FEATURING: TRUTH WATERS, GEORGE CASSIDY
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
It began with eight.
Eight men of valour and steel.
Eight men ready to fight for what they wanted.
The mysterious blue shapes of last year’s Zero To Hero logo float into focus on the black screen.
Unproven. Untested. Unreal.
The camera pans left, to find eight hungry men waiting in line. Highlights of their first night in AWC are semi-transparent in front of their bodies as we move down.
Pact.
Strider drops to all fours in the corner, shaking his head as he tries to galvanise himself. Pact, however, leaves no room for that, an angry boot to the head making him lie prone. Pact, kneeling down, then takes Strider’s head and pulls it roughly upwards, positioning it over the bottom rope. He now applies some pressure.
Truth Waters: Pact is choking the life out of Strider!
George Cassidy: And this referee isn’t doing a damn thing about it.
Alex Strider.
Hate places Strider in the corner, his body prone. Hate goes to the opposite side of the ring and looks ready to charge at Strider. The fans cheer Hate on, the chants audible again. Hate makes his charge, but at the last second, Strider ducks, going under Hate’s legs and emerging at the other side. Strider pulls Hate down into a lightning-fast small package!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: Alex Strider is going to the finals!
Danny Polar.
Quick as a flash, Polar spins around with a heel kick.
Truth Waters: Spinning heel kick connects, knocking Hate down.
Polar continues with his momentum, quickly jumping up to the second rope…
George Cassidy: Springboard leg drop! And Danny Polar is on top here.
Polar makes a quick cover, pulling up on Hate’s leg.
Hate.
Strider re-enters the ring as Hate approaches him for another attack. Strider ducks an attempted clothesline, bounces off the opposite ropes and nails Hate with a massive forearm to the chest. Hate stays standing. Strider tries it again, only to be knocked down viciously by a power slam. Strider, the wind having been taken out of him, stays down.
Christopher Ashton.
Ashton rushes at Krimzon rather abruptly, backing him into the corner. Krimzon is taken completely off guard, and Chris-Ash nails him with a series of shoulder thrusts, taking the wind out of him. Chris-Ash whips Krimzon off the ropes, following it up with a huge exploder suplex! Chris-Ash falls into the cover on Krimzon.
ONE!
TWO!
Krimzon gets the shoulder up just before the three count.
Kris Krimzon.
Soon enough, he gets back up and lifts Lavelle onto the top rope.
Truth Waters: Krimzon’s going for something spectacular...
He goes for the top rope frankensteiner, but Lavelle knocks him away from the turnbuckle. Relentlessly, Krimzon goes back for another go, and this time hits the frankensteiner!
Sektor.
Pierce Lavelle picks his opponent up for the Whiplash but the powerbomb is countered by Sektor into the C-Sektion in mid-air for the second time!
Truth Waters: DEAR LORD! WHIPLASH COUNTERED AGAIN! INTO THE C-SEKTION!
George Cassidy: And onto that steel chair! Surely this is punishment enough...
Pierce Lavelle.
Lavelle now mounts the ropes himself, and, standing on the second turnbuckle, locks his arms around Strider’s waist. Sure of a firm grasp, he launches himself backwards, swinging Alexander Strider’s lighter body overhead in a devastating German superplex!
New grounds. Unplotted expanses. A fresh furrow to cultivate.
Strider grabs the leg and spins Lavelle around. Unsure of his bearings, Lavelle staggers, and “The Mongoose” takes the opportunity to quickly kneel behind his opponent and scoop him up into the Life Support hold!
George Cassidy: LIFE SUPPORT!
Truth Waters: Strider has Life Support locked in! A great little sequence of counters and reversals ends with Strider using his agility to put his finishing submission in place.
George Cassidy: And you know this is going to be the end.
Lavelle struggles valiantly, however, refusing to give in to the pain. The intensity of the crowd’s noise is deafening as they react loudly to the importance of this moment. Grimacing, Strider tightens the stretch.
Truth Waters: These two men have come so far together in this match, but is Lavelle going to be able to hold on?
With a last gasp of breath, Lavelle splutters some words to the referee and shakes his head in anguish. His arms flap uselessly, but his meaning is conveyed to Senior Referee Michael Ryan.
George Cassidy: And that is it! That’s it, folks! Alex Strider has caused Pierce Lavelle to submit!
Truth Waters: The pain of Life Support was just too much for the rookie who has come so far so quickly tonight!
The bell rings, and Strider, exhausted, collapses to the mat.
The Mongoose made his mark... and AWC was on the map.
Then came the fire.
A roaring inferno wipes away the last trace of Zero To Hero as it fills the screen.
Fire at its deadliest; hot and red like the anger of the devil himself.
The set for Solarized is shown from a roaming camera.
No one had seen the smoke.
Where there’s smoke there’s fire... and smoke is the warning...
But no one had seen the smoke.
Strider being led away by the police at the end of Zero To Hero.
And now fire, ripping the infant apart in a war of attrition.
Threatening to engulf a baby that had barely seen the light of day.
But the inferno did not destroy AWC.
Lavelle now sees an opportune moment to weaken the champion. The fans are on their feet chanting for the challenger. Pierce Lavelle smiles at the fans’ support and gives a thumbs-up to the fans before applying a sit down cobra clutch. Strider reels back in pain and can do nothing except accept the pain.
Truth Waters: Once again Pierce Lavelle is sticking to his strategy of working on one body part, quick takedowns and some high risk moves.
George Cassidy: This kid is pulling out all he’s got. I am developing some respect for the young superstar.
Truth Waters: Really? Perhaps George Cassidy is changing in his approach.
George Cassidy: No. I’m kidding. Well, sort of. He’s got potential, I suppose. But he’s raw. Very raw.
Strider grimaces.
George Cassidy: Alex Strider looks close to passing out – in fact, so does Lavelle. How can they be expected to go on?
Sweat is literally pouring down the two men’s bodies.
Fight fire with fire.
What doesn’t hurt you only makes you stronger.
Lavelle turns around and Strider plants him with one shot from the steel chair. The fans boo Strider as he laughs out loud. Ignoring the fans and their opinions. Michael Ryan yells for Strider to stop and put the chair down. Strider laughs again and chucks it into the flames. Strider watches as the devouring heat begins to slowly melt the metal.
Truth Waters: What a cheap shot by Strider. Steel chair to the head of Lavelle! And look at the chair in the fire... it’s ALREADY melting!
Target market firmly in hand...
Time to expand.
A Union Jack flag flutters as the scene changes entirely.
Britain. The land of hope and glory.
A country whose Queen is respected and not detested.
A civilised world of traffic jams and crumpets.
The outside of Earl’s Court.
AWC gave Britain a whole new spin.
Maddy Estelle, giving the announcement that first told the world of what would turn out to be arguably AWC’s finest event to date.
The British had a decorated history of success in battle...
But never had they seen anything quite like this.
Lavelle struggles to his feet, glaring at Hate. Hate sneers and suddenly moves towards the railing, letting out a yell as he tosses The Educator up and off the top deck of the fast-moving bus. Educator’s body slams onto the pavement and rolls with the impact, coming to rest right alongside a gigantic pile of canine excrement.
Truth Waters: Oh my God!
George Cassidy: No! The Educator just got LAUNCHED off the top of the bus and – do you think he’s OK? He could be seriously injured!
AWC was taking the world by storm. Now was a time for promises... pledges... goals... futures...
A blank parchment covers up the double decker bus of carnage, and on it, the word “Testimony” is scrawled in blue ink.
Testimonies.
A sequence of different pairs of wrestlers brawling in the ring from Testimony, fading quickly into each other: Winters and Mapleleaf; Red Rock and Bomber; English and Wade; Shipley and Face-Eater; Lavelle and Hate in the cage.
AWC pronounced its willing to stay for the long run, and fans embraced that.
So then was the time to give them the treat they deserved.
We’ve seen this structure before, but it still inspires awe.
The gleaming mesh of four different colours, reflecting the burning house lights and incessant camera flashes, represents the conundrum that faces our nine competitors tonight. How to achieve their prize of choice? The call is for fast and devastating fighting. Anything else won’t be good enough. Win your triangle and you’re guaranteed a prize, but if you take your time about it it might not be the one you wanted.
The production crew are enjoying themselves, playing with the zoom and panning of the high camera to afford us the best possible view of the Triangles structure. There are, in effect, four different cages down there, all triangular, all identical in shape and size. The golden triangle, in the middle, shares walls with all three of the outer triangles – red, green and blue. There is a door in each of the golden walls – in fact, more of a hatch, which will have to be crawled through by the winner of its corresponding outside triangle after he or she receives the key from the referee.
The officials are already in place: Lars Larsson in the red triangle, Joseph Reid in the blue and a harried-looking Aaron Davies in the green. Michael Ryan, who will be adjudicating from above, finishes climbing the outside ladder to the rooftop, and scrambles onto the green triangle before looking out and around in wonder. What a feeling, twenty feet up, with eighteen thousand people’s eyes on you.
He has a briefcase in each hand and Pierce Lavelle’s Transatlantic championship belt buckled around his waist. The significance of each of these was explained by David “Pearl” Harber weeks ago on Fresh!, but as Ryan places each of them – the title belt on the roof of the red triangle; the blue briefcase on the roof of the blue triangle; the green briefcase on that of the green triangle – there’s time for a narrative recap. Once a wrestler has won in his or her triangle and moved into the golden triangle, the next challenge is how to get through the roof hatch. Once up on the roof, that wrestler can choose a prize from what is left.
Assuming this is the first wrestler to reach the roof, all three will still be available for selection. The first, the Transatlantic title, is self-explanatory. It’s what every AWC wrestler aspires to – or at least they should. Pierce Lavelle, its current holder (for the second time), is universally recognised as the top dog in AWC, and no one can dislodge him from that lofty position while he remains in possession of the belt.
Nine men. Four sectors. One roof. Three prizes. One immense structure.
The green briefcase is next on our agenda, and it’s also known as the Grand Slam Package – because in theory, the recipient of this briefcase could be the first to do the AWC Grand Slam. The case contains five contracts. One is for a Transatlantic title shot, one for a Frontier title shot, and so on for each of AWC’s championships. All the holder has to do to cash in a contract is sign it and hand it in to the Entertainment Manager, and he or she will be granted the opportunity at the belt. The contracts do, however, expire in a year’s time, so in a way whoever chooses this package is setting him or herself the challenge of winning every single AWC title in a year.
Finally, the blue briefcase. It’s got a big question-mark on the side, and that’s for a reason: nobody knows what’s in it. Nobody save Pearl, who personally selected its contents and locked the case. Not a single person in AWC knows what is in that briefcase except the Entertainment Manager. Knowing Pearl, it’s something good – or more likely, something confusing. Most of his brainchildren are. Kind of like this match.
Triangles.
Jack Murphy rolls away from the blue hatch and starts to bring himself to his feet, just as Shipley and Lavelle reach their respective penultimate rungs. The younger steps to the top, and Lavelle links his arms together around Shipley’s legs.
Truth Waters: That’s the way to do it; Lavelle lifting Shipley up – can he reach that handle…?
Shipley strains his arms, but his fingertips are still tantalisingly just a few inches away from the handle. Unaware of how far off he is, Lavelle tightens his grip and makes the step up to the top platform of the ladder himself, putting all his way on the right foot as he moves upwards. Tim Shipley manages to grasp the bottom of the handle –
George Cassidy: Here comes The Bull!
Murphy roars straight through the ladder, knocking it out from beneath them and sending Lavelle tumbling to the floor where he lands on his side, the wind knocked out of him. Shipley holds the hatch tight, and it suddenly jolts downwards, opening up as Shipley’s body now has nothing to stand on and no one to hold it. The sudden halt as the hatch reaches its open position tests Shipley, but he holds on tight, gritting his teeth as he channels all his energy to his arms, and he dangles in mid-air looking desperately down at the fallen Lavelle below him.
Truth Waters: The pathway is clear! The hatch is open and any man can take his prize! All they need to do is get through… but right now no one can do that!
A taste of things to come. AWC put it all on the line... and came up with the goods.
Then came the tougher times.
A fly-by over a deserted Arctic landscape, all soft snow and ruthless ridges and gleaming glaciers. Then, a 180 degree spin and we see an army marching in time.
Melancholy. Bitter cold. The winter of discontent.
Financial troubles. Accounts in the red. Nasty rumours.
But did that stop AWC?
The three guards are no pretty much done. They are all close to being unconscious, with Fluffy actually there. There is one area of the ice that is much thinner than the rest of it, and Tim drags the MUCH bigger Fluffy to it, putting Fluffy’s head between his legs. Liam gets on his knees and begins whispering prayers. Suddenly, Tim lifts Fluffy’s lifeless body onto his shoulder and then…
SLAM!
Fluffy goes right through the ice.
Make the best of a bad situation,
they said.
Red Rock looks to Irish whip Shipley, who has already risen, but a vibrant Shipley reverses the motion and as Boolie shouts to him, Red bounces off the ropes. Shipley meets him with a driving knee, and RR goes flipping over it to land neatly on his back as the crowd murmur appreciatively. Shipley doesn’t even watch him fall, having already hopped onto the second turnbuckle and leapt off with The Chi-Squared Drop...!
Jeff Marx: Damn!
He misses!
AWC did that and more.
Wade picks Chainz up and whips him into the ropes. The steel chain extends to its full six feet as Chainz hits the ropes and comes back at Wade who holds the chain up and runs with it held high and collides with Chainz whose face gets the brunt of the blow. Chainz is now bleeding fairly well as he rolls around on the ground in pain. Tracy looks nervous on the outside as Wade struggles, but pulls the huge man over to his corner and his cup. Wade grabs Chainz’s head and positions it over the cup as drops begin to trickle into the cup.
AWC made a WAR.
Lavelle grabs O’Shea by his lank blond hair and pulls him up to a sitting position, then taking his arm and leading him fully up. Groggy, O’Shea nearly slumps into Lavelle, who steps back, flicking a boot into his abdomen, and gives him a tough DDT. O’Shea falls flat to the canvas, and Lavelle turns him over for another pin:
Dave Kern: DDT! And is this it?
And at last... some peace. A quiet end to 2005 as everyone sat back and reflected on seven months of success. AWC was nearing the pinnacle of wrestling in every respect. Was it sustainable?
The logos of various competing wrestling promotions slide across the screen, threatening AWC’s imperious rise.
AWC more than sustained its position.
AWC improved it.
Heroic Henry picks up his opponent, picks him up over his head with a Gorilla Press Slam, but Charles Kensrue slips behind Hank and kicks Hank in the back of his knee after he lands on his feet, taking the big man down to one knee. Afterwards, Kensrue uses a Tajiri-like reverse spinning roundhouse kick right in the side of the head, rattling the brains of “The Super Heroic.” CK goes for another pin attempt.
But there were to be casualties...
The images of Pierce Lavelle and Paddy O’Shea loom bigger and bigger on the screen.
The losses of men whose enduring popularity had carried AWC for so long.
Lavelle Whiplashing Adam Dick through the door of the Triangles structure. O’Shea clinging on to the cage up high in the air at the tense conclusion of Testimony.
In every battle there must be sacrifices.
The reinforcements arrived. The others stepped up their games. But throughout AWC, bitterness was brewing.
And what better way to embody bitterness than a close-up of that scum-of-the-earth, Adam Dick?
No circle can be perfect. No team can be untouchable. Bitching became hatred became thirst. Thirst for blood.
Suleimon manages to reach the top of the fence. He teeters on the edge trying not to fall off. He stares down at Red Rock who still isn’t moving! Suleimon places the chair under his right leg!
Truth Waters: NO THAT’S INSANE!
George Cassidy: ARABIAN FACE BUSTER!
Suleimon launches himself of the 12 foot cage fence with the chair under his leg and comes crashing down on Red Rock with a devastating leg drop!
Truth Waters: HOLY SHIT!
George Cassidy: THAT IS FUCKED UP!
Bloodlust.
Chainz grabs Ellis and sets up to throw her into the line of wire. He tries to whip her but Ellis holds onto Chainz’s arm and uses it to swing herself behind Chainz. With all her might she pushes Chainz into the wire which implants itself on Chainz’s chest. Ellis backs up as Chainz slowly tries to pull the barbs out of his chest. Ellis quickly runs and jumps over Chainz, grabbing his head in the process and dragging it with her causing Chainz’s neck to be caught up in the wire. Chainz screams in pain as he uses his hands to pry his neck free which is now bleeding profusely. He turns his back to Ellis who uses the opportunity to grab a rope from underneath the ring. She throws it, wrapping it around Chainz’s neck. Grabbing both ends she uses it to pull Chainz back into the wire and flipping him over it, tearing his back in the process.
All roads lead to Rome. All paths lead back to the origin. All strings tie into one big knot.
Projects have conclusions. Books have final chapters. Stories have endings.
But AWC didn’t need an ending...
It needed a subtotal.
Just an appraisal of everything that had been achieved...
Before a new beginning.
The logo for Twilight Of The Gods appears.
Year One is at an end.
The light is fading.
Dusk comes upon us with scores to be settled.
Weeks separate us from the discovery of a new Hero.
But before that...
We must honour the Gods. The Gods in their Twilight.
Sektor
Pierce Lavelle
Ralph Richards
Pact
Christopher Ashton
Eddie Sanders
Hate
Danny Polar
CMack
Jessie Donovin Ross
Herb Vanburen
Taylor Troublesome
Joshua Curtis
Zack Johnson
Jonathan Drachen
Samuel Livingston
Crimson O'Malec
Chantelle Williams
Brittany Kelly
Silas Grief
Bruce Lomond
Ellis Nash
T.A.P.
Lamar the Kebbler Elf
HIV Joey
Daniel Kiki Von Tannerinos III
Joey Dave Gladstone
Ethan Phoenix
The Educator
Steven Xandrous
Jonny Sake
Void
Evolution
Paddy O'Shea
Nathan Benedict
Artis Spector
Alistaire Seamus Sheridan
Sam
Pat
Gabriel
The Farmer
Drake Coleman
Kuff McSlade
Tim Shipley
Jack Moses
Mike Wade
Amy Silveira
Andy Murray
The Illustrious Face-Eater
The British Bomber
Tamura
Gakuto
Ami Mizuno
Juri Hyobanshi
Red Rock
Tim Martin
Liam Martin
Adalia Delorian
John Kross
Jason Locke
Grady
Harry
John
Patrick Mapleleaf
Titan
James Varga The Handler
John Edwards
Katerina Zagarovsky
Laura Winters
Crucifix
Ghost
Jayden Gi-Kyon
Jack Murphy
'Mare
Butterfly Hamada
Caleb Andrews
Tony Aliso
Alcaeus
Johnny Noble
Norman Quiry
Alexa Kendericks
Chainz
Xin Xin Xiong
Nottingham
Race Alexander
Aimz
Acey Lavado
Sage
Mike Carman
Captain Suleimon
Damian D'Angelo
Darcy Crisis
Teresa Tomas
Jason Warr
Buddy Kingfisher
The Marvinator
Anton Assault
Shawn Harris
Wayne Russell
Tiara Belle Russell
Damien Wilson
Jiro Sennosuke
Joey Six
Collision Course
Vince Jones
Chuck Norton
Hash Brown Bridges
The Green Grappler
Hammer
Anvil
Sebastian Archer
Heroic Henry
AgentDash
Samantha Taylor
Neurotic
Mr. Marshall
Jason Ortiz
Dagoth Kinslayer
Mikey O'Reilly
Victor Cage
Garbage Bag Johnny
Sgt. Jacobs
and, in loving memory,
Alexander Strider
Every one of these wrestlers helped to shape what AWC is today. Every one should be honoured. This is their Twilight. For now.
Truth Waters: Cassidy, I can safely say that that is the longest pay-per-view intro I have ever sat through! But I was enthralled all the way! So great to see the old faces, and the tribute to Alexander Strider, Cassidy...? Cassidy?
A loud snore is heard.
Truth Waters: Um, this could take a while.
Abandoning the commentators, the cameraman turns around to give us a sudden and spectacular view of the stage area for this event. With the announcers in their usual position at one side, their table is dwarfed by huge fantastic representations of AWC roster members as mythological gods. There is of course Jack Murphy as Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders – the emblem of tonight’s show, as seen on the posters. But too we have Butterfly Hamada as Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love. Hate as Ares, the god of war. Adam Dick is Hermes, the god of thieves, while his Unfuckable partner Mike Wade takes a position we might have expected for Chainz: he represents Eros, the god of... well, sex. The Wade Parade would definitely agree, and besides, Chainz is there too – Tartarus, the god of the depths of the underworld. Ellis Nash is Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy, and Aimz is the lesser known Nyx, goddess of the night. Most prominent of all is the one and only AWC Legend Pierce Lavelle, who despite being ineligible for active competition, takes the place of Zeus: king of the gods.
Truth Waters: George Cassidy is awake! That’s right! Even George Cassidy is desperate to see what will happen at this FINAL event of AWC’s first year! Going into tonight we have Jack Murphy as champion, two cage matches, and we’re taking over a school! ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN! Who will go into Year Two as top dogs?
George Cassidy: (wearily) Me. Now can we start, please?
IS THAT WHO WE THINK IT IS?!
FEATURING: JEREMY J., MIKEY O'REILLY, ZSASZ AND... PSYMON?!
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Here’s someone we haven’t seen in awhile - Jeremy J. is in the backstage area, examining the concession stand in front of him. He sees a couple of doughnuts that look reasonable enough to eat and puts them on a plate he has in his left hand. Not satisfied with what’s on his plate, he examines the concession stand a little more thoroughly, finding a couple of more doughnuts to satisfy his palate. He finds paper cups, pours himself a cup of milk and is ready to feast.
About fifteen feet to Jeremy’s left, there is a man wearing an ankle-length, black leather trench coat with a snap-on leather hood. It appears that the trench coat clad man is walking towards the locker room area. Jeremy hears someone walking towards him, turning his head to see the man wearing the leather trench coat advancing forward. Jeremy J. scans quickly for any backstage privileges and sees none. He walks towards the trench coat clad man and steps in front of him.
Jeremy J.: Sir, you have to leave this area of the backstage, you don’t have... any---
Jeremy J. slowly comes to a stop as he realizes whom he’s talking to. His eyes get really wide, as if he’s standing in the presence of a man he considers a living legend.
Jeremy J.: Oh my God... you’re Psymon aren’t you?
Knowing that he has been identified, the man pulls down the hood, revealing himself as, yes, Psymon, the former PRIME superstar.
Jeremy J.: Holy shit, you are Psymon! You had a great showing at that Dual Halo thingy last month!
Jeremy J. stops himself, twisting his face into disappointment.
Jeremy J.: But you’re still in PRIME, aren’t you?
Psymon smiles at the young man in front of him and shakes his head.
Psymon: Not anymore. I let myself out of my contract from PRIME after the Dual Halo match aired. My reasons of leaving PRIME are just that... my reasons. If you excuse me, I have an appointment with someone. Be a good boy and let me pass.
Jeremy J. doesn’t move from his spot. Perhaps it’s the shock that he’s standing in front of the former LOW Extreme champion, or he has more questions to ask the self-proclaimed “Monster.”
Jeremy J.: If you’re not in PRIME anymore, why are you here? What’s your appointment?
Psymon lets out a sigh. This is something he doesn’t need at the moment.
Psymon: That’s for me to know and for you to not find out. Get out of my way or I’ll have to move you myself.
Jeremy J. ignores the threat. He wants a story no matter what the cost is. He has devoted himself to do just that. He continues to stand in the way of the ever-controversial Psymon.
Jeremy J.: Inquiring minds have got to know why you’re here, Psymon. Not everyone can walk around in the backstage area in a different promotion without the right credentials. If don’t tell me why you’re here, I’m gonna hafta call the backstage security and have them escort you off the premises.
Psymon feels his temper growing. Who the hell does this overweight asshole think he is? He’s about to dislodge this kid’s head from his body. Instead of doing that and reverting into his monster personality, he calms himself down, looking at the young man in front of him.
Psymon: Answer me this, kid... How old are you?
Jeremy J. arches his eyebrows when Psymon asked the question. His age? Why does Psymon want to know his age?
Jeremy J.: I... I’m 22, turning 23 in September. What does that have to do with why you’re here?
Psymon shrugs his shoulders.
Psymon: Nothing in particular. Do you want to live to see your 23rd birthday?
Jeremy J. Well... yeah...
Psymon: Well, if you value your life, I suggest you let me pass.
Knowing that he is serious, Jeremy J. reluctantly steps out of Psymon’s way. Psymon walks passed the young reporter and heads towards the locker room area. He stops in front of a door that’s labeled “MIKEY O’REILLY.” Psymon knocks on the door and waits for a response. When one doesn’t come, he’s about to knock again when he hears Zsasz’s voice.
Zsasz: Enter.
Obeying, Psymon opens the door and steps inside. He sees both Mikey O’Reilly and Zsasz standing around in the room, conversing with one another. Psymon notices right away that Zsasz doesn’t look like himself. He looks paler to him and he doesn’t have that malevolent glint in his eyes that Psymon is accustomed to seeing.
Even though Zsasz looks like he’s death warmed over, he’s actually in better spirits than most after sustained a horrid attack from last week. He isn’t dressed in his usual tailored black business suits. Instead he’s wearing a pair of nice black slacks, a black muscle shirt, revealing his heavily taped trap muscles, black dress shoes, a platinum gold Rolex watch on his left wrist and his gold chain consisting of his personal possessions: his two wives’ wedding bands.
Zsasz smiles at Psymon, giving him a nod and extends his right hand gesturing a shake.
Zsasz: Greetings, Mr. Kreed. I was wondering if you’re ever going to show up tonight.
Psymon takes the narcissist’s hand and shakes it. He looks up at Zsasz, smiling.
Psymon: Wouldn’t be right if I disappoint a narcissistic businessman, now would it? Someone has to play the accomplice, am I right?
Zsasz: Indeed you are, Mr. Kreed. You’ve met Mikey O’Reilly if I’m not mistaken.
Psymon nods, looking over at Mikey O’Reilly. These two have had a brief history with one another. They’ve had some bouts in independent federations and battled in Japan. Neither man were able to put the other way, the endings always result in draws.
Psymon: Good to see you again, Mikey.
Mikey O’Reilly: Likewise.
Psymon turns to Zsasz again.
Psymon: So why am I here, aside from the fact you want me to play some sort of an accomplice?
Zsasz: I called you down here because I have a bit of a problem with a fellow “superstar” - and I use that term loosely - here in AWC. As you can see, my injuries speak for themselves.
Mikey O’Reilly: Yeah, Chainz has made things personal and it’s time that we teach that bastard a lesson.
Psymon’s eyebrows furrow into a knit. He looks over at Mikey O’Reilly, then at Zsasz.
Psymon: Did you say his name is Chainz?
Zsasz’s face goes from jovial to serious in about three seconds. It sounds to him that Psymon may know the man. This may benefit Zsasz.
Zsasz: Indeed I did. Have you heard of the man?
Psymon nods.
Psymon: I may have. For three months I’ve been searching for the man who broke my ankle. From what I could make out, the man was a large, bald man. If this Chainz individual goes by the name Edgar Reznik, then I found my culprit.
Zsasz has a sinister idea brewing in his head, but his better judgment overruled it. If Zsasz tells Psymon that Chainz is, in fact, the man he’s looking for, Psymon will find Chainz and will bludgeoned him to death with his bare hands, leaving Mikey with no opponent to face tonight. As much as he doesn’t like the idea, Zsasz is going to spare Chainz’s insipid life for now... until he gets his hands on him, anyway.
Zsasz: No, Chainz’s real name is Michael Sloan. I’ve done background checks on him and such. He isn’t the one you’re looking for.
Psymon looks to be disappointed, but in actuality he isn’t. His search will resume while doing whatever he’s asked to do here.
Psymon: Oh well, I can search elsewhere then. Besides, not all attackers use their given names, am I right?
He looks up at Zsasz, giving him a wink. Zsasz doesn’t really approve of the joke.
Zsasz: Very funny, Simon. Anyway, to further elaborate my problem with Mike “Chainz” Sloan, I want to make him suffer, make him feel the same pain that I sustained at Fresh! last week, and I have many plans to do just that.
Zsasz pauses, the malevolent glint that Psymon knows all too well comes back into Zsasz’s eyes.
Zsasz: I have so many plans to destroy that ignoramus. What he did to me will pale in comparison to what I have in store for that boy...
He looks over at Psymon.
Zsasz: And you’re the perfect candidate to carry out my plans. Would you like to hear what I have planned?
Psymon nods his head. He knows there’s no turning back now.
Psymon: I’m all ears.
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: ZACH
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Berkeley, California, weighing in at 190 pounds… AgentDash!
‘Music Box’ by thrice comes over the loud speakers and Dash arrogantly walks through the curtains. The crowd gives him a mixture reaction and he casually walks down to the ring. He jumps to the apron and flips over the top rope. He walks over and shakes Aaron Davies’ hand and stands in his corner as his former tag partner is introduced.
James Brunt: And his opponent tonight, weighing in at 251 pounds… Mr. Marshall!
Marshall comes out from behind the curtains with no entrance music and the crowd simply erupts in cheers for the AWC newcomer. As he makes his way down the ramp his face shows no emotion and he locks eyes with opponent. He never loses eye contact as he climbs through the ropes and into the ring.
AgentDash stands opposite of his former tag partner. A grin forms over Dash’s face as the explosion of cheers still pouring from the crowd’s excitement from the pure exhilaration of being at Twilight of the Gods. Mr. Marshall stares blankly at his opponent. Aaron Davies calls for the bell and the two men begin circling the ring. Mr. Marshall lunges forward and locks with Dash. Marshall quickly snaps Dash’s arm back behind his back almost ripping it out of his shoulder socket. Dash let’s out a yelp of pain and drop kicks Marshall’s knee. Marshall’s face hits the mat hard and Dash sharply kicks Marshall in the same knee again.
Truth Waters: Dash has already locked his target on Marshall’s knee. Marshall better reorganize his game plan to deal with the speed advantage Dash has over him.
Marshall pops back up to his feet, supporting his knee, catches a quick right hand with his face. Dash swings again, Marshall ducks under and wraps his arms around Dash, slinging him in the air and landing a release German suplex.
George Cassidy: That’ll slow that fast bastard down.
Marshall lifts Dash onto his feet and whips him into the ropes. Dash returns, Marshall heaves him up in the air and slams him hard with a spinebuster. Marshall picks him back up and grabs him, begins to lift him in the air and Dash lifts his knee right into Marshall’s groin. Marshall drops him and Dash seizes the opportunity with a spinning heel kick. Marshall falls back into a turnbuckle. Dash darts into the corner with a high elbow. Marshall stumbles out, Dash sits on the top turnbuckle and locks Marshall’s neck and twist himself, pounding Marshall’s head hard into the mat!
Truth Waters: What a tornado DDT!
Dash jolts into the ropes and flips off the second rope with a asai moonsault. Dash grabs Marshall’s leg….
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Marshall kicks out at the last second.
Truth Waters: No!
George Cassidy: (stifling a yawn) Come on, T, it’s the opener, nobody cares.
Truth Waters: T?!
Dash jumps to his feet and helps Marshall to his feet, Dash runs into the ropes and jumps into the air, snatching Marshall’s head and slamming it into the mat hard with a running bulldog. Dash jumps into the near turnbuckle and leaps into the air, flipping once…twice, and cameras all over the stadium erupt in flashes, Marshall rolls towards the ropes and Dash lands hard on the ring. Marshall lifts himself up and grabs Dash. Marshall squeezes him in tight and flips him over the top of his head, smashing him hard with a belly-to-belly suplex. The crowd erupts in cheers. Marshall stands Dash up and knees him hard in the mid-section. Marshall lifts Dash up and easily hurts him with a release dragon suplex. Trent picks Dash back up; Dash wraps his hands around Marshall’s head and lets gravity do the rest of his work.
