A Medical Mishap!
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, AWC MEDICAL TEAM
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE
We arrive in the Kolnarena in Germany. The scene opens amongst the lively backstage crew and medical staff, each one sitting down and enjoying their coffees and last minute breaks before the big show is about to kick off. Fans in the arena scuttle into their seats while muttering German as they do so - "Wie geht's?" two kids in the front row ask the announcer James Brunt, who has no clue what they just asked.
Meanwhile inside, Pierce Lavelle has entered the arena, dressed in casual attire with his duffle bag thrown over his right shoulder. He passes by a couple of the lady interviewers who whisper and giggle, he just smiles at them and continues walking, not really bothered by their words of wisdom.
In a small area such as this, news travels fast and he had no doubt that what had happened at the Christmas party had definitely reached many gossipers by now, but he didn't mind, he had a date with a certain doctor!
Brushing through the door, Pierce was greeted by Doctor Steven Burns, who stood dressed in his usual black medical t-shirt and jeans.
Dr. Burns: Ah, Pierce, good to see you.
Dr. Steven Burns announced with enthusiasm as Jin Osaka and Matt Matthews looked on at the Transatlantic champion, whom they rarely saw nowadays.
Dr. Burns: What can I do for you?
Dr. Steven Burns asked placing his pen and jotter onto the long medical bed.
Pierce Lavelle: I was wondering if you could check on an injury of mine, just before my match.
Jin Osaka: How bad is it?
Jin asked from behind Pierce, placing her stet-scope around her neck. Pierce looked at the three medical staff, and he immediately knew that they probably knew about the Prometheus drug incident, so he knew he needed to choose his words carefully.
Pierce Lavelle: It's a bullet wound!
Pierce replied and Matt Matthews glared away and toward the wall where many pictures of different wrestlers sat. Matt was not comfortable with the idea of bullet wounds or anything that was going to get messy and bloody, he was squeamish and was classed the 'clumsiest nurse on the planet'.
Dr.Steven Burns approached Pierce now.
Dr. Burns: Where are you hit?
Pierce put his duffle bag onto the floor and removed his t-shirt, to reveal the large white bandage wrapped around his shoulder.
Dr. Burns: I see.
Jin Osaka carefully removed the bandage and all three of the medical staff stared at the entry point and exit point of the wound. The stitching had come loose and blood was seeping from the wound. Dr.Steven Burns grunted and shook his head and then pulled a tray of equipment across.
Pierce Lavelle: I just need you to fix the stitching before my match.
Pierce said looking toward the doctor and two nurses. He had got them re-stitched but the hospital had given him an intern and he knew the stitches weren't exactly a master piece of work.
Dr. Burns: Who stitched this up for you?
Pierce Lavelle: An intern!
Jin Osaka sighed and placed some iodine onto the exit point and began to clean the wound, gazing openly at Lavelle's new haircut: he shaved his own head earlier in the week.
Jin Osaka: This might hurt a little.
Jin said as she began removing the botched stitching from the exit wound. Pierce sat on the end of the bed and watched as both Dr.Burns and Jin Osaka began to remove the stitching. He could feel his skin pulling but tried to ignore it. He knew it needed to be done for him to be safe in his match against Paddy, he couldn't have the wounds open up and him start to bleed profusely again.
Matt Matthews: Ah man!
Matt commentated as Dr. Burns began to re-stitch the wound properly. Pierce was beginning to feel a little faint, but relieved when Jin Osaka said she had finished. She handed him some water and his t-shirt. Dr. Burns finished up the stitch and cleaned both of the wounds; he then reapplied a new bandage and removed his plastic gloves.
Dr. Burns: All done!
Steven Burns said and moved away from the champion. Pierce smiled slightly and hopped off the bed.
Pierce Lavelle: Thanks.
Dr. Burns: Next time, get a proper medical doctor to see to it, and if you can't, come back to me.
Pierce Lavelle: Right Doc!
Dr. Burns: Does Mr. Harber know?
Pierce Lavelle quickly dashed out of the room, ignoring the doctors question, in doing so he forgot to put back on his t-shirt and watched how many of the staff stared at the large amount of bandage over his shoulder and arm.
Introduction
FEATURING: AWC COMMENTARY TEAM
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
The eerie openings of Muse’s “Megalomania”, the final track from the much-praised Origin Of Symmetry album from the Devon trio, accompany a fly-by over a deserted Arctic landscape, all soft snow and ruthless ridges and gleaming glaciers. Then, a 180 degree spin and we see an army marching in time, the soldiers’ slow steps coinciding with the thuds and clanks entering the music at this point.
Paradise comes at a price
That I am not prepared to pay
What were we built for?
Could someone tell me please
We’re moving with the army, and now we can see where they are headed: a small village, nearing every second, wooden huts on stilts to save the foundations cracking because of the ice.
The good news is she can’t have babies
And won’t accept gifts from me
What are they for?
They just grow up and break the laws you’ve loved
As the music halts, the army halts – then five bashes on the organ and a long note from Matthew Bellamy, and the soldiers are set free from their monotonous regime, bursting from ranks to loot and pillage and kill and rape.
Take off your disguise
I know that underneath it’s me –
Who are you?
The thuds, the clanks, the moans continue as we move to the inner of Koln’s majestic Kolnarena, an 18,000-person beacon in a city known best for its smell – Koln is also known as Cologne. The Kolnarena’s house lights are out, and only a silvery haze on the stage provides a source of brightness, fading in and out in terms of intensity as the white spotlight trained on the dry ice is adjusted. The depressing video continues as the scene is set for the various bitter grudges to be settled on tonight’s show. With the arena still enraptured, and it’ll just have to be for the duration of the song, our cameras zoom out and text and pictures are brought up onto the screen, detailing in reverse order the six matches scheduled for tonight.
Transatlantic championship
Singles match
BUTTERFLY HAMADA vs JACK “THE BULL” MURPHY
Two Straight Falls match
MIKE WADE © vs CHAINZ
Relentless championship
Cup Of Blood match
TIM SHIPLEY © vs RED ROCK
Frontier championship
Singles match
AIMZ vs ANDY MURRAY
Singles match
THE FURIOUS FISTS OF GOD vs BRUNO HAGUE, TAZ YORKE AND BUTCH RADDER
Icebreaker match
Finally, the last words and photographs disappear from the screen as “Megalomania” dies away, the house lights gradually coming on as we join Steven Smith, Jeff Marx and Dave Kern ringside.
Dave Kern: Ladies and gentlemen, a grim opening to Winter Warfare but let me assure you this will be a night of high stakes and higher excitement! Let me extend a word of thanks from everyone at AWC to you for ordering this pay-per-view event –
Jeff Marx: Because you’re paying our wages, basically.
Dave Kern: – which is sure to bring you the thrills you’ve come to expect from AWC! As usual under the regime of new Entertainment Co-Manager Sasha Volkyeva, the three of us are hidden away from proceedings at the side of the stage, and more importantly there’s that security fence in place separating the fans from the action. You know, I think it’s doing more harm than good – we very rarely had objects thrown previously, but now it seems a minority of the fans seem to spend most of the time tossing up various –
Steven Smith: Stop there, Dave; TOSSING UP! Lead me to them!
Jeff Marx: Excuse my gay partner. Wait, that came out wrong.
Dave Kern: Let me salvage this sinking ship by reminding you of the superb matches on offer tonight, featuring Pierce Lavelle versus Paddy O’Shea at the head of the card! These two haven’t faced off in one-on-one competition since early July and despite the extent of Lavelle’s remarkable run with the championship belt – nearing six months if you ignore the little blip in the middle where The Educator took the title – most fans seem to be backing the popular Irishman Paddy O’Shea to capture the Transatlantic belt tonight!
Jeff Marx: It makes sense – and then a feud with his Irish rival Jack Murphy, the perfect way to hand the title to the much-deserving Bull!
Steven Smith: I'm rooting for Lavelle. He’s pretty.
Dave Kern: But that’s all later! Right now, let’s head off to Lake Fuhlinger, where The Furious Fists Of God want to settle a grudge with AWC’s security team!
The Furious Fists Of God vs AWC Security Team
STIPULATION: ICEBREAKER
REFEREE: n/a
AUTHOR: SAM LANDRY
Dave Kern: Well, here we are, Jeff, the opening match of the night! It’s not your normal match either!
Jeff Marx: It’s what we like to call a Battle of the Greats…
Dave Kern: Greats? You kidding me? It’s those narrow-minded Furious Fists versus those caveman-esque Bruno, Butch, and Taz.
Jeff Marx: Yes, I know…and they’re GREAT at what they do…wow, Dave, way to know what you’re talking about.
Dave Kern: …Sigh. ANYWAYS, for those not informed, this match has a double stipulation. To win it, one member must be SLAMMED through the ice of the lake, into the water!
Steven Smith: Wow, that’s cold!
Jeff Marx: …
Dave Kern: Erm, right. The OTHER is this: If the Fists win, they are allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, for the rest of their stay in the AWC, without worrying about the guards pestering them.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, we definitely need more God in our lives. No, seriously. We do.
Steven Smith: I could make you say God, Jeff…
Jeff Marx: SHUT UP! OH GOD, SHUT UP!
Steven Smith: See?
Dave Kern: Will you two shut up? Now, if the GUARDS win…then the Fists become their servants for a month, doing whatever they’d like. Should be an interesting match!
The scene is on the middle of the huge frozen Lake Fuhlinger. Even though it may not be huge, this writer does not want to research this lake (Wait, who said that? What? Who’s there?), and all around the edge of the lake is snow and tall pine trees. Standing in the middle are the two teams, about 20 feet apart, in their full winter gear, standing there staring off.
Bruno Hague: Ok, let’s finish this!
Dave Kern: Match on!
Tim Martin: WAIT!
Dave Kern: Oh, c’mon now!
Jeff Marx: Wait for this, Dave, it could be good…
Tim Martin: Before we win this match, we have to lay a few…erm…”ground rules” if you will.
Bruno Hague: Fuck you, buddy! We agreed on a match!
Tim Martin: Then you didn’t read the CONTRACT EXTENSION, did you?
Liam Martin: Psst… What contract extension?
Tim Martin: (quietly) Just go with it!
The three security guards stand there and scratch their heads, looking at each other with bewilderment.
Tim Martin: We’ll take your empty looks as a “no”. Well, heathens, allow me to inform you. You see, we went to the Lord’s son, David…
Liam Martin: Psst… When did that happen?
Tim Martin: (quietly) SHUT THE FUCK UP! JUST GO WITH IT! (coughs) Ahem (coughs), as I was SAYING…(glares at Liam quickly before he looks back at the security guards), we went to the Lord’s son, David, and we had some new match rules approved.
Bruno Hague: Oh yeah? Like what?
Tim Martin pulls out a list and holds it in front of his face.
Jeff Marx: Only a child of God would be THIS prepared.
Tim Martin: For starters, there will be a name change during the match. You MUST call us your masters, or you forfeit.
Bruno Hague: WE’RE NOT DOING THAT!
Tim Martin: Then I’m going to take a crap in the middle of the ring while you watch out back. Don’t like that? So, AS I WAS SAYING…we are to be called masters. And you three are, for the remainder of this match, to be called Fluffy, Puffy, and Muffy.
Bruno Hague: WHAT?!
Tim Martin: Shut up, Fluffy, I’m not done! Second, there will be no penises in asses or mouth. We don’t know what you three do on your spare time, and we don’t WANT to know! You can live your hellish lifestyle on your own!
Liam Martin: Yeah, do we look like Tim Shipley? No penises in the ass!
Bruno…erm, I mean, Fluffy, Puffy (Butch), and Muffy (Taz) stand there, gritting their teeth. Liam is shaking his head while Tim re-concentrates on the list.
Tim Martin: Number three…no explosives. We don’t know what the shit in the van was in the last Fresh!, but we’re not into that. God never made explosives…those damned Chinks made ‘em.
Liam Martin: One trillion people there…SOMEONE had to stumble over that.
The sound of the crowd booing echoes throughout the arena, which obviously can’t be heard at the lake, but can be on TV.
Tim Martin: Number four, you guys must fight in just your underwear and a t-shirt.
Fluffy: NO WAY ARE WE DOING THAT!
Liam Martin: Say, Tim, do you know where the best place is for me to fillet a fish?
Tim Martin: Yeah, right on Hate’s gym bag! Big demon like that would LOVE that, wouldn’t he Fluffy?
Fluffy, Puffy, and Muffy start slowly undressing, shivering while they do it.
Tim Martin: And…number five…actually works in your favor! You are allowed for the first charge! We can defend ourselves, but we’re allowing YOU guys to charge at us! God preaches about giving, and we’re giving you an opportunity to make this match last more than 4 minutes. Sound good?
Fluffy, Puffy, and Muffy look at each other and, thinking not a lot, they begin to charge. Forgetting where they are, though, they slip right on the ice, all three landing on their backs or their faces.
Tim Martin: See? God-fearers. Any true prophet would know this is ice!
Liam Martin: Tim, if you would?
Liam sits down on his butt, putting his right foot out and his left leg in, sort of like a baseball slide. Tim then grabs him and launches him towards the three, sending him flying. His foot goes right into Fluffy’s head, knocking him backward. Tim launches himself as Liam gets up and smacks Muffy in the head the same way, leaving Puffy there. The two brothers immediately start to go to work, laying boots into him.
Jeff Marx: See? This is the power that God gives us! The power of intelligence! The power of cunning!
Dave Kern: The power to be a weasel?
Jeff Marx: Call it what you want, Dave.
Tim picks up Puffy and lays a boot into his stomach and then places his head in between his legs. Tim lifts him in the air for a powerbomb and, as Puffy is being dropped, Liam grabs the back of his head, executing a powerbomb neck breaking.
The ice cracks a little.
Muffy and Fluffy are now on their feet, slowly making their way towards the fists. Once they get there, though, Tim lays Muffy down with a hard right, mounting him instantly with punches. The much smaller Liam squares up with Fluffy.
Dave Kern: This isn’t looking good for our resident security guards.
Steven Smith: Yeah, but they never look good.
While Liam and Fluffy are still in a stare down, Puffy manages to get up and blindside Liam from behind. Fluffy and Puffy begin to take boots to Liam, pounding him into the creaking ice. They forget about Tim, though, who certainly doesn’t forget about them…
CRACK!
Fluffy is sent backwards with a hard kick to the teeth, jerking his head and then his entire body. He lands with a loud thud and crack on the ice. Puffy, who notices Tim there, tries hard to react, but it is to no avail. Tim grabs Puffy’s head and drives it into his knee, dropping him down to the ice. While the three are writhing around, Tim gives Liam a hand.
Jeff Marx: The dominance of these two are amazing. It really shows what skill has against just a presence. It’s like us…I’m a skill, Dave is a presence.
Steven Smith: What am I?
Jeff Marx: We try to forget you.
Tim and Liam grab Muffy’s arms and legs. Simultaneously, they lift him into the air and SLAM him back into the ice, cracking it more. They repeat this a few more times until they see Fluffy trying to get back to his feet.
Tim Martin: God warned us about folk like you. Always persistent. Always trying to hold down a saint like myself of Liam.
Liam Martin: But, guess what, tough guy?
CRACK! Liam lines up Fluffy with another kick in the teeth, this time causing something to bleed. He is knocked out, cold.
Liam Martin: No fucking way! No! Fucking! Way! No…
SMASH!
Liam is knocked down with a fist from a surprisingly conscious Muffy, but that quickly ends with a kick to Muffy’s stomach and a DDT from Tim. Liam slowly picks himself off the weak ice while Tim drops down with a heavy elbow on the back of Muffy’s head.
Dave Kern: Looks like Liam got too cocky there!
Jeff Marx: Cocky? No…I’d say…confident.
Dave Kern: Ok, Mr. High School Sports Motto.
Puffy, who is back on his feet, is beginning to regret that as Tim pulls him closer. Tim is laying fist after fist into him when, suddenly, he irish-whips him towards Liam…meets Puffy with a spinning fist!
Dave Kern: THE FIST OF GOD! You could HEAR Puffy’s face breaking on that one!
The ice is beginning to thin. Liam tries to make it thinner by grabbing Muffy’s head an repeatedly slamming it back into the ice while Tim starts laying into a semi-conscious Puffy. Fluffy is still in la-la land from all those kicks in the mouth.
Dave Kern: Someone needs to stop this match! Tim and Liam are going to kill these men!
Jeff Marx: Well, Brun — heh, I’m sorry…Fluffy, Puffy, and Muffy AGREED to this match…they must’ve known that the Fuhlinger isn’t the THINNEST lake in the world.
Liam now has a barely conscious Muffy standing. He quickly lifts him up and drops him, executing a Samoan driver. The ice cracks loudly, some water shooting up. Meanwhile, Tim has beat Puffy’s face into a bloody pulp. It’s hard to even tell that there’s a face underneath all that!
Dave Kern: This is making me sick…
Steven Smith: (on the phone) And where would you put it?... There?... Oh goodness, I MUST be naughty!...
Jeff Marx: Well, THAT’S making ME sick.
The three guards are no pretty much done. They are all close to being unconscious, with Fluffy actually there. There is one area of the ice that is much thinner than the rest of it, and Tim drags the MUCH bigger Fluffy to it, putting Fluffy’s head between his legs. Liam gets on his knees and begins whispering prayers. Suddenly, Tim lifts Fluffy’s lifeless body onto his shoulder and then…
SLAM!
Fluffy goes right through the ice. Tim takes a stutter step back while Liam continues praying. Tim gets on his knees and begins to pray as well, ending the match.
Dave Kern: My God. A scary beginning to the night. Tim and Liam almost killed Bruno, Butch, and Taz in a ruthless assault. They mean business, Jeff…and if this match doesn’t show how sick they are…I don’t know what will.
Jeff Marx: And look at that? They end with a prayer. The faithful always prevail.
Dave Kern: Well, may God save those three men. It's time for us to move onto a grudge match!
Aimz vs Andy Murray
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: AARON DAVIES
AUTHOR: JASON LINK
The lights in the arena suddenly cut out, leaving the audience in three brief seconds of a world devoid of light or sound. “Hand of Blood” by Bullet For My Valentine kicks out across the arena, and the lights begin to flash red throughout the place.
BANG!
A massive burst of pyrotechnics explodes at the top of the ramp as the song kicks in, leaving a cloud of smoke behind in. In this puff of smoke stands the silhouette of a tall, well-built figure, the letters “S.K.C.” flashing on the screen behind him.
There goes my valentine again,
Soaked in red for what she said,
And now she’s gone…
With another, small pyro burst the smoke cloud is gone, and the man at the top of the ramp is met with a steady wave of cheers. He wears a pair of beige cargo shorts and his white tanktop and has a mile-wide grin planted across his face.
Oh my god have I done it again?
There’s a pulse and it’s deafening,
I can’t help what I hear in my head,
It’s the switch that I flick when he says…
Former AWC Frontier champion Andy Murray is in the house.
The Scottish King of Cool begins his descent down the ramp, slapping hands with some fans as he goes.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match. Introducing first, from Aberdeen, Scotland, weighing in at 270 pounds, The Scottish King of Cool… ANDY MURRAY!
Hand of blood, I don’t wanna feel, my heart is breaking,
Hand of blood, I don’t wanna see, my life is burning
Murray slides into the ring under the bottom rope, walking to the corner and awaiting his opponent for tonight.
Dave Kern: And ladies and gentlemen, this is simply going to be a good, old fashioned, grudge match.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, with a crappy jobber and a chick. Big deal.
Dave Kern: Will you get off of this jobber business already?
“Rock Shit” by Hush hits the p.a. system, and Aimz wastes no time in making her way through the curtains. She is immediately received by a chorus of boos from the fans, which doesn’t seem to trouble her in the least. She stares ahead to Andy Murray, who is still comfortably waiting in the corner.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Halifax, Canada, weighing in at 147 pounds… AIMZ!
As soon as the ring announcer says her ring name, Amy Campbell reaches the ring and slides underneath the ropes. Brunt leaves the ring, as Aimz walks to the center of the ring. Murray slowly strides to the middle of the ring to meet her, and the two enter a stare down as the bell sounds to signal the start of the match.
Dave Kern: To say that these two do not like each other would be the understatement of the century. Aimz’ anti-PCW crusade has left carnage in its wake as she’s torn through the PCW throwbacks in AWC, with Andy Murray at the centre of it all for her.
Steven Smith: Speaking of not liking things, what is up with that ensemble choice that Aimz has made tonight?
Jeff Marx: And speaking of things that suck, how about this view? Might as well go sit in the stands, huh Dave?
Dave Kern: No comment on the placement of our seating arrangements Jeff… or on the wardrobe of one of our competitors.
The stare down continued for a few more moments, until Aimz broke it off by leveling Andy with an open handed slap to his right cheek, that echoed throughout the arena. The force jerked Andy’s head to the side, but he brought it back quickly, a smirk on his face as he looked at Aimz. She backed up a step or two, but Andy just pointed to his face again, even going as far as sticking his jaw out and moving his hands behind his back.
Jeff Marx: That might have not been the smartest route to take by Aimz.
Dave Kern: Especially when your opponent has you by a foot and one hundred and forty pounds Jeff.
Aimz winds up to take another shot, but Andy catches her by the wrist and throws her into the turnbuckles. She bounces off and walks right into Andy once more, who lifts her above his head with a gorilla press slam. She wriggles her arms and legs, desperately trying to free herself from Andy’s grasp. She manages to succeed after a well placed rake to the eyes, landing on her feet behind Andy.
Jeff Marx: Very nice move by Aimz!
Dave Kern: Yeah you would advocate cheating Jeff.
Jeff Marx: It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught Dave. You should know that by now.
Andy stumbles forward a step or two, and Aimz takes the opportunity to go low and try to take out his left knee with a shoulder block. Andy crumbles down to one knee, and Aimz quickly hops up to her feet. She walks in front of Andy, and before he can get up, she hits him with a kick to the chest. It stuns Andy for a moment, and allows Aimz to run to the ropes, coming back with a front dropkick to Murray’s face. She goes for a quick cover and referee Davies is quick to make the count.
ONE!
Only a one count though, as Andy pushes Aimz off of him and through the bottom and middle ropes. She lands on the arena floor with a thud.
Dave Kern: And what a display of power by Andy Murray. This truly is a David versus Goliath contest guys.
Jeff Marx: How long have you been waiting to say that old cliché?
Dave Kern: …about a minute now.
Steven Smith: Look at those muscles… I likes me a strong man.
Murray gets back to his feet as Aimz gets up on the outside as well. She slides in the ring while Andy’s turning around and she goes low again with a dropkick to the same knee. This time it knocks him completely off his feet and face first onto the mat. She hops on top of Andy’s back and lands a series of rights and lefts to the back of his head. This only seems to infuriate Andy though, who is getting to his knees with her on his back. He hooks his arms around her legs and traps Aimz as he gets to his feet, the crowd starting to cheer for him. Aimz tries to lock in a sleeper hold, but before she knows it, Andy lifts her into a fireman’s carry position. He hoists her up in the air and sends her crashing down over his knee as the crowd cheers on in approval.
Dave Kern: And what a move by Andy Murray!
Jeff Marx: Yeah easy to beat up a woman right? Back in PCW…
Dave Kern: No one cares Jeff. By the way, when’s the last time that you saw the fans so vehemently behind the beating of a woman?
Jeff Marx: It’s despicable Dave, it really is!
Aimz clutches at her gut as Andy lifts her back to her feet, grabbing a handful of hair in the process. He sets her up, measures her, and delivers a vicious chop that lands across her face. She hits the ground hard, rolling around and clutching at her mouth, as the crowd lets out a loud ‘WOOOO!’
Jeff Marx: He just chopped her in the mouth!
Steven Smith: She deserves everything she gets if you ask me.
Jeff Marx: Well no one did.
Aimz is slow to get to her feet, and Andy just stands in the center of the ring patiently. Aimz uses the ropes as leverage to get up, slowly turning around just as Andy is about to charge in. She quickly side steps the oncoming freight train, which crashes chest first into the turnbuckles. Andy staggers back as Aimz ascends to the top rope, leaping off and grabbing Andy’s head to bring him down with a bulldog. Andy rolls onto his back and Aimz goes for another quick cover as Davies gets in position to make the count.
ONE!
TW-
Andy kicks out with authority again before the two count. Aimz doesn’t relent though, kicking Andy right in the face, which causes him to turn over onto his stomach. She follows up by sitting on his back and locking in a camel clutch, pulling back on Andy’s neck as hard as she can. Andy reaches out for the ropes, but is way too far away as Aaron Davies asks him if he gives up. He shouts no, then attempts to get to his knees. Seeing that he might be reversing her once again, she releases the hold and starts to hammer away at the back of his head with another series of rights and lefts. The force of the blows eventually knocks Andy onto his stomach once more, as Aimz cinches in another camel clutch.
Dave Kern: And this is what Aimz needs to do to beat Andy Murray. Ground him, and don’t let up. Keep him off of his feet.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, and not get crushed like a bug. Even though he’s a jobber, he’s still the size of a Buick compared to her.
Andy reaches for the ropes once more, then in desperation, he rolls over and flings Aimz off of his back. She gets up quickly but runs right into Andy, who catches her and delivers a vicious sidewalk slam. Aimz bounces off of the mat and lands back on her feet, where Andy runs at her, connecting with an equally brutal big boot to the face. The force of the mammoth foot sends Aimz back a good fifteen inches, where she lands on the back of her neck and flops onto her stomach. Andy kneels down and goes for a cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Aimz manages to kick out right after Davies’ hand goes down for the second time. Aimz starts to sit up, but is eventually brought back onto her feet by Andy again. He turns her around and hits her with a headbutt right between her eyes. She falls back down to the mat, where Andy greets her with a hard leg drop across her chest. He sits there with his leg across her chest for a few moments, then raises it once more and brings it down across her chest again. He does this five or six more times while he sits on the ground, getting the crowd behind him as Aimz finally rolls away, clutching at her chest.
Jeff Marx: So what do you call that one Kern?
Dave Kern: Seated multiple leg drops Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Oh you just made that up.
Steven Smith: That’s what they are though moron.
Jeff Marx: Shut your hole, both of them if you know what I mean.
Aimz is slow to get back to her feet, as Andy makes his way over to her again. He grabs at her hair once more, but Aimz is just a step quicker. She grabs the front of his trunks and leans back, sending him through the ropes and crashing onto the floor. Aimz uses the ropes to get to her feet as Andy is getting to his. Andy slowly turns around as the fans get to their feet, as Aimz launches herself off of the top rope, flipping in mid air and landing perfectly onto Andy. The force of the maneuver knocks Andy back first into the barricade, dropping Aimz on her back in the process.
Dave Kern: What a move by Aimz, who might have just taken back control of this match!
Jeff Marx: Yeah Aimz! Beat that useless piece of crap!
Steven Smith: Does the word ‘impartial’ mean anything to you?
Jeff Marx: Yes. Does the word ‘fudge packer’ mean anything to you?
Dave Kern: Oh cut it out you two and watch the damn match! Man, I always feel like I’m the dad.
Andy peels himself off of the barricade, only to stumble forward, draping his arms over the ring apron. Aimz is about ten feet away, and jogging towards Andy. Suddenly she jumps in the air, landing on Andy’s back with both feet, stomping him back to the ground. The crowd shows some appreciation for the athletic move, and she showboats for them, which in turns draws some boos. Turning around, she tries to lift up Andy, but it’s far too much dead weight for her to manage, so she just stomps on him and slides back into the ring. The move might have woken up Andy, who looks at Aimz with a fury in his eyes. He quickly slides back into the ring, where Aimz attempts a clothesline. Andy ducks, lifting Aimz up in the air, turning her around and dropping her on the back of her neck.
Jeff Marx: Alright Dave, what do you call that?
Dave Kern: I call that dropping someone on their head.
Andy looks as if he’s going for the cover, but instead he hooks Aimz’ left leg and locks in a single leg Boston crab. Aimz tries to go for the ropes, but Andy pulls her away, right to the center of the ring. The fans start to cheer once more. Aimz is frantically waving her arms around, as Davies sees if she gives up. She shakes her head, but things don’t look too good for Aimz in there. Davies leans down again to check on her, and in desperation, Aimz grabs at his ankle and won’t let go. She uses the leverage, and with her free leg, manages to get behind Andy and kick him off.
Dave Kern: Well I don’t really condone that, but it was a smart tactic by Aimz.
Jeff Marx: Brilliant is more like it. And what do you mean you don’t condone? There was nothing illegal about that.
Dave Kern: She grabbed the referee, you can’t lay your hands on an official!
Jeff Marx: Oh that’s probably the most action Aaron Davies will get all night.
