Introduction
FEATURING: MIKE WADE
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Mike Wade: We’re… Untouchable.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: I said Untouchable!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: You can’t touch this!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: This!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: This fine wool suit!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: It was tailor made to fit my athletic build.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Oh alright so I’ve put on a couple of pounds…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Maybe five then!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: I SAID MAYBE FIVE!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: It’s the lack of exercise you know…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Well a commissioner’s not got a lot of running around to do.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: And going from a 10,000-calorie per day diet…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE MEANT TO EAT OK?!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: …alright maybe I read the book wrong.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: What book?
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Oh, some diet book. For athletes, you know!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Athletes!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Not the band!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: You know, the band! The Athletes!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Or maybe you’ll know the somewhat more famous band Athlete!
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Oh come on, they’re a PRIME example of the sub-Coldplay genre…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: PRIME! You know, a number that can’t be factorised other than by 1 and itself.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: FACTORISED! Haven’t they heard of education in Spain?
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: It seems not.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: It seems not.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: I SAID IT BLOODY SEEMS NOT! Jesus. It’s like you’re all mindless clones repeating the same thing over and over again…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: The same gloss… the same jokes… the same dirty tricks…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Hyping yourselves up when there’s no real substance inside…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Jealous that our ladies strip off for magazine covers…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Not man enough to take us on once and for all…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Droning on and on about shit that no one gives a fuck about…
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: AM I TALKING TO THE PRIME ROSTER?
Crowd: No.
Mike Wade: Oh. Fair enough. Well, we’re doing the intro a little differently tonight so I’d best get my skates on and tell you about the matches.
Mike Wade: First up we have a real creation of genius; the paraski--- parach--- paratroop--- paralys--- some cool match featuring prawns and Ellis Nash. Yeah, and Ellis > K-Wolf.
Crowd: WHAT?
Mike Wade: Yuh-huh. So then we follow that up with some Livewire title action! Yep, I reinstated the belt because I CAN DO THAT, so we’ve got AgentDash against Johnny Lexicon… and maybe more, teehee!
Mike Wade: The Relentless title match is next on the bill. GA’s pretty damn fierce – when he’s actually here that is. If he turns up he’ll be facing Teresa Tomas, so she better run for the hills… do they even have hills in Spain? But if not, he’s gonna be stripped of his title belt because I’m sick of him never showing up!
Mike Wade: The Fists take on the Coalition for the Alliance belts but of course no one matches The Unfuckables in those stakes… then we move on to see Chainz and Pierce Lavelle… ah, that’ll be, ah, an interesting one to say the least.
Mike Wade: A COUNTDOWN TALLY MATCH NEXT THOUGH! Garbage Bag Johnny defends the Transatlantic belt for the first time, how about that! Against me fellow Irishman Paddy O’Shea!
Mike Wade: And then finally Darcy and Aimz sort out their differences in one for the ages. No Love Lost indeed.
Mike Wade: Bury your ReVolutions; screw your Great American Nightmares. AWC is where it’s at – we’re UNTOUCHABLE!
Crowd: WHAT?
Enemy
FEATURING: B.O.T., PIERRE PERROQUET, PARROT OF PERROQUET
AUTHOR: JARRETT
The camera takes a slow pan across the eight foot
Paella of Glory. Filled with exotic rices, succulent
spices, and perfect poultry, the single greatest dish
in Spain sits in the Leon Center. The camera stops at a
familiar sight. Sitting atop the highest chicken and
saffron-colored rice lump is the most glorious King
Prawn. Its glossy crimson shell teases the taste buds
effortlessly. The camera then tilts upward, over the
largest pan on earth, and towards the door, where one
of the largest men on the AWC roster stands in focused
contemplation, eyes fixed on the shell fish. B.O.T.,
dressed in an extravagantly feathered red and yellow
(Spain’s national colors) robe. He takes a couple of
cautious looks around, before starting towards the
object of his desire.
With every step, his face grows more intent on the
matter at hand: stealing the prawn for himself. Why
fight a match he was sure he was sure Marquez was
going to cost him, only to lose the chance at the
tasty treat for reasons beyond his control? No good
reason, that’s why. As he encroached upon the
unsuspecting snack, the smell consuming him. Just as
he was ready to grab it…
“SQUAWK! THIEF! THIEF!”
The camera pans quickly just behind B.O.T., revealing
Pierre and his Parrot leaning over his hulking
shoulders.
Pierre Perroquet: Hunh, hunh. Monsieur Bottitude…
B.O.T. turns slowly towards him, not knowing what to
make of what is standing before him.
B.O.T.: What the hell are you?
Pierre Perroquet: I am ze lead annonceur of ze AWC,
Pierre Perroquet…
B.O.T.: Why are you here?
Pierre Perroquet: I’m here for ze interview, Monsieur.
Parrot of Perroquet: SQUAWK! Interview. Interview.
B.O.T.: Are you a pirate?
Pierre Perroquet: No, monsieur.
B.O.T. looks at the bird, giving it “the evil eye.” He
returns his gaze back down to the Pierre.
B.O.T.: Well, take that thing and scram. I’m busy
here.
Pierre Perroquet: To busy for ze interview?
B.O.T.: Who told you was I giving you an interview?
Pierre Perroquet: I assumed zat jou would be villing
to speak avout jour match tonight.
B.O.T.: Well, you assumed wrong, Captain Crunch. I
don‘t talk for free.
Pierre Perroquet: Ze AWC pays jou, no?
B.O.T. looks him up and down, noticing the knee-highs
he’s wearing.
B.O.T.: Not enough to talk to you.
Pierre Perroquet: Well, vat do I do to get and
interview with jou?
B.O.T.: How much you got on you?
Pierre Perroquet: Mayve 20 Euros, vy?
B.O.T.: Hand it over, then we’ll chat.
Pierre Perroquet: Var jou not rich, monsieur? Vy jou
take my money?
B.O.T.: Second to a fighter, I’m a business man. I
understand supply and demand. I supply what you
demand. So you have to give me a reason to give that
to you. Money is a good start.
Pierre Perroquet: Vell, ven jou put it like zat.
Pierre hands B.O.T. 20 Euros. B.O.T. folds it up, and
sticks in his robe.
B.O.T.: Now, what do you wanna know?
Pierre Perroquet: Vy jou try to steal ze Prawn Le
Roi?
B.O.T.: I’m not stealing ‘ze Prawn Le Roi.’ Im
stealing the King Prawn
Pierre Perroquet: Vat’s vat I said.
B.O.T.: Oh? I’m sorry, I don’t speak pansy.
Parrot of Perroquet: SQUAWK! PANSY! PANSY!
B.O.T.: You got that right, Polly.
Pierre Perroquet: I am no pansie!
B.O.T.: Listen mon ami, did you have a question to
ask me, or can I proceed with my pilfering?
Pierre Perroquet: Vade zold jou zat jou can only
receive ze Prawn Le Roi by defeating Blue Ruin et
Ellis Nash tonight at Untouchable!
B.O.T.: And I’m telling JOU that I’m gonna take this
King Prawn right now. You see, I’m gonna walk out
there tonight with fanfare in my fabulous new robe,
fight my fight flawlessly as always, but still get
screwed out of winning that match, because I have a
two-bit muppet baby as a partner. So instead of
fighting hard and losing, I’m gonna fight smart, and
with a full stomache, might I add.
Pierre Perroquet: I cannot allow zis to happen! If
jou eat ze Prawn Le Roi right now I vill be forced zoo
zell Mike Vade.
B.O.T.: Why do you have to bitch a snitch though?
Pierre Perroquet: Vat do jou mean? Its zee rules.
B.O.T.: You know what? That’s cool Pierre. I thought
we had a friendship going on here. A brotherhood,
even. But I guess I was wrong.
Pierre Perroquet: Vait! Don’t ve like vat!
B.O.T.: No, I’m gonna be like that, French. You know
why? Because I can’t be friends with a narc. That’s it
your cut off. No more interview for JOU!
B.O.T. stomps out, Pierre follows him stopping at the
door. The camera follows suit.
Pierre Perroquet: Vait, Monseiur Bottitude! I promise
zo zell novun! Come back!
Parrot of Perroquet: SQUAWK! NARC! NARC!
No Bittersweet Ending
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, ???
AUTHOR: LARA C.
He sat on the small bench dressed in his new ring attire and sporting a new ‘AWC’ t-shirt as he listened intently to his ipod. The surge of music coursed through his ears, his eyes shut as his feet danced on the cold linoleum floor. Pierce waited as the time ticked by inexorably, counting down the seconds till his match with Sloan. A man Pierce wasn’t too happy to be facing, considering his brutal attack last week, but knew he had no choice.
Gazing toward his taped up hand he looked around the room and noticed a friendly, but familiar face stood in the door way. The figure moved forward dressed in a posh black suit and blue shirt, his hair gelled back and styled smartly.
Pierce Lavelle: And what do I owe the pleasure?
Lavelle asked with a cunning smile as he removed his ear phones. The figure hunkered down onto the opposite bench and shut the door behind him, clamping down the latch.
Voice: You know what needs to be done?
His voice was calm but with an affirming and demanding tone. Lavelle nodded his head with slight deterrence as he laced up his boots.
Pierce Lavelle: Like you said, I’m faltering…
Voice: You’ll be seen as weak and it’ll all end. You must change.
Pierce Lavelle: I wish it were that easy, man.
He snapped his fingers into his pockets and stretched on the uncomfortable and hard bench, his ass becoming numb.
Voice: It’ll have to be easy.
Pierce Lavelle: What about Sloan, have you figured out how you’ll deal with our problem?
Lavelle said with an inquisitive tone, his eyes lingering on the figure before him with wonder.
Voice: Sloan is a much larger issue than I first realised. If he speaks, we’re both screwed.
Pierce Lavelle: That was my point entirely.
Voice: You must finish this… tonight.
Lavelle rose from his car, waving his hands in a flurry.
Pierce Lavelle: No, I’m not like that, I can’t…
Voice: If you don’t, think of the damage he could do… the damage he’s already done.
He said with an angered tone, rising toward the nervous and frazzled Lavelle. Lavelle looked around the room, sighing heavily as his jaw muscles tensed. The pain in his wrist still tingling along his arm.
Pierce Lavelle: I’ve just the thing. Tonight, I’ll end this.
Lavelle said, coldly.
Voice: Good. Then we will remove the last piece of the puzzle…
Ellis Nash / Blue Ruin vs Josh Marquez / B.O.T.
STIPULATION: Paraskavedekatriaphobia - FIRST BLOOD
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Dave Kern: We ready for a match?
Jeff Marx: Yeah, the pay-per-view has been pretty bad so far.
Dave Kern: What are you talking about? There's been plenty of action so far!
Jeff Marx: Like what? I bet you can't name one thing.
Dave Kern: Well there's been... the stuff along with... .
Jeff Marx: And that ladies and gentlemen is the glorious job of the card editor. He puts words into our mouths so we actually know what's been going on! You think we have some sort of precognitive mind that can conjure up the segments from before out of thin air?
Dave Kern: Kayfabe Marx...
Jeff Marx: Oh relax Dave, it's not like this is going to make it on the show. It'll be edited away by the trusty card compiler and magically we'll be talking about other, more relevant things as regards Untouchable.
Dave Kern: Like what?
Jeff Marx: Probably something to do with Chainz... or Garbage Bag Johnny. They're always in segments.
Dave Kern: I heard that. We don't get any vocal time other than matches. Others should be getting in line for us.
Jeff Marx: Damn straight. Ah I suppose we better talk about the match we've got now right?
Dave Kern: Yeah probably should. Folks what's coming up next started over a small dispute on Fresh!burst between Ellis Nash and Josh Marquez which quickly escalated...
Jeff Marx: (shocked) Into a fight over a prawn?
From the back you can hear the audible noise of Blue Ruin.
Blue Ruin: (muffled) KING PRAWN!
Jeff Marx: Man they better be paying us more soon enough.
Dave Kern: Didn't you get your check in the mail?
Jeff Marx: Oh yeah, it was sizable enough.
The two men share a sly smile before turning back towards the camera placed upon them, trying to hide their one agreement.
Dave Kern: Anyway, seeing as the four competitors just couldn't get along, our very own commissioner Mike Wade intervened to set up this tag match that we're about to see. On the line for Ellis Nash and Josh Marquez is a place in the Triangles match this coming November...
Jeff Marx: And for Blue Ruin or B.O.T it is the delicious prize of a prawn.
Blue Ruin: (muffled) KING PRAWN!
Jeff Marx: Shut up!
Dave Kern: Beyond that guys and girls there isn't anything more to this match...
Jeff Marx: Isn't this match first blood?
Dave Kern: ... except for that.
Marx looks disgustedly at Dave, appalled by his partner's lack of concentration and professional etiquette.
Jeff Marx:Jeez Dave it's on the cuecard for God's sake.
Dave Kern: Again kayfabe Marx.
Jeff Marx: You know I love breaking Kayfabe so shove it!
By now it's more than enough time has passed for the wrestlers to get ready for this match. Without any warning 'Cowboys' by Portishead hits the PA to a small chorus of boos. Out from the backstage area lumbers the monolithic looking B.O.T into the Leon Arena. He holds one arm high up in the air, like he's drawing power from the very atmosphere and then walks down the aisle with one purpose... to win that prawn.
Blue Ruin: KING PRAWN!
Anyway in no time at all B.O.T slides into the ring, getting to his feet and showing off and flexing his muscles for the crowd.
Dave Kern: This guy does look pretty impressive doesn't Jeff?
Jeff Marx: Eh, once a jobber always a jobber so really it's going to be meaningless in the end.
Dave Kern: You going to say that to his face?
Jeff Marx: You kidding me? The guy will lop my head like that that.
Marx signifies the severity of the situation by clicking his fingers and then shaking his solemnly.
Jeff Marx: And then Dave there'll be nobody to save you on camera and you'll be out of work like that.
He repeats clicking his fingers.
Jeff Marx: And there ain't nothing you can do about that. So don't worry I won't be going anywhere.
He smiles like a cheshire cat to which Dave merely sighs and rolls his eyes.
Pierre Perroquet: Ze following match is a virst blood match and has two prizes on ze line! One is the place in ze Triangles main event and for ze other a very delicious and delicate prawn.
Blue Ruin: KING PRAWN!
Parrot of Perroquet: SQUAWK! SHUT UP!!
Pierre Perroquet: First in the middle of the ring right now and hailing from Moorestown, New Jersey... ..B.O.T!!!!
The man mountain raises his arm once more for the crowd who boo a little louder than last time, but nevertheless it is nothing outstanding. This man still has to make his mark.The 'Ace of Spades' smoothly overlaps on 'Cowboys' and this one gets a much brighter reaction from the crowd... in a negative way of course.
Pierre Perroquet: And his partner, weighing in at 212lbs... JOSH MARQUEZ!!!!
Marquez recognises his name but doesn't do any sort of gesture in particular. He simply makes his way down to the ring, ready for this match and looking forward to getting a spot in the Triangles match this year.
Jeff Marx: You see I'd love to cheer for this guy because he's got some things going for him... but frankly, who he's facing is so much cooler and a better heel than him that I have to sway on that side.
Dave Kern: Great way of announcing your choice Jeff.
Jeff Marx: It's important the fans know and understand the workings of the genius in this commentary booth. After all that's why I'm the colour commentator and you're just the play-by-play.
Dave Kern: Dream on you pea brain.
Jeff Marx: Ah thinking such feeble insults will halt my dominance of everything in and out of this ring? You are greatly mistaken Dave. With time you will learn padawan.
Dave Kern: Oh shut up.
Jeff Marx: No, I'm stalling for time because people don't care about a prawn...
Blue Ruin: KING PRAWN!!!
Jeff Marx: Oh would you... ..arrrrgggghhh!!!
Marx screams like the little girl he is because it turns out Blue Ruin has been behind them all this time. He springboards across the commentary table right into the path of Josh Marquez who's been simply taking his time to make it down to the ring. Marquez is caught totally off guard as Ruin begins to pummel him on the ground with lefts and rights.
Seeing this, Pierre gives up on trying to announce, dropping his microphone and exiting the ring, his parrot squawking in annoyance at the entire affair. Off camera you can just hear Pierre mumbling about lack of pay and rights before he sits down. B.O.T meanwhile is slowly meandering over the top rope with his legs, eager to get to grips with Ruin.
The crowd erupts as Nash comes rushing out from the back to join her partner before he gets crippled by the disadvantage he's at. Whilst the eruptions are loud, the crowd clearly doesn't know whether to cheer or boo at the most well known of the four competitors. And amidst all this mess, referee Richie Travis stands in the ring, trying to appeal to the wrestlers to get back in and try to have some sort of match that you can speak of.
Jeff Marx: It's not gonna work Richie, face facts.
Dave Kern: Yeah even I know that his appeals are getting nowhere. Do you not watch wrestling yourself Richie?
Jeff Marx: Ah come on he's been refereeing for a good time now, he's just doing his job.
The two announcers look at each other.
Jeff Marx: Shouldn't our last two sentences have been swapped?
Dave Kern: (shrugs) I wouldn't worry about it. Editor to the rescue eh?
Jeff Marx: (grinning) Now you're talking Dave!
The action continues as Nash uses the metal staircase as a launchpad to land on B.O.T's back. She wraps her arms round his neck, trying to lock in a choke but the big man is more than able to power out of it. Sickeningly he tosses her over his head and slams her to the hard mat on the outside, the crowd wincing in return. He simply picks her up casually and begins to punch her squarely in the face.
Dave Kern: Those hands look more like clubs! This is vicious already Jeff.
Jeff Marx: They certainly do but one has to keep in mind a very important factor to this match Dave. Some wrestlers are more susceptible to bleeding out than others. It's very dependent on who has the lowest threshold, as well as those with the power to lay out the punishment.
Dave Kern: Definitely and B.O.T has a distinct advantage in this match up. With such a size and strength advantage he could end this match in no time at all.
Meanwhile Marquez has managed to switch the position with Ruin, now using his leverage to rain down blows of his own. Vaulting to his feet he drags Ruin by the hair to a vertical base where he nails him with a strong elbow to the forehead. He does it again, trying to use the bluntness of his bone to tear open the forehead of Ruin.
Dave Kern: Good strategy from Josh, going right for the weak point of wrestlers across the globe. No matter how bad it is in a match, the forehead is always the first to go.
Jeff Marx: I always wondered about that one.
Dave Kern: Again, kayfabe.
Jeff Marx: Can I break this one? Please?
Dave Kern: (sternly) No.
Jeff Marx: (pouts) You're no fun.
As turn back to the action something distinct has changed. B.O.T no longer has any control in his dance with Nash. Instead he's lying on the ground, clutching his groin quite furiously and is screaming in pain. Nash has her hand on her hip and in her other is a small mallet type apparatus. Like a meat mallet... from some dodgy b-movie. She's smiling and begins to pound on B.O.T putting as much hurt on as possible. Luckily for him he's wearing a decent amount of clothing for this one, as otherwise the blood would be flowing in no time. Nash lines up a shot to the head but is bludgeoned from behind as Marquez bulldogs her to the floor.
Dave Kern: Slick move by Marquez, taking out a potential end game there.
Jeff Marx: There's no rest though for B.O.T as he's got a Ruin hitting with all he's got!
It's true as Ruin is kicking and punching with all his might. There is a method to the madness somewhat but the overall appearance of brutality as Ruin does what he can to keep the big man down. This won't halt for long though as he slowly scrabbles to his feet. With one wide arcing punch he cracks Ruin right in the face, knocking him back to near the commentary table. With a menacing look on his face, B.O.T goes for the kill.
Nearby Marquez is eyeing up Nash who is slowly coming to her senses and is getting up off the floor. Standing she see Josh with the mallet that she once had in her possession. She slowly backs up to get out of reach and knocks into the metal staircase. Thinking quickly, Nash runs up the stairs to evade her would be attacker.
Jeff Marx: Dear God you never go up a stairs! There's an exit right there!!
Marquez follows like a triumphant hunting dog who's closed in on his prey. Nash gets in the ring and makes a bolt for the ropes. Rebounding back off of them she catches him off guard, knocking the mallet out of his hand and outside of the ring. He curses loudly but turns to get a shot in. All he receives though is a swift kick to the jaw and a meeting with the canvas. He leaps back to his feet but Nash is relentless, attacking with jabs and kicks to the legs, putting him off balance. She whips him off the ropes promptly, allowing him to come back right into her knee to the gut. He falls to the canvas dramatically, just the kind of way Ted DiBiase would be proud of.
Trying to capitalise Nash jumps on top of his prone body and begins to tear at his face with her hands and nails, hoping to open a cut that will seal the deal.
Dave Kern: Nash going for the win but Marquez manages to shove her off. They're gauging each other again in the ring now and... what the hell has he got?
Jeff Marx: I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to see that.
On the outside B.O.T has been pummeling Blue Ruin into the ground with heavy kicks and stiff shots to the jaw that would knock out a lesser man. Ruin is writhing on the floor, searching for something, anything that can help him. Surprisingly he sees a hint of a sparkle by the ring apron and his hand instinctively goes out for it. Pulling it out from underneath, it's a pretty nasty looking knife. In a knee jerk reaction Ruin lashes out, stabbing B.O.T right in the chest.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD!
Jeff Marx: Ouch.
The crowd gasps and even Nash and Marquez notice this, tilting their heads to look at the dramatic scene. Ruin, on his knees with a dagger clenched in both hands planted suqarely in the chest of his attacker. B.O.T with a strange look of puzzlement on his face as he looks down at the dagger... then he slowly pulls it out.
Dave Kern: No way!
Magically there is no wound on his body, not even a scratch and Blue Ruin looks on dumbfounded. B.O.T takes the blade out of the paralyzed Ruin and pushes directly on the blade with his finger... and watches as it disappears into the hilt.
Completely fake.
B.O.T grins wickedly.
Jeff Marx: Well that was underwhelmning.
Dave Kern: One of these guys almost got stabbed and you call it underwhelming?
Jeff Marx: Let's not forget the 'almost' part of that sentence Kern. It was fake, what else are you gonna think after that? In fact I feel cheated.
Dave Kern: WHAT??
Jeff Marx: It's a pay-per-view and it's a first blood match. I came to see blood!
Dave Kern: You've been reading too many Mike roleplays.
Jeff Marx: Which Mike we talking about here? There's like 40 of them in the fed.
Dave Kern: Mike S. and hey it could be worse... we could be back to having lots of Irish again.
Jeff shudders.
Dave Kern: Exactly.
Meanwhile unsurprisingly the action has continued unabated by the ramblings of a bored and tired writer (you do 500 pages of reading a week then come back to me) and we find Marquez slowly taking control of Nash. He has her in an armbar on the ground and is sinching it in as tightly as possible. In the corner of the ring Richie Travis is having a cigarette, not even bothering to take care of that because everyone knows that won't end the match. He sighs and counts whenever Nash reaches the ropes but on the whole is pretty uninterested in the whole situation.
Ruin and B.O.T haven't moved much from their earlier position as B.O.T is still commanding what's happening, devising interesting ways to try and get Blue Ruin to give up and bleed for him. To each of them though Ruin just struggles through the pain and denies B.O.T, every once in a while shouting out for the KING PRAWN!! which would be his prize.
Jeff Marx: So, since we're in an exceedinly exciting portion of this match... you see Lost recently?
Dave Kern: I did actually. What did you think?
Jeff Marx: Well I must say I particularly enjoyed when the Others were shown... .
The microphone mysteriously is turned off at this point, probably due to somebody in the production truck not wanting to find out ahead of time.
Jeff Marx: And then the giant rush of wa... .
Again the production truck pulls down Jeff's mic, not content to break kayfabe but also to give away spoilers to a show not even out in Europe yet. Especially something that rabidly watched as Lost. One more time for the production truck.
Jeff Marx: So really it's his own fault. You know what I mean?
Dave Kern: I do, I really do. Nice exposition Jeff and probably the soundest theory I've heard in a while. To think that the Others...
As the microphone of Dave is pulled down there is a distinct growl that can be heard over it.
Dave Kern: Anyway none of this is relevant to the show at hand! It looks like we've some movement!
In the ring Nash has gotten to her feet, Marquez still tightly holding onto the arm but the crowd is planted behind Nash, clapping for her to get out of it. Ruin and B.O.T have also decided to get into the ring and for once, it actually looks like a match beyond a meer barroom brawl. Nash nails a kick to the gut of Josh and he relinquishes his grip, Nash exploding into the ropes and then forcefully back with a crossbody. Marquez gets up but each time he does this he's knocked right back down with a swift punch. Ruin too breaks off from B.O.T and kicks Marquez in the back of the head.
Teams deciding to be teams for a moment is another novelty long forgotten in this match. Ruin and Nash both run into the ropes, getting a double lariat right to the jaw of Marquez, sending him rolling out of the ring in pain clutching his face. B.O.T is smirking at this and aims a huge kick to Nash which would take her head off... but for the fact that she capably dodges and the two partners in tandem go to the ropes and go with a double crossbody. B.O.T catches Ruin first and laughs at his puny attempt but isn't ready for Nash landing against Ruin and sending the balance way off, knocking them all to the ground. B.O.T gets to his feet and is shocked by this event... and is in no mode to defend against the double dropkick which sends him toppling over the top rope.
Dave Kern: Well that certainly perked up things in the match! It looks like we've finally got a clear look at who's on top right now.
Jeff Marx: And yet they're no closer to busting open their opponents.
The two in the ring look around as the crowd applaud their efforts. Nash is typically uninterested and is kinda thinking of what to do. Blue Ruin on the other hand looks like he's powering up or something as he looks intently at his hand.
Dave Kern: What the... ?
Jeff Marx: Could this be what I think it'll be?
Dave Kern: What?
Jeff Marx: Gimmick infringement!
Ruin drops to one knee and then instigates a very familar spin that a certain well known king does but with a twist. Instead of on his feet, he ends up curled loosely in an oval shape. Marx pops and hollers.
Jeff Marx: The prawnarooni!!!
Dave Kern: Oh dear... (shaking head)
Blue Ruin gets to his feet, looks at the bemused Nash and then calls to the heavens:
Blue Ruin: FOR THE PRAWNS!!!!!
He then nudges off Nash, sliding out of the ring and rummaging for something under the ring. Finding them he slides back in and gives Nash a steel chair! The crowd pops at this as the two of them are in the ring, Ruin running round in a circle to whip up a frenzy for the chairs.
Dave Kern: They’ve got chairs? What slasher flick were they in Jeff?
Jeff Marx: Oh live a little Dave… Return Of The Psycho Folding Chair 8? I don’t know!
Nash looks discontentedly at her chair and unfolds it, setting it down in front of her. She proceeds to sit on it.
Jeff Marx: …Ladies and gentlemen, on worldwide pay-per-view we have Ellis Nash having a sit down during a match because she’s so bored.
Dave Kern: She’ll never get her spot in Triangles like this!
Marquez and B.O.T., having regrouped outside the ring, now slide in. B.O.T. falls to a shot from the folding chair by Ruin, but Marquez is too quickly onto Blue and is able to tie up with the innovative newcomer. Tiredly, Nash gets to her feet and smashes an axe kick into the back of Marquez’ head.
Dave Kern: Now Ellis Nash is showing some interest! She takes Josh Marquez out with a high kick.
Jeff Marx: And still we have no bleeders…
Blue Ruin now delves deep into a pocket of his costume and sorties a knife. It’s one of those knives; you know what I mean, and if you don’t, he now demonstrates, by putting his finger to the blade and pushing against it, forcing it back into the handle. He does this again and again until no man, woman or child in the arena could fail to have seen it.
Yes. It’s a toy flick-knife.
Making an elaborate display of attack, Blue Ruin flourishes the knife overhead as he advances on Josh Marquez, all eyes on his erratic assault. No one really notices Ellis Nash as she meanders over towards B.O.T.. Blue Ruin swings at Marquez… and one flash of metal later…
Jeff Marx: We got a bleeder! It’s B.O.T.!
Dave Kern: Must have been that chair shot…
Nash wanders away, whistling, hands tightly clenched with just a glimmer of silver visible within a fist. From the clean gash on B.O.T.’s head runs fresh red blood. There’s obviously been some foul play.
Pierre Perroquet: Ladeez an’ genellmen, zee winnairs – ELLIS NASH for a place een Triangles, an’ BLUE RUIN for ze prawn!
Blue Ruin: KING PRAWN!!!
Date Night
FEATURING: GUARDS, JOHNNY LEXICON, MIDAS T. GOLD
AUTHOR: KRIS
A smokey grey Rolls Royce Phantom appears on screen, rolling languidly towards the arena entrance. The double doors aren't guarded by one, and not even two guards, but fully three Drakewerx guards – not to mention a couple of AWC guards awkwardly standing aside – watch the luxury car come to a lazy stop in front of them.
The door opens and one of the guards step forward. Midas smiles, dressed in a gold suit and no tie.
Midas T. Gold: Is there a problem here?
Drakewerx Guard: Late arrivals are to be fined.
Voice: Who's late?
All sets of eyes turn to the arena doors as Johnny comes walking out in ring gear and his Pierce Lavelle t-shirt, a cock eyed smile on his lips.
Johnny Lexicon: Hey look at Lucy's replacements, all polished and pretty.
Drakewerx Guard: Please remove your vehicle now.
He points at Midas with a warning in his eye. The black man puts a hand up in defeat and reaches inside his golden blazer.
Johnny Lexicon: You got them?
Midas T. Gold: Yeah, the kids are gonna love em.
Midas hands over a brown paper bag to Johnny with a smile.
Johnny Lexicon: Great, park out front and keep the engine running. This shouldn't take long.
Johnny pats his manager's shoulder and walks back into the arena. Midas takes a moment getting back into his car and an AWC guard saunters over.
Guard: Don't real managers escort their clients ring side?
The other guard breaks out into chuckles.
Midas T. Gold: He won't let me. Says real men stand alone, only pussies hunt in packs.
The guards snicker and sneer as Midas winks and climbs into the car.
AgentDash vs Johnny Lexicon
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Dave Kern: Alright folks we're getting just ready for the first of our title matches on the evening and this one in particular heralds the return of the newly reinstated Livewire title!
Jeff Marx: Do you honestly think that this is going to matter one bit after about oh a month? Nobody cared about the belt the first time round and nobody is going to care about the belt this time round, no matter how shiny or sparkly it looks.
Dave Kern: Well I wouldn't tend to agree...
Jeff Marx: Dave when do we ever agree?
Dave Kern: Point taken.
Jeff Marx: (smugly) Thought so.
Dave Kern: Well irrespective of what people (looks at Jeff) think on the return of this title, it has had some prestigious holders, who have gone on to bigger and better things in the AWC. It has also had some forgettables as well as one that really should be stricken.
Jeff Marx: (puts down novel covered in notes) Why who could you possibly mean Kern?
Dave Kern: (smiles weakly) Very funny. Anyway over the past two shows the AWC has involved many of the rising superstars here to battle it out for a chance to become the first champion since the title was disbanded way back in late December last year. When all was said and done Johnny Lexicon and AgentDash were our two competitors. Who's going to become part of the fabled history of the Livewire title? Well Joseph Reid is standing right in the centre of the ring and our ring announcer Pierre Perroquet is standing by to do the introductions.
Jeff Marx: Whatever, wake me up when the noobs are done.
Pierre Perroquet: Ze following contest is scheduled vor one fall! Introducing first...