Truth Waters: A jawbreaker! Where did he get the energy to do that?
George Cassidy: Bout time he did something, the beast Marshall is starting to really put some pain in the small body of AgentDash.
Dash grabs Marshall’s head and smashes it into the turnbuckle. Dash hangs on to Marshall’s hair and climbs to the middle turnbuckle. Dash leans Marshall backwards and wraps his arm around his neck… Dash springs off the middle turnbuckle twisting his and Marshall’s body slamming him with a reverse DDT! Dash rolls onto his stomach and crawls to his feet. His eyes widen as the crowd stands to their feet. Marshall is motionless; Dash jumps to the closest top rope… He stands straight up and soars through the air!
George Cassidy: It’s Dashing~!…
Spinning in the air Dash locks on his target Marshall… Marshall lifts both of his feet in the air and gravity inevitably pulls Dash’s head to them.
Truth Waters: AgentDash is out cold!
Marshall is stunned by the attacks earlier from Dash. He slowly crawls towards Dash, the crowd is cheering for both men…
George Cassidy: (sarcastically) GET UP DASH, GET UP…
Marshall lazily pulls himself on top of Dash… Reid drops down to count…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dash gathers all of his strength and pulls his shoulder up at the very last nanosecond. Marshall gathers all his weight on Dash and he climbs to his feet. Marshall pulls the confused Dash up and whips him into the ropes and knees him in the stomach on his return. Marshall grabs Dash’s waist and powers him into a rydeen bomb. Marshall drags Dash over to the ropes and hangs half of his body out onto the apron.
Truth Waters: What is this monster doing?
Marshall slowly climbs to the top rope. He shakily rises to a full standing position. The crowd stands in awe as his 256 pound frame leaps into the air. Marshall drops a huge flying leg drop onto Dash’s neck. Dash crumbles to the outside of the ring and Marshall falls hard on his knee.
Truth Waters: Did you just see that?! That was amazing!
George Cassidy: Like, pass the nuts.
Marshall is slow to his shaky feet. He picks AgentDash up and pushes him onto the apron and under the bottom rope. Marshall puts his hurt leg on the apron and lifts himself up…the pain surges to him and he falls back to the outside of the ring. Dash gets up and instinctively jumps over the top rope landing a swanton bomb on Marshall! Both men slam on the hard mats outside the ring. Dash stumbles to his feet, Marshall climbs to his feet, Dash grabs Marshall’s head and throws him to the crowd barrier, Marshall reverses and easily slings Dash into barrier. Marshall runs over and clotheslines Dash hard. Marshall then grabs Dash and smashes him into the side of the ring. He rolls Dash in the ring and rolls under the bottom rope. Marshall gets up and picks Dash’s legs up for a leg grapevine, Dash wildly kicks his feet and pushes Marshall back into the turnbuckle.
Truth Waters: These men are going toe to toe back and forth! What a match!
George Cassidy: Monkey nut or cashew… monkey nut or cashew…
Dash gets up drives his elbow into Marshall’s temple. Marshall rocks back just enough for Dash to swing his body around and snap his heel to the side of Marshall’s head. Marshall hits the mat hard. The crowd lets out a rush of “oooohs” and “aaaahs”. Dash quickly jumps off the second rope and lands a senton bomb. He hooks Marshall’s leg…
ONE!
TWO!
No! Truth Waters: He kicked out… He kicked out!
Dash stands Marshall up and whips him into the ropes; Marshall reverses and slings Dash hard into the turnbuckle. Marshall charges into the corner and body splashes Dash hard. Marshall latches onto Dash and performs a belly-to-belly suplex. Dash lands hard on his back. Marshall gets up and drops knee into Dash’s midsection. Marshall picks Dash up and slings him once again into the turnbuckle. Marshall sits Dash on the top rope and climbs up, wraps his arm around Dash’s neck. Dash lifts her knee into Marshall’s crotch, grabs his head and Dash springs the two from the top rope and plants his face hard into the mat!
Truth Waters: STARSTRUCK!
George Cassidy: What? Oh, jobber move.
Dash hooks the leg and Aaron Davies counts…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
James Brunt: The winner… AgentDash!
‘Music Box’ by Thrice plays over the loud speakers, Dash climbs the turnbuckle and absorbs the energy from the crowd.
Truth Waters: AgentDash started out this great night, adding to his ‘win’ column. What a way to start our Twilight!
FEATURING: LUIS FERRARA, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: OBINNA O.
Luis Ferrara glances about and knocks on the door. The hallway is empty and Luis, wearing a neat white zoot suit, is looking quite alone. He glances around warily and sighs, brushing a few loose strands of hair back into position. The camera swivels around to reveal the name on the door that he is knocking at: Sasha Volkyeva, Entertainment Co-Manager. Luis draws himself up a bit and knocks again. He is growing visibly impatient, his thumb pressing down on his fingers in a way that shows he'd rather be anywhere else.
Female Voice from Inside: Come in.
Luis blinks and looks around, passing his tongue over his lips. He closes his eyes, appearing to be making a short prayer.
Female Voice from Inside: Did I stutter? Come in.
Luis grunts and twists the brass doorknob, pushing the door open. The room appears to be several miles long as he peers into it, the desk at the opposite side rising up like a mighty mountain. Logic, of course, tells him that it isn't that way: the room is just normal-sized and he can see the woman who sits behind the oak table. Ms. Volkyeva is looking straight at him, her cultured Russian looks striking him immediately. If this were any other woman, Luis would be thinking of how he could make his move on her. With her, it was different.
The short man stepped into the office, his shoes gracing the lush carpet, and he brought his hand behind him to close the door. He looked at the ground and coughed into his fist, trying not to look at her. Sasha, wearing a neat suit dress, tilted her head as he shyly neared the desk. She gave him a sly smile that didn't help at all. He finally coughed again, bringing his eyes to meet hers.
The problem was that he had heard all about her. He had heard about what she did to get what she wanted, all the ways. Sometimes she brought the hammer down quick and smashed your nuts, grabbed you by the neck and made you do what she told you to. Other times she got another guy to rough you up, messed with his mind so he got hot at you and wanted to kill you. Other times she moseyed up to you and flirted or maybe did a little bit more, and then when you were all ga-ga, she took advantage.
Even if that was the case, Luis didn't like to be used.
Luis Ferrara: You, uhh… you wanted ta see me?
Sasha Volkyeva: That's right.
Silence.
Luis Ferrara: …what about?
Sasha Volkyeva: Well, Mr. Ferrara, it's about your employment in the AWC and your client's employment in the AWC.
Luis Ferrara: Whatchoo gettin' at, lady?
Luis instantly regretted it and Sasha's infuriated expression told him that he should. It quickly faded into neutrality, but Luis knew that women held a grudge. Vaginas were like vaults that kept all those grudges tight, which explained why men never held grudges so long. Sasha tapped a pen to her lips.
Sasha Volkyeva: What I'm getting at is your visas. You and Anton don't… appear to have any documentation for your stay in the United States, Mr. Ferrara. I don't know how you were hired without it, but it presents a sort of… problem, shall we say?
Luis froze on the mention of documentation, but like Sasha earlier, he quickly thawed. He had to keep cool, keep a good head on his shoulders. He nodded and folded his hands together in front of him.
Luis Ferrara: Whassa problem? We been drawin' in money for ya, so I don't see why we need to… y'know…
Sasha flashed him a coy smile.
Sasha Volkyeva: Well, Mr. Ferrara, I suppose I could be persuaded to keep all of this away from prying eyes and listening ears…
Luis Ferrara: Uh huh… and how you want me to 'suade you?
Luis took a step forward, his lecherous eyes searching the statuesque woman. Sasha met his gaze and her lips quirked a bit.
Sasha Volkyeva: A enforcer.
CAW! Shot down, and just as the bird began to fly. Luis blinked and his stance became more professional.
Sasha Volkyeva: I don't think that many of the things I've been doing around here are endearing me to the workers and neither Jack nor Michael quite worked out... Anton appears to fit the bill quite nicely. He can handle himself outside of the ring, unlike some of the other idiots I see walking around, and he is just generally imposing. As long as he agrees to it, I'll keep news of this… mistake away from the government. I'll even help him get the necessary papers in order.
Luis gulped.
Luis Ferrara: And… whaddabout me?
Sasha snorted a bit and slipped her pencil into a cup, turning away from him.
Sasha Volkyeva: I could always use a toady.
FEATURING: CHAINZ, VINCE JONES
AUTHORS: JAY AND MIKE S.
The camera cuts to the back where we see Chainz and Vince Jones walking into the arena, each with a duffel bag in hand. The two of them look serious, both intent and ready for each of their respected matches though Chainz seems a bit more preoccupied with something.
Vince Jones: Yo man, wat’s on yo mind?
Chainz: Huh, oh nothing. I was just thinking of Tracy and what she was doing tonight.
Vince Jones: Yo man, fuck that bitch. You gotta get yo mind on this shit goin down right here.
Chainz: Don’t worry about Mikey O’Reilly, he’s as good as beat. I guarantee you this, he ain’t walking out of this arena tonight.
Vince Jones: Dat’s what I like ta hear, bout time the old Chainz be coming out and showing cats how we do it 360 style.
Chainz: And after him I’m done with him I’m gonna pay my sweetheart a little visit. I’ve got a feeling she’s gonna take me back… she has to.
Vince Jones: Man you ain’t got no need fo' a skank bitch like her.
Chainz: Don’t call her a skank bitch.
Vince Jones: I’m just saying, without her you finally gettin yo grove back. You finally got yo mind on shit that’s important.
Chainz: Don’t worry V, I got this shit. I got something special planned.
Chainz chuckles and walks off, leaving a confused Vince Jones pondering as to what Chainz was talking about.
FEATURING: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY
AUTHOR: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY
Unexpectedly, “My Name is Mud” by Primus begins to play, and brown strobe lights flash as Garbage Bag Johnny stumbles down the ramp looking confused. The Hartford crowd gives a lukewarm response. Johnny rolls underneath the bottom rope and pulls himself up. He stands, leaning forward over the top rope for support, and calls for a microphone.
Truth Waters: I don’t think this appearance by Garbage Bag Johnny was scheduled.
George Cassidy: I’m with you on this one. Hopefully security will get this bum out of here.
Somebody tosses Johnny a microphone. He tries to catch it, but it bounces off of his hands. Johnny is obviously too disoriented to function with any sense of coordination whatsoever. Garbage Bag pulls the microphone up from the canvas and falls back towards the ropes, catching himself in a leaning position.
George Cassidy: Is this guy related to Pearl?
Truth Waters: I don’t see any resemblance. Why?
George Cassidy: Because if he’s not, I have no idea why Pearl would hire him. How’d he even pass the piss test?
Truth Waters That’s a good question. Johnny is, somehow, undefeated in AWC. And later tonight he takes on Aimz and Butterfly Hamada in an enclosed cage!
Garbage Bag Johnny leans his head towards the microphone and opens his mouth to talk, but instead, he starts coughing. After regaining his composure, GBJ wipes his spit off of the microphone and begins his speech.
Garbage Bag Johnny: I’ve only been a member of the Atlantic Wrestling Club for a few weeks now, but I’ve got something that a lot of the wrestlers here don’t have. Chainz doesn’t have it.
The crowd boos for Chainz.
Garbage Bag Johnny: The Illustrious Face-Eater, Adam Dick doesn’t have it.
The crowd starts to boo even louder.
Garbage Bag Johnny: Not even AWC champion Jack Murphy has it!
The crowd begins cheering at the mention of the AWC Transatlantic champion.
Truth Waters: What is it?
George Cassidy: My money is on Hepatitis C.
Garbage Bag Johnny: You see, Massachusetts…
Truth Waters: I think he means Connecticut.
Garbage Bag Johnny: What I have that all those men here don’t have is a complete lack of reputability. What I have is tabula rasa, a clean slate, no accomplishments at all. And normally, that’s nothing to brag about, but with the Zero 2 Hero tournament coming up, I have a huge opportunity ahead of me. You see, Massachusetts…
Truth Waters: Connecticut again.
George Cassidy: Shut up, Truth.
Garbage Bag Johnny I am without a doubt the biggest zero in AWC. I’m a dirty, rotten, bumbling loser. I’ve eaten pizza that I found in the garbage. I smell like I live underneath a pile of hippies. Hell, I accidentally peed on myself a little bit this morning and haven’t taken a shower.
Truth Waters: That is completely disgusting.
George Cassidy: There’s nothing abnormal about peeing on yourself from time to time.
Truth Waters: What?
George Cassidy: Shit. Did I say that out loud?
Garbage Bag Johnny: With these credentials, I’m not only a sure bet to make it into the Zero 2 Hero tournament, I’m also issuing this guarantee. I will win the Zero 2 Hero tournament because I have an ace up my sleeve.
Truth Waters: I wonder what he’s talking about.
George Cassidy: Ah, forget about it. He's not even wearing a shirt. He doesn't have sleeves.
Garbage Bag Johnny starts cackling and coughing as he drops the microphone, drops to the canvas, and rolls out of the ring. “My Name is Mud” starts to play again as the crowd filters back into their seats with their recently purchased food items from the concession stands.
STIPULATION: TRIVIAL PUNISHMENT
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: NATHAN
James Brunt: The following is a Trivial Punishment match! The rules are as follows: When one of the competitors is locked in a submission hold, the referee will ask him a question regarding something in history. If he answers correctly, he must be released, but if he answers incorrectly, the match is over and the other man will be declared the winner!
The dulcet opening of “The Turkish March” hits the PA, and the crowd is quick to react with a round of jeers as Captain Suleimon appears, flanked by General Rahman waving the Turkish flag.
James Brunt: Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by General Rahman… from Istanbul, Turkey, weighing in at 198 pounds... CAPTAIN SULEIMON!
The two take their time making their way to ringside, Rahman brazenly waving the Turkish flag while Suleimon yells a little something extra at the fans who love to hate this man.
Truth Waters: Well here we have the mastermind of this match, Captain Suleimon, who was none too pleased after Darcy Crisis showed up at succeeded in passing his Knowledge Challenge a few weeks back on Fresh!
George Cassidy: Ah, but there’s where you’re wrong Truth-y… Darcy DIDN’T pass the challenge. One, he didn’t answer the last question… and two, he probably cheated anyway, like Captain Suleimon suggested. This match is about putting the cheater in his place and determining which of these men has the superior intellect!
Truth Waters: Oh please… How could Darcy have known the questions beforehand? I think that “Sully,” as Darcy Crisis likes to call him, was upset to learn that not every American is as dumb as he would like to claim!
Suleimon and Rahman are now in the ring, Suleimon raising his arm as if already in triumph as Rahman continues to proudly wave the Turkish flag. Suddenly, the opening lines of Darcy Crisis’ theme music hit the PA:
Hide… your… face… forever…
Dream… and… search… forever…
The heavy opening guitar riff of “Open Your Eyes” by the Guano Apes hits as Darcy Crisis appears on the stage, much to the delight of the Hartford fans going absolutely ballistic.
James Brunt: And his opponent… from East Bay, California, weighing in at 227 pounds… DARCY CRISIS!
As he makes his way to ringside, Darcy points at Suleimon with a determined look on his face, before giving him a thumbs down. Referee Richie Travis stands between Suleimon and Rahman, making sure they don’t try anything as Darcy slides under the ropes and into the ring.
Truth Waters: And here comes the Darcinator, who certainly looks full of confidence for this matchup!
George Cassidy: False confidence if you ask me, Truth. I understand that the questions tonight have been submitted to referee Richie Travis by the front office, and neither wrestler has any prior knowledge of what these questions are going to be. So Darcy Crisis won’t be able to get away with cheating tonight!
Truth Waters: Cassidy, could you please explain to me what it is you have against Darcy Crisis? You’ve been harping on him since the day he got here… all I’ve seen is a man who works hard to get things done in the ring.
George Cassidy: I hate his name, I hate his stupid smirk, I hate his girlfriend… oh, and he’s a cheater. I can’t stand cheaters.
Truth Waters: …didn’t you cheat on your wife?
George Cassidy: You’re walking on dangerous ground. Truth.
“Open Your Eyes” fades out, and Crisis and Suleimon are now standing a few feet apart, eyes locked on each other as Travis runs down the rules with them one more time. Not one moment after Travis is done with his rundown, Suleimon reaches out and nails Darcy with a vicious slap. Darcy’s face turns with the slap, but other than that he makes no move, standing motionless. Slowly he turns to face Suleimon again, and he turns his face to the other side and taps his jaw, asking for Suleimon to slap him again. Suleimon rears back to do so, but on the follow through Crisis intercepts his arm and takes him down into a reverse armbar! However, Suleimon manages to escape the hold before Crisis can lock it in, and regroups on the other side of the ring.
Truth Waters: Obviously no love lost between these two, but Darcy Crisis goading Suleimon’s anger out of him nearly got the Captain caught in the first submission of the match-up!
George Cassidy: Mind games… Crisis’ specialty, are they not? We’ve been watching MORE than enough between him and that piece of crap Aimz since he got here.
Truth Waters: Well from what I understand the two have reconciled after that brutal Fresh!burst encounter just a few days ago. Still, one has to wonder the nature of their relationship.
George Cassidy: I’ll tell you exactly what it is – battered and broken. At least, that’s what Darcy’s going to be when Suleimon gets through with him, and Aimz as well when she gets tossed about in that cage like a ragdoll. Ah, ha ha ha…
Finally ready for more, Suleimon marches back to Darcy but is met with a swift boot to the midsection. Doubled over, he falls prey to an Irish Whip, and on the rebound he’s met with a flying forearm from the self-styled “D to the C.” Both men are down, and Darcy looks to lock a front facelock on Suleimon, but again he manages to escape before Crisis can lock it on in full. The crowd starts to get behind the Darcinator as Suleimon ponders away to break through Darcy’s offense. Crisis lifts him off the mat and hooks Suleimon’s head under his arm, looking for a suplex. But finally, as he gets lifted into the air, Suleimon catches a break. Twisting his body around he is able to escape Darcy’s clutches before he gets slammed to the mat, and capitalizes by shoving the bewildered Darcy from behind, who stumbles into the ropes. Upon turning around he’s met with a textbook dropkick from the Turkish Captain, sending him crashing the canvas.
Truth Waters: Well Captain Suleimon has been viewed in many circles as the underdog, but he’s starting to mount some offense of his own here…
George Cassidy: Underdog?! Not in my book, and not in any other book worth reading… Oh wow, here he comes!
Quick as a cat, Suleimon dives at Darcy’s knees before he can get back to a vertical base, keeping him grounded. Even quicker, Suleimon applies a single leg lock. Crisis attempts to twist out, but there’s nowhere for him to go.
Truth Waters: And our first submission of the match-up applied by Captain Suleimon! Here comes the referee for our first Trivial Challenge.
Richie Travis reaches through the ropes to be handed a microphone, taking a few moments to soak in the only real mic time he’ll probably ever get.
Richie Travis: (reading from a card) Darcy Crisis… in what year was serfdom abolished in Russia?
Darcy Crisis: Eighteen…
Suleimon cinches the hold, hoping the added pain would hinder the racking of his brain. It causes a pause and the pain is evident in Crisis’ face, but he still manages to give an answer.
Darcy Crisis: 1861!
Richie Travis: Correct!
Now covering the mic, Travis orders Suleimon to break the hold, and begins a five count. Frustrated, Suleimon releases him at four. With his hands placed firmly on his thighs, he waits for Darcy to get back to his feet.
Truth Waters: And Darcy aces the first question, earning his escape!
George Cassidy: Oh come on… EVERYONE knows that’s when the serfs were freed!
Truth Waters: I certainly didn’t know that… and I very much doubt that you did.
When Darcy finally gets his legs under him Suleimon makes his move. He again goes to tackle Crisis at his knees, but this time the “D-Masta” has it scouted and leapfrogs the attempt. Suleimon goes down and Crisis is able to get a hold of his ankle just before he can escape to safety. Twisting around to gain a better grip, Crisis locks in an ankle lock. Instinctively Suleimon reaches for and grabs hold of the ropes, but instead of ordering Darcy to break the hold the referee instead moves again for the mic.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis with the ankle lock locked in! Here comes Question #2!
Richie Travis: Captain Suleimon… the infamous Zimmerman telegraph was sent by Germany to what North American country?
Suleimon is in a great deal of pain with Crisis threatening to snap his ankle in two, but he manages to come up with an answer as well.
Captain Suleimon: American swine… the ans - AHHH! The answer is Mexico!
This answer is correct as well, and Crisis is forced to break the hold. Unlike Suleimon he does so without a referee’s five count, but instead stays on the attack with a flurry of stomps to Suleimon’s chest.
George Cassidy: And there’s a real genius coming up with the answer, just like that! The most accomplished wrestler in the world couldn’t beat Captain Suleimon in this type of match!
Truth Waters: I’d have to disagree Cassidy… if Crisis stays on the attack like he is now, Suleimon will be the one answering all the questions. And the more pain he can inflict, the harder it’s gonna be to come up with the answers.
Despite the stomps, Suleimon grabs a hold of the ropes and starts pulling himself back up. Once he gets to a knee Darcy abandons the stomps in favor of forearms smacked across his back, but Suleimon answers with punches of his own. The two continue trading punches as Suleimon wills himself back to his feet. This continues until the Captain is able to duck one of Darcy’s punches and grab a hold of his arm. He whips the Darcinator into the ropes, but Darcy grabs a hold of them to prevent a rebound attack. Suleimon sprints at Crisis with full force, but Darcy low-bridges the ropes and sends Suleimon crashing out of the ring.
Truth Waters: And that’s what an accomplished ring general is capable of! Darcy Crisis sending Captain Suleimon out of the ring in the most painful of landings!
Darcy rolls beneath the ropes after Suleimon, and ignores the orders of the referee to get Suleimon back in the ring. Suleimon attempts to fight back with more punches, but growing tired of the punching game Crisis whips him towards the ringside steps, which Suleimon crashes into knees first with a sickening thud.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis really taking it to the “Sultan of Smackdown” here…
George Cassidy: This is poor strategy, Truth. The key to this match is making your opponent answer a question incorrectly… I fail to see how these outside the ring shenanigans are going to accomplish that.
Truth Waters: This isn’t just about winning the match, Cassidy. These two definitely don’t have an iota of respect for each other, and would love nothing more than to punish each other physically in addition to coming out the victor. Right now, it looks as if the Darcinator has the upper hand in that game.
Darcy lifts Suleimon’s crumpled form from the ground and again hooks Suleimon’s head, seemingly looking to crack a few ribs by dropping him chest first onto the railing separating the fans from ringside. But sensing the danger, Suleimon pushes forward with all his might, pushing Darcy backward into the railing. He drops like a heap, clutching his back which took the brunt of the collision.
Truth Waters: Uh-oh, Crisis may be in trouble here… there’s that back with a history of problems yet again taking a brutal blow.
George Cassidy: Ha-HA! You should have retired yourself and stayed retired, Crisis!
Suleimon lifts the downed Crisis and rolls him back into the ring. With Crisis making no move to get up, Suleimon presses his knee squarely into Darcy’s back and applies a chinlock. Darcy howls with pain as Suleimon screams at Richie Travis to ask the next question.
Richie Travis: Darcy Crisis… who was named the first female prime minister of Israel?
Still consumed by the throbbing in his pain combined with the torque on his neck, Darcy offers no reply. Travis tells him that he has five seconds to answer, and begins counting it down. At last, as Travis reaches the count of 4, Darcy gives his answer:
Darcy Crisis: Golda… Meir…
Suleimon curses something aloud in Turkish, forced to break the hold. Crisis remains practically motionless until Suleimon begins stomping away at his back.
Truth Waters: Well it looks as if Suleimon has decided to target Darcy Crisis’ back, which could spell certain doom for the man from East Bay.
George Cassidy: And unlike at Fresh!burst, his precious little Amy isn’t here to end the match on his behalf! Ha ha, this is great, Sully’s gonna pull this off! Oh God, he’s even got ME calling him “Sully… ”
Suleimon takes some time off of the assault to motion General Rahman to begin waving the flag once more. Rahman obliges, and Suleimon arrogantly strides around the ring, his arms raised dominantly. While his back is turned, Darcy finally staggers to his feet, stumbling over to the turnbuckle for support. Upon seeing this, Suleimon flies at the Darcinator, nailing him with a leaping body splash. Darcy staggers once more, and Suleimon attempts to take advantage with a kick but his leg is snagged by Crisis mid-thrust. The crowd begins to buzz again for the “D-Masta C” as he shakes his head at Suleimon, asking if he knows the mistake he just made. Suleimon hops backward twice, but nails Darcy with a vicious enzugiri, dropping both men to the mat! And again Suleimon is on top of Crisis quick as a cat, this time applying a lion tamer on the fallen Darcinator. It’s time yet again for another trivia question from the referee.
Richie Travis: Darcy… give me the name of the political party that Theodore Roosevelt belonged to in an unsuccessful bid for the presidency in 1912.
Despite the screaming pain in his back, Darcy manages a smile in between sheer grimaces, knowing this question is in the bag.
Darcy Crisis: Bull Moose… bitch!
Once more Travis directs Captain Suleimon to break the hold, much to his ire. Crisis looks as if he’s about to catch his second wind, but Suleimon quickly removes it with a swift kick to Darcy’s gut. He quickly crashes back to the canvas, gasping for breath as his Turkish competitors contemplates another way to keep the Darcinator down.
Truth Waters: Darcy Crisis is staying alive with his sheer knowledge alone, but I’m not sure how long he can stay afloat that way!
George Cassidy: It’s all over but the cryin’, brother! It’s only a matter of time before Darcy’s mind starts to slip!
Suleimon moves to lock on a straight armbar, but as he falls to the mat to secure it Darcy pulls it away at the last moment, seemingly out of the instinct that such a maneuver would be impossible to escape in any other type of match-up. Suleimon follows Darcy’s escape route and looks to pounce, but Crisis catches him off guard with a stiff shot to the midsection. A repeated shot moves the Captain far back enough that Darcy can regain his footing. The crowd is really behind him now, with chants of “DARCY! DARCY! DARCY!” as he turns Suleimon’s cheek the other way with a thunderous slap. Darcy stumbles a bit on the follow through, but slaps Suleimon again as he’s reeling. The Captain manages to block a third slap attempt and tries to out-power Crisis, but Darcy uses his own momentum against him to send him flying into an Irish Whip. On the rebound Suleimon looks to absolutely level Crisis with a clothesline, but it’s ducked by the Darcinator who quickly twists around and locks in a sleeper hold! Hastily fetching the mic, Travis gives Suleimon the next question in the Trivia Challenge.
Richie Travis: Here you go, Captain… what hero of the Trojan War was killed by Achilles and had his body dragged outside the city walls?
With the sleeper locked in it doesn’t look as though Suleimon can even breathe, let alone offer a reply. Travis orders Crisis to loosen the hold just enough so that Suleimon can speak, which Crisis reluctantly obliges. Perhaps in due because of his Turkish heritage, which is the present-day land where Troy once resided, or perhaps simply due to remarkable intellect, Suleimon quickly gives his answer.
Captain Suleimon: Hec… tor. Hector of… Troy.
The referee signals that the answer is correct, and commands that Darcy release the hold. However, Crisis looks about and smiles, and the crowd begins to buzz as it appears they see what he has in mind. Rather than releasing the hold Crisis locks it in even tighter, causing Suleimon to flail about wildly. This causes Travis to begin a five count. Just as his arm is about to go up for the fifth and final count, Darcy pulls all of his weight towards the mat, pounding Suleimon down with him.
Truth Waters: MIND CRISIS!! Suleimon passes that part of the test, but Crisis drops him with the Mind Crisis anyway!
George Cassidy: What a cheap shot! I cannot believe this man represents our country! No wonder Captain Suleimon has such dim views on our people… trust me, when he gets up and beats the crap out of this pond scum, I’ll be the first to assure him otherwise.
Truth Waters: Umm… even if Darcy was half as bad as you suggest, I’d still pick him for the model American citizen over you any day of the week.
Darcy looks down at the fallen Suleimon, and it appears he has only one thing on his mind: locking in the most punishing of submission maneuvers professional wrestling had to offer.
Truth Waters: Well I don’t think he’s going to get the chance, Cassidy! It looks like it’s DARCINATOR TIME!
He grabs Suleimon’s arm and holds it aloft, working the crowd over as he prepares to lock the move in. The crowd really begins to sway now, sensing the end is near for Darcy’s Turkish challenger. With lightning speed, Darcy simultaneously falls to the mat with his legs wrapped around Suleimon’s exposed arm. Crisis twists his legs once more to pull Suleimon’s neck and shoulder in with the trapped arm, and the Darcinator is applied!
Truth Waters: And Suleimon has been targeted for Darcination! There’s no way Suleimon could possibly answer a trivia question in that kind of pain!… wait a minute, what the HELL is this?!
In a last ditch effort to rescue his downed comrade, General Rahman leaps to the apron and begins screaming at Richie Travis about something. Travis starts screaming in return for Rahman to get the hell off the apron as Suleimon frantically begins tapping like his life depended on it.
Truth Waters: Suleimon is tapping! He’s tapping out!
George Cassidy: It doesn’t count! It doesn’t mean anything, no question has been asked! Besides, General Rahman obviously has something he’s trying to tell the referee… I bet he found Darcy’s cheat sheet!
Seeing what’s going on, Darcy releases Captain Suleimon, who shrieks with pain and clutches desperately at his shoulder. Crisis walks up the confrontation happening on the apron and moves Travis aside, screaming at Rahman that he’s stepping into a world of pain by getting involved. Without warning, Rahman catches Darcy off guard by poking him in the eyes.
Truth Waters: What the hell?!?! Rahman has no business getting involved here! Suleimon should be disqualified!
George Cassidy: Now now, Truth… the way I understand it, this match is similar to an “I Quit” type of environment. And the important thing to remember about “I Quit” matches… there are no disqualifications!
Hoping to buy enough time for Suleimon to recover, Rahman is most displeased to see the Captain fallen and grabbing at his injured shoulder while Darcy has now regained his vision. Looking as if he’s seen a ghost, Rahman bolts off of the apron and makes a run for it as Darcy exits the ring in pursuit. Rahman makes a beeline around the stairs and up the ramp, fleeing backstage as Darcy is hot on his heels. The general disappears behind the curtain yelping in Turkish, and figuring him no longer a threat, Darcy stops short of following him backstage and moves back toward the ring. He hops onto the apron and steps through the ropes, but neglects to see that Suleimon is not so much reeling on the canvas from the pain of the Darcinator so much as he is playing possum. Darcy Crisis moves to lock on the maneuver yet again, but Suleimon leaps up and levels Crisis with his non-injured shoulder… ferocious clothesline!
Truth Waters: What a clothesline from Captain Suleimon! Both competitors are down, and they look like they’re out!
Looking as if he’s unsure what to do for several moments, Richie Travis finally begins a ten count. After three, neither of the two has so much as stirred. But before he can get to number four…
George Cassidy: Oh NO… look who it is, Truth…
Appearing on the stage is none other than Darcy’s closest confidant and most dangerous of enemies… the Red Raver, Aimz, who has brought a steel chair with her. A look of definitive purpose is on her face as she makes her way towards the ring as all the spectators look on in disbelief.