Aimz gets back to her feet, and Andy grabs her around her waist from behind. Aimz sends a hard elbow to the face of Andy, but he doesn’t relinquish the hold. She does it again, and manages to get free. She goes to run to the ropes, but Andy sticks out his foot and trips her. The entire arena bursts out in laughter as Aimz falls flat on her face, and a smile can be seen across Andy’s. Aimz balls her fists and pounds the mat, getting up and walking right into a clothesline that sends her inside out. Andy goes for another cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Aimz gets a shoulder up before the count of three. Andy stands up as Aimz is slower to get to her feet. When she does, she is greeted with a hard knee to the stomach, which causes her to bend over. Andy hooks her in a front headlock, looking for a DDT perhaps, but Aimz drops down to her knees. Andy picks her back up to her feet, but Aimz sends a low blow with her knee while the referee is behind Andy. The crowd boos as Aimz kicks Andy right in the face, then comes off the ropes quickly with a spinning heel kick. Andy is done holding his marbles, and now holds his face as he falls to the mat.
Steven Smith: No! Don’t mess up his face!
Jeff Marx: Dave can you just turn off his microphone?
Dave Kern: No, I can’t turn off either of your microphones according to the higher-ups.
Jeff Marx: How do you already know that?
Dave Kern: Umm... hey did you see that! What a kick by Aimz…!
Aimz waits for Andy to get to his feet, but instead Andy crawls over to the middle ropes, draping his arms over them and taking a rest. Aimz looks around for a moment, as the crowd tries in vain to tell Andy to move. Aimz runs off of the far ropes, then rushes towards Andy. She goes for the Hemlock, but as she swings her legs around, Andy grabs them and pulls her inside the ring. He pulls her towards the center of the ring, trying to turn Aimz around into Sharpshooter. Aimz lets him, but turns once more so that they are in the same position. Aimz reaches up and grabs Andy in a small package. Davies gets on the mat to make the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: Oh small package, this could be it…no! So close!
Jeff Marx: And Andy Murray was inches away from losing to a woman.
Steven Smith: She’d kick your ass Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Oh I wouldn’t mind Aimz pinning me.
Andy gets up and rushes at Aimz, who leap frogs over him. Andy comes back off of the ropes and Aimz hits him with a dropkick. Andy gets up right away though, and even mocks Aimz to the delight of the crowd. Aimz seems to get even more infuriated, and steps up to Andy and hits him with another slap in the face, but Andy grabs her hand. With his other hand he grabs her around her waist, pulling her in and beginning to do the waltz with her in the middle of the ring. Aimz seems to shocked to move as the crowd begins to laugh at her. She finally snaps out of it and gets out of it, via twisting Andy’s arm around and applying a wristlock. She beats on his arm mercilessly, then sits down, snapping his elbow over her shoulder.
Dave Kern: Well Aimz didn’t like that too much.
Steven Smith: She should be so lucky. You know how hard it is to find a guy who knows how to waltz?
Jeff Marx: I’m just not going to comment. But the jerk got what he deserved.
Aimz kicks Andy while he’s down, then drops a quick knee across his face. Aimz picks up Andy and tries to whip him towards the ropes, but Andy reverses it. When Aimz comes back, Andy lowers his head and gives her a back body drop, but Aimz acrobatically lands on her feet. Andy turns around and rushes towards Aimz, and she brings him down with a drop toe hold. She hangs him across the middle ropes once more, and this time rushes towards the ropes and comes back, hitting the Hemlock!
Jeff Marx: There’s the Hemlock! Come on Aimz, finish him off!
Steven Smith: Get up Andy!
Andy is down in the center of the ring, but he is still moving around somewhat. Surprisingly, he gets up, and Aimz reenters the ring. She comes from behind and tries to give him a belly to back Suplex, but Andy breaks it up by throwing her over his shoulder. Andy measures her and when Aimz gets up, he kicks her in the gut. Andy holds Aimz in a front headlock, then lifts her into a vertical Suplex position. She lands on her feet once again, and hits Andy with a neck breaker. She wastes no time in going to the ropes once more, looking around to the crowd for a moment. She leaps up onto the top rope, springing off with a 450 that lands beautifully onto Andy’s upper body. She quickly hooks the leg as the referee gets down to make the count.
Dave Kern: DEAD AIM!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Andy kicks out but it’s too late, as Aaron Davies signals to ring the bell. The bell sounds and Aimz rolls out of the ring, as Andy stays on the ground, breathing heavily.
Jeff Marx: Yes! Andy loses! Proving my point yet again!
Dave Kern: Well regardless, it was a very different match than their last, and Aimz manages an impressive victory to show us the former PRIME star is going places in AWC.
Steven Smith: Bitch…
Aimz raises her hand as she backs up on the ramp, pointing her finger and laughing at Andy in the middle of the ring. The crowd boos as Murray starts to get to his feet, watching Aimz leave on the ramp with a look of disgust on his face.
Everything That Has A Beginning...
FEATURING: TONY ALISO, KATE BARNARD
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
All we see is blackness. All we hear is breath. The sounds of two contrasting intakes and expulsions of 21% oxygen, one light and fractured and fearful, the other heavy and confident and domineering.
Then the lights come on.
The sudden radiance of electric strip lights are initially a shock to the eye, but what we see after our vision has adjusted comes as a further shock. Propped up against the aging stone wall, dressed only in matching lilac brassiere and French knickers, hands and feet bound with strong, thin twine cutting welts in her stone cold skin, is a chestnut-haired, light-skinned, scared-out-of-her-mind young beauty. Sitting nonchalantly on the cheap pine desk next to her, the only item of furniture crammed into this tiny room save the forgotten chair beneath it, is one of America’s most wanted men: Tony Aliso.
The simple sight of him sends shockwaves down our spines, but the real chill comes with registering the presence of the girl. Who is she? What role has she to play in the saga? And most importantly, so that the police present at the Kolnarena for tonight’s Winter Warfare show can get to work at once, where on earth are they?
Tony Aliso: How are you feeling, Kate?
His soft voice laced with menace, his words dripping with bad intentions. The girl makes no response, keeping her pleading eyes on the camera, preferring not to risk any words that might anger the unbalanced former AWC wrestler in whose hands her fate appears to rest.
Tony Aliso: You should have listened, you know.
Now, the girl he calls Kate flicks her eyes over to Aliso, curiosity overcoming sensibility.
Tony Aliso: To Tim. He saw it straight away. It was as clear as day, after all... but I knew I could count on you, Kate...
He smirks and stands up.
Tony Aliso: I could always count on your blind faith...
He places a hand against her smooth cheek, at which she coughs and squirms. Shaking his head softly, he moves the same hand to the side of her waist, then takes it away quickly, pretending to be startled.
Tony Aliso: But Kate! You’re cold! Why aren’t you wearing anything?
He turns away, sniggering, as Kate turns her imploring gaze back to the camera.
Tony Aliso: That’s right. The blind faith. You would do anything I wanted you to.
Aliso pulls out the chair from beneath the desk and sits himself on it, right in front of Kate, studying her pearly-white body as if it were a museum exhibit.
Tony Aliso: I was the gentleman. I was your knight in shining armour. When Tim told you the truth... you just didn’t want to hear it, did you, Kate? You pushed him away... rejected the truth for a reality that could never be... a reality with me...
Aliso lets out a long sigh.
Tony Aliso: I was never that gentleman, Kate. February seems a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. That Tony Aliso died, April 1st, 2005. Never to return. See, I didn’t fake my death, Kate. The hollow shell, the man of wax that was the Tony Aliso of old died. Perhaps not shot. Perhaps not assassinated by Knucks. But it was the end for a directionless gentleman whose end always justified his means...
He spits bitterly on the uneven ground as tears begin to roll down the girl’s delicate cheeks.
Tony Aliso: Knucks coming into my fading life was a godsend. It gave me true purpose. A true goal. I happily succumbed to the ways of men who wield power to gain further power and laid to rest my former self. There was born a new man, but a man ready to fight for what he wanted, fight for the power he and his brothers deserved... a newborn at twenty-four, but a newborn with knowledge, experience, focus... a newborn with power he could wield to gain further power.
He slams his wrist down on the desk beside him.
Tony Aliso: And it was perfect! Better than anyone could have planned. To all the countries of the world, Tony Aliso was a dead man, a martyr for what is just and good, shot by the brotherhood they toiled so to expose, but in vain, always in vain. Yet I was alive! I felt more so than EVER before! And I could do things I’d never even considered before... perform acts so scandalous that the old Tony would have shuddered at even the thought. I was the ultimate undercover agent – because to anyone on planet Earth, I DID NOT EXIST!
Aliso breathes in, and breathes out, and breathes in, and breathes out, then stands, and moves close to Kate, who lets out the faintest of whimpers.
Tony Aliso: (whispering) What’s the matter, Kate? What’s changed?
He slips a hand round her back and works it down under her knickers as she trembles.
Tony Aliso: Why’s this so different, mm? Nothing we haven’t done before...
Then he suddenly jumps back, wrenching his hand out from behind her and smacking her hard across the face. Her cry evokes pity from anyone with a heart as her fragile head slams against the hard wall with a crack. A red mark is already visible on her face as she brings it slowly back round to stare at Aliso, now crying freely.
Tony Aliso: Two constants! Two links to my past life I’ve had to fight to eliminate! Kate, you’re one of them... the other is Tim Shipley...
He turns to face the camera, acknowledging its presence for the first time as he addresses his last words directly into it.
Tony Aliso: And after tonight, I’ll be rid of the both of them. So here we are, intimate in the Sonnenberg winery, and Tim, it’s time for you to come collect your prize...
He steps aside, pointing with his arms towards the girl bound up against the wall, and the feed ends.
A Harsh Proposal
FEATURING: MADDY ESTELLE, SARAH KENNEDY, CHAINZ, ALEXA KENDERICKS, TRACY
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Chainz is walking through the halls, getting dirty glances from many of the crew, especially of the female gender. Chainz just smiles and doesn’t seem to mind. He continues walking through the halls until he stands in front of the women’s locker room. Without hesitation he pushes the door open and walks in.
Maddy Estelle and Sarah Kennedy are inside, checking make up and are caught off guard as Chainz walks in. They both look worried and nervous as Chainz eyes the two female employees. The sound of running water is heard coming from the shower area of the locker room.
Chainz: Get out.
There is nothing joking or comical about Chainz who looks intense and completely serious. The two women quickly bolt out of the door leaving Chainz standing alone in the locker room with whoever is in the shower.
Chainz slowly walks over and notices a bag sitting on a bench. He rummages through it and produces a bra. He looks at it inquisitively; unable to determine who it belongs to. He brings the bra to his nose and takes in a good whiff, shaking with pleasure.
Chainz: Ah, Alexa.
With a sick smile on his face he walks into the shower area and stands in front of the single person shower. The outline of a female can be seen and we naturally assume that it’s Alexa Kendericks, the unfortunate fixture of Chainz’s recent twisted desires.
He quickly pulls the curtain aside yielding a scream from Alexa Kendericks, who quickly goes to cover up what she can. Chainz steps into the small shower and allows the water to hit him and drench him as he press the small female into the corner of the shower. There is absolutely no chance for escape as Chainz’s massive frame covers nearly the entire entrance to the shower. He squeezes her into the wall and places a hand on her shoulder.
Chainz: Hey baby, how’ve you been.
Alexa Kendericks: Get out or you’ll be sorry.
The threat has no effect.
Chainz: And miss all this.
Chainz glares at the naked body in front of him. Chainz slides his hand down Alexa’s back and lets it rest on her naked butt.
Chainz: Nice and firm, little small.
Chainz turns the water from hot to cold, all the way cold.
Alexa Kendericks: Ahh, that’s so cold!
Goosebumps rise on Alexa’s body as Chainz seems to be in heaven.
Chainz: You’ll thank me, you better hope for some major shrinkage.
He checks his package.
Chainz: Nope sorry, guess this’ll hurt quite a bit. My advice, just loosen up and let it happen.
Alexa screams and tries to fight Chainz off, but it’s of little use.
Chainz: Damn, forgot condoms and I don’t want to get you pregnant…
A sigh of relief from Alexa.
Chainz: Guess we’ll have to go straight to the ass!
Chainz turns Alexa around and holds her hands behind her back. She starts screaming as Chainz goes to unzip his pants. Suddenly the door busts open and Tracy rushes in.
Tracy: Mike no!
Chainz: Damnit, I told you to wait in the locker room!
Tracy: Mike you can’t do this, let her go!
Chainz: Fuck that, she’s wet all over, she wants it bad.
Tracy: She’s wet from the shower, let her go. You don’t want to go to jail again.
This hits home for Chainz who lightens his grip on Alexa’s hands.
Tracy: Come on baby, come back to the locker room with me. I’ll let you fuck my ass if you want, if you promise to go easy.
Chainz thinks the offer over and finally lets go of Alexa’s hands, but he suddenly grabs her head and leans in within inches of Alexa’s ear.
Chainz: You’re lucky that angel walked into your life and saved you because I wasn’t gonna take it easy on you.
Chainz scans Alexa’s body.
Chainz: But I still want you and I’ll get you. The next pay-per-view, me and you. If I win you’re my sex slave for the night, no questions asked, no holds barred. If you win, you can have anything you damn well please. I’m gonna enjoy pinning you in the ring and then pinning you in bed.
Chainz lets go of Alexa and steps out of the shower and heads for the door. Tracy takes his hand and leads him out of the locker room, but before he goes:
Chainz: Don’t even think of getting out of this match, I’m sure my Russian benefactor won’t have any problems in booking this match. So I’ll be seeing ya babe.
He rushes back and grabs her bra and gives it another good whiff. Chainz sticks the bra in his pants and leaves the locker room as Sarah Kennedy comes running back with security.
Chainz: Relax babe, I gave her a reprieve seeing as I’ll get her in a month anyway.
Chainz laughs as he and Tracy head off for their locker room as Sarah Kennedy, looking shocked, heads in to check on Alexa.
Tim Shipley (C) vs Red Rock
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: RICHIE TRAVIS
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Steven Smith: WHOA drama overload! Kidnap and attempted rape! What is it with AWC at the moment?!
Jeff Marx: Hot ladies naked? I don’t mind. Ellis Nash and now Alexa Kendericks...
Dave Kern: I'm still trying to comprehend what we saw before Chainz’ sick attempt: Tony Aliso, who has been on the run from the police ever since he attempted to sabotage Fresh! with a bomb-rigged briefcase, has called for Tim Shipley to “collect his prize”, whatever he means by that – and right now, Shipley is scheduled to take on Red Rock in a match for his Frontier title!
Jeff Marx: Is Shipley even gonna turn up for this?! He’s gotta go!
Dave Kern: I’ll wager he’ll give finishing it quickly a shot, but he’ll have to be on his way pretty soon. I do not like the looks of what is happening out at that winery.
Jeff Marx: Man, the girl’s hot. He needs to go right now. Screw the Frontier title. Screw the pay-per-view.
Steven Smith: Screw Red Rock...
Jeff Marx: Oh, please, no.
Dave Kern: But who knows whether going is even the right thing to do? He might be walking right into Aliso’s trap!
Jeff Marx: I’d say that is undoubtedly the case; why else would Aliso invite him...?
Dave Kern: Ladies and gentlemen, news is filtering through to me now that Shipley was already aware of the disappearance and suspected abduction of this girl, who can be identified as Kate Barnard, 19, as of early this morning – and two officers from the police department in Albany, New York, where both she and Shipley live, are backstage with us tonight. I’d hazard a guess that they’re headed out to that winery right now.
Jeff Marx: But in the meantime... it looks like we’ve got a match to watch!
With Richie Travis, the referee for the upcoming bout, already in the ring, looking more focused than usual perhaps due to his awareness of the urgency of the occasion for Shipley, the riff of Reuben’s “Blame Thrower” begins and the lights flicker red, and Red Rock's logo hits the big screen.
We all have responsibilities,
we all have a social debt
and if there is a man free of guilt,
I haven't met him yet
Red Rock bursts out from behind the curtain with huge amounts of energy. Boolie comes out swiftly afterwards and stands with his hands on his hips.
So now you’re backed in a corner,
you’re under verbal attack
they’re pointing fingers like guns in your face and
nobody’s got your back
James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the AWC Frontier championship! Introducing first, the challenger, being accompanied to the ring by Boolie, from Aldershot, England, weighing in at 197 pounds... RED ROCK!
Red Rock hops up into the ring and immediately the lights go out. The big screen flashes into life, with a piece of rapid video taking a first-person trip through a conceptual maze of light in space. The text "Astral Conversations With Toulouse Lautrec" buzzes repeatedly across the screen, as the song of the same name by Northern Irish rock group Ash starts up with a re-recorded robotic voice-over announcing: "Please welcome: Tim Shipley. Error. Does not compute. Does not compute..." The basic two-chord opening begins, with Tim Wheeler's melodic "Uh. Uh uh" leading the song into the slightly heavier section as the guitar joins in. Shipley quickly comes through the curtain and runs down to the ring, his face looking harried, carelessly tossing his title belt aside.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Milton Keynes, England, weighing in at 201 pounds... the Frontier champion, TIM SHIPLEY!
Dave Kern: Shipley desperate to get started right away.
The bell rings, and Shipley swiftly steps into a collar-and-elbow tie-up, moving smoothly round behind Red Rock into a hammerlock.
Jeff Marx: Shipley doesn’t often enjoy a weight advantage over his opponents, but with Red Rock at just one-nine-seven that affords Shipley all of four pounds.
Dave Kern: These two are well-matched.
Steven Smith: Personally, I don’t see the chemistry.
Shipley lets the arm go to segue into a side backbreaker, dropping RR smartly to the mat to make an early lateral press.
ONE!
One is all Richie Travis can manage and Shipley slaps the mat in frustration.
Dave Kern: He needs this, and then he needs to go.
Red Rock begins to clamber to his feet, but that isn’t quick enough for Shipley, who drives a knee into his mid-section and pulls him in with a stump-puller piledriver, but Red Rock flips the 20-year-old over his body to land flat on his back.
Jeff Marx: He’s having to take some big risks right from the start with no time for build-up. Shipley had better watch out if he wants to hang onto that title belt.
Dave Kern: It’s my feeling that he’s gonna go for a few big moves and if he misses them, just lay down for Red Rock and chase after Kate Barnard. He can’t risk leaving her alone with Aliso for long.
Jeff Marx: And how do you know that?
Dave Kern: I... don’t.
Jeff Marx: Exactly –
Dave Kern: REGARDLESS, he clearly wants to finish fast.
Steven Smith: Which is why I don’t date the guy.
Red Rock looks to Irish whip Shipley, who has already risen, but a vibrant Shipley reverses the motion and as Boolie shouts to him, Red bounces off the ropes. Shipley meets him with a driving knee, and RR goes flipping over it to land neatly on his back as the crowd murmur appreciatively. Shipley doesn’t even watch him fall, having already hopped onto the second turnbuckle and leapt off with The Chi-Squared Drop...!
Jeff Marx: Damn!
He misses! Red Rock having had the presence of mind to sit up with Shipley in flight now hooks the college student’s leg.
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: Shipley kicks out on two. Now looks like crunch time. He’s gotta go!
Jeff Marx: Looks like we get a new champion, then, if your theory’s correct.
Dave Kern: That appears to be so –
Jeff Marx: Hey, why doesn’t Shippers just leave and get himself counted out?
Dave Kern: It’s a matter of honour, Jeff.
Steven Smith: Oh, like Shipley has honour. He comes early, for crying out loud!
Red Rock lands a couple of head punches as Shipley gets back up, and then flips his left arm up to land a heart punch. Shipley scowls, staggering away towards the turnbuckle, and Red Rock follows him in – but suddenly, a man bursts through the curtain and runs down to the ring! Red Rock stops, turning to stare at the intruder.
Dave Kern: What’s this?
Jeff Marx: WHO’s this?
Steven Smith: That’s General Rahman, the manager of... Captain Suleimon?
Jeff Marx: GO! GO! PIKACHU!
Dave Kern: What in God’s name is he doing out here?
Steven Smith: Suleimon and Red Rock were getting it on at the Christmas party... fortunately not PROPERLY getting it on as they’re both butt ugly.
Dave Kern: Of course, of course... so is this... revenge?
Rahman reaches the ring and slams his hands on the apron, yelling unintelligibly at Red Rock who paces over to the nearest corner, staring at the General, nonplussed.
Jeff Marx: He’d better watch himself...
Shipley, still desperate to get this finished quickly despite an interference about which he understands little, approaches Red Rock from the side and thrusts a knee into the gut. With RR doubled up, winded, a flushed Shipley’s pupils dilate as he sees the opportunity. The fans begin to cheer.
Jeff Marx: Ohhh no...
Dave Kern: It’s a big, big risk...
Fuck it. There’s no other way. He grabs the top rope. He pulls himself upwards. He plants a foot in the small of Red Rock’s back. He places the other on the turnbuckle. He pushes off and backflips, lacing his arm around his opponent’s neck on the way down and scoring with The Eternal Hope.
Dave Kern: ETERNAL HOPE! ETERNAL HOPE!
Jeff Marx: By God! Shipley landed it!
Steven Smith: Boolie is spitting mad! I prefer them to swallow...
Riding the adrenaline, but not letting the crowd’s adulation distract him from the strict deadline he has placed upon himself, Shipley crouches over Red Rock and wraps up both legs away from the ropes. Richie Travis bends to count.
ONE!
Jeff Marx: Can this be it so early?!
TWO!
THREE
Jeff Marx: Christ! He got it!
Dave Kern: Tim Shipley retains –
Steven Smith: Look! He’s outta here!
Steven Smith is pointing to the fleeing figure of Tim Shipley, who is already halfway down the ramp having rapidly collected his title belt on his way to the German winery where Tony Aliso appears to be holding Kate.
Jeff Marx: Can you say ripoff? I would, if I’d ordered this shit at home...
Dave Kern: It’s the total opposite situation, Jeff! These fans are CAPTIVATED by what Tim Shipley has to do tonight! Yet what that is... we don’t even know!
Jeff Marx: What are the odds on a body count greater than five?
General Rahman is now in the arms of the great Boolie, flailing uselessly as the 7’7” valet of Red Rock carries him into the ring and deposits him in its centre. Rahman scrambles to his feet, still babbling away in Turkish, but Red Rock grabs him and punches him in the face, to huge cheers from all around. Boolie makes as if to kick him on the canvas, but Red Rock holds a hand out and shakes his head, stopping Boolie and beckoning him to follow him out of the ring.
Dave Kern: You know, I don’t think this is the end of the story between Red Rock and Captain Suleimon...
Jeff Marx: We don’t even know its beginning! We don’t even know WHY they fought at the Christmas party!
Dave Kern: A lot of questions from that night are gonna need answering, but unfortunately I suspect we’ll have to wait until the next Fresh! after the winter break to get those answers. AWC returns January 17th from Cincinnati, Ohio...
Jeff Marx: Meaning you’re back to your crappy announce team. Good riddance. You don’t see US again until – Dave, when do they see us again?
Dave Kern: Not until April, when we’ll be WELL into the build-up for AWC’s second Zero To Hero tournament!
Steven Smith: That’s a long way away...
Jeff Marx: I hope we’re getting paid in the in-between time...
Keine Idee!
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, KOLNARENA EMPLOYEE, MADDY ESTELLE, PADDY O'SHEA, HATE
AUTHORS: LARA CLARKE AND MICK DOHERTY
The scene opens amongst the buzz of the backstage area in the Koln arena. Pierce Lavelle is seated on a chair with a small book on basic German. He’s dressed in his ring attire and is well aware of the looks he’s receiving for having a blimp on his shoulder.
Pierce Lavelle: Entschuldigung Sie, bitte!
Pierce Lavelle asked a worker in his best German, with the help of the book.
Worker: Ja?
Pierce Lavelle: Wo sind die Madchen Zimmer? (Where are the female rooms?)
The worker smiled.
Worker: Um die Ecke und so weiter.
Pierce Lavelle quickly flashed through the small book, looking for the words he had just been given, but soon gave up, he was feeling stupid and was only looking for Sarah Kennedy, not a German dictation lesson.
Pierce Lavelle: Sprachen Sie Englisch?
Pierce threw the book into a near by bin and stood up from the chair.
Worker: Yes!
The worker replied with a strong Bavarian accent.
Pierce Lavelle: Okay, cool, so where are the locker rooms again?
Worker: Around ze corner and straight ahead!
Pierce began to walk away and smiled. He could hear slight “L-A-V-E-L-L-E” chants echoing around the arena, but the noise of the backstage buzz was drowning the chants.
Pierce Lavelle: Danke!
Pierce waved goodbye and continued walking till he approached the female locker rooms. He takes a breath, extremely nervous as to what he’s going to say. He knocks first, but gets no response except for the bass beats of hip-hop. He takes a step back, contemplating on leaving, but soon grows some nerves and takes a chance.
Women: WAHHHHHH!!!
All the ladies in the room are screaming as they are still getting changed, most in towels and lingerie.
Pierce Lavelle: I - eh - em…
Pierce freezes, his back to the door and he struggles with the door knob. Maddy Estelle dressed in scandalously pink lingerie approaches Pierce. He swallows deeply.
Maddy Estelle: You…
Maddy yells and begins to hit Pierce with a spare shoe.
Pierce Lavelle: God damn lady!
Pierce says while trying to defend himself and struggling with the doorknob. He manages it and falls backwards, the door slamming in front of him.
Paddy O’Shea: Women!
Paddy says, towering over Pierce.
Pierce Lavelle: Tell me about it!
Pierce stands up and wipes away some dust on his tights.
Paddy O’Shea: You dropped something!
Paddy says with a grin on his face as he picks up a pink bra. The two remain smiling, but evasive, still unsure about what to say or do.
Pierce Lavelle: How’s the leg, limpy?
Paddy O’Shea: Ye bein’ funny?
Paddy asks and with the aid of his crutches limps towards the women’s locker room, leaving the bra on the doorknob.
Pierce Lavelle: I… well… yeah!
Paddy O’Shea: Tis fine, thanks for askin’. What about your shoulder?
Paddy points towards the white blimp of a bandage.
Pierce Lavelle: Bullet wound, it’ll be fine.
Paddy nods and starts to limp as he tries to keep up with Pierce’s walk. Pierce and Paddy are strangely cheery and both began to walk away from the women’s locker room. Neither man is at one another’s throats, considering they face one another tonight.
Paddy O’Shea: I heard about ya granddad’s passin’. How ye feelin’?
Pierce Lavelle: I’ll be fine, more concerned about Adam Dick.
Paddy O’Shea: Aye, Mike Wade’s been a pain in me bollocks!
Pierce Lavelle: Something we have in common.
Pierce nods and grabs a bottle of water off a nearby canteen table.
Paddy O’Shea: Mike Wade and Adam Dick!
Paddy says more to himself.
Pierce Lavelle: The Unfuckables!
Pierce and Paddy stopped outside the medic’s office. Pierce had already seen the doctor, but it seemed Paddy needed to. Pierce held open the door for him.
Pierce Lavelle: Good luck tonight, man.
Pierce holds out his hand and Paddy shakes.
Paddy O’Shea: Same t’ye.
Paddy smiles and enters the room. Pierce turns around and bumps straight into Hate, he jumps, chucking the water in the air.
Pierce Lavelle: Christ, you trying to give me a heart attack!
Hate just folds his arms.
Pierce Lavelle: Okay! Keep up the good work.
Pierce pats Hate’s shoulders and soon leaves. Hate remains waiting outside the medic's office.
Volkyeva's Legacy
FEATURING: SASHA VOLKYEVA, ???, ADAM DICK
AUTHORS: DEAN AND JOE SCHMIDT
We’re back at ringside, where “Yoga Means Union” has just come to a close and the ice queen Sasha Volkyeva is standing in the ring, holding a microphone, preparing to address the crowd, who are mildly booing the Russian.
Sasha Volkyeva: People say that I'm not very nice, that I never do anything for the good of this company or its' employees. Well tonight they are wrong.
Jeff Marx: Well if she would have sanctified Jack Murphy's Platinum title we probably wouldn't be in this mess!
Dave Kern: She doesn't exactly owe AWC anything, Jeff.
Steven Smith: Aside from an explanation! Can you believe she wore that brown top with that black skirt? Hideous!
Sasha Volkyeva: You see, I've gone to great lengths this past week. I've hired lawyers, accountants, agents – the works – all for one man. A former champion who will be looking to carve his niche here in AWC. And quite frankly he hasn't come a moment too soon.
The fans all wondered who she could possibly talking about. But really, it is blatantly obvious.
Sasha Volkyeva: Merry Christmas, AWC, and don't say I never got you anything.
"YEEEEHAHHHHAAAAAAHAAAAAAH!" It doesn't matter if you've been trying to keep yourself classified as a hermit these past years; you've heard this song. If you lived towards the end of the new millennium, you have DEFINITELY heard this song. If you happened to see Napoleon Dynamite, you've heard this song albeit briefly. If you were a fan of Core Wrestling, you've definitely heard this song.
"Larger Than Life" by the Backstreet Boys.
Your. (Former). Legacy. Champ. Is. Here.
Dave Kern: THE KINGFISH IS IN AWC!