Our trusty ring announcer doesn't get a chance to finish off his sentence however as the PA crackles to life. It isn't 'Tie me up! Untie me!' or 'The Beautiful People' as one might expect to hear for either of the competitors. No, it's neither and instead we hear a very familiar riff to the AWC crowd as it rumbles through the progression repetitively to build up to the one word which will signify to everyone who it is.
Burn.
Dave Kern: What the hell? I thought he wasn't even at this pay-per-view?
Jeff Marx: (waking up) Huh? What's going on? Am I hearing an epiphany?
Dave Kern: No Jeff, it's just another person interrupting the show.
Jeff Marx: Again? Who is it... aww sweet! Finally some action.
The happy cries from Jeff bear no illusion to the fact that Jeff enjoys listening to this man, a man who has been at the top of the mountain once in this proud federation and one who has held this belt technically since the day he won it... till now. No man bested him for it, no man came even close to taking it from him. It became a trinket round the waist of this man however and it is largely due to his disdain of such a belt that it found itself being disbanded. The man? Jack Murphy.
The Natural Order Of Things
FEATURING: JACK MURPHY
AUTHOR: FERGUS
Murphy is striding down the aisle, definitely with a purpose in mind for this specific visit to the arena. Normally on such an occasion he's dressed in a more relaxed and comfortable attire for the evening. Tonight however is all business. He's taped up and ready, wrestling gear on and raring to go. He wastes no time in climbing the metal staircase into the ring, swiping the microphone from our plucky Frenchman and getting right down to business.
Jack Murphy: It seems to me that some people have been making decisions without my personal approval. It seems to me that some things have been done without even considering those who have the most authority on the subject. It seems I have been ignored.
The crowd is distinctly confused at this beginning to the diatribe that Murphy is no doubt about to spill to the crowd and whomever is watching this on television. Nevertheless the Bull doesn't seem deterred in the slightest.
Jack Murphy: You see, what's about to take place right here and now is a travesty, a ruination of something that should be dead and gone. The Livewire title as it stands is a title that should not be present in any programming. I would love to know who it was that put their grubby hands near the suggestion box to propose the return of this piece of crap title that doesn't have anything to do with the present AWC.
Dave Kern: You know, Murphy's pretty bitter about this.
Jeff Marx: Damn straight! Would you want a title that'll do nothing but make all those useless retards in the lower card have a claim to being a title holder in AWC?
Dave Kern: First of all, they're not useless retards. And secondly, it's meant to be a title for the growth of our undercard. Murphy of all should recognise that as he was one of the holders of it!
Jeff Marx: True enough but the man knows what affect this title will have: nothing. Not a single thing. Anyway shush now while we hear more truer than true words of wisdom from the Bull.
Jack Murphy: What the AWC needs right now is a more enthusiastic and zealous undercard willing to go the extra mile. Willing to strive up for the heights of AWC and be the one to topple a great like Jack Murphy. They need to have the desire to do such a thing. With this putrid title, they will do nothing but wane in their need to do anything else. They'll have achieved what they came for, they'll have held a belt. It won't matter to them that the belt means nothing to everyone else. They'll simply take it as a means to a better paycheque and some fame before they disappear off the face of the planet.
The crowd is booing now in response, conscious of how little Murphy actually cares about this. It's almost like he's hogging the limelight. Slightly unlike him but something that would be well within his power.
Jack Murphy: But what do I know? I was only the longest holder of the damn belt. I was only the most dominant holder of the belt! In fact, I'd like to hear of someone who enjoyed a more prosperous reign than I did?
The Bull waits.
Jack Murphy: And you know what I hear now? Nothing because there is nobody! So I hear this past week that Harber has decided to bring back the belt that launched me into the stratosphere of the AWC. There was no consideration from him for what I felt about it, no thoughts on what to do with it, no even parting gesture saying 'we'd like you to help with this one.' All I got was a small envelope in my locker telling me to return the belt as soon as possible so it could be put round the waist of a deserving champion.
Jeff Marx: Oh boy.
Jack Murphy: I took it in my stride, I tried to be reasonable about it, but it seems Mr. Harber has got a little too big for his boots now. It seems that he feels he can wander around the AWC without fear. God how he must forget the old days... when I pummeled him into giving me my way. When I crushed his tiny little spirit until I got what I wanted. Because Pearl, don't think that those days are long gone. They're far from being over and I think tonight, being the night of the first pay-per-view you and your Empire associates have put on, it would be more than appropriate to fuck with your head.
Pausing, Murphy pulls out a slip of paper that's been tucked in his wrestling shorts. He unfurls it and pushes it right up against the camera. Meanwhile the crowd is murmuring as whilst Murphy hasn't exactly been likable in the least, he did just give the finger to the one person this crowd certainly does not like.
Jack Murphy: You see this? This is a nice little contract from you... to me. It was done, oh about a year now… remember the Grand Slam Package? And if you can't get your beady little eyes to read it, it simply states: this entitles the holder of the contract, in other words me, to a shot at the Livewire title.
Dave Kern: He’s right! He won a shot at the Livewire championship at Triangles last year!
The crowd bursts into discussion, some people cheering, some cursing, but mostly discussion as to what the hell this is doing to Harber right now.
Jack Murphy: I don't think I need to clear anything up with this do I? I'm taking this title Pearl so that you can't manipulate whoever was to win it and force them under the foot of your so called 'Empire.' This title deserves to go around no waist but the one true owner of it and that's me! I don't give a jack shit about the other two competitors in this match because frankly, they're probably going to disappear in the next two months besides. All that's important, is fucking with your head Pearl. Hope you had a nice rest because I plenty more in store for you.
With that Murphy passes the microphone back to Pierre who is standing slightly stunned in the corner. Murphy hunches down by a turnbuckle, stretching out and getting ready for the three way match that's about to occur for the Livewire title.
Dave Kern: That was interesting! You know I can't say that I'm for Murphy... but it's definitely got to be better than the Empire right?
Jeff Marx: I'm confused Dave! Two heels? How can I choose???
AgentDash vs Johnny Lexicon vs Jack Murphy
STIPULATION: THREE WAY FURY
REFEREE: JOSEPH REID
AUTHORS: KRIS, TRENT AND PIERRE HYDE
Dave Kern: Well now it looks like we have an interesting affair: Jack “The Bull” Murphy steps into the ring as a seasoned veteran against AgentDash and Johnny Lexicon, two young guns looking for their first taste of AWC gold. This match will reinstate the Livewire title, hoping to invoke some heated competition among the middle-card.
Jeff Marx: A former Transatlantic champion, Murphy, isn't setting his goals very high with the Livewire title, that's certain!
Dave Kern: Say what you want, Jeff, but this is the perfect chance for him to cash in on his Triangles prize, the second annual incarnation of which, and thus the expiry of that Grand Slam Package, is incidentally right around the corner. It should also be noted that Jack Murphy actually held the Livewire title at one point in time for a period of 28 days, the last reign before it was disbanded. We could consider it fitting for Murphy to be a part of this match, as he was stripped of it after Winter Warfare.
Jeff Marx: Or ... we could say that Murphy is no longer “willing to learn” as he has been here for a good while, and therefore does not properly fit the description of the title holder!
Dave Kern: Well, if you're not behind Murphy, who has the honour of your support?
Jeff Marx: AgentCrash! That kid has teeth.
Dave Kern: Right.
The opening riff of 'Beautiful People' by Marilyn Manson trebles on the bass line as the screen flickers and fades into static.
'Patient zero has become infected.' A robotic voice emulates fear. 'Self destruct sequence has been Initiated.' The same robotic voice ques in higher.
Johnny Lexicon: Oh that human element.
His baritone rolls.
Dave Kern: Johnny Lexicon coming out to a favorable welcome from this Spanish crowd!
The fans are cheering as Lexicon makes his way down the ramp; holding a few plastic novelty belts in his left hand and moving to touch fans with his right.
Dave Kern: Lexicon won his chance to be here last week by defeating three other opponents in elimination rules and is the spoken favorite here tonight.
Jeff Marx: Despite choking in a lucky chance to strip Darcy Crisis of his Frontier title two weeks ago, with a quick counting ref in his corner no less.
Mounting the stairs he climbs into the ring as the fans continue to cheer, he snaps his fingers and catches a tossed microphone deftly, making the fans cheer even louder.
Dave Kern: Johnny Lexicon looks about to speak to the audience for the first time since debuting in AWC!
Johnny takes a moment to allow his music to cut and the volume of the crowd come down a few notches. He raises the mic to his lips and hesitates, looking around at the expectant fans.
Johnny Lexicon: The state of the Club is strong!
The fans erupt.
Jeff Marx: Who does this guy think he is?
Johnny Lexicon: And it's a good thing it is because the state of the Empire is not.
Johnny stops pacing and lets his voice become a growl that sets the fans off into cheering.
Dave Kern: Did he just say that?
Jeff Marx: I think he did, the ingrate. After all the chances Harber gave him.
Johnny Lexicon: I have with me three titles. Titles to recognize the unsung heroes of the Atlantic Wrestling club. The punks that make you so happy to see their asses kicked.
Jeff Marx: What's he doing?
Dave Kern: I think he's about to make a few enemies.
Johnny Lexicon: The pretenders that make it so easy to look so good.
Jeff Marx: I can go with that.
Johnny Lexicon: And the sell outs.
There's no real reaction from anybody.
Johnny Lexicon: For selling out.
He explains.
Dave Kern: Lexicon, who's been rather conservative until this point, could be opening a big can of worms.
Johnny Lexicon: There's more than a few punks on the roster, I'm not gonna name names---
He frowns and shakes his head.
Johnny Lexicon: Heck yeah I am. Kintu you monster on a string, you've got a belt here. Punk.
Jeff Marx: Giant. He's opening a giant can of worms.
Johnny throws one of the plastic belts out into the crowd as the fans shout and cheer.
Dave Kern: The fans are agreeing.
Jeff Marx: Deafeningly so!
Johnny Lexicon: And let's cut to the chase shall we!
Johnny paces a bit, having to yell above the arena.
Johnny Lexicon: I came here while an icon held a banner in the air. I came here while a legend held his head high with pride and represented everything that's right in this business. Lavelle!
The fans literally erupt.
Johnny Lexicon: Sell out bastard, I've got a belt for you!
He throws that belt too into the audience as they stomp and chant 'Sell Out - Sell Out'
Dave Kern: Johnny's not winning himself any fans in the back.
Jeff Marx: I don't think he cares!
Johnny Lexicon: Let's not end this roll, I've got one belt left! There's a half dozen pretenders that come to my mind but none of them have quite earned this final honor.
The fans quiet down as he speaks.
Johnny Lexicon: He may be The Fijian Lion but this is my kind of jungle. Gabriel Afeaki, I got your belt right here.
The growl returns to Johnny's voice, the fans screaming as he tucks the plastic belt into his pocket.
Johnny Lexicon: That's three for three. Empire wins!
Throws the microphone off into the sea of hands. Ripping his Pierce Lavelle shirt clean in half he reveals an 'End the Empire' Gabriel Afeaki shirt underneath.
Dave Kern: 'Heartless' Harber is not gonna like this.
Jeff Marx: Don't call him that, are you crazy?
Pierre Perroquet: Zee following contest zis a Triple Threat Match for zee Livewire Title! Introducing first, from Calzary, Albairta, Johnny Lexzicon!
Dave Kern: Johnny Lexicon has made a considerable splash thus far in the club with an impressive record of five wins and two losses, also coming close to tasting gold in the Frontier Title in a close match with Darcy Crisis. This is his second opportunity to be named champion, and hoping to take advantage of it.
Jeff Marx: Look at that pretty boy! If only Steven Smith were around to drool over him, I could smack him upside the head.
Ghost of Steven Smith: Look at those features and lustrous locks!
The opening drum beat to mewithoutYou's "Tie Me Up! Untie Me!" comes to life over the arena PA as the lights fade to an omniscient glow. The arena remains silent and as the opening guitar chords jerk into the song - AgentDash steps out from behind the curtains and onto the stage. The crowd seems slightly unimpressed with his arrival in comparison to their noble Johnny Lexicon. Dash strides to the ring smoothly with a slight smirk on his face, ignoring the fans jeers.
Pierre Perroquet: And iz first competitzer, from Berkely, Californzia, weighing in at 190 pounds ... AgentDaz!
He arrives at ringside and observes Lexicon keenly as he walks around the ring. He removes his glasses and sets them on the announcer's table, taking notice of the Livewire Title that an insignificant man in a sharp suit holds, sitting next to the bell. He approaches it slowly. The man flinches, but Dash simply smiles as he strokes the golden front of the belt, as if to perform some sort of indirect karma.
Dave Kern: And here we have AgentDash, who has arguably redeemed himself as an AWC competitor as of late, evening out his wins and losses in an impressive streak with only one loss as of late to our Transatlantic Champion. I disagree with his attitude here, but he is very capable of winning tonight.
Jeff Marx: Right you are for once, Dave! A former agent would be th perfect fit for the Livewire Title.
Dave Kern: Maybe, but more so than the wrestling purity of Jack Murphy?
As if Dave's comment is right on cue, the clinical riff of 'Burn' by Throwdown fills the arena and begins an extended loop as the house 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.
Pierre Perroquet: And zeir epponent, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds ... Jack “Zee Bull” Murphy!
Murphy strolls down the ramp to the ring as the fans give a mixed reaction.
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy is in this match under unforeseen circumstances as noted early, but will be treated on the same level as the other two competitors.
Jeff Marx: No love lost for an old codger trying to steal a title from some youngins!
Murphy slides into the ring and takes a good look at Johnny Lexicon, then turns his attention to AgentDash, but doesn't make any quick movements. He takes to the ropes and uses the top cable to stretch out his arms as Joseph Reid awaits the three competitors to get ready. Johnny mounts the middle turnbuckle, soaking in the cheers and calling for more. He looks over his shoulder quickly and grins. Before Joseph Reid can officially call for the bell, he jumps off the turnbuckle, twisting around in mid air and slapping his foot across Murphy's chest. Reid calls for the bell.
Dave Kern: Nice start there by Johnny Lexicon ... didn't expect the vet of this match to let down his guard so early!
Jeff Marx: You will find, Dave, that in a contest when experience meets talent, talent always wins!
Dave Kern: Well, Jack Murphy has plenty of that too, which you can see by his track record. I see him as a favourite to win this match.
Jack falls to his back, Dash looks stunned for the brief second it takes Johnny to get on his feet and comes at him. Dash ducks and spins beneath the grab attempted by Lex, then jumps in the air and drops both feet into the lower back of Johnny Lexicon. The receiver falls to his knees and lands on all fours. Dash rolls over backwards and into a charging position as Johnny crawls to the turnbuckle to help him stand up. Murphy hammers Dash with a forearm block from behind. Murphy's focus is entirely on Dash, and he doesn't foresee the next move from Johny, who comes out of the corner with a nasty spear and together he and Murphy hit the mat hard.
Dave Kern: Again Johnny Lexicon betters Murphy! He's looking impressive early on in this encounter; perhaps a little too petal-to-the-metal attitude early on ... could cost him later.
Jeff Marx: Nice observation, Dave. Really, you're always on top of things ... you're like the woman in this relationship!
AgentDash is back to his feet as he sees Johnny, who straddles the larger opponent in Murphy following the spear and hammers him with left rights. Following a quick leap to the top rope, AgentDash comes flying off and plants his feet into the back of Lexicon's head with a Missile Dropkick! Johnny hits the canvas hard but is close enough to the ropes to roll out of the ring as Dash taunts him. Dash makes a beeline for the opposite ropes as Johnny saunters around the ring. Dash bounces off and comes at full speed to the next ropes, clearly looking to plancha to the outside. Out of nowhere Murphy appears and grabs him by the waist, stopping him completely, then executing a German Suplex and finishing with a pin.
ONE!
Dash rolls out of it and stumbles to his feet.
Jeff Marx: Way too early for that. Dash has the endurance of a marathon runner.
Dave Kern: And he has the experience of an American competing in a marathon race against anorexic Kenyans. Murphy showed him who was boss there.
Murphy is also quick to his feet and surges from a crouching position and lifts the smallest man in the ring clear off his feet in a Spinebuster-like position, then slams him into the corner turnbuckle. Dash's spine crunches into the thin padding. Murphy wraps Dash's arms around the ropes and chops a right hand across his chest. And then one to follow, this time with more oomph behind it. The crowd ooh's with each one as chops turn to hammering blows until Dash has slid down the corner. Murphy follows this with a series of stomps that form a mudhole in Dash's chest.
Dave Kern: Murphy really putting the boots to Dash now, literally!
Jeff Marx: Oh, you're so clever.
Dave Kern: And Johnny Lexicon has finally reentered the ring ... look at him stalking Murphy!
Jeff Marx: Even a pretty boy can surprise the old Bull!
Johnny wraps his arms around a surprised Murphy's waist. Belly to back release suplex sends Murphy to the mat hard, holding his head in pain as the crowd starts to cheer, putting their support behind Lex. Johnny hops to his feet quickly. He acknowledges the crowd's support and capitalizes on Murphy, stomping Jack's shoulder with an aggressive boot, then reaches down to pick up Murphy. As he brings Murphy to a knee, the Bull rams his head into Johnny's mid-section in a quick move.
Dave Kern: Lexicon looks like he had Murphy's number up until that ... Murphy needed that to put himself back into contention.
Johnny reels and holds his midsection when Dash collides with him from the side, Johnny staggers but doesn't go down, swinging a fist blindly as Dash bounces back into the ropes and launches himself at Johnny again. They collide hard, Johnny holding the ropes but still on his feet. Dash runs for the ropes for the third and final try, he comes fast and Murphy plants him solid with a clothesline.
Jeff Marx: Come on Dash! You're quicker than that!
Dave Kern: Murphy with a bullish-like clothesline there, no pun intended.
Jeff Marx: (laughing hysterically in a sarcastic manner) .... No.
The Bull spins on Lexicon with a right hand but Johnny ducks to the side, Murphy
reaches for a grapple and Johnny catches his arms – they lock up in the traditional collar and elbow fashion. Cheers come crashing down to the ring as both contenders lean all their might into their opponent. Murphy pushes Johnny's arms off in a powerful way, then takes the upper hand, shoving
Johnny who takes steps towards the ropes. Murphy slams Lexicon with a hard right hand, Johnny
fires back without hesitation. Murphy sneaks in a south paw but Johnny leans away from the haymaker and kicks Murphy in the gut. The fans start stomping their feet, trying to fire up the younger face.
Dave Kern: Good sequence there between these two men ... this could be interesting.
Johnny wraps Jack's arms up, sets his stance to hold the weight and heaves him up onto his shoulders, the position for a Double-Underhook Powerbomb – presumably the Patter Perfect. Jack punches him solid in the head from an awkward position, and again. Johnny wobbles but holds his balance, then lifts him for the descent, when Dash kicks him in the back of the knee! Johnny falls to his back, Murphy collapses onto his chest. Lexicon struggles for breath under the weight of Murphy. Dash comes flying off the ropes, pogos into the air and drives his knee into Jack's skull.
Dave Kern: AgentDash gaining the momentum! Lexicon almost got his finisher in there ...
Murphy crashes to the canvas holding his head, but manages to slowly crawl and roll out of the ring to recover. Cedric Riley moves quickly to the nearest corner and ascends to the top rope. He waists no time in taunting the fans or his opponent, and leaps off with a forward flip in the direction of Lexicon. The target sees his predicament early enough and rolls out of the way – Dash finds nothing but canvas.
Dave Kern: Close one there!
Jeff Marx: Dammit, Dash! Hit a move for once!
Dash rolls on his side holding an ass cheeck as Lexicon tries to pull himself up with the ropes. Johnny turns towards the Agent when he gets on his feet. Before he can stalk his prey Murphy reaches in quickly and grabs his foot. Johnny looks away for a split second, turning his attention to the Bull on the outside. Dash scrambles to his feet, seeing the opportunity and hits Lex with the Agent Kick. Johnny stumbles into the ropes. Murphy props himself on the apron and pulls down the top rope, causing Lexicon to flip out of the ring.
Dave Kern: Sly move from the Bull – the experience is coming into effect!
Murphy slides into the ring and Dash stomps on him immedietly. Jack powers himself to his feet and locks up with Dash. The smallest loses ground quickly to the largest and finds himself backed into a corner. Murphy headbutts him solidly. Jack rears back, holding the ropes, and drives his shoulder into Dash's stomach, and again, on the third time Dash suck his knees in and Murphy's head collides hard. He reels away from the corner in sudden pain as Dash jumps to sit on the top buckle. As soon as Murphy turns back Dash takes him down with a flying clothesline.
Jeff Marx: Beautiful execution from the Agent!
Dave Kern: Wow .. I'm more surprised at the actual commentary!
Jeff Marx: Be grateful.
Johnny is pulling himself onto the ring apron as Dash makes a desperate cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Murphy throws Dash off of him and rolls onto his knees, catching sight of Lexicon who's watching Dash scrambling for his feet. Jack lowers his shoulder and charges towards Lex!
Dave Kern: What the ... LOOK OUT!
Johnny drops on the apron, holding the ropes and sliding himself under the bottom cable as Murphy's momentum sends him diving clear through the middle. He ends up in a crash and burn on the outside, tumbling right into the ring barrier.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD! Lexicon flagged out the red blanket, the Bull charged, and the stupid Mexican won!
Jeff Marx: LAME!
Dash hits Johnny with a forearm block from behind but Johnny snaps, he wraps Dash's reaching arm with his own and connects a side kick into his gut. And another. Dash blocks the third with a raised shin when Johnny leans away, his legs turning at odd angles and he spins back with a power clothesline that spins Dash clear heels over head to land on his chest breathless. Johnny lays for a second breathless as the fans go insane. After a slight delay with Lex catching his breath that allows Murphy to regain himself on the outside, Johnny pushes Dash over onto his back and makes the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Murphy who had scramble to the top rope lands an elbow drop out of nowhere! The desperate count break is effective as Reid stops the count. Murphy backs to the ropes and finds his footing; Lexicon scrambles up and does the same. Murphy charges and hits Johnny with a forearm block, wrapping him up he delivers a swift belly to belly release suplex. Murphy scrambles to his feet and drops onto Johnny with a closed fist to the back of the shoulder. Johnny cries out but Murphy grabs his chin and
sits on his back pulling.
Dave Kern: Murphy locks on a submission ... finally using his technical skill which he has been prevented from effectively the entire match.
Jeff Marx: His opponents are just too quick, Dave ... in a triple threat match, submissions are never effective.
Johnny reaches for the ropes but they're too far.
He tries to squirm for them but Murphy's too heavy.
Murphy rocks back and forth agonizingly.
Johnny reaches persistently as the fans start a quiet chant.
Murphy leans forward in a moment of reprieve before stomping heels and wrenching back harder than ever.
Johnny looks about to tap.
The quiet chant gets some stomps, Lexicon clenches his fist and reaches for the ropes again.
AgentDash kicks Murphy in the back without effect. The fans are uproarious as Johnny pulls himself for the ropes, Jack gets to his feet and turns menacingly on Dash. Jack reaches for him suddenly but Dash slips underneath him, hooking one of his arms and vaulting onto his back. His balance lost Jack goes to the mat face first as Dash twists his arm at an awkward angle.
Murphy uses his weight to power up to all fours, Dash keeping his arm twisted. Murphy quickly powers over and drops Dash to his back. With Murphy's shoulder-blades pressing Dash's chest against the ground, Joseph Reid goes down for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Dash pulls his legs up and rolls over backwards, putting them back into the same position as before. He still has his arm in a twist and wrenches on it, putting Murphy in pain, who his now in a predicament. Murphy gains an inch for the ropes. Dash grits his teeth and twists his arm.
Dave Kern: Quite impressive act from AgentDash keeping that hold on while being pinned. Murphy will have to use his size advantage to get out of this one.
Jeff Marx: Twist those dinosaur muscles, kid!
Johnny Lexicon has, by now, recovered from Murphy's submission and pulls Dash off and throws him into the corner, following it close with a forearm and a chop across the chest. Dash answers with a chop of his own, holding the ropes for leverage planting a pair of feet in Lexicon's face sending him crashing into the canvas. Murphy crawls for the ropes as Dash jumps up onto the middle rope, and turns, facing his back to the ring. Dash leaps with a Moonsault but Johnny dives out of the way!
Jeff Marx: ARGH! Stop moving out of the way you stupid pretty boy!
Dave Kern: Lexicon isn't a quitter, that's for sure.
Dash rolls on the mat holding his right leg in agony as Murphy and Lexicon get to their feet. They square for a brief instant, nostrils flaring as the bulls beat their hooves. They collide trading rights, shot for shot until Murphy blocks and slaps Johnny viciously. Lexicon turns his back and Murphy wraps a powerful arm around his neck and forces him into the corner with a charge. Johnny steps up the turnbuckles and vaults clear over Murphy's head to land on his feet as the Bull hits the corner hard. Johnny grabs him and rolls him up in a small package.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
NO! Murphy kicks out and they both scramble to all fours and eventually to their feet. They both charge at the same time and speed. Johnny miscalculates as Murphy slows himself to a ready position. Johnny receives a knee to the gut and flips over with his own momentum to land hard on his back, shaking the ring. Murphy leans back into the ropes, struts back and drops a knee into Lexicon's forehead. Getting to his feet he doesn't see Dash come out of nowhere with a Headscissors Takedown! Dash uses the middle rope for a little air on a Moonsault, crashing across
Murphy hard in Chris Jericho fashion.
Dave Kern: AgentDash building momentum! Nice set of moves there ...
Jeff Marx: Now capitalize, you little rat!
The Agent can't allow himself time to catch his breath, running for the corner he climbs it quick, turns around to line up and launches. He accomplishes a vertical improbability and rotates in the air as if to execute a Shooting Star Press, but his body falls short of Murphy; instead, his forehead butts right into Murphy's chest. The force resulting from the momentum of the mid-air flip is huge.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD!~ DEATH – FROM – ABOVE – 2006!!!
Jeff Marx: Hahahaha! I told you! AMAZING.
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Johnny breaks the count! The ref is saying two!
Jeff Marx: WHAT?!! THAT WAS THREE! GOD DAMMIT JOSEPH REID ... WHAT THE FU-
Dave Kern: It was close! Let's leave it at that...
Lexicon pulls Dash to his feet, giving Dash no time to recover from the huge move. Dash looks dizzy from it also, and Lexicon sends him into the ring cables. Dash ducks the clothesline attempted by Lexicon on his return and pulls his momentum up. He launches a spinning heel kick but
Johnny blocks it. Dash lands and Johnny hammers him with a straight leg kick to the midsection that throws him to the mat.
Johnny stumbles and falls into the corner, sucking wind. Dash is doing the same as he crawls towards the ropes, looking for support. He wraps one arm around the bottom rope as he remains on the ground, breathlessly. He tries to blink through beads of sweat that trickle into his eyes and observe his opponents. Murphy is still having trouble breathing after Dash's head slamming ruthlessly into his chest.
Jeff Marx: This is poised for an explosive finish. Murphy’s down but on his way to recovery, and Dash and Lexicon are just getting themselves back up.
On his feet now, AgentDash looks around at the thousands of Spanish fans cheering him on, and suddenly he gets a flash of inspiration. Running at Lexicon, he slides through the legs as Lexicon advances looking to clothesline Dash down; with the Agent now behind him Lexicon swivels only to find AgentDash now up on his shoulders. One hurricanrana later, Dash finds himself leaping onto the turnbuckle…
Jeff Marx: Dash is really going balls to the wall here!
Moonsault…
KNEES!
Dave Kern: Johnny Lexicon got his knees up! AgentDash fails with the moonsault!
Dash rolls over into a motionless heap as Jack “The Bull” Murphy stalks over, pushing Dash onto his back with his boot. Murphy makes the pin:
Dave Kern: And this could be it!
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
Jeff Marx: BROKEN BY LEXICON!
Lexicon immediately dispatches Murphy with a DDT!
Dave Kern: That’s how to deal with The Bull---
Jeff Marx: PINFALL!
Lexicon turns back to AgentDash and pins the felled high-flyer:
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: We have a new Livewire champion! Johnny Lexicon has put the cap on a great cycle for him by capturing his first AWC gold!
Lexicon punches the air as the bell rings.
Pierre Perroquet: Zee wiener, an’ NEW Livewire champion… JOHNNY LEXICON!
Sorrow Knows Nothing Like A Woman Scorned I
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, PIERCE LAVELLE, MADDY ESTELLE
AUTHOR: LARA C.
She stormed down the hall with a stride to her ever quickened pace, bursting through the door she gazed toward Pierce sat on the bench dressed in his ring attire and watching the television.
Sarah Kennedy: What the hell is this?
Kennedy demands, angrily. Chucking the documents onto Pierce’s lap she strolls over toward him, the door wide open.
Pierce Lavelle: It’s your managerial contract.
Lavelle responded with a dreary and dull tone, handing it back to her.
Sarah Kennedy: I’m aware of that, but why do I have it?
Pierce Lavelle: Because… you’re fired.
Sarah Kennedy: Fired? What?
Lavelle rose off the chair, kicking it backward as he looked toward her, stood in shock while her fingers clawed the small manila file.
Pierce Lavelle: It’s not working, Sarah. It never worked. You only stick by me when it suits you; you disappear for half the time and when you are around you never trust me.
Sarah Kennedy: So you are firing me?
Pierce Lavelle: No, I’m dumping you. You can choose to stay as my manager or you can go to Harber and ask for your job back.
Sarah Kennedy: Dumping me… Do I have a say in this?
Kennedy chucked the manila file toward him and watched as he let it fall to the floor, crumpling over his boots as the small pages fluttered around the ground.
Pierce Lavelle: Not really, no. I mean come on, you never loved me and this was going nowhere… If you were like Tracy and stuck by me like she does with Sloan, we wouldn’t be having this problem would we?
Sarah Kennedy: Like Tracy? I was there for you, you ungrateful prick.
Kennedy scowled as she pushed Pierce backward, her push having no real effect. Lavelle folded his arms and raised his eyebrows and scoffed.
Pierce Lavelle: When? Go on, tell me when you were ever there for me, Sarah.
Kennedy stopped, her face dropping as silence emanated throughout the room.
Pierce Lavelle: Like I said, you’re fired, now get out!
He grabbed all her documents and shoved them toward her, her hands gripping them as they loosened under his grip. Her eyes watched his with a burning rage, no anguish or pain, no broken heart. Turning on her high heels she swiped her hair and stormed out of the room, shutting the door violently behind her. The small locker room remained silent.
Maddy Estelle: If you ask me, you’re better off without her…
Lavelle turned to see Maddy Estelle stood behind him holding a small bottle of water.
Pierce Lavelle: I didn’t ask you…
He scowled before returning to watch the television.
Zee Parrot Is Unstoppable!
FEATURING: THE COALITION, PIERRE PERROQUET, PARROT OF PERROQUET
AUTHOR: DAVE LARKIN
The thin figure of Pierre Perroquet rushes through the hallway backstage at Untouchable, panting due to loss of breath in his pursuit of two men in the distance. The fans begin to cheer when they realise the men the Frenchman is following are none other than tag team duo extraordinaire, The Coalition. Wesley Reno turns and taps his partner Phil Allen on the shoulder to notify him of Perroquet’s presence. Perroquet, complete with his trusty parrot, reaches into his pocket for his microphone, but his face turns deep red as he finds he has forgotten it. Reno and Allen stand with their arms folded, feigning dissatisfaction with the interviewer. Eventually, The Coalition drop the act.
