crisis win!
James Brunt: The winners of this match and qualifiers for Triangles, Scott Taylor and Darcy Crisis!
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis, in full Scottish soccer gear, barely had to break a sweat in his first match of the night!
George Cassidy: But Scott Taylor looked mighty impressive! He could make an impact at Triangles for sure!
Back For More
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, B.O.T., SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Mike Wade: Basically, no.
B.O.T.: But I love prawns!
Mike Wade: Wow. I’m glad Ruin won and not you… you clearly seem unable to respect the King Prawn with enough admiration in your voice. Now feck off and st---
That’s as far as Commissioner Wade gets in his rather one-sided discussion with B.O.T. about either the catering for future events or a match with Blue Ruin; whichever. Because at this precise point – at this very moment in time on Hallowe’en night, when the evening is young yet Washington is dark, and little kids all over the USA rap frantically on doors, and grandmothers sigh as the first treats of the night disappear from their gargantuan bowls of goodness – between this second and the next, the door swings open.
And in walks a monster.
Wade takes a moment to catch his breath.
Mike Wade: Nice outfit Sasha, you’ve got the prize for best costume in the B-A-G.
Her eyes are bloodshot. Her face, though not the mask of abuse it was at Untouchable, is swollen, red and puffy; her hair is straggly, knotted, wild in her eyes and over her head. She is stumbling. Her left arm shoots out, grabbing the fire extinguisher on the wall with the urgency of saving a small child from slipping into a concealed pond. And now, only now, does Wade realise the urgency of the situation, and he rushes over, B.O.T. watching in shock.
Mike Wade: (grabbing hold of Volkyeva) Sasha! Can you stand?
She leans heavily into his arms. Her eyes roll back in their sockets to stare up and waft their fuzzy focus over Wade’s face. Mother Russia is reeling.
Wade hoists her to a fully vertical position and spins round to face B.O.T., a look of urgency crossing his features.
Mike Wade: Get help! Now!
B.O.T.: Who… who is she?
Mike Wade: Sasha! She’s been attacked again or… or something… no one’s seen her since Untouchable… GO!
B.O.T., ignorant of Sasha Volkyeva’s influence in shaping AWC into the entity that adorns 3.4 million screens across the US each and every week, hurries off and Wade slips Volkyeva’s arm across his shoulders.
Mike Wade: Come on, let’s get you to my office, I’ve got a big comfy chair…
A sudden gurgling noise, and she’s coughing up blood, the red stuff spattering her collar. Wade turns his head away, screwing shut his eyes and mouth. He can’t help but catch a scent of something, though, and that’s enough to make the Commissioner furrow his brow.
Mike Wade: Is that… vodka?
...Some Chick Is Dying In Mike Wade's Office
FEATURING: B.O.T, DRAKEWERX GUARDS, PIERRE PERROQUET, PARROT OF PERROQUET
AUTHOR: JARRETT
The camera shakes down the hall, following the now confused B.O.T.
B.O.T.- (to himself) What was I supposed to do?
He looks up started a second, as he sees two heavily armed guards standing before him. The giant automatic rifles catch his eye first.
Drakewerx Guard #1- Halt!
Tenacious B takes a curious look behind them. The Empire Skybox stands tall before him.
B.O.T.- You guys are those Empire dudes, yes?
Drakewerx Guard #1- Do you have business with the Empire?
B.O.T.- You know, I’ve got my costume in my dressing room, and I like it all, but you two take the cake. Those are the sweetest costumes I’ve seen all night.
They look at each other silently.
Drakewerx Guard #1- I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
B.O.T.- Hold it, I do have some business. You should let your bosses know that some chick is dying in Mike Wade's office.
Drakewerx Guard #1- What's that got to do with us?
B.O.T.- It’s probably got more to do with you guys than it does with me.
They look at each other silently once more.
Drakewerx Guard #1- Did she have a name?
B.O.T.- Sandy, Sasha, something of that nature...
And again, with a stern look of importance, they trade glances.
Drakewerx Guard #1- Thanks, now leave.
Visibly unhappy with the way he’s been treated, he crosses his arms. If he talks back, he'll get shot. If he punches one, he'll get beat up and shot. If he turns and walks away, he might get shot in the back for a laugh. So he decides he should back away slowly, eyes on those men, eyes on those guns. He gives them a cheeky smile, slowly descending up the corridor. He looks safe, as the guards are now out of camera view, but with a thud and scream and a SQUAWK! he stops. He turns to see what his girth ran over, his features showing only disappointment.
B.O.T.- Goddammit, French. What the hell do you want?
Pierre Perroquet shuffles around for his mic as he calms his parrot down.
Pierre Perroquet- Jou have respozeebilleeteez, Monsieur B.O.T.
B.O.T.- What did you just say?
Pierre Perroquet- Jou must reveal vhere Seymour Almasee and Jonny Leseecon vill be during zee Triangles match.
B.O.T.- Now, listen to what you just said? You said Seymour AssJockey and Johnny Balls-up-On, correct?
Pierre Perroquet- Vell, not exa...
B.O.T.- And my name is neither, right? So why on Aimz's beautiful breasts should I give a damn about what overrated wrestler they get to rub up on in a steel love cage?
Parrot of Perroquet- SQUAWK Beautiful Breasts! Beautiful Breasts!
Pierre Perroquet- But... it was part of zee rules.
B.O.T.- What, it was in the rules that if my partner costs me a match I have to be humiliated by being forced to acknowledge the people that beat up my incompetent partner, being forced to recognize them as my better even though I wasn't pinned? Just like it was in the rules that if I bleed in a curtain jerker match because my partner then was unable to do his job and make sure I wasn't getting double teamed, that I wouldn't be able to taste the sustenance of the King Prawn? I don't care about your rules, Captain Crunch. Here let me ask you something...
The Bishop of Bottitude grabs the microphone from him, and after straightening his tie, he clears his throat, and refocuses.
B.O.T.- Who do you think Seymour and Johnny should face at Triangles?
Pierre Perroquet- Vell...
B.O.T.- Shut up! I don't even want to here what you have to say... Ill ask the Parrot. Parrot, who do you want to Lexicon and Almasy to meet at Triangles.
B.O.T. holds the mic up to the bird's jittering head.
Parrot of Perroquet- Well, as far as match dynamics go, I would concur that the eccentric style of Garbage Bag Johnny would both complement and contrast the in-ring abilities of Almasy and Lexicon exceptionally.
B.O.T., along with Pierre, give the Parrot a surprised look.
B.O.T.- Then its settled. Now, Coustau, if you could do me a favor...
The Notorious One reaches behind him, and retrieves a tape from god knows where.
B.O.T.- ..And take this to the truck monkeys, and tell them to play it immediately. I’ve gotta get into costume and find a friend of mine.
B.O.T. pats him on the shoulder and hands him his mic back. Pierre looks at the Parrot as the camera blacks out.
Casualty
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, SASHA VOLKYEVA, DAVID HARBER, DR. STEVEN BURNS
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Mike Wade: In here, come on Sasha…
Commissioner Wade steers the barely conscious Sasha Volkyeva into his office and lays her down on the sofa, wincing as her body jerks, coughing blood all over the cushion.
Mike Wade: Someone’s getting help, don’t worry.
Wade stands there. He doesn’t know what else to do. Volkyeva’s body racks and heaves. Wade places an awkward hand on her shoulder.
Mike Wade: It’ll be alright, you probably won’t die.
Sasha just about mounts the energy to turn her head and give him a glance of disdain before collapsing onto her other side.
Mike Wade: Er… I… you’d better tell me what happened…
Sasha Volkyeva makes no effort to respond. And then the door bursts open.
Mike Wade: Ah, Doctor…
But it’s not Steven Burns at the door. It’s David Harber – sodden, damp, miserable. With a look of urgency on his face.
David Harber: Wade, get help.
Mike Wade: Hey hey, calm down, anyone’d think we had an emergency here!
Wade cracks a wide smile.
David Harber: Not helping.
Harber strides towards Volkyeva, but Wade moves to stand in his way.
Mike Wade: Um… this is my office, Pearl, I---
David Harber: Are you insane??! She needs help!
Mike Wade: Why don’t YOU get help?
David Harber: Because I can look after her! You’re kinda incapable, am I right or am I right?
With a long sigh, Wade leaves. Harber rolls his eyes, absolutely incredulous, then turns to Sasha.
David Harber: So now that we’re alone…
Harber wheels round to face Sasha, who slumps weakly into the back of the sofa.
David Harber: …you can tell me what the fuck is going on.
There’s a steely menace to the voice of “Heartless” David Harber. Volkyeva quails, shrinking away from his intense glare. Harber’s palms on his knees, his cheekbones clenched, he leans forwards in his chair.
David Harber: (more gently) Sasha…
She opens her mouth, and there’s just the slightest rasping sound.
David Harber: Water?
Her eyes roll up and Sasha nods her head just gently, not wishing to upset the equilibrium she’s found, the gap between splitting headaches.
Harber gets up and glances around fruitlessly, before spying a sports bottle on a shelf in the corner of the room. He grabs it and marches over to the sofa, kneeling next to it and unscrewing the cap.
David Harber: (murmuring) You’re gonna have to talk, Sasha, we don’t know what in hell is goi---
Harber recoils as Volkyeva splatters the bottle’s contents all over him. With a look of horror at the cuff of his shirt, he realises he’s just poured bleach into the casualty’s mouth.
David Harber: FUCK!
Volkyeva twists and retches over the side of the sofa; Harber is more preoccupied with flinging the sports bottle aside (it hits the wall and spills out over the floor) and dabbing frantically at his shirt.
David Harber: Oh, hell! This Hallowe’en shit has gone too far!
With David Harber seemingly oblivious to the fact that Volkyeva, who already wasn’t exactly in the greatest of shape, has just consumed an uncertain quantity of peroxide, it’s probably a blessing that at this moment, Dr. Steven Burns rushes into the room, followed by Matt Matthews, who treads on his shoelaces and goes flying off-camera.
Dr. Steven Burns: Where is sh--- there! There… it’s gonna be OK, Sasha…
Burns hurries over and gently places his hands on Sasha’s face, checking her breathing as he reassures the former Entertainment Co-Manager. Not removing his eyes from the Russian, he addresses Harber:
Dr. Steven Burns: Why didn’t you get her to me sooner?
David Harber: That doesn’t matter…
He steps over and peers down at proceedings.
Dr. Steven Burns: We’re going to have to get her to the hospital, quick-sharp.
David Harber: (grimly) No. She’s got some questions to ans---
Dr. Steven Burns: (scandalised) What do you mean no?!
Burns jerks up like a shot, his face colouring as he stares wide-eyed at the man they call “Heartless”.
David Harber: I just need to t---
Dr. Steven Burns: You’ll do no such thing!
David Harber: (ignoring Dr. Burns and looking at Sasha) What do you remember?
Dr. Steven Burns: Mr. Harber…
Harber pushes past Burns and raps impatiently on the side of Sasha’s head.
David Harber: Come on Sasha; what do you remember?
And her head; it shudders. And her eyes; they shoot open. And the look on her face; it’s one of horror.
Because she thinks back, and she knows she left the ring – that night that David was chosen ahead of her, at Coast To Coast – she knows she left the ring, she knows she left the arena, she knows she got into her taxi –
and –
she –
knows –
Sasha Volkyeva: Nothing…
Scream! I
FEATURING: TERESA TOMAS, ???
AUTHORS: ??? AND SONYA
Backstage, the camera leers down a hallway, heading off to some undisclosed location. Just then, Teresa Tomas appears from a doorway, stumbling out into the corridor.
Teresa Tomas: Scott? Scott?!
She stumbles forward, as if intoxicated, using the wall for leverage.
Teresa Tomas: Wh... where is everybody?
She nearly falls down, but manages to keep herself stable, leaning half her body on the wall. She gets to the end of the corridor, and turns the corner. The camera follows her.
Teresa Tomas: Oh, hello... are you...
A thud is heard, and Tomas' body falls back from the turned corner, and onto the floor, holding her face. A figure comes into view, dressed in the costume used for the 'Scream' trilogy.
The costumed individual holds a bat in his/her hand, and brings it down once more into the ribs of Teresa Tomas, who reels from the assault.
The figure drops the bat, and recoils, looking down at his handiwork before leaving.
Teresa's eyes follow the costumed individual, taking in his frame... six foot three... about two hundred and twenty pounds...
Politricks
FEATURING: B.O.T.
AUTHOR: JARRETT
The screen is lit up by a regal American Flag, blowing in the wind in slow motion. A rousing rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" plays triumphantly in the background. Out from the side of the shot walks B.O.T., irreproachably dressed as always.
B.O.T.- I’m B.O.T., and I approve this message...
Shot of a park full of kids, running happily in B.O.T.'s direction.
B.O.T.'s Voice, Disguised as an Impartial Disembodied Voice- A man of class, respect, and prominence. B.O.T. is the future of this company...
A greyscale still of a photoshopped portrait of Blue Ruin, a baby wedged in his mouth.
B.O.T.'s Voice, Disguised as an Impartial Disembodied Voice- But there are people who would try to hold him down. Baby eaters, whose only goal in life is to make sure the right people don’t get King Prawns... and eat babies...
A bright and colorful shot of B.O.T. shaking old people's hands.
B.O.T.'s Voice, Disguised as an Impartial Disembodied Voice- If B.O.T. had the King Prawn, he would dip it in the world's tastiest butter sauce, and share it with World War II veterans worldwide.
A greyscale shot of Blue Ruin, talking to the Prawn in question, via last weeks segment.
B.O.T.'s Voice, Disguised as an Impartial Disembodied Voice- Some sickos would keep it in a musty old cigar box, hogging the crustaceous glory all to himself, and NOT sharing it with World War II vets.
Another grayscale shot of a random man in a white t-shirt, and across the chest in bold black letters reads "MOST DEFINATLY BLUE RUIN". He's thrusting his pelvis all over Teresa Tomas's locker room door knob.
B.O.T.'s Voice, Disguised as an Impartial Disembodied Voice- It’s also a fact that Blue Ruin humps door knobs, and that’s just weird...
Back to the original set up, B.O.T. cheesing nice and wide in front of a flag, still waving proud, a thumbs up molded into his hand.
B.O.T.'s Voice, Disguised as an Impartial Disembodied Voice- Vote B.O.T. to for the King Prawn. He's NOT weird.
Speedy Informative Voice- The previous was sponsored by the Association for Eating and Enjoying King Prawn.
Wenches, Idiots And Motherhubbards
FEATURING: JONNY KAE, SARAH KENNEDY, ANDY MURRAY, ???
AUTHORS: ANDY AND JONNY
Backstage, Jonny Kae is caught on camera making his way down the hallway. Kae, in ring gear, with his large extravagant red robe covering his physique, is concentrating on taping his hands when a female voice is heard from behind.
Sarah Kennedy: Jonny!
Kae stops suddenly, but continues what he’s doing. Without turning round to see the employer of the abruptly feminine voice, he snaps back.
Jonny Kae: Mr. Kae, unless I’m talking to someone worth first name basis. Now, if I’m free to ask…
Short pause…
Jonny Kae: What?!
Kae turns around to see the petite figure of Ms Kennedy waiting patiently for him. The woman, pretty, but all business simply blinks before advancing to the towering frame of Jonny Kae. Over her head she wears a pair of devil horns, and a red cape flowing from her shoulders.
