The headlights cut out and the car doors pop open. Without further delay Christian Savior vacates the driver’s seat and is already traversing to the trunk before the crowd even has a chance to turn rabid. Their mouths have just begun to froth before Christian opens his to address his wife, the surprisingly spunky Rose.
Rose: Just TRY….
All strength was transferred into maintaining the grin on her face. It was a task made all that much harder given her husband’s predictable stubborness. The bag slips out of his hand and just falls to the ground, Christian making no effort to pick it up.
Christian: Excuse me?
Already her grin is wavering and the veins in her temples are doing the two-step.
Rose: We don’t need this, Christian. Remember, we came back here to turn over a new leaf…So just TRY to let bygones be bygones.
She takes his wrist and almost has to pull away due to the heat she feels radiating from his flesh.
Rose: You know what’ll happen….
In spite of the heat she balls up his fist and uses it to caress the side of her face. The comforting contact of skin to skin seems to bring Christian’s temp down substantially.
Savior: Yeah….yeah…I know. Orlando and I….we’ve done this dance before.
Rose: And you stepped on each other’s toes more than once.
The bangs of his hair are brushed back to show one of many scars embedded in his hair-line, the result of Orlando Cruze grinding his flesh against the mesh of a steel cage.
Christian: But what he did to me last week…
She’s starting to lose him.
Savior: That World Title should be all but mine right now. You know he was going to announce….
It takes a different emotional response to stop Christian, one of anger, displayed through the beating of Rose’s fist against the now closed car trunk.
Rose: CHRISTIAN! You’re NOT doing this. You hear me. Let it go….LET IT GO!!
All the yanking on Christian’s collar finally shakes some sense into him.
Christian: You’re right.
A cleansing breath was needed to keep Savior from popping like a pimple.
Christian: Fighting Cruze….bickering over title shots….that’s the OLD Christian. I’ll….I’ll….I’ll….whoooo….let it be.
It’s Rose’s turn to breathe, a sigh of sheer relief.
Rose: You’re making the right choice.
Some forehead to forehead love is shown, Rose pulling her face against her own.
Christian: Alright already…tonight isn’t about me…This is all about YOU. Tonight is your SPECIAL night.
Rose: The Queen makes her debut.
Savior: You’re very first match in the IWC…I feel so proud.
He fakes tearing up.
Christian: I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
Rose: Alright, Mr. Drama Queen. Enough.
All the joking and exchanging of inspirational sappiness comes to an end when the two march straight into a thick wall of security. Two rows of super sized burly guards stand in opposition to the collective colorfully dubbed the Royal Family.
Rose: Scuse us fellas.
Too Magnificent: Sorry.
A guard of obvious Hawaiian decent, with the stereotypical enormous proportions places a hand on Christian’s sternum just as Too Magnificent moves through the security force.
Christian: You might want to put that thing away, Chief.
In spite of the fact that he has a good hundred pound weight advantage on Savior, one look into Christian’s soulless eyes inspires him to take his hand away.
Too Magnificent: Christian, Rose…Got some bad new for ya.
Savior: Oh?
Too Magnificent: Just got word from Orlando Cruze….
Rose: Oh Jesus.
The two magic words that could completely unravel the whole ball of yarn had been uttered.
Too Magnificent: He’s told me to deny access to the backstage area to anyone who isn‘t booked on tonight‘s show.
Christian: Did he now?
The most uncomfortable smile ever slithers across Christian’s face.
Rose: Moot point boys. Christian is my husband…
She interlocks hands with her man, but Christian is too furious to even acknowledge the gesture.
Rose: Therefore he’s my special guest….Actually, you know what, he’s more like a manager. I need him at ringside with me.
Too Magnificent: Sorry, if you’re not wrestling, you can’t come in, no exceptions. Orlando says he can‘t risk another incident like last week when those three psychopaths attacked Kellen Jeffries…We can‘t risk letting in the wrong element. So no exceptions.
Rose: That’s ridiculous. What about Adam Chase. I see him right over there…
All her gesturing to the MANAGER of TCWC is in vain, Too Magnificent, much like Savior, refusing to even acknowledge her.
Too Magnificent: No he isn’t.
Rose: I’m looking at him right now.
Too Magnificent: No you’re not.
Rose: Are you frickin kidding me….
Nails are extended and ready to rip out eyeballs, but Christian surprisingly acts as the cooler head in the situation. For the first time in his life he mediates instead of massacres.
Christian: Rose, honey, take it easy.
The fists she was ready to throw into Too Magnificent’s face are balled up and cupped by the Rising Phoenix.
Savior: I figured something like this might happen. We’ll just deal with it….
Rose: But.
Christian: But nothing. You’ll do just fine on your own. I have every confidence in the world that you can beat Jackson Adams tonight.
He kisses the back of her knuckles in an attempt to calm her down.
Savior: Just keep your head together and don’t let this bullshit distract you, okay?
Rose: Alright. What are you going….
Christian: Don’t worry about me. Just rest assured I‘ll be watching. Now go out there and kill them.
An effort is made to keep Rose’s head up, Savior literally supporting it via his finger elevating her jaw.
Rose: I love you.
Christian: You better.
The two lock lips for an awkwardly long period of time. With each passing second of saliva swapping, Too Magnificent looks to become more and more queasy. That is until he notices Savior is watching him from the corner of his eye, fire forming in his pupil. Finally the lip lock is broken and Christian snatches up his back, marching back to his car. A powerless Rose watches her man leave the building, left to her own devices…which could be a very bad…or very good thing.
TRENCHES by Pop Evil provides the background tunes to a compilation of chaotic images, rather it be Porno Lad delivering the Epic Fail, or Frankie Paradise’s lightning fast Snap-Shot. The video filters into slower iconic shots of Christian and Rose arm in arm on their way to the ring, as well as Taylor Chase sashaying across the ring, before transitioning into P. Clarence Whitman III giving a celebratory smooch to Michelle Blacker. The violence escalates with a shot of Eddie Vines throwing a chair into Isaac Saine’s skull, Silencer spiraling an opponent into oblivion via the Break the Silencer, Jackson Adams going nostril to nostril with Axl Evermore, and ultimately Leland Gaunt standing alongside the members of the Black Crusade over a pile of vanquished foes.
With the pyrotechnics comes an ovation from the easily dazzled, beer cups swashing rhythmically above heads.
Robin Brooks: Welcome one, welcome all to week two of IWC’s rebirth.
Hurse: Last week was BEYOND awesome, and believe it or not, tonight could be even better.
Johnny Dollar: Bold statement but perhaps not TOO far from the truth. Because we’ve got A LOT going down on tonight’s telecast, which doesn’t include the many scantily clad beauties who just might be going down on Johnny Dollar.
Brooks: Crude, crass and most importantly, cliché, thank you, Johnny Dollar.
Johnny: You won’t be the last lady who thanks me before the end of the night, believe that.
Robin: What I do believe is that IWC has another loaded line-up tonight, just two weeks removed from our first major pay-per-view event, Awakening.
Dollar: And on top of the non-stop action booked, we’ve already had some shenanigans backstage.
Hurse: Nobody puts baby in the corner, and nobody tells Christian Savior no.
Robin: Does Orlando not realize what a boneheaded decision that was?
An eerie glow illuminates the stage as “Empy Walls” blares from the stage
Your empty walls.
Your empty walls.
Pretentious attention.
Dismissive apprehension.
Don’t waste your time, on coffin’s today.
When we decline, from the confines of our minds
Don’t waste your time, on coffin’s today.
The Sadistic One steps out from behind the curtain, the metallic structure upon his face glistening in the lights directed towards his face. He strides purposefully down the ramp towards the ring as the beat fastens.
Don’t you see their bodies burning?
Desolate and full of yearning.
Dying of anticipation.
Choking from intoxication.
Don’t you see their bodies burning?
Desolate and full of yearning.
Dying of anticipation.
Choking from intoxication.
I want you.
To be.
Left behind those empty walls.
Don’t you.
See.
From behind those empty walls.
Isaac pulls himself up onto the apron and climbs the turnbuckle from the outside, he places one foot on top and glares into the crowd before jumping down into the ring.
Those empty walls.
When we decline, from the confines of our minds.
Don’t waste your time on coffin’s today.
Isaac crouches down in the corner, hands held together, head down and the entrance music dies down.
Don’t you see their bodies burning?
Desolate and full of yearning.
Dying of anticipation.
Choking from intoxication.
Don’t you see their bodies burning?
Desolate and full of yearning.
Dying of anticipation.
Choking from intoxication.
Brooks: Well, he might not be boneheaded, but he is hard-headed. Isaac Saine on his way to the ring in spite of the numerous injuries he took at the hands of both Eddie Vines and Legion last week.
Hurse: I know Isaac, he’s definitely BOTH boneheaded AND hard-headed. Not a very good combination if you ask me.
Dollar: What kind of fool comes out here to compete in this triple threat after almost being obliterated by Legion? Isn’t he thinking about the longevity of his career? How much money he might ultimately be costing himself?
Robin: saac isn’t going to allow a few injuries to hold him back, in fact, all they do is fuel him. This guy actually feeds on pain. And one person he‘d like to see in an equal amount of pain is Legion, the man who attacked him in a totally unprovoked assault at the conclusion of last night‘s show.
Hurse: Yeah, Isaac is not the type who let’s sleeping dogs lie. I think he’ll be getting his hands on the Black Crusade before the end of the night.
Dollar: Right now he’s only got his hands on one thing….the microphone.
Hurse: This can lead to equally as stomach churning results.
Saine: FEAR!?!
Saliva actually spills through the slits in Isaac’s mask as he foams at the mouth.
Isaac: You think attacking me is gonna make me FEAR you, Gaunt? Hahahaha….Does it look like I’m afraid? You’re biggest weapon through his best at me last week, dumped me right on my fucking head, tried to tear me apart, and yet here I am, unscathed and unafraid. Look at these arms….
The camera zooms in on his outstretched forearm, where an abundance of scars contaminates the flesh.
Saine: Do you see any hives? Do you see the hair standing up? Has my skin turned white? Am I shaking? Hell no. Far worse has been done to me in the past, Leland. I’ve been dumped on my head probably over a thousand times….Through chairs….through tables…through barricades…on barbwire….on friggin fire! So if you think one more drop on the noggin will cause me to hide under my sheets or cower beneath my bed, you’re sadly….sadly….oh soooo sadly mistaken. I feel no pain, and I feel no fear, Leland….I’ve walked through hell…I’ve seen torment, dealt it and experienced it…I’ve been bludgeoned, beaten, and brutalized…and it all has made me immune to fear. You’re going to learn that I truly am what you said last week…a man without fea….
Bravo…bravo….
Brooks: Oh no…things have just gotten a whole lot worse.
From the inner bowels of a pitch black room two hands emerge, applauding the spectacle Leland Gaunt just witnessed. The vaguely defined Leland, crouches in the shadows, taking his eyes off of Isaac within the ring.
Leland: You truly have yourself convinced, don’t you, Mr. Saine?
There is no response from the emotionally unstable Isaac.
Gaunt: I‘ve never witnessed such a case of sheer self delusion
Leland finally musters up the motivation to move, shaking his head.
Gaunt: No one is IMMUNE to fear, Mr. Saine.
For dramatic purposes the camera zooms in upon the eyes of Leland Gaunt.
Gaunt: No one.
Judgment inhabits those very eyes which have been so focused upon.
Leland: By the end of the night, you will quiver….you will shake….you will cry out in terror. You will feel fear..
Isaac watches his own reflection on the Cartel-tron at this point, Leland vanishing into the brief pixel distortion. Blood can be seen trickling from between Isaac’s fingers, his nails digging so deep into his palms that they tear flesh.
Dollar: Interesting message delivered by Gaunt.
Brooks: I think all it accomplished was getting Isaac fired up. And I think that‘s the last thing the Black Crusade wants.
For the first time in a long while, Saine does tremble, but not out of fear.
The lights flash off and then a single light hits the entrance. Denile stands and takes a deep breath and begins walking down to the ring slightly uneasily and begins looking to the crowd where some cheer him on others just show him indifference. Denile gets to the ring and slides under and looks over the crowd and being breathing heavily and jumps in to his fighting stance ready for the opponent.
Brooks: Denile Partis came up short in the Four Way Fray last week, a match that Xander Cassius would go on to win, but tonight he has the golden opportunity to redeem himself.
Hurse: Not going to be easy when you’ve got an absolute….WHOOOO…Speaking of which.
Just as Partis enters the ring and begins hobnobbing with the referee a lariat connects right to his larynx, Isaac wasting no more of his precious time.
Brooks: Before the bell could even sound Isaac is right on top of Partis, mauling the man.
Dollar: As you predicted Robin, the comments before the match by Gaunt have lit a Bunsen burner beneath Isaac’s posterior.
Hurse: Is that what that smell is?
Referee Ingelson is insistent that Isaac back off, but of course, he doesn’t adhere to any commands whatsoever. A flustered Ingelson is forced to watch and deliver the occasional barb as Isaac pounces on the rising Partis, grabbing him by the hair, leading him to his feet and delivering a chop that picks him up off of his feet.
A traumatized Denile hit’s the canvas and instinctively stumbles to his feet only to be caught around the neck and then thrown half the distance of the ring. Ultimately he crashes down from a tremendous height, kidneys almost imploding as they hit canvas.
The lights go out as “Unchained(The Big Payback)” by Tupac & James Brown hits the PA system.
(James Brown)”GOTTA GET READY…FOR THE BIG PAYBACK!”
(Women) “The Big Payback!”
Suddenly a spotlight shines on the top of the entrance ramp and Dwanye Johnson is standing there with with a black hat worn backwards on his head, black MMA shorts with flames on the bottom of his shorts, and his feet tape as he hops from side to side waving his flag which is the American flag on one side and the Mexican flag on the other.
(Tupac)”AM I WRONG BECAUSE I WANNA GET IT ON TIL I DIE
AM I WRONG BECAUSE I WANNA GET IT ON TIL I DIE
YA-YA’LL REMEMBER ME”
(DJANGO)”I LIKE THE WAY YOU DIE BOY!”
The crowd cheers as the chorus begun and Dwayne starts to skip down the ring waving the flag even more and smacking fans hands with his free hand as Tupac’s verse begins.
Dollar: Better late than never….Or in this case maybe NEVER would be better.
Brooks: Dwayne Rodriquez making his IWC debut, and what a way to enter the IWC, battling both Isaac Saine AND Denile Partis.
Hurse: At this point it looks like it’ll be JUST Saine he’s facing. Don’t know if there’s anything left of Partis.
Confidence seems to radiate from Rodriquez as he continues on his way to the ring, pausing for a moment of introspection at ringside. It’s here that he makes eye contact with one of his first opponents, Saine glaring menacingly at the newcomer.
Isaac: Stay out of the ring if you know what’s good for you.
A smirk takes Dwayne’s face as he crosses his arms and shakes his head….yet he seems to be abiding to the orders of Isaac, remaining planted at ringside.
Hurse: This young whipper snapper already showing a flash of intelligence. I wouldn’t want to get in the ring with Isaac either, but lord knows I have, dozens of times.
Brooks: And you’ve got the scars to prove it.
Partis utilizes the far ropes to ascend to his feet, standing up just as Isaac’s focus returns to his prey. Much to Isaac’s surprise however, as he moves in to feast on the entrails of his victim, Denile pops him one to the jaw, and then delivers a kick to his knee. Saine doubles over and almost loses his footing as Denile rushes out of the ropes and connects with a front dropkick right to the sternum.
Saine is finally taken off of his feet, rolling to his knees and exposing himself to a quick shining knee. The move nails Isaac right across the side of the face but still does not take the behemoth down.
This leaves his opponent flabbergasted as he races to his feet and then into the ropes, looking to hit a second shining knee. The only thing that keeps him from completing his move is the obstruction occupying the apron, Denile finding himself standing eye to eye with Dwayne. Tension ensues as the smiling Rodriquez suddenly makes a punching motion only to pull back at the last second. The tease was enough to cause Denile to flinch, stepping back right into the waiting arms of Saine.
Brooks: Dwayne created the distraction and now it’s led to THIS.
Into the air Denile diminutive frame is elevated, finding himself trapped in the torture rack. Anguished groans emanate from Partis, who swings his arms, desperately trying to get free from the hold. However, he is ot one who avails himself, instead he becomes dependent upon the aid of Rodriquez. Ensuring there isn’t a submission, Dwayne FINALLY enters the ring and delivers a roundhouse kick to the thigh of Saine. Somehow Saine maintains the submission in spite of hobbling on one foot at this point, prompting Rodriquez to deliver a swift MMA style roundhouse kick to the crease of his opposite knee. The swift strike finally knocks both of Isaac’s legs out from under his body and sends him tumbling to his posterior. Though it was completely unintentional, Dwayne looks pleased at the sight of Saine haphazardly delivering the torture rack back-breaker in the process of landing on his rear.
Partis’ mangled body bounces off the shoulders and twirls to the canvas, but Isaac has no chance to applaud the destruction of his opponent, facing his own mutilation in the form of roundhouse kicks to the chest. Dwayne steps in and almost caves in Saine’s sternum with the strike, followed by a second, and then finally a knock out blow delivered with such force to the temple that it knocks the monster unconscious.
Dollar: Rodriquez putting the kicks to Isaac. And the best thing about it, is that Dwayne doesn’t even have to worry about causing brain damage, Saine’s brain is already as malformed as it’s going to get.
Hurse: You can probably thank one of the eighty seven thousand chair shots I’ve gave him over the years for that.
Brooks: As you both see, Dwayne utilizes a very MMA based style offense. Similar to what you see out of Xander Cassius.
Just as Dwayne steps in to press his advantage, leaning down over Isaac, Denile steps in and kicks him to the sternum, popping him right back up to his feet. In spite of almost having his back broken via the torture rack Partis is still fighting, putting on an effort of valiant proportions. He delivers a series of rapid fire forearm strikes to Dwayne’s jaw then gets a running start for the knock out strike only to be caught and hit with a release over head belly to belly suplex.
Partis crashes hard, more damage inflicted on his banged up mid-section. Rodriquez launches himself upward and onward, right into the sternum bruising open hand palm strike from Saine.
A cringe consumes Dwayne’s face as he turns away from Isaac, doubling over and cradling his sternum. Isaac isn’t about to rest on his laurels, grabbing Dwayne by the back of the head and charging him skull first into the nearest turnbuckle. His head bounces off and bounces off HARD, causing him to go twisting to his knees. Repeated punches connect to Dwayne’s exposed face before Isaac just takes him by the throat and begins strangling him.
Hurse: Welcome to the IWC Dwayne….prepare to receive several ass kickings just like…and even worse than this one.
Dollar: He seems to be doing pretty well in there so far.
Rodriquez’s face has turned bright red before Ingelson can convince Saine to break the choke-hold. He steps back and turns right as Denile comes shambling in delivering a series of punches to the behemoth’s stomach. The shots seem to annoy rather than agonize Saine, who finally takes the throat of his pesky opponent, turning and throwing him right into Dwayne in the corner. Both men are stacked against the turnbuckle as Isaac comes in and tries to engulf them both with a big splash. However, Rodriquez and Partis step aside at the last second, and it’s the turnbuckle that becomes engulfed by Saine’s mass.
The wind has been knocked out of Isaac’s body yet he remains a dead man standing, arms draped over the top rope to maintain his balance….much to his detriment. Behind his back a battle of fisticuffs ensues, Partis and Rodriquez exchanging shots. Much like Saine, Dwayne seems to be getting frustrated by the strikes of his opponent rather than feeling any actual pain.
The aggravation finally leads him to drag Partis forward, hook his leg and neck then deliver a T-Bone suplex that throws Partis over head and RIGHT into Isaac’s back. A huge ‘pop’ explodes from the fans, leaping out of their seats and covering their mouths over what they just witnessed.
Dollar: Double punishment. Rodriquez, a grown man with bleached blonde hair, just THREW Denile, a grown man with a total emo cut, right into Isaac, a grown man who looks like he’s never washed his hair before.
Brooks: Impressive move by Dwayne. Destroying two for the price of one.
Saine grimaces but remains upright….again to his detriment….Denile falls to his knees, slowly standing up when Rodriquez delivers a swift roundhouse to his rear-end, launching his opponent head first into the kidneys of Saine. He bounces off, staggers back and finds himself trapped in the clutches of Dwayne, who snaps back into the bridging German suplex.
1
2
Nope…Partis demonstrates his resiliency…launching a shoulder from the ring.
Robin: We saw this last week…Denile can withstand a hell of a beating and keep competing.
Dollar: Wow, how impressive. So he can take a good ass kicking?
Hurse: Yeah, I can think of a few more desireable traits. Like, oh, I don’t know, wrestling talent?
Though he’s shown a lot of charisma, now Dwayne has hit the switch and is displaying his vicious side. Denile is plucked from the canvas, and hoisted into a scoop slam predicament. He turns and throws Denile right at Saine. But wait….what Dwayne didn’t realize is that Isaac spun around and has actually caught Denile as he was thrown into him.
Saine, looking even more primal than ever, throws Denile up off of his chest and onto his shoulders, rushing forward into a release power bomb. Dwayne turns around with a smirk on his face just as Denile is power bombed into him, both men crashing to the canvas amongst a loud reaction from the crowd.
Hurse: WHOA….whoa….whoa!
Dollar: I guess that’s another of Denile’s skills, being used as a human weapon.
Brooks: Partis power bombed right into Rodriquez! That was insane.
Clearly the crowd agrees with Robin’s assessment….many unleashing an ‘IWC’ chant after the DEVASTATING power bomb killing two birds with one stone. The twisted mass that is Saine, bides his time, opting to recover as he watches Rodriquez and Partis struggle to their feet. The moment both men are up Isaac races out of the corner and takes them BOTH out with a double spear to the ribs. The two fly back, collapsing hard to the canvas while Saine lands on his knees, pleased that he just utilized himself as a human projectile.
Hurse: Saine continuing to throw his weight around.
Johnny: And there’s A LOT to throw around.
Robin: It’s proving an effective strategy, as he just took out both of his opponents yet again.
The demented powerhouse gets back to his feet, still feeding off the rage instilled within him by Leland’s threats. A clubbing blow connects between the shoulder blades of Rodriquez, and then a right hand cleans Denile‘s clock. Isaac helps him get some rest, of the unconscious variety as he yanks Denile’s legs out from under him, hooking the creases of his knees. Once again Isaac looks to take two out for the price of one, lifting Denile into the air with a giant swing, attempting to take Dwayne’s legs out from under him. One leg does leave the canvas, but it’s Dwayne who launches it into the air, catching the inbound head of Denile with an absolutely sick roundhouse kick..
Brooks: I think they effectively killed Denile Partis. Seriously. If his head is still attached I would be so shocked.
Hurse: That kick was gnarly.
Dollar: Tell me you didn’t just use that word.
Hurse: Yes, because I was born with an inability to feel shame.
Dollar: Obviously.
The crowd, that went from cheering, now cringes as Denile’s head snaps back via Rodriquez’s devastating kick. The momentum of the kick even knocks Dwayne off of his feet, falling into the ropes and using them as a crutch just as Isaac comes storming towards him, looking to unleash even more of his fury. His hands just begin to sink into the sparse amount of hair on Dwayne’s head when he drops to his back, pulling down the ropes and low bridging Saine.
Isaac’s own momentum carries him over the top rope, crashing with a thud across the thin protective mats. Denile staggers to his feet at this point, looking like a watermelon on the receiving end of a Gallagher sledgehammer. Knees almost buckle repeatedly upon turning into the Rampage, Dwayne’s vicious belly to belly suplex variation..
Robin: That’s the move he calls the Rampage, and he just nailed all of it.
Dollar: Partis getting crushed by Rodriquez, who may just have the window of opportunity he needs with Isaac out.
The ref drops into position while Isaac tries desperately to get up at ringside.
1
2
3
A loud reaction shakes the Manhattan Center at the sight of Dwayne picking up a victory in his debut match-up.
Hurse: Rodriquez takes it. The win is his.
Robin: A statement and major impact made by Dwayne Rodriquez. He just beat two IWC veterans, which is no easy task at all.
Hurse: Especially when one of them is the monster, Isaac Saine.
The victory celebration doesn’t last long, Dwayne vacating the ring with a fist raised above head. Isaac makes his way up the ramp as well, following Rodriquez with malicious intent.
Partis stands and goes to exit the ring, with fans giving a mixed and honestly underwhelming reception. As he is about to step through the ropes however, he stops when he sees a man and a woman coming out from under the ring. Unsure of what to do, Partis climbs back in the ring with eyes the size of saucers, but as he does he unknowingly backs toward a second man who slid out from under the opposite side of the ring and brought a table with him into the squared circle
Hurse: What the hell? Oh you have to be kidding me damn it.It’s two of the three that burned Kellen Jeffries on right here on Riot! Two weeks ago. How long have they been under the ring?
Robin Brooks: Who cares how long they have been under there? Have these goons signed contracts yet?
Johnny Dollar: From what I understand the couple that just entered the ring facing Denile Partis Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov along with the man now behind him Lukas Montgomery did in fact sign IWC contracts before the show tonight.
Seeing Montgomery behind him with a smirk on his face Partis turns back around and says something to Harrison who stands there so emotionless, it’s unclear whether he is even listening to what is being said, while Kozlov stands a few feet away from Harrison giggling.
Hurse: Denile trying to talk his way out of the ring here it seems like. Kellen Jeffries tried to fight and look what happened to him, so why not try to negotiate is what he is thinking I guess.
Robin Brooks: Personally, I’d rather just see the entire roster come out and beat their asses since they are employed here now.
Johnny Dollar: Well, we can hope cooler heads will prevail this time around.
Without warning, Harrison stops the discussion Partis, by lifting the huge black flash light in his right hand, and driving the butt end of it violently into Partis’s forehead dropping him where he stood and splitting him wide open. As Partis grimaces on the canvas with his face almost immediately awash with his own blood, Kozlov, Montgomery, and Harrison take open the black leather jackets they are wearing with their blue jeans to reveal matching t-shirts underneath which they are pointing to that read……
Here LIES Saint Kellen Jeffries
IWC World Champion
Directly beneath the words IWC World Champion is a picture of Jeffries burning in the ring. Many of the fans boo while other just hide their heads in disgust. Partis tries to stand back up, but Harrison attacks him with the flashlight once again, forcefully shoving it into his ribs. Partis drops to the mat instantaneously, and starts convulsing from what appears to be an electrical shock
Hurse: A flashlight that doubles as stun gun?!These are three absolutely revolting people. I can’t wait for the day these bastards get what is coming to them.
Robin Brooks: People might be way too complimentary for these thugs Steven.
Johnny Dollar: I really would like to know why they are doing this. They have their damn contracts. The rumors are they will be wrestling at Awakening. What purpose does this serve?
However it appears they are from finished as Harrison takes the flashlight and starts savagely beat ting Partis in the ribs with it, as Montgomery sets up the table he brought then proceeds to sit on it, and pull out a microphone from his jacket. Harrison then pulls Partis to his feet and locks in a cobra clutch as Montgomery starts to commentate on the action himself
Montgomery: Well I tell ya folks, Partis is tougher than a two dollar steak but right now he is being whipped liked a government mule by that vile, disgusting Aaron Harrison, and I think Partis might be go to sleep before too much longer.
While Harrison has the sleeper locked in but is still forcing Partis to stand, Kozlov goes out to the apron and quickly makes her way to the top rope
Lukas Montgomery: Oh no, this does not look good fans, Mika Kozlov heading to the top rope. What could that little Jezebel be up to?
Hurse: They’re are supplying their own commentary now?
Robin Brooks: Suits me just fine. There’s nothing going on in there I want to talk about.
Johnny Dollar: As long as I’m still getting paid…
Kozlov looks out into the booing crowd and then turns and stares right at a repulsed looking Robin Brooks at the announce table blowing her a kiss while a sly grin envelopes her face. Kozlov then leaps from the top and with cold precision hits a missile dropkick that sees the blades of both her feet drive into the side of Partis left knee, as sickening crack can be heard prompting the mocking from Montgomery to return.
Lukas Montgomery: Dropkick! Dropkick! Dropkick! Damn her all to hell, what dropkick! Denile’s kneecap my have been dislocated into the 5th row!
Harrison who is wearing cowboys boots starts to stomp away on the already opened forehead of Partis, while Montgomery walks over and hands the microphone to Kozlov, who grins and waves at Brooks
Mika Kozlov: Hi Robin!
Hurse: Friend of yours?
Robin Brooks: Very funny Steven. I’ve never even met her before.
Johnny Dollar: She’s seems to like you.
Robin Brooks: Shut up.
Harrison and Montgomery are both putting the boots to Partis now, who is defenseless on the canvas
Mika Kozlov: Somebody needs to put a stop to this carnage please! Denile Partis is crimson mask! I just hate violence and blood! Those two psychos are stomping mud hole in him walking it dry!
Harrison briefly slides outside and grabs a burlap sack from under the ring. Quickly sliding back in, Harrison walks over to the table, opens the sack and dumps the contents from one end of the table to the other.
Mika Kozlov: Glass is covering that table! What is the meaning of this?! Aaron Harrison is truly sick, demented individual! Look at that jackal Lukas Montgomery too, picking him up now! No, no, please don’t do this Lukas please!!!!
Montgomery gets Partis into position, lifts him up effortless, and then causes many watching gasp or even turn away, as he hits a gut-wrench powerbomb, brutally driving Partis through the glass covered table
Mika Kozlov: OH MY GAWWWWWWWWWWWWD!!!!! As God is my witness, Denile Partis is broken in half!
Kozlov then skips over to Harrison smiling, and the two kiss passionately before trading the microphone and flashlight/stun gun. Kozlov walks over to Partis and starts skipping around him while Harrison addresses everyone. Montgomery meanwhile pulls out an I Phone and starts taping the aftermath
Aaron Harrison: Icon listen up, because the blood of Denile Partis is on your hands!
The fans boos raucously
Aaron Harrison: Yes, we have contracts, but we do not like being ignored. What we want is easy; the three of us, against you….
Harrison turns to the announce table
Aaron Harrison:….and those two final people sitting over there next to Dollar General at Awakening!
This the crowd actually cheers, until Kozlov who is laying next to Partis now, reaches over and jabs him with the stun gun one more time, causing him to shriek in pain. Harrison turns and shakes his head
Aaron Harrison: My Mika, is getting restless, that’s not a good thing. Everyone knows what we want now. Make it happen Icon, because if you don’t….
Harrison turns and gestures toward Partis whose breathing can thankfully be detected by the rise and fall of his chest while he lies motionless, bleeding on the mat surrounded by splintered wood and shards of glass
Aaron Harrison: ….we will keep making things like this happen, and there will be more blood on your hands, courtesy of The Blacklist.
Kozlov gets up, and smiles over at Brooks again, before joining Montgomery and Harrison to look the carnage they have created.
Hurse: What are they doing now? Admiring their handiwork?
Johnny Dollar: Sounds to me like you two might be able to do something about all of this.
Robin Brooks: I’ve had enough. The little bitch wants to keep smiling at me, I’ll get in the ring fight her right now.
Hurse: No, we’ll talk to Orlando. Find out what he wants to do about this first. Fans, all I can say is we are sorry. This is vile, this is repulsive, and something will be done about them, I guarantee you that!
Montgomery, Kozlov, and Harrison then stand together over the fallen Partis, arms raised before leaving the ring to a chorus of boos, once again exiting through the fans. A few try to make moves toward them, but Harrison backs them off jabbing the stun gun in their direction. As with their previous attack on Jeffries, the ring is now flooded with paramedics trying to treat Partis
Hurse: I’m gonna be sick.
Brooks: Disgusting doesn’t even begin to describe what we just saw. ANOTHER attack by these three….three….MONSTERS! Now referring to themselves as the Blacklist.
Dollar: Something has got to be done about this. And from the sounds of it, you, Robin, and Orlando may be just the ones to tackle the issue.
Hurse: Looks like Denile has become just another victim …
Johnny: A fate you and Robin may endure if you accept this challenge.
Robin: I’m game….what about you Steven?
Hurse: Like I said, I will talk to Orlando about this later.
Last week the building shook down to the very foundation at the sight of Orlando Cruze’s glorious mug…but tonight…the reaction is just a tad bit more tempered. There are actually a few ‘boos’….as unthinkable as that might be….mixed in with the reaction for the Icon. Nevertheless he enigmatically marches onward, smile on face, and World Title on the space that is his shoulder. A slap connects with the back of Sebastian Knight as he passes him by, cutting into the conversation he was having with Xander Cassius.
Orlando: How’s it going….Sebastian?
Knight opens his mouth to speak.
Orlando: Glad to hear it. Good luck tonight.
Orlando just keeps on walking….nay STRUTTING…onward, passing by Mark Comeau in the process of reading the NY Times. And they say print is dead.
Orlando: Nice to see you as always Cornoo.
A slap on the bicep jars Mark from his leisure reading.
Orlando: Keep up the good work, Champ.
Mark shakes his head and goes back to reading. Clueless Cruze carries onward to his dressing room, reaching his destination and twisting the doorknob.
Mr. Cruze…Mr. Cruze…
An enchanting beauty of Asian heritage is all business, from her demeanor to her attire. She doesn’t even look up from her clipboard as she addresses the IWC President.
Assistant: I have a few things for you to sign, and I wanted to let you know that Too Magnificent has requested some of your time later tonight…
Orlando: That’s fine. What about that other order of business…?
She busies herself checking through the documents in her clipboard, still not looking up as she blindly follows Cruze into his office. It gives her a reason not to notice the person waiting inside, Desmond Drake, who immediately makes his presence known by leaping out of his chair and hurriedly approaching Cruze.
Drake: At last…we’ve got some serious busi….
Orlando: Mrs. Kwon?
Assistant: Oh yes, Too Magnificent ensured me that your direction was followed to the letter.
Orlando: Splendid.
Drake: Did you just see what happened out there?
Orlando: Did you ever find out if the Board of Directors got the chocolates I sent them, Mrs. Kwon?
Assistant: They did. Called a few minutes ago to thank you. Just not in those words.
Desmond: We’ve GOT to do something about those lunatic….
Orlando: Did Steve get to my Daughter’s recital in time to get some good footage?
Assistant: He did, and he said she danced beautifully.
Orlando: Awwww. Hate missing moments like that, but had to be here tonight to make such a GROUNDBREAKING announcement.
Mrs. Kwon: I‘ve already taken the liberty of buying her another plushie
Orlando: Excellent. Plushies fix everything.
Drake: We need to make a statement…They may have just killed….
Orlando: Is everything set for my announcement?
Mrs. Kwon: Yes Sir, Mr. Cruze. The ring will be ready, and I placed a call to the Board of Directors per your orders, they ensured me they’ll be watching.
Cruze: Superb. They’ll be so pleased with my decision making. They’ll HAVE to realize the error of their ways.
Desmond: ORLANDO!
At long last attention diverts to the red faced, huffing and puffing Drake.
Orlando: Oh…ummm…uhhh….Dylan, when did you get here?
His hand is used to obscure his lips from Desmond while whispering to his Assistant.