Wesley Reno: Pierre, chill out! We don’t mind if you didn’t bring your mike. We’re not even dressed for an interview. Phil’s wearing a one piece tight swimsuit, for God’s sake!
Perroquet can’t help but stare at Allen in his wrestling gear, which comprises of what appears to be a one piece swimsuit, such is its tightness. Allen shoots Reno a look of disapproval and takes control.
Phil Allen: Mister Perroquet, you and that parrot of yours can ask us anything you want, but make it quick. This is the biggest match of this kid’s career, and it’s my job to make sure he doesn’t screw it up.
Pierre Perroquet: Oui monsieur, I apologize for mah lack of the sense in zis mattare. First, I must ask you about zee match tonight against Zee Furious Fists of Dieu – I mean, God!
Allen and Reno exchange looks for a moment, then both focus on the interviewer before them. The atmosphere backstage is tense, and all around is quiet. Perroquet looks over to his parrot for guidance in the interview, but the parrot has flown over to the vending machine to try his luck at dispensing a can of soda.
Phil Allen: It’s as simple as this, Pierre. To avoid all those boring wrestling cliches, I’ll get right down to the point. At the end of the day, it’s a game of two halves, okay?
Allen begins to laugh at his own joke, but Perroquet frowns in disapproval at his antics and places his hands on his hips in indignation. Reno doesn’t find Allen’s poor attempt at humour funny at all, and continues the interview.
Wesley Reno: Basically Pierre, we’ll be going out there tonight to bag the Alliance championship for ourselves. It sounds selfish, but it’s the truth. Of course, while we do that, we’ll be looking to deliver some entertainment to the fans!
Reno receives a cheap pop that he was expecting, and nods in gratitude. Perroquet’s parrot begins to peck away at Allen’s so-called swimsuit, and a struggle ensues between Allen and the bird.
Phil Allen: Pierre, get your damn bird off my training outfit!
Pierre Perroquet: No sir, I cannot do zis! Once zee parrot pecks at somesing, he vill not stop! Zee bird… he is unstoppable, Monsieur!
Reno begins to pull Allen away from the parrot, but the bird does not relent. What began as a friendly interview has now turned into a titanic battle between bird and man – and all over a training suit. The parrot pecks away ferociously at Allen’s buttocks and tears his suit to shreds. Allen grabs a towel nearby and covers his behind as he dashes up the hallway, leaving the bird’s work in his wake. Reno and Perroquet (and the parrot, for that matter) all stare at a half-naked Allen running away and crack a smile.
Parrot of Perroquet: Caw! Naked Allen, naked Allen!
Pierre Perroquet: Zis was not mah finest work, Monsieur Reno, but I assure you zat zee future vil be different.
Wesley Reno: Oh, I wouldn’t be too concerned about that, Pierre. Phil constantly reminds me that I’m the one who has to get in shape. The cellulite on that ass says otherwise. Catch you later.
Reno heads off down the corridor to the locker room of the Coalition, leaving Perroquet and his trusty parrot behind. Perroquet pats his parrot on the head for a job well done. The pair head out of the view of the camera and back to ringside.
Gabriel Afeaki (c) vs Teresa Tomas
STIPULATION: WEAPONS
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Dave Kern: We've seen plenty of action tonight at Untouchable, with Johnny Lexicon having captured the Livewire title belt, and Pierce Lavelle having ended romantic ties with Sarah Kennedy!
Jeff Marx: Bleh, who cares?
Dave Kern: And moving swiftly on, it’s time to go to our Relentless title match: Gabriel Afeaki versus Teresa Tomas!
Jeff Marx: But is GA even here? I haven’t seen him at Fresh! for weeks; I don’t think he’s even been turning up.
Dave Kern: Something that David Harber’s seemed less than happy about. But surely he’ll be here to defend his belt here at Untouchable…
Jeff Marx: Doing Harber’s dirty work for him. There’s no way Teresa Tomas can have a hope in hell of matching up to Afeaki! This is a beatdown, pure and simple.
Pierre Perroquet: Ladeez…
Jeff Marx: Oh here we go.
Perroquet stops; the noise from the crowd is still vociferous and he can barely be heard.
Parrot of Perroquet: SQUAWK!
Well, that shut everyone up.
Pierre Perroquet: Ladeez an’ gentellmen! Ze next match weel be a weapons match – it is ze Relentless champion sheep match!
Jeff Marx: Wow, AWC’s really branched out.
Lights grow dim. A red glow emits from the entrance. Within the glow is a silhouette of a long-haired female. Without warning a cannon is heard blasting through the speakers. White pyros explode from either side of the entrance ramp creating a thick blanket of white smoke. “Big Guns” by AC/DC floods the building. Teresa Tomas steps through the smoke holding an acoustic guitar by its neck in one hand and a garden rake in the other. A cigarette hangs from the corner of her mouth. She is decked out in faded Levi’s and a black Ľ-sleeve t-shirt with the words written in metallic chrome “What’s YOUR Excuse?”
Pierre Perroquet: Eentroducing for ze first… ze challengair for zis match… from Nashville, Tennessee; she is weighing 145 punds… TERESA TOMAS!
Teresa stops midway down the ramp to release a final puff of cigarette smoke before removing the cancer stick from her lips. She glances to her right, then to her left giving the fans an empty stare before dropping the burning butt to at her feet, then stomps it with her boot before making her journey to the ring.
Dave Kern: Teresa, with innovative weaponry in hand, doesn’t look unduly bothered at the prospect of facing GA, folks.
Jeff Marx: She’s about to get her ass handed to her… that plump, delicious ass that you can see inside this month’s AWC magazine! BUTT NAKED!
Dave sighs.
The arena plummets into darkness, leaving the unsuspecting crowd wondering what is going to happen next as multiple flashbulbs partially illuminate ringside. A few moments later, the Atlantic Tron flickers to life, showing only a black, empty screen. Immediately, there are two sets of silver points a few inches away from each other drawing outlines of the human eye. When the drawing is complete, the outlines open, revealing a pair of red eyes with white irises and no pupils. Evil laughter fills the arena as the orange eyes slowly transform into lion eyes: a pale yellow-green base with feline irises. Underneath the eyes, these words in a blood red color appear...
THE FIJIAN ANIMAL HAS ARRIVED...
Dave Kern: This entrance never fails to freak me out.
The lights flicker back on as the evil, demonic introduction of Thorr's “Hammer Troll” begins to play. From the curtain emerges Gabriel Afeaki, dressed in black hoodie and Relentless title belt, slowly walks down to the ring as the fans watch in awe, as the lyrics of the Haka play over the harrowing sound of Troll fill the arena.
Pierre Perroquet: And ‘air opponent, from Savu Savu een Fiji, ‘ee is weighing 285 punds… le champion, GABRIEL AFEAKI!
The Fijian steps off the ramp way and looks out into the fans, relishing the fear he's bringing to each and everyone one of them. He slowly makes his ascent up the ring steps.
Dave Kern: Afeaki appears to have chosen not to bring any weapons out with him.
Jeff Marx: He doesn’t NEED them, Dave. His bare hands will do just fine.
Gabriel Afeaki enters the ring, looks over at ring announcer Pierre Perroquet, and then Lars Larsson, the assigned referee of the match, and walks over to his corner, jumps onto the top turnbuckle and sits there patiently, waiting for Teresa Tomas to reenter the ring. She sets the guitar down horizontally on the apron, slides the rake into the ring, and then rolls in after it. The house lights rise.
Dave Kern: We’re about to get started folks, and Teresa Tomas seems more than ready for the challenge of the hulking Afeaki!
Jeff Marx: Look at him – perched, ready to spring… he could break Teresa Tomas in half just like that! Garden equipment won’t help you, honey!
Lars Larsson nods his approval of Tomas’ two selected weapons and confirms that the Fijian Animal has brought none to the ring before signalling to the timekeeper to commence the match. The timekeeper, seated adjacent to Dave Kern and Jeff Marx who are at their reinstated ringside desk, sounds the bell and there is a roar from the fans as the match gets underway.
Afeaki hops down from the turnbuckle and immediately takes up a fighting stance. Now looking a touch more wary, Tomas presents her guard and moves closer. She’s not a fighter, though; she can hold her own in a brawl but most strike techniques are beyond Teresa, and here, it shows. Afeaki launches straight into his savate routines, throwing alternate avants and arrieres at The Redneck Princess. The fast jabs throw Tomas, and before she knows it she’s taken a Fouette kick and is on her hands and knees.
Jeff Marx: Like a whirlwind. Afeaki may clock in at two-eight-five but his agility and deftness of movement is remarkable. Teresa Tomas has barely even realised the match has begun!
Dave Kern: Gabriel Afeaki’s French kickboxing techniques really stood out there. Teresa had no reply.
Afeaki crouches over Tomas from behind and grabs her left arm laterally across its socket. He plants his right arm in between her shoulder blades and forces her down in a modified reverse armbar.
Jeff Marx: You think she’s a little…
Dave Kern: A little?
Jeff Marx: Drunk?
Tomas struggles hard, kicking out with her legs but getting little room to manoeuvre. She repeatedly smashes her free right elbow against Gabs, but the only point of his body with which she can connect is his shoulder, and Afeaki happily takes this in order to continue punishing The Top Rope Temptress through the armbar.
Dave Kern: I’m not in a position to be commenting on how likely our wrestlers are to be in a fit state to wrestle---
Jeff Marx: So, she is.
Dave Kern: No!
Jeff Marx: She isn’t?
Dave Kern: I don’t know.
Tomas throws herself flat suddenly, causing Afeaki to readjust his position. As he tries to do so, THE American Woman wrenches her arm away and slaps at the head of the Fijian with her other hand; her blow glances off Gabriel’s shaved head but gives her the small amount of time she needs to roll away and rise, glaring defiantly at the champion. Afeaki casually alters his gaze to check out the Relentless gold, shining beneath one turnbuckle.
Jeff Marx: She might be?
Dave Kern: Maybe.
Jeff Marx: Is she?
Thinking to herself that Afeaki’s momentary lapse could be an opportunity, Teresa Tomas runs at Afeaki and leaps into him with a high knee. Though the blow winds the Fijian Animal and he backs up against the ropes, he still manages to grab onto Tomas’ leg, and with the 145-pounder off balance Gabs can easily scoop her in and slam Tomas to the mat with a double-leg takedown.
Dave Kern: No. I mean maybe!
Jeff Marx: How do you know?
Dave Kern: I don’t, I just…
Jeff Marx: You shouldn’t be commenting on how likely our wrestlers are to be in a fit state to wrestle.
Dave Kern: (hangs head) No. Sorry.
Afeaki goes to take Teresa by the leg but she shoots out her other one into his face.
Jeff Marx: Oof!
Throwing a hand to his face, Afeaki turns and half-collapses into the ropes, truly stunned by the blow; Tomas darts up from behind and rolls up the champion:
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
Dave Kern: Tomas nearly sneaked it there!
Jeff Marx: How cheap! How cheap!
Dave Kern: But a sturdy recovery kickout from the Relentless champion.
Tomas starts to get up; she’s sped up by an angry shove from Afeaki. This gets an “OOOOOH!” from the Spanish crowd.
Jeff Marx: These Spaniard fans sense some tempers rising!
As Gabs rises, intent on revenge, Teresa quickly wraps him up in a double-arm DDT.
”OLÉ!” (because that’s what Spanish people say.)
Dave Kern: DDT!
Jeff Marx: Teresa, Teresa… you’re only gonna rile him!
Again Tomas hooks the leg looking for an early upset.
ONE!
Dave Kern: One count.
Jeff Marx: Not a chance. Pointless.
Dave Kern: Teresa Tomas surrenders the advantage, again trying for an early fall.
Jeff Marx: She’s not gonna get many chances to assert herself in this match so she needs to roll with it when she can instead of slowing things up like that!
Afeaki is even quicker in getting up this time, and there is no nonsense as he authoritatively grabs Tomas around the chest. Her futile defence is worth nothing against the might of a Gabriel Afeaki belly-to-belly suplex.
Jeff Marx: OOH, did you hear her hit the canvas?
Dave Kern: I swear that shook the ring.
Jeff Marx: Teresa Tomas will be black and bruised by the time this is done. No more magazine covers for a good while! Shame!
Afeaki roughly grabs hold of Tomas by the throat and pulls her to her feet.
Dave Kern: Steady!
Jeff Marx: It’s all legal Dave. In a Weapons match, the competitors can do whatever the hell they like.
Dave Kern: (cross) Yes yes I know Jeff; it’s my job to understand the matches and then explain them to halfwits like yourself…
Jeff Marx: Who are you calling a halfwit?! Call the damn action, jobman!
Dave Kern: Afeaki applying an anaconda choke… and Lars Larsson can do nothing about this. This is distasteful. It’s what I don’t like about Weapons matches; we get all this abuse of the no-DQ stips; anaconda is little more than a rear naked choke, and---
Jeff Marx: It’s a helluva lot more than a rear naked choke! You get the whole triangle situation too; it’s much more effective…
Dave Kern: Chokeholds: Jeff’s specialty, folks.
Afeaki persists with the anaconda choke much to the disdain of the fans, who are beginning to chat ever more loudly into their mobile phones. The hubbub within the Léon Arena is crescendoing yet very few are paying attention to a match they lost interest in when Afeaki applied this hold.
Jeff Marx: Fickle, the Spanish fans, aren’t they?
Dave Kern: Fickle? I think the fans here tonight have been excellent!
Jeff Marx: You would though, wouldn’t you. I think the fans here tonight have been hairy.
Dave sighs.
Dave Kern: Jeff, not every single person in these states of Europe is a cartoon stereotype.
Jeff Marx: Right. What town are we in again?
Dave Kern: (instantly) Spain, Europe.
Jeff Marx: Where’s the nearest convenience store?
Dave Kern: I guess downtown.
***anyway***
Dave Kern: Ah yes, the match! In which Teresa Tomas has carved a little gap for herself and is scoring little elbow shots against Afeaki’s ribcage, gradually weakening the big man.
Jeff Marx: If she carries on at this rate she’ll be free of the anaconda choke by 2027. Promising.
Afeaki chooses this moment to move Tomas away from the ropes she has been edging towards, and turns slightly, carefully and firmly stamping his boots down for maximum leverage. Unfortunately, he manages to stamp his right foot down right across the prongs of the rake Tomas brought to the ring.
BADA-BING!
The rake handle clocks Afeaki in the centre of the forehead and he staggers backward.
Dave Kern: He’s seeing stars! That rake nailed him right in the head!
Jeff Marx: Nasty little surprise. That’s why Gabriel Afeaki didn’t clutter the ring with any irrelevant foreign objects of his own.
Wasting no time, Tomas leaps in with a low dropkick; Afeaki goes down onto his front and Tomas grabs his arm…
Dave Kern: Southern Comfort!
Jeff Marx: No!
Afeaki twists around before Tomas has a firm grip and kicks onto his back, knocking Teresa away. She retorts with a swinging knee that knocks loudly against GA’s forehead!
Dave Kern: OOF! Major knee shot!
Jeff Marx: To anyone other than Gabriel Afeaki that might be a knockout blow – I’ve seen fractured skulls from that kind of shot! A real vicious streak from Tomas and it’s just not called for! She needs to get back to looking pretty for magazine covers!
Afeaki is slumped back against the bottom rope, his mouth open slightly and his eyes shut. A welt is already forming on his forehead. Tomas, though, gives him no recovery time whatsoever; grabbing the acoustic guitar she brought to the ring by its neck, she holds it aloft to the cheers of the crowd.
Dave Kern: The fans much appreciating the Spanish guitar!
Jeff Marx: I doubt that’s really Spanish Dave. It’s some redneck piece of crap made out of old plasterboard off a garbage disposal truck.
Dave Kern: Atlantic Wrestling Club supports recycling, Jeff; what’s your problem?
Tomas now brandishes the guitar behind her head, holding the neck with both hands as she waits for Afeaki to get up. The Fijian, however, hasn’t moved a muscle.
Dave Kern: Afeaki is motionless. Do you think the champion could be hurt, Jeff?
Jeff Marx: He’s just toying with her. There’s no way…
Dave Kern: He’s not moving…
The chants for Teresa die down as she continues to hold the guitar high, her smile, however, having disappeared from her face. She waits. Nothing happens.
Dave Kern: Lars Larsson surely needs to be checking on Gabriel Afeaki here; this does not look good for the Relentless champion.
Tomas sighs deeply and turns, bringing her guitar down to the mat and moving to set it down in the corner.
And just like that, she’s lost.
Afeaki is up in an instant and behind her with the speed and stealth of a panther. He drives a knee into her kidneys and Teresa deflates. Turning her round, the champion ties up and moves straight in with an ankle pick, or the Fi. Ji. T.; this is the set-up for the Fijian Leg Lock, which Afeaki now moves into…
Dave Kern: AFEAKI! Just like that! He’s up! He’s in control! He’s going to win!
Jeff Marx: Hate to say I told you so! Fijian Leg Lock applied and this is all she wr---
THUD.
For the last few seconds, the fans nearest the stage have been watching not Gabriel Afeaki’s comeback in the ring, but a frantic rustling of the curtains. And now, through the black veil, falling to the stage floor with that loud thud…
is a body.
Dave Kern: …And Afeaki seems to be relaxing the h---
Jeff Marx: Dave. Dave! Look.
Dave Kern: What am I – what the – OH JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS IT?!
Jeff Marx: Someone’s just fallen through the curtain… they’re not moving on the stage; it’s a woman…
Dave Kern: SHE’S ALL WHITE! AND… AND THAT’S BLOOD COMING FROM HER HEAD! OH MY! FOLKS, THIS IS NOT PLANNED, I---
Jeff Marx: Shiiiiiiiit.
Dave Kern: SHIT DOESN’T COVER IT, JEFF, I---
Jeff Marx: (quietly) That’s Sasha Volkyeva.
It is Sasha Volkyeva.
The fans have realised it too; first a roar of excitement, then fading to a subdued murmur, and now a panicked hush.
She’s not moving.
Her skin is paler than the whitest paper, save for the dried clots of dark blood on her head and back, and the deep purple bruises covering her body.
Her once immaculate blonde hair is matted and clumped, dirt visible as if it hasn’t been washed for weeks.
The black coat around her is ripped and scratched as if she has been running through a thick forest of brambles.
Beneath she wears nothing but a pair of month-old knickers. Blood-spattered knickers.
Gabriel Afeaki: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The yell from Afeaki is louder than anyone could even describe, heard clearly right to the rafters of the arena. Anguish or anger?; nobody can tell. But from his position standing at the ropes, opponent Teresa Tomas laying forgotten in ring centre, the Fijian Animal slumps his body across the top cable and beats his head with his hands.
She’s still not moving.
Dave Kern: Take this off the air – TAKE THIS OFF THE AIR!
Jeff Marx: It’s gonna be – it’s gonna be o---
Dave Kern: SHE’S – SHE’S –
Jeff Marx: She’s not d-dead, Dave, she c-can’t be…
Even Jeff Marx is unsure. Even Jeff Marx is worried. Even Jeff Marx is stammering.
Dave Kern: She’s…
Raising her head up off the floor.
Coughing.
Coughing blood.
And collapsing again.
Afeaki turns and in a rage, drives his boot into Tomas’ side. A loud crack is heard; a pessimist might assume the breaking of ribs. He kicks her again. And again. And again.
Dave Kern: STOP it!
Jeff Marx: Gabs is taking something out on Teresa Tomas here and we seem to have forgotten that alongside all this a match is supposed to be---
Dave Kern: No it’s not, Lars Larsson is stopping it!
The bell rings.
Pierre Perroquet: Ladeez an’ genellmen, zis match ‘as been deeclaired a ‘no contest’!
Jeff Marx: Afeaki’s paying no attention! He’s laying into Teresa!
Gabriel drops down and applies the Fijian Leg Lock to Teresa Tomas just as security head Valerie Layne leads out the AWC medical team. Matt Matthews and Jin Osaka hurry Sasha onto a gurney.
Dave Kern: She needs some attention, fast.
Jeff Marx: And Teresa Tomas will be going the same way!
Lars Larsson rushes the ring and flies at Afeaki, a hard forearm across the head failing to dislodge the Fijian. Afeaki does let The Redneck Princess go, but only for a second to club the referee hard across the head and continue the assault!
Dave Kern: HE JUST ATTACKED LARS LARSSON!
Jeff Marx: Only in self-defence! Larsson attacked him first! Afeaki just wants to take this win the proper way instead of retaining his title through a no contest!
Dave Kern: Forget matches; forget title belts! Sasha Volkyeva is grievously hurt – and we don’t even know how!
Jeff Marx: We don’t even know why she’s even HERE… did she come here, or did someone bring her? And was she attacked while she was here, or beforehand? Or –
Dave Kern: PIERCE LAVELLE!
Jeff Marx: No, I think we can rule him o---
Dave Kern: There!
Lavelle comes out of the crowd, hopping over the security fence and sliding into the ring at full speed.
Dave Kern: Finally someone to stop Afeaki! Lavelle’s come to rescue his friend!
As Valerie Layne finally lumbers into the ring, Lavelle grabs the Fijian Animal around the shoulders and pulls him off Tomas. The Relentless champion doesn’t resist as Lavelle moves him back into the corner and leans the exhausted Afeaki against the turnbuckle. The three-time Transatlantic champion now bends down and pulls Teresa to her feet.
Jeff Marx: (sarcastically) Her knight in shining armour…
He takes her in his arms… and lifts her up onto his shoulders…
Dave Kern: I’m not quite sure…
…and moves to face the corner post…
Jeff Marx: FUCKING YES!
W H I P L A S H
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! PIERCE LAVELLE JUST WHIPLASHED TERESA TOMAS!
Jeff Marx: HE WASN’T COMING TO SAVE HER ASS! HE WAS COMING TO CONTINUE THE BEATING!
Dave Kern: FINAL, CONCLUSIVE PROOF THAT TERESA TOMAS AND PIERCE LAVELLE’S FRIENDSHIP DIED WAY BACK WHEN PIERCE JOINED THE EMPIRE!
Valerie Layne charges Lavelle, who easily ducks her pasty arm and scoop slams the head of security in mid-ring. Afeaki staggers over and collapses into Lavelle’s arms, who does his best to hold the Fijian upright. Then they both turn to the broken Teresa Tomas.
Dave Kern: NO! NO MORE! STOP THIS!
Jeff Marx: No one can stop The Empire now. No one other than…
There’s movement at the curtain.
Dave Kern: CHAINZ?!
No.
Jeff Marx: Chainz… would have been any man’s bet. But that’s…
Wait…
Jeff Marx: Who is that?
Dave Kern: RICH ROLLINS!
No, we’re kidding.
Dave Kern: HANK COBB?!
Jeff Marx: Hank WHO?
Dave Kern: Hank Cobb’s coming to save Teresa Tomas again! He saved her from D’avid weeks ago and now he’s back to repeat the feat!
Jeff Marx: (exploding into laughter) There’s a slight problem with scale there! Some stupid ginger Dutchman, and Pierce Lavelle and Gabriel Afeaki, are two entirely different propositions! A DUI jobber isn’t even on The Empire’s radar!
Dave Kern: Incoming…
Colby Korver tears after Cobb from backstage, his face red. Catching up with Cobb just before they reach the ring, he slaps his hand and slides into the ring. Afeaki grins to Lavelle and moves to take Korver’s clothesline.
Jeff Marx: He just stands there and lets Colby Korver hit him! And Afeaki isn’t even fazed!
Korver draws back his arm to try again, but Lavelle grabs him from behind and slings him into the turnbuckle. He and Afeaki descend upon Korver, stomping him into the ground with a sequence of Steve Austin-esque mudholing. And meanwhile, Hank Cobb has stolen in behind them and picked up Teresa Tomas over his shoulders. Lavelle sees and gives Cobb a cursory glance before returning to the assault on his partner.
Jeff Marx: They’re kicking the hell out of Korver here! And Hank Cobb is leaving with Tomas!
There’s no emotion on Cobb’s face as he walks with Tomas over his shoulders past the scene of his partner’s beatdown. And with his bloody face trapped against the turnbuckle, Korver stares out at Cobb with his eyes wondering…
Pleading…
Sorrow Knows Nothing Like A Woman Scorned II
FEATURING: SARAH KENNEDY, TRACY STANTON, CHAINZ
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Sarah Kennedy wept bitterly as she laid her head down on Tracy Stanton’s shoulder. Being dumped, she could think of nowhere else to go then to the arms of her dear friend.
Sarah Kennedy: I can’t believe he dumped me, out of nowhere.
Tracy Stanton: It’s just not like him, Sarah. There must be some reason.
Sarah Kennedy: He said I wasn’t there for him when he needed it. Like I was only around when it suited me, but that’s just not true.
Tracy comforted her friend as best she could, searching for the right words to ease her suffering.
Tracy Stanton: Look Sarah, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. It’s this whole Empire business, ever since he joined them he’s been a completely different person. It’s like they’ve stolen his sole and replaced it with a heart of black.
Sarah sniffled as she reached for some tissue to blow her nose in.
Sarah Kennedy: You think so?
Tracy Stanton: Yeah, when Michael destroys this whole Empire he’ll see the error of his ways and realize what a big mistake he made.
Sarah smiled a bit, but it was short lived.
Sarah Kennedy: I just can’t believe he could be so cruel and dismiss me like there was nothing between us.
Chainz: He’s a heartless bastard.
Chainz said as he walked into the locker room, grin and all.
Tracy Stanton: Please Michael, this isn’t a good time.
Chainz: Oh I know, I’ve been listening.
Chainz stroll into the locker room like he was king of the world.
Chainz: I would never do that to someone I loved.
He wrapped his arm around Tracy and gave her a kiss.
Sarah Kennedy: He didn’t mean it, it’s just all the stress he’s under with Harber and this whole Empire business.
Chainz: Come now, he could’ve kept you around but chose not to.
Tracy Stanton: Michael.
Chainz: Sorry baby, I just think she deserves to hear the truth. Pierce doesn’t love you anymore; I don’t think he ever did. He kept you around because it was convenient for him and he was too cowardly to tell you straight to your face that he wasn’t interested.
Sarah couldn’t answer and crumbled back into the arms of her friend. Michael reached down and picked up the manila folder containing Sarah’s managerial contract.
Chainz: And since you’re technically unemployed right now you have two options; you could go beg Harber for you’re interviewing job back or you could sign this contract over to me and join my side.
Sarah looked up almost shocked at the offer, but then thought on it. What choice did she have?
Tracy Stanton: What do you say Sarah, we could hang out together and have fun.
Sarah Kennedy: I think I’ll pass, I don’t want to be you’re second sex object, no offense Tracy.
Chainz: Please, I have no interest in you sexually. Those other times I was just messing with your head. I’ve got everything I need right here.
He gave Tracy another squeeze.
Tracy Stanton: Come on Sarah, what do you say?
She knew she’d regret it, but signed her contract over to Michael Sloan. The man she hated for so long was now in control of her career, and it made her shiver with fear.
The Furious Fists Of God (c) vs The Coalition
STIPULATION: DUO TAG
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHOR: JAMIE FLETCHER
Pierre Perroquet: Ladeez an’ gentlemen ze following bout is scheduled ze AWC Alliance championship. Eentroducing en premier, ze challengers, Wesley Reno an’ Pheel Allen… ZE COALITION!
It’s the eye of the Tiger...
Dave Kern: Welcome back to the action, folks, and we're all utterly in shock here! We just witnessed the return of Sasha Volkyeva, but not quite in the way we would have hoped!
Jeff Marx: Way to understate it, Dave, she's like, dead or something.
Dave Kern: It's a mystery how she got in that state but it's true that things do appear very grave for our former Entertainment Co-Manager. That match between Gabriel Afeaki and Teresa Tomas was declared no contest by the way, in case you missed it amongst the chaos. And now we’re about to see The Coalition challenge for the Alliance titles currently held by Tim and Liam Martin.
The Coalition pounce onto the stage to a chorus of cheers. The challengers sprint down the ramp and slide into the ring. Wesley Reno and Phil Allen shake hands in the middle of the ring, the two odd balls brought together through a common goal of fame.
Pierre Perroquet: An’ zeir opponents...
The arena goes dark. On the jumbo tron, a face that is half Liam, half Tim Martin shows up, with the words "The Furious Fists of God" coming up in Bold Letters. Then, pyros burst at the top of the ramp as the song "Hallelujah" hits.
Hallelujahhhhhh...
Hallelujahhhhhh...
Out of the smoke and fire are Tim and Liam Martin, kneeling there in prayer. Above them video of the two executing moves against opponents are flashing by. Once they finish prayer, they walk down the ramp, side by side, to the ring. They climb in there and jump on the turnbuckles to a combination of church music and boos.
Pierre Perroquet: Ze current AWC Alliance champions, plizz welcome ze team of Tim and Liam MARTIN... THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD!!!
The announcement of the champions causes an instant chain of heat as Tim and Liam hand the referee their championship belts.
Selena rings the bell.
Wesley Reno asks Phil Allen to leave the ring in his usual democratic nature and points towards Tim Martin. Sniggering Tim is more then willing to accept Wesley Reno's bold challenge for a dual. The two circle one another, both of them hawking the other neither diverting a percentage of attention anywhere else.
They Tie Up.
Tim Martin is stronger then the Political wannabe significantly over powering him. Martin pushes Wesley Reno down but like any politician Wesley Reno is used to wiggling out of sticky situations and has an answer for everything. Showing development in his in ring knowledge Wesley Reno sneaks his right foot around Tim Martin's leg and inserts it into the back of Tim Martin's knee unbalancing him. In control Wesley Reno scatters around Tim Martin slapping a headlock on one half of the Alliance champions. However Tim Martin isn't having none of it, without much effort he combats Wesley Reno's comeback exposing the novice attitude of Wesley Reno. The two time champion drives his elbow into the unguarded stomach of Wesley Reno. The champion is able to take advantage of the rookie who is still being trained by his Tag Team partner.
Jeff Marx: So after tonight's Main Event will we get to witness the make up sex?
Dave Kern: What has that got to do with the seven year feud? Or even this match?!
Lifting himself up off one knee Tim Martin wraps his arm around the neck of Wesley Reno, tightening his hold he taunts Phil Allen, the veteran of the Challengers.
“Phil. You teach like you wrestle, CRAP!” Tim jests royally winding Phil Allen up.
Allen tries to get into the ring and Summer's is quick to rebutt his entrance but in doing so she leaves the heels the classic opportunity. In comes Liam Martin, the champions throw Wesley Reno into the corner of the ring and begin to double team him both laying devastating punishment while the referee deals with Phil Allen.
Jeff Marx: What kind of veteran is Phil Allen? He knew what the Furious Fists of God would do! And good on them for doing so.
Dave Kern: Shut up.
Before the referee could turn around Tim Martin was out of the ring and Liam was acting as if nothing had happened apart from a conventional tag. Liam whips Wesley Reno into the ropes, Wesley pings back into an elbow to the jaw intended to make Wesley's face very UNELECTABLE!!!
Dave Kern: That is called the “Vote Loser”.
Mocking the whole idea of the match as an equal contest Liam pins Wesley knowing his wasn't going to win the match yet.
ONE!
Kick out!
Wesley stands and runs to the ropes, HE DROPS HIS KNEE INTO THE FACE OF WESLEY RENO. A second pin!
ONE!
TWO!
KICK OUT!
Jeff Marx: Third time lucky?
