In a flash we get a brief look at the 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, Taylor Chase, Rose Savior and an eerie red hue surrounding Legion.
We’re streaming Cowboy… Leave her alone and get over here.
The images are blurry, as if being filmed not by the thousands and thousands of dollars worth of equipment at IWC‘s disposal, but a cell-phone. A phone clutched in the palm of Mika Kozlov, the amateur cinematographer slash professional psychopath.
Mika: Come on comrades, she’s had enough.
Kozlov is cast in an unfamiliar role, unaccustomed to calling off the dogs. She has to yank the chain though, drawing Aaron Harrison and Lukas Montgomery to her sides. A small handkerchief swipes a red substance from Harrison’s knuckles while Lukas removes what appears to be a thing of blue latex gloves. The lighting isn’t the best, making it incredibly difficult to discern their location.
Mika: Privyet boys and girls….probably weren’t expecting to see us so soon.
Harrison: Yes, my Mika, I think they were expecting the antics of some dwarf on a power kick, and a President desperately clutching to the illusion that he has power.
Mika: Awww, I’m so sorry to ruin your fun admirateurs…but I guess your stuck with us.
Montgomery: Could be worse. They could be stuck with those two idiots they saw open the show last week, that painted whore…and Taylor Chase too.
Mika: Zatknis, Lukas. Cowboy has something to say.
Before Aaron can finish speaking he puts the handkerchief, smeared with that red substance, directly into his pocket.
Harrison: We decided to forgo the routines around here…What with waiting around for some puppet toting buffoon, or an alcoholic womanizer, to interview us….
Lukas: We’re just so excited, and we can’t hide it.
Mika: Mums it…
A finger is wedged to Lukas’ mouth to shut him up.
Harrison:…What we have to say can’t wait. I got one tremendous weight off me already…
He pats his shoulder, where the World Heavyweight Title SHOULD be.
Harrison:…Time to get something else off my chest that’s been plaguing me. I’m horribly….TERRIBLY disappointed.
Mika rubs the back of his head to soothe the savage beast.
Harrison:…in myself.
The hand stops stroking and claws dig into the back of Aaron’s neck, Mika and Lukas reacting with surprise to this comment.
Harrison: I should have known better than to question the morals of the powers that hog screen-time around these parts. It appears that Orlando Cruze was quicker to respond to my proposition than I thought. You people need to read that little warning on the bottom of your show programs, which states ’CARD SUBJECT TO CHANGE,’ because although the marquee says, Rose Savior versus TAYLOR CHASE, one on one for the World Heavyweight Title….there’s going to be just a slight amendment made…It’s going to be AARON HARRISON versus Rose Savior for the title tonight….
Lukas: Has a better ring to it.
Harrison:…It’s the only way it can be, cause I know that Orlando Cruze, or Desmond Drake, whomever is running tonight’s telecast, would think better of calling my bluff. I’ve never been entirely honest, but no one should challenge my sincerity, at least not when it comes to matters in which I have a strong personal belief.
Lukas: This is the IWC though, Aaron, they think they’ve had our number time and time again.
Harrison: I guess you have a point there….Which is why I‘ve taken steps to make sure Orlando couldn‘t go through with some type of ambush in a shameful attempt to steal the World Title away from me.
He sneers, realizing the hypocrisy behind his statement, considering that he was the one who commandeered the title last week…becoming a thief stealing from a thief.
Harrison: So I decided not to bring the World Heavyweight Title with me this evening, and instead have left it somewhere Orlando and his gaggle of goons would never think to look. It’s hidden away until Orlando shows up here personally tonight, STRIPS Chase of her World Title shot and subs me into her spot against Rose.
The whole card is laid out on the table…but wait…there’s always an extra ace tucked under sleeve.
Harrison: If anyone out there thought things would go differently this evening, you’ll be a little disappointed. I’m going to take a page right out of Tay-Tay’s rose scented diary, and announce that Orlando WILL be here this evening, meeting or no meeting with the Board of Directors…and he WILL sign this…
A contract is removed from his pocket, unfolding it.
Harrison: A contract guaranteeing us all the match we’ve truly been waiting to see. A match that will finally answer the question of what means more to Orlando, title or love. And he will sign, he’s got no other option…not if he wants to get back what means more to him than anything in the world…
Lukas: The title?
Harrison: Maybe…or maybe this?
An almost giddy Mika turns to direct the phone towards the blood soaked body lying on the concrete just a few inches away. Though her face cannot be seen under several pints of blood, there is no mistaking Taylor Chase’s impeccable taste in attire and the tell-tale dragon tattoo stenciled into her spine.
Before the fans can truly examine the mutilation that has been done to Tay-Tay, the phone turns back to the faces of Montgomery, Kozlov and Harrison. Lukas seems to be the only one trying to stifle his grin.
Harrison: Sorry Tay-Tay.
Mika: Nothing personal, Sis.
Harrison: But what Lukas does next, that WILL be personal.
From his pocket that same flashlight with the taser mounted on the butt end is forked over to Montgomery. Along with the folded up contract Harrison eluded to moments ago, the very contract that guarantees Harrison the match he wants more than anything else on the planet.
Harrison: Lukas, do your thing.
Montgomery: Can’t wait…see ya in the ring Xander.
The trio is shortened to a duo as Lukas waltzes away, taser in hand, ready to go to war with Cassius. Harrison and Mika turn back to the phone in Kozlov’s clutches.