Truth Waters: I can’t say for sure what the hell Aimz is doing out here, but if I do say so myself it look like she’s staring a hole into Darcy Crisis!
George Cassidy: I thought you said these two reconciled, Truth!
Truth Waters: So I was told! Yet here she is, and she doesn’t look happy one bit!
Aimz slides the chair into the ring and slides under it a moment later. Retrieving the chair with one hand, she makes a move for the Darcinator, but just before she can make it to him Richie Travis intervenes. He begins screaming at Aimz to leave the ring, but she makes quick work of him by piefacing him back down to the mat. Both competitors in this Trivial Punishment match are still down, but with a look of rage Aimz revives the competitor she is clearly closest to, both in literal proximity and in backstage relations. As he begins to stir, Darcy looks up and is absolutely bewildered to see that Aimz is the latest interloper in this match-up. He gets to his feet and starts shouting at Aimz, demanding to know what she’s doing getting involved in this contest. She starts shouting in kind, but this doesn’t last long before Darcy shoves her. Having had enough, Aimz raises the chair, looking to scramble Darcy’s brains with it. Sensing the sheer amount of damage she could inflict, Darcy abandons the physical confrontation plan by throwing up his hands, hoping now to reason with her. Behind him, Suleimon is beginning to stir as well…
Truth Waters: Oh my, it looks like things are about to implode here between these two!
George Cassidy: I hope it happens! I hope to GOD!
Aimz backs Darcy up against the ropes, who still has his hands out trying to persuade her otherwise. But suddenly… the look of fury on her face vanishes, and she and Darcy share a knowing smile. Aimz turns to face Suleimon, who has know reached one knee, and Darcy looks on as Aimz ANNIHILATES Suleimon with the most lethal of chair shots to the skull. Suleimon keels over, crashing back down to the canvas.
Truth Waters: Dear God!!! What is this? Aimz just leveled Captain Suleimon with that chair after convincing damn near everybody that she had her sights set on Crisis!
Crisis smiles yet again, and drops to apply an STF to the down-and-out Captain Suleimon. With no choice, Travis drops to ask Suleimon the next question.
Richie Travis: Captain Suleimon… name the largest of the original Thirteen Colonies that ratified the U.S. Constitution.
Suleimon gives no answer.
Richie Travis: Captain… you have five seconds to give an answer.
Richie Travis then begins his five count. At the last possible moment, Suleimon musters a response.
Captain Suleimon: I… ungh…
Suleimon’s eyes roll back towards the ceiling as he loses consciousness. Travis announces the count of five, and signals for the bell to be rung. The timekeeper obliges, and this one is over!
James Brunt: The winner… DARCY CRISIS!!
As “Open Your Eyes” hits, Darcy and Aimz celebrate with a victorious hug in the center of the ring.
George Cassidy: What a travesty of justice! I cannot believe we’ve just bared witness to this! What a dirty trick Aimz and Darcy Crisis just played on this man!
Truth Waters: Turnabout is fair play, Cassidy… Rahman took it upon himself to get involved when Crisis had this contest already won! I agree with you that it was a pretty dirty trick, but Aimz arrived to even up the score and Darcy Crisis picks up the victory!
The fans aren’t quite sure what to make of the situation after witnessing the detestable Aimz assist their beloved Darcinator with a dubious victory over the equally detestable Captain Suleimon. Aimz and Darcy, however, look absolutely thrilled with the outcome as they back up the ramp, with Aimz holding Darcy’s arm triumphantly high.
Truth Waters: Well we’ve seen a lot from these two over the past few weeks… costing each other matches, competing against each other in matches, damn near killing each other… and here on pay-per-view, Aimz gives Darcy Crisis the assist in winning the Trivial Punishment match over Captain Suleimon! What the hell does this mean?
George Cassidy: I’ll tell you what this means! It means these two should be fined and suspended for their actions here tonight!
Truth Waters: I don’t know if I would go that far Cass, but I’d like an explanation!
FEATURING: DAVID "PEARL" HARBER, SASHA VOLKYEVA
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Pop.
“Champagne, Sasha?”
David Harber’s new tailored suit is cut brilliantly. So brilliantly that he looks like a movie star, not an Entertainment Co-Manager. Midnight black, making his shocking pink shirt and white tie all the more effective. But Sasha Volkyeva hasn’t even noticed.
Sasha Volkyeva: No. Not for me.
Harber sighs.
Pearl: Sasha, you’ve been staring out of that window for the past hour and a half. What exactly do you hope to achieve?
Pouring two glasses of champagne regardless of his colleague’s wishes, Harber steps across from the bar to where the blonde Russian is sitting. She’s usually so striking, but tonight... dare we say she’s showing her age? No make-up doesn’t help when your fiftieth year is rolling around faster than you would’ve hoped.
Sasha Volkyeva: (softly) You could not hope to understand. You are American.
Pearl answers immediately, incredulous, and his answer is the predictable one:
Pearl: What do you mean?
Setting her glass down on the small table that’s for show more than of any use, taking his own seat that faces hers (but hers doesn’t face back, having been turned to afford her a perfect view out of the large window; the dark car park and the rain against the window must be inspiring to some, Pearl guesses), sipping at the bubbly golden liquid.
Sasha Volkyeva: (sharply) It does not matter. I said not for me, thank you, David.
She carelessly flits out a hand and deliberately, yet without even looking, upturns the glass. As if in slow motion, the champagne rushes to the wooden floor of the spectacularly fitted room (it’s the last pay-per-view of the AWC year, why not have some luxury, they said), closely followed by the glass, twinkling brightly before it smashes into a thousand shards. Harber leaps to his feet.
Pearl: Sasha, what –
Sasha Volkyeva: Sit, David, sit.
Harber sits.
Sasha Volkyeva: Or stand. It is of no consequence.
Pearl: (irritably) Would you lighten up a little? It’s the last event of the year, Sasha! We’re supposed to be celebrating!
Sasha Volkyeva: (idly picking at her chin) What is there to celebrate? Really?
Pearl stares at her, scarcely believing what he’s hearing, then downs the rest of his champagne and slams the glass down on his own rather impractical side table.
Pearl: Our successes! Our achievements! Our future!
Sasha Volkyeva: (hotly) What future? What have we to look forward to? Twelve more months of working side by side? Not knowing what is what, who is who? Not knowing who is real and who is not? Which one of us is the figurehead, David? No one ever appoints two people to do the same job unless one of them he does not trust.
Pearl: Is that what this is about?
Sasha pauses, reflecting as the headlights of a truck reflect off Pearl’s empty glass.
Sasha Volkyeva: No, it is not. Sorry.
Harber sighs loudly.
Pearl: Then forgive me, Sasha, for not having the slightest clue what the hell is going on!
Sasha Volkyeva: I forgive you. As I said... you are American.
She’s still staring out of the window, and now rubbing her finger, her third finger, her empty third finger. Pearl notices.
Pearl: Your husband –
And now her neck snaps round, faster than anything; she looks at Pearl for the first time this evening.
Sasha Volkyeva: (fiercely) What of him?
Pearl: Where is he?
“Mother Russia” retreats back into her seat and looks out of the window once more.
Sasha Volkyeva: Nowhere.
Pearl: (throwing his hands up) What do I do with cryptic answers like that?
Sasha Volkyeva: Nothing.
Pearl: It was rhetorical!
Pearl storms away from the window and snaps open the screen of his laptop on the generously sized desk at one side of the room.
Pearl: Enjoying the show?
Sasha Volkyeva: (vaguely) Oh, yes.
Pearl: What matches are left?
Sasha Volkyeva: What... oh. That show. Has Adam had his match?
Pearl: (sighing) No... soon, soon...
Sasha Volkyeva: Ah.
Pause. Tap of the keys.
Pearl: You know... sooner or later, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on...
Sasha Volkyeva: There’s nothing.
Pearl: Nothing?
No answer.
Pearl: Is that a “nothing” or a “something”?
Sasha Volkyeva: (evenly) There’s nothing.
Pearl: You’ve been acting... differently.
Sasha Volkyeva: How old are you, David?
Harber stops, surprised. Closes his laptop. Walks back over. Sits down.
Pearl: Old enough to know that something’s up.
Sasha Volkyeva: No. Clearly not. You must grow older. Then maybe you will understand. But---
Pearl: (wearily) I'm American, right?
Sasha Volkyeva: Precisely.
Volkyeva swallows.
Sasha Volkyeva: I grow tired of this country. I yearn... sometimes I yearn for...
Harber’s eyes are wide.
Pearl: You’re homesick? That’s it?
Sasha says nothing.
Pearl: I don’t believe it.
Sasha Volkyeva: (sharply) Who are you to judge me, David Harber? You, who has never left the United States other than for business! We were forced from our homes, we didn’t have a chance to choose, to stop for a second to think...
And then she bursts into tears.
Pearl: Sasha, I... I'm sorry...
Harber knows he’s made progress. He’s slowly begun to unravel the mystery of Sasha Volkyeva, and who she is, who she was, who she will once again be. But now, as he exits his chair to crouch next to her and take her in his arms, and she sobs into his chest, he hasn’t the heart to press further.
Pearl: I'm so sorry...
Sasha Volkyeva: (between sobs) No – you are not – you cannot be sorry for something – something you don’t under – understand – y-you are –
Pearl: (whispering) American... I'm American... I know... but I'm here for you...
He rubs her back gently.
Pearl: Aren’t I?
Sasha stops weeping and looks up into his eyes. She’s fragile and he’s strong and she’s confused and he’s confused and she kisses him. Gently, then firmly. Her tongue slips in, flicking in and out and around. And he pulls away. She collapses into her chair and cries a bit more. He walks away and opens his laptop. Tap tap tap on the keys. Sniff. Tap. Sniff. Tap. Tiff. Snap.
Yes, On Pee-Pee-Vee!
FEATURING: MIKEY O'REILLY
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
“The Enemy” by Team Cazares starts to play as Mikey O’Reilly walks out onto the stage, looking out into the fans, who are giving him a well-balanced response of cheers and jeers. He walks down to the ring, rolls inside and gets to his feet, pulling out a microphone from his back pocket. For the first time since coming to AWC, he is going to speak in front of the fans. When the music comes to an end, he starts to speak.
Mikey O’Reilly: This ain’t my style to come out here and talk to you fans. But everywhere I go, fans ask me “Mr. O’Reilly, why have you come to the AWC?” Well, I’m gonna answer that question tonight.
Truth Waters: Finally, we’ll get some answers from the ever-impressive Mikey O’Reilly!
George Cassidy: Shh... I want to hear this.
Mikey O’Reilly: Well, this is my answer. My first intention in joining this promotion was to make Paddy O’Shea’s life a living hell. Six years ago, he stole something very prestigious to me: the Irish bare-knuckle boxing title, my ninth Irish bare-knuckle boxing title. He cheated me to win that title, and I wanted to revenge. I wanted to rip his head off an’ shit down his fuckin’ neck! Since he left after Bloodlust, I had my doubts if I wanted to come. But Zsasz and AWC’s David Harber talked me into joining anyway!
A cheap pop from the fans. Not exactly filling, but it serves its purpose.
Mikey O’Reilly: Anyway, since Paddy O’Shea is gone, I’d stumbled upon a new target - Mike “Chainz” Sloan. Last week, Chainz did something no man should ever do, and that’s cross personal boundaries. If you wanted a match, Chainz, all you had to do is ask, and I would’ve gladly accepted any challenge you wanted, but no... You had to take it upon yourself to extract vengeance by torturing Zsasz into giving you a match... a Sadist Match for tonight, no less...
Mikey O’Reilly pauses for a moment, visibly shaking with angry, remembering the shape Zsasz was in after his arrival. Ever since last week, Mikey has blamed himself for not coming sooner, helping Zsasz from Chainz’s clutches, but he didn’t. Instead he waited for Zsasz to come back to the locker room. When he’d realized that Zsasz was long for a lengthy period of time, he saw Zsasz handcuffed to some piping physically drained from Chainz’s malicious pleasure of torture.
His temper continues to rise. Mikey knows that there is no calming him now. He continues to speak.
Mikey O’Reilly: That’s just something you don’t do, Chainz. THAT’S JUST SOMETHING YOU DON’T FOKIN’ DO! Since last week, I wondered what I’ve gotten myself into, wondered what kind of man Chainz really is. Now I know... Chainz is nothing more than a coward, a man who uses malevolent tactics to get what he wants, not realizing the full ramifications of his actions. You made this personal, Chainz, and in this Sadist match later on tonight, one of us will be going to the hospital, and it’s gonna be you!
Another cheap pop from the fans, followed by chants of his name...
“MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY!”
Truth Waters: It’s pretty apparent that Mikey O’Reilly is severely pissed off after what had happened last week to his mentor. I hope Chainz gets what he deserves tonight.
Mikey O’Reilly: Tonight, I’m gonna do everyone in the AWC a favor... by putting Chainz out of his fokin’ misery! YOU WANT A SADIST? THEN BY GOD, YOU’RE GONNA GET ONE... Tonight, Chainz... I’M GONNA KILL YOU!
Mikey O’Reilly spikes the microphone onto the mat, then leaves the ring as “The Enemy” by Team Cazares. The fans are on their feet, cheering for Mikey.
Truth Waters: My God! With all that rage pent up inside that drunken Irishman, he may, indeed, kill Chainz in this Sadist match tonight! Chainz has definitely stepped over boundaries when he tortured Zsasz last week.
George Cassidy: He might, Truth. Alright, no, he won’t. But I’m a fan of Chainz, and he has taken this way too far.
STIPULATION: THREE WAY NO ESCAPE
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: ZACH
George Cassidy: And a match I’ve been looking forward to it since Pearl announced it only a few days ago! Lower that damn cage and let these guys get crazy.
James Brunt: The following is a Three Way No Escape match! First coming to the ring, from Halifax, California. Weighing in at 147 pounds, The Red Raver, Aimz!
“24” by Jem plays over the speakers and Aimz walks out from behind the curtains. She walks down the ramp beautifully and gets in the ring. The crowd boos as she stands in the ring. Michael Ryan points her to her corner and she hops back and forth getting the blood and adrenaline flowing rapidly through her veins.
Truth Waters: The intensity of this match is all going to be locked in this hellacious cage! I’ve never been more excited to see athletes beat the hell out of each other.
The explosive rock beat to the start of Foo Fighters' "Times Like These" causes everyone to jump to their feet as Butterfly Hamada bursts out from curtain and heads toward the ring.
The energetic young girl wears white trunks and a white top with the same color boots and knee pads, all trimmed with royal blue. Sequins of silver create patterns of flowers on her gear, and a great big butterfly in dark blue and aqua jewels rests on her blouse.
She slaps hands as she heads to the ring, but her attention focused on the ring. She climbs the steel steps up to the apron quickly, slightly bowing before entering the ring. She exudes seriousness, and a traditional attitude with a healthy respect for her sport, as she wipes her feet on the apron before entering the ring
James Brunt: And her opponent, from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 160 pounds... MEGUMI "BUTTERFLY" HAMADA!
James Brunt: And finally, “The Dirtiest Dude in the AWC!” Garbage Bag Johnny!
Johnny comes from behind the curtains, shaking hands with random fans. GBJ runs the rest of the way down the ramp with hideous brown lights blinking; GBJ runs up the steel steps and flips over the turnbuckle into the ring looking at his two female opponents.
Michael Ryan pushes the three opponents into their respective corners and signals for the cage to drop. The huge chain-linked iron encasing creeps down from overhead enclosing what could be a top match of the night. Butterfly stares at Aimz who is staring at a GBJ with a smirk on his face. The cage makes a large thud sound as it slams hard against the apron A few random AWC workers lock the cage in place and Ryan calls for the match to begin.
Truth Waters: The enclosed cage is locked in place, and this unique match-up is underway!
GBJ simply turns around and perches himself atop the highest turnbuckle. Aimz and Hamada lock in the center of the ring… holding that pose for a few moments. Aimz turns and whips Hamada into GBJ’s turnbuckle quickly and Hamada flies through the air with a high lethal missile drop kick. GBJ smashes into the corner of the cage. Hamada climbs the turnbuckle and begins throwing a fury of punches into GBJ’s face.
George Cassidy: Garbage Bag Johnny has found himself locked in the middle of a severe catfight. Haha! This is going to be great.
Aimz does a flipping hand spring into the corner and delivers a body splash to Hamada, grating her face and the back of GBJ’s head into the rough cage. Hamada falls straight back, and GBJ does what he can and flips off the turnbuckle landing a body splash on Hamada.
Truth Waters: I think GBJ is kind of enjoying himself in there. Women and pain… what more could a guy ask for?
Aimz dropkicks GBJ on the side of the head and knocks him off Hamada. Hamada rolls over and gets to her feet; Aimz grabs GBJ’s hair and assists him to his feet. Hamada crawls behind him, Aimz spears GBJ over the top of Hamada. Hamada springs, grabs Aimz hair and rakes her face into the nearby cage. Hamada lets out a fierce war cry and simply drops her female opponent.
George Cassidy: Come on Hamada… we’re ready for some blood. Break Aimz open.
GBJ runs up behind and drop kicks Hamada in the back of her head. Hamada lets out a scream of pain; GBJ sadistically picks Hamada up and elbows her in the face, again, and again, and again. Hamada’s face splits open and blood pours all over her white attire. A sick smile forms over GBJ’s beard covered face. The crowd erupts in a sick joy of cheers. Or could it be because Aimz was standing on the top rope. GBJ turns around in time to see her rip through the air landing a knee in GBJ’s head.
Truth Waters: These guys are trying to kill each other!
GBJ hits the mat hard. Aimz back flips off the middle rope and lands a body splash on Hamada. Aimz hops back up to the top rope and the crowd chants enchants a crazy look on this beautiful face. She ascends slowly up the cage and swings herself in monkey bar style to the middle of the ring. She releases her grip and drops a huge legdrop on Hamada’s neck! The cage rattles violently! Aimz lets out a huge scream in pain.
Truth Waters: This is… the most insane match I’ve seen in years! Spot after spot! I can barely catch my breath!
Blood completely covers the ring. GBJ capitalizes this opportune moment, walks up to the downed Aimz and drops a violent knee to her face. He lays the two women side by side and runs to the side of the ring and climbs the cage quickly like a veteran fence climber running from the police. Using the same monkey bar swinging technique he moves in position over the two women. The cage suddenly gives and the center section rips from the cage, GBJ falls through the air and the cage traps all three athletes underneath!
George Cassidy: My God! Johnny just broke the cage!
Truth Waters: What are we gonna do?! Is Mike Ryan stopping this?
Michael Ryan looks to the outside officials and they signal for him to not interfere. Aimz crawls out from the cage, scratches severely covering her body. She is finally freed from the grips of the cage and gets to her feet. Hamada crawls from the other side leaving GBJ trapped under the cage. Aimz begins the Armageddon. She jumps to the rope and twists through the air landing a senton bomb on top of GBJ. The cage cuts deep into GBJ’s skin and blood starts seeping through the cage. Hamada lets go a fury of kicks to GBJ’s head and body. Aimz joins in on the kicking. Hamada points to the two opposite corners of the ring. Aimz shakes her head in affirmation. Hamada runs up the turnbuckle and flips over landing hard on GBJ’s lower body. Aimz bursts through the air landing a hard leg drop on GBJ’s head.
Truth Waters: My GOD! These women are putting GBJ through a living hell.
Aimz signals to Hamada, both walk to a turnbuckle and climb simultaneously. Aimz turns on Hamada and slams her face into the cage, blood splashes all over the crowd. Hamada falls back; Aimz leaps to Hamada’s shoulders and flips her with a hurracarana. GBJ escapes from the depths of the cage and is gasping for air as his wounds pour dark blood from his body, he crawls and sits at the bottom of a turnbuckle. Aimz runs across the ring and drives her knee hard into GBJ’s head, rocking him back. Aimz drags him into range and climbs the to the top rope. She springs from the top rope and lands DEAD AIM! She hooks the leg.
George Cassidy: Dead Aim, God damn it…
Truth Waters: Aimz has this!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Hamada breaks up the pinfall.
Truth Waters: No, Butterfly broke it up!
George Cassidy: Thank Christ! Aimz can still lose!
Hamada lifts Aimz’s bloody face and headbutts her in the nose, blood continues to blanket the ring. Hamada whips her into the ropes and knees Aimz in the stomach, snap DDT on top of the cage segment downs Aimz. Hamada lifts GBJ to his feet and throws him into the ropes, he ducks under her and wraps around her body delivering his own DDT on top of the cage section. GBJ picks Hamada up and violently knees her in the stomach.
George Cassidy: I think he was aiming for her ovaries with that one!
Aimz gets to her feet and GBJ snaps around with a quick roundhouse kick to her temple. She falls into the ropes. GBJ charges her and body splashes her, she smashes into the cage on the outer edge of the ring apron.
Truth Waters: These women better put a stop to this Johnny.
Hamada gets up holding her stomach, GBJ walks over and whips Hamada into the turnbuckle. She charges at her she drops into the splits and GBJ’s head smashes into the top turnbuckle. Dazed Hamada gets back to her feet and springs to the top rope and is quickly back in the air with a flying clothesline on GBJ. Aimz begins climbing the ring. She climbs through the hole in the top of the cage and looks down at her two opponents. The cameras zoom out to have all three athletes in site. The crowd is erupting in cheers. Hamada looks up and grabs GBJ’s hair, she gets him to his feet and sticks his head between her legs and hooks his arms….GBJ drops to one knee and punches her in the crotch.
George Cassidy: A vagina punch! There’s the Dirtiest Dude in the AWC.
Truth Waters: Doesn’t Garbage Bag Johnny know his place?
George Cassidy: When the card was announced he seemed no more than a filler in this match, but now… I don’t know, Truth, I can see an upset here!
Hamada drops to her knees in pain, GBJ looks up at Aimz and she points to Hamada. The bloody GBJ does a quick snap suplex on Hamada. Aimz flips through the air and lands another DEAD AIM from the top of the cage!
Truth Waters: JESUS! Dead Aim off the top!
George Cassidy: If she carries on like that she’ll kill herself. HAPPY DAYS!
ONE!
TWO!
GBJ stomps Aimz’s head breaking up the count.
George Cassidy: Kick that bitch!
Truth Waters: I can’t believe I just saw Aimz hit Hamada with Dead Aim from the top of the cage. This is raw insanity.
GBJ lifts Aimz to her feet and whips her into the ropes; she comes back and is met with a spinning heel kick to the temple. GBJ climbs to the top rope, leaps through the air and lands a Dumpster Dive.
George Cassidy: That’s the… Dumpster Dive!…?
He hooks Aimz’s leg…
ONE!
TWO!
Hamada reaches over and grabs GBJ’s hair and pulls him off Aimz. GBJ stands up and begins climbing the side of the cage to the top. He makes it to the top of the cage and stands over the opening looking down at Hamada. Hamada lifts Aimz up and springs in the air smashing Aimz with Twin Killing on the edge of the ring. Aimz is knocked out cold!
Truth Waters: Twin Killing! Big move after big move!
George Cassidy: Hamada is taking full advantage of GBJ’s mistake… that dumb bastard is helpless up there!
Hamada climbs jumps to the top rope… the crowd is going wild! GBJ is atop the cage unable to do anything, jumping down would hurt him and Hamada and Aimz are out of range. Hamada stands straight up and lifts her middle finger towards GBJ; she leaps in the air twisting into the Arco Celestial!
George Cassidy: BUTTERFLY FLIES!
Aimz lifts her knees and Hamada lands hard on her midsection!
Truth Waters: She got her knees up! Arco Celestial failed!
The impact stuns both and Hamada rolls over… GBJ falls from the top of the cage… Dumpster Dive from the top of the cage… Aimz is down! Ryan counts!
Truth Waters: DUMPSTER DIVE! FROM THE CAGE TOP!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: My God, Garbage Bag Johnny just pinned the veteran Butterfly Hamada! This is unbelievable!
Truth Waters: Garbage Bag Johnny… wins it?!
“My Name is Mud” comes over the loudspeakers and Michael Ryan lifts GBJ’s limp hand in the air. The cage lifts enough for the people inside to crawl out, GBJ stumbles down the ramp to the stage in a bloody mess. Maintenance workers go to the cage to fix the broken midsection before it is needed again for Anton Assault and Hate, and clean the fresh blood soaked into the mat.
James Brunt: The winner… GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY!
George Cassidy: Truth… we have just witnessed something monumental.
Truth Waters: Does this… could this make GBJ the favourite for Zero 2 Hero?
FEATURING: TERESA TOMAS, MIKEY O'REILLY, ZSASZ
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND SONYA
Teresa is minding her own business as she carries on. Her baby blue eyes searching for a specific locker room. Because she is not wrestling tonight, she is decked out in her casual look. Her sandy blond hair is worn down and falls freely down her back. She wears a black t-shirt with the works “Got Jack?” written in silver across the chest. Her Levi’s are snug fit. With that said, there’s no question that she’s indeed a woman. When she finds her destination, she finds the locker room door open. With her arms crossed over her chest, she decides to lean her back against the door facing and wait.
Mikey O’Reilly is doing some shadow boxing, warming up for his match against Chainz. He’s throwing quick, heavy fists, sweat rolling off his body, making it slick and shiny. Finally he stops, taking a drink from his bottled water and see Teresa Tomas standing in the doorway watching him intently. He towels off, smiling at her.
Mikey O’Reilly: Hey, Teresa. What can I do for ya?
Teresa steps off her lean and steps into the locker room.
Teresa Tomas: Pretty impressive. From what I hear, Chainz is ruthless. Good luck. I just dropped by to see how you were doing considering what happened last week.
Mikey O’Reilly: Well, I’m not doin’ too bad. I’m fuckin’ pissed that Chainz had to use his tactics against Zsasz to get this match against me. But enough about me. How’ve you been doin’? I’m sorry that Chainz and I had that fight in your locker room. Never was my intention for somethin’ like that to happen.
Teresa shrugs then takes in a deep breath.
Teresa Tomas: You hear about this stupid counseling I gotta go to now? I hate women. Ya know that? Especially the ones that think they can... ah never mind. Jasmine gonna mess around and I’m just gonna put her out. That’s all I’m sayin’ about that. And about the locker room ordeal. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t get yourself killed tonight.
Mikey O’Reilly smiles at Teresa Tomas. After what happened last week, he figured that Teresa would’ve been traumatized by what happened. But not Teresa Tomas. Teresa is a stronger woman than Mikey has imagined.
Mikey O’Reilly: I’m not worried about it, I just feel bad that you had to see that. And I’ve heard about you counseling Tracy. After what’s been goin’ on between Chainz and her, I don’t blame her. I just hope that she comes to her senses and stay away from that man. He’s nothin’ but trouble.
The Top Rope Temptress shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. She combs her fingers through her long hair.
Teresa Tomas: Trust me Mikey, I've seen worse. A little brawl in my locker room isn't gonna traumatize me. To be honest, I really don’t have a problem with Tracy. She’s got a problem with me. Insecurity kills a relationship ya know. He really does love her. (shrugs) Enough of that.
Teresa gives Mikey a smile and turns toward the open door.
Teresa Tomas: Like I said, watch yourself with Chainz. You’re a nice guy, I’d hate to see your career end so soon.
Mikey O’Reilly’s brows furrow into a knit.
Mikey O’Reilly: I dunno about Chainz really loving Tracy. He does have a funny way of showing it.
He chuckles.
Mikey O’Reilly: An’ it wouldn’t be the first time to have a career end should I cross that bridge tonight. And good luck with your counseling Tracy and beating up Jasmine.
Teresa Tomas: Yeah, thanks Mikey. If you need anything... You know where to find me.
With that said, Teresa steps out the door but no sooner than she makes two steps into the hallway. A much taller, masculine figure towers over her. Teresa looks up and grins.
Teresa Tomas: Hey, man, how’s it hanging tonight?
The tall masculine figure is none other than Mikey O’Reilly’s manager and mentor, Zsasz. He is looking down at Teresa Tomas with a look of disgust on his face. He always seen women like Teresa as classless, low-level carbon-based life forms that take up too much space. Rednecks... how they plague this planet. It’s a travesty.
He gives her a once over, not in a pleasing way, but to see if she’s has anything she might use as a weapon. Then, being a man that he is, he looks at her chest, seeing “Got Jack?” on her shirt. Yes, she’ll have plenty of Jack all right... Jack Zsasz, that is.
Zsasz: What are you doing fraternizing with my client, harlot?
Teresa raises an eyebrow and steps back. Her baby blues narrow.
Teresa Tomas: Excuse me? I believe I can talk to whomever I damn well please. Harlot? HA! I think you’re mistaken me for one of your little tramps.
Zsasz ignores her comments and starts stepping toward her. Teresa starts stepping backward, not really sure what he’s going to do next.
Zsasz: I’m not going to allow you cloud my client’s better judgment when he’s about to go through the biggest match of his career. With you on his mind, he’s going to lose, and lose terribly. And you know why he’ll lose? It’ll be because of you, shaking your redneck ass and tits in his face, getting a raise out of him. BUT THAT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!
Zsasz pins Teresa Tomas into a wall. Chainz’s reputation of pinning women against walls is becoming a signature here in AWC.
Zsasz: I’m not going to stand idly by and let you destroy Mikey’s chances of winning this match. You’re too much of a liability for my client. If there’s a brain in that thick skull of yours, I suggest you stay the hell away from my client.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?”
Mikey O’Reilly’s voice is heard in the background. If Mikey sees Zsasz in the position he’s in with Teresa, he’ll get his ass chewed out. Not that it matters. He backs off, smiling at her.
Zsasz: Remember my words... Heed them.
He walks away from Teresa, disappearing from view. When Mikey O’Reilly bursts onto the scene, he sees Teresa Tomas leaning against a wall, with a mixture of fear and anger on her face.
Mikey O’Reilly: Teresa, what happened?
Teresa’s fists are clinched. She hears Mikey but is staring toward the direction that Zsasz left. Damn that man. Who does he think he is?
Teresa Tomas Oh nothing. Just a great big cockroach that needs to be stomped. (pauses) I need my whiskey.
With that said, Teresa steps off the wall and begins to walk toward the back entrance where her car is parked and her booze is stashed. Before Teresa could go anywhere, Mikey stops her by touching her shoulder and turns her around. He looks at her quizzically, then suddenly catches on. His temper starts to simmer.
Mikey O’Reilly: Did Chainz threaten to hurt you? If he did, that son of a bitch is dead!
Teresa shakes her head, looking into Mikey’s eyes. She’s so upset at this point that she feels it isn’t worth talking to Mikey about it. But since it involves Mikey’s manager, she should tell him.
Teresa Tomas: It wasn’t Chainz, it was your asshole manager, Zsasz.
Steeling herself, she resumes, keeping her anger under control.
Teresa Tomas: He said that I should stay away from you, thinking that I’m a liability to you because of the match you have with Chainz tonight. He thinks I’m gonna cloud your mind, fuck up your judgment with me “shaking my redneck ass and tits in your face” and cause you to lose your match.
She continues to stare into Mikey’s eyes. Zsasz’s words kept repeating themselves inside her head and it just pisses her off more. No one tells her who to talk to.
Teresa Tomas: That’s bullshit Mikey. I have the right to talk to anyone I damn will please. All I was doing was checking up on you. I ain’t no damn slut that shakes my goods to get attention. Listen, next time you see that manager of yours, you can tell him he can kiss my ass.