Allen is furiously banging on the ring turnbuckle trying to give his student some advice on how to get him into the match. Despite his best efforts there is no luck for Wesley Reno who is placed in a commanding headlock by Liam Martin and marched into the FFOG corner. Liam makes a legitimate tag to his brother. The brothers over power the referee and together whip Wesley Reno into the ropes, Wesley hurtles towards them with no control over his body. They hunch themselves side by side and drive themselves up as Wesley hits them... CLASSIC DOUBLE TEAM BACK BODY DROP.
Dave Kern: Oh, the impact!
Jeff Marx: Seriously how gay do you sound?
Tim pins Wesley.
ONE!
TWO!
KICK OUT!
Jeff Marx: This kid ought to stick to politics because tonight is showing how he can't cut it with the big boys.
Dave Kern: Hmmm... Give him time. Nothing has gone right for him so far in this match I am sure once he gets a bit of luck... (cut off)
Jeff Marx: Luck? Wrestling isn't about luck Dave... SKILL! SKILL! AND MORE SKILL!
Wesley gets pinged into the ropes once again as The Furious Fists of God reduce him to nothing but a rag doll. However Wesley Reno has some kind of flashback and snatches hold of the rope instead of flying back. The crowd goes insane as Wesley Reno's eyes light up, Tim looks up and is shocked to see Wesley Reno ready for some rasslin!
Wesley Reno delivers a couple of old school right hooks to Tim Martin. Tim soaks it up and tries to combat Wesley's offensive but he is unsuccessful... Wesley Reno rolls under Tim Martin's punch and reaching his corner he extends his hand for the TAG!!!-
PHIL ALLEN IS IN.
Dave Kern: It's The Furious Fists of Phil Allen.
Jeff Marx: HaHaHa... who writes this stuff your mum?
Phil Allen goes to school on Tim Martin almost creating an in ring lesson for Wesley Reno which seems to a pretty good advertisement for the Phil Allen school of wrestling. Tim Martin despite his years on Phil Allen can't get a punch in, Allen is taking him to town. Allen has young Timmy groggy as shit.
Tim Martin spins on the spot attempting to grab the ropes...
Phil Allen puts Tim in a Cobra Clutch. Like clockwork here comes Liam.
He knows the business like the back of his hand. Allen drops Tim and clutches his head. Liam misses. Pivoting Phil Allen drop kicks Liam Martin taking him out of the equation straight away but Allen's fortunes don't last long, Tim reaches down and puts Phil Allen in the Cobra Clutch that he had just been subjected to.
Dave Kern: This is great tag team wrestling.
The fight back is swift. Phil Allen delivers repeated elbows to the rib cage of Liam Martin and then once he is released applies a traditional headlock. DDT! Phil Allen locks to his corner and can see Wesley Reno is eager to get in on the action.
Phil Allen tags Wesley Reno back into the match being satisfied that he has given his young apprentice a great podium to build upon. Unlike Bush who has given the Republicans nothing to build their future on. Wesley jumps up onto the top rope and scouts the scene but decides against any high flying action. Instead he jumps down off of the top and waits in the shadows: stalking Tim Martin. “Fuck him up Reno” Is the clear agreement from the crowd who can't wait for the rookie to get his hands on Tim Martin. There is nothing that excites the AWC Massive more then a Furious Fist of Gods ass whipping. Instant kick to the gut followed up with a quite authoritative front face lock completely out of character with what we saw earlier, this is a new Wesley Reno. Lifting Martin into the air Wesley Reno systematically suplexes Tim Martin but as traditional technical geniuses do he follows the move through into a second front face lock.
Dave Kern: I predicted correctly.
However despite the new found glory and application of Wesley Reno his attempt to nail a second suplexes is less straight forward. A fight back from Tim Martin almost puts Wesley Reno off his game. This time Wesley Reno doesn't fold and puts his gitters behind him and swings he swings his knee into Tim Martin in order to suppress any comeback Tim may have wanted. Wesley marches on with a second suplex and again the methodological approach expected of a technical genius in teaching. It has all been building up to this but Wesley Reno is going to add his own “Political Spin” to this one as he spins around on the spot until he gets both himself and Tim Martin dizzy and... a third, sloppy but effective suplex. The referee stands over both of the grounded warriors but doesn't count for a brief moment. Wesley Reno covers Tim Martin.
Dave Kern: Here is another cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Before Tim Martin even attempts to kick out Liam Martin breaks the pin up. Liam's clutched fists connecting with the back of Wesley Reno's neck causing Reno to fall off of his brother. The referee ushers Liam out of the ring. The attack was well executed and paid off trumps for the Furious Fists Of Gods. Both Tim and Wesley resurface from the mat at almost identical pace as a result of Liam's interruption of natural proceedings. Moreover the interjection brought separation of two competitors, both now on opposite sides from their tag team partners. Meaning the only way to get the tag is to wrestle each other and be the dominant force.
In a re run of the opening sequence the two lock horns. Like a distressed female rhino Tim pushes Wesley Reno onto the back foot making ground towards his brother Liam. In contrast to earlier Wesley Reno refuses to crumble, showing his skills as a first class pupil he allows Tim past him towards Liam. Shocking Liam who is at full stretch for the tag. Nobody is coming for Liam. Reno had purposely side stepped so he could bring the unsuspecting Liam Martin down with a drop toe hold.
Dave Kern: This looks promising…
Wesley Reno applies an STF!!!
A shriek of delight erupts from Phil Allen as his student takes an ass whipping to the Alliance champion.
The referee watches the submission very closely.
Jeff Marx: Come on Liam. Do something!
Dave Kern: There is nothing he can do. Wesley Reno is coming up trumps now. The Political genius wants fame and fortune, he knows gold is he way forward.
Reaching out Tim Martin can grab nothing but thin air. Pulling back, Wesley Reno strengthens the submission and embeds his elbow into the back of the champion. Finally Liam Martin reacts jumping off the ring apron he tries to spur on his team mate from a level stance. The moral support isn't as fair as it seems. Liam Martin pushes the ring rope into the hand of his brother without the referee noticing.
Sumner forces Wesley Reno off of the Alliance champion.
Dave Kern: Wesley Reno could have won the match then.
Jeff Marx: It took Liam Martin long enough. How have these guys remained Alliance champions so long?
Frustrated with Selena's blindness Wesley Reno points it out to her as if a failed policy from an opposition manifesto. Selena looks intimidated by the remblings of Reno.
“Tim” shouts Phil at Wesley trying to capture his tag team partners attention. Remembering this was not a political event but a wrestling match Wesley Reno avoided a clothesline from Tim Martin but his follow up hay maker is blocked and Tim combats his attack with a devastating head butt out of nowhere.
Irish whip... Reno leap frogs a back body drop, handstands into the ring cables and pings back with an elbow that just connects leaving both of them grounded and their partners jocking for the tag on the aprons.
Jeff Marx: I'm a betting man. If I was in England right now I'd be popping down to Ladbrokes and putting my money firmly on Tim Martin to make the tag.
Dave Kern: I don't know Jeff, look at Reno he is looking pretty good.
Both men begin to come around and in tandem crawl towards each of their respective partners trying to make the tag. Nevertheless there needs to be a winner and this the winner is Tim Marton who tigs (Yes, this is not a misspelling he did tig) Liam into the contest. Nevertheless Wesley Reno is not far behind his opponent at all making a tag literally seconds after a second after Tim had but in the context of this fast paced thriller that brief second makes a world of difference.
Liam bursts into the ring.
In response Phil Allen is calm and responsible and instead of falling into the Venus fly trap laid out by Liam Martin he does not do battle with the characteristically confident champion. He does instead wait in the corner of the ring forcing the champion to either charge at him or lose momentum.
Jeff Marx: Come on. The crowd should be hissing by now. Phil Allen is passed his sell by date the pussy bitch should be fighting like a man not waiting in the corner. If this team win this match then the AWC Alliance Division dies with them tonight. A wannabe Politician and a has been sounds like some crap from a terrible soap.
Dave Kern: If that rant is quite over?
Phil Allen begins a slow clap drawing the audience into supporting him. This screws up any advantage Liam Martin had having the split second over Phil. The ring general launches his assault with a classic tie up, applying it to significantly greater effect then the others so far. The foundations of the tie up allow Phil to deliver a stiff unstoppable knee to the chest of Liam Martin knocking the wind out of the Champ. This allows Phil Allen to apply a side headlock to Liam Martin and take control. Rotating his arm like a windmill Phil Allen revs the crowd up like a car, he is a one man heat machine... One punch, two punch and a third. Pivoting Phil Allen locks a front face lock on Liam but fight back. Pushing Phil Allen, Liam Martin gains some ground but his resurrection is cut short by Phil who pushes down on Liam's back bringing him down onto his knee so that he can't move.
Jeff Marx: Suppressed.
Dave Kern: Watch how Phil Allen works. Nothing Phil Allen does waste energy, nothing Phil Allen does doesn't make technical tense.
Jeff Marx: He could well be the difference between these two.
Dave Kern: Maybe but the Realist in me reminds me this is a Duo's match sooner or latter the size and dominance of the Furious Fists of God will catch up with him but if Wesley Reno continues to fight as he did in the 2nd spell of this fight then we will have a great open contest on are hands, Jeff.
With great skill and judgment Phil Allen releases the headlock and climbs his arms up chicken winging Liam Martin. This allows him to lift Liam up and CHICKEN WING DDT. The referee makes the count.
ONE!
TWO!
Liam Martin kicks out.
Flipping Liam Martin over like a burger Phil Allen picks up Liam's arms and pulls them up, holding Liam Martin's arms at his waist. Then raising his right leg Phil Allen drills his foot into the back of the head and drives Liam Martin's face into the mat. Phil Allen still has hold of Liam's arms and wrapping has hands around Liam he crouches down and squeezes them tightly trying to get the champion to tap.
Frantic, uncharacteristic and desperate can be describe Liam Martin's over the top attempt to search for the ropes to break the submission. Allowing this, Phil watches as Liam Martin begins to drain himself of energy.
Dave Kern: It is not looking good for THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD.
Notching the intensity up another level Phil Allen enjoys the squirming of Liam Martin. Liam can do nothing having been rendered useless. The referee watches Liam Martin full in and out of this world, his eyes closing shut momentarily and then re opening.
The referee grabs the hand... and drops IT ONCE!!!
Taking the hand a second time the referee drops the hand again.
Oh!!!! He picks the hand up.
Martial arts kick to the back of Phil Allen with excellent placement “signed,sealed and delivered” generously by Tim Martin. Tim bounces on the spot baring great resemblance to a Street Fighter character. Buzzsaw kick, Sumner lacks any control allowing Tim to continue his illegal interference. One, two, three rapid straight rugby style kicks to the back are followed by a pendulum kick which grounds Phil Allen. Liam turning over covers Phil Allen, Wesley Reno explodes into action.
Tim blocks Wesley Reno. Sumner begins her count.
ONE!
TWO!
PHIL ALLEN'S foot is on the bottom rope!
Dave Kern: Foot on the ropes! Foot on the ropes!
Jeff Marx: Get out more.
Sumner quits her count to the distress of the champions who are having a much harder time in this bout then they had expected. Unable to take advantage of Tim's work, Liam gradually lifts Phil Allen up off the mat but the laziness of it allows Phil Allen a huge window of opportunity for a comeback. The two superstars begin to slug back n forth.
The rough traditional hard man from the pub style beatdown Phil delivers in constant battle with the gym created beast of a battle Tim Martin brings to the fight. Finally Phil manages to break past the punches and bring the brawling into the realm of the CHOP!!! Chops are enough to make any smark cream his paints, like Hyde over a map.
”HOLY SHIT!” IS THE UNAMINOUS CHANT FROM THE CROWD.
Allen's hand creates thunder on Tim Martin's chest.
Biting his lip Tim feels the pain but thrives on it like a gimp. He returns the favor bring the side of his hand down on Phil Allen's chest like a knife.
The two continue to trade stiff blows. Both obviously try to impress the Japanese touring companies with their skills. Tim Martin shoves Phil Allen back into the ropes, Allen can't control his fall back and is subjected to a destructive punch which sends him back into the ropes. The Vet can't comeback as Allen lands a second punch, then charing at Phil Allen, Tim Martin clotheslines Phil over the top rope. The crowd gives an insane amount of heat as Tim Martin taunts them. Martin steps out onto the ring apron mocking the crowd. Flicking back his head he holds his elbow up in the air and points to the rising Phil Allen who is unsuspecting
Tim Martin runs across the apron. Jogging around the corner of the ring post Wesley Reno lifts his boot into the air. TIM RUNS INTO WESLEY RENO'S LOOFTED FOOT.
Jeff Marx: Tim Martin was going to put an end to Tim Martin the off the ring apron elbow shot to the back of the head but Wesley Reno has just spoiled that and spoiled a fantastic result for the crowd.
Dave Kern: Hmmm... I can imagine the crowd are devoed.
Grabbing hold of the rope Tim Martin is poised in a great position for a first time ever in AWC!!! A ring apron SHINNING WIZARD. Sprinting on the apron Wesley Reno makes for Tim Martin but Tim Martin ducks, Reno misses but that is not the worst for Wesley. In the ring? Despite being the illegal man Liam Martin is waiting... DROP KICK!!! Wesley Reno again shows his inexperiance as he falls to the outside of the ring to join his tag team partner. Smell victory like Liam cologne, Tim gets onto his feet and continues where he lift off dusting his elbow. “Bolting it” along the ring apron he approaches an adjacent position to where Phil Allen is.
HE FLYS!!!
Catching Tim Martin in the corner of his eye Phil Allen spots trouble. In response Phil tilts his head forward so that Tim's elbow rushes past him making zero contact.
Dave Kern: Half Nelson!
Consolidation successful. HALF NELSON SUPLEX TO THE RING MAT.
The crowd bash, crash and smash the ring barriers causing a rukus in respect of Tim Martin who just took a seriously sick bump.
The pop is followed by a bigger wave of cheering while Phil Allen mounts to his feet but unbeknown to him Liam Martin was ready, stalking on the apron.
HE FLYS!!!
This time Phil Allen doesn't have a clue.
LIAM MARTIN'S ELBOW LANDS LIKE A SPIKE IN THE BACK OF PHIL ALLENS HEAD.
Jeff Marx: This match has completely broken down. Selena Sumner needs a good spanking.
Dave Kern: What the???
Jeff Marx: Sacking.
Dave Kern: Pffft!
Selena Sumner starts shouting at Liam Martin. Sniggering at Selena Liam does enough to make her back down pretty quickly. Please with himself Liam Martin dishes Phil Allen up off of the matted canvas and places him back into the ring. Spotting in the corner of his eye that Reno is finding his feet, Liam runs towards him and delivers a firm boot the face putting Wesley Reno's big boot that allowed him to counter Tim Martin's attack to shame.
Jeff Marx: Tim Martin is being put back in the ring by Liam Martin.
Liam places Tim over Phil and instructs Selena Sumner to count but she abstains. Shocked, Liam is fuming he can't process the fact that Selena had finally stood up to him. Being careful not the lay a hand on Selena, Liam finds his corner and calls for his tag team partner to make the tag.
Jeff Marx: Does she not understand. Two wrongs don't make a right. First she doesn't stop the anarchy of this match and now she doesn't count a pin. Someone give the bitch her P45!
Tim begins to crawl towards Liam by recognition of his voice. So many tag team matches builds up such a relationship between two individuals that even in a state of semi unconsciousness they are able to identify the others the voice. The tag is made and Liam explodes into the ring, confident, yet why wouldn't he be. He automatically goes for a rash cover omitting the hooking of Phil Allen's leg on an account of ego or belief.
Down goes Selena Sumner (Not in the fashion half of AWC would like her to) But still it only takes three seconds (In the fashion of how long it takes half of AWC to).
Her hand strikes the mat once.
Then graces it for a second time. The smile of victory almost dawns on Liam Martin's face but the thrown of sorrow is not far distant. Somehow, from some reserve tank Phil Allen manages to kick out after the second count. This sends the crowd into a frenzy. Pissed off Liam Martin walks towards the corner of the ring and climbs up onto the top turnbuckle. Standing Liam Martin prepares for a finishing move which will take everything out of Phil Allen and result in the retainment of the championships. Just as he is about to take off Wesley Reno leaps onto the apron, right hand at large he snatches Liam Martin's left leg keeping him firmly tied to the ring post.
Dave Kern: Come on Wes.
Jeff Marx: I think Wesley would figure much better in a debate with the FFOG rather then a wrestling match especially when one of the opposition is almost double his height.
Dave Kern: ???
Jeff Marx: He is on the ring post.
The two begin to trade blows. Will Wesley Reno rise to the occasion or will he crumble under the pressure of the suppressing forearms of the champion raining down on him from above. This is a real test for Reno. Both Wesley and Liam begin to wither, Liam looks beaten but out of nowhere Wesley Reno falls.
Jeff Marx: He hasn't got it!
Dave Kern: Oh yes he has!!!!!
Jeff Marx: What are you???
Wesley Reno hadn't been beaten off of the apron he had tactically retreated. Standing, completely under the radar in the middle of the ring is PHIL ALLEN! Despite all the lost energy Allen chugs across the ring like a steam train still in operation (or one of the really crappy local ones you get in London local trips). However it doesn't matter about the speed, it is the ninja like creepiness of it all that allows Phil Allen to succeed. He springs up the ring ropes until he is level and can stick his knees into the stomach of Liam Martin... MONKEY FLIP!!!
Dave Kern: Sex.
Jeff Marx: What the?
Dave Kern: You do not keep up with the kids do you Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Who the fuck are you David Cameron?
Dave Kern: I wonder if Wesley Reno supports David Cameron or Gordon Brown.
Reno jumps back up onto the apron and A TAG IS MADE!!!
Wesley Reno is in for Phil Allen...
Reno mounts the top rope and mimics Liam Martin... FLYING HEADBUTT.
Selena Sumner goes down onto her knees to count the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
SUR... NO!!! Liam Martin kicks out and lives to fight another minute, or twenty who knows.
Getting up Wesley Reno shifts Liam Martin into the corner of the ring. He then runs off to the adjacent ring post and rebound off of the ropes just to the side of it towards the propped Liam Martin. Extending his wrestling shoe out he pushes the sole of the shoe through the right side of Liam's face.
“Again” screams Wesley Reno as he runs off back to the same corner.
Jeff Marx: The survey says....
Liam collapses in a heap as Wesley Reno messes up on the second attempt. Due to Reno's earlier punishment, Liam Martin is unable to take advantage of his cunning dodge. However Liam looks into his corner and spots a revitalized, when i say “revitalized” I mean looking better then him in his “current” state Tim. Over he goes shimming across the canvas. Wesley Reno removes himself from the ropes and makes for Liam Martin making an attempt to stop Liam Martin in his tracks but Martin's to... no Reno puts in that extra snippet of energy and at the last second snatches... but Liam Martin regardless of self harm throws his body forward, extends his hand and tags in TIM MARTIN who makes for Wesley Reno with due speed. Roundhouse kick, Reno gets his as head as low as possible. Almost exactly how the air hostess shows you when it is about time to kiss your ass goodbye. Ironically it saved Reno. Pivoting Reno takes two steps forward and lunges at Tim Martin cross body but Tim Martin is able to catch a hold of the rookie.
Dave Kern: Tim Martin has.
Reno nails Tim Martin in the gut with a forceful elbow which has positive repercussions for The Alliance. Knelt in front of Tim Martin, Wesley Reno can lift Tim Martin up into the air across his shoulder blades. The “positiveness” of the situation is soon shifted the other way as Tim Martin wriggles and giggles to a standing position behind Wesley Reno. Great application, awesome speed, uncounterable by Tim Martin. He locks Wesley Reno up for life in a picture perfect, scientific wrestling sleeper hold.
Dave Kern: It must be over. Tim Martin has the rookie where he wants him, the middle of the ring with nowhere to run banged up in an authoritative submitting hold.
Tim Martin can see past Dave Kern's one sided view and disposes of Wesley Reno chucking him off into the ropes... well kind of... he pulls him back before letting off him. The classic Irish Whip fakie is built on with a, no it's not Reno ducks the follow up. In flowing motion Reno reaches back as he passes Tim Martin clutching his head, NECKBREAKER!!!
Jeff Marx: This match is making me dizzy.
Selena is again on her knee's (slut.whore.com)
ONE!
TWO!
NO TIM MARTIN KICKS OUT.
Jeff Marx: Is Reno's attacking arsenal really this weak.
Dave Kern: Or maybe The Furious Fists of God's defense is TOO STRONG.
Tim Martin is dragged to his feet by Wesley Reno. Pushing Martin into the ropes Wesley Reno prepares Tim Martin for defeat. Shoulder block by Reno grounds Martin and Reno goes for a standing knee drop but Martin moves.
Jeff Marx: GOD IS ON THEIR SIDE!!!
Dave Kern: What?
Jeff Marx: Only god can explain how he could ever recover.
TIM MARTIN LEAPS UP AND RUNS INTO THE RING ROPES...
Jeff Marx: He is a man possessed by a higher spirit.
Dave Kern: The same higher spirit of the catholic church, greed and corruption.
Tim Martin charges through Wesley Reno as if his head was a football doing his best to completely
dislodge it. Reno falls back.
Tim makes the tag. In comes Liam. Tim lifts Reno off the mat and throws into the ropes as Liam starts spinning but here comes Phil Allen. Out of nowhere Liam Martin nails Tim Allen was an insane Drop kick!!! Meanwhile Tim Martin keeps Wesley Reno occupied with right punches representative of god. Finally Liam is back in position... Tim throws Reno but Reno ducks Liam's fist and gores the very dizzy Liam to the ground.
Dave Kern: I thought it was over.
However Wesley Reno is deadmeat.
LARIAT! LARIAT! LARIAT! OH MY... Tim Martin takes Wesley Reno's head off. The arena goes insane as Wesley Reno's body does flips. Unable to pin Wesley himself Liam wakes his brother up.
Jeff Marx: I think they god lovers have done it.
Selena Sumner starts to count the two legal men down.
One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Distressed Tim Martin begind to threaten the referee but while he is doing so Liam plumps himself over Wesley Reno.
“One!” shouts a small section of the crowd.
Selena continues “Six!”
“Two” is the even louder response of a greater amount of fans.
Phil Allen locks Tim Martin in a waist lock from behind and hits him with a Belly to back suplex and before Selena can even get down to count Wesley Reno manages to kick out.
Using the ring ropes Liam Martin begins to get up. He does so with little hassle as Selena shifts Phil Allen out onto the apron. Reaching into his tights Liam Martin fiddle for something. He places a tiny metal cross in between two of his fingers. Straddling the fallen Reno, Liam attacks him with a series of punches each punch being counted by the enthusiastic crowd. After the seventh punch the effects can be noticed but the method not so by everyone else in attendance.
Dave Kern: Look in the corner.
While Selena isn't looking Tim Martin takes Phil Allen out with a bible which once he drops it is reveled to be a cement block inside a books case.
Jeff Marx: Smart.
Selena spins to see what had just happened which allows Liam Martin to dig his cross into the wound that he had just caused through his series of punches. Blood begins to flow down the face of Wesley Reno at great speed. Calling over to Tim, Liam smells the end.
Dave Kern: Come on Selena.
Tim picks Wesley up and sends him off into the ropes.
Wesley comes back... FIST OF GOD assisted by the SYMBOL OF GOD himself.
Jeff Marx: Oh.
Liam Martin covers Wesley Reno.
ONE!
TWO!
AND...
LIAM REMOVES HIMSELF FOR WESLEY RENO.
Dave Kern: What in the world is Liam Martin doing.
Jeff Marx: Playing god.
Liam Martin perches himself on the top rope. Taking a leap of faith Liam Martin does his best to execute an impeccable five star frog splash but Wesley Reno rolls his knees up. The counter was unpredictable and defiantly shocking. Taken back, the crowd respond with joy as Wesley Reno rolls up Liam with a tight pin.
ONE!
TWO!
The fairytale is not to be. The pin is abruptly broken by Tim Martin who saves his brother the face of being pinned by Wesley Reno. “Heaven” bent on making sure he wins the match Tim Martin ignores the plea of Selena Summer's dragging Wesley Reno to his feet. But Tim Martin is taken by surprise, Wesley Reno is the first on the attack. He connects with two right fists and then with a slap which separates the two men... in rage, confused Tim Martin bulldozes across the ring towards Wesley Reno had first but Reno sidesteps. Tim Martin gores Liam Martin. The unintentional mistake is crucial in curbing the flow of the contest. Noticeably Tim Martin is shaken by his error and doesn't know what to quite do.
Dave Kern: Come on Wes.
Wesley Reno applies a waist lock on Tim Martin... RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!!!
Selena Sumner turns her attention to the German suplex. Watching Selena's ignorance the recovering Phil Allen picks up the concrete block he had been violent assaulted with dives into the ring with it.
Jeff Marx: Phil Allen has the concrete of god.
Phil places the block just in front of Liam Martin.
Selena is still trying to get the blood drenched Wesley Reno to turn his attention away from the illegal man.
JEFF MARX: HOLY SHIT!!!
“Fuck him up Phil, Fuck him up”
Wesley Reno turns and carries on his conversation with Selena Sumner observing his tag team partner over his shoulder.
Flipping Liam Martin over, Phil Allen takes his arms and lifts arching Liam.
CURB STOMP ONTO THE CONCRETE SLAB!!!
Selena spins around but by that time Phil was on the ring apron. A small pool of blood surrounds Tim Martin. Wesley Reno sprints across the ring and makes the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!!!
Dave Kern: I can not believe what we have just witnessed! NEW ALLIANCE CHAMPIONS folks!
Jeff Marx: BAH!
Dave Kern: The Coalition take the win!
Wesley Reno jumps up and down in celebration, while Phil Allen hangs back and applauds the losers.
Pierre Perroquet: Zee winnairs… an’ NEW Alliance champions… ZE COALITION!
Ovation
FEATURING: THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD
AUTHORS: SAM LANDRY AND PIERRE HYDE
At the end of the match, the crowd is still rumbling. Both Tim and Liam are beaten up and beltless… but they are still in the ring, long after The Coalition has departed. While Liam is still sitting and catching his breath, Tim gets up and a microphone is handed to him.
Tim Martin: I’m sure that you have all been hearing rumors about Liam and I. I’ll clear them up right now…
Liam Martin: *away from the mic* WE’RE NOT GAY!
Tim Martin: Quiet, you idiot! They know this! But, fools, hell bound heathens, we must inform you…
Dave Kern: Rumours? What rumours?
Jeff Marx: Oh Dave, there’s the loop, and then there’s you…
The crowd is kind of murmuring.
Tim Martin: That the Furious Fists of God are retiring from the AWC. Gonzo. Nada.
Dave Kern: WHAT?
The crowd starts cheering.
Tim Martin: Ultimately, we have become too fed up with the God-fearing attitude and stylistic nature of the most part of the league and the owners. We thought we could go out on top, but alas, no.
Jeff Marx: It’s a sad sad day.
Tim Martin: As we leave, though, we want you to appreciate what we did. Not only were your souls almost saved…
Liam Martin: An impossibility.
Tim Martin: But we were also the most dominant tag team in the history of AWC, period. All this under the hand of God, guiding us. Now, though, we are to move on, do new things with our biblical stature. So, good bye AWC, and for all you watching…
Liam Martin: May God have mercy on all your souls.
Dave Kern: This is… unbelievable! The Furious Fists, AWC mainstays, are gone! And The Coalition new champions!
Jeff Marx: Well. Duh.
The Fists leave and, to their surprise, it isn’t booing or anything like that, but a standing O. Once they get to the top of the ramp, the Fists are looking around at the crowd which is cheering them on. Before they exit for one final time, they both put their hands up in acknowledgement to the crowd before they walk off - only to be intercepted by Mike Wade.
Mike Wade: Whoa whoa whoa boys! Hold tight! As a member of AWC's Roll of Legends...
There is a roar from the crowd.
Dave Kern: I see where this is going!
Jeff Marx: Justice!
Mike Wade: ...it is my duty; no, my honour, to welcome to the fold (~!) Liam and Tim Martin, collectively The Furious Fists Of God... two-time Alliance champions... and...
Wade pauses. It hurts him to say this, having been one half of The Unfuckables. But, hell. He's the crowd-pleasing commish now!
Mike Wade: THE MOST DOMINANT DUO IN ATLANTIC WRESTLING CLUB HISTORY...
There is another rousing cheer.
Mike Wade: Welcome to the most exclusive club on Earth! You're Legends, boys!
Wade shakes the hands of both Fists, who tower over him. They are trying to retain their cool but Liam in particular looks rather chuffed.
Jeff Marx: (applauding) Yes. Yes. You can't say they don't deserve it.
A Plot Of Vengeance
FEATURING: THE EMPIRE
AUTHOR: LARA C.
“Heartless” David Harber remained reclined in his seat as he watched from his sky-box toward the many heads underneath him, nodding and bouncing to the invigorating styles of the wrestlers in the ring. His mind was riddled with thoughts and racked with worry over one man, Michael Sloan. His threat from last week remained singed in his mind, but as he looked toward the cold, blank expression on Pierce Lavelle’s face, seated in the corner, Harber realised maybe he had made the right call in allowing Lavelle to face Sloan.
His day wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but after finding out about Lavelle’s dumping Sarah Kennedy, Harber saw Lavelle as becoming exactly like him, removing all ties to the simple and easy life of always being the good guy. Like him, Lavelle had turned his back on the fans and now the one woman tying to him to the good things in life. A sick smile lined Harber’s lips as he sipped his whiskey and leant back into his chair.
Dr. Kasidy Drake: You seem relaxed, David.
Harber smiled.
David Harber: Because tonight, Kasidy, is our night… I can feel it.
Dr. Kasidy Drake: That might be the whiskey, David.
Drake said with a hint of sarcasm and wit to his usual dull and monotonic tone. Lavelle looked toward the two discussing tonight, as his mind lay flurried with the night he’d already experienced. Dumping Sarah wasn’t easy and by no means right, but he knew it needed to be done, for her and for his sake.
Juggernaut Kintu: Why – quiet – so much?
Lavelle looks at Kintu with a start. So do we all. We’ve never as much as heard him speak before; perhaps the big man is settling into life within The Empire.
Pierce Lavelle: Just feeling a little drained, that’s all.
Juggernaut Kintu: You – worry about – Sloan?
Pierce Lavelle: No, I just…
Juggernaut Kintu: Have – Serum – awaken you…
Lavelle’s upper lip rose in a scowl as he turned his head.
Pierce Lavelle: Thanks, but no thanks…
Dr. Kasidy Drake: (sharply) LeVar, over here please. Now.
Drake beckoned as Kintu rose and followed Drake toward a small counter. Pierce remained seated, thinking about tonight and his promise to “end things” when a light-bulb went off inside. Harber looked toward the three men, Lavelle sat calmly with a smug on his face.
David Harber: Is there something you’d like to share with us, Pierce?
Pierce Lavelle: I believe you’re going to love this…
Seek Out Your Foes
FEATURING: ANDY MURRAY, DR. KASIDY DRAKE
AUTHOR: ANDY
Back in the arena the lights dim, suddenly and sharply. A pulsating rhythm begins to gently hum throughout the building, accompanied by a single bass note at regular intervals.
Dave Kern: Huh? What’s this now?
Jeff Marx: What the hell are you asking me for?
Dave Kern: *sigh* Never mind…
Soon enough a steady bass drum kick comes in. An aura of anticipation grows among the fans, who are as unsure as the rest of us as to what is going on.
Jeff Marx: Just get on with it, for the lo-
”Shout at the devil!”