The fans, despite not necessarily being huge Core fans, still come out of their seats and give a very nice ovation as The Kingfish himself, Buddy Kingfisher, makes his way out onto the top of the stage. The trademark smile. The red hair. The Patrick (from Spongebob. What do you mean you don't know who I'm talking about? Liars. All of you.) T-Shirt. Yes folks. All the familiar things. They are here. In AWC. Ready to roll.
Buddy begins to make his way toward the ring, dancing goofy with his music as always, and slapping the hands of some fans on the way. The place has a very nice sustained loud pop for the former Core superstar who once was the pride of the show as the Legacy champion. Buddy reaches the ring, rolls in under the bottom rope, not as easy as it sounds when you consider that he is a 383 pound man, gets up and walks over to Sasha who smiles and hands him the mic before taking her leave of the ring and heading out of the main arena area.
Jeff Marx: Who is this guy? Some jobber from another less than popular federation?
Steven Smith: I don't know who he is. But he is one big bundle of man.
Dave Kern: That is Buddy Kingfisher you idiots! He was, until recently, the Legacy champion of Core Wrestling. A contract dispute led to his leaving the company. This is a HUGE signing for Sasha Volkyeva and the AWC!
Jeff Marx: Looks like a huge waste of time to me.
Buddy, who has been walking about the ring taking in the moment, finally raises the mic to his lips to begin his speech. The crowd begins to quiet down in order to hear what the former Legacy champion has to say.
Buddy Kingfisher: First off I'd like to thank the kind Sasha Volkyeva for giving me the opportunity to come here after the way that my Core Wrestling career came to an abrupt end.
The fans begin to chant "Screw Core!" while Buddy simply stands in the ring with a bit of a tiny smile and looks almost embarrassed by the reaction.
Buddy Kingfisher: I'm sure that everyone in the world expects me to come out, where ever I happened to land next, and trash Core Wrestling and its owner Matt Lanier.
Once again the crowds gets louder with its chants about Core Wrestling.
Buddy Kingfisher: The truth is, however, that I haven't got a bad thing to say about Core Wrestling or Matt Lanier. I'm nothing but grateful for all the doors that Mr. Lanier opened for me by being part of his company. I'd like to thank him, as well as Jason Hughes, for giving me an early shot by placing me in the Star Search Tournament that eventually led to allow me to become the Core Legacy champion.
The fans now boo the mention of the main title of Core which of course they believe is nothing in comparison to their very own Transatlantic title. Understandable and Buddy shows his understanding by nodding to the fans. His life. His love. His passion. Them. Nothing else.
Buddy Kingfisher: At any rate I have nothing but respect for Mr. Lanier and his company. In fact it wasn't even Mr. Lanier, Jason Hughes, or even my bloody problems with Hiroshi Ryusaki that led to be deciding not to resign with them. I know many think it’s all about money but the fact is that Mr. Lanier offered me a more than generous contract. In all honesty I've signed with AWC for far less.
The crowd now gets very silent as they are curious as to where The Kingfish is going.
Jeff Marx: Less? See I told you this guy was an idiot and a waste of a signing.
Steven Smith: I think it is noble. Money isn't everything you know.
Jeff Marx: What could possibly be more important?
Steven Smith: A great ass. Buddy could use some work on his but I don't mind my men being a bit on the plump side.
Dave Kern: While I don't agree with Steven on his important factor I do have to agree that there is something honourable in a man not putting money above everything else.
Jeff Marx: That is why you two fools sit here and draw far less than I do. Cause you're idiots just like this Kingfisher.
Buddy Kingfisher: I know it sounds odd but the fact is that money simply isn't as important to me as a couple of other things. Respect and pride. I'm not talking about just for myself but that I show that toward my fellow wrestlers. In Core I simply didn't do that. I cheated my fellow wrestlers. Cheated my fans. Cheated myself. I'm sure you'd like to know how and I'll tell you. I....
"Blah! Blah! Blah! FUCKING BLAH!"
Of course, he's cut off by the sound of an Unfuckable tone. Adam Dick's, that is. The Unfuckably Delightful AWC superstar parts the curtains, and frustratedly stares at the horrid scene taking place in front of him. Of course, the fans take over from the "Boo Core" chants to the "Boo Dick" chants, but this is not on Adam's mind.
Adam Dick: I can't even wait for my music to play to come out here and interrupt you, that's how fucking bored I am! You mean to tell me that AWC is keeping Adam Dick, THE ILLUSTRIOUS AND INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE FACE-EATER, off of this already crappy and convoluted card (Hey, it IS AWC) just so we can debut ANOTHER Core refugee? Didn't we turn down William Curr for this exact reason?
Buddy Kingfisher: Now –
Adam Dick: Hold it, son, newbs must be GRANTED mic-speaking permission. As I was saying, they wouldn't even let me in the main event! After Pierce Cheatin' Lavelle admits he had been administered some synthetic steroid that he managed to defeat me with, he still gets the chance to defend against Paddy O'Shea? WHOM I HAVE BEATEN MANY A TIME BEFORE?!? Outrage! Not to mention that my good friend, Mike Wade, has to defend his title against a Catholic Priest? WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO?! I'll tell you what it's coming to.
Jeff Marx: Hell yeah! Now THIS is how a promo gets down, fellas.
Adam Dick: It's coming to Adam Dick delivering an ass-kicking bonanza to everyone who deems worthy. Guess what, Kingprick! YOU'RE AT THE TOP OF THE LIST. And as a certain Zach De La Rocha is known for saying it best, It has to start somewhere. It has to start sometime. What better place than here? What better time than now?
Buddy takes a moment to eye Adam Dick. The Illustrious Face-Eater in all his weird and colorful glory. After a few moments Buddy gets a genuine smile on his face.
Buddy Kingfisher: Let me get this straight. I came here tonight to introduce myself to the AWC fans. To have my few moments to speak my peace before I begin my wrestling career here. I haven't even brought my wrestling gear and yet you want to face me in a match right here at Winter Warfare?
Adam Dick: Well I know you don't know what an allegory is, you stupid hick-faced fuck stupid hick, but I know how I can teach you what one is. Down in Georgia or Texas or whatever fist-fucking state you come from, I'm sure they say "We got a sayin' down hurr in Jor-Jah". Well, we have a saying here in AWC. 'There's no time than the present.' I've got nothing better to do! I'm sure you don't.
Jeff Marx: DON'T FORGET THAT YOU'RE THE HEAT-THIEF, ADAM.
Adam Dick: That's right! As the Official Heat-Thief of Professional Wrestling, it is my duty to steal whatever thunder a potentially big name tries to create and spin the situation to my own advantage? What better way to do that than beating you, ON PAY-PER-VIEW TELEVISION, on your debut moment here in AWC?! Sounds like the best way for me to welcome a former champion.
Buddy stands in the ring for a moment thinking about the situation. Clearly not what he had planned for the evening but it appears as if there is nothing else the former champion can do. Finally he sighs, looks at the crowd, gives them a big thumbs-up, and looks back over at Face-Eater.
Buddy Kingfisher: (doing his best mocking voice of Face-Eater talking southern) Well by gawd son I guess I'll just have to teach you a lessin' 'bout that thing called...
Suddenly Buddy decks the Face-Eater knocking him to the mat before stepping back into the corner to take his shirt off.
Buddy Kingfisher: Careful what you wish for.
Buddy Kingfisher vs Adam Dick
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHORS: DEAN, JOE SCHMIDT AND PIERRE HYDE
Referee Lars Larsson runs quickly past the curtain and into the ring, calling for the bell and stepping in between the slowly approaching Adam Dick, crawling to face his opponent, from Buddy Kingfisher.
Adam Dick: I’m going to make you wish you never left Core.
Buddy Kingfisher: Funny, I was thinking the same thing.
And Buddy Kingfisher’s first, unanticipated match-up in AWC is underway – with a vengeance! The Kingfish strikes the Illustrious Face-Eater with a large right hand, the weight of his massive frame immediately dropping the smaller PRIME Super Fucking Duper champion.
Adam, from the mat, bestows Buddy with an evil glare that further cements this fledgling rivalry. As he quickly bursts to his feet, he is again brought down by a rushed lariat from the Legacy champ. Ooh, Kingfisher is hot right now.
No Steven Smith jokes here.
Dave Kern: Look at Buddy, he’s an aggressor!
Jeff Marx: He’d better watch his face – it’s ripe enough for eating.
Dave Kern: Adam just keeps stepping up to be thrown back to the ground, as Buddy just floored him with another lariat.
Too many lariats for ya?
Well how about a leg-sweep: Mortal Kombat Style!!!!
Because that’s how Adam avoids being tackled to the mat again; a Mortal Kombat (back-low kick) leg-sweep that brings Kingfisher to his knees. Kingfisher moans and groans, but it isn’t enough to keep the big man down.
Both men, on their feet, charge and lock-up in the center of the ring. Of course, a man of Buddy’s size takes the immediate advantage when facing a man like Adam Dick, but it is what someone does with the advantage that weighs in on the outcome.
He whips Dick to the ropes like a rag-doll. Upon his return, Buddy prepares for a backbody drop that the Illustrious Face-Eater just so happens to dodge the hold. He darts to the ropes again, and upon his return this time, ducks a blow that Kingfisher tries to throw to him. Upon his third and final go to the ropes, he returns with a spinning heel-kick with enough force behind it to mummify a dead pharaoh, if that even makes sense.
Jeff Marx: And that’s how you do things… UNFUCKABLY.
Adam Dick goes for the useless cover, because everyone knows you always get a two-count unless you finish with your, ahem, FINISHER.
Lars Larson counts the two anyways, despite Buddy’s eyes being wide-open and confused at the Face’s action, allowing the Kingfish to kick out with ease.
Adam slaps the mat in frustration, screaming at the ref to count fairly (aka quicker) next time.
Dave Kern: Wow, this is just a treat.
Jeff Marx: Stop saying that, you’re starting to sound like Smith in his gay corner over there.
Steven Smith: HEY!
Dave Kern: I’m just saying, what a match we have! Buddy Kingfisher, the last Legacy champion in Core Wrestling, HERE IN AWC facing what is arguably one of our biggest stars, the Illustrious Face-Eater!
Jeff Marx: Yeah, that is pretty sweet.
Steven Smith: Never thought I’d see it, tonight no less.
Facey is going nuts, headbanging to heavy metal and shit, pumping himself up, when he and Buddy finally meet for another lock-up. He drives the higher-tier Core champ to the ground with a hip-toss, a very basic move, but doesn’t release the arm lock that the performance of the move requires. With Buddy sitting on his ass, Adam Dick curls his forearm around his back and twists, creating an inverted arm-bar with his leverage over the Wal*Mart Enthusiast.
Adam Dick: SUBMIT YOU CHICKEN EATING SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCK!
But Buddy Kingfisher doesn’t submit. Hah, yeah right, he’s a real man. In fact, he had just been toying with Adam, screaming in pain at his lackluster armbar, when the hold wasn’t even hurting him.
He powers out, and throws the Face-Eater over his shoulder, before driving him to the mat in what looked like the ending stages of a pump-handle slam, a variation of Face-Eater’s own Eaterplex.
Talk about irony, huh?
Buddy Kingfisher drops for the count.
Jeff Marx: I never got why people went for pinfall attempts in the first five minutes of a match – they never get them.
Steven Smith: It’s called filler, Jeff.
Jeff Marx: Speaking of ‘Fill-her’, that’s something you have yet to do as of late, eh Steven?
Lame gay jokes are the writer’s way of saying I have nothing to say! YEEEHAW!
Buddy lifts the Illustrious Face-Eater to his feet, and locks him in shoulder-to-shoulder for a suplex maneuver. Lifting Adam overhead to a vertical position, the Kingfish makes his best effort to display his strength by keeping him extended this way. And then he does it with one hand.
Jeff Marx: Stalling suplex?
Bam, Kingfisher drops to the mat with Adam Dick’s neck firmly in tow.
Dave Kern: Nope, stalling brainbuster!
This time, however, Buddy was smarter and decided not to cover the Face-Eater, but instead head over to his backside and work over the legs in the form of a –
Steven Smith: BOSTON CRAB! Oooh, I love this move; watching their heinies rub together.
Jeff Marx: Heinies? DISGUSTING.
As the rest of the announce team shits themselves and throw up, Buddy is enjoying his time in AWC as he puts the lock on the Face-Eater, screaming in pain while reaching unsuccessfully for the ring-ropes. He wants to get out of this hold but of course he can’t, because Buddy is a former world champ where as Adam Dick holds titles for a week before losing them.
Kind of a mismatch here.
Buddy Kingfisher: Like interruptions now? Eh? Think you’re funny?
With his heels basically touching the back of his head, Adam gathers whatever composure he still holds by grabbing Lars Larson’s collar, who was in his face doing that annoying “DO YOU SUBMIT?!?!?” thing that referees do, and pulling him to knock off Buddy. To a crafty person like Adam Dick, anyone was an object to be taken advantage of. Except Mike Wade, of course.
Adam, rubbing his lower back to relieve it of some stress, finally stands to his feet and turns face-to-face…
With Buddy’s right fist.
Adam Dick: FUCK! I think you broke my nose –
And then he was acquainted with Buddy’s boot, shoved right in his stomach. Basically, it wasn’t a good night so far. Buddy simply smirks as he grabs hold of the Face-Eaters right arm and whips him hard, chest first, into the corner turnbuckles. Eater, now in the least of good moods, bounces out of the corner and right into a belly to back over head suplex. Dick bounces hard of the mat and slides all the way out of the ring.
Dave Kern: Very nice bit of offense shown here by Kingfisher.
Jeff Marx: Snooze-fest if you ask me.
Steven Smith: I'd like to..
Jeff and Dave: Just SHUT UP!
With Steven sulking, Dick getting to his feet in pain, and Dave and Jeff ready to smack Steven all is not well outside of the ring. Inside the ring, however, its all smiles as Buddy is strutting around the ring, badly I might add, and doing some silly dancing and posing for the enjoyment of the fans. Finally he decides to continue his assault on Dick and walks over to the side of the ring where Dick is now on his feet and leaning back first against the apron. Kingfisher reaches over the top rope and grabs him by the top of his mask and starts pulling him up onto the apron. Dick kicks his feet for a moment until they are planted on the mat. Kingfisher positions him to reverse suplex him back into the ring but Facey, what can I say I'm tired of saying Dick already, drops down onto his ass while holding the back of Kingfishers head. This, of course, causes him to hang his neck across the top rope and bounce backwards into the ring.
Jeff Marx: See now that is what true talent brings to the table. Damn Core jobbers coming over here and ruining our product.
Dave Kern: Need I remind you that Adam Dick was also once a Core wrestler.
Jeff Marx: Thank you for proving my point Dave. He was a wrestler while this tub-o-lard was nothing more than fodder for the real stars.
Steven Smith: Did you see how hard he flopped down on his rear end? I bet he has a really strong buttocks. The two announcers get green faced with illness while Facey slides into the ring to go after Kingfisher who has gotten back to his feet. What? It was just one move. Did you really think he was going to stay down after one offensive move in seven minutes? This isn't the WWE style of booking here.
Kingfisher swings a right hand that Facey with his superior speed is able to easily dodge, going behind Kingfisher and giving him a dropkick into the middle of the back. This causes Buddy to stumble forward and gives Facey time to get back to his feet and he quickly follows this up with a bulldog that drives Buddy face first into the mat. Wasting no time at all Facey jumps back up to his feet, moves to the second rope, and flies off with a knee drop into the middle of Kingfisher’s back.
Dave Kern: An excellent plan of attack by Face-Eater at this point. Taking out the back of the big man certainly will help in slowing down his power based, suplex attack.
Jeff Marx: That is what superior talent does Dave. They game plan perfectly.
Steven Smith: That isn't the only thing they do.
In the ring Facey hasn't let up as he has dropped two more knees, this time simply from the standing position, into the lower part of Kingfishers back and has now locked in a single leg crab that he is arching all the way back on. Buddy begins to try to fight the hold, clearly in pain from the work being done on his back, and tries to claw his way to the ropes. With every little inch he gets closer Facey applies that much more pressure to the hold.
Jeff Marx: Face-Eater is going to end this waste of air before he even gets started. Nice knowing you Kingfisher. Your career here in AWC was over quicker than The Educator’s time at the very time.
Dave Kern: Is it really necessary to mock those who are no longer here?
Jeff Marx: Was that even a serious question?
In the ring Kingfisher continues to try and struggle toward the ropes. Finally, however, he realizes (remember Buddy isn't the smartest guy in the world. Cut him a break ok. He tries hard) that there is no reason to try and drag himself to the ropes. He is bigger and stronger. With that thought in mind, and the roar of the crowd behind him, Buddy simply begins to power out of the move by straightening his leg out. It doesn't happen just like that or anything but in about a moment Face-Eater realizes that his grip is being broken and he quickly releases the hold and drops an elbow into the back of Buddy's leg. Right in the middle of the hamstring. That will charlie horse your muscle right up.
Dave Kern: Very smart move by Face-Eater. He could cause a charlie horse with that type of thing.
See? I tried to tell you. In the ring Facey is now on his feet and begins to stomp the back of the same leg. Three, four, five, six kicks later and he drops a knee into the back of the leg. Who said good game planning wasn't used in wrestling anymore? Finally Face-Eater reaches down and starts dragging Buddy to his feet. Once he gets him there Facey hits him with two quick jabs to the face, moves behind him, and with a quick knee to the lower part of the back puts Kingfisher into position and locks him into a abdominal stretch. Despite being the smaller and less powerful of the two Facey is able to lock the move in tight and proper do to all the work on the lower back and one of Kingfisher’s legs. The ref starts asking Buddy if he would like to submit but all Buddy does is shake his head and scream.
Buddy Kingfisher: NO!!!!!!
Jeff Marx: What an idiot. He is only delaying the inevitable.
Steven Smith: Admitting his hidden love interest for me?
Dave Kern: Some how I highly doubt that is happening in the near future.
Steven Smith: But you don't deny there is a shot in the future at some point.
In the ring Buddy continues to fight through the pain of the submission hold that is now being torqued even more was Face-Eater starts using the ropes for leverage. After a moment the ref looks to see if he is doing it but Facey moved his hands away just in time. Soon as the ref turns to check on Buddy, Facey goes right back to the illegal move. A moment later the ref turns in time to see it and quickly jumps to his feet and kicks Facey’s hand off the top rope. Just as he does Buddy is able to muster up enough strength to hip toss Facey over his back and to the mat. He is unable to follow that up however with all the pain in his back and he simply crumples to the mat. Quickly Facey gets back to his feet and this time after driving a knee into the back of Buddy moves the big man around and puts him in a reverse chin lock with a knee posted in the middle part of his back. Facey begins pulling back more and more on the move. Causing more and more stress on the spine of the former Core Legacy champion. Once more the ref positions himself to ask Buddy if he wants to give it up.
Buddy Kingfisher: NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Facey continue to pull back on the hold more and more. After several moments Buddy can't simply sit there and take it any longer. The time to get out of this is now. Buddy begins drawing all the strength he can muster up. Moving around and getting himself into position to get to a knee. Finally he is able to get himself up to his feet only to take a knee to the chest from Facey. Facey then whips him into the ropes and looks to hit a clothesline upon the return. Kingfisher ducks the move, bounces off the opposite ropes, and drops Facey to the mat with a thunderous spinebuster that drives Facey into the mat. Buddy rolls to the side after the impact. Both men are down. But due to it being only the first decent move that Kingfisher has landed in the last few minutes Facey is up to his feet fairly quickly where he meets Kingfisher, who is just getting to his feet, with a jab to the face. Kingfisher returns the favor. A second punch from Facey. A second from Kingfisher. Back and forth now as they throw punches three, four, five, and six. Finally Facey goes for another punch and Buddy is able to just duck under it, slipping in behind Facey, locking him into a German suplex and throwing Facey up and over his head. Facey comes down, hard, on the back of his head/neck and bounces across the mat. Kingfisher doesn't move after the reversal of punch. Both men are down.
Dave Kern: Both wrestlers are down. That last suplex looked like it really took a lot out of Facey. It appeared that he landed very funny and hard on the back of his head.
Jeff Marx: You saw what we all did. Kingfisher was going to lose so he tried to kill him.
ONE!
Jeff Marx: Oh for God’s sake, what is the point? Has anyone EVER seen one of these ten-counts completed?
Steven Smith: There was this one time at band camp –
Jeff Marx: ON PAY-PER-VIEW?!
TWO! Lars Larsson persists in his law-abiding manner, as Kingfisher lets out a groan and heavily gets to his feet. He grabs Dick by the back of the head, throwing a big fist down into it before pulling the groggy Face-Eater to his feet and whipping him hard into the corner. Facey hits the turnbuckle front first and staggers out, Kingfisher running in behind him and charging him back into the ringpost. Turning Facey around, he lets loose a string of punches that get huge cheers from the fans.
Dave Kern: The Kingfish is certainly winning over the fans real fast here in AWC!
Dick desperately kicks out, catching Kingfisher mightily between the legs.
Steven Smith: OH THE REGIONS~!
Kingfisher bends forward, the pain written all over his face, as Dick jumps up onto the second turnbuckle and looks for a tornado DDT. Kingfisher steadfastly refuses to go with it, instead wrapping his meaty arms around Dick’s small waist and perching him on the top rope. A slap to the face and Dick is dazed as Kingfisher’s heavy frame slowly climbs the turnbuckle too.
Dave Kern: KINGFISHER TAKING A BIG RISK!
The cheers get louder and louder as Kingfisher reaches the top rope and wraps his arms around Dick.
Jeff Marx: Are we looking at a belly-to-belly from the top rope?!
But there’s a huge “OOOOOOOHHHHH!” from both The Kingfish and the fans as Dick once more resorts to the most desperate of measures. This time it’s his knee that connects with the testicles.
Steven Smith: REGIONS~! GETTING A BATTERING!
Wasting no time, the Face-Eater hops down to the canvas as Kingfisher sits uncomfortably over the ringpost, facing out through the fence at the fans, who urge his swift recovery. Dick hoists himself up the turnbuckle behind him, and grabbing the ropes either side with his hands, inverts his body to lace his legs around Kingfisher’s head from behind.
Jeff Marx: Oh dear Kingfish! BYE BYE AWC CAREER!
Top rope Osama-rana. That’s the way it’s done.
Dave Kern: THE OSAMA-RANA FROM THE TOP ROPE! KINGFISHER KNOCKED SENSELESS!
Jeff Marx: Bang bang, your face just got eaten.
The Illustrious Face-Eater enthusiastically hooks the leg, and Lars Larsson slaps the canvas as hard as he possibly can.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: That’s it! Buddy Kingfisher on his first night in AWC takes a loss to Adam Dick!
Jeff Marx: The chief heat-thief successfully thieves the heat!
Steven Smith: Fatboy won’t be happy.
Dave Kern: Folks, what a great impromptu match that was, in addition to the six big matches that were already scheduled for tonight! Winter Warfare is proving some show!
Beckoning Assault
FEATURING: ???
AUTHOR: OBINNA
Are you lost?
WOMAN
…
Yes.
The slow, mellow bass-heavy riff of Neurosis's "Lost" begins, accompanied by dimmed lights and the repeated philosophical mumblings of the man. Slowly onto the big screen bubbles the word "ASSAULT." That lingers for a while, interrupted by random flashes of a man, dark-skinned and athletic, slamming his fists and feet into opponents.
Are you lost?
The flashes begin to grow longer and the pictures more articulate, the song still flowing along like a river of filth. The slow, mournful vocals filter into the mix as if they had always been there.
So close to the center I could not see….
The image of the man, with his head down, arms folded in front of him in concentration, appears on the screen.
Glaring at the sacrifice to be made…
The man looks up, eyes full of fury, as if called by the abrupt guitar chord. Every time the chord hits, he seems to jolt with some unseen energy. The ramblings begin again as he quivers in anger, face contorted brutally.
The cycles, I pray that I can deal…
Now that I have shown you…
These cycles, I pray that you can feel…
The song slowly fades away, along with the image of the man, leaving only the word "ASSAULT" left burning on the screen. Eventually, it, too fades away.
Mike Wade (C) vs Chainz
STIPULATION: CUP OF BLOOD
REFEREE: LARS LARSSON
AUTHOR: MIKE S.
Jeff Marx: Um... new jobber?
Steven Smith: Man, African Americans are always SO beautiful...
Dave Kern: Any idea what “Assault” means?
Jeff Marx: An unprovoked attack...?
Dave Kern: In context, idiot.
Jeff Marx: Not a clue.
Dave Kern: Well we’ve already had a great night of action and it’s about to be turned up a notch here in a few minutes.
Jeff Marx: What are you talking about, this has been a terrible night so far. We all know that this match along with the main event are the only matches that anyone wants to see.
Dave Kern: What are you talking about, every match tonight has been excellent.
Jeff Marx: I guess me and you have a different opinion of what excellent is.
We quickly cut backstage where Chainz and Tracy are walking through the halls. Chainz has some jeans on, but still no shirt, probably not a good idea for how brutal his match will be. Tracy is wearing less revealing clothes than usual and is all business in her cargo pants and t-shirt.
Jeff Marx: Ah what’s this I can’t see any skin.
Steven Smith: What are you talking about I’m seeing plenty of skin?
Jeff Marx: Tracy’s fully clothed.
Steven Smith looks over at Jeff Marx who instantly realizes Tracy isn’t who Steven was talking about.
Jeff Marx: Hey Steven, have I ever told you how much I hate you?
Steven Smith: I ever tell you how much I love you?
Dave Kern: Sigh.
“Cure” by The Wild Colonials hits as the crowd goes into a frenzy of boos, sick of the actions of Chainz in his time in the AWC. Tracy is right by his side and has a rather nervous look on her face, but follows Chainz down the ring without question.
Jeff Marx: This isn’t entirely fair, Chainz had a car accident while over in Amsterdam, he’s at a serious disadvantage.
Dave Kern: Please, that was about a week ago and the doctors said he was completely fine and fit for the match.
Steven Smith: You’re telling me, he’s got a great body. Look at all those muscles bulging out.
Both announcers just ignore the gay comment and look ahead as Chainz and Tracy walk down to the ring.
James Brunt: The following is the Cup Of Blood match! Both opponents will be strapped together with a steel chain and each will have a 1 quart cup in their corner. The first person to fill his cup with the other’s blood will win. Introducing first, the challenger, being accompanied to the ring by Tracy, from Birmingham, Alabama, weighing in at 295 pounds… CHAINZ!
The crowd boos heavily as Chainz yells at some of the fans in the front rows. Tracy looks straight ahead as she bites her bottom lip.
Dave Kern: You think she’s nervous?
Jeff Marx: I bet, but she shouldn’t bite her lip when I could do that for her.
Chainz jumps into the ring and walks around each corner, surveying the scene. Chainz notices his cup in the corner and a smile crosses his face. Tracy comes over to his side and gives Chainz a kiss on the lips.
Steven Smith: Ewww, what a disgusting show of affection.
Dave Kern: This is nothing compared to how she acted at the Christmas party.
Steven Smith: Ehh, don’t remind me, brings tears to my eyes.
“Jump Around” by House of Pain blasts through the sound system as the fans begin to buzz. Mike Wade walks out from the back with a smile on his face and is greeted by a mixed reaction.
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Waterford, Ireland, weighing in at 209 and ¾ pounds… the AWC Relentless champion… “His Swerviness” MIKE WADE!
Again a mixed reaction echoes from the crowd, but it is loud in appreciation for the champ and anticipation for what promises to be a bloody match.
Dave Kern: Well this match was booked by David Harber, but is Chainz’s idea. He won the chance to face Wade here in any match he wanted due to his showing at Triangles. Now Chainz has aligned himself with Sasha Volkyeva so I’m not surprised that she assigned Lars Larsson to referee this match.
Dave Kern: She thinks Larsson will be able to keep this match as civil as possible, but judging from the two guys in the ring I don’t think anyone in the world will be able to keep this civil.
Mike Wade walks down towards the ring with a cocky smile on his face. He notices Tracy to his right and begins advancing toward her with a grin. Tracy quickly runs and slides into the ring right behind Chainz. Wade stops and the smile disappears from his face as he sees the sick smile of Chainz as he stares at Wade. Mike Wade slides into the ring and stands across from Chainz.
Suddenly “Bohemian Like You” hits and David “Pearl” Harber comes out from the back with a steel chain in his hand.
Jeff Marx: What’s he doing?
Steven Smith: With a body like that he can do any damn thing he pleases.
Dave Kern: Looks like he’s bringing the steel chain that will link the two together.
Steven Smith: I like using chains.
Chainz goes over to Lars Larsson and begins yelling at the referee, clearly unhappy with Harber’s presence. David Harber slides into the ring tells both Chainz and Mike Wade to come to the middle of the ring. Reluctantly both do and extend their left hands. Pearl first attaches the chain to Mike Wade and than to Chainz. Without saying a word he slides out of the ring and heads to the back.
