Riot! 3

EXCLUSIVE IWC.COM PRE-SHOW

Executioner accepted the offer of the TCWC, stepping aside and allowing Bash Kincaid and Hugo Magnussion, the Tag Team Champions to take his place in the contract match. The pair absolutely destroy El Presidente and St. John Barlow, the only two who actually showed up to try and earn their jobs, with Denile Partis being too wounded by the Blacklist to compete, and Wino-Jack being in some sort of rehab facility.

After the TCWC finish off Presidente and Barlow, out runs Executioner. He picks up the scraps of what’s left over, and then stands in the ring trying to steal the spotlight. That’s when Silencer emerges and challenges Executioner to an actual match, or more accurately a contest, of the Body Slam variety. The incredibly freakish strength of Silence allows her to lift the massive Executioner and body slam him for the win.

A brief sit down interview was conducted between Frankie Paradise and Susie Moore, which consisted of a thousand sexual innuendoes from Frankie, and a billion glitter references from Moore. It ended when Bobfairy arrived to grant the two a super awesome magical wish. Frankie wished for a night with Taylor Chase, and was handed a sock with Tay-Tay’s face crudely drawn with MAGIC marker upon it. Susie wished for a glittery lionclothe…Bobfairy then speckled glitter on his own loinclothe and went to remove it before censors intervened.

In the second pre=show match, Krista Lewis and Claude Judas Rose went to a no contest after Claude intentionally got disqualified and swore that he would not rest until the IWC fired him. Lewis then laid him out with the Hell’s Bitch Kick post match.

In a flash we get a brief look at the spiffy new IWC emblem while a number of IWC combatants appear in the background, past, present and perhaps future. Running the gamut from Daemon Frost, Chapel, Nathan Creed, to Johnny Kingdom, Robin Brooks, Silencer, before wrapping up with Frankie Paradise, That Disco Ninja, Sebastian Knight and Dwayne Rodriquez.

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.

Robin Brooks: We are live from Chi-Town, Chicago’s United Center.

Bright lights, high expectations, enthused fans, hyped combatants, emotions…emotions…emotions…all captured in screen grabs. Silencer standing face to face with Orlando Cruze in the ring, Frankie Paradise holding the World Heavyweight Title in his hand while cautiously glancing back towards the ring, P. Clarence Whitman III applying the crossface on Claude Judas Rose with a shoe wedged to his opponent’s nose giving him added leverage.

Robin:…and this is our FIRST pay-per-view since the relaunch…one that will NOT disappoint.

More stills from the pay-per-view, featuring the Chase Wrestling Collective holding up the Tag Team Titles, are mixed with grimmer images of Dwayne Rodriquez and Xander Cassius being pushed off the top of a ladder through a stack of tables. Another shot of a celebrating, newly anointed champion is showcased as Whitman stands on a turnbuckle, basking in the glory of holding up the X-Class Title, before things transition into Legion, waist weighed down by the N.H.B belt placed there by Leeland Gaunt.

Dollar: I did not expect this…not at all. As a result of Silencer’s victory over Cruze, the World Title will be on the line in our Tournament.

Orlando and Silencer are shown standing opposed in the middle of the ring, first exchanging words, before things break down into actual fisticuffs, commencing with a shot to the back of Cagero’s head with the World Heavyweight Title. Cruze is then shown being rolled up into the small package out of nowhere the moment he went to stomp the crotch of the painted performer. An absolutely crazed glint inhabits Orlando’s eyes as he sits on the canvas, completely snapping upon the realization that he at long last has to forfeit the World Heavyweight Champion…..

That’s enough….cut the feed….cut it right NOW!

Taylor Chase and Brittany Lohan are about as well received as the Klu Klux Klan at a Black Panther’s Party meeting. The video highlighting the many twists, swerves, turns and other such shenanigans that unfolded at Awakening is replaced by the live action image of a disgruntled, yet still lavishly dressed Chase, and the always menacing Lohan, broad arms crossed. The two step to the stage, microphone gripped in Taylor’s palm and expression of angst in her lovely eyes.

Johnny Dollar: I guess we’re LIVE here on Riot!, back home in the Manhattan Center….yay?….And before we could even get through with the pay-per-view recap here comes Taylor Chase and the woman who aided her at Awakening, Brittany Lohan.

Susie Moore: We are women, hear us ROAR! Meow…

Dollar: The hell, what was that?

Susie: My best kitty roar.

Dollar; That was absolutely terrible.

No, what’s terrible is the fact that Chase is about to subject the crowd to her egomaniacal tirade.

Taylor: Seriously?

All the offense in the world is taken with the images that were just played out on the Cartel-Tron, highlighting perhaps the lowest moment in Orlando’s career… thus far.

Taylor: Why would anyone want to relive what happened at that…that….suck-fest?

Clearly the crowd doesn’t agree with her slant on the pay-per-view, feeling it was a truly magical night, capped off fittingly with the most surprising World Title win in recent history.

Taylor: That pay-per-view, from start to finish was worse than watching Miley Cryus try to twerk.

The crowd gags at the sound of yet another Miley Cyrus reference.

Taylor: Just look….take a look at this! What was done to me at Awakening…

The bangs of her hair are pulled back to reveal that there is still a small bruise on her scalp from the Singapore Cane shot she took at the hands of Rose Savior.

Taylor:….This was a thousand times worse two weeks ago…honestly…looked like I had friggin Kuato from Total Recall growing out of my forehead.

Susie: Quuuaaaiid, start the reactor Quaid. Great, now I just gave myself nightmares. So much for waking up to dry sheets for once.

Dollar: Would you PLEASE stop joking around here? Taylor is bringing up some very valid and serious points. The woman is putting it all out there…actually…wouldn’t mind seeing her put a little MORE of herself out there.

Frustrations continue to be vented like the steam valve is broken.

Taylor: It was disgusting…almost as disgusting as the reaction from you people to the sight of Rose Savior bashing me with that cane. Or your reaction to Frankie Paradise being screwed out of a title shot by a fast count. Or the way you sick…siiiiiick people responded to Orlando Cruze…the guy who sacrificed everything to bring back your precious IWC….being robbed of the one thing that means so much to him…the World Heavyweight Championship.

The memories of the fans cheering Orlando’s forfeiture of the World Title makes her so ill she has to choke back down her words. After quivering due to outright repulsion, Taylor brings herself to continue, but does not look up to address the fans, unable to even bare the sight of them.

Taylor: Orlando has only ever done what he thought was best for you, the fans….so if you could honestly sit there and support what Silencer, Desmond Drake and the Saviors tried to do to him at the pay-per-view…well then you need to take a long look in the mirror. Well…after you take a look at the ONLY image from the pay-per-view that needs to be relived.

She insists that everyone look to the Cartel-tron where another screen grab features the World Title being held aloft in the palm of Orlando Cruze, while his other arm is wrapped around the waist of Taylor Chase.

Taylor: Breathtaking…don’t I look fabulous? Standing there with my hunky Cruze… World Title held up high….the envy of absolutely every celeb who wishes that they had OUR star power It’s…no pun intended…iconic. And if Orlando chooses to grace everyone with his prence…and he WILL be here…you’ll get to see this image again….cause I will stand right by his side as he tells that obnoxious lil imp, flapping his gums about his precious Board of Dicks…that the World Heavyweight Title is going nowhere…that Orlando IS and will forever be THE…

Silencer: Biggest ass-bandit on the planet…

The image of Orlando STEALING back the World Heavyweight Title dissolves into a shot of Silencer’s painted mug. The reaction flips, the fans going nuts at the sight of the man who finally took a stand against the Icon at the pay-per-view…even though it left him unable to stand by the end of the night. But here he is, towering above Taylor…well not literally towering…he actually only dwarfs her in size cause his gigantic mug is plastered across the Cartel-Tron. If Taylor was offended by the images of the pay-per-view, now she’s downright putrefied being forced to look at Cagero.

Silencer: Yes…we already knew Orlando was a testicle swallowing dick muncher, Taylor…no need to state the obvious…

Dollar: When…oh when will Silencer learn to finally shut the hell up?

Moore: Probably around the same time I learn that spoiled milk isn’t all chunky cause it’s turned into a milkshake.

Taylor: Silencer….

She smiles while shaking her head…but the grin is anything but sincere, merely a mask for her agitation.

Taylor: Do you EVER learn from your mistakes? Pissing Cruze off didn’t pan out too well for you at the pay-per-view did it?

Silencer: Wow…

He looks blown away.

Silencer: I think Taylor has just taught us all that swallowing mass quantities of Orlando’s little swimmers can lead to serious brain damage….

Taylor tries not to let herself be offended by the crude, childish comments.

Silencer: Are you kidding me, Tay-Tay? I got EXACTLY what I wanted out of the pay-per-view…Yeah…sure…I didn’t win the World Title….but I did get a confession from Cruze…I got him to reveal himself…not in the same way he has to you, Taylor…but reveal himself as the two faced…ego maniacal CUNT that he truly is. And then, the nipple on the tit, was FORCING Orlando to forfeit the World Heavyweight Title….

Taylor: Yeah…you REALLY accomplished something…Ummm, remind me, who walked out of Awakening with the World Heavyweight Title?

Silencer: Tay-Tay…Tay-Tay…please let me finish. I don’t interrupt you while your working, mostly because I refuse to spend fifty bucks for a blow-job…twenty tops…Like it or not, Orlando Cruze has lost his most cherished piece of apparel.

Taylor: And you…your going to lose so much more tonight…

Her smile is like a snake’s rattle, warning the prey that she’s about to strike..

Taylor: Thanks for reminding me…Reminding me why it’s gonna be such a ball finishing the job on your knee…Sweetheart, you may have cost Orlando the World Title, but Frankie and I are going to cost you your livelihood in our handicap match.

Silencer: Oh nos….oh me oh my…I guess I should be changing my diaper right now, cause I’m totally wetting myself in fear of facing the Spoiled Princess and the Jersey Shore Shit-head….but guess what…I’m NOT. This might be a handicap match tonight in more ways that one, it’s two versus Cagero, and I’m still barely able to put much weight on my knee…but motivation goes a long…long way, Ta-Tas…And I’m more motivated than ever…. I’ve revealed the snake in the grass, and now it’s time to cut it’s head off. I’m moving on to Upping the Ante…I’m beating Rose Savior…I’m beating Orlando Cruze…I’m beating whoever is holding the World Title…

Taylor: You make-up wearing TOOL…the World Title is NEVER gonna be yours. Get it straight you Ronald McDonald wannabe. And when my oh so adorable Cruze shows up tonight, looking fine wearing his World Title….

Silencer: NAAAHH….Orlando is losing that big chunk of gold…his nicest piece of attire….and you know what, Taylor, seems to me that you’re someone all about possessions too. Your such a fashion template…a regular anorexic, crack headed run-way model. For fuck sakes, just look at all the shit you packed in your bag for one night in Manhattan.

To Taylor’s horror, the camera pulls back to show Silencer standing in her PRIVATE dressing room, bras and other such under garments hanging over his arms, all removed from the designer Gucci bag on the table in front of him.

Silencer: There’s thousands and thousands of dollars worth of crap here…just this dress alone probably cost more than my car, or studio apartment. And Jesus Fucks…most of your lavish collection here will probably go unseen. That’s a shame, a real cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it kind of shame.

He just stuffs all the clothing back into the bag and picks it up.

Silencer: Women…always buying shit they don’t need and never wear. How about we do something regarding this disservice? How about we put on a little fashion show tonight? Let everyone see just how much Taylor knows about clothing. And you know what…

Fingers snap.

Silencer:…I know the perfect runway model…someone who will look real good showing off Taylor Chase’s clothing line. Yeah, we‘ll totally have our own Project Runway tonight…without all the blatant homosexuality and bulimia.

Taylor: You wouldn’t dare.

Silencer: Oh boy…I hope Orlando DOESN’T show up tonight. Seeing your tight fitting clothes wrapped around the bod of my model, might turn him on so much he ditches you in favor of a new hottie. And uh-oh, I prey my little fashion show tonight doesn’t distract you too much from that handicap match we’re competing in. Heavens to betsy…that’d be almost as terrible as that growth on your forehead….

Chase panics as she grabs at the blemish on her scalp.

Silencer:…otherwise known as your face.

Now she’s downright livid as the bag is plucked from the table, sleeves and socks hanging out of it upon being carted away.

Dollar: Are you kidding me?

Susie: Am I? I don’t remember telling you that joke about the donkey and the carrot. FYI, the carrot ends up in the donkey’s ass.

Dollar: Didn’t need, nor want that information. And I don’t need nor want to see Silencer’s little fashion show he has planned out tonight, either.

Taylor’s flipping her lid, and understandably so, Lohan tries to calm her down as the two storm backstage, hoping to intervene and cut Silencer off before he gets away with all of Chase’s expensive duds.

Johnny: Silencer stealing Taylor Chase’s clothes to kick-start Riot…no good can come of this…And nothing good can come out of this next match either.

The faces of Cassidy Haze and Porno Lad are juxtaposed against one another on opposite sides of a split screen. Both athletes…or lunatics…depending on what personality their embodying tonight…are on their way to the ring.

Dollar: A lot has went down between Cassidy Haze and Porno Lad the past couple of weeks, which led ultimately to them losing the Tag Title match at Awakening….

Susie: I love that smoky eye mascara look…maybe Porno Lad will show me how he perfects it.

Dollar: Well this is going to be perfect…a perfect storm of chaos when these two finally go one on one…NEXT.

Porno Lad looks to have uncanny focus, while Cassidy playfully jaunts…nay…SKIPS in the direction of the ring.

MOMENTS AGO

There is a still frame image of Brittany Lohan and Taylor Chase grimacing at the Cartel-Tron, which flashes Silencer’s smug smirk.

Dollar: If you missed the opening moments of Riot!, consider yourself very…VERY fortunate.

Susie: I only missed it because I was trying to watch a He-Man Christmas Special on my Kindle.

Dollar: As good a reason as any. But yeah…this is what you missed.

As the scene plays out Silencer’s surroundings are at last revealed, not only invading Chase’s dressing room, but her privacy by stealing the clothes right out of her bag. After a verbal exchange the clothing is haphazardly thrown into the case and Silencer absconds with it.

Dollar: After Silencer and Taylor Chase went at it, regarding the World Title situation AND the handicap match tonight, that coward Cagero stole Taylor’s clothes and promised there would be a runway show.

Susie: Awesome…My He-Man movie is finally streaming.

Dollar: What we did learn from that whole sordid soiree is that Orlando Cruze WILL be here tonight…after some Twitter related speculation, Tay-Tay confirmed that the President would show up and he has no intention of forfeiting the World Title.

“Ohhhh my godddd” Screams out the orgasmic voice of a nameless female. Original Prankster begins to boom through the arena speakers. Porno Lad steps out from behind the curtain wearing a black Hoody and his standard Jesus chaps ring gear. he calmly walks to the center of the entrance and then drops to his knees and points up to the ceiling with both hands as a blast of Fireworks go off. As the fireworks die out Porno Lad kips back up to his feet.

Porno Lad struts to the ring confidently showing all the confidence in the world. He high fives a fan as he walks to the ring. The former world champion rolls into the ring and then spins around quickly pointing about the audience as another blast of fireworks follows.

The New York crowd is riled, roused, and rejuvenated by the sight of the Original Prankster, who fist pumps a few times to their delight.

Dollar: And we’ve got the Original Prankster, Porno Lad, on his way to the ring looking for some revenge against the woman who cost him the Tag Team Titles at Awakening. He was surprisingly holding up pretty well on his own against The Chase Wrestling Collective, then Cassidy Haze shows up towards the waning moments of the match and then everything went belly up for Porno Lad.

Screen grabs feature highlights from Porno Lad’s bout against the TCWC, tying Hugo Magnusson’s ankle to a strut beneath the ring, and taking flight via the flying elbow into Bash Kincaid’s chest. He is then show hulking up and hitting the big boot before Cassidy Haze slips in. A photo of her nailing a super kick on a chair held by Bash is shown before another kick takes precedence, one delivered by Porno Lad to the jaw of his own partner. This ultimately leads to Haze being hit with the full nelson slam onto a chair, taking a pinfall in her very first match.

Dollar: Porno Lad hit Haze with the Epic Fail, which is only fitting cause four weeks ago on this very show, she nailed him with the Segregated Minds.

Susie: Why am I not surprised that Porno Lad is nailing women?

Dollar: All he has to do is NAIL Haze one more time tonight to put her in his rear-view mirror and move on to getting back in the World Title picture.

Porno Lad paces in the ring, looking far more serious about this match than any prior.

The lights go semi dim as the tron flickers on static like, realistic looking blood starts oozing its way down, soon pictures of Cassidy sitting in the corner of an alley crying as the makeup oozes down her face. Just then She looks up into the sky and a loud shriek can be heard throughout the arena then Made of Scars by Stone Sour starts playing, the tron then switches to Cassidy doing various wrestling maneuvers to various opponents. Cassidy Haze then steps out from behind the curtain with a sadistic smile across her face, she is wearing a black, leather, sleeveless outfit, around her neck sets a collar with small spikes. Se looks out at the crowd and shakes her head as they cheer her on, she then tosses a fist into the air as purple and red pyros explode behind her. She slowly walks to the ring after she reaches the apron she then slides in face first under the bottom rope crawling around for a moment before standing up to her feet.

Susie: Ewww…look at that leathery corset….wonder if it’s actually holding back any blubber.

Dollar: I think you actually have to eat in order to get fat, Susie. And since I can see a piece of partially undigested corn in Haze’s stomach, me thinks she’s not all that big on carbs. What she may be big on is beating Porno Lad tonight to get revenge for costing her her very first match in the IWC. It’s a crime she’s not about to let him get away with.

Susie: Maybe instead of fighting they can do….just what their doing right now…TE-HE!

To the surprise of everyone Cassidy has her arms extended to her sides, looking to hug things out. The come hither stare from a titled head, conjoined with batting eyes, do not lure Porno Lad into the spider’s trap, not twisting himself in the same web he flew into four weeks prior.

Dollar: Porno Lad naturally tentative. He went to hug Cassidy a couple weeks ago and got the Segregated Minds for his troubles.

Susie: Their ruining the beauty of the hug…Oh look, Skeletor just popped up on my Kindle…and he’s pulling a total Amber Alert.

Though everyone pleads with Porno Lad not to give in to his baser impulses and feel Cassidy up, he goes in for the bear hug. Predictably Haze goes for the Segregated Minds the moment her prey gets close enough. Porno Lad ducks the kick to the back of his head as Haze spins all the way around and then finds her opponent’s boot traveling towards her jaw. She instantly drops to her back as the Epic Fail soars right over top of her, missing its mark..

She then kips up to her feet as Porno Lad turns completely around to face her. He pulls back his fist but then finds himself in Cassidy’s clutches, wrapping him up in a big squeeze.

Dollar: Now their hugging it out…

Porno Lad looks conflicted but sighs and then pats Cassidy’s back, hand instinctively moving to the small of her spine, and going further and further south. Before it can go any further below Haze’s Mason Dixon line, she sinks her teeth into his trapezius muscle. The hickey results in cheers from the crowd before Porno Lad finally shoves her off, sending Haze twisting around gleefully wiping a small sliver of blood from her lips.

The teeth behind said blood soaked lips are snarled as she charges at Porno Lad, going for another bit only to have her mouth dragged into a big lip lock. Haze flails her arms as the Original Prankster counters her bite into the mother of all smooches.

The kiss LITERALLY knocks off her feet, due to asphyxiation. While Porno Lad has mastered being able to breathe through his nose, Haze doesn’t have the same ability, becoming very oxygen deprived as Porno Lad continues to maintain the lip lock until she begins to pass out. Cassidy is eased down to the canvas by Porno Lad, who continues to suck the life out of her via the lip-lock.

Dollar: The IWC is no place for romance…and that statement remains the truth, because this kiss is not a term of endearment. It’s intended to suck the life right out of Cassidy.

Susie: We might be able to tell if that’s the truth if Cassidy wasn’t already paler than my sheets before I pea on them thanks to a Kuato induced nightmare.

Applause…both for the unexpected kiss and the equally as unexpected results…the lack of oxygen causing her to pass out with Porno Lad coming down on top of her. His lips provide the most unorthodox pinfall attempt ever seen, pinning Haze’s shoulders to the canvas.

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Dollar: Has Porno Lad won this match with a kiss?

The match persists when Haze just doesn’t get a shoulder up, but grabs the curly locks of her opponent, yanking them back. The kiss is finally broken with near inverted Sleeping Beauty results. Porno Lad pulls the hand away from his hair and then rolls to his feet. The vengeful Prankster descends upon his now kneeling opponent when she suddenly reaches out and grabs hold of his junk.

The pain…and the pleasure…is too much for Porno Lad. He lets out a screech upon being filled with a rush of dopamine while his nerve receptors are also triggered.

Dollar: Cassidy has now got the match in the palm of her hand, literally. The crotch claw established. She’s gonna squeeze Porno Lad’s lemons till she makes lemonade.

Susie: Probably wouldn’t be too tasty, not nearly enough sugar, in spite of all the bowls of cereal Porno Lad eats. Plus it smells just like asparagus.

Dollar: How do you know so much about Porno Lad’s bodily secretions?

Susie: He has certain predilections his lawyers have insisted I not discuss publicly.

Dollar: Actually, wouldn’t that be discussing them pubicly?

The conflicted emotions continue plaguing Porno Lad, grabbing the wrist of Haze but not actually trying to pry it away. He really, really doesn’t want to remove it, even as he begins to lose consciousness from the pain. He falls to his back with Cassidy continuing to squeeze his crotch so tightly her palm impression may forever be imprinted upon it. Referee Ingelson slaps the canvas for yet another highly unique pin attempt.

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At long last Porno Lad opts for another form of self gratification…victory, prying the hand from his genitalia. He holds it up into the air, Cassidy’s eyes cutting between her palm and her downed opponent.

Haze: Do you want me to spit on it?

A knee connects to the back of her head, the very first offensive move delivered in this bout. Haze rolls to the center of the ring, clutching at her skull while Porno Lad races to his feet…well races as fast as his swollen genitals will allow. He steps forward only to have the creases of his knees caught in Haze’s clutches. At once his legs are ripped from under him and Cassidy flips forward into the jacknife cover.

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Porno Lad wraps his arms around Cassidy’s waist and then rolls to his side, pulling her along with him. They end up with the mischievous Haze stretched across her stomach with Porno Lad’s pelvis straddling the back of her head. The crowd pops as he gets to his feet, arms still wrapped around Haze’s waist and now using them to drag her to her feet.

A confused Porno Lad elicits a different type of pleasure, through revenge on his former partner turned rival, hoisting her onto his shoulders into a power bomb position. He is about to drive her down to the canvas only to have Haze wrap her arms around the back of his head….multi-tasking by keeping herself from being power bombed, and at the same time wedging Porno Lad’s face directly into her crotch and keeping it pinned there.

Susie: Guess Porno Lad never listened when people told him to keep his nose clean.

Dollar: I don’t know what Haze is doing here. Is she blocking the power bomb, or is she getting herself a little ecstasy?

Susie: Both.

Laughter emanates from the crowd, getting a little hot under the collars themselves. They don’t know what their watching, a wrestling match or a very bad porn film. The Original Prankster lets go of Cassidy’s waist, flailing his arms to his sides as his face remains buried against her crotch. Finally he turns and steps towards one of the turnbuckles, Haze slipping off his shoulders and sitting herself on top of it. She then takes Porno Lad by the hair, yanks his head back and drives his face into the turnbuckle pad directly between her legs. She slams his skull into it again and again before finally taking him around the neck and diving out of the corner into a tornado DDT.

Porno Lad crashes on top of his skull and flips over, looking incredibly dazed. Ultimately she’s dragged do the canvas and Haze falls into the lateral press, hooking a leg for the three.

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Cassidy almost responds with glee when Porno Lad gets a shoulder up…realizing that the match continues. Her black lips twist into a smile.

Susie: Thank goodness that Cassidy doesn’t have the same issues as Dawn from Teeth…with a puss full of razor sharp bicuspids.

Dollar: Yeah…because that’s REALLY something to be worried about.

The traumatized skull plagues Porno Lad so as he struggles to his feet and receives a running lariat that takes him back down. Cassidy then hunches over, hands on her knees, eyes glued to the face of her opponent.

Haze: You getten hot yet?

The steamy Haze fans herself off before leaping into the air and coming down knee first against Porno Lad’s forehead. A possibly fractured orbital socket results from the blow that sends Porno Lad rolling across the ring and ending up on the apron. He sits up, back wedged to the cables and palm pressed to his eye. The pain mixed with brief bouts of pleasure takes his mind completely off of Cassidy, who swoops in behind him. She reaches through the cables, takes her opponent’s head, turns him around and pulls back, dragging his larynx into the middle cable as he gasps for life. Porno Lad swings his arms, trying so desperately to free himself from the strangulation.

Referee Ingelson starts a five count that eventually forces Haze to break the hold, even though she doesn’t care about being disqualified. She steps back, swooning over the punishment she’s inflicting. Of course she only stays away from the Original Prankster for so long, eventually shoving the official aside and then charging in and delivering a knee strike to his face while he was still resting jaw first on the middle cable.

The stiff strike knocks Porno Lad from the apron and to the floor, crashing with quite a thud.

Dollar: Didn’t take long for this match to get violent, what with a personality like Cassidy Haze’s.

Susie: I think Porno Lad is still too chivalrous to strike a woman…Unless it’s with a whip and there’s a safety word.

Dollar: Yep…We saw this over in SCW. Porno Lad was very reluctant in his matches against the Stewards to get physical with them.

The repeated strikes to his skull creates issues for the Original Prankster, impeding his ascent back to his feet. He leans side first against the ropes when Cassidy steps in above him, taking the top rope and using it to launch herself over, twisting and landing on his shoulders with a hurricarana. But wait, Porno Lad catches her on his shoulders and then delivers a vicious snap power bomb right onto the mats.

Dollar: Ohhh…he hit it that time!

Susie: Chivalry really is dead…Okay…seriously…in this movie Skeletor is really giving me that creepy Aerial Castro vibe with these kids.

Dollar: It’s not even close to Christmas, so why are you watching a He-Man Christmas Special still?

Susie: A He-Man Christmas Special is good at any time of the year.

The slam against the mats leaves Cassidy totally incapacitated, only able to writhe on the mats and reach for her mangled spine. Porno Lad, who twisted into the barrier after delivering the power bomb, finally gathers himself in order to move in and capitalize on his offense. He grabs the hair of Haze, using it to lead her to her feet and back into the ring. He climbs to the apron, steps across it to the turnbuckle and begins to scale to the top rope.

Dollar: Here we go, Porno Lad scaling the corner….who knows what trick he’ll pull off this time.

Though Ethan started his career as a one dimensional, barely trained competitor, now he shows the world just how versatile he’s become. He turns his back on Haze then moonsaults through the air to a rip roaring response, eventually crashing into Cassidy’s stomach then falling onto her chest with a lateral press. Ingelson makes a count that draws the fans out of their seats and closer to the barricade.

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Not even the moonsault was enough, Cassidy getting her shoulder up to keep the violence going. Porno Lad gets to a knee, suspiciously eyeing the official before getting back on the offensive against a woman who outright refuses to be bested in her first IWC singles match.

With a handful of hair Porno Lad leads Haze across the ring and drives her skull into the turnbuckle. She bounces off and staggers back into the shoulder of Porno Lad, wedging it against her spine and then hoisting her up and twisting around into a blue light special style power bomb.

Dollar: Another power bomb by Porno Lad…this one of the spinner variety.

Susie: That’s total thug…anything with spinners are…even if they’re used by a real corny white guy who makes Steve Urkel look gangsta by comparison.

A banged up Cassidy rolls to the center of the ring, finding herself stretched across her back in perfect position for her adversary. Porno Lad is already sliding through the ropes and climbing the very corner he dove off of earlier. He reaches the top, stabilizes himself and then goes airborne, dazzling the crowd as he comes crashing down with the point of his elbow right into Cassidy’s sternum.

Dollar: That beautiful Macho Man style elbow drop delivered by Porno Lad, AGAIN going airborne.

Susie: I want to be a MACHO MAN…didn’t know the Village People were wrestling. They probably really enjoyed the showers after their matches.

Dollar: Careful now. You know how Orlando feels about homophobic slurs. Dwayne Rodriquez still has to start his PSAs to make up for his statements over Twitter.

Victory is finally within Porno Lad’s grasp, or so it would be if Cassidy didn’t display some stunning veteran instincts for such a newbie, rolling away from her opponent and into the ropes. She wraps the crux of her elbow around the middle rope to prevent being dragged to the center of the ring. Though Porno Lad has issues with physical abuse on women, he continues to make an exception in Cassidys case. He dives across the ring and drops his forehead into her lower back, causing Haze to screech.

He now drags her up to her feet and grabs her wrist, trying to shoot her off across the ring. However, Haze wraps her arm around the top rope, refusing falling prey to her opponent’s trap. A flustered Porno Lad changes his strategy, wedging a spine to Cassidy’s spine, lifting her up and then dropping her crotch first on the top rope.

She is left straddling the cable, seated in perfect position for whatever her opponent has in store, which seems to be a gravity defying dive. Porno Lad runs at the nearby turnbuckle, steps up it and then lunges off the top,, twisting around into a diving lariat right to Cassidy’s throat.

Dollar: Devastating springboard lariat by Porno Lad almost taking the freakishly hot head right off of Haze.

Cassidy flips backwards off the ropes, crashes into the apron and then spills to the outside of the ring amongst a loud uproar from the very enthused crowd.

Dollar: These two have turned up the violence in quite a hurry…really beating the tar out of one another.

Susie: We’re all filled with tar? I thought we were filled with candied yams.

Dollar: Only if your competing on the Biggest Loser. And at the end of this match it looks more and more likely that Haze is going to be the big loser.

Porno Lad struggles to his feet, employing the ropes as an aid while his eyes hone in on the struggling Haze, who has never recovered from the power bomb on the outside mats. In spite of this, and all the trauma she’s suffered after that crippling move, she grabs at the apron, employing it to reach her feet. Porno Lad then gets a running start across the ring.

Susie: He’s gonna dive..YES…I brought my score-card this time….and guess what I added to it.

Dollar: I’m gonna take a shot in the dark here and guess….glitter.

Susie: You sure are a wicked wizard.

Across the ring rushes Porno Lad, building momentum as he ricochets from the far ropes to turn himself into a human projectile. He charges in and begins to leap over the top rope at Haze only to have her suddenly slide back into the ring, avoiding calamity. As a result Porno Lad changes strategy in mid-air, floating over the top rope and landing on the apron instead of on his opponent.

He then begins to step over the cables when Haze rushes at the perpendicular cables, springing off the top rope, twisting and nailing Porno Lad to the jaw with a back heel kick. Porno Lad is almost knocked to the outside but somehow maintains his balance on the apron, putting both feet back on it and leaning against the top rope in the process. He doesn’t stay up for long as Haze rushes in and dives over the top rope, catching the Original Prankster around the waist as she flips over him and then drags him down from the apron into a sunset flip power bomb on the mats.

Dollar: The power bomb comes back to haunt Porno Lad…as it was just used to shave a few years off of his career.

Susie: And Porno Lad shaves enough. Seriously, I think he has less body hair than I do.

Fans slap the barricades and stomp their feet, applauding that last move which crippled Porno Lad…or so that’s the effect it would have on a normal human being. The abnormal Prankster crawls into the barrier, trying to summon the strength to stand up just as Haze steps in and almost caves in his chest with a roundhouse kick.

She then takes his hair, leads him to the ring and rolls him in under the ropes where the Original Prankster looks all but incapacitated. Once assured she has her adversary where she wants him, Haze reaches into her corset and removes an object, one carried with her at all times, a switchblade.

Dollar: Uhhh….what does Haze have in mind here? Actually…she’s totally out of her mind if she plans on inserting that switchblade into this match.

Susie: Uh-oh….Haze is about to cut Porno Lad into thin meat slices to put on a pastrami sandwich…now I’m hungry.

Dollar: She is on the verge of turning Porno Lad into a real cut up….hahahahaha…do you get what I just…wait, I keep forgetting I have to explain every little syllable to you.

Susie: What’s a syllable?

Dollar: Dear lord.

At a methodical pace Cassidy slides into the ring, slithering towards the laid out Porno Lad in true serpentine fashion. Official Ingelson tries to intervene when he sees the blade in her hand, only to be warded off when she raises the sharp spear in his direction. Lips are licked as the knife is brought down upon the unconscious and unsuspecting Porno Lad and begins to cut….not flesh….but hair.

A lock of his curly fro is cut away and then raised to Cassidy’s nose, smelling the heavenly scent and getting euphoric result. Every inch of her quivers upon in response to the odor. The crowd is also quivering…or more accurately…shaking from the effects of total repulsion.

Dollar: She just took a lock of Porno Lad’s hair? What is up with these crazy goth chicks?

Susie: I’m guessing she’s gonna make a little hair doll backstage of Porno Lad, and do very interesting things with it. And by interesting I mean masturbate with it.

Dollar: Really didn’t need you to spell that one to us.

Cassidy stuffs the wad of hair into her corset before going to cut away another bundle of hair. The scalping concludes thanks to a well placed kick right into the top of Cassidy’s head, rendering her quite loopy. She shakes off the shots and goes to cut even more hair only to be nailed to the skull with a SECOND kick. The knife falls to the canvas and Haze rolls away from her opponent.

Porno Lad at last sits up and then reaches towards his skull, feeling at his fro. In spite of the fact that it was just one piece of hair removed, Porno Lad can feel the difference. All of a sudden any semblance of humanity escapes his face, which twists into an expression of pure and utter malice.

Porno Lad stands up and unleashes the roar of all primal roars. He charges right into Cassidy, who takes a step to the side before launching his opponent through the cables to the outside. Porno Lad lands right on his feet and doesn’t miss a step, moving towards the ring announcer Jessica Wilde, taking her wrist, yanking her out of her chair then snatching it up into his clutches.

Dollar: Uhhh, Susie, you dated this man at one point, why has he suddenly gone all Leather-face?

Susie: Are you saying he turned into George Hamilton?

As Haze snatches her blade off the canvas her back is entirely exposed to the devastating chair shot that connects. Cassidy arches her spine, grimacing and then grinning before she turns and gets smacked right on top of the skull with the steel. Porno Lad looks as if he’s completely lost any semblance of composure, and the referee has no other alternative but to disqualify him on that basis. The bell, per the official’s request chimes in the background.

Dollar: Porno Lad disqualified after he went mental.

Susie: You never touch his hair, Johnny, NEVER!

The Original Prankster throws the chair aside and screams at Cassidy, ready to rip her throat out with his claws. Luckily for Haze, she’s taken a fortuitous roll to the exterior of the ring, preventing the full wrath of her opponent.

Susie: He’s all fueled up on testosterone and sugar….lots of sugar.

Dollar: One lock of hair is cut away and Porno Lad turns into an absolute basket-case. Let this be a lesson to you.

The bell might be chime..chime…chiming…but it hasn’t brought an end to this war between the two. Cassidy is on her elbows and knees, slithering across the outside mats with her eyes locked on the prey, Porno Lad. The two are physically drained by their back and forth encounter but Porno Lad is still all fired up, ready to go twelve, thirteen, fourteen more rounds if necessary. Just as Porno Lad puts his dukes up he finds his knee clipped out of nowhere by Silence.

Dollar: It’s the Black Crusade…

Susie: Um, why?

Dollar: They just came out of nowhere, and their pummeling Porno Lad.

The unsuspecting Porno Lad was caught with his pants down, but this time it won’t lead to a paternity suit. He grabs at his mangled limb and leaves his upper body exposed to some stomps to the chest delivered by Silence, all business, focus unshakeable as she carries out the will of Mr. Gaunt, stoically watching from the apron. Haze also takes on the role of onlooker, slipping around the ring with Porno Lad’s hair twirling through her fingers and a macabre smile stenciled on her face.

Dollar: Silence jumping Porno Lad out of nowhere, presumably at the behest of her leader…but I’ll echo your sentiments, Susie, but not do so in the tone of someone with down syndrome…Why? Why are they doing this?

Not a trace of emotion can be detected in Leeland’s eyes, or face, eliciting no pleasure from the assault. Stomps continue to rain down on Porno Lad’s face and chest, too exhausted to defend himself. Mere boots are not proficient enough weapons for Legion’s emissary…who now requests something from Mr. Gaunt. From the mats, the steel chair thrown aside by Porno Lad is withdrawn and eventually slid into Silence’s clutches.

Dollar: Now she’s got a friggin chair…

Susie: Quick, grab a seat yourself, Johnny, cause we’re so going to play musical chairs. The most extreme game of musical chairs ever…There might be lives lost…Just like when we played it at my family reunion.

Dollar: This isn’t a game of musical chairs, Susie, but I think Porno Lad is gonna hear a tune, the sound of his skull shattering and intense ringing in his ears.

Steel is held above the head of Porno Lad, ready to inflict serious damage to his already shaken skull when….

Katelyn Buehler: Mr. Gaunt…Please…PLEASE!

Buehler’s joy of being freed from prison is incredibly short lived, once again feeling entrapped…hands ahackled not by cuffs, but by the actions of the Black Crusade. Instantly, at the sight of Katelyn standing on the stage, and the sound of her pleas, Mr. Gaunt gestures to Silence to hold it…yet keep the chair ready. It almost looks like the frightening lass has transformed into a store-front mannequin, modeling the impending doom of a struggling Original Prankster.

Katelyn: I’ll do it…just don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him!

Mr. Gaunt looks unconvinced, pointing to Silence, who rears back with the chair.

Katleyn: NO! Don’t….DON’T!

A few steps are taken by the desperate Katelyn, almost falling to her knees with tears forming in her eyes, but Mr. Gaunt’s glare stops her cold.

Katelyn: I swear I’ll do it….I’ll do what you’ve asked. Just please let Ethan go. I’m begging you.

Dollar: Again, hate to sound like a broken record, but WTF? What is Buehler talking about?

Susie: Knowing Katelyn’s past, I shudder to think of what Mr. Gaunt wants her to do. I bet it’s giving a blow-job.

Dollar: How salacious.

Susie: Yep…he’ll totally have her blow up some balloon animals for the bar mitzvah of Mr. Gaunt’s pre-teen nephew. And yes, suddenly Mr. Gaunt is Jewish. Why, because I think he’s look adorable in a yarmulke.

Another gesture to Silence causes her to freeze, catering to the whims of her guide.

Katelyn: You have my word, Mr. Gaunt…I swear to do what you’ve asked….Just don’t hurt him anymore.

Mr. Gaunt forms a rather twisted grin before snapping his fingers, putting Silence into motion. She drops the chair and walks away from a recovering Porno Lad, who winces in pain as he reaches for his knee.

Dollar: Gaunt seems to be buying Katelyn’s sincerity…but seriously…what’s the deal here? I hate not knowing everything that’s going down.

Susie: You should already know that Katelyn is going down…and a lot.

Mr. Gaunt and Silence stroll up the ramp straight towards a cowering Katelyn, who steps back and hides behind one of the steel struts supporting the Cartel-tron. A pause is taken by Gaunt in order to address the scantily clad beauty.

Mr. Gaunt: Relax, Dear, I’m NOT the one who will help you realize your fears. That honor will be saved for the opponent you just agreed to face next week…

Intrigue…intrigue…intrigue…a mystery so elaborate it could even leave Velma Dinkley scratching her head…continues to develop like a twelve year old girls‘…you know. No answers are given…leaving the fans with more questions than ever…like a twelve year old girl growing into her…you know.

Dollar: Who? Who in tap dancing Christ has Katelyn Buehler just agreed to face on the next Riot!?

Susie: Tell me it’s Sean Connery…it’s GOT to be Sean Connery….If not I‘ll hold my breath…don‘t think I won‘t do it…I’m already doing it right now.

Dollar: Good…keep it up for the rest of the night, Susie. I don’t we’re gonna get answers….Not until Mr. Gaunt is ready to give them.

Once Mr. Gaunt and Silence have cleared from her path, Buehler rushes the ring, slides in and jumps to her man’s side. She begins to aid Porno Lad up to his seat and then eventually to his feet, but the Original Prankster almost loses his footing, feelings the effects of the match in combination with the Black Crusade attack.

Dollar: Some truly twisted happenings on Riot! Tonight…and now I’m hearing a lot of unnecessarily loud SCREAMING in my ear. Something’s happening backstage, so yeah, get a camera back there or something.

Susie:: Please let it be a parade, I hope there’s elephants.

Though one could mistake it for a parade, or a funeral procession, the emerging scene is neither….or might just turn into either or. Police cars surround and provide a buffer for the limo centered between them.

Dollar: Who is this arriving in the limo? God I hope it’s not Rayne Young again…I hate being trolled.

Susie: I love trolls, especially the ones with the wacky hair and the little diamonds in their tummies you can rub.

The speculation doesn’t last long at all as the police exit their cruisers and position themselves around the back door to the limo. In lieu of building suspense, and turning this into one of those unnecessarily long, ’who could be in the limo’ running motifs that have been used ad nasueam, the passenger is quickly revealed. The door opens and out steps Orlando Cruze. His arrival is met with quite a bit of fan-fare in spite of his poor decision making and egotistical approach to running his business. The World Title poised over his shoulder results in some verbal backlash from the crowd, building heat before he can even utter so much as a word.

Orlando: Follow me please.

The officers nod as Orlando takes point, leading the group onward and inward into the Manhattan Center. But just before they can set foot on sacred ground, an obstruction…a particularly obnoxious one at that….rushes to Orlando’s side, desperately trying to get his attention.

Sparkles: Jesus you’ve got a big dome.

Greyson Lovejoy: Watch yourself, Sparkles…Mr. Cruze…Mr Cruze…

Orlando’s actions are involuntary, stopping the moment he sees the camera, the microphone velcroed to Sparkles’ palm, and the opportunity to steal a few more minutes of airtime as effortlessly as he stole the World Heavyweight Title.

Sparkles: Hey. Mr. Malato….or…wait…what ethnicity are you? You more colorful than Tammy Faye Bakker’s face.

Orlando: Who in the hell is Tammy Faye Bakker?

Sparkles: Well…that was obscure reference number 489…getting so much closer to 500…When that day comes, there will be balloons…and confetti…yes….mass confetti.

Orlando: Why did I ever hire you two? Get on with your damn point.

Sparkles: Ugh, fine…but I was so going to compare your skin pigment to the shade of dog poop….thanks for denying my loyal fans the honor of that wonderfully offbeat comment.

To keep from ending up on the unemployment line, Greyson cuts off his partner and gets back on subject.

Greyson: Sparkles handed me some SPARK notes to conduct the interview just in case he was too mesmerized by your boob shaped skull to carry on.

A note-card is raised from Loveyoy’s pocket and read aloud.

Greyson: Why are you here, and why are you competing in the Rayne Young Invitational?

Orlando opens his mouth to respond even before the question can be finished…only to stop and bat an eye.

Orlando: I’m here bec….wait…what?

The card is scrutinized a bit more carefully.

Greyson: CRAP! Hold on a second…Got these mixed up with my notes from Awakening…

In a frantic search he reaches into every pocket with his one free hand.

Greyson: Where are they? Where are they? Come on…come on…ah-ha!

A relieved Lovejoy removes the cards from his back pocket, using them as a fan…feeling like he’s directly under a heating lamp at the moment.

Greyson: Okay, Mr. Cruze, Sparkles wants to….wait…hold on.

Card after card is tossed aside by a despondent and increasingly anxious Lovejoy.

Greyons: Seriously Sparkles? These cards have nothing but boobs drawn on them.

Sparkles: It’s a compulsion.

It appears as if Lovejoy is on the verge of having a stroke.

Sparkles: Relax Chief…I’ll take this.

Attention turns to an increasingly hostile Cruze, his patience waning.

Sparkles: Lando, Babe, people want to know, what’s with all the bacon?

It takes a moment for Orlando to realize that Sparkles is referring to the particularly aloof officers providing escort.

Orlando: Oh…you think their here to protect me?

Sparkles: I can be pretty damn intimidating, especially when I flex my biceps.

Orlando: Well their definitely not here to protect me from YOU….or from anyone for that matter. Their here tonight to help me do the right thing…

Sparkles: So their gonna force Kathryn Pearson and Tiami Tyler to wrestle in pudding?

Orlando: Erm…no…seems we have vastly different ideas of what’s right…

Sparkles: What do you consider to be the right then? Pasties over the nipples?

Orlando: Not exactly…

The threshold to the Manhattan Center is passed by the Icon and his army of officers.

Sparkles: Did we just get disssed?

Greyson: Maybe if you didn’t talk about boobs every ten seconds he would have stuck around to finish the interview.

Sparkles: It’s a compulsion.

Sparkles and Lovejoy continue their debate over the mammary gland while Orlando and the police force continue with their mission.

Dollar: Tay-Tay wasn’t blowing smoke up our asses, though if she’d like to, I’m more than willing to let her try that on me….Orlando Cruze IS here…but he hasn’t come alone.

Susie: So many men in uniforms….please excuse me if I swoon.

Dollar: He also said he’s going to do what’s right…intrigue running wild as Riot! Continues….

Porno Lad: Seriously….SERIOUSLY!?!