Orlando: And when’s the rest of him showing up?
The classic ass kissing laugh emits from Mrs. Kwon. Desmond ‘pretends’ he didn’t just hear that scathing comment.
Drake: It’s Desm….ya know that’s not even important. Tell me you just saw what happened out there.
Orlando: Of course! Nothing happens around here without me knowing about it…
Desmond: Then How…How can you be so calm?
Orlando: Cause I‘m on it, Fella. It‘ll be taken care of.
Drake: Really?
Fifty pound sandbags feel like they’ve been lifted from Desmond’s shoulders.
Desmond: So how are we going to…?
Orlando: Yep, it’ll all be taken care of AFTER I’ve made my announcement tonight.
Desmond: Announcement? What announcement?
Orlando: Ha.
Cruze’s teeth can actually be heard grinding.
Cruze: What are you, my Mother?
Drake: What?
Orlando: Since when do I owe you explanations?
Drake: Well, I am the representative of the Board….
Orlando: And you’ll find out when they do. I’ve been at this for a VERY long time, Doug, so just take a pill, sit back, and let me run this business. Everything will work out fine.
Confident…or just not caring rather he’s placated Drake or not, Orlando turns to vacate the dressing room, Mrs. Kwon already having departed.
Orlando: Oh.
He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, Orlando turning to make one last statement to Drake. To add further weight to his comment, he bends down so that he’s at Drake’s eye level, resulting in a groan from the miniature co-President.
Orlando: One more thing. If you EVER think about stepping on my toes again….
Desmond: What are you talk….
Orlando: No….no…no….what did I tell you about interrupting me?
The indignant tone and attitude of Cruze is almost too much for Drake to tolerate, yet he continues to swallow his pride.
Orlando: I saw that you sent Fitzpatrick out there last week during the brawl between Vines and Saine, even after I told Too Magnificent to let them fight. And while I appreciate you making the effort to step up, I think you need reminding that I’M the Boss here, and when I make a decision, it is not to be second guessed. Understood?
Drake: I’m sorry, I was just….
Orlando: Understood?
A sigh.
Drake: Understood.
Orlando: Phenomenal.
A playful pat on the head is given as reward for Desmond’s cooperation. As Orlando vacates the dressing room Drake straightens his hair and is left to pick up the pieces of his shattered pride.
The grainy cinematography is intended to give the video a dose of reality, but instead creates nothing but migraines. In spite of the poor, shaky camera work that could make viewers around the world positively sea sick, Axl Evermore‘s message is heard loud and clear. The cork has been popped and Axl is free to run his mouth in the comfort of the standard interview area.
Axl Evermore: I knew some things would change….but this is just God damned ridiculous.
Depression creeps over Axl as he comes to grips with the sad, undeniable truth.
Axl: In just a few short weeks I’ve already realized that this is NOT the same place where I used to put on a show.
A series of clips showcases Axl delivering the Fully Loaded Stunner on Jon Rich, connecting with the super kick to the jaw of Pat Evans, and diving through the ropes right into Isaac Saine. Back to Axl’s dramatic spiel.
Evermore: No….this place has been corrupted…totally corrupted. And of course I’m the only one with balls the size of Johnny Dollar’s ego to say something about it. I’m not gonna sit with one thumb in my mouth and one thumb up my ass as the company I devoted myself is dragged through the muck and mire…All by one man…one man I USE to respect…someone who is totally out of touch…Has let this job taint his morals….his soul. Orlando Cruze…he use to be a pretty stand up guy….
A quick cut-away features a number of Orlando’s Make-A-Wish visits to sick children, and his over-the-top celebrations with fans. The footage doesn’t last for long, cutting back to the uncharacteristically morose features of Evermore.
Axl: A man who stood up for his principles, and for what he believed was right….was right for this business. I gained a lot of respect for the man when he handed over the torch…
Another segue into a very physical match between Evermore and Cruze consumes the screen before culminating to a shot of the two shaking hands.
Evermore:…But that’s not the same guy I see running the company now. The Orlando I gained respect for wouldn’t let some band of misguided misanthropes tear his roster apart….
The trio that just assaulted Denile are featured throwing a lighter onto the broken body of Kellen Jeffries. The ensuing clip is censored for obvious reasons.
Evermore: The Orlando I know, wouldn’t be getting himself into a stained dress, Linda Trip style situation with his female employees. The guy running this circus is NOT Orlando Cruze…and this company is NOT the IWC I remember. But I promise you all, I‘m STILL Axl Evermore…I‘m still the man determined to steal the show every single week…and Silencer…
The former World Heavyweight Champion featuring a face full of make-up is featured nailing the Break the Silence on multiple opponents before cutting to him celebrating with the World Title as he’s hoisted unto Too Magnificent’s shoulders.
Axl: You won’t have to worry about entertaining anyone tonight….because even though I don’t agree with the course this company is taking…or the actions of Orlando Cruze…I’ll make sure the crowd gets a show…GUARANTEED!
A still shot of Denile Partis loaded on top of a stretcher overtakes Evermore‘s footage, EMTS obviously feeling that he’s in good enough shape for transportation purposes in spite of the sheer amount of blood loss.
Brooks: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Riot!, and in a scene eerily reminiscent of last week, Denile Partis was CARTED from the building after yet ANOTHER disgusting attack at the hands of the Blacklist.
Hurse: Another victim claimed. And then WE and Orlando were challenged to a fight with them at Awakening. But Cruze seemed oblivious to that fact backstage.
Dollar: You guys heard Mr. Cruze, he said he was dealing with it.
Robin: The only thing he seems willing to deal with it is that Title forfeiture.
Dollar: As it should be his primary focus. That Title forfeit is going to be HUGE!
The familiar voice screams over the speakers, as the crowd rises to their feet, cheering. The lights in the arena fade out, and the sound of a heart beat emanates through the arena.
“SILENCE ME…”
“Morning Star” starts to play, as the fans become louder, as the arena switches to a deep shade of blue. Silencer steps out from the backstage area wearing his wrestling attire, much to the delight of the fans. Slowly, Silencer walks to the edge of the stage, and places his finger to his lips.
“Silence Me…”
The voice echoes throughout the arena once more, as he closes his eyes… Slowly, he bows his head, and lowers his hand to his side, before walking toward the ring… At ringside, he walks around the ring, and climbs the stairs, before finally looking up around at all of the people in the crowd; some chanting his name over and over. He climbs into the ring, and backs into his corner, before sitting on the middle turnbuckle, as the lights return to normal, and his music fades.
Johnny: And speaking of huge, big match on tap here for Silencer. Looking to pick up his first win since IWC‘s rebirth.
Hurse: He’s already a winner in my book. Any man who knows his way around mascara better than Richard Alpert equals sheer win.
Dollar: Who is Richard Alpert?
Brooks: Don’t get him started. But you should have no trouble remembering this man, after the show that he, Christian Savior and Porno Lad put on last week. In the IWC you put your workhorses in the spotlight, and that’s exactly what Silencer is.
Hurse: Did you just insinuate that Silencer looks like a horse? Jeez, and here I thought my mascara comment was a little insulting.
Johnny: I think Silencer was insulted to lose last week, and tonight he’ll be looking to make amends for it.
A booming voice sounds over the PA, with one of those swooshing sound effects that build to a crescendo.
“…All that’s left is to tell you’s that I’m finally HERE!”
The word “HERE” echoes as the feed fades to the Tron video, and as the music swells to “Bigtime” by The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, a name is spelled out on the black video background in bold red Sofachrome font letters: Axl Evermore. In between some of the letters, a split-second of Evermore-in-action impact clips are shown, interspersed with clips of him holding up his various IWC championship belts, the NHB Title, the Submission Title, the Global Tag-Team Crown, and each of his Cartel Title wins too. It fades to a front view of the stage, with Evermore–wearing a US flag bandana, shades and his Fully Loaded team jacket–looking down on one knee, arms outstretched like he just landed from a jump. He stands up and he does the RVD thumbs-pointing-at-himself-3-times pose, shouting “A…X…L!” as the crowd chants along, then thrusts open the snaps of his jacket.
He heads to the ring with focus and an energetic gait as the crowd cheers, then he jumps and dives through between the middle and bottom ropes, tumbling forth into a hop, into a standing position at the center of the ring. He jogs to a corner, climbs it and thrusts his arms up and points to himself again, shouting “A…X…L!” as the crowd chants along. He hops down from the corner, takes his jacket and shades off, putting the shades in a jacket pocket, and draping the jacket over a corner post, then takes his bandanna off and throws it into the audience. Axl then stands at the ready, alternating between hopping place and standing in a crouch.
Robin: Axl Evermore not in the same boat as Silencer, he was victorious last week and he looks to continue riding his wave of success right into Awakening and the IWC Evolution Championship Tournament.
Hurse: Both of these guys went through WARS last week to open and close Riot!, so it’ll be interesting to see if they can keep it at that same speed tonight.
Dollar: As Robin said, there’s a lot riding on the line in this match to motivate them to compete at their absolute best. Winning this gives either man a definitive psychological edge going into Awakening. See, it’s keen insights like these you can always expect from Johnny Dollar.
Hurse: That was hardly an insight. You just repeated what Robin said. In fact, you even admitted to it…
Dollar: SHUSH.
After seeing the sensational bouts the two put on last week the crowd has high expectations going into this one, evident as they watch every twitch and spasm from Axl and Silencer. The anticipation builds until finally the former World Champion lifts his arms up for the basic collar elbow tie. Evermore begins to step in before he stops and wags a finger at the oh so exciting one.
Evermore: No…no…no….you should know better than THAT.
Silencer drops his head and pouts…indeed…he does know.
Axl: That’s WWWWAAAY too basic.
The head nods instead of droops, then it perks up….yes…we’re still talking about the head on top of Silencer’s shoulder. He snaps his fingers.
Silencer: Test of strength?
For a moment Evermore contemplates it, but only for just that, a moment.
Axl: Nah’, been there, done that.
Silencer enters deep thought.
Robin: Uhhh…what’s with the hold up?
Hurse: I think their arguing over how to start the match, Gummy-Worm.
Dollar: Seems they want to do something outside the box.
The crowd chuckles but grows anxious for competition as Silencer and Evermore proceed with their brain storming.
Evermore: Maybe run the ropes?
Silencer: You mean do the whole run the ropes, shoulder block…yadda..yadda….rinse and repeat? That whole chestnut?
Axl: Not feeling it?
Silencer: Nnnnnaaah.
Evermore: Well…..shit.
Axl crosses his arms and kicks his hair back, looking at the lighting as he dwells…and dwells WAY too much.
Silencer: Wait, EUREKA! I’ve got it.
Axl: Oh?
Silencer: Collar elbow…
Evermore: DUDE, that’s what we started with!
Silencer: Oh yeah…..Alright…alright…alright…FUCK IT! You know what? Let’s just…
A right hand blasts Axl under the jaw and sends him down to the canvas the hard-way.
Hurse: Sometimes the simplest approach is the one that works the best.
Dollar: No need to over think things.
The crowd pops verbally while Evermore pops physically…pops right back to his feet grabbing at his jaw and smiling at his opponent being backed up and reprimanded by Referee Wright for the use of the closed fist.
Evermore: Works for me.
Wright clears out of the way just as Evermore steps in and goes for a right hand of his own that Silencer ducks seconds before it connects. The punch may have been avoided but not the spinning back kick from Axl to the ribs….oh wait…it WAS countered as well, Axl’s foot caught in the vice like grip of his very quick opponent.
The grip isn’t even broken as Axl begins to turn around to face the very man who has his leg caught in the honey jar. Silencer knows exactly what’s coming next, an enzugari attempt, prompting him to throw the trapped leg up into the air. As a result Evermore goes flipping over sideways, but much to Simon’s chagrin, Axl cartwheels instead of collapses, landing directly on his feet and not on his head.
Silencer rushes in, hoping to catch Evermore before he can center himself, throwing another right hand that hits its target….if said target were vacant space. Axl side steps the arm, hooks the crease of Silencer’s elbow and pushes back, sending him into a spin.
As soon as Silencer turns to face his opponent he’s already going airborne, stepping off his hip and going for an enzugari to the back of the skull. Evermore ducks forward at the last second, causing the boot to completely miss. Said boot then ends up in Axl‘s clutches, catching it in mid-air and lifting it up into the air, sending Silencer into a head-stand. Not for long though, as he kips up to his feet, proceeds into the ropes, ricochets off and comes into the waiting foot of Evermore.
A spinning back heel connects right against the stomach, bending Silencer over. Just as Axl looks to take the advantage his gutsy opponent delivers his own spinning back kick to the intestinal track of Evermore. A groan emanates from the masses thanks to the stiffness of said strike, and now Silencer goes to deliver yet another shot, this one aimed for the back of the head. He leaps into the enzugari at the exact same time Evermore does, both men hitting their feet against one another in mid-air before they ultimately collapse to the canvas.
They bounce back to their knees and have a stare-down to some applause from the crowd.
Hurse: Stalemate. Which is a chess term as I understand it. Never been a big fan of that game, more of a Rock’Em, Sock’Em Robots kinda guy.
Brooks: Yeah, that’s how we spend most of our Saturday nights.
Dollar: Neither one of these guys can really get out of the blocks just yet. Just biding their time till they find that opening they need.
The stalemate concludes once Silencer leaps to his feet and goes for a TKO by way of the roundhouse kick. Axl stops, drops and rolls backwards, avoiding the blow and getting to his feet, running into the ropes and ricocheting off. Silencer spins all the way around just as Evermore levels him with a shoulder block to the chest, taking him down to the canvas.
He then takes off into the ropes again, bouncing off and coming back in at his prone opponent. Silencer rolls towards him though in a feeble attempt to sweep his legs out from under him, prompting Evermore to attempt to cartwheel over his adversary’s body. Just as he does the headstand over Silencer, the former World Champion reaches out, catches Axl’s arms and the two fall to their sides, ending up on their knees caught in a collar elbow tie.
They struggle for dominance while ascending to their feet, only for Evermore to shove one of Silencer’s arms aside then swing around under the other. He turns back to his opposition then grabs his hand, squeeing the knuckles. Silencer goes to connect with another closed fist via his free hand only for Evermore to catch it two, interlocking their fingers. The test of strength is now applied, but only for just moments as Silencer drops to his back, causing Evermore to hunch over with him trying to keep hold of the hands, the painted combatant taking advantage of the positioning by wedging his feet to Axl’s chest, kicking him back and breaking the hold.
Evermore is sent barreling backwards into the ropes, ricocheting off then charging straight at Silencer, who log rolls into his shins. Axl leaps over him though into a roll of his own, of the forward variety. He ends up on his feet, turning just as Silencer springs off the ropes and shoulder tackles him to the canvas.
Hurse: Wait a minute, did they just?
Dollar: Yes…yes they did.
Silencer turns and starts to rush into the ropes but stops, looking back just as Evermore predictably does his own log roll. This prompts Silencer to smirk and leap into the air, dropping an elbow down right into the back of Axl’s head before immediately applying the side headlock. The hold transitions into a crossface, force really being applied on the shoulder and the back of Axl’s neck.
Brooks: The first flash of real offence from Silencer…
Dollar: Ya might not want to use the words ‘flash’ and ‘Silencer’ in the same sentence again, might give the guy ideas.
Brooks: Point taken.
Axl employs his free arm to pry the hands away from his jaw and hooks one of the creases of the knees his other hand is trapped between. He rolls backwards, pulling on the knee in the process so that Silencer takes the same route. After the roll through, the painted legend ends up on his stomach, leg elevated and Evermore stepping over the very crease of the knee he had hooked, applying a Boston Crab.
A grimace consumes Silencer’s features, hands slipping through his spiked hairs.
Hurse: Wonderfully executed counter.
Dollar: These two are ‘apparently’ very seasoned veterans…
Hurse: Does that explain why they smell so much like Old Spice?
Dollar: Not even going to acknowledge that one.
Brooks: Evermore’s just about got all of the Straight-Shooter applied, meaning he could keep the winning streak going.
Axl seems to be having some trouble establishing the Boston Crab, taking far too much time against a veteran opponent to apply it properly. Predictably Silencer takes advantage, rolling to his side with Axl keeping a grasp on the leg, trying his best to hold on, even as his opponent stands up, albeit on one leg. He hops up and down and then eventually shoots his free leg into the air, connecting, at long last, with the enzugari right on the temple of Evermore.
Yet another stiff kick has connected, and this one sends Axl twisting into the ropes, falling on the middle one, using it as a makeshift chair. Silencer then comes racing in, leaping into the basement dropkick right to the ribs, but Evermore sidesteps it and pushes his opponent right along through the cables.
Silencer flies through the top and bottom rope and spills hard to the outside mats, back smashing against the incredibly thin protective padding.
Brooks: Oh…a grizzly, grizzly landing for Silencer…
Dollar: At least his back broke his fall.
The thud from said landing echoes throughout the building and reverberates throughout Silencer’s body. Though it hurts like the dickens, he starts to stand up only to be given absolutely no reprieve. Axl rolls to the outside, swoops in behind, catches him around the waist and sets up for the German suplex. Crowd pop…everyone thinking he’s on the verge of delivering the multiple Germans on the outside mats only to have their masochistic desires squashed by a back elbow from Silencer.
Even after that particularly nasty fall from the ring Silencer’s got some fight left in him. He hits one elbow to the eye, and then another, but Axl is pugnacious. To avail himself Silencer charges towards the steps, Evermore holding onto the waistlock in the process. He then leaps into the air, wedges feet to the stairs and flips up and over Axl’s shoulder, landing right behind him.
Evermore is stunned by his opponent’s resiliency, spinning around just as Silencer comes barreling into a forearm. Shock spreads from Axl to the fans, Evermore infesting everyone by way of stepping and catching the airborne Silencer with the Exploder unto the floor.
Brooks: This didn’t take long to go from colorful to chaotic. Another NASTAY landing for Cagero on those mats.
Hurse: I don’t even think those are mats, I think their just painted asbestos.
Dollar: Pretty sure Silencer’s not going to be bouncing right up from that one.
The levels of pain SURGING throughout Silencer’s body defy description. Equally as hard to quantify is Evermore’s determination to win. He swoops in, and grabs hold of whatever he can, dragging then rolling Silencer into the ring where he’s promptly pinned.
1
2
The fans wonder if the Exploder was indeed the kill move, only to learn the answer seconds later when a shoulder launches from the canvas.
Hurse: Nope, Silencer still hanging in there.
Dollar: I know I said earlier that the winner would have a major ego boost going into the tournament at Awakening, but ummm, yeah, not if it means going into that tournament injured.
It suddenly seems to dawn on Evermore that a pin shouldn’t be his only goal here, as he could seriously wear down one of the biggest obstacles standing between himself and the Evolution Championship. He pulls Silencer up to his feet, hooks the leg and the neck then drops back into a second Exploder on the canvas. Silencer sits up, positively spent after the FIRST Exploder, now the second seems to have clearly done him in. But Axl still isn’t finished, adhering to multiples of three. He pulls Silencer up, hooks his leg and neck and delivers a THIRD Exploder.
Hurse: Two more Exploders on top of the one already delivered on the mats, Jesus Christ Cookie Monster, how much punishment can Silencer take?
Dollar: I think he’s taken too much already.
…Not enough in Evermore’s mind apparently. He swoops in behind the seated Silencer, grabs him by the shoulders and just begins to deliver kick after kick after kick to the lower back, dealing out as much trauma as he can by way of his feet. He then steps back and hit’s a thrust kick square to the back of the head.
Brooks: Dangerous kick! This is what makes Evermore so scary to face. Once he hits that switch and stops playing around he can be one of the most violent opponents you face in that ring.
Hurse: Plus his FACE makes you VIOLENTLY ill.
Axl goes for the pin, hoping he’s done enough to put Silencer down.
1
2
….Apparently it wasn’t….Silencer gets a shoulder up, but just barely. Fatigue and pain is setting in and Evermore knows this, prompting him to become even MORE vicious. A leaping knee drop connects right on top of Silencer’s temple, squishing his head like a grape under the smelly foot of a wine maker. The former World Champion continues to be treated like a human marionette, now being rolled to his stomach where a knee is wedged to his back, hands are interlocked in front of his jaw and a modified rear chin lock is established.
Silencer is completely grounded, knee to spine, neck wrenched back….the submission targeting two major focal points of Axl’s recent offensive barrage. And it’s proving effective, Silencer’s face twisting into a pictorial of pain. Evermore wrenches back with all his upper body strength and digs his knee in just a little bit deeper against the soft tissue and kidneys of the lower dorsal.
Though Axl is the clear cut fan favorite, given that New York is his home turf, Silencer has a large and LOUD collective of supporters. They motivate him with his chants, prompting Silencer to start fighting his way back to his feet.
Dollar: What the hell is this obnoxious idiot doing? Why is he NOT staying down? HELLO…Evolution Title shot in two weeks. You don’t want go in injured…Duh’!
Brooks: Silencer feels he failed last week to make good on his vowel to crush all things he deems tedious and boring…so failure tonight is not an option.
Dollar: Oh please….What’s going to matter in the long run? Pride or money?
Hurse: Pride? Or is it money? I hate multiple choice.
At this point it’s unclear rather it’s resiliency or stubborness…as if there’s a difference…driving Silencer upward and onward. He stands upright still trapped in the chin lock but doesn’t even have time to try and fight his way out of it before he’s shoved into the ropes. He bounces off chest first and stumbles blindly into a forearm square to the kidneys. Axl shows no compassion or remorse, mind focused on victory by any means, evident as he repeats his last series of moves. Silencer is pushed into the ropes, he ricochets off, and comes staggering into a second forearm to the lower back.
Another shove into the ropes and another back elbow does pan out the same way the two previous had, cause this time Silencer twists around the kidney buster. He twirls around Axl’s side, steps behind him and then stomps his foot, shouting for him to turn around. Axl does just as requested, spinning into a thrust kick that he easily baseball slides under before leaping to his feet, applying a rear waist lock and delivering the German suplex.
Hurse: Now the Multiple Germans by Evermore!
Dollar: And the punishment just keeps on coming Silencer’s way.
The crowd is in hysterics as Axl rolls the hips, rolls to his feet and rolls Silencer along with him. The two stand up and Evermore hoists Silencer up into a second German suplex. The second German is just as effective as the first, driving the back of Silencer’s head and neck against the canvas. The two then do their roll, do their stand, do the whole set up for the third German. Predictably Silencer finds the will to fight this, not wanting to feel the pain of a third German suplex. Therefore he reaches back, wrapping a leg around the crease of Axl’s.
He then performs a standing switch, slipping behind Axl, but failing to realize that Evermore still has hold of his wrist. Therefore, the second he turns towards Evermore, looking to get the slightest bit of offence, he’s yanked right into a front face-lock. Axl then reaches out and hooks the leg, going for that oh so sickening fisherman brain buster.
Hurse: This may have just gone….
Dollar:…From bad to worse…
Hurse: Awww, we’re already finishing each other’s sentences.
Dollar: Someone asphyxiate me with a plastic bag right now.
Hurse: Robin might, it’s something we were experimenting with last night.
Axl uses his obvious weight advantage to continue pulling Silencer around like a fish on the end of a hook. He reels him in and now lifts him up for the big catch. Those in attendance watch with morbid glee as Evermore lifts Silencer up into the fisherman buster, but things go horribly awry at the last second. Silencer squirms off the hook at the last second and flips over to his feet, landing right behind Evermore, back to back….or so he thought…because Axl turned around just as his opponent came down, hooking both his arms to deliver the Dragon Suplex.
Silencer slams forcefully against the back of his neck and shoulders while Evermore employs the bridge for the pin and the momentum builder headed into Awakening.
Brooks: Evermore with a counter for everything, and this one may just have earned him the win.
The referee falls into position and the crowd rises to their feet.
1
2
Silencer’s shoulder leaps from the ring.
Hurse: Looks like you were wrong, my wee wittle Sugar Dove
Brooks: Did you just say I was wrong?
Hurse: Uuhhh no….I was ummm…talking to Johnny.
Dollar: Excuse me?
The kick out staves off defeat but who knows for how long, Silencer perhaps operating on borrowed time. He works his way upward when Evermore helps him clear the last hurdle, albeit so he could set up for the fisherman brain buster. A front chancery is followed by a hook of the leg, Silencer hoisted into what could be the kill move. And something is killed, Axl’s brain cells via a knee to the top of the skull. The strike breaks Axl’s grip and allows Silencer to twist free, landing on top of his shoulders then dropping back into the pinning hurricarana.
1
Brooks: Did he steal this?
2
No…no…nyoooo….Axl with the kick out but cutting it way too close. Both men scramble to their feet, Evermore moving quicker though as he rushes directly into a flying leg lariat. The two hit the canvas with Silencer rolling across it back to his feet. He grabs at his spine and then rushes at Evermore, who is already in the process of getting up. Silencer practices the ‘if it’s not broke, don’t fix it approach,’ leaping into another leg lariat. Unfortunately it is broken and Silencer may end up broken as well, being caught right against Evermore’s chest and then flipped up and over his head so that he lands on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
Any self respecting Evermore fan realizes he’s on the verge of delivering the Michaelson Reverse DDT, and every self respecting Silencer smark should know he’s already got a counter in mind. Axl is obviously not one of these smarks, surprised as he’s pulled down into the crucifix pin.
1
Axl breaks the pin attempt by rolling over backwards and physically pulling Silencer up off of the canvas still holding the crucifix position.
Hurse: Wow…I didn’t realize that Evermore had this type of strength.
Brooks: He’s just dead lifting Silencer off of the canvas with nothing but his shoulder muscles.
Dollar: Are you two daft? My six year old anorexic niece weighs more than Silencer. Which sounds worse than it actually is, cause I don’t even have a six year old anorexic niece.
The crowd ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ at the sight of Evermore standing up with Silencer put back into the fireman’s carry position. He’s determined to deliver that Michaelson Reverse DDT, but Silencer is just as adamant not to visit the Chiropractor this week, therefore he slips out the doggy door once again. He free his legs and slides them off of Axl’s shoulders, putting his feet on the canvas but finding his head still trapped in the clutches of Evermore, who is about to deliver the Fully Loaded.
Hurse: The Stunner might do the trick. I know just how much that move hurts.
Axl drops down into the stunner but on the way down, Silencer catches him around the neck and frees his own, countering into a reverse DDT back-breaker.
Evermore bounces off the raised knee, falls to the canvas but doesn’t have time to voice his pain before Silencer is dropping into the cover.
1
2
Axl’s shoulder escapes the ring.
Brooks: Another wonderful counter by Silencer, escaping the Fully Loaded and doing some serious damage.
Dollar: Still wasn’t enough to get the win though. Guess Axl’s tougher than he looks. Though he’d have to be walk around sporting a chest full of hair like that.
Some space is put between Evermore and Silencer by way of Axl’s roll across the ring, but not enough distance, cause the former World Champion closes the gap in a hurry….or as fast as his damaged body will allow. Axl is already on his knees when Silencer rears back and nails him in the forehead with a right hand, followed by a second, and then a third.
Silencer then steps back and delivers a thrust kick right on the jaw, getting some retribution for the strike he took earlier in the match, albeit on the opposite side of the head. Evermore teeters from one knee to the other but remains upright, prompting Silencer to step back and deliver yet another thrust kick that connects with even greater force. This one finally puts Evermore on his spine prompting Silencer to start towards one of the turnbuckles, falling against it.
Hurse: Get your scorecard ready, Johnny.
Brooks: Don’t you two even dare. Silencer is about to go take flight.
To the top rope Silencer climbs, but his speed is limited after the sheer volume of high impact moves he’s suffered thus far. Finally he ascends to the top rope, turning to face the totally prone Evermore down below. After some brief strategizing, and some drama building, he takes flight, flipping through the air to the delight of the crowd with the Shooting Star Press. A move that ends with him landing directly on his feet, Axl having rolled out of the way at the last second.
He cleared from Silencer’s path then rushed right up behind him, applying a reverse waistlock before delivering the German suplex.
Brooks: Axl avoids the Shooting Star and now he’s got Silencer trapped in the Germans again!
Silencer is knocked loopy…loopier than normal…..leaving him susceptible to the next German suplex. Evermore drags him along and drops back when Silencer twists his body just before he can be released, landing beside Axl and catching him in mid-bridge. He then drops to his side and plants Evermore with the Break the Silence. The crowd has to pick their jaws up off of the floor in a display of their shock at the last unbelievable reversal leading to Silencer’s finishing move.
Hurse: Break the Silence out of nowhere! There’s no bouncing back from something like that.
Dollar: Shocking end to this tremendous back and forth encounter.
The commentators, predictably, have put the horse in front of the cart, because Silencer just doesn’t have the strength to roll into the cover. He’s STILL wearing the effects of this grueling confrontation, unable to even throw an arm over Evermore. It takes all his remaining strength to finally turn and drape an arm over Evermore’s chest.
1
2
3
It’s over…Silencer picks up the win in a very hard fought, grueling competition against the man who would NOT stay down until the Break the Silence finally fell him. Evermore rolls to the outside after tasting defeat, absent mindedly collapsing to the mats.
Brooks: The action in this match culminating to a win for Silencer….finally derailing Evermore’s momentum.
Hurse: He might not have got the win, but Axl put on the show that he guaranteed.
Dollar: Oh great, this is gonna be a major ego booster for Silencer…
Robin: Yeah, and ego stroking is the last thing he needs.
In spite of having no brain functionality left, Evermore crawls across the mats and starts to use the barricade to his aid. Just as he reaches his feet and prepares to re-enter battle, unaware that he lost, road agent, Too Magnificent steps in out of nowhere. The massive Magnificent One looks legitimately concerned as he approaches Evermore, patting him on the back while looking into his eyes.
Hurse: Why is my former tag team partner out here?
Brooks: Good question. And why is he fretting over Evermore?
All becomes clear….or even more muddled…the moment Too Magnificent puts his arms into the air, forming an ‘X.’ Referee Ingelson looks very perplexed on the inside of the ring, arms extended to his sides and head titled. The same mannerisms are made by the crowd, equally as confused as the official.
Hurse: What….Evermore’s injured? How?
Dollar: I guess that drop on his head was a little more vicious than we thought.
Hurse: But not bad enough to warrant this type of reaction, right
Brooks: Apparently so.
Hurse: Something about this seems very shady.
Ingelson insists that such decisions regarding the safety of talents are made at his discretion, but Too Magnificent trumps him by overselling the extent of Evermore’s head trauma and claiming seniority.
Too Magnificent: Get the EMTS out here now! The guy’s got an obvious concussion.
Axl staggers away from the barricade and spins Too Magnificent around, immediately barking at him.
Evermore: What are you doing? I’m good to go.
Too Magnificent: Alright, what year is it?
Evermore: What!?! It’s 201.…
Too Magnificent: Way..WAY off. Get a stretcher out here for this man now? We’re not going to have anymore of our talent get injured tonight.
Axl: This is horse-shit!
Finally Ingelson follows orders….motioning for EMTS much to the dejection of the Manhattanites in attendance. After calling for the end, he takes a terribly confused Silencer by the wrist, raising his arm in victory.
Hurse: So Silencer wins this match but injured his opponent in the process. Apparently he put too much of a beating on Evermore for him to be able to continue.
Robin: I’m starting to see things your way, Steven….which is really scary. Axl doesn’t look hurt, shaken up by the Break the Silence yes, but not injured enough for all this. Do you think this is because he opened up earlier in the night with his feelings about Cruz….
Dollar: Don’t start idly speculating…that’s MY job, and I do a damn good job of it.
Even Silencer seems upset with the outcome however, pulling his arm away and refusing to celebrate under these circumstances. To make matters even more insulting to Evermore and the fans, EMTs have rushed the ringside area, dragging along yet another stretcher.
Dollar: For the second time tonight it looks like we’re going to see a wrestler carted out of here.
Brooks: This is just getting completely ridiculous.
Evermore takes one look at the stretcher and hulks out, letting Too Magnificent hear it. The EMTs stop cold in their tracks, watching as Axl flips their stretcher over and continues to verbally unleash his fury.
Hurse: Axl irate and justifiably so.
Dollar: I have to applaud Too Magnificent and Orlando Cruze…the two just did an excellent job of preventing yet another serious injury to one of our talents. Kudos guys, kudos.
Silencer is just as beside himself as Evermore, kicking the bottom rope and unleashing a string of profanity. All the while Evermore is swatting at stethoscopes and blood pressure cuffs at ringside, in spite of Too Magnificent’s insistence that he accept medical help.
When it rains it pours….This analogy not applying to the weather at this point, but the volumes of sweat cascading down P. Clarence Whitman III. It looks like he just had two water balloons implode under his armpits and has been standing beneath a sprinkler all day long. His skin is completely flushed, draining all of the pigment. All the symptoms of illness plague Whitman, but it’s not due to an intestinal bug.
Clarence: Not good…not good whatsoever.
The ranting persists as he works a ditch into the ground via his pacing. A gully has been formed in front of the locker-room, which Whitman refuses to enter on the basis that he might be forced to shower with other far burlier men.
Clarence: Oh Richard the Third no….this is downright calamitous…yes…calamitous. How do you get yourself into these sordid situations, Clarence, how? Perhaps Father was right…
Hey there….British dude.
Kitty Buehler gets the type of pop that doesn’t even have to be dubbed in later. The crowd enjoys the visual feast presented to them, not having seen the enchanting Kitty in quite some time. Clarence also seems smitten with the seductive sight of Buehler, though he has a far greater vantage point than the fans, finding his eyes unintentionally staring right down the blouse of the young beauty.
Kitty: I have eyes too.
Clearence: Oh…oh….of course…yes…so sorry…
In spite of her strong Christen upbringing and the violation of it, Kitty opts to pity rather to chastise the poor heathen.
Clarence: Please, don’t hold this against me…Ummm…not to say that I wouldn’t relish the opportunity to have your bosom held against me…Oh no, I’ve gone and offended you haven’t I? Why must American women be so hard to speak to? You‘re not going to hit me with pepper-spray are you? I‘ve yet to develop a tolerance to it.
Kitty: Ummm….relax. I left my pepper-spray in my other purse.
Clarence: What a relief.
An actual sigh is unleashed from Whitman, yet he still seems to have the weight of the cosmos on his frail shoulders.
Kitty: Uh, sorry to pry, but you look a little sick. There isn’t something going around is there?
Already she’s grabbing a sanitizing wipe from her hand-bag.
Clarence: I‘m not aware of anything…
Kitty: Oh, let me guess…
Deductive reasoning is employed by the goody two shoes.
Kitty: You have the same look on your face as my Sister when she went into HER match against Legion last week. You’re afraid of that man-beast, aren’t you?
Before Whitman can even speak up, a playful punch to the arm almost knocks him over.
Buehler: Don’t worry, it doesn’t make you any less of a man to be afraid. Everyone is scared of something. But as long as you accept God into your heart, and embrace him as your savior, he’ll help you conquer your fear…..
Clarence: Oh…wait…wait…wait…I’m afraid your mistaken, Lass.
Kitty doesn’t like to be interrupted, especially when lamenting the virtues of her savior.