Mikey O’Reilly feels relief sweep over him after hearing that Chainz didn’t threaten to hurt Teresa, his new friend. But he does have another problem... Zsasz wanted to rid Teresa Tomas of Mikey’s new friendship with her. That doesn’t bold well with Mikey. The nerve of Zsasz trying to protect Mikey from everyone in AWC. Mikey’s an adult, he’s 33 years old, for Christ’s sake! He can take care of himself. He’s been doing so since he was 13 years old!
Breaking himself from his reverie, he sees that Teresa Tomas was nowhere to be found. He catches a glimpse of her walking towards the parking lot, going to her car to get her whiskey. Mikey runs to her, wanting to talk to her. He isn’t sure that she needs any comforting, but being a gentleman, it doesn’t hurt to try.
Mikey O’Reilly: Hey, come back here...
Teresa Tomas stops, turning to face Mikey but couldn’t look into his face. She has emotions of anger and hurt surging through her body. Her first impulse is to ignore Mikey and continue walking. But that wouldn’t make matters better. She might as well stand where she is and listen to Mikey. Maybe Mikey’s words may make her feel better. If not, there’s a bottle of JD that’ll make her feel better. Booze has always been her number one answer. She listens to Mikey talk, her eyes are on the floor, hiding her tear-bleary baby blues.
Mikey O’Reilly: You don’t need to worry about Zsasz. He thinks he’s protectin’ a large investment in me that he doesn’t want anyone to try an’ trick me into anythin’. He’s like that most of the time, but there’s no need to listen to him. He’s tryin’ to get ye goin’, make ya make a mistake. But don’t fight the man, Teresa. You won’t win.
Not sure what the outcome might bring, he gives Teresa Tomas a hug. She stands rigid in his arms for a brief time. The built-up tension seems to subside.
Mikey O’Reilly: I value our new friendship, Teresa, I really do. You’re a great girl and I don’t want ya t’ do anythin’ that ya might regret.
He lets go of Teresa Tomas, looking into her eyes. He smiles at her.
Mikey O’Reilly: If ya need your whiskey, go ahead and drink it. I need to get ready for my match. Thing’s’ll work out, okay? Don’t worry about Zsasz. I’ll have a talk with him. I’ll talk to you later, okay? See ya around.
He gives her another smile then takes his leave. Teresa watches him go with a smile on her face. Maybe things will work out after all. The feeling of crushing Zsasz underneath her boot has lifted. But she still needs a drink after what had happened.
She heads into the parking lot, where her bottle of whiskey is waiting for her.
STIPULATION: BACK TO SCHOOL
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: JOSH YOUNG AND JAY
The camera fades into the arena where the fans are going wild for the upcoming match. The camera catches sight of George Cassidy and Truth Waters who are seated at the announcers’ table as the ring crew begin work on refitting the cage for the Shoot Cage match.
Truth Waters: Well, we all know what these fans are going nuts about right now. In just a few minutes these fans are going to witness AWC's first ever "Back To School" match.
George Cassidy: Yeah. That's right. Who in their right mind would have ever imagined that we'd see two individuals like Red Rock and Vince Jones pitted in a match like this for the Relentless title? Not me.
Truth Waters: Me neither. I still don't think Vince can maneuver his way through a school even after his little visit to research this past week.
George Cassidy: Don't doubt him, Truth. He just might surprise you.
Truth Waters: I don't know. He can talk all he wants about how great he is, but I think he'll be going up against a man that's even greater than he thinks he is in Red Rock, the reigning Relentless champ.
George Cassidy: Red Rock? Hmph! He's a pansy!
Truth Waters: A pansy? This is the same man who defeated Captain Suleimon in an Ottoman Torture Chamber. This is the same man that won that very belt he wears around his waist in a brutal "Beneath The Boardwalk" match not that long ago. I think his credentials speak volumes as of late, Cassidy!
George Cassidy: Don't give me all of that, bologna! He is a fluke if I've ever seen one! Vince Jones will wipe the floor clean with him in that high school tonight!
Truth Waters: We'll see about that, Cassidy. At this time let's go to our match.
The camera pans around the arena and zooms in on the big screen which flashes on showing the inside the empty school of East Hartford High School. Standing in the middle of the main foyer of the school is referee, Selena Summer.
Selena Summer: Red Rock, Vince Jones, you may enter.
From either end of the hall Vince Jones and Red Rock come marching in with rather poised expressions despite the fact Red Rock is wearing stereotypical English school boy uniform for his own amusement. Vince Jones whips out his Louisville Slugger bat and begins banging on each locker one by one. Both men have their eyes deadlocked on one another as they make their way over to Selena. Red Rock takes off his Relentless title strap and waves it in Vince's face with a cocky smirk.
Red Rock: See this, Vince? This is Relentless title gold. Take a good look because its coming back home with me tonight.
Truth Waters: Looks like we've got some taunting out of the champ and rightfully so.
George Cassidy: I don't know if its wise to get the man riled up like that. We are talking about The Violence here.
Vince nods his head, folds his arms across his chest, and snarls as Selena takes the belt from Red Rock.
Vince Jones: Keep on poppin' that mouth, son! We 'bout to see who leavin' this fuckin' school with that belt on the real! Chances are it ain't gonna be you, bitch! 'Bout to silence yo punk ass fo sho!
Red Rock: Bring it on, big man!
Truth Waters: Oh, this is going to be good.
Vince and Red Rock lunge at one another ready to fight, but Selena tries to hold them apart.
George Cassidy: You've got that right. These men already look like they want to rip each other's spleens out.
Selena Summer: Hey! Hey! HEY! You keep this up and and I'll have you both disqualified before this thing even gets started! Now back up!
Truth Waters: Way to take charge out there, Selena. Show them who's running things.
George Cassidy: Oh, I say just let the two duke it out. This isn't patty cake.
Vince and Red Rock both take a step back but the fires of intensity can already be seen growing in their eyes. Vince spits at the feet of Red Rock.
Red Rock: You missed!
Vince Jones points his Louisville Slugger bat at Red Rock's head.
Truth Waters: Oh, I can't wait for this one to get underway here.
George Cassidy: Yeah! These two need to stop jawing at one another and get this one going. I'm waiting to see some carnage break out in that schoolhouse.
Vince Jones: V don't miss when it counts, mahfucka! Keep that shit in mind!
Truth Waters: Maybe Vince is better suited for this type of match than I thought at first.
George Cassidy: The man said it himself earlier this week. If its hardcore he knows it no matter where the place, just in a more thuggish tone.
Selena Summer: Ahem! As you both know tonight's "Back to School" match is no-holds barred for the Relentless title strap.
George Cassidy: Yadda, yadda, yadda! I want to see some action now!
She raises the Relentless title strap above her head and Vince and Red Rock nearly begin salivating at the opportunity to rip each other apart.
Truth Waters: And there's the prize these two men will be fighting tooth and nail for, the AWC Relentless title belt. Red Rock wants to retain and continue his legacy, but Vince Jones is definitely looking to rain on his parade and start his own "Age of Violence" here in AWC's Relentless title division.
Selena Summer: Anything and everything is perfectly legal. This match is set for one fall and those falls will be counted anywhere on the East Hartford High School grounds. The match will begin at the sound of the school bell. (turns towards Red Rock) Do you understand, Red Rock?
George Cassidy: He knows what's going on? No more of this! Let's get it on!
Red Rock nods and chuckles to himself.
Red Rock: Oh, I perfectly understand, Selena. The only one that might need another explanation is him. We all know he's a bit slow.
Truth Waters: Ooooooooh, a vicious dagger from the tongue of Red Rock
Vince Jones looks up at Red Rock in fury and lunges at him once again. Selena struggles to restrain him.
Vince Jones: Fuck you, mahfucka! Fuck you! Let's get this fuckin' match on!
Selena Summer: One more outburst out of you two before this match starts and this match will be over before it started.
Truth Waters: Yeah, Vince! Keep your cool! We've waited long enough for this match!
Vince hears this and instantly backs away pounding his head in anger.
Vince Jones: Fuck!
Selena Summer: Vince, do you understand everything that was explained?
Vince turns around and glares a hole through Red Rock.
Vince Jones: Hell yeah! Now ring that fuckin' bell already! (cracks his knuckles) V 'bout ready to throw down in this bitch!
Red Rock: I hope you are ready, Vince! You're not gonna be the same after I rearrange your face and walk out this match on top!
Vince Jones raises his middle fingers and flashes them at Red Rock. Selena Summer raises her hand in the air. A moment later the school bell rings and Vince and Red Rock lunge at each other ready for battle.
Truth Waters: The battle begins...
Vince takes a wild swing at Red Rock with his Louisville Slugger baseball bat and Red Rock ducks to the side and out of the way. Vince Jones grunts and whirls around with another wild swing aiming for Red Rock's head, but Red Rock ducks this swing as well.
Truth Waters: There goes strike one and strike two..
George Cassidy: Well, he's still got one more, I think.
Red Rock nails Vince with a dropkick to the knee bringing Vince down to his knee in pain.
Truth Waters: Way to get the big man off his feet early on.
Red Rock turns and spots Selena Summer who has his Relentless title in her hands. He snatches the belt from her and tries to nail Vince in the side of the head with the title belt, but Vince manages raise his Louisville Slugger bat in time to block it. Vince lunges forward and strikes Red Rock with an elbow to the midsection that stuns him and rocks him backwards.
Truth Waters: Close call there for Vince. He was about to get his brains scrambled.
George Cassidy: Shame on Red Rock. He talks about Vince's low IQ yet he tries to wipe out the last few of the brain cells he has left.
Vince nails Red Rock with another shot to the midsection with the back end of his Louisville slugger doubling Red Rock over. Vince rises to his feet and hip tosses Red Rock to the floor. Vince lines up Red Rock and tries to nail him in the side of the head with the Louisville slugger, but Red Rock rolls out of the way and nails Vince with a swift leg sweep that takes him off his feet. Vince releases his baseball bat and it goes rolling down the hallway.
Truth Waters: And there goes strike three!
George Cassidy: Smart move by the champ!
Truth Waters: Hey! That's why he is the champ! He blends the brains and the brawn.
Red Rock rolls over and hops on top of Vince Jones and begins nailing him with mounted punches to the face. Red Rock spits in the face of Vince and continues fighting.
Truth Waters: Whooo hooo! Tempers are flying now!
Red Rock: Oh! You lost your little toy bat?? What are you going to do now!?!? George Cassidy: I'm amazed! Red Rock is taking the fight to The Violence here.
Red Rock continues laying into Vince Jones with punch after punch after punch. Vince manages to get his hands up to block and grabs a hold of Red Rock's fists and rolls him over on his back to reverse. Vince fires back with mounted punches of his own.
Truth Waters: Uh-oh! Counter by Vince. This might not be good.
Vince Jones: Fuck that bat! Yo ass is grass either way, bitch!
Vince leans forward and begins smashing Red Rock with stiff elbow shots to the head. He slowly rises to his feet and boots Red Rock in the side. He trudges across the main foyer towards the main office where his Louisville slugger bat is laying.
George Cassidy: Oh my god! This is like one of those horror films! What are you doing, Vince? You've got him where you want him! Don't go for the bat!
Red Rock slowly rises to his feet and spots Vince trying to get to his baseball bat. Red Rock rushes Vince from behind and tackles him, face first to the floor. He rips the black bandana off the head of Vince Jones and begins punching him in the back of the head.
Truth Waters: You're right! Vince had him down and allowed him to get back into this one. I hope Red Rock doesn't make that same mistake here.
Red Rock stands to his feet, leaps into the air and nails Vince with an elbow drop to the back. He leaps up to his feet and nails four more successive elbow drops to the back of 'The Violence'.
Truth Waters: Those were some textbook elbow drops by the defending champ, Red Rock, out there.
George Cassidy: Well...
Vince rolls over in pain holding his back. Red steps up to Vince, places his boot on Vince's face, and twirls around with a boot scrape. Vince begins rolling around in agony. Red Rock reaches down, lifts Vince to his feet, and irish whips him into the wall of lockers across the small hallway from the main office.
Truth Waters: Yeah! Get him Red Rock! The champ is starting to take control of this one early on.
George Cassidy: C'mon Vince! You wanted this fight now show something for yourself!
Vince slides down the lockers grimacing in pain. Red Rock charges towards Vince and nails him with a swift knee to the face. Red Rock begins kicking Vince in the chest like a madman.
He slowly steps back, and lines Vince up, charges at him, and leaps but Vince Jones catches him in mid-air charges across the hall and leaps through the plate glass window of the main office with a vicious powerslam sending glass flying everywhere.
Truth and George: (in unison) WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA!!!! WHAT A REVERSAL!
George Cassidy: Red Rock through the glass window?!?! That is why they call him The Conqueror, The Killer, and The King, The Violence, the...
Truth Waters: Enough about him. I'm sure Red Rock will battle back from this one.
Selena Summer ducks out of the way to make sure glass doesn't get into her eye. Vince immediately rolls Red Rock up for a pin and Selena Summer drops to the floor to make the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Truth Waters: And there goes the kickout from the champ!
George Cassidy: I thought we had a new champ there!
Red Rock kicks out the pin and lays there on the ground holding his back trying to regain his strength. Vince slowly rises to his feet and brushes off the glass. He looks down at Red Rock who is now starting to bleed a little bit and just shakes his head in disappointment as he begins tapping him with his foot on the head.
Truth Waters: And once again Vince chooses to showboat. He's never gonna win this title like that.
George Cassidy: We'll see about that.
Vince Jones: Where you at, huh? Where you at, Champ? You supposed to be the man!
Vince Jones reaches down and begins slapping him in his head.
Truth Waters: Is it really smart to get the man going like that, Vince?
Vince Jones: Look at you! You ain't shit! This is Vince's house, bitch! V don't even go to high school and shit and he still runnin' this!
George Cassidy: I don't think he cares at this point. He already thinks he has this match won. Vince go for the kill!
Vince goes sauntering over towards the main office counter and spots a telephone. He rips it out from behind the desk, cords and all and slowly makes his way over to Red Rock with a cocky smirk on his face.
Truth Waters: What's he about to do with that telephone?
George Cassidy: I don't know. Why don't you ask him?
Vince makes it back to Red Rock who is now just laying on the floor as if he's been knocked out. Selena Summer is now attending to Red Rock trying to see if he's alright, but Vince Jones shoves Selena to the side and leans over and readies the cord of the phone to choke him out with it. All of a sudden Red Rock's eyes pop open and he thumbs Vince in the eyes.
Red Rock: Surprise, you idiot!!
Truth Waters: Oooooooh! He was playing possum!! He was playing possum the whole time!
George Cassidy: Vince, you fool!
Vince Jones: Fuck!
Vince drops the phone and reels backwards towards the wall. Red Rock snatches up the phone, runs towards the stunned Vince Jones and begins bashing his brains in with it.
Truth Waters: Now that's how you reach out and touch someone. Get him Red Rock!
George Cassidy: Fight back, Vince! Fight back!
He tosses the phone to the side, snatches Vince up and slams him head first into the wall. Red Rock kicks open the door and drags Vince back out. He leads him over to the wall of lockers and slams him head first into them. He drags down the hall further and slams Vince's head into another row of lockers.
Truth Waters: Red Rock's going at it like a ball of fire! I think he's really picking up the momentum here!
He drags Vince even further down the hallway tries to slam him a third time but Vince blocks the attempt, nails Red Rock with an elbow to the gut, lifts him, and plants him head first into the lockers himself. Vince falls backwards reeling from the battle.
George Cassidy: Oh yeah? Momentum stopped! Good show, Vince! Now get up!
Vince holds his head in pain and shakes it to try and get his head back together again. Vince rises to his feet and glares at Red Rock who is now getting back up to his feet as well.
Vince Jones: C'mon, you son of a bitch!
Vince Jones motions for Red Rock to fight which infuriates Red. Red Rock and Vince charge at one another and Vince kicks him in the midsection. Vince boots him in the midsection for a second and third time and snatches him by the hair and begins leading him down the hallway towards a classroom door and slams him back first into it.
Truth Waters: Ahhhhh! That had to hurt!
Vince begins wailing away at Red Rock with body blow after body blow. Vince begins nailing him with back elbows to the face. He then starts hitting Red Rock with knee lifts to the midsection.
George Cassidy: Finally, Vince has gotten control over this match once again.
Vince takes a few steps back from the dazed Red Rock and nails him with a mafia kick that busts the door open and knocks Red Rock through it too. The camera pans around and it appears to be a History classroom.
Truth Waters: Ouch!
George Cassidy: Great mafia kick from Vince Jones!
Vince Jones looks down at Red Rock in fury. He leans down, lifts Red Rock up, and slams him head first into the first desk he sees.
Vince Jones: What you want, huh? What you want, bitch!?
Vince lifts up a desk and slams it down on Red Rock's back.
Truth Waters: The carnage continues! Vince has gone off here!
George Cassidy: You've got that right!
Red Rock tries to crawl back up to his feet. Vince kicks the desks and chairs out of the way like a madman.
Vince Jones: Where you goin', huh!?
Vince runs up and boots him in the gut knocking Red Rock to the floor. Red Rock rolls over and clutches himself in pain. Vince looks down and raises his hands in the air and flashes the hand sign of his old New York City street gang.
Vince Jones: This fight's over! Its over! 'Bout to end this shit now!
Truth Waters: Why does he insist on talking and taunting so much?
George Cassidy: Yeah! Finish this, Vince!
Vince snatches Red Rock by the foot and drags him down the aisle towards the teacher's desk. Vince spots a globe, snatches it up, and climbs up on top of the desk. He looks down at the prone Red Rock and laughs out loud.
Vince Jones: This world is V's, bitch!
Vince lunches off and tries to nail Red Rock with a shot from the globe but Red Rock raises his foot and catches Vince under the chin. Vince gets nailed in the chops, drops the globe, drops it to the floor, and falls backwards onto a desk flipping it over. Red Rock slowly rises to his feet and spots the globe.
Truth Waters: What a counter by Red Rock there!
George Cassidy: Wait a minute! Red Rock has spotted that globe!
Red Rock reaches over, snatches up the globe, and raises it above his head. He circles Vince and shakes his head.
Red Rock: The world is yours? The world is yours? Not even close! I'll take it over from here! Welcome to my world, Vinnie!
Red Rock begins nailing Vince Jones with shots to the chest with the globe. Red Rock chucks the globe to the side and begins clapping his hands together in delight. Vince slowly tries to sit up and Red Rock looks down at Vince in disgust.
Red Rock: Who said you could get up? This is daddy speaking! Go to sleep!
Red Rock kicks him in the face and knocks him back down to the floor.
Truth Waters: And once again, Red Rock has control of things here.
Red Rock drops to the floor and immediately goes for the pinfall attempt. Selena pushes a desk out the way and drops to the floor to make the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
Truth Waters: Ahh! So close, Red Rock, so close!
George Cassidy: Vince had him where he wanted him if it hadn't been for his incessant showboating!
Red Rock quickly rises to his feet and stomps away at Vince Jones. He stands Vince up against the chalkboard next to them. Vince takes a wild desperation swing, but Red Rock ducks it, snatches up two erasers and claps them together making a cloud of chalk dust that gets in Vince's eyes.
Vince Jones: Damn you!
Red Rock: How would you say it out on the streets? You can't see me!
Truth Waters: Did Vince Jones just get... punked??
George Cassidy: Never! Vince Jones wouldn't allow for that!
Vince growls and takes two more wild swings missing his target. Red Rock begins wailing away at Vince's midsection like he's a punching bag. Red Rock turns Vince around and slams him head first into the chalkboard over and over and over again.
Truth Waters: Woooo hooo!!! He's got him now! Red Rock's got that fire lit under him!
Red Rock smashes Vince's head first into the chalkboard one last time and begins scraping it with his nails making a horrific screeching sound that wrenches Vince's ears. Vince holds his ears in pain.
Vince Jones: AHHHHHHHHH!!!! MY FUCKIN' EARS!
Red Rock: You like that, Vince? You like that? Isn't that beautiful? Music to your ears right?
George Cassidy: For the love of god!
Truth Waters: That has to be pure torture right there!
Vince Jones breaks free from Red Rock's grasp and goes scurrying out the door holding his ears in pain. Red Rock watches the sight in amusement and slowly follows after him.
Truth Waters: Look at that coward! Look at him go!
George Cassidy: Vince, a coward?? No way!
Red Rock reaches the door steps outside to be met with a drop toehold by Vince that sends Red face down to the floor with a sickening thud. Vince rolls backwards and tries to regain his strength as does Red Rock. Vince manages to get up to his feet first and he slowly makes his way over to an elevator at the end of the hallway.
Truth Waters: What the hell? What is he doing? Is he trying to get away?
George Cassidy: I think he's just trying to buy himself some time to re-group.
Vince presses the up button as Red Rock slowly gets back to his feet and clears his head. He looks up and spots Vince who is standing next to the elevator waiting for its arrival. Red Rock starts trotting towards him and slowly picks up some speed as Vince glares at the elevator in fury.
Vince Jones: C'mon! Hurry up!
Vince kicks the wall in anger.
Vince Jones: Shit!!!
The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors slowly open. All of a sudden Vince is alarmed as he hears Red Rock coming at him from behind at top speed. Vince whirls around in surprise as Red Rock spears him into the elevator and back against the back wall. Vince Jones and Red Rock begin laying into each other with punch after punch to each other's faces like two wild animals locked in a cage. Selena Summer leaps into the elevator as well and tries to avoid any contact as much as possible.
Truth Waters: I'll tell you what these two are really putting on a show here tonight! There going to great extents to come out of this match on top!
George Cassidy: The fans are on their feet out here in the arena tonight watching this match from the big screen. These two are nuts!
Vince Jones snatches Red Rock by the throat and begins slamming him against each and every wall of the elevator as the doors close and the elevator leaves.
Truth Waters: Someone needs to get to those security cameras and face! We might miss something here while the cameraman tries to get back to the action.
The feed is cut shortly. All of a sudden the sound of cheers can be heard in the arena as the feed returns with a shot of the fight in the elevator from the security monitor in the main office. Vince can be seen still taking the fight to Red Rock as he now has him trapped in the corner nailing him with punches to the face. Selena Summer tries to stay as far away from the fighting as possible.
Vince Jones: V's gonna take yo bitch ass to hell tonight and bury you tonight, Red Rock! And that's fuckin' real!
Vince Jones takes another wild swing with his elbow but misses the mark this time. Red Rock ducks around Vince and nails him with a vicious low blow.
Vince Jones: AHHHHHHH!!! Bitch...move!
Red Rock: This is war, not patty cake! And you call yourself The Violence? How do you say it out on the streets, Vince. Its real in here!
Red Rock drops an elbow on Vince's chest and down for the pin. Selena makes the count.
ONE!
Kickout!
Truth Waters: Quick kickout there from The Violence! I'll tell you one thing, Cass, this match has been hard fought and brutal from the get go. There waging a war at that school. I wonder if there'll be anything left of that place when they're done.
George Cassidy: You're right about something for once, Truth. And that low blow was pretty vicious too if you ask me.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. The feed is cut once again and immediately switches back to a color view now that the cameraman has once again caught up to the action. Vince Jones can be seen laying on the floor of the elevator. Red Rock drags him out by his leg and looks around the library in delight.
Red Rock: Well, what do we have here, Vince? It’s a library! I'll beat some knowledge into your skull just yet.
Truth Waters: Looks like Vince Jones is about to be schooled by Red Rock now!
George Cassidy: Uh-oh!
Red Rock drags Vince over towards one of the bookshelves and boots Vince in the knee. Vince holds his knee in pain. Red Rock begins scouring the shelves and comes across a dictionary.
Red Rock: Perfect! A dictionary! Time to beef up your vocabulary you ignorant piece of street trash! (thumbs through the book) Hmmm... let's see!
Vince Jones: Fuck you, bitch!
Red Rock glares down at Vince and laughs.
Red Rock: First word, 'atrocious', as in your language and the fact you even have a match against me right now!
Red Rock bashes Vince over the head with the dictionary rocking him back with a sickening thud.
Red Rock: What else can we find?
Vince Jones tries to sit up and flips off Red Rock.
Vince Jones: You fight like a bitch, bitch!
Truth Waters: Well, atleast he hasn't lost his will to fight in this one.
Red Rock looks down at Vince in disappointment.
Red Rock: Next word, 'hopeless', as in your odds of coming out of this match on top and your future here in AWC!
Red Rock bashes Vince over the head again and tosses the book to the side. He walks behind the bookcase.
Red Rock: You need to make up for lost time, Vince! How about you just take an up close and personal look at all of these!
Red Rock pushes the bookshelf and it topples over. Vince's eyes pop open wide in shock as he barely manages to roll out of the way before the shelf of books crushes him. Red Rock watches his opponent in amusement as Vince tries to crawl away.
Truth Waters; There he goes again! Running away like a coward!
Red Rock pursues him, drops down, and puts Vince in a vicious camel clutch. Vince Jones begins yelling out in pain. Selena Summer rushes over checking to see if Vince Jones will continue.
Truth Waters: The camel clutch! Never thought I'd see something like that out of Red Rock!
George Cassidy: In a match like this anything goes, Truth! There's a lot at stake here!
Red Rock wrenches back on Vince's neck and applies even more pressure to the hold. Vince starts yelling even louder. Vince slowly turns and catches sight of the dictionary, snatches it up, and smashes it against Red Rock's head to break the hold.
Truth Waters: A bit unorthodox...
George Cassidy: But it worked all the same. Anything goes here.
Vince holds his back in pain and slowly rises to his feet.
Vince Jones: Fuck this! V out this damn library scene! To hell with all these damn books and shit!
Red Rock slowly rises to his feet and stalks behind Vince. They reach the doorway of the library which leads to the hallway. Red Rock raises his arms high above his head to smash Vince Jones, but Vince whirls around kicks Red in the gut, and slams him head first into the door.
George Cassidy: Smart move, from Vince there!
Truth Waters: I didn't see that one coming!
George Cassidy: You never do!
Vince snatches Red Rock by the hair, leads him over to the glass window of the library and throws him through it head first sending glass flying everywhere. Red Rock hits the floor of the hallway and tries his best to get back up to his feet as Vince steps through what remains of the window. He slowly walks up to Red Rock still feeling the effects from the camel clutch and holds his back.
Truth Waters: Wow! He's still favoring that back of his after sustaining that camel clutch from Red Rock!
George Cassidy: Yeah? Well, Red Rock has to be favoring his whole body after being tossed through a second glass window in this match. That Vince is a lunatic! I love it!
Vince beckons Red Rock to get up as Red Rock stops moving.
Vince Jones: Get up! Get up! This fight ain't ova! V ain't finished with yo punk ass just yet!
Vince looks down at Red Rock in disappointment and begins nudging him. Vince leans down and begins slapping him across the face in amusement.
Vince Jones: Just like V said! You ain't on his level in this hardcore shit, son! You givin' up already, huh!?
Vince begins stomping away at Red Rock like a wild beast. His eyes grow wide with sadistic delight.
Truth Waters: He's lost it now!
George Cassidy: Yeah! This might be it for Red Rock here! So long to that belt!
Vince Jones continues stomping away at Red Rock and looks down at him in disappointment shaking his head.
Vince Jones: Aiight! Enough playin'! Its time to finish this shit!
Vince turns towards Selena laughing.
Vince Jones:You ain't gotta be fast with this three count and shit! This bitch is out already!
Vince reaches down and slowly lifts Red Rock to his feet and into position for his finisher, The Silencer. Vince raises his hand and does a slow and steady cutthroat motion. Truth Waters: Oh no! This might be it folks! He's got him set up for The Silencer!
George Cassidy: Silence him, Vince! Silence him good!
All of a sudden Red Rock suddenly comes to life and begins nailing Vince in the kidneys with stiff elbows that stun him. Vince lets Red Rock go and he slams Vince against the lockers and kicks him in the groin.
Red Rock: You want to throw people throw glass?? You think that feels good?? Well, let's see how you like it, Vince!?!?
Truth Waters: What the...
Red Rock puts Vince in a headlock and walks him over to classroom number one and slams Vince's head through the glass window of the door. Red Rock looks Vince square in the face.
Red Rock: You like that? How about another?
Red Rock marches him to the next doorway and slams him headfirst through the window.
Red Rock: This is fun! Next!
Vince Jones: (dazed and confused) Huh?
Truth Waters: Yeah! That's exactly what he deserves! Get him, Red Rock!
George Cassidy: No! Noooooo! That's not even right!
Red Rock takes him to the next room and the next room smashing Vince's head through each one of the glass windows on the way. They make it to the last doorway and Red Rock stands Vince up against the doorway. Red Rock takes a swing and Vince manages to block the punch. Vince pokes Red Rock in the eye. Red Rock turns around and holds his eye in pain. Vince Jones stumbles to the side trying to regroup once again. He turns, punches one of the lockers, and it pops open. Vince spots a book bag inside is filled with books.
Truth Waters: Looks like someone didn't do their homework this weekend.
George Cassidy: Yeah? Well, Vince sure did his homework for this one. Book bag full of heavy books equals a whole world of hurt.
Vince yanks it out of the locker and waits. Red Rock recovers from the thumb to the eye and rushes Vince, but Vince quickly bashes him upside his head with the book bag knocking Red Rock to the floor. Vince slowly gets up to his feet and shakes off the cobwebs. Vince lifts Red Rock to his feet and marches him over to the stairway. Red Rock pushes Vince but Vince manages to grab a hold of him and they both go tumbling down the stairway back down to the first floor. Both of them hit the floor at the same time and just lay there flat on their backs. Selena Summer rushes down the stairs and looks at both of them a bit worried as to their condition.
Truth Waters: That was a horrible spill those two took down that stairway! I hope they're alright! I hope they can continue!
George Cassidy: What was Red Rock thinking with that desperate move? He could've killed them both out there!
Both of them lay motionless on the cold floor and Selena Summers begins a 10 count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
Vince finally begins to stir and he slowly rolls over and lays an arm on Red Rock for the pin. Selena drops to the floor for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!!! Truth Waters: Wow! I never thought Red Rock would kick out from that one!
George Cassidy: Me neither, Truth! Now finish it off Vince! Don't just lie there on the floor!
Vince rolls over and begins kicking the floor in fury because he just wants the battle to end. He slowly sits up still a bit groggy from the fall and spots the cameraman and points at him in rage.
Vince Jones: Get over and give V that camera!
The cameraman shakes his head as Red Rock slowly stirs to life as well. Vince rises to his feet and begins stalking towards the cameraman.
Vince Jones: Give V that fuckin' camera now, bitch!
Truth Waters: Uh-oh! What's he doing now?? Why does he want the camera?
George Cassidy: Oh, this should be good!
Vince rushes the cameraman and snatches the camera from out of his hands and looks into lens with a sadistic grin on his face as Red Rock slowly rises to his feet and leans back against the railing of the stairway.
Vince Jones: Hey! What up!? Things 'bout to get ugly up in this joint! In five, four, three, two, one!
Vince whirls around, charges at Red Rock, and sickening thud and groan can be heard as the feed is cut once again and static fills the big screen to the disappointment of the fans. The camera switches to the arena where George Cassidy and Truth Waters stand to their feet and look up at the big screen in confusion.
Truth Waters: What the hell just happened over there?
George Cassidy: I don't know, but it appears we are having technical difficulties. Truth Waters: Hello! Someone get in that school with another camera! I think Vince and Red Rock just destroyed the first one!
George Cassidy: It’s total mayhem out there in that school!
Truth Waters: Well, what are we supposed to do now?