Dave Kern: Did you see that tension between Harber and Chainz? There’s some serious problems brewing between those two.
Jeff Marx: That’s because Chainz has aligned himself with our Russian general manager.
Steven Smith: She’s not nearly as good as Pearl.
Tracy slides out of the ring and Lars Larsson goes to the center and tries the chain for strength. Everything seems fine and the bell rings to signal the start of the match.
Dave Kern: Now say what you will about Chainz, he is a very smart man. He knows Mike Wade would want to use his speed and high flying ability against him and this chain will prevent much of that, giving the advantage to the much bigger and stronger man.
Jeff Marx: Well duh, why do you think Chainz wanted this match.
The match starts of slowly; both men circling each other trying to get into the others’ head. Chainz is the first to throw a punch which connects on Wade’s chin. Mike Wade immediately throws a punch of his own which hits Chainz on his chin. The two men stop and stare at each other before Chainz slaps Wade on the cheek.
Jeff Marx: What is this a cat fight? Come on, let’s see some blood. Or at least let’s have Tracy take her top off.
Steven Smith: Eww, no, lets let that huge tittied bimbo keep that shirt on.
Jeff Marx: What a fag.
Dave Kern: I don’t disagree.
Mike Wade charges and takes Chainz down to the ground and begins laying into him with everything he’s got. Chainz tries to cover his head, but most of the punches still connect onto Chainz’s face. Wade finally lets up and stands up, bring Chainz with him. Wade goes for a clothesline, but there isn’t enough force to bring down the near three hundred pound tower of muscle attached to him. He goes for another clothesline, but Chainz ducks and pulls the chain, whipping Wade around and giving him a wide open shot on his face.
Dave Kern: Ouch, a stiff shot from Chainz to Wade.
Jeff Marx: There’s been a lot of hype for this match, but so far I’m not seeing anything.
Chainz brings down an elbow on Wade’s forehead. He looks down on his work and is disappointed to not see any blood. He brings another elbow down, but Wade moves and Chainz’s elbow crashes into the mat. Wade slides out and hits Chainz in his temple.
Dave Kern: Well that was a nice escape for Wade because that second elbow from Chainz had bad news written all over it.
Jeff Marx: Damnit, where’s the blood, this is a cup of blood match right?
Steven Smith: How can you cheer such sexy men ruining their bodies the way they will?
Dave Kern: They both agreed to fight and now they have to do everything possible to win. We already know that both men have no compassion for his fellow man and will stop at nothing to win.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, Chainz also seems to enjoy pain so I’m not surprised we owe him the pleasure of this match.
Steven Smith: Weren’t you just saying that this match wasn’t living up to its hype?
Both men are up, Chainz goes for a clothesline, but Wade ducks. He grabs his chain and hits Chainz in the face with it causing a bit of blood to start to flow from a cut right above Chainz’s right eye.
Jeff Marx: I was, but now I suddenly seem a lot more into it.
Chainz seems stunned that he’s the first to bleed, but his smile quickly returns. Wade lunges at him, but Chainz just catches him and drives a knee to his face and Wade’s been busted open as well.
Dave Kern: Chainz is just so big, he’s about ninety pounds bigger than Wade and is probably the strongest wrestler in the AWC.
Jeff Marx: I don’t doubt that, Chainz is extremely powerful. He told me he could bench over six hundred and fifty pounds.
Dave Kern: He told you?
Jeff Marx: Well Tracy told me.
Steven Smith: I didn’t even know she could count that high, I just thought she could go up to 37DD.
Jeff Marx: That is a great number isn’t it?
Steven Smith: Uh noooooooo!
Jeff Marx: What do you know queer.
Chainz smiles as he picks Wade up and scoop slams him to the mat, hard. Wade goes for a side sweep of Chainz’s legs, but he doesn’t have enough force to bring Chainz down. Chainz wraps the chain around his hand and punches Mike Wade in the face and more blood begins to flow.
Chainz grabs Wade’s head and starts slamming it into the mat, turning the mat crimson. He lets up and picks Wade up who is quickly to head butt Chainz and slap him with the chain. Chainz spits up some blood before being floored by another chain wrapped punch to the face.
Jeff Marx: What are these guys doing, all that blood on the mat is a waste. You have to fill your cup and that’s an awfully big cup.
Dave Kern: Why don’t you go and get in the ring and lecture the two.
Jeff Marx: I’ll pass.
Wade picks Chainz up and whips him into the ropes. The steel chain extends to its full six feet as Chainz hits the ropes and comes back at Wade who holds the chain up and runs with it held high and collides with Chainz whose face gets the brunt of the blow. Chainz is now bleeding fairly well as he rolls around on the ground in pain. Tracy looks nervous on the outside as Wade struggles, but pulls the huge man over to his corner and his cup. Wade grabs Chainz’s head and positions it over the cup as drops begin to trickle into the cup.
Dave Kern: And Mike Wade is the first to get blood into his cup.
Jeff Marx: ‘Bout time someone realized what this match was all about.
Chainz regains some strength and rolls out of the ring, bringing a reluctant Mike Wade with him. Both men stand on the outside and begin to exchange punches. Chainz ducks one and drives a kick to Mike Wade’s gut and then throws Mike Wade face first into a turn buckle. He drops to a knee and begins rummaging underneath the ring and after a few seconds produces a table that he slides into the ring followed by a chair.
Chainz pulls Wade up with the chain and slides him into the ring. He grabs the chair he just threw in and waits for Mike Wade to stand up. As he does Chainz brings the chair down over Mike Wade’s head. Mike Wade stands shocked for a second and finally drops to the mat with blood coming out of a cut on his forehead. Chainz brings the chair down onto Mike Wade again and than again. He throws the chair aside and pulls Wade easily towards his corner. He picks up the cup and hits Mike over the head before positioning it under the cut on Wade’s forehead as some blood begins to trickle into the cup, shortly covering the bottom of the cup.
Dave Kern: Well Chainz has now matched the blood in Mike Wade’s cup and now he’s passed him. That cut on Wade’s forehead is really flowing freely.
Mike Wade tries to squirm away realizing the amount of blood Chainz has gotten into his cup. Chainz sets the cup down and goes to kick Wade, but Wade catches his foot and pulls Chainz down to the ground. Wade wraps the chain around his arm quickly and brings it down first on Chainz’s gut and than on his face.
Steven Smith: This match is beginning to hurt my eyes.
Dave Kern: For once I agree with Steven, this match is going to be hard to watch. This is going to go down as one of AWC’s bloodiest matches.
Jeff Marx: Good, this is a pay-per-view isn’t it, I want to see some blood damn it.
Mike Wade stands up and goes to set up the table. He does so and slides out of the ring and rummages under the ring finally producing some barb wire. He slides back into the ring and begins wrapping the table with the barb wire. Chainz stands up and grabs Mike Wade from behind and flings him down on the mat. Chainz kicks Wade in the side and causes him to topple out of the ring. Chainz follows him. He picks Wade up and places him by the turnbuckle. Chainz wraps the chain around Wade’s neck and slides back into the, choking Wade in the process. Chainz smiles and rears back, tugging on the chain choking Mike Wade. Wade grasps at the chain, but there is no give in it. He struggles to try and get out of the predicament, but he has no luck. His eyes bulge out a bit and his face begins to turn purple. Blood begins to trickle out of Wade’s mouth as he begins to fade out. Suddenly without warning the chain snaps and Chainz goes flying backwards as Wade slumps to the ground, taking in deep breathes.
Jeff Marx: OH MY GOD, what the hell just happened?
Dave Kern: I can’t believe what I just saw.
Chainz looks stunned as he looks at half the chain still attached to his arm. His eyes grow wide as he goes over to Lars Larsson and begins yelling something, pointing at the back every few seconds.
Steven Smith: What is he saying?
Dave Kern: He’s complaining like always.
Jeff Marx: No, I just got it. Who’s the person that brought the chain out, Harber. And who is the person that hates Chainz’s guts.
Dave Kern: You’re not saying our general manager purposely brought out a weak chain.
Jeff Marx: Of course, there’s no way that chain would just snap like that. Harber knew that chain offered Chainz a great advantage and he couldn’t have that.
Dave Kern: Your conspiracy theories are quite interesting.
Chainz is livid in the ring as he yells at Lars Larsson who is as shocked about the chain as Chainz is. Chainz takes the table and sets it up in a turnbuckle, leaning it in at a 45 degree angle. Chainz slides out of the ring and approaches Mike Wade who has regained his breath. He goes to grab Mike Wade, but Wade pulls Chainz into the turnbuckle. Chainz’s head cracks against the turnbuckle and he falls to the ground, stunned not out. Tracy comes over to help Chainz, but Wade grabs her and leans in for a kiss. She fights back and scratches his arm, which just brings anger to Wade. Mike rears back and super kicks Tracy, who falls to the ground unconscious. Mike smiles and slides back into the ring as Chainz sits up and realizes what just happened. Chainz hovers over Tracy for a bit, petting her face. After a few seconds he stands up with an extremely angry look on his face. Chainz slides into the ring and charges at Mike Wade who is waiting for him. Mike slides to the side and with the help of Chainz’s momentum throws Chainz into the barb wire table.
Jeff Marx: Oh that was sick.
Dave Kern: Chainz with a full head of steam goes flying into that table wrapped in barb wire. I can see the cuts that have been opened and look at all that blood spilling out of his body.
Jeff Marx: This is what everyone’s been waiting for.
Mike Wade is quick to grab his cup and position it over the multiple cuts on Chainz’s body; not sure which cut to go to as each wound is bleeding quite well. The blood continues flowing, filling Mike Wade’s cup about a fourth of the way.
Chainz slumps to the ground and rolls to his stomach covering most of the wounds. Mike Wade sets his cup down and rolls out of the wind and rummages under the ring once again. He pulls out a bag full of something and with a smile throws the bag into the ring, spilling thumb tacks all over the ring. Chainz regains his composure and slides out on the other side of the ring and goes searching for something as well. He brings out a bag and throws it into the ring, spilling shards of glass over the ring. The ring is now covered in thumb tacks and broken glass, leaving nowhere favorable to fall.
Chainz reaches under the ring again and produces something, but slides it into his pocket before anyone can see, including Wade. Both men slide into the ring and circle each other, both afraid to make a move or a mistake. Chainz finally lunges at Wade, who ducks the punch and tries a super kick and connects. Chainz stumbles back, but doesn’t fall. He composes himself and gives Wade a super kick of his own flooring Wade. Chainz picks Mike Wade up and scoop slams him into a nasty pile of broken glass. Mike Wade arches his back as the glass cuts into his flesh. Chainz quickly pulls Mike across the glass and brings him to his corner and begins scooping blood into his cup. After a while his cup appears to be about half full. There is more blood to be filled into the cup, but Tracy begins to stir on the outside and Chainz slides out of the ring and goes over to her.
Dave Kern: Chainz is actually concerned for someone other than himself.
Jeff Marx: You idiot, get back in the ring and finish the match while Wade’s down, this is for the Relentless title. You can always find another woman.
Steven Smith: Not one that slutty.
Jeff Marx: Well maybe you got a point there, but this is for a title. You have to keep you mind on the prize.
Tracy sits up and with Chainz’s help stands to her feet. She thanks Chainz who sticks his tongue down her throat in a show of embrace.
Steven Smith: Ew, just sick.
Dave Kern: You’re more offended by the kiss than this match, aren’t you?
Steven Smith: I wouldn’t say that.
Jeff Marx: I would.
Chainz leaves Tracy and slides back into the ring, but Mike Wade is back to his feet and ready. Mike grabs a large shard of glass and slashes Chainz’s chest with it, producing a rather deep and nasty cut on Chainz’s massive chest. Blood flows freely from the wound, but Chainz isn’t affected too much. Mike Wade goes for another slash, but Chainz ducks out of the way and pulls out a tazer from his pocket. Mike Wade turns around and Chainz drives the tazer into Wade’s gut sending volts through his body. Mike drops the glass shard and falls to the ground in pain. Chainz drops a knee right on Mike Wade’s head causing blood to flow from his nose. Chainz throws the tazer out of the ring and pulls Mike Wade over to his corner. He grabs Mike’s head and begins squeezing it, causing blood to flow from Mike’s mouth and nose. Chainz’s cup begins to fill and has finally passed the three-quarter mark.
Dave Kern: He’s getting close.
Steven Smith: Good this match is starting to make me sick.
Jeff Marx: Oh come on, this match is great.
Dave Kern: I’m sure Miss Volkyeva isn’t liking this match too much. I’m sure she’ll have an earful for Chainz once this match concludes.
Jeff Marx: Well he better make sure to win the title belt than.
Mike Wade quickly squirms away and crawls over the thumb tacks and glass, slashing his flesh in the process. Chainz stands up and reaches in his pocket once again and pulls out a sheet of sand paper. He grabs Mike’s leg, but Wade kicks back and catches Chainz in the mouth. Mike Wade grabs a piece of glass and stands up. He brings the glass down onto Chainz’s head sticking the glass in the bald head of Chainz.
The sand paper drops from Chainz’s hand as he stumbles backwards with the piece of glass still stuck in his head. Mike Wade drop kicks the feet of Chainz and Chainz falls face first into some glass, sending chills through the fans who have grown into a frantic volume. People are chanting, but most of the fans are standing nervously, sickened by the violence and amount of blood in the ring. Tracy is pacing back and forth nervously on the outside as Mike Wade slowly pulls Chainz over to his corner and starts rubbing his forehead with the sand paper. Chainz’s screams fill the arena as blood flows like a river into Mike Wade’s cup, quickly passing the three quarter mark and beginning to near the top.
Dave Kern: What a sick, yet smart strategy from Wade. He’s sanding the flesh right off of Chainz’s flesh.
Jeff Marx: Look at that blood flow, this is great.
Steven Smith makes a vomiting sound.
Jeff Marx: Now you know how we feel about you.
Mike Wade’s cup is dangerously close to full as Chainz finally manages to get away from Wade. Chainz crawls over to his corner, not concerned about the glass and tacks sticking into his arms and legs. Tracy quickly pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to Chainz.
Dave Kern: What the hell is that?
Jeff Marx: What’s what?
Dave Kern: That looks like… oh my god.
Steven Smith: What?
Dave Kern: That’s a box knife.
Chainz produces the blade and as Mike Wade comes over, unaware of the weapon, Chainz slashes out cutting Mike Wade across the arm. Mike drops to the ground and holds his arm in pain. Chainz pulls Wade over to his corner and positions the cup under his chin. He brings the knife to Wade’s chin and makes a deep gash in Wade’s chin allowing blood to flow freely into the cup, nearing the top in no time.
Dave Kern: FOR GOD’S SAKES! SLITTING HIM OPEN LIKE AN ANIMAL IN THE RING!
Mike reaches around frantically for something and finally finds the glass still stuck in Chainz’s head. Mike twists the glass which produces great screams of pain from Chainz. Mike finally pulls the glass out and falls to his back in exhaustion. Chainz is on all fours trying to regain some strength.
Chainz stands up and is met by a standing Mike Wade who seems to have regained some energy. He gets underneath Chainz and delivers TEE-Bone suplex driving Chainz into the glass on the mat. Chainz gets up with a rush of adrenaline and is caught in a sidewinder. Mike Wade picks Chainz up and delivers a ¾ turn neckbreaker. Both men now lay on the mat, both spent and exhausted.
Dave Kern: If Mike Wade could pull Chainz over or bring that cup over it would be a win for him. Chainz is bleeding profusely and Wade’s cup is almost full.
Jeff Marx: Well so is Chainz’s.
Mike Wade slowly stands up and goes over to Chainz who tries to punch at Wade, who ducks and delivers another super kick. He picks Chainz up and kicks him in the gut and sets up and delivers a TFW!
Dave Kern: OH MY GOD, the TFW and if this was a regular match this one would be over!
Jeff Marx: But it’s not a regular match now is it?
Dave Kern: Obviously, I’m just saying.
Jeff Marx: You have a habit in stating the obvious.
Steven Smith: I’m gay.
Jeff Marx: Yes, yes you are.
Mike Wade grabs the cup out of his corner and stands it up. He takes Chainz’s head and puts his mouth over the cup. With one hand holding the cup in place he takes the other and clubs the back of Chainz’s head, causing a great deal of blood to spill out of Chainz’s mouth and directly into the cup, overflowing it in the process.
Dave Kern: HE’S DONE IT, HE’S DONE IT! MIKE WADE RETAINS IN ONE OF THE MOST SHOCKING AND VIOLENT MATCHES I HAVE EVER SEEN!
James Brunt: The winner and still AWC Relentless champion… MIKE WADE!
There is a loud noise coming from the audience, now impossible to tell whether they’re cheers or boos. Mike receives his title belt and slides out of the ring as Tracy slides into the ring and goes to console Chainz who is struggling to get to his feet.
Dave Kern: That was a sick match.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, I just wish Chainz woulda won, but I guess it’s all good.
Steven Smith: Chainz lost at his own game!
Dave Kern: I don’t favor Chainz’s position right now and I’ll be interested to see how Ms Volkyeva reacts to this sick match and not even getting a title belt out of it.
Ja Oder Nein?
FEATURING: PIERCE LAVELLE, SARAH KENNEDY, DAVID "PEARL" HARBER
AUTHOR: LARA CLARKE
Pierce Lavelle sat in his locker room, listening to his MP3 player as he blanced on two legs of the chair. He had intended on speaking to Sarah Kennedy about the Christmas Party, but he didn't dare go back to the Women's locker room, not after his blinding and attack from a half-naked Maddy Estelle. It was easier to just keep the emotions inside him. He was never good with words.
Pierce smiled as he watched the pay-per view unfold on the TV in his room, but he wasn't listening to the commentators, instead he was listening to Ramstein. He thought it would be good to try out a huge German band, considering he was in Germany. But they were turning out to be too heavy metal for his tastes. The door opened, but Pierce couldn't see who it was and didn't hear it.
Voice: Guess who?
Two hands were gently placed over Pierce's face. He jumped off the seat and pulled out the headphones. Sarah Kennedy stood, dressed in a very attractive red dress, that had a slit down her front and back. Pierce was becoming extremely nervous. He had a list of things to say, but they had flown the coope, so to speak.
Pierce Lavelle: Sarah! Hi!
Pierce said with a squeaky voice.
Sarah Kennedy: You okay?
Sarah asked, approaching Pierce now.
Pierce Lavelle: I'm fine.
Pierce replied with a very high-pitched tone. Sarah had now backed Pierce into the corner of the room, her hips gently grazing his. Pierce coughed and moved out of the way.
Sarah Kennedy: Maddy said you came looking for me.
Sarah smiled, leaning against the locker.
Pierce Lavelle: Yeah, I'm sorry about that... actually...
Sarah Kennedy: Don't be, she's usually dressed like that in our room. It's surprising that you are the first to walk in unexpected.
Pierce Lavelle: I... well... Really?
Pierce smiled as he rooted through his duffle bag looking for something.
Sarah Kennedy: What did you want me for?
Sarah got right to the point.
Pierce Lavelle: (gulps) I wanted to apologise about the Christmas party.
Sarah approached Pierce, who was still rooting through his bag.
Sarah Kennedy: Don't be, I feel slightly stupid about it.
Pierce now realised that he needed to stop being such a coward and just talk. After all, she had gone to all the trouble a few days ago to make sure he was alright and came to the Christmas party with him. He pulled out a small box, wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper.
Pierce Lavelle: I... well... got you something.
Pierce handed her the box, bashfully. Sarah Kennedy smiled and opened the wrapping paper to see a jewlery box, inside was a silver necklace with a celtic designed cross, thanks to the brief words with Paddy O'Shea in the airport. She smiled and seemed to like it. Pierce was becoming a little nervous.
Sarah Kennedy: It's lovely.
Pierce moved forward, took the necklace from her and put it around her neck, gently brushing her blonde hair out of the way.
Sarah Kennedy: Oh, before I forget, Pearl wanted to speak to you before your match.
Pierce Lavelle: Huh? How long ago was that?
Sarah Kennedy: Erm, ten minutes ago.
Pierce quickly grabbed his belt, threw on a t-shirt and ran toward the door, but stopped.
Pierce Lavelle: Wait, before I forget. Will you... erm... go out with me?
Sarah Kannedy: (rosy cheeked) Yes!
Pierce smiled and bumped straight into the door, leaving a giggling Kennedy behind in his locker room as he charged down the hall toward Pearl, who happened to be stood outside his office, his arms folded and he was staring at his watch. Pierce stopped dead in his tracks, a huge smile on his face.
Pearl: You are late!
Pierce Lavelle: Yeah, sorry, I'm not very good with keeping time!
Pearl: I see!
Pearl said, noticing the huge smile on Pierce's face.
Pearl: What are you so happy about?
Pearl asked, intrigued by the sudden change in Pierce's attitude, considering on Fresh!, he was angry and very depressed.
Pierce Lavelle: She said YES.
Pierce smiled.
Pearl: Very good!
Pearl commentated and opened his door.
Pierce Lavelle: What did you want to talk about?
Pearl: I wanted to talk to you about last week, but also to remind you of the rule I set in regards to you and Adam Dick.
Pierce Lavelle: Right!
Pearl: You know that if you approach him, or he approaches you, you'll both be suspended for two weeks, no pay.
Pierce Lavelle: I know, Mr.Harber. I won't break the rule. Besides, I have a match to get to.
Pearl just nods his head and watches Pierce leave, to get ready for his match against Paddy O'Shea.
Butterfly Hamada vs Jack Murphy
STIPULATION: TWO STRAIGHT FALLS
REFEREE: SELENA SUMNER
AUTHORS: JAMIE FLETCHER (NARRATIVE) AND PIERRE HYDE (COMMENTARY)
Dave Kern: We’ve come to what for me is perhaps the most exciting match on the cards tonight –
Jeff Marx: Perhaps?!
Dave Kern: Our main event between Paddy O’Shea and Pierce Lavelle for Lavelle’s Transatlantic title has to also come into cons-
Jeff Marx: It’s PPV night, Dave, surely you can commit yourself just a little?
Steven Smith: No need. FOCUS ON THE BUNS.
With “Seven Faces” by Slayer playing, Jack “The Bull” Murphy is calmly walking down to the ring, adjusting the elbow pad on his left arm as he looks through the security fence at the thousands of fans yelling their appreciation – or more accurately a lack thereof – of his presence.
James Brunt: The following is the Two Straight Falls match! Introducing first, from Kildare, Ireland, weighing in at 278 pounds… JACK “THE BULL” MURPHY!
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy without a Platinum title to hide behind anymore after his defeat by Pierce Lavelle on Fresh! recently.
Jeff Marx: He’s still undeniably As Good As It Gets, and he’s gonna prove it to us tonight by demolishing Hamada with two straight falls.
Steven Smith: Murphy’s philosophy is simple: women shouldn’t wrestle. And if that means a greater proportion of pecs like his in the ring, I’m all for it…
Jeff Marx: You’re all for anything with a penis, Steve. Now if we could concentrate, please.
Dave Kern: Concentrate?! Oh, I wish! We’d be right on track if you hadn’t interrupted my intro!
Steven Smith: Ladies…
Murphy climbs into the ring, doing a double-take as he sees AWC’s first female referee Selena Sumner watching him patiently. He rolls his eyes and sighs.
Dave Kern: Murphy not looking at all happy that a female is refereeing this match…
Jeff Marx: Hey, it’s just one step away from disgracing the art of wrestling by actually trying to do it.
The explosive rock beat to the start of Foo Fighters' "Times Like These" causes everyone to jump to their feet as Butterfly Hamada bursts out from curtain and heads toward the ring.
Dave Kern: Here’s Hamada, who vowed at the AWC Christmas Party to prove conclusively tonight that she is superior to Murphy – what’s wrong Jeff?
Jeff Marx is silently shaking.
Jeff Marx: Sorry, sorry – BAHAHAHAHAHA that’s a good one!
Steven Smith: She did have to rely on some lighting tricks last time around…
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at 160 pounds... MEGUMI "BUTTERFLY" HAMADA!
She slaps hands as she heads to the ring, but her attention is focused on the ring. Butterfly climbs the steel steps up to the apron quickly, slightly bowing before entering the ring. She exudes a seriousness, and a traditional attitude with a healthy respect for her sport, as she wipes her feet on the apron before entering the ring.
Butterfly walks to the center of the ring and strikes a taunting pose as she flexes her biceps. Japanese-style streamers in blue and white drape over her as they are thrown in over the top of the fence from the crowd.
Jeff Marx: Baby, I’m ready to go.
Bell. Crowd roar. And here we go. With his clear weight advantage Jack Murphy dives in at Butterfly Hamada, tying up he pushes her into the ring cables. The momentum causes her uncontrollable to rebound off of the cables. Jack Murphy tosses Butterfly Hamada over his head trying to take an early pole position. However Hamada manages to flip over onto her feet avoiding any of the pain intended on her by Jack. Pissed off that Hamada had escaped Jack wastes no time getting back up and confronts Hamada immediately with a huge slogging right punch to the jaw. Shocked and taken by surprise Hamada fails to respond, her hesitation providing Jack Murphy with the opportunity to land a second right punch almost sending Hamada into a state of shock.
Dave Kern: Ooh! Murphy walking all over the old traditions of never hitting a lady!
Jeff Marx: Right between the eyes! That dog’s hardly a “lady” anyways.
Steven Smith: Oh believe me, she certainly isn’t a man. Not in my book. Then again, nor is Tim Shipley…
Dave Kern: Whose progress tonight is a constant worry in the backs of all our minds!
Jeff Marx: Uh, it is?
Jack has no time to think and ducks pushing his head underneath Hamada so he can scoop her up onto his back. Moving across the ring he again attempts to flip her over but Hamada lands once again perfectly on her feet. This causes further annoyance to Jack Murphy who is not pleased at Hamada’s failure to give up.
Dave Kern: He’ll have to work harder than that.
Steven Smith: Yeah. Work it, Jack!
This time Murphy jumps up onto his feet and prepares Hamada for a clothesline. He runs, Hamada ducks, Murphy hits the cables, Jack runs at Butterfly but she moves allowing Jack to run into the next set of ropes. Cunning Jack Murphy latches onto the ropes this time and comes back across the ring and sneakily drills Butterfly Hamada’s head into his knee with malice. She pings off his knee like a spring and Jack bursts up grabbing Hamada by the wrist, off she flings into the ropes… Again she refuses to give up, she turns Jack’s back body drop into a sunset flip release.
Dave Kern: Oh! Nice sunset flip!
Jeff Marx: The crowd is already digging the match like it’s Pamela Anderson.
Dave Kern: Murphy ties up.
Hamada takes decisive action to keep Jack smaller than her, using her boot she adds pressure to the back of his knee almost grounding him.
Dave Kern: Butterfly showing us she can match Murphy hold for hold.
Jeff Marx: Oh, you’re gonna wish you didn’t just say that.
From there she is able to dominate Murphy taking control of him from the back. Placing her left arm under his left she grabs her right hand which is in a mirror position. Rocking back and forth she applies as much pressure on The Bull as possible.
Dave Kern: Hamada knowing she must wear him down because two straight falls are needed in a row to win the match, putting extra pressure on persistent performance.
Jeff Marx: Whatever you say.
She remarkably keeps Jack Murphy down.
Steven Smith: The Bull can’t get out of his cage!
Dave Kern: Yes, she keeps him under control very well.
Steven Smith: No, I meant his trunks are too tight.
She then feels she has the beast tamed for a few seconds and removing her boot from his knee attempts to jam it into her back but he breaks free having lured her into false pretences.
Jeff Marx: Good work by The Bull!
Deceiving Hamada into making the mistake Jack Murphy runs forward towards the cables, side stepping at the last second throwing Butterfly Hamada into them. Her neck hits the top ring cable in an awkward position which seems to choke her.
Jeff Marx: Choke, bitch.
Dave Kern: …Kind.
She recovers but Jack Murphy is there to connect with a chop to the neck; the referee can’t disqualify Murphy for it either.
Dave Kern: I must remind everyone here that there are no disqualifications in this match!
Jeff Marx: Oh, NOW you tell us…
Dave Kern: That wasn’t made clear?
Steven Smith: Not in the slightest…
Dave Kern: I read it earlier tonight. Anyway it looks to be the case as Selena Sumner waves play on.
Murphy poses for a moment before scoring a second blow to the exact same spot with an equally painful chop.
Jeff Marx: No blow-jobs for a week after this. Doctor’s orders.
Steven Smith: Perhaps Fujita will have to make a booty call to Big Steve…
Dave Kern: Steven, that’s sick.
Steven Smith: I’m always –
Dave Kern: But Cosmic Lion Fujita is in hospital with a broken neck unable to move.
Jeff Marx: Well, at least Chainz would find that hot.
Murphy slaps Hamada in a side headlock dragging her down hunched back. Hamada struggles but Jack at this stage has too much dominance over her after his raging chops.
Dave Kern: The Bull keeping a tight leash on Butterfly, who’s proving to be a worthy opponent.