Whitman: That’s not to say this Legion scally isn’t imposing…He’s really quite intimidating. Though I have a plan…a splendid plan…to deal with him tonight.
Kitty: Oh….good…Then uhhh…why do you look so nervous?
Whitman: I’m afraid I’m a bit out of my depth…I feel like quite the barmy…As you see, I’ve devoted myself to trying to write some flowery pros to that ever so enchanting muse…Taylor Chase.
A piece of paper is unfolded so that Kitty can get a good look at his very poor poetry.
Clarence: I’ve poured over the works of Shelley, Byron and Keats, yet I cannot begin to match their elegance and sophist….
Kitty: Well that’s where you’ve gone wrong.
She laughs him off while removing an object from her purse that ISN’T a sanitizing wipe.
Kitty: The only book you need to consult for guidance is the GOOD book.
The paper is pushed aside so that Kitty can slap a bible into his palm.
Kitty: Jesus Christ will teach you all you need to know about poetry.
Clarence: Oh, it is a fascinating read…indeed….But I much prefer the works of Wordsworth over a glass of fine aged Brandy.
Kitty: No…no….read this book. It’ll save you.
The bible is pushed directly into his chest, right over his heart, hoping the power of Jesus’ teachings will be infused directly into Whitman’s arteries.
Clarence: The offer is appreciated, Dear, but I fear your putting me on queer street here. You’re really quite odd. Beautiful yes, but odd.
The fact that Whitman called someone else odd is not wasted on Kitty, her eyes widening as they watch him leave.
Kitty: You poor thing, you really need to be saved.
Judgment clouds her eyes upon making said declaration..
Axl: This is retarded. I’m not even hurt!
In spite of Evermore’s pleas he is still being led….FORCEFULLY….by a mixture of EMTs and security guards towards the back of an ambulance waiting to whisk him away to the nearest emergency room. They pay no heed to Axl’s statements, nor do they acknowledge that he’s walking of his own accord, displaying absolutely no signs of significant head trauma.
Evermore: Aren’t you guys supposed to be professionals? Does it look like…or sound like I’m hurt? Want me to recite the alphabet backwards?
EMT: Try to stay calm, Mr. Evermore, don’t get yourself too worked up.
At long last it sinks in that no amount of arguing is going to get Axl anywhere. The only thing that’s about to take him any place is the ambulance he steps into the back of. A camera-man steps into the ambulance with him, perhaps documenting the entire visit to the ER and reporting back to the IWC on Axl’s condition.
Axl: Now wonder the health care system in this country is such a joke.
The ambulance doors slam shut, and the sirens begin to wail, drowning out the sounds of Axl’s griping. As the vehicle disappears from the parking lot it’s flashing lights glare from the tinted windows of a vehicle that seems to be ominously circling the Manhattan Center.
Hurse: Axl Evermore being FORCED to go to the hospital in spite of the fact that he doesn’t look injured at all.
Brooks: He did take a hellacious impact via the Break the Silence but he doesn’t seem to be exhibiting any concussion syndromes.
Dollar: Would the two of you PLEASE stop playing Devil’s Advocate? Orlando finally does the right thing and you guys jump down his throat about it. Concussions are a major issue in professional wrestling, don’t undersell the severity of them.
Hurse: That’s true but this whole thing just smells fishy to…..speaking of fishy…
Dollar: Did you just get a whiff of Katelyn Buehler’s breath?
Hurse: Nooooo….but I caught a glimpse of what looks like the very same car Christian Savior arrived in earlier tonight. And it looks to me like he’s biding his time waiting to get back into the building.
Robin: That’s a powder keg just waiting to explode.
Dollar: He better stay out if he knows what’s good for him.
The drum beat of Crash Karma’s “Fight” begins to play over the crowd, bringing them to their feet. First, Adam Chase steps out from the back, stretching his arms out in presentation. He turns around to face the stage, arms still out, as the guitar kicks in.
Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid step out from the back, looking over the booing crowd. Chase claps his hands with enough vigor to make up for the booing as the two men start to walk down towards the ring. They move past Chase who quickly turns around and starts to follow.
Once they get to the ring the tag team slide under the bottom ropes and each rush to an opposite corner, where they take their perch and look out over the crowd again. Chase climbs the stairs, but stays on the apron as he applauds his duo. Their music fades out…
Hurse: Well let’s change gear here peeps, cause the Chase Wrestling Collective is making their way to the ring, and words cannot even begin to describe just how impressive they were last week.
Dollar: Adam Chase promised us pure dominance last week and that’s exactly what we got. And tonight he’s guaranteed another victory for his team, can Sebastian Knight and Xander Cassius make him into a liar? Me thinks not.
Brooks: Another victory tonight would put these two on quite the winning streak and give Adam Chase just the momentum needed to continue his quest to take wrestling over.
Hurse: Yeah, but wrestling is just the start, his big ambition is to take….why is he looking at me?
As speculated, Adam’s eyes are indeed honed in upon the former World Champion turned commentator.
Robin: Maybe he’s a fan…..hahahahahaha….I’m sorry, I tried to say that with a straight face. Like you have fans.
Dollar: He’s definitely giving you the stink eye, Stevie.
Hurse looks uncomfortable under the gaze of Chase, who isn’t even looking back at the ring where his tag team is in preparation.
Hurse: Who’s Cheerio’s did I piss in? Why is everyone after me tonight? First Blacklist, and now Chase is giving me that sour puss look.
“Badass” by Saliva echoes from the PA system as Sabastian Knight makes his way through the curtain to a favortable reaction, flanked by his manager/benefactor Tabitha Silverstone… Knight and Silverstone walk down to the ring. They reach the ring. He slides under the rope. He hops on the top rope beating his chest to the crowd’s favorable reaction. He hops off the turnbuckle. He hits the ropes charging himself up for the fight at hand.
Brooks: Sebastian Knight came up JUST short on our first edition of Riot!, but boy did he ever impress.
Hurse: He showed some flashes of genius but it wasn’t enough to get the job done. Of course some might contend that while Knight did all the hard-work, it was Xander Cassius who swooped in at the last second and picked up the win over St. John Barlow last week.
Dollar: Should make this match even more interesting then when we see Cassius and Knight team up.
Brooks: I’m not sure how obsessed Knight is with what went down last week though, considering he’s got a HUGE night coming up at Awakening as he participates in the Evolution Title Tournament.
Knight intentionally puts distance between himself and the TCWC, waiting till the odds are evened up.
The stage lights turn red, blue, and yellow and all pant up and down as “Hero” by Skillet begins to play. The screen shows some slow motion MMA clips of Xander Cassius knocking people out mixed with black and white clips of him pointing to the sky on walking on the beach.
From the back walks Xander, wearing heavy duty red and black athletic shorts along with a black shirt with a red and gold cross printed on the front and his name on the back. His hands are covered with MMA style gloves.
Cassius steps to the center of the stage and drops to his knees and bows his head as to give a short prayer. After a few moments he jumps to his feet and starts to pumps the fans up and he makes his way to the ring. A slight smile is on his face as he slaps the hands of the fans. He rolls under the bottom rope and runs to the far corner. He jumps to the middle rope, pulls his shirt off revealing the many tattoos on his body, and throws the shirt to the fans.
Robin: The very dangerous Xander Cassius promised last week that he was going to shock his opponents with his unique style, and did he ever?
Dollar: You were shocked by that? All he did was some MMA garbage. If I wanted to see slow motion round house kicks I’d turn on Walker Texas Ranger.
Hurse: I second that motion.
Brooks: It’s gonna be interesting to see how well Xander’s kick boxing style transitions into tag team wrestling, especially partnering up with a man he isn‘t on the greatest terms with.
The bell chimes and before Knight and Cassius can continue debating who will start the match, the discussion is cut short via a forearm shot to the side of Sebastian’s skull. Kincaid hits all of his cheap shot, which has made the decision for his opponents all that much easier. Since Knight clearly has his bell rung, Xander takes up the fight for his team, delivering a knife edge chop to Bash’s sternum, backing him away from his partner.
Hurse: Looks like the two hard hitters are going to start this match off with Cassius versus Bash Kincaid.
Brooks: And looks like you’ve still got an admirer, Steven. And for once it’s not one of those creepy internet smarks mailing you their tampons.
Instead of lending guidance to his team, Chase’s focus remains fixated on an increasingly uncomfortable Hurse. Meanwhile, inside of the ring more chops and now open hand palm thrusts are being delivered to Kincaid, backing him all the way to the center of the ring. Xander then goes airborne, leaping into a spinning back kick to the chest that knocks the big man down. Bash collapses to the canvas, rolls across the ring and makes the tag to Hugo.
The fresh Magnusson scrambles into the ring looking to catch Cassius off guard but instead being caught himself thanks to a back heel kick to the ribs. After doubling his opponent over, Xander gets a running start and delivers a big time knee strike to Hugo’s face. Magnusson stands up right, eyes flickering, arms swaying to his sides when Xander delivers the spinning back fist.
If it had connected the punch surely would have knocked Magnusson into next month, but thankfully for Hugo’s brain-cells, he ducks the inbound fist. Xander instead spins into the clutches of his opponent, caught by the back of the head and charged across the ring, his face being rammed into Kincaid’s boot. Bash put his leg over the top rope just in time to disorientate Cassius with the kick, before lowering it so that he can enter the ring upon being tagged in.
Robin: Xander was doing pretty good out here up until he ran right into that boot.
Dollar: More like he was DRIVEN into that boot. This is why a good tag team is ALWAYS going to have the advantage against two great singles wrestlers. Continuity people, continuity. The TCWC is total simpatico.
Xander is forced back first into the corner by Bash, who begins delivering rights and lefts to the mid-section. However, Cassius’ years of MMA training have provided him quite the threshold for pain, evident as he steps out of the corner and swings wildly, nailing Bash right in the beard. Kincaid stumbles back as Xander delivers another right, followed by a south paw shot to the jaw that has spit flying.
Eventually Cassius kicks Bash right to the crease of his knee, knocking both legs out from under him. The second he hit’s the canvas Xander drops down to his side, applies a modified arm lock and begins to deliver repeated knee drops directly to the side of the face.
The crowd is in Xander’s back pocket as he continues this malicious onslaught, which concludes only when Magnusson illegally enters the ring and delivers a forearm to the back of his opponent’s neck. Official Blacker, who looked to be getting a cheap thrill out of the violence, is forced to step up to the plate. She interjects, forcing Hugo back to his corner, but the damage has already been done.
Bash pushes Xander off his knees and to his back before crawling up to his side and delivering repeated closed fists to his face. While Blacker is busy dealing with Hugo, Bash takes full advantage of her distraction, wedging his wrist tape against Cassius’ eyes and grinding it against his pupils.
Eventually Xander shoves the arm away and tries to roll aside, giving him time to recuperate. Bash isn’t about to let him get very far. Just as Xander gets to his elbows and knees, Kincaid closes the gap between them via a big running kick directly to the ribs. Into the air Xander is shot, flipping over completely sideways and then curling into the fetal position around his banged up ribs.
Dollar: Kincaid showing you don’t need to be a MMA brawler to have some pretty lethal strikes.
Brooks: This is the first time we’ve seen Xander fighting from his back.
Although his ribs may be hurting, Xander starts to get up only to have Bash grab him by the back of the head and pull him forward knee first into his ribs. Cassius is doubled over and then Bash delivers a double axe handle to the upper back, bringing him down to his knees.
Kincaid steps in reverse and rushes in with a right hand that totally misses its mark, Xander rolling right beneath it. Bash spins around right into a devastating kick to the chest, followed by a second, and then a third. The crowd groans with each strike that has Bash backing across the ring, arms swaying in a valiant effort to remain upright.
Xander then goes for a big knock out roundhouse kick that much like the punch seconds ago, is ducked at the last second. The kick causes Cassius to swing right through, back facing his opponent who shoves him off into the ropes. Bash stands just as Xander ricochets off the cables and leaps through the air, knee strike connecting right to the side of Bash’s jaw. Sebastian nods with a grin while discussing what he’s seeing with Tabitha at ringside.
Hurse: Xander coming at Kincaid from every perceivable angle, catching the man with kicks, and now the knee.
Dollar: He’s quick, and just as deadly. Plus he’s got more ink on his skin than a prison gang-banger.
The fans continue to cheer Xander and his lethal array of strikes. Another applause comes from Knight, who politely puts his hands together in the corner of his tag team. It would be wise for Xander to make the tag to said partner, but he’s too preoccupied getting some vengeance on Bash for those earlier strikes. As Kincaid limps to his feet Xander steps in and peppers him with shots to the ribs, chest and the side of the face, fully intent on out striking the striker.
He’s part way there, already having Bash reeling. A quick boot to the ribs doubles Bash over, putting his head in position for a series of knee strikes. One shot after another after another does serious damage to Bash’s brow, but he will not go down. What he doesn’t realize during the midst of this vicious onslaught is that Xander is backing across the ring, multitasking by delivering the strikes and dragging his opponent into his team’s corner. Sebastian slaps the shoulder of his partner and climbs to the top rope, he and his partner showing surprising continuity as Xander applies an abdominal stretch exposing the ribs to an axe handle smash from Knight.
Sebastian immediately begins delivering right hands to Bash’s face while Kincaid is too preoccupied covering his wounded mid-section. A forearm connects with such force that it could cauliflower Bash’s ear, yet he STILL stays upright. Not only does he remain on his feet but throws a big right hand that Knight ducks, standing back up and connecting with a very devastating European Uppercut.
The shot has sent Bash twisting into the waiting arms of his opponent. Hugo reaches over the ropes and holds his partner in check, keeping him from making a foolish error out of anger. In the process he makes the tag, entering with a smirk and an extension of his hands, begging off. He seems to be requesting a cease fire and Knight looks like he’s buying it right up until a boot flies at his nether regions, a boot that is caught seconds before it could do the damage Hugo intended.
Knight shoves the boot down, sending Hugo into a spin and then leveling him with a running lariat. A stunned Hugo doesn’t stay down long, scrambling to his feet and into a back elbow that almost dislodges a few teeth. Sebastian then extends the leg and drops it across Hugo’s throat.
Robin: TCWC in all kinds of trouble against Knight and Cassius. I don’t this pair thought Xander and Sebastian would work so well together.
Dollar: Give it time, Robin, TCWC will be in the driver’s seat before you know it. I manage tag teams like the Academy, I know that if you got two guys with egos, that they don’t form a cohesive partnership. Continuity is key.
The lightning fast, yet very aggressive Knight rushes to his feet and goes airborne, knee coming down right across his opponent’s scalp. Confidence builds in the young Knight, who drags Hugo to his knees and clubs him over the back then places him in a neck cravat before delivering some knee strikes to the face. Magnusson can’t cover up against these shots delivered by his very game opposition. Eventually Knight gets his opponent up to his feet, still trapping him in the cravat and transitioning from the hold into a spinning neck breaker. Tabitha gives an approving head nod at ringside, showing her client some support.
Just seconds before the move can connect Hugo spins out of the neck breaker position and grabs Knight by the wrist, pulling him forward into a short arm elbow that Sebastian avoids via a baseball slide right between Mgnusson’s legs. Hugo scrambles into a spin and eats a hard right for his trouble. Knight then takes off across the ring, hoping to press the advantage, but running directly into a right hand from Bash.
Or that was Kincaid’s attention, instead Knight ducks the shot and delivers a spear through the ropes right into Bash’s ribs. Kincaid is knocked from the apron and sent crashing down face first into the apron to deal double damage. The thud of skull to apron has the crowd enthused and Knight fired up. He spins around just as Hugo levels him to the side of the skull with a running boot.
The brain scrambling kick knocks Sebastian through the ropes but like a cat he lands on his feet, just in time to almost be decapitated by a short arm clothesline from Kincaid that sends him corkscrewing through the air.
Dollar: What I tell ya?
Brooks: The tag team skills of TCWC being displayed, working very cohesively to put Knight down.
Hurse: They’re hitting the guy from every angle….WHY is Chase STILL looking at me?
Robin: Your guess is as good as mine.
Chase is now squinting towards Hurse, upper lip twisted into a sneer. Behind his back the action continues, with his team pressing the advantage. Bash drags Sebastian to his feet and deposits him in the ring. He just gets to his elbows and knees but soon finds himself floating like Superman thanks to being dead lifted by Hugo right off of the canvas.
With a further display of sheer strength, Magnusson walks around the ring, carrying Knight in a gut wrench position before ultimately dropping back into the suplex. Some vocal fans cannot help but to applaud the display of strength that has driven Knight into the canvas, lower back injured by the impact perhaps. Hugo doesn’t allow Knight any time to recover, rushing in at his seated opponent and nailing a diving European Uppercut to the back of the head.
Sebastian cringes from the pain, and the crowd cringes from sympathy. Everyone has some type of reaction to the groan worthy collision delivered by the beast like Magnusson, who races to his feet, drags Knight to his and then bends his head over backwards into yet another European Uppercut, this one right to the back of the neck.
The strike sends Sebastian stumbling forward into the ropes and the waiting arms of Kincaid. Bash catches Knight by the back of the head and drops off the apron, snapping him down throat first into the top rope.
Knight then goes staggering backwards into Magnusson’s waiting arms, hooking the neck and the crease of the knee before snapping back into a bridging Regal suplex.
1
2
A kick out keeps Knight and Cassius in the fray.
Hurse: Knight keeping his team alive.
Dollar: In total vain.
Hurse: Yeah, gotta wonder how much he can keep up against this very physical onslaught.
Hugo is right back on the offensive, pulling Knight up to his feet and then throwing him across the ring with a very high hip toss. Knight soars higher than an eagle, but doesn’t have nearly as graceful a landing. The full weight of his body sails into the ring, shaking the canvas on impact. Hugo is through showing TCWC’s strength, now it’s come time to put on a display of striking ability. He tags in Kincaid, who loads up the elbow while entering the ring.
He smacks his elbow pad while methodically approaching Knight, implicating that it’s just a matter of time at this point. However, those plans are derailed the second his legs are swept from beneath him and Knight flips forward into the jacknife cover.
Brooks: Knight trying to sneak in the back door.
1
With ample time to spare Bash not only kicks out, but sits up, sending Knight rolling backwards onto his feet in the process. The momentum carries him spine first into the ropes, bouncing off and staggering right back into a boot to the knee, knocking his legs out from under him.
Knight falls to his knees but not for long, as he ends up on his back after a discus elbow right to the temple. Another loud screech echoes amongst the stands in conjunction with the sound of the strike that has Knight incapacitated.
Bash realizes he’s got his opponent right where he wants him, dropping into the lateral press.
1
2
Those screeches turn to squeals of delight as Knight launches a shoulder to stave off defeat.
Dollar: I would suggest he stop doing that.
Hurse: What?
Dollar: Kicking out. The man has an Evolution Title opportunity coming up at Awakening, he shouldn’t be risking serious injury at this junction.
An aggravated Bash makes the tag to the Straight-Jacket himself, Magnusson. Hugo hops the ropes and pounces on the nearly comatose Knight via a devastating leaping stomp to the bridge of the nose. Broken blood vessels may be popping to the surface of Sebastain’s face but he tries nevertheless to work his way to his feet. That is until Magnusson drops behind him and applies a hammerlock on his arm. The submission doesn’t stop there though, Hugo using his knee to keep the arm pinned while reaching around his opponent’s body to apply the neck cravat.
Dollar: What I tell you guys, you’re seeing the systematic destruction of Knight by a REAL tag team.
Hurse: Knight being twisted up like uhhh…ummmm….something twisty.
Dollar: Really? You couldn’t have said a pretzel?
Hurse: Their too salty.
Brooks: What does that have to do with anything?
The hold is taking its toll on Knight, but he refuses to relent to the submission. Instead Sebastian starts to will his way to his feet with the support of the fans motivating him. Xander helps get the crowd riled up, stomping the apron and slapping the top turnbuckle post. Sebastian eventually gets to his feet as Hugo breaks the hammerlock and instead keeps the cravat applied, almost ripping the head clean from the shoulders.
He Sebastian tries to fight free but Hugo wedges a foot to the back of his leg, pushing him down to his knees where he keeps the submission locked in. Finally Magnusson is the one who relinquishes the hold, breaking it to step behind Knight and apply the sleeper, trying to pop his head like a pimple.
Beads of sweat cascade down Knight’s already fatigued and wore out body as Hugo really puts all his upper body strength behind the hold. Xander cranks it up a notch in his corner, really slamming his foot and clapping his hands above his head, doing anything possible to get the crowd in Knight’s back pocket. The fan support is creating a momentum switch, providing Knight with that little extra adrenaline surge to get back up and into this fight.
Robin: Knight trying valiantly to fight free….
Dollar: It’s not easy when you’ve got tree trunk like arms squeezing your head till puss starts shooting out.
Thanks to the crowd’s encouragement, Knight gets to his feet but quickly falls back to his knees and flips Hugo over top of him. Magnusson goes rolling across the canvas but ultimately ends up on his feet. He then goes rushing right in on Sebastian, who ducks his head and catches him in an Alabama Slam position. The crowd pops then jeers when they realize that while Hugo is hanging upside down off of Knight’s back, he slaps the outstretched hand of Bash.
Hugo then wraps his arms around Knight’s waist and counters, bringing him down into a roll up. Just as Knight ends up on his back, Bash leaps over the top rope and twists so that he stomps right down into Sebastian’s face.
Dollar: More great tag team chemistry shown by the TCWC.
Brooks: You were right, Johnny, Sebastian Knight just can’t find his footing when facing these two veteran tag team wrestlers.
The Straight-Jacket and the Fist stand on opposite sides of the prone Knight at this point, lifting his legs up into the air and preparing to split him like a wish-bone. To their shock, Sebastian utilizes his tremendous leg strength to shove both men off with his feet. They go staggering backwards while Knight rolls over to his feet, falling against the ropes in the process.
Just as he begins to use the ropes as a crutch Hugo comes charging in only to get caught with a back drop that sends him sailing over the cables but surprising everyone by landing on the apron. He is just about to level Knight from behind as Bash charges in to take him out from the front. Suddenly Knight side-steps Bash and pushes him along shoulder first through the ropes and into Hugo’s stomach, knocking him off the apron.
Kincaid bounces off his own partner and staggers back into the waiting arms of Knight, who pulls him down into a school boy.
1
A kick out prevents defeat, Bash rolling onto his feet and then spinning around into one of his concussing elbow strikes. The elbow travels right over Knight’s head, Sebastian rolling under it then springing off his feet into a leap which allows him to tag the outstretched hand of Cassius.
Hurse: Things just got really bad for the TCWC.
Bash barely even has time to turn around before Cassius swoops in, catching him around the neck and the knee, dropping back into an overhead leg trap belly to belly suplex. As Kincaid writhes Xander moves onto his next victim, Magnusson scrambling into the ring with a running European Uppercut. Cassius side steps it and hooks the arm from behind, before unleashing a half nelson release suplex. The back of Magnusson’s head crashes into the canvas while he flips over to his knees, looking to be rendered brain-dead.
Brooks: Dangerous suplexes unleashed by this beast.
The TCWC continue to be rocked by Cassius, who springs to his feet just in time to nail a leaping back heel kick to the jaw of the recovered Kincaid, taking him out. He hit’s the canvas then pops back up to his feet, Bash’s brain not catching up to the extent of the damage done to his body. He really feels the agony though, when Xander jumps into the air, twists upside down and catches Bash around the leg, pulling him down into an ankle lock with the grapevine added in for further leverage.
Kindcaid pushes himself up to his elbows, agony consuming his lower extremities. Hugo, still reeling from that deposit on his head, steps in to aid his partner by stomping Xander’s face. However, Sebastian intervenes. A picture of surprise occupies Hugo’s face as he’s spun around into one closed fist after another to the jaw. Eventually Knight kicks to the gut, applies the chancery and drops back into a snap DDT, planting him right on top of his skull.
Magnusson rolls from the ring and Knight gets back to his corner, evening the odds.
Hurse: Is Bash gonna tap? If he does, that’ll make you look a foolish, Johnny.
Dollar: Preposterous. I never EVER look foolish. I’m the constant picture of class and professionalism. Watch as I twirl my mustache.
Hurse: That is some classy twirling.
Although it feels like his foot is about to be detached from his leg, Bash pulls himself across the ring inch by agonizing inch towards the ropes. Finally Adam Chase is paying attention to the action, slapping the apron and screeching at Bash to get to the ropes. He even pushes on the bottom cable, shoving it inward so that it’s a few inches closer to his client. Before Michelle can intervene by chastising Chase, Bash has already grabbed the bottom rope.
Again Michelle is too slow on the drawl, Xander breaking the ankle lock before she can even inform him that Bash has grabbed the ropes. He rolls to his feet, grabs Kincaid’s legs and begins to drag him to the center of the ring in spite of his thrashing. Just before Xander can apply yet another lethal submission he’s grabbed by the shoulder and spun around by Hugo, who eats a devastating back fist to the jaw for his troubles. Magnusson is sent spiraling into the turnbuckle while Xander returns his focus to his opponent. He turns towards the man known as The Fist, and finds out why he earned that moniker.
A discus punch square to the mouth levels Cassius, putting him to the dirt.
Hurse: What a punch!
That strike even seems to have hurt Bash’s hand, shaking his knuckle to his side then sliding his bruised fingers into Xander’s hair. Cassius’ clock has been cleaned, evident as he remains nothing but a limp noddle in the clutches of his opponent. He stands just as Bash takes him by the back of the head and flings him right into a European Uppercut from Magnusson.
Sweat and saliva flies from Xander, who goes twisting right into a big running boot from Bash that puts Cassius down for a second time.
Dollar: What were you saying about me looking like a fool?
Chase is pleased with what he sees in the ring, his client systematically destroying the competition. Though Michelle should be getting one of the TCWC out of the ring, she seems to be getting a little too thrilled by the violence to notice, brushing some sweat from her increasingly pink face. Cassius struggles to get up as Bash grabs him by the hair, yanks him up to his feet and then takes him by the wrist, whipping him into his tag team partner yet again.
Magnusson bends down, catching the inbound Cassius and throwing him over his head, causing Xander to fly through the air before eventually crashing face first into the top turnbuckle pad. Every tooth in Xander’s mouth is rattled by the collision, which almost debilitates him. He turns just as Bash rushes across the ring into the running elbow that misses its intended target.
Xander ducks out of the way, causing Bash to hit the corner with full on chest caving impact. Cassius falls into Bash’s back, using his opponent to keep himself upright just as Magnusson comes barreling in. Lariat is attempted but Xander dives out of the corner and dropkicks him to the shin, causing him to fall shoulder first into the small of Bash’s back.
Pain emanates from both men, Magnusson grabbing his shoulder as he stands and Bash clutching at his back as he turns. The two end up propped against each other, Hugo leaning against Kincaid’s chest as the two writhe.
Xander rushes across the ring and ricochets from the far ropes, the blind tag being made by Knight in the process. All the speed Xander is capable of is mustered before he goes airborne, leaping and leaping up high into a diving fist that connects against Hugo’s forehead.
The impact knocks Magnusson off his feet and sends him rolling from the ring. The crowd barely even has time to react to what they just witnessed before popping huge for the big running boot that nails Bash between the eyes, delivered by Sebastian.
Hurse: The TCWC taking some serious punishment from their opponents. First with the flying forearm, then with that devastating boot.
Brooks: So much action in this match it’s hard to keep track of it all. Silverstone seems to be following it though, at least the relevant portions featuring her man, Sebastian.
Just as Bash lands on his posterior, spine wedged against the corner, Knight comes charging in and delivers a face wash. The shot has Bash all discombobulated, but there is no rest for the wicked. Knight drags Kincaid out of the corner and to the center of the ring where he unleashes a vicious leg sweep DDT.
Robin: Knight calls that move the Overkill, and that’s exactly what it might be. Bash is out cold.
Hurse: Prepare to eat crow, Dollar.
Dollar: I never eat fowl, the tryptophan makes me too drowsy, and I constantly have to be operating at 150%.
Kincaid is down, and is out with Knight looking to secure as big win for his team.
1
2
The pin is broken up at the last second, Hugo stomping the back of Sebastian’s head. After doing the damage Hugo has to advert his eyes to his opposite opponent, Cassius charging in. Magnusson side-steps Xander though and throws him by the back of the head through the ropes, where he crashes with a splat across the mats.
He then turns back to Sebastian, who unleashes his fury through a series of punches delivered to Hugo’s ribs and stomach. A gouge to the eyes ceases that momentum though, blinding Knight and sending him stumbling back into a recovering Kincaid.
Though traumatized by the Overkill, Bash still has the energy to drop down into a chop block to the crease of Knight’s knee while Hugo delivers a lariat to his throat, sending their opponent crashing to the canvas.
In a flash Kincaid grabs Sebastian by the crux of his knees, turns him around and then drops back, catapulting his opponent into a dropkick from Magnusson. The strike knocks him back, causing Knight to land spine first across the raised knees of Kincaid. He remains bridging kidneys first over the knees as Hugo leaps into the air and delivers a very agile double stomp to the ribs of his trapped opponent.
Hurse: Oh no! What in the hell was that!?!
Robin: Absolutely lethal series of moves from the TCWC.
Dollar: A REAL Tag Team.
The cringe-worthy series of moves elicits divergent reactions from the excited crowd. Some are popping huge for the devastating moves, while others wail in remorse for Knight’s condition. They continue to jeer as Bash crawls into the cover, hooking both legs.
Dollar: Another huge win for the TCWC.
Blacker is remorseful that the violence might be over but does the obligatory three count half heartedly.
1
2
So close….yet still not enough….Knight kicks out to a roar of approval. Even Tabitha was worried that time, wiping sweat from her forehead.
Dollar: Seriously?
Robin: Knight gets his shoulder up just in time. This GREAT tag team match continues, ladies and gentlemen.
The hard hitting, fast paced action wages on as TCWC drags Knight onto his feet in spite of the fact that he’s dead weight and both wedge shoulders to his ribs. They simultaneously shove him backwards across the ring, powering Knight spine first into one of the turnbuckles, knocking all the air out of his sails and remaining energy from his body.
Chase is shouting at his team, encouraging them to take the violence to the next level, an order they have no problem abiding to. Both men take a wrist and launch Knight across the ring with Hugo chasing after him. Just before he can hit the opposite corner, Knight grabs the top rope and leaps into the air while Hugo rushes under him. Sebastian slips right over his opponent, landing behind him, then turning as Bash charges in with a big running elbow that connects with Hugo’s face.
Knight ducks the attempted shot at the last second and then catches a shocked Bash around the neck, bending him over backwards into the Overdrive. The crowd is cheering, but what many of them failed to see, and what Knight failed to feel, was the blind tag made by Cassius the moment he leap frogged Magnusson in the corner.
Knight doesn’t learn of this until he’s hooking Bash’s leg for the three.
Dollar: Sebastian’s got the win…but uhhh…why isn’t the referee doing his job? Am the only one who does his job around here?
Brooks: I think Xander tagged himself in.
Hurse: And Knight doesn’t even realize it. This is just like what happened last week.
After several seconds it finally dawns on Knight that the count isn’t being made, forcing him to drop Bash’s leg. He stands up and looks stunned as Xander enters the ring and begins to apply the very hold that got him a win last week. Knight is still arguing with the referee, saying he was never tagged, but the official informs him to the contrary. With the referee distracted, Chase capitalizes, sliding a chair into the ring. Tabitha shows no hesitation getting into Adam’s face, backing him away from the ring with some poignant threats.
Brooks: Chase screwing with the proceedings yet again. Just like on our last show he’s throwing a chair into the ring.
Xander begins to apply the Tangled in Faithlessness when he spots the weapon being introduced. Instantly he breaks the hold and grabs the chair, refusing to let it be instrumental in his team’s downfall, as it was with Sinsation last week. He turns with the steel in hand and though the ref is still distracted with Knight’s refusal to exit the ring, Sebastian gets an eyeful of the chair wielding Cassius. Immediately Knight storms past the referee and snatches the chair right out of Xander’s hands.
Sebastian: What in the bloody hell is this!?! I thought you were a man of principle.
The blind-tag, coupled with the introduction of the chair, is enough to severally taint Knight’s perception of his tag team partner.
Dollar: Knight thinks that Xander was the one who brought the chair into the ring.
Robin: Chase sowing the seeds of dissension.
Hurse: Well Knight already has a bug up his ass over the outcome to that 4 Way Fray two weeks ago, when Xander snuck in the back door to pick up the win, and I believe he thought Cassius was trying to do the same thing again tonight.
Sebastian does the right thing, vacating the ring with chair in his hands and judgment in his eyes, refusing to allow Xander the opportunity to create a disqualification. Cassius tries to explain himself, but before he can get his defense out, he finds himself spun around by a recovered Bash, taken around the neck and spun around into the Aneurysm Elbow.
The blow connects right against the back of Xander’s skull and sends him staggering into a running European Uppercut by Magnusson delivered with such force that it almost takes his head off. The crowd jeers loudly at the sight of Cassius taking both devastating blows which eventually topple him with Kincaid coming down on his chest with the lateral press.
Brooks: Two devastating shots from the Fist and the Straight-Jacket, capitalizing on Xander’s distraction.
Dollar: Beautifully played.
The count is made as Sebastian stands on the apron and throws the chair down hard to the mats, looking furious over Xander’s misbehavior.
1
2
3
When the third slap reverberates throughout the canvas, Knight finally turns around and spots the pinfall being made. The anger only builds when Knight realizes that for the second show in a row, he was oblivious to the pin happening right behind his back.
Dollar: The TCWC has done it. Another big win for this tag team. And no….I don’t have to swallow any crow…Hurse.
Hurse: If it weren’t for Chase throwing that chair into the ring, the outcome might have been vastly different.
Dollar: Yeah…yeah…yeah…would’a could’a should’a…don’t matter worth a damn…can’t change what ACTUALLY happened.
Instead of even coming to the aid of his partner, a thoroughly disgusted Knight drops to the outside and backs up the ramp, head shaking all the way. Tabitha Silverstone meets him on the ramp, patting her client on the shoulder and insisting they leave immediately so that Sebastian saves face. Xander struggles to his elbows, in disbelief that he lost this match for his team, having only tagged himself in when Knight was under duress. His dreary eyes lock on Knight and Tabitha lingering on the stage, getting one last glimpse of the fallen comrade. Xander vacates the ring looking thoroughly dejected by what just happened.
Hurse: Knight and Cassius not on the same page at all.
Robin: Thanks to Adam Chase.
Now that the violence has been drawn to a conclusion and both teams have worked out their collective aggressions, Chase changes speeds, taking a microphone and strutting into the ring. He looks unaffected by the outcome to this confrontation, thoroughly focused on the statement yet to be made.
Hurse: Speaking of Chase, he’s in the ring with mic in hand, gotta wonder what this is all about.
The heckles are ignored by Adam Chase upon taking his rightful place between exhausted clients.
Chase: Does this thing work….Hello….Hello?
A series of taps tests the microphone.