A burst of pyrotechnics at the top of the ramp silences Jeff, as Motley Crue’s “Shout At The Devil ‘97” kicks in. The lights in the arena switch back on, and a solitary figure stands at the top of the ramp, veiled by a layer of smoke left behind by the pyro.
Dave Kern: This certainly doesn’t look too familiar…
The smoke gradually clears revealing a tall, muscularly-built man stand at the top of the ramp. He removes a pair of mirrored aviator shades from his head and slides them into one of the pockets on his black leather jacket which is opened up to reveal a Black Sabbath t-shirt underneath. The man’s short, jet-black hair is spiked up, and he also wears a pair of well-worn black jeans and some tough-looking black leather boots. Most bizarrely, in one of his hands he clutches on to a leash, at the end of which is a badger of all things.
He is, of course, instantly recognisable to a sizeable portion of those in attendance, who leap to their feet and cheer their lungs out.
Jeff Marx: Oh Christ! Look who turned up after all…
The Scottish King of Cool is back, motherfuckers.
Dave Kern: It’s Andy Murray!
Jeff Marx: Oh rejoice…
Dave Kern: We knew he was going to be here tonight, and here he is! And what a reception this sold-out crowd is giving the returning former Frontier champion, they clearly haven’t forgotten about the Scottish King of Cool!
Jeff Marx: That’s all AWC needs, another goofball. And what the hell is with the RAT he’s bringing down with him?
Dave Kern: That’s no rat, that’s Snowball! Andy’s prized, Bolivian fire-breathing badger!
Jeff Marx: Fire-breathing badger!?! It gets worse!
A large grin grows across Murray’s face as he nods appreciatively at the crowd. He instantly begins to make his way down the ramp and towards the ring as the music continues to play out.
‘He’s the wolf screaming lonely in the night, he’s the blood stain on the stage,
He’s the tear in your eye, been tempted by his lie, he’s the knife in your back he’s rage…’
After slapping hands with a couple of fans on the way down, Andy eventually reaches the bottom of the ramp, picks up Snowball, and slides her under the bottom rope. Without letting go of the leash, Andy soon slides in himself, and makes his way towards one of the corners. The crowd still cheering, he wraps Snowball’s leash around the ring post, to keep her secure.
‘He’s the razor to the knife, oh lonely are our lives, my head’s spinnin’ round and round…’
Andy heads to one of the other corners, and hops up onto the second turnbuckle. After beating his chest and still grinning with jubilation, Andy raises both arms high in the air, the crowd’s roar intensifying.
After almost a year on the shelf, with the crowd’s reaction buzzing through his body, only one word could sum up the feeling that Andy Murray was experiencing at the moment…
Euphoria.
’But in seasons of wither we’ll stand and deliver, be strong and laugh, and…’
Jeff Marx: Jesus! Look at this cheap prick, playing up to these fickle slimeballs…
Dave Kern: How can you blame him Jeff!?! This is the first time Andy Murray has stepped inside a wrestling ring in just over ten months! In my mind he has every right to milk this reception for all that it’s worth!
Jeff Marx: Pffft, it makes my blood BOIL, Dave! Look at this washed-up, Scottish chump… somebody get the Empire down here, kick this fool out of our arena!
Andy hops down from the turnbuckle, and immediately paces across to the corner diagonally opposite. He soon clambers up, and again raises his arms in the air to a chorus of cheers.
’Shout…
Shout…
Shout…
Shout at the devil!’
Eventually, the crowd’s reaction begins to die down a little, and Murray jumps back down onto the mat. He gestures towards the technical area, and soon a microphone is accurately tossed in his direction. As the music fades out the Scottish King of Cool raises the microphone to his lips…
Andy Murray: Ladies and Gentlemen, children of all ages! North Americans, Australasians, Africans, South Americans, Asians and Europeans! Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and everyone else in between! The ORIGINAL sheep-lovin’ brotha of the Atlantic Wrestling Company is BACK!
This too is of course cheered by the fans, as the grin across Murray’s face widens further.
Andy Murray: … and this time, things are gonna be done a little differently! This time I’m not gonna fade away into obscurity; I’m here to STAY, motherhubbards!
Jeff Marx: Motherhubbards? What the hell is this guy talking about?
Andy Murray: And boy, how things have changed in the ten months I’ve been away! Yes, now we’ve got horrible dudes like AgentDash and Chainz running around, trying to run the show, and lets not forget that WRETCH Pierce Lavelle! But have no fear, AWC fans! For I have returned once and for all, to bring the “Cool” back to the AWC roster!
Again the crowd pop, glad to have an old favourite back in action.
Andy Murray: And lets be perfectly honest here – there are a lot of clowns around here who sure could do with feeling the BURN of a rare, thoroughbred Bolivian fire-breathing badger…
Andy points in the direction of Snowball, who is sniffing around the mat, wandering round and round in circles.
Andy Murray: Give it up for Snowball, ladies and gents!
The crowd cheer cautiously, not really sure how they are supposed to react to the sight of a badger.
Andy Murray: Oh man… it’s been far too long, AWC! I’ve been sitting at home for the past ten months, nursing that damned pesky back injury that keeps cropping up, just ITCHING to get back out here for all you lovely people! And while it will most definitely take a few weeks before a few contractual niggles are dealt with, I can guarantee you that when the Scottish King of Cool finally dons his wrestling gear again, I can damn near guarantee you that you will not forget it any time soon! Because, motherhubbards, guess who’s in Triangles!?!
Andy’s announcement is met with appreciative roars from the crowd.
Andy Murray: That’s right, baby… me!
Dave Kern: Wow! What an announcement! Andy Murray is back, and he’ll be competing in the Triangles tournament!
Jeff Marx: That’s a wasted spot if there ever was one! Who, in their right mind, would give this washed-up, injury-ridden piece of trash a spot in Triangles?
Dave Kern: Can it, Jeff! Andy Murray was one of the most popular competitors around when he held the Frontier championship, who says he can’t reach those heights again?
Andy Murray: Evildoers beware! For the Scottish King of Cool is back, and if you have been a horrible little runt, as I suspect many of you in the back have, then you have left me with no choice… I WILL have to unleash my overwhelming powers of Scottish Coolness on you! An---
As Andy goes to begin a new sentence, he is suddenly interrupted, as Creed’s “Bullets” begins to play over the PA. The crowd suddenly turn sour, instantly recognising the music of Dr. Kasidy Drake, who strolls out from the backstage area, microphone in hand and accompanied by his Drakewerx security guards.
Jeff Marx: Yes! Thank GOD for that! FINALLY somebody has come out to shut this goon up!
Murray scowls, clearly a little annoyed at being cut off. He stares at Drake and his intimidating group of security guards with a look of caution – he knows that if he makes one wrong move he could be in serious trouble.
Dave Kern: Great, this is all we need! Tonight we see the return of a former AWC Frontier champion, only for it to be interrupted by the Empire’s svengali, Dr. Kasidy Drake, and his crew of guards! What business does he have out here tonight, interrupting Andy Murray’s moment in the spotlight?
Jeff Marx: You just about answered it yourself, Dave… what has Murray ever accomplished to deserve such a moment? A short reign as AWC’s Frontier champion? Bah…
Drake, by now, has clambered his way into the ring, his guards keeping close to him at all times. He shows no fear towards Murrr – but then again, we should he be afraid? He was surrounded by surely the finest group of securities guards that anyone could possibly hope to assemble. The music fades…
Dr. Kasidy Drake: Murray, get the hell out of my ring!
Drake speaks the words with an ice cold edge – almost as if he had practised this in his head. He knew exactly what he was out to accomplish.
Andy Murray: Whoa! Jeesh dude, chill out a little… who the hell pissed in your cornflakes?
Probably not a wise move on Andy’s behalf, but the crowd let out a chuckle anyway. A sharp, sarcastic smile draws across Dr. Kasidy Drake’s mouth.
Dr. Kasidy Drake: Very funny… but back to the point at hand, I suggest you leave the ring, the arena, immediately! Otherwise, I’ll have to leave it to my guards to eject you from the premises in whatever way they see fit. The ring is a place where only those contracted by the AWC are permitted to set foot, and last time I checked, you didn’t fall into that category…
Andy raises an eyebrow, somewhat confused by the whole situation.
Andy Murray: What the heck are you talking about? I’m back, baby… haven’t you heard?
Dr. Kasidy Drake: No Mr. Murray, you most certainly are not. In case you heard, I call the shots around here these days, I decide who is in and who is out, and you are most certainly OUT!
The crowd boo Drake, Andy scowls, not sure what to make of what was going on.
Dr. Kasidy Drake: See, lately around here, we’ve been trying to trim the fat from the roster… not contribute towards it. We don’t need another injury-prone train wreck who is long past his sell-by date around here, I’m sorry… AWC doesn’t need OR want Andy Murray around anymore! And you are certainly in no position to declare yourself a part of Triangles either, why the hell would we hand out a spot to someone who isn’t even part of the roster!?
Again the crowd jeer Drake. Andy backs off a little, sensing that the Drakewerx guards are beginning to get a little restless. He stumbles back towards the post at which Snowball is tied to, and undoes the loose knot he tied around the post. Andy then quickly kneels down and picks the badger up, cradle her in one arm.
Andy Murray: But I AM part of the roster! My contract has an injury protection clause… you know what that means, goofball? That during the contractual period, should I, the Scottish King of Cool, ever get injured, I am entitled to return as soon as I am physically capable – and guess what, fucker? Here I am!
The crowd cheers Andy’s resistance towards Drake.
Dr. Kasidy Drake: Oh yes, Mr. Murray, this is all very true… but there’s one small, itty-bitty problem with that clause…
Andy Murray: Yea? What’s that…
Dr. Kasidy Drake: When you first signed your AWC contract last year, it was a twelve month agreement, with the possibility of another year, at the company’s discretion. By my calculations, your contract expired three months ago…
Andy’s facial expression immediately sinks – this clearly wasn’t something that had even entered his thoughts. He knows that Drake’s right, and that given the Doctor’s stature within the company, there was nothing that he could do.
Dr. Kasidy Drake: … and we chose NOT to offer you the renewal! It’s not beneficial for us to have you around anymore…
Jeff Marx: OH MAN! HAHA, I bet that stings!
Dave Kern: What!? This is absurd!
Jeff Marx: So much for Andy Murray’s big return, he just got soaked!
Dave Kern: Listen to his capacity crowd! You can almost FEEL their disappointment! Is the return of Andy Murray over before it even began!?!
Dr. Kasidy Drake: Now, Mr. Murray, how about leaving the arena now, eh?
With those final words, Drake and Drakewerx begin to pace slowly towards the cornered Murray, jeers raining down on them. Andy Murray, however, isn’t done yet…
Andy Murray: How about this, bitch!
Suddenly, Snowball’s mouth opens and she spits a sizeable burst of flames towards Drake and his guards! Not close enough to actual ignite anything, but close enough to daze the group for a couple of seconds – a couple of VALUABLE seconds from Andy’s point of view.
Dave Kern: WHOA! Did you see that!?!
Andy Murray: I’ll see you fuckers soon!
The crowd erupt into cheers, and within a split second Andy Murray has leapt out of the ring, over the barrier, and in through the crowd. Dr. Kasidy Drake only regains full vision in time to see the Scottish King of Cool disappear into the crowd and out of sight once and for all, as “Shout at the Devil” begins to play at full volume.
Dave Kern:Andy Murray just defied Dr. Kasidy Drake!
Jeff Marx: But what the hell does it matter?! Murray doesn’t have a contract and Drake doesn’t want him around… Andy Murray is FINISHED!
In the ring, Dr. Drake is visibly shaken by what has just happened, but he knows that he is the one in the driving seat – he knows there is nothing that Andy Murray can do to win back his AWC contract.
Or is there?
Pierce Lavelle vs Chainz
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHORS: MIKE S. AND LARA C.
Dave Kern: Well we’re ready for the next match pitting two of AWC’s biggest stars against each other.
Jeff Marx: Every since Lavelle joined the Empire I’ve really started to like him a lot more. He’s not a damn push over like he used to be.
Dave Kern: He used to be a good guy, now he’s rotten. That Empire has corrupted him and turned him against the fans and everyone who cared for him. He even broke up with Sarah Kennedy earlier this night.
Jeff Marx: She was just hanging on his coat tails, it was about time he dumped that bitch. I would’ve gotten a final screw in first and then dumped her, but Lavelle is a busy man.
Dave Kern: And you’re a pig.
The lights suddenly go out, plunging the unsuspecting crowd into the darkness. Flashbulbs shatter throughout the arena, trying to illuminate ringside, just in case they’re missing anything. A few seconds later, the Atlantic Tron produces an image on the screen, an image of a Celtic cross. In the foreground, a series of words appear on the screen, each flashing in succession in bold, red letters...
PIERCE...LAVELLE...IS...BACK!
Then, the driving metal of 'Happy?' by Mudvayne fills the arena, as an explosion is, illuminating the arena once more. Standing on the stage, with his head down, is Pierce Lavelle, and the crowd is booing this man.
Slowly raising his head, Pierce Lavelle looks out into the crowd, showing off his new look: shaved head, Van Dyke beard, and new wrestling attire - short tights, boots, elbow and kneepads. The AWC Legend walks down to the ring, as Chad Gray’s vocals reverberate throughout the arena.
In this hole,
that is me,
the dead are rolling over.
In this hole,
thickening,
dirt shoveled over shoulders.
Pierre Perroquet: From Harrizzburg, Pennzzylvaaania, weighing 235 poundz... he iz a two-time Tranzatlantic Champiooon, a 2005 Zero 2 Hero runner-up and a AWC Roll of ze Legends... PIERCE LAVELLE!
I feel it in me,
so overwhelmed,
oh this pressured center rising.
My life overturned,
unfair the despair,
all these scars keep ripping open.
When Piece Lavelle rolls into the ring, he climbs one of the corners, stands in a crucifix pose, letting out a mighty bellow.
Peel me from the skin,
tear me from the rind,
does it make you happy now?
Tear meat from the bone,
tear me from myself,
are you feeling happy now?
Pierce Lavelle jumps off the turnbuckle and prepares for his enemy.
Are you fuckin’ happy,
Now that I’ve lost everything…
Dave Kern: Well Lavelle looks ready as always, I just can’t seem to be happy for him, not anymore.
Jeff Marx: What about his opponent then?
Dave Kern: Ugh, he’s even worse.
“Cure” by The Wild Colonials hits as the crowd erupts in a chorus of boos. Even with his open opposition of the hated Empire, he is still the most hated man in all of AWC.
Pierre Perroquet: And from Birmingham, Alabama, weizing 295 poundz, Chainz!
Chainz steps out from the backstage area, Tracy next to him. He stands at the top of the ramp way, smiling as the curtains shake a bit and Sarah Kennedy walks out. She doesn’t seem too happy about being there with Chainz, but she’s even more displeased with Pierce Lavelle.
Pierce Lavelle seems annoyed that Sarah Kennedy is coming out with his mortal enemy and Chainz sees the displeasure in his eyes, smiling an evil grin. He extends a hand to Tracy who takes it with a smile. Chainz holds out his other hand towards Sarah Kennedy who reluctantly takes it as well.
With both females in hand Chainz walks down the ramp and approaches the ring. Releasing them he climbs into the ring and stands face to face with Lavelle, smiling at the mightily pissed off former Transatlantic champion.
Dave Kern: Would you look at the hate that these two men have for each other.
Jeff Marx: Lavelle needs to wise up and realize he can’t beat Chainz, not in a wrestling match and not in mind games.
Dave Kern: I think Lavelle remembers the beating he took at the hands of this monster recently and I’m sure revenge is on the mind.
Aaron Davies signals for the bell and the match is underway.
Chainz comes out swinging as does Lavelle, each landing several good shots on their opponent. Chainz gets the upper hand being the stronger of the two and starts planting some heavy bombs onto Lavelle. Chainz pushes Lavelle into the corner and rams a shoulder into his gut.
Dave Kern: Chainz getting the upper hand in this match, using his power to push Lavelle around.
Jeff Marx: Just like it should be.
Chainz grabs Lavelle by the back of the head and throws him to the mat as he begins stomping away. Lavelle grabs his foot and pulls him down to the mat. He mounts him and starts punching away on the smiling mad man.
Lavelle stands as does Sloan, but Pierce is ready. Chainz throws a wild punch which is ducked as Lavelle gets behind Chainz and nails him with a full nelson slam. He goes for the cover.
ONE
TWO
Kickout
Chainz kicks out before Davies can drop his hand for a third time.
Dave Kern: Close one there, I thought it might be over.
Jeff Marx: Please, this match just started. No one is going to beat Chainz like that.
Chainz rises to his feet looking a bit angered at being slammed by Lavelle. Pierce lifts him and drops his back onto his knee, hitting a good back breaker. Chainz is quickly back to his feet before even Lavelle can get up. He charges and goes for a clothesline which is ducked allowing Lavelle to hit a neckbreaker. He goes for the cover.
ONE
TWO
And another kick out for Michael Sloan.
Dave Kern: Well Chainz keeps going for big moves, but Lavelle has seen it all before and has scouted his opponent well, countering everything Chainz can throw at him.
Jeff Marx: It’s just a matter of time before Sloan gets the advantage.
Chainz rises once again, feeling nothing from the power moves by Lavelle which dismays him a bit.
He goes back to work nailing Chainz with some blows, but Chainz counters one and levels Lavelle with a massive short arm clothesline.
Jeff Marx: Told you.
Tracy cheers on the outside as Chainz begins to stomp away on Lavelle. He grabs him by the hair and neck and lifts him up. He ducks down and nails a t-bone suplex sending Lavelle through the air.
He lands with a thud and immediately grabs his back. Seeing it Chainz quickly drives a knee into his back sending more pain through Lavelle’s body. Chainz lifts him up and whips into the ropes. Lavelle comes back and is hit with a massive spine buster.
Dave Kern: Smart work by Chainz, targeting the back of Pierce Lavelle.
Jeff Marx: He is a genius, just look at the gorgeous women around him. Women like brains… and a big bulge.
Chainz mounts Lavelle and begins driving elbows into his face as Pierce tries his best to cover up. He rises and lifts Lavelle, wrapping his hands around his back and lifting him with a bear hug.
Lavelle struggles in the mighty grip of Chainz trying anything he can think of to get out of the submission move. He head butts Chainz but does more damage to himself than to his opponent. Chainz smiles as a small trickle of blood cascades down his forehead and nose as he applies more pressure onto Lavelle who begins to yell out in pain.
Pierce finally resorts to biting Chainz, finally managing to free himself from the move. He throws a few punches and bounces off the ropes, but is met with a massive super kick that nearly knocks his head off.
Dave Kern: Oh man, what a devastating move right there. This Chainz is a sick monster.
Jeff Marx: No shit Sherlock, Chainz is one of the best wrestlers in AWC right now. He should have had a win over Garbage Bag Johnny last week but let it slip from his grasps; I doubt he’ll make that mistake this week.
Chainz goes for the cover.
ONE
TWO
Lavelle gets a shoulder up stopping the count. Chainz lifts his opponent up for a vertical suplex. Lavelle grabs his back once more as the area is beginning to really bother him. Chainz lifts him once more and drives a few fists into his back and kidney area before lifting him with a back drop.
He goes for another cover.
ONE
TWO
Again Lavelle gets his shoulder up, irritating Chainz a bit.
Tracy and Sarah Kennedy watch on from ring side, each interested in the outcome of the match. Chainz shoves Pierce Lavelle into the turnbuckle and throws some punches. He backs up and charges the corner, but when he gets there Lavelle has moved. Chainz hits the turnbuckle with his head and stumbles back. Lavelle quickly drops him with a Russian leg sweep.
He helps Chainz to his feet and sets him up for a death valley driver, nailing it perfectly in the middle of the ring.
He goes for a cover, but Chainz kicks out before Aaron Davies can even drop for the count. Lavelle stands up a bit stunned at the ineffectiveness of his moves. Chainz stands and is met with a punch to the face. He gets a kick to the gut and is dropped with a DDT.
Lavelle grabs his legs and sets him up for a Texas cloverleaf. Chainz struggles as pain racks his body. He begins to crawl for the ropes, gaining inspiration from a cheering Tracy.
He finally reaches the ropes and Aaron Davies orders Lavelle to break the count. Pierce does so and immediately runs for the turnbuckle. He climbs the ropes and waits for Chainz to rise. As he does, he jumps off and hits him with a flying crossbody. Landing on top of Chainz he immediately goes for the cover.
ONE
TWO
Again Chainz kicks out without too much effort. Lavelle quickly climbs the turnbuckle once more and before Chainz knows what happened Lavelle dives off the top and drills an elbow right into his heart.
Dave Kern: Lavelle has really gained control of this match, mixing up ground moves with submissions with high flying moves, I don’t think Chainz knows what to expect.
Jeff Marx: I’m not worried yet, Chainz will catch on soon enough.
Lavelle goes for the cover.
ONE
TWO
Chainz manages to get a shoulder up, this time with more difficulty then before.
Lavelle finally sees his moves having an effect on Chainz which gives him some hope. Lavelle grabs Chainz and lifts him, throwing him into the turnbuckle. He begins kicking Chainz in the gut, driving his foot as deep into his opponent as he could.
Lavelle pauses for a moment, allowing Chainz to storm out of the corner and flooring Lavelle with a powerful clothesline. Lavelle gets up and is kicked in the gut. Chainz puts Lavelle’s head between his legs and falls back, driving Pierce’s head into the mat.
Dave Kern: Great pile driver there, I’m surprised Lavelle’s neck isn’t broken.
Jeff Marx: And you doubted Chainz. I told you Chainz would gain control and beat the hell out of Pierce Lavelle. It was only a matter of time.
Chainz goes for the cover, hooking the leg and driving his elbow into the chest of Pierce Lavelle.
ONE
TWO
Again, Pierce Lavelle manages to kick out just in time.
Jeff Marx: Damnit, that was a slow count. This match should be over.
Dave Kern: Neither of these guys can seem to put the other away.
Chainz stands as does Lavelle; they begin to exchange punches once again. Lavelle rakes the eyes of Chainz and frees himself from the onslaught of punches.
Dave Kern: Wise move there by Pierce Lavelle. I think he’s realizing that exchanging punches with Chainz will get him nowhere.
Pierce Lavelle kicks Chainz straight in the face. He puts his head between his legs and lifts him, throwing him into the turnbuckle.
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD, the Whiplash! This has to be over.
Jeff Marx: Damnit come on Chainz, you don’t want to lose two matches in a row.
Pierce Lavelle quickly seizes the opportunity and makes the cover.
ONE
TWO
THR---
And again Chainz just manages to get his shoulder up at the last second.
Dave Kern: Damnit, Chainz just kicked out of the Whiplash!
Jeff Marx: Phew, I thought it was over right there, but I should have known better. Chainz isn’t going to go down so easily.
Dave Kern: What does Lavelle have to do to keep this man down?
Pierce Lavelle seems to be thinking the same thing as he pounds the mat in anger. He rolls out of the ring and grabs a chair. Tracy gets near him and grabs the chair, shaking her head and saying no. Pierce tells her to let go, but she doesn’t budge. Pierce pulls the chair, pulling her with it and sending her to the ground. The crowd boos as he rolls into the ring while Sarah Kennedy checks up on her friend.
Chainz slowly gets up and doesn’t see Lavelle standing behind him with the chair ready. He turns and Lavelle swings the chair, connecting square with the forehead of Chainz. Chainz drops to the mat, more blood coming out of his head.
Dave Kern: Oh God, what a shot. Why would he disqualify himself like that?
Aaron Davies signals for the bell.
David Harber: Not so fast.
David Harber comes out of the back with a microphone in hand. The crowd immediately boos.
David Harber: I forgot to mention that this is now a no disqualifications match.
Dave Kern: WHAT? This is ridiculous! He can’t just change the rules!
Pierce Lavelle smiles as he begins nailing Chainz repeatedly with the chair.
Sarah Kennedy looked on with worry as she watched David Harber move down the ramp toward them, microphone in hand. Tracy knelt up and felt shaken as she gazed into the ring.
David Harber: Davies, continue this match.
Davies nodded and ordered for the bell to be rung. With that Harber gave a wink and a knowing nod toward Pierce who smiled, sickly and raised the chair vertically driving its end into Chainz’s kneecap. The wild beast began to scream, the shots having an affect on him.
Dave Kern: Lavelle has gone… nuts.
Jeff Marx: This, I like. Great TV.
Dave Kern: Harber can’t do this …
Jeff Marx: Actually, you’ll find he can, he’s the boss.
The boos rise from within the arena like a giant tidal wave swarming the beach as Harber sits down comfortably next to the two ring announcers and gazes proudly into the ring.
David Harber: And listen to those boos, music to my ears.
Chainz gazes with anger toward David Harber seated comfortably in front of him, Pierce relents in his attack and hoists Chainz into the air, Chainz retaliates driving his elbow into Pierce’s abdomen and causing Pierce to relinquish his hold. Chainz sends Pierce flying toward the ropes with an Irish whip and goes for a running clothesline but his knee gives way sending him colliding to the ground, knees first. Pierce counters with a running reverse neckbreaker, driving Chainz backward into the mat, snapping his legs from under him.
Jeff Marx: What a counter. The Monster is down.
Dave Kern: Pierce Lavelle quick on the counter.
Lavelle not wasting time, rolls out of the ring and heads toward the outside turnbuckle rising onto it, his eyes starring toward Sarah Kennedy both are gazing at one another. Tracy darts toward him causing Lavelle to lose site of his task. Chainz rises onto his feet and grips the chair that is lying abandoned in the ring. He runs at a limped pace and hoists the chair in a high swing slamming into Lavelle’s head repeatedly, Lavelle tangled on the turnbuckle as Tracy holds his ankle. Sarah watches on helplessly as blood oozes from Pierce’s head as he flops onto the mat.
Chainz chucks the chair aside and raises Lavelle up onto his shoulder turning around he sees Harber and a sick smile merges along his lips. Climbing the turnbuckle, onto the second rung, he hoists Lavelle firmly onto his shoulders and launches him off with a Powerbomb to the outside. Lavelle’s body bounces off the concrete, motionless against the barricade.
Davies goes for the count… Chainz smiling, proud of his work. Tracy looks on at the motionless Lavelle, his neck and leg contorted uncomfortably and sees the worry in Sarah’s eyes as she moves to check on him.
David Harber: Oh. Did I forget to mention… Anything goes. No count outs. You can only win by pin-fall…
The fans boos continue as Davies stops his count, a worrying look on his face as he notices Lavelle is taking more punishment than Chainz.
Sarah Kennedy checks on Lavelle, receiving a wave of cheers as she stands up and reaches for his neck checking his pulse, a sigh of relief purses through the silenced crowd as she feels a faint but steady pulse. A hand grips her shoulder moving her backward as Chainz stand menacingly behind her, his nostrils flaring. Lavelle awakes in a daze, blood trickling from his mouth.
Dave Kern: Lavelle might have internal bleeding. This is madness.
David Harber: He’s fine.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, he’s not looking too good.
Chainz grips the back of Lavelle’s head and rakes his forehead along the barricade, the fans booing the actions of the sick sadist and monster. He smiles cunningly and drives a knee into Pierce’s spine causing him to splatter blood on the fan in front of him, she shrieks with disgust as she watches Lavelle’s pained expression.
Dave Kern: Em, Mr. Harber, we might have a law suit.
David Harber: Nonsense. She’ll sell it on eBay.
Jeff Marx: Chainz working the power and mind games once more.
Chucking the groggy and bloody Pierce Lavelle to the floor, Chainz turns to David Harber and walks towards him with a sick and smug look upon his bloody face as he watches Harber squirm in his seat. Tracy watches as Lavelle searches under the ring apron, groggy and oozing blood. Chainz stops as he sees Pierce move in his peripheral vision and runs toward him, Pierce launches with a barbed wire stick, driving it into Chainz’s crotch, taking some of Chainz’s ring attire with it as he swipes it away. Chainz crumbles to his knees clutching his crotch with a cringed up face.
Jeff Marx: Chainz’s manhood’s been damaged. Tracy… I hope you weren’t planning on kids.
Pierce clutches onto the ring apron, clawing his way into a standing position as he falls back onto the barricade, his chest covered in oozing blood from his forehead and mouth. Sliding against it he hoists the barbed wire stick again and drives its butt into Chainz’s forehead, sending the monster backward as Pierce collapses next to him. David Harber rises and grips Jeff Marx’s handkerchief from his suit pocket and runs toward the battered Pierce Lavelle. Wiping his forehead, Harber cleans up the mess in Pierce’s eyes a little and helps him into a standing position.
Jeff Marx: See, Sarah, that’s what you should’ve been doing…
Sarah Kennedy hears his words and gripping his water glass tosses it over Jeff Marx to the delight of the fans. He rises stealthily in his chair, anger in his tone but backs down as a very groggy, angry and bloody Pierce Lavelle stands in front of her, confusion written on her face.
Dave Kern: Pierce… Coming to the aid of… Sarah Kennedy.
Jeff Marx sits down, soaking wet as he watches Lavelle check on Sarah Kennedy. Suddenly, Chainz rises; carrying a large metal pole and charges, Lavelle ducks in time, but Sarah Kennedy takes the blow, full force across her face. The fans reel in horror as blood trickles form her blonde hairline, collapsing to the ground. Chainz stops, suddenly. Pierce rises and runs to her aid, calling her name and checking on her. Tracy nods in acquiescence to his kindness and he rises…
Dave Kern: Shit. Chainz just assaulted Sarah Kennedy with a metal pole.
Jeff Marx: Bitch deserved it.
Dave Kern: Pierce is pissed-off!!!!
Chainz looks toward Lavelle, then back at Sarah Kennedy, his hands dropping the metal pole. Lavelle turns around, spitting venom with blood red eyes as he rises onto his legs. A surge of adrenaline flowing through him as he storms towards Chainz, their eyes meeting. Pierce dives with a running sprint and collides with Chainz, mounting him as he swings with punches… left and right… left and right… over and over… boos rising for the damage being caused by David Harber. Chainz laughs with a bloodied grin, Pierce not stopping, gripping the pole he steps up over the body and drives the pole into Chainz’s crotch, feeling the soft skin bend under the brute force. Chainz screams, his eyes bulging.
EMT’s are now at ringside, loading Sarah Kennedy onto a stretcher as they move her out of the way of damage, Tracy conflicted in what she should do – stay or go. Tracy chooses to stay and watches Sarah leave toward safety. Lavelle rises and chucks the pole toward Harber and slides himself into the ring and sits down, the fans and ring spinning around him as he coughs up more blood, feeling woozy and nauseous.
David Harber: He’s fine. Taking care of business like the skilled wrestler he is.
Dave Kern: You speak highly of your fellow Empire member.
David Harber: He’s proven his worth in this company, who wouldn’t speak highly of him.
Jeff Marx: Michael Sloan…
David Harber: He’s getting his just-desserts.
Chainz rises and sees Lavelle looking dazed in the ring, a cunning grin along his cheeks as he slides under the apron. Lavelle looks on, confused and runs to the other side, bending over the ropes and looking down. Harber shouting orders toward Lavelle. Lavelle turns and gazes into the sick smile of Chainz stood in front of him, his fists clenched and holding a kendo stick. He unleashes hit after hit sending Pierce in circles around the ring. Suddenly Chainz drives the stick into Pierce’s abdomen and connects with a piledriver onto the folded chair.
One!
Two!