Jeff Marx: Pssh!
With Hamada under control Jack Murphy applies as much pressure as possible using the rest hold submission to full effect. Some of the crowd begins to lose their interest but Jack Murphy pays no attention to them and instead continues to work on Butterfly Hamada, Butterfly breaks under the pressure of the submission falling down onto her knees. Jack Murphy follows Hamada down getting on his knee’s however he is able to do it much better balance. Due to her poor balance Hamada’s knee fall from underneath her and she falls to the mat.
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy is not interested in retaining the attention of these fans, some of whose concentration is waning as he goes through the textbook routines, but simply in giving himself a solid base from which to progress towards winning this match.
Steven Smith: He’s holding my attention whatever he does…
Jeff Marx: Alright, Steven, they’re just pecs.
With Butterfly Hamada at his mercy Jack Murphy decides to go for the first fall of the match by modifying his headlock into a cross face.
ONE!
Dave Kern: Oh here we go.
Using her agility to her advantage Butterfly Hamada throws her body weight around the mat and is just able to make her right leg reach the bottom ring rope. The referee wastes no time in forcing Jack Murphy off of Butterfly Hamada.
Jeff Marx: Just the one.
Dave Kern: Hamada has shown she is one smart wrestler. She’s winning herself some fans tonight.
Jeff Marx: Not from my side of the stage.
Standing up Jack Murphy allows Butterfly Hamada the space to regroup and standing in the corner opposite of her he starts a slow rhythmic sarcastic clap in honor of her little victory. The fans boo him vigorously, but one Steven Smith starts to clap along.
Steven Smith: Oh yeah, clap them hands…
Jeff Marx: Snap out of it, loverboy.
With the same attitude Butterfly Hamada replies with a little snigger. Her attitude continues as she offers Jack Murphy a handshake but pulls away the last second suckering Jack Murphy into vulnerability.
Dave Kern: Haha!
Jeff Marx: Now that just REEKS of disrespect. She’ll be back to jobber status within a month.
Wrapping her feet around the leg of Jack Murphy, Butterfly attempts to take Jack down with a drop toe hold however Jack Murphy counters, he manages to spin and stay stable on his feet.
Dave Kern: The advantages of a low centre of gravity! Or should that be high? Steven?
Steven Smith: You really think asking me is a good idea?
Standing above Butterfly Hamada he attempts to follow his defensive counter with an aggressive knee drop. Hamada shimmies along and Jack Murphy’s knee hits the ring canvas… bouncing off Murphy breaks away completely from Butterfly Hamada trying to revitalize. She stands.
Dave Kern: The smile on Butterfly Hamada is reminiscent of the one that was plastered over Jack Murphy’s face less then thirty seconds ago – the sarcastic nature of the smile perfectly evident to the cameras, the television audience and all those in attendance. Does the Butterfly have The Bull sussed?
Jeff Marx: (shaking his head) Just let me know when reality has resumed.
Pacing herself Butterfly Hamada glides towards Jack Murphy, she gets brisker until the point in which she is running at full pace. Then jumping marginally into the air she launches her legs out… the soles of her boots connecting cleanly with the cheek bones of Jack Murphy. The drop kick knocks Jack Murphy off of his knees and onto his back.
Dave Kern: THERE’S your reality check! Butterfly Hamada hits the first big attacking move of the match.
Taking position next to the ropes closest to the right hand of Jack Murphy Butterfly Hamada prepares herself for the attack. Testing out the top ring cable she waits patiently until Jack is up on his feet. She vaults up onto the cable, back flipping onto… no Murphy moves slightly forward meaning Butterfly Hamada misses but using her agile ability she manages to alter her landing so that she lands perfectly on her feet. Despite the brilliant avoidance work once she had landed Butterfly leaves herself open for offensive from Jack Murphy. Jack attempts to score a huge right but Butterfly counters with a block, Butterfly throws her own right but Murphy blocks… Both wrestlers right each other’s arms. Just when it looks like Jack is about to win the strength battle, he gets kicked in the genital regions by Butterfly Hamada to cheers from the sold out arena.
Jeff Marx: NO! REGIONS SHOT! Get her out of this ring! DQ her! Anything!
Steven Smith: There was NO CALL for that! Think about the damage!
Dave Kern: I apologise for this sounding slightly sick, but perhaps that’d be a GOOD thing. Imagine what would happen if Murphy and Sasha Volkyeva had a baby…
Jeff Marx: Heaven on Earth!
Dave Kern: I didn’t know you were THAT keen on Ms Volkyeva –
Jeff Marx: …for Chainz.
Steven Smith: Eww!
Jeff Marx: Hey it’d be heaven for you, if it were a boy that is, but just on a twenty-year delay!
Steven Smith: Ah – fair call.
Butterfly jumps into the air and wrapping her legs around Jack Murphy she tries to bring him down with a head scissors BUT… Jack won’t go and using his weight advantage her turns the situation on its head, Butterfly now dangling around his neck at his mercy. Using his arms The Bull places Butterfly’s arms into position, it’s a mistake as Jack doesn’t have enough control over Hamada. Twisting with elegant control Hamada manages to maximize the pain caused to Jack Murphy’s neck. She frees her hands and cartwheels off into the ropes… She purposefully launches herself off of the ropes and charges at Jack Murphy with her elbow.
Dave Kern: Great agility!
Murphy tumbles to the mat and Butterfly Hamada wastes no time lifting up Murphy’s leg and making the pin…
Jeff Marx: Not a chance!
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: No Jack Murphy kicks out before the three.
Jeff Marx: See. Jeff Marx talks sense.
Dave Kern: Half of the arena are on their feet chanting for Hamada as she rises!
Jeff Marx: So? The fact of the matter is, she doesn’t belong in the ring.
Turning away from Jack Murphy she prepares for a grounded aerial assault… Standing moonsault but it’s countered with a double knee lift piercing into the ribs of Butterfly Hamada.
Jeff Marx: That’s proof!
Cradling Butterfly’s head and legs Jack Murphy with haste pins her.
ONE!
Jeff Marx: Come on!
TWO!
There is only a fraction of second between Butterfly Hamada escaping and the referee’s hand hitting the mat.
Steven Smith: OHHHHH!
Dave Kern: Yeah, that was damn close!
Steven Smith: No, I –
Steven hastily removes his hand from under the table.
Steven Smith: Yeah. Damn close. Yeah. Close fall. Unlucky. Yeah. Very cl-
Jeff Marx: You can stop…
Suddenly the match is back underway; Murphy allows Megumi Hamada zero time to recover lifting her straight back off of the mat. With Butterfly under his control in a side head lock he prepares her for an agenda of his own. He smashes Butterfly Hamada’s head into the nearest top turnbuckle.
Dave Kern: Well there’s a change of plan!
Falling out of the corner dazed she can do nothing but allow Jack to take her down with a side toe hold.
Jeff Marx: Murphy’s got a number of different styles he can fall back on…
Dave Kern: But then he goes preaching the technical Bible!
Jack Murphy is in control with a side toe hold submission but the crowd can feel he isn’t done yet… Murphy goes down, back to back with Butterfly Hamada and slaps on an STF!
Dave Kern: STF!
Jeff Marx: We have an STF in place and this is prime time for the first fall!
The crowd united in their anticipation watch Butterfly Hamada spring to life in anguish at the pain that is so obviously plastered across her face. Butterfly reaches for the ropes but she can’t…
Dave Kern: She is nowhere near the ropes…
Butterfly is stranded in the middle of the ring. She wriggles like a worm but Jack Murphy overpowers her with his superior weight advantage, his aggression and determination add extra hassle but due to a miracle Butterfly Hamada begins to edge forward.
Dave Kern: Oh here she comes!
Jeff Marx: Come on, Hamada needs some kind of miracle…
But she keeps at it and soon the ropes are soon just a fingertip away. Jack Murphy makes a rushed attempt to reassert himself but the pull back backfires as Butterfly Hamada grabs a hold of the rope.
Dave Kern: Oh she got it!
Steven Smith: Damn. I was hoping to get this done with quickly.
Jeff Marx: I thought you drooled over Murphy?
Steven Smith: Mm, but Lavelle rolling around in the ring with another guy – even if he DOES have to be that Irish gypsy – is ten times hotter.
Before he knows it Jack Murphy finds himself being torn off of Butterfly Hamada by the referee. Punishing himself with a slap Jack pushes Selena Sumner to one side and runs at Butterfly.
Dave Kern: The Bull shows no respect for Selena Sumner’s authority.
Approaching her at rocket like speeds he lifts his boot and crashes it down thwacking her over the head. Then pulling her up by the hair he delivers her the same punishment a nice juicy slap to the face. Then pushing her back he pings her off of the ropes, Butterfly against her own will. Stopping her short he fires his knee into her stomach almost causing half her body to become detached from the rest.
Jeff Marx: Murphy powering those shots, knocking it all out of Butterfly Hamada…
Pulling her head under his arm, he lifts her up and then brings her down at a sharp angle. Butterfly Hamada’s head crunches as it hits the canvas.
Dave Kern: CHRIST!
Steven Smith: Devastating brainbuster!
The arena goes silent before going wild at the sickening sound the brainbuster made. Following the brainbuster up Jack Murphy covers Butterfly Hamada.
Jeff Marx: This has gotta be one-zero!
ONE!
TWO!
Butterfly Hamada kicks out.
Dave Kern: NO!
Jeff Marx: Unbelievable!
Standing up Jack Murphy roars like a bear and jumps up and down like an elephant before taking to the air like a bird and dropping his weight like a ton of bricks.
Dave Kern: WHAT a body splash! All his 278 pounds slamming down onto Hamada! She could have broken some ribs there!
The pretty young athlete seems oblivious to the fact Jack Murphy is laying on top of her. Showing his confidence or cockiness which ever you desire to call it Jack Murphy does not following the move up with a pin and instead pushes Butterfly Hamada into the corner of the ring propping her up against the ringpost.
Jeff Marx: No pinfall…
Running across at Butterfly he launches himself knee first at Hamada but Hamada plays dead dropping her head to the canvas. Unable to stop Jack Murphy’s knee is corner post bound…
Steven Smith: Nobody home!
Falling off Murphy is open for exploitation but Hamada can’t…
Dave Kern: Hamada is still feeling the BIG SPLASH of HUGENESS!!!
Jeff Marx: …I’m guessing that’s the one line of commentary Jamie wrote.
Dave Kern: Correct.
Hamada approaches Murphy and nails him with an uppercut. Reaching out Butterfly Hamada applies a front face lock and attempts to wrestle Jack Murphy down to the mat but Murphy fights back using his strength to keep himself up. Once stable Murphy works on a response, he pushes harder until he can finally loosen the grip enough on the submission. Murphy finally slips his head out of the hold and from there takes control of situation abruptly applying a shoulder submission (holding the shoulder between his two arms). Using her karate experience Butterfly Hamada responds instantaneously with a jab kick to the side of Jack Murphy.
Dave Kern: It’s very tight here.
Jeff Marx: Damn right. Butterfly Hamada is as tight as a vice. Did you see her at the Christmas party?
Steven Smith: That was a gooooood night…
A second, harder kick from Butterfly Hamada forces Jack Murphy to break the hold and then jumping backwards over her own head Butterfly Hamada attempts to take out Jack but he catches her. The Bull is in complete control of Butterfly Hamada at his mercy, across his shoulders. However Hamada is patient and doesn’t make an easy mistake and allows Jack Murphy to run across the ring thinking he is in complete control. Just when Murphy loosens the reins for the pump handle slam she drops out of the move falling behind Jack Murphy.
Dave Kern: Murphy is in disarray… TWO FEET FIND MURPHY’S FACE TAKING HIM DOWN AND OUT!
Butterfly Hamada’s drop kick puts Jack Murphy into a nice horizontal position. Running to the ring ropes Butterfly Hamada leaps up onto the top ring cable and flies over her own head hitting a perfect springboard moonsault onto Jack Murphy to the delight of the crowd.
Jeff Marx: Damn, girl…
Dave Kern: DOWN GOES THE REFEREE!
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: NO!
Jeff Marx: That’s it Murphy, don’t you let her even try it.
Jack Murphy with brutal strength catapults Butterfly Hamada off of himself.
Steven Smith: Ooh, watch the muscles flex…
It doesn’t take long for Butterfly Hamada to find her feet and once she has she runs at Jack Murphy and attempts a clothesline but Jack Murphy doesn’t go down.
Jeff Marx: The Bull standing tall! He’s showing tonight his clear ability to command proceedings at any time.
Dave Kern: Except when Hamada’s hooking the leg… right?
Butterfly lines him up for another clothesline but Jack Murphy weaves underneath Butterfly Hamada’s arm and lifts her up into the air. Holding her hand down he throws Butterfly Hamada over his own head with a tiger suplex. The referee goes down.
Jeff Marx: Tiger suplex with authority!
ONE!
TWO!
Butterfly Hamada lifts her body up in the air by the tiniest margin.
Jeff Marx: No way! This girl has gotta be on drugs. Is she friendly with Lavelle?
Rolling over himself, Jack Murphy lands on his feet with Butterfly Hamada firmly in his control placed in a tight secure inverted face lock. Up she goes but she governs the momentum flowing past the position Murphy wanted to have her in. Standing behind Jack Murphy, Butterfly Hamada wastes no time applying her pure wrestling skills employing a waist hold onto Jack Murphy. Murphy struggles and makes vain attempts to connect with right elbows striving to force a break in the hold. Butterfly keeps out of harm’s way, she pushes Jack Murphy into the ropes but finds out the hard way this was the wrong decision.
The ever vigilant Murphy grasps onto the top cable keeping a firm clutch on the ring cable. She pursues unavailingly, Murphy again resorting to using his weight to aid his objective. Pushing forward he uses the ropes momentum to thrust Butterfly Hamada off of his waist. With no space he spins leading with his elbow, Butterfly ducks and hits a close range gore. Murphy is pinned up in the corner by Butterfly Hamada but again Murphy manages to wrap his arms around her body, their size so much bigger then Hamada’s.
Dave Kern: The tenacious Butterfly is not giving in to Murphy’s superior power as they battle close.
Steven Smith: What I wouldn’t give to be Butterfly Hamada right now…
Jeff Marx: Steven, you never told me you wished you’d been born a girl!
Steven Smith: That’s not what I mean… BUT… it would be a LOT more convenient.
Hiking Hamada up into the air Murphy moves into the middle of the ring. Hamada’s stretched arms as far apart as possible.
Jeff Marx: Murphy carries her as if she’s to be crucified on the cross like Jesus himself!
Descending at a colossal speed it would be hard to judge whether the ring could withstand the collision of Hamada…
Dave Kern: OH the slam!
Steven Smith: SHE CLASHES with the mat like a drunken red neck father and his stepchild!
Bouncing off the mat she sells it like a Hollywood star exposing the pure forcefulness of Jack Murphy and only highlighting the differences between these two wrestlers. The arena watches on engrossed by the action; Jack Murphy emerges onto his feet first and gets ready for Butterfly Hamada. After finding her feet Butterfly Hamada is accidentally given too much time to recover. Murphy fails to hit a clothesline on Butterfly Hamada who performs an immaculate duck and twist. However Murphy meets the sweet ass combo with a stiff elbow to the jaw. Then smiling Jack Murphy rotates on the spot and when he comes in line with Hamada he nails a pounding right forearm taking Butterfly Hamada down to the canvas. Down goes Jack Murphy pinning Butterfly Hamada.
Dave Kern: We’ve got another pinfall…
ONE!
TWO!
No Butterfly Hamada kicks out.
Steven Smith: Are we NEVER going to get a first fall?!
In rage Jack Murphy drags Butterfly Hamada onto her feet. Manhandling Butterfly, Jack shoves her under his arm in a front face lock.
Dave Kern: Murphy sets her up for a power attack.
Hooking both arms Jack Murphy yanks Butterfly Hamada up into the air. Then throwing her forward over her own head Jack Murphy drills the abdomen of Butterfly Hamada into his knee… Hamada pops off of Jack’s knee leaving her in the middle of the ring.
Jeff Marx: Painful!
SUPER KICK TO THE THROAT TAKES BUTTERFLY HAMADA OUT AND SENDS HER CRASHING TO THE CANVAS!
Dave Kern: MORE painful!
Down goes Jack Murphy pinning Butterfly Hamada.
Dave Kern: Once more a pin following the superkick!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: At last! God! One-zero to The Bull –
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy has one pinfall but now automatically he re-covers Butterfly Hamada looking to end the entire match-up…
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: …NO! KICK OUT by Butterfly Hamada just before the three count could be administered by the referee for the second time in succession.
Jeff Marx: Jack Murphy TANTALISINGLY close to a win!
Steven Smith: He tantalises me every time he moves.
Jack Murphy not worried by this stands and turns his attentions towards mounting the turnbuckle. Climbing to the top he scouts Butterfly Hamada waiting for her to rise and fall into his Venus flytrap.
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy’s on the top rope! I – I think I’m going to faint!
Steven Smith: Has this EVER happened before? MMMM, look how those abs curl as he poises himself…
Butterfly stands once again oblivious to the plans of Jack Murphy. Murphy leaps off with an axe handle but instinct tells Hamada that attack is coming… she counters the axle handle with a shuffle avoidance followed by a grotesque round house kick to the passing body of Jack Murphy!
Dave Kern: Roundhouse kick!
The sound of her leather boot hitting the spine of Jack Murphy sends the arena into hysteria.
Jeff Marx: Disaster!
Feeding off of their respect she bounces back onto her feet and runs at Jack Murphy who is rising slowly… SHINING WIZARD connects!
Steven Smith: Shining wizard!
Jeff Marx: Can you say OVERUSED?
Down goes Murphy. Butterfly Hamada lands on top of Jack “The Bull” Murphy. The referee falls to his knees.
Dave Kern: To level it up…
Steven Smith: Oh please no.
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy kicks out, keeping his advantage.
Jeff Marx: I should think so too.
Butterfly Hamada vaults up onto the turnbuckle.
Dave Kern: Hamada attempting what Jack Murphy moments ago failed, but for Butterfly Hamada the turnbuckle is her friend, her comfort zone in the ring. She stands tall on the top rope and leaps into the air…
The silent crowd watch her twist in the air… she flips 360 degrees… no she slips a 450 degrees and lands the 450 with a sense of mastery! Caught out Murphy again is on the receiving end of the pin.
Jeff Marx: Oh, go join a circus.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
For the second time Jack Murphy escapes losing his comfort of being one up on Butterfly Hamada.
Dave Kern: Three – no! Murphy kicks out! The Bull thankful his luck’s holding, for if Butterfly pins him, Murphy’s streak would be lost and Butterfly would only need to score one fall to win herself, exposing the fragile nature of the contest compared to, say, an Endurance match – known in other circles as “Iron Man”.
Using all her strength Butterfly Hamada finally lifts Jack Murphy up off of the mat and prepares him for her biggest assault yet. Struggling and virtually draining herself on all life she hoists The Bull up onto her shoulders.
Jeff Marx: The little girl who shouldn’t even BE in there has 278 pounds of Bull on her shoulders!
Dave Kern: Doesn’t that tell you something about your antiquated ideas?
Jeff Marx: No.
Dave Kern: Yes.
Jeff Marx: No.
Steven Smith: SHALL I TAKE OVER? Butterfly preparing him for a power move normally associated with her opposition rather than her own lucha-new American-junior heavyweight style. The weight of Jack Murphy pushes down on the shoulders of Butterfly Hamada and she has to rush the offensive almost losing all control over the Samoan drop.
Dave Kern: …Steven, what was that?!
S She lands on top of Jack Murphy as the referee goes down to make the pin.
Jeff Marx: Oh here we go, the girl referee counting fast for the girl wrestler again…
ONE!
Dave Kern: Jeff, NOTHING OF THE SORT is happening!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: Suit yourself.
The referee stops, noticing it is not in fact Butterfly Hamada in control as Jack Murphy’s arms are clutched around the throat of Butterfly. All the air being deprived of her by Jack Murphy who could win the match.
Jeff Marx: Murphy’s turned it into some kind of choke! See, THERE is the quality, THERE is the excellence!
Dave Kern: Butterfly can’t tap! If she taps she loses the Two Straight Falls match without even scoring a fall of her own.
Butterfly reaches out for the ropes and The Bull notices, peering over his shoulder he can see that the ropes are close and realizes there would be no holding her back. Getting up onto his feet Jack Murphy forces Butterfly Hamada to do the same.
Jeff Marx: Smart. He saw that Butterfly had a chance of reaching the ropes and adapted accordingly.
Dave Kern: Jeff… is Jack Murphy paying you?!
Hamada gets her foot on the bottom rope. She wall walks the ropes and flips over Jack landing perfectly on her feet.
Jeff Marx: Circus. Acrobat. What did I say.
Swiveling Murphy ducks a clothesline but Butterfly counters running past Jack. Jumping up she springboards off of the ropes and back over Jack Murphy catching his head on the way she lands a reverse DDT! Butterfly makes scatters to pin Jack Murphy.
Dave Kern: (glaring at Jeff) Butterfly once more using her agility to glorious effect!
ONE!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: Nope. Sorry.
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy kicks out before Butterfly Hamada can get the cover.
Hamada in disarray sits Murphy up against the bottom ring cable. Knowing she cannot make a mistake she goes against her judgment, amending Murphy to a standing position. She follows it up with a sprint to the opposite cables and like dynamite she explodes back throwing herself at Jack Murphy who catches her; not part of Butterfly Hamada’s plans.
Steven Smith: Uh-oh…
Jeff Marx: OVER SHE GOES!
Dave Kern: MURPHY THROWS BUTTERFLY HAMADA OVER THE TOP ROPE AND TO THE OUTSIDE!
Jeff Marx: NO! HAMADA LANDS ON THE RING APRON!
Murphy, having turned around, plays to the hatred from the crowd.
Steven Smith: MURPHY HASN’T A CLUE HAMADA DIDN’T GO THE WHOLE WAY!
Jeff Marx: Heh. She’s NEVER gone the whole way.
Hamada leaps up onto the apron and does a 270 onto Jack Murphy’s shoulders but she can’t continue the move as Jack Murphy is stable enough to prevent himself from falling backwards.
Jeff Marx: She wasted it. What a surprise. Typical woman.
Pushing her arms back Murphy manages to swing Butterfly Hamada like a pendulum planting her face first into the canvas. Grabbing hold of Butterfly Hamada’s arms Jack Murphy rolls her over and then bridges himself for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: It’s over!
THR-
Dave Kern: No… Yes… NO BUTTERFLY HAMADA KICKS OUT WITH THE REFEREE’S HAND JUST AN INCH AWAY FROM THE MAT!
Steven Smith: The blink of an eye later would have resulted in a win for Jack Murphy.
The crowd’s happiness is evident by “Let’s go Butterfly!” chants in honor of the fallen heroine. Jack Murphy dismisses the chants with a one-finger salute to all sides of the arena.
Steven Smith: Murphy showing everyone what he’ll be putting up my –
Dave Kern: WHAT A GREAT MATCH THIS IS DON’T YOU THINK JEFF.
Jeff Marx: Hmm. It’s okay. It’d be better if Murphy hurried the hell up and won the damn thing.
Steven Smith: Anus.
He waits with a cocky swagger about him. Butterfly Hamada almost walks into Jack Murphy’s leg’s setting herself up for another one of Jack Murphy’s power moves. Murphy lifts Butterfly in position for the PILEDRIVER…
Jeff Marx: This is over! Piledriver imminent!
To the crowd’s shock Butterfly Hamada over turns the attack and transfers it into a hurricanrana.
Dave Kern: She countered!
With Jack Murphy’s head under control Butterfly Hamada reaches out for his legs… down goes the referee.
ONE!
TWO!
Jack Murphy kicks out.
Jeff Marx: Yet another near fall.
Dave Kern: This is a true pay-per-view encounter!
Steven Smith: Meh, my pay-per-view encounters have a lot more naked flesh, I’ll tell you that much.
Dave Kern: And, preferably, no more.
Hamada is thrown off for her troubles. She turns and again runs at Jack Murphy with another SHINING WIZARD but he edges to one side and watches Butterfly Hamada’s knee whistle past him and rebound off of the corner post.
Jeff Marx: The Bull doesn’t fall for the same trick twice.
Hamada falls back over Jack Murphy who smothers her for a cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: THREE! – BUT BUTTERFLY HAMADA REACHES THE ROPES!
Jeff Marx: I could have sworn Sumner’s hand dirtied the canvas before Butterfly’s hand had even touched the bottom cable. Yet another case of female cheating…
Steven Smith: That’s why you should fuck men.
Dave Kern: To all those watching at home, the opinions expressed by Steven Smith are not shared by the Atlantic Wrestling Club, nor… nor any sane human being on this planet.
Begrudgingly Jack Murphy accepts the decision of the official and begins to beat on the grounded Butterfly Hamada to ensure rebellion isn’t a factor when he next decides the time is right for a power move.
Dave Kern: Butterfly Hamada can’t protect all of her body which means Jack Murphy can take his time.
Jeff Marx: Yeah, dropping a knee when the back is exposed, striking the face like it is a football, when the face is covered an elbow to the back of the head is so inviting.
As Jack gets up from a second elbow to the back of the head Butterfly Hamada seizes the opportunity to dart out of the ring rolling to her right and tumbling. Stepping out onto the apron Jack Murphy scouts Butterfly Hamada who thinks the referee would be holding Jack back like in any normal match. Murphy lifts his hand in the air and points to his elbow, a member of the crowd shouts at Butterfly and luckily she can hear.
Dave Kern: No count-outs in this m-
Jeff Marx: MURPHY GONNA FLY!
Stepping backwards, Hamada ducks under the attack, avoiding any collision with Jack Murphy who flies over her. Murphy is then dropkicked into the security fence by Butterfly Hamada who herself jumps back onto the ring apron.
Dave Kern: Yet another example of that fence being used as a weapon. I’m sure Ms Volkyeva’s implications were well-intentioned…
Steven Smith: But they suck even more than me. Right? Right?
Dave Kern: If you insist.
Top cable, springboard Asai moonsault knocks Jack Murphy down to the floor and lifts the crowd up onto their feet.
Jeff Marx: What is going on here?!
Dave Kern: AMAZING! AMAZING MOONSAULT!
Everyone is banging their feet, clapping the hands and chanting out as Butterfly Hamada puts all her energy into dragging Jack Murphy into the ring.
Steven Smith: Murphy is OUT of it like he got given a double dose of GHB!
Dave Kern: GHB?
Steven says nothing.
Jeff Marx: It’s the drug used by date-rapists…
She pushes him as far into the ring as she can and makes a rapid cover.
Dave Kern: Butterfly has it!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: No! He kicked out! He kicked out!
Dave Kern: Hamada has the fall! Murphy’s previous work counts for naught as Hamada is one pinfall from victory!
Steven Smith: I don’t do date-rape, you know…
Jeff Marx: Okay Steven.
A new surge of life surrounds Butterfly Hamada as if her pre-match state had been resurrected despite the strains she has been subjected to by Jack Murphy in this contest.
Steven Smith: Often.
Jeff Marx: Okay Steven.
She picks Murphy up by the hands and quickly throwing them up and down she takes the chief role of submissionist putting Jack Murphy in her control.
”LET’S GO BUTTERFLY!”
”LET’S GO MURPHY!”
The Bull begins to fight back pushing his hands up. Pulling Jack in close Butterfly stabs him in the stomach with her knee drawing his attentions away from the hand breaking submission. She witnesses the pain the knees can deliver and lands another and then a third to the right side of the head. This allows her enough time to relinquish the left hand in order to apply an arm lock on the right.
Dave Kern: Megumi Hamada in control! She’s gotta take advantage of this!
The arm lock quickly becomes a wrist lock. Butterfly pushes Jack’s head down by lifting his up higher into the air. Murphy then rolls attempting to break the submission, it doesn’t work though; Hamada rolls with him so she can keep the hold. He rolls back but Butterfly Hamada shows her determination by reading Jack Murphy so well, Murphy stands from the backwards roll. He swings at Butterfly with his left hand but she ducks and as he swings she drops the wrist lock for a full nelson.
Dave Kern: Jack Murphy is cycling through every trick there is but he can’t escape Butterfly Hamada’s control!
Jeff Marx: I don’t understand it! There is no way a woman could do this! It’s gotta be Prometheus!
Steven Smith: No, that doesn’t have the sedative effect.
Jeff Marx: DROP THE DATE-RAPE, ALRIGHT?
Both of Jack Murphy’s hands wander in mid air unable to grasp a rope due to the lucky positioning of the action. Taking advantage of this Butterfly Hamada tightens the submission and in rage Murphy lifts Butterfly Hamada up onto his back. Seeing his back in line with the turnbuckle Jack runs forward and as he approaches the turnbuckle he turns around.
Dave Kern: He may have found his solution…
Just before she hits the turnbuckle Butterfly uses the shoulders of Jack Murphy to frog jump over.
Dave Kern: Perhaps not!