Katelyn: Ethan, please just give me a chance to explain.

To the very inner core Porno Lad is shaken, skin actually quivering, beads of sweat racing down his cheeks. It almost looks like he should be talking to a rape councilor at the moment rather than Katelyn, who tries to keep up with the pacing Prankster and at the same time, keep his impulsive anger in check. Hands slide through Porno Lad’s locks as he continues working a trench into the floor of the corridor, pacing to and thro and fro in the midst of a rage induced tirade.

Porno Lad: What’s there to explain!?!

He lashes out, arms thrown to his sides. A meek Katelyn tries to develop the courage to speak up.

Katelyn: I HAD to agree to his demands….I really don’t want to be a pawn for the Black Crusade, but it’s all I could do to keep them from….

Porno Lad: Look at this…LOOK!

The hair he was tussling is now stretched via his fingers.

Porno Lad: It’s a total mess…And not even a hot mess…I could deal with a hot mess…but not a regular mess…it’s just…just…too messy!

Clearly Katelyn is totally out of synch with the Pornster.

Katelyn: Wait…what are you mad about?

Porno Lad: Oh gee, let me think…how about the fact that I look like a God damn Lex Luthor wannabe. I might as well as start burning crosses on lawns and….

Katelyn: She only took one strand.

Porno Lad: One strand…one strand…do you know me at all?

Katelyn: Calm down.

Porno Lad: I can’t calm down…I won’t…I mustn’t! I’m not taking this lying down…though in saying that I just totally gave myself a raging boner. So now I’m going to walk away and take a cold shower.

Katelyn: But…but…but…

He stops his retreat just long enough to turn, and gently place palms to Buehler’s cheeks.

Porno Lad: And yeah….the Black Crusade, don’t worry about them…I’ll deal with those mask fetish whores.

Though she normally never wants to go without Porno Lad‘s touch, this time she pulls the hands away from her face and reacts with danger as opposed to delight.

Katelyn: You can‘t…I‘ve…I‘ve already taken care of…

Porno Lad: You heard me, woman! I SAID I‘ll make those whores suffer. I‘ll pulverize them worse than Octomom‘s vag after child birth.

Buehler: Did you really just make an outdated Octomom reference?…And that’s not even the point. You don’t have to do anything, I’m willing to take a beating from the Black Crusade if it means you’ll be safe.

Porno Lad: Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not gonna live with that shit on my conscious. And you forget, I’m the ULTIMATE BABY FACE now, which means I don’t let my lady love get her ass kicked just so I don’t get some blemishes on my handsome face. Now stop worrying, go grab me a bottle of Rogaine so I can re-grow the hair that psycho-slut stole from me, and let’s get some payback on the Bitch-Crusade…

Buehler: Ethan…Ethan…PLEASE!

No more….Porno Lad will hear no more…walking right off for showering purposes. He doesn’t hear her words or see the distress in her eyes. And the camera doesn’t remain fixated on it either, instead tracking every step that the former World Heavyweight Champion, Porno Lad takes in the direction of the lockeroom. In he steps, passing by Isaac Saine seated in the corner, head lowered and face covered by bangs, as well as Xander Cassius and Dwayne Rodriquez, collaborating on what needs to be done against the Blacklist next.

No one and their trivial issues concerns Porno Lad as he proceeds towards his locker, about to open it and grab some of his body spray only to stop in mid motion, body frozen at the image of a note impaled into the door by a switchblade. The knife also keeps a strand of hair in place…a follicle that once belonged to Porno Lad.

Porno Lad: Come back to Papa.

He takes the hair and begins to pet it.

Porno Lad: Your brothers and sisters missed you so….Now what have we here?

The note is opened, eyes immediately darting to the signature, signed not by a name, but by a set of black lipstick marks. His expression slowly changes and the pigment fades from his flesh as he reads the handwritten document.

“Rayne Young wants to cut his head bald, then you want to cut your head bald, pussies.”

“If Rayne Young wore a bandana, you wanna wear a bandana.”

“If Rayne Young puts a cross on his back, you wanna put crosses on your back.”

“Niggas, you ain’t Rayne Young, this is Rayne Young.”

“Maestro”

“Blame Me!”

“Gangsta Rap Made Me Do It.” – By Ice Cube erupts from the P.A system, as Rayne Young walks out and the crowd go nuts in anticipation of seeing the legend back in the ring.

You niggas know my pyrocalstic flow

You niggas know my pyrocalstic flow flow

You niggas know my pyrocalstic flow it’s R.A.W R.A.W

You lookin at the ground wizzy war lord vocal chord so vicious

And I don’t have to show riches to pull up pull off with some bad bitches.

And it ain’t about shivelry

It’s about dope lyrics and delivery

It’s about my persona ain’t nothing like a man that can do wha he wanna.

‘Rayne saunters down the ramp, soaking up the atmosphere he’s created, and grins from ear to ear, loving every moment of it.’

Ain’t nothing like man on that you knew on the cornna

See em come up and xxxx up the owna

See em throw up westside california

Nigga I’m hot as pheonix Arizona.

‘Stepping up onto the ring apron, as he stops for a few seconds, looks out onto the crowd and grins once more, as the fans chant his name, as he steps into the ring.’

I’m utah I got multiple bitches

It’s a new law keep a hold of yo riches

Dumb nigga don’t spend it as soon as you get it and recognize I’m a captian you a lieutenant.

‘Climbing the turnbuckle, raising his arms into the air, only makes the crowd cheer Rayne further more, as he smiles.’

I can say what I want to say ain’t nohin to it gangsta rap made me do it

If I call you a nigger ain’t nohin to it gangsta rap made me do it

I can act like an animal ain’t nohin to it gangsta rap made me do it

If I eat you like a cannibal ain’t nohin to it gangsta rap made me do it.

‘As the music begins to die down, Rayne decides to jump off the turnbuckle to the ring below, and wait for his opponent

Susie: I didn’t get a word of that. I’ve never under stood gangster shenanigans

Dollar: I do, I’ve always been down

Susie: Really?

Dollar: Yeah, I once took a trip down town to pop a cap in someone ass…bitch

Susie: You didn’t really did you?

Dollar: No, but I could…and look good doing it as well.

“Narcissistic Cannibal” plays as the arena goes dark. The fans give off a mixed reaction of boos and small cheers. White lights begin to flicker as Damion Sommers walks out from behind the curtain. Lights still flickering he makes his way down the aisle way walking with a slight slouch and his head tilted to his right. Sommers rolls into the ring, stands up and walks to his corner

Dollar: Making his debut tonight, I’m sure this ‘strange’ individual will be looking to make an impact

Susie: Technically Rayne is making his debut as well

Dollar: Technically, isn’t exact true though is it? This is the first time we’ve seen Sommers on IWC television…that better?

Susie: Much, I may look stupid but I’m sharp as a tack

Dollar: Of course Susie

The camera catches him shaking his head and banging his head on the desk.

Susie: Need some water Johnny

Dollar: No, let’s just call this match shall we?

Susie: Okies

The bell rings, and the attention turns back to the ring, where Rayne and Sommers have already engaged in some kind of verbal altercation

Dollar: Lots of expletives being thrown around there I’m sure.

Susie: Like Poo and Wee you mean?

Dollar: Piddle and Plop?

Susie: What? I don’t understand

Dollar: You do realize that’s how they got their name?

Susie: Who did?

Dollar: Piddle and Plop…for Christ’s sake.

Susie just sits there blank

Dollar: I thought you were educated now or something?

Back in the ring the referee is about to pull the two individuals apart, but Rayne cocks his fist back and lands with a hard right that rocks Damion back on his heels. He follows it up with another, and then another before booting his opponent in the gut, taking a couple of steps back and lifting his knee into the face of Sommers. He then grabs his arm, whipping him across the ring and looking for a clothesline, but Damion ducks under it and slides out the ring to a chorus of boos, and Rayne shouting at him from inside. Rayne sits on the middle strand and invites Damion back, but Sommers declines, and walks to the ring steps

Dollar: Rayne was being a bad ass long before Sommers started wrestling, and he’s finding that out the hard way.

Susie: But he had the sense to get out the ring when things were going south

Sommer’s climbs back into the ring, Rayne giving him the space whilst mocking him. They circle each other for a few moments before hooking up in a battle of strength neither of them gaining any ascendancy till they break. They both look at each other for a few moments before hooking up again, once again no one getting the advantage and once again they break. For a third time they circle each other, before it looks like they will hook up again, this time however Rayne grabbing the back of Sommers head and driving it down into a lifted knee which drops Sommers to the canvas. Quick as a flash Rayne drops an elbow across the chest of Damion, before trapping him in a reverse head lock.

Dollar: There are not many in this industry with the experience that Rayne possesses and he showed that in spades right there.

Susie: And it’s Rayne Young the early aggressor, Sommers having problems getting this match started.

Sommers get to his feet, and nails Rayne with an elbow to the stomach, and then another till Rayne lets the hold go. Damion grabs Young by the wrist and whips him across the ring, Rayne hitting the turnbuckle. Sommer tries to build his momentum by charging in but Rayne moves out the way nimbly with a side step. Damion manages to stop, but Rayne spins him around, crashing a right hook into the side of his temple. Rayne then nips up onto the second rope and drives his knee into the side of Sommers head, and then again, before grabbing the back of Damion’s head and driving it into the mat with a bulldog from his lofty position.

Dollar: Ooohhh, Sommers being systematically taken apart here by the experienced Rayne Young.

Susie: And Rayne letting the crowd know he is in totally control here as well listen to that reaction.

The arena predominately boos at him, but in amongst the jeers there are some cheers, Sommers not being the most popular member of the roster either. Rayne seems to revel in it though, and he brings his foot down on the back of Damions head, before spinning him over. It looks like he is going for a cover, but Sommers gouges Rayne in both eyes, blinding him temporarily and giving Sommers time to regroup. As Rayne gets to his feet still unable to see, Damion runs in with a Clothesline, almost taking Rayne’s head off with the shot and causing him to spin almost 360 degrees and to the mat.

Susie: That’s better from Sommers, Rayne getting just a taste of his own medicine there

Dollar: And here I was thinking that Sommers was a lost cause. Where the hell is he going now?

Damion is climbing the ropes, but it’s too early for that, and before he even gets to the top Rayne has recovered and is in the corner. He steps up onto the second rope and bails him from the corner, Sommers crashing into the mat hard

Dollar: Too early, there you need to wear Young down a lot more than that

Rayne points to his head, ensuring the crowd are in no doubt who he believes to be the more intelligent of the two of them.

Susie: Thus far this has been all about Rayne Young, Damion just cannot get going right now.

Rayne helps dazed Sommers to his feet, hooking him around the waist and delivering a Belly to Belly Suplex which drives the air out of Damions lungs. Rayne doesn’t stop there however, sensing that the momentum is at its peak now, and picks Sommers up again, this time dropping him with a Gut Wrench Suplex. Rayne still isn’t finished however, and drags him up again, giving Damion the middle fingers, before kicking him in the gut, and dropping him into the mat with a Evenflow DDT, Sommers in real trouble

Dollar: Rayne putting on a wrestling master class which if I’m brutally honest, at the moment Sommers has no answer to. This match could be over before it even started if Sommers doesn’t find a way to match Young’s skills

Rayne drops to his knees, and hooks in Sommers ankle, brutalizing him with the ankle lock he calls the Crucifier

Susie: And there is one of Young’s trademarks…Damion needs to get out of this and fast.

Dollar: Or he won’t just lose the match, he’ll end up with his ankle broken

The referee asks Damion if he wants to quit, Sommers vigorously shaking his head, trying to ignore the pain in his ankle. Rayne screams at him to quit, but still Sommers tries to block out the pain, crawling methodically towards the ropes. Rayne continues twisting the ankle, Sommers getting closer and closer, but seeing that Rayne drags him back towards the center of the ring. Sommers uses that momentum however to spin around, thrusting out his heel and catching Rayne right underneath the chin, sending him sprawling backwards and almost out of the ring. Sommers gets to his get, using the ropes as leverage, but he can’t put any weight on the ankle at the moment, and he stamps his foot trying to get the feeling back.

Dollar: A kick to the face…that’s one heck of an equalizer.

Susie: And then some…Rayne looking a little dazed now, but Sommers in no state to take advantage. Look at him, he can hardly apply any weight.

Rayne shakes his head to get rid of the cobwebs, and see’s Sommers still in trouble. He hurtles across the ring, looking to take his man down, but Sommers thrusts out his hand, viciously hitting Young in the throat with his hand. Rayne immediately recoils, and Sommers jumps, his knee crashing into Rayne’s face. When Sommers lands however he lands on his bad ankle which buckles, but he just manages to stay on his feet, leaping into the air and dropping his leg across the throat of the Enigma. Rayne holds his throat in agony, but Sommers picks him up with great effort, and drops him again with a short arm clothesline. He stamps his foot into the mat again, this time with a bit more force, and as he walks around the prone body of Rayne Young, his limp isn’t so noticeable.

Dollar: Finally we are seeing some offence from Damion Sommers and not before time either

Damion picks Rayne to his feet and pushes him back towards the corner. He then mounts the turnbuckle and starts raining down hard rights, the crowd counting to ten as he does, and only then does he jump down with the referee threatening to disqualify him. Sommer’s turns to face the referee who points to his shirt, but Damion just grins, and turns his attentions back to Rayne, spinning him around so the referee is unsighted and hitting him with a Low Blow. For a moment Rayne looks stunned, but then he drops to his knees, Sommers running in with a vicious knee to the side of the head, seeming to knock Rayne clean out. The crowd erupts at the sight of the high impact move, Sommers now seemingly untroubled by his injured ankle. Sommers drops to his knees and hooks the leg

1…

2…

Rayne kicks out at two, which seems to both surprise and frustrate Sommers, and in his frustration he brings his foot down, stomping on the body of Rayne who tries his best to defend himself. Sommers drags the Enigma to his feet, Irish Whipping him into the ropes and then scooping him up into the Fireman’s Carry. He then adjusts Rayne’s position and brings him crashing into the mat with a near perfect Power Slam, once again bringing the fans to their feet. Again the referee positions himself for a count and Sommers covers Rayne for a pin

1…

2…

Rayne gets his arm up, frustrating Damion even more. Damion once again gets in the referee’s face, but this time more forcibly, making the referee back into a corner. As he does, Rayne is behind him and getting to his feet, untying the protection on the top turnbuckle and throwing it to ringside

Susie: Why is he taking the ring apart? We pay people good money to put these things together.

Dollar: I think he’s being a bit more sinister than that

The referee continues to admonish Sommers who eventually gives up, turning towards Rayne who is now standing dazed in the corner. Sommer’s runs in, looking for the body block, but Rayne steps out the way, grabbing the back of Damions head and forcing it into the exposed metal. Damions eyes seem to roll into the back of his head and he collapses. The referee notices the turnbuckle, and asks Rayne the question, but Rayne puts on his most innocent of faces, and drops into the cover. The referee having not seen anything drops for the count

1…

2…

The crowd erupts, and Rayne holds his arms aloft, but to no avail as the referee points to the ropes where Sommers has his right foot rested

Dollar: Amazing ring presence from the rookie right there. He knew where he was and what he needed to do. If he hadn’t this match would be over.

Susie: Rayne showing that he is still the master of deception, and the momentum has swung once again. And he’s going up top

Rayne climbs the far turnbuckle and measures Sommers. He leaps from the top, crashing across the prone body of his opponent with the Afterburner, his version of the Five Star Frog Splash. After a few seconds to compose him, he drags himself over to Damion

Dollar: We’re done, this is over…count him referee

Rayne hooks the leg, holding his arm aloft and counting with the referee

1…

2…

Rayne rolls off victorious, but to his amazing the referee holds up two fingers, Damion having miraculously kicked out at the very last possible moment. The crowd is on their feet in amazement as this match continues.

Dollar: Damion Sommers showing tremendous resiliency and courage here Susie

Susie: And showing why Orlando Cruze signed him. He’s still in big trouble though in this match up

Rayne picks up Sommers, and motions to the crowd

Dollar: This is it Susie…Curtain Call

The fans buzz with anticipation as Rayne prepares. He goes to lift him up, but Sommers squirms out the move, landing on his feet behind Rayne. He spins him around, and Russian Leg Sweeps him to the floor, before quickly applying a figure four leg lock, squeezing for all he is worth, Rayne Young howling out in agony

Susie: Oh my days…from nowhere, Sommers has the figure four locked in, and Rayne has nowhere to go

Dollar: Hang in there Young, come on make it to those ropes.

The referee is in Rayne’s face asking him if he wants to quit, but Rayne refuses, reaching out for the strands but they are too far away. He drops to his back, and raises his hand, looking like he is about to quit

Dollar: Rayne’s going to quit…Sommers has this, what an upset

Rayne’s hand hovers above the canvas, and he squeezes his eyes tight trying to block out the pain. Sommers applied even more pressure, but Rayne spins around, trying to reverse the move. This takes Damion by surprise and he tries to power back, but Rayne rolls onto his front, the pressure now on Sommers who has no choice but to release the hold. Sommers gets to his feet slowly, Rayne even more so and it is Sommers who reacts first, charging towards Young. Rayne however reacts, and dives forwards, almost cutting Damion in half with a Spear.

Dollar: What a counter, and what a match. The momentum swinging all over the place…this is an amazing advertisement for the IWC

Susie: And precisely what the SCW is missing right now?

Dollar: I never said that

Rayne is in no fit state to take advantage, holding his right leg and in some pain. The referee checks on him, whilst in the opposite corner Sommers reaches in his tights

Susie: Now this isn’t the time for that

Dollar: What?

Susie: He’s…

Dollar: No…look, he’s got brass Knucks, turn around referee.

Rayne shrugs off the referee and heads over to Sommers who is still holding his side. Young grabs Sommers, but with the referee unsighted, Sommers hits an European Uppercut with the Knucks on his hands, Rayne immediately falling backwards and to the mat. The referee drops to check on Rayne, Damion throwing the weapon to ringside

Susie: Ouchie…that’s got to hurt

Dollar: Hurt? Rayne is out of it

Sommers moves the referee to one side and stands over his opponent. He then drops to one knee and applies pressure to both shoulders.

1…

2…

Susie: No, not like this

3…

The crowd is in total and utter hysterics as Sommers picks up a shock victory. Or at least the arena thought so, the referee however motioning two, Rayne shoulder off the mat

Dollar: Oh my…Rayne Young kicks out after a brutal sneak attack, but how much is really left

Susie: Damion looking to find out right here

Sommers drags Rayne to his feet, Rayne hardly unable to stand. He looks him in the eyes, a sly grin sneaking across his fact.

Dollar: Sommers preparing for the Evenflow DDT. He hits this, we are over.

Sommers lift one arm in the air, about to hit the move, but Rayne instinctively lifts Damion in the air, and onto his shoulders, before driving Damion into the mat with the Curtain Call, both of them ending up motionless on the canvas

Susie: There was nothing else he could do…Young instinctively hits his finisher, but is in no state to capitalize on it.

Susie: Both men are out of it, and we could have a double count out here.

The referee checks on both men before beginning the count

1…

2…

3…

4…

Dollar: Neither men moving, both have given so much

5…

Susie: It would be a shame if we didn’t have a winner

6…

7…

Dollar: I think that’s the way this is going though, neither man able to move

8…

9…

Susie: This is over…what a match

The referee is just about to count ten when Rayne lifts his arm and drapes it across Damions chest. The referee drops to his knee, slapping the mat

1…

2…

NOOOOOOO, Damion kicks out, the referee signaling a two count to Rayne. He rolls away and drags himself up on the ropes, whilst shaking his head in disbelief.

Dollar: What an absolutely amazing match this has been. Both men are spent, with nothing else to give. It’s now just a case of which of them has that little bit extra, and wants it that little bit more.

Rayne walks over to Damion who is just getting to his feet, Sommers responding with a hard right which rocks Rayne back on his heels. Rayne responds in kind, Sommers reeling and almost dropping to one knee. Sommers swings again, but Rayne ducks, putting his arm across the chest of Sommers and lifting him up. However Sommers shifts his weight, and rolls Rayne to the canvas and into a small package.

1…

2…

Kick out by Rayne, who rolls away, getting to his feet just in time to block a grapple attempt from Sommers. Rayne pushes him away, but Sommers kicks him in the gut bending him over. Rayne retaliates with a right, almost taking Damions head off, and he moves in, grabbing Sommers by the waist looking to lift him up onto his shoulders.

Sommers punches Rayne in the temple however, causing him to drop Damion back to the mat. Damion spins Rayne around and hits the Evenflow DDT again, drilling Young’s head into the mat. Quick as a flash he drops to his knees, hooking the tights

1…

2…

3…

Rayne kicks out, but just a moment too late, the bell ringing as Sommers rolls to the outside

Susie: He did it, in his first ever IWC match, Sommers has pinned a legend in Rayne Young

In the ring Rayne is on his knees, holding his head and shouting expletives in Damions direction

Dollar: What an amazing match, could have gone either way. But it’s the rookie that kicks off his career in some style, but what next now for Rayne Young?

Rayne watches as Damion backs up the ramp, smiling as he does. He holds his arms aloft, which gets a decent reaction from the fans, before disappearing through the curtain

Mark Comeau stands front and center, microphone in hand, and a wide smile on his face….microphone aimed towards it.

Comeau: Ladies and gentlemen….Christian Savior.

The lens pulls back to reveal the dapper…debonair…distinguished…all out of adjectives starting with the letter ‘d’….Christian Savior, dressed to the nines…tuxedo and bow tie, yes, even a bow tie, adorning the flesh of the Rising Phoenix. Somehow his smile is wider than Comeau’s grin…which is largely insincere to begin with.

Mark:: My oh my, aren’t you looking spruce tonight?

Christian Savior: All for good reason, Mark.

States the former World Champion in the process of straightening his collar.

Mark: Oh? Specifics?

Christian: Why you rascally little Comeau….always trying to get the scoop, aren’t we? But I‘m afraid this pursuit might not be as pleasurable as following Porno Lad into the women‘s locker-room.

Mark: Aaahhh, good times.

Christian: But it will yield pleasure in areas not south of your belt-line, Comeau.

Mark: Mmmkay. Please explain.

Savior’s face seems to light up on the verge of making the big, knock your socks off, shock and awe, grand slam thank you ma’am reveal.

Christian: It’s official…

Excited eyes turn to the camera.

Christian: Ladies and gents, the moment you’ve been waiting for…anticipating…has at long last arrived…tonight the Twilight Zone returns.

Pop…big….gargantuan…mega pop for the return of Christian’s controversial, exciting, entertaining, and ever so dynamic talk-show.

Savior: Maybe you can help me, Mark. Should I bust these out…?

A pair of glasses are slid onto the bridge of his nose.

Christian: Should I wear my Sally Jessie, Jerry Springer bifocals? Or…or maybe I should throw on some suspenders ala Larry King…Oh what about…

Christian reaches down to the floor and picks up a book with a Savior insignia pasted on the cover.

Christian: Endorsing books and putting a big weave in my hair.

Mark: The glasses give you way too much of an Urkel vibe.

Christian: Not that any of it really matters.

The book, which so happened to be Fifty Shades of Grey, is tossed along with the glasses.

Christian: Because the spotlight isn’t going to be on me…it’ll be on my guest…care to wager a bet on who it might be.

Mark doesn’t even try to play the guessing game, simply shrugging.

Christian: Way to play along, Mark. But yeah, my first guest just so happens to be the NEW World Heavyweight Champion, my muse…my love eternal…ROSE SAVIOR.

The fans require bibs to wipe the drool from their lips.

Christian: What better way to commemorate the biggest win in IWC history, and of my wife’s life, than by having her appear on the Twilight Zone to address the masses?

Christian teems with excitement.

Christian: So set your DVRs, cause this is one Twilight Zone your not going to want to a miss a second of….Oh, and why make everyone wait? Let‘s go ahead and do the Twilight Zone…NEXT!

The crowd can only be described as truly excited, eagerly awaiting this major segment, and their first opportunity to get a glimpse of the newly crowned World Heavyweight Champion.

Stools, an expensive flat panel monitor lowered above the ring, and Christian Savior, yep, the scene is set, everything is ready for the very first edition of the Twilight Zone. With microphone in hand Christian begins the totally unnecessary hype campaign.

Christian: You’ve asked for it, you’ve begged for it. Some of you maybe even got on your knees and did something else for it…sickos…And at last, it’s finally heeeeeerreee…the Twilight Zone is BACK BABY!

Golden pyros shoot from the curtains and the flat-screen lowered behind Christian’s back begins to play a trippy Rod Serling inspired Twilight Zone opening montage.

Dollar: This isn’t nearly as good, or as cool, or as good…did I say as cool?

Susie: Was I supposed to be paying attention?

Dollar: Wouldn’t dream of it. But yeah, this is definitely not as good or as cool as the Bottom Dollar, but I’ll deal with Christian’s cheap knock off of my own talk-show.

Susie: Didn’t his come first?

Dollar: He probably used some Johnny Carson inspired prognosticative skills to steal the idea right out of my mind.

Susie: Aren’t you a little young to be having issues with your prognosticative?

Dollar: Let’s just turn things over to Christian, please!

The Rising Phoenix has got blood pressure spiking and goosebumps forming.

Christian: After three long…looooong years…the time is at last upon us for the show that makes Arsenio Hall look like the biggest tool on the planet. And although Bill Clinton may not come out here and play the saxophone? I am going to be the very first person to bring to you, an exclusive interview with the new World Heavyweight Champion…someone near and dear to me…seeing as she did agree to marry this ugly mug…My WIFE…YOUR CHAMPION…the champion you deserve by the by….ROSE SAVIOR!! Let’s hear it!

The new soundtrack for Rose Savior causes hearts to skip a beat. The sight of her is positively breathtaking, Rose adorned in her wrestling gear and a brand new promotional t-shirt as she steps to the stage, lowers to a knee and shoots at arm into the air, holding up the Evolution Championship that was thrown to the stage by Orlando Cruze at the conclusion of the pay-per-view. She then leaps to her feet and rushes to the ring past many outstretched hands, unable to resist the urge to slap a few of them on her way to the ring. She leaps to the apron, blows a kiss then slips through the ropes where she plants an authentic peck right on Savior’s lips.

Susie: Rose is here and she’s got her sparkly.

Dollar: It might not be the belt she wants, but it’s the only belt that she deserves, carrying the Evolution Championship, which serves as a visual aide to let Christian know just how egregiously mistaken he was when he called her the World Heavyweight Champion.

Rose walks around the ring with gold dragging across the canvas, taking a microphone off one of the stools and then planting herself upon it.

Christian: Ahhh, the perks of being married to the champ. Thanks for agreeing to join me here tonight, Rose.

Rose: Yeah, something tells me I didn’t have a choice…really didn’t want to have to sleep on the sofa tonight.

Christian: Wouldn’t have been that bad, it is a pull out after-all.

Rose: Yeah, plus you could always cover the cost of the chiropractor appointment the next morning.

Christian: Alright Babe, let’s get to it…

Rose: Ewww, are you about to probe me?

She immediately corrects herself once some of the fans begin to swoon.

Rose: Not that type of probe people.

Christian: Let’s not count that out of the realm of possibilities.

Rose: I meant…probe me for ANSWERS.

Christian: Just so happens that I do have a few questions for ya.

He holds up a note-card before sighing and tossing it aside, deciding to be totally genuine.

Christian: Screw it…congratulations honey…CONGRATULATIONS!

From the stool he leaps to his feet, from his feet he lunges towards Rose, and his arms drag her into the air with a big hug. The fans clap their hands, applauding this heart warming moment.

Dollar: Someone please get me a barf bag.

At last both parties return to their seats.

Rose: Thank you.

A tear is swiped from the eye.

Rose: You, above anyone else, knows just how much this means to me. But….

Eyes lower to the canvas.

Rose: I wish the winning of the World Title could have been under slightly better circumstances.

Christian: Don’t even, Rose…..

He reaches out and lifts up her chin.

Christian: Enjoy this moment….You earned it.

Rose: Maybe you would have been the one sitting here as World Champion if I had the courage to stand up to Orlando and refused to hit you….

Christian: Wow…then I’d be interviewing myself….AWKWARD!

His attempts to keep things jovial seems to bring Rose out of her momentary funk.

Rose: You know….

Christian: Yes, I do know…and I’m telling you right now that you could go nuts contemplating the ‘what ifs.’ Beside, I told you to hit me with that cane…

Rose: But does that make it anymore right?

Christian: You plaid the best hand you could with a stacked deck. Orlando wants you to be upset…wants you to second guess yourself…so don’t let him salvage a win out of this.

Rose: How can I live with what I did to you at the pay-per-view.

Christian: Get past it Rose, just move on, and keep your mind on what matters most…defending the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE. You worked so hard to get to this point, through so many obstacles, through so much opposition. And at the end of the day, after spilling buckets of your own blood in the center of this ring, after surviving two of the most grueling matches of your career, in the same night mind you, you finally accomplished what you’ve always wanted, your OWN career milestone. And now here you stand…or well…sit…World Title in hand….on your own….Rose Savior…..CHAMPION!

She blushes.

Christian: Don’t let anyone take this away from you.

Rose: Erm, to be honest, that’s EXACTLY what I had in mind.

The Queen of Thorns slips from stool to feet and lifts the Evolution Championship up for all to see.

Rose: Yeah…this ISN’T what I fought my heart out for at the pay-per-view, this isn’t what, as Christian said, what I spilled so much blood for. I went through hell and back again in order to win the World Heavyweight Championship, not to stand here holding the Evolution gold…and not even the REAL Evolution gold, but some cheap spinner inspired, Wal-Mart bargain brand belt.

A wincing Rose examines the monstrosity clutched in her palm.

Rose: But what’s one person’s trash is another person’s treasure. So how about…

A marker is removed from her pocket and her autograph is signed on the gold. She then motions for one of the security guards standing beside the barricade. The event staff member steps forward and takes the Evolution Title before handing it to a small child in the front row per Rose’s request.

Dollar: Seriously, I need that barf bag.

Christian watches wide eyed as his wife just gives away the Evolution Championship, personally autographed, to a lucky fan.

Rose: Christian, you know I can’t be bought off with trinkets.

Christian: Especially when they’re made of cubic zirconia.

Rose: I’m not playing Orlando’s little game…I want what’s rightfully owed to me…what I won at the pay-per-view…and I’m not leaving until I get back what I killed myself to win….And by the end, it’ll be Orlando Cruze begging me to take a Singapore Cane to his head to put him out of his misery.

Rose steps to Christian’s side and takes his palm into her own.

Rose: Orlando was right when he said that I’m a good person, but if he continues to keep the World Title away from me, and keeps messing with us, he’ll find out just how BAD I can be.

Rose turns and Christian just can’t help it, burying his lips into hers.

Dollar: And just like that the Twilight Zone comes to an end with Savior and Savior standing in the ring celebrating the biggest night in Rose’s career…and maybe the worse night in Christian’s career.

Susie: Why didn’t they give that sparkly mc-sparkle shine to me. I would have cuddled it, kissed it, and you know what I would have put on it?

Dollar: I swear to God, if you say glitter I’m gonna go ape shit…

Orlando: Touching…so touching…

The crowd waited a long time to see Rose Savior at last bask in the glory of her World Title victory, so it’s only fitting that Orlando Cruze would come along to steal all the thunder. His words are lightning, hitting the Savior’s and causing the hairs on top of their heads to stand on end. He continues to be the perpetual black cloud hanging above them preparing to once again rain on the Saviors’ parade.

Dollar: And things just got interesting, cause the person everyone REALLY wanted to see is actually here…Orlando Cruze…President of the IWC…and the TRUE World Heavyweight Champion, has at last graced us with his presence.

Moore: Should I throw rose petals down at his feet?

Dollar: By all means….whatever keeps you away from the announce table.

Moore: Darn…and here I went and left my bucket of rose petals at home. I usually bring them with me everywhere I go…never know when an opportunity will present itself to throw flowers in the air.

Dollar: Yeah, I’m sure it happens all the time.

The Icon…the President…the imposter World Champion…steps free of fear to the stage, shoulder heavy with fifteen pounds of championship gold. It doesn’t impede his ability to raise a microphone to his lips and unload on the impatient, aggravated Saviors within the ring.

Orlando: I feel like this should have just aired on the Hallmark channel…your lil’ pow-wow was so sweet I might just lapse into a diabetic coma…

Savior: Makes sense, considering every time you open your mouth, you put us ALL in a coma.

Orlando: Christian…Christian…Christian…

The Icon chuckles in response rather than using his words to tear Savior a new rectum.

Orlando: Your just as immature as Silencer….who, like yourself, will be getting his comeuppance. And that’s precisely what brings me here…

Christian: Throwing your weight around and acting like anyone actually cares to hear what you have to say?

Orlando: No…doing what’s right….

The World Title belt slips from his shoulder down into his palm, Orlando taking a longing gaze upon the gold…perhaps eyeballing his reflection in its surface for the very last time.

Orlando: I’m here to do what’s right by the Board of Directors…by the fans….by the roster…and by me. As much as it hurts me to do it…it’s about time I take a moral stance…and begin to accept the responsibility that comes with my position.

Susie: FINALLY…he’s responding to the pleas of the people, and that cutsey pootsy lil jockey…by giving up his mega sparkly.

Dollar: Orlando has come to his senses.

Rose and Christian exchange a glance, knowing precisely what to expect.

Orlando: And the right thing is sending a message to the fans…especially the impressionable youth watching at home…that there are consequences for your actions….Officers!

Yep…he did precisely what the Savior’s were banking on, watching without surprise as the World Title is flung back over Orlando’s shoulder and a line of police officers step out, surrounding him.

Orlando: There’s your man!

The finger point of doom…Orlando guiding the officers towards Christian, who is taken aback upon being singled out. The cops descends upon their target.

Dollar: Ummm, the police going straight after Christian at Orlando’s behest…What this is all about, I haven’t a clue.

Susie: Can I buy a vowel? Maybe it’ll be enough to help solve the puzzle, Pat.

The crowd doesn’t know what’s going on but realize that their obligated to lash out and so that’s just what they do. At last Orlando gives an explanation…with his own slant placed upon it…of course.

Orlando: There’s the man who TRIED to poison me at the pay-per-view by drugging a pizza…a pizza of all things. If I wasn’t so concerned about saturated fat, and have such a weak constitutional when it comes to cheese, I could have been in the same condition as Jackson Adams…eating turnbuckle padding and dry humping carpets. Thankfully, in spite of Christian’s best attempts, that didn’t happen…

The police move up the steps and slide into the ring, surrounding Christian, who has pulled Rose behind him, employing his body as a shield.

Orlando: This…the IWC…it’s a family orientated show. What kind of message would I be sending to our younger viewers if I let criminals walk around freely, without facing consequence for their misdeeds? Unlike so many dead beat parents…I see a lot of them in the crowd tonight by the way…I think about my children…about teaching them right from wrong. And what’s right, is showing them that if you do the crime, you do the time. You don’t get a free pass for trying to drug someone…that crap may fly in SCW….but here…in the IWC…I believe in enforcing the law, Bucko.

Hands grip pepper spray, ready to blind Christian if he puts up a fight. Rose pleads with her husband to play along, whispering into his ear that it’s just not worth digging himself in deeper, and getting into even worse legal trouble. Christian whispers right back, insisting that he has no idea what Orlando is talking about. He tells the officers the same thing, but unlike Orlando, he doesn’t have the same depth to his pockets.

Orlando: And the Board, they should be very happy seeing that I’m willing to enforce the law…and that I’m more than capable of keeping my roster under control…unlike over in the land of Supreme, where the inmates run wild. But, the Board, they also need to see that I’m a man capable of compromise…I know what the fans want…I’m not deaf…

With a sigh he glances again at the World Title belt, giving the fans but a feint glimmer of hope.

Orlando: I know that everyone was dying to see Legion decimate Christian tonight…So guess what…I talked to the officers here, and they’ve agreed to put you under house arrest, Christian…which means you’ll be detained to your locker-room until your match with the No Holds Barred Champion…But don’t worry people, he’s NOT getting off lightly. Not only is Legion gonna mutilate him, but immediately following Riot!, Christian’s worthless hide is gonna be dragged from this building and thrown in the slammer. And you better believe I’m going to press full charges against him.

Anguished pleas take the place of disgusted cries as Christian unleashes a long sigh and does as Rose requested, playing along. He extends his arms at the behest of a portly officer with a really bad comb-over, who slaps cuffs around the Rising Phoenix’s wrists.

Dollar: Christian being arrested, and rightfully so, for trying to DRUG Orlando Cruze at Awakening. That was a sickening…disgusting…repulsive…and definitely something Savior should be punished for. Glad to see Orlando TRULY doing the right thing.

The World Title is stroked by Orlando, who tries so hard to hide his smile, but it’s near impossible at the sight of watching Christian moving down the steps, forearms held tightly by the police. Orlando’s eyes widen with glee as he spots Rose, standing alone in the ring, condemning the President for his actions via a judgmental shaking of her head.

Orlando: And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Rose. The Board and these fans are going to be expecting you to face some consequences as well for your illegal use of the Singapore Cane at the pay-per-view. A weapon that helped you cheat your way to the EVOLUTION Championship. So you know what I’ve decided…?

Before Rose’s interest can be piqued…”MONSTER” blares through the PA system and sends everyone into a rage induced overload. They jump out of their seats and jump right down the throat of Aaron Harrison, who comes strutting through the curtains with…you guessed it…a Singapore Cane extended across his shoulders and the back of his neck. But wait…there’s more…because the very same weapon is seen in the clutches of both Mika Kozlov AND Lukas Montgomery, who is busy swinging his cane around both hands in playful fashion.

Orlando: Your no holds barred match against Aaron Harrison, starts right now…and not only are Montgomery and Kozlov going to be at ringside, but I’m going to sit right there at the announce table and see to it that you get precisely what’s coming to you. Get the referee that I personally selected for this match, out here, right now!

Orlando opts to ignore the intimidating gaze of Harrison, mostly because he wisely put a great deal of distance between himself and the unhinged Blacklist trio, already occupying the middle of the ramp while they lurk on the stage. They are as cool as cucumbers at the moments, even as the sadomasochistic Michelle Blacker steps through the curtains in striped shirt and black shorts.

Dollar: Wow…as if the deck couldn’t be anymore stacked. Orlando is going to join us at commentary, the Blacklist is gonna be at ringside, AND Michelle Blacker, who gets off on seeing suffrage, has been picked from the referee pool to officiate this match. But you know what? Rose brought this all on herself. She never should have caned Tay-Tay…and you know what…I bet she condoned Christian’s drugging attempt.

Susie: I bet she also was the second gunwoman on the grassy knoll.

At last Christian has been properly motivated to try and fight free from the clutches of the police officers, intent on preventing his wife’s destruction. All his struggling does is ensure that he’s going have resisting arrest added to the list of charges brought against him. There’s nothing he can do, being led forcefully up the ramp right past a smiling Orlando, who barely even turns to acknowledge the complaining Savior as he moves in the opposite direction, towards the ring.

Dollar: And there’s nothing Christian can do about it. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment, Christian FINALLY being taught a lesson.

Christian spits venomous words at the Blacklist now, who only part so that he can be led to the backstage area and barred from interfering in what should be a bloodbath. In spite of everything that’s just transpired, seeing her husband taken away in cuffs, and Orlando screwing her again out of the World Championship, and the realization that’s facing a three on one battle, Rose remains resolute and unflinching in the face of her potential destruction.

Dollar: Welcome Boss, so glad to see you punishing the criminal element in this federation.

Orlando slides into the chair beside Johnny and slips a headset over his ears, but throughout it all he never takes his eyes off of Rose.

Orlando: I promised to do what was right, and dammit, that’s EXACTLY what I just did. Both Saviors paying for their crimes. As you saw at Awakening, when I had Katelyn Buehler arrested for theft, and here tonight, when I had Christian arrested for drugging Jackson Adams, I’m a man who believes in enforcing the law, and holding others accountable for their actions.

Dollar: Good…glad to hear it.

Orlando: And now I’m going to sit right here and watch Rose pay for her crimes too.

Dollar: Here…here.

Michelle giddily calls for the bell, licking her chomps at the thought of an absolute blood letting. But it won’t be spilled easy, evident as Rose barrels across the ring and dives through the ropes right into the unsuspecting Blacklist members who stopped to talk strategy at the edge of the ramp.

Dollar: WHOA…Total 5.6.

Susie: Yay! I finally get to use my….

Orlando: If you so much as even think about putting up one of those scoring cards I’ll forever forbid you from using glitter.

Susie: Awww.

Orlando: What a predictably disgusting way for Rose to start this match.

Dollar: Well…it is no disqualification.

Orlando: That doesn’t matter. Rose should show respect for her opponents…

Dollar: Even the Blacklist?

Orlando: Are you questioning me?

Dollar: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Clearly the crowd never conceived that Rose would take the fight to the Blacklist, picking up a Singapore Cane from the mats and swinging it into the first cold hearted body that reaches its feet. Mika takes a shot directly between the shoulder blades, sending her twirling into one of the barricades. Just as one Blacklist member goes down, another stands up, Harrison on his feet and charging at Rose with his cane held up high.

Rose sidesteps and swings all in the same fluid motion, bringing her weapon directly into the ribs of Aaron, knocking the air out of his lungs and potentially fracturing some ribs in the process. He turns away and exposes his back to Rose, who lifts the cane above her head, ready to do some more punishment.

Just before she can bring it down over his back, the weapon is snatched out of her hands form behind by Montgomery. Instinctively Savior spins around and cracks him to the temple with a lethal roundhouse kick, causing him to collapse onto his back yet maintain his grip on the Singapore Cane, which Rose tries to rip out of his clutches…TRIES.

Lukas, in spite of being knocked into next month, keeps holding the cane, resisting Rose’s valiant efforts to pry it from his clutches. The struggle leaves her exposed to Harrison, who steps in from behind, wraps his arms around the World Champion’s waist and snaps back into a German suplex.

Dollar: OH CHRIST!

Orlando: There we go….a punishment befitting of her crimes.

The German suplex sends Savior crashing onto the back of her head and neck across the very thin protective mats around the ring. Once again she’s caught off guard…as has been the case throughout the night…especially within the past few minutes…never having suspected that her appearance on the Twilight Zone…one of the happiest moments of her life…would conclude with Christian being led away by police…and a virtual three on one match against the Blacklist.

Mika and Montgomery are aided to their feet by Harrison, who begins to whisper what can only be disgusting requests into their ears. They not only listen but smile, instantly abiding to his instructions. They take a surprised Rose by her wrists, lead her to her feet and then send her barreling into the steel steps back first. Her spine hit’s the steps with the same force that it suffered via those multiple back drops around the ringside area at Awakening during her World Title match…which already left her in serious need of a Chiropractor appointment.

Michelle watches giddily as the violence proceeds, getting especially turned on when Lukas takes Mika by the wrist and whips her into the seated Rose. A knee comes sailing right into the steel steps, Rose rolling out of the way in the nick of time and causing a collision that sends Kozlov flipping over the stairs.

Orlando: Absolutely disgusting. Does Rose not appreciate the fact that moves like that are seriously risking the longevity of her opponents’ careers. What a sickening disregard for her opponents’ well being.

Dollar: Didn’t the Blacklist set a man on fire, end another man’s career by putting him through a table, and then blind Hurse with a taser directly to his eye?

Orlando: What was that?

Dollar: Was just complimenting you on your beautiful tie.

Orlando looks distressed until Harrison gets his hands on the escaping Rose’s hair, using it to drag her to her feet and then take hold of her wrist. He whips her directly towards Montgomery, who has picked up a Singapore Cane and swings it at the inbound face of his opponent. Just before the crowd can witness a public beheading, Rose ducks the cane shot, leaps to the apron, climbs up the turnbuckle to the very top rope and then flips backwards. Montgomery and Harrison look up just in time to both be taken out via a moonsault from the World Heavyweight Champion.

Dollar: Breathtaking!

Orlando: Pardon me?

Dollar: Repulsive!

Orlando: I agree.

The crowd’s adrenaline is surging at the sight of Savior holding her own against the three on one advantage, but realize she’s operating on borrowed time. With a sense of urgency Rose takes Harrison around the neck, leads him up to his feet and then rolls him into the ring. This may be her only opportunity to put Aaron down, lunging to the apron and then beginning to spring to the top rope to put a fitting end to the monster.

Unfortunately, it’s her own end that results from the high risk move as out of nowhere, a recovered Mika catches Rose’s ankle and drags her down out of mid-air. With an absolutely sick thud Rose crashes skull first into the apron, her head bouncing back and her brain violently shaken. Before Savior can go down, Mika takes her by the wrist and whips her directly into Montgomery, who bends down, catches Rose coming in against his shoulder, heaves her up into a spine buster position, then ultimately charges her spine first right into the exposed turnbuckle post.

Dollar: Nasty…absolutely nasty…

Orlando: But deserved. Rose brought this on herself.

Dollar: That’s exactly what I was saying. Kudos again for teaching all the kids watching at home that you can’t get away with such misbehavior…

Orlando: I’m always thinking about the children, and what’s best for them, as a father, it’s my responsibility to take a moral stand and teach all those impressionable youths right from wrong.