Kickout!
Lavelle kicks-out on the last second, Chainz snarls toward referee Davies who placed a slow and grueling count. Chainz rises, starring toward the gloating Harber as he grips Lavelle by the neck, dragging him along the ring and slicing him through the apron to the ground below. Lavelle lands awkwardly but rolls to one side, taking a breather as he wipes the blood on his kneepad.
Dave Kern: Slow count from Davies with a quick exit from Lavelle.
David Harber: That was a fair count, Kern. Very fair indeed.
Dave Kern: Eh, yes Mr. Harber…
Chainz is fuming within the ring, receiving a mild amount of cheers as he swoops out of the ring. Tracy checks on him, being pushed to the side as he charges toward a hunkered down Lavelle. Lavelle waits till the final second before gripping Chainz’s ring attire and hurling him face first into the barricade. Chainz recoils backward, gripping Lavelle’s weakened wrist and drags him into a standing position. Dazed, Chainz hurls him with a vicious Irish whip. Lavelle spring boards along the ground, being driven by Chainz’s sheer power. He collides with something soft, Tracy catching Lavelle as the two collided into the barricade, Tracy becoming Lavelle’s cushion. Chainz looks on as Tracy slopes motionless to the ground. Hoisting the ring steps he marches toward Lavelle.
Jeff Marx: He’s going to kill Lavelle.
Chainz is stopped, a weight bearing down on his shoulders. Dropping the ring steps, Chainz turns around. A large figure is now standing next to him having jumped the barricade dressed in a black windbreaker. Chainz gazes toward the large man, the smile on his face soon leaving as LeVar Kintu glares back at him, pumped up on Prometheus.
Dave Kern: Juggernaut Kintu is in the ring… his veins are bulging.
Chains throws a quick punch, but Kintu catches it in his palm, squeezing Chainz’s fist and turning his wrist painfully as Chainz bends over with the force, crumbling to his knees. The crowd boos as Chainz is forced to his knees. Kintu lets out a menacing laugh and drives his knee into Chainz’s chin, blood splattering into the air as Chainz falls backwards. Harber looks on pleased as he tends to the fallen, Pierce Lavelle.
Chainz begins crawling on his hands and knees, heading to the ring, his hand reaching under but he’s stopped. Juggernaut Kintu is holding his ankle and dragging him backward with brute force. Chainz feels something in his grip and launches it out of the apron toward Kintu’s head. It misses… hurling toward the bent over David Harber, connecting with his legs as he crumbles into a wailing mess.
Dave Kern: Chainz just threw a bowling ball at David Harber’s leg…
Kintu looks on dazed, and turns to see his master squirming in pain and holding his calf muscle. Chainz is up with a bloody smile on his lips as he hoists a sledge hammer into the air, swinging it at full tilt he drives it toward the unsuspecting Kintu knocking him along the ribs. LeVar Kintu collapses, gasping for air.
Meanwhile Pierce is up, coughing and spluttering as he sees an unconscious Tracy beneath him. He hears the wailing cries of David Harber and sees Kintu crumbling. In the corner of his eye he watches Chainz move toward him, holding the sledge hammer with a menacing grin. Chainz swings, but Lavelle dives out of the way, causing Chainz to hit the barricade. A twang of metal on metal reverberates around the arena, causing the fans to shiver in their seats. A sort of nails on a chalkboard feeling.
Lavelle is up and comes charging, using the ring steps as a propulsion he lunges toward Chainz, executing a flying Drop Kick, sending Chainz crashing into the announcers table, dropping the sledgehammer. Lavelle doesn’t stop, seeing his Chainz he grips Chainz’s wrist and hurls him into the ring apron, Chainz’s back snapping against the metal frame. Davies orders Lavelle to roll Chainz into the ring. Obliging, Chainz is rolled into the ring, dazed. Lavelle looks around for a moment, looking at the carnage around him, his eyes masked with a crimson tide of his own blood as he sees the sledge hammer and takes it.
Dave Kern: Lavelle has the sledgehammer, what’s he going to do?
Jeff Marx: Help redecorate this mess!
Inside the ring, Chainz is moving stealthily now, watching Lavelle holding the sledgehammer. Lavelle swings but Chainz catches the stick of the sledgehammer and reefs it off a shocked Lavelle. He drives the sledgehammer into Lavelle’s gut, and sets Lavelle up for a powerbomb.
Dave Kern: Counter from Chainz…
Lavelle wakens speedily, delivering sharp swift blows to Chainz’s bruised temple as he attempts to reverse the powerbomb. Chainz chucks Lavelle off of him, sending Lavelle crashing to the mat to the cheers of the fans. Lavelle jumps to his feet, a grin along his face.
Jeff Marx: Is… Lavelle… smiling?
Chainz looks on, confused. Lavelle raises the sledge hammer and hurls it toward Chainz’s crotch, connecting on full blow. Chainz bends over in a howl and Lavelle is quick to move hoisting him up in a powerbomb Lavelle takes all his left over strength and throws Chainz into the turnbuckle for the Whiplash.
David Harber: (weakly and sore) I told you…
Dave Kern: Are you alright, Mr. Harber?
David Harber: I’m fine.
Lavelle collapses on top of Chainz, the arena spinning around him. Davies makes the count.
One!
Two!
Three!
The bell rings as the fans rise in a cacophony of boos, mild cheers emerging from various fans. Harber hobbles to the ring as does Juggernaut Kintu. Davies rolls the battered Lavelle off of Chainz and raises his weak arm.
Pierre Perroquet: Here iz zee winner, PIERCE LAVELLE!!!!
David Harber helps hoist the barely conscious Pierce Lavelle into a standing position while Kintu drags the motionless Chainz up. A sick grin along his face as he hoists Chainz up by the throat executing a devastating chokeslam.
The crowd boo the actions of the Empire with a hissing to back it up. Tracy remains motionless on the outside being tended to by EMT’s, while Kintu helps carry Pierce Lavelle out of the ring and up toward the backstage, with David Harber in tow, grinning and proud…
Greatness Doesn't Come Cheap
FEATURING: JONNY KAE
AUTHOR: JONNY ATTWOOD
As Untouchable continues, the live feed cuts to a pre-recorded video.
Music starts to play, Wagner to be precise, and The Ride of the Valkyries (aka ‘that tune’ from the helicopter scene in Apocalypse Now) as slowly the screen fades in. The gentle vibrato of the cellos and violas is soon accompanied by that of the violins, right as the letters J and K appear in Red on the screen, surrounded by ancient Greek style holly.
A voice suddenly interrupts the music, but speaking over it; deep and commanding, authoritative by its very nature (a la James Earl Jones, voice of Darth Vadar and the evil guy in Conan The Barbarian). The music doesn’t decrease in volume – it doesn’t need to.
”Every Generation there is born a man whose name will be whispered through the halls of time.”
On the screen, an ‘O’ proceeds the original J. An image begins to take light in the background, but barely recognisable.
”Every Decade there comes an individual with the strength and fortitude to transcend the boundaries.”
Two ‘N’s accompany the ‘O’ after the J, and an ‘A’ accompanies the K. The image behind the red writing becomes a little clearer, and appears to be the silhouette of a figure, one arm raised, head tilted to the side, other arm flexed downwards (a la Mr World Competition tools).
”Every Century there comes one who is more than a man. There comes a legend.”
A ‘Y’ follows the two N’s, and an ‘E’ follows the A. The two words now separate, forming the name in large bold Red Lettering, “JONNY KAE”. The silhouette comes into focus, and the figure is indeed that of our friend and hero, Jonathan Alexander Spencer Kae, a former everything as he will no doubt tell you, and future addition to the AWC roster. He stands between the two sections of his name, one arm flexed upwards to his forehead, the other flexed downwards to just above his waist. Kae’s body is gleaming with the water he no doubt splashed over it in the vital preparations for this pre-recorded video. His face turns to look at the screen, his mouth wide open in the most plastic smile the particular camera in question has ever captured.
”This is his century; this is the century of Jonny Kae!”
Kae straightens his posture on the screen, with the white backdrop behind him. He flexes his muscles downwards (a la Hulk Hogan Pose). He then raises his arms up and flexes them upwards. As the music rolls onwards, Kae points towards the camera, and winks to his audience.
By now the AWC crowd have had quite enough. Those who know Jonny Kae from other federations, and other eras, had made their minds up instantaneously upon news of his signing on the various fan-sites across the USA and Europe, but the others have just had their minds made up for them. He’s not the most popular man in Leon tonight!
Suddenly, the image fades, and the music slowly dies out. A sigh of relief floats over the audience, but is soon decimated by the sudden opening riff of Metallica’s “Seek and Destroy”. The screen crashes into life, with quickly changing images of wrestling arenas across the globe, only one thing common to all of them, that of Jonny Kae destroying an opponent in some shape or form (of course, they wouldn’t show him getting his ass kicked, would they?). Scenes of Jonny Kae from the late 1990s in his old “Kaemenation” ring gear are followed by scenes from much more recent times. Then, the authority of the voice booms out once again.
”10 World Title reigns.”
Images of Jonny Kae holding many varying titles across his waist and shoulder follow.
”Nine Years in Professional Wrestling”
More images of Kae from the ICWF days are shown, accompanied by images from the XCW and VWF; and then more recent images of Kae in HSW.
”The Most Perfectly attuned body in Professional Wrestling”
A new chapter of the montage reiterates this point, showing scenes of Kae at his finest, sculpted physique and all.
”Now comes to the Atlantic Wrestling Club.”
The montage continues, but slowly starts to fade out.
”This is his century, his time.”
The screen goes black again, but soon comes back to the white backdrop, and the image of Jonny Kae flexing for the camera.
”This is the time of Jonny Kae!”
Kae’s smile brims with plastic urgency to the audience, his arms now folded across his chest. A waterfall of confetti falls down between Kae and the camera lens, as the screen fades out to black.
The live feed then continues, with many unimpressed faces in the audience. The uncontrolled snicker of Dave Kern is heard through the headset as the live audio resumes also.
Dave Kern: Sorry about that. Just couldn’t contain myself. That was possibly the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen.
Jeff Marx: Hey! You heard what he said. The man’s a legend!
Dave Kern: No offence Jeff, but I think the fans and myself will reserve the right of our own judgement on that matter. I heard that promo had to be privately recorded as it exceeded the AWC video feed budget.
Jeff Marx: Greatness doesn’t come cheap Dave!
Dave Kern: Whatever…let’s get on with the show…
Garbage Bag Johnny (c) vs Paddy O'Shea
STIPULATION: COUNTDOWN TALLY
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHOR: JOSH K.
Dave Kern: We still have the No Love Lost main event coming up just one match away, but right now, it’s time for the AWC Transatlantic title match between Paddy O’Shea and Garbage Bag Johnny!
Jeff Marx: I can’t believe that we’re guaranteed thirty minutes of having to sit through a fight between a gypsy and a hobo. I hope Johnny wins this one so Pierce can get his rematch at Triangles.
Dave Kern: I think you’re selling both of these competitors short. Paddy might be a gypsy, and GBJ may be a hobo, but they’re both very accomplished in the AWC ring. This match is going to be great.
Jeff Marx: This match has complicated rules. Paddy’s going to be drunk. Garbage Bag is going to be high. It’s going to be a complete disaster!
Dave Kern: Well, I can’t guarantee that either of them will be sober, but let’s go to Pierre Perroquet in the ring to explain those rules and announce the competitors.
Pierre Perroquet: Ze followeeng match eez a Countdown Tally match.
Parrot of Perroquet: TALLYWHACKER MATCH! TALLYWHACKER MATCH!
Pierre Perroquet: No! It eez not a tallywhacker match. It eez a Countdown Tally match wheech means zat after every five minute period, zere will be a one minute period where all falls are subject to a one count. Zis will go on for thirty minutes, and whoever ‘as ze most peenfalls een zat time will become ze AWC Transatlantique champion! Ze challengair, from Galway, Ireland: Ze Unrepentant Fenian Bastard, Paddy O’Shea!
“Raggle Taggle Gypsy” by Christine Moore begins to play, and the fans begin to cheer loudly as Paddy struts to the ring amidst green spotlights that shine up and down the ramp. Paddy slaps hands with the fans as he zig zags down the ramp before sliding into the ring and standing in a boxing stance, bouncing from one foot to another.
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea looks readier than ever for this opportunity he’s earned at the Transatlantic Belt.
Jeff Marx: It should’ve been Vince Jones. Jones got robbed.
Pierre Perroquet: And hees opponent, from Cheeecago, Eellinois: Zee AWC Transatlantic champion, Garbage Bag Johnny!
Parrot of Perroquet: GARBAGE FAG JOHNNY! SQUAWK!
“Garbage Bag Johnny Will Win Zero 2 Hero,” the outdated but nonetheless best (and dirtiest) theme song in AWC begins to play, and right as the funky verse kicks in, Garbage Bag Johnny emerges through a cloud of smoke gathered at the entranceway. The 30 pound, oversized AWC Transatlantic Belt is strapped around his waist, and as he slowly chugs to the ring, fans pat him on the back and try to touch the belt. GBJ finally makes his way to the ring, breathing in the speciously smelling smoke before getting in and handing his heavy title to Michael Ryan. Ryan drags the title over to the timekeeper and calls for the bell to start the match.
30:00
Dave Kern: Here we go, folks! We’ve got thirty minutes of fight to go.
Jeff Marx: I don’t think that the two of these jokers know enough wrestling moves to last thirty minutes.
Garbage Bag Johnny, with a seeming olive branch, extends his hand forward in a show of sportsmanship. Paddy looks left and right to the crowd before looking down finally at Garbage Bag Johnny’s hand and meeting it with his own.
Dave Kern: In how many matches do you see that happen? It’s good to see some class in AWC.
Unfortunately, Kern spoke too soon. Both competitors have the same idea, while gripped in a handshake, GBJ and Paddy simultaneously deliver boots that hit the other each squarely in the gonads. Michael Ryan, calling it an eye for an eye, shrugs without even thinking of warning the two competitors that you’re supposed to avoid genital mauling.
Jeff Marx: Ha! Double regions shot! In how many matches do you see THAT happen?
Dave Kern: Well, I’ve never really seen a match start off like this.
Jeff Marx: Best. Start. Ever.
Both competitors are ginger getting to their feet, but they meet in the middle with a collar and elbow tie-up. Garbage Bag Johnny uses his rare size advantage to power Paddy O’Shea back against the ropes before sending him ricocheting with an Irish whip…literally. Paddy bounds off of the opposite ropes and ducks under a clothesline attempt. As Paddy comes back, GBJ turns quickly and leaps in the air for a leapfrog, but Paddy stops just in time and at the peak of GBJ’s jump, Paddy drives a dragon uppercut right between Johnny’s spread legs. GBJ lands ungracefully in front of Paddy O’Shea.
Jeff Marx: Haha! Another regions shot. That’s three so far!
Dave Kern: I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. We haven’t even gone a minute yet.
Paddy O’Shea pulls GBJ up by the hair and grabs him under the armpits before extending his knee out precisely for an inverted atomic drop. GBJ hops up and down clutching his testicles as Paddy bounds off of the rope and connects with a running low dropkick that catches Johnny in the same sensitive area. GBJ tumbles through the ropes.
Jeff Marx: That’s five!
Dave Kern: I’m beginning to sense a pattern here.
Paddy slides underneath the bottom rope and pulls Garbage Bag Johnny up by the arm before whipping him into the ring steps. GBJ hits the ring steps back first and lands in a sitting position facing O’Shea. O’Shea charges at GBJ with a running knee to the face that misses, as the resilient GBJ tumbles out of the way in the nick of time. O’Shea knees the steel steps and as Paddy limps around GBJ stands up behind the Irishman. Garbage Bag lifts Paddy up for a back suplex, but instead of falling backwards, GBJ charges forward, slamming O’Shea’s spread eagle nether-regions into the ring post.
Jeff Marx: Six!
Dave Kern: Speaking of counts, Michael Ryan is letting this go. I guess there’s as much point to a double count out in a Countdown Tally match as there is to a double disqualification.
Jeff Marx: Seven!
27:30
As Marx is counting, GBJ adds a boot to Paddy’s downed jewels for good measure. Garbage Bag Johnny pulls Paddy up by the hair and drags him over to the guard rail where GBJ lifts one of Paddy’s legs over the rail and over to the other side so that Paddy is now straddling the rail. GBJ climbs up on the ring apron and leaps off with a double axe handle! Paddy howls out in pain before falling over into the audience and landing in the laps of the front row spectators.
Jeff Marx: Eight! Eight nut shots! I never thought I’d enjoy this as much as I am enjoying it.
Dave Kern: To be honest, I don’t see how these competitors are going to make it thirty minutes. I don’t even think they’re going to make it to the first sudden death pin round.
Jeff Marx: I have to say, though. GBJ really finds innovative ways of inflicting testicular pain on old broken nuts O’Shea.
Garbage Bag Johnny steps over the guard rail and tosses Paddy O’Shea back over Paddy quickly crawls further away, and GBJ lets O’Shea recuperate by trying to wrestle a hot dog away from one of the fans near the guard rail. GBJ fails to persuade the fan to give up the snack, however, and GBJ turns his attention to see that Paddy O’Shea is gone. GBJ hurriedly hops over the guard rail and looks both ways for Paddy, who is nowhere in sight.
Dave Kern: Where the hell did Paddy go?
GBJ lifts one leg to climb up on the ring apron, but leaving his rucksack exposed, Paddy pops out from underneath the ring apron and clenches GBJ’s soft spot in the testicular claw. GBJ, forgetting the painful laws of gravity, tries to balance himself on the ring apron instead of stepping off, which would give him more leverage and alleviation. Instead, Paddy holds on from below, and GBJ grabs onto the ropes for strength. Paddy, still holding on tightly to Garbage Bag Johnny’s balls, begins to notice that GBJ is pulling him up to the ring apron.
Jeff Marx: I think Garbage Bag Johnny has been doctoring his balls! No mortal man could lift another man with his testicles.
Dave Kern: I can’t believe my eyes either. A move like that would require a cast-iron scrotum.
25:45
GBJ has lifted Paddy up to a lying position on the ring apron, and out of extreme desperation, GBJ drops to his knees next to Paddy and starts throwing wild elbows at Paddy’s groin. Paddy breaks the hold to defend his groin before rolling into the ring. GBJ still kneels on the apron as Paddy gets up and charges off of the opposite ropes. He comes back with a kick towards Johnny’s face, but Johnny ducks back and Paddy finds his leg caught between the second and third rope leaving his regions ripe for the pickings.
Dave Kern: This doesn’t look good for Paddy.
Jeff Marx: No, sir, it doesn’t. And I’ve lost track of the count.
Dave Kern: It’s tied at zero.
Jeff Marx: No, you idiot. I was talking about the number of nut shots we’ve seen so far.
GBJ rolls into the ring with Paddy desperately trying to untie his leg from the ropes. It’s too late, however, as GBJ sadistically positions himself behind Paddy. The crowd goes wild as GBJ fakes for the balls and accurately inches backwards to hit Paddy with the Gooch Rake!
Sudden Death Round One
Dave Kern: That bell means that for the next minute, all it takes to score a fall is a one count!
Jeff Marx: Wait! What the hell are they doing?
Paddy has freed himself, thanks to the force of the Gooch Rake, but both competitors have ceased fighting and retreated to sitting positions in opposite corners to nurse their swollen balls as the sudden death minute counts off. The fans are giving the two competitors a standing ovation after the five minute ball shot bonanza.
24:00
Dave Kern: And the second round starts with the score locked at zero. Hopefully, this round will be a bit less centered on the genitals.
Jeff Marx: Speak for yourself. I thought the first round was brilliant.
Paddy and GBJ get to their feet and start slowly circling each other in the ring before both clash in the center with another collar and elbow tie-up. Garbage Bag Johnny comes out the victor again, wrenching Paddy’s arm quickly before attempting a short arm clothesline. Paddy ducks under and wraps Garbage Bag Johnny around for a waistlock. GBJ tries to counter with elbows, but Paddy ducks, sending GBJ spinning one hundred eighty degrees. Paddy finishes with a beautiful belly to belly suplex that sends GBJ overhead. GBJ gets back to his feet quickly.
Dave Kern: We’re seeing some actual wrestling from the two men now. With twenty four minutes remaining, this should get interesting.
Jeff Marx: Are you sure interesting is the word you were looking for?
GBJ charges at Paddy O’Shea, but Paddy sidesteps and lands a drop toe hold that guillotines Johnny’s neck over the second rope. Paddy grabs onto the top rope near Johnny and slingshots himself over, coming down with a vicious knee drop to GBJ’s head that sends GBJ ricocheting back into the ring, clutching his neck while Paddy lands on his feet on the outside.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny has just entered a world of hurt.
Paddy O’Shea climbs up on the apron while Garbage Bag is still rolling around on the canvas. Paddy O’Shea begins to scale the top rope, scouting his prey before launching off with a top rope stomp, but GBJ gets a foot up in time to connect with Paddy’s face. Paddy flops backwards and GBJ begins crawling to the ropes to pull himself up.
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea has just entered a house of pain!
Jeff Marx: Uh oh. I think Dave’s gone on auto-pilot again.
GBJ gets back to his feet as Paddy is on his hands and knees. GBJ runs towards Paddy and inverts Paddy’s body with a flipping neckbreaker. GBJ rolls up with Paddy now on his back in the center of the ring. Garbage Bag bounces off of the ropes and comes back landing a flip splash on the downed Irishman. Garbage Bag arches his back, applying pressure on Paddy for the pin. Michael Ryan drops down for the first count of the match.
ONE!
Paddy kicks out authoritatively as both superstars have plenty of energy left for this one. Garbage Bag Johnny gets up and pulls Paddy by the hair, but Paddy seems resistant, throwing weak fists into GBJ’s stomach. GBJ, offended by the fists, starts throwing some punches back towards Paddy’s face, but Paddy regains the wherewithal to block and push GBJ off of the ropes. Garbage Bag Johnny comes back with a flying cross chop that Paddy ducks under. GBJ bounces off of the mat and momentum slides him under the bottom rope to the mats outside. As GBJ tries to regain his bearings, Paddy begins to mount the turnbuckle. Using precise estimation, Paddy flies off, twisting towards the unsuspecting GBJ with a flying corkscrew clothesline that downs both men for some time.
Dave Kern: Both men now have entered an ocean of discomfort!
Jeff Marx slaps Dave Kern in the back of the head.
Dave Kern: Huh? Where was I?
Jeff Marx: I think you fell into a cliché trance or an epileptic seizure.
21:30
On the outside of the ring, Paddy gets up first and GBJ is up shortly afterwards. Paddy, however, is the first one to gain his bearings back as he slams GBJ’s face on the apron before Irish whipping GBJ into the corner of the guard rail. GBJ lands with his back to the corner, and Paddy comes at him with an avalanche splash that GBJ deftly dodges. Paddy bounces off of the rail and stumbles right into Johnny who grabs him up for a scoop slam. Instead, GBJ opts for a backbreaker. GBJ continues the hold and drapes Paddy across the adjacent rails.
Dave Kern: Johnny’s making things complex here, which could spell trouble.
Jeff Marx: Unfortunately, that’s the only way Johnny can correctly spell trouble.
GBJ slides into the ring quickly and measures off a huge running start before springboarding himself off of the top turnbuckle, over the guard rail and into the corner, where Paddy has seemingly rolled away from just in time. GBJ crashes hard into the adjacent guard rails before landing flat on the mats outside the ring.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny has just bought himself a one way ticket to bruise country.
Jeff Marx: What? Bruise country? Where the hell do you come up with this?
Paddy pulls the writhing Garbage Bag Johnny to his feet, seizing opportunity, and rolling the AWC Transatlantic champion into the ring. GBJ prematurely tries to stumble to his feet, but it’s no use as its apparent to Paddy that nobody’s home inside GBJ’s noggin. Paddy sizes GBJ up and hits the Angry and Intoxicated kick to GBJ’s face. He goes for the cover with GBJ out in the middle of the ring.
Dave Kern: We could see our first fall here!
ONE!
TWO!
Garbage Bag Johnny miraculously gets a shoulder up and Paddy can’t believe it. He starts arguing with the referee, slamming one hand against the other to signify a three count.
19:45
Dave Kern: That was a close one, but Paddy’s arguing isn’t such a good idea. It wasn’t a three count.
Jeff Marx: Who cares? I just want to see someone get knocked in the goodies.
Garbage Bag Johnny sneaks up behind Paddy O’Shea and rolls him up, gripping the tights and then trying to walk his feet up the ropes for leverage.
Jeff Marx: Aha! Super Illegal Pin!
ONE!
TWO!
Before he counts three, Michael Ryan notices the two ways in which GBJ is using an illegal advantage for leverage, and he stops the count. Garbage Bag Johnny snaps his fingers and Paddy O’Shea pops up angrily. He charges at GBJ and spears him into the corner. The winded GBJ, hunches over and Paddy picks him up from a front facelock to sit him on the top rope. Paddy climbs up to the top turnbuckle and steadies himself on GBJ’s shoulders.
Dave Kern: It looks like Paddy’s going for a hurricanrana from the top rope!
Jeff Marx: Not a move in Paddy’s normal arsenal.
And indeed, Paddy fails at this maneuver. GBJ holds onto the top ropes to both sides and Paddy lands upside down with his legs wrapped around GBJ’s neck. GBJ reaches down and grabs Paddy’s arms, pulling them up before leaping off and planting Paddy O’Shea strategically on his chest and face. GBJ quickly turns for the cover.
Dave Kern: Not quite to the second overtime, but that move might get a three count!
Jeff Marx: I don’t know where that move came from, but whatever it was, I hope Paddy’s nuts got crunched, just a little bit.
ONE!
TWO!
THR---
19:09
Paddy kicks out in the nick of time. Paddy stays on the ground as GBJ slams his fist down and waits the nine seconds before the sudden death round starts.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny is wasting valuable time.
Jeff Marx: It’s only nine seconds.
Dave Kern: A lot can happen in nine seconds.
Jeff Marx: No, it can’t. It’s been nine seconds, and absolutely nothing at all has happened.
Sudden Death Round 2
Garbage Bag Johnny quickly covers Paddy O’Shea, but even with the leg hooked, Paddy can power out before the one count. GBJ shrugs off his miscalculation and picks Paddy up. GBJ whips Paddy off of the ropes, and on Paddy’s return, GBJ ducks and tries to lift Paddy onto his shoulders to set up for the Tragically Hipbuster. Paddy slips behind Garbage Bag Johnny and hooks his arms for a full nelson slam! Paddy connects and waits for Garbage Bag Johnny to get back up. Stalking Johnny, Paddy places a strategic boot to GBJ’s midsection. Garbage Bag hunches over, and Paddy lifts him up for the St. Columb’s Cross.
Dave Kern: If Paddy hits this crucifix powerbomb, he can score the first fall of this match.
Jeff Marx: I think they should tally up the nut shots and decide the winner that way.
Before Paddy can slam GBJ down, Garbage Bag Johnny begins wriggling, and he wriggles his way free, slipping down along Paddy’s back. Paddy turns around, but it’s already too late, and GBJ is ricocheting back off of the ropes. GBJ tries for the wrap around DDT, but Paddy catches him on his shoulders and begins spinning for an airplane spin. The airplane spin dizzies Johnny, but it also eats precious time off the sudden death clock. By the time Paddy stops spinning and plants Johnny with a Death Valley Driver, it’s already back to normal time.
18:00
Paddy drops down for the cover after the Death Valley Driver.
Dave Kern: I think Paddy held onto that airplane spin too long. He’s going to pay for it.
ONE!
TWO!
Garbage Bag Johnny kicks out after two.
Dave Kern: Yep. That just cost Paddy a pin.
Jeff Marx: Maybe it cost him two pins. He got two counts.
Paddy pulls Garbage Bag Johnny up and whips him into the turnbuckle, Garbage Bag Johnny hits chest first, and Paddy’s there to follow up grabbing GBJ by the nape and slamming him back into the turnbuckle. Paddy turns GBJ around and starts hitting him with a flurry of punches and chops. Paddy works in a few straight jabs to the face and finishes off with a kick to the balls!
Dave Kern: Dirty Tricks by Paddy O’Shea!
Jeff Marx: Haha! I think that’s eleven or twelve!
Paddy lifts the hunched over GBJ to the top rope, and he calls for the Top Of The Morn! Paddy climbs up to the top rope, straddling GBJ with two hands on GBJ’s head. Before he can leap off, though, Garbage Bag Johnny sends a balled fist up to Paddy’s balled balls. Paddy hunches over in pain.
Jeff Marx: Thirteen!
Paddy’s body folds easily over GBJ’s shoulders, and GBJ stands up on the top rope! GBJ leaps off and plants Paddy O’Shea with a Super Tragically Hipbuster! Paddy is down! Garbage Bag Johnny catches his breath.
Dave Kern: There’s no doubt that this is going to be the first pinfall of the match.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
15:52 – GBJ: 1/Paddy: 0
Dave Kern: The AWC champion takes the first pinfall almost halfway into the match.
Jeff Marx: But more importantly we’re just short of averaging one ball shot per minute. I think that’s pretty reputable, but Paddy and Garbage Bag are going to have to finish strong if they want to impress Jeff Marx.
Dave Kern: Somehow, I don’t think that’s either competitor’s main agenda.
Jeff Marx: Well it should be.
Michael Ryan separates the competitors and gives Paddy time to recover before letting the two go at each other again. GBJ with the obvious advantage at the moment starts into Paddy O’Shea with a knee lift to the gut. Paddy hunches over, and Garbage Bag Johnny sets him up with a sloppy dropkick to the face. Paddy stumbles off of the ropes and comes down to a high back body drop from GBJ. Garbage Bag Johnny runs off of the ropes and comes back with a high jumping leg drop, but Paddy rolls out of the way, and GBJ lands in a sitting position in the middle of the ring. Paddy is quick to land a dropkick to the back of Garbage Bag’s head. GBJ’s body folds and bounces back up. Paddy is back with a soccer kick to Garbage Bag’s spine.
Dave Kern: Paddy looks a little bit sore, but he’s in control of this match once again.
Paddy kneels down and applies a quick dragon sleeper on GBJ. He digs his knee into GBJ’s back, and GBJ winces in pain.
Jeff Marx: Submission holds are boring unless they involve some sort of scrotal manhandling.
Dave Kern: What?
Jeff Marx: I said I need ghost spray. I’m being possessed by Steven Smith again!
14:00
With one minute left until the third sudden death period, GBJ begins arching his back, and Paddy stands up. With GBJ trying to fight out of the hold, Paddy quickly spins his body and drops the weight of his arm down across GBJ’s neck, sending him down with an inverted spinning bulldog. Paddy drops down for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Garbage Bag Johnny kicks out easily after two, but Paddy stays on him. Paddy peels Garbage Bag Johnny up and rocks his face with a European uppercut. GBJ stumbles back and Paddy whips him off of the ropes. GBJ runs back to meet a kick right to the gut, and with GBJ hunched over, Paddy runs off of the opposite ropes and rocks GBJ with a swinging neckbreaker. GBJ pops up to his feet in a daze, and Paddy watches him. GBJ swings back at Paddy, but Paddy sidesteps and pushes GBJ off of the ropes GBJ comes back awkwardly, and Paddy flips him up and nails him with an inverted atomic drop!
Jeff Marx: Fourteen!
Sudden Death Round 3
The slick Irishman notices the bell chiming to signify the sudden death round. He takes advantage by planting GBJ with a surefire Emerald Isle Fusion. Paddy drapes himself over GBJ for the elementary cover.