Jeff Marx: Damn it!
Murphy goes back into the turnbuckle and rebounds off into a momentum scoop slam from Hamada! Hamada falls to her knees covering Jack Murphy.
Dave Kern: HARD body slam and this for the win…!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Jeff Marx: NO… JACK MURPHY KICKS OUT JUST BEFORE THE THREE COUNT!
Dave Kern: Butterfly Hamada within touching distance!
Butterfly Hamada stands strong, proud and tall in front of the fallen body of Jack Murphy. The Japanese twenty two year old climbs to the top rope… and she jumps off both feet first, her feet smashing into the skull of Jack Murphy a signature move labeled “Twin Killings”.
Dave Kern: TWIN KILLINGS! TWIN KILLINGS!
Steven Smith: Murphy’s pretty face!
Falling off of Jack Murphy’s head she turns around and looks at him, tamed. Then laying over him she makes the pin.
Jeff Marx: I don’t believe it!
ONE!
Dave Kern: This has to be it!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: Has the world lost all sense of… sense?!
THR-
Dave Kern: NO! He kicks out!
The fans are on their feet, captivated by the insane flow of this match. Exiting the ring Butterfly Hamada grabs the ring announcer’s chair. The young aggressive superstar jumps up onto the apron with the chair before proceeding to the top rope.
Steven Smith: The stakes just rose…
Jeff Marx: Stop her, referee! But of course not, she’s female…
Dave Kern: It is no-DQ, Jeff.
She jumps off with a missile dropkick but Jack Murphy avoids falling to the canvas. He springs straight back up onto his feet. Looking down at Butterfly Hamada he sniggers suggesting everything was going to plan. However you could see past his cheap snigger… he knew that Butterfly had the best of him in the short term history of the match.
Steven Smith: Murphy isn’t fooling anyone… shouldn’t those big muscles be able to pull him through?!
He picks the chair up off the mat and takes a few steps back while Butterfly Hamada finds her stability. Then he charges at her and runs through Butterfly Hamada with a chair aided Bull Charge!
Jeff Marx: BULL CHARGE! BULL CHARGE! WE HAVE A REVERSAL OF FORTUNES!
Dave Kern: OUT OF NOWHERE FROM JACK MURPHY, USING THAT CHAIR FOR EXTRA POWER!
Jeff Marx: HAMADA – DECIMATED!
Dave Kern: Er, not quite cut in ten, Jeff.
Jeff Marx: METAPHORICALLY! MENTALLY! BUTTERFLY HAS NOTHING LEFT AFTER THAT!
Dropping the chair to the side of Butterfly Hamada, Jack Murphy drops to his knees hooking her leg for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: Take that!
Dave Kern: Butterfly Hamada fails to kick out of the chair-aided Bull Charge bringing Jack Murphy one fall.
Steven Smith: Jack Murphy can win it… all he needs to do is pin Butterfly Hamada again and quick.
Getting up Jack Murphy positions the chair carefully in the middle of the ring. Picking up Butterfly Hamada he slaps her underneath his right arm in an orthodox front face lock. LIFTING HER UP HE GOES FOR THE FALL FROM GRACE but Hamada counters it breaking loose…
Jeff Marx: FALL FROM GR- no!
She manages to score a low blow as she hits the canvas.
Jeff Marx: OH COME ON!
Dave Kern: REGIONS~!
Steven Smith: Get off of those!
Getting up she holds onto the waist of Jack Murphy and attempts to lift the beast but Murphy bucks like a bronco… Hamada hangs on and counters with a sunset flip into a roll up.
Dave Kern: Can she turn it back round?
ONE!
TWO!
No… Murphy kicks both sides of Hamada’s head with his legs and grabs her legs rolls her up. He twists around so he is sat on Hamada’s head.
Jeff Marx: No, Murphy is the one to turn it around quite literally!
ONE!
TWO!
Dave Kern: It could be over!
THR-
Jeff Marx: No!
With Murphy sat almost on her head Hamada’s legs manage to foster the strength to pull Murphy back the other way… Hamada keeps his arms down her feet.
Steven Smith: Back and forth, this is ridiculous…
ONE!
TWO!
Showing his brutal strength Murphy manages to lift Hamada’s legs up into the air and then break free. Then showing his brute force isn’t his only attribute he keeps a firm grip on the legs while chucking his own weight over Hamada for the pin.
Dave Kern: Yet another pinfall! Surely this’ll be it!
ONE!
TWO!
BRIDGE BY HAMADA… She struggles but she pulls it off lifting Murphy up and turning him around but she can’t follow up as Murphy back body drops her.
Jeff Marx: No! Another lucky escape!
Dave Kern: Murphy back in control with the back body drop.
Circling his arm like a ferris wheel Jack Murphy jumps up and down on the spot lining up Butterfly Hamada for the final kill.
Jeff Marx: This is it, ladies and gentlemen…
Steven Smith: That’s right. PHOTO MOMENT. Jack Murphy looking RIPPED.
He sprints at Hamada but in a moment of shock Hamada jumps sideways at Murphy and wraps herself around his body… fighting hard she promptly makes her way around the back of Jack Murphy taking him down into a school boy pin taking everyone by surprise.
Jeff Marx: What the…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: I don’t believe it!
Jeff Marx: This is… insane!
Dave Kern: Megumi Hamada gets the fall against the run of things and now SHE is the one with the opportunity to win this!
Escaping Butterfly Hamada picks up the chair…
Dave Kern: For the third time in the match she attempts a shining wizard this time assisted by the chair…
Catching Jack Murphy off guard she hits the shining wizard!
Jeff Marx: For fuck’s sake –
Dave Kern: JEFF!
The arena is in silence, Jack Murphy is out on the mat and the camera closes in on his face revealing the smallest of cuts which is ejecting the slightest trickle of blood.
Steven Smith: Blood… well, we’ve seen plenty of that already; they did their best before this match to clean the ring up but it’s still COVERED in stains after that heinous Cup Of Blood match.
Butterfly Hamada takes no notice of the blood she just hooks the right leg for the pin.
Dave Kern: This must, at last, be over.
Jeff Marx: NO! THOU SHALT NOT PUT A WOMAN OVER!
ONE!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: NO! His foot’s on the rope!
Dave Kern: What must she do? What is needed to put away Jack Murphy?
Steven Smith: Pissed off would be the correct word to describe Butterfly Hamada.
Jeff Marx: That’s two words.
She pushes the chair out of the ring and with a disappointed twinkle in her eye she climbs to the top rope. Getting on the top turnbuckle she stares down at Jack Murphy and prepares herself for the final plunge to put the nail in the coffin of Jack Murphy in this pay-per-view match.
Dave Kern: To finish him…
She awes the crowd flying into the air with such lady like elegance, her corkscrew resembling a ballerina, her moonsault a gymnast… her power a truck… problem is by the time she hit it Jack Murphy had already got his knees in the air…
Jeff Marx: KNEES UP!
Steven Smith: CRASH BANG WALLOP, THERE THEY GO INTO THE GUT…
Murphy tips up onto his feet and wasting no time he inserts the hopping Butterfly Hamada into a waist lock and scores with a no release German suplex into a crab pin.
Dave Kern: BELLY-TO-BACK! BELLY-TO-BACK!
Jeff Marx: He’s got a pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Jeff Marx: Done it!
Dave Kern: JACK MURPHY TAKES THE BALL BUT CAN HE ROLL WITH IT?!
Both competitors lay out flat for a few seconds, needing the rest, absorbing the unique atmosphere as the 18,000 fans yell out, mainly urging on Butterfly Hamada. Murphy regains some energy and he lifts Butterfly Hamada up and keeps his waist lock on. Altering his hands he flips Butterfly Hamada around into a front face lock…
Jeff Marx: THE BALL IS ROLLING AND JACK F’N MURPHY IS GOING WITH IT!
Fall. From. Grace.
Jeff Marx: HE HITS THE FALL FROM GRACE!
Dave Kern: MURPHY WINS! MURPHY WINS!
Steven Smith: END OF STORY!
The pin…
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: IT’S TWO IN A ROW… two straight pinfalls makes Jack Murphy the winner of the match!
Jeff Marx: Finally, justice is served!
Dave Kern: What a rollercoaster ride this has been, but now Jack Murphy has proven what he told us all along!
Jeff Marx: That women don’t belong in the ring!
Dave Kern: I don’t think you can quite say THAT is proven, but Murphy has indeed shown us his superiority over Megumi Hamada and his victory tonight in SUCH a tight match speaks volumes about the ability of not just Murphy but BOTH these competitors!
Jeff Marx: Indeed it does – it tells us that Murphy may as well cash in his entire Grand Slam Package, since he’ll win all the matches, while Hamada should go back to the training camp. THE BULL CHARGES ON!
...Has An End
FEATURING: DANNY RICHARDS, LEE NEWBURY, TIM SHIPLEY, GERMAN OFFICER, TONY ALISO, KATE BARNARD, ANOTHER GERMAN, KNUCKS SNIPERS, FBI AGENTS
AUTHOR: PIERRE HYDE
Danny Richards: You got any heat in here?
The grumbling Albany policeman shivers in the passenger seat of his partner’s car, rubbing his hands together to conserve some warmth.
Lee Newbury: It’s on, Danny!
Newbury slides the dial for heat way over to the right.
Danny Richards: I ain’t feelin’ it.
Lee Newbury: It’s damn cold outside, that’s why. This is a European winter for ya. The lake’s frozen.
Danny Richards: I could care less about the freakin’ lake – you cold?
He turns to address the last two words to Tim Shipley, hunched up in the back of the car, only a thin white t-shirt thrown on over his wrestling gear.
Tim Shipley: (quietly) I'm fine.
Danny Richards: Come on, back me up here!
Tim Shipley: Really, I'm fine.
Lee Newbury: It’s not like I can do anything more about it, Danny...
Danny Richards: Hey, we’re on duty here. You call me Richards. So what in God’s name are we doing in this hellhole of a country anyway? Saving some chick?
Newbury shoots him a warning glance.
Lee Newbury: Danny...
Shipley cuts in from behind him.
Tim Shipley: That “chick” is important to me, and crucial to the investigation into Tony Aliso which, correct me if I'm wrong, is one of the top national priorities at the moment, correct?
Richards shrugs.
Danny Richards: Maybe. You wanna keep your mouth shut a little? I can’t believe they made us wait for you...
Tim Shipley: The German police are there already, aren’t they?
Danny Richards: Did you not hear what I –
Lee Newbury: Yeah, they’ll be there. I heard the FBI are on the case too. Aliso’s theirs, Danny, we gotta remember that. Our priority is the victim – the girl. Is it left here...?
Newbury peers through the rain-battered windscreen.
Danny Richards: Don’t ask me. You’re the one driving.
Lee Newbury: (exasperated) You’re supposed to be navigating!
Danny Richards: What? Oh. Right. Yeah, left here.
Newbury sighs and throws the wheel around, and the car begins to jerk around as it transfers from the road to a bumpy track. There is silence for a short while, before they pull up at a small collection of parked cars seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
Lee Newbury: This is where we get out. Come on.
Newbury pops his driver’s door open and leaves the car; Shipley and Richards follow, both shivering, one making the most of it.
Danny Richards: DAMN is it cold!
Newbury ignores him, approaching the most authoritative-looking member of the German police.
Lee Newbury: Ola. Lee Newbury, Albany Police Department. How’s it going?
His response is in clipped textbook English.
German Officer: Good evening. I am afraid it is not going too well. There are snipers all around the building. We have already lost one man. But they are not shooting to kill; at least, not initially. We have three men with kneecap wounds. They appear to be making sure nobody gets near the winery.
Lee Newbury: What happened to the guy who died?
German Officer: We attempted to rush the building. Two were shot in the knees before they got close; the third man had almost reached the door when he was shot through the head. We have not recovered his body.
Newbury gulps as Richards comes up behind him and claps a hand to his shoulder.
Danny Richards: What’s the story?
Lee Newbury: Not a hell of a lot, as yet.
He turns back to the German.
Lee Newbury: Back entrance?
The officer sighs.
German Officer: The target chose his location carefully. There appears to be no way around from here. It is possible to climb a hill through the vineyards, but the men would be easy targets and the exercise lengthy and laborious.
Danny Richards: (belligerently) So what are we doing? Just sitting here?
German Officer: (ignoring the question) Have you brought the other man?
Lee Newbury: Mr Shipley? He’s right here.
Newbury beckons to Shipley, who advances, his teeth chattering.
German Officer: You are cold. Take a jacket. I think we have spares. I shall go and –
Richards holds up his arm.
Danny Richards: No time. Shipley, what are you here for?
Tim Shipley: I –
German Officer: It is my belief that they will let this man pass into Weingut Sonnenberg. His arrival was requested by the target. My proposal is that we ask this man to walk towards Sonnenberg as we announce him.
The German shows Newbury a megaphone he has prepared. Newbury nods slowly.
Lee Newbury: What if... what if they shoot?
The officer sighs.
German Officer: I do not believe that they will, but –
Danny Richards: You can’t just use him as bait!
Lee Newbury: Danny...
Tim Shipley: No. No, it’s okay. Tony wanted me here. Knucks won’t shoot.
Danny Richards: Knucks?
Everyone stares at him.
Lee Newbury: Honestly, Danny, don’t you ever read the case notes? The criminal organisation Aliso’s with. Now Mr Shipley – you’re sure about this?
Shipley nods.
Tim Shipley: I don’t know why, but – he wants to talk to me. I have to go in.
German Officer: (suspiciously) How can we trust this man? How do we know that he is not an accomplice to the target? How do we know that his entrance will not actually boost the target’s power?
Shipley looks at the officer wearily.
Tim Shipley: I was his accomplice. What seems like years ago. Before all this. Before all the criminal activity. Before Knucks. Before he died –
Danny Richards: Before WHO died?
Lee Newbury: Aliso.
Danny Richards: Isn’t that the guy inside?
German Officer: (to Newbury) Might I suggest that your partner will be a hindrance more than a help? Perhaps he should wait in the car.
Danny Richards: (brashly) No! This is my investigation. Our priority is the girl. Nothing to do with you. I'm needed. I'm going in with Shipley.
Lee Newbury: What?
Danny Richards: I'm going with him. He needs an escort up to the building. It’s not safe otherwise. It’s just the way –
German Officer: He is right. Someone must go with him to announce that the man requested is here. In the gloom he could otherwise be anyone else. They are not shy of pulling the trigger, these agents.
Richards gulps.
Danny Richards: Come on then, Shipley.
German Officer: Now?!
Lee Newbury: (nodding) No time like the present.
Danny Richards: See ya soon. Ready?
Shipley replies non-verbally that he is indeed, and Richards grabs the megaphone from the German before the two set off up the hill towards the winery at its peak.
Danny Richards: So tell me – what’s Knucks?
Shipley says nothing, picking his way awkwardly through the vines in his high wrestling boots.
Danny Richards: Come on, man, I'm in the dark here.
Shipley looks up into the blackness of the night.
Tim Shipley: (sarcastically) I think we all are.
Danny Richards: Dude, if you’re gonna be cold, I'm leaving you to get shot.
Tim Shipley: What happened to the whole police duty to the state thing?
Danny Richards: Man, fuck it, I'm freezing...
Richards makes as if to turn back, but Shipley grabs him by the shirt.
Tim Shipley: You’re not going anywhere. Now just walk halfway up this hill with me, and tell them I'm here. You go first.
Shipley pushes the policeman ahead of him and they continue their bizarre progress.
Danny Richards: (muttering) I could have you for assaulting an officer...
Shipley exhales loudly.
Tim Shipley: Do you think I really care at this stage? Look, we’ve gone far enough...
He peers up at the building ahead of them. Richards inspects the megaphone.
Danny Richards: German piece of crap. Reckon it even works?
Tim Shipley: Just do it.
Richards raises it to his lips and speaks.
Danny Richards: This is Danny Richards of the Albany Police Department. I have Tim Shipley with me.
He slowly lowers the megaphone, shrugging at Shipley. They wait. Just as Shipley is about to instruct Richards to do it again, a response comes in the form of a gunshot.
Danny Richards: AAAAAARGHHHH!
Hit in the kneecap, Richards falls to the ground, the megaphone clattering away through the vines.
Tim Shipley: FUCK!
Shipley drops down, grabbing Richards by the cheeks.
Tim Shipley: Where are you hit?
Danny Richards: AAARGHHH IT HURTS!
Tim Shipley: Where are you hit?
Danny Richards: The knee, by God, the knee... get help...
Shipley looks helplessly back down the hill and thankfully sees two policeman starting to pick their way through the vines towards them.
Tim Shipley: Listen, somebody’s coming. It’s going to be fine. I have to go on.
Danny Richards: Are you INSANE? You’ll get shot!
Shipley shakes his head slowly.
Tim Shipley: Not me...
And then he jumps, as Tony Aliso’s mega-magnified voice comes roaring at him from the winery.
Tony Aliso: You coming, or what?
Tim Shipley: See? I – get well soon...
Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, Shipley leaves the injured police officer and continues his progress up the hill. As he reaches the top safely, he looks upwards at the building confronting him, studying the sign above the door.
WEINGUT SONNENBERG.
With a last deep breath, Tim Shipley raises a hand and pushes open the great door.
A large room greets him, dominated by the bottling line running through it, but it’s winter and there’s nothing to bottle so the great machines lie dormant and the noises conspicuous by their absence. A plethora of empty bottles dominates the view to his right, and numerous devices for carrying and transporting the filled bottles take up the remainder of the space across the room from him. To his left is a staircase, and Shipley instinctively takes it, horribly aware of the loud clanging noises his feet make as they connect with the metal steps.
He reaches the top, and sees that he is on a walkway which extends around the perimeter of the bottling room, as well as providing a pathway to two doors across the room that lead to other rooms on this upper level. There is no time to explore, though. Tim Shipley has just spotted Tony Aliso leaning on the barrier on the walkway across the room.
Tony Aliso: How nice of you to come! I was beginning to worry.
Shipley narrows his eyes and breaks into a run, scampering around the walkway towards Aliso’s side of it. He slows to a walk and then stops completely as he sees he has Aliso cornered, the Los Angeles man having made no effort whatsoever to escape Shipley’s advance.
Tim Shipley: Where is she?
Tony Aliso: Don’t worry, buddy, she’s fine.
Shipley repeats himself:
Tim Shipley: Where is she?
Tony Aliso: She’s where you last saw her – on the video, that is. Locked up in that clerk’s office.
Shipley grits his teeth and stares at his former tag team partner.
Tim Shipley: What do you want?
Aliso smiles.
Tony Aliso: To end this.
Aliso begins to move towards Shipley, who watches him closely.
Tim Shipley: You know this place is surrounded, Tony?
Aliso smirks.
Tony Aliso: Don’t try and bluff your way out of facing what’s coming to you. My buddies are quite capable of handling any cops that show up. Besides, I have my own connections in the LAPD...
Tim Shipley’s eyes flash as he realises that the man in front of him is a former LAPD agent, but before he can make a response Aliso suddenly steps forward and drives a fist into his stomach. Caught unawares, the Englishman is winded, and Aliso grabs him around the neck with both hands before pushing him against the security railing, crushing his spine against the metal.
Tony Aliso: You’ve been a skeleton in my closet for too long...
Aliso groans as Shipley desperately throws a knee up into his groin, and staggers backwards. Shipley charges at him, grabbing hold of the waist to ram him into the wall. The 270-pounder shoves him away, and Shipley runs back into the railing. Smiling, Aliso charges with an outstretched arm, looking to clothesline the lighter man to the floor below, but Shipley ducks and locks on a half nelson. Grunting, Aliso spins to punch him in the face with his free arm, and Shipley falls to a sitting position. Aliso takes a couple of deep breaths before grabbing Shipley by the straw-coloured hair on his head.
Tony Aliso: How about we take this outside?
Aliso pulls him up and throws him against the wall, backing it up to double the impact with a head-down charge. As Shipley falls away, Aliso sees a small smudge of red on the wall.
Tony Aliso: Your blood, Tim? We’ll be seeing a lot more of that.
The Breaker takes him by the head once more and leads him on, through the outer door at the corner of the walkway. It opens to the exterior of the winery, and as Shipley is thrown roughly to the poured concrete he glances around for the police. There’s no sign of them. Aliso laughs.
Tony Aliso: No other way to get round here, buddy. Sorry. And no one takes their chances with snipers.
He limbers up for a massive kick to Shipley’s ribcage. The Englishman gasps.
Tony Aliso: I’ve waited so long to do this, you know...
He kicks Shipley again. Shipley spits a line of blood from his mouth; his busted bottom lip is bleeding heavily.
Tony Aliso: Hey, you don’t wanna go messing the place up, the owners don’t know we’re here. Show some respect. That’s a concept you never heard of, right, buddy?
Another kick. Shipley yells this time, and prolongs his yell in the hope that someone, somewhere, will hear him.
Tony Aliso: Shout all you like! There ain’t nothing around ‘cept vines for miles in every direction!
Aliso crouches down next to Shipley, who weakly raises a leg and thrusts it towards his chest. The Breaker easily dodges it.
Tony Aliso: Just calm down and listen, Tim, or I can break you in an instant.
Tim Shipley: (groggily) What – am I – listening to?
Aliso laughs heartily.
Tony Aliso: The sound of defeat, Tim; the song of missed opportunity. You’re listening to the end for you and your friend, unless...
He breaks off and stares into the distance – past the endless rows of vines, to the hills, the small villages, the hedgerows, the sheep. After what seems like an eternity, Shipley sighs and asks the obvious.
Tim Shipley: Unless what?
The Breaker cackles loudly.
Tony Aliso: That’s just it, I'm afraid. There is no unless. You know what this is?
Shipley rolls over and does his best to focus on the small object Aliso has extracted from his pocket.
Tim Shipley: I – I can’t really –
Tony Aliso: It’s a detonator, buddy. Now I’ll just let you imagine what’s gonna happen to Kate if I hit the button.
Aliso teases it with his thumb. Shipley’s face becomes a mask of horror.
Tim Shipley: No –
He rolls over and tries to sit up, but Aliso plants a boot in his chest and sets him back down so forcefully that Shipley’s head cracks off the concrete.
Tony Aliso: Not so fast.
Shipley lets out a groan of rage, kicking his useless legs as he plants a hand on his sweating forehead.
Tony Aliso: Don’t worry. You won’t be around to hear her suffer... watch her die... search for the pieces...
Shipley yells out again, his voice echoing around the countryside, but Aliso seems supremely unconcerned.
Tony Aliso: You won’t be around for any of that, Tim... because I'm gonna end you first. I'm saving the best till last – that’s right, Tim, even the girl was more important to me than you...
Tim Shipley: (thickly) Shut up.
Tony Aliso: But why? Why should I listen to anything you –
Tim Shipley: (angrily) I don’t care, alright? What makes you think I care which of us you thought more important? You’re nothing but a –
Tony Aliso: (calmly) A what, buddy?
Shipley’s mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of anything, and sags back to the concrete.
Tony Aliso: Thing is, you DO care. When I slept with Kate that first time, I ruined your l-
Tim Shipley: You didn’t sleep with her!
Tony Aliso: Say what?
Aliso laughs at himself, but Shipley doesn’t notice, struggling to sit up and get his bearings.
Tim Shipley: Nothing happened...
Tony Aliso: (mockingly) I thought you didn’t care?
He suddenly kicks Shipley as hard as he can in the side of the head. The youngster rolls over and over, cradling his head, his body shaking with multiple kinds of pain. Aliso calls to him.
Tony Aliso: Hey Shipley! It’s time you learnt something about this place. You know how they blend the different juices? That happens just over here, round the corner – here, let me show you.
He struts over to Shipley and grabs him by both legs – or at least, tries to, but Shipley works one free and kicks him in the face. Aliso reels in surprise and Shipley scrambles to his feet, but The Breaker sinks a closed fist into his abdomen and clubs him across the shoulderblades and the Englishman slumps to his hands and knees.
Tony Aliso: (hissing) Like I said, let me show you.
He takes Shipley by the scruff of his neck and drags him across the poured concrete towards the building from which the came. This takes a good while, with Shipley struggling all the way but Aliso’s strong hold winning out. They round the side of the bottling room’s walkway and come to a depression in the concrete, with sides at a 60-degree angle meeting roughly eight feet down. At its bottom lies a helix of metal, the sharp steel menacing in its non-use.
Tony Aliso: This is it, Tim! This is where the blending takes place. The grape juices come in through here –
He points to some tubes snaking towards the pit from the larger buildings the other side of the bottling room.
Tony Aliso: And this thing down here turns, round and round, constantly sifting and mixing. Did you know that, Tim?
Shipley doesn’t answer, still on all fours after Aliso let him go.
Tony Aliso: I said –
Suddenly Shipley lunges upwards, catching Aliso with an uppercut to the jaw and sending him spinning down into the depression. His upper back hits the wall and slides down, meeting the spiral of steel and causing Aliso to wince. He kicks his legs out, but can’t get up without putting further pressure on the dangerous piece of metal beneath him.
Tim Shipley: No, I didn’t know that.
Unsteady on his feet, Shipley peers down at Aliso.
Tim Shipley: You look a little –
But we never find out what Aliso looks a little, since as Shipley spoke he was working his hands round behind the helix to find a solid ground from which to spring, and now he uses them to push himself up and prop his body up above the helix, simultaneously swinging a leg up to catch Shipley’s bent head. Shipley throws a hand to his face and staggers back as Aliso works himself up and out of the pit and rolls out onto the concrete, small lacerations flecking his white shirt with blood.
Tony Aliso: Lucky I left the jacket in the car...
He stands and rips off his shirt, all the buttons popping at once as Aliso advances, now topless with his smart black trousers, more readied for a proper fight. Shipley, blood now running from his nose as well as his lip, brings his own white t-shirt over his head, never taking his eyes off Aliso.
Tony Aliso: (drily) Nice pecs, buddy.
Shipley smiles broadly.
Tim Shipley: Thanks.
He tosses the t-shirt into Aliso’s face; it whips round the back of his head, temporarily rendering The Breaker unsighted as Shipley hops forward and throws a straight punch across his face. An exclamation is heard from beneath the t-shirt, and as Aliso rips it away a second right hand hits home, causing him to trip over his own feet and fall back into the vines that begin at the edge of the concrete.
Tim Shipley: Hey, now, Tony, don’t want to cause any damage, remember...
Aliso leaps to his feet, glaring at Shipley, who suddenly launches off the concrete in a flying dropkick. He scores high, Aliso hit in the head and send tumbling backwards down the progressively steepening slope. Shipley lands comfortably at the edge of the vines.
Tim Shipley: No, come back, Tony, it’s not that bad!
Aliso stands, angry, about fifteen yards down the hill.
Tony Aliso: Aren’t you forgetting something?
Aliso waves the detonator above his head. Shipley swallows. This moment is crucial.
Tim Shipley: There’s your mistake, Tony. I'm really not all that fussed. I told her the truth and she... she didn’t believe me... she had her chance.
Aliso scoffs.
Tony Aliso: So you’re just gonna let her DIE?
Aliso motions as if to hit the button. Shipley flinches.
Tim Shipley: I don’t – I d-don’t think you can do it.
The Breaker stares at him, then laughs.
Tony Aliso: You don’t think I, Tony Aliso, the best undercover agent Knucks ever had, can blow up a snivelling little girl?
Tim Shipley: (whispering) You’re in love with her.
Aliso stomps closer, cupping a hand at his ear.
Tony Aliso: Sorry, buddy, didn’t get that.
Tim Shipley: You’re in love with her.
Aliso tips his head back and laughs loudly as he approaches.
Tony Aliso: LOVE?! Ah, so y-
The Californian is stopped mid-sentence as Shipley aims a perfect kick at his hand. There is a loud double crack as two of his fingers break, but this isn’t Aliso’s concern, since the detonator also flies up and out of his hand, coming to rest a few yards away amidst the vines.
Tony Aliso: No...
He frantically throws himself in the direction the detonator fell, ignoring the odd angle at which his fingers reside. Shipley launches at him and brings him down with a perfect rugby tackle. Aliso’s 270 pounds hit the ground with a thud. Shipley quickly scrambles up and searches, rapidly finding the detonator and flinging it as far as he can away from him and down the hill.
Tony Aliso: You...
Shipley turns to Aliso, but too slowly as the big man rams a massive clothesline across his chin.
Tony Aliso: AAAAAARGHHH!
Aliso’s yell of frustration would have put a smile on the face of Tim Shipley, had the smaller man’s jaw not been dislocated on the clothesline’s impact. Aliso now drags him to his feet with his functioning hand and throws another punch into his ravaged face, and another, and another. Shipley takes the weaker left-handed blows, gratefully slumping back to the ground as Aliso assesses the situation and thinks on his feet.
Tim Shipley: (mumbling) Just give up...
Aliso stares at him, astounded.
Tony Aliso: And why the FUCK would I want to do that?