Susie: Your just like a PSA from GI Joe…

Orlando: Speaking of PSAs…I’m sure the kids will learn a lot from Dwayne Rodriquez once he begins his public service announcements this evening.

Dollar: Another brilliant and justifiable move if I do say so myself.

Orlando: Way to earn those extra zeroes on your paycheck, Johnny.

Rose already feels like she’s endured a long and brutal bout, after the three on one mugging, and the three matches she endured at Awakening…but this physicality is just beginning. Montgomery sits Rose on the apron after crushing her spine against the post. She’s placed in perfect position for Harrison, who reaches over the ropes, takes her by the hair, leads her up to her feet and then charges her across the apron before finally crushing her skull against the turnbuckle.

Savior’s head bounces off, bording on unconsciousness, but Aaron won’t let her go down that easily. He steps through the ropes on the opposite side of the turnbuckle then begins to climb it, dragging Rose along to an ascension as well. The two reach the top rope with Harrison placing Rose in a front chancery, about to superplex her to the outside of the ring.

Dollar: Oh gosh…this could be really…really…

Orlando: Yes?

Dollar:…a fitting end for that treacherous scallywag. And yes, I did just say scallywag…as it might just be the most awesome and underutilized insult ever.

Orlando: Suplex her Harrison, come on, suplex her already!

Aaron takes a moment to relish the moment, not wanting to rush through the euphoria…a rare feeling for a man like himself. He at last heaves Rose up into the air to wretched cries from the crowd. They cup their mouths and some shield their ways before taking a sigh of relief at the sight of Rose kicking her legs and coming back down on the inside of the turnbuckle, landing on the middle rope.. She then twists her body around and takes Aaron by the neck.

The fans have a completely different reaction to the sight of Savior about to drag Aaron back into the ring from the top rope with a diamond cutter.

Orlando: If she hits this move, I swear to God…

The Boss doesn’t even have a chance to finish his threat before Rose is leaping into the air into the diamond cutter, crashing down…or wait…being THROWN down onto her back with nothing to show for her efforts but an injured back. The World Champion crashes with extreme velocity against the canvas, where she finds herself in total misery.

Misery exacerbated by the top rope diving knee drop to the face. She grabs at her nose and her eyes, flopping around on the canvas while Aaron rolls to the center of the ring. An urgent Aaron gets to his feet, steps in, grabs Savior’s ankle, lifts it into the air and sends her rolling over backwards to her feet. Savior can barely stand yet is placed in a front chancery then dragged down into a face buster across Harrison’s knee.

Her head snap backs, Rose standing up straight and ultimately being taken down with a big running lariat from Harrison. Though Aaron has her primed for the pin, he deems that she hasn’t suffered enough…not by his standards at least. He requests something from Mika, who is all but too happy to relinquish the Singapore Cane in her hands.

Orlando: At long last Rose is gonna feel what she put my precious Tay-Tay through. Ya know, after hitting a very valuable member of our roster in her head with that very cane, I can’t believe the Board would actually expect me to fork over the World Heavyweight Title to Rose. She’s a criminal…and criminals should never be rewarded.

Dollar: Couldn’t agree with you anymore.

Susie: I think her only reward will be getting sodomized with that cane.

Dollar: What is it with you and Singapore Cane sodomizing?

Susie: Child-hood trauma, Johnny, child-hood trauma.

Orlando: Well at the very least, no more children will be traumatized by the actions of Christian and Rose Savior.

Rose gets to her feet only to have Aaron extend the cane across her throat, hook her leg with his own and deliver a Russian Leg Sweep. Not only does Rose’s lower back make quite the collision with the canvas, but finds her throat swelling shut after the cane collides with it.

Michelle’s eyes are so wide they can only be described as planetary in width. Aaron continues to delight the official as he pulls Rose to her seat, extends the cane across her throat and rears back, choking her out with the weapon that proved so useful for Savior at the pay-per-view.

She tries so desperately to drag the cane from her throat, but just can’t avail herself of the plight. At last she wedges her feet to the canvas, bridging herself up from the canvas in the hopes that the added leverage will save her.

It doesn’t. Harrison lifts her up by way of cane wedged to throat, and then spins, ultimately throwing the World Heavyweight Champion across the ring. She eventually crashes down across the back of her head and shoulders, twisting to her side and clutching at her neck..

This position is not one Rose expected to find herself in, her celebration leading to her gasping and gagging for air. In desperation she starts to get up only to have Harrison methodically step in, wedge a boot to the side of her skull and push her back down to the canvas.

She rolls onto her back where Aaron begins to nudge her with the cane over and over again, poking her like she were a dead body.

Harrison: Was it worth it, Rose….was it dear?

He grabs a palm full of hair, lifting her head off of the canvas and then bending down so they are on eye level.

Harrison: You don’t look like a Champion, Rose…you look like a worm at the end of a hook.

The hair is released, Harrison’s hand clearing out of the way of his boot, which goes sailing directly into Rose’s face. The boot knocks her totally out cold, collapsing to her back and now lying absolutely motionless.

Dollar: I think she’s had enough…

Orlando: Excuse me?

Dollar: Quit taking it easy on her, Harrison.

Everything about Harrison’s approach to this match can be described as methodical, from his shallow breathes to his shallow emotions. He slowly approaches Rose over to her knees and then subjects her with an absolutely sick Singapore Cane shot to the upper back.

Savior cries out in pain, twisting to the canvas and arching her mangled spine. Aaron lifts the cane to strike again but hesitates, stepping back and lowering the weapon to his side, watching with fascination as Rose crawls across the ring towards the ropes. Agonizingly Rose employs the ropes to begin ascending to her feet, the crowd cheering her on while others employ her to stay down.

After forcing her to employ all her remaining strength to stand up, and just when Rose gets that glimmer of hope, Harrison steps in and cracks her lower back with the cane a second time. Savior screeches as she twists through the ropes to the apron, landing across her back in the worse pain of her entire life.

Orlando: I really…really hope this is putting things into perspective for Rose. That she’s actually learning something from this whole experience.

Susie: If it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down?

Orlando: That’s NOT the lesson I was referring to at all. Jesus, your more useless than those idiots who tried to interview me a few minutes ago.

Dollar: Thank you!

It takes all her will power to sit up on the apron, and it’s a move Rose instantly regrets. Aaron extends the cane through the ropes, places it against her windpipe and then leans back. Rose’s spine is pressed to the ropes and her throat is almost crushed by the cane choking all the ambition…all the fight…all the LIFE from her body.

Down below, Mika is leaning back against one of the barricades, smiling from ear to ear while lifting her Iphone into the air, zooming in upon and recording Rose’s painful expression. Lukas has climbed up onto the apron and is kneeling down to speak directly into Savior’s ear.

Lukas: You know he’s only getting warmed up, right Champ?

The cane is pulled away from Rose’s throat just before she could pass out from aspyhixation. Harrison opts to employ his hands as a weapon at this point. Reaching over the ropes, grabbing a ball of hair, standing her up, twisting her around and then dragging her across the apron. He climbs the turnbuckle while at the same time pulling Rose along to the top rope on the opposite side. Before Rose has any chance to challenge the move, both of her arms are hooked and she’s sent flipping from the top rope via a butterfly super-plex.

Dollar: Harrison suplexing her right back into the ring in the most gruesome fashion possible.

Orlando: In my mind it wasn’t gruesome enough. Did you not see the welt on Taylor‘s forehead?

There seems to be nothing left of Rose, lying as limp as a noodle in the center of the ring, but Harrison still will not go for the pin. He stands up brushing his hands and slowly circling his unconscious opponent. There is no rush from Harrison, slipping hands into Rose’s hair and then guiding her to her knees before beginning to hook both arms, perhaps setting up for the Hybrid Theory, bringing the match to a truly gruesome end.

He stands on the precipice of victory when attention diverts to the fact that Lukas’ smug grin is tumbling into the apron, his teeth almost shattering as they collide against it. Cassius pulls his feet out from under him, resulting in his plummet to the hardest part of the ring. Mika spots the interference of Cassius, prompting her to rush at Xander only to be caught by the shoulder from behind, and then spun around into the shoulder of Rodriquez. Dwayne wedges a shoulder to her ribs and shoves her spine first into the apron with all the strength he can muster.

Orlando: What…what the hell are you two doing!?!

Dollar: Xander Cassius and Dwayne Rodriquez continuing their war with the Blacklist…it wages on at a very inopportune time.

Orlando: Dammit…this is not acceptable. What are these ungrateful twats thinking? How dare they!

Harrison takes his eye off the ball just lone enough for Rose to reach up from the canvas, wrap an arm around Aaron’s neck, then bridge herself up to her feet only to ultimately leap into the diamond cutter. Harrison’s face slams against the canvas and he flops to his back.

Dollar: The cutter!

Orlando: Ugh…you want repulsive, this is it. Xander and Dwayne blatantly disobeying my edict, AND Rose Savior spitting in my face by not staying down. Classic Savior crap. And they honestly…the Board…honestly wanted me to give this woman the Championship…

Dollar: She’s not just staying down but she could have Harrison…she could be on her way to defeating this monster.

Michelle blushes as the carnage continues, watching giddily as Rose crawls away from Aaron in the direction of the Singapore Cane, snatching it off of the canvas. She employs the staff as a crutch in order to reach her feet, twisting her gaze towards a kneeling Harrison.

Though Aaron is knocked silly via the diamond cutter, he’s still able to intently watch every step Rose makes in his direction.

Aaron: Ohhh please hit me, Rose….please….save yourself.

His words are delivered in a nasally, mocking tone…satirizing Christian’s pleas at the pay-per-view. Rose trembles as she has traumatic flashbacks to the moment she used the cane on the skull of her own husband.

Aaron: PLEASE Rose…please oh please.

The more she’s reminded of slamming the cane against Christian’s skull the harder it becomes for her to cave in Aaron’s head. Now she’s psyched herself out, unable to do it, unable to bring herself to use the cane on another human being. She throws it down and leaves Aaron shaking his head.

Aaron: Predictable.

Dollar: She might have just used that weapon to end this match but Harrison employed some psychological warfare…

Orlando: He’s a thinking man’s psychopath.

With cane thrown aside Rose has only one weapon she’ll now employ, her fists. She raises them towards Harrison, the last member of the Blacklist remaining in or around the ring. Mika and Lukas have found themselves brawling into the crowd, taken out of the equation by Xander and Dwayne.

Rose charges in and the top of Aaron’s head rams directly against her ribs, causing her to double over and back up. Harrison struggles to his feet and after a quick neck adjustment, charges in to a lethal boot that nails…nothing but air, Rose dropping into a forward roll beneath the inbound leg. Aaron turns around just as Rose charges in and almost…ALMOST connects with the spear. Harrison side steps her at the last second, swinging around behind Savior, wrapping arms around her neck and setting up for the sleeper hold.

His version of the hold is just about locked in when Rose charges towards the turnbuckle, falls to her knees and causes Aaron’s momentum to send him flying face first into the top pad. He bounces off hard, and staggers back, bell rung by the blow. He plants his feet just as Rose springs off the middle rope, twists in mid-air and crashes into his chest with the cross body. The two hit the canvas with Savior landing on top in the lateral press.

A three count could be made but Michelle isn’t fulfilling her job responsibilities…instead she’s indulging her baser impulses. With a Singapore Cane in hand, Blacker approaches Rose, extending the staff in her direction.

Blacker: Would you pretty please use the cane?

Rose: Would you pretty please shut the fuck up and make the count?

Michelle sighs, and tosses down the cane before making the count.

1

More than enough time was given for Harrison to get a shoulder up.

Orlando: Alright, that’s about enough of this debacle. I can’t sit here watching Rose thumb her nose at my authority any longer.

The headset hits the table with a static boom as the Icon descends upon his human punching bag. Rose is obviously feeling the ill-effects of a very physical match, unaware that Orlando has climbed to the apron until he’s already on the verge of entering the ring.

Rose shows no hesitation to tackle the Icon, charging at the President, who drops from the apron just in time to prevent a single non existent hair on top of his head being touched. He backs up with a grin as Rose turns her attention back towards Harrison, rushing in and getting caught against the chest and stomach. She’s thrown straight up into the air and then caught on the way down with a diamond cutter of Harrison’s own.

The Whiplash seems to leave Rose completely incapacitated, her skull imploding upon impact with the canvas. Harrison makes the cover and Michelle drops to the canvas, finally doing her job.

1

2

3!

The bell rings in the background, but the fight is not at an end, at least not in Orlando’s mind.

Dollar: Aaron Harrison has just pinned the World Heavyweight Champion…or the Evolution Champion…I’m so totally confused…guess it depends on who your asking….anyway, this is a HUGE victory for Harrison.

Aaron gets to a knee, momentarily gratified by the victory when Orlando enters the ring, hands cupped together in a praying fashion.

Orlando: Hold it Harrison…I have one last request…

The Singapore Cane is picked up off the canvas and tossed to a kneeling Aaron, who shows lightning fast reflexes as he catches it out of mid-air. He gives the weapon a very long, introspective examination before returning his focus to Orlando, who has snatched hold of Rose’s hair and is now propping her up on her knees, trapping her arms behind her back.

Orlando: PLEASE…use the cane….PLEASE hit her.

A smile stretches across Orlando’s face, anxiously anticipating the total rearranging of Rose’s by way of a Singapore Caning.

Susie: This is getting sick.

Dollar: I can’t disagree this time, Susie, Rose is absolutely powerless, she can do nothing to stop her head being split by that cane. All via request from the President of our company. I don‘t think your doing yourself any favors in the eyes of the Board, Orlando.

Rose regains some of her senses and immediately tries to struggle free but can’t escape the very strong grip of Orlando, especially not in her weakened state. She can only watch as Harrison inches towards her, cane gripped in both hands, Aaron getting a feel for the weapon.

Dollar: This has got to make Aaron happy…if he’s capable of happiness that is…it gives him the opportunity to indulge his masochistic impulses.

Orlando closes his eyes and absorbs every facet of this moment.

Orlando: Yes….make her feel Tay-Tay’s pain…make her suffer, Aaron…Make her suffer.

Harrison pauses, cane raised high above his head, which tilts as he stops for a moment of quiet introspection.

Dollar: Why are you hesitating, Harrison, just get this over with.

When he doesn’t hear the sound of a skull cracking, and doesn’t feel the last bits of fight escape Rose’s body, Orlando opens his eyes. He looks up to chastise Harrison only to see the cane traveling right into his forehead. The staff almost shatters on impact, breaking in half right around the Icon’s skull and sending him plummeting to the canvas.

Johnny: WHOA! Whoa…whoa..whoa….whoa!

Susie: Does Harrison suffer from depth perception issues?

Johnny: He just…he just….he just HIT Cruze with the cane! Not only hit him, but he took his damned head off.

Rose’s jaw will have to be picked up off the canvas, but not because it was severed from the rest of her face via a particularly nasty cane shot…no…she’s in absolute shock, as is the rest of the crowd at the sight of Orlando tumbling to the canvas. Aaron has knocked him six ways from Sunday, and now tosses the fragmented remnants of the cane aside upon stooping down to the Icon’s side. Rose is still in too much shock, and too shaken up to fight Harrison, but his homicidal intent is no longer fixated upon her. He only gazes upon Cruze, or more accurately, what rests over Cruze’s shoulder.

The World Heavyweight Title is slipped from the Icon’s shoulder, where it seemed to have been super glued before being raised between Harrison’s hands. Again Aaron tilts his head, observing the gold plate from a different angle, both visually and psychologically.

Aaron: So this is what brought down Rome? Such greed.

A judgmental headshake is followed by Aaron tossing the World Title over his shoulder, then leaving the ring with the gold.

Johnny: Whoa…whoa…whoa..whoa!

Susie: You know it.

Johnny: That’s “woo…woo…woo,” wow, can’t believe you made me just recite that idiocy…And what kind of idiocy are we seeing from Aaron Harrison here? First he knocks out Cruze with the cane and now he’s leaving with the World Heavyweight Title.

The Blacklist member moves up the ramp without looking back to survey the damage that has resulted from his brutal campaign of chaos. Only Rose is conscious enough to notice that Harrison is leaving with the World Heavyweight Title in his grasp. She’s powerless to do anything about it, trying to stand up and give pursuit only to fall back to her elbows and knees, her legs feeling like jelly. She can only watch the curtains part and Harrison pass through them with HER title belt.

Susie: Why does everyone get a twinkly sparkle bright but me? WHY!?!

Dollar: Because God doesn’t reward stupidity. And you better believe Aaron is getting no rewards for his actions here. He had the chance to endear himself to the President of our company and instead he knocks him out with the cane then takes off the World Championship. What is he thinking?

Susie: Didn’t Orlando say Harrison was a thinking man’s psychopath? He’s obviously got a plan.

The fans share in Rose’s dismay as the World Title alludes her grasp. One person they do not sympathize with, is the President, Orlando rising to an elbow and palming his forehead, wondering what just happened. Having no idea what hit him, and where his World Heavyweight Title has vanished to.

MOMENTS AGO

A still frame image of Rose Savior’s arms being pinned behind her back overtakes the screen. The rightful World Champion being held in a defenseless predicament by the fraudulent title holder, Orlando Cruze.

Dollar: It has already been an absolutely crazy night here on Riot! Ladies and gentlemen, and just before the break things only got crazier. As you can see here.

The video commences with the shot of Orlando cackling at Rose’s expense being shifted to the shot that cracks his forehead, a Singapore Cane swung directly into his skull by Aaron Harrison. In a flash Orlando is knocked out cold, and in an equally as quick flash, Aaron vacates the ring with the World Heavyweight Title in his possession.

Dollar: We have no idea…and I‘m actually terrified at the thought of trying to get into his head….but what’s Harrison thinking right now? He just walked away with the World Heavyweight Title. We need details…DETAILS dammit. And seriously, can someone please try to get all this chaos under control?

Susie: Looks like Xander Cassius and Dwayne Rodriquez are working on it, they just played the most lethal game of tag with the Blacklist members I’ve ever seen.

Dollar: I know I have A LOT of requests, but seriously, we need to get some semblance of sanity restored to the IWC….Wait…forgot there never WAS a semblance of sanity to begin with.

There are no charts, no seismographs, nothing that can measure the pop that shakes the very foundation to the Manhattan Center at the sight of Axl Evermore and That Disco Ninja. The two man pair that has caused so many issues for the powers that be…or the power that is….at the moment at least. The two carry on a one sided conversation, Axl doing all the talking and then interpreting the rhythmic dance movements of the Ninja. However, all the gyrations, of the gun for hire, and the incredible pony tail hanging from Axl’s scalp, are trumped by the intrigue surrounding the briefcase in Evermore’s palm.

Axl: So yeah, that Gavin Taylor…I’m telling you…he looks like nothing but hot air…Isaac Saine, he’s the one you need to be worried out here. I can attest to the fact that he’s dangerously unpredictable.

A few twirls and dippy doos are done by Disco Ninja, Axl pausing to soak it all in, the two stopped beside one of the many doors they’ve passed by in this corridor.

Axl: True, he does look like Freddy Kruger with a bad weave, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. The guy has spilled more blood than hemorrhoids, and he’s just as stubborn….

Psst…psst…

The pair becomes confused by the unusual noise.

Axl: Did you just break wind?

Disco Ninja tilts his head to look at his rear-end before finally shaking his head.

Silencer: Over here fuckers.

They at last spot Silencer’s head sticking out of the crack of a doorway, eyes nervously scanning the corridor to make sure that Chase, Lohan, or Paradise aren’t anywhere in the vicinity.

Evermore: Silencer!

Silencer: Shhh…keep it down!

Disco Ninja is the only thing Evermore is able to control, restraining him from lashing out at the man who rolled him up at Awakening. Of course, Axl has no particular love for Silencer either, as if any member of the roster does, after being defeated him by him four weeks earlier.

Evermore: You got something to say, Silencer, say it!

Silencer: When do I NOT have something to say? I’ve got a job for you two tonight, if your interested.

Axl: I’m afraid we’ll have to pass, I’m meeting with Desmond Drake, and Disco here, has got a handicap match to prepare himself for….

Another approach is taken.

Silencer: Are you suuuurrrreee? Is that your final fucking answer?

Axl: Yes…we’re positive.

Silencer: Okay then.

An exhale longer than Silencer’s face is unleashed, as he forces the door a little more ajar.

Silencer: But I was going to give you two the perfect opportunity to stick it to Orlando Cruze and Taylor Chase.

Disco jumps…or gyrates…at the slightest mention of Taylor’s name, giving Axl fits as he tries to hold him back. Apparently Silencer has touched…two-stepped upon just the right nerve, which isn’t surprising considering he’s quite accustomed to getting on the nerves of just about everyone he meets. Axl and Disco Ninja enter consultation mode, Evermore whispering into his employee’s ear and getting a nod in response.

Axl: What’s the plan? And why do you need us?

Silencer: As I understand it, you know your way around a camera, correct Axl?

Axl: You’ve seen my work…my portfolio is quite extensive.

Silencer: Indeed, and Disco…you’re a master of the decoy?

Ninja looks like a human bobble-head with all the nodding he’s done lately.

Silencer: Excellent, step inside.

The two are naturally tentative, learning from experience that no one can truly be trusted in this wacky, off color world of the Independent Wrestling Cartel. But in spite of their misgivings they step inside before closing the door. The three entering into a plot that spells all kinds of trouble for the sinister syndicate at the top of the IWC’s pecking order.

The cold, distant eyes of Isaac, only slightly obscured by the raven bangs that hang before his face, do not look up in acknowledgment of the camera. . The masked misanthrope rocks in the corner of the locker-room, still seated in the very position that he was seated in moments earlier when Porno Lad came traipsing on through. But now it’s another individual’s turn to enter the lion’s den, poking and prodding the most ferocious of beasts.

Sparkles: Hey, Mr. Well-Done.

The reference to Isaac’s deep fried features gets nothing. Sparkles and Lovejoy move in, treading way too close to the bars of the beasts cell. While this revelation has apparently stricken Lovejoy, microphone trembling as it’s extended, Sparkles remains totally aloof to the danger that he and his partner currently face.

Sparkles: Excuse me…Mr. Extra Crispy. Got a few questions for you, Double XL

Isaac remains in total and complete silence, the verbal barbs failing to phase him even in the slightest.

Sparkles: Alright Mr. Lane Bryant…I know your frozen in disbelief meeting up with an icon like Sparkles…and to a lesser…lesser…lesser than less extent, Greyson Lovejoy. Understandably you’re a bit star-struck…which is why you probably snubbed us worse than Orlando Cruze did earlier tonight. Seriously…if I saw Greyson Lovejoy making out with a woman’s sock in the parking lot at the United Center, I probably would have walked in the opposite direction to.

Greyson: That was YOU!

Sparkles: Oh Gresyon. You lil rascal, what will you accuse me of next, having some compulsion where I can’t stop talking about boobs?

Greyson: No, because that wouldn’t be an accusation at all…it would be the truth. Now would you PLEASE Interview, Isaac Saine, so we can get the hell out of here.

Sparkles: Yeah…yeah…I know people have been waiting since Awakening to see my exclusive interview with the most demented thing to be seen on screen since Joanie Laurer’s vagina.

Greyson: Come on now, her vagina didn’t look THAT bad.

There are no words…no words at all that can describe Sparkles’ level of total repulsion when it comes to his partner’s most recent of revelations.

Sparkles: Are you sure I was the one built without a penis?

Greyson: Just ask him the question, PLEASE!! But TRY to do so with some decorum. I really enjoy not seeing my face used as a codpiece.

Sparkles: Fine….Excuse me…Mr. Saine?

If insults regarding his burnt and mutilated flesh weren’t enough to get a response out of him, what made Sparkles think that a proper greeting would do the trick? Clearly it hasn’t, Saine still looking cold and expressionless into the distance.

Sparkles: Can you just stop with all the suspense and hype bullshit, take off your mask and let us see what Leeland Gaunt did to you? He couldn‘t of made you look any worse…..It be like pissing on a turd?

Isaac: You through?

At last there’s a response, one that makes Greyson relieved that he wore a pair of adult depends to this interview.

Sparkles: Actually I haven’t even started in with the hamburger face references yet.

Isaac: Why are you disturbing my solitude?

Sparkles: Why does it look you’ve been living on deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?

Greyson: We’ve just been sent in to gauge your feelings about teaming with Gavin Taylor against that Disco Ninja tonight.

Sparkles: We are? So I prepared all these Gilbert Grape jokes for nothing?

A stack of cards are held out for Greyson, who takes them and overlooks a few before unleashing a sigh.

Greyson: There’s nothing but dicks drawn on these cards.

Sparkles: It’s a compulsion…

Saine: You want to talk compulsions?

Isaac’s interruption chills Greyson down to the wet spot in his protective underpants. Each word is delivered with about as much emotion as Kristen Stewart’s acting.

Saine: How about Orlando Cruze’s compulsion to stereotype me?

Sparkles: Oh?

Saine: To stereotype me as some kind of uncontrollable death machine, with an insatiable desire to taste my opponent’s blood and snap their bones until the marrow and sinew comes seeping through. That’s why he picked me to pair up alongside Gavin Taylor…he thinks I’m that same freak who relished each and every opportunity to hurt…no….putting it too mildly…to MANGLE my rivals until they think their performing in a Mel Gibson movie….He thinks I’m going to perpetuate that stereotype tonight…that I’m going to do to Disco Ninja what I’ve done to all those in the past….And to be honest, I probably will, because…well…I’m a stereotype. I AM an uncontrollable death machine, with an insatiable desire to taste my opponents‘ blood…yadda…..yadda…yadda…blah-blah-blah. I will go out there and absolutely beat the tard right out of that Disco Ninja…but not because Orlando Cruze told me to do it…it‘s because I have nothing better to do at the moment. But if he thinks I‘ll play nicey nice with Gavin Taylor…THAT‘S where he‘s mistaken. Cause my generic hunger for chaos, it‘s going to be quenched by way of demolishing a dancing ninja…After Leeland Gaunt slipped through my hands, and after what he did to me…

Sparkles: Yeah…can we go ahead and see that already?

Isaac tilts his head, shocked that the audacious little puppet would cut him off.

Saine: See what?

Sparkles: Your Toxic Avenger face.

Saine: No, what you can see, is the door. I‘d advice the two of you to leave.

No need to be told twice, at least not for Lovejoy, who is already back peddling.

Sparkles: What’s wrong? You can’t look any worse than Joseph Merrick.

Saine: NOW!

Lovejoy does precisely what he should have ages ago, pinning Sparkles’ mouth shut. Even with his lips sealed, Sparkles is able to mumble a few insults. They leave Isaac to dwell in thought, though there seems to be nothing…no thoughts…no feelings…behind the eyes of the Sadistic One.

A mob scene, that’s the only way to describe Orlando Cruze’s dressing room…and there are even police officers present…though they do nothing to stop the riot that is unfolding. The only reason they’re honored to be guests of the Icon, relates to the prisoner they have cuffed and seated amongst them. Though Christian Savior is there prisoners, confined to the office of the Icon, he wears the most gigantic of smirks on his face, appearing as happy as a liberated man.

The source of his glee, no, not the choir related antics of some asinine high-school students…is the antics of a group of individuals acting like a bunch of high-school students. Orlando has a huge bag of ice held to his forehead, which brings down the swelling on his skull, but not the migraine beneath it. Not even Tay-Tay’s presence can alleviate his stress, in fact, she only seems to be adding to it, her fists thumping against the surface of the desk the Icon is seated on the opposite side of.

Tay-Tay: Honey….you’ve GOT to do something about this…That whore is running around with stolen property…I think you should totally have him arrested just like you did that slimy slut at that pay-per-suck.

The reference to Katelyn Buehler and the debacle, at least for the Icon, that unfolded at Awakening, would normally send the President into a full on tirade, but instead he sits silently. His words are spoken slow, and methodically, trying so hard to keep the ball of rage that is burning in his stomach from going supernova.

Orlando: I will deal with Aaron Harrison.

Tay-Tay: Aaron Harrison? Aaron Harrison? Who is Aaron Harrison? Baby…we’ve got to deal with Silencer…

Frankie Paradise: Yeah, Lando, you need to prioritize here, Bucko.

That migraine…it got so bad an entire bottle of Tylenol wouldn’t heal it…Frankie only making matters a hundred…thousand…million times worse as he too thumps his palm on the table and throws his other arm over Tay-Tay’s shoulder. She brushes it away in annoyance…but nearly as agitated with the spunky Paradise as Orlando.

Frankie: You need to concentrate on smacking the bitch right out of that Painted Hussy.

Orlando: As far as I know…that’s YOUR job, Franklin.

It’s Frankie’s turn to express rage, evident through the vibration of his lower lip and the veins twitching in his temples.

Orlando: I’ve handed Silencer to the both of you on a silver platter, so deal with him tonight.

Tay-Tay: Sweety…you know we appreciate the opportunity you’ve given us to crush Silencer’s nut-sack…but how’s that gonna get my gear back?

Orlando: I’d have security looking for Silencer right now, but at the moment they’re busy trying to find Harrison and MY World Heavyweight Championship. I would think the two of you would realize that getting back my belt takes precedence over everything…

Tay-Tay: But…

Orlando: I’ve said my peace…If either of you want something done about Silencer, I suggest YOU deal with it.

This is the first time Taylor has been talked to in such a fashion…especially by someone she genuinely cares about. Her eyes, clouded by an influx of emotions, turns to Frankie, who suddenly changes his smile to a frown, trying to look sympathetic. Just as Chase starts to walk away, Orlando reaches across the table and grabs her fingers, rubbing them.

Orlando: Love ya’ Babe.

Tay-Tay hesitates, looking towards Frankie, who is shaking his head, pleading with her not to say it without using any words of his own.

Tay-Tay: Love you too…Boss.

The formal manner in which she addresses him should stab Orlando, and stab him deep, but right now all his focus is on one thing, and one thing only, his reunion with the World Heavyweight Title. Taylor walks off and Frankie begins to follow before he’s grabbed, not by Orlando’s hand, but his words.

Orlando: Franklin.

Paradise sighs, really wanting some alone time with Chase. Instead he’s forced to spend time with the one person on the planet he has no desire to associate with.

Frankie: What?

Orlando: Make sure Silencer does not WALK away from that match tonight…

Frankie: Yeah, kinda got the ball rolling on that at Awakening.

Orlando: Well tonight, you finish it. And more importantly, I want you to stay true to your word at the pay-per-view. I want you to do what’s best for Tay-Tay.

Frankie: You know I always….

The designer shades are pulled to the edge of his nose, as if it suddenly dawns on him what’s being requested. With a grimace he finally exit’s the dressing room, not liking the predicament the Icon has just placed him in. As soon as Frankie and Chase are out of frame, it’s the turn of Jacob Laymon and the powerhouse that is Executioner to step forward. The two having all the patience in the world when it came to being dressed down by the Icon, especially after all the firings as of late amongst Orlando’s internal staff.

Orlando: Executioner…I know it’s not in your job description, but I can’t find Too Magnificent anywhere.

Laymon: Ummm, Boss, you kind of fired him…

Orlando: What? When?

Laymon: At the pay-per…what is it you need your head of security for?

Orlando: I need you to deliver a message to Leeland Gaunt for me. I can’t have anything else go to chance tonight, no more rebellions. So go, find Gaunt, and tell him to make sure that Legion knows what his function is tonight.

The shadowy eyes of Orlando drift towards the smiling mug of Christian. That grin is removed when it becomes apparent exactly what Legion has been tasked with, the total annihilation of the Rising Phoenix.

Jacob: Executioner will take care of…rest assured of that.

Orlando: He had better.

Jabob: He’s just like me, Cruze, he knows how to get things done. As my recent signings demonstrate…did you get a chance to see who I signed this week…how do you want to handle the return of your best friend/…?

Orlando: I don’t care….You only have one job function tonight.

Jacob: Erm…anything Boss.

Orlando: Bring me, Desmond Drake.

Jacob: Absolutely.

Just as Laymon goes to make a hasty retreat, dragging Executioner along behind him before they can suffer the wrath of the Icon….

Drake: No need for a search party, Mr. Cruze.

At last Orlando’s head rears….nay snaps back…the fire within about to incinerate the diminutive figure who steps into the room with a manila envelope in hand.

Drake: A talk between us has been long overdue.

Much like in their first encounter Drake drags a chair towards the Icon and plants himself in it, but this time Orlando actually intends to listen…well at least until he decides just how he’s going to mutilate the SCW’s liaison.

Cruze and Drake aren’t the only two in private consultation, evident via the secretive collaboration going on between Xander Cassius and Dwayne Rodriquez, right outside their lockeroom.

Dollar: So much going on here. Desmond Drake and Orlando Cruze finally meeting one on one after everything that happened at Awakening between them. And now we see Xander and Rodriquez here collaborating about what’s coming up next, their big encounters with the Blacklist starting with a triple threat N.H.B contenders match in mere moments. Prepare yourselves for chaos and carnage.

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 REMEM—

Dwayne is attacked from behind by Lukas Montgomery. Montgomery charges and closed fist punches him square at the base of the skull. Dwayne immediately crumples to the ground to a chorus of boos from the fans. Lukas wastes no time in stomping his opponent to the back of the head several times before jumping very high in the air and delivering a knee to the back of the skull.

Sean Jackson, IWC’s newest referee, charges from the ring to the stage to see the action. The Blacklist member pulls the MMA fighter to his feet while standing behind him. He quickly spins around and hits The Quieter. Dwayne again falls flat on his face.

Montgomery pulls an object from his pocket. It’s the stun gun. The fans see this and boos him. Lukas seems to feed on and enjoy the reaction of the fans. He turns it on as a loud electric sound is heard. At this point, he jams the stun gun to the back of Dwayne’s skull. Dwayne is shaking and convulsing at this action.

After several moments, he pulls the stun gun away and places it back in his pocket. He stalks over Dwayne, looking down over him as the ref tells Lukas to take it to the ring. Lukas ignored the ref as he bends over to try to pull Rodriquez up, but has nothing but dead weight in his arms. This does not deter Montgomery as he keeps pulling him up into a gutwrench. He looks around the area with a sadistic smile as he pulls Rodriquez to the edge of the stage then tosses him off to the floor below with the gutwrench powerbomb.

Fans: OOOOHHHHH!!!!!!!

The ref jumps off the stage and goes to check on him.

Lukas: Leave him be!!!!

The ref looks up to Montgomery and tries to plead his case, but the man will not be reasoned with. As Lukas begins to shout at the ref to tell him to back away, cheering can be heard. From behind Lukas Montgomery runs Brittany Lohan to a chorus of cheers, if one could believe the fans would actually cheer for her. She hits Lukas in the back with a jumping bicycle kick. He it knocked from the stage and collapses to the concrete right alongside Rodriquez.

Brittany looks down with a sadistic grin seeing both of her opponents crumpled to the floor. Lukas slowly rolls out of it and gets to all fours and tries to push himself to his feet. The self-proclaimed Final Solution backs up before charging to the edge of the stage, pushing her leg out and hitting a high risk leg drop on Montgomery onto the concrete.

She is slow to move after this.

Dollar: BIG leg drop from the stage from Lohan. And she hit that on a man she considers to be an ‘almost’ friend.

Susie: Do you want to be MY almost friend, Johnny.

Dollar: I’d rather stick my penis into a pot of boiling water.

Brittany gets to her feet and starts to argue with the ref regarding his insistence that she get in the ring. The fans agree with her, again, not expected. Lukas takes advantage of this distraction and grabs her by the waist, lifts her in the air, and back drops her onto exposed concrete. He doesn’t wait for the fans reaction. He is back at her and grabs her by the hair and pulls her out. He wraps his hand around her hair and yanks it and throws her against the side of the stage. He quickly charges and lands a knee to her mid section. He grabs her by the hair again as she is bent over. He smiles at the fans right before he thrusts his knee up into her face.

He looks at her and grabs her by the face and points to the still unconscious Dwayne Rodriquez, as if informing her that she will be next.

The reaction is immediate. Her face lit up with fury with this misogynistic action and immediately kicks him square in the nuts. The male fans all groaned. She kicked again…and again…and again before grabbing him by the head and ramming him into the side of the stage. She then began a rapid succession of knee thrusts to his head against the stage. She backed away and spun around before delivering a dangerous Yakuza kick to his… no. Montgomery rolls forward and out the the way right before she kicked the stage itself.

Lukas began to crawl towards the ramp and aisle with Lohan quickly behind him. She began to charge just as he spun around to use her own momentum to vault her in the air, and then guided her head into the stage ramp. Lohan’s head bounces off the ramp as she backs herself into the stage side so she does not fall to the ground. Montgomery backs himself into the audience barrier with the same intent.

Montgomery grabs his gut, the after affects of the low blows earlier, but still is able to stagger towards her. He throws her to the barrier,…NO…she reverses, thrusts her hand on the back of his head and guides his head to the barrier. She grabs him by the head and pulls him to his feet and into a front face lock. Montgomery grabs her around the waist, lifts her in the air, and hits a reverse atomic drop. As she bounces away, he charges with a clothesline and puts her down in the middle of the aisle. He turns to start stomping her in the head and chest.

Lukas pulls her up to her feet and lifts her up onto her shoulder. He takes a few steps, turns, and hits a powerslam on the concrete floor. He pushes himself to his knees before he begins punching her in the gut. She instinctively covers herself and he moves to punching her in the head. She adjusts her coverings again. Lukas sees the exposed ribs and lands a devastating punch to her bottom rib. She gives a loud grunt and scream as she covers her rib.

<font color= pink.Susie: This is just beyond vicious. She's down and hurting, and he just…. I think he just broke one of her ribs.

Dollar: And again, these two are friends.

Montgomery, with an evil grin, gets to his feet and pulls her up. He locks in a front face lock, slowly pulls her arm over his head, smiles at the fans before lifting her in the air and dropping back with a suplex. He quickly snaps around, pulls her into a seated position, locks his legs around her and squeezes on the rib. He locks in a rear naked choke and lays back and stretches her out.

Dollar: Lukas Montgomery is clearly in control of this match. He’s got her down and it looks like he’s just going to take his time as he destroys Brittany Lohan. He’s already killed Dwayne Rodriquez. Why hurry?

Susie: Have we gotten any medical people to look at him yet?

Dollar: The ref never had a chance to call for them. Look at Jackson. He’s still trying to convince Montgomery to take the match back to the ring. He just smiles at the ref. He is enjoying himself. Hell, I would too if I had that woman.…

Susie: Johnny!!!! You were about to make a nasty.

Brittany’s arms just drop to her sides. She is out. Lukas releases the hold and rolls around to her feet and looks right down at her. He steps over her and leans down, slapping her across the face. Montgomery looks at the fans with a wicked smile as he raises a flat hand to the fans. The fans begin to boo as they realize that he is about to slap her with the back of his hand. He looks back down over her, crosses his arm across his body, and bitch-slaps her. The fans, especially the women, are screaming at him in pure hatred. He laughed at the fans, mocking all of them. He is showing that he has no regard for their social rules or constructs. He raises his other hand and wiggles his fingers to signal that he will do it again.

Dollar: Okay, Lukas. You’ve proven your point. Stop it.

He looks around and crosses his arm in front of him. The ref finally steps in and tells him to stop. Lukas smiles at the ref and spits in his face. Referee Sean Johnson spits right back, to the cheers of the fans. The ref points to his shirt and violently points to the ring and points at Montgomery, right under his jaw. The small man is in no way intimidated by Lukas Montgomery.

Lukas backs away from the ref before bending over to pull Lohan up. He slowly points to the ring while nodding to the ref. He drags her, by the hair again, to the ring. Lukas points to the inside of the ring, as though he was asking the question to the ref. He nods, mockingly, and slams her face into the ring mat. Then a quick jab to the hurt rib. He backs away and grabs her by the arm and pulls her to the steel steps…REVERSAL… Lohan with a drop toe hold and Montgomery’s head goes into the steps so hard that the top step dislodges and is knocked off. Both competitors lay on the ground, motionless.

Susie: What a great move by Brittany Lohan. She has been beaten and battered so far, but still had the presence of mind to reverse the whip and it looks like Lukas Montgomery is completely knocked out.

Dollar: That was pure instinct, not presence of mind.

Susie: Whatever it was, it was completely effective.

Lohan pushes herself to her knees, pushing through the pain, and falls backwards. She rolls to the ring apron and reaches underneath to pull out a steel chair. The fans cheer when they see the weapon. At about this time, Montgomery begins to stir about and push himself up. Lohan has already staggered to her feet as Lukas in on all fours. She steps over and smashes the chair over his back. He reacts, screaming in pain. She raises the schair again and smacks it across his back again. Now, to the back of the head. With each strike, the fans react tepidly, some cheering the onslaught on the Blacklist while others jeer Lohan for well…being Lohan.. Brittany now follows with a continuous barrage of these strikes to his head. She finally stops the assault and pulls him to his feet

Lohan looks around with a sadistic and malicious look on her face. She takes the edge of the chair and rams it into Lukas’ mouth and pushes it back as far as she can. He struggles, but to no avail. She then pushes his face to the ground and hits the other end of the chair to the ground.

Dollar: OH MY GOD!!! That is sadistic. Susie.. I may throw up on you.

Susie: We can totally be anorexic together then.

Montgomery’s head snaps back as he grabs his throat and trips backwards over the broken steps. He hits the ground and rolls around grabbing his throat and convulsing. Brittany backs away and goes back to the ring apron where she got the schair and looks. She pulls out… a ladder. Slowly, she pulls the ladder up and hoists it over he shoulder, in a running power slam position. She walks around, picks up some speed, uses the broken steps as a launchpad, and powerslams the ladder right into the downed Lukas Montgomery.

Lohan slowly gets to her feet and pulls the ladder up again. She notices that Montgomery is trying to get up also. She, again, picks up the ladder and puts it on her shoulder, with the top in the front. She backs up and waits for Lukas to get to his feet before charging and battering the top of the ladder into his face. She backs up and throws the ladder around the corner. She wastes no time in going to her knees and reaching under the ring again. She now pulls out…. a putter.

Dollar: Damnit! Were the ring crews playing golf again instead of setting up the ring?

She steps towards him with the golf club, ready to strike, when Montgomery suddenly thumbs Lohan in the eyes and snatches the golf club. His eyes show complete disdain and he charges with the club going right at her head. Instinct, again, kicks in and she lowers her head to duck the strike, and lifts Lukas in the air and back drops him around the far ring corner. She falls to her knees and leans against the railing. Montgomery rolls around and pushes himself to his knees. There is nothing for him to do this time. Lohan smacks him as hard as she can with her Yakuza kick. The fans hear the strike and groan with it. Montgomery just falls forward, face to the ground.

Lohan bends over and pulls Lukas up to his feet, front face lock, and DDT. She rolls up to her feet and follows up with a leg drop to the back of the head. Rolls up again and drops and elbow, repeats this several times. She rolls to her feet again and pulls him up and walks him around the corner to the ladder. Lukas pulls the stun gun from his pocket and zaps Brittany in the hurt ribs. The whole arena can hear the electric voltage. She drops to the floor and grabs her ribs.

Susie: Someone take that stun gun away from him.

Dollar: It’s a hardcore match. He can use anything he wishes.

Susie: HEY! GET AWAY FROM HERE!!!!

Montgomery has made his way to the announcer’s table. He pulls the top from the table, exposing the small monitors. He pulls one of the monitor out of the table and turns to Lohan, who is not to her knees and leaning against the ring post. He charges and swings the monitor at her head. She pulls back, barely missing the strike. The monitor completely smashes against the steel post.

Lohan used the instant distraction of the smashing monitor to allow her to charge and dropkick Lukas in the knee and put him down to the ground. She is slow to get to her feet, but does anyways. She staggers to the ring and reaches under it just as Lukas Montgomery reaches under himself. The both, at the same time pull out an object….. the same object…. a toy…. a Star Wars lightsaber. His red and hers green.

Susie, Dollar, Lukas, and Brittany: Da Fuck?!?!?!

Both of them look at their ‘weapon’ in complete confusion, then look at each other. Lukas moves his hand and hears a sound effect. Brittany’s does the same thing. They look at each other.

Susie: Oh my God…oh my God…this is going to be the most awesome thing in the history of awesome.

Dollar: George Lucas is about to sue us for copyright infringement. The man will do anything for money after all.

The fans begin to laugh as the two of them clash their lightsabers together. Both objects give the appropriate sound effects. Their sabers connect and the two of them really go at it. The fans begin to applaud. The two of them begin to back towards the steps. Brittany reaches the steps first, jumps up and around Lukas. When she lands, he jabs the saber into her bad rib, then smashes the toy over her head. He grabs her by the head and rolls her into the ring.

Dollar: They finally made it into the ring.

Susie: While leaving the ring area looking like a war zone.

Lukas goes under the ring again and pulls out….. a table. The fans begin to cheer because they always love tables. He slides it under the bottom rope and turns around and walks by the announcers table to grab a chair. He walks to the ring and throws the chair over the top rope before rolling under the bottom rope. He gets to his feet just as she gets to a knee. He charges and lands a knee to her head. The Blackballed Superstar turns to pick up the chair and throws it in the middle of the ring. He steps to Lohan, pulls her to her feet, scoops her up and with a deadly venom, he slams her into the chair.