ONE!
12:45 – GBJ: 1/Paddy: 1
Dave Kern: It’s all even now!
Michael Ryan resets the match, allowing both competitors to stand. As soon as GBJ is shakily on his feet, Paddy charges at him again with a flurry of punches. GBJ is staggered, and Paddy goes for a final swing that staggers him. GBJ drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes, as sacks of potatoes have a hazardous tendency to be dropped on the ground. GBJ, unlike a downed sack of potatoes, however, bounces back up, charging at Paddy with a clothesline. Paddy ducks again and catches GBJ skillfully with a neckbreaker.
Dave Kern: Paddy is really taking advantage of this sudden death round!
With GBJ on the ground, Paddy lifts both of GBJ’s legs and leaps in the air smashing his knee into GBJ’s privates.
Jeff Marx: Fifteen!
Paddy, who still has a hold of GBJ’s legs, flips over him for a bridge pin.
ONE!
Dave Kern: Paddy just took the lead there!
12:21 – GBJ: 1/Paddy: 2
Michael Ryan separates the superstars again, and GBJ takes his time getting up, trying to reset the sudden death clock. Paddy, growing impatient, and looking to capitalize on his lead charges at GBJ, but GBJ sidesteps, and Paddy crashes off of the turnbuckles. He comes back at Garbage Bag Johnny who flattens Paddy with a desperation clothesline. Both superstars get up at around the same time as the sudden death round ends.
Dave Kern: Paddy has the advantage going into the fourth round of this match after picking up two quick pins in the sudden death round.
Jeff Marx: The good news is that there’s only twelve minutes left, but the bad news is that after these twelve minutes, we’re not going to get to see another man squirming around in testicular pain. I can’t believe we have two women in the main event. Women don’t have balls.
Dave Kern: Very astute, there, Jeff, but Darcy Crisis is a man.
Jeff Marx: A man named Darcy is just about as believable as exploding heads on a televised wrestling show.
Paddy is still quick on the offensive as he sends a boot to GBJ’s midsection. This time, GBJ catches the foot, and Paddy hobbles around on one foot before GBJ ducks under his enziguri attempt. This leaves Paddy facing the other way, GBJ still holding onto one of his feet. With Paddy hopping on one foot, GBJ quickly releases Paddy’s foot and tugs on his waistband as Paddy regains his balance. With Paddy’s tights now around his ankles and the audience in hysterics at Paddy’s shamrock printed undergarments, GBJ waits for Paddy to bend over to pull up his pants before slamming him in the center of the ring with a bulldog!
Dave Kern: That’s the Legendary Depants Combo 2, suspiciously similar to a move performed by PRIME superstar Nova.
Jeff Marx: I’m going to count that as number sixteen just on stylistics.
Paddy, who is barely fazed by the bulldog rolls over onto his stomach to finish pulling his pants up, but he is interrupted by GBJ sliding a dropkick to Paddy’s head. Paddy spins around 180 degrees with his pants still around his ankles, and GBJ climbs up to the top rope.
Dave Kern: He’s signaling for the Dumpster Dive!
Jeff Marx: And Paddy still doesn’t have his pants up.
Unfortunately for GBJ, Paddy has another dirty trick up his sleeve as he catches an unassuming Michael Ryan by the ankle. Ryan trips into the ropes, crotching GBJ on the top turnbuckle, and with pants still around his ankles, Paddy climbs up to the top rope and leaps back, bringing GBJ along for the ride and the facebuster!
Dave Kern: Top of the Morning! And with his BVD’s exposed!
Paddy finds himself out of luck as he pantslessly covers Garbage Bag Johnny. Michael Ryan appears to be down and GBJ is out. O’Shea gets up, finally pulling his tights back up as he stirs Michael Ryan back to his refereeing duties. As O’Shea walks back to the now conscious GBJ, however, with Ryan in toe, GBJ catches O’Shea by surprise with a small package pin. Ryan drops down to count, this time not noticing GBJ’s illegal hold on Paddy’s tights and GBJ’s leverage on the ropes!
Jeff Marx: Another Super Illegal Pin!
Dave Kern: Even though the level of illegality is stated as “super” by the name, I think both of these superstars are comfortable with their dirtiness.
ONE!
TWO!
THR…!
Dave Kern: My God! Paddy kicks out and maintains his lead!
9:30
Garbage Bag cannot believe the fallibility of his Super Illegal Pin, and he gets up and starts to argue with Michael Ryan a bit, albeit good naturedly. Paddy tries to pull a fast one on him, rolling GBJ up from behind and pulling on the red shorts of doom for good measure.
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea giving Garbage Bag a taste of his own medicine.
ONE!
TWO!
Garbage Bag Johnny rolls out, a bit more infuriated. He lands on his feet after a backwards somersault, and Paddy springs up, charging at GBJ with a Lou Thesz Press. GBJ avoids the aerial O’Shea, landing a fist to Paddy’s midsection. Paddy lands with locked knees, bounces off of the ropes, and comes back at Garbage Bag Johnny who scoops him up, spins once, and drops him with the Upside Down Trash Compactor! GBJ seizes the opportunity for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Paddy O’Shea kicks out after two! The Man From the Caravan doesn’t have any quit in him as he looks to preserve the lead, but Garbage Bag Johnny doesn’t give Paddy a chance to recuperate this time. GBJ holds the pin down and lands some mounted punches on Paddy O’Shea. After his assault, GBJ peels Paddy O’Shea back up and whips him off of the ropes. Paddy reverses the whip, though, and GBJ runs right back into the Paddy-Go-Round!
8:15
Dave Kern: Another high impact move from Paddy O’Shea, and time is winding down. Paddy’s lead is only one, right here, but it could be two after this!
Jeff Marx: We’re ripe for a ball shot.
Paddy drops down to cover Garbage Bag Johnny.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: Close on there, but Garbage Bag Johnny gets his shoulder up, and we’ve got about a minute left until the sudden death period.
Paddy pulls Garbage Bag Johnny back up and knocks him against the ropes with a series of punches. Paddy rears back and clotheslines GBJ over the top rope, the velocity taking both men to the outside in a tumbling pile.
7:30
Dave Kern: And this is a smart strategy by Paddy. Garbage Bag can’t cut down on Paddy O’Shea’s lead from the outside.
Paddy and Garbage Bag get up to their feet at around the same time, and Paddy charges at GBJ with a clothesline. Garbage Bag ducks it, and Paddy turns around to catch GBJ’s foot in mid kick. Paddy spins GBJ around by the foot, and when GBJ turns to face Paddy, Paddy whips GBJ into the ring post. GBJ bounces off of the ring post, and Paddy lifts GBJ from behind and puts him in a tree of woe position on the guard rail. Paddy backs up a few steps and charges in with a running knee towards GBJ’s chest.
Dave Kern: Paddy looks to have this match under control.
Jeff Marx: Screw that. Hit him in the balls!
Sudden death round 4
Paddy pulls GBJ into a sitting position on the guard rail as he mounts the guard rail himself and security clears the fans away behind the two of them. Paddy, standing right by GBJ leaps backwards and connects with another Top of the Morn, smashing GBJ’s face against the front row seating!
Dave Kern: That did not look good for the AWC champion!
Jeff Marx: BUT, his balls are still in tact for the moment.
As time eats its way off the clock, Paddy resurfaces from the mess of chairs. He tosses folding chair after folding chair away, looking for GBJ, who emerges from the pile with blood streaming from his forehead and tangling itself in his messy beard. Paddy pulls him up and whips him back into the guard rail. The groggy Garbage Bag Johnny hits the rail waist first and flips over, landing on his back on the security mats. Paddy takes his time getting back over to the other side, confidently picking Johnny up and slamming GBJ back first against the corner of the ring apron.
6:25
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny is wincing in pain, right now.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, I’ve stopped caring. If they’re not going to hit each other in the acorns anymore, I don’t see why I should pay attention.
Paddy backs up and charges into GBJ, sending his shoulder into Johnny’s breadbasket. Johnny hunches over in front of the ring and Paddy picks him up for a suplex before viciously dropping Johnny forward- GBJ’s stomach bouncing off the edge of the ring apron before falling down to the ground. Paddy walks around, watching GBJ and waiting for the sudden death period to end.
Dave Kern: We’re approaching the last phase of this match!
Jeff Marx: It’s about damn time.
6:00
Paddy strategically climbs back into the ring, trying to let the clock run. GBJ, tries catching his breath in a pile on the floor, but noting the sense of urgency, Garbage Bag Johnny slides back into the ring to meet a welcoming set of boots from Paddy O’Shea. GBJ is then helped to his feet thanks to Paddy O’Shea who kicks him in the stomach and plants GBJ with a DDT. Paddy then grabs GBJ’s leg, trying to flip him for the Shamrock Leglock.
Dave Kern: GBJ has to fight this. A submission maneuver will only eat more time off of the clock, if not cause another fall in Paddy’s favor!
Jeff Marx: Maybe Paddy can do us all a favor and try to figure out a way to eat time off the clock a little faster.
Dave Kern: That’s physically impossible.
GBJ is fending off the submission attempt successfully, kicking his free leg wildly and eventually scoring a shot to Paddy’s nuts that causes Paddy to emphatically drop the hold.
Jeff Marx: Seventeen!
Dave Kern: I’m glad you’re back into this.
Paddy doesn’t go down, he rubs his clipped nut in pain before pouncing back towards GBJ, grabbing the same leg. GBJ has recuperated enough, though, to get back to one foot. Hopping on one foot, it appears that GBJ tries an enziguri, but instead of kicking Paddy in the head, he shifts his body and jumps completely on Paddy’s shoulders. GBJ spins his body around Paddy’s face and downs him with a hurricanrana.
Dave Kern: Tremendous display of athleticism by Garbage Bag Johnny.
A disoriented O’Shea rolls back up. He charges at GBJ with an Angry and Intoxicated kick to the face, but GBJ ducks under it and catches the off balance Paddy O’Shea with another Tragically Hipbuster! GBJ quickly drops for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
4:45 GBJ: 2/Paddy: 2
Dave Kern: It’s tied now with less than five minutes to go!
Jeff Marx: Thank God. I have to pee.
Referee Michael Ryan restarts both competitors with the score now evened up again. GBJ is breathing heavily. Paddy looks a little bit less worn. The two competitors meet in the center of the ring, tying up again as if the match has just started.
Jeff Marx: How much time left now?
Dave Kern: Four minutes and forty seconds.
Jeff Marx: How about now?
Dave Kern: Christ, Jeff. Just pee into my empty water bottle.
Paddy O’Shea gains the advantage this time, powering GBJ back into one of the corners. Paddy boots GBJ in the gut and then whips him across the ring before giving chase. GBJ catches the top ropes to either side of his body before springing up to the top rope and backflipping off. GBJ lands on his feet, albeit awkwardly while Paddy stops himself right before hitting the turnbuckle. Paddy turns around and walks right into a standing dropkick from Garbage Bag Johnny. Paddy stumbles and lands in a spread legged sitting position in the corner.
Jeff Marx: Number eighteen, coming right up!
Dave Kern: Jeff! Keep your eyes on the bottle. You’re dripping on my shoes.
Jeff Marx: Sorry.
And just as Marx predicted, GBJ, bloody faced and on fire, slides feet first right into Paddy’s groin! Paddy howls in pain, and GBJ pulls Paddy O’Shea up against the buckles. Garbage Bag lands two quick kicks to the midsection before completing the turn with a jumping spinning back kick. Paddy stumbles along the ropes, holding his smarting face, and GBJ whips Paddy off of the opposite ropes. Paddy comes back with a head of steam, aiming for a clothesline on Johnny, but Johnny ducks and mule kicks right between Paddy O’Shea’s legs. Paddy doubles over quickly.
Jeff Marx: Nineteen!
Dave Kern: Christ, Jeff…the bottle! You’re like an excitable dog.
3:00
Garbage Bag capitalizes landing Paddy high on his back with a Japanese powerbomb. The stumbling Johnny climbs to the top rope and leaps off majestically with a Dumpster Dive. Ryan down for the count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
2:53 – GBJ: 3/Paddy: 2
With less than three minutes remaining in the match, referee Michael Ryan restarts the match for the fifth time, both competitors standing in their neutral corners as Ryan stands between them with cautionary arms until they’re ready.
Dave Kern: Garbage Bag Johnny quickly regained the lead here, and Paddy’s got to rethink his strategy.
Jeff Marx: I just want to see nut shot number twenty, and then I can go home happy.
Dave Kern: You’re a simple man, Jeff Marx.
Paddy, charged by urgency, runs towards GBJ with ferocity, spearing him into the corner, but GBJ is able to block and fend off Paddy’s assault, pushing Paddy back into the center of the ring. Paddy charges at GBJ one more time with a running spear, but Garbage Bag moves out of the way, and Paddy splits the second and third rope and rams himself turnbuckle first into the ringpost.
Dave Kern: I heard that one from here!
Paddy frees himself from the ropes and steps right into a snap dragon suplex from Garbage Bag Johnny! Garbage Bag goes for the pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Paddy kicks out, but it’s clear that he was jarred from the snap dragon suplex. Paddy gets up again with GBJ circling and stalking Paddy from behind. He locks in and tries another snap dragon suplex! GBJ drops down for the pin.
Dave Kern: According to Garbage Bag Johnny, his middle name is snap dragon suplex.
Jeff Marx: I thought his middle name was bag.
ONE!
TWO!
THRE-!
1:20
Dave Kern: So close! And 20 seconds until the last minute of this match!
Jeff Marx: Hallelujah!
Paddy kicks out again! It’s clearer that he was even more jarred from the second snap dragon suplex. Paddy gets up again with GBJ circling for a second time. GBJ grabs Paddy in a full nelson, and Paddy reacts this time with a mule kick!
Jeff Marx: TWENTY!
Garbage Bag Johnny crumbles into a pile with just over a minute left, and Paddy, noticing GBJ’s positioning, looks to even things up with a submission maneuver. GBJ is less resistant this time, and Paddy locks him ably in the Shamrock Leglock!
Final Sudden Death Round!
Dave Kern: Paddy looking to force this one into overtime with a submission fall in the last minute.
Jeff Marx: What? This thing goes longer if there’s a tie?
Dave Kern: I’d imagine so, that wasn’t covered in the manual.
Jeff Marx: Crap! That homeless son of a bitch better not tap.
Paddy has the hold cinched on tight, GBJ is looking for a way to the ropes, but he can barely move with his leg being pulled and his neck wrenched. He tries squirming his way towards any side of the ring, but he isn’t making much progress.
0:45
Garbage Bag Johnny has moved maybe a foot, and Paddy begins to notice. Paddy starts walking backwards, still with Johnny in the hold, to get him to the center of the ring. He cinches the hold tighter, and GBJ looks to be in pain.
0:30
Jeff Marx: TAKE THE PAIN JOHNNY! TASTE IT AND LOVE IT!
Dave Kern: Didn’t you say that at the last Pay Per View?
Jeff Marx: Yeah, and Hyde sigged it, so I thought I’d say it again.
Pierre Hyde: Actually George Cassidy said it.
Dave Kern: What?
Jeff Marx: You’re not cool enough to understand.
Pierre Hyde: Nor are you.
Johnny looks like his limbs are shutting down in the ring. Referee Michael Ryan lifts GBJ’s arm awkwardly once, and it drops. He lifts it a second time to the same result.
Dave Kern: This one may or may not be going into overtime!
Jeff Marx: God no.
Josh Kalvelage: God no, indeed. I’m tired of typing, and I just want to go eat some sandwiches and watch The Mighty Boosh videos on YouTube.
Dave Kern: Who the hell are you?
Josh Kalvelage: Uh…the ghost of Steven Smith, yeah, that’s it! Booooooooo! I love penis!
0:15
Michael Ryan drops Johnny’s arm for a third time, but before the hairy limb hits the mat, it’s recharged by some mysterious force (aka Garbage Bag Serum – get your shipment today!). Paddy can’t believe it. There are only fifteen seconds left; fifteen seconds to clench tighter, to scream like a madman, bobbing his head back and forth, mustering as much pull as he can.
0:08
GBJ’s hand is extended outward. It’s shaking. It’s wavering up and down, but it doesn’t yet hit the canvas. He raises his hand, he’s about to lower it.
0:04
He clenches his fist. His knuckles are white; white with pain. But he holds on.
0:00 – GBJ: 3, Paddy: 2
Pierre Perroquet: And ze winner of zees match and steel AWC champion, Garbage Bag Johnny!
Dave Kern: And Garbage Bag Johnny has done it! GBJ is still the AWC champion after a thirty minute long test from Paddy O’Shea.
Garbage Bag Johnny stands up, sorely, as Paddy O’Shea is pounding on the ropes, but as Ryan tries to raise GBJ’s arm in victory, GBJ brushes past and puts a hand on Paddy’s back. Paddy turns around and GBJ offers a hand. Paddy looks at GBJ’s hand. He looks left and right and then back at the hand. And then he shakes it…
And neither competitor kicks the other in the balls.
Running The Gauntlets
FEATURING: MICKEY MOORE, MIKE WADE, JACK MURPHY
AUTHOR: MIKE WADE
"Mike Wade’s Office", it reads across the door. A cheer goes up from the arena audience believing their newly beloved commish was about to be on screen. They were to be disappointed. Yes it was Mike Wade’s office but the only person there seemed to be his 2 foot 5 inch leprechaun manager, Mickey Moore.
FLUSH......
Hold up. Coming from his self made en suite, it's Mike Wade. Another pop for the man with the power. He sits at his desk, clearly inspired from theatrical American Presidential ones.
Mickey Moore: How did ya get plumbin in there laddie?
Mike Wade: Plumbing?
Mickey Moore: Yeah I mean all ya did was put up a room seperator how did they plum in a toilet for ya?
Mike Wade: Na no plumbin Mickey, I just pissed on the floor there.
Mickey Moore: Classy.
Mike Wade: You know what though Mickey while I was in there pissing all over the floor a thought occurred to me.
Mickey Moore: Did it hurt?
Mike Wade: Excuse me Mickey but you're the one that’s a midget and ginger plus I've seen your penis it's non existent, don't ever try and jeer me again. But anyway you know how I am the greatest champion AWC has ever had right?
Mickey Moore: Of course holding the Frontier title, the Relentless title and the Alliance title all at once?
Mike Wade: Correct. Well I've noticed since I dropped those titles nothing has really been done with them. And also with Johnny Lexicon winning the newly re-formed Livewire title earlier this only clouds further the two titles I made famous, the Frontier and Relentless titles.
Mickey Moore: True. What's your point laddie?
Mike Wade: My point is simple Mickey. You've got a big dumb animal holding up the Relentless belt and some poofter holding up the Frontier belt, neither of which deserve the titles, so I've devised a plan.
Mickey Moore: A plan?
Mike Wade: To onatemporarybasis unite the Frontier title and the Relentless titles and create one super Relentless/ Frontier title!
A pop stirs from the crowd with the announcement Mike is going a roundabout way of making.
Mike Wade: There's gonna be two "gauntlets" held over the next 3 weeks of Fresh! One is for the Relentless title, one is for the Frontier title. The champion will defend the belt against a different opponent each week up until Triangles. Whoever holds both belts come Triangles will face each other in a match with the winner taking it all!
Mickey Moore: Wow. You're...
Mike Wade: A genius? I know. It's all about ratings Mickey and Mike Wade= ratings.
Mickey Moore: But who's gonna be in these gauntlets?
Mike Wade: Easy! On the Frontier Gauntlet is: Darcy Crisis (the champion), AgentDash, Chainz and Aimz. And the Relentless title one will be: GA (champion), Red Rock, Captain Suleimon and... who else could I put in there?
FLUSH!!!
From behind the "room separator" steps an ominous figure. He plonks down a briefcase on the desk and opens it up. Its display reads:
"Grand Slam Package contract: Good for 1 Relentless title shot"
The camera pans up to reveal Jack Murphy next to Mike Wade. Both Irish men smile.
Mike Wade: I guess that settles it then. Don't forget to check out awc.supremepixels.com to check out the tournament week by week.
Mickey Moore: That's it?
Mike Wade: You want more?
Mickey Moore: Yeah!
Mike Wade: OK. Tell you what. Not only does the winner at Triangles get both belts. He or she also gets a free entry into the Triangles match itself. Choke on that. How does that sound Murphy?
Jack Murphy: Sweet...
Darcy Crisis vs Aimz
STIPULATION: NO LOVE LOST
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: KATIE AND NATHAN
Dave Kern: Well folks, we're finally ready for our main event…
Jeff Marx: Dave, please don't do this…
Dave Kern: A decade of tumultuous history is about to come to a head as two of AWC's biggest names, "The Red Raver" Aimz and our Frontier champion, Darcy Crisis, clash at the horns, and the stakes couldn't be higher!
Jeff Marx: Come on Dave, I'm begging you. There's still time to pull out… you don't have to do this.
Dave Kern: These two have quite the history, a history far predating that of the Atlantic Wrestling Club. Darcy Crisis came to the AWC on Aimz' heels, seeking the one-on-one match with Amy Campbell that had eluded him for so long.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, yeah… so monumental that Crisis, the chicken shit that he is, refused to put his Frontier title on the line. I still don't see why---
Dave Kern: What we're about to be treated to here goes above and beyond a normally, AWC-sanctioned match. This match has very little to do with AWC, in fact. This is a long-destined encounter between two of the industry's greats. SO monumental is this match, Jeff Marx, that we can't call it alone.
Jeff Marx: Oh geez…
Dave Kern: So ladies and gentlemen, joining us now is a man who knows these two combatants better, possibly better than anyone in AWC ever could. Please welcome to the broadcast table… the one and only voice of Pier Six Wrestling, Mr. Colin Wilson!
The camera pans out from its focus on Kern and Marx to reveal the well-spoken former PSW announcer sitting to Kern's right.
Colin Wilson: Thank you very much, Dave. It's a pleasure to call this match between two of PSW's greatest legends.
Jeff Marx: You mean it's a pleasure to finally be collecting a check for the first time in half a decade. You know Jeff, I toiled long and hard having to sit next to that nancy boy Steven Smith, and I sure as hell didn't do it so you could bring in this washed up goon.
Colin Wilson: A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir.
Dave Kern: Hold the phone, gentlemen… I'm receiving word that Crisis and Aimz are standing just a few feet from each other backstage. Our cameras will take you there now…
***
The feed switches to show Darcy Crisis and Aimz indeed standing only a few feet from each other. Shocking, considering the two are only moments away from trying to tear each other apart, but if either of the two are having difficulty showing restraint they certainly aren't showing it. Darcy creaks his neck to work it loose as Aimz hops up and down, trying to get the blood flowing.
Darcy Crisis: Nervous?
Aimz: Just weirded out because the tiny part of me that doesn't want to kick you in the balls right now is a little turned on.
Darcy Crisis: Well then. I'm only sorry that after tonight I won't be there to enjoy it. The sex was great, I have to admit.
Amy raises an eyebrow.
Aimz: Oh, so it's back to boinking preppy college whores after this, or do you just plan to drink your LSTea until some fangirl's pretty?
Darcy Crisis: Haven't decided. But I'll be sure to tell you alllllll about it…
Darcy now begins rotating his shoulders, hoping to get the sockets good and lose. Nothing ruined the opportunity to bodyslam your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend like improper rotation…
Darcy Crisis: By the way… I figured out that Harber and Drake were behind these stunts you've been pulling. And you're a bitch for not telling me.
Aimz wasn't a fan of much stretching. She'd done her pseudo-yoga, and now simply wanted to concentrate on the task at hand... and trying to remove the fact that she whole-heartedly loved the man who would fall victim to that task from her mind.
Aimz: You found out that I was forced to do something that you were pissed over because you thought I was doing it of my own will. Hmm. Now I'm a bitch for not telling you, because you totally wouldn't have thrown a world-ending tantrum if you'd found out before. Nah, you'd have NEVER gotten us both fired. Honestly, why do you hate me this much?
Darcy Crisis: Because I can't decide what I'm more tired of - the bullshit, or the lying you keep doing to cover up the bullshit. We used to be a team, you and I… but now you've seen fit to just go behind my back about one goddamn thing after another. Somewhere along the line I hit my breaking point… and now I'm just about ready to go out there and break all over your sorry ass.
Their argument is briefly interrupted as ring announcer Pierre Perroquet's voice overtakes the arena to announce the main event.
Pierre Perroquet: Zee followeeng ees zee main eevent… zee "No Love Lost" seengles contest!
Aimz: You're clueless. When I'm not covering your ass, I'm getting bitched at for covering your ass. There's a difference between straight-up lying and trying to keep things under wraps so you can resolve the situation in the best way for everyone. Unlike you, I no longer fix things by prancing around with guns trying to look like a hero. I also don't find much of a solution in beating the snot out of you, but I guess that's what it's come to... you can only 'know' me if I break your nose or something. I seriously could have just done that back in East Bay, but as always you have to 'resolve' things with some selfish scheme. I'll give it to you, though... at least you didn't run too far this time. You stayed in the same country as me, nice work.
That's when she catches herself with a tear falling down one cheek.
Aimz: You know what? Piss off. You don't know who the hell you are anymore, and that's not my fault. I didn't drive a wedge in this, and I'm honestly terrified to go out there and have you slap me around because, even NOW -- at this very fucking moment -- all I want to do is hug you, lay my head on your chest and let things be better. I want that feeling of home, that sickening calm that just touching you causes me. Now you've taken that away, and all that's left is a need to shield my face from your fist. That's absolutely pathetic, and all you're doing is the same old Darcy Markson play... screw things up until I have to beg you to 'fix' things and you come out the saint. I've got news for you... you're the one who abandons me at every fucking turn, and I'd rather be dead than live with you breaking my heart all over again. There. It's how I feel. Now you can laugh and put me in a leglock knowing that you're right and I'm just some silly girl... I'll see you out there, and I hope you break my god damned neck.
Just as the last of her words escape her lips, "Superunknown" by Soundgarden hits, putting an end to their war of words… for now. Darcy takes a few extra moments to let her choice words soak in… after all, after as much turmoil that the two had been through in recent weeks, the last thing Darcy expected to hear was Amy still admitting that she missed him. But he did his best to appear unphased, and after former Soundgarden frontman Chris Cornell crooned his theme music's opening lyrics, Darcy turned to look at Amy one last time.
Darcy Crisis: Good luck, Campbell. Actually, I'm sorry… what I meant to say was… break a leg.
***
Dave Kern: …wow.
Jeff Marx: Ladies and gents, we're about to see some bona fide wife-beating out here tonight. I'm suddenly very excited.
Colin Wilson: I… don't believe Darcy and Aimz are married, Jeff.
Jeff Marx: You know what I mean! Get ready for domestic violence '06!
Crisis makes his delayed entrance, emerging from the curtain with his AWC Frontier title in tow. The Spanish fans are delighted to see him, eliciting a raucous roar for one half of the main event as he makes his way to the ring. But unlike his usual entrance, where Darcy enjoys working the crowd and soaking in their reaction, tonight he is fueled solely by pure intensity. He walks to the ring with a deathly focus in his eyes… slowly, but deliberately.
Pierre Perroquet: First, from Eest Bay, California… weighing een at 227 pounds, he ees the AWC Frontier champion… DARCEE CRISIS!
Again, Crisis appears methodical in his approach, and a scowl appears to be etched permanently into his face as the white spotlights make the white lettering of his brand-new "TARGETED FOR DARCINATION!" sleeveless shirt. Darcy chooses to roll underneath the ropes rather than sliding through as per usual. The fans are still on their feet, but it looks as if Darcy pays them little heed as his eyes are centered on the entranceway. He quickly hops from one foot to the other, shaking his head as well to loosen his joints in preparation for the biggest match of his life.
Jeff Marx: Well, well… he couldn't put the title on the line, but he can sure as hell bring it with him to show off for everybody…
Dave Kern: He may not want the Frontier title to be a part of this match, but he's still the Frontier champion, and he still represents the AWC as such.
Colin Wilson: Let me put it to you this way - from what I understand, the Frontier championship is one of the more prestigious belts to be won in the wrestling world, and I know Darcy would never do anything to cheapen it. But he also won't cheapen this match by making it about anything other than what it is - the long awaited standoff with his estranged girlfriend and biggest rival.
Jeff Marx: Cheapen? As in, how your bald-headed ass is cheapening this main event right now?
Pierre Perroquet: And heez opponent…
"Prelude 12/21" by AFI, Katie's favorite band in the whole wide world, overtakes the arena. Out from the curtain steps the Red Raver, who has a look of furious determination that clearly matches the Darcinator's. The crowd greets her with a round of vociferous boos, but just like her boyfriend Aimz pays them absolutely no regard as she makes her own deliberate approach toward the ring.
Pierre Perroquet: From Holifox, Nova Scotia… weighing 147 pounds, she ees thee Red Raver… AIMZ!
Slowly, Aimz makes her way up the steel ringside steps, never taking her eyes off the man she once knew and loved so well. Cautiously, she steps between the ropes and into the ring, now separated from her counterpart by only senior official Lars Larsson. Still staring a hole into Aimz, Crisis hands his title to Larsson, who hands it outside the ring and out of harm's way. Aimz' song cuts, and the buzz from the crowd sums it up - this colossal encounter, and likely brutality, is only seconds from ensuing.
Dave Kern: Here we go, folks… this match will be one for the ages. And the stakes couldn't be higher - to the winner goes the ultimate decision of their future. Darcy Crisis has made it painfully clear that he wants Aimz out of his life, and he made this match in hopes that he might get his wish.
Colin Wilson: But, dare I say it… this has got to be the biggest match of young Aimz' career. She loves this man, Darcy Crisis, and she won't go down without a fight. It's a shame that it had to come to this, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to see who comes out on top here.
Jeff Marx: I just hope they beat the holy hell out of each other. And I hope Wilson here somehow gets thrown into the fray.
Larsson calls for the bell, and after three shrill chimes, this match of destiny is finally underway. Crisis and Aimz slowly circle each other, moving as if they were competing against live rattlesnakes rather than each other. Darcy is the first to strike, but his half-heartedly thrown punch misses its mark when the moving redheaded target ducks under his arm -- not much of a feat for her tiny frame -- and snakes around behind her confused assailant. He turns to face her, but she's already spun behind him again, and it causes Crisis to curse under his breath. It's fairly easy to tell that she's avoiding a direct brawl for as long as possible, and when he finally catches up to her cunning circling, Crisis is met with a nervous stare from a two-toned set of eyes.
Jeff Marx: What the hell is this crap? FIGHT, damn you!
Dave Kern: We've been hearing for weeks now from Aimz that she wanted no part of this match, and it doesn't look like she's changed her mind.
Colin Wilson: I don't think she ever wanted a part of this match, Dave. Crisis has made it perfectly clear that he wants this relationship over and done with… even if Aimz can beat him, how could they ever get along?
The feed can't picked it up, but it looks as if Amy mouths something to Darcy… a good lip-reader would make it out to be her asking if he really wanted to go through with this. When she's done muttering those words, Amy receives a stern nod from Darcy, who throws a punch once more... and this time, he's got her.
Dave Kern: And here we go! Crisis striking first with a stiff shot to the jaw!