Chase: Sorry, there are just too many things broken around here. Judging from what I saw last week, almost everything about this federation is dysfunctional. From a man who conducts interviews with a puppet, to a total and utter inability to control the roster. But the semen in the taco, was the fact that the Chase Wrestling Collective was denied, not just once…not just twice….but on multiple occasions….our agreed upon screen time. Screen time that wouldn’t have been squandered…that would have been used for a PURPOSE!
Obviously Chase was not satiated by the all too brief vignette delivered on the last edition of Riot!
Chase: No ‘bitch-offs,’ no ‘wooing,’ no spiels about ‘entertainment.’ None of that ridiculousness. No, I had a very valid point to get off my chest last week…
A calming breathe helps little.
Chase:….And it turns my stomach that I STILL have to make that point here tonight, I thought after two weeks certain people would come to their senses, and I wouldn’t have to come out here and deliver this speech. But apparently I was asking WAAAAY too much. Orlando Cruze, in his infinite idiocy, has his mind so preoccupied with this Evolution title non-sense, that he’s completely ignored the only titles that matter to the TCWC, the TAG TEAM TITLES.
Hurse: Mmmkay, the stink eye from Chase earlier is starting to make a bit more sense.
Brooks: Indeed, yourself and Porno Lad comprising the IWC Tag Team Champions after being handed the belts by Desmond Drake over in Supreme Championship Wrestling.
Hurse: Surprised Adam Chase even knew about that. Didn’t think anyone actually watched SCW.
The intense gaze of the LA Boy returns to the commentators table.
Chase: What’s the problem with this picture people?
Gesturing towards Hurse.
Chase: Here you have one of the IWC Tag Team Champions, and what’s he doing? Instead of entering the ring and defending the title, he’s sitting snug as a bug at a friggin commentator’s table. How does this make any sense? And worse yet, he’s made no announcement about defending his belt. Everyone seems to be totally ignoring the state of the championships.
Hurse; Hey, I agree with the man, a decision regarding the Tag Titles NEEDS to be made. Actually, before that whole incident with Blacklist unfolded, I was going to say….
Chase: HEY! I’m talking…you LISTEN!
Hurse’s eyes bug out of their skull as they lock on the demanding Chase. A few steps are taken into the ropes, Chase getting a little closer but keeping his distance. Magnusson and Kincaid have no issue whatsoever, getting as close as they want to the commentator, rolling out of the ring and methodically approaching the table.
Chase: The TCWC will not be ignored again. We’ve got a statement to make and it will not be interrupted…..
Hurse: I’m listening…
Chase: Hahahaha….who am I fooling? Only myself I guess. Because Leland Gaunt made it clear as day last week. Nobody pays attention to words….they only take notice to…THIS!
Hurse: Stay out of this, Robin.
Hurse barely even has time to remove his head-set before Hugo and Bash are on top of him. Clubbing blows and right hands rain down on the co-holder of the Tag Team Titles, who tries feebly to defend himself against the onslaught.
Robin: What the hell do they think their doing!?!
Dollar: The Chase Wrestling Collective attacking our broadcast colleague!
Brooks: Let go of me, Johnny.
Johnny: He told you to stay out of this. It’s for you own protection.
Shock is expressed by the masses at the sight of Hugo and Bash brawling with Hurse towards the ring. The commentator and former World Champion continues to put up the best fight he can, landing a few shots of his own until the violence spills into the ring.
Chase: Make a statement boys. Come on! Put it to him!!
From his knees Hurse is throwing right hands but the TCWC is just too much for one man to tolerate. Forearms and closed fists do tremendous damage to the wildly veteran, who finally drops his arms to his sides, unable to further defend himself.
Dollar: The TCWC sending a message to Hurse and the entire IWC staff regarding those Tag Team Titles.
Robin: Let go of me dammit.
Dollar: You’ll thank me later.
Hugo and Bash hold out Hurse’s arms and pull back on his head so that his groggy eyes look into the face of Chase.
Chase: Are you finally listening? Good. Cause now you’ll know that the TCWC are the only team in the IWC deserving of the Tag Team Champio…..
A thunderous ovation is heard for Porno Lad, the co-holder of the Tag Team Titles, racing down the ramp with a steel chain wrapped around his fist.
Johnny: Relax Robin, Porno Lad will get his ass kicked in your stead.
Brooks: Thank goodness for Ethan.
The crowd continues to froth at their mouths as Porno Lad slides into the ring, prompting TCWC to release their victim and evade his wrath.
Dollar: Porno Lad has cleared the ring but not before the message was sent.
Robin: You can let go me now.
Johnny: Gladly.
A static thud can be heard as Robin’s headset hit’s the table. As Porno Lad crouches at Hurse’s side, patting him on the back, Robin slides into the fray, checking on her love’s condition. The TCWC remains at ringside, Adam barking at the Tag Team Champions, and he’s made it very clear that Hugo and Bash are ready to provide the bite.
Johnny: Chase has his eyes set on those Tag Team Titles. Will Porno Lad and Hurse have a response to this?
Hugo and Bash make strap motions across their waists while Porno Lad’s divides his time, burning a hole into the TCWC with his gaze and checking on his partner’s condition.
Dollar: Things really heating up around here regarding the Championships, but I’m sure our Owner will get this ALL straightened out in due time.
Frankie: Yes Mom….yes Moooom….Jesus…
Clearly Frankie Paradise embraces the ideology of being fashionably late, as he slams the door on his car and sashays through the parking lot while dragging his bag behind him. With a cell-phone in hand and a look of annoyance on his face, Frankie prepares to enter the Manhattan Center, where he’ll no doubt have a proper outlet for his aggression.
Frankie: I’m not a child, Mom, I knew to pack an extra toothbrush. Yes…I know…(He pinches the connective tissue between his eyes)….You spent a fortune on my retainer…Just relax already….
His eyes threatened to roll right out of his skull. Try as he may, and although he normally gushed confidence like a lanced boil secretes puss, Frankie had a hard time maintaining his cool.
Frankie: Mom…MOM! I’ll be fine. I’m a grown man for God sakes….
Mount Vesuvius is about to have nothing on Paradise as he prepares to blow his top. Just as lava begins to flow and an ash cloud is created above Frankie’s skull, he drastically alters his tone and begins to exude his normal arrogance.
Paradise: Hey Bro, this is Frankie Paradise you’re talking to here, when I tell you David Letterman is beneath me you had better relay the message to that gap toothed freak personally…
Everything becomes clear, or as clear as anything involving the bipolar Paradise can be, when the camera draws back just enough to feature Taylor Chase pacing outside the building. Naturally an I-Phone is gripped in her hand and her fingers are busy sending a vital tweet, having just arrived herself, stepping out of a car parked right in front of the Manhattan Center.
Paradise: You book me on shows that are relevant, that are TRENDING! I refuse to be interviewed by anyone in adult sized diapers dammit. Now get it done.
To emphasize his obnoxious lies he forcefully hangs up the phone and deposit’s the phone in his pocket. Every movement, every gesticulation, every word and the manner in which they’re delivered is perfectly designed to catch Taylor’s attention. At long last she looks up from her phone, acknowledging Frankie’s pea cocking approach to woo her.
Frankie: Whoa, Chase…aren’t you looking F-A-B tonight?
Taylor: Pfft, like I don’t ALWAYS look fabulous.
Frankie: Now…now…there was no need to volunteer your services to carry my bags into the building, or to get the door for me. I’m more than capable of doing all those things while maintaining my uncanny awesomeness.
Taylor: Yeah, sure.
Paradise: But I DID just get released from the hospital, and I had a loooong walk through the parking lot with these heavy bags. So if you wanted to carry my stuff into the building, I wouldn’t be oppos….
It takes a while, but it finally dawns on him the prime parking space Chase’s sports car sits in.
Frankie: Yo…speaking of which….how’d you get such a good spot?
Taylor’s eyebrow arches, quite pleased with the fruits of her labors….or more accurately, the fruits of her manipulation.
Taylor: Just so happens I have a certain little Asian friend who is very skilled at negotiating. Plus, it doesn’t hurt being a woman who knows how to get what she wants.
Frankie: Ya’know, Taylor….
He switched to serious mode.
Paradise: Frankie thinks that you and he got off on the wrong foot last week…
Taylor: Ugh…PLEASE don’t do that.
Instead of being ravishing, Taylor was about to become rampaging.
Paradise: What?
Taylor: Talk about yourself in the third person.
Frankie: Oh.
Frankie is understandably pestered, not accustomed to having to jump through hoops to impress the opposite sex.
Paradise: I think if you got to know the REAL Frankie Paradise, you’d be quite impressed. There’s far more going on beneath this sensational package than you’d think. I’m like totally layered….and deep…yep….real deep.
The quasi-sexual nature in which his last few words were delivered actually causes Taylor to quiver…in disgust.
Frankie: You’ve read my tweets, Bitch, you see how epic deep I am.
Taylor: You tweet?
Frankie is having a full on out of body experience, his rage transcending time and space, or any ethereal plane imaginable.
Frankie: What the fuc….We’ve had like a million Twitter convos.
Chase: We have?
Paradise: Totally.
It takes every bit of determination to will his spirit back into his body and soothe that savage soul.
Frankie: Maybe you’d like to spend a bit more time scratching the surface and seeing what’s beneath these six pack….eight pack…TWELVE pack abs….and these shoulders that look like boulders….and the chest that causes so much unrest.
For the first time since audiences were introduced to her, Taylor looks fascinated by something…or someone…that isn’t her I-Phone. The slightest glimpse of a smile forms on her face.
Frankie: So what do you say?
Taylor: May…
Stagehand: Taylor Chase?
The intrigue transforms into disgust as Taylor pulls away from the hand violating her shoulder.
Taylor: Who are you and who gave you permission to live?
The greasy Stagehand overlooks the insults to fulfill his assigned mission.
Stagehand: I’m sorry, Mrs. Chase. Been looking for you everywhere.
Taylor: And how is this MY problem.
The pimply and irrelevant figure is blown away by the egotism.
Stagehand: Sorry, just wanted to let you know why it took so long to get you the message….
Taylor: Blah…blah…blah…nobody wants to hear your life story…you’ve wasted five minutes of my life I’ll never get back looking at that face….so get on with it already.
Stagehand: Erm, yeah, I was asked to give you this letter by P Whitman Clarence III.
Taylor: Who?
Stagehand: P. Claren…
Taylor: Yeah…yeah…yeah…the more I hear you speak the more I die on the inside.
Stagehand: Okay, sorry…I guess…here’s the letter.
The folded up piece of paper is extended towards Taylor. The object is scrutinized but not taken from the outstretched palm.
Taylor: What is this?
Stagehand: A letter.
Chase: What? I’m expected to unfold it and everything? This sounds like WAY too much work.
She takes the letter but has NO intention of reading it. Instead she balls it up and throws it over her shoulder right into Paradise’s chest.
Chase: Tell Pewee Herman….
Stagehand: P Clarence Whitm….
Chase: Yeah, him too….to get with the times already. Print is so Paris Hilton…YESTERDAAAAAAY.
Though everyone hates to see her go, nobody minds watching her leave.
Frankie: Hey! I wasn’t fini….
Just as he calls after her, Frankie’s intention is pulled elsewhere, to the ringing phone in his pocket. He cringes just before answering.
Frankie: Mom, I am soooo sorry.
He continues to suffer her wrath in the process of dragging his bags into the Manhattan Center. The camera remains fixed on the area where Frankie was just standing, but draws to a sharp focus on the object hovering in the background, the very vehicle that was witnessed earlier in the night. It slows to a stop only briefly before taking off again.
Dollar: A lot transpiring in the ring, but just as much going on in the parking lot. Christian Savior continues to circle the Manhattan Center just waiting for his window of opportunity. Everyone should be on red alert. But coming up next right here on Riot!, as I understand it Orlando Cruze has a MAJOR announcement to make regarding the IWC Title….don’t go anywhere, we’ll be back in just minutes.
MOMENTS AGO
A still frame showcasing Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid approaching the announce table is the first image seen after the commercial break.
Dollar: We’re back on Riot!, and just moments before the commercial break, all of this went down….a disgruntled Adam Chase DEMANDED his Tag Team Title ambitions be acknowledged. Which led to this.
The clips cut to Hurse being pulverized by the TCWC, in spite of his attempts to defend himself. The onslaught continues in the ring where Chase demands the commentator’s full and undivided attention.
Hurse: Yep, I literally had my ass handed to me by The Chase Wrestling Collective…but thank God for Porno Lad.
Indeed…salvation comes when Porno Lad strides to the ring, chain in hand, chasing Adam and his cohorts from the squared circle. After replaying this traumatizing imagery, the show goes live to the commentator’s table where Hurse is holding a bag of ice to his shoulder.
Dollar: Ya’know, Steve-o, if your TOO injured to continue tonight, please go backstage, it’ll give me more screen time and jack-up the IWC’s ratings. You’ve been through enough already trooper, with the Blacklist targeting you, and now this attack by the TCWC.
Robin: Maybe you should let the EMTs look at you.
Hurse: I’m fine. Besides, the medical staff seems a little too gunho about sending people to the hospital tonight.
To a mind blowing reception some all too familiar music rips through the PA system and ushers the IWC President forth. Without further delay Orlando Cruze struts to the stage amongst a hailstorm of divergent reactions from the crowd. Some cheer on their Icon, while others jeer his poor decision making since the IWC’s rebirth. No matter what reaction he’s met with, Orlando remains unphased and entirely too chipper.
Hurse: Besides, I HAVE to be here for this announcement.
Robin: Indeed, Orlando has promised the IWC title would be forfeited all week long. This a move that could very well effect us all.
Dollar: How dare everyone question this man’s morals. He’s about to prove all the naysayers wrong as he does something that’s truly good for business.
Inside the ring Orlando has two props at his disposal, a microphone in palm, and the highly sought World Heavyweight Title adorning his shoulder. All eyes seem focused on the latter but Orlando is putting the former to good use.
Orlando: Two weeks, that’s how long you’ve all waited for my announcement regarding the IWC Championship….
Even more attention is diverted to the glistening World Title belt.
Orlando: So what’s the harm in making you all wait two seconds longer?
This tease is met with a smattering of boos.
Orlando: Now…now…behave yourselves. I’m going to make the announcement but I have some late breaking news to address that takes precedence.
Dollar: Patience is a virtue people.
Rejection doesn’t even begin to bother the Icon, who doesn’t miss a step in the delivery of his announcements.
Orlando: It truly pains me to have to do this, because I know Axl Evermore is a proud, proud man….and that’s why I must remove him from the Tournament at Awakening.
As if the crowd couldn’t get any angrier. Orlando remains aloof to the animosity.
Orlando: If I didn’t do this he’d show up at the pay-per-view, compete and risk further injury. And the well being of my roster takes precedence over all else. So until I’m confident that Evermore is medically cleared to compete, I’m FORCED to suspend him.
The heat Orlando registers is almost nuclear.
Orlando: But this leaves a gaping hole in the Evolution Title Tournament….
He ponders momentarily before snapping his fingers.
Orlando: You know the Icon….the People’s President….and the mastermind of the Orlando Innovation…has a back-up plan….Not JUST a back-up plan, but a GAME-CHANGER! Because the winner of tonight’s main event, which pits Jackson Adams against Rose Savior will fill the final spot in the Tournament.
The announcement calms nerves slightly…only slightly.
Cruze: But wait….you can always count on that little extra something….that second serving of gravy on the potatoes….when it comes to YOUR Icon. Depending on the outcome of that main event…I might have an added splash of intrigue to provide the winner.
Nuclear is not an accurate description of the heat Orlando receives.
Dollar: HUGE.
Robin: Adams versus Rose tonight, winner gets into the Evolution Title Tournament. That is a very big announcement.
Orlando proceeds undaunted by the seismic slandering he’s receiving.
Orlando: And the runner up in tonight’s EPIC main event, will still compete for either the N.H.B or the X-Class Title, depending on whatever belt they opt to challenge for at Awakening. Wait…still…there’s more.
The ego stroking borders on near masturbatory given the levels of pleasure it’s providing the Icon.
Orlando: Let’s get to what you all have been waiting for….or doubting judging by your Twitter comments. Yeah, don’t go postal on the smart marks, their entitled to their opinions, no matter how off colored they may be. They’ve actually been speculating…get this….that I was going to pull some kind of bait and switch tonight. Like I’m even capable of such. When I promise that the IWC Title will be forfeited tonight, that’s just what‘s going to happen.
Robin: About time.
The gold plate, which still features Orlando Cruze’s title stenciled into the name-plate, is rubbed by the Icon.
Orlando: So without further ado, the time has come to forfeit the IWC title, and I can think of no better time to do it after what we just saw in the ring. So….Hurse….the spotlight is yours my friend.
Confusion becomes the predominant emotion displayed amongst the masses as the head-set hit’s the announce table and Hurse rises to his feet, microphone in his grip.
Robin: Hey? Steven? Haven’t you got in enough trouble already tonight? What are you doing now?
Dollar: Oooooh, I get what’s going on here.
Robin: You do?
Dollar: No.
A pained expression hangs over Hurse’s face, for a multitude of reasons. Physical ailments haunt him thanks to the assault by TCWC, while physical anguish torments him thanks to the announcement he’s about to make.
Hurse: This is NOT going to be a popular announcement, not amongst my fans, and my tag team partner, Porno Lad. He’s probably going to come out here and drop a total Epic Fail on me, and to be honest, I deserve it. He shouldn’t have been kept in the dark regarding my decision, but I knew if I told him, he’d try to change my mind and refuse to go through with what I have planned. So, in knowing that I face a total ass kicking at the hands of my partner, I hereby forfeit the IWC Tag Team Titles.
Brooks: WHAT!?! Just how hard were you hit by the TCWC?
Hurse: Why? Because I can’t let them distract me from taking out those three freaks at Awakening. Call me crazy…call me a glutton for punishment….but I’m accepting the challenge they made to me earlier tonight. But since I believe in Tag Team wrestling, I’m not going to hold up the fate of the Championships….They shouldn’t have to wait on me to be ready to defend them. And like Orlando said repeatedly, the slate is being wiped clean, even when it comes to the champions.
Robin: I can’t believe you kept this from me, Steven.
Hurse: I was still a bit undecided before the start of tonight’s show, but after what happened with the Blacklist, and after Chase made his intentions for these Tag Titles known, it sealed my decision.
Robin: Alright then…
Brooks stands beside her man.
Brooks: I accept the challenge too. You and I will both….
Hurse: No!
Usually Hurse would fear the outcome of shouting at Brooks, but this time Robin actually looks like the timid party.
Hurse: You’re NOT getting into the ring with those sick bastards. You saw what they did to Denile earlier, and what they did to Kellen Jeffries. You let ME take care of this.
Robin: Who do you think you’re talking too? I’m no frail little thing….
Hurse: I said NO God dammit, end of story.
That’s all that will be said on the matter, Hurse plopping into his chair and slipping on a headset as Robin watches jaw dropped. Having no idea Hurse had this in him.
Hurse: I BELIEVE in the IWC, and I’m not going to watch the Blacklist destroy it, or you, Robin.
Brooks: Your so going to be in the doghouse for this.
Dollar: Yeah, but he’ll probably be in the hospital after Awakening.
The noble gesture has touched Orlando. A hand is pressed to the Icon’s heart as his eyes flutter.
Orlando: Words can’t even….Thank you, Hurse, for doing what’s truly right for the IWC….for the business…and for Tag Team Wrestling. And you know what, since Porno Lad is probably feeling a little bamboozled at the moment, I’m going to make amends, I’m going to ensure you don’t receive a second beating tonight….
Hurse: How thoughtful.
Orlando: At Awakening, I’m going to give Porno Lad the chance to regain the Tag Team Titles. If he can find a NEW tag team partner by the end of the night, then I’ll grant him a Tag Team Title bout versus The Chase Wrestling Collective. That way he gets a shot at the gold AND he gets to teach those punks a lesson. And speaking of punks. I’m sure you’ll be capable of dealing with the Blacklist even without Robin…and ME in your corner.
Hurse: So true….wait…what did he just say?
Dollar: I think he’s opting out of participating in that match against the Blacklist.
Orlando: I have no intention whatsoever of giving into the demands of those terrorists. But don’t worry, Steve, I’m more than confident that just like Porno Lad, you’ll find two tag team partners to stand by your side at Awakening.
Hurse: How in the hell am I expected to do that when I have commentator duties all night?
Robin: Hello, you got a partner sitting right here…
Hurse: No, Robin, NO.
There are some claps, actual claps from the fans, excited at the prospect of Porno Lad clashing with the TCWC at Awakening. Their reaction quiets the moment it becomes clear Orlando isn’t through as of yet.
Orlando: Did you think that was it? Nope….not by a long shot. Because I hope Hurse’s sacrifice has swayed yet another champion, and convinced them to relinquish their title.
With a heavy heart Orlando slaps the very World Heavyweight Championship he took from Shaun Cruze on Supreme Saturday.
Orlando: So…..Katelyn Buehler….please come to the ring.
A unanimous sigh is heard from the fans, before inserting their faces into palms.
Robin: Katelyn Buehler? The holder of the X-Class Title?
Dollar: The slate is totally being swiped clean tonight.
The curtains remain stationary…no sight of Katelyn Buehler.
Orlando: Come on Katelyn, get to this ring right now!
Orlando is starting to lose his cool….if he ever possessed any to begin with. At long last the entrance lyrics of Katelyn Buehler explode through sound speakers and an apprehensive holder of the X-Class Championship moves to the stage. She squeezes the very life out of the belt, holding it to her chest like it were security blanket.
Hurse: She’s actually coming out here. Maybe I truly have inspired her.
Brooks: This is not at all what I expected headed into this Title forfeiture.
Sullenly Katelyn enters the ring, still squeezing the X-Class Title until she gets pulp out of it.
Cruze: Thanks for coming to the ring, Katelyn. Now that you’re here, is there anything you’d like to say…or fork over?
Eyes are glued to the belt Katelyn puts so much pressure on it can turn into diamond.
Katelyn: Hell no.
Her head shook rapidly, steadfastly refusing to relinquish her gold much to the annoyance of the Icon.
Orlando: Buehler….I know you think you DESERVE that X-Class Title just because you won it before the IWC closed it’s doors, but this is a brand new day. We’re wiping the slate clean….
Dollar: Told ya so.
Orlando: Don’t be so damned selfish. Put the good of the company before your own needs, Buehler.
Katelyn: No….
Any semblance of calm drifts from Orlando.
Orlando: Don’t force me to flex my authoritative muscle. If I’m forced to TAKE that belt from you, then I’ll TAKE you right out of your Win/Win match tonight too, meaning you might not even get a shot to regain the title at Awakening. In fact, I might just TAKE you right out of the IWC, and then you can go back to shaking your ass on a stage or straddling some pole….And I’m not talking about a striper pole either.
The crude and crass comment registers even more heat from the masses.
Cruze: Now hand over the X-Class Championship, or ELSE!
The fiery Cruze makes his comments just threatening enough to finally sway Buehler. With tears in her eyes Katelyn is forced to relinquish the only thing REAL in her life, the only thing that gives her a sense of meaning. The culmination of all her hard-work is slowly handed over to the Icon, who throws the belt over the shoulder opposite the World Title.
Orlando: I truly, truly detest selfish people.
He continues to look down his nose at the sobbing Katelyn.
Orlando: The fact that I had to FORCE you to hand over the belt under duress, turns my stomach. How dare you be so selfish. How dare you put YOUR needs over the good of the IWC. I’d give you some time to think about it, but Eddie Vines has been itching for a fight all night long after what Legion did to him last week…and I’m not about to hold him at bay any longer. So you’re match against Eddie, it starts right now! Someone get a referee out here to deal with this gutter trash.
The insulting comments reduce Katelyn to even more of an emotional train-wreck, her knees almost buckling as she buries her running mascara in her palms. The IWC President, or as he’s now dubbed himself, the People’s President, saunters up the ramp fifteen pounds heavier, X-Class Title over the opposite shoulder as the World Heavyweight belt. An extremely smug expression resides on his face as he passes referee Fitzpatrick on his way to the ring and Eddie Vines’ entrance music blares over the PA system.
Dollar: Jesus, talk about a series of major announcements. First Hurse pusses out….
Hurse: I so did NOT puss out. I did what was right.
Dollar: Sure. Just so happened that you did so AFTER TCWC kicked your ass six ways from Sunday…Anyway, you forfeited the title and then Orlando FORCED Katelyn to hand over the X-Class Championship. We got what was promised when Orlando said the IWC Title would be forfeited, and then some.
Brooks: I guess we did…kinda.
Dollar: How can you STILL be unhappy.
Brooks: I feel like we’ve been baited and switched again. Still no announcement regarding the World Heavyweight Title.
Dollar: Oh well, get over it, we’ve got a match to call.
The Haunting guitar chords starting the epic ‘God is Dead’ track by Black Sabbath begins to play through the speakers as the name of ‘Eddie Vines’ appears on the screen, his name disappearing to black, replaced with a shot of the blood stained teeth of the man himself, his eyes glimmering with insanity under the lights of the studio room where he is being watched by the camera lens.
Suddenly the curtain ruffles and he walks out from the back, his eyes still crazed as he reaches the top of the ramp and just kneels down. He leans on his knees as he looks across the crowds all around him, he then stands and walks slowly down the ramp, the absence of the fans hands looking for a tap on the shoulder obvious.
He smiles and reaches the ring apron, with a gentle leap, he grabs the top rope and rests one knee on the apron, he then slowly lifts himself to his feet and climbs into the ring.
Brooks: Katelyn is going to have get over the trauma of being forced to give up the X-Class Title in a hurry if she’s to battle this demented, Vines.
Hurse: Why is everyone worried about HER trauma. I thought for sure Orlando was going to agree to team with me against the Blacklist.
Dollar: You and Katelyn have both made your bed, now you’ll have to lay in it.
Hurse: Been there, done that. OOOWW…Seriously, another pinch? Haven’t I suffered enough already?
Brooks: You got that one for a couple of reasons.
Though her eyes are clotted by tears and her brain is wrought with emotion, Katelyn tries to keep her head in the game, especially as Vines enters through the ropes. Eddie himself, is entering the match a bit banged up after the pure brutality unleashed upon him at the hands of Legion two weeks ago. In spite of the fact that both athletes could probably legally use a handicap parking space, they look to wage war, actually Buehler LEAPS into battle aggressively. She charges in, fists flying. It’s unclear what does more damage, her lefts and rights, or her high pitched shrieks.
Hurse: Katelyn jumping all over Eddie Vines, pouncing on him before the bell could even chime.
Brooks: She’s gone El Loco after being forced to relinquish the X-Class Title or give up the job she worked so hard to get back.
Dollar: You might want to work on rephrasing that, as she probably had to work on getting a lot of other’s ‘hard’ to get her job back.
Brooks: This is our first Win/Win match of the night. Here’s how this works. We’re going to have TWO four way title matches at Awakening, for both the X-Class and NHB straps, the winner of the four matches tonight will get to choose which belt they challenge for, while the losers will compete in whatever bout the victor opts out of.
Hurse: Wow. Was I supposed to follow any of that?
Forearms, fists, boots, nails, fingers, toes, even hair, every part of Katelyn is thrown at Vines, who feebly tries to cover up against this onslaught. There truly is no greater wrath than a woman’s scorn. Even Ingelson can’t back her off of Vines. It takes all the force of a shove from Eddie to create some separation. The push knocks Katelyn into a backwards roll, ending up on her feet before she rushes back in only to eat a sickening boot right to the jaw that almost takes her head off.
Johnny: That finally stopped all that obnoxious screaming. How did you ever put up with that Mr. Parkwood? I understand the two of you were married at one point…
Hurse: What does that have to do with me hearing her scream?….Oh ho ho….I get it…Clever.
Brooks: I’m not above pinching the two of you simultaneously.
Buehler’s menstrual mayhem will not be derailed by the boot. Already she’s back on her feet rushing up behind Vines, who is holding his head, still suffering the ill effects of Legion’s assault earlier. His migraine isn’t helped when Katelyn jumps on his back, screaming and throwing repeated elbows into the back of her skull. Eddie tries to shrug her off but Katelyn is dug in like a tick.
Somehow Vines doesn’t lose his cool, and thinks clearly enough to turn, rushing backwards into the ropes so that he and Buehler go spilling through them. With a thud the two splat across the mats.
Dollar: One way to break the hold.
The crazed Vines rolls away from his equally as crazed competition, ending up on his feet just as a raging Buehler comes barreling in. Eddie side-steps and catches Katelyn with a hip toss right onto the outside mats. She hits hard and screeches after her back implodes against the thin protective mats. Eddie drags her back to her feet and back into the ring, then climbs the turnbuckle, already setting for the Vines Drop.
The fans froth at the thought of seeing the Frog Splash pick up yet another win for Eddie, who is just about to take flight when Katelyn rolls clear from his trajectory. She then leaps to her feet, unleashes a roar that would make Helen Reddy envious, and charges at Vines only to have him leap from the corner and over her head.
He then rushes up behind Buehler, who turns just in time to be caught with a big splash against the turnbuckle. All the air is knocked right out of Katelyn, who falls to her seat, looking spent after getting all her rage out. Eddie looks flustered that Buehler even got in a single offensive move, prompting him to be even more savage.
He charges in and grabs the top rope, using it as an aid to launch his lower body into a swinging dropkick that misses. Buehler rolls clear at the last possible second, causing Eddie to crash violently against the back of his head and shoulders with nothing to show for his troubles.
Buehler then crawls back in, grabs him by the hair and begins to drive the back of his skull over and over again against the canvas, screaming every single time.
Katelyn: You son of a bitch! You son of a biiiiitttccch!
Dollar: I think Katelyn is practicing some transference.
Hurse: Does that mean she use to have a penis?
Dollar: That would make things a bit awkward for you, wouldn’t it? But no…not transvestite…I said transference. She’s picturing Eddie Vines as Orlando Cruze.
No amount of Tylenol could repair the headache inflicted on Vines by this onslaught, which continues as Buehler leaps to her feet and begins stomping down on his head at this point. Ingelson finally drags her back only to be shoved aside, Katelyn rushes back in and continues the stomping. Once more Alex pries her off and finds himself tossed out of the way for a second time. She leaps towards Vines, grabbing his hair and driving the back of his skull against the ring while unleashing murderous screams.
Katelyn: I’ll kill you…I’ll kill you!
Hurse: Did she just turn into Achmed the Dead Terrorist?
Buehler even goes as far as to start grinding her wrist tape against Eddie’s eyes. Ingelson is annoyed but refuses to throw the match out, settling for grabbing Katelyn by the arm and again forcing her back. Buehler doesn’t even see Ingelson, looking right past him at the man she imagines to be the IWC President. Therefore she shows no trepidation about shoving him aside and going right after Eddie, ready to rip his beard off if that’s what it takes. Unfortunately, for her, she runs ribs first into his boots, being shoved back into the ropes.
She bounces off and comes back in at Eddie, who catches her with a gigantic monkey flip variant, causing her to catch such tremendous height that she actually flips completely over and comes down right on top of her face.
Brooks: I don’t think Katelyn’s ever gotten that high even after smoking some crystal meth.
Hurse: Eddie finally fighting her off. Honestly, going into this match, I never thought it would be Eddie turning back the tide of Buehler.
Buehler’s nose swells as quickly as her fury as she stumbles to her feet, Vines charging up behind her and delivering a swift basement dropkick right to her posterior. Though she’s use to having things rammed into her back end, this latest collision doesn’t end in pleasure. Buehler is launched forward into the nearest turnbuckle, her head bouncing off the middle turnbuckle and compressing her neck. The impact knocks her back and to her seat, looking stunned.
Though what truly STUNS her, is the running knee strike that violently connects between her eyes by way of the vicious Vines…gotta love alliteration.
Clearly Eddie is starting to feel it, his anger fueling him, replacing the pain thanks to the brutality inflicted on him by Legion, and the assault by Buehler. And obviously Katelyn is feeling something too, agony. She looks totally out of it as she incoherently rolls towards the ropes, using them to stand up. Eddie takes advantage of her positioning, stepping in and rolling up her shirt so that he can pull it back against her throat, choking her with her own attire.
Dollar: Careful Eddie Munster, this isn’t a hardcore match.
Brooks: Yep, he might get himself disqualified cheating like this.
Hurse: Really don’t think that matters to Eddie. All Katelyn is is a distraction standing between he and Legion.
The color in Buehler’s face goes as blue as a Smurf, and its at this point that Ingelson is forced to intervene. He drags Eddie off, but not as easily as he did with Katelyn earlier, and with a different emotional response. The spine freezing, organ twisting glare that he receives from Eddie, forces Ingelson to be the one who backs off, remembering what Vines did to Fitzpatrick last week.
Eddie turns back towards Katelyn and boots her to the ribs, knocking her through the ropes to the outside of the ring. She flips over backwards completely, coming down on her feet while still leaning chest first against the apron.
A ricochet off the opposite ropes gives Eddie all the momentum in the world as he barrels into a baseball slide dropkick that somehow misses its mark. The crowd is amazed that Buehler side-stepped Vines, letting him drop to his feet on the mats before leveling him with a dropkick to the chest. The sloppy kick connects just enough to put Eddie down and get Katelyn back in the driver’s seat…though most would agree that women should never be trusted behind the wheel of a car.
Katelyn leaps to the apron, rushes across it and then amazes the crowd again by diving off into a huge elbow drop that connects right against Eddie’s exposed chest.
Hurse: A Mic Foley moment by Buehler. Has she actually been doing some research?
Brooks: Only if it involves checking her cell-phone to see how many times her name trends.
A ‘SHE’S HARDCORE’ chant can be joke fully heard from the crowd as Katelyn painfully reaches her feet and tries to drag Eddie to the ring. Her 95 pound frame proves a detriment when trying to drag her much bigger opponent around. Finally she abandons her goal, rolling back into the ring to break up the official’s ten count then rolling back out to the apron. She sits on the apron for only a moment until Eddie leaps to his feet, trying to catch her with his pants down…a position many men have found her in before.
Katelyn refuses to be ensnared this time, wedging her feet to Eddie’s chest then shoving him off. He staggers back a few feet while Buehler stands up on the apron and then leaps off. Eddie runs right under her airborne opponent, sliding back into the ring while Katelyn lands on her feet across the outside mats.
She turns around just as Eddie bounces off the far ropes, builds the needed momentum, and then comes diving through the ropes into a big suicide….wait…Katelyn ducked out of the way, causing Vines to miss the suicide headbunt and go crashing into the outside mats.
Hurse: Ohhhh….2.5 on that one.
Johnny: I’ll give it a 1 since he missed the dive completely.
Brooks: Katelyn’s really shocking me in this one. She’s got so much to prove after being dragged through the mud by Orlando.
Hurse: She’s been dragged through so much worse in the past.
Squeals continue to be heard from the oh so squealy ones. Everyone in attendance screaming at the sight of Eddie imploding against the edge of the steel ramp. Further defying belief, he actually starts to get right back up, grabbing at his shoulder, which has to be torn from the socket. He stumbles and staggers, unconsciously staggering into the waiting hands of Buehler, who takes him by the back of the head, leads him to the ring and deposits him within. She slides in and hooks both legs, getting one step closer to picking her precious X-Class Title match.