Jonny interrupts her before she can answer…
Jonny Kae: What the hell are you supposed to be? A diseased bunny rabbit?
Kennedy scrunches up her face at the man who sucks the fun out of everything.
Sarah Kennedy: No! I’m the devil!
Kae just stands there, arms folded, looking her up and down. He shakes his head.
Sarah Kennedy: Well, Mr. Kae, I was wondering if I might have a few words?
Kae looks down at an imaginary watch, then back at Sarah Kennedy.
Jonny Kae: Well, if you must. But make it quick, I’ve got to make an example of a Scottish Reprobate in a few minutes.
Kennedy shakes her head. She steps forward again, mic in hand, looking up at Kae.
Sarah Kennedy: First off Mr. Kae, you debuted on Fresh! last week. How does it feel to have lost your debut match?
Jonny stares a hole through the proficient woman, getting her own back for Kae’s arrogance.
Jonny Kae: First off, woman, it was against the former Global champion and the current Livewire champion of AWC. Second off, my partner was a King Prawn chasing card opener. Third off, I’m a little rusty. That match was my first in the ring since I retired from professional wrestling in HSW.
Sarah Kennedy smiles lightly at the response.
Sarah Kennedy: So, it had nothing to do with your opponents being any better than you?
Kae raises his left eyebrow. He moves his hands down and opens his robe, revealing his physique.
Jonny Kae: Do you think an RPG player and a simplistic fool can beat The Most Perfectly Attuned body in Professional Wrestling?
Kennedy arches her neck.
Sarah Kennedy: Well, they already did…
Kae growls through his teeth at the girl before him. He raises his hand to his chin and thinks for a moment.
Jonny Kae: Yes. Well, I could beat either man one on one. Tag team action just isn’t my forte.
Kennedy goes in for the kill…
Sarah Kennedy: But wasn’t your ‘forte’ Tag Team action when you started your career? Isn’t that what made you famous?
Kae’s caught off guard by the woman’s knowledge.
Jonny Kae: Silence, impetuous wench!
Sarah Kennedy is taken aback by the comment.
Sarah Kennedy: Well, excuse me Mr. Kae! I must insist that you treat me with…
Kae pushes a hand into her mouth, holding it against her lips.
Jonny Kae: The truth of the matter is that they cheated. Everyone knows that The Empire are putting pressure on the referees. Add to that the fact that Seymour Almasy is actively searching for Ellis Nash’s hair, then you’ve got a certain reason for why I was fast counted in my match. You see, Ellis Nash helped Blue Ruin gain his King Prawn. Everyone knows The Empire paid for the Prawn. Thus, indirectly, Almasy is working for The Empire.
Kennedy thinks for a moment.
Sarah Kennedy: But that makes no sense?
Kae shoots her a glance, before turning away to make his way down the hallway again.
Sarah Kennedy: Wait Mr. Kae. Wait. I wanted to ask you a few more questions.
Kae turns back round, never one to refuse airtime.
Jonny Kae: Well, make your questions a little less agenda promoting.
Sarah sighs. What the hell is agenda promoting anyway? And what is her agenda?
Sarah Kennedy: Your opponent tonight is Andy Murray. Now, Murray is another athlete from the United Kingdom. When you go out there tonight is there going to be any rapport between the two of you? Any respect?
Kae sniggers at the question.
Jonny Kae: Rapport? Respect? These are the words you throw around so lightly? Put into the pot first that Murray is a no namer. What has he done? Add to that the fact that he’s Scottish. Your answer then slaps you in the face like an Armani Glove!
Sarah butts in.
Sarah Kennedy: But Andy Murray is a former champion in AWC!
Jonny Kae: So is Ellis Nash, and she’s a woman! No, I’m afraid the titles around here don’t mean all that much.
This offends Sarah Kennedy somewhat.
Sarah Kennedy: What do you mean? Ellis Nash is a fantastic competitor. She, unlike yourself, made it to the main event of Triangles.
Kae sighs at the girl again.
Jonny Kae: God. You know what I mean.
Sarah Kennedy thinks for a moment.
Sarah Kennedy: Speaking of women, last week you had an altercation with Teresa Tomas. Do you have any words on that incident?
Kae smiles at the question.
Jonny Kae: Well, I was out in the ring, getting my deserved air time and teaching that kid Scott Taylor a few lessons, when Teresa decided to run down and get involved. Now, quite honestly, I’m all for women being in wrestling. I mean, we’ve got women valets, women serve the drinks in the common rooms; hell, they even have some business sense. But putting women in the ring is a ludicrous idea. Teresa came to HSW, but soon realised that wrestling is a man’s sport.
Sarah Kennedy interrupts Kae.
Sarah Kennedy: Excuse me Mr. Kae! Weren’t you watching Untouchable? Didn’t you see Aimz winning the main event? Ellis Nash is a former champion!
Kae grins at Sarah Kennedy’s conviction.
Jonny Kae: Lip Service my dear. They’re here for the same reason you are. A pert pair of breasts and a nice ass. It’s all about ratings, appealing to your markets. Unfortunately, I don’t do that kind of lip service. I’m not Darcy Crisis. I’m not Josh Marquez. I’m not Rich Rollins. I don’t take the fall for women. When you let women in the ring, what do you get? Honour? Dignity? Athleticism? No. Dirty magazines. Tigera and Teresa Thomas are prime examples of that. Their contracts may say different, but in all earnestly, they were only employed for one thing…
Sarah Kennedy’s mouth is open in shock. She can’t believe the words Jonny Kae is uttering. Before she has the time to repudiate his statements a familiar voice calls out.
Andy Murray: Whoa! Hold on there, goofball, what in the HELL are you talking about!?!
Andy Murray, the Scottish King of Cool, steps into the scene, well and truly dressed for the occasion in a full Darth Vader bodysuit – including a particularly awesome cloak. His helmet held under one arm; Murrr looks psyched to finally be back in active AWC competition.
Andy Murray: Jonny Kae, for the love of Chuck Norris, what calls for all this verbal diarrhoea, hmmmm? You’ve been here, what, a fortnight, and already you’re running around like a horrible little wretch, acting like you own the place. Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?
Andy raises an eyebrow towards the AWC newcomer, who only responds with a raised eyebrow of his own and turns back to Kennedy.
Jonny Kae: As I was saying, the women in this sport are a joke. They walk...
Murray interrupts him, with a wave of the hand, as if using his force powers.
Andy Murray: Hey, what are you supposed to be tonight anyway?
Kae looks at him with a disdainful regard.
Jonny Kae: Why, I'm the most perfectly attuned body in professional wrestling of course! Who the hell are you? Lady Sonia?
Recoiling, Andy grimaces and shakes his head.
Andy Murray: What are you talking about you big sourpuss? I’m Darth Vader, man, its Hallowe’en, you’re supposed to dress up and shit… did nobody ever tell you that? Now shut the hell up, before I decided to do some sick-ass Sith shizzle up in here!
Kae blinks at Murray, before looking his costume up and down. He remains silent. A bemused Sarah Kennedy can only stand back and watch the exchange between the two men.
Jonny Kae: Well, it’s nice to see you’ve set the time aside to humiliate yourself tonight before our match has even started. I'm sure you're quite used to it. I, on the other hand, happen to take pride in myself. And if you think you're stepping into my ring looking like that, you're horribly mistaken.
Andy Murray: Pffft, whatever, you over-hyped little plop merchant. You come out here, on only your second ever AWC show, like the sun is shining out of your ass and think you can put down people like Ellis Nash and Teresa Tomas… good, honest AWC competitors, who’ve worked long and hard to get to where they are today. You say women have no place in this sport? That’s pretty rich coming from a man whose AWC record currently stands at a breathtaking 0-1! Now, the Scottish King of Cool isn’t one to off the handle or anything, but please, do us all a favour and keep your damn mouth closed…
Sensing a potential flare-up between the two, Sarah Kennedy attempts to interrupt the proceedings before things can descend further.
Sarah Kennedy: So, errr… Jo---
However, before she can finish, she is interrupted by the typically cocksure Jonny Kae.
Jonny Kae: Listen, boy, you're out of your depth here. Why don't you just scurry along and play trick or treat with Garbage Bag Johnny or Seymour Almasy? For both those guys I'm sure it's Hallowe’en every day. I, on the other hand, the 'Most Perfectly Attuned body in professional wrestling', have more important things to do with my time.
Murrr looks unimpressed.
Andy Murray: Whatever, man… keep telling yourself that, maybe someday someone else might believe you.
Jonny Kae: Is that so, 'Scottish King of Cool'? Maybe if the word 'cool' extended to mean 'jobber', or by judging from your outfit, 'gimp', you might have a claim. However, this isn't the land of make believe, and you my friend, will only ever be king of one thing... the midcard. What gives me the right to belittle people like Teresa Tomas and Ellis Nash you ask? I'll tell you straight. I'm just damn better than them. Not only that, I'm damn better than you, and everyone else on this roster.
Exuding his trademark cool, Murrr crosses his arms, patiently waiting for Kae to stop.
Jonny Kae: It's unfortunate for you to have drawn Jonny Kae in your first match back from injury, but for that you need to blame the booking team. It's not your fault though. Out there tonight, all those faces watching, as you dance around in your little costume, are going to get exactly what they deserve to see... a squash. You see, on the one hand we have a former lowcard title holder, back from injury, against, on the other hand, a former ten time world champion, and the man who remained unbeaten in the HSW for six damn months. It doesn't take a genius to work out what's going to happen. Unfortunately, however, intellect is one of the traits genetics decided to withhold from Scotland.
By this point Sarah Kennedy has all but given up hope of getting a word in. Andy cracks a smile and glances down towards the AWC interviewer.
Andy Murray: Did you hear that, Sarah, or was it just me? Is this guy on the same planet as us?!
Sarah responds with a small outburst of laughter, somewhat satisfied that Andy was willing to attempt to put Kae in his place. Soon enough, Andy turned his attentions back towards his opponent for the night.
Andy Murray: Listen motherhubbard, I could stand here, like you, and fire off insults all night long, but personally, I prefer to do my talking in the ring. You can come out here and disrespect me all you want, but where’s it gonna get you, really? Absolutely nowhere. Dude, you’re lucky I didn’t bring Snowball with me tonight, she’d singe your face off for sure!
Kae screws his face up, clearly not familiar with who Snowball is.
Jonny Kae: Snowball? What the hell is Snowball?!
Andy Murray: Oh, only the baddest motherclucker to roam God’s green earth, that’s who! See you in the ring, Ratboy…
With that, Andy places the Darth Vader helmet gently over his head, and oddly, gives a military salute to Kae before turning his back and walking away. Kae shakes his head, and mutters something under his breath…
Jonny Kae: Kids these days...
Kae watches Murray leave, as Kennedy does the same, but in a different direction, smiling at the transgressions witnessed tonight. The camera focuses on Kae for a moment, who hums the 'Imperial' theme tune from Star Wars. Just as he is about to leave, another figure in Hallowe’en outfit accosts him.
The figure, significantly shorter than Kae, looks up at him through his mask. The costume is the same costume used in the film trilogy 'Scream'.
The man nods to Kae.
Costumed Man: It's done Mr. Kae. Where do I get...
Kae interrupts him suddenly.
Jonny Kae: Not here, you fool! Wait for me after my match by the limo. Ask Remus to let you into the car, and tell him I sent you, and tell him I sent you. I'll meet you after the match.
The man nods, but before leaving, interjects himself again.
Costumed Man: What about the fine?
Kae looks at him questioningly.
Jonny Kae: What fine?
Costumed Man: The one Kasidy Drake promised to levy on any superstar leaving the show before the end?
Kae smirks.
Jonny Kae: I come and go whenever the hell I please. If that reprobate wants to fine me, let him bill Kae Enterprises. It's not like we don't have the cash. Now, get the hell out of here! You're compromising my plan even talking to me here.
The man nods. He runs off in the opposite direction, as Kae shakes his head.
Jonny Kae: Is everyone in this company an idiot?
In-Fighting
FEATURING: GABRIEL AFEAKI, DAVID HARBER, PIERCE LAVELLE
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Lost in his thoughts and his big black hoodie, the Fijian Lion doesn’t take kindly to David Harber ripping the MP3 player’s plugs from his ears.
David Harber: Gabs, what did you have to do with what happened to Sasha?
Gabriel Afeaki’s head turns slowly upward, taking in the carpet, walls, decorations of the skybox, and then eventually looking evenly into the face of his Empire leader.
He shrugs.
David Harber: (walking away towards his desk) Gabs, I’m gonna lose it if you don’t speak to me, now tell me what happened?
Afeaki opens his mouth slightly, and speaks only softly.
Gabriel Afeaki: What did happen?
That’s the trigger.
SMASH!
Pierce Lavelle: What the HELL…
Harber looks in horror at Pierce Lavelle, just coming through the doorway of the skybox.
Pierce Lavelle: What was that? What did you…
Afeaki stands, murderous intent in his eyes. Harber can’t take his own off the shattered remains of the coffee mug he just threw at the Fijian. He missed his head. By a matter of millimetres.
And now Afeaki takes a step forward.
Pierce Lavelle: (striding forward) No, no, no; stop it, stop it! What is it with you two?!
Gabriel Afeaki: Just… irritated…
And that’s when he flexes his forearms, and in that moment David Harber knows that it’s going to take some kind of miracle to prevent his own entrails being strewn across the wall from the force of one punch from Gabriel Afeaki.
He doesn’t even get the chance.
SLAM!
David Harber: Pierce!
Lavelle follows up the big flying tackle on Afeaki by manoeuvring quickly on top of him and pinning his shoulders down. For a moment Gabs struggles, but the fight in him quickly goes; the consternation disappears from the Fijian’s face and he nods calmly that Lavelle should release him. After a moment’s consideration, the three-time Transatlantic champion does so, and helps Afeaki to his feet. And they stand there. More awkward than anything any of them has ever known. In silence. A broken, defeating, defeated silence.
Gabriel Afeaki turns and leaves.
Andy Murray vs Jonny Kae
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE:
AUTHOR: KRIS
He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man…
The lights in the arena dim as the intro to Avenged Sevenfold’s “Bat Country” begins to play out across the arena. With a burst of pyro at the top of the ramp, the song kicks in and the lights flash on, as Darth Vader steps out from the back, lapping up the crowd’s cheers. He pauses at the top of the ramp, takes a good look around the arena, and lifts a red lightsaber into the air before making his way down the ramp.
Truth Waters: Well there's no mistaking that costume.
George Cassidy: I'd have imagined the Scottish King of Cool able to come out with something a little more imaginative.
Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay
These eyes won't see the same, after I flip today.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Aberdeen, Scotland, he is the “Scottish King of Cool”… ANDY MURRAY!
On his way down to the ring, Darth slaps hands with a couple of the fans, before finally reaching the bottom of the ramp, and leaping up onto the outside of the ring. Facing the entrance, he raises an arm up in the air once again, as white pyros ignite from the ring posts behind him.
I tried to drive all through the night, the heart stroke ridden weather
The barren empty sights… No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me.
As the fireworks die down a little, Vader enters the ring between the middle and top ropes and paces across the ring, throwing both arms into the air for the fans at the other side.
Can’t you help me as I’m startin’ to burn? Too many doses and I’m startin’ to get an attraction.
My confidence is leavin’ me on my own, too late to save me and you know I don’t want the attention.