Harrison: And you should be expecting to see me too, Rose, very shortly. But ummm, doesn‘t look like anyone is going to be seeing Tay-Tay any time soon, because just like the World Heavyweight Title, we‘ve left her in the last place anyone would think to look. And if xomeone decides to interfere with our plans this evening, the World Title, will end up looking far worse than she does…
Gestures are made to the laid out Chase.
Harrison: So sit back, relax, and watch the Blacklist get one step closer to acquiring the match I‘ve been asking for since day one…a one on one fight, between myself, and this company‘s true monster, Orlando Cruze.
The phone switches off in the midst of a kiss between Kozlov and Harrison.
No pyrotechnics, no razzle-dazzle, no shameless hype, we’re jumping right into it tonight folks. The normal pre-show preludes are replaced by the immediate arrival of Xander Cassius. ‘Hero’ by Skillet usher forth Cassius, who hops in place on the stage with Arthur Magnus towering behind him. Mangler and Manager head towards the ring, stepping right past a ladder that is sat up on the ramp way. There is more than one actually, a ladder erected on every side of the ring.
Dollar: We hit the airwaves with another blockbuster…my spotlight stealing bicuspids….Plus, what we just saw to open our telecast. It wasn’t our normal video package, instead we just got the most cryptic piece of footage I think I’ve ever seen.
Susie: That was worse than watching Troll 2.
Dollar: I’m still….I’m still….I’m still in shock here people. The Blacklist have laid out Taylor Chase backstage…they just busted her wide open.
Susie: I hope there are no sharks backstage, that could be really bad for Tay-Tay if they smell her blood.
Dollar: This is NOT how I thought we’d be opening the show tonight. Taylor Chase was scheduled to face Rose Savior for the World Title in our main event. How is that even gonna happen now that she’s been….MUTILATED backstage? Who knows what the Blacklist did to her.
Once in the ring Cassius occupies a corner, leaning over the ropes ear first into the cupped hands of Magnus, who seems to be whispering encouraging phrases his client.
Dollar: It looks like Cassius here is going to take the fight back to the Blacklist. Those bastards deserve what Xander gives them. Which could and SHOULD be a taste of their own sour medicine, if Xander can get his hands on the taser that will be hanging above the ring. Whomever climbs a ladder and pulls it down, will have free reign to use it on their…WAIT A MINUTE!
Xander is so busy discussing strategy with Magnus, that neither man notices Montgomery already sliding into the ring and pouncing on Cassius with the taser. It seems the fans will be forced to relive the ghastly scene that played out last week when Montgomery got the drop on Dwayne before power bombing him from the edge of the stage. But that’s NOT what happens this time, cause Xander turns just in time to bend down and catch the inbound Montgomery by the crease of his knee, dragging his leg right out from under him.
Before Lukas has a chance to react he’s twisted to his stomach and placed in the ankle lock, dropping the taser at the feet of referee Johnson.
Dollar: The Blacklist trying to get the drop on ANOTHER athlete, just like they did to Tay-Tay before the show could even start, and to Dwayne last week. But this time the guerrilla warfare didn’t go as planned. Xander with eyes in the back of his head…
Susie: Sounds like a serious medical condition.
Dollar: Plus he’s got an ankle in his arms, he might just rip Lukas’ foot off the rest of his body.
Montgomery masks his pain by engulfing his face with his palm, the other lifting into the air for the submission.. He balls up his fist and watches in agony as Johnson picks up the taser and places it on the hook that has now been lowered to the center of the ring. The taser rises back towards the scaffolding, putting the weapon precisely where it should be.
Lukas is not in the position where he should be, instead of standing over Xander’s flailing body, he’s on his chest, desperately trying to ward off submission to the ankle lock. At last Lukas turns to his back, wedges feet to Cassius’ chest and shoves him off into the turnbuckle. The MMA based brawler hit’s the corner, arms falling over the ropes while Lukas wisely rolls to the outside.
Dollar: Damn, Montgomery got out of the ankle lock. NOT cool.
Lukas staggers only a moment or two, trying to shake off the effects of the damage done to his ankle. A ladder that was was set up beside the ring is grabbed, Montgomery equal parts leaning against and dragging it towards the squared circle.
Dollar: Several ladders set up on all sides of the ring for this match, and we’re seeing one brought into the gold already. Hopefully not to Xander’s detriment, after he went spilling off one at Awakening.
Susie: I spilled off the top of a ladder a couple of times, and nothing happened to me.
Dollar: Erm…might want to rephrase that.
Xander doesn’t let Lukas get very far with the ladder, storming across the ring and then reaching through the ropes. Claws are dug into every orifice on the Blacklist member’s face, his eyes, nostrils, even ears. A disgruntled Cassius turns his opponent’s head into a bowling ball, trying to fit his fingers right into the eye sockets as he drags him towards the ring. That’s when Lukas pulls back on the ladder, yanking the steel leg right into the top of Cassius’ head.
Xander collapses to the canvas, clutching at his skull as he twists to the middle of the ring. He struggles to reach his feet while Lukas has a hard time remaining on his own, ankle still persistently nagging him. The ladder is sat on the apron and Montgomery tries to enter the ring only to have Xander surprise him with a baseball slide dropkick into the ladder.
A second before the steel can crush his chest, Lukas lifts the ladder into the air, allowing Xander to slide right under it and land on his feet beside him. Montgomery then swings the ladder around right into Cassius, but he ducks moments before it could cave his skull in.
Lukas twirls around completely, ladder stretched over his chest, eyes burning a hole into Xander. That burning sensation transitions to his chest when Xander leaps to the apron and then springs off into a missile dropkick to the rungs of the ladder. The steel is driven into Lukas’ chest, bouncing off his body and sending it twisting into the barricade. He falls right over the steel into the crowd, where the fans clear a gaping hole for the mangled Montgomery.