1
2
Those dreams are dashed once Eddie launches a shoulder from the canvas.
Hurse: I’m not surprised Vines kicked out….this guy can take a beating.
Brooks: He needs thick skin walking around with a beard like that all day.
Infuriated doesn’t even BEGIN to describe Katelyn’s demeanor. She’s pure rage incarnate as she drags Eddie along by the neck, putting him on his knees before yanking back into a devastating DDT. Eddie slams hard across the top of his head then rolls to his back, Buehler crawling over his chest.
1
2
Again Eddie kicks out, further antagonizing Buehler, who slaps the canvas and spews bile at the referee. She hooks both of Vines legs this time and uses all her strength to lift them.
1
Vines defiantly kicks out a third time, making Katelyn want to blow her top…as opposed to other things she’s blown. The fuming Femme is clearly not thinking clearly as she pulls Eddie up to his knees and applies yet another front face-lock. She screams bloody murder, but Eddie gives her something to cry out about as he pushes her off the second DDT attempt. Her lack of versatility comes back to haunt her, the DDT countered with ease. She spirals to the center of the ring when a rejuvenated Vines rolls backwards to his feet. Just as he stands Buehler comes rushing in with another primal scream. Her roar does nothing but clue Eddie into the fact that his opponent is rapidly approaching, giving him just enough time to spin around into a discus lariat that almost takes her head off.
Hurse: Buehler running head first into yet another high impact move. She really does not learn from her mistakes.
Brooks: Reminds me of someone I know.
Hurse: But you barely know, Johnny Dollar.
Johnny: That’s true. I haven’t even been invited over for brunch yet.
Hurse: What’s brunch?
Dollar: A combination of breakfast and lunch.
Hurse: You just blew my mind, Sir, blew my mind.
Brooks: Gentlemen, can we get back to the match, PLEASE!?!
Vines doesn’t even go for the pin, instead he bounces off the ropes, drops forward and connects with a rolling senton splash right across his opponent’s ribs. All Katelyn can do is writhe upon impact, grabbing at her banged up torso. Somehow she stands up just as Eddie connects with a spinning back heel kick right on point. The strike doubles her over, putting her face in position for the big knee strike that Eddie delivers next.
Buehler stands up straight but does not go down, a fact that aggravates Vines enough to spin completely around and almost behead her via a roaring double axe handle. The collision knocks Katelyn into a full backwards flip, landing on top of her head before finally coming down.
Hurse: Eddie coming back with a devastating strike. And now that he’s got Katelyn incapacitated, he’s going up top.
To the turnbuckle Eddie ascends, reaching the highest point and posturing for the Vines Drop. Anticipation builds for the very move that finished Isaac off last week.
Hurse: We’re gonna see yet another repeat of last week.
Eddie takes flight, soaring through the air just as Buehler rolls out of the way. In mid-flight Eddie changes trajectory, tucking his chin to his chest and dropping into a forward roll upon hitting the canvas. He ends up on his feet, turning towards Katelyn, who crawled right into the ropes. She is just using them to standup when Eddie comes charging in only to have Katelyn leap over his hip, catch him by the belt and drag him down into the school boy.
1
2
Robin: Katelyn caught him!
Eddie kicks out just before he can be vanquished.
Dollar: No she didn’t. Kick out by Eddie prolonging our agony.
Not only does Eddie kick out but he rolls back to his feet and instantly grabs Katelyn’s bangs, dragging her head into a front chancery. Before Buehler can respond Eddie snaps back into the suplex, then swings his hips and drags her around so that they both reach their feet.
Another suplex connects as Vines finds himself seconds away from completing the Yum-Yum-Yum. A traumatized Buehler is pulled to her feet then snapped over into the third suplex, driving her down hard to the canvas. Eddie ascends to his feet after dishing out only a fraction of the violence he has in store for Katelyn.
With his opponent at an extreme disadvantage, Eddie plucks her up to her feet and launches her into the ropes. Buehler bouncing off and coming back into yet another of Vines’ trademark moves, the Vines Press He leaps into his own version of the Lou Thez Press only to have Katelyn drop into a baseball slide, slipping right under his legs. As a result Eddie is forced to land on his feet before being surprised by Buehler grabbing his hips and pulling her down into a roll-up.
1
2
3!
The whole building threatens to crack at the seems as Katelyn picks up a stunning victory over Vines.
Hurse: What!?! Wait! How!?!
Robin: Buehler just got the win out of nowhere! She totally shocked Eddie.
Dollar: Shocked Eddie? How about the rest of us? I didn’t even know Katelyn was capable of pulling off a move like that.
Urgently Buehler rolls out of the ring, realizing she would face some extreme repercussions based on the roll-up. Hives are forming on Eddie’s skin as he reaches his knees, ready to rip his own flesh off in frustration.
Robin: Not a good couple of weeks for Eddie. First the attack by Legion last week and now this roll-up win by Katelyn out of nowhere.
Buehler is the victor but she is not in a celebratory mood. Instead her head hangs solemnly, regretting the forfeiture of her X-Class Championship. So much so that a win doesn’t even brighten her spirits.
Hurse: Well now Katelyn will get to pick which title match she participates in at Awakening. Will she go for the N.H.B or the X-Class gold.
Robin: As if we don’t all know the answer to that question.
Eddie kneels in the center of the ring, feeling the after effects of this grueling one on one match coupled with the garish assault at the hands of Legion just two weeks prior. In spite of his compounding injuries Vines is still able to leave the ring of his own accord, staggering up the ramp before having his departure cut off by the intrusive Susie Moore.
Hurse:Eddie can barely stand after this match and yet Susie Moore, our broadcast colleague is STILL going to try and get a word with him.
Robin: This guy would try to talk with a broken jaw and a crushed larynx.
Dollar: Surprised he doesn’t have both of those after his run in with Legion last week.
Brooks: No doubt we can expect a comment from him regarding that attack.
Fatigue shows through all the scrapes and bruises adhering to Eddie’s flesh, and intensity burns through his crazed eyes. Said gaze makes Susie, adorned once more in full cap and gown, a tad tentative when it comes to conducting this gorilla interview.
Moore: Excuse me, Mr. Eduardo…
As if Eddie wasn’t intense enough.
Susie: The super sophisticated Susie Moore, Pulitzer pending, would like to get a word with you.
Eddie: I don’t think you or the IWC would like what words I have to say.
Susie just will not leave well enough alone, shouting after Eddie just as he begins to storm backstage.
Susie: What about that creepy dude, Legion….
Feet become rooted to the stage, fists clinch, and Eddie’s whole body tenses like it were just struck with a taser, a sensation he’s not unfamiliar with. The magic word has been uttered and the results might be equally as over the top as in Pewee’s Playhouse.
Vines: Legion? Did you just say, Legion?
Susie: I think I did…It was either that or something about the size of Judd Nelson’s nostrils.
Eddie: You want an obvious answer? You want to hear all about how steaming, red hot mad I am? You want me to swear vengeance? You want to hear me talk about blood and brain matter dripping from my hands? You want me to stand out here raving like a mdman by promising to taste the sinew from Legion’s bones? Is that what you want? Is it? Is it?
Susie looks as unsure of herself when asked to solve a rudimentary math question.
Moore: Would that be too much to ask?
The psychotic ranting transitions into an equally as psychotic chuckle. For the first time in ages Eddie is legitimately amused, albeit resulting from pity.
Vines: Poor Susie. So naïve…still so gullible. Yes, blood will spill, yes, brain matter will splatter, and sinew will seep…but not from Legion. I’m going after the true source of his power. The man turning the cranks and tugging on the strings….Leland Gaunt.
The microphone is forced away from Eddie’s mouth upon uttering his venomous statements. Content with what said, but not content with what’s been done throughout the night, Eddie marches to the back, intent on filling said contentment by wrapping his hands around Gaunt’s carotid artery.
Hurse: Everyone hating on Leland Gaunt tonight.
Brooks: The guy didn’t make very many friends through his actions last week.
Dollar: He threw down the gasoline and Eddie is about to be the match that ignites the blaze.
With cane in hand Leland Gaunt strolls, and strolls ALONE towards the ring, stepping straight into the mouth of madness.
Brooks: And we might not have to wait very long for that implosion, Johnny.
Hurse: Leland Gaunt is on his way to the ring, because in mere moments we’re going to witness Legion versus P Clarence Whitman III in our second Win/Win match of the evening.
Brooks: The hair on the back of my neck is already standing up, and probably turning white right now.
Without trepidation, showing not a care in the world in spite of the many physical threats made against his person, Leland descends upon the ring, ready to unleash the physical embodiment of fear, Legion.
Once again the Icon is totally oblivious to the pure negativity now being unloaded upon him by the masses. The few…very few…cheers thrown in are drowned out by wave upon wave of jeers from people none too happy about the latest bait and switch, as well as the unwarranted suspension of Axl Evermore. The only thing keeping Cruze from floating away, thanks to his inflated head, is the World Title weighing down his shoulder.
Orlando: It suits you…
To an equally as deafening roar of disapproval, Taylor Chase comes into the camera’s view, shining a little brighter than normal thanks to the Evolution gold gracing her forearm.
Taylor: Yeah…it’s nice and all….
Clearly Chase is NOT all that enamored with the Evolution Championship, for her gaze is locked upon a slightly more prestigious belt, one that just so happens to enhance Orlando’s allure.
Taylor: But I think I’d look even better wearing that.
Orlando: Heh….You’ve got that backwards, sweetheart, YOU make any belt you wear look better. I‘m picturing how sexy that Evolution Championship is going to look wrapped around that waist..
A smirk…naturally insincere….settles on Taylor’s face, flaunting her mid-drift for the wandering eyes of the Icon.
Orlando: Mmmmmm.
Chase: You won’t have to picture anything much longer, Boss, not after Awakening.
The Evolution Title is extended to Orlando, who instead of taking it, simply eyeballs the gold.
Orlando: Why don’t YOU hold onto it for a while? Get use to feeling it around your waist.
There is no hesitation on Taylor’s part to take him up on the offer, modeling the title belt draped over shoulder. Evident by the gleam in Orlando’s eyes, he really likes what he’s seeing. The pleasure is short lived.
Silencer: Hey! Hey!
The stream of consciousness concludes…is DERAILED….the moment that former World Heavyweight Champion, Silencer steps forth, making his presence known. Try as he may, Orlando cannot keep a smile on his face, especially when standing mono a mono with the filterless Cagero.
Orlando: Hi there.
Instantly Orlando turns his attention to Taylor, outright ignoring the fact that Silencer is discontent with a mere exchange of informal greetings.
Orlando: Can‘t get over how good you look…
Silencer: Awww, no need to flatter me so, Cruze. But I guess it‘s my own fault, just can‘t switch off the charm.
At last Orlando is FORCED to acknowledge the lingering Silencer.
Orlando: Is there something I can help you with?
Silencer: Oh? We can’t just stand here and shoot the breeze? Catch up on old times maybe? Talk about the weather? Maybe discuss what happened on our favorite TV shows last night?
Orlando: What are you talking about? I’m a very busy….
Silencer: THAT’S what we’re missing.
Fingers snapped as he had a eureka moment.
Silencer: A water-cooler. Can’t really have asinine conversations without a water-cooler. What’s wrong with you, Cruzey. You should be on top of these things. There could be some serious social unrest, we could have an Egyptian style blood-bath right here in the IWC, if you don’t have a water-cooler installed post-haste.
Orlando: Relax, I’m sure there’s a water cooler around here somewhere. And besides, you didn’t waltz in here to throw me off my game over a God damn water-cooler.
Silencer: Oh, you truly are as wise as you are prematurely bald.
Orlando feels his naked scalp but tries not to take offence to the slander.
Silencer: I happen to have a legitimate gripe.
Orlando: What else is new?
Silencer: Nothing it seems….
The reply confuses Cruze.
Silencer: Because we’re seeing the same redundant corruption in the head office we’ve been faced with literally a dozen times before. Might as well as grow a clit and start throwing around the weight of your surgically enhanced tits like Sheryl Gray.
Orlando: I don’t have time for this. Just get to your point already.
Silencer: Thought I already made it. Oh well, guess I’ll spell it out and speak slower. You’ve lost your Cruzeness, my friend.
Orlando: What’s that supposed to mean?
Silencer: Guess I have to speak even slower. You’re not the same. Ever since the IWC re-opened you’ve been a total ass-bandit. You’re acting just like Dan Douglas, Sheryl Gray, Jason Seagreen…the list goes on and on and on.
Orlando: Please….
If only Silencer were so easy to blow off. Though he certainly wouldn’t turn down any opportunity to get blown.
Silencer: You’ve got your head buried up your twat.
Orlando: Careful with that talk, Silencer. You’re starting to sound just like Axl Evermore.
Silencer: Point in case. The guy questions a few of your decisions and then he ’mysteriously’ comes down with an injury and gets suspended.
Orlando: Now…now…you’re the guilty party in that situation. If you weren’t so sloppy with the delivery of your moves then Axl wouldn’t be injured right now, and I wouldn‘t have been forced to suspend him for his own good.
Silencer: Nice attempt at deflection…but let’s stay on point, Cruzey. Look at you.…
He gestures to the lavish suit adorning the President’s body.
Silencer: Tailor made suits. Expensive dress shoes. A tie that doesn’t have boobs on it. This isn’t Orlando Cruze…This isn’t the guy who stood up for honor, respect…and all that other goody two shoes shit that makes vaginas bleed the world over. And don’t even get me started on what your wearing over your shoulder.
A couple of slaps are delivered to the World Title before Orlando pulls back sharply, offended that the belt was molested by Silencer.
Cruze: Keep your hands off MY….THE World Heavyweight Title.
There….that was just the response Silencer was hoping for….evident by the smarmy grin stretching from one ear lobe to another in true Grinch fashion.
Silencer: YOUR World Title?
Orlando: No…no…you’re misquoting me.
Silencer: I misquoted nothing. I thought last week you were just fucking with Christian, which would have been HILARIOUS…but I see things a bit clearer now. You want to be the World Champion…to the detriment of IWC’s rebirth.
Cruze: That’s outrageous. Do you realize how much I’ve sacrificed to get this company off the ground….
Silencer: So what? That entitles you to rape the World Title?
Orlando: No. But rest easy in the knowledge that everything I do is for the good of the IWC.
Silencer: Sorry, but I call it like I see it.
Orlando: Simon, I would highly suggest you shut your mouth, and keep it shut.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Orlando keeps his cool, and actually grins, though all the muscles in his face twitch in an attempt to bottle up his rage.
Orlando: Like I said everything I do is for the good of the IWC.
The grin on Orlando’s face is mirrored by Silencer, continuing to elicit just the response he had anticipated.
Orlando: And you…nor anyone else has the right to question my credibility.
Silencer: Oh…so we’re doing that whole ‘evil dictator‘ bullshit now? Predictable, and not entertaining in the slightest..
Orlando stifles his rage to the best of his abilities.
Silencer: But you know what WOULD be entertaining…and what would be UNPREDICTABLE…and if you REALLY want to shut me up, then why not put THIS…
In spite of Cruze’s earlier instructions, Silencer taps the gold plate of the World Championship.
Silencer:….on the line in that tournament at Awakening.
Obvious by the rousing response echoing throughout the Manhattan Center, the fans are totally on board with Silencer’s request. The only one not expressing joy over this concept is Orlando, who is doing not a double, not a triple, but a quadruple take.
Orlando: That is absolutely RIDICULOUS.
Silencer: Why?
Stagehand: Mr. Cruze!
Never has Orlando been so thankful to look at a face covered in more grease than a paper bag full of French fries.
Orlando: What now?
Stagehand: Just got word from security that Christian Savior is STILL circling the building.
Orlando: Ugh…sorry Simon…
He turns back to the Painted fighter, giving a totally disingenuous apology.
Orlando: I have ACTUAL business to deal with.
Silencer: Sure you do.
Just before Orlando can walk away, his strut is cut off by Silencer’s grubby digits, wrapping around his wrist.
Silencer: But this conversation isn’t over.
With a sneer Orlando pulls away and marches on. In his haste he’s unintentionally left Taylor all alone with Silencer. The predictable awkward stare-down ensues.
Taylor: Don’t waste your breathe….
She attempts to walk off only to have Silencer insist on having the last word.
Silencer: I was just going to agree with Orlando…
The surprising comment forces her to stop in mid-departure.
Silencer: That belt DOES look good on you…It really helps take the focus off your face.
Before Taylor has the option to unleash her wrath, the malcontent Silencer steps off, desiring no further dealings with the lovely Chase. Of course, depending on the outcome of the Evolution Title Tournament at Awakening, their paths might just be destined to cross once again.
While no music plays, P. Clarence Whitman III simply walks through the curtain and onto the stage to the smatterings of indifference, which is to say that a few people boo, a few people cheer, and quite a few people do nothing at all because their attention has shifted to something more interesting, whether that is via a conversation with a person in a nearby seat, the use of a cell phone, or staring blankly at the ground.
Now, re: Whitman, he is bedecked in his formal wrestling attire and has in his hand a lovely lowball glass filled with scotch, which he sips while he strolls cavalierly to the ring. Although he is receiving little in the way of a reception, Whitman nonetheless cheerfully waves to the masses as he walks, using the hand which is not occupied with applying the glass to his mouth for said waving. Once he reaches the ring, Whitman strolls around to the announcer table, wishing to allow his opponent the freedom of the ring for entrance and self promotional purposes. He chats amiably with the uninterested announcers, but not before finishing off what remains of his drink and gratefully placing the glass on the table so that it isn’t inadvertently used to harm someone.
Brooks: Whitman III overcame a big obstacle last week when he defeated Claude Judas Rose in a grueling one on one confrontation…BUT tonight he’s facing a horse of a different color.
Hurse: Again? What’s with calling everyone a horse tonight?
Brooks: It’s called an analogy, Steven.
Hurse: The stuff that grows on pond water?
Brooks: That’s algae you waste of a heartbeat.
Hurse: I’ll pretend you meant that lovingly.
Brooks: You’ll get no love from me after the stunt you pulled earlier tonight
Hurse: I thought I’d have back up against the Blacklist. I swear.
Dollar: Robin is right on the money, judging by his Mr. Rogers attitude and his inexperience, Clarence might be a bit outmatched when it comes to Legion. See that, I’m sticking to the point, I’M a professional, the two of you are nothing but children.
The terribly upbeat attitude of Whitman persists even when moments away from colliding with the monstrous behemoth…the imposing giant…the walking nightmare…that is Legion. He even goes as far as to approach referee Michelle Blacker, taking her hand into his and patting it reassuringly.
Whitman: Have no fear dear….
Before his limey lips can pucker up and plant a wet one on the back of her knuckles she pulls away. Instinctively Whitman covers his face, protecting it from yet another slap. Of course all the covering up in the world won’t protect him from the impending onslaught.
The arena lights go dark and suddenly there is a pounding of a drum, akin to a beating heart as a spotlight shines down upon the IWC entry ramp, showing where a sigil of some sort has appeared during the few seconds of darkness.
The double beat sounds once again and the light vanishes, and all is black once again. A third repetition sounds, and the spotlight is back, revealing that a black guantleted hand has torn through the metal mesh of the entry ramp. A fourth and the arena lights come back up, but in a sinister blood red as the hideous flame-hued mask of Legion appears on the jumbotron.
The monster has torn himself free of the entry ramp and raises his arms as guitars play for a moment and columns of flame light up the IWC arena, sending the lights back to their normal state. Legion walks to the ring, rolling under the bottom rope and stands, raising his left hand into the air.
Hurse: This man gets even scarier each time I see him. We really need an old priest and a young priest stationed here at ringside.
Dollar: An exorcism may be the only thing capable of stopping this man. Judging by what he did last week to two of the IWC’s most feared combatants.
Brooks: Both of which have sworn revenge against him tonight. His head is going to have to be on a swivel going into this one.
Hurse: You mean he can spin his head around in a total 360? I hope he doesn’t have that long nasty tongue like Linda Blair too. And God help us all if he gets hold of a crucifix.
The bell chimes as Legion’s towering physique storms towards the fist clinched Whitman, ready to unleash pure untamed violence upon his more diminutive opponent. The crowd readies themselves for chaos just before Whitman puts the kibosh on their desires by rolling from the squared circle. The monstrous hands cannot wrap around Clarence’s skull and crush it like an egg, as he has put a great deal of distance between himself and the demonic foe.
Robin: Looks like Whitman is sizing up Legion, instead of hopping into competition with him. Wise strategy.
Dollar: Poor gullible Robin, me thinks Whitman isn’t JUST sizing up Legion.
Referee Blacker suspiciously eyes Whitman, threatening to commence with the ten count. Instead of scrambling back into the ring he gestures for Michelle to get on with it. All Legion does is watch with the most menacing glare imaginable, but unlike a stereotypical movie monster he doesn’t give some slow methodical approach.
Hurse: What are you doing, Clarence? You’re being counted out.
Johnny: I think that’s the point. He’s just like Katelyn Buehler, he wants NO part of this creature.
Brooks: I can’t say as I blame him.
Though it aggravates Blacker that she won’t get to see the destruction of Whitman, she continues making her count all the way up to ten before signaling for the bell. Leland does not look pleased that Legion was unable to satiate his demonic desires, yet another opponent opting to take a count out rather than face the leviathan.
Brooks: And Whitman is counted out. He REFUSED to face Legion.
Dollar: This guy is fear incarnate. Nobody wants to battle him.
Robin: Well, by virtue of this victory, Legion gets to select which title he’ll be fighting for at Awakening. Something tells me it’s not going to be the X-Class Championship….
Dollar: Why? There are no weight restrictions when it comes to the X-Class gold.
Whitman is already making an explanation to some of the heckling fans.
Clarence: Very sorry you didn’t get the riveting performance you were promised, but I ALREADY have a title match at the pay-per-view. Doesn’t make much since to be injured heading into that match, does it?
Those in attendance cannot disagree with the comments from Whitman, but injuries may still be in the cards for the British upstart. Leland has no intention of allowing him to escape without blemish, summoning two of his fiendish followers, Hush and Silence emerging from the backstage area and descending upon Whitman.
Hurse: Don’t think the ringside area is a safe enough distance for you, Whitman ole’ chap.
Dollar: Gaunt’s vassals going right after Clarence, and I don’t think his annoyingly cheery disposition is going to save him.
It becomes clear to Whitman that no friends can be made here, prompting him to hop over the barricade and back through the crowd. The barrier does nothing to hold Silence or Hush at bay, stepping over the obstacle in their pursuit of another victim.
Dollar: Whitman getting out of Dodg….DON’T TOUCH THAT DIAL!
The exclamation is prompted by the sudden arrival of Eddie Vines, toting a Singapore cane. The distracted Leland doesn’t even pick up on the change in the crowd’s reaction, at least not until it’s too late. Before he can unsheathe his blade from his cane, Gaunt is spun around and driven into the apron back first, Eddie’s own staff driven against his throat, choking the life from his frame.
Robin: Eddie’s got hold of Gaunt. He’s making good on the promise he made just a few moments ago. He’s gonna rip this man apart.
Hurse: Leland is about to pay for the violence he unleashed on the last Riot!
Although Leland’s face is turning bright blue he still musters a smile. The grin prompts Vines to press the cane even more forcefully against the carotid artery, his face twisting with rage.
Eddie: I’m going to send you to the hospital and your monster back to hell you macabre son of a….
At last Legion picks up on the victimization of the occult mastermind, rolling out of the ring and descending upon Vines. The shadow cast over Eddie is a dead give away, cluing him in to the encroaching danger. This prompts him to take the cane away from Leland’s throat and swing it into the ribs of the aggressor. Legion doubles over and grabs at his mid-section, exposing his back to yet another shot from the cane.
Hurse: Eddie UNLOADING on Legion.
Brooks: Can’t believe he’s actually got the monster reeling.
Eddie, operating on mere hardcore impulses, leaps to the apron and gets a running start before leaping off into a huge cane shot right to the top of Legion’s skull. The fans pop huge, overjoyed to see the nightmarish creature receive the punishment due to him ten-fold after his actions on the last Riot! Eddie isn’t satisfied though, pulling back the cane and hoping to finally topple Legion, who somehow remains upright, withstanding the repeated blows.
In mid-swing the Singapore cane is snatched out of Vines’ hands, prompting him to spin around in a rage, ferocious eyes and ferocious intent honed in upon Leland, who intervened seconds before further violence could be unleashed on his liege. Taking his eyes off of Legion proves incredibly costly, exposing his back to a brutal clubbing blow from Legion that sends him spiraling into the mats. He immediately starts to get to his feet only to be caught by the back of the head and plowed head first into the steel steps, which provide little to no give.
Vines crumbles to the mats, grabbing at his split cranium. The only thing holding him up are the steps, leaning with his spine propped against them, leaving him in a very bad condition. Leland forks over the Singapore cane to his summoned monstrosity, and need not give any further instruction, trusting that Legion knows precisely what to do with the weapon.
Dollar: Oh snap, Legion’s got the cane…which equals all kinds of trouble for Vines.
Hurse: His head hit those steps so hard I doubt he’ll even be able to defend….scratch that.
Before Legion can eviscerate his foe, Eddie comes charging in with a spear to his ribs, driving the titan into the barricade where a hailstorm of clubbing blows and right hands are unleashed from both men.
Robin: Eddie is still going at Legion. We saw this last week against Saine, Eddie just won’t stay down.
Rights and lefts are unleashed on Legion’s mid-section as he connects with forearms over Vines’ back. Finally he reaches down and wraps arms around Eddie’s mid-section, actually lifting him up off of the mats and then throwing him away. Surprisingly Vines lands on his feet and then comes charging in at Legion only to be caught with a military press, lifted high above Legion’s head then tossed ribs first into the exposed steel turnbuckle post.
Hurse: GAH!
A cringe settles over the faces of those fans in attendance and possibly watching at home as Vines’ mid-section thuds against the post and he goes twisting to the mats. If he thinks he’s in pain, he hasn’t experienced anything yet, at least not in the mind of Gaunt. Once again Leland is sliding the Singapore Cane into the clutches of his masked miscreant, enticing him to unleash truly inhumane levels of cruelty. The cane is raised as Legion looks ready to chop wood, splitting it right down the middle. Before he can turn into a REAL MAN, the likes of William Regal, sans flannel shirt and INCREDIBLE entrance music, a steel chair is swung right into his kidneys.
Leland finds himself flabbergasted that he didn’t alert Legion to Isaac’s presence in time. The cane falls and Legion goes stumbling forward thanks to the shot.
Dollar: Now Isaac is all over Legion!
Robin: He’s making good on his promise, let’s just hope his quest for revenge pans out better than Eddie’s.
The crowd tips their hats to the behemoth as he unleashes another chair shot this time right to the top of the turning Legion’s head. STILL Legion remains upright, falling against the apron and employing it as a crutch. With his adversary incapacitated, Isaac transfers his focus to his next target, Gaunt. Instead of expressing fear Leland backs up the ramp yet encourages Isaac to indulge his homicidal impulses. Actually he prays to Isaac to please make him suffer, and apparently Saine has no problem taking him up on this offer.
Already Saine is going over the many…many deranged methods of employing the chair in his hands on the controller of chaos. When it becomes evident that Leland’s fate is sealed, his intended predator is taken by the shoulder, spun around and almost decked with a closed fist from Legion.
Though stunned by the strike which caused him to drop the chair, Isaac responds with an uppercut to the jaw. Legion is phased but not deterred, unleashing another shot of his own. The brawl not only continues but escalates as Vines jumps into the fray. A shot with the Singapore cane could very well shatter Legion’s spine, yet he stays upright and suffers another for his troubles, then a third. Isaac employs this time wisely, connecting with yet another uppercut.
Dollar: Vines and Saine double teaming Legion!
Brooks: And they’ve actually got the Monster reeling.
The brawl wages on with Isaac punishing Legion via uppercuts and Eddie turning his focus to Gaunt. With cane in one hand, and the other gripping his damaged ribs, Eddie pursues Leland to the backstage area, exactly where Isaac and Legion are headed.
Robin: This war spilling backstage…
Hurse: We have a repeat of two weeks ago. Another brawl involving Saine going backstage. Wonder how long this one will take to end.
Brooks: We’ll find out soon enough.
Hurse: And Eddie is right on top of Leland Gaunt, just imagine what he’s going to do when he gets his hands on him.
Porno Lad: You’re a tough hombre. You got a bunch of tribal tats and shit…which may be so 90’s…but they’re still pretty damn cool, in my book at least….You’d make a PERFECT tag team partner for yours truly. Sooo, what do you say? How’s about it? You and I, versus The Chase Wrestling Collective, Tag Team Titles on the line.
The sales pitch has been made, and anyone would have to be crazy to turn down the opportunity to team with Porno Lad….or maybe they’d have to be equally as insane to team WITH the Original Prankster. He’s banking on one or the other, standing with steel chain hung around his neck, and eyes glued to the other occupant of the backstage corridor. Cameras finally turn to capture the response from one Xander Cassius. A pop reverberates throughout the Manhattan Center at the sight of the grappler’s grappler, the perfect foil for the over the top Prankster. He doesn’t look nearly as thrilled as the crowd, towel wrapped around the back of his neck and head pounding from the strikes from TCWC.
Xander: Okay, Mr. Lad, is it?
Ethan nods with eyebrow arched.
Cassius: While normally I’d be HONORED to team with a former World Champion, and am extremely grateful to be presented with this opportunity, I’m afraid you’re just a few seconds too late.
Porno Lad: Oh?
Xander: Yeah, I’m already booked for Awakening.
An angered expression overcomes Porno Lad’s face, forcing Xander to give an explanation.
Cassius: That Desmond Drake guy stopped me only a few minutes ago…
Porno Lad: Really?
Cassius:….Yeah, said he really needed some help taking out some trash at the pay-per-view.
Porno Lad: Oh come on, who’s trashier than the TCWC…for flying fuck sakes…Adam Chase is from LA….I don’t think there can be a skuzzier city.
Xander: Try Oakland. Sorry though man, can’t help you. I don’t go back on my word.
Porno Lad: Pfft…don’t worry about me, I’m sure everyone will be JUMPING at the chance to team with me. The master of the perfect Paranoia moment. The guy who excites, who thrills and chills….the…
Cassius: Yeah, good luck with that.
Enough was enough…Xander couldn’t tolerate anymore. Hastily he walked off camera, leaving a jaded and stunned Porno Lad behind.
Porno Lad: Okay….your loss then. Really, who needs a hard hitting, neck breaking, undefeated MMA wrestler as their partner?…..FUCK!
Back to the drawing board. Cameras turn away from the flustered Porno Lad to the departing Cassius, and for good reason, as his path directly intersects with Sebastian Knight. Already Sebastian is vacating the building, gym bag over shoulder and a fine three piece suit gracing his chiseled physique. Following closely behind is Tabitha, phone wedged to ear, making some important business dealings.
Xander: Good, was hoping I’d catch up with you.
Sebastian: Is that so?
There is a noticeable base in Knight’s voice.
Cassius: I think we had some miscommunication issues out there, Bro.
Sebastian: Did we?
Xander: Yeah. And even though I’m clearly the victim in all this, I wanted to be the bigger man and apologize.
Knight smiles and licks his lips, finding the comment just too juicy not to sink his teeth into.
Knight: So you’re the bigger man in all this? Yes?
Cassius: I’m just trying to set things straight between us. No need for any attitude.
Knight: And there wouldn’t be. If you’d fess up and admit to your mistakes.
It’s Xander turn to gnaw on the comment.
Xander: Maybe you were out of position, Chief, and didn’t see me trying to get the chair out of the…
Sebastian: No, no…I’m not listening to excuses. Tabitha already clued me into what REALLY happened out there.
Cassius: Who?
Knight: My Agent. Unlike yourself, she’s looking out for my career and not trying to sabotage it.
Xander: Come on now. I was just trying to help you get your foot in the door. I’m trying to break into this business too. I thought we had a mutually beneficial goal. Help each other along.
Sebastian: So your going to help me by stealing my wins and taking focus off me?
Cassius: That’s NOT what I’m trying to do.
Tabitha: Sebastian, what’s the hold up here?
The phone is finally removed her ear and focus at last is given to the conversation/argument ensuing between her client and Cassius.
Tabitha: You don’t have time for this. There’s a Tournament you should be preparing for at Awakening. Don’t let this guy distract you from it.
Cassius: Distract him?
Knight: You heard her….BIG man.
Tabitha pulls on Sebastian’s sleeve and finally gets him to walk away, leaving a physically and emotionally banged up Cassius behind.
Xander: Knight, come on. I was just trying to….
It becomes painfully obvious that his words are falling on deaf ears, Knight thoroughly convinced that he was trying to steal yet another win from him earlier tonight. All Xander can do is blow off some steam.
The camera is zoomed in upon that very same car slowly drifting through the parking lot. The tintend windows perhaps obscures the view of Christian Savior’s ominous glare towards the long line of security guards. Guards blocking the driver’s access to the interior of the Manhattan Center. Amongst them is Road Agent Too Magnificent, standing shoulder to shoulder with chief of security, Executioner. The two have their eyes affixed upon the vehicle, anticipating any hinjinks from the driver.
Robin: Christian Savior STILL looking to get back into the Manhattan Center, but security is doing a sufficient job of keeping him at bay.
Hurse: After all this anticipation, can you just imagine what he’ll do if he actually DOES get into the building tonight?
Dollar: We’ll have an absolute blood bath on our hands, especially if he crosses paths with the President.
The stand off persists, tensions escalating.
Chaos seems contagious, and Isaac Saine is bound and determined to spread as much of it as possible. For the second week in a row the backstage area is home to a brawl, this time between Saine and Legion. A giant haymaker nails Isaac in the jaw, which would probably be enough to turn anyone else’s head around into a total 360, but Saine takes it AND answers back with an uppercut.
Robin: AGAIN!?!
Dollar: Is there NO security in the IWC at all?
Hurse: I think what few guards we do have on the staff are all posted at the entrances, keeping the ‘rift raft’ out.
Johnny: Then how in the hell did YOU get in tonight?
Another uppercut is delivered with enough force to Legion’s jaw to actually stagger him. It doesn’t take him long to shake it off though and come back with his own punch. Isaac has the speed to duck it though, stand back up and hit a THIRD uppercut. Then a fourth, and then a fifth, really unloading on the monster. The knock out shot is on deck as Isaac swings into the grand salami only to be caught with a boot directly to the ribs, doubling him over. Before he can even react Legion yanks his head under his seat and then lifts him into the air, ultimately delivering a power bomb onto the concrete floor.
Dollar: Did he just….?
Robin: He did…he power bombed Isaac onto the exposed ground.
As the pile of crushed bones and busted organs lies motionless on the concrete, a whistle fills the hallway and a shadow is cast over the barely breathing Saine. As Leland strolls…yes strolls like he were walking through the park on a brightly lit day….Legion watches his mentor with the curiosity of a cat eying a mutilated mouse.
Without even turning his head to acknowledge the traumatized Saine, Leland kneels down beside him, gloved palms rubbing against one another, as if he were warming them over a fire.