Finally, the music begins to die down, as Andy stands in the centre of the ring, taking off his costume..
The arena grows gently quiet, as the lights slowly dim, almost eliciting their change of mood. Four lights above the titantron suddenly switch on, glaring into the audience, as the opening riff to "Seek and Destroy" by Metallica hits the PA system.
The titantron comes to life, as the name of Jonny Kae flashes in vacillating red and white text/background schemes.
After two lines of the opening riff, the entrance way explodes with pyro, and Jonny Kae appears from backstage, wearing his trademark red trunks, white elbow pads and knee pads, and black boots.
Truth Waters: And apparantly Kae is going Kae this year.
George Cassidy: Wow. He actually managed to be less imaginative with his costume than Andy.
As he slowly makes his way down the rampway, his arms raised in the air, like a conquering emperor in Roman times, the crowd boos incessantly. He hesitantly turns a full three hundred and sixty degrees, to allow his unadoring audience the chance to appreciate his fine physique, his plastic smile emenating from his arrogant appearance.
Kae finally turns and continues down the rampway, red and white pyro exploding, flanking him upon his decent to the floor. Kae makes his way towards the ring, paying little attention to the fans, instead focusing on the ring. He climbs the steps to the ring, and over the ropes in a smooth side-step fashion.
Truth Waters: Physically these two are an even match.
Once inside the ring, Kae flexes his arms for the audience a number of times before his music fades.
Andy grabs Kae' shoulder and spins him about face. Murray's questioning Johnny, pretending to flex and prance before suddenly slapping him open handed.
Truth Waters: Oh! Murray opening this match with flagrant hostility.
George Cassidy: He's asking him the same question I would, 'Where's your costume ass-hole?'.
Jonny looks pissed, the bell ringing and Andy bounces from foot to foot with a grin. Jonny starts to circle, Andy keeps him in front before they lock up but it's not long before Murray has Kae in a standing side headlock.
Truth Waters: Murray takes the opening lock up.
He wrenches it a few times before releasing, hands up and smiling he gives Jonny his space to fume.
Truth Waters: Murray just let him go!
George Cassidy: He's being cocky and Kae is being conservative.
Again Jonny starts to circle and Andy keeps him in front, he charges suddenly and Murray sends him over with a hip toss. Kae scrambles for his feet and takes another hip toss.
George Cassidy: You would think he learned after the first.
Murray stomps his shoulder as he rises but it isn't enough.Kae gets to his feet swinging, Murray matches him shot for shot.
Truth Waters: Kae looks angry as they trade shot for shot.
George Cassidy: With two evenly matched competitors posturing and prancing this isn't going to go anywhere.
Jonny kicks him the gut and Andy backs away doubled over. Kae pressed his advantage, hammering a forearm down on his back and Murray fires with a back elbow to the kidneys. Jonny twists in pain as Murray falls away into the ropes and comes back with a flash clothes line dropping Kae to the mat.
Truth Waters: Murray keeps stressed control of the momentum of this match. He's got a very emotional opponent eager to garner a win in the Club.
Andy waves his arms for the crowd as Jonny is slow getting to his feet. Now Andy's circling and Kae is keeping him in front!
George Cassidy: Andy is really arrogant now, taunting an already frustrated Jonny Kae into action.
They lock up, Murray hits a jab at the last second, hammers a boot into Kae's midsection and sends him into the ropes. He kicks in and scoop slam!
Truth Waters: Arrogant or not he is maintaining his dominance, definetly came into this match with a scouted opponent.
George Cassidy: I hate to agree with you so I wont, Murray better step in and do something serious for Kae is going to turn it around.
The ref makes a quick one count before Andy pulls himself to his feet and gives Jonny a couple boots for his troubles. Kae takes to his feet and reverses a whip to the ropes, Andy comes off fast and takes a precision placed boot to the lips.
George Cassidy: I hate to say I told you so too.
Kae turns to the now booing fans and stomps his foot, calling them on louder. Murray checks his lip for blood and starts getting his feet, Jonny hammers him with a forearm from behind, and another. Pulling Andy to his feet Jonny sends him hard into the corner, following right behind with a hammer clothesline.
Truth Waters: Hitting the corner like that is like having the air sucked out of you. It's hard to keep your bearings after a move like that.
Without missing a beat Kae pulls Andy out of the corner and launches into the reverse, running after he doesn't expect to hit the turnbuckle as Murray leap frogs backwards.
Truth Waters: And here's Murray's chance to turn things around!
George Cassidy: The crowd knows it, listen to the sheep bray!
Andy grabs Kae in a belly to back suplex but takes an elbow in the forehead before he can get it off. Kae hits him with another elbow and Andy releases his grip.
Truth Waters: Almost.
George Cassidy: Only counts in horse shoes.
Truth Waters: In what?
George Cassidy: Horseshoes.
Truth Waters: What's that?
George Cassidy: A game.
Truth Waters: From the stoneage?
George Cassidy: ...
Truth Waters: Burn.
Jonny spins them around and throws Andy's back to the corner, hammering him with lefts and rights until he's too low to punch. Grabbing a rope in each hand Kae uses them as leverage to stomp away furiously on Andy Murray.
Truth Waters: The ref should be doing something!
George Cassidy: That's the best idea in the world, why don't you go do it?
Kae turns away with a roar to the crowd and flexes.
George Cassidy: Is he frothing at the mouth? Good God I believe he's gone rabid!
Truth Waters: Kae is certainly fired up after that mud hole he stomped into Murray.
George Cassidy: Was more like a crater.
Helping Murray out of the corner he sets him up for a nasty knife edge chop.
Truth Waters: OH! You could hear that back here.
George Cassidy: Slices, dices, nevah dulls!
Jonny takes his time to let Andy feel it before the second chop hits him even harder.
Truth Waters: Kae has him set up for-
European uppercut!
George Cassidy: He is not looking so cool anymore.
Andy falls to his back as Jonny runs for the ropes.
Truth Waters: This is a bad situation for Murray, Kae has been systematic!
George Cassidy: I was thinking desperate, he's coming off a little eager.
He hammers a falling elbow drop and scrambles to his feet, yelling at Andy and slapping him.
Truth Waters: Eager or not he is definetly intent on getting in Murray's face.
George Cassidy: Posturing and prancing, it's like a damned cock fight.
Truth Waters: Heheheh. You said-
George Cassidy: Spare me.
Kae pulls Andy to his feet in a side headlock, taking a stance he gains leverage and lifts The Scottish King of Cool into the air!
Truth Waters: Look at that strength!
The crowd is booing vehemently as Jonny holds Andy Murray's weight up.
Truth Waters: It's one thing to lift an opponent like Andy so cleaning, but to hold it so long!
George Cassidy: So he's impressively strong, name a dozen guys backstage that aren't.
Kae hammers Murray into the mat hard enough to make the ring quake. He wasts no time in going for the cover.
Truth Waters: Tremendous impact, wether the crowd likes it or not this match could be over!
Andy Murray snaps his hand into the air at the two count, the crowd goes insane.
Truth Waters: Murray showing the heart of a true competitor!
George Cassidy: I can't hear myself despise him!
Jonny isn't so pleased, hauling Andy to his feet he throws him into the ropes and steps up for a - SUPERKICK!
Truth Waters: WOW!
Andy hammers Jonny with a desperation super kick that lays him on his back.
George Cassidy: Desperation trigger reflex!
Truth Waters: Desperate AND effective, Kae does not look like his brain is in one place.
George Cassidy: Serves him right for wasting all that time on the verticle.
Truth Waters: Regardless, neither men are getting up too fast.
Both men are struggling for their feet, Andy pulling himself up rope by rope. Jonny is the first one up, he charges Andy from behind but Murray drops out of the way, pulling the top rope and spilling Jonny over to the outside.
Truth Waters: Murray tricked him!
George Cassidy: That was dirty tactics.
Truth Waters: It was brilliant! Listen to these people chant!
George Cassidy: The herd has spoken.
The fans are stomping and cheering as Andy takes a moment getting to his feet. He throws himself into the ropes opposite the side Jonny is on, he comes across fast and jumps over the top rope like he leaping a face. He lands on a rising Jonny hard and they crash to the mat. Kae looks unconscious while Murray writhes around holding an ass cheeck in each hand.
Truth Waters: Incredible!
George Cassidy: It's no wonder his ass hurts, he just had Jonny Kae in it!
Murray collects himself as fast as he can, pulling Jonny up and rolling him into the ring, he follows in quickly but Jonny is already on his knees and sees him. He dives across the mat with a forearm, taking the top down position he pins Murray face down on the mat and wheels around. Taking Andy's arm as Kae moves to sit on his back, he wrenches the arm horribly and Murray cries out.
George Cassidy: Solid mat technique, Jonny wasn't about to let Murray get to his feet.
Truth Waters: Definetly using his head, taking the time to collect his wind and put some pressure on Murray.
Murray is quick to hook the bottom rope with his foot and the ref intervenes. The crowd is stomping and chanting an Andy chant.
George Cassidy: It was destined to end quickly, but Jonny needs to focus on Murray and not the official.
Kae argues with the ref with Andy gets to his knees, finally Jonny throws his hands in the air and pushes the official aside to contiue his match. Andy stomps him in the midsection. He grapples him into the suplex position and sets his balance. Kae struggles but can't free himself before Andy levers his legs into the air and hammers the side brain buster.
George Cassidy: Highland Hangover!
Truth Waters: Kae will most definetly have a hangover!
George Cassidy: This is over!
Andy makes the tired cover and gets the three count. Bat Country by Avenged Sevenfold hits as the crowd cheers, Murray gets to his feet and the ref raises his hand in the air.
James Brunt: The winner: The Scottish King of Cool, ANDY MURRAY!!
Truth Waters: A precious win for Murray and a frustrating loss for Kae.
George Cassidy: There's a groove he is definetly not hitting just yet.
Truth Waters: Regardless I don't think this is the last we'll see of the impressive if unlucky, Jonny Kae.
Jonny slinks out of the ring as Murray soaks in the cheers, frustrated he makes his way up the ramp silently.
The Glass Slipper II
FEATURING: TRACY STANTON, DAVID HARBER, PIERCE LAVELLE, SARAH KENNEDY
AUTHORS: LARA C. AND MIKE S.
Tracy stopped, awestruck by her own appearance in the delicate ball gown she’d rustled up in time for Wade’s Hallowe’en Ball. She didn’t recognise herself, barely used to seeing such a warm glowing smile across her voluptuous lips. The many eyes lingered on the decorative corset to which accentuated her small waist and rotund breasts, as she moved swiftly down the hall toward the communal room.
The music roared through the many speakers arranged throughout the arena by Mike Wade. The familiar and yet otherwise catchy “mash” by Dr. Demento tickled through the speakers, enticing the many who enjoyed the idea of fancy dress toward the communal room.
In the distance she was being watched closely, a figure moving ever so stealthily through the corridor toward Tracy, her eyes lingering on the dress.
The communal room was filled with workers, reporters and wrestlers, all of which enjoying the luxuries and tasteful setting displayed around them from Mike Wade. She strolled through the room toward massive jelly in the middle of the room. Eyes lingering on the sea of faces, none of which the person she was here to see.
David Harber: All alone and without an escort.
Came the sniggering voice of “Heartless” David Harber, who remained in a posh suit with an emotionless expression, eyes lingering on Tracy’s chest.
Tracy Stanton: Fancy dress not your thing, Pearl?
Harber scowled toward her, edging closer.
David Harber: Pretty cocky for a woman with no sick twisted boyfriend as back-up!
Tracy Stanton: Wait till Michael comes back…Then you’ll be sorry.
Harber laughed, but his menacing chuckle was feint against the blaring music.
David Harber: If he comes back.
Tracy Stanton: Oh, he’ll be back…
Tracy retorted in a high pitched and unsure voice as she edged backward until she felt the table edge against her posterior, Harber inches from her face.
David Harber: Well, until then, how about I keep such a lovely woman company?
Harber moved closer, his hands lingering above her right breast. Tracy snapped, unleashing a stinging slap across Harber’s face. He recoiled momentarily.
David Harber: Stupid whore!
Harber nudged her as he fell sideways; tripping over her high heels she stumbled but felt a gentle grip on her waist, steadying her from falling. In front of her Harber stood with a grin on his face, smug and pleased with themselves.
Behind her stood Pierce Lavelle, still holding onto her waist with a gentle touch, his eyes filled with a burning rage as he gazed toward David Harber, standing smug with a rosy left cheek.
David Harber: Looks like Prince Charming rescued his Cinderella!
Tracy turned to see Pierce’s costume and a look of surprise crossed both their faces.
Tracy Stanton: You’ll regret ever touching me Harber…
Harber sniggers towards her and walks off, finding the communal room stuffy and tedious as he heads back towards the comforts of his own room. Lavelle helps Tracy back up with a firm grip as she hobbles on one foot.
Pierce Lavelle: Left or right?
Lavelle asked, kneeling down to retrieve her lost shoe. Tracy eyed him with wonder and stuck on her bare right foot.
Voice: Pathetic…
Lavelle ignored the snide remarks and slipped the shoe back onto her feet, his hands gently grazing her silk smooth skin.
In the distance Sarah Kennedy looked on as Pierce was dressed in a similar outfit to which complimented Tracy’s, a feeling of jealous rose within her as she walked off, heading in the opposite direction to Harber. Lavelle, ignoring the exit of his Empire boss, turned to Tracy.
Pierce Lavelle: You alright?
Tracy Stanton: Course. Nice costume…
Pierce Lavelle: You look…amazing.
Lavelle paused, seeing a slight blushing in Tracy as she pulled his hand and the two began to walk away.
Tracy Stanton: You wanted to meet here, so, lets talk.
Lavelle eyed her body for a second.
Pierce Lavelle: Yeah, sure, talk.
Aww Hellnaw! Seymour Up And Done It
FEATURING: ELLIS NASH, SEYMOUR ALMASY
AUTHORS: SEAN AND LIA
So we're like, backstage and stuff. Ellis Nash, totally decked out in the sluttiest of all slutty costumes – a Corrections Officer uniform conveniently cut five or six or seven or eight inches above the knee – indifferently stands against the wall, indifferently holding AWC's latest magazine issue vertically so she can indifferently observe Teresa Tomas in all of her nudey redneck glory. Raising an eyebrow, Ellis lifts the magazine closer to her face.
Ellis Nash: Like, gross. Boob acne.
Backstage at a wrestling show tends to have a lot of different people. Ellis Nash is one sort of person. Rather unfortunately for her, another sort of person is headed her way... the sort of person that needs a lock of her hair for ENTIRELY LEGITIMATE REASONS.
Seymour Almasy: Yevon... there she is! Now all I need to do is saunter over to her, attempt to distract her, lop off a lock of her hair, and I shall see my Laura again! Now, how to do this, how to do this...
Checking his back pocket to make sure the scissors are there, Almasy draws them, leaving them in a hand hidden conveniently behind his back as he approaches, offering the lady a formal bow.
Seymour Almasy: Greetings, fair maiden.
Startled, Ellis lowers the magazine.
And blinks.
Ellis Nash: WTF kind of video game did you step out of?
Seymour Almasy: Well, I'm sort of based off of a lot of Final Fantasy games. That's why my nickname's the "Final Fantasy", though I try to work in stuff from other Square Enix games every so often. You know, you remind me of someone. The sarcasm, the expression on your face that says "I don't care about you..."