Upon being struck, she lunges backwards and blinks, consumed with awe over the fact that Darcy DID, in fact, really just hit her. But the punch didn't scare her like she'd spent the past month assuming, instead it raises her ire. It's time for the real games to start, and Crisis can see the spirit begin to boil behind her eyes, but he doesn't hesitate to strike her again... and again. Instead of utilizing his grappling talents, he's playing Aimz' own game and brawling -- completely aware of the fact that he's much stronger than she is, and can easily win when matched equally. After watching her for years, he knows it's pointless to do anything but wrestle in the redhead's own style, if not just because her speed can easily overcome the size of any man.
Colin Wilson: I think anyone expecting a normal wrestling match from these two will be sorely disappointed… these two will likely brawl from start to finish.
Jeff Marx: I know I'M not disappointed, Colin. There are few things in life I enjoy more than a good catfight between two hot-headed ladies.
Colin Wilson: But Darcy's not---
Dave Kern: Don't bother, Colin…
He's still using his own elements, though, and it's more than apparent when he wraps his arms around her waist for the kind of bear hug she isn't used to recieving from the man she loves. Elbows begin to fly around Darcy's head, but Aimz' short arms are no match for his outright strength and she quickly finds herself gasping for air and pleading to be released. Those efforts are for naught, and Darcy communicates that by throwing her into a turnbuckle -- trying to make her very aware that neither of them are to treat the other normally while in this arena.
Dave Kern: Crisis throwing his weight around now… if he keeps this up this match could be very one-sided, with Aimz still refusing to mount a counter-attack.
Jeff Marx: If Aimz knew what was good for her, she'd get her ass out of the ring right now and come back with a rolling pin…
Dave Kern: This isn't Andy Capp, Jeff…
When Aimz turns back around, nursing a side of her face after impact, she sees a man different from the one she's known. He has the same body, but something in his eyes has changed... and both know to take off the kid gloves. That's when she launches herself backwards into the ropes, then against Crisis with a flying dropkick that he simply slaps away, having anticipated it too far in advance to let it land. Frustration is setting in as he lowers himself to the mat and grabs Aimz by a fistfull of red hair, pulling her up and putting her head under his arm. His 'Twist of Fate' style move lands perfectly, and she's left reeling from impact once more as Darcy kicks at her ribs, taunting her to fight back with more fervor.
Dave Kern: What impact from the D-Masta! Aimz looked she was finally coming after Crisis, but he put her down with authority!
Colin Wilson: Aimz just can't get it going, Dave. I don't care so much for Mr. Marx's "rolling pin" idea, but maybe it would be wise for her to get outside and regroup.
Jeff Marx: I don't think she's going to get the chance, Wilson…
... Crisis quickly gets the passion he was looking for from his fallen lover when she swings her hips up from the ground and lands both feet squarely between his legs, pushing him back with all of the power she can muster. He's sent back into the ropes, and Amy springs up from her back to her feet to run and hit a spear into Darcy's midsection that causes the both of them to launch between the middle rope, all the way to the semi-padded, but still surprisingly painful ringside flooring. Darcy fights back on the ground, shoving Aimz off of him and slamming her head off of the floor, then picking her up and... BAM! He sends her whole body clattering into the ring steps!
Colin Wilson: Good lord…
Dave Kern: It looked like Aimz finally had something going with that spear, but Crisis makes her pay dearly on the outside!
There seems to be plenty of love lost as Aimz desperately shields her ribs from more solid stomping that Darcy delivers with a sneer.
One boot!
Two!
TRIP!
Before he can crack one of the redhead's ribs, she trips him up and sends him stumbling a few steps back. It gives her just long enough to recover slightly and duck out of the way when he comes back looking to clothesline her into the apron. Darcy's gut gets an awful wrenching when he makes contact with the edge of the apron where he'd intended to place Amy's spine, and she capitalizes by grabbing HIM by the hair, asking "How does it feel?" under her breath and slamming Crisis' head into the apron once... twice... three times, fou-- ALMOST four, but he has enough strength in him to lean back against the pressure of her force. She's holding onto his scalp for dear life as he begins to send elbows flying backwards into her already battered ribcage in hopes of regaining his freedom. Most men earn freedom from women by going out to the club with 'the boys'... Darcy Crisis just so happens to do it by breaking a few of his lover's ribs, and Aimz doesn't look the least bit happy as she releases her grip on his hair and gets a direct punch to the head for her troubles. She's in an incredibly painful situation when he spears her to the ground and grabs her by the throat with both hands. The referee is trying to break up the choke, despite the match's hardcore rules, but it's to no avail as even Amy's shouting at Darcy can't break his grip.
Colin Wilson: Crisis continuing his assault… you know, it's like he has no conscience out there. I've seen him go up against men who wanted him dead, and he never came close to matching the intensity I'm seeing out of him now.
Jeff Marx: And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it, Wilson! I don't think OJ Simpson even beat Nicole this hard…
Dave Kern: Dude… not cool.
Those privy to a position near the front row can hear Darcy mutter clearly to Aimz overtop of the stunned silence of the audience.
"Remember what we always wanted for this. Raise the bar like I know you can."
Aimz continues to try breaking Darcy's grip and eventually knees him in the groin -- the second cheap shot of the night.
Dave Kern: Ohhhhhh! Crisis is down like a rock!
Colin Wilson: Dastardly tactics from the even more dastardly Aimz, but in her position I'd probably do the same!
Jeff Marx: Probably because you're a woman.
He rolls off to cup himself while she presses hands against her throat, trying to massage out the imprints of Darcy's fingers, but to no avail. She rolls twice and eventually sits up as Crisis continues writhing from the second merciless groin shot, and Amy is taking the time to get to her knees. They're both still on the outside, and only feet away from one another. Aimz decides to close the distance and crawls to Darcy, who's starting to stir back to life as his testicles drop back from his stomach, just in time to go for her dirtiest move yet -- rolling him over and throwing elbow drops from her kneeled position directly into his spine, causing yelps from Crisis, who's no stranger to back injury.
Dave Kern: Now Aimz has it together, and she's targeting that injured back of Darcy's!
Colin Wilson: Dave, I witnessed firsthand that horrific back injury he suffered in PSW. I still find it hard to believe that he even got back into the ring, but there's no way that back will ever get back to 100%.
As he spasms from the sudden, pointed shots to his already crippled back, Amy raises up to her feet while clutching her ribs and begins stomping down on him, but Darcy's smart enough to have already rolled over so all the redhead has striking access to is his stomach -- far less painful than a once-broken back.
Only seconds have passed, but Crisis is still on the floor when Aimz climbs into the ring and hops onto the turnbuckle, getting to the very top as Darcy sits up, looking for where she might be with burning rage in his eyes. This is the moment of hesitation, because he could easily get to his feet and catch her if she takes another half second... but that's not in the cards, because she dives almost instantly down to the floor, flying with an odd combination of a Shooting Star Press and a dying kitten with no formal training, without seeing that Darcy had already sat up. That's created an unfortunate situation, because he softens the blow when he sees her coming by shooting his arms out to catch her. Sure, they both end up on the floor, but now Amy's the one hurting more than Darcy thanks to her sad excuse for foresight.
Dave Kern: Aimz looking for the big move, but she comes up empty!
Colin Wilson: Not vintage high-flying Amy Campbell, that's for sure. I think she slipped coming off that top rope…
Jeff Marx: I'm telling you guys… rolling pin. It's her only shot.
He gets to his feet and hauls Amy to hers by the back of her tanktop. She's still groggy, and it only makes it easier for him to roll her back into the ring and slide in himself. That's when he puts her arms and throat over the bottom rope, and the crowd goes silent once more because they have absolutely no clue what he could be about to do...
Thankfully, it isn't much. He stomps between the small woman's shoulders, driving her throat into the rope several times before her limp body bounces away, leaving her gasping for air and grasping her throat once more -- which is only giving her opponent more time than he needs to grab one of her legs. Crisis twists Amy's leg around one of his own and falls back-first onto her, not only taking more of the wind from her sails, but crushing her almost entirely and nearly snapping one of her legs in two.
Dave Kern: Some innovative offense from the Darcinator here!
He unbinds their legs and slips around to grab her right arm and whole head into a crossface hold, using strength to his advantage by stretching her like a torture rack to a point where she begins to tap, but her arm reaches and slaps the ropes instead of canvas -- effectively ending Darcy's hope of full submission. He roars in frustration and releases her, kicking at her ribs a few times for good measure... but she rolls out of the ring and lands on her feet, wincing and groaning over the sudden escalation of pain from the pressure that standing puts on the leg Darcy just clearly injured. Despite agony, she leans down to grab for a weapon under the ring…
Colin Wilson: Well Crisis can't put her away on that exchange, but this match has still been all Darcy Crisis thus far.
Jeff Marx: Wait a minute here, I think Aimz is up to something…
Crisis backs into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring and shoots himself toward Amy with a baseball slide that looks like it's about to take her head off... but she blocks it with a steel chair! Shockwaves from the impact, which dents the chair are sent through every bone in Darcy's lower body. It knocked the chair out of the hands of Aimz, but she picks it up and slams it against Darcy's knees, which are bent over the apron as he recovers from the shot to the bottom of his feet.
Dave Kern: Aimz with a steel chair, and this match is about to get ugly!
Jeff Marx: Ugly like---
Dave Kern: I swear to God Marx, if you say "ugly like your mother" one more time, this headphone cord is going around your throat.
Colin Wilson: … about to get ugly, indeed!
One shot to the knees...
Two...
YES! Just as the chair strikes Darcy's knees a second time, he jolts his upper body to sit upright and grabs the business end of the folded chair, pushing it back into Aimz' face and seemingly breaking her nose. At the very least, it's got her broken open from the bridge of her nose, which begins to bleed from a gash as even more starts to flow from her nostrils. The surprise blow pushed her back into the barricade between the ring and the audience, and fans are patting her on the shoulders despite security. Some, rooting for Darcy, seem to get a little too handsy, but she's really too groggy to care... and that's when Darcy gets out of the ring, nearly punches an audience member and grabs Aimz away from the groping hands of the chubby fans who most likely sit writing self-important rants on eFed forums all day. His role as a protective boyfriend is in full-swing, until both realize once more that they're still in a match -- and that gives Amy the upper hand, because Darcy's too busy threatening fans not to touch her again to notice that she's swept him over in a Russian Leg Sweep.
Dave Kern: The Red Raver starting to mount a comeback here, and she's looking good after she introduced her steel friend into the match!
Colin Wilson: And this is something she's known for, DK - bending the rules and capitalizing on the momentum shift.
Jeff Marx: Ha ha ha! He just called you DK… like the video game monkey!
Dave Kern: Good grief…
Jeff Marx: You know, I'm actually starting to see the resemblance…
Instead of putting Darcy into some failed hold, Aimz takes a more intelligent route and sets the ring stairs that she'd been thrown into five minutes before back up, taking longer than she normally would to get to the top of the three simple steps due to the leg that's now hanging on by a string, but she still gets to the top in time to lean with her hands on her thighs and breathe while Darcy stands back up, stunned from the sudden move and snap back to reality he'd gotten at the hands of his on-again, off-again girlfriend. It doesn't take him long to get back to his feet and Amy jumps off of the steps in a split-second, sending him back down to the ground in a hurricanrana.
Dave Kern: Textbook hurricanrana from the Red Raver!
Jeff Marx: Well, she never did get around to introducing that rolling pin, but maybe she doesn't need it after all, DK… *snicker*
For some reason, Aimz' recovery from her own move isn't nearly as swift as one would normally find. A replay shows that her shoulder clipped the barricade just as Darcy was being flung to the ground between her thighs. She's laying, clutching her shoulder and leaning partially against the barricade in hopes of anticipating any attack Darcy has planned. Within a second or two, both are back on their feet, and Amy tries to continue some semblance of momentum by running toward Darcy, who's thankful that he'd injured her leg previously because she runs just slowly enough for him to pick her up by the torso and toss her in the air, letting her fly head-first onto the ring apron.
Colin Wilson: It looks like Aimz injured herself with that hurricanrana, and that could open the door for Crisis to retake control of this match.
Dave Kern: It was hard to believe no one would get injured in a match with such high-stakes, but Aimz is really looking banged up here,
... And maybe it was a little too far. After so many filthy moves in the match, Aimz is finally left laying almost lifeless on the floor surrounding the ring. Crisis is too busy climbing back into the ring for a few extra breaths to notice how he'd left his opponent, but Lars Larsson is fast to slide out of the ring and start checking on the fallen woman. Her breathing is shallow, and she's swaying her head on the ground from one side to another slowly, trying to stir her mind back to life. The ref begins to look to the ring announcer in slight panic, mouthing "Injury!"... which is just enough to catch Darcy's attention, and heart strings. He plays to the audience momentarily, but races out of the ring when he notices exactly how hurt Aimz is. She's not even able to try recovering, so he does it for her and shoves the ref out of the way. Instead of delivering another move, he pats at her cheek and begs for her to get her eyes open enough to meet his. Maybe he wants her revived so they can continue the match, or maybe it's deeper... either way, it doesn't seem like Aimz actually cares how panicked Crisis was getting, because she chuckles when her eyes shoot open and her fists start pounding the sides of his skull.
Jeff Marx: That sneaky bitch was playing 'possum, and Crisis pays for it!
Colin Wilson: She's used more than a few tricks to keep up with Darcy's size and strength advantage, and it's working out well enough I'd have to say.
Dave Kern: But what are we seeing here from Crisis? First assaulting a fan that got too close, then relenting his attacks when Aimz looked injured? This looks like a conflicted man here… you know him better than us Colin, what do you make of it?
Colin Wilson: To say Darcy Crisis is a conflicted man is like saying Kim Jong-Il is slightly off. I don't think I'm qualified to comment on his personal life, but I'll tell you this - if he keeps up that intensity that he had in the beginning of the match, he's damn near unstoppable. But if he continues to relent, Aimz will take advantage.
The Red Raver looks to do just that as she slips out from under him and manages to kick her feet into his head while still on her back, giving her enough time to stand back up and roll her tired boyfriend back into the ring. An elbow drop and a few boots to his back later, Aimz goes up high -- straight to the top turnbuckle and she's perched there comfortably, just waiting for it...
... And waiting...
And Crisis is up! That's when she uses all of her weight and momentum to down him with a cross-body. Completely ignoring the limping pain in her leg, she runs to the top of the post again and this time has nothing to wait for, she just flips off into an unbotched shooting star press, which is more impressive looking than it is truly painful, but it's enough to get her a moment to pin.
Dave Kern: High-flying Aimz with a series of big-risk, big-payoff maneuevers!
Jeff Marx: COVER!
She rolls Darcy over and drapes herself on him!
ONE!
TWO!
NO! He flings her off like a toy doll!
Dave Kern: First pinning predicament of the match, and Crisis powers out!
Colin Wilson: Here we go… Crisis has got to be kicking himself for letting Aimz get the upper hand, and let's see if he can capitalize after tossing her away.
Now he stands up and plays to the crowd, shouting for a rallying cry and removing his shirt to a sea of screaming girls, which only serves to raise the ire of the little redhead who'd currently probably like to snap the neck of any vagina-bearing creature that looked at Darcy the wrong way. Now Aimz is to her feet, flipping off the audience to a plethora of female boos and some male cheers. Once more, Darcy Crisis and Amy Campbell are staring one another down and circling, each ready to pounce at a moment's notice... only thing time, they're looking considerably worse for wear. Aimz is limping severely and Darcy's got one arm behind him to brace his back, but both have a renewed intensity in their expressions. Finally, it's down to more traditional wrestling as Darcy raises a hand, and Aimz follows raising her own and grasping them together, then swiftly ducks a strike from Darcy's free hand. She retaliates by kicking at his leg to get him on one knee, and rather impressively jumps on his thigh and swings a leg around to smash him in the side of the head with her full body. That trips her up, but Crisis falls backwards and crawls instinctively to the ropes, bracing himself by hanging his arms over the second rope while he grabs at the top to pull himself up.
Dave Kern: Now, after all the action outside and a steel chair, these two electing to try and outwrestle each other here.
Jeff Marx: Wonderful… I was just starting to get interested.
... But he doesn't quite make it! While Darcy had tried to get back to his senses, Aimz swung back into the ropes and used the momentum to run at Darcy, grabbing the middle and uppermost ropes while she straightens her body to full length and spins, her legs crashing straight into the face of the fallen Crisis. It's Rey Mysterio Jr's '619', and Aimz isn't quite trained enough to know it's full name but she executes it with perfect grace and a pop of adoration echoing from the crowd. At this point, your opponent is supposed to be reeling on their feet so you can set up a perfect second move, but Darcy's just sitting up as Amy soaks up the cheers sent her way. She steps back between the ropes and starts to go to work with fists on his head, leaning down to say something cocky... just as Crisis drives his head foreward, straight into hers! It's the redhead's turn to reel back against the ropes, but Darcy's wasting no time with fancy moves or fanfare. He grabs the small woman and flings her into position like a ragdoll, landing a legdrop across her neck and, when that's done, he wraps his legs around her throat and locks them together. Though rushed, it's a little move he likes to call THE DARCINATOR, a finishing triangle lock!
Dave Kern: DARCY CRISIS OUT OF NOWHERE WITH HIS SIGNATURE DARCINATOR!
Colin Wilson: No one ever escaped this in Pier Six Dave, and I don't think Aimz will be able to here!
At least, it should be a finisher...
Aimz looks ready to tap, but she almost instantly finds a loophole. They aren't very near to the ropes, but she uses her flexibility to an advantage by balancing all of her weight onto her shoulders and flinging her lower body into the air, swinging the toes of her boots against Darcy's stomach and ribcage just hard enough to get him to break the lock. He's as surprised that it worked as she is, but now Amy's on her feet and using the rope to brace herself on her hurt leg while she stomps away at Darcy's back again.
Dave Kern: Aimz finds a way out, and she's back on the offensive!
Colin Wilson: I stand corrected. Aimz obviously knows Crisis better than anybody else on the AWC roster… if anybody is going to escape his destructive Darcinator, it's her.
Jeff Marx: What a surprise, the new guy was wrong… definitely did not see that one coming. Definitely not.
The Red Raver runs back for a baseball slide, but Crisis rolls out of the way. Luckily, she lands on her feet on the outside, allowing her to slide back in quickly and jump up, executing a leg drop across Darcy's back when he's on his hands and knees recovering. That gives her a second to continue things in her favor, literally running up the turnbuckles to spin and jump off of the tope rope with a 450 splash.
Dave Kern: Look at that speed from the Red Raver!
Colin Wilson: It's what brought her to the dance, Dave, and she's using it to perfection here!
Jeff Marx: Hook and a cover!
ONE!
TWO!
Colin Wilson: She's got it!
THR---
Dave Kern: No! Crisis gets a shoulder up!
Jeff Marx: 0 for your last 2, C-Dub. I can see now what happened to your day job… wait, don't tell me… fired for gross incompetence?
Colin Wilson: Not quite. PSW closed down shortly after Crisis and Aimz skipped town.
Jeff Marx: And nobody else wanted to pick you up once you hit free agency… shocking. No, really.
After clapping her hands once in frustration for not earning the pinfall, Aimz lifts Darcy by his long black hair, looking to inflict more damage. Two quick jabs to the jaw later, Aimz attempts to send Darcy into the ropes, but her Irish Whip attempt is reversed by the easily stronger Crisis. This sends Aimz flying into the ropes, but on the rebound she does some purposeful flying of her own…
Dave Kern: Here comes Aimz with a flying cross-body!
But Darcy is quick to respond, catching her and using her own momentum against her, rolling through the attack and catching her in a pinning predicament of his own, hooking her injured leg for added measure.
Colin Wilson: Crisis looking for the cover!
However, before Larsson can get in there to make a count, Darcy is off of Aimz quicker than a cat, with Aimz' leg still in his grasp. He quickly takes the other, inserting his own right leg between Aimz' captured legs, twisting them over his into a nefarious pretzel. He turns himself around, and the move is complete.
Dave Kern: Sharpshooter! Sharpshooter by the Darcinator, and there's nowhere for Aimz to go!
Jeff Marx: And that injured leg of hers is hanging on by a thread, DK. There's no way out of this… game, set, match.
Aimz is screaming out of sheer pain, but refuses vigorously as Larsson asks her repeatedly if she can continue. But just as Jeff Marx so brazenly pointed out, she's a long way from any ropes that would allow her to escape the hold. The crowd is really buzzing now, sensing the match is all but over for the Red Raver. But with a sudden burst of strength, Aimz pushes herself up by the hands. Mustering with everything she has, Aimz moves a hand forward.
Dave Kern: Not so fast, Jeff! Aimz is fighting it!
And another.
Colin Wilson: Where is she getting this strength?
Already well beyond the point where any physical pain could even begin to match her mental and emotional anguish, Aimz fights the pain as she hand-walks closer and closer to safety. Incredulously, Darcy cinches back on the hold, but it does nothing to counter her determination. She presses on to the point where she's nearly an arm's length from the ropes, and she reaches forward in desperation.
Dave Kern: Aimz almost has it! Darcy's giving it everything he has!
Aimz brings her right arm forward, with her middle finger missing the ropes by mere millimeters, eliciting a collective gasp from the crowd. Bringing the arm back down, she pushes herself forward just a hair, and reaches forward with the left arm… but out of nowhere, Darcy uses her now lack of balance against her and steams forward, bringing the both of them right back to where they started.
Jeff Marx: Ha ha! There's no joy in Halifax, for mighty Aimz is about to tap out!
Sure enough, Aimz has her arm in the air… but with no ropes within reach, it can only be there for one reason… to vociferously slap the mat like there's no tomorrow, begging for mercy.
Colin Wilson: She's going to tap, there's no hope now…
Ah, but there was another reason. Raising her arm now as high as she can, Aimz whips it across her body, using the momentum to twist herself around. Completely surprised, this causes Darcy to stumble, and that's all Aimz needs. Mid-stumble, Aimz repeats her escape attempt once more, this time using Darcy's balance against him just as he had for her, and Aimz was able to twist herself completely around. And with both injured and non-injured legs joining forces, Aimz coils her legs and propels Darcy crashing away.
Dave Kern: Unbelievable! Aimz escapes certain doom in Darcy's sharpshooter, and she's right back in this!
Colin Wilson: Both of these competitors refuse to lie down. This is one hell of a match!
Jeff Marx: That's right, and you can only see it here on AWC! Unlike SOME companies that used to own both of these talents that didn't have the cojones to make it happen.
Aimz attempts to get back to her feet, but finding quickly that her injured leg is throwing a fit trying to hold her upright, she stumbles backward into a nearby turnbuckle. Slowly Crisis pulls himself back up, looking around for exactly where Aimz disappeared to. She was no longer in the ring… rather, once again perched on the turnbuckle, looking to take advantage of the confused Darcinator. She leaps… but the only part of Crisis that she catches is with her jaw, which meets his left boot front and center.
Dave Kern: DEAR GOD! Darcy Crisis just superkicked Aimz straight in the mouth, and she's out cold!
Darcy smiles, pointing to his brain as he admires his handiwork in the form of his unconscious, soon-to-be ex.
Jeff Marx: Look at that! Crisis knew all along that Aimz was coming off the top rope, and he psyched her out bigtime by playing none-the-wiser!
Colin Wilson: I think Darcy could win now by pin or by a ten-count from the referee, if he wanted. It's up to him at this point.
Darcy elects the former, and it's academic. Larsson drops for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
… … … … … … .?
As Larsson brings his hand down for three, Darcy suddenly pulls up.
Dave Kern: What's this? Crisis was just a count away from earning the victory, but he breaks the pinfall himself!
Jeff Marx: I don't know DK, but he's got his eye on something…
He's right; Darcy is looking straight outside the ring at the fallen steel chair that Aimz had used on him earlier. Sliding underneath the ropes to the outside, the Darcinator fetches the chair and heaves it back into the ring.
Dave Kern: And suddenly it makes sense - Crisis wants to inflict more damage on his unconscious girlfriend.
Colin Wilson: She's unconscious, and this is unconscionable, Dave. The victory is his, what does he have to gain from this malicious act?
Jeff Marx: My respect, for one thing! Cave her skull in Darcy!
Larsson is screaming at Darcy to leave off the chair, but he pays him no heed upon his return to the ring as he obtains the chair and now eyes Aimz, who still hasn't moved so much as an inch from the superkick. He looks as if he's aiming for her head with the chair, but at the last moment he comes up with a different plan. Dragging her by the leg to the middle of the ring, Darcy lays the steel chair underneath her head and heads for the top rope himself.
Dave Kern: Oh, no… I'm not sure exactly what Crisis has in mind, but it certainly spells trouble for the Red Raver!
Colin Wilson: The Darcy Crisis I knew wouldn't do this! Just make the cover, for God's sake!
Jeff Marx: Actually, for God's sake, shut the hell up Wilson! DO IT DARCYYYYY!!!
Now perched on the turnbuckle, Crisis slaps his left elbow loudly and repeatedly with his other hand.
Colin Wilson: He's going for the Leap of Faith!
He jumps. He spins around, looking to drive his elbow straight into Aimz' face. But as he comes crashing down… nobody is there to greet him. Elbow meets steel, and Crisis howls in pain.
Dave Kern: Aimz is awake, and somehow, SOMEway has the wherewithal to figure out where she is and get the hell out of the way just in the nick of time!
Jeff Marx: So close! SOOOOOO close!
Colin Wilson: And it looks like she's caught a second wind, gentlemen, because Aimz is back on her feet!
Quicker than quick, Aimz is on top of Darcy as he continues writing on the ground, clutching his elbow in sheer pain. He doesn't clutch it for long, however, as Aimz quickly has a hold of it and wrenches it straight, much to Darcy's chagrin.
Dave Kern: Aimz looking to hyperextend that elbow, and this might be her big opening!
She doesn't wrench it for long, but she doesn't release her grasp, either. With Crisis still lying on the steel chair, Aimz follows up the arm wrench with a leg drop across Darcy's throat as he continues lying prone…
Jeff Marx: Legdrop!
… and still with a hold of his arm, Aimz wraps his legs around him in the cruelest of ironies…
Dave Kern: AIMZ WITH THE DARCINATOR ON DARCY CRISIS!
Colin Wilson: And she knows this move well, David! I watched her and Darcy execute tandem Darcinators to the Elite on PSW's last pay-per-view, and she had Eddie Osbourne tapping like mad!
Jeff Marx: I don't know who the hell you're talking about, but Crisis might tap here himself!
Just as Colin Wilson suggested, Aimz did know exactly how to execute a perfect Darcinator. And with his injured arm trapped and pulled into oblivion, his head ensnared between Aimz' legs and absolutely nowhere to go, there was simply no choice.
TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!
Larsson calls for the bell, and this contest is over!
Pierre Perroquet: Your weener…
The Parrot: AIMZ!… squawk!
"Prelude 12/21" hits the PA as Aimz releases the hold on her fallen lover, and has her arm raised high by Larsson as the crowd gives the Red Raver a standing ovation.
When she realizes exactly what's happening around her, Aimz takes a deep breath and smiles slightly for the sake of the cheering audience. She motions for a stage hand to give her a microphone that she hobbles over to get, trying not to howl in pain with every step on her completely trashed leg.
She takes the microphone and steps over to her recovering ex, leaning hard on her uninjured leg.
Aimz: I hate public speaking, but there you go, Darcy. Now you know all my faces, and all I ask is that this time you run away knowing I won't crawl after you.
Aimz turns to the audience.
Aimz: By the way, anyone want a free t-shirt?!
Another eruption of cheers assails her ears as she carefully steps over Crisis and limps to a turnbuckle to toss an old "Darcinator PSW" shirt to the crowd before beginning her slow and painful exit from the ring. But as Crisis pulled himself to his feet, he knew it couldn't end like this. He wouldn't let it. Reaching for a mic of his own, he speaks to the departing Aimz.
Darcy Crisis: Oh no you don't! You get your ass back here, God dammit!
Amy turns around, stunned as she wipes blood from her nose. She doesn't realize exactly how bloodied and battered she is, so it won't be pretty to wake up tomorrow and see the photos of herself from right now on the AWC site. Darcy actually cringes when she turns back around and faces him.
Aimz: Pardon me? I must've kicked you in the face one too many times...
Darcy Crisis: Shut your goddamn mouth, Amy Campbell! Now you listen to me… the stipulations say that our relationship is in your hands… but it's not happening. I can't go back to the way things were. And you can't make me.
Suddenly, the anger on Darcy's face vanishes. Perhaps he's just realized that he's making an ass of himself. Or perhaps the moment is finally sinking in for him… he'd finally got the match he'd been waiting for since the last century… and he lost. Whatever it was, it turned his voice quite solemn as he spoke again.
Darcy Crisis: But the fact of the matter is this - you beat me, fair and square. People have been talking about this match for years, and you actually fucking beat me. I can't let you walk away empty handed.
Darcy walks back toward the corner, asking a stagehand to hand him his AWC Frontier championship. The hand complies, and he hands the neatly folded title to the Darcinator, who subsequently hands it to his victorious opponent.
Darcy Crisis: Here… you've earned this.
Amy holds the belt in one hand, and raises the microphone to her mouth again with the other. She stares solemnly at it for a moment, but shakes her head.
Aimz: I don't want your title. I've already got enough bruises and cuts to remind me of this match for years.
Darcy Crisis: Are you crazy? I'm not giving you my title. I had to go through Billy Mays to get this thing. The Frontier title is just the package… open it up.
Aimz obliges, unfastening the straps of the championship belt… and a small box drops to the ground. Instantly she can tell what it is, and her jaw drops practically all the way to the canvas. Darcy drops to his knees to retrieve the fallen prize… but upon doing so, he doesn't get back up.
Darcy Crisis: I know this is going to sound weird… and believe me, you've every right to think so. But you're right; now I do know all your faces. I know that you're a fighter. I know that no matter what the circumstances, no matter how badly the odds are stacked against you, you'll rise the occasion like only you can. Lord knows you aren't perfect… and the same can be said for yours truly. But I know that together, we can rise to overcome anyone and anything that tries to tear us apart. And that's why I can't go back to the way things were…
Darcy opens the box, and the spotlights from above reflect off the enormous diamond rock that must have set the Darcinator back quite a pretty penny. As he reveals the contents, one of those excited shrieks comes from all the women in the crowd, the kind you hear on sitcoms when a man is about to do what Darcy does next.
Darcy Crisis: I can only go forward. And I'm praying to God you'll be there at my side. Amy Campbell… will you marry me?
Almost instantly, she steps back in disbelief, but Amy's never exactly been known to refuse a proposal, be it for a match or a lifetime. But if she's going to slap him down, it'll be done right...
She pulls the microphone out of Darcy's hand, and the crowd is so stunned that the sound of the redhead dropping the mic echoes loudly. The camera zooms in on her mouthing "Seriously?", staring at Darcy straight through teary eyes. He nods, and they're both visibly shaking when she smiles -- a single smile that lights up the entire attending audience with vicious cheers. Her hands raise in a motion that follows the demand 'Get up!', and when Darcy finally obliges by coming to his feet, the first time Aimz has actually cried in public is made visible as tears sting and wash the blood from her cheeks.
When he's standing, she smiles again and takes a step forward...
TO KICK HIM IN THE GROIN?!
After a stiff shot to the family jewels, Darcy winces and stands back up, almost looking proud. He knows the girl in front of him all too well, and he smirks.
Darcy Crisis: ... is that a yes?
Much to the amazement of everyone in the building Aimz nods, and practically jumps into the arms of Darcy Crisis as he looks around the audience excitedly, flailing an arm around to rally their cheers as a "You're-the-man!" chant breaks out and an AWC Pay Per View event goes out with the first happy ending in a long time.