Montgomery backs away from her and picks up the table and leans it against the corner. He steps back over to her and grabs her by the hair and pulls her up. Lohan gave no resistance to being pulled up, which is why she could shock Montgomery by pulling him into an arm drag and slipping on her Buffalo Sleeper Hold.

Dollar: Painfully Perfect!! It’s locked in.

Montgomery somehow has the wherewithal to reach out, grab the chair off the canvas and swing it up right into Lohan’s skull, then do it again, and again until at last the submission is broken.

Dollar: Lohan almost had the submission but Montgomery, ever so crafty fought his way out of it with the chair.

Montgomery stands up with the use of the chair as a crutch when the ref steps in his way, refusing to let him go overboard. As the two of them argued, it gave Brittany enough time to come to her senses. She got to her feet and snuck behind Lukas and put her head under his legs and lifted him on her shoulders. He was panicked because he didn’t know what was going on. She stood up and backed towards the corner with the table and fell backwards into it, smashing the both of them through the table. The fans loved tables being smashed. There was a small group of cheering coming from the stage area that was louder than the rest.

Susie: Oh my god! It’s The Walking Dead. Zombies are attacking!!!! Johnny, protect me.

From around the stage staggered a hurting Dwayne Rodriquez with a heavy duty power cord. The fans began to scream and cheer as he slowly and dizzily walked his way to the ring.

In the ring, both wrestlers were getting to their feet. Lukas was the first to strike with a kick to the gut and he threw her over the top rope with everything he had left. He collapsed to his knees and looked down at her through the ropes. Rodriquez was now to the ring apron and pulled himself into the ring.

Montgomery looked confused as he backed away from the ropes. The fans cheered louder and louder and a VERY pissed off Rodriquez stood straight up and waiting for him. He held the cord in both hands and waited for Lukas to turn around. When that finally happen, Dwayne charges and clotheslined his pre-match attacker and put him to the ground. Dwayne let go of one end of the cord and began to whip Montgomery across the chest repeatedly and ferociously. The fans were screaming as this happened. Lukas tried to get away, but Rodriquez would not stop. With every whip, everyone could hear the cord whistling through the air.

The MMA fighter drops the cord and picks up the chair from the middle of the ring. He stalks over to Montgomery, raises the chair over his head, and crashes it down on his opponents body. Rodriquez hits him again and again and…. the fans count along as Dwayne just snaps and starts beating Montgomery repeatedly with the chair.

10…11…12…13…14…15…

Rodriquez goes faster and harder with every hit before raising his arms and screaming for the fans, who cheer for him right back. He walks over to the corner on the far end of the ring and wedges the chair between the middle and top rope. Hequickly steps over to Lukas and pulls him to his feet and pushes him to the corner. Rodriquez whips Lukas across the ring and send him head first into the chair and through the ropes.

Susie: Dwayne Rodriquez is on the war path. He’s going to make Lukas Montgomery pay for that attack earlier.

Rodriquez stepped over to the nearly lifeless Blacklist member and pulled him out of the ropes and leaned him in the corner. Rodriquez began striking him, MMA style, in the body and ribs. He used his Mouy Thai knees and kicks next in rapid succession and took out all of his aggression on Montgomery. Dwayne pulled Lukas out of the corner, spun around, and delivered a pure knock out heel kick to the head of Lukas Montgomery. He just fell backwards. He was knocked out. TFO!!!

Dwayne covers and the ref counts…

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Brittany Lohan is in the ring and breaks up the pin by hitting Rodriquez in the back of the head. She grabs him by the head, pulls him up, and through the ropes to the outside. She turns quickly and jumps on top of Montgomery for the pin.

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Rodriquez reaches under the bottom rope, grabs Lohan’s foot, and pulls her out of the ring. When she is pulled out she kicks him in the gut before digging her fingernails into his eyes and scratches it hard. She pulls him around my the head and slams it into the remaining steel steps. Rodriquez’s head bounces off and he staggers to a knee and down to the ground.

Lohan reaches under the ring and struggles a bit to pull out….. a 50 lb. bag of….. kitty litter.

Dollar: Who the hell is putting this stuff under the ring????

As Rodriquez pulled himself back to his feet, he did not see that Lohan was charging right at him and slammed the bag of litter into his head. The bag exploded and kitty litter misted everywhere.

Susie: I can tell you, since I have cats, that getting hit with a bag like that would be like getting hit with a concrete slab.

Brittany stood over Rodriquez and poured the rest of the bag over his body. She slowly turned around and rolled herself into the ring and slowly crawled over to the spread eagle Lukas Montgomery. She grabbed his leg and hooked it for the pin.

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The fans screamed when they saw the ref hold up two fingers. Montgomery jerked his arm and shoulder up at the last possible moment. Brittany sat up, saw the two fingers and held her head in disbelief. After a few moments she rolls onto her knees. But again, Lukas pulls out that stun gun and zaps her, this time in the throat.

Dollar: No Holds Barred. That’s what they are fighting for. And he is holding… that small stun gun.

Montgomery slowly rolls out of the ring to the side near the entrance. He walks around the corner of the ring and picks up the top part of the steel steps and pushes it under the bottom rope. He rolls under the rope and stands up. Lohan is still grabbing her throat from that evil stun gun strike as Montgomery walks over to her. He pulls her to her feet and walks her to the ropes and throws her to the other side. He charges for a lariat, she ducks, bounces off the other side and jumps at him for a cross body block. Knowing that it is coming, he catches her, and converts into a power slam.

Lukas gets back to his feet and pulls the steel steps into the middle of the ring. He grabs Lohan and pulls her into a gutwrench. He looks around and everyone knows he wants to deliver his Everybomb on the steel steps. He pulls her up into a powerbomb position…. Dwayne Rodriquez is through the ropes and delivers a spear just as he throws her down. Lukas’ body was completely exposed and the spear was completely devastating. The force knocked Montgomery out of the ring, leaving Rodriquez and Lohan still inside.

Fans: THIS IS AWESOME!!!! THIS IS AWESOME!!!!

Rodriquez got back to his feet and looked around at the cheering fans. He looked down at Brittany Lohan who was broken over the steel steps. He then looked outside the ring at Lukas Montgomery who was down and out. He went back and forth looking at both.

Dollar: You’ve got the win. Cover her. She’s done. She’s done. I think he’s got brain damage.

Susie: I think he’s trying to decide which is more important: Winning the match, or beating the hell out of a member of the Blacklist.

Dwayne looks at the fans and smiles. They cheer louder, if that was possible, when he left the ring and went after his enemy. Lukas was grabbing his gut while trying to get back to her feet. Rodriquez picked up the bottom half of the steps and waited for Lukas to get to his feet. When it happened, Rodriquez charged and smacked him in the head with the steel steps. Rodriquez looked down at Montgomery, lifted the steps in the air and just dropped it on Lukas. The fan favorite grabbed Lukas and rolled him under the ring. He walked around the ring until he found another chair and raised it in the air for the fans to see and cheer for. Rolling under the ring, he saw that Lukas was trying to get to his feet again. Exactly what he wanted.

Rodriquez ran to the corner closest to Montgomery, leaped up so one foot hit the top rope, pushed off of it, tucked the chair into his arm, and delivered a clothesline/chair shot to the head of Lukas Montgomery. Lukas was down and spread eagle again. Dwayne covered as the fans counted with the referee

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….everyone saw it that time and a massive chorus of boos erupted throughout the arena.
At the very last moment, VERY last moment, Montgomery’s shoulder blade VERY slightly moved. But it was enough to get off of the mat and therefore break the count.

The referee threw two fingers in the air and made the call. It was a two count.

Rodriquez is beside himself. He has his arms outstretched in complete disbelief. He looks like he’s been through a war. He has the clay from the kitty litter all over him and drying. And now, you can see that he feels that his biggest win in his career was snatched away. He looks at the ref and questions the count and asks if he is serious. The referee is completely serious. Rodriquez puts his hands on his waist and looks down and frustrated.

Susie: He looks so discouraged. But keep fighting big boy.

Dollar: That may have zapped all of the confidence out of him. He needs to forget about it and just keep going.

Rodriquez steps over to Montgomery and bends over to pull him up, but Montgomery quickly gets his hands around Dwayne’s head and pulls him into a Gogoplata submission. The fans get excited from this quick move and Rodriquez doesn’t know what hit him. He scrambles on his feet trying to squirm out of the hold, but Montgomery has it cinched in.

Dollar: Oh no. This is the end. Welp, time for the next match.

Susie: No, it’s time for more of He-Man and She-Ra.

Montgomery’s now completely red face shows his gritted teeth as he puts all of his power and strength into this choke submission. Dwayne tries to reverse the hold and get out but he’s going nowhere. He raises his hand as if he were going to tap. He is trying to decide if he can hold on or get out. His hand slaps the mat.. NO, it doesn’t. It came close. He’s slowly fading. His arm is moving with less energy and less speed. He’s fading… He’s fading…. He’s…. suddenly he jumps from his knees to his feet and tries to power INTO the choke. He raises his hand into the air and deals a powerful punch to the face of Montgomery. The hold lessens. Rodriquez raises his hand again and pummels him another time, This time, blood splatters from over Montgomery’s eye. Lukas’ face has lost it’s look. He looks dazed.

Dwayne raises his hand once more, but this time Lukas quickly moves his support leg and modifies the hold into the Locoplata. This is an all out choke with his free foot pushing the other foot into the throat. Dwayne’s face turns red and it looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head. He is still fighting. He keeps punching, and punching. But each punch has less power. It turns into almost a lifeless slap. He’s fading out. The fans can’t believe it. Referee Sean Johnson now sees that Rodriquez seems lifeless.

He grabs Dwayne’s arm and pulls it up into the air and drops it.

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The ref signals the 1. The raises the hand once again and it drops.

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The ref signals the 2. He raises Rodriquez’s hand once more and drops it.

Immediately before the hand hit the mat, Brittany Lohan was on her feet, she jumped from the steel steps that she was on, and landed a leg drop on the battered and possibly concussed head of Lukas Montgomery, saving her chance in this match.

Susie That was so close. I thought Lukas Montgomery was going to get the win there for sure.

Dollar: So did I. But one thing is sure: If Montgomery didn’t kill Rodriquez earlier, he did now. The ref needs to get him out of there before he ends up dead, if he’s not already.

Lohan uses the ropes to pull herself up to her feet just as Montgomery tries to do the same himself. She kicks him in the gut, grabs him by the head and leads him to the corner. She slams his head into the turnbuckle pad then leans him into the corner. She lifts him up to a sitting position on the top rope and punches him in the head. She climbs the ropes slowly and locks him in a superplex position. She tries to lift him up, but he grabs the turnbuckle lock. He begins to punch her in the gut and pulls himself out of the lock.

They are face to face on the top and they trade punches with each other until he rakes her eyes. That move allowed him to grab her throat in outright choke her. He stood on the top rope and pulled her up so that they were both standing. He looked her in the eyes as though he wanted to watch the life drain from her face. She took that moment to use the top rope to bounce herself up and wrap her legs around the head of Montgomery and huricanrana him from the top and right into the steel steps in the middle of the ring.

He hit the steel with a loud thud and bounces off convulsing until he fell out of the ring. Brittany Lohan saw that he was gone and she was on the ring alone with the unconscious Dwayne Rodriquez. She pulls herself to her feet and dragged him in the middle of the ring. He hooked his leg back for the pin.

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His arm shot into the air to a huge explosion from the fans.

Dollar: HE’S STILLALIVE!!! HE’S STILL ALIVE!!!!

Robin: Dwayne Rodriquez will not give up. He is still fighting.

Lohan is completely frustrated now. She grabs at Rodriquez’s head and pulls him up to his feet and pulls his arms back into a double underhook. The MMA fighter uses his flexibility and kicks at her knee forcing her to let go. Rodriquez does not let the moment pass as he grabs her arm and throws her to the ropes. He goes for a clothesline, she ducks and runs to the other side and bounces. She goes for a dropkick to the knee, but Rodriquez jumps over the kick and front rolls back to his feet. She rolls to a corner just in time for Rodriquez to nail her with a running shoulder thrust. He then began hitting his MMA strikes at her in the corner. Elbows and knees. One knee knocked her out through the middle and top rope to the outside of the ring.

During this time, Lukas Montgomery was able to pull himself together. He rolled into the ring and picked up the chair. He then charged at Dwayne, who turns just in time to side step and launch him through the ropes. Montgomery leaps through the cables with the chair extended in front of his face, slamming it into a recover Lohan’s skull on the outside. The suicide diving headbunt results in a loud uproar from every screaming fan in attendance.

Dollar: That was all kinds of crazy. I give it a solid 9.5. Highest score ever.

Susie: Wait…what? Did I miss it? What did I miss. Dammit, I got distracted by He-Man’s attempts to bring Christmas to Eternia.

The chair drops to the mats right alongside Lohan. All the while Montgomery is getting to his feet and stumbling, banged up towards the ring, climbing up onto the apron. That’s when Dwayne reaches through the ropes and snatches him around the neck, applying a front chancery choke hold. Knees repeatedly ram into Lukas’ face over and over again.

Dollar: Dwayne has got Lukas trapped, and now he’s unloading with those devastating knees!

Susie: He’s got his ass out!

Dollar: Indee…wait…big surprise, here comes Kozlov.

Yet again the Blacklist members employ their superior numbers. To the ring charges Mika, who looks for an opportunity to get involved. Dwayne sees her however, keeping a keen eye on Kozlov while still delivering the lethal knee strikes. This gives her no chance to enter the ring, prompting Mika to utilize an unconventional means of saving her associate from any further shots to the head. That same stun gun that Montgomery has used so effectively, is plucked from the mats and wedged right to Lukas’ back. Electrical currents shoot through Montgomery, and through Dwayne as a result, as he continues to hold onto his opponent.

Dollar: Genius and yet sickening all in the same. Mika is electrocuting Montgomery in order to electrocute Lukas as well. This is downright twisted.

The shockwaves of electricity shoot through both competitors before Dwayne breaks the hold and at last staggers back to the center of the ring, right into the waiting arms of Lohan. She spins Dwayne around, hooks both of his arms and then hoists him up into the Final Solution. The Tiger Driver 91 drags Rodriquez down to the canvas by the back of his head and shoulders. Lohan then leans into the creases of her opponent’s knees.

Dollar: That incredibly deadly version of the tiger driver is delivered, Lohan DUMPING Rodriquez right on top of his neck.

Referee Johnson makes the count to a rowdy response.

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And Lohan has captured the No Holds Barred Number One contendership.

Dollar: Brittany Lohan will go on to challenge for the NHB Championship, but damn if she didn’t have to earn it.

Mika slides into the ring, dragging Montgomery along with her, getting him to his knees. The two eye Lohan, who slowly backs off, in no mood for a fight with her Blacklist associates, especially now that she has her victory.

After being electrocuted, Rodriquez has little to no defense against the ensuing assault at the hands of two thirds of the Blacklist. Mika kneels at his side, fists drilling him to the bridge of the nose and the teeth.

Dollar: Looks like we’ve got another victim of the Blacklist. Their finishing Dwayne off just like that did to Hurse at Awakening.

Susie: Nooo…they can’t do this to Dwayne, I was so looking forward to his PSAs teaching me how to be all tolerant and how not to burn the house down by putting metal in the microwave.

The fans are all over the Blacklist like lice on a simian’s spine. The reaction drastically alters, reaching a whole nother decibel at the sight of Xander Cassius springing towards the ring…weapons in hand….his fists.

Dollar: It’s Cassius…another man who felt the wrath of the Blacklist at Awakening, and has sworn revenge…he might just get it right now.

He rushes right at a still recovering Montgomery catching the back of his head with a big roundhouse kick that Lukas never saw coming. The strike is well received by the crowd, but not by Montgomery, who twists to the canvas before evading further physicality. Mika on the other hand stands up and finds herself in a tense face off with Cassius, the two squaring up for a fight, a prelude of things to come with their X-Class Contenders match still yet to come.

After taking a glance at a kneeling Lukas at ringside, reeling from that kick to the back of the skull, Mika smiles and drops her fists. She then turns her back on Xander and points to her head, actually insisting that he kick her too so she can be on the exact same wavelength as her Blacklist colleague, knowing precisely how he feels.

Dollar: Okay, this chick is just too weird for me.

Susie: Weird chicks are cool though….that’s why I love Steve Buscemi so much.

Dollar: Steve Buscemi is not a chick.

Susie: Are you sure?

Xander looks just as fickle as the fans and the commentators, unsure why oh why Mika would be begging for the kick. Far be it for him not to oblige the request. He steps in, takes Kozlov’s shoulder, twirls her around and lunges into a big leaping knee to the jaw. It’s not exactly what Mika wanted, but she still tasted…literally…a shot from the high impact Cassius. To the outside Mika rolls, spilling to knees right alongside Lukas.

Surprisingly the two are still able to help each other to their feet, no stranger to tasings and shots to the skull..

Dollar: The one man demolition crew that is Xander Cassius has the Blacklist on their heels.

Moore: I can’t imagine Lukas Montgomery in heels, would they be of the stiletto variety?

Dollar: Your guess is as good as mine.

Although her teeth are rattled and her jaw is swelling, Mika still has something to say…that needs to be gotten off her chest and it won’t wait until she’s had time to recover. She gestures for Jessica Wilde to fork over the microphone as the Ring Announcer tentatively obeys orders. The moment she gets the microphone, Mika pats Jessica on the top of her head.

Mika: Wow Xander…wow…that was incredible.

Kozlov rubs at her chin and cheek.

Mika: I think you may have just knocked lose that troublesome wisdom tooth.

An aggravated Xander is no in mood for games, especially after checking on Rodriquez, who is struggling to recover from the tasing.

Mika: You really do hit hard. You mad? What did WE…

Arms wrap around the neck of the recovering Montgomery.

Mika….do that was so bad? Take out some bottom feeders? Was it blinding Hurse? Was it pushing you off the ladder at Awakening? Is that why you’re so riled up…so aggressive…so roid raging right now? Can‘t you just forgive and forget? Or be thankful that we let you guys off so easy?

An aggressive Xander sneers.

Mika: I’m sorry…

A sad puppy dog look follows her insincere apology.

Mika: Ya’ know what, how abouts I make it up to you? Since we’re already set to get all physical tonight…and you’ve got that whole angry brow going…and since you’ve got me all feisty after that knee…how about we go ahead and have our little match. Would that make you happy? Would that make the veins in your temple stop throbbing all freakishly?

Xander: Get in this ring and find out.

Mika: You’ve got it.

The referee is in the process of assisting Rodriquez from the ring before he notices that Kozlov is climbing up onto the apron, still smiling in spite of having some loose teeth.

Dollar: Looks like we’re not going to wait very long for our second triple threat match, this one for the number one contendership at the X-Class Championship. The war between the IWC and the Blacklist wages on.

Susie: Can’t we just get that game of musical chairs to settle these disputes?

Dollar: This fight will continue after the commercial break, don’t go anywhere, we’re about to see Mika, Xander, and newcomer Kathryn Pearson collide in a triple threat match.

Susie: I’m so excited….look at my pupils…their probably dilated.

Mika remains on the apron, glaring into the ring at an intense Cassius, tension at its height as the show fades to commercial.

Neither Kozlov or Cassius could wait till after the break to get this battle started, their emotions running way too high. Back live from break we already find Cassius leaning against the corner being subjected to boots to the ribs by Kozlov, followed by a few back elbows to the face.

Susie: So yeah, I was only twelve when my hymen bust…

Dollar: I think we’re back from commercial break, Susie.

Susie: Really? So yeah…maybe it was eleven. I’ll never ride one of those grocery store animatronic horses ever again.

Dollar: Things really picking up during the break, Xander and Mika going at it, while the third participant in this match…..well…you can see for yourselves.

Kathryn Pearson, the woman who made an incredible splash in her debut match, is being held at bay. She paces on the stage, staring down to the end of the ramp where Montgomery kneels, glaring right back at her, taser in his palm.

Dollar: Pearson tried to make her entrance, but the Blacklist keeping her from getting into the ring and competing in this X-Class Number One Contendership. They know that Mika wants Xander all to herself.

Susie: I want Xander too, so I can put some cool, gnarly tattoos on him…like maybe a real scary Hello Kitty.

The Referee continues watching the action intently while also shouting at Montgomery to let Pearson into the ring. He doesn;t listen, especially not to any referee, unresponsive to authority. Kathryn is left pacing, waiting for any opening. Within the ring a boot is wedged to Xander’s windpipe and kept there, Mika choking him out with her leg.

Xander gasps for air, trying to shove the boot from his esophagus, as his flesh turns several different shades. Eventually he reaches up and snatches hold of Kozlov’s ankle, using his upper body strength to shove her backwards across the ring. Mika hops up and down on one foot just before Xander wraps up the ankle and twists it, causing Kozlov to fall to her elbows as she’s wrapped up into a submission. Immediately Cassius drops to his back and wraps his legs around Mika’s knee, applying the ankle lock in combination with the grapevine.

Dollar: Submission already applied, but if Xander thinks he’s gonna get a submission he might just be barking up the wrong tree.

Susie: Why bark when you can have my menacing, meeeeooooowww!

Dollar: Didn’t I tell you to stop doing that?

Susie: Should I try giving it more of an Ertha Kitt vibe?

The official finally takes focus off of the Blacklist members outside the ring and shifts it to the one within, dropping down to find out if she’s going to tap out. Mika hangs in there, actually feeding off the pain coursing through her ankle rather than submitting to it. Slowly and steadily she crawls across the ring, dragging the full weight of Xander behind. Once it becomes apparent that she’s getting nowhere fast, Mika reaches back, showing her flexibility by getting her hands around the foot of Cassius. She twists at the toes repeatedly and then finally twists over to her back, wrapping her legs around Xander’s knee.

She applies her own submission now, a version of a toe hold, twisting at the foot, bending it in a variety of awkward angles.

Concern is growing in Pearson as she kneels on the stage, growing anxious, realizing that she’s about to lose this match without ever actually participating in it. Cassius, who has developed a tolerance to submission holds via his extensive MMA training, begins to sit up, grabbing one of the legs locked about his knee. He continues pushing his way up to his feet, forcing Mika to break the hold before she’s rolled to her stomach and placed in the Boston Crab.

Dollar: I never thought this match would pan out like this….Instead of getting a brawl, we’re actually seeing some technical wrestling between these two.

Susie: When am I going to get to use my score-card. I even have Macaroni Art on it and everything.

Across the ring Mika crawls, grabbing the bottom rope and forcing Xander to relinquish the hold. He breaks the submission, steps to the center of the ring and bends down, hands wedged to knees in anticipation of delivering a lethal blow. A recovering Rodriquez, still feeling the ill effects of the tasing, works his way up using the apron and fully endorses the idea of seeing Cassius take off Mika’s skull.

A big kick…the one that Kozlov requested earlier is finally delivered but Mika ducks it. Cassius’ back is exposed and Kozlov takes advantage, grabbing his shorts and the back of his head, charging him across the ring before eventually throwing him through the ropes. Cassius twists and crashes to the mats, instantly grabbing at his kidneys.

With her opponent down, Mika is bolting across the ring into the opposite ropes, ricocheting off.

Susie: I give it a nine.

Dollar: You actually have to wait for her to dive, Susie.

Susie: Dammit.

Mika is barreling across the ring and on the verge of diving through the ropes when Xander leaps into the air and catches her half way through the ropes with a roundhouse kick to the top of the head. The strike…incredibly stiff in nature…causes Kozlov to fall over the middle cable, looking dead to the world. Xander then jumps to the apron and gets a running start behind a big knee to the temple of his opponent.

Dollar: Cassius with the kick…gnarly.

Susie: That hurt worse than looking at your beard, Johnny.

Dollar: Don’t make me warn you again about commenting on my facial hair.

The strikes continue to put Mika on the defensive. She collapses to the canvas and scoots on her rump towards the center of the ring like a dog with worms. The violence is about to escalate as Xander enters the ring and descends upon his grounded opponent. He grabs Mika’s legs, uses them to flip her to her stomach and then drops to her side, trapping the arm in a fujiwara to a loud reception. She lifts her palm and prepares to tap, but the gesture is deceptive. She doesn’t give in, she remains resolute, determined not to give up.

Referee Johnson falls into position, questioning Mika only be spat at. Instead of indulging the notion of submission, she starts to stand up, knees wedged beneath her before being forced back down to the canvas. Another avenue is taken to escape the hold, reaching out with her free hand and digging it into the pocket of Cassius’ mouth, fish hooking it. She drags on the cheek with all her strength, almost tearing the flesh.

Cassius is forced to break the hold, turning around and gripping Kozlov’s wrist, utilizing it to drag her to her feet and then pull her forward into a forearm strike. Mere moments before she can be beheaded, Mika ducks and takes off into the ropes.

Kozlov ricochets back towards Xander, who swings around into a kick to the shins only to have the Blacklist femme cartwheel over the shin. An aggressive Xander turns back to Mika only to receive a spinning back heel kick to the stomach, doubling him over. She then leaps into the air and nails a scissors style kick directly on the neck of her opposition, driving him down face first into the canvas.

The forehead bashes from the ring and the ricochet effect causes Xander to pop back up to his knees, looking all shaken up.. That’s when Mika charges in in front of him and nails a shining wizard that at last puts him on his back.

Dollar: Now we’re getting some real physicality…which IS what I was anticipating.

Susie: Not me…I’m still upset there aren’t more balloon animals, and clowns to shape and mold them. Why oh why, can’t I just have a damn balloon giraffe? Why?

Brains are scrambled and Xander is barely conscious enough to realize that he’s being pinned by Kozlov, leg hooked. She can almost feel the X-Class Championship around her waist.

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The high drama persists as Xander’s shoulder leaps from the ring and the match wages on.

Pearson is half way down the ramp before she stops, cut off by Montgomery, who slides the taser across the steel ramp, sending electric shocks shooting into the air..

Dollar: Pearson STILL not being allowed into the ring….I’ve got to give kudos where they’re due. This is a particularly smart move by this gang of psychopaths.

Mika wraps her arm around Xander’s neck, rolling him to his knees then delivering a swift forearm after swift forearm to the upper back. A knee then lands against the top of his head and then up into his face before Mika begins unloading right hands to Cassius’ ribs while he’s still trapped in the front chancery. Somehow Xander gets to his feet in spite of all these strikes before Mika rushes at the ropes, going airborne. She steps off the top rope and then twists around, delivering a springboard bulldog that drives Cassius into the canvas.

His cranium almost cracks upon collision.

In spite of the high impact, Mika keeps the side headlock applied, bridging back up to her feet and pulling Cassius along with her. She then turns towards one of the turnbuckles and charges straight at it, on the verge of driving him skull first into the post.

At the last second Cassius shoves her off and sends her charging chest first into the corner. The stunned Mika bounces off and staggers back into the waiting arms of Xander, placing her in a rear waist lock and going for the German suplex.

Kozlov plants her feet and then nails a back elbow to Xander’s skull, forcing him to break the waistlock. She then charges into the ropes, looking to take advantage, springing off the middle cable and twisting towards Cassius, who steps forward just in to time to catch her around the waist, dropping back into a mid-air belly to belly suplex.

Susie: It’s times like these when you regret living on a diet of three green peas a day.

Dollar: Yep. Mika tiny enough to be caught going airborne with a belly to belly. If ever Xander wanted an opening, this is it.

Xander’s teeth mash and the veins in his temples continue to throb as he struggles oh so slowly to his feet Eyes form targets on Mika as she employs all her remaining strength to get up. At last she’s on her feet when Cassius swoops in, hooking her around the neck and the thigh, dropping back into a t-bone suplex.

Johnny: Now another dumping on Mika’s head.

Susie: That happened to Mika too….I guess everyone learns the hard-way what a Cleveland Steamer is. I thought they were just going to shampoo my household rugs.

Dollar: Honest, if not totally dumbfounding mistake.

Mika is on her feet but not entirely with it as she falls into one of the corners, Xander moving in quickly. A lethal barrage of rights and lefts connect to her mid-section, Cassius really going to work on the internal organs, hoping to shatter some ribs in the process. He then steps back and with a grip on Mika’s wrist, drags her forward into the short arm forearm strike that once again misses it’s mark. Mika dives under the strike, grabs Xander around the leg and tries to yank him down into the school boy.

However, Cassius plants his feet, reaches down through his legs, grabs Mika’s ears, and uses them to pull her out from under him. He slides her through his legs and lifts her up into the air so that she lands on her feet, where she’s taken by the wrist and dragged forward into the forearm strike to the skull.

Kozlov is taken down and Xander follows suit, falling onto his opponent’s chest.

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Mika gets a shoulder up just in time to keep her X-Class Title ambitions alive.

Johnny: Serves you right, Xander, you don’t try to mangle a pretty face like that.

The effects of this highly physical match are evidently taking effect on Xander, getting to his feet a little slower. His senses are also impaired, causing Montgomery to go unnoticed as he slides a taser into the waiting clutches of Kozlov.

Dollar: The numbers game being brilliantly exploited to Cassius’ detriment. If you’ve got an advantage…you use it.

Susie: I did…I employ my extremely high IQ to end up seated right here with my journalism diploma.

Dollar: Somehow I think your bra-size was the only number taken into account when it came to deciding your placement in this company.

Mika tucks the taser to her stomach as she stands. Just as she finds herself on the verge of using it, steadying the weapon at the ready, Rodriquez reaches through the cables and rips the taser right out of her hands.

Dollar: For shit sakes…now Dwayne has the taser.

Susie: Am I ever going to get to play with it?

Dollar: Oh how I wish you would. Maybe you’d end up in a hospital bed right alongside, Hurse.

Susie: Cool, we could spend the whole day watching Power Rangers episodes.

Kozlov spins around in a huff, throwing a fist at Dwayne only to have him step back away from the ring, taunting her with the taser. Montgomery rushes around the ring to further brutalize Rodriquez. He is about to attack but wisely holds back when threatened with the taser, finding himself subjected to his own tricks.

Dollar: Rodriquez keeping the Blacklist back with the taser, this is tense.

The standoff persists and keeps the Blacklist member distracted long enough for Pearson to make her move, barreling down the ramp and leaping to the apron. Cassius has Mika back in his clutches, leading her up to her feet with a front chancery just as Kathryn rushes in behind him, traps his leg and neck then drops into a Russian Leg Sweep. The move by Pearson sets off a chain reaction, causing Cassius to fall back with the front chancery dragging Kozlov into a DDT.

Mika bounces off of her head and Cassius flops on the canvas like a fish. Pearson scrambles to her feet and watches Kozlov rolls into the ropes, employing them to reach her feet. She just stands up when Kathryn lariats her over the ropes to the outside of the ring. Pearson then turns towards Cassius, summoning him to his feet.

Dollar: Pearson FINALLY in the ring and she is so amped up taking Kozlov out immediately and turning this back into a one on one match. She’s fresh, she’s hot, she’s got a very nice chest, all advantages over a worn down Cassius.

The banged up Mixed Martial Artist finally reaches his feet when Pearson barrels in only to be surprised with a back elbow to the jaw. She goes stumbling back into the ropes, bouncing off and then staggering into the big discus forearm. Kathryn ducks at the last second, hooks the arm, floats around over Xander’s upper back, catches him around the neck and delivers a DDT.

Xander is driven so violently into the canvas that his decedents and ancestors might feel the effects. From the canvas his head bounces and to his back he flops, exposed to the pinfall. Kathryn closes in on the number one contendership, hooking both of Xander’s legs.

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Dollar: Kathryn…the rookie….about to pick up the biggest win of her fledgling career. Maybe she’ll celebrate by hopping around again.

The pinfall is broken up after Mika reaches under the ropes, grabs Kathryn’s ankle and drags her off the lateral press. She then leaps to the apron and jumps the top rope, extending her elbow in order to drop it directly into Pearson’s chest. The elbow connects, with the canvas, Kathryn rolling out of the way just in time. The fans are stunned, as is Kathryn, that she’s performing so well against two tested veterans. The skills taught to her by Yvonne are really showing themselves as Pearson leaps into the air nailing a front dropkick to Kozlov’s cheek.

The collision sends her rolling across the ring and eventually ending up seated against the turnbuckle, all shaken up. Pearson then gets to her feet and spots Cassius moving in, catching him with a knee to the ribs that doubles him over. Kathryn then rushes into the ropes behind him, ricochets off and dives forward into a front dropkick right to his rear-end.

The collision sends Cassius charging straight into the ribs of Mika shoulder first. Kozlov just got to her feet when the shoulder bludgeoned her ribcage, which already took some damage as a result of the punches delivered earlier.

Pearson operates under the mentality that if it’s not broken…don’t fix it, going for a third basement dropkick. She rushes into the ropes, bounces off and comes back in towards Cassius’ posterior when Mika suddenly wraps her arm around Xander’s neck, charges out of the corner, leaps into the air, and kicks Kathryn to the chin before capping off the move with a tornado DDT.

Cassius’ skull bounces off of the ring and he flips over to his back before promptly being pinned by Mika.

Dollar: Mika with an amazing, and flashy move right there to put both opponents down.

Susie: Kathryn’s still standing though…which means you just made a stupid…an epic stupid.

Dollar: Far be it from me to steal your thunder.

A migraine plagues Xander after yet another drop on his skull, yet he is still trying to get up, fatigued and all. Mika is on top of him, applying another front chancery only to have Pearson, who indeed stayed on her feet, step in and deliver a knife edge chop across her opponent’s chest. Mika steps back, breaking the hold as Kathryn goes for another chop only to waltz right into a boot to the ribs, doubling her over.

Kozlov takes her wrist and sends her charging into the ropes. She bounces off and then gets caught in a tilt a whirl…but it lured Mika into a false sense of security. Pearson wraps her legs around Mika’s neck and then delivers a head scissors that launches Kozlov right into the clutches of a recovered Cassius. He hooks both of her arms then heaves her up into the air before dumping her right on her head with the underhook piledriver to a massive pop.

Dollar: Pearson set up yet another move….and Mika got to have her face in Kathryn’s crotch, which totally led to a trouser twinge on my part.

Susie: And Mr. Tattoo Nightmare got back on the offensive.

Dollar: I think the only thing offensive was that last comment.

Instinctively Kozlov pops back up after hitting the canvas, finding herself seated side by side with Cassius, who is about to swoop in and make the cover only to have his face, and Mika’s, hit simultaneously with that basement dropkick from Pearson. Both athletes are down, but it’s Mika that Kathryn opts to pin.

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The crowd roars once Kozlov kicks out, prompting Pearson to try and go for a pin on Cassius instead. To her chagrin, Xander has rolled into the far ropes, employing them to teach a standing base. The still fired up Pearson steps in and blasts Xander to his upper back with a double axe handle then turns to spot Mika rising to her feet. She steps in and crushes her jaw with a forearm strike.

Dollar: Kathryn trying to hold her own…in spite of being a rookie in the ring, she’s spent a long time around the wrestling business, she’s learned the ropes over the years in many ways.

Susie: I bet I can learn the ropes….I’d love to rub and pet them like they were my adorable little kitties I’m not allowed to have since I can’t stop feeding them chocolates.

Speaking of the ropes, Kozlov ricochets off of them right back into Pearson’s clutches. She takes the Blacklist member around the neck and then rushes at one of the turnbuckles, setting up to use her head as a battering ram. However, Mika shoves her off at the last second, causing Pearson to go barreling into a corner she’s about to crash against, That’s when she leaps into the air, stunning all, maybe even herself by landing on the middle rope and springing off. She twists into a cross body that Mika ducks at the last second.

As a result Pearson goes flying right into Xander, who was in the process of sneaking up on his rival. Xander looks up just in time to reach out and catch Pearson against his chest rather than allow her to deliver the cross body.

He then throws her up into the air and twists her around so that both of her arms are hooked and she hangs upside down in position for the same double underhook piledriver Cassius delivered a few moments ago. It’;s just then that Mika delivers a spinning back heel kick to Xander’s ribs, doubling him over and allowing Pearson to land back on her feet. Kathryn twists around out of the butterfly lock and takes Xander around the neck. She now rushes forward and drops down, planting Cassius’ skull right against the middle turnbuckle pad.

He bounces off and somehow remains upright just long enough for Mika to leap onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and applying a sleeper hold with the body vice also established, legs locked about his waist. Suddenly Pearson leaps into the air from her knees to the middle rope, springing off, twisting in mid-air and connecting with the cross body on Cassius.

He crashes down right onto Kozlov who was still clutching the submission. Pearson bounces off of both opponents, rolling away and having no idea that she just set Xander up for a pinfall by way of trying to crush him via the cross body.,

Dollar: Kathryn…you dumb rookie…you may have just cost yourself the match.

Susie: Didn’t you just praise her for all the knowledge the ropes have taught her?

Dollar: I’m entitled to change my opinion, Susie.

Susie: In the span of five seconds?

Dollar: Sometimes even shorter.

The official makes the count to a reaction that gets a mixed bag of feedback, possibly inserting Cassius into the number one contenders spot even though he happened into this victory.

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Kathryn realizes her mistake a moment too late, scrambling to break up the pin, but not in time. Because Kozlov kicks out instead, doing so of her own volition.

Exhaustion already plagues Cassius as he fights his way up to his seat when Mika, who was laying behind him, suddenly twists her body, wrapping legs around his arm and hooking the other. She drags him over her own body into a crucifix style pin.

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Xander shows incredible strength and skill by not only dropping out of the pinfall by landing on his feet but hoisting Kozlov right off the canvas on top of his shoulders. She is still clutching the crucifix, trying desperately to drag him back down to the canvas, but Xander will not go down, anger fueling him. He reaches his feet just as Pearson steps in front of him and leaps into a dropkick that connects right on the button.

Pearson doesn’t realize that she’s set up yet another pinfall attempt that may have just cost her a shot at the X-Class Championship, because the dropkick has knocked Xander back down into the crucifix roll up by the Blacklist femme. Cassius finds himself wedged to the ring on top of his shoulders, but only for a second, rolling right out of the pin and to his feet before utilizing one of said feet to drill Kozlov to her skull just as she got to her knees. An absolutely sick superkick almost removes Mika’s head from her shoulders, and ultimately leaves her spread across the canvas.

Dollar: He channeled all his rage into that kick. I think he answered your question, Mika, yeah….he’s mad.

Susie: Probably because someone never returned his Stretch Armstrong doll.

Cassius turns to the laid out Mika, realizing he has her but not before he takes out the newcomer Pearson.

Kathryn makes it easier on him, charging right across the ring with a determination that leads to her downfall. Cassius bends down just as she steps in, catching her by the crease of the knee and lifting it into the air. She drops to her back and then rolls in reverse to her knees just Cassius steps in with a second super kick that meets with equally as devastating results…but NOT for Pearson.

Kathryn rolls under the boot that flew directly at her face, shocking the world with her speed and in ring wherewithal. Xander is surprised as well, turning to Pearson, who is rising with the aid of the turnbuckle. He descends upon her, stepping over Mika, who offers her own little surprise. She sits up and delivers an uppercut right to the testicles of Cassius as he moved by.

The move seems to be a last ditch effort from Kozlov, who passes right back out after crushing her rivals genitals. He doubles over, head exposed to Pearson, who takes full advantage, stepping out of the corner, grabbing Xander’s wrist, wedging a boot to his jaw then dropping down into the Cool It, Bitch. Xander flies back after tasting the foot of Kathryn, again a fetish many a men would love to indulge.

Susie: Awww…Xander’s face all smooshed now like my Barbie Dolls after I put them in a microwave.

Dollar: Cool it, Bitch…it connects after an unlikely set up from Kozlov.

Xander is out and Kathryn is on top of him, leading to the….

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3!

The place comes unglued at the sight of Pearson picking up undoubtedly the biggest win of her fledgling career thus far. She gets to her knees but has little time to celebrate…wisely vacating the ring before she can be swept up into the chaos that will no doubt follow her victory.

Dollar: This is….a surprise…

Susie: No, a surprise is a bag of flaming dog poop on your porch…this is a knock your socks off shocker.

Dollar: They very adept Kathryn Pearson picks up another major win, and now moves on to challenge for a championship, the X-Class Title in only her…her second match. I’ve never seen someone make a splash that big in such a short period of time. What a talent…

Susie: Didn’t you just call her a stupid rookie?

Dollar: I’m the only one permitted to be a hypocrite, Susie, deal with it.

Susie: Dealt with.

Dollar: Lots of back and forth, dives, flips and about thirty million dropkick iterations. Everything you’d expect out of the X-Class division…

Susie: But I didn’t even get a chance to use my score card.

Dollar: There will be other opportunities. But at the end of this match, the…wait….hold it.

Kathryn is out of the ring and in a hurry, not wanting to linger behind and get swept into the violence that now proceeds. Xander has somehow staggered back to his feet, holding his jaw just in time for Kozlov to scoot up behind him, going for a second blow to the testies. This one is caught though, Xander not falling for the same trick twice. He turns in a very disorientated state but still tries to push Mika down into a potential cross arm breaker. But that’s when Lukas slides into the ring behind Cassius and delivers a roaring elbow square to the back of his head. The MMA combatant collapses and then Montgomery is on top of him with stomp after stomp between the shoulder blades.

Rodriquez slides in and is about to employ the taser yet again only to be grabbed by the shoulder, and spun around into a kick to the gut, delivered right to the rib-cage by Kozlov. Mika then delivers a high running knee to his face, causing the taser to spill from his clutches.

He goes staggering backwards into the waiting boot of Montgomery, drilling him to the back of the head with a shuffle side kick. Dwayne collapses to his knees as he and Mika begin delivering repeated forearm strikes over his upper back.

Montgomery then grabs the arms of Dwayne, pinning them behind his back and exposing him to the taser that has found itself back into Mika’s clutches. She lifts it into the air, the sound of electricity shooting from it echoing throughout the Manhattan Center.

Mika: Time to turn the other cheek…or…wait…I guess this isf eye for an eye justice, DWAYNE.

Rodriquez tries to struggle free as the taser inches closer and closer to his eyeball, mere moments from taking his sight in the same gruesome fashion as Hurse. The crowd screeches in horror, watching this snuff film play out before their very eyes….well…before the very eye of Rodriquez at least.

Dollar: Their gonna do to Rodriquez exactly what they did to Hurse, this is gonna be disgusting.

Susie: People need to stop eyeballing the Blacklist already.

Rodriquez shouts every four letter word in his vocabulary as the taser inches closer and closer, the electrical sparks centimeters from his pupil. Suddenly a roundhouse kick nails her to the back of the skull, Xander finally connecting with it with enough force to send her toppling to the canvas.

The taser falls right alongside Mika, who instinctively scrambles to the outside. Montgomery clears the ring just in time to avoid the wrath of Xander. She lands on her feet beyond the ropes then approaches Jessica Wilde, again having something to get off her chest.

Dollar: Mika’s got something to say….AGAIN.

Susie: Maybe she’ll sing Play That Funky Music White Boy, since Jessica refused to do it for Jackson at the pay-per-view.

She turns around with mic in hand only to have her mouth shut before she can even get it open. Xander is still right on top of her, delivering a right hand to her jaw that sends her spiraling into the barricade and spilling over it. Cassius STILL isn’t through, moving over the barrier and staying right on top of her.

Inside of the ring Montgomery has taken hold of the taser, turning just as Rodriquez charges in, wedges a shoulder to his gut and spears him through the ropes. The two collapse to the outside rolling around while unleashing a hailstorm of clubbing strikes, punches…every limb utilized to do some damage. Eventually the two reach their feet and their violent brawl ensues past the ramp all the way to the backstage area.

Dollar: The Blacklist…..Rodriquez….Cassius…this war just keeps on escalating.

The fans applaud the attempts of Xander and Dwayne to end the carnage of the Blacklist once and for all, at last having the two thirds of the group on the run.

Tay-Tay lurks outside of Orlando’s office, appearing legitimately distraught by her interaction with a man who normally leaves her gushing rather than gloomy. But never fear, for Frankie is here, and he goes above and beyond to capitalize on Taylor’s emotional distress. He places his hands on her shoulders and begins to rub the tension right out of them.

Tay-Tay: Frankie…please…not now.

She makes an attempt to break the hands away from her shoulders, but really…really doesn’t want to stop the massage.

Frankie: I can’t let you go into our handicap match tonight all tense and stressed. Frankie says relax.

Tay-Tay: How could I when that mascara wearing foul mouth is walking around with my gear…Ewww…keep it on that spot….ohm yeah.

The strong hands of Frankie brings Tay-Tay to her seat, luckily a chair positioned beside the door to the Icon’s room, preventing her from falling to the floor. Frankie doesn’t miss a single moment to continue touching Chase, keeping his hands on her shoulders throughout her entire descent.

Frankie: Told you I was so buff I even had muscles in my fingers…And let’s be honest with each other, sweetness, Orlando is the one who’s really got you pissed.

Tay-Tay: That’s none of your business…

Frankie: Come on, Tay-Tay…I think, after everything we’ve been through over the past few weeks that you’ve learned you can trust me. Ya can tell me anything…are you wearing a bra?

He questions while moving his hands a little lower down her spine.

Tay-Tay: Excuse me?

Frankie: Nothing!

She really needs someone she can talk to at the moment, even if that someone happens to be Paradise, the last person on the planet she thought she’d ever be confiding in.

Tay-Tay: I really care about, Orlando, but he’s just been so hard to deal with since Awakening…he’s not been the man I fell for…he’s been so twisted by that World Championship that he barely even gives me the time of day. And just…just imagine what will happen if I win the number one contenders match tonight…and then face him…or Rose…for the World Championship? He’ll be totally mental.