Poor Seymour.
Seymour Almasy: Oh yes! I remember now! Her name was Amy!
Poor, poor Seymour.
Infuriated, Ellis Nash rolls the magazine into a neat little cylinder and smacks Seymour Almasy.
Hard.
Ellis Nash: AIMZ?! AIMZ!?!!! Are you KIDDING! ME!! I -- YOU --
....
Ellis Nash: UGH!
She smacks him again.
Behind his back, Seymour's grip tightens around the scissors. Why, he could just snip that magazine in two, and THEN what would she do?!
...probably find something harder to hit him with. Besides, that would also reveal his cunning plan. That would be bad.
Seymour Almasy: OWWW! What was that for? Am I to assume that you and Lady Campbell are not members of the same party?
Unfortunately for Seymour, his inquiry only seems to enrage Ellis further.
Ellis Nash: You listen to me, Final *FUCKING* Fantasy. Lady Campbell is a rabid animal BEAST. Like, do you even know HOW many times I've beaten her!? Yeah, like sixty kajillion, okay!? SHE is the one who emulates ME, OKAY!? So why don't you go, like, jump back into the PlayStation you came from!?! ASS.
She scoffs, rolls her eyes, jams the magazine into Seymour's chest, and flaunts off, muttering something like this: Aimz pshhhyeaRIGHT, stupid fucking dickhead.
A rather perturbed Almasy straightened out the magazine, wondering why Ellis had seemed so engrossed with it earlier. Quickly, he looks at the cover, and blinks once. Twice. Clearly, Mr. Almasy has not been aware of PTC’s recent controversy.
Seymour Almasy: Um, before you go, Miss Totally Not Anything Like Amy Campbell So Please Don’t Kill Me… why is there a girl wearing next to nothing on the magazine cover?
Ellis is too indifferent to reply.
GBJ / Facey vs Jeremy / Pierregus
STIPULATION: TRICK OR TREAT?
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHORS: JOSH K. AND PIERRE HYDE
James Brunt: The following contest is scheduled for on fall, and it is booked as a “Trick or Treat” match, which means that the rules will be arbitrarily decided as the match goes on.
Truth Waters: This will certainly be an interesting match as only one AWC roster member is participating.
George Cassidy: I don’t know how I feel about this one. GBJ and Adam Dick are on the same side, but I don’t know if they’re on the same page against the uber forum heel, Jeremy, and his partner Pierregus, the fusing together of two conspirators behind the scenes.
Truth Waters: Yes, Cassidy. It will certainly be a treat for us all.
James Brunt: Introducing first, at a combined weight of many pounds - the team of Jeremy and Pierregus!
“Queen of the Reich” by Queensryche begins to play, and Jeremy hobbles down to the ring, followed by Pierregus, who is arguing with himself over whether or not Director is the best band ever. Jeremy is wearing a shirt that says “If I had written this match, it would have been in on time.” Pierregus is wearing a shirt that’s half pink and half a little less gay. It is unbuttoned, revealing his patchy chest hair that pales in comparison to GBJ’s.
Truth Waters: The fans appear to be heavily booing the team of Jeremy and Pierregus. What a dastardly duo!
George Cassidy: Let’s see if they can out-dastard the King and his peon partner.
Truth Waters: That peon partner happens to be the AWC champion.
George Cassidy: Bah!
James Brunt: And their opponents, at a combined weight of f(x) = 221 + Unmeasurable, Adam Dick and Garbage Bag Johnny!
“Family Business” by the Fugees starts to play, and the fans go absolutely wild as GBJ and Adam Dick come down the ring together riding a hovercraft shaped like a blunt over a wave of smoke. The two leap onto the apron in perfect coordination before entering the ring.
George Cassidy: Alright! It looks like they’re on the same page.
Truth Waters: But the fans are enjoying it. You might have to cheer against King Dick.
George Cassidy: True. This puts me in quite the precarious predicament.
The bell rings, and Adam Dick and Jeremy start it out, giving the fans what they want right away. Both, being unweighable pounds are evenly matched on paper, but Jeremy seems to have the size advantage based on appearance. The two of them lock up, and Jeremy shoves Adam Dick back into the turnbuckles. Dick bursts out and tries to nail Jeremy with a clothesline, but Jeremy takes the blow, falling back a few steps before charging forward with a shoulder block that knocks the King down.
George Cassidy: This Jeremy character looks pretty powerful, I don’t know if he can be stopped.
Truth Waters: Now that he’s here, though, I don’t know if AWC can exist without him.
Adam Dick takes a knee to rethink his plan. He bursts out at Jeremy with a dropkick, but Jeremy barely moves. Without much left to ponder, he rolls to his corner and tags GBJ who looks reluctant to get in the ring. Garbage Bag Johnny cautiously circles around Jeremy before running at him and sliding under Jeremy’s legs. Jeremy bends over a bit too late, and GBJ finds himself behind Jeremy. He mounts Jeremy in a headlock with his legs wrapped around Jeremy’s stomach.
Truth Waters: That headlock doesn’t appear to be fazing the forum heel at all!
George Cassidy: What the hell is a forum heel anyway?
Jeremy backs up and squashes GBJ against the turnbuckles. GBJ slides down into a sitting position, and Jeremy backs off and backs up. He charges at GBJ going for the B-Day Bone Buster, but GBJ smartly slides underneath Jeremy’s leaping girth, and Jeremy ends up crotching himself on the first turnbuckle. Garbage Bag rolls towards his partner, the Illustrious Face-Eater, making the tag.
Truth Waters: It looks like Adam Dick will get another shot at the monster that is Jeremy.
George Cassidy: Jesus Christ! That crotch shot did nothing! Jeremy is back up. He must have an iron boner!
Dick runs at Jeremy and ducks under an iron boner clothesline. Dick comes bounding off of the ropes, leaping at Jeremy with a cross body, but the forum heel catches him in midair. Jeremy military presses Dick over his head, but he’s distracted as a bell sounds, and Dick slides behind him.
Truth Waters: What’s that bell?
George Cassidy: I think it has to do with that box lowering into the ring.
Indeed, a box is lowering into the ring, and Jeremy, who has taken the least damage, rips it open. The box explodes upon opening, and Jeremy fights the smoke from his eyes while making his way to the corner to tag in Pierregus.
Truth Waters: It was a trick!
George Cassidy: So that’s what it means! It would’ve been helpful if AWC explained it better on the website.
Pierregus comes into the ring on fire and charges at Adam Dick, knocking him down with a pair of fists. GBJ gets in because it’s a hot tag or some shit even though GBJ doesn’t believe in hot tags. Pierregus knocks him down in much the same fashion as a four legged four armed tornado would. For the next minute, it’s a flurry of limbs as Pierregus takes turns downing Adam Dick and GBJ.
Truth Waters: This is highly unfair. Pierregus has too many limbs and Jeremy is a behemoth!
George Cassidy: Dick and Johnny are smart, though. They’ll find a weakness.
As Selena Summer ushers GBJ back out of the ring, Adam Dick capitalizes by sending two balled up fists into the dual sets of testicles possessed by Pierregus!
George Cassidy: The King just hit a double regions shot on one opponent!
Truth Waters: I don’t know how this is anatomically possible.
Adam Dick prepares to go on an illustrious rampage, but he is interrupted by a second bell and a second box lowering from the rafters. It finds its way into the center of the ring, and as Pierregus nurses his loins, Dick questions whether to go for the box or the opponent.
George Cassidy: Go for the box! Go for the box!
Truth Waters: It looks like he’s going to go for the box. Is it another trick or is it a treat?
Dick opens the box revealing a big ice cream cake and several spoons. Immediately, GBJ rushes in because he’s high, and stoners like to eat. Jeremy rushes in to join in the eating, and the four competitors each tear away at the ice cream cake.
Truth Waters: It’s a treat indeed! And what a treat!
Pierregus, with his multiplicity of arms is able to eat ice cream faster than the other three. Selena has lost all control, and is unable to prevent GBJ’s notice of Pierregus’ eating habits. GBJ levels Pierregus with a stiff spoon shot!
George Cassidy: Garbage Bag Johnny has just spooned Pierregus!
Indeed he has, and with Pierregus prone from the spoon shot, GBJ takes one last bite of ice cream cake and climbs up to the top rope. GBJ leaps off and connects with the Dumpster Dive! Selena, not knowing that GBJ is not the legal man, goes down for the count!
ONE!
TWO!
Jeremy is up and he breaks up the count with a stomp to Garbage Bag Johnny’s back! Jeremy pulls Garbage Bag Johnny up and connects with an LOL Bomb that sends Garbage Bag Johnny over the top rope and three quarters of the way up the ramp!
Truth Waters: My God! I think that GBJ just broke his hyoid bone!
George Cassidy: It’s very likely. I don’t think we’ll be seeing the Tragic Hipbuster tonight!
Truth Waters: Or the Whirling Debris!
George Cassidy: You do know that the Whirling Debris is not an actual move, right?
In the ring, Jeremy is up, and Adam Dick is taunting him. Jeremy runs towards Adam Dick, but he doesn’t realize that the Ice Cream Cake is smack dab in the middle of the ring. Jeremy slips on the ice… cream cake and breaks his ankle!
Truth Waters: Oh my God! The monster is down!
George Cassidy: Looks like they’ve found his Achilles heel… or should I say ankle! lol.
Adam Dick capitalizes and covers Jeremy J!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Pierregus is up in time to break up the count with a double axehandle smash! Pierregus pulls Adam Dick up as Selena Summers tries to roll Jeremy to the outside so that he can recover. With the legal men in the ring, Pierregus pulls Adam Dick to his feet and kicks him in the gut with his third leg. Dick hunches over and Pierregus calls for the finish!
Truth Waters: I think Pierregus Ferierre is calling for the Cricket Jumper!
Pierregus bounces off the rope and jumps in the air with cricket-like abilities before executing a quadruple stomp on Adam Dick’s head that sends his masked face smashing into the canvas. Pierregus goes for the cover.
ONE!
Truth Waters: I think you can put this one in the books!
TWO!
George Cassidy: Come on King Dick! Come on!
THR-
Truth Waters: What the hell?
Jeremy is in the ring, and he breaks up the count out of desperation. Pierregus gets up, questioning Jeremy’s antics, but Jeremy calls Pierregus a fuckin’ pathetic loser, and Jeremy tags himself in by returning to the apron and slapping Pierregus across the faces.
Truth Waters: What a glory hound! Jeremy just wanted the pin for himself!
Jeremy pulls Adam Dick off of the canvas and lifts him in a military press. He jumps in the air and does four hundred front flips before launching Adam Dick like a missile! Adam Dick crashes head first into Garbage Bag Johnny who is way up the entrance ramp!
Truth Waters: Jeremy J hits the Dollar Tree of Woe!
George Cassidy: That’s not a tree of woe at all!
Truth Waters: I know, but it sounded clever.
George Cassidy: Not as clever as Jeremy’s next move…
Truth Waters: OHMYGOD! It’s the KaTaHaJiMaPiKaRaSiTaBiDa Wonto-LiKa-PuSi!
George Cassidy: INTO A LIASTALK! MY GOD!
Truth Waters: I must point out to fans reading the transcript the actual content of these moves. The KaTaHaJi… whatever, is a shit made-up Japanese move that Jeremy uses in every match. And the Liastalk involves… well…
George Cassidy: I don’t think we’re allowed to allude to in-ring masturbation.
Truth Waters: HE’S SIGNALLING FOR THE WELCOME TO THE FOLD! CASSIDY, IT’S C---
George Cassidy: What’s Gabriel Afeaki doing out here?!
The Fijian Animal charges out from the back and down the ramp, roaring past the fallen bodies of Transatlantic champion Garbage Bag Johnny and Adam “King” Dick to slide into the ring and swing a clothesline at Jeremy. Jeremy tries to counter with the “Ladies and gentlemen, we are back with more FRESH! action!” but fails, and Gabs kills him. AWC thus closes.
Pierregus quails in fear as Afeaki bends and flicks him down with the Fi.Ji.T.
Truth Waters: Someone get this MANIAC out of here!
George Cassidy: It’s OK, he’s dead now…
Truth Waters: I’m talking about Gabriel Afeaki!
Afeaki mercilessly applies the Fijian Leg Lock to the compound loser. Pierregus is crying in pain and tapping as hard as he possibly can but the US postal service hasn’t delivered his package so Gabs just won’t relent. Now Adam Dick and Garbage Bag Johnny charge into the ring.
Truth Waters: Stop him! Afeaki is going to cripple Pierregus forever!
GBJ and Dick with some difficulty drag the former Relentless champion off Pierregus, and in an instant the fight goes from the Fijian. He offers no resistance whatsoever as Facey sets him up…
George Cassidy: EATERPLEX---
Truth Waters: NO! EATERPLEX INTO THE TRAGICALLY HIPBUSTER!
George Cassidy: INCREDIBLE TEAM MOVE!
Truth Waters: IMPOSSIBLE!
George Cassidy: NOTHING’S IMPOSSIBLE COMPARED TO JEREMY’S MADE-UP JAPANESE MOVES!
Selena Sumner has the bell rung, the match declared a no contest as Dick and GBJ leave the ring, showing off to the fans. Meanwhile, Afeaki rolls into a sitting position and leans into the turnbuckle.
Truth Waters: What was Afeaki doing out here, Cassidy? He’s not looking himself at all!
George Cassidy: Something’s up. He looks lost in himself…
Might I Have This Dance?
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, DARCY CRISIS, DAVID HARBER
AUTHORS: LARA C. AND NATHAN
Fresh! was already turning out to be a complete nightmare for Pierce, he'd thrown a coffee mug at GA, barely missing his partner’s head and had been dumped by Sarah, although he’d already broken it off. His mind was a world apart from the here-and-now as he strolled through the corridor in a daze.
Could it get any worse? Lavelle questioned, and sure enough, he'd smacked right into somebody, their body felt like a brick wall.
He looks up to see just who had so vociferously halted his progress, finding the puzzled expression of Darcy Crisis, who'd been in the hallway doing his best to keep loose between his tag-team match earlier in the evening and the upcoming Gauntlet match with DeBough.
Darcy Crisis: Whoaaaaaa there, slugger... can't glide with your head down like that.You're liable to get leveled. And the thought of a leveled Lavelle... well, that's just tragic.
Lavelle raised his eyebrows, and moved backward, attempting to leave. He wasn’t in the mood for the ranting and raving of Darcy Crisis or for a confrontation. He’d had enough tonight and the last string had snapped.
Pierce Lavelle: Funny, Crisis, stick to your day job.
Darcy gasped aloud, placing a hand over his mouth.
Darcy Crisis: Oh my gosh! The "legendary" Pierce Lavelle knows my name! Good sir, you have made my evening. DeBough can kick my ass tonight, and it will have been worth it! Oh man, my friends will NEVER believe me...
Lavelle’s jaw tensed, his muscles flexing with impatience as he stared toward Crisis who held a smug grin along his lips.
Pierce Lavelle: Cocky little fuck, aren’t ya!
Lavelle turns back to Crisis, an emotionless expression on his face.
Pierce Lavelle: Keep talkin’, Crisis, cause I hope you can take it as well as you sling it.
Defensively, Darcy throws up his hands, hoping to defuse the situation.