George Cassidy: I guess we'll just have to wait and hope that they get things straightened out again...
George Cassidy: I’m being told they’ve got another camera and we’re going back on air!
The feed is revived and we return to a shot of Red Rock scurrying away down the hall way past a row of lockers with a huge bruise on his head. Vince Jones peruses Red Rock and Selena Sumner follows Vince in. Vince seems to be stumbling from side to side whilst rubbing his eyes!
Truth Waters: Red Rock on the defensive! And it looks like Red Rock has raked Vince’s eyes when we lost the feed for a moment there!
George Cassidy: You mean running for your life?
Truth Waters: Yes.
Vince Jones clenches his fists whilst pacing down the poorly lit hall way. The lights is so low you can’t see down the hall way. Vince Jones looks to his left and his right then his left again.
George Cassidy: Where is Red Rock?
Vince walks past a row of tall lockers, then just as he passes them out of no where Red Rock leaps out holding a thick history book! Vince instinctively ducks after the crashing of the lockers and Red Rocks misses his attack with the large book. Vince stares in to Red Rock’s eyes which are filled with fear. Vince grabs Red Rock round the neck and shoves him up against the lockers.
George Cassidy: This must be familiar to Red Rock.
Truth Waters: he does seem like the type to have been bullied, and Vince Jones looks like the type to have bullied!
Vince attacks Red Rock with a series of digs to the ribs, which brings Red Rock to his knees. Vince proceeds to drive his knee in to the head of Red Rock several times before letting him drop to the floor. Vince Jones grits his teeth expressing his frustration over the last couple of weeks then he applies a blatant choke hold with both hands.
Truth Waters: Red Rock is trashing kick to escape this, because Sumner isn’t going to stop Vince Jones, this is ALLLL legal!
Vince Jones tightens his grip as Red Rock begins to fight for air; Red Rock franticly moves his hand around to look for some way to get out of it. Then he notices Vince Jones’ cell phone hanging out of his pocket. Red Rock snatches it from Vince’s pocket and breaks it over Vince’s head.
Truth Waters: Vince releases the hold!
Vince Jones: DAMN! I just got that phone!
George Cassidy: Vince is completely unfazed by that!
Truth Waters: If this was the 80’s Vince would be out for the count, these days if you pick your phone up to fast they break!
Vince Jones pulls Red Rock up by his blazer but Red Rock sees the opportunity to launch an assault of his own!
George Cassidy: OOOO!
Red Rock drives his knee with all his energy in to Vince Jones groin. Vince turns his knees inwards and slowly topples to the floor, like a large tree.
Red Rock drags Vince Jones back to his feet before smashing him across the face with a forearm! Vince stumbles back down the hall way and Red Rock follows up with a snap suplex against the hard floor. Vince arches his back in pain, allowing Red Rock to capitalise by stepping on Vince Jones’ face with a boot scrape. Just on the left hand side is the door way to the art class room. Red Rock pushes the door open and drags Vince toward it. He pulls Vince through the door almost all the way and positions him with his head still in the hall way.
Truth Water: Red Rock is going to hurt Vince Jones!
Red Rock grabs the door but just before he slams it shut Vince thrusts his boot in to Red Rock’s chest with such force Red Rock is sent flying backwards over a school table. Vince Jones gets him self back to his feet to try and find Red Rock who is now out of Vince Jones’ sight. Vince Jones walks towards the table Red Rock had gone flying over and as he leans over the table he suddenly gets a face full of red paint!
Truth Waters: A Cunning stunt from Red Rock!
George Cassidy: What happened? I wasn’t paying attention! OH MY GAWD VINCE JONES IS BUSTED OPEN… AGAIN!
Truth Waters: No, no that’s red paint this time!
George Cassidy: Oh I see!
Vince Jones stumbles back trying to wipe the paint off his face whilst Red Rock jumps up on the table and hurls himself off to execute a cross body block; knocking Vince to the floor!
Truth Waters: Red Rock makes a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Truth Waters: Not quite yet!
Red Rock drags Vince to his feet and kicks him in the stomach; he then applies a head lock on Vince. Red Rock runs with Vince to use his head as a human battering ram in to the near by wall. But Vince Jones counter by using his superior strength and pushes Red Rock face first in to the wall.
Truth Waters: Red Rock’s head bounced off that wall like a squash ball!
George Cassidy: And he stumbles straight back in to a hard clothesline to the back of Red Rock’s head; sending him flat on his stomach.
Truth Waters: Vince Jones now has Red Rock right where he wants him!
George Cassidy: Yeah lying down on his stomach with his ass in the air!
Truth Waters: …
Vince Jones drops an elbow in to the lower part of Red Rock’s back. Vince Jones stands up and looks down at Red Rock’s body. He proceeds to switch on the light to make things a little easier and all around is loads of crappy pieces of art work from students. Also we can now see several cheering students watching from the outside. Vince Jones shakes his head and looks over at the students who are booing at him and flipping him off. Vince Jones retaliates with a middle finger gesture of his own.
Vince Jones: You think Red Rock’s the man? PLEASE!
Vince Jones laughs and applies his NYC Crippler! Vince wrenches away at Red Rock’s ankle and Red Rock bursts out in pain. Vince Jones taunts the on looking students who are rooting for Red Rock.
Truth Waters: Vince Jones loves the humiliation of Red Rock here!
George Waters: and so do I!
Red Rock’s eyes begin to water in pain so he attempts turning in to the twist of the lock, so Red Rock manages to quickly twist on to his back and manages to kick Vince hard in the stomach thus breaking the hold. Vince is hardly fazed by the kick so he continues his attack by lifting Red Rock back to his feet. Red Rock is putting his weight on his good foot there fore impairing his balance. Red Rock swings a punch at Vince Jones but Vince blocks the attack and replies by lifting Red Rock in to a side walk slam.
Truth Waters: Vince Jones makes the cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Truth Waters: No Red Rock manages to kick out!
Vince Jones rolls his eyes and gets back to his feet he continues by taking a handful of Red Rock’s hair.
George Cassidy: Vince Jones is dragging Red Rock back to his feet, just to knock his ass back down again!
The without thinking Red Rock punches Vince Jones hard in the crown jewels again!
George Cassidy: That’s his answer for everything!
Vince Jones drops to his knees and Red Rock attacks back with a round house punt to the side of the head. Red Rock takes his chance to limp out the art class room; leaving Vince Jones to clutch his balls in pain.
Truth Waters: Red Rock is retreating now, that’ll give him a chance to let the effects of that NYC Crippler ware off!
George Cassidy: Red Rock is running away like the coward he is again.
The students on the outside begin to jeer and boo at Vince whilst banging on the window and chanting for their anti hero!
”RED ROCK RED ROCK RED ROCK!”
Vince Jones snorts at the chants and gets back to his feet only to see the students are still booing and swearing at him. Vince snarls and picks up a chair and throws is through the glass at the students!
Truth Waters: Vince Jones is loosing his temper here!
George Cassidy: He shouldn’t be worrying about those idiots! He needs to find Red Rock.
Meanwhile, in another part of the school…
Red Rock has now escaped on to the upper part of the school and is sat down on a chair rubbing his ankle.
Truth Waters: There is Red Rock; he is now on the 1st floor of the building nursing his ankle. It’s only a matter of time before Vince Jones finds him!
And back on the lower floor.
Vince Jones is now storms up and down the corridor throwing class room doors open trying to find Red Rock.
Vince Jones: Wait ‘til I get my hands on you!
Vince Jones kicks the door off an English class and hammers the light switch, but leaves quickly. As he bursts back in to the hall way he catches sight of a janitor with his mop and bucket. Vince Jones runs up to him and grabs him by the shirt and pushes him up against the locker.
Vince Jones: Where the hell is Red Rock?!
Janitor: I don’t know I just work here!
Vince Jones: The PUNK in the school uniform!
The janitor stutters in fear of the muscular angry Vince Jones.
Janitor: I… I… saw him heading up the stairs to the 1st floor!
Vince Jones releases the janitor who is now trembling in fear just as the scene cuts to the 1st floor.
Truth Waters: Looks like Red Rock is on the moves.
George Cassidy: I think he heard how pissed off Vince Jones is.
Red Rock crouches down behind a trophy cabinet as he hears Vince Jones entering the area. Vince Jones is at the other end of the hall, wielding the Janitors mop. Vince Jones is looking around all the possible hiding places fully expecting. Vince Jones doesn’t take in to consideration that Red Rock could be behind the large trophy cabinet.
Truth Waters: This is just becoming a game of hide and seek!
Vince Jones walks past the trophy cabinet and Red Rock takes Vince down with a drop toe hold. Vince falls flat on his face and drops the mop but Vince instinctively grabs the mop again and swings it at Red Rock. Red Rock ducks and the mop smashes the near by window. Vince leaps to his feet and the two men look each other in the eye. The two men lock horns, each trying to lock a move on one another. Red Rock raises his knee to try and distance Vince away from him by Vince hooks Red Rock’s knee and attacks him with a fisherman suplex with a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
George Cassidy: NO! Kick out!
Red Rock kicks out and rolls back on himself and pushes him self off the floor and charges at Vince Jones, but Vince Jones side steps Red Rock and throws him in to the glass trophy cabinet making it smash in to pieces and sending trophies and awards falling to the floor!
Truth Waters: OH CRAP! That HAD to hurt! More blood shed and more broken glass!
George Cassidy: I bet Red Rock is having second thoughts about questioning VJ’s brains now!
Vince Jones picks up the mop again and cracks it over the back of Red Rock; breaking it in two!
Truth Waters: Vince Jones just snapped that mop over Red Rock’s back!
George Cassidy: I think Red Rock is bleeding heavily from the fore head and he has several cuts on his face now from that glass cabinet!
Vince Jones shows no mercy by picking up a very bulky and tall basket ball trophy and smashing it over Red Rock’s head and Red Rock falls down flat on his belly!
Truth Waters: Red Rock is in real trouble here!
Vince Jones picks up the dazed and confused Red Rock and applies a bear hug, wrapping his big arms and crushing the ribs of Red Rock. Vince Jones squeezes the life out of Red Rock before slamming him to the ground. Vince Jones continues to drag Red Rock through the abyss of shattered glass and broken trophies. Vince Jones then looks at the ceiling and noticing the fluorescent tube light bulbs. Vince Jones reaches up towards the ceiling and pulls one from its socket.
George Cassidy: He’s going to use that as a weapon!
Vince Jones takes aim and swings it at Red Rock, but in the blink of an eye Red Rock grabs part of the broke mop and intercepts the attack by smashing the bulb with the broken part of the mop.
Truth Waters: Vince Jones is screaming! I think some of the shards of glass from that bulb flew astray and went in to his eyes!
Vince Jones stamps in pain as the small pieces of glass scratch the surface of his eyes. Vince Jones stumbles like a blind man back towards the well of the stairs and Red Rock follows him. Vince Jones is now standing on the well of the stairs at and Red Rock see the opportunity to take advantage. Red Rock attacks Vince with a barrage of closed bloodied up fists back Vince Jones up to the 2nd floor of the school.
George Cassidy: Both men are going higher up now!
The two men now do battle in the math department and Vince begins to try and block out the pain of his eyes and Red Rock tries to ignore the blood loss. Red Rock still maintains the advantage by head butting Vince Jones across the nose like a violent football hooligan. Red Rock pushes Vince Jones against a door and Vince falls backwards in to one of the class rooms! Red Rock turns the lights on and instantly notices a meter long ruler. He takes it with both hands and smack Vince across the face with it. He then steps up on top of a table and kicks Vince in the face sending him rolling backwards over another table. Red Rock waits for Vince to get back to his feet and Red Rock dives off for a cross body, but Vince ducks and Red Rock hits the cross body block against a wall. Vince takes some deep breaths to compose him self then drags Red Rock to his feet and scoops him up and places him on one of the tables. Vince then drives several hard elbows in to Red Rock’s chest. Vince then slides Red Rock across the table and lets him drop to the floor!
George Cassidy: Red Rock finally getting his!
Truth Waters: I will admit although Red Rock’s strategies have been effective, Vince Jones is really taking it to him now!
Vince Jones mounts Red Rock and pummels him with an array of elbows and fists to the face. Red Rock tries to block them but Vince over powers the weaker man. Vince then grabs Red Rock and slams him against the wall nearest to him before throwing him up against all the other walls with relentless anger.
Truth Waters: He’s throwing Red Rock around like he’s a child!
Vince throws Red Rock out of the maths class leaving it in a big miss. Red Rock is now laid out across the wide corridor floor against a row of large glass panels, which over look the football ground. Red Rock tries to pull himself up using the safety rail by the window but Vince quickly drags him up by his shirt and pulls him close to his face.
Vince Jones: You thought you could take The Violence one on one? HELL NO BITCH!
Vince Jones head butts Red Rock hard.
Vince Jones: You ain’t got nothin’ on me! That gold belongs to VJ.
Vince Jones strikes Red Rock again with another violent head butt.
Truth Waters: Vince Jones really hates Red Rock!
Vince Jones: And I’m ‘bout to take that gold from you!
Vince Jones head butts Red Rock one more time and sets him up in a reverse DDT position!
George Cassidy: SILENCER!
Vince Jones hauls Red Rock up…
Truth Waters: No Red Rock is resisting!
Red Rock tries to fight Vince Jones’ finisher. Red Rock uses his small frame to his advantage and manages to flip his body over Vince Jones and counters the move with a neck breaker!
Truth Waters: Red Rock reserved the move! And both men are down!
Red Rock and Vince Jones slowly stir and Vince Jones is first to reach a standing position. Red Rock is dazed and confused.
Truth Waters: Both men have lost a lot of blood here!
Vince Jones digs deep and throws a punch in the face of Red Rock, Red Rock stumbles back down the hallway towards the stairs as Vince throws another punch. Vince swings another huge right by from nowhere Red Rock ducks and releases a huge roar of energy! He punches Vince Jones back in the head follows by a powerful barrage of martial art kicks!
George Cassidy: OH NO!
Truth Waters: FUNSTIGATOR!
Vince Jones stumbles back in the other direction down the hallway in to a more open area on the 2nd floor. Vince Jones eyes are rolled in to the back of his head Red Rock takes a brief moment to breath before kicking Vince once more in the gut! Red Rock sets Vince Jones up!
Truth Waters: RDT!
Red Rock attempts the RDT but Vince uses his instinct and drives Red Rock backwards towards the window with all his strength!
George Cassidy: HOLY FUCK!
Truth Waters: Vince doesn’t realise how close they are to that 2nd floor window! LOOK OUT!
Vince Jones forces Red Rock right through the barrier and through the window and both men fall 25 feet from the 2nd floor window. Red Rock though manages to maintain the RDT!
”HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT!”
Truth Waters: BOTH MEN COULD BE DEAD! OH GOOD GOD!
George Cassidy: Vince Jones could have sealed his own fate right there! He practically just got a RDT from a 2nd floor window because Red Rock managed to hold on to him!
Red Rock and Vince Jones lays flat on their backs next to one another both heavily bleeding. Selena Sumner leans out the 2nd floor window to check out the damage before making her way down to where they are.
George Cassidy: That was AWFUL! Vince Jones didn’t know what he was doing.
Truth Waters: Or did he? Could he hate Red Rock enough to take himself out with Red Rock?
Selena Sumner and the camera crew arrive by Red Rock and Vince Jones. Selena Sumner has a face of confusion as she doesn’t know whether to stop the match! She looks down at Vince and Red Rock.
George Cassidy: Vince Jones doesn’t appear to be moving!
Red Rock opens his eyes but he is in a great deal of pain! He looks over to Vince Jones and notices he is completely out. He overhears Selena Sumner talking about ending the match and with one last push he rolls his arm across Vince’s chest.
Truth Waters: RED ROCK IS ALIVE AND HE’S MAKING A PIN!
George Cassidy: Selena is too busy talking with the camera crew on what to do to even notice!
One of the camera crew points out the cover and Selena pounces to the floor!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Truth Waters: RED ROCK HAS DONE IT! RED ROCK HAS DONE IT! Another huge win for Red Rock! And he is STILL the Relentless champion!
George Cassidy: That was one hell of a savage match! We need to get some medics out there now!
STIPULATION: SHOOT CAGE
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
Truth Waters: And straight on with more Twilight Of The Gods action! Coming up, we have a rather interesting match: Anton Assault challenged his hated rival, Hate, to a Shoot Cage match. A Shoot Cage match is your standard mixed martial arts fight. Even though Anton Assault can’t have the a match in a standard octagon cage, since it’s trademarked in the UFC, AWC decided to make a modified cage with a roof to have it wrap tightly around the ring. There’s going to be no give to this cage if you run headfirst into it, and the ring ropes are being removed as we speak.
George Cassidy: Anton Assault has gotten the best of Hate as of late. Go back to Bloodlust where both men had a gruelling match and Anton Assault got the victory. Even a few weeks back, Assault and Hate participated in the first-ever Beneath The Boardwalk match for the Relentless title and Assault fared well also against “The Fifth Horseman”, who’s been real quiet lately. Now Assault has Hate where he wants him in this Shoot Cage match. As much I want to see Hate win this match and show us he’s the monster he always was, Assault has him beat.
Truth Waters: You might be right, Cass. Anton Assault is a deadly fighter and he won’t hesitate to use deadly force against his rival. Let’s go down to the ring where ring announcer James Brunt and referee Lars Larsson are standing by.
James Brunt: The following is a Shoot Cage match!
Without any warning, Marduk’s “Dracul Va Domni Din Nou In Transylvania” begins to grind away at the speakers, filling the audio system with a sense of doom and darkness. Hate appears in the entranceway, with a black gas mask covering his head and wearing a long, black trench coat. As he walks to the ringside, Hate shouts verbal abuse at the fans through his mask before removing it at the ringside, revealing his painted head. Hate slides into the ring and takes off his trench coat before putting both the coat and the mask away, utterly concentrated on the match ahead.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing 225 pounds... he is “The Fifth Horseman...” HATE!
Truth Waters: By the look on Hate’s face, he may fare well against Anton Assault in this match. He looks comfortable in that cage and he has a few chokes in his arsenal to use on “The Lion.”
George Cassidy: Maybe... but, you know, I’ve actually started to legitimately doubt Hate recently. He just doesn’t look the same fighter he used to be!
James Brunt: His opponent...
The lights dim abruptly and the opening, disgusting chords of “Vomitself” by Boris hit. The crowd falls into a hush as a single, white spotlight opens up on the entrance area. As the drone-y, soul-crushing guitars continue to lope on, the solitary figure of one Luis Ferrara, dressed in an impressive suit. He lifts his eyes to the light, shielding his face as he starts down. Tortured screams accompany the slow guitars now, heralding the appearance of Anton Assault. He doesn’t look incredibly intimidating, wearing a colorful dashiki and dressed in his black short trunks and boots under that, but his demeanor is ugly and aggressive.
James Brunt: Being accompanied to the ring by Luis Ferrara, from Paris France, weighing 229 pounds... ANTON ASSAULT!
Luis leads his prospect down to the ring and he stands off to the side, letting Anton climb into the ring by himself. Once inside the ring, Anton carefully pulls off his dashiki and hands it down to Luis, who rolls it up and heads over to set it with the timekeeper. Anton begins to limber up inside the ring, doing stretches and generally looking focused.
Ring announcer James Brunt quickly escapes the ring as the cage clamps down and Lars Larsson, the match’s assigned referee, calls for the bell. The fans half-expected to see Anton Assault explode from his corner to commit murder on his rival, Hate, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he remains calm, his anger-filled brown eyes locked on the painted face of “The Nondivine Juggernaut.” “Double A” gets into a comfortable standup fighting stance, same with “The Fifth Horseman” Hate. They slowly advance towards each other, studying each other and waiting for the other to strike. But they’re taking their time, not really in any hurry. Without warning, Assault steps in and throws a quick left jab, clipping Hate right in the mouth. Hate does feel the jab but he doesn’t sell it.
Hate swings at Anton Assault with a right hook, but Anton expected the punch before Hate threw it. “The Lion easily evades the punch by ducking underneath it and throws a hand right hand into Hate’s kidneys. Hate staggers to the side, drops to a knee and that’s where Assault struck. Assault kicks him in the side of the head, dropping Hate to the mat and relents with repeated punches and strikes to the kidney and head of Hate! The fans are on their feet, cheering for Assault as he continues his relentless assault on Hate.
Truth Waters: Good God! Look at Anton Assault go! He’s beating the hell out of Hate and Hate is defenseless! This match might end quickly if Hate doesn’t react.
George Cassidy: Now the referee is doing his job by separating Assault from Hate, allowing Hate to get to his feet. The fans don’t like it, but they can get over it.
After referee Lars Larsson separates Anton Assault from Hate, “The Lion” is at it again, advancing towards Hate once more, shoots for the legs and takes him down with an MMA takedown. Assault becomes a little overzealous with his attack, which is his first mistake in the match. Hate recovers with a hard elbow strike in Anton’s face, causing Assault to get off of Hate. Hate is now on his feet throwing right hands to the side of Assault’s head. He then kicks “The Lion” in the gut, grabs a handful of hair and throws him face first into the cage. There’s no give to the cage as he smashes against it, then falls to the mat, holding his face. “The Non-divine Juggernaut” mounts Assault, throwing multiple right hands to his face, trying to inflict more damage to the prone fighter. But it’s short lived, however, as Assault rolls over, now on top of his rival, throwing punches, open palm strikes and chops. Hate manages to rake Assault’s eyes then executes a hard head-butt, bashing Assault right in the face.
Hate pushes Anton Assault off and gets to a vertical base. So far in this match, both men have been virtually even. Hate picks up Assault wraps his arms around Assault’s waist and throws him over his head with an Overhead Belly-to-Belly Suplex. Assault crashes onto the mat hard, clutching at his lower back. Keeping the momentum in his favor, Hate quickly advances toward his opponent, dropping a knee across Assault’s forehead, then does a blatant choke in front of the referee. But it doesn’t matter; this match has no rules where both men can do whatever they desire. He breaks the choke, throwing a few hammer fists into Assault’s face for good measure. Hate quickly gets to his feet, picking up “The Lion.” He is about to whip “Double A” into the cage, but Anton reverses it, sending Hate face first into cage. Hate bounces off the cage hard, then rolls backward, now laying on the mat on his front.
Truth Waters: Holy hell! Hate went hard into that cage wall.
George Cassidy: By the velocity of that throw, Anton Assault could’ve easily knocked Hate out.
Truth Waters: Don’t be ridiculous, Cassidy. I’ve witnessed a lot of cage matches back in my day and not once have I seen someone throw their opponent into a cage wall and knock them out. Seriously... knocked out after hitting the cage? Puss---
George Cassidy: Alright already.
Hate gingerly gets to his feet, unable to defend himself from Anton Assault’s fury. Assault throws his deadly right hook into Hate’s face, taking him down to the mat where Assault would continue his “assault.” (As you can see, having the name “Assault” is quite fitting for this fighter. Heh.) Assault sits Hate up, pushing him up against the cage. Anton then throws fierce, heavy knees right into Hate’s face, over and over again, making a sandwich effect! Hate’s head and face is getting crushed between Assault’s knee strikes and the wall of the cage. The back of Hate’s head starts to bleed and is bleeding from the mouth and from a laceration sustained from getting thrown face first into the face earlier.
Truth Waters: Jesus Christ! Anton Assault is acting like a caged animal! If he continues with those knee shots he could easily kill Hate in that cage!
George Cassidy: Wouldn’t bother me much. While I watch Anton Assault handing Hate’s ass to him, I came to this conclusion... Hate sucks.
Truth Waters: I have to agree that The Fifth Horseman is performing some way short of his ability of old... some HUGE way short.
After punishing Hate for the last - I don’t know - 15 seconds, Anton Assault picks up Hate, takes him down to the mat with a Snapmare, and locks in a Half Nelson, keeping Hate’s front pushed to the mat. With his free arm, he starts punching at Hate’s kidney. Over and over he goes, throwing repeated punches into “The Fifth Horseman’s” kidney. Referee Lars Larsson is in position - yeah, first time, I know - asking Hate if he wants to quit. Of course, Hate doesn’t want to quit, he’s simply getting started. Simply started to get his ass kicked would suffice. He hasn’t mount much offense - or defense, for that matter - since “Mr. CKD” regained control of the match.
Getting bored with the monotony, Anton Assault sits up, burying a knee into the small of Hate’s back and pulls back with a Full Nelson, pulling back as far as he can, stretching the hell out of Hate’s back and sternum. if Assault keeps this pressure up, he can break Hate’s sternum, eventually killing him. Every now and again, Anton slams Hate’s face into the mat, rubbing his face into it, watching the paint and blood smear onto the canvas. Anton is finding great pleasure in Hate’s screams of agony.
Truth Waters: Goddamn, Cass! Anton Assault is making Hate his bitch! Maybe Hate should’ve reconsidered getting into any kind of cage with this Nigerian monster!
George Cassidy: I agree. I would think that Hate should reevaluate his territory and not step into the ring with Anton Assault ever again.
After rubbing Hate’s face onto the mat, Anton Assault now buries his other knee into Hate’s back, pulling back farther on the Full Nelson. With 229 pounds on his lower back and the excruciating feeling of getting stretched by the Full Nelson, a lot of people would suspect that Hate would surrender. Fortunately for Hate, he doesn’t give up, which is unfortunate for the fans. I mean, sure, they’re enjoying the pain Hate is going through, but in reality, the pain that Hate is going through is enough to break any man.
Finally, Anton Assault breaks the Full Nelson and gets off of Hate. The fans boo at Assault for letting Hate go, but “Mr. CKD” has plenty in store for Hate. He picks up Hate, setting him up in a Fireman’s Carry, then throws him forward and drops him across his knee with a Gut Buster. Afterwards, he picks up Hate, pinning Hate’s arm behind his back and sends him shoulder first into the cage! Hate bellows out in pain as he bounces off the cage. He clutches at his shoulder as he lands. “The Lion” goes into one corner, charges at Hate with a head full of steam and does a low Dropkick, hitting the shoulder hard.
Truth Waters: What animalistic fury by Anton Assault! What more can he do to Hate?
George Cassidy: The question is, what more can’t he do to Hate? If he wanted to, Anton Assault can finish off Hate anytime he wants. Hate can’t do anything to Assault and Assault owns him in this match! And just the SIGHT of Hate used to scare people out of their minds!
Truth Waters: ...speak for yourself.
“Double A” Anton Assault gets to his feet and picks up Hate. He now pins Hate’s left arm behind his back and sends “The Non-divine Juggernaut” shoulder first into the cage! Hate screams in pain as he clutches his left shoulder now. Hate is leaning against the cage now, not bouncing off as he normally did previously. Assault charges at Hate, using an Avalanche Splash, crushing his 229-pound frame into Hate’s back, crushing Hate into the cage wall. Afterwards, Assault drives a knee into Hate’s back, locks in an Inverted Face-lock and drops back hard with an Inverted DDT. Keeping the Inverted Face-lock cinched in, he wraps his legs around Hate’s waist, executing the Beast Choker! There is an evil smile on Anton’s face as he cinches back on the submission maneuver.
Truth Waters: Look at the smile on Anton Assault’s face! He’s just toying with Hate now!
George Cassidy: I know and I love it! Anton Assault has Hate’s number and there’s nothing the so-called “Fifth Horseman” can do about it!
Anton Assault lets go of the Beast Choker and gets to his feet, looking down at his prone opponent, Hate. He simply stares at his hated rival, with a look of disgust on his face. Hate starts to stir after sustaining the Beast Choker. He gingerly gets to his feet. He doesn’t do anything to stop Anton as he charges at Hate, hitting him with a shoulder charge to the stomach that sends Hate into the turnbuckle. He pulls his head down and smashes them in the face with a knee, then he brings Hate upright again and repeatedly attacks with elbows.
Truth Waters: Oh my God! That’s Anton Assault’s Massacre Combination! Now we’re gonna see some combinations from the deadly mixed martial arts fighter!
George Cassidy: That we are, Truth... that we are.
Feeling content with himself, Anton Assault throws Hate out of the corner, watching him fall to the mat. When Hate gets to his feet, Anton leaps into the air, hitting a flash kick to the face that sends Hate back into the corner. Anton lands in a crouch, sending himself forward with a rolling heel kick to the chin. Hate stumbles forward just as Assault rises. He hits Hate with a knee to the stomach and spins about, leaping into the air and flooring “The Fifth Horseman” with an axe kick. The fans are on their feet as “Mr. CKD” finishes his “Guillotine Combination.”
Anton Assault isn’t finished yet. Why would be finished now? “The Lion” gets Hate to his feet and gets him into position. Anton executes a back spring back elbow that sends Hate back into the corner. He spins, hitting him with a double axe handle smash to the stomach. Assault quickly lifts his knee into Hate’s face, snapping them upright against the turnbuckle in time for him to smash “The Non-divine Juggernaut” in the face with a back fist. He grabs Hate around the head and snapmares him out into the middle of the ring, where he decimates him with a low Dropkick.
Truth Waters: The Wild Arms Combination by Anton Assault. “The Lion” has killed his prey.
George Cassidy: Not yet, Truth. I think Anton Assault has one more trick up his sleeve.
Anton Assault is on his feet now, looking down at Hate, dragging his thumb across his throat, signifying the end for his opponent. Anton sets his Hate up in a kneeling position. He locks his legs around Hate neck in a triangle choke from behind and drops backwards, leaving Hate bending backwards. He then pushes his legs forward, forcing Hate prone. Assault pushes himself up and gathers up his opponent’s legs, rocking forward onto his knees and putting pressure on Hate’s neck. He crosses his opponent’s legs into a cloverleaf formation and slips one arm through, locking his hands. “The Lion” then leans forward, pulling his opponent’s legs as if he's trying to touch Hate’s feet to his head and bending their back powerfully in the process.
Truth Waters: Thus Always to Tyrants! Anton Assault has it locked in and Hate has nowhere to go! Hate immediately submits! This match is over! Anton Assault wins!
“Vomitself” by Boris plays on the PA system as Anton Assault breaks the hold. Assault is on his feet as Lars Larsson raises his hand into the air, indicating that Anton Assault has won the match. The cage slowly raises upward as Luis Ferrara enters the ring, congratulating Assault on his victory.
Truth Waters: Anton Assault brutally decimated Hate in that cage! I don’t think we’re going to see Hate in an AWC ring anytime soon after that horrific beating!
George Cassidy: After that match, I don’t think Hate would want to come back. Would you want to come back after that beating? I wouldn’t.
Truth Waters: I hear that, Cass. Anyway, folks, the long-awaited Sadist match between Mikey O’Reilly and Chainz is coming up next! Don’t go anywhere!
FEATURING: TERESA TOMAS, ELLIS NASH
AUTHORS: LIA AND SONYA
The back door opens. Staggered foot falls. Who Could It Be??: Well well well. Someone smells like alcohol.
Teresa Tomas, fresh off of a beer binge in her car, turns around. Ellis Nash stands there, beaming, hands behind her back.
Ellis Nash: What is that? Michelob? Bud? Figures someone like you would cheapen out. I'm guessing you're too busy banjo-dueling and fucking your own cousins to know what good liquor is.
Teresa smacks her lips as her baby blues appear to study Ellis.
Teresa Tomas: Whiskey, Nash. Black Label Jack Daniels. Old No. 7. Tennessee Whiskey.
Teresa then makes an attempt to walk past Ellis, but is stopped when Ellis grabs her arm.
Ellis Nash: Hoooold on a second, Dolly Parton. Don't make a run for the Nascar race just yet. Ellis’s got a surprise for you.