Dollar: Xander showed some of these skills at Awakening, he’s becoming a hybrid of MMA strikes and submissions, mixed with some high flying…speaking of which.
The ladder that bounced off of Lukas’ chest is now raised into the air, Cassius setting it up on the mats. The rungs are quickly climbed as he nears the top.
Dollar: Xander climbing the ladder outside of the ring.
Susie: He might have a hard time reaching the title from there, unless he’s got those super Stretch Armstrong arms.
Dollar: I think he has other ideas in mind.
Xander stands up on top of the ladder and then does a quick crucifix gesture across his chest before diving off right into a big splash on Montgomery in the crowd. Lukas has just gotten to his feet when Xander collides with his shoulder, both men spilling to the hard concrete amongst a massive uproar.
Fans: HOLY SHIT…HOLY SHIT!
Dollar: Holy snikies, WHAT-A-DIVE!
Susise: Xander should wear some green leotards and totally sprinkle magic glitter all over himself.
The fans clear the area just in time to avoid being caught in the middle of the dive. All eyes intently watch with rabid excitement as Cassius drags Montgomery to his feet, continuing to channel his frustrations on one third of the Blacklist. He takes him by the wrist and whips him directly into the barricade, but Lukas springs into the air, landing on the top of the barrier then leaping off onto the ladder that Xander just dove off of. He climbs a few rungs and then back flips right over the barricade into Cassius, resulting in another loud pop.
Dollar: What the hell?
Susie: Amazing! Lukas should wear some green leotards and totally sprinkle magic glitter….
Dollar: Yeah, yeah, Peter Pan references….yadda…yadda…yadda.
Lukas rolls away from Cassius then grabs a steel chair, prying it out from under a particularly heavy set fan. He then turns, lifts the chair above his head and drives it down on Xander’s skull, sandwiching it between steel and concrete. That was his intention at least, as Cassius sat up just moments before the steel could obliterate his head.
Shockwaves course through Lukas’ hands, causing him to drop the chair and turn his back on Xander, who is busy crawling towards the barrier. Lukas turns back around, looking fed up already. He builds a great bit of speed while charging at Xander, who stands and side steps the headstrong member of the Blacklist, pushing him right along into the barrier.
Lukas leaps into the air, lands on the barricade and then springs off right onto the ladder, landing on the rungs like he did moments ago. But then Xander jumps over the barricade himself before another moonsault could connect. He grabs Lukas’ ankle and yanks on it, causing Montgomery to turn around in a dire attempt to fight him off. That’s when Cassius grabs his chest and stomach, throwing him off the ladder with a gorilla press variant and that sends Montgomery crashing down right on top of the edge of the barricade.
Dollar: Lukas hitting that barricade with the type of impact that could cave his chest in.
Susie: Montgomery should get implants, they could totally cushion the fall.
The sore sternum of Montgomery turns just as Xander delivers the type of knife edge chop that could crack his chest. Xander turns away and then spins back towards Cassius, who nails a second knife edge chop with equally as devastating results.
Montgomery turns and falls back first against the ladder, which is the only thing that holds him upright. Xander falls into the apron, and would normally roll in to break an official’s count but given that this bout is contested under no disqualification rules, he has the luxury of remaining outside the ring as long as he wants.
He then approaches Montgomery and nails a big roundhouse kick to the same bruised sternum,, almost bring Lukas down, but somehow he remains upright just long to be subjected to yet another shot. The swelled chest becomes even more inflamed after this big kick, a kick that could cause him to crap his heart out. Xander isn’t through victimizing one third of the group that has caused such chaos, in both the IWC and his life. Xander steps into a third kick that Lukas suddenly ducks down out of the way of, causing Cassius to kick the ladder instead.
He calls out in pain, his shin almost imploding upon impact with the steel rungs. He grabs at his possible fractured tibia, but shakes off the effects before throwing a big punch at Lukas’ face. Montgomery steps out of the way and causes his opponent’s fist to go sailing through the rungs of the ladder.. He now finds himself in a very unenviable spot, arm trapped in the rungs of the ladder, shoulder taking some punishment as it collides with one of the struts.
In this predicament he has no idea that Lukas has taken to the apron and is running across it before at last diving off into a big dropkick right between the shoulder blades of Xander, driving him into the ladder.
Dollar: Come on Cassius…that ladder is working to his detriment.
Susie: We’ve seen what those mischievous ladders can do, like totally turning against Axl Evermore a few years ago to cost him the Cartel Championship.
Dollar: Why do you remember things that happen years ago, but can’t even recall what happened last week?
Susie: I remember exactly what happened last week. I got to watch an entire episode of Santa with Muscles.
The ladder falls over as Xander tumbles into it. When the two hit the mats Cassius still finds his arm trapped in the rungs, but now sandwiched in the middle, the ladder closing around his bicep and forearm. Lukas realizes this and quickly rushes in, leaping into the air before delivering a devastating double stomp directly into the ladder rungs. Cassius’ arm is completely squished, possibly shattering the radial bone.
Susie: And the ladder just broke Xander’s arm.
Dollar: Very real possibility.
Sluggishly Cassius gets to his feet, groping his arm when Lukas swoops in behind him, taking his arm, folding it behind his back and then utilizing his shoulder to wedge it in place. He heaves Cassius up into a suplex position and then drops back, planting Cassius’ arm into the laid out ladder with a back drop suplex upon it.