He leathers him in the ribs again, and Shipley cries out, the pain of the kick doubled by the bruising having formed all around his ribcage.
Tony Aliso: Come with me.
The Breaker moves his hand towards Shipley’s head to grab hold of it, but then sees the broken fingers and remembers to switch arms. His weaker left hand closes over Shipley’s matted, sweaty, bloody hair and begins to yank him through the vines. As they reach the concrete, Aliso allows him to fall, breathing hard at the strain of carrying Shipley’s 200-pound frame with the weaker side of his body.
Tim Shipley: Shame I – broke your fingers –
Tony Aliso: Shut UP!
Another unforgiving kick, and Shipley’s groan is prolonged and almost animalistic. He’d do better to stay silent – unless he figures these kicks to the trunk are better than the alternative. Aliso takes him by the hair with his left hand again and strains upwards to drag him to his feet.
Tim Shipley: Oh, you want me to get up?
Shipley aims a tired punch at Aliso’s abdomen; his six-pack stiffens and absorbs the tiny impact as a clubbing blow rains down on Shipley’s shoulders. Shipley insistently buries another fist in his stomach and grabs the leg, looking to cradle it as if going for his Chaos Theory move, but Aliso scornfully knocks him away onto the concrete. He swings another kick at him, but Shipley backs away and gets back up.
Tony Aliso: It’s a matter of time, Tim...
Shipley says nothing, fingering his jaw as it clicks in, out, in, out.
Tim Shipley: You utter cunt.
Shipley then chuckles to himself, realising he’s said his inner musing out loud and that it’s a ridiculous understatement given the circumstances. It also serves to spur Aliso back into action as he tracks forward and shoots a sighter. Shipley blocks it easily and crunches a mid kick into The Breaker’s left thigh, but Aliso finds a use for his right arm in a crushing European uppercut once more damaging the jaw of the Englishman, who goes stumbling away towards the depression in the concrete Aliso fell into earlier. Aliso grins, following him. A high knee into the solar plexus and an elbow into the face subdue any resistance from Shipley before Aliso drags him in between his legs.
Tony Aliso: Any last words?
Aliso waits.
Tony Aliso: Tim, when I slam you down on that metal helix, your spinal cord will be severed in multiple places, so if you want me to pass, say, a message of goodwill to darling Kate, I’d make it qui-
Shipley drops to his knees and hits a hard shot into Aliso’s REGIONS~!. Aliso coughs and splutters, falling to his knees, too.
Tim Shipley: Quick?
Shipley stands, thrusting the bottom of his wrestling boot into Aliso’s ear, knocking him aside. Shipley puts his left hand to his jaw and gingerly feels it.
Tim Shipley: Fuck.
Tony Aliso: Nice –
Aliso gets back on his feet and swings a punch. Shipley ducks it and finds himself applying a waistlock from behind. He lifts Aliso as if for an atomic drop but Aliso turns around and socks Shipley in the face. Shipley drops The Breaker, who lands on his feet and kicks Shipley in the mid-section.
Tony Aliso: For FUCK’s sake, will you just give up?
He slams Shipley to the concrete in a frustrated scoop slam. Grabbing both his legs, he inches him towards the dip in the concrete, but Shipley pushes out with both feet and Aliso’s foot meets the drop. Off-balance, he falls back, his back slamming against the sloping floor, but pulling Shipley with him, and Shipley knocks against the central helix of steel before rolling onto Aliso and encircling his throat with his hands. Smirking, Aliso easily rolls him over, moving out of the depression, and himself begins to choke Shipley out from a mounted position. A sudden pain in the broken fingers of his right hand forces him to withdraw it, however, and Shipley lands a swinging left hand. Aliso rides the blow and slams his own left fist into Shipley’s nose, sending a fresh spurt of blood out onto the dirty stone. He steps away, dusting his hands off.
Tony Aliso: See you later...
Aliso breaks into a run, and moments later we hear the clang of his frantic steps scurrying down the staircase inside the bottling room. Shipley turns to get to his feet and groans, his legs buckling under him as he slumps onto his front, and now we see the two deep lacerations across his back from coming into contact with the sharp steel of the blender. He pulls his face off the concrete and throws a hand to his back, yelling loudly with the pain.
We switch shot to elsewhere in the winery, where the two Albany policemen are crowding around the locked door to the clerk’s office.
Lee Newbury: Katharine! Miss Barnard, can you hear us?
Newbury presses his ear to the door, straining to hear. He shrugs apologetically to Danny Richards, who grimaces.
Danny Richards: We’ve gotta get in...
He rattles the door-handle impatiently.
Danny Richards: You’re sure you can’t pick it?
Newbury shrugs again.
Lee Newbury: I’ve tried hard enough. It’s all mangled up inside. My guess is the key won’t even open that door.
Danny Richards: There’s nothing for it then...
He bends close to the door and barks out a warning.
Danny Richards: Katharine, we’re gonna have to break this down!
Lee Newbury: Danny! We can’t do that! We know how small the room is! We’ll hurt her –
Richards turns to Newbury and looks at him solemnly.
Danny Richards: If she’s still alive.
Richards turns to the door and kicks it, hard. It doesn’t budge.
Lee Newbury: It’s old... very thick...
Richards glares at Newbury, panting.
Danny Richards: I think I know that.
He takes a run-up and slams his boot against the lock. This time, the door springs open, swinging back – “Careful!” yells Newbury, alarmed – but it doesn’t collide with flesh, not at all; in fact it hits the wall and rebounds back, almost catching Richards in the face. He’s too preoccupied by the bloodstained note on the desk to care.
Danny Richards: He says... “Try underground”...
Newbury swears loudly.
Below ground level is the bulk of the winery’s square footage, and this very storage room accounts for almost a third of that. It’s one of the most extensive rooms you’ll ever set eyes on, filled with rows of barrels, piled up systematically, each section two barrels high, two barrels wide and, it seems, infinitely long.
Tony Aliso strides casually up to a barrel close to the high arched doorway and places a hand on it.
Tony Aliso: Change of plan, Kate – looks like you’re coming with me. Hold tight –
He rips a screwdriver from the shelf and slams it through the wood at the side of one end, ignoring the muffled scream from within. Presently, he manages to lever out the top section, and instead of a fast flow of deep red liquid, we see Kate Barnard, hunched up, white-faced, and freezing still in only her underwear.
Kate Barnard: (screaming) HELP! HELP!
Tony Aliso: There’s nobody here...
But even he sounds less convinced of himself, and it doesn’t seem everything is going to plan for the Knucks operative. He wrenches the girl roughly out of the barrel; too roughly, as she slips on the floor and falls, knocking her head against a barrel. Tears once more spring from her eyes as she sits where she lands, legs splayed, no care for manners or modesty now.
Tony Aliso: (muttering) Come on, you silly bitch...
He grabs her arm and pulls her up, but Kate’s arms and legs are no longer bound, something Aliso hasn’t really considered, and Kate is able to slam her flat palm against his cheek, her nails ripping against the skin causing the man from LA to groan. She turns and tries to run, but Aliso wraps his huge arm around her waits and pulls her in.
Tony Aliso: And for that, Miss Barnard, you get the further humiliation...
He ducks his head down and rips her bra strap with his teeth. The silky material covering her breasts immediately falls away, and Kate Barnard’s pale beauty is exposed, her nipples standing out against their white backdrop due to the creeping cold. She spits furiously on the ground and struggles violently, but Aliso holds firm around her waist.
Tony Aliso: Careful, girl, or it’s all coming off.
Kate Barnard: I don’t – care – you’ve seen it all – before –
Aliso laughs loudly.
Tony Aliso: Good call, Kate – that I have. A fine day...
She struggles again, but cannot escape his hold.
Tony Aliso: Come on, Kate, we’re going further down.
He picks her up as a new husband would on his wedding night and forcibly carries her to a side door, which he kicks open. Closing it with his back, Aliso then descends a short spiral staircase to come out in a high-ceilinged corridor, the huge blocks of stone in the walls lit sporadically by dim bulbs of yellow. The left side of the corridor is a solid stone wall, while inset in the right hand side are small caverns cut into the wall, full of bottled wine, one such enclosure for each vintage. Each of these has a portcullis-like gate guarding its entrance, and Aliso ignores them all, striding right to the very end one, whose gate has been opened. Opposite this is a turning to the left at right angles to the original corridor, so anyone standing at the entrance to the cavern can see right the way down both approaching corridors. Aliso worked this out well.
Tony Aliso: (setting her down inside the cavern) It always pays to have a plan B, remember that, Kate – though if your friend Tim messes up, you won’t have any need to remember it...
Aliso chuckles quietly, while Kate’s throat catches.
Kate Barnard: Tim... Tim’s coming?
Tony Aliso: Tim’s HERE! Simultaneously bleeding and freezing to death outside, but he’d better summon up the strength to come get you himself, because if it’s the cops that come to get you, your luck’s run out...
Kate’s voice is very high-pitched as she replies.
Kate Barnard: The... cops?
Her eyes flicker. Just for a split-second, but that’s enough. Aliso spins, to see a German policeman flattened against the wall twenty yards down the corridor which the cavern faces.
Tony Aliso: Nice try.
Seeing that he’s been spotted, the policeman goes for broke, breaking into a full sprint towards Aliso. Aliso feigns panic, stepping back into the cavern. Kate leaps at him, swinging her arm at his head, but he knocks her away effortlessly and pulls a Colt .45 from his pocket with his left hand and aims it up at the ceiling. The officer skids to a halt and goes to draw his own gun, but Aliso already has his pointed at the girl.
Tony Aliso: Take the gun out and the girl dies. Stalemate?
The officer says nothing, but he’s already played into Aliso’s hands further than even he knows. Aliso aims the gun upwards again, this time watching where he’s pointing it, and the inexperienced officer curiously follows his eyeline. A crate filled with bottles is the last thing he sees. Aliso shoots a switch and the whole lot comes down on the poor German.
Tony Aliso: Equally adept with both hands...
He inspects the broken fingers on his favoured right hand and Kate screams. Aliso laughs and turns to her, waving the gun around as she quails in fear.
Tony Aliso: Didn’t you wonder where all the bottles from this one went?
Aliso sneers.
Tony Aliso: I spent a while choosing my location... and once I had Sonnenberg in mind, I had the time for booby-trapping. It pays to take the upper hand.
Kate says nothing, curled up against the wall looking at the ground.
Tony Aliso: Hey, come on. You’re not looking very... perky today, mm?
He eyes her breasts. She just cries more.
Tony Aliso: You’re depressing company.
He puts the gun back in his pocket, pulls out a cellphone and holds a button for speed dial, before bringing it to his ear.
Kate Barnard: Who are you phoning?
Tony Aliso: (smiling) A friend?
Kate Barnard: You get reception down here? Underground?
Tony Aliso: Ah, we have a special network – this is Aliso. I need to get out. Vulcan. I repeat, Vulcan. This place is crawling with cops. Vulcan. I repeat, Vulcan.
He slips the phone back into his pocket and looks down at the girl again.
Kate Barnard: (timidly) What’s Vulcan?
Aliso sniffs.
Tony Aliso: Don’t worry your pretty little self. Where’s Tim, huh? Where’s your knight in shining armour?
Kate Barnard doesn’t answer, turning her face against the wall and weeping all the more heavily.
Kate Barnard: He came to see me...
Tony Aliso: I know.
Kate Barnard: He was right...
Tony Aliso: I know.
Kate Barnard: I didn’t believe him. He won’t – he won’t come for me...
Aliso shrugs.
Tony Aliso: Maybe not. Maybe he just wanted to settle things with me. Maybe he’s left you... to die.
Aliso chuckles once more as Kate does her best to ignore his threats. Aliso suddenly bends down and takes her by the arms to help her up.
Tony Aliso: Come on, Kate.
Kate Barnard: What’s happening?
Tony Aliso: We’re heading out.
Kate Barnard: Can I go home?
Aliso raises his eyebrows.
Tony Aliso: No. But you can get out of this place, at least.
His meaty right arm around her waist, he pulls her close to him, standing behind her.
Kate Barnard: What are you doing?
She struggles, but he is insistent, holding her tight. She now seems to notice his fingers for the first time.
Kate Barnard: What happened to your hand?
Tony Aliso: Shipley. It’s nothing.
Kate slams her forearm down across his fingers, simultaneously trying to break forward, but while Aliso winces at the pain, he still holds her tight.
Tony Aliso: I can take it, Kate. Bad move.
His left arm creeps around her front and begins to fondle her breasts as she weeps silently.
Kate Barnard: (whispering) Why?
Tony Aliso: You wouldn’t ever understand.
He puts his left hand to her lips.
Tony Aliso: Shh.
Aliso listens intently.
Kate Barnard: What is it?
Tony Aliso: Footsteps...
Kate Barnard: HELP! HELP!
Tony Aliso: Shut up!
He whips out the Colt, cocking it and holding it to Kate’s temple. She lets out a whimper and her breathing becomes shallow. Aliso bends close to whisper in her ear:
Tony Aliso: Don’t give me a reason to.
Voice: Oh my God...
Tony Aliso: Here we go.
Newbury and Richards approach along the corridor down which Aliso brought Kate, clearing having spotted the busted crate of broken bottles at its end, from underneath which an arm protrudes.
Danny Richards: Who is that?
Lee Newbury: Richards! Aliso could be anywhere!
Tony Aliso: He’s got a little sense at least...
Lee Newbury: We’re just looking for the girl. Don’t get us into trouble –
But Richards is already jogging over to the fallen crate, grabbing the arm and checking for a pulse. He turns his head to shout to his partner –
Danny Richards: He’s al-
The words die in his throat as he sees the situation in the cavern next to him on his way round.
Danny Richards: Oh, Christ.
Tony Aliso: Shut up.
Newbury’s eyes flash.
Lee Newbury: Danny! Danny, what’ve you done!
Newbury hurries over, and gasps when he sees Aliso with a gun to Kate’s head.
Lee Newbury: Sir – Mr Aliso – leave the girl – please – you don’t need her now – we’ll make you a deal – let the girl go and you walk away –
Aliso gives a hollow laugh.
Tony Aliso: What are you? Albany?
Lee Newbury: That’s right...
Tony Aliso: So what do I care if the Albany Police Department cuts me a deal when I have the FBI on my back? No sir. Now I'm going to ask you first of all, not to do anything that’ll make me pull this trigger.
He pulls his arm tighter around her slim waist. Kate yelps. Richards gulps.
Lee Newbury: Understood... that’s not what we want at all...
Tony Aliso: If you want the girl to live, you’re going to have to answer me a question, and then do as I say.
Lee Newbury: Okay... okay.
Aliso motions to the corridor facing him with his right arm. Momentarily, Kate considers making a dash, but then she remembers the gun to her head. A tear streaks down her cheek.
Tony Aliso: Who’s covering that corridor apart from the Germans?
Lee Newbury: J-just the Germans.
Aliso grins.
Tony Aliso: They’re gone.
Newbury gasps.
Lee Newbury: All of them?
Aliso nods.
Tony Aliso: All of them.
Richards cuts in suspiciously.
Danny Richards: What makes you say that?
Tony Aliso: The text message on my cell that says “German police eliminated”.
Aliso and Richards regard each other coolly.
Tony Aliso: Good. I’ll be going in that direction just as soon as –
Aliso stops as he feels the phone buzzing in his pocket, and smiles.
Tony Aliso: Now, actually. So, I'm gonna ask you two to turn and walk back the way you came, slowly. I am going to get out the other way, take Kate to the car waiting for me, get in, and drive away. There’s nobody out there to stop me. If the car is tailed, I shoot Kate. Got it?
Both policemen nod. Newbury turns and immediately begins to walk away. Richards more reluctantly follows. Aliso now begins to drag Kate down the corridor as planned, the gun still to her head.
Back at the circle of parked cars, the scene is of absolute silence. Numerous policemen lie on the ground, dead. There are no Knucks bodies with them. A jet black car pulls onto the scene, with two sinister-looking sharp-suited men in the front seats. They wait.
And in a hedge fifteen yards away, Tim Shipley and the German leader lie, motionless.
German Officer: Now. You go now. They don’t need to know you’re there.
Shipley nods, and crawls through the undergrowth, wincing at the pain in his back and slowly approaching the car from the side. It’s almost pitch black. There’s no chance of the driver or passenger seeing him. Finally, he reaches the car and moves into a crouch by the back door, giving the thumbs-up through the darkness. He doesn’t know if the German officer can see him, but it’s better than nothing.
And then Aliso emerges through a side door of the winery. Shipley stiffens as he hears Kate’s protests. Aliso approaches the car, gun still in his left hand alongside her head, and leans in to pull the back door open – a struggle with two fingers of his right hand broken. Eventually, though, he does so, and shoves Kate onto the backseat, she still practically naked, and slams the door after her.
Then he realises his mistake.
The car’s got no plates.
The FBI agents burst out of the driver and passenger doors, submachine guns up, the driver aiming a volley at Aliso’s left leg. A spray of bullets connects, Aliso slumping to the ground. A moment later, a burst from the second agent knocks the gun from Aliso’s hand. Shots from snipers all over immediately start raining down, but the agents in their black suits and black shirts are barely visible in the night and they are unharmed as they pull Aliso into the car through the driver’s door. They bundle him into the passenger seat and the second agent grabs a box from the dashboard, from which he takes a prepared syringe and plunges it into Aliso’s thigh. A moment later, the world for Aliso is blackness.
The driver resumes his position and guns the engine as the other FBI agent hops into the backseat with Shipley and Barnard. Kate is clinging to the Frontier champion, who whispers soothing words into her ear, pretending not to notice her near-naked state. Or perhaps he doesn’t notice at all. Why should he? He’s got a lot more to worry about.
But hopefully, after this arrest, there should be a whole lot off his back. His injured back, from which blood still runs, the German police officer’s makeshift bandages not having helped much.
Shots ring out, one or two slamming into the car, but the FBI agent keeps it humming as he negotiates the bumpy track away from the winery as quickly as is possible.
All Tim Shipley can think about is how long the German is going to have to lie in that hedge before someone comes to rescue him.
Pierce Lavelle (C) vs Paddy O'Shea
STIPULATION: SINGLES
REFEREE: MICHAEL RYAN
AUTHORS: PIERRE HYDE AND LARA CLARKE
Dave Kern: I... I don’t have words!
Jeff Marx: I am not even going to try and comment on what we just saw. Except to say that the girl is hawwwt.
Dave Kern: Jeff, that’s inappropriate, given the circumstances...
Jeff Marx: I guess so. Steven? Any thoughts?
Steven Smith: I like men in uniform.
Dave sighs.
Dave Kern: Well in the absence of any SENSIBLE discussion of the disturbing and unprecedented events at the winery, let’s move on to our main event...
Jeff Marx: SMELL the excitement, motherfucker!
Dave Kern: Insert Generic Apology To Fans Here.
Jeff Marx: Dave, how unfinished of you!
The call of the uilean pipes booms from the speakers and fills the arena in a short solo of beautiful intent. As the crowd look on in awe, the video screen slowly fades from black into the flag of Ireland - the green, white and gold of the tri-colour, rippling in the wind.
James Brunt: The following is a singles match for the AWC Transatlantic championship!
The spotlights suddenly pan down to the entrance, just as the uilean pipes are replaced by "Raggle Taggle Gypsy" by Christy Moore. The roar of an engine is heard, just before a mobile home emerges, being driven by Paddy O'Shea, who has a somewhat unnerving smile affixed to his weather-torn face. O'Shea drives the mobile home down the gantry and parks it by the ring before hopping out to a cheer of admiration.
James Brunt: Introducing first, the challenger, from Galway, Ireland, weighing in at 180 pounds... “The Man From The Caravan” PADDY O’SHEA!
O'Shea raises his arms in triumph and plays to the crowd until his music cuts out.
Steven Smith: Paddy’s one of those guys who quite literally is his nickname, driving that motor home down to the ring...
Jeff Marx: I'm never going to understand how that fits through the curtain.
Dave Kern: O’Shea is soaking in the crowd’s adulation... he’s really won himself some fans recently.
”PADDY! PADDY! PADDY!”
Steven Smith: Yep. But he’s still ugly as fuck.
Dave Kern: Insert Generic Apo-
Jeff Marx: Yeah yeah, Dave, we’ve heard it.
“Stockholm Syndrome” powers out from the speakers, Muse’s hard rock epic strangely failing to bring a muted Kolnarena to life. Everyone is watching the curtain, and everyone has their own opinions on the man who now pushes through it, but no one quite knows what to do.
Lavelle, as seems to be his custom nowadays, looks a wreck, with his left shoulder still heavily bandaged – though, presumably, not quite as tender as for the match with Jack Murphy, given time. His head has been shaven, as we saw earlier, and his usually sparkling blue eyes now look soulless, giving his face a gaunt look.
Steven Smith: Shaving his head was a mistake.
Dave Kern: I agree. It’s certainly not helping the fans remember the man he used to be. There’s no question that Paddy O’Shea has the fans’ backing over Lavelle tonight.
Steven Smith: I just meant it doesn’t look so pretty...
James Brunt: And his opponent, from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 245 pounds... the Transatlantic champion, PIERCE LAVELLE!
There is a cheer to greet his name, and Lavelle nods appreciatively before entering the ring. The champion’s first thought is to offer his hand to Paddy O’Shea, who shakes it with a smile, and Lavelle then hands his title belt to the ring announcer, who takes it to ringside with him. Michael Ryan prepares himself for the match, the bell rings, and we’re off.
Dave Kern: Tonight’s main event is underway! The biggest match scheduled in AWC since Triangles is going to test everything these men have in them: physical, mental and even theoretical strength.
Jeff Marx: What?
Dave Kern: No, I don’t know what I mean.
The two launch into an energetic grapple, both determined to make the better start in front of these 18,000 fans.
Dave Kern: You’d usually expect Lavelle to come out the better from a tie-up, but his greater strength may just be cancelled out by his weak left shoulder.
Steven Smith: I’d expect him on top. He can do the work.
The grapple continues, Lavelle applying pressure but being forced upwards by O’Shea who holds a low position. As the lock of arms swings over O’Shea’s head, Lavelle’s legs are straining and he stumbles forward a little, one leg jerking half a foot across the mat towards the Irishman. O’Shea, holding firm, senses an opportunity and lifts a knee against that thigh. Lavelle determinedly absorbs the blow and drags the collar-and-elbow lock towards himself, the exertion showing in O’Shea’s face.
Dave Kern: This is one test of strength!
O’Shea lifts his left leg again, this time bending it and then spearing Lavelle’s right knee with his boot, at the same time sidestepping to the right. Lavelle follows his sidestep, a slight stumble as his right leg buckles but he recovers, dragging it back up as they both continue their sideways motions, turning almost a full circle. Lavelle suddenly drops his left arm out of the grapple and jabs O’Shea in the abdomen, the two falling towards each other and catching on another tie-up. Lavelle breaks it quickly, though, knowing that O’Shea is off-balance, and envelops the Irishman’s torso in his arms before swivelling sideways and landing a side belly-to-belly suplex.
Jeff Marx: Takedown by Lavelle with the side slam, and now he’s looking for a modified armbar.
O’Shea works his left arm away, though, and resists forcefully each time Lavelle grabs it and tries to place it between his thighs.
Steven Smith: Just toss him off already, Paddy!
Lavelle rolls away, abandoning the fruitless pursuit as O’Shea scrambles up behind him. Lavelle turns to see his opponent making for him; ducking the clothesline, Lavelle applies a rear waistlock and plants O’Shea onto his knee with an atomic drop.
Dave Kern: It’s Pierce Lavelle hitting the moves in this early part of the match, O’Shea now having taken a side belly-to-belly slam and an atomic drop.
Jeff Marx: Those 65 pounds of excess have to earn their keep.
Lavelle strides over to the corner and mounts the second turnbuckle, spreading his arms to the crowd with a big smile. The reaction he was hoping for... isn’t quite there.
Jeff Marx: Taxi for Pierce?
Steven Smith: I can take him in my minicab, you know...
Jeff Marx: No actually, I don’t, nor do I want to.
Dispirited, Lavelle drops back off the turnbuckle and approaches O’Shea, who is on his knees with his head down on the canvas, his arm thrown back over the area affected by the atomic drop. Lavelle grabs one of his ankles and lifts it high, before slamming it back down to the mat.
Dave Kern: Lavelle resorting to a crude method of kneecapping.
Jeff Marx: ...That ain’t kneecapping. I think O’Shea would know, judging by where he lives.
Steven Smith: I thought he was a traveller?
Jeff Marx: Do you mean gypsy?
Steven Smith: I think “traveller” is the politically correct term...
Jeff Marx: Since when are you PC?
Lavelle takes the same ankle and goes to do the same, but The Man From The Caravan swivels under him, kicking out with his other leg and catching Lavelle in the hip area. The champion drops O’Shea’s leg and the Irishman backs away before using the ropes to help him up – earning him a word of reprimand from Michael Ryan, who as senior referee is keen to keep combatants off the ropes. He steps in quickly and throws a punch at Lavelle, who reacts quickly to knock his arm away and kicks O’Shea high in the torso. O’Shea steps back and Lavelle takes advantage of the extra space by scoring a neckbreaker.
Dave Kern: Neat neckbreaker. Pierce Lavelle is showing us why he hasn’t been letting anyone NEAR this belt for God knows how long.
Jeff Marx: ACTUALLY, Jack Murphy was inches away from taking this at Triangles, but settled for the Grand Slam Package instead – and as soon as he cashes in those contracts, the current champions’ days are numbered.
Lavelle allows O’Shea to rise before taking his arm and opposite shoulder from behind as if for a Russian leg sweep. He marches the 180-pounder over to the ropes and hits an REVERSE Russian leg sweep, plunging O’Shea down onto the middle rope! With O’Shea’s front hanging over the rope, Lavelle then backs up and drops an elbow into the small of his back, causing Paddy to jack-knife around and land flat on his back.
Dave Kern: Innovation from Pierce Lavelle, using that middle rope to elevate O’Shea for dropping the elbow.
Lavelle bends down, grabbing O’Shea’s legs, but O’Shea thrusts outwards with them, pushing Pierce back. The champion persists, taking the legs again, and holds them straight before rocking backwards, the crowd roar gradually building to a frenzy as O’Shea is launched through the air to crash-land against the turnbuckle!
Jeff Marx: CATAPULT!
Dave Kern: Paddy gets a face realignment courtesy of the turnbuckle!
Steven Smith: That could actually be for the better in his case.
Lavelle hurries over to O’Shea, who is slumped amidst the turnbuckle, and crouches down, wrapping his arms around the Irishman’s waist. His head alongside O’Shea’s ribcage, Lavelle uses his legs to lift the 180-pounder up and perch him on the top turnbuckle, facing the crowd, who he sees through the fence cheering him on. This gives O’Shea a renewed sense of purpose, and as Lavelle climbs the turnbuckle behind him, Paddy throws an elbow back into his abdomen. The Transatlantic champion is winded, and falls forward into O’Shea, who hoists him up as if giving a piggyback.
Steven Smith: No, Pierce, don’t bum him, bum m-
Jeff Marx: This is looking interesting...
Dave Kern: I’d say more CRAZY than anything...!
O’Shea launches himself backwards, maintaining the piggyback to use his 180 pounds in driving Lavelle down, crushing the champion between himself and the canvas!
Dave Kern: WHAT A MOVE!
Jeff Marx: The Piggyback Driver~!
Steven Smith: It was actually more of a buster...
Dave Kern: I’d say a slam!
Jeff Marx: NEVER DAMN MIND, he’s pinning him!
ONE!
TWO!
Lavelle kicks out.
Dave Kern: First pin attempt of the match, and O’Shea lands a two.
Jeff Marx: Lavelle really had the wind knocked out of him, twice in quick succession, but he’s still pretty fresh and made the kickout.
Steven Smith: I want to see O’Shea target that arm...
Steven looks around at Dave and Jeff, who appear to be waiting for something.
Steven Smith: What?
Jeff Marx: Oh, we’re just waiting for the sexual reference to finish your sentence.
Steven Smith: There... there isn’t one...
Dave Kern: There isn’t?
Steven Smith: No.
Jeff Marx: Oh.
Steven Smith: I can try and make one, if –
Dave Kern: No, no, that’s quite alright. O’Shea pulling Lavelle back to his feet.
Steven Smith: I can’t get used to this new hair!
Jeff Marx: Ah, that’s a bit better.
O’Shea scores a few right hands to Lavelle, who offers no guard, before chopping him hard across the chest. Lavelle groans, but O’Shea follows with an even more damaging elbow to Lavelle’s injured shoulder, and the champion drops to one knee with a loud sigh. O’Shea turns and runs for the ropes, rebounding to launch himself and connect with a straight dropkick to Lavelle’s face. Lavelle rotates backwards to the mat.
Dave Kern: Now O’Shea’s found his foothold...
O’Shea drops a leg over Pierce’s head, but it’s the small part of him that connects with the champion’s bullet wound that again seems to be causing the most harm. Lavelle forces himself to sit up, and The Man From The Caravan takes him by the head and leads him back up.