With this, the New Yorker magically whips out a plate of brownies.
Ellis Nash: Now, now. I know what you're thinking.
Nash puts on a horribly exaggerated Southern accent.
Ellis Nash: Gosh golly Miss Ellis I don't know, it mighta conflict-uh with da grit's n' ham 'dat I haves fur suppa' taday.
Then, Nash reclaims her regular voice.
Ellis Nash: But I can assure you, Teresa, these brownies are just… really good. You should have one.
A smile suddenly plays in Teresa's face. Then she laughs.
Teresa Tomas: Oh my gawd! That was the funniest impression I've ever heard! Oh, and for future reference, I'm from Tennessee, not Alabama and grits are totally off the menu. But brownies however, they are homemade aren't they? 'Cause store bought brownies don't hold a candle to fresh baked brownies.
Teresa reaches to grab one but hesitates right before her long fingers can touch the chocolate chewy treat.
Teresa Tomas: Wait, what are you up to? A girl like you just don't pop out of nowhere with a plate of brownies.
Ellis Nash: Bitch, please. I'm trying to offer you a damn brownie and you're doubting my intentions? Can't a girl just be a good Samaritan?
Teresa Tomas: Ok, Ok. Don’t get so snappy. I just drank enough whiskey to jumpstart a Pinto.
Teresa grabs the brownie and takes a small bite. As she chews, she nods approvingly then swallows.
Teresa Tomas: Well, I be damned! This is one mighty fine brownie. Who would’ve thought a New Yorker can actually cook!
Ellis smirks and curls her lower lip repressing a chuckle.
Ellis Nash: Well, um, I got more brownies to get rid of. So um, have a nice night.
Ellis then turns around and makes her way down the hall giggling to herself while Teresa is left standing finishing her brownie and wondering to herself what exactly makes this brownie taste so good.
FEATURING: PSYMON, ZSASZ
AUTHOR: JEREMY J.
“So, are we carrying out your plan tonight, or what?”
Psymon and Zsasz are sitting around the locker room. They’ve been plotting and planning ever since Psymon made his shocking arrival earlier in the evening. The only person missing is Mikey O’Reilly, who is about to start his Sadist Match against Chainz in a few short minutes.
Zsasz looks at Psymon, shaking his head, grinning at the young man.
Zsasz: Not yet, Simon. Chainz would suspect me to retaliate after everything that has happened from last week. You see, I’m not the kind of individual to rush into things haphazardly, like Chainz is. Plans of this magnitude take time to unravel, and I’m a very patient man, Simon. My plans will take weeks to be put to action.
Psymon feels his temper rising. After all that planning and him coming all the way to see Zsasz about whatever plans he is going to use, they won’t be used tonight. What was the point of Psymon coming out here if nothing’s going to happen? Psymon’s pale blue eyes are blazing with anger and annoyance.
Psymon: Why the fuck not?! The moment has presented itself, we should take it now! Why the fuck did I even come out here if we aren’t going to do a fucking thing tonight? If I’m not going to make myself useful tonight, I might as well take my leave.
Zsasz chuckles at Psymon. He enjoys the fiery passion that drives the former LOW Extreme, and uncrowned World champion. Knowing that Psymon is about to go over the edge, he calms him.
Zsasz: Patience, my good man, patience. In times like these, patience is the key. The moment - as you adequately put - hasn’t presented itself yet. There’s nothing to be presented. If I know Chainz, he’ll want to steer clear from me and will watch his back everywhere he travels... at all times. I’ll attack when he least expects it.
He checks his watch, surprised that time has flown quickly by. He stands up, picking up a manila envelope that is sitting to his left. He looks down at Psymon, and nods at him.
Zsasz: Speaking of attacking, I best be going. The Sadist match is up next. If you want to leave, then by all means, leave. I simply wanted to fill you in on what I want to do, not set out and do them. I’ll call you when I need you.
Before Zsasz can leave the locker room, Psymon stops him, curious to what is inside the manila envelope in Zsasz’s left hand.
Psymon: What’s that manila envelope for?
Zsasz grins malevolently at Psymon. The glint in his eyes match the grin.
Zsasz: This, my dear accomplice, is my great equalizer for tonight’s match. If you want to find out what it is, stick around and your curiosity will be answered.
With that, he leaves the locker room.
STIPULATION: SADIST
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHORS: JEREMY J. AND MIKE S.
Truth Waters: All right, ladies and gentlemen, it is now time to put the children to bed, because we have reached the Sadist match, where Mikey O’Reilly is going to take on that sadistic psychopath, Michael “Chainz” Sloan. If you’re wondering what the rules are, it’s simple: there are no pin falls, no submissions, and no count outs. Anything and everything goes. The object of this match is to knock your opponent out or to beat your opponent into a state where he or she can no longer continue. This match will definitely not be for those who have weak constitutions, Cass.
George Cassidy: Definitely not, Truth, I have to agree with you on that. Many have tried and failed to take out Chainz. And in this kind of match, it has Chainz written all over it. As much as I want to see Chainz get what he deserves tonight, I don’t think it’s gonna happen. I don’t think Mikey O’Reilly can stop Chainz. I don’t think anyone can stop Chainz!
Truth Waters: With that said, let’s go down to the ring for some bloody, brutal action.
James Brunt: The following is a Sadist match!
“Cure” by Wild Colonials start to play as Chainz is seen on the stage, reluctantly walking down to the ring. It appears that his mind isn’t on the match; instead it’s on something else. The fans boo at the monster Chainz.
James Brunt: Introducing first, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing in at 295 pounds... CHAINZ!
He walks up the ring steps, onto the ring apron and steps over the top rope. He is in the middle of the ring, waiting for Mikey O’Reilly.
Truth Waters: It looks like Chainz isn’t really interested in this match. He has a lot more on his mind than this match.
George Cassidy: You would, too, when your life took a turn for the worse. His girl dumped him, there have been rumours of suicidal tendencies... and now, he has to deal with Mikey O’Reilly in a Sadist match. I should feel sorry for Chainz, but I don’t. He brought everything on himself.
“Conquer Al” by Behemoth starts to play as Zsasz steps out onto the stage. He’s stripped topless, the bandages from his trap muscles have been removed and there is a malevolent glint in Zsasz’s eyes. His eyes are locked on Chainz, the man who bested him last week at Fresh!. In his right hand is a microphone and a manila envelope in his left. He does a cutthroat to kill his music. As the music stops, Zsasz starts to speak.
Zsasz: Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a bit of change in tonight’s Sadist match. Mikey O’Reilly will not be in this match... I ran into my client and told him to back off for this match. Tonight, Chainz’s opponent will be... ME!
The fans are on their feet, cheering. There is a mixture of surprise and happiness from Chainz.
Truth Waters: OH MY GOD! Zsasz is gonna square off with Chainz in this Sadist match! What a blockbuster announcement!
George Cassidy: But this doesn’t make any sense. Zsasz isn’t allowed to wrestle in AWC. His only purpose is to be manager to Mikey O’Reilly! He’s gonna break his managerial contract!
Zsasz: Now, I know what you’re all thinking... if I face Chainz in this match tonight, I’m going to break my managerial contract. I have proof in my hot little hand, stating that I won’t break my managerial contract...
Zsasz pulls out a white sheet of paper from the manila envelope. He turns it to show everyone that it’s his managerial contract.
Zsasz: What I have here is my contract as a manager here in Atlantic Wrestling Club...
He turns it around where he can read the print.
Zsasz: It’s your pretty standardized managerial contract, stating that I’m only allowed to be a manager here in the AWC. Should I challenge anyone to a match in the AWC, my contract will be immediately terminated, giving me only two choices: enter the active roster or sever ties from AWC. But... my lawyers added a customized clause to my contract, and I quote...
“If Zsasz is ever threatened, provoked or sustained any physical, mental or emotional damage from any of the AWC superstars, Mr. Zsasz is allowed one match against said superstar and his managerial status will remain intact.”
Zsasz flashes his signature smile as the fans cheer.
Zsasz: So, if you witnessed last week’s Fresh! not only did Chainz provoke me, he administered physical, mental and emotional damage by torturing me to give him a Sadist match against Mikey O’Reilly for tonight. That gives me legal ground to challenge Chainz and replace Mikey O’Reilly in this match. Oh yes, contractual loopholes are grand.
Truth Waters: Contractual loopholes are grand, indeed! Zsasz has Chainz in this match and there’s nothing Chainz or AWC management can do about it! Zsasz has legal ground!
George Cassidy: Look at Chainz! He’s smiling!
George Cassidy is right... Sloan is smiling after hearing Zsasz’s legal spiel. This match has only gotten better for Chainz. He can eliminate Zsasz from the AWC, then take out Mikey O’Reilly next. Chainz will be on top of his game if that happened. He watches Zsasz, who slips his contract back into the manila envelope, then places it on the stage next to him. He flashes his pearly-white smile at Chainz.
Zsasz: Let’s not keep the fans waiting, Sloan. Let the battle begin!
Referee Joseph Reid rings the bell as Zsasz walks down to the ring, keeping his eyes on Chainz. Chainz stands his ground, waiting patiently for Zsasz. Unbeknownst to Chainz, Mikey O’Reilly is seen coming from the fans, jumps over the security wall, and enters the ring with a chair in his position. When Zsasz steps onto the ring apron, O’Reilly waffles Chainz hard in the back of the head, sending the psychopath onto the mat. The fans explode with cheers, chanting O’Reilly’s name.
“MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY!”
Truth Waters: Jesus Christ! Mikey O’Reilly laid out Chainz with that chair shot! Where the hell did he come from? I thought he wasn’t in this match.
George Cassidy: Obviously you haven’t seen a well-orchestrated setup either. Mikey O’Reilly and Zsasz set Chainz up and they set him up good.
Zsasz’s sadistic smile broadens as he witnessed Mikey O’Reilly laying Chainz out with that heavy chair shot. He enters the ring, looking at his client.
Zsasz: Get him to his feet, Mikey.
Obeying, Mikey O’Reilly picks up Chainz, getting him to his feet. Chainz’s eyes are glazed over, perhaps suffering a concussion from the chair shot earlier. Zsasz looks at Chainz in disgust. He then grabs him by the throat with his left hand, shouting obscenities in Slavic. Then, he picks up Chainz - with the greatest of ease, no less - up into an Argentine Rack Backbreaker. He holds Chainz there for a few seconds, showing off a bit, displaying his obligatory perfection in front of the fans. Putting his narcissism aside, he flips Chainz over, leaps into the air and drills Chainz front first onto the mat with a Michinoku Driver II-B layout, completing the Psycho Driver.
Truth Water: Psycho Driver with authority! He calls that move “The Apex!”
George Cassidy: With a move like that, I would call it “The Apex,” too. That move will finish anyone off.
Chuckling to himself, Zsasz looks down at the motionless Chainz. With the microphone in his hand, he palms Chainz’s bald head, lifting it up to expose his face. Chainz’s eyes are rolled back in his head after taking such impact. It’s obvious that he’s out cold, or almost out cold.
Zsasz: This is only the beginning, Sloan. From now on, your life will be in my hands. Everything you’ve ever cherished will no longer exist! You’ve selected the wrong individual to fuck with, Sloan, and you’ll pay handsomely for your insidious actions!
Zsasz slams Chainz’s face into the mat and gets to his feet. He looks over at his client, Mikey O’Reilly, giving him a nod.
Zsasz: I’ll leave this match in your capable hands, O’Reilly. Good luck and have fun.
Zsasz leaves the ring and the fans are cheering for him. Seventeen years in the wrestling business and Zsasz is getting cheered for the first time. That’s something you don’t see everyday.
Truth Waters: The fans are on their feet after witnessing what happened! Zsasz and Mikey O’Reilly played Chainz... hard!
George Cassidy: No kidding, Truth! Chainz fell for the oldest trick in the book!
Mikey O’Reilly picks up Chainz, savoring the fact that he’s going to have his way with him. He sizes Chainz up, then throws a heavy right hand right into Chainz’s face, sending him to the mat. He picks up Chainz, whips him onto the ropes and executes an Arn Anderson style Spine Buster right onto the chair. Mikey’s first impulse was to pin the psychopath, but there aren’t any pin falls in this Sadist match. Instead, he slides out of the ring, goes underneath the ring and rummages around. A few seconds later, he pulls out a table and a trashcan full of weapons.
Truth Waters: Now we’re getting somewhere in this Sadist match, Cass!
George Cassidy: Definitely, Truth. You can’t have a Sadist match without a few toys.
Mikey O’Reilly re-enters the ring with the trashcan full of weapons in his hands, but is greeted by a wicked chair shot by Chainz, dropping his opponent to the mat. “Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” is busted wide open after that exchange, the first one to bleed in this match. Chainz takes the trashcan and dumps the contents in the middle of the, watching the toys fill up the center of the ring. A lot of the weapons are wrapped in barbed wire: Kendo sticks, chairs, baseball bats and even 2x4’s! Smiling evilly, he discovers a cheese grater, picks it up and walks over to his bloody opponent. Chainz grabs Mikey O’Reilly by the hair, sits him up and maliciously grinds the grater across “Mr. One Punch’s” forehead, causing him to bleed profusely as shreds of flesh coat the grater. The fans look on, booing at Chainz and groaning at the display of vulgarity. The screams emanating from Mikey is almost sickening...
Truth Waters: Oh my God! Chainz is using that cheese grater across Mikey O’Reilly’s forehead! That’s just disgusting! God, listen to those screams... they’re like screams of bloody murder.
George Cassidy: This is a Sadist match, Truth! What did you expect, a pillow fight?
After shredding away at Mikey O’Reilly’s forehead for a period of time, Chainz drops the cheese grater and starts biting at Mikey’s forehead. Mikey is writhing in agony as Chainz sinks his teeth into the bloodied, shredded forehead. More blood is spilled, covering the majority of O’Reilly’s chest. Finally, with a sick smile on his face, Chainz drags his tongue across the gory forehead of Mikey’s, lapping up at O’Reilly’s blood. Chainz’s has a macabre glint in his green eyes as his lips are covered in O’Reilly’s blood. Chainz is laughing at Mikey as he licks some more of his blood, picking up some shredded remains of flesh onto his tongue.
Truth Waters: Oh dear God, I don’t think I can watch this match anymore. Ref! Stop the damn match! Mikey can’t win!
George Cassidy: The referee isn’t allowed to stop the match. There has to be a winner between Chainz and Mikey O’Reilly, and it looks like Chainz is going to destroy O’Reilly in this match and continue his reign by going through everyone in his wake.
Chainz gets to his feet, looking for more weapons to use on his smaller, feeble opponent. His eyes grow drastically wide as malevolent grin spreads across his face as he sees his favorite weapon. There is a length of chain - about ten feet in length - laying in the center of the ring. He picks it up, examining it with the utmost fascination, then looks over at Mikey O’Reilly, who is slowly stirring from the assault he previously went through. His face has donned a crimson mask and blood is trickling down his front, making him more of a bloody mess.
Chainz stalks his opponent, waiting for the right time to strike. Mikey O’Reilly gets shakily to his feet, looking around for his opponent, but the blood on his face is making it hard for him to see. Unbeknownst to O’Reilly, Chainz is right behind him, wrapping the chain around his neck like a noose, cinching it in tight. Afterwards, Chainz jerks on the chain, sending O’Reilly down to the mat and drags him to one of the sides of the ring. Using the chain, he lifts O’Reilly up into the air and hangs him over the rope, strangling “Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” with the chain. O’Reilly is working frantically to break free from the lynching, but it’s no use. His eyes are bulging out of his head, his face is turning blue and he’s quickly passing out.
Truth Waters: What vile antics by Chainz! He’s choking the life out of Mikey O’Reilly! Hey, ref, he’s going to kill him! Stop him!
George Cassidy: Unfortunately, the referee can’t. You can do whatever you want in this match, so the referee has no power in stopping that assault on Mikey O’Reilly.
Chainz isn’t going to beat him that, oh no. After nearly choking Mikey O’Reilly out, he jerks back on the chain, sending O’Reilly back into the ring, sending O’Reilly crashing hard onto the mat. He removes the chain from Mikey’s neck, lifts him to his feet and kicks him in the gut, doubling O’Reilly over. Chainz picks up O’Reilly over his right shoulder, runs over to left-hand side of the ring and throws him over the top rope and through the table O’Reilly had set up earlier. O’Reilly goes through the table hard, landing on his shoulder blades after the table exploded.
Truth Waters: Power Bomb through the table onto the outside! This match has got to be over!
Mikey O’Reilly slowly stirs on the concrete floor. If he doesn’t mount any offense he’ll lose this match - not to mention his career and possibly his life - against Chainz. Speaking of Chainz, he steps over the top rope and drops onto the floor, about to administer more punishment onto his opponent. As Chainz grabs a handful of hair, Mikey miraculous gets a surge of energy and throws a heavy right hand into Chainz’s testicles. Chainz bellows out, dropping to his knees and holds himself. O’Reilly gingerly gets to his feet, looks over at Chainz and kicks him in the side of the head.
Mikey O’Reilly then mounts his larger opponent, throwing taped fist after taped fist, then a few elbows and head-butts, fucking Chainz up UFC style! Chainz manages to push Mikey off, getting the opportunity to get to his feet. Before he can react, Mikey picks up a broken half of a the table and throws it right into Chainz’s face. He staggers backward, momentarily dazed from the flying table. Afterwards, O’Reilly tackles Chainz right into the steel steps!
Truth Waters: Mikey O’Reilly is coming back in this match by tackling Chainz right into the steel steps! Chainz’s back was slammed hard into the steps!
George Cassidy: C’mon, O’Reilly! Kick his ass!
Mikey O’Reilly slowly gets to his feet and has a little trouble getting the near 300-pound Chainz to a vertical base. O’Reilly grabs the back of Chainz’s head, repeatedly slamming Chainz’s face into the ring post. When Chainz is busted open, O’Reilly starts throwing heavy hands into Chainz’s open wound on his forehead. O’Reilly lets Chainz go, grabs the top of the ring steps and blasts Chainz right in the forehead with the steps! The fans are on their feet, cheering for him, chanting his name...
“MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY!”
Truth Waters: Mikey O’Reilly is back in the driver’s seat by drilling Chainz right in the face with the steel ring steps! Now they’re both even in blood loss!
Mikey O’Reilly rolls Chainz back into the ring. O’Reilly rolls into the ring, ready to destroy his nemesis. He picks up Chainz, kicks him in the gut, executes a Front Face-lock and swings violently backward with a Dangerous DDT, drilling the top of Chainz’s head right onto a chair. After positioning Chainz on the chair, pressing his face onto the chair, he finds a chair wrapped in barbed wire. The fans cheer as O’Reilly raises the chair into the air, displaying the weapon in front of the fans.
“Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” stands over Chainz, raises the razor wire chair over his head and sends it down across the back of Chainz’s head with a one-man Con-Chair-To! But Mikey O’Reilly isn’t done yet. He raises the chair over his head and sends it crashing across the back of Chainz’s head again with another Con-Chair-To! O’Reilly raises the chair over his head once more. Mikey lets out a mighty roar and throws the chair onto the back of Chainz’s head with the third Con-Chair-To! “Mr. One Punch” is pounding his chest with his fists, roaring once more. The fans are on their feet, chanting Mikey’s name...
“MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY! MIKEY!”
Truth Waters: Mikey O’Reilly has completely fucking lost it! Three Con-Chair-To’s with the barbed wire chair across the back of Chainz’s head! The back of Chainz’s head is tore up from each chair shot and it’s bleed profusely!
George Cassidy: This match is turning into a gratuitous, gut-wrenching gore-fest! I love it - the blood, the gore... THE CARNAGE~!
Mikey O’Reilly rolls out of the ring, goes underneath the ring again, rummaging around one more time. A few seconds later he pulls out... A BED OF NAILS?! The fans erupt with cheers.
George Cassidy: Oh... my... God...
Truth Waters: Ladies and gentlemen... Mikey O’Reilly has pulled out a bed of nails from underneath the ring! I don’t like there this is going!
Mikey O’Reilly throws the bed of nails into the ring, almost landing on Chainz. He re-enters the ring, sitting up the bed of nails in to upper right-hand corner of the ring. Next, he walks over to Chainz, getting him to his feet. Unbeknownst to O’Reilly, Chainz has a barbed wire Kendo stick. Chainz buries the weapon into Mikey’s midsection, then across Mikey’s back, lacerating his back, as blood rises to the surface, trickling down his back. Chainz sets the weapon across O’Reilly’s throat and drops backward with a Side Russian Leg-sweep, using the razor wire weapon to accentuate more pain. Lacerations are seen on O’Reilly’s throat as blood rises to the surface, then trickles down his neck.
Truth Waters: Jesus Christ! What a Side Russian Leg-sweep by Chainz, using the barbed wire Shini stick for more damage!
George Cassidy: Dammit! Mikey had a good roll going then fucked up by not searching Chainz! That may cost him later on.
Chainz is slow to get to his feet, but manages to do so. He picks up Mikey O’Reilly - by his hair, of course - and whips him hard into the bed of nails! O’Reilly goes back first into the deadly structure, the nails penetrate his flesh!
Truth Waters: Oh my God! Mikey O’Reilly is impaled by those bed of nails! This match has gone too far! The referee has to ring the damn bell!
George Cassidy: As much as I want to see the referee ring the bell, he is powerless! There has to be a winner between these two superstars, and with Chainz back in the driver’s seat, it looks like Chainz may pick up the win.
Mikey O’Reilly bellows out in pain, quickly removing himself from the bed of nails. He takes a few sluggish steps forward, but couldn’t defend himself from Chainz’s Super Kick known as “Chain Link.” Chainz steps over “Mr. One Punch,” taking the bed of nails out of the corner and sets it in the center of the ring, moving some weapons out of the way to make room. With the bed of nails in place, he walks over to Mikey, picking him up and setting his head in between Chainz’s legs. There’s a smile on his face, doing the cutthroat motion. Everyone knows what’s going to happen next.
Truth Waters: No! Don’t do it! Chainz is going to kill Mikey O’Reilly if he Power Bombs Mikey onto those nails!
George Cassidy: Well, it was nice knowing Mikey O’Reilly. After this match, there’ll be funeral... Mikey O’Reilly’s funeral.
Chainz attempts to pick up Mikey O’Reilly for the Power Bomb, but O’Reilly blocks it. Chainz goes for another attempt, and the results were the same as last time. Before he can do a third Power Bomb attempt, Mikey counters with a Back Body Drop, sending Chainz back first onto the nails! Chainz lands hard, bellowing out in pain as the fans cheer for Chainz’s misfortunes. Chainz rolls off the nails and clutches at his back. He can feel the multiple holes in his back as they start to bleed.
Truth Waters: My God, what a match! Both of these men are running on nothing but adrenaline to keep them going in this graphic bloodbath!
George Cassidy: Not only adrenaline, but intestinal fortitude! Either one of these men is going to succumb to the other.
Mikey O’Reilly is on spaghetti legs. He awkwardly walks over to his opponent, getting him to a vertical base. But before Chainz is on his feet, Chainz throws a low blow into O’Reilly’s Irish nether regions, dropping O’Reilly to the mat, clutching his manhood. Afterwards, Chainz throws a Big Boot into O’Reilly’s face, adding insult to injury. Chainz walks over to find a weapon, picks up the barbed wire chair O’Reilly used on Chainz recently and walks back over to his prone and bloody opponent. He raises it over his head, then sends it down across O’Reilly’s stomach, as the razor wire slice up O’Reilly’s chiseled stomach! Like a sociopathic madman, he repeatedly smashes O’Reilly about the head and face with the evil weapon, leaving multiple lacerations all over his body, making “Tha’ Fokin’ Pikey” a bloodier mess!
Truth Waters: Now Chainz has fucking lost it! He assaulted Mikey O’Reilly with that barbwire chair!
Leaving Mikey O’Reilly in the middle of the ring, he exits the ring and pulls out another table. He slides the table in the middle of the ring. He then goes back underneath the ring and pulls out another table, sliding it into the ring. Satisfied with himself, he re-enters the ring, setting up both tables. He looks around inside the ring, finds a spool of barbwire and takes it. He walks back over to the tables, wrapping them both heavily with barbed wire. Then he pulls out a small bottle of gasoline, squirting both tables with it, takes out a lighter from his pocket, ignites it and places it on both tables, setting both tables ablaze!
Truth Waters: Oh boy... this isn’t good. Two flaming barbwire tables only means one thing...
George Cassidy: The demise of Mikey O’Reilly.
Leaving the flaming tables, he stalks Mikey O’Reilly. He notices that O’Reilly has a baseball bat in his possession but Chainz disarms him with the greatest of ease. Chainz kicks O’Reilly in the side of the head, temporarily subduing O’Reilly. He lifts O’Reilly easily over his right shoulder and walks over to the flaming barbwire tables. He walks over to the nearest corner, turns around and slowly climbs up the corner. When he gets to the top turnbuckle, he launches himself toward the flaming tables, throwing O’Reilly through BOTH tables!
“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”
Truth Waters: Jesus, Mary and Joseph! A Super Bomb through both tables! Chainz has killed Mikey O’Reilly! There’s no way Mikey O’Reilly can battle out of this!
George Cassidy: Indeed, Truth. We might as well put this baby to bed!
Chainz sits in the middle of the ring, resting himself and watching Mikey writhing on the outside after going through the burning tables. He slowly begins to rise as Chainz flashes a sick smile, loving the fact that the match can go on. He slides out to the outside and clotheslines Mikey back down to the ground, hard. He picks up the smaller man with ease and wraps his hands across his neck, lifting him off the ground, and slamming him down in the debris of table and wire.
Truth Waters: Chainz is in full control now Cass, I don’t like the way Mikey is looking.
George Cassidy: He’s already been through so much and Chainz doesn’t seem interested in ending the match anytime soon. He truly is a sociopath.
The referee goes to check on Mikey, but he is still conscious and tells the referee he can continue. Chainz drags Mikey by the leg, face first through the barbwire table. He picks him up and throws him back into the ring. He goes underneath and pulls out a bag of what appears to be shards of glass, something he has grown found of impaling into other people’s flesh. He also pulls out a large pane of glass that he slides into the ring. As Mikey slowly gets up Chainz smashes the glass over his head, lacerating the bare-knuckle boxer once again. Pieces of glass fly all over as Mikey drops to the ground, eyes glazed and confused.
George Cassidy: It doesn’t even look like Mikey O’Reilly knows where he’s at anymore.
Truth Waters: Well his head has been scrambled so many times in this match I’d be surprised if he could remember his own name. This Chainz is a sick man, but I’m just shocked every time I see him. You think there’s nothing more he can do to shock or horrify people, but every week he manages to disgust and revolt me more and more. I still can’t believe Pearl lets him come out here and wrestle.
George Cassidy: Because he’s too busy answering phones calls from people protesting Chainz’s employment by this company. He’s received so many calls and letters about this freak, I’m surprised he’s had any time to do anything at all.
Chainz dumps the bag of glass out near a corner. He goes over to Mikey and drops an elbow straight onto his forehead. With ease he picks him up and places his head between his legs setting him up for his finisher, but than suddenly he gets a big smile on his face.
Truth Waters: I don’t like the look of that smile, who knows what this sick man has on his mind.
George Cassidy: Well at least it looks like this match is coming to an end.
Chainz releases Mikey O’Reilly and lifts him in a torture rack position, similar to what Zsasz did to him earlier in the night. He climbs the turnbuckle with Mikey in the torture rack position, limp and motionless.
Truth Waters: Oh no, come on, Mikey isn’t moving already. This match is over already, no need for more of this brutality.
George Cassidy: I shudder to look, but I can’t divert my eyes.
Chainz stops at the top and smiles at the booing crowd around him. He lifts Mikey and slams him with The Apex, the same move that Zsasz did to him earlier in the night. Mikey lands in the pile of glass shards, not even offering a scream of pain as his eyes are closed and he isn’t moving. Penetrated glass glistens with fresh blood as the referee goes over and checks on Mikey O’Reilly who shows no signs of life, except for his heaving chest.
The referee quickly asks for the bell, declaring Mikey O’Reilly finished for and unfit to continue with the match.
Truth Waters: Thank god that this match is finally over, I don’t know how much more I could stand.
James Brunt: The winner... CHAINZ!
George Cassidy: Chainz needs to feel that sort of pain himself, but where can we find a sick individual who would do that to him.
Chainz rubs some of Mikey’s blood on his already blood covered chest and raises his hands in victory.
Truth Waters: Lets take a break from this nauseating display of violence.
George Cassidy: No kidding, Truth. It’ll take a while for the ring crew to clean that mess up and get it ready for the rest of the evening...
Truth Waters: Incredible. Incredible.
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHORS: TRENT (majority) AND PIERRE HYDE (finish)
Truth Waters: What a night it's been already, Cass, and here's the kicker: it only gets better from here. We've got two stellar match-ups which I'm sure Harber was torn between to make the main event; we've got Ellis Nash and Mike Wade coming up next, who are essentially fighting over one "Face-Eater".
George Cassidy: You think Harber was torn between two things? How am I supposed to choose one of these two to win? The arrogant, brilliant Mike Wade, or the lovely Ellis Nash?
Truth Waters: I don't know. Flip a coin.
George Cassidy: Y'know what, I'm just going to root for them both! Hah!
Truth Waters: Typical. Anyway, as I was saying, we've got a Frontier championship match coming up momentarily, with the Transatlantic title match to follow. Here we go folks, more Twilight Of The Gods!
George Cassidy: Jesus, I've heard that expression too much in one night than can be handled.
Truth Waters: And just like every night, I've dealt with you too much than one person can possibly handle.
George Cassidy: Oh, zing! Truth is on fiyah!
The lights dim somewhat. Short strums of the guitar vibrate through the speakers and the audience, recognizing the familiar tune almost immediately, begin to boo their asses off. By this time, "Club Slut" by Hot Action Cop has already kicked into its simple drum and guitar beat.
You say you want you a club slut who got the big fat ass
The kind that got them DSL's and shake her booty fast
Pushing the curtains aside in an almost irritated manner, Ellis Nash stalks onto the stage, looking at the disparaging audience with a disgusted frown. Looking at her nails, Ellis inspects them tenderly before flashing her middle finger high to the now chafed crowd of cows. As the song's chorus drowns out their disapproving chants, two pyros from either side of the stage shoot off towards the ceiling, white in color.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the AWC Frontier championship! Introducing first, the challenger, from Cortland, New York, weighing in at 117 pounds... ELLIS NASH!
Get up on the dance floor and now shake your butt
Cause you know you're getting in on with the club slut
You know you like it fast
She left you on your ass
Pompously swaggering down the rampway, Ellis ignores the women hurling various obscenities at her (by hurling them right back) and the numerous, sweaty hands of teenage boys itching for a touch of heavenly Nash. Stopping at the bottom, Ellis looks to both of her sides, narrowing her eyes with a shit-eating grin before rolling into the ring. Ellis, once inside the ring, uses only her upper arms to propel herself to her feet. With a broad smile, Ellis slaps James Brunt's shoulder mockingly before heading off to her corner of the ring.
George Cassidy: As a commentator, I hate to state the obvious, but dayyyyum! She looks good tonight!
Truth Waters: Yes, you have to admire her, uh, indifference.
"Jump Around" by House of Pain cuts off “Club Slut” as the Frontier champion... His Swerviness... the Unfuckable .. Mike Wade makes his entrance, a cocky grin spread across his Irish mug. He struts to the ring like the true badass he is, showing off his gleaming championship and ignoring the onslaught of boos from the crowd.