Dollar: The arm just completely taken out…which…as ashamed as I am to admit it, will make it impossible for him to climb that ladder and reach the taser.
Montgomery grabs Cassius by the hair, leading him up to his feet where his arm is placed in another hammerlock. He’s then charged at the steel turnbuckle post and slammed against it rotator cuff and clavicle first. Montgomery slides the ladder in and then enters himself, having vanquished Cassius…or so he thinks.
Much like a certain Marvel superhero, Lukas possesses uncanny recuperative capabilities, sitting up and holding his swollen muscles while Magnus steps in, offering….insults? Yes, he employs the art of reverse psychology in order to fire Xander up.
Cassius continues to squeeze the swelling in his shoulder and forearm, trying to get back up and into this match. But thus far all he can do is watch as Lukas sets up the ladder just beneath the taser and begins to scale it.
Susie: Uh-oh, I’m scared for Lukas already, he’s getting up way to high. I’m gonna throw up.
Dollar: You do that after every meal anyway, so what’s it matter?
Lukas is feeling the ill effects of the physicality that’s been unleashed upon him thus far, which hinders his upward momentum. The taser sways above the ring as Lukas reaches up for it. Out of nowhere his ankle is caught in the clutches of Cassius, albeit via one arm. He stands up still gripping the leg and trying his best to use it in order to pull his opponent down to the canvas. However, the equally as desperate Montgomery stomps down right into his shoulder, forcing the MMA specialist to break the hold.
He then turns around and bends down, trapping Xander’s head in a front chancery. To the dismay and horror of many, Lukas leaps off the ladder, going for the tornado DDT. Just before Xander’s head could be caved in against the canvas, he avails himself of the predicament, shoving Lukas off in mid-air. Somehow Lukas lands on his feet but then twirls into the turnbuckle, falling against it for support.
Xander then comes rushing in only to have his shoulder blasted by a big kick from Lukas, knocking him back and giving Montgomery a chance.
He then comes rushing out of the corner to take advantage of the shaken Xander only to be surprised as he’s caught by the back of the head and thrown, not into the ladder, but through it. Lukas actually finds himself suspended above the ring, stretched over the hinges running between both set of ladder legs. Lukas looks a tad shaken up himself, but his confusion is made a thousand times worse when Xander steps in, grabs his prone opponent by the back of the head and begins delivering kick after kick after kick right to his exposed face.
With Lukas trapped in the middle of the ladder he has absolutely no defenses whatsoever to this onslaught from the MMA badass. Xander takes off into the ropes, who doesn’t settle with a mere series of kicks, running into the ropes, ricocheting off then leaping into a big knee strike that nails Lukas right in the temple.
Dollar: There ya go, Xander, indulge those homicidal impulses…wear him out….wear him out GOOD!
Susie: He’s beating him like I did my little brother after eating an entire bag of sugar for breakfast. Until I learned that I don’t even have a little brother.
Lukas hangs limp as a noodle over the ladder hinges, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. It becomes evident that his opponent is totally unconscious, and Xander would probably have the pin…if that’s what he wanted…but it isn’t….payback is what he’s after, and there would be no more fitting retribution that taking the taser to his trapped opponent.
With Lukas stuck in the ladder, he’s unable to stop Xander scaling the rungs off to his side, getting closer and closer to the taser.
Susie: He’s going after the taser and ladder is helping him. Giving him just the unfair advantage that he needs.
Dollar: Get the taser, pull it down and get some payback for Tay-Tay. The Blacklist have cost her the World Title tonight, now Lukas his career.
Cassius is almost at the top of the ladder, reaching up for the taser when Lukas twists his body just enough to lie across the hinges back firs. This position allows him to reach through the rungs and grab at Xander’s leg, trying to pry it out from under him.
An aggravated Xander is having none of this, beginning to deliver buzz saw kicks around the side of the ladder into the upper back of Montgomery, who remains seated on the hinges running between the steel struts. One kick after another slams against Montgomery’s upper back before Xander takes his opponent by the hair and drives him face first against the steel. He then pulls back and does it again, but this time Lukas blocks having his head obliterated by the collision, and does so by yanking Xander’s hand away from his hair, and then shoving his forearm directly into the side of the ladder.
His arm bounces viciously off the ladder, causing Xander to cry out in pain, doubling him over and putting him in a bad spot. Lukas turns so that he’s actually seated on one of the very strong ladder arms, kicking Cassius right in the shoulder, knocking him off of the ladder. Casiuss tumbles from almost the top of the ladder and collides with the canvas to back breaking impact.
Dollar: Oh no, Xander’s arm not only banged up by the ladder but then he falls off and takes an equal amount of damage to his back. But worse yet, Lukas is positioned in a very good spot to reach that taser, at least if he hurries.
Lukas twists his body and slips around the side of the ladder legs, finally putting himself onto the rungs. He stands up and begins to scale one rung after another in his upward ascension to the taser. His twiddling fingers grab hold of the weapon that has been so instrumental in the Blacklist’s reign of anarchy. From the hook the taser is taken down, Lukas having it totally at his disposal yet again.
Dollar: Oh crap on a kitten…this is not good for Xander at all. Lukas has got that taser and he’s proven to be an expert with it.
Susie: Just dawned on me. You know what would have made this awesome…like wicked awesome. If there were poles. The taser should have totally been on a pole.
Dollar: Thank you, Mrs. Russo.
Susie: I’m not even Italian…though I am suddenly craving spaghetti.