Leland: I know you can still hear me, Isaac, Legion made sure of that.
An appreciative nod is given to the still fascinated monstrosity towering over his prey.
Gaunt: Yes, he could have went further, he could have ended you just like that. But unlike you, Legion is capable of self restraint, especially when he knows that there are greater forms of punishment than violence. See, that doesn’t frighten you, Mr. Saine. You don’t soil yourself at the thought of a few chair shots to the head….no…no….even a power bomb on exposed concrete….
His knuckles wrap against the floor.
Gaunt:….doesn’t make you blink. You’re probably lying there right now in traction wondering if you forgot to put Duck Dynasty on your DVR, Brutality doesn’t frighten you….it actually thrills you. Which is why Legion incapacitated instead of exterminated you, Mr. Saine. He wants you to be just conscious enough for what the Black Crusade does tonight. But it won’t be any of the usual fair your accustomed to….that you THRIVE on. We’re not going to mangle you, or mutilate you, or hook battery cables to your testicles…You’re not afraid of misery, Mr. Saine. You would be totally and completely lost without your misery….without you’re constant suffrage. You cling to your pain like a security blanket. You just….you just….CAN’T let it go. And those scars on your face…they represent that. They represent your NEED to suffer, and you’re fear of living a normal life.
Grins can rarely if ever be described as methodical, but that’s the only adjective accurate enough to describe what forms on Leland’s face.
Leland: Prepare to realize you’re fear, Mr. Saine.
Leland motions and within seconds Silence is on the scene, she and Legion each taking an ankle. Leland merely watches from his crouched position as Isaac is dragged away.
Brooks: Where are they taking Isaac?
Hurse: IHOP? I haven’t a clue. All I do know is that I’m suddenly craving pancakes.
Brooks: And what in the hell was Leland talking about? Isaac fearing a normal life? What’s that supposed to mean?
Hurse: I don’t know? And I also don’t know why nobody’s making me my damned pancakes.
Dollar: We’ll continue to follow this throughout the night, and hopefully we’ll get some answers.
The eyes all focus on the stage as King Zero by Drowning Pool hit’s over the P.A System. The crowd get to their feet and start to boo as Frankie Paradise confidently struts out from the back wearing his wrestling attire along with trademark leather jacket with his name emblazoned on the back. The Los Angeles Native spins around and points to his back with his thumbs before turning back around with a smirk on his face.
Ring Announcer: “Ladies and Gentleman, hailing from Los Angeles, California. He weighed in tonight at 180lbs – FRAAAAAANKIEEEEE PAAARRAAAADDIIISSEEE!!”
Paradise looks at the nearest camera hyped up after the introduction pointing to himself.
Frankie Paradise: “YEAH BABY! WOOO! Who’s your daddy, I am bitches!”
He then begins to confidently walk down towards the ring as the female fans scream amongst the mixture of boo’s. Once he reaches the bottom of the ramp he stops and smirks before approaching one female fan in the front row and leans in pointing to his cheek, but just before she can get kiss it he moves away and laughs leaving her heartbroken as he leaps onto the apron and enters the ring. The crowd continue to boo as Frankie climbs to the second turnbuckle and begins to remove his leather jacket and tossing it to someone at ringside. He then runs his hands through his hair and removes his sunglasses with a confident smirk on his face throwing them down as well before stepping to the canvas from the corner and turning around running the ropes getting the feel for the ring…
Robin: Things certainly intense backstage, but the tensions about to be quite palpable in the ring too.
Dollar: Doesn’t surprise me, everything has to be so tense around here. I think the whole roster needs a good massage…
Hurse: And a high colonic, you can’t go wrong with a high colonic.
Dollar: Do you even know what a high colonic is?
Hurse: It’s a mixed drink isn’t it?
Dollar: Ummm…not even close.
Hurse: Ohhhh, then that’s why the bartender gave me such an odd look last night.
Robin: Speaking of looks, Frankie has got a lot of heads turning his way, especially after a very impressive win over El Presidente on the last Riot! But tonight, he’s teaming with the very man that he defeated.
Dollar: Should make things fairly interesting.
Clear by the mannerisms of Paradise, he is none too thrilled by the prospect of this match. A bout that not only pairs him with the man he defeated last week, but pits him against the loveliest of lovely ladies.
As the thumping beat of “4th of July” starts, the Statue of Liberty appears on the tron. El Presidente comes marching out and heads towards the ring. He stops to hand out small American flags to the fans. If there are any babies at ringside, he will pause to kiss them and check out the racks on their mothers. Once his duty is accomplished, El Presidente slides under the bottom rope. He climbs to the second turnbuckle and salutes the crowd. Then El Presidente hops off and waits for battle.
As predicted there is quite a bit of drama unfolding in the ring, with El Presidente occupying the same corner as Paradise. Already the blue masked luchadore is trying to play peace maker, but Paradise is hearing none of it, being a contentious objector.
Brooks: I have no idea how these two intend to work together.
Hurse: El Presidente and Paradise have been arguing since the very moment our Commander and Chief got into the ring. Maybe Frankie is part of that whole birther movement.
Dollar: Yeah, I’m pretty sure Paradise isn’t that politically minded, and I’m equally as sure that if he were, he’d never cast a vote for El Presidente.
The democratic process is ignored when selecting who will start out the match for their team, Paradise insisting that El Presidente exit the ring and stop stealing his precious oxygen, but more importantly, his spotlight. Instead of making matters worse El Presidente plays along, exiting the ring just as Taylor Chase’s entrance music hit’s the airwaves.
“Boss’s Daughter” by Pop Evil blast throughout the arena as Taylor Chase comes out……
She stands on the entrance way and poses to the fans as they take pictures of her with the Evolution Title over her shoulder…..
Taylor slowly walks down to the ring as she smirks at the fans and teases them…..
She gets up on the apron and slowly straddles the ropes as she gets in the ring….
Taylor then walks to the corner and climbs to the second buckle to pose…the flashes go off….
She gets down and stands in the middle of the ring and poses as a lone spotlight shines on her….
Taylor takes off her glasses and gives an arrogant smile to the camera, before winking and pointing to the Evolution Championship…
Hurse: I think Paradise is regretting his decision to start on behalf of his team. He might have to exchange some fisticuffs with Taylor Chase.
Brooks: The two of them have exchanged some Twitter comments, but they might exchange some strikes here in a few moments.
Hurse: I think Taylor’s mind will be more preoccupied with the antics of her tag team partner rather than keeping things nicey nice with Paradise.
Dollar: I’ll tell you one thing I am confident about heading into this match, Taylor Chase indeed looks good with that gold around her shoulder.
Brooks: Could that be what we see at the conclusion of Awakening? Will she emerge with the Evolution Championship? Whoever wins this match tonight will have a lot of momentum heading into that very tournament.
Though she’s hesitant, Taylor relinquishes the Evolution Championship that Orlando entrusted her to protect. The fact that she now has to give it to the wormy Alex Ingelson is cause for concern. However, any thoughts regarding the Evolution belt melt away when her partner’s music streams through the PA.
A disco ball descends from the arena over the ring. To give the fans more of a feel for the old disco times of the 1970s. The lights dim and the only lighting provided is from the disco lights on the ring and the spinning disco ball. Then, the theme of Stayin’ Alive kicks in, the lighting slowly raising back to normal. But nothing, no wrestler, manager, nothing. The music stops.
All eyes are glued on the entry way in anticipation of Disco Ninja’s entrance, but they should have been watching the crowd, because that’s where the illusive hit-man emerges.
Hurse: Disco Ninja coming out of the crowd.
Robin: You never know where this odd-ball is going to strike from next.
Johnny: He could pop out of anywhere. The crowd, from beneath the ring, your Mother’s uterus.
Nobody in the ring is wise to the fact that Disco Ninja has stutter stepped into the ring and has rushed right up behind Paradise, dragging him down into an unexpected school boy. Ingelson barely even has time to fork over the Evolution Title to the time keeper before being forced to make the count.
1
2
Hurse: Disco Ninja might have the victory within seconds!
Brooks: He may have caught Frankie with his pants down.
Dollar: Yeah, thanks for putting that image in my head.
The fans prepare to unleash a wave of unmitigated shock only to have the surprise ruined by a Paradise kick out. He falls over to his feet then rushes in with a right hand that is ducked by Disco and countered into a back slide.
1
2
Another kick out prevents a very quick defeat. Once again Paradise rolls over to his feet and this time grabs the gyrating Ninja by the mask, dragging his head under his seat. Just before Frankie can finish taunting the crowd by swiping his arms through the air, Disco twists his body and yanks his opponent down into a surprise small package.
1
A third kick out continues to stave off defeat.
The repeated pin fall attempts have Frankie all flabbergasted, losing his cool as he stands, and throws an impulsive lariat that is ducked by THAT Disco Ninja. He slips behind the back of Frankie and hooks his arms, attempting yet another back slide. This time, just as Disco falls to his knees, Paradise plants his feet, rooting them to the canvas like he were a tree, then twists around and places Ninja in a side headlock. He drags Disco up to his feet and then rushes across the ring for a bulldog.
Just as he leaps into the air Disco Ninja shoves him off, sending Paradise flying into a straddle position against the turnbuckle. He crotches the corner and cries out in agony, his most important bodily region receiving some serious damage and seriously effecting his Saturday night plans.
Brooks: Frankie just can’t get a grip on That Disco Ninja, and he really, really paid for it that time.
Dollar: His gonads are going to be more swollen than after an evening of Paradise looking at Taylor Chase’s Twitter pics.
The pain emanating from his groin clouds Frankie’s judgment, enticing him to reach out for a tag to his nearby partner…Or at least he thought El Presidente was nearby. Instead the Luchadore is at ringside, shaking a few hands and looking for the least ugly child to smother in kisses. He’s intentionally oblivious to the plight of his partner.
Robin: Predictably this is NOT a match made in heaven.
That Disco Ninja bunny slops his way across the ring before ultimately delivering a dropkick right to Frankie’s upper back, further wedging his crotch against the corner. He collapses to his back, hanging off the second rope at this point as Disco begins to deliver kicks out of the Russians Are Coming dance step. Each kick proves a little more devastating as it lands right across Frankie’s chest and rib-cage, inflicting some serious damage.
With his opponent in precarious position, That Disco Ninja places some trust in Taylor to finish the job. He approaches his corner, palm extended for a tag but Taylor is NOT in the corner. Much to Disco Ninja’s chagrin, Chase is at ringside bickering with the young, inexperienced time keeper, Jessica Wilde, over the way she’s handling the Evolution Championship.
Although, in actuality, it seems she’s doing everything in her power to prevent having to wrestle Paradise. Clearly Disco is clued into this fact, prompting him to go back after Frankie just as the young superstar has risen back to his feet. Hr regrets standing up just as he’s nailed to the jaw with a right hand, and then slapped across the chest with an open hand palm strike. That Disco Ninja takes a wrist and shoots him off across the ring, then moves to the center, bending down for the back drop.
Paradise sees this coming, prompting him to stop dead in hjis tracks and deliver a swift kick right to chest. A stiff punt causes Disco to stand, grabbing at his chest and wiggling his hips even in pain. The agony from his chest is replaced by trauma to the jaw, Paradise leaping into a dropkick that connects right on the money.
Dollar: Dropkick connects, prepare to start partying bitches.
Hurse: Awww, why didn’t they ask me on Friday, I was totally in party mode then…now I’m just kinda crapped out.
Robin: Yep, he was up all night long watching re-runs of Power Rangers.
Dollar: I think you and Paradise have entirely different ideas of what partying is.
Already Paradise is frustrated, turning a bright shade of red and prompting him to get a bit more physical. He leaps into the air and drops all his weight behind the knee into Ninja’s face, sending him into convulsions. With gusto Paradise races to his feet and drops fist first into the masked face of his mysterious opponent.
All the blows raining down on his face are taking their effect, especially after the damage done to his skull via that DDT on the apron two weeks ago. Frankie then steps over Disco before flipping back into a standing moonsault right across his opponent’s face. Ninja writhes, convulses, pulsates…all of the above…but with his usual dance flair.
Still wearing an aggravated expression, Frankie gets to his feet, backs up and surprises El Presidente with a slap to the shoulder the second he got close enough to the ring. The Luchadore spins around, fists cocked back and ready to unload on his own tag team partner, who insists he gets into the ring.
After witnessing the tag made to El Presidente, Taylor reaches through the ropes and pats Disco on the shoulder, tagging herself in.
Hurse: We’re finally going to get a glimpse of Chase and El Presidente in this match.
Brooks: Yeah, and at last this thing is actually starting to resemble a tag team match.
The seductive and ever so quick witted Taylor charges across the apron and dives off into a knee strike on the unsuspecting El Presidente, looking to cave in his skull with the steel brace. Just before his head can get caved in, the Commander and Chief side steps the inbound knee and causes Chase to land on the mats. She turns around as quickly as possible, but not fast enough, twisting right into a hip toss from her opponent that puts her down hard to the mats.
A squeal of pain comes from Chase, grabbing at her damaged kidneys and crawling away from El Presidente, who looks to inflict further damage. Progress is impeded by his own tag team partner though, Frankie turning himself into a human barrier, stepping between the Luchadore and the ailing Chase.
Brooks: What the hell is he doing? Paradise actually protecting his opponent from his partner.
Hurse: Maybe he doesn’t understand how a tag team match works, he is still pretty fresh to the wrestling scene.
El Presidente is livid but opts to enter the ring so as to prevent a count-out, shifting focus. All the while Paradise is checking on the condition of his partner, actually starting to aid Taylor to her feet. On sheer instinct alone Taylor spins around and ALMOST fractures Frankie’s jaw with a right hand. He backs up and pleads off, causing Taylor to freeze in mid-swing, second guessing her actions.
Paradise: Whoa sugar, you know you can’t hit a face THIS pretty.
He points to his flashy smile, but the grin does nothing to endear himself to Chase. Yet she still seems to be conflicted. All that goes by the wayside the moment BOTH El Presidente and Disco Ninja come rushing across the ring and diving through the ropes, connecting with stereo diving headbunts on their respective opponents.
Disco nails Frankie and El Presidente connects with Chase, all four athletes going down to the mats after the collision.
Hurse: Presidente and THAT Disco Ninja taking to the air. I give it an eight.
Dollar: A nine from me, cause I’m feeling particularly generous.
Robin: Would you two PLEASE stop doing that?
The fans seem just as fickle as the athletes competing in this erratic tag team confrontation. El Presidente and Disco Ninja rise to their feet, ready to exchange blows only to stop and suspiciously eye one another. At last Presidente grabs Taylor by the hair and rolls her into the ring, breaking Ingelson’s ten count. He then leaps to the apron, and grabs the top rope, flipping over into a senton right across Taylor’s ribs. Chase winces in pain while twisting into the cables, taking hold and slowly rising to her feet.
She just stands up when El Presidente nails his potential constituent across her ample bosom with a knife edge chop. He then delivers the Discus Elbow Smash with jaw breaking force. Somehow Taylor withstands these blows just long to be whipped into one of the turnbuckles, which she collides with forcefully. That even fails to take her down, El Presidente actually anticipating this. He bolts across the ring and connects with a cross body right into Taylor’s mid-section.
The collision zaps Chase of her last vestige of strength, yet she keeps her feet beneath her, albeit hunched over. El Presidente slips through the ropes to the apron immediately after hitting the cross body, taking the top cable and launching himself over. He twists around into a back elbow that misses thanks, once again, to his own partner’s interference. Frankie leaps to the apron and grabs Taylor’s wrist, pulling her out of position and causing Presidente to hit the corner back first.
Hurse: Frankie, are you confused again little guy? Maybe he needs some tag team pointers.
Robin: Oh lord, don’t give anyone else wrestling pointers. Remember what aggravation that caused P. Clarence Whitman III on the last Riot!
Dollar: Frankie is in a very precarious predicament here. He doesn’t want to see Taylor get hurt, but that may very well cost him the victory.
El President’s back hit’s the turnbuckle hard thanks to having no opponent present to cushion his blow. He begins to stagger away from the turnbuckle just as Chase flips back into the Red Dragon. Both feet nail the top of El Presidente’s skull and seems to knock him out completely.
To the canvas El Presidente wilts just as Taylor crawls into the cover, hooking his leg.
Brooks: Was that the knock-out blow?
Ingelson provides an answer to Robin’s question, dropping into position to make the decisive count.
1
2
Taylor grins just before she feels victory slip through her fingers….actually it’s her whole body that slips, Frankie grabbing her ankle and pulling her off the cover.
Hurse: Now Paradise pulls her off the pin! What’s up with this guy?
Robin: This is just bizarre. Paradise wants a win, but he wants to not only protect, but make a good impression on Chase in the process.
Dollar: Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.
Hurse: I think I know what place is hard on Frankie right now.
Such rage builds in Taylor that she’s ready to blow up like Chernobyl. Like an atom bomb she threatens to explode all over Paradise, who is trying his best to explain his actions from the outside of the ring. Cooler heads prevail, Taylor trying not to lose her focus on her other opponent, who was already given sufficient time to recover. A forearm nails Presidente in the back, knocking him to the canvas. Taylor then takes him around the neck, leads him up to his feet and snap mares him over to his seat.
She then delivers a high impact kick right between his shoulder blades. El Presidente cringes from the shot to his spine then goes down when Taylor nails him to the chest with a basement dropkick. Chase then kicks back her hair, stands up and taunts the crowd by messing her hands through her luscious locks.
The Starlet Socialite continues her onslaught, making El Presidente regretful that he didn’t bring along his secret service. Despite having no back up he starts to get up and receives a running kick to the temple for his troubles, sending him rolling towards his corner. Instinctively he raises a hand for a tag but gets shown no love by Paradise, Frankie outright ignoring the request.
A stunned El Presidente starts to stand up just as Taylor clotheslines him to the back of the head. The lariat knocks both the victim and the deliverer to the canvas, Taylor resting on her knees with the snidest of snide grins on her face. She then reaches her feet, just as El Presidente reaches his knees, immediately taking him around the head and dropping back into a snap DDT.
Dollar: The Starlet Socialite is just MAULING El Presidente at this point.
Brooks: And she has Paradise…her opponent….to thank for this display of dominance.
The high impact DDT sets Presidente up for the pinfall, Taylor hooking a leg with some totally unnecessary panache.
1
2
Frankie scrambles into the ring, but before he can interfere Taylor releases the legs and gives him the type of glare that would stop a heart. Paradise freezes then backs off, again pleading for forgiveness. All his apologies do is distract Taylor long enough to be caught with a crucifix roll up from Presidente.
1
2
A confused Frankie grabs Taylor’s ankle and pulls her out of the pin, dragging her over to her feet/
Robin: Would you pick a side already, Frankie?
Dollar: This guy is just all over the place with his conflicted loyalties. He’s worse than a teenage girl when trying to pick what to wear on a first date.
Brooks: Not me. I just threw on a pair of jeans, a blouse and said to hell with it.
Dollar: Probably explains why the majority of your dates took you to Burger King.
Brooks: Actually it was Wendy’s.
That Disco Ninja has seen enough of Frankie’s metaphorical flip-flopping, so he sends him literally flip flopping after he springs to the top rope and soars through the air, connecting with a dropkick to Paradise’s sternum. The desired effect is achieved, Frankie flipping completely over backwards and slamming hard to the ring. He goes rolling across it, eventually spilling to the outside just as Disco dances to his feet and looks to go for another high risk dive.
Just as he turns around and races to the center of the ring Taylor steps in, swinging at her own tag team partner. The fist threatens to dissolve what little continuity existed between them, but thankfully That Disco Ninja catches the fist just before it could do any damage to both his face and to their partnership. He then uses the grip to perform a dance twirl, twisting Taylor around before dipping her down, pulling her back to her feet then shoving her off right into a Flip Flopper by El Presidente.
Hurse: A moonsault side slam connects, El Presidente just caught Chase…and it’s all because Disco Ninja set it up….This match is just causing me to go totally cross eyed.
Robin: Even more than normal?
Hurse: Thanks, as if I didn’t have ENOUGH self esteem issues.
Dollar: These “teams” aren’t really collaborating together very well.
Hurse: I haven’t seen anything this confusing since the ending to St. Elsewhere Place.
That Disco Ninja just backs away and doesn’t even bother to try and break up the pin as El Presidente, crawls into the lateral press. Hoping the Flip Flopper was enough to achieve victory.
1
2
The fans express shock at the sight of Taylor’s shoulder leaping from the canvas with mere seconds to spare. El Presidente tries not to allow this to derail his momentum, leaping to his feet and pumping his fist towards the heavens.
Fans: U….S….A!
After getting the masses behind him, El Presidente bounces from the ropes and steps right into an elbow drop square to Chase’s chest. Taylor grabs at her sternum and rolls clear from her masked opponent only to turn into the arms of her masked partner.
Disco Ninja actually helps stand Taylor up and begins to dust her off, putting his hands in some places he really shouldn’t. The fondling only ends once Frankie reaches under the ropes, grabs Disco’s ankle and drags him out of the ring. That Disco Ninja lands on his feet upon the mats but is then taken down face first into the apron with a downward spiral by Paradise. His skull bounces back and his body catches up to the damage done to his brain, collapsing to the ground.
Chase is still stumbling and staggering, looking dead on her feet as she turns into the waiting clutches of El Presidente. He spins her right around into wrist clutch before lifting her up into the Michinoku Driver. The POTUS Driver is seconds from finishing Chase off but at the last second she slides off her opponent’s shoulder, landing right behind him.
She then catches him around the waist, trying to go for a roll up. Before he can be pulled down into the pinfall, Presidente charges at the ropes, trying to break free. Unfortunately he finds himself scrambling right into Paradise, who briefly looks over his shoulder to ensure his team partner is still coming. He quickly leaps to the apron and then rears back into a high impact kick. Frankie’s kick connects, but not with the intended target, El Presidente ducking just in time to send his partner’s shin traveling right into Taylor’s beautiful mug.
Hurse: Oh me…oh my…that did not work out well for Paradis….or maybe it did cause Taylor’s his opponent. I’m so horribly confused.
Robin: You’re not the only one.
The kick has rung Taylor’s bell and the Luchadore takes full advantage of this fact. He turns around and catches the creases of his opponent’s knees before flipping forward into the jackknife cover.
1
2
Chase has always been described as stunning, but now for an entirely different reason, surprising the masses with yet another last ditch effort to stay alive.
Speaking of staying alive, That Disco Ninja is trying to get back up only to be nailed to the back with a clubbing blow so stiff that it sends him stumbling head first into the exposed turnbuckle post. He bounces off and spirals to the mats while Paradise steps right past him, grabbing hold of the Evolution Championship belt.
Dollar: You’re definitely not doing yourself any favors Paradise, put down the belt before Chase seems you sweating all over it.
Hurse: Now what in the hell is he going to do?
Brooks: I don’t think Frankie even knows.
A thoroughly shaken up Taylor begins to stand up just as El Presidente gives her some facial reconstructive surgery with his bare fists. He has no idea that Frankie is laying in wait behind him with the Evolution Title stretched between his mits. The crowd tries to warn El Presidente, but all their shouting sounds like gibberish. It isn’t until the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end that he finally turns, moments from having his skull bashed in with the belt.
Frankie is in mid-swing when his wrist is caught in the clutches of Disco Ninja. Relief sweeps through the stands at the sight of the hired gun stopping the lethal assault before it can be delivered. Disco uses his clutch on the wrist to spin Frankie around into the Never Die, his open palm thrust right into a chest…but not Paradise’s. Frankie ducks and the strike connects to the chest of El Presidente.
Robin: The NEVER DIE…but it connects on El Presidente…NOT Paradise.
The sensation of being kicked in the chest by a mule traumatizes El President’s body, which remains upright just long to turn into a leaping knee strike from Chase, utilizing her protective steel knee brace once again as an instrument of doom. The TKO proves just as effective as last time, living up to the abbreviation by knocking El Presidente totally unconscious.
Hurse: And he turned right into the TKO!
Dollar: Please tell me it’s enough to end all this chaos.
Disco Ninja and Paradise are too busy brawling into the ropes to notice that Chase has fallen into the cover on a possibly comatose El Presidente.
1
2
3!
The bell chimes much to the relief of a very confused audience, and the equally as befuddled athletes within the ring.
Robin: It’s over. That Disco Ninja and Taylor Chase worked together…rather they realized it or not to take El Presidente out and give them a hard fought victory.
Dollar: God help us if they ever book another tag team match like this again. I don’t think I’d survive it.
Brooks: If you think this was bad, just think what’s going to happen at Awakening when all four of these competitors will face off for the Evolution Title in that Tournament.
A tepid response coincides with Taylor’s victory, one that she hams up by struggling to her feet and insisting that Ingelson raise her arm. In the midst of all her celebrating, she doesn’t notice the fracas only escalating behind her back. It ends thanks to a kneeling Paradise grabbing the belt of That Disco Ninja and pulling him down into the ropes, sending his nimble body tumbling through them to the outside. This at long last removes the final obstacle standing between Paradise and the object of his affection, a celebratory Taylor Chase.
She is still hyping her win only to have the spotlight stolen in true Paradise fashion. He grabs her shoulder and spins her around, FORCING Chase to give him the time of day. Yet it’s not his smile and perfect tan that captivates Taylor so, it’s the fact that the Evolution Championship is in his clutches.
Taylor: Don’t you dare put your grubby little hands on that belt….
Just before she can snag it out of Paradise’s clutches he hides the gold behind his back and then extends his neck like a giraffe reaching for a leaf on a high branch.
Paradise: Sure, I’ll give it back, but first you gotta pucker up and kiss these pretty lips.
Like a fish he puckers his lips, which leads to an exhibition of disgust by Chase.
Dollar: He’s ransoming the championship for a kiss. Can this get anymore disgusting?
Hurse: Hey, it’s a proven wooing method. That’s how I got Robin to agree to date me. I held her doggie, Faith hostage until she gave in.
Robin: And after the restraining orders ran their course I eventually gave in.
Frankie licks his lips, wetting them in anticipation of the much anticipated lip lock. The disgust seems to fade from Taylor, not only coming to terms but beginning to embrace the prospect of a make-out session with her Twitter stalker. After a long delay she finally starts to step into the kiss, closing her eyes and picturing someone slightly more attractive. Just before the lips can do their tango, THE dance expert intervenes. Disco Ninja grabs Taylor’s wrist and pulls her around into a punch.
Hurse: Oh thank God…
Dollar: Yeah, I was about to puck inside my mouth too.
Now it’s Disco who is spun around by Chase, leaping into his face with her steel knee brace looking to crush his nose. The lightning fast Ninja thinks just as quickly as he moves, side-stepping the knee then pushing it right along into the face of Paradise. The knee nails him right between his closed eyes.
Robin: Frankie got a kiss….the kiss of death perhaps thanks to That Disco Ninja and Taylor’s knee.
Hurse; She just knocked him into next week.
Dollar: He might not even wake up in time for that tournament at Awakening.
The reaction is downright roof shattering, Paradise getting what he deserved rather than what he desired. He lays unconscious on the canvas, dropping the Evolution Championship to the canvas. It doesn’t stay there for long, as That Disco Ninja gobbles it up then flees the ring. Taylor is all out of sorts, spinning in circles and not coming to her senses until Disco has already escaped with the championship.
Taylor: Bring that back here…bright that back here RIGHT NOW!
Taylor is use to getting what she wants, but at last she’s run afoul of someone who will not meet her demands. Not only does That Disco Ninja snub her but adds further insult by tossing the Evolution belt over his shoulder in an iconic display. The modeling of the gold infuriates Taylor, causing her to scream bloody murder, her face turning all shades of red.
Brooks: Now That Disco Ninja has the belt. They continue to play hot potato with the Evolution Championship.
Hurse: Is this going to be what we see at Awakening? Is this a premonition of things to come?
The crowd endorses the idea of the Evolution title sticking with That Disco Ninja, who continues to taunt Taylor by raising the belt high above his head. However, in spite of the crowd’s fondest wishes, the gold doesn’t stay in his clutches for long. Eventually it finds its way into the hands of a truly unexpected combatant, Katelyn Buehler.
Hurse: Uhhh, now I’m really confused.
Dollar: For once, you’re not the only one.
Just moments after emerging from the curtains to the stage, the emotionally fragile Katelyn is handed the Evolution Championship by Disco Ninja, who shows no hesitation relinquishing the title. Taylor is absolutely beside herself as she watches this from the ring. Even Frankie displays shock and confusion as he begins to regain consciousness, raising his head just enough to see Katelyn standing on the ramp with the belt.
Robin: Why did Disco Ninja just hand the belt to Buehl….oookay.
A wad of cash answers all the questions, Buehler removing a bundle of bills from her pocket and exchanging it for the belt. That Disco Ninja counts the cash while Katelyn address some comments to a nearby camera.
Buehler: Orlando Cruze! You think you can just push me around and treat me like crap!?! You will treat me with respect, like a champion. You’re gonna learn not to mess with a Buehler.
A visual aide is provided by Buehler, holding up the Evolution Title and flaunting it before the camera.
Brooks: Katelyn proving that she will not be used and abused by the Icon. She wants back that X-Class Championship and even paid off Disco Ninja to steal the Evolution Title in order to fulfill her need.
Hurse: Things just keep getting more and more twisted around here.
Dollar: I’m actually going to pay someone to try and make sense of all this. Ewww, can it be Morgan Freeman?
Hurse: I think Paradise has him on retainer.
Dollar: Damn.
Katelyn rushes to the back with Evolution Title in her clutches, while Taylor promises pay back on that Disco Ninja, who is too busy celebrating his PAY DAY to even notice. Paradise drags himself up to his knees, holding his forehead and trying to make sense out of Taylor’s attack.
Johnny: IWC continuing to spiral further out of control as we head into Awakening.
Hurse: Is the Evolution Title even going to be on the line in that Tournament now?
Robin: I haven’t a clu….now WHAT!?!
That Disco Ninja is still counting his cash as P Clarence Whitman III cautiously struts past him. Even the unsuspected arrival of Whitman, nor the crowd’s reaction to his arrival, isn’t enough to take Disco’s focus off his hard earned cash. He doesn’t bother looking up as Whitman saunters on by and descends upon the ring where Taylor is pacing, still looking downright furious.
Dollar: That guy who’s name is too long for me to bother remembering, is coming to the ring. Why oh why?
Brooks: Because things just weren’t confusing enough apparently.
The twisted soiree becomes even MORE twisted when Whitman nervously enters the ring and shows the boldness to approach Taylor. Much like Disco Ninja, she just ignores Clarence, too wrapped up in her own plight. Apprehensively, with fingers anxiously twiddling for what seems like an eternity, Whitman reaches out and taps the shoulder of his muse. Taylor turns sharply, eyes flashing red and Kill Bill music playing in her head.
Taylor: WHAT!?!
Rage was the last reaction Whitman was expecting. Honestly though, he didn’t know what to anticipate. With a toad in his throat he lifts a piece of paper, beginning to recite some of the poetry he wrote earlier in the night. Just as he gets the first stanza out via quivering voice, and total lack of interest from Taylor, a frustrated Paradise intervenes. Though his head is killing him, Paradise storms right past Taylor, grabs the paper out of Whitman’s hands and tears it down the middle.
Frankie: Bitch! You don’t try to put the moves on my tail!
Taylor: Excuse me?
Paradise: And you, Bitch….
He turns to address Taylor.
Frankie: I don’t offer just any slut an opportunity to touch these lips. I was even gonna let you rub oil on my chest.
He pantomimes said rubbing motion to the total disgust of all onlookers. Whitman has seen…or more accurately…HEARD enough, not taking kindly to the slandering of Chase’s name. He jabs a finger directly into Paradise’s chest.
Whitman: Dear friend, you do NOT speak to a woman in such manner, unless there be fisticuffs you desire.
Hurse: My word…is Whitman actually THREATENING Paradise?
Robin: Yeah, but how threatening can he be when he’s still got a grin plastered on his face?
Paradise: Seriously Bro?
Just when it seems that the powder keg is ready to explode, Paradise’s eyes widen as he goes scrambling from the ring. Taylor does the same, heart skipping a beat in the process. The smile on Whitman’s face widens, protruding his chest and even contemplating pounding it like a mighty silverback. He feels like he should be standing on top of the Empire State Building swatting down helicopters, not realizing until that very moment how truly threatening he can be. What he doesn’t realize however, is that the pursuit of the Black Crusade has not ended, Hush slipping into the ring behind Whitman’s back.
Hurse: Uh-oh….Hush is nipping at your heels Whitman. You haven’t got away from the Black Crusade.
Robin: Hush has finally closed in on Whitman. Haven’t the Black Crusade done enough tonight.
Dollar: Not until they get their hands on Whitman apparently. They were promised a victim tonight, and apparently Isaac Saine just wasn’t enough to satisfy their hunger for chaos.>
At last the extreme alteration in the crowd’s tune alerts Whitman to the pending danger, but not soon enough to prevent a devastating punch to his rectum. Clarence is launched off of his feet and across the ring thanks to the blow delivered to his posterior.
Dollar: Speaking of high colonics.
Hurse: I think we just witnessed the very first in ring colonoscopy.
Robin: Whitman can probably taste Hush’s knuckles in the back of his throat.
The blow, which probably created yet another hole in Whitman’s bum, has the friendly British combatant rolling in pain on the canvas. Hush descends upon Clarence, taking hold of an ankle and dragging him across the ring, perhaps taking him too Leland. Before he can get very far Whitman responds with the only thing he has in his arsenal, a kick that connects right to Hush’s testicles.
Though a shot to the meat and two veg would normally be enough to send someone wailing to the ring, Hush acts totally unaffected. Thanks to his unique Himalayan Meditation Technique, the Black Crusade member feels no pain from his crotch, much to the dismay of Whitman, and the shock of the masses.
Therefore Whitman goes to his back up plan, which he of course makes up on the fly. He pulls his legs in, dragging Hush towards him then kicks off. The bowler hat goes flopping right off Hush’s head as he twirls into the ropes, bouncing off and coming back in at Whitman.
Clarence stands up and defends himself with some open hand palm strikes, STILL refusing to use a closed fist.
Brooks: Whitman shocking us again! He’s actually defending himself, and doing a surprisingly good job of it against Hush.
Hurse: Used a fist dammit. Don’t take me so literally Whitman!
The strikes actually have Hush shaken, as well as Whitman, who is stunned by his own offensive campaign. It only ends when Whitman tries go fancy via the European Uppercut. His bicep is shot right into the mouth of Hush, where it’s caught between the masked man’s teeth.
Dollar: Hush it biting Whitman’s bicep!
Clarence tries not to screech and embarrass himself, instead he gnaws on his lower lip and stomps his feet, doing anything to block out the pain. Finally Hush spits out the bicep and then violently twists both of Clarence’s nipples, continuing to do so until he collapses to his knees.
Hurse: Good lord…not this…not the purple nurple…anything but the purple nurple.
Dollar: If he breaks out the Indian Arm Burn, I might just vomit.