Darcy Crisis: Hey, hey, take it easy... my dance card is full up tonight as it is. Really, I meant what I said - you're a legend. Or so they say...
Taking a step back, Darcy puts his hand to chin, stroking it as if contemplating something.
Darcy Crisis: But there's something I don't get about you. You used to be the man around here. Everybody loved you. And now look at you... you sold your soul to David Harber, and you traded your pedestal given to you by an adoring public to be an Empire lackey. You kicked your hot-ass girlfriend to the curb, and now you're stumbling around the hallways like you're on the tail end of a weekend coke binge.
He folded his arms now, raising a brow.
Darcy Crisis: It'd make sense if you were some new jack rookie... but you're Pierce Goddamned Lavelle. You're supposed to be Union Jack proud or something, aren't you? What's your deal?
Lavelle is barely listening to Crisis, miles in his own thoughts, he stares blankly toward Crisis.
Pierce Lavelle: I’m not that guy anymore… you wouldn’t understand… What makes you so goddamn knowledgeable about me?
Came the feint response from Lavelle as he tried to push Crisis a side and move off, but Darcy wouldn’t move, rather remained in the same position looking questionably toward Lavelle.
Pierce Lavelle: How about moving out of the way!
Crisis remained. Lavelle sighed and stepped back.
Pierce Lavelle: Fine. You want to talk, then talk…
Darcy Crisis: I don't want to talk. I want answers. When I was your age, I made the same bad career move, selling my soul to my asshole boss. But I HAD to do it, if I had any hope of climbing the ladder. But there's no ladders left for you to climb. Like I already asked... what's your deal?
Lavelle looks away for a moment.
Pierce Lavelle: I haven’t sold my soul, just woke up…
He turns back to Crisis, seeing his eyes cast upon him, he looks toward the opposite corridor. No longer focusing on the issue racking his brain.
Pierce Lavelle: Like I said, you wouldn’t understand and you don’t know squat. You think it was easy for me, any of it… so how about backing up? Cause I don’t need advice from a guy who can’t even see the crap around him.
Darcy sighed. Some people just couldn't be reasoned with, and a pissed-off Pierce Lavelle appeared to be one of them.
Darcy Crisis: Alright, Grumpy Gills... have it your way. But if you ask me, you're making a bad career move.
Lavelle folded his arms.
Pierce Lavelle: I didn’t ask you.
Crisis sighed once again and was about to speak but Lavelle cut him off.
Pierce Lavelle: Instead of questioning my actions, how about keeping an eye on your girl.
Darcy Crisis: Ha ha ha ha. Right, I get it, Aimz is a slut. Good one. You're a clever cat, Lavelle. What are you going to do next, tell me Darcy is a giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrlsssssss name?
Lavelle smiles, for the first time all night.
Pierce Lavelle: I was going to ask how it feels getting Chainz's left-overs...
At that, Darcy's eyes shot open as wide as saucers. He gave Pierce a stare that seemed to have ill-intentions behind them, but after a second it appeared as if he'd calmed down at his vicious retort.
Darcy Crisis: Alright, alright, I can see where this is going. Either I let you go about your merry business, or you'll keep digging at Amy until I'm forced to defend her honor by smashing your face in. So I'll tell you what - I'm gonna do you a huge favor and step aside. But you better watch yourself, Lavelle... there's something fishy about you. And I intend to find out what it is.
Lavelle moved forward, completely oblivious to Darcy’s threats.
Pierce Lavelle: See, it’s not nice when people stick their noses into somebody else’s business.
Lavelle nodded and turned to leave, but stopped, thinking for a moment.
Pierce Lavelle: So mind your own damn business Darcy, otherwise it might end up lip-locked with Michael Sloan again.
Gritting his teeth, Darcy spoke very slowly.
Darcy Crisis: You know, come to think of it... I think I can make some room on my dance card after all. But I believe you were on your way, Lavelle?
Lavelle stopped and turned on his heels, his eyes focusing fully on Crisis, his nostrils flaring with anger. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time for a confrontation, but he knew had nothing else to lose. He began to approach Crisis once more.
Pierce Lavelle: Actually, looks like my schedule just freed up.
Behind them footsteps emerged, trundling along the floor with a quickened pace. Lavelle looked around to the see the familiar set of eyes gazing toward him. David Harber stood in the hall. Crisis turns and spots him.
Darcy Crisis: Heeey, if it isn't Fast Count Freddie himself!
He turned back to stare a hole into Lavelle.
Darcy Crisis: I was just talking to your boy here... it seems he's pretty fond of making bad decisions...
Pierce Lavelle: One of them was bumping into you!
Lavelle turns, blanking Crisis as he stares toward an intrigued Harber.
David Harber: Pierce, a word.
Lavelle became tense once more. Without a further look toward Crisis, he muttered a simple instruction.
Pierce Lavelle: Stay out of this, Crisis, for your own good.
Lavelle leaves, following Harber as Crisis looks on.
David Harber: What was that about?
Pierce Lavelle: Nothing I can’t handle.
Harber stopped, looking toward Lavelle with a serious expression on his face.
David Harber: He better not be a problem.
Lavelle hesitated for a moment.
Pierce Lavelle: He won’t be…
Jack Murphy (c) vs Captain Suleimon
STIPULATION: BURIED ALIVE - RELENTLESS FRONTIER GAUNTLET
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHORS: TOM HOLZERMAN AND FERGUS
Truth Waters: Well, it's time for our next match, a Buried Alive match in our Relentless Championship Gauntlet. For this Hallowe’en edition of Fresh!, I can't think of a damn better match than this one.
George Cassidy: For once, I'd agree, although tonight we're going to see more than a wrestler being buried. We're going to see a career buried. Captain Suleimon's been denied his rightful chance to hold gold in this company for far too long.
Truth Waters: Well, while I would agree that the Captain has waited a bit too long, I'm just not seeing it tonight. Do you think the Bull is just going to roll over for him and let himself get buried? He proved last week that he'll do whatever it takes, and even though I don't approve of how he won the title last week, it shows that he's not going to just lay down and die just because you and some Turkish punk say so.
George Cassidy: It's not a matter of "let," Truth. It's a matter of whether Murphy is going to be able to resist getting buried tonight. Remember, he didn't get the job done at Coast to Coast.
Truth Waters: But he's been on fire lately.
George Cassidy: And so's the Captain. Tonight, he's going to cast off the chains of discrimination and take what's rightfully his.
Truth Waters: Don't give me that talk about oppression, or else I'll give you a left hook right upside your thick head.
The dulcid tones of "The Turkish March" cue up, but there's no sign of the Captain.
Truth Waters: What the hell... where's Suleimon?
George Cassidy: Well, I heard that his costume tonight is going to put everyone else's to shame. It's so elaborate, my sources tell me that he's going to be a little late.
The first run of the March plays through and still no sign of Suleimon. James Brunt shrugs towards the back, and they cue up "Burn" by Throwdown.
James Brunt: The following match is a Buried Alive match in the Relentless/Frontier Gauntlet, and the Relentless Championship is on the line. Introducing first, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds... he is the Champion... "The Bull..." Jack... MURRRRRPHYYYYYY!!!!
Murphy enters from the back dressed up as [insert Murphy's Hallowe’en costume here if any] to the raucous cheers of the crowd. He absorbs the pop from the crowd as he walks to the ring, Relentless Championship strapped around his waist proudly. He heads to the ring, takes the belt off and holds it over his head as the fans pop again.
James Brunt: And his opponent...
Suleimon's music cues up again, and again, Suleimon is nowhere to be found.
Truth Waters: Alright, this is starting to get ridiculous now. I'm beginning to think your Turk is a little yellow.
George Cassidy: I'm telling you, the costume. He's going to have the best costume ever, just you watch.
Finally, just as the music is about to let up, a rustling of the curtains is seen and from out of the back comes Captain Suleimon, dressed in a fat suit, sweatpants and a two-sizes-too-small Steve Hutchinson Vikings jersey. He's also holding a microphone.
George Cassidy: See? I told you his costume would be brilliant!
Just as Brunt is about to finish the introduction, Suleimon puts the microphone to his mouth.
Captain Suleimon: That is all, Mr. Brunt. No need to finish the introduction.
Truth Waters: What an arrogant...
Captain Suleimon: I know what you're wondering, what's the deal with my costume this evening? Well, not many of you know this, but I abhor your custom known as Hallowe’en. Children, dressing up, scampering around the neighborhood, freeloading for candy. And you people wonder why you're all a nation of obese nimrods with a false sense of entitlement? Ha!
Massive heel heat.
Captain Suleimon: Go ahead, keep booing. You're only offended because you know it's true. But, I'm guessing you're all wondering why I, the great Turkish Warrior, would deign to participate in your foolish charade of a tradition. Well, we all know that the only reason why you dress up is to try and become something you're obviously not, one night, attempting to be something of a success, living vicariously through costume that you're more than just a failure with a middle-management job or at a fast food chain being lorded over by teenagers because it's a condition of your parole.
Truth Waters: Son of a...
George Cassidy: Truth hurts, don't it, Truth?
Truth Waters: He's talking about you too, George.
Captain Suleimon: So, I figured, I too wanted to live vicariously. Coming from a stock of people that isn't used to failure and a culture that breeds winners, I thought I'd try to see what it was like to be one of you fat, lazy, slovenly Americans.
Suleimon twirls around mockingly like a model.
Captain Suleimon: Doesn't it look smashing? But I figured that...
He's interrupted, as the Bull now has a microphone of his own.
Jack Murphy: Will you hurry up? We have a match, and time isn't cheap.
Captain Suleimon: Hey, keep quiet. I'll get to you in a moment. Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I figured that I'm too good to be able to pull off being a believable loser. This outfit doesn't suit me...
The Captain rips the front of his costume, revealing that it's a tear-away fat suit on the top. He takes off the bottom portion, revealing that he's ornately dressed in full, old-style military regalia, even further back than what he normally wears to the ring. There's no hint of this suit being tear-away like his regular pre-match outfit is. From out of the back walks General Rahman, who places an ornate turban-crown on Suleimon's head.
Captain Suleimon: The Great Saladin... a costume much more fitting of your boorish Amer...
Jack Murphy: Alright you arse, just shut up and come down here and get what's coming to you...
Captain Suleimon: Oh, that... well, I believe I have a bit of good news for you.
Jack Murphy: What?
Captain Suleimon: You see... I haven't brought my ring gear tonight, so therefore, You can keep your title. I'm not wrestling...
Truth Waters: See? I told you he was yellow...
George Cassidy: Pipe down...
Jack Murphy: Look, I don't care if you forgot your ring ge...
Captain Suleimon: Forgot? Hardly, Jack. I didn't forget my ring gear. I left it at home. I'm not wrestling tonight, and I never intended to do such.
Truth Waters: What?
Jack Murphy: What the hell? You...
Captain Suleimon: No, no, I don't have time for your silly begging for me to come down there and get what's coming to me, right Jack? Right? Because that's what's going to happen if I come down there, just like it happened at Coast to Coast.
Jack Murphy: Don't even bring that up, Tariq.
Captain Suleimon: I said... don't call...
Jack Murphy: I don't care what you want to be called, you cowardly son of a bitch! Every night in this industry is a different night. I'm man enough to admit that at Coast to Coast, you were the better man that night. But things have changed since then, Tariq. Since then, while you've been busy beating up on insane prawn collectors in their debut matches and Playboy centerfold wannabes, I've been winning the big matches. Just in case you didn't notice, I took down the Fijian Animal, something you couldn't do. Hell, your moves couldn't even faze him, and I took his title off of him. How do you like that, Tariq?
The Captain smirks.
Captain Suleimon: Well, since you put it that way... I'll tell you how much I like that. I like that enough that I'm going to stand here and walk into the back, giving up a chance at a title that I should have had around my waist from my first match in this company. You see, your little charade... your little fake war against Harber and his Empire... it's nothing but a mirage. Nothing because at the end of the day, no matter how many times you spit in his face, no matter how many times you defeat his personal little Samoan pet, at the end of the day, you and him, you're the same person. You're both white male Westerners of Anglo-Celtic decent. And that means that you'll always work together to hold down those who really deserve things, like myself.
Heavy boos, garbage and profanities too vulgar to reprint are raining down on the Sultan of Smackdown.
Truth Waters: Oh, here we go again, you haven't seen discrimination like I...
George Cassidy: Truth, shut the fuck up. Your people aren't the only race who's ever experienced discrimination.
Truth Waters: Dammit Cassidy, I should knock you the fuck out right now, but never let it be known that I ain't professional.
Captain Suleimon: Go ahead, boo all you want, but once again, it's because you know it's true and you don't want that truth to come out. But, did anyone notice how easily you defeated Afeaki last week? Yeah, you all saw how sluggish the normally crisp animal moved. It's clear that he was off-cycle. Yep, Harber withheld his special little pet his precious serum just so a white man could take back the Relentless Championship. Meanwhile, I have only gotten three chances at this title, and all three, the deck was stacked against me. The first time, I had to dig... that's right, dig through debris just so that by chance, I might be able to find the belt, a belt they treat with such disrespect as to throw it in with common trash. Then, my second chance, I get thrown into the ring with Afeaki after he's been loaded up with serum, so much so that he wasn't himself?
Truth Waters: Time out here... I'm not the biggest fan of the Empire, but Kintu's the abuser, not Afeaki. GA's clean.
Captain Suleimon: And now, insult on top of insults, I come into a match against someone I already defeated handily, and instead of pinning him or making him tap out, I have to throw him in a hole and bury him? What, are my people only good enough to be gravediggers in all your eyes? What's next? A "Thank You, Come Again" Match, where the fastest person to fill up a God-damned Slurpee wins the Relentless Championship? It's an OUTRAGE!
Truth Waters: No, you're the outrage, Tariq.
George Cassidy: Hey, stop that. You know he doesn't like that. You don't want to be shunned by him like that idiot Marx is overseas, do you?
Captain Suleimon: And all of that... it's in one year. Three travesties of title shots in one year. Meanwhile, that bleach blonde Lexicon comes right in and gets a Frontier Title shot. This Tyson DeBough, his second match and he's already gotten a title shot. It's clear favortism against...
Jack Murphy: Good God, will you just shut your bloody hole for one second? Or has living in the desert permanently inserted sand into your vagina?
The arena bursts into a mixture of laughter and raucous cheering.
Jack Murphy: Will you please stop your whining? You're starting to sound worse than the God-damned island next to my home, the one that still hasn't shut up about getting robbed in the World Cup. You don't understand that whining and crying doesn't get you what you want in this world. Taking for yourself... that's what gets you what you want. Sound familiar, Tariq? It probably does, because you've been preaching it for the longest time, you hypocrite.
Suleimon's visibly upset now. He takes a deep breath and composes himself.
Captain Suleimon: Taking for yourself only gets you so far. You need not to have the pigheaded establishment not be working in league to screw you at every turn. Regardless of that, I've already deigned myself once tonight. I'm not giving into what you and your chauvinistic, Anglo-Celtic masters wish to have my people represented as. So if you're so eager to hand over your Relentless Championship to me, which by the sounds of your pleas, you do wish for a repeat of Coast to Coast happen, then come up here and hand me over that title. Otherwise, I refuse to lower myself to having to be a common gravedigger to excel at this craft I have worked a lifetime on perfecting.
Jack Murphy: The Bull doesn't give any handouts. You come down here and take it from me if you want it so bad.