The taser is activated, sending blue shocks dispersing through the air as a smiling Lukas raises the weapon above his head. He’s seemingly on the verge of employing the weapon when he’s suddenly grabbed by the hips and yanked down off the ladder into a power bomb by…not Cassius…but Dwayne Rodriquez.
Dollar: Rodriquez to the rescue. He just took out Montgomery with a power bomb right off the ladder!
Susie: Someone probably stepped on a crack, which has broke his back. Or does that only work on Momma’s?
Dollar: Somebody had better call Lukas’ Momma after that power bomb! Dwayne taking advantage of the no disqualification rules.
The whole ring shakes after the lethal power bomb, which may have transformed all of his bones into pudding. Everyone is on their feet, save for Montgomery, as Dwayne towers over his Blacklist adversary, shouting down at him a string of foul words rubbing a pound of salt in the wounds. Before Dwayne can add a few more wounds to dump salt in, his attention turns to the intervening Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov.
Dollar: Ah crap on a cracker…here comes the rest of the Blacklist!
Susie: What is it with you and bodily secretions on multiple objects?
Dollar: What’s with your own foul bodily secretions, namely the ones emanating from your mouth?
The crowd sounds downright bipolar, shifting from cheers to boos to cheers again when Dwayne leaps through the ropes to the apron before diving off into a stereo lariat to the throats of both Blacklist interlopers. All three individuals hit the mats but Dwayne is back on his feet in a hurry and launching a series of haymakers into anything that moves. First it’s Mika, then it’s Harrison, then Mika again, then Harrison again. The fans are stunned that the fast striking, quick talking Dwayne is holding his own against this destructive duo, brawling with them right to the backstage area.
Dollar: Dwayne is fighting off the Blacklist, leaving this match one on one. He’s stemmed the tide of chaos.
Dwayne lobs a knee into Aaron’s chest, doubling him over, taking him by the back of the head and throwing him face first into one of the steel support beams holding up the Cartel-tron. Skull bounces off steel and he now goes twirling through the curtains. Mika then jumps on Dwayne’s back from behind, throwing punch after punch into the side of his skull. Rodriquez is now the one twirling, trying to pry Mika off his back as they spill into parts unseen, the guerrilla position.
Xander is slowly pulling himself up with the use of the metal ladder and one arm. At last he gets to his feet just as Lukas gets a knee beneath him. Xander twists his body, jumping up to nearly the half way point of the ladder then leaps off into a back heel kick that nails Lukas under the jaw.
Montgomery is sent into the ropes, spilling through them to the apron. Every inch of Montgomery is hurting but he’s use to the pain, channeling it into the intensity he requires to reach his feet. He just stands up when Xander steps in and throws a big right hand.
The punch proves devastating…for Cassius, cause Lukas ducks, grabs him by the wrist and drags the already damaged arm down into the top rope, snapping it off. Xander turns away and doubles over his arm, wrapping it in a protective cocoon that is own body.
Lukas then reaches over the ropes, grabs Xander by the jaw and pulls his head back so that he’s stretched slightly over the top rope. He then leaps into the air and nails a big knee strike right to the back of Xander’s skull, doubling him over. Lukas slides urgently through the ropes, steps to Xander’s side, locks arms around his waist and then heaves him up into the air for the Everybomb. It connects and with enough force to break Xander into shards.
Dollar: That very dangerous power bomb connecting, it put Dwayne out of action for a long time during that triple threat match last week, is it going to incapacitate Xander long enough to get the three?
Montgomery crawls into the cover, wedging his shoulders to the creases of Xander’s knees and folding him up into the pin.
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The dejected fans let their chins hit their chests before they suddenly leap to their feet at the sight of Cassius’ arm springing off the canvas.
Dollar: The Everybomb just didn’t do the trick, Xander barely getting a shoulder up….and oh balls…this is big time bad…He’s going after the taser.
Lukas abandons the pin and crawls across the canvas in the direction of the weapon he had his hands on moments earlier. The taser is plucked up into the hands of Montgomery, who again tests it. Once his eyes are enchanted by the sight of the electric current shooting through it, he turns to acknowledge that Xander has somehow gotten to his knees.
Lukas moves in quickly only to have the crease of his knee caught. Once again Xander tries to rip the leg out from his opponent apply an ankle lock before Montgomery leaps into the air and drills Cassius to the skull with an enzugari.
The stiff kick echoes throughout the Manhattan Center and sends Cassius twisting into the ladder, falling against it to support his shaken brain and body.
Susie: Awww, we didn’t get to see a real hug between Cassidy Haze and Porno Lad last week, but we do get to see Xander and ladder hugging it out now.
Dollar: He’s holding that ladder to keep upright after that hard kick to the cranium, which allowed Lukas to just barely avoid the ankle lock.
The taser has been dropped and before Lukas realizes he should pick it up, he gets too headstrong and impatient, rushing right at Cassius, who side steps him and tosses him into the ladder.
Lukas goes airborne, leaping right on top of the ladder. Xander then reaches out to grab his ankle, trying to put him in the submission while he’s standing on the rungs. This proves ineffective, Montgomery stomping down right on top of the injured bicep, again exploiting the banged up limbs to keep him in this match.
Xander once again doubles over, cradling arm to stomach while Lukas slowly turns around, about to leap off the metal ladder. Suddenly Cassius turns, revealing that he’s picked up the taser and is now wedging it against the ladder leg.
The ladder acts as a conduit, electricity passing through it and through the body of a stunned Montgomery….literally stunned that is.