Frankie: Like he’s not already.

The quip is delivered almost subconsciously, because clearly Frankie’s mind is elsewhere, and its not on how far his fingers can get down Tay-Tay’s back before a rape whistle is blown. He actually seems to be contemplating something, and quietly to boot…yes…he can manage to close his mouth longer than twenty seconds.

Brittany Lohan: Interrupting something here?

Frankie isn’t through delivering the massage, or testing Tay-Tay’s boundaries, but once Lohan steps into the frame Chase leaps away from his touch.

Tay-Tay: Absolutely not….

With urgency she changes the subject before Brittany’s twisted mind can begin dwelling on what she just walked into….though Lohan’s mind is only on one thing, the pain that plagues her body after that grueling three way moments ago.

Tay-Tay: Did you find out anything?

Lohan: Actually…yes.

As every word is spoken her eyes remain fixed on Frankie, who looks increasingly uncomfortable to be under the heat-lamp that is Lohan’s gaze.

Lohan: My friend…

Frankie: You have friends? Do they disappear after you take your antipsychotics?

Tay-Tay: Just…just…ignore him.

Lohan: Pretty easy to do when he’s about the size of a lawn gnome…

Frankie: Listen here you crazy bitc…

Taylor wedges her hands to Frankie’s chest, pretending to hold him back, even though he really wants no part of the sadistic Lohan.

Tay-Tay: What did you find out, Lohan?

A sneering Lohan proceeds with her urgent news.

Lohan: Like I was saying, my friend, Cassidy Haze, texted me. Said she saw Silencer lurking outside the building with a bag in hand.

Tay-Tay: Awesome…is that all.

Lohan: She actually gave me a more precise location.

Frankie: Well let’s get there.

Lohan: And who invited you?

Tay-Tay: He’s coming, just deal with it, Brittany.

Lohan: Fine…

Her arms raise and reveal the crowbar stretched between her palms.

Lohan: Let’s get going then.

The trio makes their way towards the exit to the Manhattan Center, presumably moments from getting their grips on Silencer, and ending him before the handicap match can even start tonight. The camera remains fixed on the door to Orlando’s dressing room though, where who knows what may be occurring within regarding Desmond Drake and the Icon. In mere moments the answers may be provided.

‘Orlando Cruze’

The name stenciled across the door…one that Mark Comeau is forced to stand outside of, unable to see what’s occurring inside, microphone griped in hand and camera at the ready.

Mark: Welcome back to Riot!, on as Johnny Dollar has described it, a very chaotic night thus far. Speaking of chaotic situations, we’ve got a meeting between Desmond Drake and Orlando Cruze happening right behind this closed door.

Boldly Comeau reaches out and takes the doorknob.

Mark: And as many of you witnessed at Awakening…there are no doors that can keep Mark Comeau from getting the scoop.

Mark just can’t stop referencing the time spent in the woman’s locker-room…and rightfully so…still sporting a hickey from that particular invasion of privacy. The door opens and Mark tries to discretely step inside, followed by the camera. Surprisingly no one seems to notice Comeau’s stealthy entrance, Orlando pacing with his back to the door, separated from the seated Drake by the desk.

Wait…one person does acknowledge Mark briefly…Christian Savior, who shovels some popcorn through his lips, crunching down.

Christian: This is better than a Saved by the Bell marathon…Thanks for the popcorn fellas.

The police officers positioned at the sides of the shackles Christian, can’t help but to smile and even blush.

Officer: Thanks for signing that autograph for my kid, she’s such a huge fan of yours.

Christian: Shhhh….this is the best part.

He points towards Orlando, who throws his bag of ice directly into the wall.

Orlando: I’ve had enough!

The irate Icon spins around and wedges his knuckles to the desk surface, leaning ever so threateningly towards an intimidated Drake. The tactics seem to be working, as the pint sized figure-head dabs his skull with a handkerchief.

Orlando: You have no right…no right to stick your nose in the middle of my business! I’M the President, I’M the one who got the ball rolling on the return of this company. I’M the one who sacrificed everything…everything to get the IWC back up and running. And you…you just happened to kiss the right ass to get this job. You know nothing…absolutely NOTHING about running a professional wrestling company. I have all the credentials…I have all the experience. You think you know what’s good for business…but I actually do KNOW what’s right…what these fans WANT…what these fans NEED.

Drake: I’ve never said otherwise, Orlando. I’ve always trusted you…

Orlando: You shut up while I’m speaking…I wasn’t finished.

Drake: Mr. Cruze, please.

Orlando: I said shut up!!

The entire desk shakes beneath Orlando’s fists.

Orlando: That’s your problem, Desmond. You don’t listen. I told you not to get involved in that Eddie Vines, Isaac Saine brawl, and then what did you do? Remind me?

Drake begins to open his mouth to respond.

Orlando: Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I don’t need you to tell me all about how you deliberately disobeyed me. And it wasn’t just by sending an official out in the middle of that brawl between Saine and Vines. You continued to undermine me when you put together a team to face the Blacklist. I was on top of that, and unlike you, I would have assembled a team that actually defeated the Blacklist. But because of you, because of your lack of actual wrestling knowledge, you put together a team that couldn’t protect Hurse from being forced into early retirement.

Drake: I was only….

Orlando: I told you to shut your God damn mouth!

A taped together picture of Orlando’s kids, having been previously shattered during another of his tirades, is broken again as he throws it to the ground.

Orlando: Don’t you realize all this chaos…all this unrule, it’s because of you.

Wisely Desmond opts not to say anything and just gesture to himself in confusion.

Orlando: You’ve sent the message to the roster that they can challenge my authority. That’s why Silencer has been running off at the mouth and making ridiculous challenges to me…it’s why Christian Savior thought he could just get away with throwing my Evolution Championship into the ocean…it’s why Axl Evermore, Katelyn Buehler, Disco Ninja…the list goes on and on and on….all believe they have the right to oppose me. You’ve created an atmosphere of chaos and disorder, Drake. You truly have learned, and learned very well from your mentor, Mr. D, as you’ve turned the IWC into an even more lawless version of Supreme Championship Wrestling.

Drake: Can I PLEASE say something?

Orlando: No…no you may not…I could reach across this table right now, wrap my hands around your throat and crush your windpipe with my bare hands for the damage you’ve done to MY company….And…what the hell are you doing here, Mark?

Comeau, who was standing behind a potted plant, at last realizes that he’s been found out.

Mark: Hi, Boss.

Orlando: I told all reporters to bugger off and stay out of my office. This was a PRIVATE meeting.

Mark: I was….

Drake: Mr. Cruze…I think your using me as a scapegoat here.

An outraged Orlando is offended on every level that once again Drake is snubbing his nose at his authority by speaking instead of remaining silent.

Drake: Don’t you realize that we have the same goal? That we’re both here to make the IWC the best wrestling company on the planet? We just want to do the right thing. That’s why I brought you this file…I think after you read it, it’ll really help redeem you to the fans…and…

The file that Drake brought with him is sent scattering across the room, papers flying everywhere.

Drake: Orlando, please, you really need to read this.

Orlando: I don’t have to read anything you give to me saboteur.

Drake: Saboteur?

Orlando: I know what you are…Ashamed of myself that it took me this long to realize it….You were sent here by SCW to make sure the IWC failed, to destroy MY company before it could ever rise up and overshadow SCW.

Drake: That’s….that’s…CRAZY! I would never do anything to harm this company, or you, Orlando. Heck, I felt so bad after my decision at the pay-per-view that I even sent you a little something to help smooth things over.

Orlando: There is no smoothing things over. I should crush you and send your mangled body out with the rest of the garbage tonight…but….considering that I’m a level headed, benevolent owner…I’ve decided to give you this one opportunity, Desmond, to save yourself.

He parks himself in the chair across from Drake, then kicks back, getting relaxed.

Orlando: Pack up your things and leave, never to set foot on IWC soil ever again. If you do that, and tell the Board of Directors to stay out of my business, then you’ll never have to learn how it feels to get around in a wheelchair. Understood?

Drake: But Orlando, I know we can hash out these differences…

Orlando: Understood!?!

That aura of relaxation vanishes as Orlando lunges forward in his chair, getting closer ever so closer to Desmond.

Drake: Understood.

He says in a defeated tone.

Orlando: Good, now leave before I reconsider.

He slips from his chair with a defeated posture.

Drake: Just please read the…

Orlando: GO!

Orlando spins around in his chair, turning his back on his human punch-line, and punching bag. A disheveled Drake made one last valiant effort to reach out to Orlando, but it was all for not. He vacates the dressing room with Comeau following along. Once in the hall Drake at last summons the strength to speak up.

Drake: Thanks for getting there when you did, Mark. I think having a camera there pretty much kept Orlando from ripping my spine out of my throat.

Mark: FINISH HIM…sorry, couldn’t resist the Mortal Kombat reference…So, are you gonna walk away?

Desmond’s heart sinks into the pit of his stomach, jaw falling to his chest.

Drake: I love everything about the IWC, Comeau. I believe in this company, and I believe Orlando Cruze can take it to new heights. But maybe me being here is what’s clouding his judgment. Maybe if there’s no influence from the Board of Directors, he can truly keep this roster in line and make this federation all it can be. So as much as it hurts me to do this….I think it may be best for everyone if I just walk away.

Mark would love to correct him on his assumptions, but opts not to say anything out of fear of an Orlando reprisal now that the Icon is going to be the sole source of authority. With his head lowered, and his stomach in knots, Drake makes that long, dreadful stroll down the hall.

PRE-SHOW

A compilation of clips showcase Claude Judas Rose and Krista Lewis going neck to neck, battling it out in a grueling test of their physical endurance.

Dollar: Thank GOD! Desmond Drake at last comes to his senses and walks away.

Susie: And I never EVER got the chance to give him that noogie. Or rub the little jewel in his stomach to grant my wishes.

Dollar: Looks like he’s at long last realized he’s nothing more than a bad influence. And speaking of bad influences, let’s look at what happened before our show even got started tonight, when a debuting Krista Lewis and a desperate for a win, Clauade Judas Rose went at it in a highly competitive bout.

Lewis and Claude make no attempts at feeling each other out, or going hold for hold. Their match is pure smash mouth from the beginning, with Krista employing several of the trademark moves that she’s known for to constantly catch Rose off guard.

Claude constantly gets her up for the Art Attack though only to have Krista keep slipping free. In the end this frustrates Judas enough to take their battle to the outside of the ring, where a double count out leads to a double disqualification. Claude drives the head of his opponent into the steps then re-enters the ring with microphone in hand.

Judas-Rose: Outrageant! This is NOT what I signed up for. I thought the IWC would give me the chance to showcase my artistic violence. But instead all I see in this pitoyable
Federation are whores, whores, and more whores. Whores I will not allow to be shoved down my throat…though there are pieces of my anatomy I can imagine shoving down their throats. If something doesn’t change, and change NOW, then I’m demanding my release from the IWC. Fire me!

His words only end when Krista re-enters out of nowhere and lays him out with the Hells Bitch Kick.

Dollar: Impressive outing between one of IWC’s most eccentric competitors, and one of IWC’s most eccentric newcomers. And…for the love of Pete, why? Why is my ear being infected by the sounds of some idiot telling me to turn things over to the backstage area. Doesn’t anyone know that less screen time for me equals a plummet in ratings?

Susie: They should just let me play with sparklers…that’ll send ratings through the roof! We’ll get higher numbers than an episode of Gilmore Girls.

Dollar: Let’s find out what’s happening back there already…Come on, roll the cameras…get back there AV Club rejects.

Bangs…booms….screams…all tell-tale indicators that a scuffle is ensuing backstage. The camera jostles as the operator desperately tries to get to the source of all the commotion , but his immense weight, coupled with early onset COPD makes it very difficult to fulfill even a basic job. At last he rounds the corner, with much huffing and puffing to be done, and centers the camera upon Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid stomping the upper back of Isaac Saine, keeping him pinned to the ground.

Chase: Beat him down…beat him down…but not too badly.

Bash goes for an elbow but stops when he hears the conflicting message from his Agent, who is busy hoping around the trio in circles, capturing every aspect of the assault.

Chase: That’s right, obliterate him…but try to take it easy on him too.

Hugo stops in mid-European Uppercut and then sighs.

Magnusson: Make up your mind already.

Chase: Okay…okay…hold him…just hold him.

The strikes stop connecting on Saine, and instead the TCWC, acting on orders from their Agent, trap the arms of the Brute out to his sides.

Chase: You’re gonna play ball tonight, Isaac. Hear me? You’re not gonna lay a finger on my client…understood?

All the slaps and pie facing to Isaac’s masked face does nothing to intimidate him.

Saine: Hahahaha….stick it up your ass.

The laughter is infectious…as it plagues Chase with rage.

Chase: Stick it up my ass? Is that right? You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can threaten my client? You obviously have never dealt with Adam Chase before.

The super agent reaches into his jacket pocket for what…God only knows what…a weapon….a tool to Isaac’s destruction perhaps? No…it’s an iphone. One that is switched on and held in front of Isaac’s face.

Chase: Do it!

Bash’s fingers slide under the jaw line of Isaac’s mask.

Isaac: No…no…what are you doing? Stop…STOP!! NOOOOO!

The mask is pulled away, but unfortunately the only camera that can capture the sight of Isaac’s newly rearranged face is the one recording in Chase’s palm. Adam looks upon his screen with a twisted expression…perhaps even more twisted than the facial features of Saine.

Adam: You can consider this a little insurance policy, Isaac. You either do what I say, or this video goes viral.

The phone is powered down and slipped into Chase’s pocket while the mask is thrown down to the floor at Isaac’s knees. Saine is released, falling onto the mask and scrambling to slide it back over his face before anyone else can see what the Black Crusade did to him. A sneering Chase walks away with Hugo, while Bash lingers behind to take one last look.

Bash: Pathetic.

Isaac continues to rock while holding the mask against his face, tears actually streaming from his eyes.

Bling….a common slang term for another piece of prestigious gold, the X-Class Championship. It hangs upon P. Clarence Whitman III’s shoulder and seems to put him in such a cheery disposition that his feet don’t even touch the floor with every step. Of course they do collide with the concrete, as well as an object that causes Whitman to stagger when his foot gets snagged upon it, totally ruining the pimptastic gait in his strut.

Whitman: Well now…how negligent.

The object that made him look like a total goof…no…not the genetics passed down to him by his parents…but the book that caused him to almost trip…is collected from the ground. Before Whitman can even read the title or peruse the synopsis to see if he’d be interesting in reading, the very door he was originally headed to pops open and through it strolls the heavenly creature known as Kitty Buehler. She is flanked by a number of individuals wearing similar white t-shirts with the word ’SAVED’ stenciled across the chest, and obnoxiously huge crucifixes.

Kitty: Great meeting tonight guys…But remember, we’ve got to start putting up more fliers…I want twice as many newbies at our next get together.

Smiles and eager nods by all. They are weighed down by huge stacks of fliers promoting ’Kitty’s Khristian Koalition,’ with an abbreviated short-hand version of the group name beneath it.

Kitty: Can’t imagine why we didn’t get more converts this week. The flaming cross decal should have totally drawn people’s eyes to our flier.

More smiles…more eager nods…more desperate attempts to please Kitty.

Kitty: Onward my flock…onward.

The group begins to disperse as Whitman eagerly fights his way through the throngs to get to Kitty. Though she notices him, she pretends not to, lowering a box in her arms to the floor and grabbing some t-shirts out of it, folding them up.

Whitman: Ummm, excuse me, Mrs. Buehler.

Kitty acts too distracted.

Whitman: Ahem…Mrs. Buehler….have a moment to spare?

Kitty: Oh….Clarence…how nice to see you again.

As if he wasn’t in her peripheral view the whole time.

Whitman: Goodness. Wasn’t aware we had broken that barrier…

Kitty: Barrier?

Whitman: That whole first name basis, dropping of formalities, crucial step in any burgeoning relationship.

Kitty: What? Oh…calling you by your first name? Yeah, let’s not read WAY too much into it. What can I do for you?

Whitman: Uhhhhh…ah yes….indeed…why did I…ah-ha…just remembered. I wanted to learn more about your whole….what’s the proper American terminology? Cult…is that it?

Kitty: Excuse me?

Whitman: Is CULT not the right word? Please accept my humblest of apologies…I’m still adapting to your Western slang.

Surprisingly Kitty is willing to overlook the inflammatory statement…though she normally wouldn’t extend such understanding to others.

Kitty: The good book does teach us forgiveness. Have you given it a read…the good book that is? The Bible?

Whitman: Ah yes…angels…demons…Moses…much begotting to be had….burning bushes…quite a good read.

Kitty: Awesome…

She looks way too enthused.

Kitty: The bible provides the basic fundamentals of our Coalition. If you embrace the teachings of our lord and savior, then you can truly be saved. So do you?

Whitman: Pardon?

Kitty: Do you accept God’s teachings in your heart and your mind.

Whitman: I don’t….not…accept it.

Kitty: That’s….a start.

Lois Prince: Here’s the rest of the Oreos…were even touched.

Announced Lois upon exiting the room the rest of her group just emerged from. A large tray of cookies is stretched between arms. She almost drops it upon noticing Whitman, who quickly aids her in stabilizing the sugary treats.

Lois: Fiddle-sticks, almost lost it….

She looks up into the excited eyes of Whitman.

Lois: Oh…hi there…Mr. Whitman…is it?

Whitman: Yes…ummm…hello…Lois.

Lois: Wow…didn’t realize we were past that whole first name basis barrier…

Kitty: Again with this whole barrier brouhaha? Clarence…you were saying?

After being lost in the beautiful amber eyes, which matched the hue of his favorite alcoholic beverage, Whitman shook off the enchantment and proceeded.

Whitman: I was just saying how much I enjoy the ‘GOOD BOOK,’ what kind of impression it’s made on me as a whole. How it’s fundamentally changed my perception of the world. At last I see all the inner beauty that surrounds us…in the laughter of children…in the chirps of birds…in the dance steps of Keyshawn Johnson.

Lois: Ewww, I love Dancing with the Stars.

Whitman: It is a piece of Americana I’ve quickly become enamored with.

She blushes, feeling less like a dork.

Kitty: I’m glad to hear that the wisdom of the Lord has had such an impact upon you. We might have another convert to our flock, Lois.

Lois: Really? Your thinking of joining Kitty’s Kristian Koalition? That be great!

Several steps have been skipped, but Whitman has his ‘in’ and it was surprisingly effortless.

Whitman: I have been giving it some consideration.

Lois: Awesome.

Whitman: Would I get a t-shirt?

Lois: Sure…Let me grab you one.

Whitman: Do you have one in a child’s extra large?

Kitty: Not until he’s joined up, Lois. Not until he’s officially become a member of our congregation. Only the saved can have a t-shirt.

Kitty addresses her comments directly to Whitman, looking past her disheartened follower.

Kitty: If you really want to join our circle, then we’re having a newcomers meeting right here next week. Orlando was kind enough to provide the Manhattan Center’s conference room for our meetings…Surprisingly I only had to threaten him with a lawsuit twice.

Whitman: Good chap that Orlando is.

Kitty: Indeed. So why don’t you attend next week?

After taking a look into the incredibly giddy, and downright gorgeous face of Lois, how could Whitman possibly refuse the invitation?

Whitman: I’ll definitely be in attendance.

Lois: Splendid! It’s so nice to finally run across a GOOD man. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been led astray and tempted by bad boys in the past.

Whitman: Really?

Lois: Yeah…there was this one time I had a boyfriend who totally got me drunk and filmed me making out with my best girlfriend. Before I realized it we had our shirts off and were in the shower soaping each other up.

Whitman: Well that’s…that’s just awful.

A handkerchief dries the sweat on his forehead.

Lois: Sorry, shouldn’t be so forthcoming with the details.

Whitman: No…no…does the Bible not teach that confession is good for the soul?

Kitty: Well look at this…he’s already learning. Your well on your way to salvation, Whitman….And look, he’s already carrying a bible with him everywhere he goes.

The book in Whitman’s hands is addressed, the very one thrown asunder by Christian earlier in the evening. Before he can hide it against his chest Lois excitedly peeks at the title and goes pale as a sheet.

Lois: Kitty, that isn’t the Bible.

Buehler gets a better look at the text and her face transforms in much the same way as her follower‘s.

Kitty: Oh…Fifty Shades of Grey, huh?

Whitman: No, no, no, no. you ladies are mistaken, I just happened across it…

Lois: Seems you have a longer journey ahead of you than we thought.

Both Whitman AND Buehler notice the repulsion Lois exudes…which seems to plague Buehler just as much as it does Clarence.

Whitman: No…please…I promise…

Kitty: We’ll see you next week…

Lois: Yeah, see you around…..Mr. Whitman.

The two walk off carting cookies and t-shirts in the process. They leave Clarence behind holding nothing more than the most sexually suggestive book in history and wearing an expression of humiliation.

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.

Disco Ninja rolls out from under the ring hoping to get the drop on his opponent only to realize he was the one announced first. He slaps the apron in frustration then slips into the ring.

Dollar: And the in ring portion of tonight’s telecast continues as That Disco Ninja becomes the lamb led right into the fire.

Susie: I hope he’ll dance again…instead of being the inspiration behind a really awesome George Michael song.

Dollar: Never ever mention the name George Michael in my presence again. This is the first of two handicap matches tonight designed to reinforce Orlando’s authority. And at last, Cruze has full reign over the show again now that Desmond Drake has walked…or waddled…away from the IWC.

Susie: But I never did get a chance to give him that noogie.

Dollar: And something tells me that Disco Ninja is gonna get a lot worse than a noogie, judging from what happened at the pay-per-view, let’s take you back and show you all what happened.

AWAKENING

A compilation of clips run down all the happenings between Disco Ninja and Gavin Taylor at the pay-per-view. In one night the two managed to create quite a rivalry. At first Gavin manages to insert himself as the official in the Quarter Finals bout between Rose Savior and Taylor Chase. But then he finds himself unceremoniously dumped from the ring by Disco Ninja sending a blinded Chase flying knee first into Taylor’s shoulder blades.

Dollar: Gavin Taylor was handpicked to give Taylor Chase the edge in the Quarter-Finals of the Tournament, but that Disco Ninja, who stole the referee jersey of Jackson Adams just moments before the match started, interfered, knocked Gavin from the ring and then made the three count for Taylor’s opponent, Rose. But the interactions between these two didn’t end there.

The screen flashes, taking us the closing moments of the pay-per-view, where an all out brawl has commenced. The insanity only escalates when Disco Ninja, who took over as special referee for the World Title match, is dragged out of the ring by Gavin and sent sailing into the steel steps.

Back to live action.

An All Black Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren to the lyrics of “Whoa is Me” by Down with Webster. After several prolonged moments ‘The All Star’ Gavin Taylor leaves his vehicle and stands with a grin that would be done injustice to call it smarmy. Adam Chase brings up the rear, following his newest client, the athletic, and arrogant Taylor as both men descend upon the ring.

Dollar: And that’s what brought about this handicap match. Punishment for That Disco Ninja’s meddling at the pay-per-view.

Susie: How…how can you stay mad at a man who can swing his hips better than John Travolta?

Dollar: Well when he screwed Orlando Cruze’s main squeeze, Taylor Chase, out of the World Title, he crossed the line…and there is absolutely no going back after that.

Gavin waits in his corner, glaring across the ring at Disco Ninja, who is doing some bunny slopes in the corner to limber up for his match. Adam is right in his client’s ear, imploring him to stay vigilant, reminding him that Disco Ninja is a very crafty individual, what with his endless array of weapons…all of the plastic or foam variety. At last the final piece in this twisted soiree is added to the puzzle, when Isaac Saine’s music screeches through the PA system.

That Disco Ninja turns, fists clinched and rhythmically bobbing out to his sides towards the stage. Unfortunately this exposed his back to Gavin, who rushes up behind his opponent and throws a double axe handle into the back of his head.

To the canvas twists Ninja, collapsing to the canvas and grabbing at his skull.

Dollar: Taylor getting the drop on Disco Ninja before his ‘partner’ could even get to the ring.

Susie: Do you think Isaac and Gavin are gonna play hopscotch together, since their now buddy buddy.

Dollar: Don’t think they’ll EVER be buddy, buddy after what happened just moments ago, when Adam Chase had Isaac’s mask removed, and then recorded the results…

A tepid Saine moves through the curtains, head lowered with hairs hanging before his precious mask. Every step taken is a despondent one, depression oozing from all the pours in his body. He takes on the impression of a man who was just forced to euthanize his dog….the inspiration of a thousand blues songs. A very disheartened Sane has the same weight behind his steps as Desmond Drake a few moments ago…well…obviously not the same weight literally…since Drake is about the size of one of Isaac’s afternoon snacks.

Dollar: Awww…look at poor little Isaac. He looks more depressed than anyone who paid money to watch a Hulk Hogan movie.

Susie: Do not discourage Hogan’s flicks. I might just play Santa With Muscles on my Kindle. If I can ever get past the He-Man Christmas Special.

Dollar: You’re just on a Christmas kick, aren’t you? And it seems Chase is getting a kick out of the way he handled the Isaac dilemma.

Nobody in their right mind would ever willingly put themselves between Saine and his prey, but that’s exactly what Adam Chase does, but only because he has a certain insurance policy, one held above his head. Adam gestures to the iphone repeatedly, which holds the images of Isaac’s unmasked face. The reference to said video, makes Isaac stop.

Chase: You…you wait right there. I’ll tell you when to get into that ring.

Steam may shoot from every one of Saine’s orifices, explaining the odor, but somehow, in spite of the boiling rage within, he maintains a cool exterior, actually following orders. Instead of participating in the violence he watches…watches Gavin drag Disco to his feet and scoop slam him viciously to the center of the ring. Taylor then takes off into the ropes, ricochets off and then drops an elbow directly into Disco Ninja’s sternum.

He rushes to his feet and drops a second elbow, then scrambles up and hit’s a third elbow. Will there be a fourth…no…cause that’s what the fans were expecting to see. Gavin instead drags Disco up to his feet and whips him right across the ring into the turnbuckle. That Disco Ninja hit’s the post with such force that he goes flipping up and over the cables in true Flair fashion, then comes down feet first on the apron.

In charges Gavin, looking for a spear to the ribs through the cables when Disco Ninja side steps him, avoiding calamity. He pulls himself up onto the turnbuckle, standing on the middle rope then diving off into a forearm across the back of Gavin’s head, driving his throat down into the cable.

Dollar: Seriously? Somehow That Disco Ninja proves to be a greater canker sore each and every week.

Susie: I love licking my canker sores. It’s so painful, yet slightly euphoric.

Dollar: So what…Your gonna lick Disco Ninja.

Susie: No…unless he’d let me do it.

Gavin hangs over the ropes, head exposed to a series of jiving lefts from Disco on the mats down below, which is eventually capped off with a big right hand between the eyes. The last shot knocks Taylor back into the ring, rolling across it to the center.

With his opponent reeling, Disco Ninja leaps onto the apron and scales the turnbuckle, which has given him the best results thus far in this fast paced encounter. He reaches the top rope and prepares for flight only to be distracted by Saine.

Isaac was ordered to climb up onto the apron by Chase, doing exactly as told to prevent the image of his face from finding its way onto the net. His murderous glare chills Disco just enough to take his eye off the ball, distracting him long enough for Gavin to capitalize. Taylor grabs Disco’s ankle and rips it out from under him, causing Ninja to fall from the top rope and crash against the top turnbuckle pad back first.

Dollar: Disco might be even more flexible now that his back was just broken.

Susie: Many men have told me they wanted a rib or two removed so they could be flexible enough to reach their penis with their mouth…

Dollar: How is that relevant to anything I just said?

Susie: It isn’t.

Gavin rushes up behind Disco, who remained on his feet just long enough to get a dropkick between the shoulder blades. The collision knocks Disco from his feet into the turnbuckle opposite the one his back was just mangled against. He falls against the corner and utilizes it to reach his feet when Gavin steps in and delivers a series of forearm strikes to his lower back and kidney area. He then spins Disco around and charges in with a lariat to his throat.

Ninja’s wrist is grabbed and he’s yanked out of the corner into a shoulder to the ribs before being powered spine first against the turnbuckle. The bones of the Disco Ninja almost crack upon impact…yet somehow they remain in tact just long enough for him to be dragged out of the corner into a waist-lock, which allows Gavin to deliver a side suplex slam.

Dollar: Every move, no matter how big or small, is devastating on an injured back. I know exactly what Disco Ninja is going through. I once pulled something in my back reaching down to grab a penny, and had to spend two hours in bed before I felt better.

Susie: Uhhh..I don’t think that’s the same level of pain that Disco Ninja is in right now.

Dollar: There’s only one thing inaccurate about that sentence, Susie…you NEVER think.

Disco Ninja sits up on the canvas, reaching for his back, which has become the focal point of Gavin’s offensive campaign. He steps in and delivers a punt right between Ninja’s kidneys, sending him into convulsions. He writhes across the ring, trying to get to the ropes out of desperation, hoping it will avail himself of the pain. He just gets to his knees when Gavin rushes across the ring, leaps into the air and lands rum first across his lower back, driving Ninja down throat first into the very middle rope he thought would prevent his destruction.

It seems Gavin has broken a sweat, prompting him to make a tag to Isaac so that he can get some rest. He extends his hand to Isaac, who looks eager to get into this match but then withdrawals it just before a tag can be made. With a huge smile on his face, Gavin instead uses his open palm to smooth back his hair, resulting in such disgust from the crowd that a few of them even throw some trash at the ring. As these unruly fans are led away by security, Disco Ninja is led to his knees, Gavin straddling his lower back in a camel clutch.

All the while he grinds his wrist tape right against Disco Ninja’s eyes, rubbing salt in the wounds. He then lifts his forearm into the air and drives it down over the bridge of Disco Ninja’s nose.

The masked combatant falls to the ring as Gavin moves to the ropes, shouting over them at Chase. Moving as quick as he can,, Chase removes a piece of gum, handing it to his client. Gavin begins to chew the gum in a truly obnoxious fashion before his attention is derailed from the gum by a slap to the shoulder, Isaac tagging HIMSELF into the match.

Susie: Uh-oh, spaghetti-os. Yokozuna in a mask just made the tag.

Dollar: That’s NOT gonna sit well with Taylor and Chase.

Gavin looks all out of sorts, outraged that he was tagged, and more importantly, that Isaac actually touched him. Taylor is all over Saine like a flies on shit, shouting into his face, which proves to be the biggest mistake of his life. Isaac backs him into the corner, breathing down Gavin’s throat. It’s at this point that the All-Star stops reading Isaac the riot act and instead pleads for his life.

Just as it seems that Saine has at last had his fill of Taylor…Adam swoops in and does what an agent is supposed to do, protect his client. He leaps to the apron and hit’s the play button on his iphone, playing the video he took backstage moments ago.

Isaac reaches out for the phone only to have Chase drop as quickly from the apron as he leaped to it.

Chase: Do as your told Isaac, do as your told!

An anguished Isaac backs away from Gavin, wanting so badly to slap the huge smile off of his face, but finding his hands dropping to his sides, powerless to be employed against Taylor. That’s before his whole body threatens to be dropped, Disco Ninja wrapping his arms around Isaac’s waist from behind and trying to dropdown into a roll up. However, Saine’s girth makes this impossible, and a simple back elbow breaks up Disco Ninja’s attempt, sending the gun for hire gyrating into the cables.

He falls against them just as Isaac comes lumbering towards his opponent and eats a back heel kick to the ribs. Saine is doubled over and now Disco leaps to the middle rope, springs off, twists in mid-air, flies over Isaac’s back, catches him around the waist on the way down and connects with a sunset flip. The fans are going absolutely nuts as Disco Ninja stands up, bending down into the creases of his monstrous opponent’s knees for greater leverage.

1

2

Dollar: Isaac wanted the tag so badly, but it ultimately screwed his team out of the victory. That big masked dummy.

Or so that’s how it appears…Before Gavin could even get back in the ring to break up the pinfall, Isaac is able to get a shoulder off the canvas, preventing defeat. That Disco Ninja rolls back to his feet and then scrambles across the ring, stepping off a crawling Isaac’s back and catching Gavin with a dropkick that sends him spilling back to the outside through the ropes.

Dollar: Damnit Disco, why must you be so persistently annoying?

Susie: We all have our talents, Johnny.

Dollar: Really? Cause I haven’t seen any of out of you yet.

Susie: Obviously you’ve never seen what I’m capable of doing with ping-pong balls.

Realizing that this might be his only opportunity to gain an advantage, That Disco Ninja rushes to his feet just in time to duck an attempted beheading from Saine. He rolls across the ring and leaps out of it onto a nearby turnbuckle. He spins around to face Isaac as the big man rushes at him, looking to take out his frustrations on the masked man for hire.

Disco isn’t about to let high risk come back to haunt him a second time, leaping into the air right over the inbound Saine, who crashes into the corner chest first. Isaac turns around just as Disco Ninja spins around and rushes in and leaps into the air, wedging feet to Saine’s stomach while interlocking hands behind his head, attempting the monkey flip.

Much like his attempt to deliver the rollup earlier, Saine’s weight is too much for Disco Ninja to send him flipping over. Instead Saine’s immense weight allows him to switch positions with Disco, turning around and sitting Ninja on the top rope. He then reaches up and grabs his opponent around the throat with both hands, looking for his choke bomb variation.

He hoists Disco off the turnbuckle by his throat only to have Ninja land on his shoulders, twist around and connect with a hurricarana to a massive pop from the crowd.

Dollar: Color me stunned.

Susie: What color would stunned be?

Dollar: Just look at the color of Hurse’s eye after he was hit with that taser…hahahahaha…God that was wrong on so many levels.

Disco actually has a chance, evident as he pulls off some more rhythmic steps in the process of taking off into the ropes. Saine just gets up when Ninja springs off the middle cable, twists around and delivers a lariat right to the big man’s throat. Saine isn’t taken down and neither is Disco Ninja, who lands on his feet, backs up with an expression of shock in his eyes, then takes off into another set of ropes. He leaps to the middle rope just as Gavin drives his head through the cables right into the gut of his opponent.

The strike knocks Ninja off the ropes and sends him plummeting to the canvas, wrapping his hands around his crotch.

Dollar: Gavin with a gut busting blow! Payback for that unprovoked dropkick just a few moments ago.

Susie: Unprovoked?

Dollar: You heard me.

Susie: And they call me delusional.

In spite of the fact that it feels like he’s about to throw up what he ate for lunch…waffles presumably….Disco Ninja operates on sheer adrenaline in order to reach his feet. A poor decision if there ever was one, because he turns right into the clutches of the monster. Isaac grabs the throat of Disco Ninja with both hands, heaves him from the ring and drives him down via the Redeemer. The double hand choke bomb drives every last bit of fight from Disco’s body, leaving him exposed to certain doom. Saine has him right where he needs him, in the center of the ring and prime for the pin, but just before he can hook the legs, Gavin stretches an arm into the ring.

Isaac looks very indecisive, and the fans pick up on this fact, pleading with him not to follow orders, some out of sympathy, and others just because they want to see what the Black Crusade did to his face. In spite of all their begging, Isaac adheres only to Taylor, prompting an outpour of cries from the masses.

Dollar: Isaac at last doing as told…what a good little soldier he turned out to be.

Susie: I feel bad for Mr. Blubber Britches….this can’t be easy for him.

To make it even more difficult Saine now has to endure the insult of Gavin waving him out of the ring with the swiping of his fingers through the air. Isaac is about to blow his top but somehow, in spite of all this insult, leaves the ring and leaves Disco to the mercy of Gavin.

That Disco Ninja gets to a knee, looking all shaken up just as Taylor steps in, takes him around the waist, heaves him up onto his shoulder and eventually drops him via the Highlight of the Night. Disco’s head bounces violently off the canvas once again, sitting up before being pie faced back down to the canvas and pinned, forearm grinding against his rival’s face in the process.

Referee Wright makes the count in disgruntled fashion.

1

2

3

Laughter emanates from Chase, but he’s the only one in good spirits after his client’s first victory.

Dollar: And Gavin, in spite of having Isaac not pull his own weight out here, is able to pick up the win for his team. This man truly is an All-Star.

Susie: How can Isaac be expected to carry his own weight? The man needs a whole row of seats on an airplane.

Predictably the fans are jumping down Gavin’s throat in spite of the fact that he barely celebrates the victory, refusing to pander to the undeserving crowd. Instead he opts to just place a boot on the downed Disco Ninja’s chest while Chase, who shoos the referee aside, raises Taylor’s arm aloft. Isaac doesn’t join in on the jocularity, head lowered as he marches right up the ramp, refusing to stick around and be forced to do anything else that Chase has planned for him.

Dollar: Major statement just made by Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase…what a lethal pair these two are going to make.

As Gavin and Chase finally make their way up the ramp, Evermore comes rushing around it with the briefcase he had earlier still in his clutches. He slides into the ring and crawls towards Disco Ninja, checking on the condition of his employee.

Dollar: Why is Evermore still permitted access to this building? We’re seeing more of him now than before he was suspended.

Susie: This is sweet, he’s checking on his friend.

Dollar: Does Disco Ninja even have friends? Or just employers?

Axl turns his head and eyes a smug grin, one resting on the face of the victorious Gavin Taylor. Clearly the Fully Loaded head honcho isn’t about to let sleeping dogs lie.

Dwayne: Telling ya’, I saw them come down this way.

Insisted Rodriquez as Xander assumed the role of Doubting Thomas.

Cassius: Didn’t we just pass that greasy stage-hand like ten seconds ago?

Dwayne: How should I know? There are like a thousand greasy stagehands back here.

They continue moving along through the wide corridor, sniffing out the Blacklist like they were well trained bloodhounds…which is appropriate, considering blood might be exactly what spills when their paths cross yet again. The violence only escalating each time the two cross paths with the Blacklist contingent.

Dwayne: Still can’t believe you let them slip through our fingers. We had them right there…..

He stops, turns to Xander, and begins to ram a finger repeatedly into his palm.

Dwayne: Right in the center of our fucking hands man. And somehow you…

Xander: Whoa, can that garbage right now, Chief. I didn’t let the Blacklist get away…WE got separated by them in the thick of the crowd.

Dwayne: Yeah, yeah..I’m just pissed is all. It feels like someone just took a steaming pile right in my cornflakes…and they weren’t even fucking frosted.

Xander: Keep your cool.

Cassius shows the courage very few others would, putting a hand on Dwayne’s shoulder in an attempt to settle the unstable brawler’s nerves. It doesn’t really do the trick, unfortunately, but does force him to take a second to think things out before just leaping blindly into action.

Xander: And we’ve got to think about this, Man. What are we going to do when we come across the Blacklist? Beating the hell out of them…yeah…sounds fun…but what’ll it accomplish?

Dwayne: Might put a smile on my face.

Xander: True…but in the end it’s not going to get us any closer to ridding the IWC of those sadists. We need strategy, Dwayne…and I think I know a man who can help us develop a plan for putting an end to these bastards.

Dwayne: Flash Gordon?

Xander: I wish. But this guy’s even better. He really helped me to see the light after some personal demons got to me over the past few weeks. I’m sure he can help us figure out how to approach bringing down the Blacklist….

Dwayne: Yeah, great story, you’ve earned your day time emmy…just get to dialing the guy.

Xander: He’s actually already here, was gonna come with me to the ring earlier but….

Mika: Hiiiii Boys….Looking for little ole’ me?

It was almost as if God intervened, parting the clouds and letting his rays of light shine down upon Mika Kozlov, revealing her to the vicious MMA strikers. She sits on a crate a little ways down the hall, legs crossed, hands placed on her knee and head tilted…appearing totally unconcerned with the fact that she just ruined the element of surprise.

Mika: Are you two still pouting cause I didn’t let you cave my face in? Well, I guess that wasn’t very nice of me now was it? Tisk…tisk…Bad Mika…you should really come over here and teach me a lesson.

Dwayne is all too eager to play along but finds his arm trapped, looking down at the hand holding his wrist.

Xander: This is so a set-up.

Lukas: Oh well…guess the cats out of the bag.

Suddenly a forklift is driven out from behind a corner, being steered by Montgomery and coming to a stop directly beside the crate that Mika is currently seated on.

Xander: Something still isn’t right about this.

Dwayne: I could give two shits if this is an ambush or not. I’ve fought my way out of tougher spots….

Xander: Dwayne…wait…wait dammit!

Waiting is the last thing that Rodriquez is about to do, storming towards the Blacklist even as Cassius desperately tries to hold him at bay. It becomes apparent, that after everything that’s transpired tonight, all the physicality that there’s nothing Xander can say or do that’s going to make Dwayne adhere to reason. Therefore he sucks it up and follows Dwayne right into war.

As predicted, the Blacklist had more than one back-up plan, Mika grabbing a Singapore Cane from behind the crate and swinging it right into Dwayne’s ribs. Her smile fades the moment she sees that the cane is caught under Rodriquez’s arm, and a look of sheer malice inhabits his eyes. A straight jab connects with her jaw, knocking Mika back and putting her on top of the crate.

All the while Xander is climbing up onto the forklift, throwing punches into the face of Montgomery, who is desperately trying to kick him off from the driver’s seat.

Dwayne: Ya’know what bitch?

He transfers the cane from armpit to palms, raising it above a grinning Mika.

Dwayne: For once I agree with our President, there ARE going to be consequences for your actions…You’re not getting away with what you’ve done to me…to Xander…and to all the other people you crazy fuckers have robbed of careers. Time for some capital punishment…Rodriquez style.

The cane swings down towards Mika’s face, and she barely even has time to cover her head before…security swoops in and grabs Dwayne’s wrists, blocking the career shortening strike. It takes three of them to rip the cane right out of Rodriquez’s clutches and even more to back him away from Kozlov.

Dwayne: What the fuck…get off of me…get off of me!

From behind the platoon of security guards steps…to a unanimous wave of surprise…a neck brace and arm sling wearing Billy Mayne, huge smile plastered across face..

Billy…Dwayne…Dwayne…did you forget about your responsibilities this evening? You’ve got a PSA to deliver.

Dwayne continues to fight against security, but there’s no point, too many guards, and too little strength after competing in several physical altercations throughout the night.

Dwayne: Get your God damn hands off of me!

Dwayne is finally led off camera under the watchful gaze of Lohan, ensuring he fulfills the terms of the agreement that allowed his suspension to be lifted.

Xander has no idea that he’s totally on his own until his shoulder is grabbed by Mika and he’s pulled down off the forklift. Cassius lands on his feet just as Mika nails a boot to his ribs then gives him a DDT right onto the exposed concrete floor. Kozlov turns over and gets right into Xander’s face.

Mika: Men with principles don’t last very long in this industry, Xander.

Everything is blurry for Cassius, unable to determine which of the seven Mika’s standing in front of him is the REAL Kozlov. His ears are ringing, making it hard to hear his knees scraping against the concrete as he’s dragged by both Mika towards the crate she was seated on moments ago. Xander’s limbs are weakened, preventing him from fighting being thrown into the trunk and the lid from being slammed shut once he‘s inside.

He starts to come through, but way too late. A lock is already being placed on the crate by Kozlov, sealing Xander inside without any possibility of escape.

Kozlov: Lukas…he’s all yours.

Lukas: I’ll make sure he’s examined by top men….top men!

The forklift picks up the crate with Xander inside and then begins to drive down the corridor to an unknown destination. The World Title is thrown over Harrison’s shoulder and one of his arms is tossed over Mika’s. The two watching Lukas take off with Xander trapped in the crate.

Dollar: What? The Blacklist is taking off with Xander Cassius trapped in that crate? Where are they taking him?

Susie: Someplace with ponies probably. Why can’t I be so lucky? First he gets to play in his own fort, and then he gets to play with ponies…It’s just not fair I tell you!

Dollar: Jesus, this could be bad, really bad for Xander Cassius. He’s totally at the mercy of the Blacklist.

Gaunt…Mr. Gaunt to be more formal…is indulging one of his many hidden talents…channeling the spirit of Bob Ross, without that wicked afro, by showing some artistic flare. A brush is dipped in a can of red paint then splashed on the wall, seemingly with no rhyme, reason or rationale. Before we can truly get a glimpse of Mr. Gaunt’s masterpiece, and determine if he’s the next Andy Warhol, his flow is ruined by a very familiar tone.

Jacob: Hey. Pablo Picasso.

With a sigh the brush is tossed back into the can.

Mr. Gaunt: Why, Mr. Laymon, pleasure to see you as always.

Jacob: I wish I could say the same.

Mr. GauntL Ouch. A dagger to my heart.

He doesn’t care about smearing the red paint all over his gloves across his chest, over the area where a heart is SUPPOSED to be.

Jacob: Care to explain why your defacing the Manhattan Center?

Mr. Gaunt: Your lack of appreciation for fine art doesn‘t surprise me/

Jacob: Alright, enough chit-chat.

Mr. Gaunt Aww…but I quite enjoy our healthy dialogue, Mr. Laymon.

Jacob: What?

Laymon does a double-triple-quadruple take in response to this insinuation.

Jacob: It’s kind of hard to speak when I constantly have a mouth full of spiders.