Dave Kern: Lavelle’s going to have to deal with that pain in his shoulder somehow – whether it means just ignoring it, or... At this rate, it could cost him that long championship reign!
O’Shea fires another right hand into Lavelle’s face, but now Lavelle guns himself to respond, a head punch knocking Paddy back. O’Shea roars in looking for a swinging knee, but Lavelle steps smartly out of the way and grabs his opponent, setting him up quickly for a vertical suplex. Midway through the air, O’Shea slips free, twisting in the air to come down behind Lavelle. A leaping bulldog later, both are down.
Jeff Marx: Paddy O’Shea at 5’9” really had to jump to manage that bulldog.
Dave Kern: He’s still carrying the more momentum of the two.
Steven Smith: Ah, but was he voted number seventeen sexiest man of the year by Homo Stud magazine?
Jeff Marx: I'm thinking no.
Michael Ryan has started to count them down, but he only reaches two before O’Shea wipes the sweat from around his mouth and stands himself back up, giving Lavelle sporadic stomps to the lower back to galvanise him into rising. Lavelle rolls away, instead, and O’Shea engages himself in a brief conversation with the referee as his opponent gets up. Michael Ryan now backs into a corner, and the two men advance a few steps, standing a couple of yards apart in their fighting stances as they tensely await each other’s move.
”PADDY! PADDY! PADDY!”
Dave Kern: The strength of the support for Paddy O’Shea tonight is... overwhelming!
Jeff Marx: This whole drugs thing pushed along by Adam Dick has really hurt the current champion’s popularity!
Dave Kern: But is it actually true?
Steven Smith: There’s got to be a grain in there somewhere...
Dave Kern: Wise words, Steven.
Steven Smith: What? Oh, no, not that – I have a sore penis.
Lavelle plants his left leg forwards – he’s clearly faking. So clearly, in fact, that O’Shea lets up his guard just a little to grin and wink at the champion. Like lightning, Lavelle moves in and scores a scoop slam.
Dave Kern: Lavelle not sharing O’Shea’s good humour...
Jeff Marx: And... wait... STOP THE PRESSES! Do I hear... booing? For Pierce Lavelle?
He does indeed, and Lavelle doesn’t quite know how to react, so he stomps away at O’Shea, and it intensifies. Throwing up his arms in frustration, he storms away to the corner of the ring.
Dave Kern: This is the first time Lavelle has EVER been booed and he can’t handle it!
Steven Smith: I’ll handle him...
O’Shea rushes to his feet and runs in, diving forward with a spinning elbow attack just as Lavelle turns to him. Lavelle falls between the middle and top ropes, his upper back hitting the apron, and O’Shea shoves his legs through the ropes too with relish. Lavelle topples backwards and falls to the floor at ringside, landing on his knees.
Jeff Marx: A new meaning to the phrase “flipping him off”.
ONE! TWO!
Dave Kern: Now remember, there’s only a five count under Ms Volkyeva’s rules, so Lavelle has gotta get back in quickly if he doesn’t want to lose this match!
He does so, quickly sliding in and taking up his stance, but O’Shea is already mid-kick and Lavelle can’t stop the blow to his mid-section. His guard dropping, Lavelle places a hand to the area of impact, leaving him open to a furious sequence of punches from Paddy O’Shea that takes Lavelle right across from one side of the ring to the other!
Dave Kern: He’s FIGHTING IRISH!
Jeff Marx: Bashing bruises into Lavelle’s forehead with those stiff, stiff shots!
Steven Smith: CAREFUL! As long as there’s no permanent damage...
O’Shea pushes Lavelle into the ropes and uses this impulse to sling him into the opposite set, following up and smothering him with a cross body as soon as he hits the ropes – a little too early, though, and the two of them tumble under the bottom rope to land in a heap on the floor.
Dave Kern: O’Shea’s timing a little off and he got taken for the same ride!
ONE! TWO! The two athletes wearily get to their feet, O’Shea’s first thought to step up to the apron, which he does – but Lavelle drags him back down, and O’Shea’s ankle twists as he lands, falling to a sitting position. Lavelle now slides into the ring and watches. THREE!
Jeff Marx: There’s a bit of a mean streak coming out here – Lavelle showing he will take a victory by any means. I like it!
O’Shea scrambles back up. FOUR! He dives into the ring just in time, and Lavelle comes down on him with a crushing knee.
Dave Kern: I agree with you on the mean streak; I guess all this tension in his life that’s built up over the past few weeks has meant frustration for the beleaguered champion...
Jeff Marx: You don’t have to defend him, Jeff...
Dave Kern: Oh, I do! It’s clear these actions are coming out of bare desperation...
Steven Smith: He’s desperate for Smith cock.
Jeff Marx: DESPERATE indeed, because he’s a man who knows his time as champion is sorely limited! He’s LOST his momentum, he’s LOST his way, and in a few short minutes he’ll have LOST his belt!
Some boos again issue from the crowd as Lavelle drops another knee, before moving to target the ankle O’Shea hurt outside the ring. Placing his foot just above the ankle, Lavelle puts both his hands on O’Shea’s boot and wrenches away at it, stretching the ankle as far as it will go.
Jeff Marx: Textbook prep for an ankle lock there. Could Lavelle be gearing up to try and win this that way? With an unfamiliar submission hold? It’s a risk.
Dave Kern: But perhaps one worth taking. A prize quality in a fighter is one to adapt to circumstance, change strategy on the fly in light of the proceedings, and that’s most definitely what Pierce Lavelle is doing, acting on the minor injury sustained by O’Shea...
Jeff Marx: I'm from the “Play to your strengths” school. There’s no question Lavelle’s submission of choice is the camel clutch.
Lavelle continues to weaken O’Shea’s ankle, the Irishman yelling out irregularly and pushing his hands to the mat, trying to elevate himself to relieve the pain, but Lavelle simply alters his angle accordingly. Anxious, O’Shea tries to pull himself forward, towards the ropes, and the sudden change of strategy means he gains a little ground before Lavelle pulls him back to where he started. The pulling, though, involved a relieving of the pressure applied by his boot, and O’Shea takes advantage of not being held down to spring even further forward, his fingertips searching the air but still a couple of feet from the ropes. Nonetheless, Lavelle slams O’Shea’s legs down in disgust and goes around to his chest, shunting him onto his back with his foot. Lavelle then hops back over to the ends of O’Shea’s legs and lifts the injured ankle with his left hand, rearing back with his right leg and swinging his knee right through it. O’Shea shouts out and clasps his thigh, affected by the dull pain rushing up from his ankle. The Transatlantic champion grabs his leg as if to do it again but The Man From The Caravan issues a sharp kick with the other boot to Lavelle’s hands, and Lavelle winces, wheeling round and cradling his fingers. Sensing a chance, O’Shea stands up hurriedly and takes Lavelle’s arm, bending it between his legs. Completing his set-up for a pumphandle slam, O’Shea strains to lift him, but Lavelle swings his left leg up to kick O’Shea in the face. There is a crack, as if O’Shea’s nose has broken, and the Irishman drops Lavelle and stumbles into the corner, placing his hands on the top rope for balance.
Steven Smith: As I said, Paddy getting his face busted could be a blessing! If we reformed the entire face, perhaps he might even be attractive one day...
Smith considers.
Steven Smith: Nah.
Lavelle rapidly moves in on O’Shea, a raking blow across his shoulders pressing him against the turnbuckle. He then applies a rear waistlock, but O’Shea’s elbow shoots out, Lavelle caught in the stomach. O’Shea pushes himself off the top ropes either side of him to lace his legs under Lavelle’s armpits, and then spins them around to face away from the corner post. With this technical ability not characteristic of him, the Irishman then rolls into an intricate pin.
Jeff Marx: Is that REALLY O’Shea out there?!
Dave Kern: A wonderful piece of agility and here’s a pinning predicament!
ONE!
TWO!
Lavelle’s legs shoot out from O’Shea’s grip.
Dave Kern: Another kickout by our champion.
Jeff Marx: He’s no champion of mine!
O'Shea rolls off of Lavelle and receives a wave of cheers from the adoring crowd around him. He's intrigued by the amount of support and watches as Lavelle grips his shoulder.
Jeff Marx: Is that blood coming through Lavelle's bandage?
Dave Kern: I think you're right!
Lavelle is on his knees and grips the back of his shoulder, obviously in pain. O'Shea, not taking any chances, needs to work on this opportunity and drives his knee into Pierce's shoulder. Lavelle yells out in pain as his body jerks forward. O'Shea now grabs him from around the neck and slowly punches Lavelle's wounded shoulder.
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea is really taking advantage of Lavelle’s injury now!
Jeff Marx: He’s mirroring the unsportsmanlike conduct we’ve seen from Lavelle.
O’Shea hoists Lavelle's weakened body up and Irish-whips him into the opposite rope. Lavelle comes charging toward Paddy, but Paddy is ready and lifts Pierce Lavelle into an electric chair drop, connecting it perfectly!
Dave Kern: ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP!
Jeff Marx: O’Shea lifts Lavelle into a potentially match-ending move with the aid of his momentum!
Steven Smith: He wouldn’t have been able to lift the heavier man up high like that otherwise.
The crowd pop for the move, and then watch as Lavelle's already unravelled bandage flies off, leaving two wounds on his shoulder along with blood. O’Shea looks on and shakes his head in shock.
Steven Smith: That's a bullet wound!
Jeff Marx: No shit, Sherlock.
Dave Kern: My my, the things he’s been getting up to. Pierce Lavelle isn't looking too hot right now.
Steven Smith: You can say that again. Bullet wounds = icky.
Dave Kern: I think O’Shea's reopened the stitching. He's losing a lot of blood.
O’Shea, showing concern on his face, gazes at a fading Lavelle and hoists him up, using the ropes for leverage. Cheers for Paddy continue around the arena, but many fans are now joining in for cheers for Lavelle, worry flooding the arena. Paddy, not sure what to do, smacks Lavelle's face.
Steven Smith: Did he just...?
Jeff Marx: Some kind of revival thing!
O’Shea slaps Pierce again and he comes to; Michael Ryan, relieved, allows the match to continue, but suddenly House Of Pain’s “Jump Around” hits!
Dave Kern: What is this?
Steven Smith: That’s Mike Wade’s music!
Jeff Marx: I'm impressed, Steven...
Steven Smith: He has boy-band looks.
Mike Wade comes charging out of the back and stands on the stage!
Dave Kern: He has no business out here!
The boos emanating from the fans packed into the Kolnarena immediately dwarf any aimed at Lavelle, Mike Wade the bane of the majority of the observers tonight, and those who do cheer his appearance, enjoying the original style The Unfuckables bring to AWC, are easily drowned out. His Swerviness stands there, staring at Paddy O'Shea in the ring, with a very limp and wounded Pierce Lavelle still struggling to stay conscious let alone continue. O’Shea takes his attention off Lavelle and watches Mike Wade, slowly strolling down the ramp, receiving many boos.
Dave Kern: He’s determined to ruin this for Paddy O’Shea!
Jeff Marx: Both Wade and O’Shea have bemoaned the scheduling tonight, insisting that they would rather have faced each other than be booked in separate matches for the Relentless and Transatlantic titles. And now Wade is out here despite the battering he got earlier tonight.
Steven Smith: He’s looking drained...
Jeff Marx: He IS drained – literally! He lost nearly a quart of blood in taking the full quart from Chainz and retaining his championship belt.
Dave Kern: Jeff, I think I’ve just worked out the one advantage of our desk being situated here.
Jeff Marx: What’s that?
Dave Kern: From my position, I can see behind the curtain... more specifically, I can see who is just about to rush Mike Wade with a light tube...
Jeff Marx: Hate?! What business does HE have?
Mike Wade smirks, but Paddy O’Shea isn't laughing. He holds his stance and watches as suddenly, another AWC wrestler appears behind him – Hate, coming from behind Mike Wade, brandishing a neon light tube! Mike Wade raises his hands and starts to mock O’Shea. The fans start to buzz; Hate just smiles as he brings the tube down and watches it smash over Wade's head. The crowd laugh and cheer him – unusual for The Fifth Horseman – as Hate begins to drag Wade's limp body back up the stage.
Steven Smith: Well, that was... unexpected.
Jeff Marx: That was –
The commentators are cut short as Lavelle is suddenly up, a new life inside him as he charges towards O’Shea and baseball slides Paddy's wounded ankle. Paddy hits the mat hard and rolls around gripping his ankle. Lavelle taking momentum now, raises Paddy and hoists him into a suplex and goes for a pin.
Dave Kern: There’s the suplex and he rolls through...
ONE!
TWO!
Jeff Marx: Kickout by O’Shea. Lavelle working the Achilles heel!
Lavelle gets off Paddy and helps him up. The two stare at one another and shake hands again, both receiving some cheers from the crowd. They tie up and both men are in equal proportion in energy and strength. Referee Michael Ryan watches on as both men refuse to budge.
Dave Kern: This is more like it. Strength for strength, hold for hold, man for man. And we continue!
Jeff Marx: Moments ago Lavelle looked ready to succumb to an early death, so serious was the expression on his face... and with his bandage completely removed, how long can he last?
Dave Kern: Fair point, but O’Shea’s ankle isn’t looking all that steady either.
Indeed, these are the two focus areas as the two athletes grapple, Lavelle stepping in with his right arm to nudge O’Shea’s ankle out and force the Irishman to put more pressure on it, but O’Shea at the same time pushing up and out with his arms, forcing Lavelle to arch his back, angled over his injured shoulder. The pain is showing in both men’s faces as the fans urge them on.
”PADDY! PADDY! PADDY!”
”LET’S GO LA-VELLE!”
While shouts for O’Shea are still dominant, Mike Wade’s brief cameo seems to have reminded the fans that while they may feel betrayed by what Lavelle has done or not done of late, he’s still good-natured and firm in his good-guy beliefs, and it really wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him to go on as champion. The booing has all but ceased.
Dave Kern: Now who can step through the pain barrier? Who can hurtle the final hurdle? Who can stand up and declare his right to sit atop the AWC mountain?
Jeff Marx: Who’s allergic to dairy products?
Dave Kern: I am, as it happens...
Jeff Marx: Ah, I thought so. There’s all that cheese spewing out of your mouth.
Steven Smith: Yeah! And dripping down your chin!
Jeff Marx: ...
Steven Smith: Don’t worry, Dave, it always happens to me with a full load in the m-
Dave Kern: ARMDRAG! OH, WHAT A MIGHTY ARMDRAG BY LAVELLE!
Lavelle and O’Shea come through safely to their feet again, and O’Shea angles a low kick, at which Lavelle steps in, O’Shea’s thigh only having the space to knock harmlessly against that of Lavelle, and the champion now grabs O’Shea by the shoulders and drops into a jawbreaker. Spittle flecks from O’Shea’s mouth as he falls back into the ropes, only his arms wrapped around the top rope supporting him. Lavelle backs up and sprints at him, but O’Shea throws his good leg up, it hitting the champion in the face.
Dave Kern: Pierce Lavelle looking to send his opponent over the top, but O’Shea was equal to it.
Jeff Marx: O’Shea now taking him from behind...
Steven Smith: Oh, daddy!
A half-nelson is applied by the vigilant O’Shea, targeting Lavelle’s wounded shoulder, and Lavelle immediately sags, begging off, his eyes screwed tight shut as his face pleads for mercy. Perhaps this is what makes O’Shea’s hold rather less impregnable than it should be, and Lavelle jabs his free arm into O’Shea’s abdomen, simultaneously kicking out with his left boot connecting at the knee joint, and he is allowed to fall forward, swivelling quickly to land on his good side.
Jeff Marx: Pierce Lavelle in absolute agony in that half nelson!
Dave Kern: But crucially, O’Shea didn’t render him helpless, and Lavelle was able to make a very fast escape!
O’Shea pulls Lavelle back to his feet and puts his arms backwards around him, lifting him at his side and dropping him firmly against the canvas with a sidewalk slam. The position seems ideal for a cover, so O’Shea leans back, pulling the leg with him:
ONE!
TW-
Lavelle kicks out early, just as Ryan hits the mat for the second time.
Dave Kern: A valiant third try by O’Shea. We have seen only one attempted cover by Pierce Lavelle, the reigning champion, so far.
Jeff Marx: And really, where’s the relevance in that? No cover attempt means a thing until one is successful.
Steven Smith: It’s the same with pick-up lines.
Jeff Marx: Oh, really.
As Lavelle sits up, he looks back at his shoulder and winces as he sees the fresh bloodstains on the canvas.
Jeff Marx: Lavelle is POLLUTING the ring!
Dave Kern: It’s already got its fair share of blood leakages, after that brutal Wade against Chainz match, in which Mike Wade defended his Relentless title by filling an entire quart cup with Chainz’ blood.
Steven Smith: Lavelle’s got an open wound and it’s mixing with that other blood! We have an AIDS transmission hazard, people!
Jeff Marx: I guess you would know...
Dave Kern: I hadn’t actually ever considered that before. I guess health and safety legislation misses that. Which makes a change for health and safety legislation...
Jeff Marx: It’s almost certain that Chainz carries AIDS, too. A full investigation, please!
Meanwhile, O’Shea has placed a sleeper hold on Lavelle, and now looks to modify it into a chickenwing type hold, trying to pull Lavelle’s injured arm upwards, but Lavelle is resisting with all he’s worth.
Dave Kern: Paddy O’Shea nothing short of desperate to get that chickenwing in place! But Lavelle knows it would be the end for him and just will not allow it!
Lavelle shoots his other arm upwards, more by chance than anything hitting O’Shea in the face, and this allows him to roll forward and up to his feet, placing a hand to his shoulder at once as he breathes heavily, desperately in need of recovery time and medical attention. In the middle of a Transatlantic title match, though, there’s no time for that, and O’Shea, knowing that he has the edge as far as speed is concerned, sprints towards him again. Lavelle readies himself to grab the advancing Irishman, but O’Shea has more intricate plans, dropping to slide through Lavelle’s legs as the champion spreads his arms. Confused, Lavelle turns, but too slowly for O’Shea, whose uppercut dazes him.
Jeff Marx: Lavelle too slow on the turn.
Dave Kern: Now O’Shea’s bringing him into the turnbuckle...
Guiding Lavelle towards the corner, O’Shea pauses just a second before suddenly letting fly with some straight jabs. Lavelle doesn’t even attempt a block, more concerned about protecting his shoulder than has face, and O’Shea gives him a harsh kick to the REGIONS~! as the crowd suddenly explodes.
Jeff Marx: Dirty Tricks! There’s his set-up! And in just a few seconds we could have a new champion!
O’Shea hoists the gasping Pierce Lavelle up to the top turnbuckle, and then joins him, pulling Lavelle up to a straight position and taking both his arms.
Dave Kern: TOP O’ THE – no!
Lavelle lifts a knee, imitating the REGIONS~! shot he just received, and O’Shea blows his cheeks out, his face turning red as his arms drop to his groin.
Dave Kern: LAVELLE EVADES IT!
The atmosphere is electric as Lavelle now clambers down past O’Shea, leaving the Irishman on the top rope – and then begins to ascend the turnbuckle again, from the bottom!
Jeff Marx: He’s got high crimes in mind!
Steven Smith: I think I just had a teeny weeny orgasm!
Lavelle reaches O’Shea and lifts him unsteadily, turning him around on the turnbuckle to face inwards. O’Shea struggles, but a hard punch to the chin from Lavelle puts paid to that, and Lavelle climbs once more, reaching the top with O’Shea. He grabs hold of his arms and jumps backwards –
Dave Kern: TOP O’ THE MORN! PIERCE LAVELLE HITS PADDY O’SHEA WITH TOP O’ THE MORN!
Jeff Marx: THE IRISH GYPSY’S OWN FINISHER USED TO DESTROY HIM! LAVELLE HAS RETAINED HIS TRANSATLANTIC TITLE!
Steven Smith: I NEED NEW UNDERWEAR!
Paddy O’Shea lies, motionless, as he hears the sweet sweet song of the fans chanting the name of his favourite manoeuvre: ”TOP O’ THE MORN! TOP O’ THE MORN!” But they’re not chanting it for him. They’re chanting it because Pierce Lavelle just did it to him. He doesn’t move. He can’t.
ONE! TWO! THREE! counts the referee.
Next to him, Lavelle is writhing in pain, having landed hard on the shoulder in which he has two bullet wounds, those now leaking defiantly, rubbishing all treatments afforded them by various medical teams. Rolling over to pin O’Shea doesn’t look on the cards.
Dave Kern: HE INJURED HIMSELF IN THE FALL! LAVELLE CAN’T MAKE THE PIN!
Jeff Marx: He’s gotta do it! He can’t throw this away! There’s no way he can win any other way! His wound’s leaking! His strength is fading! It’s now or never!
FOUR! FIVE! SIX!
But still Lavelle struggles, and still O’Shea doesn’t move, and still the 18,000 fans yell their hearts out.
Dave Kern: THERE HE GOES!
SEVEN! Lavelle’s arm rises up, vertical against the mess of bodies and blood, and he half sits up, and crawls the few feet to O’Shea’s body, already set up, O’Shea having flipped onto his back on impact. And he drapes the arm across, and collapses onto O’Shea’s torso, and Michael Ryan counts the fall.
Dave Kern: AT LAST! AT LAST!
Jeff Marx: WE’VE GOT A NEW CHAMPION!
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Dave Kern: OHMYGODHEKICKSOUT!
Jeff Marx: NEVER! It can’t be!
Dave Kern: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PADDY O’SHEA KICKED OUT AFTER TAKING HIS OWN FINISHING MOVE! PIERCE LAVELLE CAN’T BELIEVE IT!
Lavelle slams his hand hard against the mat, but as he stands, is sure to keep his cool. He raises his arms above his head – wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he does so – and applauds the fans. They respond with a roar of applause, and Lavelle smiles weakly before turning around to see O’Shea still slumped in a heap. Sighing, Lavelle impulsively hooks the leg again.
Steven Smith: He’s going again!
ONE!
TWO!
O’Shea kicks out, more easily this time.
Jeff Marx: No dice, Pierce, you can’t just ride the wave of one big move!
Dave Kern: But where to go next?! If O’Shea’s own specialist faceplant from the top rope isn’t gonna keep him down... what can?!
Jeff Marx: Another?
Lavelle grabs O’Shea by his lank blond hair and pulls him up to a sitting position, then taking his arm and leading him fully up. Groggy, O’Shea nearly slumps into Lavelle, who steps back, flicking a boot into his abdomen, and gives him a tough DDT. O’Shea falls flat to the canvas, and Lavelle turns him over for another pin:
Dave Kern: DDT! And is this it?
ONE!
TWO!
THR-
Kickout!
Steven Smith: Unbelievable!
Dave Kern: O’Shea is clinging to the edge of the cliff by his very fingertips!
Jeff Marx: Dave is clinging to the edge of analogous respectability by his!
Lavelle rolls back onto his back, exhausted, and slowly sits up, burying his head in his arms. The lull gives the fans a chance to get back on track, and the crescendo of ”PADDY! PADDY! PADDY!” encourages a defiant rising back up from Lavelle. He pulls O’Shea to his feet, less careful now, and lets loose with a number of right hands, O’Shea being forced further and further back. O’Shea starts to respond with swings of his own, but Lavelle blocks his second and forces him back against the ropes, pressing him against the top one, before bending to grab his legs.
Dave Kern: Pierce Lavelle doing his utmost to force O’Shea out of the ring!
O’Shea clings tenaciously onto the top rope, as if a determined clinger in a battle royal, but Lavelle’s supreme arm strength is just too much for the lightweight Irishman, who soon goes toppling over backwards. He lands on his feet, grunting as his legs jar, and staggers back, grabbing onto the wire fence for support. The fans close by urge him to get back into the ring quickly as Lavelle celebrates having the upper hand. ONE! TWO!
Jeff Marx: Again, that five-count’s gonna bite.
THREE!
O’Shea is leaning close to the fence still, though less out of inability to stand and more because a fan has his face pressed close to his ear, barking out an idea. O’Shea nods, delighted, and hurries over to the corner of the ringside area.
Dave Kern: That guy in the audience appears to have given Paddy O’Shea an idea...
FOUR!
As Lavelle turns to watch him, O’Shea sprints towards the ring, heading up the ring steps with speed and planting his foot on the corner of the ring apron to handspring off the turnbuckle and flip through the air towards the champion! He lands on Lavelle’s shoulders, with a leg either side as if preparing for a hurricanrana, and O’Shea’s eyes suddenly widen with horror as Lavelle takes two steps back with the impact, puts his arms up above his head to get some force behind O’Shea’s body, and throw him as hard as any human could imagine into the turnbuckle. A loud crack on impact, and the ring itself shudders as O’Shea drops like a stone onto his front.
Jeff Marx: FUCKING A!
Steven Smith: INCREDIBLE!
Dave Kern: WHIPLASH! WHIPLASH!
Jeff Marx: WHAT A COUNTER BY LAVELLE!
Dave Kern: O’SHEA TRULY FLYING UNTIL LAVELLE STEPPED IN TO KILL HIS DREAMS STONE DEAD!
Jeff Marx: HE’S NOT GETTING UP AFTER THAT!
Steven Smith: PRETTY BOYS ALWAYS WIN!
Bent with his hands on his knees, scarcely able to stand after his phenomenal exertion, Lavelle takes in the incredible reaction from the crowd. Some are cheering, some are chanting Paddy’s name still with a rising dismay, but most are just making as much noise as they can, astounded at what they have just seen.
”A-W-C! A-W-C! A-W-C!”
Dave Kern: THE FANS CHANT AWC AND THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT! THAT’S WHAT IT’S FOR! THESE FANS DIDN’T COME OUT HERE FOR ONE WRESTLER, OR ONE MATCH, OR ONE MOVE! THEY CAME HERE FOR AWC! AND WHOEVER WON HERE TONIGHT, WHOEVER CAME OUT THE CHAMPION, AWC WOULD BECOME ALL THE BETTER FOR IT!
Jeff Marx: PIERCE LAVELLE HAS DESTROYED THEIR HERO, BUT THE GOOD OF IT IS, THEY STILL LOVE IT! THEY STILL RESPECT THE SHOW THESE TWO HAVE PUT ON! THEY STILL ENJOY EVERY SECOND OF THIS!
Steven Smith: And Pierce Lavelle’s incredible run with the title will go on!
Now bending low over O’Shea, Lavelle pulls him out of the corner a little to ensure he won’t be able to get out of the pin by touching the ropes, and as Michael Ryan heads over, Lavelle slumps over his body and tiredly hooks a leg, knowing that it’s for the last time, at least until normal service resumes in January. His wound is weeping, his fans are screaming, his heart is pleading, but he just needs three more seconds.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Dave Kern: HE’S DONE IT!
Jeff Marx: LAVELLE STAYS ON TOP!
Steven Smith: NO FAIRYTALE FOR PADDY O’SHEA!
Dave Kern: THE MAN FROM THE CARAVAN IS TRULY THE MAN THESE PAST FEW WEEKS, BUT NEVERTHELESS HE SUCCUMBS TO THE KING OF AWC, PIERCE LAVELLE!
Jeff Marx: DESPITE HIS BULLET WOUNDS, DESPITE HIS LOSS OF POPULARITY, DESPITE DRUG ALLEGATIONS SULLYING HIS NAME, LAVELLE IS STILL THE BEST GOD DAMN WRESTLER WE HAVE, AND EVERYONE JUST GOT REMINDED OF THAT!
James Brunt: The winner... and still AWC Transatlantic champion... PIERCE LAVELLE!
Dave Kern: EVEN RING ANNOUNCER JAMES BRUNT IS CHOKED UP WITH EMOTION AS HE PRESENTS THE SHATTERED MAN WITH HIS PRIZE ONCE AGAIN!
Steven Smith: This is what it’s all about... this is what it all means... this is what can make even the great Steven Smith forget the shallowness of his character for just a few minutes to take in the glory!
”LA-VELLE! LA-VELLE! LA-VELLE!”
Dave Kern: HIS FANS HAVE REGAINED THEIR VOICES AND EVERY LAST MAN WOMAN OR CHILD IN THE KOLNARENA TONIGHT IS CHANTING HIS NAME! HE IS A HERO AMONG MEN!
Jeff Marx: ...Alright, alright, I was playing along, but this is getting silly...
Now rising at last to take his belt up above his head, Lavelle lets out a scream of victory, satisfied with himself, and then, dropping the championship belt, helps Paddy O’Shea to his feet.
Dave Kern: I don’t know that Paddy O’Shea even knows where he is right now!
His eyelids fluttering, his body drained, O’Shea falls into Lavelle’s arms, and the two share an intimate embrace, knowing that they’ve been through this together, and whatever the result, both will continue as top competitors in the promotion they’ve made their own.
And as they break apart, both are smiling.
Jeff Marx: Fans, even Winter Warfare can end in happiness! We’ll see you January 17th after the winter break!