Suleimon, with a disinterested face, looks around the crowd, then puts the mic back to his mouth.
Captain Suleimon: Well then, I guess this mockery of you holding that Championship will continue for at least one more week.
With that, Suleimon turns and walks right back through the curtain with Rahman following closely behind. The boos and jeers are almost deafening, and Murphy is visibly angered in the ring.
Truth Waters: I told you. I told you the bastard was yellow.
George Cassidy: He's not yellow, Truth. He's standing up for what he believes in. He's like Gandhi, or Ros...
Truth knows what Cassidy is going to say and shoots him a look of death.
George Cassidy: Or maybe not like that last one. Okay, but he still is standing up for what he believes in.
Truth Waters: Whatever Cass. Anyway, we'll be right back after this.
A Hairy Situation
FEATURING: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: JOSH K. AND LIA
It’s Hallowe’en, and Garbage Bag Johnny is dressed up as himself holding a gigantic pair of scissors in front of Ellis Nash’s locker room door. Tonight, GBJ is set on securing a lock of Ellis’ hair for Seymour Almasy, and he looks like he’s got some semblance of a plan. Knowing GBJ, though, this look is accidental; probably a byproduct of his fascination with large scissors. Whatever. GBJ knocks twice and waits for Ellis to answer the door.
There is a prolonged pause and a shuffle behind the door as Ellis scrambles to stuff the bong under the couch's cushions. Eight and a half seconds later, the door opens. Ellis blinks.
Ellis Nash: Um, wtf?
Garbage Bag Johnny: Happy Hallowe’en, Ellis! How do you like my gigantic scissors?
GBJ shears the scissors for emphasis as he pushes his way into the room, sliding past Ellis in the most hobo-riffic of ways!
An eye roll here, a groan there; Ellis throws the door closed, turns around, leans against the aforementioned door, rolls her head back against it, scoffs, uses a lot of commas, and crosses her arms over her chest.
Ellis Nash: What do you want, fagface? I have pot to smoke and ass to kick.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Pot to smoke, eh?
Garbage Bag Johnny raises an eyebrow so far upwards that it actually rises above his head and floats in the air for a little bit. He temporarily forgets about the scissors.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Smoke a brother up? It’s Hallowe’en for Christ’s sake!
Ellis smiles happily.
Ellis Nash: No.
Garbage Bag Johnny: It’s cause I’m interracial, isn’t it? Don’t worry about me, though. I’ll just go sniff some markers.
Garbage Bag Johnny sits down cross legged on a steel folding chair. He takes a permanent marker out of his pocket and begins sniffing it.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Ah! That reminds me of the good old days! What do you have against me anyway, Ellis? I’m the Transatlantic Tramp that everyone loves!
Ellis Nash: Like, hello? I'm Ellis Nash. I don't like anyone.
Using the base of a foot to kick herself away from the door, Ellis then walks back on over to the couch and sans grace, collapses into the cushions with a sigh.
Ellis Nash: Plus, I'm pretty sure there's mustard in your beard. That's ew.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Fair enough, I guess. At least it’s not mayonnaise. I can’t stand mayonnaise.
Garbage Bag wipes at his beard with his hands, forgetting he has a marker in his grasps. He manages to get the mustard off of his beard, but in the process, he colors black lines all over his face.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Is it off?
Ellis Nash: Um, yeah, totally. So do you like, wanna tell me why you're all up in here with very large and sharp scissors?
GBJ looks at the scissors and remembers why he came to Ellis’ locker room in the first place.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Oh, yeah. I was wondering if I could borrow a lock of your hair. It’s for a friend. He has, uh, hair cancer.
Ellis raises an eyebrow so high that it pops off her head and floats over to mate with GBJ's.
Ellis Nash: Um, I'm too indifferent to be charitable, sorry.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Fine, but I’m not leaving until you either smoke me up or give me some of your hair. I’ve huffed too much marker to get up now anyway.
Rolling her eyes, Ellis shifts to the left and digs under the cushions. She grabs the bong, pulls it out, and thrusts it towards Garbage Bag.
Ellis Nash: Two hits, bitch. I'm low.
Garbage Bag Johnny grabs the bong, grinning from ear to ear! This is the best Hallowe’en ever!
Garbage Bag Johnny: Thanks, Ellis! You’re the greatest! I’ll hit you back next week. My guy is getting some good stuff with hairs and crystals and shit.
Ellis Nash: Yeah, uh, no thanks? Freako.
She stands up.
Ellis Nash: I have to pee. You better be outta here by the time I'm back.
GBJ nods complacently while ripping the bong. Ellis leaves for the bathroom, and GBJ finishes up the two hits Ellis said he could have… or was it three? Fuck it. GBJ cashes the bong and leaves the locker room, stoned off his rocker and without the lock of hair. Whatever. He’ll get it next week.
Murrrangles
FEATURING: MIKE WADE, ANDY MURRAY
AUTHOR: ANDY
Once again we cut to the backstage area, this time to the office of Mike Wade, AWC commissioner. Dressed sharply, Wade sits behind his desk minding his own business, just shuffling some papers. Suddenly, however, there is a sharp knock at the door – the commissioner immediately perks up.
Mike Wade: Come in!
A grin comes across Wade’s face as the “Scottish King of Cool” Andy Murray steps through the door, still looking remarkably fresh despite his earlier battle with Jonny Kae in which he picked up the return victory he will have wanted. Andy is ridiculously attired; still wearing his Darth Vader costume.
Andy Murray: Good day to you, Wademachine!
Mike Wade: Andy, good to see you! How are you doing this evening?
Wade stands up momentarily to high five the Scottish King of Cool over his desk.
Andy Murray: Pretty awesome, dude… pretty awesome. Anyhow, I’ve got a couple of things I want to run past the AWC Commissioner of Cool, if that’s alright?
Mike Wade: Fire away Andy, I’m all ears… please, take a seat…
The AWC commissioner sits back down in his chair, motioning for Murrr to do the same.
Andy Murray: Cheers yo. First things first, I would like to thank you very much indeed for helping me win back my place in the Atlantic Wrestling Club! We really stuck it to those Empire goofballs, couldn’t have done it without you homeboy!
Again, Mike and Andy high five each other.
Mike Wade: Hey, don’t mention it. Any excuse to screw Drake, “Pearl,” and their team of clowns over…
Murray nods and grins.
Andy Murray: Awesome… but onto matters closer to hand… Triangles… I want in, can you make it happen?
The AWC commissioner pauses for consideration.
Mike Wade: Well you know, a place in Triangles isn’t something to be taken lightly. You’ve seen how competitive the qualifying matches have been, plus, the Lethal Lottery’s almost done, and there’s the Gauntlet winner, so I can’t just gift you a spot… but then again, who doesn’t want to see the Scottish King of Cool in action at one of the biggest pay-per-views of the year, huh? Hmmm…
Andy raises an eyebrow as Wade scratches his chin, carefully considering this confounding conundrum. Man, that’s some alliteration for your ass.
Mike Wade: Okay, I’ll tell you what Andy… here’s what I can do… next week on Fresh!, we’ll be having the final Lethal Lottery match, it’s gonna be AgentDash and Josh Marquez against Jack Murphy and Captain Suleimon. I’ll let you – how should I put this? – “sponsor,” one of those competitors. Should the person that you sponsor and his tag team partner for the night defeat their opponents, you can face your chosen wrestler the following week at Fresh!, with their Triangles place on the line! How does that sound to you?
The Scottish King of Cool nods.
Andy Murray: That sounds off the hizznatch, Wadey!
Mike Wade: Great, then it’s a done deal! So who’s it going to be, Murray? Dash, Marquez, Murphy or Suleimon?
Andy Murray: Hmmmm, well… AgentDash and Josh Marquez are both pretty gnarly, they can put up a fight, but they’re taking on Jack Murphy, who is a god damn tank! I don’t know much about this Suleimon fellow, but what the hey… he’s teaming with one of the finest men on the roster…
The former Frontier champion pauses for a second, considering his options.
Andy Murray: Captain Suleimon! That’s the one!
Wade smiles, quickly grabbing a pen and jotting down Murray’s decision on the nearest piece of paper.
Mike Wade: Then it’s done! Good luck…
With that, we leave the office.
Darcy Crisis (c) vs Tyson DeBough
STIPULATION: SINGLES - RELENTLESS FRONTIER GAUNTLET
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: JONNY
The camera pans over the arena, as the fans in the Spokane Arena are heated for the latter stages of tonight’s show. Banners are held up in the audience, saluting favoured gladiators of the squared circle. A “Face Eater Rules” t-shirt is sported on an unordinarily large man, while his wife or girlfriend beside him wears a Garbage Bag Johnny AWC T-shirt. A fan behind the two has a Paddy O’Shea t-shirt on. The camera focuses in on the trio, and the titantron reveals the mixed preferences of wrestler to the world.
Immediately, the couple turns around, to see the man behind them, who greets them with a wave, as they direct his attention to the screen. All three wave at the titantron, which of course is immensely silly, as the camera is in a completely different location. But they don’t care. They’re on television! That’s awesome!
Truth Waters: Well, we’ve had four entertaining matches so far tonight, but now, we bring you to the second title match of the evening!
George Cassidy: All this Hallowe’en stuff is really bugging me. I’m still scared that Darth Vader’s gonna pop up and put the choke on!
Truth Waters: Don’t worry Cassidy, I’m sure you’ll be able to use your Jedi powers to bore him to death…
George Cassidy: Hey! I carry myself with pride and dignity. But, I mean, pumpkins? What’s next?
Truth Waters: I think we’re about to find out.
The camera turns to James Brunt in the center of the ring. He holds the mic up, as the crowd settles.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match, and is for the AWC Frontier championship!
Before he can introduce the first competitor, ‘Alive [N’ Outta Control]’ by Papa Roach hits the PA system.
From the back, Tyson DeBough appears, ready and focused for his first title match in the AWC.
Truth Waters: Here comes one of the recent new blood in AWC, Tyson DeBough!
George Cassidy: Who?
Truth Waters: Tyson DeBough! Last week, he picked up a big win against Colby Korver and none other than Josh Marquez!
George Cassidy: Oh, right. What happened to Chainz?
Truth Waters: For an AWC commentator, you’re quite ill informed Cassidy. Just smile and nod.
James Brunt: Introducing first, the challenger, weighing in at two hundred and thirty five pounds, and hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada… Tyson… DeBough!
DeBough makes his way to the ring, and slides under the ropes. He gets to his feet, and throws a few punches to the corner, as he waits for his opponent.
The opening riff of “Superunknown” by Soundgarden overtakes the arena. At the opening crash of the cymbals, a flash of gold fireworks is followed instantaneously by the thundering report.
BOOM!
Out from the sparkling shower steps Darcy Crisis, with the fans jumping to their feet in delight. Darcy’s fist is raised high in the air, acknowledging the fans who enjoy the return of one of grunge rock's greatest hits. A further pop comes when the fans realise that Darcy Crisis is in fancy dress for tonight’s show. He wears a Scottish Football (soccer) top, and pair of shorts, with his hair tied back in a ponytail. On the back of the shirt, the name ‘CRISIS’ is printed in white, below which the number ‘10’ lies. Darcy makes his way ringside as the opening lyrics pour in, the Frontier Title slung across his shoulder.
James Brunt: And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and twenty seven pounds, and hailing from East Bay California, he is the AWC Frontier champion… Darcy Crisis!
If this isn’t what you see,
It doesn’t make you blind…
If this doesn’t make you feel,
It doesn’t mean you’ve died…
Darcy then hits the closest turnbuckle, pumping his chest and throwing his fist in the air one more time, doing his best to get the crowd behind him.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis has to watch himself in this match. Not only is he defending his title here, but earlier tonight he had a… well, not particularly gruelling match with Scott Taylor against the team of Blue Ruin and Teresa Tomas.
George Cassidy: Excuses, excuses. If he can’t take the strain of an AWC program, we’ll find out here.
Truth Waters: I’d like to see you step into that ring and do what these guys do week in week out.
George Cassidy: I don’t get paid to deal with all that. I get paid to sit next to you and suffer…
Truth Waters: Nevermind…let’s get to the action.
George Cassidy: By the way, what the hell is he wearing?
Truth Waters: I’m told it’s the Scottish National Soccer strip, George.
George Cassidy: Oh God. Is that a Hallowe’en costume? Or does he actually just feel like wearing it?
Referee Lars Larsson calls both men to the center of the ring, and explains the rules, taking the Frontier title from Darcy Crisis. He holds it up to the fans on one side, then the other, of the large arena, and a pop ensues. The referee then removes the title from the ring, and exchanges a few further words with Crisis and DeBough, who keep an eye on one another. The two exchange a nod, before backing into their respective corners.
The bell sounds, and this one is on.
The two men circle each other cautiously, neither willing to make the first move. Tyson DeBough makes the first move towards Crisis, who reciprocates. The two hook up in the center of the ring. DeBough manages to force Crisis to his knees momentarily, but Darcy is back up instantly, and pushes Tyson to his knees. Tyson gets back to his feet as well, and tries to apply a headlock. Crisis slips out of it though, and wraps his arms around in a waistlock. Tyson DeBough rolls and manages to send an elbow back to the face of Crisis, and grabs an arm, twisting it into an arm wrench. Crisis puts a boot to the knee of Tyson, and grabs an arm for himself, twisting it also. DeBough rolls forward, and breaks the hold. The two men stare at one another uneasily.
Truth Waters: Neither of these two men have an advantage size-wise. In fact, given the statistics, they are almost identical!
George Cassidy: It all comes down to style Truth.
Truth Waters: You may be right.
The two lock up again, this time more aggressively. DeBough tries to force Crisis back, but Darcy stops him, forcing him back instead. DeBough is powered into the corner, and raises his arms. Darcy breaks the hold, and backs up, rubbing his hand over his fist. DeBough steadies himself and stretches on the ropes. Once again, the two men approach one another.
This time, though, when they lock up, DeBough takes the initiative and shoots a boot into the ribs of Darcy Crisis. As Crisis momentarily keels forward, DeBough brings him down with a snapmare. Crisis rolls forward before DeBough can capitalise, and gets to his feet. He runs at DeBough, who ducks, sending Darcy onto the ropes, and back again. This time, Darcy manages to floor DeBough with a clothesline. He goes for an elbow drop, but Tyson rolls out of the way, leaving Crisis to hit the mat. He quickly rubs his elbow, but Tyson gives him little room for respite. He runs at Darcy, but Crisis manages to hip toss DeBough onto the canvas. DeBough is straight back to his feet, and the sequence is repeated. The third time, however, DeBough blocks the hip toss. He launches a forearm into Darcy Crisis’ head, and another, before Crisis staggers back. DeBough capitalises and gets in a hip toss of his own. Crisis gets back to his feet, only to receive a dropkick from Tyson, putting him on the mat.
George Cassidy: Boring…
Truth Waters: Good, clean wrestling.
George Cassidy: Exactly, boring…
Crisis is a little slower to his feet this time, but DeBough wastes no time. He puts a few boots to the abdomen of Darcy, before whipping him to the ropes. On the return, Tyson goes for a dropkick to the knee, but Darcy manages to stop just in time, leaving Tyson to kick air. He falls onto the mat, and Darcy pounces onto him, applying a rear chokehold. DeBough gets a hand on the ropes though, and Crisis breaks the hold.