Mr. Gaunt: Spiderlings…

Jacob: Huh?

Mr. Gaunt: Their spider LINGS, for the sake of accuracy. But I guess being accurate isn’t exactly your buttered bread.

Jacob: Alright, you want me to be accurate?

Mr. Gaunt: Yes, and slightly less bald, perhaps. Your head is too reminiscent of a testicle, which might offend the Board that your employer is so eager to please.

After rubbing the stubble of hair on his scalp, Laymon lashes out.

Jacob: I’ve had just about enough of you, Gaunt.

A finger jabbed to Leeland’s chest staggers the frail looking conjurer.

Mr. Gaunt: No need for physicality, Mr. Laymon…and it’s MISTER Gaunt, again, for the sake of accuracy.

Jacob: Orlando really is a man who leads by example…because his actions tonight have taught me that there’s only one way of dealing with unruly employees like you….

Gaunt…MR Gaunt…is shoved, via the jabbing finger, and eventually finds himself backing into the broad chest of Executioner. The large hands of the excessively proportioned bodyguard/head of security, engulf the slender shoulders of Mr. Gaunt. Instinctively Leeland reaches down for his cane, which hides a saber, only to realize it’s nowhere in proximity.

Jacob: What’s the matter, Gaunt?

Snickers Laymon, purposely dropping the “mister” prefix.

Jacob: Did you forget your little toy? Kind of hard to threaten anyone when you don’t have your weapons handy? And speaking of which, where’s Legion? I need to have a discussion with him.

Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Laymon, you claim to learn from examples, but I’ve clearly taught you nothing by way of our past encounters. It seems you’ve failed, abysmally, to learn that Legion is quite anti-social, and perhaps more importantly, that I’m never without weapons.

Jacob: I refuse to lose one more minute of sleep because of you….

At last he notices Gaunt’s head tilting in the direction of his ‘masterpiece,’ guiding Jacob’s eyes to what he described as a defacement. Upon stepping back and taking it all in, Laymon notices that Mr. Gaunt has painted an occult sigil.

Jacob: Oh for fuck sakes…

Before any further vulgarities can be unleashed, a set of arms tears through the sigil, wrapping around Executioner’s throat. The giant beast of a man doesn’t even have time to unleash a guttural growl before Legion drags him through the wall. Both masked behemoths vanish into the dark void behind the gaping hole in the wall. Laymon’s lip trembles as he turns attention towards Mr. Gaunt, who’s expression remains unaltered.

Mr. Gaunt: Seems you missed your opportunity for a one on one with Legion. But if you’d like, I can summon him again.

Jacob: No…no….What the….?

A spider is pulled off the back of Jacob’s neck, and he knows what’s coming before he even finishes squashing the arachnid between his fingers. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps even thousands of spiders begin to pour out of his sleeves, prompting Laymon to remove his coat and toss it to the floor.

Jacob: Spiders…SPIDERS…GOD DAMNED SPIDERS!!

He takes off down the corridor, leaving his infested coat behind, teeming with an army of spiders.

Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Laymon…it’s spider-LINGS.

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. Not even the X-Class Championshp over his shoulder shakes many from their apathy.

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.

Dollar: Usually I‘d be grateful that we cut away from anything having to do with the Black Crusade, but P. Clarence Whitman‘s face might be even worse.

Susie: Wonder what he’s got in that glass…I bet it’s chocolate milk.

Dollar: Sure, keep on believing that, Babe. I guess we’re going to be forced to carry on with the in ring action, as the NEW X-Class Champion, P Clarence Whitman III squares off with the woman who made her debut at Awakening, Tiami Tyler.

Susie: I HAVE to know what’s in that drink. Maybe it’s Spinach…which gives him super Popeye powers.

Dollar: Apparently all his super powers emanate from his shoe, Susie, as it aided in his defeat of Claude Judas Rose at the pay-per-view, just part of the reason we saw that tirade from him earlier tonight.

Whitman strolls…yes…like he were in a park…around the ring, almost refusing to give the X-Class Title…perhaps his most prized possession, to official Ingelson. Eventually he bestows the gold unto the referee and prepares for competition.

Two Weeks hits the PA as blue and white lights flash across the stage. Tiami comes out, smirk on her face and starts heading down the ramp. Her focus was on the ring as the fans were booing, making cat calls and a few cheer for her. She gets in the ring, posing in the corner for the crowd and then turns her attention to the ramp and her opponent.

Dollar: She might call herself the ICY Princess, but dammit if she isn’t 107 degrees of total hotness.

Susie: I hate hot things…just look at all the burns on my tongue

Dollar: Put that thing away…I’m the only one who should be wagging his tongue right now at the sight of Tiami…who competes in her second match tonight that might just put her at the top of the heap when it comes to challenging for the X-Class Championship. But first she has to beat the man who could be defeated by a twelve year old niece with down syndrome. And as I understand it, Tiami had something along the same lines to say just moments ago.

As Tiami continues all her posturing in the ring, a mini-screen pops up in the corner, featuring Tyler in the normal, run of the mill, dirt commonly used interview space.

Tiami Tyler: Some people….

She shakes her head.

Tiami:…are prone to plain stupidity. Take for example everyone over Twitter, or in the locker-room, commenting about losing my first match. They say that I was nothing but hype, and that I’ve failed to live up to the reputation that’s proceeded me. But….

The head stops shaking and instead forms a smile.

Tiami: People like that need to be corrected, and that’s what I’ll do tonight. I’m not going 0 for 2…I’m not accepting defeat for a second week in a row. There might not be any titles on the line, and this isn’t a feud ending grudge bout with some outrageous stipulation, but it is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most important bout of my IWC career. I must defeat Whitman tonight…I HAVE to.

Dollar: Tiami Tyler with a big statement.

Susie: I must break you. Totally thought she was gonna go all Drago on us.

It’s Tiami’s turn to admire the X-Class gold as it passes by, unable to keep herself from snatching it right out of the referee’s hands. She extends the strap across her palms and begins to examine the plate with particular affection for the reflection staring back at her. One would expect Whitman to lash out with anger over having his belt molested, but instead he uses the title as the ultimate ice breaker.

Whitman: Yes…that’s mine….as I am THE X-Class Champion. Please, feel free to model with it, my Dear. You look quite ravishing, if you don‘t mind me saying so….

At last Tyler notices that Whitman is standing beside her, and has been babbling into her ear the entire time.

Tiami: Thank you. My daughter would love seeing this around my waist.

The smile on Whitman’s face evaporates like it were a splash of water under a heat lamp.

Whitman: Oh….your with child?

Clarence takes a step back to examine Tyler then takes a step back in to run a hand over her stomach.

Whitman: You’re barely showing.

The switch has been hit, Tyler turning from ice cold to red hot in a split millisecond. She throws the belt down and lobs a knee up right into Whitman’s jaw. Clarence goes staggering across the ring, grabbing at his potentially cracked teeth. He falls against one of the turnbuckles and then is subjected to a leaping back first splash against his sternum.

Dollar: Tyler all over the X-Class Champion to start this match. Not taking too kindly to the insinuation that she’s pregnant.

Susie: How could she with absolutely no body mass? Have you seen her ass?

Dollar: I haven’t stopped looking at it since she came out here.

Tyler drops into a forward roll to the center of the ring, turns and then gets another running start before leaping into the air and drilling Whitman right on the chin with a heat seeking dropkick. Whitman’s brain goes from super sophisticated to Saturday night bender stupidity within moments. Fittingly he looks like an inebriate as he staggers forward and bends down against the middle rope, just barely keeping himself upright.

An intense Tyler barrels right in and nails a big running boot to his cheek, sending Whitman collapsing to the outside. He lands on his feet and then stumbles into the announce table, straddling it with his chest.

Susie: Oh yeeeaaah…I finally get to ask him what’s in his drink.

Dollar: I think you might want to ask him why he was stupid enough to assume that Tyler is pregnant just because she mentioned her offspring. From what I gather though, you can’t talk about Tyler’s kid without getting a beat down as a result.

The brain is scrambled like eggs on a frying pan, and Whitman doesn’t look overly easy. In spite of being all banged up he TRIES, ever so desperately, to find a way to endear himself to Tiami, to win her over. As he steps towards the ring he reaches his pocket, removing a set of keys. He begins to jingle them in the air.

Whitman: Here’s a tip for you, Mrs. Tyler…a set of keys will positively enchant your unborn offspring.

In spite of his good natured intentions, Whitman just keeps digging himself into a deeper, and deeper abyss. Tiami will not be hypnotized by the jingling keys, dropping into a baseball slide beneath the ring, wrapping her legs around Whitman’s neck and then swinging around into a head scissors that sends Clarence flipping forward and smacking the mats with his spine.

Dollar: Just stop Whitman…your not doing yourself any favors.

Susie: I’m sorry…were you saying something. I saw sparkly keys and totally lost my train of thought.

Dollar: Once again I fail to be surprised.

All Whitman can do is continue thinking up ways to win over Tiami, as there will no other victory salvaged from this contest, given the fact that he refuses to put a finger on a pregnant woman…in spite of the fact that Tiami is NOT pregnant. That much is evident as she steps in and throws a forearm to a recovering Champion’s temple before following it up with a chop across his chest. He’s then taken by the head and rolled into the ring by Tiami, who quickly scales the corner and then goes right up to the top rope.

Just as Whitman reaches his feet he looks up and spots Tiami flying down into his face with a double axe handle. The smash takes the Champion off his feet and back to the canvas, grabbing at his skull in the process. He nevertheless, in spite of his growing headache, starts to stand up when Tyler rushes in and delivers a flip over neck breaker, catching him around the skull and dragging him down to the ring by the back of his head.

Whitman pops up to his seat, looking absolutely frazzled by the impact as Tyler rushes into the cables in front of her seated opponent. She bounces off then leaps forward into the basement dropkick to his chest.

Dollar: This match seems intentionally designed to handicap Whitman. First of all, we saw that he won’t strike a woman, evident by his match against Katelyn at Awakening…and to make matters even more complicated, he seems to believe that Tyler is pregnant.

Susie: You can pretty much see every thing that Tiami has eaten in the span of the past two days in her stomach right now, and I don’t see a baby anywhere amongst the salad chunks.

Though he’s hurting from head to toe, nothing will impede the X-Class Champion from reaching his feet. He at last stands up when Tiami steps in and goes for a kick to his gut. Finally Whitman provides a counter, catching his opponent’s foot and holding it in place.

Whitman: My fair lady, you shouldn’t be competing in your delicate condition.

Tyler’s free foot launches into the air and cracks Whitman across the side of his head. It appears as if Clarence has been knocked absolutely loopy, stumbling one way to the other as he desperately tries to maintain his footing. He gets his feet under him just as Tiami leaps into the air from behind, wedges her knees to his back and drags him down into the Icy Fate.

The Backstabber lands with such force that it sends Whitman’s thin frame shooting into the air, back to his feet, and spilling through the ropes to the apron..

Dollar: Fortunate for Whitman, he landed on the apron and not in the ring, otherwise he would have been pinned by Tyler.

Discombobulated…it’s the only way to describe Whitman as he reaches his feet on the apron. Finally he begins to slide through the ropes into the ring when Tiami rushes in, leaps into the air and connects with a famouser, landing leg first across the back of Whitman’s head, then dragging him down face first against the canvas.

Whitman rolls around the ring grabbing at his nostrils, checking to make sure there is no blood seeping out. At this point he finds himself as lost as Little Boe Peep’s lamb, having absolutely no idea what to do. He struggles at long last to his feet when Tiami steps in and kicks him to the gut, doubling him over and putting him in a front chancery position.

She runs across the ring and steps up the turnbuckle before pushing off into the tornado DDT. The weight, no matter how little there is, is too much for Whitman to support on his shoulder, his knees buckling as he falls to his seat, causing Tyler to fall down face first into the top turnbuckle pad. She bounces off and collapses to her back as Whitman sits in the corner, hyperventilating,

It takes forever for his brain to register that he just knocked out Tyler, sending him scrambling into action. Instead of going for the pin though, he crawls to her side with hands gripping his mouth.

Whitman: Oh Mother, Mary and Joseph…a thousand…THOUSAND apologies…please forgive me…Breath…he….he…ha….ha…

He reassuringly takes Tiami’s hand as he helps her practice some Lamaze training.

Whitman: Someone get the lass a pillow!

None are provided to the distraught Whitman, in spite of all the finger snapping. In a display of chivalry, Whitman rolls to the outside of the ring and rushes up the ramp to the backstage area.

Dollar: I guess Whitman doing what he considers to be the ring thing…though we’ve seen a lot of people claiming to the do the right thing throughout the week….taking a count-out loss, for the second time in his young career to prevent injuring a pregnant Tyler.

Susie: He’s such a sweety. But from the look of it, the only thing Tiami is pregnant with is a half eaten turkey sandwich.

Official Ingelson looks conflicted about making the count, wondering if he should disqualify an obviously confused Champion. In spite of his misgivings he commences the ten count, reaching three before Whitman reemerges from the backstage are pushing along a stretcher. He fends off one of the EMTs, sending them running back to get reinforcements in order to retreive the stretcher.

Dollar: Whitman is bringing a stretcher out here? Really? Somebody PLEASE tell him that Tiami is NOT preggers.

Susie: And that the mustache on his face is sheer magic.

Clearly Whitman is outraged with the lax medical care Tiami is receiving, taking it upon himself to see that her traumatized body is helped backstage. That’s when over the top rope flops Tyler into a corkscrew, ultimately crashing down right into the X-Class Champion’s chest. Both competitors are knocked to the mats amongst a hailstorm of cheers from the crowd.

Dollar: 7.6.

Susie: At last….let’s see…let’s see…should I give it a five, or a seven…

Dollar: And Tiami just continues the punishment on Whitman.

Susie: Dammit, I choked.

The X-Class Champion is dragged to his feet then slammed head first into the bottom of the stretcher before being led back into the ring. He ends up just under the bottom rope as Tyler gets to her knees on the apron, shouting through the cables at her winded opposition.

Tiami: I’m not pregnant jackass!

She leaps to her feet, grabs the top rope and then goes airborne, flipping over the cable into a senton splash across the ribs of the X-Class Champion. All the air has been knocked from the lungs of a damaged Whitman, who grabs the ropes and uses them to get to his knees, scooting into a nearby corner. He gets to his feet with the aid of the turnbuckle when in charges Tyler, going airborne into a big splash that connects with his upper back.

Clarence’s chest is rammed against the corner and his legs buckle beneath him…looking totally spent at this point. The splash is followed by a grabbing of Whitman’s shoulders, followed by Tyler leaping into the air with a second Icy Fate.

She drops back but hits the canvas with absolutely nothing to show for the trauma, as Whitman instinctively held onto the top rope with both arms. He then turns, leaps to the middle rope and lifts an elbow, ready to take advantage of his opponent’s position. That’s when he realizes just how high up he is, prompting him to take a step down to the bottom rope instead, which he deems to be a bit safer.

Dollar: Whitman continuing to demonstrate that his actions aren’t very X-Class orientated, unable to bring himself to go high risk…and look….apparently just can’t bring himself to strike a woman either.

Susie: He’s so chivalrous. He’s like the world’s scrawniest knight.

Whitman thinks better of himself and doesn’t drop the elbow, unable to live with the thought of hurting the fairer sex. Therefore he drops to his feet and then grabs Tiami’s legs, folding them up and wedging his shoulders to the creases of her knees, stacking her up into a pinfall.

1

Tyler kicks out, not being undone by a simple collision with the canvas. Whitman realizes this, grabbing Tiami’s leg, lifting it into the air, sending her rolling over backwards to her feet and then diving around her hip, catching her by the tights on the way down. He drags her over into a school boy attempt only to have Tyler immediately roll out of it. She lands on her knees with Whitman stepping over her upper back, wedging his knees her armpits and then falling forward, stacking her up on the back of his shoulders.

1

2

Tiami kicks out, falling forward out of the pin and onto the small of Whitman’s back. She stands up, and grabs Whitman’s arms, throwing them over her knees and trying to apply a camel clutch.

Dollar: That may have just worked out disastrously for Whitman. Going for a pin instead of trying to harm Tiami.

Susie: Is she gonna take a poop on his back…that’s what it looks like.

Tyler just begins to interlock hands under Whitman’s jaw before he slips back through her legs and stands behind her. He grabs Tyler’s arm and tries to force her down into the crossface but once again rethinks his strategy, still refusing to harm a woman. Therefore he breaks the hold attempt, twists around Tiami’s side to her back and then pulls her down into the school boy.

1

2

Tyler kicks out a second time. She lands over on her knees and then interlocks hands around the back of Whitman’s head as they both reach their feet, eventually dropping down into a jaw breaker.

Whitman stands up straight, flailing his arms and TRYING to maintain his balance when Tiami stands, leaps into the air and lands on top of his shoulders. She snaps back into the hurricarana but somehow Whitman rolls through, forcing HER over onto her back with his shoulders wedged to the creases of her knees. The fans are stunned by this split second counter which may have just earned Whitman another big victory.

1

2

Dollar: Whitman may have earned the victory without ever actually striking Tiami.

Tyler kicks out within a fraction of a second of being pinned. Clearly she does not want to lose this match, neither can she afford to let it happen, knowing that a victory in this bout could very well effect her standings within the X-Class division rankings.

Therefore the young, and hungry Tyler gets to her feet and spots Whitman reaching his own, prompting her to deliver a second step up enzugari. This one is ducked at the last second, Clarence narrowly avoiding the blow. Tyler lands on her elbows and knee, pushing herself up into a crawling base when Whitman steps over her back, takes her arms and drapes them over his knees. He now falls forward in order to put her in yet another Gedo Clutch..

Tyler once again kips up off of her shoulders before the pin can be made, twists her body as she comes down on the lower back of her opponent and turns so that she is facing the legs of her opposition, lifting them up into the air where she attempts to apply the cloverleaf. She lifts the legs and gets them locked in to a HUGE ovation from the crowd.

Dollar: Absolutely unbelievable counter made by Tiami Tyler, applying the Texas Cloverleaf. She knows she has it…she knows she’s got Whitman…that she’s got that X-Class Contenders match right in the palm of her hands. This is it…this is her big win to solidify her start here in the IWC.

Whitman claws and scrapes his way across the ring to some cheers but a smattering of boos as well. There are many supporters for Tiami after hearing her speech moments before the match commenced. They know how much this means to her…how big this bout is for Tyler, prompting her to put some more pressure on the legs.

Dollar: Whitman is going to tap for the first time in his career…which surprises me…considering all his limbs are about the width of flower stems.

Susie: His heart was never in this match, and now it’s coming back to sting him in his rump.

Dollar: I can imagine you’ve been stung in the backside quite a few times.

A desperate, dire Whitman refuses to let himself tap out in the center of the ring like he did to Rose last week. That determination and will pays off, reaching out and grabbing the bottom rope to a very mixed reaction from the crowd. Tyler breaks the cloverleaf at the behest of referee Ingelson, refusing to get herself disqualified, costing her a huge title opportunity.

She gestures at this point for Whitman to get up, but Clarence’s legs are almost buckling beneath him. At last he stands as Tiami barrels in and gets caught against his shoulder. He heaves her up into the air with a back drop over the ropes, only to have Tiami turn and land feet first on the apron. Unlike at the pay-per-view, Whitman wasn’t able to effortlessly back drop his opponent over the ropes.

Whitman spins around as Tyler leaps over the top rope back into the ring, shins landing right on top of Clarence’s shoulders. She is about to let go of the rope and deliver a head scissors when Whitman wedges hands to her ankles, throwing them up into the air, then adjusting his body so that Tyler comes down on top of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

Dollar: Not a smart move by Tyler, this is almost the exact same way she was eliminated at the pay-per-view from the Rayne Young Open Challenge…and now she’s about to be eliminated in the exact same way from a possible X-Class Contenders match…but wait…watch out!

Susie: I’m watching, I swear, wasn’t looking at my He-Man Christmas Special at all.

Whitman steps to the center of the ring, unsure what he’s going to do with Tyler trapped in this position. It’s just then that the choice is taken right out of his hands, Tiami twisting free and sliding right down his back, catching him around the hips then dragging him into a roll up. She sits up, wedges her shoulders to the creases of Whitman’s knees and has him primed for the pin. Ingelson drops down to make the count with Tyler securing that big win she is in such dire straights to win.

Dollar: Tiami’s phenomenal backside has got the roll up! She’s got the roll-up pin.

Susie: How super exiciting.

Ingelson’s hand hits the canvas once…

Twice….

Will there be a thrice/. No, cause Whitman rolls back out of the pin, grabs Tyler’s legs then flips forward into the mother of all jackknife covers.

1

2

3

There is quite an ovation for Whitman’s victory, yet again catching his opponent completely off guard. Tyler sits up, jaw unhinged and a wad of hair almost ripped from her scalp.

Dollar: Tyler was sooooo close to defeating Whitman. I thought I was going to get to see her do some cartwheels.

Susie: She almost made Whitman lose his smile, but look…look at how big his grin is now. It’s bigger than Skeletors when he finds the true spirit of Christmas.

Dollar: I’m going to warn you one more time about using that blasted Kindle.

The crowd continues to pop like corn in the microwave, especially as Whitman is handed the X-Class Championship and he runs to the ropes, leaping to them in sheer celebration mode. He thrusts the title up high several times to a rip roaring response. Tiami is not celebrating however, sitting on the apron and questioning where she went wrong this time, in total disbelief that she had victory snatched from her clutches when it was right there…right there in her palms. In the midst of one man’s happiness…and a woman’s distress…a huge group of EMTs charge the ring and surround the stretcher, trying to get back their precious instrument…which no one should ever touch, but them and them alone!

Dollar: Whitman continues to blaze a trail of success through the IWC. Now please…please get his face off of the screen.

Susie: He’s kind of cute, in a Sam the Eagle kind of way.

Upon rolling to the outside of the ring, Whitman feels obliged to give an explanation to the EMTs, insisting that he was only to protect an injured lady. In the midst of placating the outraged medical staff, something catches Whitman’s tongue and freezes him like a display window mannequin. One of the EMTs has become his focal point, for many obvious reasons. For starts, a candy striper skirt and shirt is stretched way too tightly over a suit, and cap that goes along with the uniform is placed over top a bowler hat. The horribly thought out disguise is completed by a pair of lenseless glasses affixed upon a giant fake nose with the mustache hanging beneath it, all placed over the already masked face of Mr. Hush.

Susie: There’s something about that candy striper.

Dollar: First of all, there is no such thing as candy stripers anymore, and secondly, this has to be the most ill-conceived disguise I’ve ever seen.

Susie: What do you mean? I was referring to the fact that that woman has a beautiful mustache. You don’t see that very often.

Dollar: Yeah, because it’s NOT a real mustache.

Susie: And how do you know that? Maybe she took a lot of steroids in her youth.

Mr. Hush acts like he’s accessing the stretcher’s heart-rate via placing a stethoscope to the mattress. While he’s distracted TRYING to fit in with the rest of the EMTs, who have suddenly taken notice to the square peg in the hole, Whitman tries to make a discreet exit. He whistles while tippy toeing past the medical technicians, playing as if he doesn’t see Mr. Hush.

He really shouldn’t, but Whitman thinks turning to wave goodbye to the techs would be the best way to convince Mr. Hush that his disguise was perfect. Just as he lifts his hand though, Hush reaches out, snatches it by the wrist and drags him towards the stretcher.

Dollar: He’s got him!

Susie: SHE’S got him, Johnny. Probably wants to rub mustaches with Whitman.

Clarence puts a foot on the edge of the stretcher, blocking being placed upon it. He then throws desperate right hands into Hush’s cheek and temple, eventually causing him to relinquish his grip.

Moore: Chivalry truly is dead…..I thought Whitman didn’t strike women.

Johnny: That’s NOT a woman.

A fear stricken X-Class Champion scrambles up the ramp, shoving past EMTs, who disperse the moment the violence begins. Whitman only gets so far before Mr. Hush rushes up behind him and wraps around his throat, applying a sleeper hold. Clarence tries so desperately to fight free from the grips of the candy striper, but finds himself unable to evade the Black Crusade member’s clutches, and the stretcher. Mr. Hush steps aside and throws Whitman back onto the cot only to have P Clarence roll off and land on his feet.

He ends up on the opposite side of the stretcher, then leaps into the air, delivering a double stomp to the edge of it. The other side flies upwards right into the face of Mr. Hush, staggering him but not taking him off of his feet.

Susie: Whitman…how dare you! I’ve suddenly lost all faith in men.

Whitman turns to the barricade, deciding to run away through the crowd only to have Mr. Hush dive onto the stretcher and reach out, grabbing the pants of his prey. Clarence’s slightly hairy crack is exposed as he tries to get over the barrier, having one leg in the crowd, but the other held tightly in Mr. Hush’s clutches. He begins to smack the hand gripping him over and over and over again, but it’s not enough to avail himself of the predicament.

The petrified eyes of Whitman turn to the front row fans, requesting that one of them fork over a weapon. Sadly he asks the most dense group of people imaginable, who try to help but fail abysmally the moment a middle aged lady takes a tampon from her purse and places it in Whitman’s palm. Clarence looks at the feminine hygiene product, then back at the woman who gave it to him.

Whitman: What am I supposed to do with this? Give me a REAL weapon you silly git.

Her son displays even less mental stability, giving up a half eaten twizzler. All Whitman can do is sigh as he looks at a tampon in one hand…and a twizzler, no. half eaten twizzler in the other.

Whitman: You people really are not getting this.

The distraction allows Whitman to fall fully into the clutches of M. Hush, who stands up and wraps arms around the waist of the X-Class Champion. He drops back and delivers a German suplex that plants Clarence right on top of the stretcher.

Dollar: Whitman is trapped on the stretcher, he’s at this lunatics mercy.

Susie: The battle of the mustaches wages on.

Mr. Hush moves at a methodical pace as he reaches his feet and reaches down for Whitman, who wedges feet to his adversary’s chest. He pushes off, sending Mr. Hush spiraling into the barrier and crashing against the steel.

Susie: He’s still got some fight left in him.

Whitman rises to his feet upon the stretcher and then dives off into lariat, but Mr. Hush side steps him and allows the champion to crash chest first into the barrier. He bounces off, staggers back and finds himself in the clutches of his adversary. A shoulder is wedged to the X-Class Champion’s spine and he’s hoisted into the air for the back drop suplex onto the stretcher, but this time Whitman blocks it by jamming a tampon into Mr. Hush’s eyes.

This is just enough of a distraction for Whitman to float over, flipping back, landing on the stretcher and then taking the twizzler and wrapping it around Hush’s throat. He rears back, utilizing the sugary treat to choke the life out of the Mr. Gaunt’s acolyte.

Susie: We’ve seen way too much candy related violence lately. Nothing was as terrible as the homicidal intents of Mr. Hush at Awakening when he tried to kill Eddie Vines with some pop-rocks.

Hush twists back and forth, trying to pull the liquorice whip away from his throat, before delivering a back elbow that finally stops Whitman.

Clarence is knocked loopier than normal, rolling off the stretcher and then opting to high tail it after sufficiently depriving his first actual nemesis of oxygen. He gets half way up the ramp before spotting Hush pursuing him. An urgent Whitman realizes he’s not going to get very far, prompting him to pick up the X-Class Championship and try to cut the masked man off via a good ole fashion shot between the eyes.

However, Hush reacts quickly, bending down and wedging a shoulder to Clarence’s knees, back dropping him through the air. Ultimately Whitman crashes down right on top of the stretcher, and at long last this plummet seems to have removed all fight from his damaged body,

Dollar: Mr. Hush can get violent and in a hurry, demonstrating as such by way of that…

Susie: Mr. Hush? Where’s Mr. Hush?

Dollar: You couldn’t possibly be that stup….oh yeah, forgot who I was talking to.

The back drop seems to have finally done the trick, leaving Whitman totally incapacitated and exposed to the ensuing brutality that is sure to follow. Straps are placed and tied over his chest, arms and stomach, holding Clarence down and in place. There is no escape for Whitman, but it doesn’t stop him from struggling, squirming under the straps, especially when he sees Hush approaching. The glasses and fake nose are at long last ripped away.

Mr. Hush: That’s right…it was me all along.

Whitman would utter the common American colloquialism, “duh,” if he weren’t choked with tears at the moment.

Susie: Oh my God, it was Mr. Hush! Mr. Hush was the candy striper. Mind equals officially blown.

Dollar: Jesus Christ, every word you speak brings me closer to blowing a blood vessel.

Whitman has yet to resolve himself to his plight, still fighting against the straps when he sees Hush reaching into his pockets. Unspeakable levels of horror flow throughout Whitman as a pair of scissors finds its way into Hush’s clutches.

Dollar: This….is….bad. The last time we saw a sharp instrument in the hands of a Black Crusade member, it was to rearrange the figures of Isaac Saine…who…like Whitman here was tied down. So there’s no telling what Mr. Hush is going to do to top that.

Clarence finally closes his eyes and hopes that the nightmare vanishes once they re-open. Instead of feeling searing pain, he instead feels a cold chill running up his arm. His bicep is entirely exposed as the scissors cut away the short sleeve of his t-shirt.

Mr. Hush now rips the shirt completely open all the way up to the collar bone, revealing way too much of Whitman’s pasty flesh. He looks away when Mr. Hush dives into his pockets and removes a packet. He slaps it straight onto the bicep, resulting in a cringe from Whitman.

Whitman: Cold…cold…oh heavens that’s cold.

A damp clothe is held to the back of what appears to be a sticker for almost a minute before finally being ripped away. A heart shape with the words ‘Momma’s Boy’ is left behind. Yet another Black Crusade member has revealed their many hidden skills, putting a perfect press on tattoo across Whitman’s arm.

Dollar: Am I really seeing this right now? Did that just happen? Did Mr. Hush actually just put a tattoo on Whitman’s arm?

Susie: Wow…am I blushing? Cause Whitman now looks like a total badass.

Dollar: Really? A badass sporting a heart shaped tattoo with ’Momma’s Boy’ written in the center of it. I really hope Whitman has some rubbing alcohol he can remove that thing with backstage.

Mr. Hush steps back, admiring his handiwork.

Mr. Hush: That’ll be $59…but don’t worry, I already took the money out of your wallet backstage.

Whitman: You bastard…you MONSTER!

The straps will not break in spite of all Whitman’s shimmying and shaking, looking uncharacteristically….angry….*gasp.*

Mission accomplished, Mr. Hush walks away, leaving the straps on Whitman to give him time to cool off. It doesn’t seem to be working…the longer Whitman is forced to glare at the tattoo the angrier he becomes.

Dollar: Can things get any weirder tonight? We’ve seen everything from a crying Isaac Saine to the theft of Tay-Tay’s clothes, to Xander Cassius being stuffed in a trunk…and now…now…a tattooing. A friggin tattooing! And we’ve still got two more matches to go here tonight.

Susie: Good, still plenty of time to find out if Orko will ever learn the true spirit of Christmas.

Dollar: Whoever gave you that Kindle needs to be hung from a street-lamp and beaten like a piñata.

Orlando: Your time has come.

If there is one thing, anything that could possibly bring Orlando Cruze a modicum of glee, it’s watching the torment of Christian Savior. This is the first time in his entire life where he may actually enjoy watching a snuff film play out, explaining the eagerness in his gait. He approaches Christian, who is rising from his chair to greet the Icon with the biggest grin on his face he can summon.

Christian: Awww, you mean to tell me our time together is over? But it’s been such a blast watching you ’work’ tonight.

Even Savior’s subtle digs at him are not enough to remove the grin from his face. The satisfaction of watching the police step up to Christian’s sides, and seeing the chains he’s bound by, almost makes Orlando forget about the blemish across his forehead.

Orlando: You’re such a rascal, Christian.

Savior would rip the Icon’s arm off for patting him on his shoulders, but alas, the cops are present and his wrists are still bound.

Orlando: And what’s this?

He begins to use his fingers to brush something off Savior’s shoulder.

Orlando: Is that a chip I see? Something tells me it won’t be there in a few minutes, not after you step into that ring with Legion. Why you might end up looking worse than your wife after all is said and done.

The mention of what happened to his wife, makes Christian’s face twist with unparalleled levels of intensity.

Christian: You do realize I’m going to make bail, right Orlando? Eventually these cuffs are coming off.

All of Cruze’s pearly whites shine in his smile, and Christian imagines knocking each and every one of them out.

Orlando: Not tonight they won’t.

Another playful pat to the Rising Phoenix’s shoulder.

Orlando: How about you head on out to that ring? Legion doesn’t strike me as the type that likes to be kept waiting. And besides, the sooner you get done with your match, the sooner you get to embrace one of your lifelong fantasies, enjoying a nice long prison showers.

Christian doesn’t let the Icon see the effects of his stinging comments…cracking a grin even in the face of oppression. As Orlando is in the process of collecting the file Drake brought him earlier, Christian is lifting his cuffed wrists and whistling towards one of the officers. Keys are removed and the shackles are undo….

Orlando: Whoa…whoa…what are you doing?

The keys stop turning in the cuffs. Confused glances are shot in the Icon’s direction.

Orlando: Who told you to take his handcuffs off?

Officer: With all due respect, we don’t work for you.

Orlando: No, you don’t, even though the tax from my paychecks is what keeps you guys in coffee and doughnuts. You can’t risk letting Christian get away. Those handcuffs are the only thing keeping him from fleeing. So how about we keep them exactly where they are?

Officer: But isn’t he about to wrestle?

Orlando: That changes things…how….exactly?

Officer: You can’t seriously…

Christian: Don’t waste your breath.

Unlike Whitman a few moments ago, Christian has resolved himself to the impending calamity.

Christian: You want me to face Legion…no holds barred…wrists cuffed? Fine.

He turns as if about to leave but just can’t help but to give one last parting comment.

Christian: I’ll go out there with the deck stacked against me just like Rose did tonight, and like Rose, I’m not going to FLEE. I’ll stand there and take a beating for what I believe in…and what I believe in…it’s what’s truly right for the IWC.

Orlando: Famous last words from a man without honor. A man who did everything in his power to hold others down in a selfish, ego maniacal quest for the World Heavyweight Championship. A man who maimed absolutely everyone who tried to rise up and challenge him for the title.

Christian: Are we still talking about me, Orlando?

Cruze’s face twists into a sneer.

Christian: It doesn’t matter how many careers you destroy or impressionable dwarfs you chase off, Orlando, nothing is going to make them stop coming after you,. If I fall tonight, someone else will rise up in my place to oppose you. Their not gonna rest until you realize that you are not the World Heavyweight Champion…and until you see that you’re the biggest obstacle standing in the way of this company‘s success.

Orlando: Get him out of here.

The officer nudge Christian along, leaving Orlando without a smile and in silent contemplation. He falls back to the edge of his desk, opening the file he scattered earlier tonight, scanning some of the pages. But his mind isn’t on the pages, it’s elsewhere, on the haunting words of the Rising Phoenix.

The IWC has been more reminiscent of the Benny Hill show than a wrestling program tonight, considering the sheer amount of chase scenes. The only thing missing is Yackety Sax playing in the background.

Frankie: Are we gonna be out here all frackin night? It’s getting cold, and my nipples are getting hard.

Frankie was way too forthcoming with the information. All the belly aching predictably led to the annoyance of one Brittany Lohan, who really wanted to put the crowbar to good use…at least good use in her mind. The only thing that kept her from shoving the bar so far down Frankie’s throat that he’d be crapping steel for a month, is Tay-Tay, who tries to play peace keeper in spite of searching the surroudings for any traces of Silencer.

The dim lighting outside of the Manhattan Center doesn’t help matters, in spite of the fact that they haven’t strayed too far from a large loading bay door neglectfully left ajar. Tay-Tay presses her cohorts to move a little further from the bosom of the Manhattan Center, the trio stepping past a forklift.

Tay-Tay: Are you sure this is where Cassidy said she saw Silencer?

Lohan: Yep, right beside the docking area.

Frankie: She didn’t give you EXACT coordinates?

Lohan: Seriously? What do you think she is, a walking GPS?

Tay-Tay: Would you two stop arguing like children? We’ve got clothes to find. I mean, I don’t even ring gear to wear…

Frankie: You could always just compete in your underwear…or better yet…You could wrestle….

Tay-Tay: I’m gonna cut you off right there.

A finger wedges to Paradise’s lips, forcing him to shut him just before he could make his lewd comment even lewder.

Tay-Tay: Stop visualizing me in my underwear and start concentrating on finding Silencer.

Frankie: What is it with the outrageous requests tonight?

Harrison: I’ve got one more for you.

The voice seems to originate from the ether, or worse yet perhaps it’s just in their heads, which would be downright terrifying, plagued by a perpetual lopping of Aaron Harrison’s monotone voice.

Harrison: Up here.

The forklift is attached to the mast…the mast is attached to a crate…the crate is attached to Harrison seated Indian style….and Aaron Harrison is attached to the World Title belt resting over his shoulder.

Lohan: The universe truly does provide…Tay-Tay…

Her friend’s voice isn’t even enough to take her eyes off of Harrison…or for the sake of accuracy…which should make Gaunt happy…her gaze is affixed on the fifteen pounds of gold gracing Aaron’s shoulder.

Lohan: Doll…I think this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for to make your Man happy.

Tay-Tay: Your right, get down here Aaron…and give back what you stole from Orlando, or you’ll…

Harrison: Easy. Tay-Tay. I know you have a violent side, I saw you spill Rose’s blood at the pay-per-view, BUT now is not the time to indulge your psychotic impulses. Is there anyone around here that knows how to control their impulses?

Without being told, Lukas knows exactly what to do, lowering the mast. He sticks his head out from the cab and waves to Paradise, Lohan and Chase, who never take their eyes off of Aaron as he boldly descends to the concrete before them. He remains seated on the crate, not even rising to properly address the truly threatening threesome.

Frankie: You must have kahonies the size of pineapples, Pal. Don’t you know that Mrs. Football Pad Shoulders here is just dying to use that crowbar?

Harrison: Did I not just implore you to practice some impulse…

Lohan: Impulse…blah…blah…I know we’re ‘friends’….or at least something closely resembling friends…but that still won’t stop me from splitting your head.

Harrison: And normally I’d encourage you to do so, but I have a business proposal, one that does not involve the spilling of blood.

Lohan: Where’s the fun in that.

Tay-Tay: Business? We have no business with the likes of you. We saw how you conduct yourself with business partners earlier tonight.

Harrison: Fair enough….but if your insistent upon mangling me, you might want to take a moment and discuss it with Mika, she might not be on board with whole idea.

The sounds of electrical sparks spur Tay-Tay, Paradise and Lohan to turn around, finally acknowledging Mika who was lurking behind them the whole time with a taser in hand. At the first sight of the sadistic Kozlov, Frankie leaps behind Lohan, employing her as a human shield.

Tay-Tay: Ooookay, maybe we CAN talk this out.

Harrison: I thought you’d come to your senses.

Tay-Tay: I’m guessing you have some kind of proposition?

Harrison: Wow…Am I that transparent? Yes…yes I do have a deal to discuss. But not with you.

Tay-Tay: Really?

Harrison: The only one I wish to bargain with is Orlando Cruze. I take it you can arrange a meeting between the two of us?

Tay-Tay is naturally suspicious, as would be anyone when the word ‘bargain’ emanates from the deceptive Harrison’s lips.

Tay-Tay: And why would I do something like that?

Harrison: Simple. If Orlando ever wants to see this again….

The gold is flicked by Aaron’s fingers.

Harrison:…he’ll have to agree to meet me in the center of the ring, and I know YOU’RE the only one who can persuade him to do so…Considering that he‘d see my invitation as one big Judas kiss.

Tay-Tay: Yeah, referencing someone who helped crucify Jesus Christ, isn’t really helping your case right now.

Harrison: I’m not surprised you don’t trust me. Why should you? Why should you trust ANYONE for that matter? So I’ve come up with a gesture of good faith. To show that I’m not just after my 30 pieces of silver.

Tay-Tay: What could you possibly have to offer us?

Harrison: You were looking for someone? Well…just so happens that we found him.

Tay-Tay: You know where Silencer is?

At last Tay-Tay is hooked, much to the distress of Lohan, who knows all too well just how manipulative Harrison can be.

Harrison: Know where he is? Mrs. Ono…much like the World Title, I happen to have him in my possession. Mika, would you be so kind as to show them to Silencer?

She shouldn’t be excited, not by any proposals made by Aaron Harrison, but Taylor can’t help herself. The fact that she could just reach out and take the World Title back from Harrison, an act that would make Orlando happier than the birth of his first child, is forgotten in favor of getting her claws into Silencer’s flesh.

Mika: Follow me, Dears.

Paradise does not emerge from behind Lohan, stepping along with her as they are guided, along with Chase, to a vehicle parked mere feet away. The sounds of scuffling can be heard from within the trunk as Mika unlocks it and pops it open. Harrison steps up behind the captivated trio, getting a peek of his handiwork, the tied up victim contained within.

Mika: Christmas comes early.

Tay-Tay: Outta the way..

The taser isn’t even a strong enough deterrent to keep Chase from shoving Mika aside so she can get her hands on the man who has caused her such distress throughout the night. She grabs Silencer’s hair and turns him over before instantly going white as a sheet. The pigment keeps changing colors, now transforming to a fire engine red.

Tay-Tay: This ISN’T Silencer.

Montgomery: Sure it is…

Lukas has exited the forklift and stepped to the side of the trunk, brandishing a taser as well to further give the Blacklist an unfair advantage should violence ensue.

Montgomery: Painted face…metro-sexual hair…it’s totally Silencer.

Tay-Tay: After everything he put me through tonight, I would KNOW the real Silencer…and this is not the real Silencer.

Montgomery: Then who is it?

Tay-Tay: How should I know?

The gag is ripped out of the mouth of Silencer’s doppelganger by an impatient Paradise.

Frankie: Start talkin bitch.

Damion: Hi there, the name‘s Damion Sommers. I‘m so pleased to meet all of you.

Paradise: How could you Blacklist morons be convinced that HE’S Silencer?

Montgomery: To be honest we try not to look at Silencer that much.

Aaron: The lighting isn’t very clear back here. But what is clear is that this is more smoke and mirrors from Silencer and that decoy loving Disco Ninja. If you three don’t want him…I’m sure we can think of a few things to do…

Tay-Tay: Why should we care what happens to him.

Damion: Ewww, you have my interest piqued boys and girls. I think I’ll wait to see how this pans out. Gives us a chance to talk anyway.

The trunk is dragged shut by Damion, willingly subjecting himself to whatever the Blacklist has planned. Chase is not any closer to getting back her stuff, and realizing that she may have to compete tonight in pumps and a tight fitting black dress. Which could be particularly cumbersome.

Aaron: Tell Orlando that the Blacklist will be in the ring at the top of the hour.

Though Tay-Tay got nothing out of this, other than the obligation of convincing her love, Orlando, to potentially walk right into a trap, she nods and confirms that’s just what she’ll do.

Frankie: Can we PLEASE get away from these freaks before they turn my teeth into a decorate necklace?

Tay-Tay: Gladly.

The trio walks off, leaving behind a pleased Blacklist….actually…it’s unclear rather the trio has any semblance of satisfaction…their expressionless expressions being particularly hard to read. However, the sound of metal clanking obviously rouses the trio, prompting them to return focus to the trunk holding Xander Cassius. An excessively large hobo pushing along a cart full of crushed cans and wrapped in filthy blankets, is stooped over the trunk, trying to pull the padlock off in to sell it for scrap metal.

Montgomery: Hey, Ted Williams…get the hell away from there before we squash you like your cans/

Bum: So…so sorry.

He pushes the cart along and keeps his head down, not wanting to create strife by looking the Blacklist in their eyes. At last the three are alone…or the closest thing to it with a camera filming their every breath and blink.

Harrison: Mika, Lukas…you know that you’re the only two I would ever trust with what’s to come tonight. Are you prepared?

Mika: Awww…don’t worry about a thing, we’ve got this.

She says, rubbing the upper back of the man now masquerading himself as the World Heavyweight Champion. The show heads to the ring on yet another intriguing note.

Dollar: Did I just hear that correctly? Is Aaron asking for a meeting with Orlando Cruze in the ring tonight?

Susie: I hope they resolve their differences, and I know the best way to do it.

Dollar: Oh lord, I can’t wait to hear this brilliant idea.

Susie: They should agree to hold the title on alternate weekends, then develop a schedule for weekdays.

Dollar: Why that’s just stupid enough to accomplish absolutely nothing.

Susie: You’re welcome.

The all too familiar theme music of one Christian Savior results in a roar that could shatter the Manhattan Center’s foundation. Even after all the action they’ve witnessed thus far, which should leave their lungs exhausted, the crowd still stands and musters the energy to show Christian some proper respect. Their glee turns to grief in a heartbeat, when Savior is led to the stage in handcuffs, escorted by two police officers at either side. Savior tries to maintain a stiff upper lip in spite of the fact that he’s stepping into a match with the No Holds Barred Champion, in his environment, no rules being enforced…and with hands literally tied.

Dollar: Everyone seems to have plans going on tonight, including Orlando Cruze, who has at long last hatched a plot to see Christian finished off.

Susie: He should so have Roger Rabbit have him saw his wrists out of those clutches…but only when it’s funny.