James Brunt: And the champion, weighing in at 209 and 3/4 pounds, from Waterford, Ireland... Mike Wade!
Truth Waters: Well, since Mike Wade is too cool for an entrance I guess we're off with the match!
George Cassidy: Mike Wade is the pinnacle of coolness, Truth. He is swervy.
Truth Waters: Hence, the corny nickname!
Wade slides into the ring, cautious of Nash's presence, but still with the arrogant look on his face. He hands his title to Aaron Davies who raises it above his head to a reaction from the crowd, then hands it to a ringside crewman, and calls for the bell. Ellis Nash stares intently at her target, gamma rays of hate shooting off her eyeballs at the man putting his foot into her affairs. They circle each other. The two opposites clash in the middle of the ring with a flurry of punches, with Ellis Nash putting her all into it and gaining the upper hand on the Frontier champion, who is almost taken aback by the raging Nash. Wade is forced into a corner where Nash winds up for a big right hand, giving Wade enough time to counter with a kick to her mid-section. The female doubles up and is blindsided by a knee attack from the Irishman.
Truth Waters: Wow, vicious knee there from Mike Wade, who slows down the pace of this match. I'm sure that will only last so long; these competitors are fierce!
George Cassidy: The question is - who is more fierce? I'm thinking Wade, but he just lacks the spunk of Ellis Nash. We could all use a little bit of her spunk, I think.
Truth Waters: Dig me a grave before the world is full of Ellis Nashs.
Meanwhile, the topic of the commentator's banter is sent sprawling into the middle of the ring, but is back on her feet before Wade can execute his offense. The champ barrels towards her anyway with a tackle in mind, but Nash sidesteps him impressively and sends him shoulder-first into the ringpost.
Truth Waters: Whoa! Nice counter from the former FBI gal!
Ellis Nash pulls Wade out of the corner and positions him for a Back Suplex. Nash has trouble on the execution however as Wade holds his ground, then uses his free hand to upper cut the female sending her right back down to the canvas. Wade instinctively stomps a mudhole in her. Once satisfied, he brings her up in a front face lock and hits a Fisherman's Suplex, keeping the leg hooked.
ONE!
Nash easily escape the early attempt, and both competitors are back on their feet. Nash is a little groggy and throws an ineffective right punch which Wade grabs easily, then delivers a back-elbow to the face of Ellis Nash. She stumbles backwards, taking her attention away from the experienced wrestler a moment too long. Wade dropkicks her right in the jaw, sending her sprawling into and over the ring cables. Aaron Davies is on top of the count. ONE!
Truth Waters: This will probably work to Wade's advantage; he's usually on the outside looking in.
George Cassidy: Truth, you're just full of hilarious one-liners tonight, aren't you?
TWO! Ellis Nash struggles to get to her feet as Wade joins her on the outside. THREE! Wade picks her up and slams her into a barricade. FOUR! Wade grabs her again, not finished, then throws her back into the ring and follows, stopping the count.
Truth Waters: That damn five count. Eliminates some good ringside battles, I'm telling you.
George Cassidy: I think that's been established already...
Truth Waters: Cass, did you even know that AWC had new rules?
George Cassidy: Yeah... what do you think I am, stupid? It just happened last week!
In the ring, Mike Wade has gained a control over his opponent and is harassing her in the corner with lefts, rights, and kicks. He mockingly urges her to fight back, then follows with a slap right across the face that echoes throughout the arena. He smirks at the fans who are booing the Unfuckable, then turns back to Nash, and clips her with a few Knife-Edge chops right above her chest. The female's cleavage is turning a shade of red now, and Mike Wade continues his ruthless attack, raising his opponent to the top-turnbuckle. He jumps up there himself, and follows with a Frankensteiner.
Truth Waters: The Frontier champion really taking it to the brunette now.
George Cassidy: How dare you call her that!
Truth Waters: It's a shame, Cass... you're whipped, and she probably doesn't even know your name. How cute.
Mike Wade follows his impressive move by taunting the crowd, before putting one foot on Nash's chest. "The Cocky Pin", as performed by Chris Jericho.
ONE!
TWO!
Nash kicks out of the feeble attempt as the crowd boos His Swerviness for the arrogant pin, and Wade flips them off. Meanwhile, Nash does a kick-up and is on her feet, with Wade's back turned. He turns around to a Spinning Heel Kicks to a small pop from the crowd. The fans are almost rallying behind the hated Nash, simply because she's an underdog. She's all business, however, and grabs Wade by the legs and flips him over in a Boston Crab. It is executed well, but Wade has a lot of fight left in him and finds a way to the ropes.
Truth Waters: These fans love the underdog, Cass.
George Cassidy: I've always loved her!
Truth Waters: ...Aren't you married? Cause, y'know, I can never really tell...
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Nash finally releases the hold, but it was effective with Mike Wade now agonizing over his lower back. Nash gives a couple boot stomps to the back for good measure, then hauls the Irishman to his feet. A few quick punches gets him staggering, and consecutive high kicks from Ellis Nash sends him collapsing on his ass in the corner. Nash follows him in determinedly, with her hands on the ropes as leverage using her shin to choke him out. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! She releases at Aaron Davies command, but she's on a role now, and lifts Mike Wade to a standing position and returns the favour with a sequence of knife-edge chops of her own.
Truth Waters: Nash has the almighty Unfuckable on the ropes now! She's on a tear!
George Cassidy: She's got one in the ropes, and one in the sack. All is not well! She's tearing them apart!
Nash takes hold of Wade's wrist and attempts an Irish Whip. Wade, desperate to turn the match in his favour, musters all his strength to reverse it and tosses her into the turnbuckle rather weakly. He eventually charges after her but Nash is already coming back at him; both of them have a clothesline in mind, and it results in a mid-ring collision with both wrestlers ending up on the canvas.
Truth Waters: Y'know, if Wade loses to Nash, it will be the third female Unfuckable loss this month?!
George Cassidy: Keep that to yourself!
Truth Waters: Nash is bringing this team down, Cass, and in more ways than one. Better get used to it!
Nash is the first revived, and scampers onto Wade for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Wade kicks out. Nash is up and delivering boots to Wade's skull. Once satisfied, Nash retreats to the corner where she ascends to the top turnbuckle with her back facing the middle of the ring. She leaps off to the flash of a thousand cameras as she attempts a Moonsault. Mike Wade rolls out of the way at the last second, and Nash eats canvas with a resounding thud.
Truth Waters: Wade isn't out of this one yet... not even close.
Wade is back on his feet and bouncing off the ropes, coming back towards Ellis Nash he drops an elbow on her chest and keeps his body on top of her, stalling for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Ellis kicks out. Wade slowly gets to his feet, then brings Nash up as well. Nash counters with a quick shot to the gut that sends Wade stumbling backwards, but the female doesn't act immediately for she is still slightly groggy. The two circle each other in mid-ring, the crowd getting into it now, with official Aaron Davies looking on intently. They go to tie up in mid-ring and the Cortland native pulls a sly move with a quick knee to Wade's gut, dangerously close to being below the belt. Nash grabs Wade in a waist-lock and heaves him over in a German Suplex, showing impressive strength even with the size disadvantage.
Truth Waters: This girl's a fighter, Cass, I have to admit.
George Cassidy: Not enough to beat His Swerviness though... let's go there big shot!
Nash is on her feet again, and leaps off the ropes in a Springboard, looking for the Moonsault, and she lands it! She opts not to cover, though, as she picks up the pace in the match and hits another Springboard Moonsault! She gets up again, Standing Moonsault this time!
Truth Waters: Three moonsaults from Nash! And a cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout!
George Cassidy: Even that isn’t enough. Mike Wade is truly Unfuckable!
Ellis Nash shrugs, drags Mike Wade up, and hits the Decree.
Truth Waters: Like… what?
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
George Cassidy: …Huh?
Truth Waters: It’s… it’s over!
George Cassidy: Mike Wade just… he just lost his championship belt! The Decree finished him, just like that!
Truth Waters: Wade looked some way short of his best at points tonight, and he’s lost his title belt to Ellis Nash without putting up a very lengthy resistance!
George Cassidy: His Swerviness not bringing his A-game to the table, Truth, and Ellis Nash has at long last captured her first ever AWC title belt!
Nash curls her lip as James Brunt offers her the belt, and takes it with two fingers (suddenly wincing as she realises how heavy it is) to avoid getting too much of Wade’s Irish sweat and skin cells and whatever other eww on her. Like… gross.
James Brunt: The winner, and new Frontier champion… ELLIS NASH!
Truth Waters: Hey, you don’t think… you don’t think Ellis fed Wade some of her ‘special’ cookies?
George Cassidy: I wouldn’t put it past her Truth! She is one devious individual!
Truth Waters: But would she care enough? She’s Ellis Nash! Indifferent Ellis Nash!
George Cassidy: We know she does care about one thing at least: Adam Dick. And what brought this match about? Mike Wade complaining that Ellis has ruined the Face-Eater. She had her own honour to defend.
Truth Waters: It’s hardly honorable to poison your opponent beforehand…
George Cassidy: It was only a hunch, Truth, we’ve got nothing! For now, all that matters is Ellis Nash is our new Frontier champion!
Truth Waters: She’s given us a lot in her time in AWC. I daresay she deserves it.
FEATURING: TRACY, SARAH KENNEDY, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: LARA CLARKE AND MIKE S.
The rain clattered against the glass, the thunderous weather was proving a disappointment to Tracy’s already brutal weekend. She sat on the sofa, a bottle of wine, half empty lay on the table next to her as she sipped gently on the pure red liquid, floating aimlessly in the cylindrical glass. She had come back to the hotel room, in hopes of forgetting her counselling. She had been forced to stay in a room with Jasmine and Teresa and talk to a counsellor about their differences. Waste of my time. Tracy thought, looking into the night’s sky as she watched thunder dart across the black abyss, creating a harsh glare on her eyes.
What do they know? she asked herself, in reminiscence of the counsellor’s attempts to solve the differences between the three ladies. She wouldn’t accept the fact that Michael may not change, but being away from him was proving to be difficult. She felt alone now seated in her own hotel room, the first time she had actually been alone since dating Michael, and here they were, stuck in a never ending circle. She always believed there was some hope, but from previous weeks she saw things were deteriorating. Why Teresa? She’s oil to his water... Why? What’s wrong with me? A common thought that brought her back to the same conclusion, she wasn’t good enough for him... But he loved her, Michael loved her and that was good enough.
KNOCK
KNOCK
Tracy looked at her watch; it was only 8:00 pm. The show was still on, which meant it had to be room service; she’d been waiting a while for her dinner. Tracy rose to her feet, placing the wine glass carefully onto the table and strutted over to the door in her slippers and baggy pyjama bottoms. When she opened the door, she half expected Michael to be standing there, but when she saw Sarah standing before her, she was in someway relieved to see her, and not Michael; she wasn’t ready to confront him.
Tracy: Sarah? Shouldn’t you be at the show?
Sarah Kennedy: I want to be pretend everything’s alright, but I can’t be there right now.
Tracy looked toward Sarah, who was wearing a very wet rain jacket. Sarah wasn’t acting herself, granted in the last few weeks it had been Tracy asking for advice; it now seemed Sarah was looking for help. Tracy ushered Sarah into the hotel room and shut the door.
Sarah Kennedy: Eh, what’s with the lack of light?
Sarah stood in the centre of Tracy’s hotel room, afraid to move with the lack of light. Tracy flicked on the light switch and plodded over to the sofa where she collapsed and returned to drinking her wine. Sarah now realised she wasn’t the only one with emotional problems.
Tracy: Want some?
Tracy asked, swinging the wine bottle around in a pendulum shape until she placed it back down and returned to starring in the dark abyss, laying vastly across the earths dome shaped axis.
Tracy: I take it that it didn’t go so well with Pierce…
Tracy said, gazing toward Sarah now routing through a cabinet for a spare wine glass, until she settled on a regular beer glass. Sarah turned on her heels, swinging her wet hair sharply from her face.
Sarah Kennedy: You could say that.
Sarah picked up the wine bottle, poured the remainder into the glass and began to knock back a lot of the wine. Tracy looked on in awe, not realising how much pain her friend actually was in.
Sarah Kennedy: It was terrible…
Sarah said, wiping her mouth and slumping into the sofa, next to Tracy. Sarah looked into the clock; Pierce must still be in his hotel room because he hadn’t shown up to talk to Pearl.
Tracy: Did you tell him how you felt?
Sarah Kennedy: I got to the Lo — part, but everything after that wouldn’t come… I’m so pathetic.
Sarah placed her head in hands and sighed. Tracy put a hand around Sarah’s shoulders and carefully listened to her friends whimpering. Sarah was crying, I guess sometimes you can’t get everything, Tracy thought to herself, now thinking of her own situation.
Sarah Kennedy: (laughing sarcastically) I told him I’d love to go… See, pathetic… That was not what I wanted to say.
Tracy slouched a little into the back of the sofa and pulled out two tickets. She straightened her posture, now feeling the wine having an affect on her, she handed the tickets to Sarah.
Tracy: He dropped these by, last week, after you left, I was the only one in the room…
Sarah stared at the two tickets to see the movie, her favourite movie. Maybe he did care about her, I mean, what guy, a guy friend, buys tickets for two to go see a movie, her favourite movie. Why didn’t you just spit it out…? Sarah thought to herself, placing the two tickets into her breast pocket of her blouse.
Chainz listened intently on the outside of the door, holding a bottle of wine and two wine glasses in one hand. He was bleeding and bruised from his match, but he still had a large grin on his face as he listened to the two voices. Tracy had perked up since their last meeting; perhaps she would take him back now. He was hopeful. He stood aside for a moment, linking the two glasses into one hand and took a breath.
Tracy, I’m sorry, I love you and I want you back… He rehearsed in his mind, over and over, thinking of the right words to say. He couldn’t bear being away from her, he knew he had been foolish, but being alone, without her, was breaking his heart. He never would have thought it possible, but he was hurting being away from her.
As he leant into the door a little closer, he heard something that was only meant for the ears of his fiancée. Sarah was confessing a lot of her feelings to her confidant and new found friend, Tracy.
Sarah Kennedy: Listen to me babble on, what about you, are you alright?
Tracy: That’s an understatement… Had to sit in a small room with Teresa, Jasmine and a counsellor recently. Pearl believed we could settle our differences. To be honest, my mind wasn’t really on that.
Sarah Kennedy: Cha - I mean, Michael still being a jerk?
Tracy: We’re taking a break, a two week break… I miss him… Didn’t think I would with all the pain he’s been causing me, but I really miss him.
Chainz banged on the door loudly, in listening to the words of the two ladies. Tracy missed him, it was good enough, he began to pound on the door in hopes of getting their attention.
Chainz: Tracy, baby, open up…
Tracy and Sarah froze, both clinging onto their glasses of wine. Tracy turned to the window, there was no escape from Michael, they were on the third floor, a drop that high would kill them.
Chainz: TRACY!!!
Chainz was screaming now, pounding heavily on the door, his fist hitting the wood with force, the small nuts and bolts jolting with the shock of Chainz’s strength. The door wasn’t going to hold long.
Inside the hotel room, Tracy and Sarah both began to panic. Sarah looked around for something and saw the hotel phone, she leapt out of her seat and ran toward the phone, time was short.
Sarah Kennedy: What’s he doing here?
Sarah asked with a high pitched voice, panic and fear running through her. Tracy just shook her head, wondering the same thing. Michael should be in the arena; at least, that’s what she thought.
Sarah picked up the phone and dialled reception, she was just hoping that he was in his hotel room and awake. The phone began to ring and ring, there was no answer, not yet and Chainz’s patience was wearing thin.
Sarah Kennedy: Pierce… Are you there…?
The phone clicked and she heard his voice, a sweat sense of calm floated through her, despite the raging loon on the outside of the wooden door.
Sarah Kennedy:Pierce… Please… Chainz is going crazy. I’m in Tracy’s room, room 305… Please… Hurry.
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Truth Waters: And now, Cassidy, it’s time to finally get down to business!
George Cassidy: Oh, joy.
Truth Waters: I thought you were a massive Murphy mark?
George Cassidy: Nice alliteration. Nah, he went a little soft.
Truth Waters: Soft?! He’s Transatlantic champion!
George Cassidy: Ya, but Dick’s been running rings around him.
Truth Waters: That much is true. The Illustrious Face-Eater’s mind games have plagued Jack Murphy as they did Tim Shipley and Pierce Lavelle –
George Cassidy: And look where those two pretty boys are now, Truth. On the scrap heap, and banned till next year. Adam Dick’s like a reverse Midas. Everyone he touches turns to shit. And we’re seeing that with The Bull.
Truth Waters: While Murphy has indeed looked increasingly liable to cracking at any point in recent weeks, two good things have come out of the last couple months for The Bull: he’s the champ, and the fans are coming round to supporting him. I can see a lot more “BULL” signs than those for “DICK”... unless you count the “Bush is a Dick” one over there...
Truth peers past the larger-than-life recreation of Jack Murphy with a globe on his shoulders in the style of the god Atlas to check out further showings of appreciation from the crowd, but as he does so, the house lights drop and green spots replace them, flickering on the entrance-way. “Family Business” is immediately drowned out by a cacophonous chorus.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the AWC Transatlantic championship! Introducing first, the challenger... Dick.
Brunt’s succinct introduction does not go unnoticed by the fans, who give him a rousing cheer. Meanwhile, Facey looks up, impressed, at the huge model of him to his left, and gives it a little wink.
Truth Waters: James Brunt’s little feud with the Face-Eater has been going ever since he first set foot in AWC, and the animosity between them doesn’t look like ever abating!
George Cassidy: It’s pathetic, really. He’s only a ring announcer, for Christ’s sake. He needs to know his place and stick to it. I hate these self-promoting, egocentric minors.
Truth Waters: ...Cassidy, you’re an announcer. Same difference.
Adam Dick runs to the ring with his head artfully down, flicking his jester-shoed feet up behind him as he goes.
George Cassidy: Haha! Priceless!
Dick leaps up onto the apron and tumbles through the ropes, landing in a creative heap before rolling to his feet and flexing his muscles with mock menace. Brunt regards him coolly, before the noise of the Fugees ends and the clinical riff of “Burn” by Throwdown fills the arena. The lights dim to a dull, crimson red. As the flick of the lighter is heard around the arena and the riff explodes, so too does the entrance into a burning inferno. Through the flames emerges “The Bull” Jack Murphy.
Truth Waters: Whoa!
George Cassidy: Grow up; special effects.
Murphy breathes in and out firmly as he methodically comes down the ramp, his eyes never moving from Dick, never blinking, not even registering the hefty dose of cheers he receives.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds... the AWC Transatlantic champion, JACK “THE BULL” MURPHY!
Murphy takes the belt from around his waist before moving up the steps and handing the gold to the ring announcer, who leaves via the same steps. Senior referee Michael Ryan is now in the ring, and he makes sure to stay between the two men. Murphy continues to suck in his breath harshly. Dick slowly scratches his nose with his middle finger, raising his eyebrow at The Bull. He doesn’t rise to the bait.
Truth Waters: We haven’t even gotten started, and Adam Dick is already resorting to childish tactics to try and lure the champion off his guard.
George Cassidy: He’s no champion if he lets that affect him.
Truth Waters: Which is why Murphy’s not letting it affect him.
There is a lull as Michael Ryan confirms the rules with the two men, everyone in Hartford Civic Center straining to hear what is being said. And then the bell rings, and we know we won’t hear it again until the score has been settled, the championship going into AWC’s second year decided.
George Cassidy: New champ, Truth?
Truth Waters: Murphy’s on top of his game, and Dick’s been on a losing str---
George Cassidy: He was losing on PURPOSE! That was part of the PLAN! Besides, Murphy’s gone down to Darcy Crisis once and it would have been twice without Aimz The Wench getting involved.
Truth Waters: You forget that while Murphy’s victory over Crisis was tainted, Crisis’ victory over Murphy was also tainted by the very same Amy Campbell, whose interference stopped her own partner Jack Murphy from taking a submission victory and quite possibly causing major damage to the back of Darcy Crisis, which he broke in the past...
George Cassidy: Water under the bridge, Truth, water under the bridge. The Bull is full of a false confidence that has been orchestrated by Adam Dick from day one. There’s no way he can overcome the mind games, not even Murphy, once our great white hope for AWC’s future.
The tense non-action of the first minute having been totally no-sold by the commentators’ animated banter, Murphy now steps confidently in to hook up with his opponent for the first time. The movement gets a huge cheer just for actually being a movement, but that noise is forced to die instantly as the Face-Eater shoots a knee up to break The Bull’s grip and segues straight into a spinning heel kick. Murphy is flattened.
Truth Waters: Dick sets out his stall. A fast pace is the way he can retain the advantage in a match against Murphy, whose brute force and technical ability combine to make him the most dominant man to set foot in an AWC ring.
George Cassidy: But is Murphy lacking up here? (tapping his head) I heard Adam Dick has an IQ of one-seventy. He’s the master of disaster, the king of the con! He’ll lead Murphy on, keep The Bull thinking he has the advantage, and then BAM! One move – one Osama-Rana, one Eaterplex – and he kills you stone dead: two-time champion.
Dick kicks the sitting Bull hard in the spine, causing Murphy to grimace, but the champion rises to his feet regardless. He cannot, however, turn before Dick has placed his hands on his shoulders from behind and leapt up into his arms as if for a piggyback.
Truth Waters: What the –
Murphy shares the commentator’s bemusement but quickly readies himself to leap backwards, intending to flatten the eclectic challenger beneath his 278 pound bulk. But Dick quickly crosses his left arm under The Bull’s neck and draws his legs up, and suddenly Murphy’s got no control, and he’s toppling backwards, and it’s a reverse DDT with VENOM!
Truth Waters: Crazy!
George Cassidy: What a reverse DDT! So much leverage!
Truth Waters: (shaking his head) Crazy reverse DDT!
TIFE spins away quickly and jumps onto the second rope, pushing off and flipping backwards with a follow-up – but Murphy brings his knees up, Dick crashing straight into the hardest parts of the champion’s body!
Truth Waters: Springboard moonsault averted!
George Cassidy: Facey just tried to do too much!
Dick rolls onto his front, winded, as Murphy half-sits and then determinedly drags himself up. Taking the Face-Eater’s purple velvet shoe, he brings his leg high up and then throws it back down, smashing his knee into the canvas.
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy knee slam.
Murphy takes the same leg again, now applying a step-over toe hold.
George Cassidy: Murphy goes for the weaker components of the STF.
Truth Waters: He’s clearly trying to wear down the right leg of Adam Dick... wanting to avoid a repeat of that stiff heel kick right at the beginning!
George Cassidy: And Facey knows that. Facey knows exactly what the Bull wants to do and what Murphy can’t account for is the raw ingenuity that Adam brings to every one of his matches. He will pull out something because he always does.
Truth Waters: That is true – Adam Dick is the epitome of resourcefulness.
Dick jack-knifes his body, Murphy stumbling forward and turning to face him; Facey leaps to his feet in the fashion of a break-dancer and brings up the right leg in a crescent kick. Murphy blocks the attempt with a powerful downward chop to the knee joint and Dick winces, hobbling a little as he sets it down. Seeing the temporary break in defences on his opponent’s side, the Transatlantic champion reaches between his legs to execute a body slam.
George Cassidy: Straight scoop slam from Murphy. Uninventive.
Truth Waters: Efficient, though.
George Cassidy: Only if it’s leading somewh---
Truth Waters: Jesus, Cassidy, you can’t just go from wanting to take The Bull’s anal virginity to absolutely hating the guy!
George Cassidy: I'm a fickle friend, Truth.
Truth Waters: Maybe that’s why you don’t have any!
Murphy gives Dick a couple of stomps to the chest before moving around to his legs and flipping his body over so that TIFE is on his front. The Bull now lifts the right leg and goes for a knee slam as before, but this time Dick is ready to kick out with his left, burying it deep in Murphy’s gut. The Bull, unprepared for the blow, is visibly winded and the crowd joins him in an almighty groan as Dick scores a rising neckbreaker and hooks the leg determinedly.
ONE!
TWO!
Murphy easily kicks out.
George Cassidy: First fall of the match is a two for Dick. A taster of what’s to come...
Truth Waters: A neat neckbreaker, but not close to being enough to put Jack Murphy away.
Never mind. Dick kicks Murphy onto his front and plants his foot in between his shoulderblades.
Truth Waters: Oh-oh...
George Cassidy: Facey has a variety of choices here!
TIFE goes down to take Murphy’s arms, but sensing the urgency, Murphy uses his great strength to pull away and pushes his body from the mat, dislodging the Face-Eater, who trips and falls to his knees. Murphy stands as Dick urgently gets back up, but it’s too fast for his balance, which goes out of the window as the challenger falls into the ropes, clawing at the top rope. Murphy comes in from behind a drives a knee hard into the base of the spine.
Truth Waters: Dick feared he’d left himself exposed to a power move, perhaps the Fall From Grace, and in his eagerness to eliminate that option for Murphy actually handed the champion the advantage, on a plate! All under control, huh, Cassidy?
George Cassidy: (flustered) You... you just wait!
Murphy places Dick in a half nelson and quickly converts through into a cobra clutch leg sweep!
Truth Waters: Sweeps the leg out! The Bull takes the cobra clutch one step further!
George Cassidy: Er, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. That was basically the Million Dollar Buster!
Truth Waters: Who cares, it’s effective enough... pin!
ONE!
TWO!
Dick kicks out.
George Cassidy: So, so comfortable. Murphy’s made a mistake. By pinning at a time he could never have won he’s now lost the mom---
Truth Waters: Oh, shut up.
George Cassidy: Eh?! You should be ecstatic, Truth! I'm actually doing my job for a change!
Truth Waters: I'm not sure I like this chipper George Cassidy.
Murphy takes Dick up onto his feet and throws a hard forearm across his face. Facey takes it without protest, then bringing a weak right arm to plead Murphy for another. “Come on,” Dick tells him, “hit me”. And Murphy relishes it. He wants nothing more than to splatter Dick’s nose across his face. He swings with all his might, and Dick of course dodges his head out of the way, and steps across Murphy’s body with his leg, and grabs the thrusting arm with both hands, and pulls him over in a picture perfect judo takedown.
George Cassidy: Ha! What did I tell you about brains?
Truth Waters: Jack Murphy got a little carried away, and let’s hope that doesn’t prove decisive!
Dick wants it to. He backs into the ropes and comes off with an immaculate somersault leg drop, dropping his thigh against the collarbone of the 278 pounder. The Unfuckable then pulls Murphy to his feet and pushes him into the corner, knife-edge chop, one, two, three, four, five.
George Cassidy: The Bull’s chest turning red raw!
Truth Waters: But if there’s one thing you don’t want a Bull to see... it’s the colour red!
Murphy looks down at his chest and immediately his beady eyes ignite, the vein in his temple twitching as he lashes out with a roar. But cooler heads will always prevail, and it’s another perfectly judged piece of judo before Murphy finds himself back in the turnbuckle, knife-edge chop, one, two, three, four, five.
George Cassidy: He really knows how to rile him.
Truth Waters: All of a sudden, the Face-Eater is running this!
George Cassidy: All of a sudden?! I told you, Truth, Adam Dick had this mapped out all along!
Dick bends to grasp Murphy’s thick thighs and hoists him up onto the top, before ascending the turnbuckle himself.
Truth Waters: Adam Dick’s delusions of grandeur in strong evidence tonight!
George Cassidy: Delusions...?
Cassidy’s words die in his throat as Murphy’s driving elbow catches Dick in the temple. Dazed, Dick falls to the mat from the first rope, his hand instinctively going to his throbbing head. Murphy gathers himself and finds firm footholds.
Truth Waters: Now Jack Murphy can come back down to a more comfortable level. Unless... unless he’s...
Murphy’s 6’5” frame stretches up on the top rope, towering over the cowering Dick, who quickly scrambles upwards and makes to back away. Murphy, looking a tad disappointed, bends to hold the turnbuckle and descend. Suddenly, Dick rushes at him and catches him in the face with a leaping elbow!
George Cassidy: Murphy wouldn’t even consider it! Not when Dick was up! And he took his eye off his opponent! Fatal error!
Truth Waters: Facey caught The Bull with the elbow, and now Murphy’s sprawled along that top rope, his legs tangled in the turnbuckle!
Dick stands, takes a split-second to assess the situation, and grabs the top rope just next to Murphy’s head, slingshotting upwards and drawing his legs in to land a leg drop! Dick backflips onto his feet while Murphy is thrown to the canvas on his front.
George Cassidy: Slingshot leg drop!
Truth Waters: Bah gawd!
George Cassidy: Murphy’s legs, look! Still locked around the ringpost!
Truth Waters: He’s helpless...
Dick sprints away from the champion, hitting the opposite ropes and dropping into a baseball slide. Murphy’s head takes the impact and falls quickly underneath the ropes and off the apron, but his legs are tightly fastened around the ringpost still and Murphy, unable to free them, dangles in mid-air, the blood rushing to his head as the pain of his horribly bent legs begins to make him scream.
Truth Waters: Oh, man, this isn’t nice...
George Cassidy: We said resourceful! This, my friend, is resourceful!
Truth Waters: You’re not my friend, Cassidy, particularly not if you’re condoning this... Murphy’s legs are trapped; somebody needs to help him...
The Bull’s head steadily turns purple as he yells out. Dick, breathless, is back on his feet, watching and waiting. Michael Ryan walks over but Dick puts a hand out, stopping him.
Truth Waters: Hey! He’s got his job to do!
George Cassidy: No! He shouldn’t be interfering, this is for the title –
Ryan insistently pushes Dick’s arm away and strides towards the corner. Shrugging, Dick flicks a leg out. It all happens so quickly. Michael Ryan trips. He throws his arms out, trying to break his fall. His right arm hits Murphy’s left leg downwards, dislodging it from its trapped position. Gravity pulls Murphy away. The Bull’s left boot catches Ryan in the temple just as he hits the canvas. Murphy drops to the floor outside high on his shoulders and neck. And Adam Dick grins.
Truth Waters: We have no referee!
George Cassidy: Murphy’s free!
Truth Waters: Dick... Dick tripped Michael Ryan! And he fell into Jack Murphy!
George Cassidy: I think Murphy... yes, Murphy’s boot caught Ryan in the side of the head! I would call for a disqualification, but...
Truth Waters: But you want Dick to win the belt, not the match, and besides, it’s irrelevant, since who cares what a lowly announcer thinks?
Ring announcer James Brunt dashes over towards the ring, reaching to Ryan from outside and speaking to him, asking if he can hear him. Not for long. Adam Dick’s second baseball slide of the match sends James Brunt, his long-time enemy careering back into the security fence that separates the ringside area from the fans under Sasha Volkyeva’s regime.
Truth Waters: Dick just took out the ring announcer!
Following through with his slide, Dick lands gracefully on the floor and sneers at the fallen Brunt. Turning the corner to the side of the ring on which Murphy has fallen, Dick motions that the booing fans should kiss his ass, before giving the champion a hefty kick in the ribs.
Truth Waters: The Illustrious Face-Eater is taking advantage of a defenceless Jack Murphy!
George Cassidy: Oh, he’ll maximise this situation, don’t you worry.
Truth Waters: We need a referee! Somebody! Michael Ryan still hasn’t moved!
George Cassidy: No, that’s normal. He got hit in the head. Probably unconscious, you know---
Truth Waters: You’re not helping!