Tears almost form in Clarence’s eyes as his nipples threaten to be torn from his body. At last Hush releases him from his pain and pulls back his fist for a knock out shot. Whitman evades the strike by crawling right through Hush’s legs, ending up behind him. With all the speed he can muster the polite professional grappler takes the attacker around the waist, and then looks totally lost in regards to what he should do next.
He looks towards the crowd, asking them what he should do, but before he gets an answer Hush strikes. The Masked servant of Leland Gaunt, reaches through his legs, grabs Whitman’s leg and rips it right out from under him. Clarence falls to his back and then Hush proceeds to tear the shoe right off his foot, throwing it down to the ring. Much to Whitman’s embarrassment, the giant hole in his sock, allowing his big toe to pop through is revealed.
Hush doesn’t care about the disheveled shape of his victim’s socks, instead his focus is on the exposed big toe. A set of clippers are then withdrawn from Hush’s pocket and put to immediate use, clipping Whitman’s nails.
Hurse: HEY! What the fuck?
Brooks: Hush is….is…clipping Whitman’s toe nails…..Okay.
Dollar: Those toe nails are pretty deep, that looks almost painful.
A traumatized Whitman feels the type of violation that can only be shared with a therapist. To avail himself of further nail molestation, he grabs his discarded shoe and swings it into Hush’s lower back. The strike breaks Hush’s grip and causes him to tense. He turns around just as Whitman slaps him on top of the head with the shoe, almost rendering him unconscious.
He falls to a knee but doesn’t fully go down, reaching up to protect the welt forming on top of his skull. A brief window of opportunity has been created and Whitman leaps right through it. He hops on Hush’sback and buries his attacker’s mouth and nose into his shoe, hoping the odor will be just enough to knock him out.
Brooks: Whitman’s got the shoe…he’s got it right on Hush’s mouth! My God….this is just all kinds of creepy.
Dollar: A man’s foot sweats when wrestling, Robin…so the odor has to be downright torturous.
The stench continues to invade Hush’s nostrils even through his mask. It’s a torture even too unbearable for Hush to suffer too long. He rises to his feet with Whitman draped over his back, holding onto the neck of his victim. Hush reaches up and takes hold of the forearm choking him out, using it to flip Clarence over his head and down to the canvas.
He hit’s the ring hard, reaching for his damaged kidneys as Hush removes a piece of duct tape from his jacket. To the horror of Whitman, said tape is placed over his oh so precious mustache.
Hurse: Oh God…oh no…
A screech comes from Whitman as the tape is quickly ripped away, plucking some hairs from his upper lip.
Brooks: Ahhhh, he may have just waxed Whitman’s mustache right off his face.
Dollar: That’s just…that’s just cruel.
Hush isn’t done with the tape related torture. He shoves Whitman down to his back and rips his shirt open, revealing his hairy sternum. To cringes from the crowd the tape is placed over Whitman’s nipple.
Johnny: It’s about to get worse….I can’t watch….I won’t.
Hurse: He might tear that nipple right off the body.
Just before more hair can be torn right out of the skin Whitman reaches up and grabs Hush’s arm. Urgently he twists around it, standing up and then trying to force him down into the crossface.
Dollar: Can Whitman get this locked in? Can he get it applied!?!
Brooks: It might be the only thing that saves him from Hush.
The fans are on their feet willing Whitman on only to have their hopes derailed when Hush reaches down the back of Clarence’s pants, seizing hold of his underwear. He yanks up on it with all the force he can muster, delivering the world’s worst wedgie. The elastic of his waist band almost rips as the tighty whities end up inside of Clarence’s upper intestines. He is forced to break the hold and leap forward, freeing his undershorts from Hush’s clutches.
With control in hand, Hush descends upon Whitman only to be hit with a dropkick to the chest that fails to fell him. Instead Leland’s vassal spirals across the ring and bounces off the ropes. He comes storming back towards Whitman, who dives from his knees head first into the gut of the miscreant. Hush bends down and grabs his gut, putting him in perfect position for Whitman, who stands and goes for a kick to the face only to lose his footing thanks to the lack of a shoe. He collapses to his back and puts his foot in very precarious territory.
Hush grabs the exposed big toe, then rolls Whitman to his stomach. Instead of applying some type of submission, he removes another weapon from his pocket, a file. The crowd chuckles as Whitman cries out for mercy as his toe nail is filed by the truly demented Hush.
Hurse: NAIL FILE! NAIL FILE!
Robin: Can this possibly get anymore bizarre?
Dollar: Is Hush trying to hurt Whitman or give him a pedicure?
Hurse: I guess it was true what they say about the Brits and poor personal hygiene. Hush just can’t stand an overgrown toe nail.
The filing continues until at last Whitman grabs his shoe, the most potent weapon in his arsenal, turns and throws it right into Hush’s face. The sole strike him between the eyes and causes him to drop the file to the canvas. Whitman then scrambles to his feet, hobbling a bit before stopping to admire the wonderful job done on his toe. He almost feels ashamed to use the said toe to deliver a kick to Hush’s knee, cutting his legs out from under him. Just as the member of the Black Crusade collapses, Whitman nails him with a running pelvic thrust to the side of the head.
Robin: Whitman using what little butt he has as a weapon.
Hurse: Sweet revenge for that wedgie earlier.
Whitman then gets a running start into the ropes, bouncing off and coming back in for another pelvic thrust only to rush right into a chair shot to the top of the head. For the first time in his fledgling career, Whitman feels the full effects of an unprotected chair shot to the cranium, and needless to say he does not enjoy the ensuing migraine.
Hurse: It’s VINES!
Brooks: He just demolished that chair over Whitman’s head. He doesn’t care who he attacks. If their standing between he and Gaunt, their going to suffer.
Hush has just begun standing up when a chair shot to the upper back puts him to the canvas. With steel in hand, Eddie steps over Hush and drives the top of the chair down into the kidneys of his masked victim over and over again.
Brooks: Eddie is taking out all his aggressions on Hush. He’s mangling the man with that chair.
Dollar: Leland had better do something about this….
Before the statement can even be finished another statement interrupts, from the very man just being speculated about. Static briefly distorts the titantron, before taking shape. Form is given to the face of Leland Gaunt, standing in a currently undisclosed location. Eddie’s fierce eyes settle on the big screen, focusing on the very larynx he’s like to rip out with his bare hands.
Leland: That’s quite enough, Mr. Vines. I believe you’ve made your point.
The insinuation only prompts Eddie to drive the chair down into Hush’s kidneys a third time. Even with all these blows being delivered, Hush remains quiet, not making so much as a peep.
Leland: I understand your upset. But it isn’t the Black Crusade that you should be angry with. No. The IWC is too blame for what befell you last week. If they hadn’t paired Legion with an obviously inferior opponent, who fled rather than face her demise, then our hand wouldn’t have been forced, and you wouldn’t have been left lying a blubbering…quivering….mass of mangled body parts.
These words do nothing to stem Eddie’s need for violence, only fueling the fire burning deep within.
Leland: However, if you wish to continue blaming WE for what happened a few weeks ago, we would advice you to watch what happens to Mr. Saine….
Stepping away from the camera allows a clear view of the room where Isaac lies strapped to a table. Standing over him with scalpel in hand is Silence, ready to perform her own brand of plastic surgery.
Leland: Perhaps Mr. Saine’s plight will demonstrate just what I said earlier tonight, no one is immune to fear. And if you continue to follow this course of action, and redirect blame from the IWC unto the Black Crusade, you’ll receive a first hand demonstration of what true fear is. Silence…please, by all means, proceed.
Isaac: You put your fucking hands on me and I swear to God….
Silence: Shhhhh….
The steel mask is pulled back and a wad of gauze is stuffed down Isaac’s gullet.
Brooks: Tell me we’re not seeing this. Somebody…anyone…do something. Do something!
Hurse: What in the hell is she about to do to Isaac?
Dollar: I don’t know….and we’re not going to find out…I understand…from what’s being barked in my headset that we’re cutting to commercial. Well do it already then.
Just as Eddie barrels up the ramp with chair in hand and the scalpel moves towards Isaac’s face the only cut that happens is the cut to commercial break.
It takes another chug of coffee to keep Dwayne Rodriquez conscious. Annoyance exudes from his every gesticulation, his every eyebrow twinge and face twitch. Yet somehow he continues to endure Porno Lad and all of his ranting. All the while in the back of his head, Dwayne really wishes he hadn’t made the trip to catering, otherwise he might not have crossed paths with the former World Heavyweight Champion.
Porno Lad: Think about it, Bro-man, you and I, Tag Team Champions of the Wrestle-verse. The striking, ground and pound meshing oh so beautiful with the pizzazz and panache, the razzle-dazzle exploits of THE Porno Lad. That’s positively awesome times infinity plus two. Can’t ask for anything better.
Dwayne wonders if he’s been given an opportunity to actually response. Just before he can open his mouth, Dwayne is predictably cut off, realizing that the Original Prankster was only pausing to catch his breath.
Porno Lad: Mull it over, see this for what it is. A match made in the celestial plane above. It’s a win, win for the both of us. I get my hands on the TCWC, and you get some desperately needed exposure. I mean, I’m a heavenly body, and you’re mildly….kinda…uhhh…a little attractive….we’d make the perfect pair, befitting of the Tag Team Titles. Sooo…what do ya think?
At long last Dwayne has the chance to respond. It takes a moment for him to even realize that Porno Lad has shut up.
Dwayne: So that was it? That was your big sale’s pitch?
Porno Lad nods enthusiastically, having sold himself on the merits of teaming up for the Tag Titles.
Porno: Ya betcha. So what do ya say?
Dwayne: Listen Pal…
He opts to put it bluntly…no sugar coating whatsoever.
Dwayne: After having just met you, I can honestly say you might be the biggest ass I’ve ever run into in my whole life.
Porno Lad: Now…now…don’t be so quick to judge. I grow on you after a while…
Dwayne: Yeah, probably like fungus between my toes. Anyway…
He did anything possibly to accelerate this conversation.
Dwayne:…even if I WANTED to team with you for the Tag Titles, I couldn’t. That lil’ guy….
Porno Lad: Don’t even say Desmond Drake.
Rodriquez: He’s the one…
Porno Lad: Let me guess. He’s already recruited you for a match at Awakening.
Dwayne: Wow…How did you put that one together?
Porno Lad: Dammit! Dammit! Dammit to all hell and back. He’s gonna hear about this. He can’t go around hogging all my potential partners. I would totally hulk out and tear my shirt in two right now if I didn’t get such a good deal on it off the clearance rack at Kohls. Outta my way.
In a huff Porno Lad storms past Dwayne, who simply sips on his coffee as he watches the legend waltz off on a mission.
Rodriquez: Hmmmm…
He strokes his jaw in contemplating fashion.
Porno Lad: This coffee is terrible.
MOMENTS AGO
Still footage is provided of Isaac Saine strapped to a table with Silence holding a scalpel over his face.
Robin: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re back on Riot! And before the commercial break and that backstage foray with Porno Lad, THIS is what we saw.
Eddie is shown watching from the ring as Leland makes some very poignant threats then turns things over to Isaac’s plight.
Dollar: Isaac was captured earlier tonight by the Black Crusade and strapped to that table backstage, where God only knows what the Black Crusade was prepared to do to him. And may still be doing to him. We have no idea of knowing what’s going on.
Robin: Yeah because we were ordered to cut to commercial. After what happened to Denile Partis earlier, the IWC couldn’t afford to allow another scene of torture to be aired.
Dollar: Hopefully Eddie got back there in time. Though I doubt he’d be of much help to Saine.
Hurse: Let’s stop speculating about what’s happening to Saine and concentrate on what’s important. The total sucktitude that is MY life.
Brooks: We’ll think of something to do about the Blacklist, Steven. Although you’re a total ass, not letting me compete, which you will be slapped for multiple times later tonight….
Hurse: Oh joy.
Brooks…I’ll still make sure you get some help, somehow. Anyway, what’s important at the moment is this next match, another in our Win.Win serious. And this should turn out to be a doozy
Dollar: Doozy, really?
Seasick Steve’s “Happy (to Have a Job)” pumps out of the arena’s PA system as the private camera crew of Ross Spectre hurry out to get into position. Spectre himself stalks out from behind the curtains, dressed in an immaculate gray suit and smiling arrogantly. After enjoying the brief spotlight for a moment, he finally realizes his actual wrestler isn’t on the stage. Spectre reaches back through the curtains and pulls Wino Jack through. Jack wears a pair of shorts made from a burlap sack, cinched around his midsection with what appears to be a bungee cord, and an IWC shirt that doesn’t appear to have ever been washed, with a large hole in the front. There seems to be a bird living in his beard, and he regularly takes a deep swig from a bottle in a brown paper sack.
Wino Jack stumbles down to the ring, with Ross Spectre occasionally shoving him or kicking him to speed him up, while the private camera crew circles the scene to get as much footage as possible. Upon reaching the ring, Jack tries to slide into the ring, but can’t quite get his leg up high enough and falls off. Spectre ends up helping him by essentially throwing him in. Jack just sits in the ring drinking while waiting for what comes next.
Hurse: Jack is one of the new breed of IWC superstars, and one thing we learnt about him last time out was he simply does not feel pain…none of it. This is quite a good thing for a wrestler and so it showed against Jeffries.
Dollar: But Rose showed he wasn’t a mug against Clarence Whitman, and I think now both of them have competed in the IWC, they will both know what they are in for.
Brooks: And they should be amply motivated. We already know that Katelyn Buehler and Legion have qualified for whatever title match they want, be it the X-Class or N.H.B Championships, at Awakening, now one of these two will earn that same honor.
Pachelbel’s ‘Canon in D Major’ hits the PA System. A spotlight follows a large full length portrait of Claude Judas Rose as it’s lowered down from the arena rafters. The portrait hits the top of the stage with a thud. The portrait is then raised back up, but now Claude Judas Rose is stood behind it, doing the same arrogant pose as he is in the painting.
CJR slowly makes his way down the ramp; eyes shut, taking in Pachelbel’s masterpiece – which he can’t possibly hear over the jeers of the crowd.
He climbs up the metal steps and climbs over the second rope into the ring. He does a few spins with his arms raised, but then stops as he gets dizzy. He shouts obscenities at the crowd in French, pointing at different audience members as he does so.
Brooks: Arrogance oozing from every pore
Dollar: And why not, he showed himself more than capable on the opening RIOT. This could be quite a confrontation, especially if Jack can get Rose as frustrated as he did Jeffries
Hurse: Right before Kellen got toasted
Dollar: Exactly
Brooks: There’s the bell, and we are underway, Claude Judas Rose versus Wino Jack, live from the Manhattan Centre in New York.
The bell sounds, and with it the noise in the arena cranks up a notch as Jack almost stumbles into the center of the ring, Rose immediately rolling down and taking Jack into a small package
1…
2…
Jack kicks out, but Rose immediately hooks in a head lock, a look of confusion on Wino’s face.
Hurse: Now immediately we are seeing a different tactic here. Jeffries tried to take Jack out, it looks like Claude is going to do it by wrestling, almost picking up an early three count right there
Jack gets to his feet, and Claude pushes him towards the ropes, raking Jack in the eyes on his return. Temporarily blinded, Claude positions his opponent and then hits a reverse DDT, Jack’s head crashing into the canvas. Claude then continues to drop his boot into the body of Jack, viciously stomping on any part of the anatomy he can, relentlessly hurting his opponent until he pauses, and then drops his fist right into the face of Wino Jack. He then drops into a second cover
1…
2…
Another kick out from Jack, Ross screaming at him from ringside to mount some kind of offense. Claude drags Jack to his feet once more, but Jack pushes him away, scoring with a high impact right hand which makes Rose’s legs buckle ever so slightly, which gives Jack time to attack. He does so with a body block which sends a defenseless Rose through the ropes and to the outside, the fans jumping to their feet.
Dollar: He may be crude, but you cannot argue with the effectiveness, because it’s Rose struggling at ringside.
Spectre shouts at Jack to come after Rose, but Claude takes exception to this and grabs Jack’s manager by the jacket. He lifts his hand, ready to slap the taste from Spectre’s mouth but before he can Jack grabs his hand and spins him around, grabbing the back of Claude’s head and trusting it towards the ring post. Claude blocks it however, and reverses the move, smashing Jack’s skull into the steel post. Jack staggers back, and although the mark on his head proves otherwise, Jack doesn’t seem to have been affected, and again advances forwards at the instruction of Spectre. Rose can’t believe this and slides back under the bottom rope and into the ring.
Brooks: We are seeing it again, the resiliency of Wino Jack who just seems totally impervious to pain
Dollar: No wonder Spectre brought him here. And look at Claude; he’s never faced anyone like this in his life
Hurse: It’s the IWC, it’s what we do…can you imagine Shitty Crap Wrestling coming up with match ups of this standard?
Dollar: I have to remain impartial
Hurse: The tent in your designer pants tells me you prefer it here Johnny
Back in the ring, Claude waits for Jack to climb up on the apron before bouncing off the opposite ropes and into Jack’s body, sending him backwards and into the steel barricades. Jack’s spine hits them hard, and he drops to one knee, a massive smile forming on Rose’s face. The smile soon disappears though as Jack gets to his feet and with some words of encouragement from Ross, slides under the bottom rope as if nothing had happened. Rose quickly grabs Wino Jack and scoops him up, dropping him into the canvas with a perfect snap suplex. With Ross screaming at the referee Rose drops into the pin, his feet on the bottom rope unseen by the referee
1…
2…
3…
The referee almost counts the three, but just in time Ross knocks Claude’s feet of the strands. The referee reprimands Ross, as does Claude, who having had a go at Ross, then turns his attention to the referee, not aware that Jack is on his feet. Claude sees the look in the referee’s eyes and turns around just in time to receive The Cauliflower Punch, a double punch to each ear, which drops Claude down to his knees. Sensing a change in the momentum Jack runs in, and with the subtlety of a sledgehammer drives the ball of his knee straight into the face of the prone Claude Judas Rose, sending him sprawling to the canvas. With Ross shouting encouragement Jack goes for the pin.
1…
2…
3…
No, Rose kicks out at the very last imaginable moment, bringing a ‘Oooooo’ from the capacity crowd.
Dollar: So close for Wino Jack, almost picking up a huge victory
Hurse: High impact is all Jack does, but man he does it well
Brooks: And Rose is in trouble here
With Ross still screaming encouragement, Jack picks Claude to his feet and whips him towards the ropes. At that moment Ross spins the referee around, and Jack drops to his knees, and executes what can only be described as a shot to the pills. Rose for a moment is in shock, and then drops to both knees. Jack crudely pulls his right hand back and punches Claude full in the face. Claude drops in a heap, the crowd going mental
Hurse: Oh my days, did you see that shot?
Brooks: Which one?
Dollar: Claude Judas Rose has been knocked unconscious right here, this match is as good as over
Hurse: But where the hell is Jack going?
Jack climbs the turnbuckle, and stands unconvincingly on the top, the fans going mad
Brooks: Just pin him Jack, Claude finished
Dollar: He’s trying to make sure, but I don’t think he really has to.
Jack dives from the top, but predictably Rose has scouted it, and having been given enough time to recover, rolls out the way. He then gets to his feet, Jack on his hands and knees, and drops his leg down across the back of his neck. He then picks him up and whips him into the ropes, nearly taking his head off with a clothesline
Hurse: Clothesline from Rose…
Brooks: Don’t we have to call it the Rose Line or something?
Hurse: Since when did I do as I’m told?
Dollar: It is in his contract which is legally binding
Hurse: So it’s a Pose Line?
Brooks: R-o-s-e line
Hurse: Nose line?
Brooks: For God’s sake Steven
Hurse: Rose line from Claude right there
Rose picks Jack up again, and delivers the same move again, the crowd really getting on the back of the artist.
Hurse: …
Brooks: Just don’t ok?
Rose picks Jack up for a third time and bails him into the ropes, this time taking him out with the Flying Clothesline.
Dollar: And that is the imaginatively entitled Flying Rose Line…and it looks like Claude is going to the top rope.
And so he is, Claude climbing to the top as Jack lies unmoving in the center of the ring. Ross continues to shout at his employee, willing him to get up, but Jack is unable to and Claude recognizes this, and laughs at the crowd who boo him as he stands there. With a final scoffing mock at the crowd he leaps with the Rose Dive, a flying head butt, which connects perfectly. He kneels down, and mocks the crowd once again, before going for the cover
1…
2…
3…
Jack kicks out again to the delight of the fans and Ross, but to the absolute annoyance of Claude Rose who is straight in the referee’s face, pushing three fingers into his chest. On the outside Ross rolls an empty bottle into the ring, which makes Jack sit up, looking at the bottle confused that it’s empty and why he should be given such a thing. Ross remonstrates with the referee who ignores Claude now, leaving Rose to walk over to Jack, who almost without thinking brings the bottle down on Claude’s head, the bottle however remaining intact. Claude collapses in the center of the ring, Ross jumping down off the apron a smug look on his face, the referee however confused, going for the count.
1…
2…
3…
The crowd erupts, but without good reason, as the referee spots Claude’s foot on the ropes, breaking up the count before it hits three. The crowd gets on the referee’s back but for no good reason, the count legitimately broken.
Hurse: I don’t believe it…both these bastards have skulls of steel
Dollar: Hit him again…make sure the bottle smashes this time
The referee kicks the bottle to ringside, and admonishes Jack who doesn’t have the first clue what is going on. Instead he picks Claude up, and scoop slams him into the canvas
Brooks: Was that a wrestling move?
Hurse: Show that repeat I’m sure it was
Jack mounts Claude and starts swinging lefts and rights, a good proportion of them hitting home as Rose tries to cover up
Dollar: Relentless barrage from Wino Jack, and Claude getting literally hammered here.
Hurse: If this was MMA it would be stopped
Jack stops and just leans forwards, putting all his weight onto his opponent.
1…
2…
3…
Rose kicks out again just in time, Ross holding his head in his hands at ringside.
Brooks: The win becoming elusive for both these individuals. And both of them showing why they are so highly regarded by the IWC management
Dollar: Mr D you mean?
Brooks: No, I mean Orlando, and don’t you start with that here
Dollar: Just saying
Hurse: I wouldn’t Johnny…I heard that the last person that said that got anally probed by Bob, with a cheese grater, sideways
Dollar: Point taken
Brooks: Here, we talk about the Independent Wrestling Cartel, Orlando’s orders
Back in the ring Jack picks up Claude, but Claude breaks free and kicks Wino Jack in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. He then rushes in, Jack blocking a punch, with his jaw, and then finding himself tossed across the ring by his hair. Claude then runs in, and leaps in the air, dropping his knee across the chest of IWC’s resident drunk, driving the wind from his lungs.
Dollar: Pin him Claude you got this
Rose drops to his knees, and makes a point of hooking the leg
1…
2…
3…
No, yet another kick out by Wino Jack who literally refuses to be beaten. Claude takes a deep breath, and before Jack can react he hooks in a sleeper hold, cutting of Jack’s blood stream
Hurse: Rose has had enough, and is cutting off the blood stream to Jack’s brain
Dollar: Beer stream you mean
Hurse: Either way, Jack needs to get out of this and fast
The referee keeps a close eye, making sure the move doesn’t turn into a choke. Eventually Jack drops down onto one knee, and then both, before slumping forward and to the mat, Claude never letting go. The referee moves in, and grabs Jack’s arm, lifting it up and letting it drop hard to the canvas
Dollar: Good effort from Jack, but the wrestling skills of Claude Judas Rose just too much
Referee lifts the arm again, and once again it falls to the mat hard
Hurse: We are done, this is over
Brooks: Come on Jack…
The referee lifts it for a third time, and for a moment it looks like it will hit the canvas, but Jack straightens his arm, the arena going absolutely bonkers and Jack starts to make his way back to a vertical base
Hurse: This is inhuman…he was beaten
Brooks: It seems not
Jack gets to his feet and drives an elbow into Claude’s stomach, and then another, causing him to let go. Jack then grabs his wrist and whips him into the ropes.
As Claude returns Jack goes for a massive hard right, but Claude ducks, immediately spinning around and catching Jack unawares and off balance. Claude scoops him up and drills him to the floor with his version of a pile driver he calls the Art Attack.
Dollar: Art Attack, Art Attack
Hurse: The Neil Buchanan one?
Dollar: No…doesn’t matter, pin him Claude
1…
2…
3…
The referee calls for the bell, the fans booing at the top of their voices as Rose rolls to his knees celebrating.
Hurse: Huge win for CJR here, beating the seemingly unbeatable
Brooks: Anyone can be stopped, and Claude proved it tonight
Camera goes to Rose as he celebrates over his beaten opponent.
Dollar: One to watch for the future certainly, big win here for Claude Judas Rose. What title match will he pick to participate in at Awakening?
Just before the bell can chime…a metaphorical bell is rung thanks to the figure who slides into the ring. No one quite expected to see IWC’s latest acquisition, Cassidy Haze, quite so soon, and under these circumstances.
Brooks: Who is that getting into the ring?
Hurse: Why do you have to ask such hard questions? Can I just select ’C,’ when in doubt always pick ’C.’
Dollar: You’d be partially correct then you walking wart of a human being. ’C’ is the first letter of her name, as I understasnd it, this is Cassidy Haze, IWC’s latest signee. And she isn’t waiting to make an impact.
Wino-Jack has just worked his way to his feet and his blurred vision fails to alert him to the danger poised and ready to attack. His wrist is taken, he’s dragged into Cassidy’s shoulders and driven violently into the canvas via the Haze Effect.
Dollar:What the F was that!?!
Hurse: A swinging leg hook fisherman’s carry slam….Jesus, I’m getting light headed.
Robin: And you were worried about me being too long winded last week.
Speaking of wind, all of it has been knocked from the disheveled body of Wino-Jack, who just writhes and convulses on the canvas at this point. Cassidy rises quickly to her feet and turns just as an infuriated Judas steps right into her face, going nose to nose with the demented looking lass.
Judas: Sortez d’ici, salope!
Though she has no idea what inflammatory comment was just directed at her, Haze reacts like a woman scorned. She swings around and connects with a lethal spinning kick right on point to the back of Claude’s head, instantly renedering the artist unconscious. Curse words, spoken in both English and French exit Judas’ mouth even when out cold.
Dollar: And Claude Judas Rose gets it just as bad as Wino-Jack. This dame is dangerous.
Brooks: BEYOND dangerous. She’s a one woman demolition crew.
The Segregated Minds has taken out yet ANOTHER victim, and there would be a third if Spectre opted to enter the ring. Wisely he doesn’t. Instead he remains beyond the ropes, encouraging his camera crew to keep filming the violence.
The bell continues to ring in the background, signifying a ‘no contest.’ Haze can care less about the outcome of the match. Her only focus is making an immediate splash on the IWC landscape….mission accomplished. After leaving two victims in her wake, Cassidy feels that her job has been done, vacating the ring and not even looking back to survey her handiwork.
Robin: Immediate impression made by Cassidy Haze. She just demonstrated to the world that she is indeed going to be a force to be reckoned with in the IWC.
Dollar: She is woman, hear her roar.
The reaction from the crowd steadily escalates, and Cassidy’s scatter brain becomes focused when some familiar music erupts through the PA system. Before long the Original Prankster swaggers through the curtains to the stage, chain still hanging over his neck.
Brooks: What in the fudge is Porno Lad doing out here?
Hurse: Making things even more awesome than they already were, obviously. For the first time ever though, I kinda hate seeing him right now. I really left him in the lerch earlier and I’m starting to feel sorry for it.
Dollar: Especially since he saved your ass when you were getting beat down by the TCWC.
Hurse: Way to make me feel better about myself.
Dollar: That’s NOT in my job description.
Cassidy re-enters the ring just as the victims of her onslaught roll into opposite corners, trying to overcome the punishment.
It takes a while, Porno Lad drumming up suspense, but he finally does slip into the ring, showing no hesitation in coming face to face with Haze. A microphone is taken from his back pocket into his palm, at long last ready to make a major request.
Porno Lad: My oh my…Talk about impressive.
The Original Prankster seems legitimately pleased with the sight before him, taking a moment… a very looooong moment to examine the gothic beauty.
Porno Lad: Wow…just wow. The leather corset…the black hair….the zombie skin tone….Amazing….Oh, and yeah, you kicked a lot of ass too.
Finally he acknowledges the brutality she unleashed on Rose and Jack.
Porno Lad: Total hotness….Total insanity….Total carnage…Totally perfect tag team partner for Porno Lad. So what say you, zombie hotness? Willing to team with me to take on the TCWC for those tag straps at Awakening?
The fans are glued to the ring, more accurately the black lipstick gracing Cassidy’s lips, all in anticipation of her answer.
Robin: What’s it gonna be? Has Porno Lad found himself a tag team partner?
Hurse: God I hope so.
The wait equals sheer aggravation. Everyone wants an answer….NEEDS an answer….but Cassidy sure is taking her sweet time coming up with one. After what seems like an eternity of weighing pros and cons she finally does give a response to the wrestling world and an eager Porno Lad.
Haze: Ya know what? Sounds like fun.
A sizeable pop emits from the masses in conjunction with this ground breaking announcement. Porno Lad has finally found himself a tag team partner to challenge the Chase Wrestling Collective and crown the first ever Tag Champions of the new era.
Hurse: Whew….thank God.
Robin: Porno Lad has FINALLY found himself a tag team partner in the form of the debuting Cassidy Haze. Good thing he got to her before Desmond Drake.
Dollar: So it’ll be Porno Lad and Cassidy Haze versus Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid at Awakening for the Tag Team Titles. Should be a very interesting clash of personalities.
A look of relief sweeps over Porno Lad, relieved to finally have a partner for that tag team match at Awakening. In a display of good faith Cassidy extends the palm, which by virtue extends the smile on Porno Lad’s face.
Porno Lad: A handshake? Seriously? Come on!
Arms stretch to his sides, looking for a cuddle. Haze taps her black nail against her black lips, thinking about rather to accept the gesture or not.
Cassidy: You’re right….Tag team partners should hug.
An ‘awww’ was the last reaction the fans thought they’d be reciting tonight, but they just can’t help themselves at the sight of such a tender, heart warming moment. Porno Lad steps right into the Segregated Minds.
Hurse: WAIT!?!
Brooks: She just took Porno Lad’s head off with that kick!
Dollar: Maybe in Cassidy’s mind that’s a loving gesture.
Much like Wino and Claude, Porno Lad has been laid to waste, and never saw it coming. The mistress of shock doubles over Porno Lad and pats his cheek.
Cassidy: See ya at Awakening, partner.
A kiss is blown to him before Haze makes her exit, leaving three victims behind, including the man she’ll team with at the pay-per-view.
Robin: Cassidy instantly not endearing herself to ANYONE in the IWC.
Dollar: And yet she finds herself in a Tag Team Title match at Awakening. Go figure.
Hurse: Ethan is really gonna be pissed at me after this.
A barely coherent Porno Lad raises his head, eyes groggily looking up the ramp and following Cassidy’s departure.
Porno Lad: Now THAT’S a woman.
A wide smile is the static expression on Sparkles‘ face. In spite of this Greyson Lovejoy tries to give him as much emotion as possible.
Sparkles: It’s Sparkles and my minion, Greyson Lovejoy, standing back here with Warwick Davis’ clone, Desmond Drake.
The lens pulls back just enough to reveal an annoyed Drake standing outside his office alongside the puppet and puppeteer.
Lovejoy: Short jokes? Come on, you’re better than that.
Sparkles: No….I’m really not. I don’t get to see very many midgets being stuffed in that box all day long with your gimp outfit.
Lovejoy: My predalections are NOBODY’S business, Sparkles.
Sparkles: Not like anyone thinks your normal anyway, considering you have your hand shoved up my ass most of the night. But speaking of abnormal, let’s get back to Desmond Drake.
Desmond: Please. And by the way, you‘re hardly one to speak about size, considering your actually shorter than I am.
Sparkles: I understand you have a very important message you want to get off your wee-wittle chest.
Desmond: I do, and I’m not about to waste a second of anyone’s time hobknobbing for the cameras.
Sparkles: Hobknobbing? Isn’t that why you have those callouses on your palm, Lovejoy?
Lovejoy: Predaclections….secrecy…need I say more?
Drake: Gentlemen, please….I’m here to announce that after speaking with the Board of Directors, and my mentor, Mr. D, we’ve come up with a plan for those three hooligans who attacked Denile Partis earlier tonight.
Sparkles: Goodie…explain.
Desmond: All evening long I’ve been consorting with various talents in order to team with Hurse in that six person tag match the Blacklist challenged us too. And I’m pleased to announce that both Xander Cassius and Dwayne Rodriquez have accepted my offer and WILL team with Hurse to bring down the Blacklist. Thank you..
With statement made Desmond steps into his office and slams the door shut, nothing further needing to be said.
Sparkles: Am I really shorter than him?
Greyson: By a few inches….well centimeters really.
Still frames featuring Jackson Adams and Rose Savior standing side by side are featured, the two separated only by a VS. symbol.
\
Brooks: Desmond Drake making a definitive statement that will hopefully put those three renegades in their place at Awakening.
Hurse: Never thought I would say this, but THANK GOD for Desmond Drake..
Robin: He really pulled your butt out of the fire, and speaking of playing with fire, we’re seconds from our main event.
Live shots are now provided in a split screen capacity, the right side of the screen showing Jackson Adams pacing in his locker-room, slapping his palms together repeatedly, while the left side features Rose doing some squat thrusts, limbering up for competition.
Dollar: Rose has something to prove to the wrestling world, wanting to accomplish just as much as her husband, who was kicked to the curb earlier tonight.
Robin: And Jackson is desperate for a win to get the ball rolling here in the IWC.
Hurse: Not gonna be easy for either one of them to accomplish their goals tonight.
Robin: Our main event is next, with the winner qualifying for the Evolution Title Tournament at Awakening, don’t go anywhere.
This is ridiculous, this is worse than listening to Bruce Springsteen while being raped by Bruce Springsteen…
Even though the neck brace obstructs his airway Bill Mayne is still not only able to speak but shout. Screeching directly into the stoic faces of Too Magnificent and the rest of the security crew forming a human barrier between the parking lot and the entrance to the Manhattan Center. There are several reasons for Billy to be irate as he stands outside his car, engine still running and driver’s side door still open. For starters he’s in terrible pain from his braced arm, covered in plaster that holds it stationary out to his side, and now he’s being denied access into the building where he hopes to spread his gossip…amongst other things.
Billy: You know who I am. I’m Billy…Billy ‘Frackin’ Mayne….this show needs me….this show can’t go on without me. The longer you keep me away from that commentator’s booth, the further the ratings plunge. Don’t you know we’re airing up against reruns of Hogan’s Heroes? It’s crucial that I get out there before it’s too late.
He presses his luck only to find himself cut off yet again, a palm shoving him back.
Mayne: Don’t you touch me….don’t you DARE touch me! I will hit you with the biggest lawsu….
Katelyn: Outta the way rent a cops!
A frantic Katelyn Buehler, flanked by a constantly room temperature, Disco Ninja, rush right between security, shoving them aside as they make a hasty get away.