Dollar: I don’t think we’re going to be getting much humor out of our next match. Legion, pure nightmare fuel, is about to have Christian completely at his mercy. A position no one, even without having wrists shackled, would want to be in. But, hey, Christian brought this on himself. He shouldn’t have messed with Orlando Cruze. It’s as simple as that.

Christian leans against one of the turnbuckles as referee Ftizpatrick inquires as to rather he’d wish to throw this match instead of being slaughtered. To the surprise of no one, the stubborn Savior would prefer to be a martyr instead of a coward. He does what nobody else has since Legion’s debut, remain in the ring as the monster makes his entrance, fully prepared to give the leviathan his first taste of one on one competition.

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. A new piece of attire accompanies Legion’s throughout his entrance, the N.H.B Championship that hangs around his neck.

Dollar: I think at this point Christian is gonna need a new pair of underwear.

Susie: I’ve learned to bring extra pairs with me. Never know when Legion is gonna trigger my incontinence.

Dollar: Yeah, the stains are probably still in your chair. And you know how much I love to speculate..which is why I’m going to assume that the ring will be stained as well after all is said and done…with the blood of Christian.

Susie: Maybe Whitman should have lent him that tampon he used earlier on Mr. Hush.

The bell chimes for a match that many were anticipating but now dreads. Instead of high tailing it like so many have done in the past, Christian steps out of the corner, eyes hung with dread and face flushed with fear. He tentatively approaches the masked goliath, who is going it alone this evening per the insistence of Mr. Gaunt: But this more than likely wasn’t what Legion’s Leader had in mind.

Savior begins to mouth something to Legion, albeit with a noticeable quiver in his throat. Clearly Christian is not immune to fear.

Savior: Go ahead, be a good little puppet. We all know you live to make Orlando happy.

Legion tilts his head and offers no verbal response, thinking before he gives any form of actual reaction. After a moment of tension, the crowd really hoping that the nightmarish apparition shows even a feint trace of compassion, they find out that there is no heart beneath the cold exterior. A shuffle side kick NAILS Savior right to the jaw, knocking him to the canvas and eventually into one of the turnbuckles.

Dollar; Ha-ha, Christian, you couldn’t talk your way out of this one. Why doesn’t he drop to his knees and BEG? Ha-ha-ha, ohm how one dimensionally evil I can be.

Susie: That was mean…Legion’s a great big Meany McGee.

The newly crowned No Holds Barred Champion takes a hand full of Christian’s hair, leading him up to his feet and then pulling him up across his chest. Legion flips over backwards into the Blood Moon, crushing Christian against the canvas while landing athletically on his knees. He then stares down at the already battered body of a relatively defenseless Savior and shakes his head.

But not out of sympathy it seems…made all the more clear when he rolls to the outside, reaches under the ring, where an entire Home Depot has seemingly set up shop and removes a long steel chain, wrapping it about his knuckles.

Back into the ring and back to the violence. Christian employs the hands cuffed before him to push his body to his knees, turning just as Legion approaches him, ready to crack his face with the chain. But something seems to plague Mr. Sinister Incarnate…something that keeps him from truly enjoying this moment.

His wrapped fist lowers and his other hand is employed to snap for something. One of the police officers, who were finding this whole scene very hard to watch, responds to the demand. A pair of keys is removed from his pocket and per the instructions of Legion, delivered without so much as a word, throws them into the ring.

Dollar: Ugh…there’s your tax paying dollars at work. They fund a bunch of idiots who can’t follow the simplest of instructions.

Susie: I hate people who can’t fulfill a single jog function.

Dollar: I’d say something about the pot calling the kettle black, but you’d probably misconstrue it as a racial slur.

Susie: You already know me like the palm of your hand.

It seems at last that Legion has decided that he’s not going to be Christian’s tool, holding up the keys right in front of Christian/. A confused Savior reaches out for the keys only to have Legion lift them up into the air. He jungles them high above his head as Christian climbs to his feet and tries to jump up and grab them. The taller Legion raises the keys out of his reach, causing Savior to lunge for them again. They remain just inches from Christian, who had to channel Jesse Owens in order to get enough hang time on his last leap.

It becomes apparent that Legion is not going to fork over the keys, at least not until Christian has been properly agitated. Yep…it seems to be doing the trick, successfully aggravating Savior enough to lose his cool and kick Legion right in the scrotum. Christian backs up without a grin, but a look of disbelief as he stares at the completely unaffected monster before him. Legion completely no sells the kick to the balls, looking totally unaffected by the shot.

Savior: Really?

Legion methodically nods his head then swings the chain wrapped fist directly at Christian’s skull. Just as it seems every bone will be fractured in the Rising Phoenix’s face, he turns into the Descending Phoenix, ducking the inbound strike. He takes off into the ropes behind Legion, ricochets off and comes back into the ribs of the turning Anthropomorphic Personification of Hatred.

Dollar: Spear of Destiny…how did he hit…wait…he DIDN’T hit it…at least not all of it with his wrists cuffed.

Susie: This is really going to limit his ability to play Hungry, Hungry Hippos later.

Christian’s spear, what little of it connected, doesn’t result in the predictable outcome, sending Legion spiraling backwards and spilling through the ropes instead of crashing to the canvas. Somehow Legion still grips the keys in his hand as he lands on his feet on the outside of the ring. Christian then comes charging in and leaps into a dropkick through the ropes that connects with Legion’s shoulder.

The fearful foe is sent head on into the announce table, ricocheting off then twisting back towards the ring where Savior is on his feet and barreling into the far ropes. He ricochets off and comes back in at the cables Legion just tumbled through, diving between them himself and ultimately connecting, shackled wrists and all, with a suicide plancha into Legion’s shoulder.

The masked misanthrope collapses onto the announce table back first, stretched over it while Christian falls to the mats.

Dollar: Holy Christ! Christian actually showing some spunk in spite of having his hands totally bound. I don’t think Legion was anticipating this whatsoever.

Susie: Who would? Jesus? Maybe Jesus. He does have a magical beard.

Dollar: Relevance Susie, work on it.

Susie: But work sounds like work, and that’s not fun.

Savior’s wrists are starting to chaff as he gets to his feet and approaches the ring, throwing the tarp out of his way then reaching beneath. A trashcan lid finds its way into his hands and then towards Legion’s skull only to be punched by the chain wrapped fist. The lid goes flying as pain reverberates through Christian’s fingers. He turns away from Legion, shaking off his hands which have to be killing him, but true agony awaits.

Legion isn’t through utilizing the chain, employing it one more time to cave in Christian’s skull, swinging right into his opponent’s face. But Christian once again ducks an opportune time, causing Legion to slug the steel post as a result.

In spite of an incredibly high threshold of pain, nothing can subside the agony that flows from Legion’s knuckles. He throws down the chain then steps back, shaking his swelling fist through the air. Christian realizes this is his one chance, his only chance to overcome all these insurmountable odds.

To the apron he leaps before going airborne, catching Legion around the back of the neck and wedging knees to his sternum. He drops back into the Code Breaker only to find himself dangling in the air mere inches from the mats. Legion is doubled over, on the verge of taking the full on impact but then shows unbelievable strength by standing up straight, throwing Savior up onto his shoulders and ultimately power bombing Christian spine first into the apron.

Dollar: GOOD GRAVY! Savior power bombed into….into…the apron!

The thud echoes throughout the arena and is eventually drowned out by the despondent squeals of all forced to watch this horror unfold. Savior feels instead of watches, grabbing at his lower back, spine perhaps severed from the pelvis as he walks right into the clutches of his opponent. Legion gorilla presses the much linger Savior into the air then ultimately throws him through the ropes into the ring.

Savior rolls to the center, looking absolutely spent as Legion slides in and continues the punishment…Scratch that…instead of immediately dishing out more punishment, Legion at long last puts the key in the cuff, unshackling Christian’s wrist.

Dollar: Why is he unlocking him now?

Susie: Because Legion is probably bored beating up a handicapped man.

Dollar: He had no trouble beating up Eddie Vines at Awakening.

Legion wants this match to be ended under somewhat fair circumstances, following the edict of Gaunt, who refused to go to the ring with his pupil so as not to give an unfair advantage. Legion drags Christian up slowly, the Rising Phoenix’s bones the consistency of jello at this point.

His head is dragged under Legion’s seat, and he is then hoisted up onto his shoulders. The Misery III is about to live up to its reputation when Christian makes Legion regret unshackling him, taking the cuff that was chaffing his now free wrist, and wrapping it around the fist of his still cuffed arm. He begins to punch Legion to the forehead with everything he has left, fighting a hopeless battle./The cuffed knuckles connect to Legion’s forehead again and again and again, and though it staggers the behemoth, it doesn’t free Christian from his plight.

Savior bends down and sinks teeth into Legion’s face, biting the bridge of his nose.

Dollar: Now he’s biting his way out of this predicament.

Susie: It’s like when a mouse gnaws its own leg off to get out of a trap. I tried to do it myself one time when I got hungry and attempted to take the cheese off the trap. It’s why I’m wearing this splint on my index finger right now.

The punches with the steel cuff wrapped knuckles and the vicious biting of his flesh at last forces Legion to release his opponent. Christian lands on his feet and instantly grabs his kidneys, which are still feeling the effects of the power bomb into the apron.

Savior blocks out the pain and dishes out some of his own, swinging one more into a devastating punch, knuckles still wrapped in steel. The strike lands with such force that it actually makes Legion’s knees buckle as he falls into the ropes, bouncing off into the deadliest lariat ever witnessed. The clothesline from the deepest depths of hell sends Christian twisting through the air and ultimately crashing down on top of his head.

Dollar: The lariat to end all lariats just delivered. I have never seen….or heard a lariat delivered with such force.

Susie: He turned Christian into a human slinky. Which means I’ll get tired of playing with him within twenty minutes.

Savior rises to his knees on instinct alone, as there is absolutely no brain function left. The muscle beneath bone is swelling and pressing against skull, and the inflammation isn’t made any easier when a steel chain wrapped fist swings right into his temple.

Dollar: And he just follows it up with a right hand that was….

Susie: Sickening?

Dollar: Don’t call me out on my repetition, Susie, not like I call you out on your stupidity. But yeah, Legion just cracked Savior’s head in two with that shot.

Fitzpatrick stands back watching all this in disheveled fashion, unable to do a thing to stop what’s happening. It seems Legion is at long last satisfied, dropping to his knees with both palms wedged to Christian’s chest.

1

2

Dollar: And Legion brings the match to a merciful conclusion. Well…his idea of merciful at least.

3

The crowd is in total…absolute…complete shock when Christian launches a shoulder clear from the canvas.

Dollar: No way…NO WAY!

Susie: Did Savior kick out or is he doing some magic fingers?

Dollar: What kind of idiot slaps Legion in the face by kicking out when the man was actually showing him the slightest bit of mercy? Well, I guess we just found out.

Clearly Christian’s isn’t thinking clearly…or not thinking at all. After repeated blows to the head, one delivered by his wife at the pay-per-view, and another tonight by Legion, Christian’s brain has to be swollen to the size of Texas, yet his body, equally as swelled, just won’t stay down. It almost seems like Legion isn’t enjoying what he has to do next. He grabs Savior by the hair, yanks him up to his knees, although the Rising Phoenix keeps wanting to wilt back down to the canvas. He finally gets him propped up long enough to step in and connect with a buzz saw style roundhouse kick directly to the already badly damaged cranium.

Savior collapses to his stomach and is nothing but dead weight as he’s pushed onto his back, Legion falling into the lateral press across his sternum.

1

2

3

The fans breath a sight of relief that this match is over, that Christian’s suffering has come to an end.

Dollar: Legion ends the match, stopping just short of having to cripple Christian in order to do it, but at last the job’s been done.

Susie: I think Christian did pretty well considering his wrists were cuffed the whole time.

Dollar: Shockingly…I concur.

Susie: Yay. Score one for Susie.

The police officers crawl onto the aprons but one look from Legion sends them right back to where they started. They fall to the mats and watch along with the petrified fans as the behemoth tosses the chain aside and descends upon Christian.

Dollar: I guess mercy truly isn’t in Legion’s character. He’s going to be an unwitting pawn in Orlando’s game like it or not.

Legion grabs Christian by the hair, slowly pulling him up from the canvas as he debates the perfect way to instill fear in the Rising Phoenix’s heart. Before he can enact his deadly plot, Christian is saved by the most unlikely of sources, his long time nemesis Porno Lad sliding into the ring, steel chair in hand. Legion barely has time to react before Porno Lad swings the very weapon that was almost used on him earlier to cave in the walking nightmare’s skull.

Dollar: Porno Lad! Porno Lad coming out for some pay back on the Black Crusade!

Susie: He’s still all mad and junk after having that hair cut. Which he should, looks like Mr. Clean’s sexier younger brother.

Dollar: He just had one lock of hair cut off for God sakes, you can’t even notice.

Susie: But Porno Lad will always know its missing.

The chair bashes Legion between the eyes a second time but before it connect with a third strike, it’s caught…caught in the clutches of man seemingly incapable of feeling pain. The chair is then ripped right out of Porno Lad’s hands, which plays precisely into the Original Prankster’s foot, swinging around and delivering an Epic Fail right against the steel.

The chair is driven back into Legion’s face and at long last the beast is driven from the ring as a result. He spills through the ropes and again lands on his feet, dropping the chair to the mats below.

Dollar: We have never seen anyone take the fight to Legion like Porno Lad has tonight. I don’t know if he’s really that brave or just that stupid.

Susie: A little from column A and a little from column B.

Legion actually looks stunned by this assault from a scorned Porno Lad, who is not through yet. He remembers every word he spoke to Katelyn at the beginning of the night, how he vowed vengeance on anyone and everyone associated with the Black Crusade. Just so happened that Legion was in the right place at the right time, and would be the only member of Mr. Gaunt’s group that would be least suspecting of this type of guerilla warfare.

Porno Lad steps past, Christian, unconcerned with the plight of his long time nemesis, only obsessed with dishing out more punishment on Legion. He slips though the ropes and stomps the back of his masked foe’s head, knocking him away from the ring.

Porno Lad now turns his back on Legion, about to go high risk in super flashy fashion. Before he can continue to pull off the shocking assault, his attention at last turns to something other than Legion, a spine tingling scene playing out on the stage. An emotionally distraught, weeping Katelyn finds herself kneeling…imagine that…on the steel, but not for what she normally does in that position. Instead of pleasure, she finds herself in tremendous pain, hair clutched in the hands of Cassidy Haze, and head pulled back to expose her neck to the switchblade pressed against it.

Dollar: The fuck? Cassidy Haze has Buehler, and she’s about to slit her throat. This is…wait…no…not gonna say sickening.

Susie: Okay…I’ll say it…cause it is SICKENING.

The tip of the knife draws some blood from beneath the surface of Katelyn’s flesh, just enough claret flowing to properly get Porno Lad’s attention. He moves like he’s about to make a mad dash up the ring only to remain fixed on the apron due to a sudden jerk on Buehler’s hair, Cassidy warning him to stay put.

Cassidy: Porno Lad…my love…Did you get my note?

Tensely Porno Lad nods.

Cassidy: And will you play nicey nice with me next week?

All of Porno Lad’s pride is repressed as he is forced to give into the demands….as unthinkable as it might be…of a terrorist.

Porno Lad: I’ll do it, just don’t hurt her.

Cassidy: Oh goodie…Now remember what your seeing here tonight. If I got to Katelyn before, I can get to her again. Hehehehe. See you next week…PARTNER!

To Porno Lad’s relief the knife is taken away from Buehler’s throat and she’s permitted to drop to her elbows, her mascara running all over her cheeks as her teary eyes look upon her love. Porno Lad buries his face in his palm, but before he can properly express his grief over being manipulated into whatever Cassidy wanted, he’s grabbed by the hips, dragged off the apron and power bombed onto the edge of the announce table by Legion.

Dollar; BALLS!

Susie: WHOA! I can totally see Porno Lad’s bald spot from this vantage point.

The table doesn’t even break or budge an inch as Porno Lad’s body twists around it. To a series of ‘holy shit’ chants from the crowd Porno Lad slips like a limp noodle off the table to the mats, landing on his knees then on his face. Legion doesn’t even look back to survey the damage he’s done, sliding back into the ring where he once again wards off the police officers.

Susie: Is Porno Lad dead?

Dollar: If not he probably wishes he were right now…he’s got to be in the worse pain of his life. And look at this, Legion STILL isn’t done.

Katelyn is too paralyzed by her fear of Legion to even think about taking a single step towards the ring to aid Porno Lad. Much like the police…much like the fans…she is forced to look on as Legion drags Christian up to his feet and then throws him over his shoulder. Suddenly the red lighting that is customary for Legion’s matches cuts out, blanketing the ring in total darkness.

Susie: Why did I forget my Rainbow Bright night light on tonight of all nights?

When the lights at last return, there is no Legion, there is no crippled Christian, just a big empty canvas with two bewildered police officers standing on the aprons.

Dollar: Where did Legion take Christian? Where? Where where where!?!

Susie: If they put Christian in a striped shirt and those Sally Jessie glasses he was wearing earlier we can totally play Where’s Savior.

Dollar: Haven’t there been enough Black Crusade related craziness tonight? Now Legion has abducted Christian. Jesus…I can’t keep up with all these twists and turns anymore. Somebody provide me with some damn cliff notes.

Susie: You can ask Sparkles, but you’ll probably end up with cards featuring nothing but genitalia.

The door to Desmond Drake’s office…It’s the focal point…but only for a moment. The second it opens and Desmond steps out, carrying a bag about half his size over his shoulder, the midget becomes the camera’s centerpiece. Grief…gloom…there a thousand adjectives and slangs for the one feeling Desmond is experiencing. The sullen Drake begins to move along when he finds his path obscured by….

Evermore: Drake good man, you headed somewhere?

Axl struggles to maintain a delicate balancing act, holding a briefcase in one palm, and supporting the weight of Disco Ninja with the other. The gyrating hired gun slants towards the floor, Evermore constantly having to prop him up.

Drake: Oh, Axl. Oh-no…

As if Desmond wasn’t already overwrought with grief.

Drake: Accept my apologies, Axl, please, I completely forgot about our meeting tonight. But ummm, if you want, you can discuss your business with Orlando…

Evermore: HA! Really? Wait, you are being serious.

Drake: Yes, yes I am, Mr. Evermore.

Evermore: Desmond, have you not been watching your own product over the past few weeks?

Drake: Intently. Been studying every aspect of it. And now I realize I’ve been watching the shows through rose tinted glasses. With the glasses off I’m beginning to see just how much my presence here has led to such cha….

Evermore: I call bullshit!

Desmond steps back with the most awkward of blinks.

Drake: I’m sorry?

Evermore: I’ve been a busy man tonight, Drake, but I happened to stumble across a monitor long enough to see Mark Comeau’s little intrusion upon your meeting with Orlando, and if your buying absolutely any of what he’s shoveling then….

Axl merely shakes his head instead of progressing.

Evermore:….then you need a goof swift kick to the head. You leaving is playing right into Orlando’s hands, don’t you realize that? Your turning into just another one of his pawns.

Drake: Me being here has only accomplished one thing, Axl, its led to total unrule.

Evermore: Yeah, things have been chaotic, Drake, but thus far, you’ve been the only man trying to do something about it. You brought a referee out there to stop the match between Vines and Saine…then you stopped the Blacklist at the pay-per-view, and you tried to make Orlando forfeit the Championship.

Drake: I should never have done that without at first trying to reason with Orlando. I’ve been far too impulsive.

Evermore: Oh woe is me, Desmond. Don’t hand me that cock and balls. You know trying to reason with Orlando is like trying to convince a snake not to be a snake. He’s gone mad, Desmond, look at what he had done to Disco Ninja for crying out loud.

Disco Ninja is propped up once more after he almost took a header into the floor.

Evermore: And this mess didn’t just start since you came onto the scene. You saw all the shit he was stirring over in SCW. The man confessed to almost KILLING his own brother in order to win the title. So what makes you think he has empathy for me, the Saviors, Silencer, anyone with the slightest ambition to challenge him for his big gold belt. If you waddle off, your leaving each and every person who has any title ambition, at the mercy of Orlando. You haven’t inspired un-rule, Orlando’s ego has.

A blank stare from Drake.

Evermore: Maybe I’m wrong about you though, Drake. If you can just walk away from the place you claim to love, and watch as it’s torn apart by the ‘Icon’s’ greed, then you are the wrong man for this job. We don’t need a doormat, Drake, we need someone who is willing to ‘walk tall.’ And until you show the world that you can be the man who rises above Orlando’s influence, then I think I’m gonna keep this case with me.

He lifts the case into the air.

Evermore: Do what Orlando refuses to do, Drake, stand up for what’s right. Now if you‘ll excuse me, my expert directorial skills are needed.

With briefcase in hand, Axl walks away, leaving Desmond stewing in thought.

Whitman: Bugger! This is not good…Not good…Mother’s going to think I went and I got quite bladdered if she spots this. Why will you not wash off?

P. Clarence Whitman III scrubs and scrubs and scrubs at the tattoo upon his bicep, desperately trying to remove the heart, and the insulting phrase ‘Momma’s Boy.’ But it remains embedded in his flesh.

Whitman: Come off you devil!

He spits on his clothe and again presses it to the tattoo, but is spite of all the rubbing his new tat hasn’t even been smeared. His focus is so focused on the mark of Cain embedded in his skin that he doesn’t even spot his newest associate, Lois and a member of Kitty’s Khristian Koalition, attached at her hip, much to her apparent agitation

Larry: So they’re having an all day ‘18 Again’ marathon on the Hallmark channel this Sunday. And the best thing about it is that since it’s on Hallmark they’ve removed all of the George Burns swear words. You should so come over and watch it…you can even see me play with my cats.

Lois: Uhhh yeah, sounds like an absolute blast.

Larry apparently has no concept of cynicism

Larry: FABULOUS! Maybe we can even practice for Kitty’s choir.

Lois: Oh…HEY Whitman!

The box toting Lois….she’s carrying a box in her hands people, not referring to the one between her legs….feigns excitement at the sight of Whitman. He’s a living breathing get out of jail free card.

Lois: Larry, if you’ll excuse us.

The idea of leaving Lois alone with another man concerns Larry, but he doesn’t want to seem too possessive. When the coast is clear Lois at last feels free to say what’s truly on her mind, putting the box on a table beside Whitman, who feebly is trying to cover the tattoo with his clothe.

Whitman: Lois…

Lois: How are you?

Now that Larry is gone, she doesn’t look quite as enthused by the prospect of talking to the gentle British bloke.

Whitman: Cracking, Dear. Yourself?

Lois: Fine….See you around.

She picks up the box and starts to walk away, having little interest in further dialogue after witnessing Whitman’s reading habits early tonight.

Whitman: Wait please, can I explain my earlier cock-up? I don’t want to give the impression that I’m dodgy.

Lois: Whitman…there’s no need to explain….Everyone has vices, the good lord knows I have many…but if you join us and are saved the slate can be wiped…Wait…what is that?

For a moment, and that’s all it took, Whitman forgot to keep the tattoo concealed. He makes another desperate attempt to hide it beneath the torn sleeve of his shirt.

Whitman: Oh…oh…it’s nothing…nothing at all.

Lois: You have a tattoo?

Clarence is horribly embarrassed but pulls open the sleeve to expose the source of his humiliation. To his surprise instead of seeing Lois turn green, her cheeks take on a different shade, pink.

Lois: Awww…that’s so cute.

Whitman: Do say.

Lois: It’s nice to see a man openly show his affection for his mother.

Whitman: Oh?

Lois: And…I don’t know why I’m telling you this…Kitty’s the only other one I’ve confessed this to…but ummm…I’ve always had kind of a thing for tattoos.

Shockingly, the saved soul is the one who looks embarrassed, brushing hair behind her ear and turning away from the eyes of Whitman as she makes her revelation.

Whitman: Cheers. I do have quite an affinity for my Mother, and body art is a passion of mine.

Lois: Shows a lot of courage to openly express love for your Mom.

Whitman: As my therapist tells me.

Lois: Sorry?

Whitman: Was just thanking you.

There is a long lull as Lois stumbles and stammers through her thoughts, as does Whitman, the two desperately thinking of something clever to say that would leave a good impression.

Lois: So are you coming to the meeting next week?

Whitman: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Love. Will be there with knickers on.

Lois: Awesome, and I really hope you take part in our Baptismal ceremony.

Whitman: Baptismal you say?

Lois: You might want to wear this if you do show up.

A t-shirt is removed from the box she was carrying and held out to Whitman.

Lois: Child’s extra large.

Whitman bats his eyes, head over heels….euphoric…now that the ravishing Lois has revealed that she remembered his shirt size. He takes the t-shirt like it were a marriage proposal, refusing to ever wash Lois’ lovely aroma from the fabric.

Lois: Guess I’ll ummm…see you next week, Clarence.

His smile only widens, stretching from one earlobe to the other.

Whitman: Cheers then.

Before she has the chance to say the wrong thing, and thoroughly make an anus of herself, Lois walks away, leaving a swooning Whitman behind. Once she’s out of sight, Clarence glances at his tattoo, flexing his microscopic bicep to get a better glimpse of it.

MOMENTS AGO

The surprising conclusion to the no holds barred confrontation airs once again.

Dollar: Just before the commercial break, the best laid plans of Orlando Cruze were met with a mixed bag. As you can see right here, when he forced Christian Savior, still in handcuffs to face Legion under no holds barred rules.

The violence in the match, from Christian hitting a shackled spear, to Legion power bombing him kidneys first into the apron, are covered. Ultimately the scene ends with a roundhouse kick to Christian’s skull, knocking him out cold and allowing Legion to pick up the win.

Dollar: But the chaos didn’t end when the bell rang. Actually, they just got more violent, evident by the impression of Porno Lad’s spine in the surface of our announce table.

Porno Lad finally intervenes, attacking Legion when his guard was down. Chair after chair after chair shot nails Legion, before an Epic Fail puts the behemoth to the mats. He is about to continue the violence when he spots a knife being wedged to Katelyn’s throat by Cassidy Haze. The distraction proves costly, Legion drags Porno Lad off the apron into a power bomb onto the announce table, which allows for no give. The post match hijinx end when Legion swoops into the ring, collects the unconscious Christian and vanishes in a veil of darkness.

Dollar: Then Legion steals Christian Savior…and we have absolutely no idea why, or where Savior has been taken. What I can tell you though, is that Orlando has been flipping out backstage since this happened.

Susie: Another one slips through Orlando’s fingers.

If one were missing Axl Evermore and That Disco Ninja, going a whole five minutes without seeing them, the torture is at long last over. Standing on the stage is Evermore, operating a shoulder camera, while an unconscious Disco Ninja sits in the chair beside him, a boom mic taped to his palms and held over the stage. A stage that features a flowery archway with a long red runway carpet stretched out beneath it.

Dollar: We go from one confusing moment to another. Why a red carpet has been brought out here and this whole elaborate set-up put in place, I haven’t the slightest clue. And why in the hell is Evermore and That Disco Ninja…well…half a Disco Ninja doing out here?

Susie: They look like their filming something. Maybe their doing a reality tv-show that will air on the E! Network. They can so talk about the stress this job puts on their relationships, and inexplicably break up with people they’ve been dating for years, just so we can have an emotional crying scene caught on camera.

Dollar: With these two, I wouldn’t doubt it. And….ohhhh crap.

Plenty of paint has been applied to Silencer’s face, but it’s his grin that catches the most eyes. He steps out from beneath the archway with a microphone gripped in hand.

Dollar: Really? Hasn’t this guy caused enough stress tonight?

Susie: Ewww, so the plot thickens…we’ve got even more cast members on the show. This is like when the Brady Bunch brought in Cousin Oliver cause the other kids were getting too old and ugly.

Silencer is half dressed for competition but also appareled in a pretentious pair of shades featuring no arms, placed over the tip of his nose, and a dickey…yes…take a moment to picture it…Silencer is wearing a dickey…a leather one at that with a rose stuffed in the chest pocket.

Silencer: Ladies and gents…and ladies again…welcome one, all, everybody, even those of the husky variety…ESPECIALLY those of the husky variety….to the very first…and I prey to be the last, IWC FASHION SHOW!

The fans respond with chuckles and claps, but are largely unsure of what to expect next.

Susie: When did the IWC turn into Project Runway?

Dollar: Around the same time the program went completely off the rails. Which was about two months ago.

Silencer waits for the crowd response to die and at the same time continue building hype.

Silencer: Okie dokie people…I promised you all that I would showcase all of Taylor Chase’s beautiful attire? That I wouldn’t let it sit in a bag, collect dust, debris, semen stains, Randy Orton’s poop, whatever usually finds its way into a bag absent mindedly left inattentive. Though, pretty much everything about Chase can be described as pretty absent minded.

The digs at Chase are very well received.

Silencer: So without further adieu…..get your cameras and outrageous hair styles ready, cause it’s time…oh yes…it’s time to do our little turn on the catwalk, yeah on the catwalk, do our little turn on the catwalk.

Though he feels the need to shower after quoting Right Said Fred, Silencer settles for some hand sanitizer so he doesn’t miss a moment of this ‘spectacle.’ Some really horrible, ear drum raping psychedelic pop anthem plays in the background while laser lights dance around the stage.

Silencer: First, wearing an absolutely gorgeous Giorgio Armani knock off purchased from some Chinese wholesale website….Bob!

Not only have ear drums been irreparably harmed by the show, but every eye turned to the stage feels like they’ve just been urinated upon. Bob steps onto the ramp stuffing himself into a dress that is way…way…WAY too tight on him. His many layers of blubber ooze from the many torn seams and the bustier. The dress only gets half way up his belly and could go no further.

Dollar: I’m really not seeing this. Tell me someone has slipped some hallucinogenic into my tea.

Susie: I can’t look away. Bob is an absolute thing of beauty.

Fake eyelashes and purple mascara gives Bob that much desired smoky look that has been completely overdone.

Silencer: Yeah….there we go…do a little twirl for them, Bob.

The blubbery behemoth twists around to reveal that the dress could only fit over one ass cheek, leaving the other totally exposed. He then walks to the backstage area, surprisingly balancing himself in Taylor Chase’s pumps very well.

Silencer: Next we have Bobfairy, sporting an absolutely breathtaking skirt and crop top…since midriffs are so the in thing right now.

Another Bob moves through the curtains, stuffed into a crop top that is held together by a single stitch in the center. His huge boobs are busting the crop top and said skirt…which just HAD to be partially see through, is ripped around the waist, and tied together by a very stretchy rubber-band. Bob rubs his exposed belly with both hands.

Silencer: Oh yeah. Retain this image Orlando, think about this the next time you see Tay-Tay sporting this look.

Thank God the Manhattan denizens have a very strong gag reflex. Bob then walks…no sashays to the backstage area, swinging his hips, shaking what the good lord gave him.

Silencer: Next we have Bob’s evil twin, Evil Bob, sporting the latest ‘sheer’ fashion…get ready to scream ladies.

Yet another Bob, as there seems to be an endless parade of them, moves to the stage wearing a sweater that is mostly see through save for the breasts area. Somehow the sweat shirt has managed to be turned into a midriff sporting look as well, but not via design. Bob’s immense weight is once again pouring out of and tearing through Tay-Tay’s very expensive apparel. The skirt he’s sporting could only fit over one leg, but thankfully his loincloth hides his nether regions.

Silencer: Now THAT is sexy people. Eat your heart out, Tay-Tay. And up next we’ve got Bob’s cousin, Cousin Bob, sporting that whole wide legged pants stuff that seems to be a carry over from the 1970’s…

The legs are SUPPOSED to be wide, but they are actually turned into a pair of skinny jeans on Bob, who somehow has managed to get the britches buckled under his huge layer of fat. A checkered shirt, which he doesn’t have the same luck with, considering he couldn’t get it buttoned, hangs over his back and again exposes his grease smeared belly. Axl bends down at the end of the stage and gets a close up shot of Bob, who turns and shows off his pouting face to the camera. He then turns and walks to the back to squeals from sickened fans, especially when the button on the pants busts.

Silencer: And now it’s time to show off the latest trends in lingerie.

Dollar: Oh no…that’s it…no…no….no…Censors…CENSORS! Someone please do something before we’re forced to witness this.

Susie: Eww, I can’t wait, I hope there’s thongs.

Dollar: Why did you have to put that image in my head? Haven’t I suffered enough already.

Silencer is drooling when through the curtains steps not Bob, but Brittany Lohan brandishing a crowbar, which swings right into the greasy tummy of Bob. The gassy behemoth doubles over from the shot that causes Silencer to lose his smile. He throws away the microphone and tosses down the dickey, going right after Lohan. Before he can intervene on the behalf of his model, the fashion plate that is Bob, a vengeful Tay-Tay rushes out and blindsides Cagero.

Dollar: Thank God!! Sweet Jesus thank you, Tay-Tay and Lohan.

A bare footed Chase nails a stomp to a crawling Silencer’s back. She is still wearing that tight fitting black dress, considering she couldn’t get back her ring gear. Fortunately, any wardrobe malfunctions will be prevented by the ‘Icon’ t-shirt, she purchased and threw over her upper body. Lohan rears back with the crowbar again to lash out at Bob only to have it grabbed out of her clutches. A spine tingling stare is shot towards Paradise, who rushes around behind Silencer, who stands just in time to be clocked to the back of his previously injured knee with the bar.

Dollar: A shot to the knee! A shot right to the knee!! Frankie just took out Silencer’s leg. He won’t be doing another turn on the runway…not now…and not ever again.

Susie: This isn’t part of the fashion show….Oh well, at least I got my money’s worth.

Dollar: And this whole scene is gonna line the pockets of plenty of therapists around the world, that much is for sure.

Silencer rolls around on the stage gripping at knee that was already heavily taped up after all it went through at the pay-per-view. Axl steps forward with camera in hands, ready to use it as a weapon only to have Frankie step between he and Silencer, pulling back on the crowbar, threatening him if he takes another step. Behind Frankie’s back, Tay-Tay has rolled Silencer onto his stomach, taken him around the ankle and raised his leg into the air, slamming it down knee first into the steel ramp.

Again Silencer unleashes a blood curdling roar, flopping to his back, and drawing all the torn ligaments to his chest.

Dollar: And the damage just keeps being done to that knee. Silencer is going to be in absolutely no condition to wrestle tonight.

Evermore finally calls Frankie’s bluff, running forward and swinging the camera around wildly, which sends Paradise running for the hills. He grabs Tay-Tay’s wrist and drags her through the curtains alongside him. Lohan delivers one last stomp to the back of Bob’s colorful afro before slowly following her cohorts, eyeing Evermore the entire time.

Axl drops the weapon and bends down to check on Silencer, who is clearly in the absolute worst pain of his entire life.

Dollar: Silencer is done for…if he even thinks about competing tonight he’d be an absolute moron on epic levels.

Susie: He should let Bob compete in his stead, and totally show off his midriff in the process.

All focus seems to be on Silencer and the broken leg as cameras cut to commercial.

MOMENTS AGO

Dollar: We’re back live on Riot!, but just before the break…well…take a look for yourselves.

The runway show is briefly recapped, thankfully, before cutting to the grizzly aftermath. A crowbar connects with Bob’s ribs, swung by Lohan, and then connects with Silencer’s knee swung by Paradise. The brutality is capped off with Tay-Tay hoisting Silencer’s leg into the air and driving it down knee first against the stage. The final image of the video features Cagero in the grips of agony.

Susie: The best runway show in the history of ever, was ruined by Paradise, Tay-Tay and Lohan.

Dollar: It was a ghastly display…I’m talking of course about seeing Bob in a crop top.

Cameras cut to the ring where Silencer is standing on one leg, leaning back first against an apron. In spite of being in crippling agony, he looks fired up enough to STILL go at it, fueled by sheer rage. Referee Wright is standing beside him, imploring Silencer to reconsider competing in this handicap match…which really lives up to its name at this point.

Dollar: And if Silencer’s actions couldn’t be anymore ill conceived, now…now he’s actually going to compete in a handicap match while standing on one leg.

Susie: Guess the chance to hold that big chunk of gold means that much to him.

Dollar: Can’t really walk around with the championship, when you can’t walk.

In spite of the ref’s pleas, Silencer remains resolute, visualizing the shot of Bob taking a shot to the ribs with the crowbar. It isn’t his own pain that drives him, it’s the agony cousin Bob might be in at the moment which compels him to compete.

Frankie: I told you Sugar-Tits, you don’t have a thing to worry about when Frankie’s around.

Tay-Tay: What have I told you about calling me Sugar-Tits.

Paradise, Lohan and Chase are still in the gorilla position backstage, the curtains mere inches from their side, living it up just moments before going back out there to finish off an already injured Cagero.

Tay-Tay: Ohhh, how could I stay mad at you?

Paradise: It’s impossible, isn’t it? Not with this type of charm. Group hug?

Tay-Tay: Why not?

To celebrate this small victory on what has been a terrible night for the three, they all step in to hug. Unfortunately for Lohan, a palm wedges to her chest, Frankie pushing her back so he can have Tay-Tay all to himself. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his cheek against her bosom, gently rocking the two back and forth.

Ahem…

Frankie at last opens his eyes and glares past Tay-Tay’s boobs into the face of Desmond Drake.

Frankie: What the hell do you want Mini-Me?

Tay-Tay: Yeah, can you get your obnoxiously huge head out of our sights.

Lohan: Don’t even worry about that halfling, Tay-Tay. He’s a nothing…and you’re a something…a future World Heavyweight Champion.

Taylor nods in agreement, turning her back on Drake and interlocking arms with Paradise..

Tay-Tay: Shall we dear?

Paradise: In the words of my hero, the Macho Man…Ooooooh yeah…let‘s snap into Silencer‘s knee!

Both Lohan and Chase opt to ignore the lameness of the comment, minds entirely focused on finishing off Silencer.

Drake: Wait just one minute.

Paradise: Why are you still here?

Tay-Tay: Britt, would you please take care of this?

Lohan: It would be my pleasure…

Drake: Hold it…hold it…hold it…

His tiny hands extend defensively, giving him a few precious moments.

Drake: I can’t turn a blind eye to this anymore. What you all just did to Silencer, it’s unacceptable.

Paradise: Really? Just wait until you see what we do to him next.

Drake: That’s precisely why I’m here. Because of your actions, I have no other alternative….I can’t let you two double team Silencer in a handicap match, that would be completely unfair. So as of this moment, due to the injury to Silencer, I’m making this a TRIPLE THREAT number one contenders match.

Frankie: WHAT!?!

Tay-Tay: You little shit! Orlando should have squashed you like a bug when he had a chance.

Drake: Somebody has to do what’s right around here.

Tay-Tay: Yeah, they do….Britt, show him what’s right.

Lohan: Gladly.

With crowbar patting against her palm, Lohan approaches Drake, who wisely takes off. Brittany gives pursuit, leaving Frankie and Tay-Tay to exchange a tense, but confused glare.

The show returns to the ring where Silencer is trying to stretch out the leg, but it isn’t helping to alleviate the pain, nor is walking in circles, still limping terribly.

Dollar: Did I just hear what I think I heard?

Susie: Yes, She-Ra did just throw Hordak into space, and as thus saved Christmas.

Dollar: I still can’t believe your watching that horrible movie. But I guess watching this is just AS horrible. Desmond Drake just can’t stop meddling, and now he’s changed this match to a friggin triple threat rather than the handicap bout it was supposed to be. How dare he continue pissing all over Orlando’s edicts. I thought he had come to his senses.

“Boss’s Daughter’ hit’s the PA system, resulting in a particularly unpleasant reaction from the crowd. They are standing for the sole purpose of booing both Paradise and Chase, who emerge side by side on the stage. They shake their heads in the direction of the fans, who so viciously condemn them for their actions over the night and the past few weeks. Frankie and Tay-Tay had a whole routine worked out for their tag team entrance tonight, but now it has to be thrown aside considering they the curveball just thrown at them by Drake moments ago.

Dollar: And Chase and Paradise still coming to the ring as a unit. Now that I think about it, triple threat rules may actually favor these two, as they will no longer have to make tags in and out of the ring. They can get their hands on Silencer all at once.

Susie: I’d like to get my hands on Silencer’s dickey.

Dollar: I’m sure you’ve gotten your not the last woman who will say that.

The crowd finds itself alarmed at the sight of Frankie and Tay-Tay methodically circling the ring like sharks drawn in by blood. Silencer turns cautiously back and forth, hobbling with each step and clinching his fists tightly. At last Tay-Tay leaps to the apron and Silencer goes to take her out only to have Chase drop out of the way. He then turns towards Paradise, who is scrambling into the ring behind him and going for a chop block to the crease of the knee.

Silencer sees it coming, connecting with a punt kick to the inbound face of Paradise, causing his smaller opponent to stand up swaying his arms to his sides in a desperate attempt to remain upright. Silencer backs up into the ropes to get a running start when Tay-Tay leaps to the apron once more and catches his arms. She pins the biceps of Cagero behind his back, preventing him from putting up a fight.

A smirk forms on the still frazzled Frankie’s face, doing some fist pumping to hype the big punch. He charges in and then Silencer puts his legs up, driving them into Paradise’s chest. Frankie has the air knocked out of him, and some space is put between Silencer and his rival as a result.

The former IWC World Champion has to think quickly as he breaks Tay-Tay’s grip and then turns, reaching over the ropes while hooking her arm. Chase pleads for mercy but is then hip tossed over the top rope She crashes right across her bum and is then forced to pull down on her skirt to keep her hind parts from showing.

Paradise collects himself and then comes charging back in only to be caught against Silencer’s shoulder and heaved into a back drop over the top rope. He flies through the air and crashes hard to the outside mats face first.

Dollar: Come on man! You’ve got Silencer fighting on one fucking leg, how can you not take full advantage of this?

Susie: He’s like water in your palm, you just can’t get hold of him.

Silencer turns to the still kneeling Chase and connects with a big side kick right to her temple. Tay-Tay is knocked totally out cold, right in the center of the ring, right where she can be pinned, right where Silencer can clinch a World Title shot. He falls over Chase’s chest, in the same position Frankie was backstage, and hooks her long beautiful leg.

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Dollar: I can’t believe Silencer just snuck into a World Title…

Chase cuts Johnny’s comment short by launching a shoulder from the ring.

Dollar: To hell with that says Chase.

Silencer knows he has got to end this and end it quickly. He scrambles to his feet and hobbles into the ropes, ricocheting off to take advantage of a scramble brained Tay-Tay, struggling to an upright base. Only this time Silencer finds his ankle caught, Frankie reaching under the ropes and trapping his foot. Silencer kicks down at the forearms, at last separating the interlocked hands and freeing himself. But it was too late, because Tay-Tay had enough time to recover, charge in and deliver a lariat right to the back of Silencer’s head, sending him flipping over the ropes. He surprising lands on his feet across the outside mats when Frankie dives into a basement dropkick right to the mangled knee of the painted pugilist.

Dollar: Back to the knee!

Susie: And back to my Kindle. Wonder if I can find Harry and the Hendersons on this thing.

Dollar: Frankie is doing exactly what he’s been promising, ending Cagero’s career.

A grimacing Silencer rolls towards the barricade, which was a poor choice. Frankie quickly grabs his leg, extends it and then swings it knee first into the steel barrier. Silencer flops around crying out like he’s been shot right in the kneecap. Paradise picks him up, spins him around by the back of the head and throws him back into the ring. Silencer rolls to the center where Chase is stomping away, blows directed primarily to the knee.

She then grabs his leg and drops with her own knee directly into the side of his leg. The knee is just not supposed to be bent in this direction, and Tay-Tay knows that. She twists the leg around her steel braced knee, the only piece of her normal in ring attire she still had in her possession.

Silencer tries to fight free from this predicament, hitting punch after punch after punch to the side of Tay-Tay’s head and eventually forcing her to break the hold. She stands up, tucks her opponent’s foot under her pit and drops back into a DDT on the leg.

Silencer rolls away, crying out in total agony, but Chase doesn’t let him get very far. She drags him by the leg towards the ropes and drapes the ankle over the middle cable. She steps through the ropes to the apron, wrapping her arms around the ankle to hold it in place as Frankie comes barreling across the ring and dives seat first into Silencer’s knee.

Once again the knee is bent at a horrible…disgusting angle.

Dollar: Oh GOD! Are Silencer’s legs made of jelly or something? How did that not just break his leg?

Susie: Maybe he is a jelly fish. Did anyone check on this to get confirmation?

Silencer TRIES to crawl back to the center of the ring but Tay-Tay keeps hold of his ankle. She drops to the outside of the ring and pulls the targeted limb over the apron. The leg is swung down into the apron with such force that it results in another primal roar from the mischievous Cagero.

Chase grabs Silencer’s arms and forces him down to the canvas, stretching him out across the ring just as Tay-Tay leaps to the apron then goes airborne over the top rope. She twists into a corkscrew splash that connects right across Silencer’s totally exposed chest. She then wedges her forearm to Silencer’s face.

Dollar: Has Tay-Tay just punched her ticket to Upping the Ante? Is she going to the World Title match? If there can be a World Title match with no Championship.

The referee makes the count to deafening jeers.

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Silencer gets a shoulder up and keeps his chances alive, though risks even further injury to his knee as a result.

Tay-Tay and Frankie both grab hold of Silencer’s leg and roll him to his stomach before simultaneously lifting it into the air….the two drive the leg down knee first into the canvas. Silencer bellows in pain, turning to his back while Tay-Tay gets in his face.