Dollar: He’s sending the electricity right through the ladder and right into Montgomery’s body! This guy getting exactly what he has coming to him after what he did to Tay-Tay.
Xander doesn’t stop vicariously electrocuting Lukas until he sees his opponent’s eyes roll to the back of his head and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. He just begins to fall forward when Xander drops the taser, reaches up, grabs his opponent by the arms and hoists his limp body up into the double underhook piledriver.
Dollar: And Montgomery dumped square on his head…
Susie: I thought his head looked more rectangular than square.
After the devastating dump on his skull, AND the electrocution, Montgomery is STILL all sorts of incapacitated. He looks to be in a vegetative state, which explains why he makes no attempts to stop Xander in the process of crawling across the ring, moments from going for the pin.
Lukas slowly begins to stir at last, but he still has no defenses, especially not against the pending onslaught. A group of IWC combatants come strolling through the curtains, led by Adam Chase. The Super-Agent is flanked by not just Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid, but by his all-star client, Gavin Taylor.
Dollar: This just got a lot…LOT worse for Lukas Montgomery, because here comes Taylor Chase’s uncle, Adam…..Tay-Tay’s brother in law, Gavin Taylor, and the Chase Wrestling Collective. Their going to find out where Tay-Tay is by beating the answers right out of Lukas.
Susie: They might as well as take him to Gitmo then. Do some Japanese water torture.
At long last Xander has summoned the strength to reach out and drape an arm over Lukas’ chest, and as the referee makes the count…
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Suddenly Gavin Taylor drags Montgomery to the outside of the ring. He’s held up by the arms and dragged by Hugo and Bash towards Chase. A palm is wedged to Lukas’ chin in order to hold his head up, and that’s only so he can be slapped hard across the cheek.
Chase: Where ie she? Where is she you son of a bitch!?!
Instead of getting an answer he receives a grin from the drooling Lukas.
Chase: You think this is funny, huh? We’ll see if you keep laughter after my boys here are through with you.
Gavin: Normally I don’t get my hands dirty, but I’ll have no trouble putting my mitts to this guy’s face.
He gives a visual demonstration by pie facing Lukas, who almost goes down but is still propped up by the Tag Team Champions.
A flabbergasted Xander gets to his knees in the ring, arms thrown out to his sides and eyes bugging out of their sockets.
Xander: WHAT THE HELL!?!
Magnus is equally as upset, shouting around the ring at Chase, who has Gavin form a physical barrier between himself and Cassius’ massive manager.
Dollar: It looked like Xander was finally going to get a measure of revenge against the Blacklist, and then Gavin Taylor dragged Lukas out of the ring mere seconds before a three count could be completed.
Susie: Everyone wants a piece of that ass.
Dollar: This is ridiculous, Xander so close only to be robbed here. I‘d almost have sympathy for Cassius if it weren’t for those shitty tribal tats.
Cassius is still blowing his top as he kneels in the middle of the ring, Magnus now standing behind him, hands on his client’s shoulder, trying to reassure him that the night is still yet young. The Tag Champions not only keep Montgomery up but provide his only means of momentum, carrying him up the ramp in the direction of the curtains. Adam is already telling them what to do to Lukas should he refuse to give answers only to become deathly silent when an unexpected figure cuts them off.
Dollar: Hey now….why is Brittany Lohan stopping Chase?
The fans are just as fickle at the sight of Lohan forming a human barrier between Chase’s clients and the backstage area, which would have been turned into a torture chamber if not for Brittany.
Dollar: I would think, being Tay-Tay’s bodyguard, which she’s done a horrible job of tonight, that she’d want answers more than anyone.
Susie: Isn’t she all buddy buddy with the Blacklist?
Dollar: I wouldn’t think so after the way the Blacklist screwed her out of the number one contenders spot for the N.H.B Title last week by way of holding the World Title belt ransom.
The tension in the air is as as thick as the fat clogging Louie Anderson’s arteries. Everyone watches with baited breath, waiting for either Lohan, or Chase’s collective to strike. Finally a move is made…by Lohan…but not a physical one.
Lohan: Fork him over.
She insists.
Lohan: You four can’t get answers from him….I can….I happen to be very persuasive.
Though Chase really doesn’t want to give up possession of Montgomery, his only means of finding Tay-tay, he at last acquiesces to the request. Brittany swoops in and scoops Lukas up onto her shoulder, she walks away, carting him to the backstage area.
Dollar: Lohan has got Lukas….which is NOT good whatsoever if your Montgomery. Everyone knows that Brittany is NOT the most stable minded individual. We can only imagine what she’s going to do to Lukas in order to get answers out of him.
Susie: Maybe she’ll force him to sit through episodes of Yo-Gabba-Gabba.
Dollar: I just hope she can get answers soon, cause while all of this is going down, Tay-Tay is bleeding out backstage.
Adam Chase and Gavin Taylor exchange a glance, realizing they’ve just given up their sole source of information. Their glance ends when Chase’s eyes turn to the phone in his hand, desperately trying to dial a number.
A napkin dabbles the sweaty brow of Desmond Drake…in dire need of some Bystolic. His stress is at such a level he could desperately utilize some candles, or a nice long bubble bath. None of these are an option for Drake, who settles for pacing as a means to alleviate the tension. It doesn’t work, especially every time he so much as glances in the direction of the double doors at his side. They serve as the entry point to the conference room where the Board of Directors were holding their meeting this evening with the New York collective of marginal stock holders.
Drake: Dear Board of Directors….no….no….this isn’t a fruity letter.
Drake runs hands through his hair, but tries not to mess it so he can look as professional as possible in front of his employers, knowing the slightest aberration could cost him his job.