After kicking him again, Dick pulls The Bull up by his straggly hair and rams him against the ringpost. Spluttering, Murphy turns to defend himself but Facey sucker-punches him in the face.
Truth Waters: The Face-Eater breaking every rule in the book while he still can!
Face-Eater looks around to position himself, then grabs Murphy’s arms and rolls backwards, pushing up with his legs at the last to monkey-flip the 278-pounder into the steel mesh wall! Murphy falls to the floor head first!
George Cassidy: God Almighty! A monkey flip into the security fence!
Still not content, Adam Dick storms round to the next side of the ring – pausing to check Michael Ryan is still motionless, which he is – and, predictably, takes the timekeeper’s steel chair.
Truth Waters: Someone needs to do something about Mike Ryan! He isn’t getting up! Where is the medical team?!
George Cassidy: Not here.
Truth Waters: I’ve got an inkling Mike Wade has something to do with this!
Dick packs the chair together and holds it high as he stands just feet away from Murphy, whose arms are scrabbling for a handhold as he tries to get back up, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him.
Truth Waters: Oh, this is too much...
George Cassidy: Truth!
Without warning, Truth Waters throws off his headset and marches away from the commentary desk, storming down the ramp towards ringside to the delighted cheers of the crowd, among whom the former boxer is very popular.
George Cassidy: He can’t do this! Folks, Truth Waters has left his station and has gone to – well, we’ll see!
Murphy is on his knees now, and he still hasn’t looked up, and the fans are yelling to him, but Murphy can’t hear a thing above the boos for his opponent and the cheers for his impending benefactor. The Bull pushes upwards and turns –
George Cassidy: HOME RUN!
Dick swings the chair and winces as it connects hard with the skull of Jack Murphy. But The Bull doesn’t even go down. His face has gone a funny off-white and his movements are stunted, but he hasn’t gone down. Truth Waters is on his way; Jack Murphy doesn’t know it; he hasn’t gone down. Dick, shocked, raises the chair again –
George Cassidy: NO TRUTH!
Waters grabs it! Facey turns, fury in his eyes, to see the muscular African-American wrenching the steel chair from his grasp! Dick shakes his head – this fool’s going to pay – but as he prepares to take a swing at Truth Waters, a spirited Bull turns him around and punches him square in the nose! It breaks on impact, Murphy wincing as he hears the crunch, Waters looking down at the Face-Eater’s bloodied face with a stoic expression on his face. Murphy then turns his gaze to the commentator, regards him warily, and nods thankfully. Waters nods too, and then slides into the ring, bent over Michael Ryan.
George Cassidy: Truth’s getting Michael Ryan back into the world of the living, but all the referee can do when he’s regained some ability to actually do anything is disqualify Jack Murphy! Adam Dick has been screwed! Truth, what have you done?
Waters stands straight, turning away from Michael Ryan, and suddenly rips off his tight white turtle-neck top.
George Cassidy: What the...
Loud whistles from the crowd greet Waters’ toned physique, but this isn’t the point; Truth tosses his garment aside and bends down once more to tug Ryan’s striped referee shirt off his body.
George Cassidy: OK everyone, look away now...
Ryan’s decidedly untoned body now also on display, Waters moves back into the centre of the ring and pulls the shirt over his head, raising his arms and nodding out at the crowd, who applaud wildly.
George Cassidy: How is he... what... Truth can’t do this!
James Brunt: Ladies and gentlemen...
George Cassidy: Oh, hell!
James Brunt: The replacement referee for the remainder of this match... TRUTH WATERS!
A full-blooded cheer greets this announcement, but Waters’ first act as a wrestling official is a rather menial task, in picking up the shirtless, humbled and unconscious Michael Ryan and carrying him from the ring. As he leaves, Jack Murphy enters, tugging a motionless Adam Dick with him.
George Cassidy: Dick doesn’t look good... he’s going to need cleaning up... but he’ll turn this around! Surely he will! There’s always contingency... right? Why isn’t Truth here to argue with me?!
Murphy slings TIFE into the ropes and catches him with a big boot as he comes off. BAM, and Dick is down. Murphy looks desperately around for the new referee, who lays Michael Ryan down at the base of the ramp (scanning frantically for the absent medical team) and hurries back into the ring. Lateral press:
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
George Cassidy: That was a hell of a lot closer than it should’ve been. Come on, Adam!
The camera closes in on Dick’s face as Murphy relents, and it’s a complete mess, the big boot to the face having worsened the damage of the sucker punch. Dick’s nose is a particularly funny shape, and blotches of red are all over his face like teenagers over the supermodels at E3: unwelcome stains of a greater life force. Wrenched to his feet is the Face-Eater, and Murphy deposits him straight back down with his second body slam of the match. The Bull follows with an elbow drop, and looks for another fall.
George Cassidy: Jack Murphy tries again... how’s his luck after the elbow?
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
And again Dick kicks out!
George Cassidy: (urgently) He’s only clinging on... and I'm starting to think – no, surely not, but – I'm starting to think it’s all gone horribly wrong for Adam Dick!
Moments later, Dick takes another Irish whip from the champion. The Bull bends for the back body drop, but Face-Eater from somewhere pulls out the energy to raise his leg – boot to the face. Murphy clutches his chin, enraged, but TIFE can’t follow up, and The Bull puts him in a front facelock...
George Cassidy: No...
Waters looks on as Dick is raises into the air...
George Cassidy: Murphy looking for the Fall From Grace... it can’t be... it won’t be...
It isn’t.
George Cassidy: He slips out of it! Slippery like a snake, that Adam Dick! He’s just kept the dream alive!
Landing next to Murphy, Dick reaches across the champion with his right arm and underneath him with the left...
George Cassidy: EATERPLEX! EATERPLEX ’05! EATERFUCKIN’PLEX!
Both men laid out. Murphy just took an Eaterplex ‘05, forchrist’ssake. All 278 pounds of him. What do you expect? And Adam Dick, well, he just Eaterplexed Murphy. After all that’s gone on, he’s turned the match around. But can he capitalise?
George Cassidy: Unbelievable! Dick just Eaterplexed the 278 pound Transatlantic champion! Now he needs to make the pin, but he can’t... he just can’t... come on, Adam! The Illustrious Face-Eater is just feet away from a formality and regaining the Transatlantic championship!
Breathing hard, pain racking him, Dick nevertheless comes on. Bringing his head and upper body six inches off the mat is effort enough. Turning is torture. Dragging himself two feet is traumatic. Collapsing onto Jack Murphy’s unmoving torso? Sweet relief.
George Cassidy: HE’S DONE IT! DICK IS CHAMPION!
Waters makes the count, and he’s a fair man. He’s not going to compromise his integrity in any way. Besides, he knows that even if he counted at half speed, there’s no way in hell Jack “The Bull” Murphy is making a move. No way in hell.
ONE!
No way in hell.
TWO!
Unless it froze over...
THREE!
Freeze.
George Cassidy: THREE!
Truth Waters: NO! Kickout!
George Cassidy: WHAT?!
Jack Murphy kicked out. It’s true. There’s no deceit from Truth Waters. Just inexperience that made him hit the mat (although he had slowed his hand) a third time. Nevertheless, his error is immediately corrected. Two count. Two count. No way in hell.
George Cassidy: I don’t believe it! Truth Waters has screwed Adam Dick not once but twice!
He’s wrong. But without Truth Waters at the commentary desk to assert himself, the viewers have to make up their own minds.
Now something else happens. Something different. Michael Ryan sits up. Then he throws up.
George Cassidy: Ryan’s up! Come on, man, get in there! We don’t want Truth in there one second more than he needs to be!
But he’s in no condition to continue, the senior official. Sitting on the ramp and hugging his knees is about all Michael Ryan is good for, as he gives a slow and deliberate nod to the anxious Truth Waters. His approval.
George Cassidy: Oh come on! We can’t let Truth officiate a title bout! I can’t believe I work in a place like this!
Dick reaches his feet with his teeth gritted, his face covered in blood and his palate thirsty for a conclusion. To the turnbuckle he goes. Up... up...
George Cassidy: High stakes here!
...and away...
George Cassidy: SWANTON BOMB! NO! MISSED!
Face-Eater misses the high risk Swanton Bomb by virtue of Jack Murphy having dragged himself out of the way at the last second! The chants now grow louder, urging the champion up: ”MURPHY! MURPHY! MURPHY!”
George Cassidy: No way! Come on, Adam, back on your feet!
Once more, both men are laid out. Once more, Truth doesn’t bother to count them down. It’s not because he’s forgotten; you can imagine his reasoning: “Where’s the point in a count-down? It’s a title bout, bah gawd!” At least ten seconds pass before both start to stir.
George Cassidy: Now these next seconds... crucial. Whoever gets to his feet first has the advantage at such a crucial time that just one trivial little slam can mean death or glory. No one realises that this scramble for a vertical base is the most important event of the match so far...
and Murphy wins it.
George Cassidy: Shit.
Bull Charge.
George Cassidy: Shitshitshit.
The crowd erupts! The Bull Charge has every single one of them on their feet, Dick’s body having crumpled on impact, the canvas adorned with his body and his blood (“Like someone interrupted communion!”, Cassidy would have guffawed if he’d been supporting The Other Guy), the end is near, Fall From Grace is the only thing left...
Right?
No.
George Cassidy: Shitshitshitshitshit.
And George Cassidy throws off his headset and sprints down the ramp like his life depends on it. Showered with abuse. No one knows what he intends, but they can all grasp the gist. Truth Waters is oblivious as he looks on; Murphy raising Dick to his feet; Waters’ back is to the entrance ramp. Then the shout:
George Cassidy: HEY TRUTH!
Waters whirls around in shock. What is George Cassidy doing? And then suddenly the fans boo. A lot. And Waters turns back to the two wrestlers, but the situation is different. Murphy is on his knees. His hands are between his legs. His eyes are screwed shut. Tight shut. And Dick has fallen away to the side, resting against the ropes, exhausted but satisfied. And now what’s the only thing left? The Fall From Grace, they said.
Supply and demand.
Waters spins around again, a thunderous look passing between him and his commentary partner. Truth Waters knows what his naivety has permitted. He knows that George Cassidy distracting him could have cost Jack “The Bull” Murphy a lengthy title reign. It all depends, once more, on who gets up first.
Sorry Jack.
It’s Dick with a kick to the ribs, and grabbing the hair, and placing the head in the armpit. It’s Dick bringing Murphy’s muscular arm over his neck, and grasping his shorts, and somehow channelling something to pull upward, upward, upward. It’s Dick holding The Bull vertical. And it’s Dick dropping and spinning the 278-pound Transatlantic champion on his head.
It’s Murphy Falling From Grace.
It’s Dick hooking the leg. Fatigued but beaming like the cat who worked really really hard to get the cream. It’s Waters slapping the mat. Grudgingly but fairly.
ONE!
Decisively.
TWO!
Conclusively.
THREE!
It’s Brunt refusing to take the microphone and announce the new champion.
It’s a murderous Waters chasing an elated Cassidy up the ramp and through the curtain.
It’s a motionless Murphy whose cheek presses against the canvas which is soaked with Somebody Else’s blood.
It’s a vomiting Ryan who shakes his head, dissatisfied with himself, the match, everything.
It’s Dick who holds the Transatlantic title for the second time. It’s the Kingdom passing back into the hands of the man who decreed it to be one in the first place. It’s a New Era with the same old undercurrent.
It’s the end of the show.
But first...
It’s one more segment.
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, TRACY, SARAH KENNEDY, CHAINZ
AUTHORS: LARA CLARKE AND MIKE S.
Pierce Lavelle raced over to Tracy and Sarah Kennedy, his mind racing. Sarah sounded frantic on the phone and he clearly could hear Chainz pounding on the door. Thin as the doors were he knew it wouldn’t hold for long against an enraged man like that. Little did he know the condition Chainz was in or else the door would have been down within seconds. Please don’t let me be too late… Pierce said over and over, fearing the worst as he felt his thigh muscles cramping.
Chainz stood in the shadows of room 304, right across from Tracy’s room. He was no fool and knew he had to be near her, even if it meant just being in the next room over. He had been stalking Tracy for the last week, watching her from afar just waiting for the right time to make his presence known. He would have done so much earlier if his mind wasn’t preoccupied with the Sadist match he had just had.
He stood, blood still dripping from his sore and bruised body as he peered through the peephole. He knew Sarah would call her knight in shining armor Pierce Lavelle, especially since he just found out she was in love with the poor fool. Just like clockwork there he was, running to the rescue, what an idiot.
Pierce saw the door, and the bloody hand prints on it and terror ran through his mind, “Had Chainz broken in?” No, he reached the door and saw that it was still shut. Pierce breathed easier as he knocked on the door, a terrified voice from within answered.
Tracy: Is that you Pierce?
Pierce Lavelle: Yeah Tracy, it’s me. Open up.
The door was slowly opened and Pierce quickly walked in.
Michael Sloan stood with a smile, his plan working to perfection. As Pierce stepped into the room, Michael quickly left his own room and before Tracy could close the door his foot was in the way, stopping her from shutting the door.
Tracy screamed as she tried to press the door shut, but she wasn’t even close to strong enough.
What was going on here? She opened the door to Pierce Lavelle without even thinking, but when I knocked and pleaded, she wouldn’t budge. What the fuck is that all about? Michael thought as he stood in the door frame. Without even thinking he pushed the door open, throwing Tracy backwards. He heard the cry and immediately stepped in to see Sarah helping a scared and frail Tracy up from the ground. Without even thinking he had hurt the one he loved again, what was he doing?
Tracy looked at her lover, now towering over her, his bloody and bruised appearance making him that much more terrifying, as if he needed it. He truly was mad; he had just been through a hellish match and should be in the hospital or resting, instead here he was.
He was soaked with blood, sweat, and the rain water from outside. His clothes were torn and covered in blood. The flowers he held in his hand were completely ruined and the box of chocolates in his other hand was all wet. He was dripping water everywhere and was just a pathetic mess, but oh how beautiful he still looked to her. After everything that’s happened, she still could not deny her true feelings for this man. This man that had caused her so much grief and little to her knowledge would cause more, shortly.
Chainz stood, with remorse in his eyes. He did not come here to scare or hurt Tracy; he just wanted her to take him back. He wanted to feel her warm embrace as she held his head to her breast at night. He wanted to hear her sweet voice as she whispered kind words into his ear. He wanted to feel the soft touch of her lips against his own. He wanted her; his body, mind, and soul craved her like a crack addict craves his drug of choice. He was in a whirlpool of misery without her and knew he needed her back, but every time he made an attempt to show her his true feelings something bad always happened. This was to be no exception.
Chainz: Tracy, I’m sorry.
He went to help her up, but she refused his hand, instead using Sarah’s to help her up.
Chainz: Tracy, Tracy, will you at least look at me?
Chainz pleaded, his body moving heavily against the thick wet clothing that lay on his bruised body. Tracy remained hunkered on the ground, holding onto Sarah’s hand as she looked with fear toward Michael.
Tracy: Michael, I told you two weeks. You shouldn’t be here right now, you were just in a bad match and I don’t want to see you right now.
Tracy’s voice rose slightly, maybe it was the wine, but she felt a sudden urge of courage and determination to defend herself against Michael. Chainz looked at Tracy, his mind in shock at her will power.
Chainz: Well I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait two weeks. I need you now!
Sarah Kennedy: Maybe you should leave Michael.
Sarah Kennedy, standing next to Pierce and feeling much more at ease, began to stand up for Tracy.
Chainz: Hey shut up, this doesn’t concern you. This is between Tracy and I!
Tracy: Don’t yell at her, she’s just trying to help.
Once more Tracy intervened, standing strong against Michael. He was growing to like this more determined, volatile Tracy.
Chainz: I know, I know. It’s been a bad week; it’s not the same without you. Please come back to me, please.
Tracy rubbed her bruise from a few weeks back which was finally starting to fade. She listened to the pleas from Michael, but she couldn’t take him back, not yet, despite her yearning heart.
Tracy: I still need more time; I can’t take you back because I know it’s going to be the same as before.
Chainz: No… No, I swear it’ll be different this time.
Without thinking he made his way over to Tracy and grabbed her arm. Tracy let out a loud yelp as she pulled her arm away; in his haste he had pressed too hard and beside the water and blood he would most likely have left a bruise.
Chainz: I’m sorry; I didn’t mean t---
Chainz looked at his own hands as though they were foreign to him. Why must I hurt her? WHY? he asked to himself, gazing at his hands and then back toward Tracy’s lovely green eyes.
Sarah Kennedy: Look Michael, you’ve made your presence felt; maybe you should go back to your room and rest.
Chainz: I said shut the fuck up!
Pierce Lavelle put his hand on Michael’s shoulder as if keeping him at ease and away from the two terrified ladies in front of him. Pierce moved forward, carefully placing Tracy and Sarah Kennedy now behind, once again he found himself stuck in the middle of something, but this time Chainz wasn’t drunk, he was acting on pure free will.
Pierce Lavelle: Look, she’s just trying to help.
Chainz looked down toward the hand on his shoulder. A hand that belonged to the perfect Pierce Lavelle - the man with no flaws. A man that everyone loved and respected. Here was a man that without even working, without even trying, had the love of a gorgeous woman and while he did everything in his power, he couldn’t even get Tracy to hear him out. Jealousy, rage and confusion came to a forefront and without even thinking Chainz threw a punch.
THUD
CRACK
Pierce, taken by surprise, felt the cold knuckles crackle against his cheek bone, sending spit through his mouth onto the floor, Pierce stammered backwards to the screams of Tracy and Sarah. Chainz looked on, fire in his eyes as he raised his fist again, delivering a shuddering blow once more toward Pierce’s face.
THUD
Pierce, in instinctive reaction, bit his lip on impact and felt the warm, crimson blood dripping onto his tongue as he stumbled backwards. Pierce didn’t want to hit Chainz; he didn’t want to aggravate him.
Tracy: Michael… Stop this… NOW!!!!
Tracy screamed over the sound of silence as Chainz continued his pursuit of Pierce. Sarah looked on in horror as Pierce took blow, after blow and when she saw the blood spatter, she knew he was really taking a beating. This is my entire fault… She gazed in horror as Chainz raised the wine bottle.
SMASH
Pierce’s eyes widened as the glass shards shattered over his skull, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, his mind hazy and his eyes sleepy. Chainz smirked at the destruction he had caused, placing the remains of the carded bottle to the ground.
Chainz: Fight me…
Chainz egged on Pierce, wishing that he would hit him. He couldn’t tell the true reason for his anger, but rage toward Tracy was one and envy toward Pierce, a man that had the world at his feet.
Pierce gently lifted his hand to the back of his head and felt a warm liquid dripping onto his neck. Chainz now moved toward the terrified women, believing his work on Pierce was done, suddenly in a blind fit of rage, Pierce rose, screaming in anger and charged full force toward Chainz, grabbing him by his waist and tearing him across the room, till they both collided with the wall, leaving a slight indentation. Chainz howled in pain, feeling the effects of his previous match and injuries all rushing back as he grabbed hold of Pierce’s shirt, pulling it up over his shoulders, hoping for a moment’s recovery, but Chainz had turned Pierce into a blind raging lunatic.
Tracy: Michael, stop this… PLEASE!!!
Tracy was trying everything as she looked toward the back of Pierce’s head, seeing the crimson glow of blood off the overhead light; she had just put the nicest man she had met into the path of a raging bull.
Chainz wasn’t listening, Pierce was proving persistent and he did like a good hunt. Pierce held onto Chainz and delivered a swift blow to Chainz’s abdomen, but it didn’t affect him. Pierce delivered another now, but all that he seemed to do was increase the widening of Chainz’s sadistic smile.
Chainz: That all you got?
Chainz drove a firm knee into Pierce’s stomach, winding Pierce. He watched as Pierce coughed and moaned.
Chainz: You’ve lost your tou---
Pierce rose with force, spiraling toward Chainz and sending Chainz over his shoulder, over the sofa and onto the floor. Chainz lay in pain for a moment, relishing in the delights of a good fight, but it is Pierce’s fault… All Pierce’s fault!!! He told himself over and over as he stared toward a horrified Tracy.
Pierce moved round the sofa, but within seconds Chainz wrapped his arms around Pierce’s knees sending Pierce crashing backwards and landing heavily on top of the coffee table, until he rolled off in pain, feeling his ribs for any damage. Chainz mounted a heavy attack, straddling Pierce’s waist and grabbing his throat, applying pressure. Pierce looked into the eyes of Chainz and Chainz saw it, fear!!
Tracy: Michael… STOP… You are killing him… STOP IT!
Chainz squeezed harder and listened to the whimpering gasps of air from Pierce, his eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head. Sarah stood in shock, unable to grasp how sick Chainz was.
SMASH
Tracy stood over her now fallen fiancé with a broken wine bottle in her hand. Chainz looked toward her; she had smashed a wine bottle over his head. Tracy had stopped him, but why? He was helping her.
The gasps of air from Pierce filled the room; he rolled onto his side, reeling in pain as his body searched for air. Tracy and Sarah stood, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Tracy: Get out now, Michael… GET OUT.
Sarah ran toward Pierce, kneeling by his side as she rested his head on her lap, trying to help him to regain the air he had lost. Pierce was in pain and she could feel the warmth of Pierce’s blood seeping through the thin lining of her skirt. Chainz rose onto his feet wearily, staggering in a drunken way to the sofa. He looked toward Sarah, nursing Pierce in her arms, tears in her eyes.
Chainz: Tracy, baby, please…
Tracy: No, Michael, you have caused enough pain!! GET OUT!!!
Chainz looked once more toward Pierce, their eyes met.
Chainz: You want to know why you are always called to her rescue…
Chainz spoke the words with hurt, pain and hate as he pointed toward the blonde reporter, Sarah Kennedy, who now looked toward Chainz, curiosity coursing through her veins.
Chainz: Stupid whore is in love with you!!!
What had he done? The room was silent, absent of all the chaos that had just been so prevalent minutes ago. Michael Sloan sat leaning against the sofa, bleeding all over the place looking at the trio in front of him, all glaring at him with hate in their eyes.
Tracy stood, stunned, still with the broken bottle in her hand and tears streaming down her cheeks. It was her fault all this happened; she pushed Sarah to tell Pierce how she felt, she got Sarah and Pierce involved with her love life, she was the reason her friend now sat next to her lover, crushed and stunned.
Sarah sat holding her lover in her arms, not daring to look him in the eye for fear of what she might see. Instead she glared back at the sick man not ten feet away from her, bleeding and looking stunned.
Pierce Lavelle was stunned at what he heard, but he was in no state to offer any words. His neck had been wrung by a sadistic and extremely powerful man, forcing all the air out of his body. He was bleeding from the back of his head and his mind was spinning, but he could feel the panic in Sarah Kennedy. Her arms were shaking; maybe from fear and maybe from anger.
Chainz tried to stand up, finding it quite difficult. His body was sore and aching from the brutal match he had earlier in the night and now from the fight he had with Pierce Lavelle. His head was bleeding from the shot Tracy had given him which he still couldn't believe. Here was the girl he loved with all his heart and she had attacked him to aid another man, what was going on?
He suddenly felt something coming up from within and blood came spurting out of his mouth. Chainz fell to his knees and started coughing up blood; he coughed so hard he felt that his ribs would come up next. It felt like someone had poured acid into his body and it was devouring him inside out. He had felt pain in his life, but this was something new.
Chainz: Ahh, fuck, my insides.
Chainz held onto his mid region hoping for some comfort from Tracy, but after a few seconds he still felt alone. Tracy had not made a step to help him or comfort him in anyway.
Pierce felt his mind fading and began coughing as well, pain radiating all over his body. Sarah cupped his head in her hands and felt the blood rushing through her spread fingers; her skirt already a crimson shade of red.
Sarah Kennedy: Ahh Pierce… Stay with me…
No response, not because he didn't want to respond, but he just couldn't get any words through his mouth. He was having enough trouble just breathing. Tracy saw the pool of blood forming around Pierce Lavelle and saw the massive pool of blood already covering her fiancée. She ran into the bathroom and came back with a towel. Without even looking at Michael Sloan she quickly ran over to her friends and put the towel to Pierce's head, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
Chainz saw what he thought he'd never see: his lovely fiancée going to help another man ahead of him. What was he not existent? Here he was lying in a pool of his own blood and in just as much pain as Pierce Lavelle, but she helped Pierce and left him coughing up his own blood.
The pain in his insides that he had been experiencing suddenly faded, not because it went away, but because the pain of his heart overshadowed any other pain he could feel. His heart was breaking into a million pieces, he loved Tracy. Not that loved her when she slept with him or pleased him, but LOVED her with every breath in his fiber of his body. The pain he was feeling, he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, the girl he would lay his life down for could careless if he even existed at this moment, and what was an existence without her?
Chainz stood to his feet, on the verge of tears. He wished he could turn time back and keep his big mouth shut, oh how sweet that would be. He heard that Tracy wanted him back, why did he have to mess everything up again. Every time he tried to show this girl how much he cared for her, he ended up hurting her or someone close to her, now he had destroyed the lives of two of her closest friends and two people who had genuinely been nice to him and had tried to help him as much as they could. Why was he such a fuck up, why was he such a miserable bastard? Maybe his father was right; he was an accident and an abomination to humanity and should have been stomped to death at birth because nothing he would ever do would right the wrong that was his existence.
Chainz: Tracy, help me. I need you; I need you more than anything in this world. I'm sorry I came here, I'm sorry all this happened, I'm sorry I told Pierce that Sarah was in love with him, I'm sorry. I don't have words for the sorrow I feel.
Tracy stood, anger and pain in her eyes, and approached Michael Sloan. In his weakened state he couldn't stand straight up and for once in his life found himself looking up into the eyes of his beautiful fiancée, who had a nasty look about her.
Tracy: Words, words??? Words can’t fix the mess you've caused, what are your words to me anyway, they've never meant anything to me.
Chainz: I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I came here to win your heart back; I came here to make amends.
Tracy: Funny way of making amends, how dare you tell Sarah's secret to Pierce, she was saving that for herself. You've ruined their lives just like you've ruined mine.
Chainz looked genuinely hurt, more so than at any other time in his life. Sarah Kennedy quickly stood up and ran for a phone calling an ambulance. Meanwhile Tracy continued berating her fiancé, finally getting everything off her chest (and that's a TON).
Tracy: I gave you chance after chance after chance, and you've always disappointed me, you've never shown me the man I fell in love with. Where is that kind, sweet, and gentle man I love? Where is he and what have you done to him?
Chainz: This is me baby, I can't be anything else. I can try and try and try, but in the end you have to take me for who I am. You know I love you and need you, can't you see that I'd do anything for you.
Tracy: You've said those words so many times they've lost all meaning. Love, you don't know the meaning and it hurts me to say that because I truly love you. Everything you've done and I still love you; that's true love. You just think you love me, but do you really?
Chainz: Yes I do, I do damn it what do I have to do to prove it.
Sarah is already back holding Pierce's head and talking to him softly, trying to keep him conscious.
Tracy: You see that, that's true love. The kind of love both parties feel and work at it, instead of me having to apologize for every wrong you've done.
Chainz opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was speechless for once in his lifetime. Tracy on the other hand still had plenty to say.
Tracy: You know I thought that maybe you would see things my way once I said we should take a break. I was hoping you would realize the pain you cause me sometimes, but it seems that you can't.
Chainz: Tracy, please…
Chainz was cut off by a clot of blood that he spit up, forcing him down to his knees and another fit of coughing. Tracy stood up straight as Chainz was on his hands and knees at her feet. After the coughing stopped Chainz started kissing her feet, trying to make a connection with her, trying anything he could think of. He got to his knees and wrapped his arms around Tracy's slender waist, burying his head in her stomach staining it with blood and the tears that had begun to drip from his eyes.
Chainz: No, no, please don't. You smell so good; I just want to hold you.
Tears had once again begun to drip from Tracy's eyes, which in the past week had been wetter than a kitchen faucet. She was hurt for causing so much pain to this man that she still loved, but it had to be done. She tried again to push him off of her, finally managing to push him back down to her feet. Chainz wrapped his arms around her calves and buried his face in her feet, kissing any piece of flesh he could.
Tracy: Michael, if you're truly sorrowful get up and get out of this hotel room. I can't forgive you right now; if you're truly sorry prove it. Get out of here; think about what you did, and for the love of God get some help.
She helped Chainz to his feet; he was looking like a pathetic mess. Here was the most sadistic, terrifying, and sick wrestler in the history of the AWC and here he was crying like a baby.
Tracy: Now I have to help Pierce, get out of here.
Chainz: Pierce, PIERCE!? He's got the love of a great woman, he doesn't need you too.
Tracy sighed, he still didn't get it. She tried to turn and walk over to Pierce, but Chainz had grabbed a hold of her slender arm in his mammoth hand.
Tracy: Ouch, Michael let me go, you're hurting me.
Without thinking she slapped Chainz in the face and all thinking aside he grabbed her by the neck, nearly lifting her off the ground before he realized what he was doing.
Tracy: Go ahead, prove me right!
Chainz's eyes popped open and he released Tracy, remorse immediately rushing in.
Chainz: I'm sorry, I don't know what happened!
She slapped him again and went over to Pierce Lavelle and Sarah Kennedy, who had been looking on the scene in horror.
Sarah Kennedy: Should we call the cops on him?
Tracy: No… no, it's been a bad day for all of us.
Sarah Kennedy: But he…
Tracy: I know, just forget it Sarah, how's Pierce?
How's Pierce, how's Pierce??? What was he invisible? He had tried and he had failed. Chainz wandered around the apartment thinking where he had gone wrong or where he had gone right. His mind raced no longer feeling the pain from his physical confrontations of the night.
He could see all the people he hurt in his lifetime starring at him and laughing at the pain that he was finally feeling. His father and mother stood there laughing and talking about him and everyone just kept starring.
Chainz: STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!!!!!!
Tracy and Sarah looked on as Chainz stormed around the room, talking to himself. Tracy sighed and went to him, stopping him mid pace. He stared at her and then saw the bruise that was already forming around her neck. He put a finger to it and traced around her neck. He pulled a picture of her out of his pocket.
Chainz: I'm sorry… I'll always love you.
Tracy's eyes went wide with confusion when suddenly Chainz burst from her grasp and raced toward the balcony window. He jumped and went crashing through the glass.
CRASH
The glass came flying down as Chainz went through it, his force carrying him over the balcony edge. As he fell to the concrete below he held the picture of Tracy close to his heart.
THUD
Chainz crashed to the concrete with a sickening thud. He lay there, blood everywhere and a pool of blood slowly forming around him. Up above Tracy screamed as she saw Chainz hit the concrete below. He bounced hard, but his eyes remained open tears spilling out of them. Sarah came to the balcony and looked down in horror. She wondered if he was dead and to her own horror she hoped he was, but then she say the state Tracy was in and regretted thinking like that. She put a comforting hand on Tracy and led her away from the window. Suddenly Tracy tried to break Sarah's hold. She tried to jump and join her fiancé, but Sarah held her.
Sarah Kennedy: Please Tracy don't, he's not worth it.
Tracy slapped Sarah and than broke down, falling to the ground and weeping uncontrollably, breaking down in Sarah’s arms. Sarah held her destroyed friend close to her as the sirens began to crescendo in volume.
Tracy: I know, I know, but I love him. Oh how I love him, God why?
Chainz lay on the cold concrete as rain poured down on top of him. He still held the picture to his heart, hoping to God that he would be able to see his girl once again. He already heard the sirens… and a small smile crossed his face.