Tay-Tay: What’s that Silencer? What you say? Your sorry you ever messed with my gear? Awww….I accept your apology.

In the midst of all this trash talking, Paradise extends the leg of his opponent out over the canvas and then leaps into a double stomp to the knee.

Dollar: Drake did these two such a favor. What an idiot that little midget proves himself to be again and again. This is still a two on one without any tags being needed.

Silencer tries to crawl across the ring, really struggling to get to the ropes but is grabbed by both legs and pulled to the center. He’s flipped over to his chest with Frankie stepping over one knee and Chase stepping over the other, both legs are pulled up into stereo Boston crabs.

Dollar: Hey look at this, this is downright genius! Frankie AND Tay-Tay might earn a double submission AND move on to main event Upping the Ante where we’ll see this same thing happen again, a two on one scenario.

Silencer’s legs are all twisted up, keeping him grounded and unable to clear from the ring to give himself a breather. He lifts his palm into the air, ready to tap out, the pain even worse than when he submitted to Rose at Awakening. But he won’t let it happen, he can’t afford to let another World Title opportunity to slip past him. He wedges his fists to the canvas and begins to crawl towards the ropes, to the shock of everyone he actually drags BOTH Paradise and Chase along with him.

Dollar: WOW!

The fans echo the sentiment of Dollar, everyone standing with hands on top of heads, watching Silencer get closer and closer to the ropes with the weight of both opponents across the creases of his knees.

Dollar: If he reaches the ropes it would be a downright miracle.

Silencer’s palm extends, mere inches from the ropes before Tay-Tay and Frankie, still on the same wavelength, break the hold…or holds. They turn Silencer over to his back and Chase begins to apply a different submission, the Cloverleaf. She then rolls him onto his stomach, applying the hold while Frankie steps over Silencer’s upper back, lifting him up into a camel clutch.

Dollar: Simultaneous holds AGAIN applied upon Silencer, and this time there is no way he can escape, all of his limbs trapped.

Susie: I think Tay-Tay and Frankie communicate telepathically or something.

Paint melts from Silencer’s face, breaking in chunks and spilling to the canvas. His shrill cries echo throughout the Manhattan Center, and are only drowned out when fans stand up and start chanting his name. They don’t know how Silencer will get out of this predicament though….given the shape his knee is in, and how every limb has been trapped. Instead of chanting his name, they now begin imploring him to please not tap out.. But it’s easier for them to make such pleas, in nowhere near the same level of pain as Silencer at the moment.

Dollar: Just tap out already Silencer, you’re not getting out of this hold.

Silencer would rather pass out into his own vomit than submit, his eyes slowly rolling to the back of his head. That’s when Tay-Tay sees a golden opportunity, breaking her hold, reaching back and hooking both of Paradise’s arms and connecting with a backslide that puts him on his shoulders.

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Paradise kicks out to a a very mixed reaction from the crowd. He drops over to his knees and stands up, immediately running off at the mouth to Taylor.

Frankie: The fuck, Sugar-Tits!

Tay-Tay: What did I tell you about calling me SUGAR TITS!!

Suddenly Silencer lifts a foot, wedges it to the back of Tay-Tay’s knee and pushes it forward, as a result her foot is launched right up into a kick to the testicles of Paradise. Frankie wears an expression of betrayal, reaching down and grabbing at his swollen groin.

Chase immediately tries to explain herself but the turns towards Cagero, looking for some payback. She rushes in only to be caught with a small package, of the same variety as the one that put Orlando away at Awakening.

Dollar: Small package! Small package!

Susie: How do you know, have you seen Silencer in the shower?

The fans explode at the sight of the hand slapping the canvas.

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NOOOO!!!

Tay-Tay kicks out and the fans jump from their seats, STUNNED beyond stunned.

Dollar: That was entirely too close…do NOT let that happen again Tay-Tay. If I had a pacemaker it wouldn’t be able to take it.

Chase rushes to her feet in front of a kneeling Cagero and then charges forward only to have him side step her, catch the back of her leg and sweep her feet out from under her. As a result her feet go flying right up into the stooped forward Frankie’s face. A basement dropkick variation sends Paradise twirling into the turnbuckle, falling against it.

Silencer then stands up, grabs Tay-Tay’s legs, wedges them under his pits and catapults her backwards right into Paradise in the corner. But Chase has the gumption to extend her feet in mid-flight, wedging them to Frankie’s stomach and interlocking her hands around the back of his neck. She drops back and monkey flips Paradise into a flip, landing directly on his feet just in time to be clocked across the jaw with a dropkick from Silencer.

Frankie almost flips over backwards this time, crashing across the back of his head while interlocking hands around his face. Silencer then gets to his feet just as Tay-Tay rushes out of the corner and goes airborne for the TKO.

At the last second Silencer side-steps the knee, pushing Tay-Tay along right into the diagonal corner she came rushing out of. She lands on the middle rope and then springs off, twists in mid air and lands on Silencer’s shoulder, catching him around the neck with a tornado DDT.

Silencer’s head crashes forcefully against the canvas, causing him to flip over and clutch at his skull.

Dollar: IMPRESSIVE and BRUTAL DDT putting Chase back in position to move into the World Title match at Upping the Ante.

Tay-Tay gets to her feet but opts not to go for the pin, spotting Frankie struggling to get to his feet with the aid of the ropes. Paradise looks all out of sorts, prompting Taylor to do something truly uncharacteristic. Instead of thinking about herself, she approaches Frankie and grabs his shoulder, aiding him up and then ultimately spinning him around. Before she realizes what’s happening, she’s being dragged down face first into the canvas with the Snapshot!

Dollar: What!?! Snapshot by Paradise on Chase….Does he not realize what he’s…what he’s…what he’s done!

Tay-Tay lies on her back, eyes flickering on the verge of full unconsciousness. One man who wishes he was asleep and this was all a bad dream is Paradise, who sits up and realizes what he just did. He immediately tries to explain to Tay-Tay that he thought she was Silencer.

Upon realizing what he’s done Frankie becomes overwhelmed with remorse, realizing that he just went back on the pledge he made at Awakening to never hurt, Tay-Tay, having now left her lying via one of his many high impact trademarks.

Before he can properly grieve he’s spun around yet again, this time by the man he thought was assaulting him earlier. Silencer throws a knife edge chop that threatens to turn Frankie’s nipple into mincemeat. Paradise is staggered back and then hit with a second chop that blisters his sternum. Cagero has his opponent back into the corner and at last steps in for a third chop only to get a thumb right to the retina. Silencer steps back, palms his eyeball and drops his guard just long enough for Frankie to spring from the middle rope into the roundhouse kick right between the eyes.

Silencer collapses to the canvas but takes a fortuitous roll under the ropes and to the apron.. Frankie lands on his feet, showing remarkable grace and then eyes Tay-Tay, who is unconsciously crawling across the canvas, her lock cleaned by his lethal Snap Shot.

Dollar: Uh-oh, I don’t like that look in Frankie’s eyes, it appears that he’s getting a little greedy. He might see taking out Taylor as his one chance to win the number one contendership.

Susie: But I thought he and Tay-Tay were total BFFs.

Frankie licks his chomps, finding Chase in perfect position for his insidious plan. With Silencer taken out, this is just his chance. He steps in, grabs Tay-Tay by the wrist and drags her by her knees to the center of the ring. Her head unconscious falls against his pelvis, Frankie’s eyebrow arching before he winks towards some of the fans. He then does something no one was expecting, falling to his back and pulling Chase over his chest.

Dollar: What are you doing Frankie?

Susie: Frankie’s getting FREAKAY!

Dollar: No-no, he’s laying down for Tay-Tay. I guess this is what he meant when he said he was going to what’s best for Tay-Tay earlier, and at the pay-per-view.

The fans are at first in the same state as Chase, not realizing what’s happening before at last their clued in. Tay-Tay though, still has no earthly idea what’s happening, completely unconscious after that devastating Snap Shot. Paradise shouts at the official, prompting Fitzpatrick into action. The referee reluctantly drops to the canvas, not wanting a number one contender decided under these circumstances.

Dollar: Taylor Chase is going to Awakening. Thank you again, Desmond Drake, you big idiot, for making this a triple threat match, otherwise this never would have been possible.

Fitzpatrick just begins to slap the canvas when out of nowhere Silencer steps back into the fray, grabbing Chase’s legs, wrapping them around his own and applying the very same sharpshooter that caused him to submit at Awakening. He rears back on the submission and Chase, feeling entirely too groggy, and just responding to the pain, lifts her palm into the air.

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3!

The referee’s hand isn’t the only one slapping the canvas, because instinctively Chase is tapping out. Fitzpatrick notices it the moment his hand comes down for the three count given the fact that Frankie was still being pinned by Chase, completely unaware that the sharpshooter had been locked on.

Dollar: She’s done it…thanks to Frankie Paradise, looking out for Taylor’s best interest, she will receive a shot at the World Heavyweight Tit….

Susie: But doesn’t slapping the ring mean you lose?

Dollar: That shouldn’t matter. A pin takes precedence over a submission right?

Susie: You’re asking ME the rules?

The crowd is just as confused as the commentators, some cheering the submission victory for Silencer, and others looking wretched at the thought of Tay-Tay winning the win via Frankie lying down for her. Though Paradise always wanted to be beneath Chase, he nudges her off the moment he notices the sharpshooter applied. He steps in to knock out Silencer but is pushed back by Fitzpatrick, who gives him a stern warning.

Silencer is too busy celebrating to even notice, Frankie, realizing that he has a chance to right the wrong that went down at Awakening, when he lost his World Title match after competing in four separate matches in the span of one night.

Dollar: Go ahead Fitzpatrick, raise Chase’s hand.

Susie: No, raise Silencer’s hand, unless he has bad B.O.

Fitzpatrick looks confused himself, stepping in and grabbing Chase’s arm, lifting it up into the air and her barely conscious body off the canvas. The crowd boos out of disgust but Silencer speaks on their behalf, pleading his case. That’s when Fitzpatrick takes HIS arm and raises it in the air.

Dollar: Would you make up your damned mind, Fitzpatrick.

The referee clears up the confusion as best he can, speaking to Jessica Wilde on the outside of the ring and insisting she make the announcement.

Jessica: Ladies and gentlemen, Referee Fitzpatrick has informed me that Taylor Chase submitted to the sharpshooter at the same time that he made the three count for Chase’s pinfall over Paradise. Therefore, he has no other alternative but to declare that BOTH Taylor Chase AND Silencer are the co-number one contenders for the World Heavyweight Championship!

Dollar: Are you fucking kidding me? Grow some balls Fitzpatrick, and do what’s right, announcing that Tay-Tay gets her title shot.

Susie: She does, and so does Silencer. Everyone wins, hehe. Or at least they would if there was cake, someone bring some cake immediately.

Dollar: Would you shut up you half-wit? A sacrilege has just been committed in the middle of that ring.

Silencer is NOT happy with the announcement but Frankie is even more livid, having sacrificed a potential title opportunity to endear himself to Tay-Tay, only to see it overshadowed by Silencer’s actions. In outrage, Frankie grabs Silencer, twists him around and leaps into the air, going for the Snap Shot. At the last second Silencer shoves him off, Frankie twisting through the air and landing on his feet. He spins back towards the hobbling Cagero just in time to see the co-number one contender rolling to the outside of the ring.

Dollar: Silencer getting out of the ring just in time to prevent taking another beating at the hands of Paradise and Chase. I still don’t think Tay-Tay even realizes she won this match, and that she has to SHARE her number one contenders spot with Silencer. What does that even mean? Are we going to get ANOTHER triple threat match at Upping the Ante? Only this time for the title?

Susie: I think they should battle each other in an epic thumb war to settle this once and for all.

Taylor at long last gets it together, standing up with a palm wedged to her forehead and realizing that she’s been announced the victor. She is about to celebrate before Frankie steps in to explain. To Paradise’s dismay and distress, Tay-Tay lifts her fists, warding him off.

Dollar: Look at this. Paradise lays down for Chase, but she doesn’t even realize the sacrifice he made. She doesn’t trust him at all after he hit that Snap Shot on her a few moments ago.

Susie: Wow, this has exploded in his face like a holy hand grenade.

Frankie TRIES to explain but sees the wrath in Tay-Tay’s face, realizing that anything he says will only fall on deaf ears, the object of his infatuation wanting absolutely nothing to do with him. Nor does she want to have any further dealings with Silencer, who is celebrating on the ramp, but by virtue of his submission victory, in combination with her pinfall, there’s fates are now destined to be intertwined.

Dollar: Taylor Chase AND Silencer announced as co-number one contenders after a truly twisted series of events. This night…wow…just wow…how can I even begin to describe how crazy it’s been?

Susie: It’s been crazier than Margot Kidder on a date with Dave Chapelle.

Dollar: That’s actually pretty accurate.

Taylor exit’s the ring mumbling a number of obscenities directed at a crestfallen Frankie. All the while Silencer stands on the stage, celebrating and enjoying the sight of the strife between his rivals.

Dwayne: This is the stupidest…

Billy: Now, now, Dwayne, you agreed to this.

Dwayne: Under duress.

Billy: Don’t split hairs.

Dwayne: I’d rather split your head.

Cameras have opened on Dwayne Rodriquez standing across from the near bionic Billy, held together by so many casts, braces and steel rods he could double as Robocop…though he probably would never invade the IWC just to walk around and ultimately do nothing but chase off the four horsemen. Dwayne stands on a small platform, looking over a horrible script, while Mayne examines the same sheets and TRIES to direct his star.

Billy: Orlando has entrusted me, as his NEW Head of Media Relations, to make sure you did your public service announcements, and that you do them right.

Dwayne: Seriously, brother, who’s balls did you have to cup to get this jo…

Billy: Hey!

Every muscle in his body hurts as Mayne rises from his studio chair. Eventually he calls that same pimply stagehand who has served as Orlando’s messenger over, so that he can be aided to his feet.

Billy: It’s homophobic slurs like that put you in this position. Obviously you haven’t learned one thing. You just keep running off at the mouth. But not anymore, nuh-uh. Cause your only going to use that mouth to service me right now.

Billy points down at the script being held by the stagehand. It takes a few moments for him to realize how his statement can be misconstrued.

Dwayne: Dude, your making this way too easy on me.

Billy: Just read the damned script.

Dwayne: Fine….I’ll put up with this bullshit if it gets me out of here quicker.

Finally he starts to read the lines he’s been provided, but does so without heart, soul, or any real attempt at dramatic flair.

Dwayne: Kids….VD is no laughing matter…Anal warts…are no joke….The Clap…it’s not just something you do when you see Orlando Cruze….believe me, I, Dwayne Rodriquez, am the poster boy for the consequences of practicing unsafe sex, for the horrors of VD….SERIOUSLY!?! This is bullshit!

The paper is balled up and thrown away.

Billy: HEY, I have you know that Cruze and I collaborated on these PSAs personally, so I won’t have you questioning their validity.

Dwayne: I’m not gonna stand here and let some pansy like you try and make an ass of me.

Billy: If you don’t read your lines, there WILL be ramifications. You won’t get off as easy as the Saviors. You’ll be just like when I ran my mouth in that ring…you’ll never get off….

Dwayne: Awww…poor lil fella. That’s what those blue pills were made for.

Billy: That’s not…READ THE SCRIPT!

Now all of Mayne’s pain is centralized in his head, easing back into his studio chair. It goes against everyone of Dwayne’s principles to scan yet another page.

Dwayne: Kids…there’s absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying a nice dance to some Salsa music while wearing high heels…if you wish to practice an alternative life-style, it’s your choice. If you’re a huge fan of Elizabeth Taylor and enjoy dressing up like her, that’s your prerogative, and should feel no remorse for it. It’s not wrong to be a fan of Ryan Seacrest….This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever read in my life. And I say this after just stumbling across that damn Fifty Shades of Grey book backstage.

Billy: Read the damn….

Dwayne: No…that’s it…I’m pissing a line in the sand here you weasely shit.

Billy: What are you doing, put that mic back on!

He unclips the mic from his t-shirt and tosses it to the floor.

Billy: Hells nah, Bro. Ain’t putting up with this shit no longer. Especially with Xander at the mercy of….

I wouldn’t worry about Xander, Son.

An outraged Dwayne and an indignant Mayne, turn simultaneously towards the man who just pushed a grocery cart full of aluminum cans into the studio.

Mayne: What? I thought Wino-Jack’s ass got shipped off to rehab last week.

Perhaps…but I’m NO Wino-Jack.

A filthy blanket is thrown back, revealing a face that may be familiar to many.

My name is Magnus…Arthur Magnus.

Dwayne: And that’s significant, why?

Magnus: I believe my associate, Xander Cassius, told you about me earlier.

Dwayne: No…oh wait, is THAT what he was talking about before we jumped the Blacklist? I thought he was rambling about going out for pizza and watching Breaking Bad later tonight. Maybe all those people who accuse me of having selective hearing were right.

Magnus: Sounds likely. But yeah, I wouldn’t be concerned with Xander’s plight.

Dwayne: How could you say that ‘apparently’ being a friend of his? Did you not just see him kidnapped by the Blacklist?

Magnus: Of course I did, but what kind of manager would I be if I didn’t plan for just such a situation.

Suddenly Xander’s head pops up out of the grocery cart, the cans that were covering him spilling over the sides.

Xander: What in the…how did I get here?

Dwayne: Took the words right out of my mouth.

Magnus: Relax Boys. I have quite a talent for misdirection.

Cassius is still shaking off the effects of the attack from the Blacklist earlier, causing him to be a bit more slow on the uptake.

Xander; How did you manage to pull this off?

Magnus: I wish I could take all the credit. But I had some help. Was approached by some particularly odd bed fellows.

Billy’s heard about as much of this as he can possibly tolerate.

Billy: Don’t you people realize your wasting my very valuable time? Dwayne Rodriquez has a PSA to deliver….

Magnus: Afraid that’s not going to happen, Mr. Mayne.

Billy: Don’t you realize who your messing with here…

Magnus: Something tells me Orlando Cruze’s power doesn’t trump that of the United States government.

A document is slid from Magnus’ jacket pocket.

Magnus: Nowhere in Dwayne’s contract does it stipulate that he has to participate in this type of character defamation. Plus, there just so happens to be this US Constitution thing…filled with all kinds of wonderful amendments, one of which guarantees freedom of speech. Now if you and Cruze, wouldn’t mind risking a lawsuit for denying Rodriquez his basic civil liberties, then by all means, continue this miscarriage of justice.

Billy looks like he’s about to blow his lid, trembling from hair tip to toe nail. He crumbles up the script in his palm, realizing that he’s absolutely powerless. The indignity of being defeated isn’t made any easier when Dwayne makes a farting noise towards Billy then throws his script high into the air. Off the stage he marches, assisting Xander out of the cart.

No World Title…no smile….no ego…nothing but rage can be seen on Orlando Cruze’s face as he storms towards the ring. All the stagehands and staff clear a path for him, realizing just how trigger happy he’s been when firing others.

Dollar: And Orlando Cruze on his way to the ring, perhaps to address the travesty we witnessed in the ring, and to have that face to face pow-wow with Aaron Harrison. I hope he kills a couple of birds with one stone.

Dollar: You’ll totally have PITA all over us if your not careful with your comments, Johnny.

Dollar: When Orlando reaches this ring….things are gonna get very…very heated.

Orlando proceeds towards the ring to hopefully salvage what has not been one of the better nights in recent history.

MOMENTS AGO

A still frame of the controversial conclusion to the final of three number one contenders matches is replayed, featuring Fitzpatrick making the three count for Taylor even though she’s tapping out to the sharpshooter.

Dollar: Another very shocking close to our main eve….

Orlando: No…no-no! Not reliving that garbage.

The tech guys in the production truck have to be suffering sheer nerd rage like they just heard someone say Jar-Jar Binks was the best thing to ever happen to the Star Wars films. Why? Because just like to start the show, another of their highlight reels has been cut off, their hard work thrown in the crapper by the interruption of Orlando Cruze.

Unlike Tay-Tay at the start of the telecast, Orlando stands in the ring as opposed to the stage. Its here where he takes his soapbox and unleashes a tirade that would make Kanye West envious.

Orlando: That’s enough! I’m through with it…all of it! No more fashion shows! No more title thefts! No more dwarves growing too big for their Baby Gap pants! I’m putting an end to it and I’m putting an end to it right now!

His foot is literally thrust against the canvas.

Dollar: About time. You know what? I’m gonna shut up and let Orlando have the spotlight he deserves.

Susie: Yay! Then I can continue looking for Harry and the Hendersons on Kindle.

The commentators go silent as a sign of respect for Orlando, who, in spite of the crowd’s disapproval, proceeds to rip his roster a new asshole the size of Silencer’s ego.

Orlando: I won’t tolerate the disrespect that’s been shown to me, to the first lady of the IWC, and to the World Heavyweight Championship. I have to confess, I’m hurt…legitimately hurt that guys I gave a job when nobody else would even give them the time of day, have shown me, everything and everyone I care about, such contempt. The Blacklist are called the Blacklist for a reason, people. They’ve been kicked out of absolutely every federation they’ve ever competed in, Yet I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. I was willing to give them a chance here in the IWC. And how did they repay me?

Orlando feels the knot in his forehead, a permanent reminder of the cruel fate that befell him when he dropped his guard.

Orlando: Aaron, for no reason at all, decided to thank me for being the only person to give he and his band of psychos an opportunity, by cracking a cane over my skull and taking the only thing that matters in my life away from me. But it didn’t stop there. No. Because a man who owes his career resurgence to me decided to show his gratitude by at first SCREWING me out of the World Title at Awakening, and then, what does Silencer do tonight?

He is almost unable to bring himself to relive all the transgressions of Cagero.

Orlando: He continues to indulge his kleptomania by stealing from Tay-Tay this time, first by taking her clothes, then by taking the spotlight that she earned. And speaking of theft, of disrespect. Let’s not everyone forget the actions of the Black Crusade.

As if it wasn’t difficult enough for Cruze to recount Silencer’s actions, now he has to remind himself that Christian slipped through his fingers once again, this time with the aid of the man he hand selected to destroy the Rising Phoenix.

Orlando: Who deliberately went out of their way to disobey me by taking a criminal into their clutches and aiding in his escape from the law.

Orlando runs his palm down his face in an attempt to collect himself and make his thoughts more linear.

Orlando: The disrespect I’ve been shown here tonight, by not just my roster, but by you ’FANS’ is heart breaking. After everything I’ve done for you people, giving you back your IWC, by martyring myself to give you the World Champion I thought you deserved…you sit there and back the actions of Silencer? You cheer on the crimes of Christian Savior? You applaud the disrespect shown to me by the Black Crusade? What is wrong with you…all of you? Everything I’ve done is for your benefit. I tried to protect your children…I fought against the Board of Directors’ and Desmond Drake’s attempts to sabotage this program…I agree to hold the World Championship….and what…what do I get for it? Boos…jeers….unsubstantiated claims that I’m thinking with my penis instead of my brain. That I’m showing favoritism. That I’m holding down everyone just because I’m obsessed with the World Title. You all know that me sitting on top of the heap equals instant ratings, instant credibility for the IWC. I have no clue what would drive all of you to think that Silencer, or Christian Savior, are capable of carrying this company. My track record, it’s proven. The ratings were at their peak when I held this belt, buyrates were at their pinnacle. And yet, when Silencer held the title, when Savior strangled the gold, the IWC was on a downward spiral. I refuse to let that happen again, I refuse to let those two CRUSH the appeal of MY company.

Orlando balls up his fist until he digs nails so deeply into his palm that blood actually begins to form.

Orlando: My roster, and you people, may have turned your backs on me, you may have given up on your Icon….but Orlando Cruze…the Innovator….the TRUE World Heavyweight Champion, he will NEVER betray his company or his fans. You people still mean the world to me. And as thus, even though you really don’t deserve it, I WILL give you the World Champion you deserve, the World Champion that’ll keep the IWC’s ratings SURGING through the stratosphere and to the cosmos beyond.

Enchanted eyes look past the rafters, past the roof, past the clouds and into the stars.

Orlando: That’s why, though it goes against every fiber of my being…I’m calling out the Blacklist. Aaron Harrison!

He turns to the stage.

Dollar: He’s actually bringing out the Blacklist?

Susie: I thought you were going to shut up?

Dollar: You know that’s not possible.

Orlando: You said you wanted a meeting with me…here’s your chance. Come to this ring, stand across from me, and let’s settle this like men….

Mika: Actually I think this needs a woman’s perspective.

A beeping sound can be heard emanating from the entry way, a prelude to the arrival of a forklift. It drives out from beside the stage, raising not only a large crate into the air, but Mika Kozlov standing on top of it, microphone in hand. The forklift pulls right up to the ring, the crate stopping just inches from the ropes. Mika leaps off the crate and over the cables into the squared circle, dropping down right in front of Orlando, who doesn’t flinch or budge. Lukas climbs out of the cab, surprised by just how close he got to the ring without ramming the forklift against it. He’s truly happy with himself as he hops out and slides into the ring, stepping up behind Kozlov, and draping his arms over her shoulders. The friends…if psychopaths can truly have friends that is…remain unaffected by the crowd’s outrage and the searing glare from the President.

Orlando: Where’s Harrison? I wanted Harrison!

Mika: Honestly now, Orlando, did you really think Aaron would be naïve enough to walk out here with the World Title? That he would mindlessly walk into an ambush from your staff? Honestly now, Orlando, what do you take us for?

Orlando: A couple of ungrateful little shits, who think they can intimidate me.

Lukas: Whoa…whoa…WHOOOOAA! Easy there Sour-Puss.

The microphone is snatched from Mika as Lukas shows what the rest of his Blacklist compatriots lack, EMOTION. He paces around the ring but never breaking eye contact with Cruze.

Lukas: We don’t THINK anything. We KNOW that the roster, and the head-honco standing here before us with his chest all puffed out his nostrils flaring…are intimidated by the Blacklist.

Orlando: I’m not intimidated by anyone….Now where is my World Heavyweight Championship, and where is Aaron Harrison?

Harrison: Right here, Cruze…right here.

Orlando’s eyes shift from Montgomery and Kozlov to the Cartel-Tron, at last locking eyes on the source of his persistent migraine, but more importantly, his surroundings. His heart is in his throat, finally intimidated….but not by the man who caved in his head with the cane. Instead it’s the sight of the waves crashing to shore behind Harrison’s back, and the World Title held out over the edge of a dock that grips Cruze with fear.

Harrison: Remind you of anything, Orlando? Does this scene take you back?

Cruze’s lips tremble and his skin squirms.

Harrison: I hate to be a copycat, to be uninspired, but something tells me this was the best way to get your attention. Wonder if any remnants of the Evolution Championship, the pieces not found by Frankie Paradise, are still floating around out here? Wouldn’t it be a shame if the World Title, the very belt you put on the map, you’ve devoted everything to, were to plummet to the depths below and become just another piece of ocean pollutant?

The thought makes Aaron shake his head.

Harrison: You don’t want to see that happen, Orlando, and to be honest, a part of me doesn’t want to either. So how about we come to a compromise? Would you be agreeable to that, Orlando?

Once more Orlando abandons any pretense that he still has morals or pupils.

Orlando: What do you want, Aaron?

Harrison: Excellent? Mika, why don’t you begin?

Mika: Gladly.

The mic has found its way back into Kozlov’s hands as Lukas stands behind her, hands on her shoulders.

Mika: Lando…since your all omnipotent when it comes to knowing what everyone wants, you should already be aware of what the Blacklist will ask for. At the pay-per-view, we had our match overturned on a technicality, so to make up for such an injustice, we want YOU to overturn the decisions of our number one contenders matches. Officially announce that Lukas is the number one contender for the No Holds Barred Title, and that I’ll be challenging for the X-Class gold. Go on…do it!

Kozlov waits and waits…growing very weary of the anticipation even though it’s lasted a mere five seconds at this point. Orlando bites his lower lip, weighing the pros and cons. The indecision comes to an end when he looks up at the Cartel-tron, and sees the World Title slipping through Harrison’s fingers.

Orlando: Alright, fine…I actually agree with you. What happened at the pay-per-view, it wasn’t fair. So to make things right, Lukas, you’re now the number one contender for the NHB Championship?

Montgomery: How thoughtful of you.

Orlando: And Mika, you’ll get your shot at the X-Class Championship at Upping the Ante.

Mika: Your such a dear.

Harrison: Kudos Cruze, kudos. You truly are a man of reason.

Orlando: Cut the bullshit and bring back that World Heavyweight Title. I’ve done what you’ve asked….

Harrison: No, Orlando, you haven’t, because we’ve yet to begin negotiating.

Hot air is blown from Orlando’s lungs, ready to spew magma from his inner most core.

Harrison: Mika and Lukas got something they wanted out of this deal, so it’s only fair…or, as you would put it, RIGHT, that I’d get something out of this as well. Why not….hmmm…why not THIS?

A gesture is made to the Championship, one that results in an immediate headshake from Cruze.

Harrison: Now now, Cruze, don’t throw a tantrum. I’m not requesting that you just announce that I’m the World Champion, but what I am asking, is that you give me an opportunity to earn the gold, like Mika and Lukas have been granted.

Orlando looks like he could ‘almost’ live with making that decision.

Harrison: But there’s just one little caveat. I feel that if you were to insert me into the World Title fold, that it be cluttering up that number one contendership spot. After-all, two is company, three’s a crowd. So I’ve got an idea, Orlando, how about we find out what really matters the most you, your love of the Title, or the love of a good woman? I want you to strip Taylor Chase of the number one contendership and sub me into her spot at Upping the Ante.

Orlando looks like he could ‘almost’ rip Aaron’s head off with the use of clairvoyance.

Harrison: Yes, that sounds like a fitting solution. But don’t worry Orlando, I’ll give you some time to mull it over. How about we wait until next week for your answer? That sound fair? I thought so.

The World Title no longer precariously dangles above the ocean, being tossed into a different form of shallows…the emotion and spiritual shallows that is Harrison. The belt falls upon his shoulder and he waves goodbye to the camera.

All focus has returned to Orlando Cruze, sweat streaming down his brow, his skin turning every shade of the rainbow before at last settling on the brightest shade of red imaginable. Kozlov looks indifferent to his anger, but Montgomery seems to be enjoying the sight of it. Just then, when Cruze couldn’t be anymore emotional…or so he thought….The house lights dim and Chalk Outline hit’s the PA system. Everyone lunges to their feet while their jaws fall to their knees, at the sight of Nathan Creed stepping nay STORMING through the curtains.

Everyone is in total and utter disbelief at the sight of the multiple champion, dressed in a gray vest, dress slacks and a white long sleeve shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows. He may be casually dressed, but there is nothing casual at all about his demeanor. Creed wears a look of disgust as he moves down the ramp towards a man who appears more stunned than even the crowd. Orlando cannot believe what he’s seeing as Nathan moves up the steps and slips through the ropes, revealing another piece of apparel, the microphone in his palm.

Kozlov and Montgomery are now the ones who remain unflinching upon the arrival of someone they too did not expect to be interrupted by.

The blown away fans do not have to wait very long to hear from a man simply described as the Best of Britain. A man they hadn’t heard from in years.

Nathan Creed: Orlando….my friend…my brother…

He reinforces to the fans and Orlando, just how close they are. While Cruze would normally be bowled over to see his friend back in an IWC ring, tonight Creed seems to be the last person he wants to see.

Nathan:…Sorry to just drop in on you like this. Know we’ve kind of bantered over Twitter the past few weeks, but you probably weren’t expecting to actually meet face to face like this.

Orlando: Nathan, now is not the….

Creed: No, please let me finish. Allow me that much.

Orlando has been through enough already, unable to put up a fight against Creed, turning the spotlight over to his best friend. The only man who has ever understood him.

Nathan: Lando…you know I’ve always stood by your side, Brother. I’ve always been there for you through absolutely everything. All the trials…all the tribulations…all the hardships. We’ve fought side by side, we’ve held titles together, hell we even shared hospital rooms. We’ve been through it all, through the thick and through the thin. Through the good times, and through the carnage. So it pains me on every level, to sit backstage and watch you come out here and talk about how the roster, how the fans, how everyone has betrayed you.

At last, someone finally sees things from Orlando’s twisted perception. He actually smiles in spite of the peril his World Title has been placed in.

Nathan:…To sit back there and listen to you…realizing that everything you say, is 100% crap!

That smile…it’s gone in a flash.

Nathan: What has happened to you? Seriously, Lando, you’ve gone off the reservation my friend. If you don’t trust Axl Evermore, Silencer, Christian Savior, that lil knee biter, trust me…someone who actually knows you. Orlando, you’ve…you’ve totally lost it!

The reaction is one of approval, save for Orlando’s, which is one of sheer dejection.

Nathan: I couldn’t sit back and keep my mouth shut any longer. Out of respect I’ve bit my tongue this long. But when I see you come out here and bargain with these psychopaths, three monsters who took out Hurse…a man I’ve admittedly never had an affinity for yet always respected….three monsters who have absolutely no respect for the IWC…I knew I had to get off my arse, come here and finally address what’s become of my best friend.

This is the last thing Orlando thinks he needs, but is actually what he requires the most, a voice of reason that he can trust. A voice that truly has his best interest in mind.

Nathan: Orlando, you know I love you like family, which is what makes it so hard to stand back and watch as you take the company that both of us put our all into, and destroy it! I’m not about to let you do that Orlando? I can’t let you become the type of monster your standing out here negotiating with. For Pete sakes, Cruze, you sent a woman to this ring tonight to fight three people at one time, and then had her husband fight with his hands cuffed. What’s…what’s wrong with you? I refuse to believe that the World Title has twisted you this much.

Orlando steps back into the ropes with his head hung, finally taking it all in.

Nathan: You want to help the IWC be it’s best, then I would suggest you step back and take a look in the mirror. Take a look at the man you’ve become. The man who is no longer famous, but infamous. The IWC needs you to be the Icon of old. It needs a man who stood for….

It takes a forearm to the back of the head to finally silence Creed, one delivered on the unsuspecting legend by a disgruntled Montgomery. Lukas then puts the boots to Creed amidst a reaction that borders on homicidal from the crowd. Mika joins in on the assault, also putting the boots to Creed’s back.

Orlando finally raises his head, seeing the brutality being dished out on his best friend. It appears at long last that he’s reached his boiling point, clinching fists and raising them.

When Mika spots this from the corner of her eye she pantomimes a title belt across her waist, referencing the World Heavyweight Championship, STILL in the clutches of Harrison.

Orlando is left shivering as his fists slowly lower to his sides and he leaves the ring, but in the process leaves Creed to be victimized by this two on one mugging. He slowly walks past the forklift, up the ramp and through the curtains without looking back.

Speaking of which, they continue to demolish Creed in the middle of the ring, who was totally caught off guard and is thus unable to defend himself. They are so enjoying the brutality they dish out on Nathan, that the crate raised above the ring begins to open to a total lack of acknowledgement from either Mika or Lukas. Suddenly a figure appears from within the case, Rose Savior standing tall.

The whole building is fired up as Savior closes the lid and steps up onto it. At last the change in the crowd’s reaction clues the Blacklist into the fact that they are not alone. They turn just as Rose dives off the top of the crate and the forklift into a shooting star press, connecting to both Mika and Montgomery. The three collapse to the canvas while the fans lunge to new heights.

Before long all three are back on their feet though, Rose blocking a right hand from a scatter minded Lukas and then blasting him to the chin with a right of her own. Mika has just started getting to her feet when Savior steps in and blasts her between the eyes as well.

She then turns and leaps into the air, catching Mika around the neck for the diamond cutter before being pushed off right into Montgomery’s clutches. Much like earlier, Rose has been pitched right into the shoulder of Lukas, who hoists him up into a spine buster position. This time though, Savior floats over, landing right behind the Blacklist member, who turns into a roundhouse kick to the cheek.

The fans are still all fired up just as Rose bends down and waits for him to turn around, set for the spear. She charges into his ribs, or so that was her original target. Lukas leap frogs her at the last second, sending Rose charging right into Mika behind him, who catches her arms then drops back into the Das-Vi-Dania, her sickening variation of the butterfly DDT.

Just as Rose goes down Mika goes up, rising to her feet and then shouting to Montgomery. Lukas rolls to the outside and reaches beneath the ring, throwing the tarp out of the way as he retrieves two…count them TWO Singapore Canes.

The fans are mortified at the sight of the canes once again being introduced into the equation. Their even more disgusted as the scene from Awakening is once again reenacted, this time with Rose being on the receiving end of a brain damaging shot. Lukas props Rose up on her knees while Mika steps back with cane swinging around her wrist. Before she takes the shot she eyes Montgomery, inquiring as to rather he’d like to do the honors.

Montgomery can’t turn down the opportunity, lining up his shot by putting the tip of the cane to Rose’s forehead then slowly pulling back, methodically paced in order to ensure he receives the most gratification from this moment. Mika’s smile over Rose’s pending calamity is cut short when she watches Montgomery dumped to the canvas via a big running lariat from Creed.

Nathan is back in it and so are the fans. He does the inconceivable, actually saving a member of the Savior family. His animosity towards the Blacklist, and everything he’s seen them do the company he believes in, fuels him to overlook the past transgressions of Rose and her husband. Mika steps out of the corner and swings the cane right at Creed’s face, only to strike nothing but thin air. She spins around just as Rose comes barreling in out of nowhere, cutting Kozlov down with the spear.

Mika drops the cane and Creed is right there to collect it. He swings wildly at Lukas, who just gets to his feet and gets cracked right over the head for his trouble. He collapses to the canvas then rolls to the outside, joining Mika, who is in just as much need for a triage center.

The whole building shakes with a thunderous ovation as the Blacklist has been cleared from the ring by the least likely team ever assembled, Nathan Creed and Rose Savior. The two turn to each other, eyes fuming, Creed clutching the weapon that has been a focal point of the IWC since Awakening, in his grips. He slowly lowers the cane and Rose lowers her fists, the two having a very tense stare down to presumably close an absolutely stunning edition of Riot!….

Nope…the last in ring brawl was nothing more than the same thing we’ve seen in many of the matches tonight…a false finish. A stoic and silent Orlando takes one sullen step after another through the backstage corridor. A surprising amount of grief seems to exude from the Icon, after walking away from his friend and leaving him at the mercy of the Blacklist. There seems to be actual remorse…as shocking a thought as that may be.

Kathryn: Seriously Cruze…SERIOUSLY!?!

Orlando doesn’t even stop to acknowledge a fuming Kathryn Pearson, who has to race to catch up with him as he passes.

Kathryn: I want to talk to you…

She tries to keep up with the Icon, still dabbing water from her forehead with the towel hung around her neck. Having raced out of the locker-room right after a shower in order to catch the man who just robbed her of the title opportunity she earned.

Kathryn: What gives you the right to take my X-Class contenders spot away. I worked so hard…

Orlando: The right? The RIGHT!?! I’m sick of hearing that word!

Not only are his words threatening, but so are his gestures. Orlando steps right into Kathryn’s face, his nose nearly poking her directly in the eye.

Orlando: What gives YOU the right to question me? What gives ANYONE the right to question me. To question my motives? To question my decision making? To question my honor and loyalty to this company? I’m five seconds…FIVE SECONDS away from making an example of you…

Drake: Mr. Cruze…I’m sorry.

Desmond once again makes a bold move, stepping directly towards the Icon. Of course, he probably wouldn’t be as courageous if not flanked by the very two police officers who allowed Legion to abscond with Christian moments ago. Cruze’s eyes are so wide they are on the cusp of popping right out of his skull like a cartoon.

Orlando: You‘ve got some set of balls on you, Dessie.…

A finger begins pointing in the general direction of the ring

Orlando: Did you see what just happened out there? All the chaos…All the commotion? That’s all thanks to your ego. What happened to Nathan, that’s on you.

Drake: I’m afraid I don’t see things that way.

Orlando: I could give a horse’s balls the way you see things, Drake. I gave you a chance…an opportunity to walk away, and you didn’t take it…Now it’s time for you to face the repercussions.<

Orlando begins to roll up his sleeves, ready to get physical….NEEDING to get physical with anyone….absolutely anyone…and Drake is the perfect punching bag. He takes a step when the two police officers move between wolf and prey.

Orlando: What are you idiots…?

Drake: Mr. Cruze, will you just listen…just this once?

Orlando: Why should I…?

Drake: You’ve been talking all night long about what was right…Well…I gave you the chance to be a man of your word, and I‘m ashamed to admit it, but you let me down.

Orlando: Oh lord knows how I LIVE to make you happy?

Drake: Did you even read those Doctor’s notes I gave you earlier?

Orlando: I breezed through it…though it was a total waste of my time, as it changes nothing.

Desmond really doesn’t want to be in this position, but realizes that tough positions like these come with the territory, subjugating his personal feelings in favor of doing what‘s just for the IWC.

Drake: It changes EVERYTHING Orlando. That report is a medical testimonial from Jackson Adams’ doctor….

Orlando: Yeah…yeah….some concussion non-sense. He’s a tough boy. He’ll survive.

Drake: ORLANDO! Jackson has had a serious concussion since way back on our first episode of Riot! That stunner from Axl Evermore did a lot of harm to Jackson’s brain, and his injury has been exacerbated by repeated drops on his head over the past few shows. Don’t you realize that the reason he was acting all goofy at Awakening, was because he’s suffering concussion related dementia?

Orlando: Which in combination with the drugs Christian gave him…

Desmond: There were NO drugs, Orlando.

Orlando begins to open his mouth but finds himself shocked as Drake cuts him off.

Drake: Christian Savior NEVER drugged any pizza. He’s totally innocent of the charges you brought against him. I was the one who sent you the pizza at the pay-per-view, it was a peace offering to make up for what the Board of Directors made me…

Orlando: Savior is always guilty of something…he’s no martyr, he’s not innocent. He’s a God damned criminal…

Drake: No, Orlando, I’m afraid the only criminal here…is you. You totally ignored the tell-tale symptoms of Adams’ concussion just so you could use him to get back at the Saviors. Then you unlawfully detain Christian in spite of having evidence that he committed no drugging. That’s false imprisonment, Cruze. Which, along with the theft of the World Heavyweight Title at Awakening, the very crime you had Katelyn arrested for, is an offence punishable by jail time.

Suddenly it dawns on him why the police are present.

Orlando: You can’t be…

Drake: These officers are here to take you into custody, Orlando.

Cruze is literally seconds from blowing his top. His whole body quivers, consumed with such rage that the veins throbbing in his flesh are about to rip right out of his skin.

Orlando: You wouldn’t dare.

Drake: After talking to my friend, Mr. D, we’ve decided that a night in jail might help to put things into perspective for you. You need a chance to cool out and do some serious self reflection. And if your really encouraged to teach the kids a lesson, then why not show them that no one is above the law?

Orlando is in a tough spot, either eat crow or take the slap on the wrist. He extends his wrists ever so reluctantly and has the cuffs slapped around them, shackled in place.

Drake: I’m so proud to see you come to your senses….

Orlando: I would suggest you not be here next week, Drake. Or I’ll be arrested for far worse than false imprisonment.

By the shoulders Cruze is led before he pulls away from the police officers, giving them the type of stare that immediately makes them back off. He opts to play along, powerless to do little else as he’s guided down the hall towards the parking lot. Drake watches him leave, simultaneously stricken with grief and pride, sad that he had to have his hero imprisoned, but happy that he at last showed the courage to take a stand. He’s so amped up, that he turns in the direction of Pearson, looking her up and down with a smirk on his face.

Drake: Hi there.

Kathryn smirks.

Kathryn: Awwww…not in a million years.

He’s still quite confident, even as Kathryn blows him off.

Cameras switch back to Orlando, moving in the same sullen fashion as moments earlier, but this time he’s cuffed and followed closely by the short arm of the law. He moves right along, opting not to create strife and compound his legal woes.

Christian: Hey Boss.

Focus switches from Orlando’s dreary gaze to the police cruiser he’s moments before being carted away in. But the car isn’t the primary focus of the Icon, it’s the figures surrounding it. A small bandage is held to the neck of Katelyn Buehler as she sits on the trunk of the car, while Axl Evermore has a still unconscious Disco Ninja propped up against the side of the cruiser. And filling out the quartet is the last individual Orlando ever wanted to see, Christian Savior.

A shiner is present on the Rising Phoenix’s eye, almost swelling it shut thanks to that shot with the chain wrapped fist by Legion, yet he forces it open just so he can get the best view possible of Orlando’s grief.

Christian: Let me get the door for you.

The back door pops open as Orlando is gently nudged in its direction. He stops just outside the door and looks into Christian’s face, the portions of it left un-mutilated by Legion’s assault. Savior looks right back, ignoring the huge welt on Orlando’s scalp from the assault at the hands of Aaron Harrison. Neither man says a word as they continue their tense stare-down. Finally Orlando sighs and slips into the back of the police cruiser, the door slammed shut. Katelyn clears off the hood and watches Orlando suffer the same plight she was subjected to last week.

The cruiser pulls off into the distance, driving Orlando to the nearest police station to be booked. Axl, a barely coherent Disco, Savior and Buehler all stand shoulder to shoulder as they watch the car vanish into the distance.

FADE TO BLACK