Darcy lifts DeBough to his feet, and applies another arm wrench. This time, he launches his elbow onto the arm a couple of time, leaving Tyson in a weakened position. Crisis manages to get Tyson down to his knee, before pushing a devastating knee into his face, putting DeBough back on the mat.
Crisis drops a leg onto the arm of DeBough, before dropping another over his throat, while still keeping hold of the arm. The position is ideal, and Crisis stretches out the arm into an armbar, leaving Tyson DeBough fighting in vain against the hold, and reaching for the ropes. Realising his predicament, Tyson rolls back, twisting his own arm further, but pushing Darcy’s legs off of his chest and throat, and gets to his feet. He boots the arms of Darcy Crisis, who lets go of the hold, and follows up with a dropkick to the face, putting Crisis down.
DeBough takes a second to rub his arm, before booting Crisis in the ribs. He drops an elbow to the same spot, and then pushes his knee into it, while stretching Crisis’ neck and legs back, into a modified Surfboard submission style manoeuvre.
Truth Waters: Some good submission back and forth action here.
George Cassidy: I just hope we get some real action soon.
Crisis manages to fight his way out of the hold, and stumbles back into the ropes. DeBough follows up by charging him with a clothesline, sending both men over the ropes, onto the floor outside the ring.
Lars Larsson begins the ten count, as DeBough is first to get to his feet. He boots the rising Darcy Crisis in the ribs once again, and follows with another, keeping Darcy on his knees. Tyson grabs his arm, and launches him with all his strength into the barricade opposite the ring. Darcy crashes into it with tremendous force, sending the steel fencing inches back. DeBough puts the boots to the ribs of Crisis again, before lifting him to his feet. He launches a few rights into the face of Darcy, before slamming his face into the steel. DeBough whips Crisis into ringside, and runs a knee into his abdomen.
He wraps Crisis’ head into a headlock, and pushes him down to his knees, before launching a series of knees to the face!
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis is in a bad way at the moment. Maybe the match earlier on tonight is catching up with him.
George Cassidy: You take a match to the outside, and you see the true character of a wrestler…
Tyson DeBough lifts Crisis back to his feet again, and lifts him into the air, bring his face crashing down onto the steel barricade. Crisis slumps forward against the barricade, using it to prop himself up, but he has no time for rest. DeBough immediately thrusts a right into his ribs, then a left, followed by another right. He tries to whip Crisis into the ringside, but Crisis blocks it. DeBough tries a second time, but Crisis blocks again. DeBough sends a boot towards the ribs of Darcy, but Crisis catches it, and floors DeBough with a cross leg spinning heel kick! Both men crumple into a heap on the floor outside the ring.
Larsson gets to seven, as Crisis gets back to his feet. He puts a few boots to DeBough, before lifting him to his feet, and sending him face first into the ring post. Crisis rolls Tyson into the ring, and slides in himself.
He rests on the ropes for a few moments to catch his breath, allowing DeBough to try and get to his feet in the corner. Crisis, however, meets his attempts with a boot to the mid section. He drops DeBough with a vertical suplex, before dropping an elbow to the chest. Crisis puts a few boots to Tyson, before dropping for a cover.
Lars gets down for it…
ONE…
Kickout.
George Cassidy: How does he expect to pin Tyson DeBough after that?
Truth Waters: I don’t think he thought he would win there George. But remember, Darcy Crisis is at a disadvantage in terms of his energy levels. The more he can make Tyson DeBough kick out, the more energy Tyson expends.
Crisis slowly lifts DeBough to his feet, and boots him in the side. He whips Tyson to the ropes, and on the return drops him with a spinning wheel kick!
Truth Waters: Wow! Great athleticism from Crisis there!
Crisis and DeBough are both on the canvas. Crisis rests a moment before getting to his feet. But he waits perhaps too long, and when he approaches DeBough, Tyson rolls Crisis into a small package.
ONE…
Kickout!
Darcy explodes back to his feet, and charges DeBough, knocking the rising man back to his back with a clothesline. Crisis comes off the ropes with a leg drop, and follows up with a headlock. DeBough tries to fight out of it, and gets to a sitting position. Crisis puts a few knees to the upper back, but DeBough slams the mat in defiance. He gets to two knees, then one, and throws an elbow into the mid section of Crisis. Another elbow releases the hold. DeBough springs to his feet, dropping Darcy with a DDT to the mat.
Truth Waters: Impressive work by Tyson DeBough to stop Darcy’s momentum there.
Tyson gets to his feet, and drops a knee to the ribs of Crisis. He follows up with another knee drop to the ribs, before dropping a fist to them. Crisis instinctively holds his ribs, allowing Tyson to drop a standing senton onto Darcy Crisis. Crisis holds his ribs in pain after the move, as DeBough gets back to a standing position.
The crowd start to get behind the match, and Tyson lifts Darcy Crisis, still holding his ribs, hitting a snap suplex. He lifts Crisis once again, and performs a second snap suplex. He goes for a third…and connects! Tyson runs to the ropes, eager to capitalise on his momentum, and quickly gets to the top rope. He shoots off with a body splash onto the fallen Darcy Crisis, and hooks the leg.
ONE…
TW…
Kickout!
Tyson DeBough looks frustrated after the failed pin attempt. He gets to his feet, dragging Crisis up. DeBough pushes Crisis into the corner, and whips him to the opposing corner. He charges in, jumps onto the second rope next to the opposite corner, and lands a huge knee to the face of Darcy Crisis!
Truth Waters: Wow! I felt that over here!
George Cassidy: I hate it when people say that…
DeBough immediately jumps onto the second rope in the corner, and dives off, grabbing the stumbling Crisis’ head in the air, and slamming it to the mat with a vicious bulldog. He turns over the limp body of the Frontier champion, and hooks the leg.
ONE…
TWO…
T…
Kickout!
Truth Waters: For a guy who’s already wrestled tonight, Darcy Crisis is showing a lot of heart and stamina here.
DeBough shakes his head, as he gets to his feet. He puts his hands on his hips, wondering what he has to do to put Crisis away. An idea seems to come to DeBough.
DeBough lifts the body of Crisis into a standing position, and then lifts him into a vertical suplex, but holds him there.
Truth Waters: Oh, I’ve heard of this… I think he’s going for the ‘Lucky Number Seven’!
George Cassidy: This isn’t a card game Truth! Pay attention!
Truth Waters: No, I… never mind.
DeBough holds Crisis for a few moments, but before he can execute the move, Darcy explodes with a fit of energy. Tyson does his best to maintain his balance, but Crisis flops down in front of him, frees a hand, hooking it under the leg of Tyson, and hurls him across the ring in a huge T-Bone Suplex!
Truth Waters: Wow! I’ve never seen a counter like that!
Both men are on the ground now, Crisis trying to regain his composure, DeBough reeling from the move. Lars Larsson starts the ten count.
1…2…3…4…
DeBough is moving, as is Crisis, both to opposite corners of the ring.
5…6…
Darcy is back to his feet. DeBough is also now.
DeBough shakes off the cobwebs, and charges Crisis, but Darcy drops the top rope just in time to send DeBough crashing to the outside!
Darcy takes a moment, before slipping to the outside. He seems to have gotten his second wind now, as he takes DeBough by the head, and slams it down against the barricade. He lays a few boots to the arm of Tyson, before whipping him to the other Barricade beside. Crisis makes a charge in, slamming a knee to the sternum of DeBough, who slouches down against the barricade.
Crisis lifts DeBough to his feet, dragging him around the ringside area, and slams his head down onto the ring apron. Crisis rolls DeBough into the ring, and looks under the ring.
Truth Waters: What’s he going for?
George Cassidy: I don’t know… but if he gets disqualified, doesn’t he retain the title? Smart thinking eh?
Darcy pulls out… a Pumpkin!
Truth Waters: No, Cassidy! Pumpkins are legal in all matches tonight! All matches!
Crisis slides into the ring with the pumpkin. DeBough is slow to his feet, as Crisis stalks him, Pumpkin in hand. Finally, Tyson turns round, just in time to see the large pumpkin charging towards him. Tyson ducks, and executes a perfect drop toehold. Crisis goes down hard, head first into the pumpkin!
George Cassidy: Ahh! Pumpkin Head!
DeBough rests on the ropes for a few moments, before sluggishly moving to Crisis. He pulls Darcy out into the middle of the ring, and looks at the crowd. He points up, and receives a huge pop for the indication. DeBough turns Crisis over, revealing his pumpkin stained face. Tyson runs to the corner, and climbs the ropes.
He holds his arm up, and jumps off with a split-legged moonsault!
Just in time, however, Crisis manages to get his knees up!
The Crowd resounds with a venomous ”OOOOOHH!” as DeBough rolls around the ring, clutching his mid section.
Darcy makes his way to the ropes, getting back to his feet, and wiping the pumpkin off of his face. He heads over to DeBough, and lifts him by the arm, his other arm still holding his abdomen. Crisis gives him no time, however, as he executes an Arm Dragon Screw! Immediately, Crisis sits into an Armbar, pulling back the arm he worked on earlier. DeBough screams in pain, but refuses to give up. Crisis yanks back hard, digging his heels into the opposite shoulder of Tyson DeBough, but still, Tyson refuses to give up.
The referee checks on Tyson, who shakes his head frantically.
Truth Waters: One word for this Cass… heart.
George Cassidy: I’d call it stupidity, but whatever takes your fancy.
DeBough ducks and dives around on the canvas, trying to get out of the hold, but it’s useless, Crisis has it locked in good.
The referee shouts down at Tyson, who still refuses to give up.
Finally, perhaps out of frustration, perhaps out of respect, releases the hold.
Tyson turns onto his side, nursing his arm, as Crisis gets to his feet, looking at the crowd for inspiration. The crowd are into the match now, resounding ‘Crisis’ against ‘DeBough’ chants firing from the audience.
Crisis makes his way over to DeBough, and lifts him to his feet slowly. DeBough throws a few sluggish rights into the mid section of Crisis, but his arm is too weak for anything more.
The crowd are behind both men, as Crisis pulls DeBough into the center of the ring. He lifts him into the air, and drops him with a huge brainbuster!
Crisis scrambles over to DeBough, and locks in the Darcinator!
Truth Waters: Darcinator! Darcinator!
DeBough fights valiantly against the hold, trying to get to the ropes. He scratches his way along the ring canvas, but to of no avail, as Crisis just drags him back into the ring. Larsson checks on DeBough a couple of times, who simply shouts no.
Crisis pushes the hold, using further leverage for it.
Eventually, DeBough has no choice. He taps!
Truth Waters: Tyson DeBough taps!
George Cassidy: The Scottish Footballer wins!
Crisis releases the hold, stumbling backwards, breathing heavily. The referee raises his hand, as James Brunt enters the ring, with the Frontier title, handing it to Darcy. Crisis lets the title slump against his shoulder, as Brunt announces the winner.
James Brunt: Here is your winner by submission, and STILL the AWC Frontier champion… Darcy Crisis!
The crowd applaud both men, as DeBough is slow to his feet. Crisis extends a respectful nod to his opponent, who nods back, slipping out of the ring. “Superunknown” by Soundgarden hits the PA system, as Crisis holds his arms up to the fans, who cheer for the champion. Crisis steps down the ring steps, and heads up the ramp to the back before he disappears backstage.
Scream! II
FEATURING: JONNY KAE, REMUS, ???
AUTHOR: JONNY
Outside the arena, the camera is focused on the parking lot. A few cars come and go, but none of the AWC performers are in them, due to Drake’s threat of fining.
Just then, however, the back door to the arena opens, and out steps AWC wrestler, Jonny Kae.
Kae is wearing a grey suit jacket, black shirt, and matching grey trousers with black shoes. He wears a pair of black shades to cover his eyes, and his hair is tied back in a ponytail.
Kae walks over towards his waiting limo, with his duffle bag over his shoulder, presumably containing his wrestling gear.
Kae gets to the limo, and his chauffer, Remus, steps out of the front door. The large African American walks round to open the back door to the limo, and Kae steps in.
Beside him, there sits a man in a Hallowe’en costume, that from the Scream Trilogy. He looks over at Kae and nods. Jonny looks at him, then looks over his costume.
Jonny Kae: You could have chosen something a little less stereotypical couldn’t you?
The man shrugs
Jonny Kae: Oh well. Job done though. Which brings me to my second question, what are you still doing here?
The man pulls off his mask, and reveals himself to be a young guy, with short blonde hair, and chiselled features.
Costumed Man: Um, Mr. Kae, you said if I did this you would get me a spot on Fresh! next week, or on the opening HSW Shocker?
Kae raises his eyebrow at the guy.
Jonny Kae: Did I?
He looks over at Remus, now in the front seat again.
Jonny Kae: Did I say that Remus?
The African American man remains silent.
Jonny turns back to the young man.
Jonny Kae: Remus doesn’t think so. And, I’m afraid I don’t remember. Besides, it would be markedly impossible. I wouldn’t disgrace myself by letting a rookie onto local or national television, who do you think I am?
The young man reveals a wide expression. He reaches across to Kae’s arm.
Costumed Man: But, Mr. Kae, you promised! I just risked a hell of a lot doing that for you. The least you could do is…
Kae shoots a glare at him.
Jonny Kae: Is what? Welcome to the business kid. Your first rule in this industry… don’t trust anybody.
Kae reaches into his pocket, and pulls out fifty dollars.
Jonny Kae: Here. Just because I feel sorry for you. Now, get the hell out of my limo!
The man looks shocked at Kae. He takes the money, broken expression staring at it. He then looks back at Kae. Jonny opens the door behind him, and the man steps out, still looking dejected. Kae rolls down the window as he shuts the door, while the limo starts up.
Jonny Kae: Don’t worry kid. You might make it one day.
Kae hurls the Scream Mask out onto the floor of the parking lot, and rolls up the window, as the limo drives away.
It's Hallowe'en So Let The Fear Begin!
FEATURING: ???
AUTHOR: ???
A bright flash across the screen brightens the arena as the lights dim down to darkness. The flash is soon followed by the close-up shot of a mouth, the mouth begins to move as the same voice from the previous week brings you new clues to try and solve the puzzle of who the new wrestler is.
Mysterious Voice: Last week you saw the pictures of two former PCW legends. This week you won’t have pictures but merely words to hear and think upon. Magicians love to showcase their talents with a slight of hand and a bit of smoke and mirrors in the process. But the one thing that a magician can’t manage is the ability to make someone disappear… permanently. Mirrors aren’t the only things that magicians utilize to perform their tricks. One man has returned from the depths of defeat to wreak havoc upon the AWC locker room. Scary? Maybe. Manipulative? Most definitely. Members of the locker room have already experienced this superstar’s wrath in the past, but that wrath is nothing compared to its current incarnation. AWC Triangles will be the place to look for the mysterious superstar.
The video cuts out to static and the lights in the arena turn back onto their normal state.
George Cassidy: So yeah, that was weird.
Truth Waters: Weird, but it’s just another one of those clues. Kind of like in those SAW movies, the words always give clues to the end product.
George Cassidy: Well, whatever the riddle is I’m just not getting it.
Ellis Nash vs Wesley Reno
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHORS: LARA C. AND PIERRE HYDE
Truth Waters: Let's move on to our main event, then. Happy Hallowe’en everybody!
George Cassidy: I hate Hallowe’en.