Mayne: Hey! Your the same skank who…
The sentence is cut off thanks to the punt directly to Billy’s testicles. Buehler doesn’t even think before she delivers the kick that reduces Mayne to a whimpering ball of flab on the blacktop. Neither Disco nor Katelyn take a moment to survey the damage done before hopping into Billy’s rented car, taking full advantage of the fact that the engine was still running to make their escape all that much quicker. Buehler slams the door as Disco Ninja hops into the passenger seat and the two squeal out of the parking lot.
Frankie: Stop them…stop them you Paul Blart wannabes.
An exhausted Frankie Paradise and an irate Taylor Chase break through the wall of security guards, stopping only briefly to watch the car speeding from the parking lot.
Taylor: What are you idiots good for?
The line of questioning is directed to the confused guards, unsure what is the full extent of their job functions.
Chase: Get in the car!
The order is followed by Paradise, hoping to make a good impression on Taylor by aiding her in the recovery of the Evolution Championship. She steps right on top of Billy’s ribs, not even noticing him beneath her feet as she scurries to her car, increasingly grateful to have it parked so close to the Manhattan Center. Into the driver’s seat she jumps, speeding out of the parking lot just as Frankie finishes closing his door.
Dollar: Frankie Paradise and Taylor Chase in hot pursuit of Katelyn Buehler and That Disco Ninja, who just stole the Evolution Championship.
Robin: They know they’ll be in hot water with Orlando Cruze if they don’t get that title back.
All of a sudden the PA system comes alive with music, the sounds of Break by Three Days grace can be heard pulsing through every speaker in the arena.
“Tonight, my head is spinning
I need something to pick me up
I’ve tried but nothing is working
I won’t stop
I won’t say I’ve had enough
Tonight, I start the fire
Tonight, I break away”
The ringside area grows semi dim as the Entrance -Tron illuminates. Flashes of a man can be seen doing different wrestling maneuvers to various wrestlers. The words Jackson Adams flicker on the screen, and the lights start to flicker wildly.
“Break away from everybody
Break away from everything
If you can’t stand the way
This place is
Take yourself to higher places”
Adams can be seen on tron making his way through the entrance tunnel. Hooded jacket covering his eyes slightly,
“At night I feel like a vampire
It’s not right
I just can’t give it up
I’ll try to get myself higher
Let’s go
We’re going to light it up
Tonight we start the fire
Tonight we break away”
As the Chorus hits he steps through the curtains and out onto the ramp, He leans back and screams as he rips the hood from the top of his head. as small golden sparkler type fireworks shower down upon him.
“Break away from everybody
Break away from everything
If you can’t stand the way
This place is
Take yourself to higher places!”
As the Pyros fade Jackson then starts to slowly walk to the ring with a smug look upon his face his walk of determination as if he is ready to take on the world.
“If you can’t stand the way this place is
Take (take) yourself (yourself)
To higher places”
Jackson Slides into the ring, and with a quick push and hop finds himself on his feet.
“Break away from everybody
Break away from everything
If you can’t stand the way
This place is
Take yourself to higher places”
Jackson tosses his arms out to the side and spins in a circle as the fans explode with excitement.
“(ohh…higher places)
(ohh…to higher places)
(ohh…higher places)
Take yourself to higher places ”
Jackson turns and watches the entrance ramp, awaiting his opponent/s as the song fades to silence.
Dollar: Alright guys, and gal…
Robin: Thank you.
Dollar: THE main event is finally here after what has been a wild…WILD night.
Hurse: Didn’t think we would ever get to this match.
Robin: After what happened to Denile Partis earlier tonight, I honestly didn’t know if I could solder on up until this point.
Hurse: Sure you can, just be totally heartless…have I taught you nothing? Anyway, Jackson Adams, my boy, looks to secure his very first win here in the IWC against Rose Savior. Last week he stole the show against Axl Evermore, but tonight, can he steal a big win against Rose and qualify for that Evolution Title tournament?
Brooks: This was originally scheduled to be one of four Win/Win Matches announced for tonight’s telecast, but that was changed when Axl Evermore came down with a ‘mysterious‘ injury. So Orlando has altered the match and now the winner gets into the Evolution Title tournament, and the loser will compete in either the X-Class or NHB title matches at Awakening.
Hurse: Amazing, I only went cross eyed once following that whole announcement
Though its Christian’s music that hits,it’s Rose,his wife that moves to the ring.
Johnny: Rose got a bit of troubling news at the start of the show.
Hurse: Yep, her man was banned from the building on the basis that he wasn’t set to compete tonight.
Robin: Which may be the biggest steaming pile….
Dollar: Careful.
Robin: Clearly Cruze is so full of it his eyes are brown. Why did he kick Christian to the curb and let so many others into the building tonight? Obviously he was afraid of what Savior might do if he was allowed into the Manhattan Center.
Intrigue builds relating to Rose Savior, her debut, and how she will react to the lack of Christian at ringside. However her focus remains in tact, trying not to allow outside factors to take her mind off the action. Jackson of course is all business, thirsting for a victory above all else.
After the bell chimes Jackson shows his determination, rushing in and snatching Rose’s leg before she was ready. A series of clubbing blows to the upper back causes Adams to break away and step back, official Wright creating some space between the two.
Hurse: We’re seeing some aggression out of Adams right from the get go…he really wants to get back to his winning ways.
Tentatively Rose steps to the center of the ring and falls for a tie up, but she gets far more than she bargained for because Adams rushes in, slips around behind her back and applies a rear waist lock. Rose attempts to plant her feet but her diminutive stature allows her to be plucked from the canvas, raised into the air and effortlessly tossed down to the canvas. Adams then swings around her back and applies a front chancery.
Robin: Jackson showing off some amateur wrestling skills too boot. Jeez, he really has evolved a lot during his time away from the IWC.
Johnny: Well he hasn’t been sitting on his ass eating vanilla wafers while IWC has been away, he’s been working his glutes all around the wrestling world, plying his craft and all that jazz.
To escape the hold Rose rolls to her side but Jackson maintains that front face-lock, rolling right along with her until he’s back in that dominate position, trapping his smaller opponent. In a display of pure determination, Rose fights her way to her feet in spite of the air deprivation to her head. The two stand up when Jackson suddenly hoists his adversary into the air and throws her across the ring with a modified hip toss.
Rose crashes hard across her spine, reaching for her kidneys just as Jackson steps in and looks to press his advantage. That he does, via a quick dropkick to the back of Mrs. Savior’s head, creating yet another headache that she surely didn’t need.
Robin: Don’t know what’s going on here with Rose. She’s either very distracted by what went down before the show with Christian, or she’s just out matched by Adams.
Hurse: I think it’s a combination of both actually.
The onslaught continues, Adams taking wads of hair and using them to roll her to her knees where a quick elbow is delivered to the back of the head. Yet another strike, yet another migraine. Rose reaches for her head, but Jackson grabs one of her wrists and employs it to yank her up to her feet then whips her across the ring into the far ropes.
Rose just bounces off the cables before Jackson races in and takes her out with a vicious knee to the ribs, sending her flipping over completely. The air has been knocked from her lungs and the ribs have been damaged, making it difficult to breathe on multiple fronts.
Dollar: Adams is just all over Rose….She looks totally out of her depth right now.
Brooks: Not having Christian at ringside is clearing a detriment to her at this point.
In spite of having no air left in her body, Rose ascends to her knees only to receive a stomp to the forehead followed by Jackson straddling her lower back and delivering a crossface shot. Another crossface connects with the use of the opposite arm. Each blow threatens to fracture the delicate facial features of the beautiful Rose, who hangs in there despite the violence.
After dishing out some strikes Jackson leaps into the air, intending to come down posterior first against some kidneys. Instead he comes down testicles first against some knees. Rose rolls to her back at the last second, gets her knees up and squishes the testies of her opponent.
A gasp emanates from Jackson, grabbing at his swollen boys and putting himself in position for Rose, who lifts her feet, wedges them to his chest and shoves him off. Jackson crashes to his back and rolls in the same direction, ending up on his feet then racing in to deliver another shot only to eat the back of Rose’s heel. She goes airborne just in time to connect with the heel kick that knocks Jackson down but sends Rose spiraling to her feet.
Dollar: Finally, Olive Oil here shows that she can actually wrestle.
Robin: She’s getting out of the blocks at last, delivering some stiff strikes on Adams.
A fat lip is already forming on Jackson’s face after that last strike as he goes rolling across the ring. Wisely he gets as far away from the fired up Rose as possible, ending up clearing the ring. He stands on the outside mats just as Rose comes staggering in, bell still rung, looking to keep the advantage. As she reaches over the ropes Jackson reaches under, grabbing at her legs. Before he can sweep them out from under her, Rose leaps into the air, grabs the top rope and swings her boots through the cables right into Jackson’s chest, shoving him off yet again.
Adams twists into the barrier, falling against the steel and then using it as support. In retrospect it probably would have been wiser to go down, because he’s now in perfect position for the deadly aerial assault from his adversary. Rose keeps hold of the top rope and uses it to stabilize herself as she leaps over into a big cross body, only to land on her feet across the apron thanks to Jackson clearing from her path at the last second.
Rose improvises, thinking on the fly as she rushes across the apron and dives off. An unsuspecting Adams turns right into a diving lariat to the throat that knocks both combatants down to the mats.
Hurse: Rose taking to the air!
Brooks: And it paid off beautifully for her, crushing Jackson’s larynx.
Surprisingly the crowd is rallied behind Rose, who stands, swings her hair back and then puts the fists to her opponent. Now she’s the aggressor, demonstrated via punch after punch after punch to Jackson’s exposed forehead. By the back of his head he’s dragged towards the apron and slammed face first against it. Jackson’s skull ricochets back from the hardest section of the ring but ultimately he finds himself propped against it. His back is wedged to the apron and Rose takes full advantage of his positioning by rushing at the steel stairs, stepping off them and then twisting into a dropkick to her opponent’s chest.
The crowd pops at the sight of Rose’s aerial assault, wedging Jackson against the apron and the boots. A grimace consumes Adams, doubling over and cradling his chest, forced to roll back into the ring to protect himself from his pugnacious opponent. Rose then leaps to the apron, grabbing the top rope and springing right to it. She goes flying off and connects with yet another lariat, this time INTO the ring and right into Jackson’s throat.
Hurse: And now it’s my Boy who can’t get away from Rose.
Robin: She’s all over him.
A scream echoes through the building, unleashed by a fired up Rose, who leaps to her feet and throws her arms out to her sides, feeding off the primal aggression flowing through her. The aggression transfers into her devastating roundhouse kicks that begin connecting to Jackson’s chest the moment he gets to his knees.
Pain twists Adams’ face with each stiff, bone shattering strike, that culminates when Rose gets a running start for the knock out shot and delivers it right to the side of Jackson’s temple. Like a tree Adams is chopped down, collapsing to his back where his leg is hooked by Rose.
Dollar: She might have the win already!
Robin: What a victory it would be for Rose here in our main event.
The crowd counts along.
1
2
The chanting stops as does Wright’s abuse of the canvas the moment Jackson kicks out.
Hurse: Not just yet.
The fast paced action shows no signs of letting up as Rose pummels Jackson with right hands while he’s down. Nevertheless he starts towards his feet even with shot after shot after shot connecting. Rose then gets a running start to a kick to the side of Jackson’s face, sending him to the canvas then rolling across it. Much to Rose’s chagrin, Jackson ascends to his knees, prompting her to step in and unleash ANOTHER roundhouse kick to the chest. This is followed by a second shot that is delivered with equally as devastating force. Yet again she gets a running start for the knock out strike only to have Adams catch her by the ankle, pinning the foot to his bruised sternum.
Adams: Not again, sweetheart!
Rose hops on one foot as Jackson keeps her other leg in his clutches upon his upward ascension. He stands and continues to coo when Rose leaps into the air and connects with an enzugari to the back of his head via her free foot. The stiff strike has Jackson all shaken up, stumbling and staggering like a corpse into the turnbuckle.
Absent mindedly he falls against the corner, which proves the only thing capable of holding him up. Rose looks to press her advantage, yet again feeding off another surge of estrogen. She charges straight at the prone Adams and leaps into a heat-seeking dropkick that connects…with the top turnbuckle pad. Adams steps out of the way at the last second, causing Rose’s feet to hit the corner with nothing to show for her move.
She lands on the canvas and quickly scrambles to her feet, falling into the corner just as Adams races in and leaps into a diving forearm that she ducks. As a result Adams sails into the turnbuckle, crashing against it and knocking the air out of his sails. He spins around just as Rose leaps into him, landing on the turnbuckle and beginning to deliver repeated right hands down into his forehead.
Just about every fan counts along with each strike to the face that has Adams all out of sorts. She pulls her fist back into yet another shot but it nails the turnbuckle, almost breaking her knuckles on impact. Adams slipped out of the way and under Rose’s legs in the process, limping to the center of the ring.
In spite of the damage to her knuckles, Savior remains focused enough to leap from middle to top rope, springing off into a twisting cross body that drives her full weight right into Jackson’s chest. Adams collapses to the canvas with Rose on top but then rolls through, ending up reversing their fates, Jackson with the lateral press over Rose’s chest.
1
2
Savior kicks out just before Adams could steal a victory.
Brooks: Rose going airborne but this time it almost cost her the match.
Dollar: Yep, her momentum almost carried her right into a pinfall.
In a desperate attempt to get back on the advantage, Adams stands up and snatches hold of Rose’s hair, trying to pull her off the canvas only to be caught to the side of the head with a shin kick. Fighting from her back, Rose tries to fend off the Spectacular One, and the kick seems to have done the trick. Jackson twirls into the ropes, leaning against them and giving Savior just the time she needs to get to her feet.
She rushes right into a hard back elbow to the jaw, knocking her down to a knee. However, she doesn’t stay down for long, scrambling to her feet, albeit still bent forward when Jackson steps out of the ropes and almost caves in her skull via a lethal thrust kick. The crowd cringes and Rose’s face goes white, yet she somehow remains upright just long enough for Adams to again step out of the ropes and this time deliver a corkscrew kick right to the forehead.
Rose goes down and goes down hard to the canvas.
Hurse: Those kicks landing with enough force to almost take Rose’s head off, while Adams shows yet another aspect of his repertoire. Such a multi-versatile combatant he be.
Dollar: Stop doing that?
Hurse: What?
Dollar: Speaking like a total tard. Actually, you’ll probably have to stop speaking entirely then.
Brooks: Sorry, Johnny, but I’ve been barking up that tree for years, and he still won’t listen.
The stiff shots have Rose incapacitated and perhaps done for the night but Adams isn’t about to risk anything, refusing to be vanquished by yet another foe. He crawls in and drags Rose’s head from the canvas by the bangs, unloading with a few closed fists to the face. Wright reprimands Adams for the illegal shots but he doesn’t listen. The strikes only stop when Adams drags Rose to her feet and hoists her up into the air with a vertical suplex only to drop her down straight to the canvas face first. The reverse suplex connects with enough force to knock all the pep out of Rose and send her flipping to her back where Jackson plunges into her ribs with a back first splash.
Ribs and internal organs might have been shattered via all of Jackson’s weight landing on her slim mid-section. Yet still Adams will not go for the pin, insistent upon doing enough damage before he wastes energy going for the pinfall.
Once again the bangs are used to pull Rose up to her knees, right hand after right hand connecting all the way up. Jackson clearly has no issue striking a woman, and further indulges his masochistic impulses by applying an abdominal stretch.
Screeches of pain emit from Rose as her body is mangled in the arms of her adversary. The pain proves so extreme that Savior almost goes down, but Jackson follows right along with her. She ends up falling to her seat while Adams kneels behind his twisted opponent, continuing to apply the abdominal stretch.
Sweat cascades down Rose’s face and writhing frame, motivating Adams to apply more pressure. In spite of all the trauma and torque being placed on her body, Rose ascends to her feet, not wanting to let down her husband. Many of the fans support her, crying out for Rose to fight free, and that’s just what she seems to be on the verge of doing.
Hurse: Rose almost out of the hold.
Dollar: She’s still got a lot of work ahead of her.
To avail herself of the hold Rose throws a back elbow, followed by another. The third one looks to have weakened Jackson’s grasp, prompting him to spin her around, hook both arms and drop back into a release double underhook suplex. Rose’s back hit’s the canvas hard, popping up to her seat just as Adams crawls in behind her, hooking the arm and reapplying the abdominal stretch.
Hurse: The hold locked in again! Jackson isn’t about to let her get free.
Brooks: Keeping Rose grounded seems to be the best strategy to deal with her. All her high flying offense has kept Jackson totally off kilter thus far.
Dollar: First step, contain Rose, second step, crush her. Adams is building up to that now.
Frustration plagues Rose, not enjoying this grounded predicament she finds herself in. Adams puts more torque on the hold, extending the ribs to the point of snapping, and almost ripping her shoulder from the socket. In spite of every bit of physical turmoil, Rose starts to her feet, fighting tooth and nail to get up.
Hurse: Rose showing the same type of determination we’re use to seeing out of her husband.
Robin: Who is still trying to find an opening to get back into the building tonight.
The crowd is pumped, driving Rose onward and upward, really supporting her as she reaches her feet. Adams refuses to give her even a moment’s reprieve, spinning her around out of the abdominal stretch into a double underhook. The crowd screeches as he heaves her up for a double underhook suplex only to have Savior shift what little weight she has and come back down to her feet.
Before she can counter and possibly get herself back in the driver’s seat, Adams takes her by the wrist and refuses to let a woman behind the wheel. He yanks her into the short arm clothesline that totally misses it’s intended target, Rose ducking the inbound bicep then switching around behind her opponent’s back. She applies a rear waist lock only to have Jackson try to catch her with a back elbow.
Before she can be brushed off, Rose drops to the canvas and attempts a school boy only to have Adams plant his feet and adamantly REFUSE to be pulled down into the cover. He grabs Rose’s wrist, prying it away from his inner thigh, turning around to face his opponent then pulling up on the arm so that Savior gets to her feet and is then yanked forward into the double underhook.
Jackson hoists her up into the air into the double underhook suplex only to have Rose twist in mid-air, and counter into the arm drag. Adams flips over and collapses onto his back but keeps hold of one of Rose’s arms, twisting over to his feet and dragging Rose along with him until he eventually pulls her forward into a short arm lariat. The sheer force of the delivery sends Rose corkscrewing through the air to a raucous reaction from the crowd.
Hurse: He finally NAILS that short arm clothesline.
Dollar: Sure Rose is use to being nailed, so she’ll recover quickly.
Brooks: Perhaps not quick enough to prevent defeat. Jackson going for the cover.
1
2
The speculation proved without merit, Rose lobbing a shoulder into the air to keep her chances of victory in tact.
Hurse: Clearly Adams hasn’t done enough yet, Rose is STILL hanging in there.
Brooks: Her toughness ALMOST reminds me of my own in ring tenacity. Almost.
Flabbergasted and frustrated Adams rises to his feet and drags Rose along to her seat, ultimately plopping right down behind her to apply the abdominal stretch.
Hurse: He takes her out with the lariat then goes right back into the stretch. Brilliant strategy.
Dollar: Yes, brilliant AND boring.
It seems that Adams is mere seconds from earning his way into the Tournament at Awakening, but Rose’s stubborness remains his only obstacle. She balls up her free fist, refusing to submit as she begins to ascend to her feet for the third time attempting to fight out of the hold. An aggravated Adams has had enough, spinning Rose around by her wrist then dragging her forward ribs first into his raised knee. The gut busting blow has Savior doubled over, where she’s quickly placed in the front chancery, heaved into the air and dumped right on top of her cranium with the brain buster suplex.
Hurse: He just got Rose with ALL of that.
Robin: Rose dropped on her head, softening her up for that Blissful Arrogance perhaps.
Surprisingly Jackson opts not to go for the pinfall even after devastating Rose with the brain buster. Actually it just seemed to be the set up for his aerial maneuver, approaching the turnbuckle.
Robin: Don’t know how smart this is. He’s got Rose exactly where he wants her, why go up top?
Hurse: He’s got to finish her off with some panache, with some style. He’s finally taking my tutelage to heart.
All eyes are fixed on Jackson as he stands tall on the turnbuckle, arms thrust out to his sides, adding a bit more flash to his impending move. The dive is captivating enough, without all the pre-flip gesticulations. Jackson leaps into the air right into the senton bomb only to miss his collision with Rose’s chest./ She rolls clear at the last second, causing Adams to smash into the ring.
Rose realizes this is her chance, scrambling to her feet and building some momentum behind a big running spear on her opponent. What she didn’t realize was that Jackson rolled straight to his feet after missing the senton bomb and is centered enough to catch the inbound Rose around the neck, hoisting her up into yet another brain buster suplex.
Surprisingly Jackson’s head is the one that gets scrambled via a knee to the top of the skull, Savior countering the only way she knows how. After hitting the knee to the top of the head she drops to her feet only to be caught by the wrist and yanked into the short arm clothesline. Savior ducks, taking off into the ropes behind her opponent’s back.
Adams quickly spins around just as Rose dives intro his stomach with the spear. Though the move doesn’t connect with as much force as it would say if Christian delivered it, the spear does take Jackson off his feet and the air out of his lungs.
Hurse: Did I just see the SPEAR from Rose Savior?
Johnny: Yeah, she really is that unoriginal.
Robin: She got all of it, but was HER rendition of the spear enough to send her into the tournament?
Any straggling eye returns to the ring after the spear, watching Rose try to crawl into the cover. Before she can get even a finger tip on Adams, he rolls away, gripping at his bruised ribs. He actually starts to get up as Rose, aching head and all, charges in and delivers the front dropkick right to his jaw. Jackson is knocked to the canvas and sent rolling across it yet again, this time not of his own accord.
He falls into the ropes and employs them to reach his feet when Rose steps in and delivers a swift roundhouse kick to the chest. The strike knocks him back, spine straddling the cables with his entire mid-section exposed to the lethal kicks of Savior. Full advantage is taken, one kick after another delivered right to Jackson’s chest and ribs.
The rib fracturing kicks only conclude when Rose takes a wrist and tries to whip Jackson across the ring. He turns and puts the break on Savior’s plans, reversing the wrist lock and dragging her forward only to have his nimble opponent baseball slide right through his legs.
Jackson barely has time to blink before Rose goes airborne, delivering a big roundhouse kick right to the back of his head. The shot is beyond stiff and sends Adams twisting to the canvas, prime for the pin. Rose crawls into the cover, hooking one leg with all her strength.
Robin: That kick landed with such force, but was it enough force to…?
Dollar:…To get her the win? Why do you keep asking such redundant questions to which I have no answer to?
Robin: I’m paid on a per word basis.
The official makes the count to a rousing ovation.
1
2
Victory slips through Rose’s fingers thanks to a timely kick out by Adams. Rose sits up, hands clinging to her hair, ready to rip it out. Obviously she thought she had the win after that kick. In spite of this momentum crusher, Rose gets to her feet and back on the offensive.
Jackson can only get to his knees before Rose swings around into the roundhouse kick that is ducked just seconds before it will crush his temple. He quickly reaches out and grabs her around the thigh, pulling her down into the school boy roll up. However, Rose rolls right out of the pinning predicament to her feet, then steps in and bashes his skull in with the roundhouse kick. Wait…no….she didn’t connect, Jackson catches the inbound foot just before it can bust his head.
He then pushes the foot away, sending Rose into a total spin, turning back to face Adams just as he connects with a kick to her gut, catches her around the neck and drops back into the even flow DDT. The crowd cringes as he prepares to crush her cranium only to have Rose counter, catching the creases of Adams’ knees on his way down then flipping forward into the jacknife cover.
Robin: Roll up! She’s got him with the roll-up!
The fans pop out of their seats as the ref makes a count that could bring the match to a shocking conclusion.
1
2
Yet again Adams launches a shoulder from the ring and keeps his chances of victory alive.
Hurse: I think Rose had us all on pins and needles there, we all thought she was going to Awakening.
As Adams kicks out he rolls to his side, dragging Rose over with him. The two end up with Jackson lying on top of Savior’s upper back and applying a front chancery. He then stands up, dragging Rose to her feet before dropping back into the even flow DDT that Rose cartwheels out of in order to prevent the move.
Hurse: A very unique counter to the DDT.
Robin: I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone counter it like that before.
As quickly as he can Adams turns over to his knees just as Rose steps in and leaps high into the air, landing on his shoulders before dropping back into the hurricarana. Just as she begins to come down Adams catches her arms then reaches out and hooks the creases of her knees, preparing to deliver the package piledriver.
Hurse: What a counter into the Blissful Arrogance….
As Adams prepares to drop Rose right on her head she shifts her weight and somehow is able to bring herself back to the canvas feet rather than skull first. Although she does perform a successful counter to the package piledriver, her head is still trapped in Jackson’s hands, prompting him to drag her forward into a front chancery before snapping back into the even flow DDT.
Rose crashes right on top of her head then flips to her back, looking totally spent as Adams floats over into the lateral press.
Robin: The third try was the charm. Adams dumping Rose on her head with a gnarly DDT.
Dollar: He’s got it, please tell me he’s got it.
The fans count along, glued to the outcome of this bout.
1
2
All hope seems lost for a birth into the tournament at Awakening for Rose, until she gets a shoulder up out of nowhere. Jackson’s eyes almost shoot from his sockets in true crustacean fashion. He can’t believe the even flow DDT wasn’t enough to defeat Rose, enticing him to stand, take hold of a head full of hair and employ it to drag his wounded prey to her knees.
An overzealous Adams sets her up for the Blissful Arrogance yet again, throwing her up into the air, but perhaps putting too much oomph behind it. As a result he throws Rose up past his stomach and chest, allowing her to slip free, twist her body so that she’s sitting on Jackson’s shoulders in position for the hurricarana. She tries to deliver the move only to have Adams rush forward to counter with the power bomb.
The reversals continue as Rose pushes herself up and over Jackson’s head, landing right behind his back. Adams turns just as Rose leaps into the air and reaches back, catching him around the neck with a move right out of her husband’s playbook, the diamond cutter.
The fans react with surprise both to Rose’s attempt at the cutter, and Jackson’s counter to it. The back and forth flow proceeds as Adams shoves Savior off, sending her charging into the turnbuckle. Mere seconds before she can crash into the corner she leaps into the air, springing off the middle rope into a moonsault that Adams runs right under.
He charges into the very corner she just sprung from, leaps to the middle rope and takes flight, twisting towards Rose but having no idea that she landed on her feet and that she was waiting to catch him with the diamond cutter.
Hurse: AHHHH!
Brooks: Rose just plucked Adams right out of the air with the diamond cutter!
The fans are in an absolute frenzy as Rose crawls into the lateral press on a stunned Adams.
Dollar: Is it enough…has she finally done enough?
All eyes remain fixated on the ring where the referee plies his craft, making a decisive count.
1
2
3!
Johnny: And it WAS enough…Rose wins it. She takes the victory.
Hurse: Too bad for Adams, once again going high risk costs him dearly.
Robin: Rose wins it, she finally wins this bout but Adams gave it his absolute all.
Every part of Rose hurts, even her hair as she sits up on the canvas and barely has the strength to raise a fist into the air. The bell chimes in the background, waking Adams up just enough to realize the match is over, yet it still hasn’t sunk in that he was defeated.
Brooks: Another terrific main event, ending with another Savior victory.
Hurse: She had to bust what little bit of ass she has to get that win though.
Dollar: This means she advances to Awakening, and will participate in the Evolution Title Tournament.
All of Rose’s remaining endurance is channeled into getting to her feet, where the official continues to keep her arm raised aloft.
Congratulations Rose…congratulations…
The celebration is cut short, and all the joy is sucked from the building the moment Orlando Cruze moves to the stage, applauding the hard fought victory.
Robin: Oh Jesus…haven’t we seen enough of him tonight?
Dollar: In Orlando’s mind, more is never enough.
Hurse: He said that dependent on the winner of this match he might have a very special announcement. And he’s not waiting to deliver on his promise.
The smile on his face couldn’t be anymore insincere, and the expression on Rose’s couldn’t be anymore indignant.
Orlando: That was a truly hard fought win. You really EARNED that victory. Good work. Give it up for her….come on….she deserves your applause.
Many fans are enticed to cheer, agreeing with the Icon, while others remain weary of his motives.
Orlando: Did you guys not see that match….come on now! Stand up, give her a REAL response. She’s earned your respect and proved that she didn’t just ride Christian’s cock to stardom.
The excitement dies a horrible cruel death.
Orlando: Not only does she DESERVE your praise, but she showed me she DESERVES that final spot in the Tournament at Awakening. And it just so happens that as an added bonus, Rose, my dear…
Her eyes narrow and brow furrows.
Orlando:….I’m going to let YOU know who you’ll be facing in the first round.
Rose does NOT like where this is going at all, her stomach starting to twist.
Orlando: You’ll be facing someone your very familiar with.
It feels like Mola Ram is reaching into her body, but instead of tearing out her heart, he’s mangling her intestines.
Orlando: Somebody who hasn’t shown you the respect you deserve. So you’ll have the chance to beat it into him when you square off against Christian Savior.
Rose feels the need to upchuck, her whole body going white as she’s FORCED to compete against her husband in the Evolution Title tournament.
Orlando: I THOUGHT that would make you happy. I know it puts a smile on my face. But you know what will make me even happier?…
Orlando starts down the ramp and towards the ring.
Orlando: THIS!
The grin gets even wider when Jackson blasts the upper back of Rose, bringing her down to the canvas. He then puts the boots to her amongst a very mixed reaction from the crowd.
Hurse: Jackson assaulting Rose after the match has ended, and it looks like Orlando was in on the fix.
Robin: He’s got his hands in everything.
Dollar: Including Taylor Chase.
Hurse: Awwww, that was WRONG.
Dollar: What? What?
Orlando stops at the edge of the ramp with a faux disapproving look on his face and tone in his voice.
Orlando: Hey, stop that…knock it off…no more of that Jackson…I’ll get a deeper base in my voice if you don’t knock it off…Look I’m totally scowling right now.
He points to his scowl but it is not enough to stop Jackson from continuing to stomp away at the prone Rose. The blows only end when the sound of a car horn blares through the building and headlights peek through the curtains.
Hurse: Wait! What is this? What is THIS!?!
The answer is easily deduced moments before the very car circling the Manhattan Center now rips tears through the entry way to the stage, horn still honking as it comes speeding down the ramp.
Robin: Christian made it into the building. He’s here, and this is NOT good for Orlando.
Dollar: It looks like he’s gonna commit vehicular homicide.
Hurse: Serves Orlando right for what he did to me earlier tonight.
All the multicultural shades fade from Orlando’s face, his pigment going straight white as the car comes racing towards him. In self preservation Cruze scrambles to the ring, rolls under the ropes and creates a buffer between himself and the car, which parks at the edge of the ramp.
Orlando: What the hell is this? How did you get in here!?! HOW!?!
The voice cracks with actual rage this time, Orlando legitimately furious. Adams has ceased his assault on Rose in order to suspiciously eye the vehicle in question as well. They prepare to lock their sights on Christian Savior when the sunroof opens and his head pops out….
Dollar: Christian scaring the poop right out of Orla….wait a tick.
Hurse: That’s NOT Savior.
The throngs explode at the sight of Rayne Young popping his head out of the sunroof, standing in the driver’s seat and gripping a microphone.
Hurse: That’s….that’s….that’s….Rayne Young!
Brooks: He was the one circling the Manhattan Center this whole time?
Pandemonium sweeps throughout the Manhattan Center, the hearts of every fan skipping a beat when faced with the image of Young. Orlando looks like he just swallowed a canary and Adams pierces Rayne with a very threatening stare.
Rayne: So this is SCW, huh?
The crowd is too swept up in the moment to bother correcting him.
Rayne: Not very impressed.
A judgmental head shake and frown from Young.
Rayne: Not impressed at all. There just seems to be something missing, can’t put my finger on it…
Introspection mode, finger tapping lower lip.
Rayne: Oh, I know what’s been missing….ME!
The reaction gets even louder in spite of…or in response to….the overwhelming egotism displayed by Rayne Young, who just made a truly shocking introduction.
Dollar: Jesus…what a mind scrambler! Rayne Young is in the IWC….
Robin: And I don’t think his arrival here has endeared himself to Orlando Cruze.
Hurse: The legend that is Young making a legendary impression. One that none of us will forget for a very long time.
The headline maker and multiple time World Champion stoically stares at Orlando and Adams in the ring, making some bold statements after an equally as bold arrival. The only thing that can take focus off this amazing moment is the figure appearing on the Cartel-Tron.
Savior: Hey, Boss!
Orlando’s eyes lock on the big-screen, surprised anyone could take his focus off the brash Young. The only one capable of doing as much is his age old nemesis, Christian Savior, standing on the docks of New York, his back facing the ocean.
Orlando: What is this!?! Who’s giving him a live feed? Tell the guys in the production truck to….
Savior: Don’t even think about touching that dial, Boss.
Orlando is forced to stop shouting at the camera crew at ringside to acknowledge the threats of the Rising Phoenix, who has successfully taken enough focus off of Rose to allow her to slip from the ring.
Christian: Otherwise, you might not find out what happens to this.
To everyone’s surprise, and to a near stroke from Orlando, the Evolution Championship belt is raised into the air.
Hurse: What the…? How’d he get hold of the Title?
Robin: And who’s shooting all this?
Things start to clear up when That Disco Ninja gyrates into view behind Christian’s back, and a pouting Katelyn takes up residency behind the Rising Phoenix as well.
Christian: Lando….old friend….I think you’ve forgotten exactly who it is your fucking with here. You should know better by now than to try and one up me. I always have a plan B…C…D…you name it. And it just so happens that for a price, Disco here was willing to help me out. But Katelyn, she volunteered her services free of charge after the stunt you pulled on her earlier tonight. Oh, and our friend with the camera, you might just recognize him too…
The lens turns to bring into view the smirking face of Axl Evermore.
Axl: Hey, Orlando….guess who got out of the hospital.
Now it’s Cruze’s stomach that begins to twist and turn.
Savior: The four of us put together a little plan. A plan sure to make your day. As I understand it. This belt here, it’s your pride and joy right? Or more accurately, it’s the title you created to deflect attention from the fact that you REFUSE to turn over that World Heavyweight Title…
Orlando: You have no idea what your talking about…
Christian: But the time for using THIS belt as a smokescreen is over!
Orlando feels the urge to violently vomit as he watches Christian toss the Evolution Title through the air, ultimately plummeting into the turbulent waters off to the side of the dock. Christian smacks his palms together while turning back towards the camera operated by Evermore.
Savior: Looks to me, Lando, that you have no other option but to put the belt everyone REALLY wants their hands on, up for grabs in that tournament at Awakening. Oh….and by the way, sorry sweetheart…
A smiling Rose looks up from her knees at ringside.
Christian: I guess I just can’t let bygones be bygones after all.
The reception is deafening as the big screen cuts away, and all attention turns to the absolutely livid Orlando, storming throughout the ring and shouting words that would even make George Carlin blush. His roster having not only thrown his Evolution Title into the ocean, but also having thrown a major kink into his plot.
FADE TO BLACK
IWC 