Drake: Ladies and gentlemen of the Board of Directors…I’m here tonight to apologize….
In aggravation he stomps his foot.
Drake: No….that sounds WAY too formal. Needs more emotion.
The recitation of his speech to the Board is abruptly cut short, as is his pacing when he walks head first right into the belt buckle of Orlando Cruze. He steps back, eyes darting up into the face of the well dressed and well kempt Icon.
Drake: Thank God you’re here.
For the first time in a very…very….long time, Desmond actually looks happy to see Orlando. The feeling isn’t mutual.
Orlando: What? You thought I wouldn’t show up? That I’d just let you go in there and incriminate me?
This is not what Drake needs to hear….his blood pressure spiking to near stroke levels.
Drake: What….what….what are you talking about?
Orlando: Don’t kneel there….oh wait…your NOT kneeling….
Drake has learned to let such comments slide down his back, not that they have a very long distance to travel.
Orlando: Don’t STAND there and act stupid…even if you can pull it off very convincingly. If you thought I’d let you go in there and set me up like you did on the last Riot!, your out of your obnoxiously huge head.
Drake: Orlando, you’re the only one of his mind, man. You won’t listen to me, you won’t listen to Nathan, you won’t listen to anyone. I thought a night in jail would finally help you hit rock bottom and be the trigger you needed to snap out of it. To go back to the Icon that I’ve spent so much of my life idolizing…
Orlando: You thought wrong, Drake. Besides, I’m STILL that Icon…I’ve never changed. I’m still looking out for the best interests of the fans, and for my roster.
Drake: Is that why you let Jackson go out and compete with a concussion? And why you would endorse the actions of the Blacklist even after everything they’ve done to YOUR roster?
Cruze swipes his hand through the air, blowing off the slanderous accusations.
Orlando: Everyone who fell at the hands of the Blacklist, they were all big boys, actually bigger than your average boy. They knew exactly what they were getting into when they signed their contracts. And I’ve NEVER endorsed what they did to Hurse, or Denile Partis, or Kellen Jeffries. I would have done something about it too, if it weren’t for Christian Savior, Silencer, and YOU, constantly meddling in my business and taking my eye off the ball.
Drake: Really?
The question isn’t cynical…it’s genuine.
Drake: Maybe your right, Orlando, maybe we’ve all been too quick to judge.
Drake confesses while lowering his head.
Drake: I’ve been trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the way you’ve handled things lately….I mean…we wouldn’t be here about to defend our jobs if it wasn’t for the way you’ve conducted business.
Orlando: No, we wouldn’t be here if you, Silencer, and the Saviors hadn’t collaborated to set me up.
Drake: Orlando…please…even you can’t be THAT paranoid.
Orlando: You bamboozled me, Desmond….why? Because your nothing more than what I called you last week…a saboteur. You’re out to get me because I’m the only one who can make the IWC the ratings juggernaut it was long ago. You’re just being Mr. D’s little errand boy, out to ruin my reputation, out to make me look like a fool in front of the Board of Directors…all to undermine the success of the IWC, to cut its legs out from under it….
Drake: NO Orlando.
At last Drake seems to grow a backbone…but it may be too late.
Drake: I was put in this position because your doing in IWC, exactly what you did in SCW. Your causing chaos…carnage, disorder. Your doing nothing more than stirring the pot, Cruze. And admittedly, I’ve done a terrible job of keeping you in check. Otherwise this meeting wouldn’t be necessary. But if I’m able to admit my short comings, can’t you?
Cruze contemplates his answer instead of responding in haste. Desmond sees the window and dives through the opening.
Drake: If we can just go in there on the same page, we can convince the Board that we can make this partnership work…..
A phone jars Orlando, ringing loud enough to snap him out of the momentary enchantment.
Orlando: Shut it, Desmond.
Drake: Come on Orlando, can’t you take the call later, we’re really making some progress here…
Orlando AGAIN brushes Drake off, as he’s done so often since the commencement of their partnership. A phone is withdrawn from Orlando’s chest pocket and raised to his ear.
Orlando: This is Cru….
His face twists into a picture of agitation.
Orlando: WHOA…whoa…whoa…slow down…who is this?
A few moments pass as Orlando tries to make sense of the voice shouting into his ear.
Orlando: Adam, take it down a notch.
Everyone finds out at the same time who Adam was dialing at the conclusion of the Lukas Montgomery’s abduction. He speaks at a slower pace so Orlando can actually keep up with him.
Orlando: Uh-huh…uh-huh….
No more generic replies, Orlando falls totally and completely quiet, still as a statue. All traces of emotion fade, as does the pigment from his skin.
Orlando: Well where is….?
The answer is given before he can even finish the sentence….though it’s unclear rather it would end with a ‘Tay-Tay,’ or ‘the title?’
Orlando: I’m on my way.
He hangs up the phone and goes to leave, flabbergasting Drake, who is almost squirming out of his suit.
Drake: Orlando….where….where are you going?
Orlando doesn’t even respond, just starts marching down the corridor.
Drake: What about the Board?
Orlando: SCREW THE BOARD! I’m needed elsewhere.
Orlando vanishes through a door, leaving Desmond all alone to smooth things over with the Board of Directors. Nervously Desmond runs his hands over his head as the door to his side conveniently opens right at that precise moment.
Secretary: Mr. Drake, Mr. Cruze, their ready for you?
A deep, long sigh from Desmond, who fixes his tie, forms a stiff upper lip and steps into the lion’s den with a piece of meat hung around his neck.