Truth Waters: You hate a lot of things.
George Cassidy: Not true.
Truth Waters: Oh yeah?
George Cassidy: Yeah. I like the Easter Bunny!
Truth Waters: That was a Playboy bunny.
George Cassidy: Right, and Hugh Heffner was Santa Claus.
Truth Waters: He… Oh never mind. Just call the show.
The arena becomes deafened as “Oblivion” by Aimee Allen shoots through the speakers, tickling the trailing decorations surrounding the ring set. The crowd rises from their seats and looks toward the stage in delight as Ellis Nash proudly walks onto the stage, accompanied by the sound of shrilling cheers. Her eyes scan the vast amount of faces before she gently strolls to the ring, cocking her hips to the side, delighting George Cassidy.
James Brunt: Making her way to the ring, from Cortland New York. Weighing in at 126lbs, ELLIS NASH!
Brunt’s announcement is met with cheers as Nash slides into the ring and stands comfortably in the corner, stretching her muscles before her opponent enters the arena.
George Cassidy: Oh, she’s such a tease.
Slowly “Oblivion” becomes drowned out as “The world is not enough” by Garbage gently oozes through the heavy bass sound system. Wesley Reno emerges on stage, a cocky smile lined along his lips and the alliance championship slid over his shoulder as the fans roar for him. The odd banner coming into view as the camera pans around the arena, “Reno for President” and ”Reno will you marry me” being the two favourites.
Truth Waters: Mr. Reno becoming quite the fan favourite.
George Cassidy: He’s a cockroach!
Truth Waters: A talented ‘cockroach’ at that, Cassidy. He and his tag-partner, Mr. Allen, won the belts and are looking to become one of the best ever duos in the AWC.
George Cassidy: He’s still a no-good cockroach.
Truth Waters: What is a ‘cockroach’?
George Cassidy: A money hogging, power sucking, bottom feeding, politician.
Truth Waters: (smiling) Hate them too, huh?
George Cassidy: Plus his music is pretty much a ‘girl power’ anthem.
Reno begins to stroll down the ramp, his eyes firmly set on the ring and his opponent, the perennially indifferent Ellis Nash.
James Brunt: Making his way to the ring, from East Rutherford New Jersey. He is one half of the AWC Alliance champions, WESLEY RENO!
Reno steps into the ring, keeping a watchful eye on Nash as he slides in and stands to the crowds’ ovation. Standing proudly with the alliance belt in his hand, Reno hands it over to referee, Michael Ryan. The bell is signalled and the match is underway. Reno steps into the centre of the ring and graciously offers his hand to Nash. Nash smiles, stepping forward, swiping it away she delivers a swift kick to his gut and plants a fast DDT.
Truth Water: Quick DDT from Ellis Nash to start things off.
George Cassidy: Oh, she’s feisty too, I like that.
Truth Waters: You are beginning to sound like Chainz.
George Cassidy: And… look at that trophy on his arm, Ms. Tracy Stanton.
Nash rolls Reno over and goes for a fast count pin, but he shoots her off of him before Ryan has the chance to make a count. Nash bolts upright and steady’s herself as she watches Reno rise on his feet. The two lock-up, but Reno being a man and with a heavier set build he overpowers Nash and drives her backwards, she twists to release but only aids Reno’s attempts as he spins her and sends her flying with an Irish Whip, she bounces off the ropes and into the arms of Reno for a quick toss, belly-to-belly suplex.
Truth Waters: Referee Michael Ryan with the count.
One!
Nash shoots her shoulder up and Reno instinctively rises off of her, waiting for his opportunity.
George Cassidy: Reno waiting and stalking, just like a cockroach.
Truth Waters: I don’t get it.
George Cassidy: Oh shut up!!
Nash looks towards Reno, who stands with a smile along his lips, enjoying the chanting from the crowd. Nash rises and calculates her position. Reno moves towards her, attempting to initiate a lock-up, Nash side steps and delivers a swinging uppercut, jolting Reno backwards as he is stunned. She lunges off the ropes and grabs onto Reno’s head, hitting him with a neck breaker. Reno watches as the camera flashes twirl around, lying dazed on the mat.
George Cassidy: Squashed like a bug, Nash is on fire tonight.
Truth Waters: I give up! Reno taken out by an agile neck breaker from Nash.
Nash, stands up quickly and delivers a swift kick to Reno’s abdomen. Reno gurgles a breath as his air is pushed out of him, Nash delivers another kick before slumping down and going for the pin.
Truth Waters: Reno getting the wind knocked out of him.
Ryan counts the pin, but Reno shoots his arm up before Ryan can even make a ‘one’ count. Nash looks frustrated, finding her time with the politician to be tedious. The crowd begin an elevating mix of chants “EL-LIS! EL-LIS!” and “LET’S GO RENO”. Dodging Nash’s next kick to the gut, Reno grapples onto her ankle and twists, sending her colliding face first with the mat, he rises instinctively and mounts her back, pulling her into a cobra clutch.
George Cassidy: Reno quickly turning Nash onto the defensive.
Truth Waters: Cobra clutch from one half of the Alliance champions.
Reno pulls tighter on Nash’s back, causing a squeal of agony to ooze out of her pursed lips as she tries her best to wriggle free. Ryan bends down and asks if she ‘gives up’. Nash shakes her head with pure determination and drives the back of her heel into Reno’s kidney. Her foot meets with the soft skin of Reno’s back as she squeals and releases his grip. Nash pulls herself up and rests along the turnbuckle as Reno tends to the sore patch on his back.
George Cassidy: That’a girl!
Truth Waters: Nash counter’s the cobra clutch with a kick to Reno’s back.
Reno looks towards Nash and spots her eyeing him up, he smiles before calculating the odds of his next move. Moving forward with a reverent stride, Reno runs towards Nash, but at the last second she ducks and hip tosses Reno over the top rope to the floor below. Reno watches as the world spins, his stomach acids beginning to churn with nausea as he collides painfully on his back, gazing up toward Ellis Nash now mounted on the top turnbuckle.
Truth Waters: Hip toss to the outside, Reno’s not looking too hot.
Nash lunges her body off the top turnbuckle, spinning in the air to connect with a backward moonsault. Reno lifts his legs as Nash collides with his feet, her ribs and gut bouncing off of him till she collides against the ring steps.
George Cassidy: Oh god! Nash, she could’ve broken all the bones in her chest.
Truth Waters: What a counter from Reno.
With Nash half awake lying against the steps, Reno rises with the aid of the apron and slides his weak body into the ring. Ryan begins the count.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
“Let’s go Ellis!” come the chants from the fans as Ryan slowly counts her out.
George Cassidy: Get up Ellis. Don’t lose to the politician!
FOUR! FIVE!
Nash begins to stir, turning around and using the steps for leverage she cradles her side and looks wearily into the ring and toward Michael Ryan making the count.
SIX!
Reno watched as she began to climb the ring apron, running against the opposite ropes, Reno sloped his body, dropped to the mat and slid for a baseball slide. At the last second, Nash spotted it and jumped over the ropes, landing a leg drop onto Reno’s face. The ‘politician’ cursed in pain as his nose clicked, Nash rolled off of him under the instructions of Ryan and gripping Reno’s wrist she began to pull him into the centre of the ring.
One!
Truth Waters: Ellis Nash with the pin!
George Cassidy: And Reno with a bloodied nose.
Two!
Reno shifted his body and managed to roll Nash off of him on the second count. Nash delivers a swift punch to Reno’s face and attempts a pin again, but it fails. Reno unleashes a quick poke to the eye and Nash recoils.
George Cassidy: Thumb to the eye! Such a dirty trick.
Reno stands up and grabs Nash by the hair, delivering a kick to the gut he steadies himself and sets-up a suplex. Sending Nash colliding back first with the mat, Reno remains holding onto Nash and twirls his legs, turning his body over he carries Nash into another suplex.
Truth Waters: Double suplex from Reno.
Reno goes for the pin.
One!
Two!
Nash kicks out and Reno rolls off of her, Ryan checks on her. The fans’ chants once more escalate as the two stand up and square off. Nash and Reno lock-up and this time Nash is on the offensive as she drives Reno backwards, delivering a kick to his shin, as Reno’s grip loosens, causing Nash to take momentum as she swings a left upper cut, knocking Reno into the turnbuckle. Nash takes the offensive and delivers punch after punch, dazing and weakening Reno. She grips his wrist and sends him flying against the ropes with an Irish whip, Reno bounces right off the ropes and collides with Nash who hits Reno with a clothesline. Reno’s head bounces off the mat. She climbs the turnbuckle and delivers a 450 splash, connecting it, but the move causes a wave of pain to rush through her.
Truth Waters: Nash’s previous injury earlier might be causing problems.
Nash remains on top of Reno, while Ryan makes a count.
One!
Two
Reno kicks out and rolls Nash off of him. In the distance a figure emerges on stage and the fans begin a “Reno” chant.
George Cassidy: What’s Phil Allen doing out here?
Truth Waters: Come to spur his partner on, I assume.
Phil Allen, the other half of the Alliance champions, is slowly making his way doing to the ring dressed in a training tracksuit and carrying his half of the tag belts. He eyes up Reno and Nash in the ring and takes a stand at the apron, shouting comments toward Reno.
Truth Waters: Reno and Nash once again stood in the centre of the ring.
Nash spots Allen out of the corner of her eye and takes not of his position. Reno grapples Nash, but she ducks and knees him in the groin. Reno bites his lip as he bends over. Nash charges off the ropes and connects with another neck breaker sending Reno to the mat, face first, blood oozes form his nose.
George Cassidy: Blood! Excellent! This is a good match.
Truth Waters: Fitting for Hallowe’en!
Nash now straddles Reno’s back and pulls him back into a texas cloverleaf. Reno reels in pain as Nash’s hands tighten around him, pulling his body taut and causing a wave of pain to flow through his muscles.
Truth Waters: Nash on the offensive with a Texas cloverleaf.
Phil Allen: Reno knows what he’s doing.
George Cassidy: Jesus, where’d you come from?
Truth Waters: No, Cassidy, it’s “Allen”.
Reno reaches with a free arm and manages to grip the bottom rope. Ryan breaks up the submission and Nash stands up, cheers escalating for both Reno and Nash.
Phil Allen: That’s it, Reno. Keep it up.
Truth Waters: So, Mr. Allen, how does it feel being Alliance champs?
Phil Allen: It’s an honour. Now, we’ll train harder and keep on bringing a new game each and every week, the Coalition will be the best tag team to date.
George Cassidy: Says you. The best team was the Unfuckables.
Phil Allen: And… where are they now?
George Cassidy: Er, try the Roll of Legends?
Meanwhile, Reno has delivered a sly but effective powerbomb to Ellis Nash and is now climbing the turnbuckle to the jeering of fans. He stands with a unsteady tilt on the turnbuckle, however, all of sudden, out of the blood, Ellis Nash rises and runs lunging onto the two rungs of the turnbuckle and grips Reno, sending him over her head from the top turnbuckle with a hip toss. Reno collides with an almighty bang to the mat below.
George Cassidy: What a move.
Truth Waters: Nash with the pin.
Phil Allen: Reno, get up, damnit!
Reno kicks out on the two, looking a miles away as Nash stands up, shaken and a little sore.
Phil Allen: We’re still in it.
George Cassidy: Not for long.
Reno is now standing in the ring, his back to Nash who is bent in a position, awaiting Reno. Reno turns and Nash sends a kick to gut she lunges at him, going for the Decree. But just as she goes for the inverted face lock DDT, Reno holds her up in the air and drops her, spins her and grapples her into a fisherman suplex. He lifts her into the air and connects the Reno Readjust.
Truth Waters: That’s the big one!
Phil Allen: Woo! YES!
George Cassidy: Calm down!
Ryan makes the count.
One!
Two!
Thr-!
Nash gets her shoulder up on the last second and Reno can’t believe it.
George Cassidy: Woo! Nash kicked out.
Phil Allen: Impossible. That was a slow count.
George Cassidy: Or… Nash is just too damn good for your New Jersey Politician.
Truth Waters: Ellis Nash kicks out of the Reno Readjust and the match is still going.
Reno pulls Nash to her feet and bad-temperedly slings her into the ropes. Going down in anticipation of a back body drop opportunity, Reno is surprised to look up and see Ellis clinging to the ropes.
George Cassidy: Nice work. She stopped herself; held onto the ropes – no dice for R---
Truth Waters: Oh!
Having taken a step forward, Ellis leaps into a vicious swing culminating in a boot across the cheekbone for Wesley Reno, who falls to his hands and knees, blinking in shock. Nash gets right back on her feet and throws her legs into Reno’s head again.
George Cassidy: Awesome shot, followed up with a low dropkick to the face and Reno is reeling!
Truth Waters: Instant turnaround by Ellis Nash! She went from a losing position to this in a matter of seconds!
Phil Allen: Come on, Reno! How can you be letting this happen?
Nash drags Reno to his feet and strikes him across the face. Lashing blindly in reply, Wes Reno is lucky to clock the former Frontier champion in the temple, and she drops to her knees. Adjusting quickly to the situation as ever, Reno rips out a snap suplex.
Phil Allen: That’s my boy!
Truth Waters: Reno’s snap suplex dead-halts Nash’s progress.
Wesley Reno rolls straight through to hook the leg.
Phil Allen: Eh, I don’t think so…
One!
Two!
Ellis kicks out.
George Cassidy: Suck on that!
Phil Allen: He should’ve pressed home his advantage first…
Reno wearily reaches his feet, surprised to see Michael Ryan wagging a finger.
Phil Allen: What’s this?
As Ryan exchanges a quick word with Reno, who nods solemnly, Phil Allen stands up from the announce table, suddenly looking livid.
George Cassidy: Sit down you moron…
Truth Waters: I think Phil Allen’s taken some offence to Michael Ryan having a quick word with Reno…
Reno is surprised to see Allen heading up the ring steps and rushes over, waving his arms, clearly indicating to his partner that there is no need for his involvement. But Allen is insistent, moving through the ropes. Referee Ryan comes over to talk to him.
Truth Waters: Clearly Phil Allen is unhappy about s---
George Cassidy: CHECK ELLIS!!!
Nash lifts a powerful forearm between Reno’s legs from behind! The politician crumples!
Truth Waters: REGIONS SHOT~!
Boos ring out across the arena as Nash lands a powerful reverse DDT.
George Cassidy: DECREE!!! DECREE!!!
Phil Allen is now pointing in horror at Ellis Nash, protesting; but Michael Ryan, following his arm, sees only a pinfall in progress.
One!
Two!
Three!
Truth Waters: THREE!! THREE!! Reno got screwed!
George Cassidy: And it was his own partner’s fault! Ellis takes the win!
Nash quickly slides out of the ring, a smile on her face, as an angry Phil Allen confronts Michael Ryan. ”EL-LIS SUCKS! EL-LIS SUCKS!” competes with ”RE-GIONS SHOT! RE-GIONS SHOT!”
George Cassidy: Some old-school cheating in AWC for a change, I love it!
Truth Waters: This is an outrage!
George Cassidy: Oh come on, Truth, politicians take the low road all the time… it’s about time Wes Reno had it turned around on him!
James Brunt: The winner… ELLIS NASH!
Truth Waters: Nash then picks up another win in very dubious circumstances on the road to Triangles…which continues in seven days' time on Fresh!