Dwayne: Take it….BIATCH!
Knees repeatedly collide with the face of Aaron Harrison, Dwayne jumping into each strike and delivering them with incredible, jaw and nose breaking impact. He holds down on the back of Aaron’s head, holding his face down so that he can deliver the brutal MMA strikes.
Dwayne: You ain’t fucking with the IWC…with my boys…and with me no more.
He holds back on Aaron’s head, proving to be the only thing keeping Harrison upright. He doesn’t want to look at the loading bay doors in the docking area…he doesn’t want to look at the numerous crates…or the half eaten lunch and glass of water abandoned on top of one…all he wants to look at, is the face of Harrison…into his eyes…into the pupils which show no soul.
Dwayne: This shit ends right here tonight.
Harrison: What are you waiting for DWAYNE? Do it…DO IT!
Dwayne pulls back his fist and is just about to use it when Kozlov comes charging in, grabbing him by the shoulder. Rodriquez spins around and almost beheads her with a back fist to the cheek, knocking the sadistic princess into the crates stacked up around them. He then turns back towards Harrison in time to avoid a lariat to the throat, Rodriquez ducking at the last conceivable second.
Aaron then spins around and tastes a big spinning back fist to the lips for his troubles, almost bursting one of them on impact. Harrison falls to the concrete and begins to crawl….
Dwayne: That’s right, Aaron, craaaawwwl…crawl like a dog! And speaking of bitches…
He turns his focus to the back of Mika, who is leaning over a crate, TRYING her best to get up. Just as her legs regain some stability, Dwayne grabs her by the shoulder and turns her just as that glass of water mentioned earlier, is shattered right against Rodriquez’s forehead. Kozlov swung around and destroyed not only the glass but all of Dwayne’s momentum, sending him twirling to the concrete. He collapses onto his elbows and knees…
Mika: What were you saying about crawling?
Dwayne tries to pry some shards of glass out of his eye and get to his feet when Aaron comes barreling in and almost caves in his temple with a running punt kick. The strike, naturally stiff of course, sends Dwayne taking a very bad roll towards one of the loading bay doors, one that was negligently left partially open.
Harrison: You think your strong, Dwayne? You think you’re a bad-ass? Afraid I have to disagree.
Dwayne ends up grabbing the loading door and tries to pull himself up to his feet when Mika takes hold of a small steel crate and swings it down into the back of his head. This strike to the brain at last takes the zombie like Dwayne out, no longer dragging himself up without any use of his muscles or mind. He falls to his back, eyes fluttering as they grasp onto the image of the steel loading bay door above.
Harrison: Because to be strong…to be a bad-ass…
Harrison approaches a chain that acts as the lever for the loading door, taking hold of it.
Harrison:….you never….ever….hesitate.
He pulls on the chain and all the weight of the loading bay door comes crashing down right on top of Dwayne’s throat. Rodriquez’s body twitches and writhes, before at last going as still and placid as a tombstone. His throat was absolutely crushed by the door, leaving him truly breathless, brain and body deprived of oxygen.
The Blacklist members, now conjoined at the hips, Mika locking arms around Harrison’s waist, watch with emotionless eyes as Dwayne’s body stops thrashing.
Mika: Silly IWC, how many people are they going to sacrifice?
Harrison: As many as it takes before they finally learn.
The two walk away from Rodriquez, leaving him only barely able to draw breathes, chest heaving in a very slow methodical pace.
Back to the ring where Damion Sommers’ music is playing in the background, as the sociopath is lingering in the ring, eyes focused on the stage in anticipation of chaos…sheer….unbridled chaos.
Dollar: What in the world did we just witness?
Claude Judas Rose: Delicieux.
Dollar: Things just went from bad to borderline snuff-film. Dwayne Rodriquez may have just been beheaded by that loading bay door.
Claude: To be blunt, Dwayne is an asshole who got what he had coming.
Dollar: He took the fight to the Blacklist and it back fired in a big way. Where was Xander? Where were Chase and his Collective?
Susie: Probably in the middle of a pants off dance off marathon.
Dollar: There’s plenty of violence running amok around here in the IWC tonight, starting with Taylor Chase, then escalating to what we just saw from Rodriquez, and now we’re about to witness newcomer Damion Sommers collide with Krista Lewis, while Claude Judas Rose joins us here at commentary. Welcome, Claude.
Cameras shift to Claude seated at the end of the announce table, twisting his chair from side to side with thumbs twiddling over his stomach, looking about as care-free as he possibly can be.
Claude: Thanks for making me feel so at home.
Dollar: Erm, yeah, your welcome. To what do we owe the honor…?
Claude: Quiet, Johnny, don’t bother even trying to kiss my ass, it’s a waste of your time and my patience. I’m here for one thing, and one thing only, to watch a whore pay her penance.
Susie: But Damion Sommers doesn’t even look all that loose. Maybe behind closed doors…
Claude: Salope! Damion is NOT who I’m talking about. I’m referring to that tramp who super kicked me last week. It is not a transgression I will forget.
Dollar: Well Damion Sommers about to make another attempt at having a huge impact on tonight’s telecast, looking for win number two over the equally as dangerous and unpredictable Lewis. Surprised we’re even seeing Damion here tonight after he took that ride in the trunk of the Blacklist last week.
As her music plays she appears, dressed in all black leather with a whip in her hand. She cracks it a few times as she walks down to the ring. As the fans boo her it never fazes her as she keeps her head held high, tossing her long dark hair from side to side. She knows she is one of the most hatred women in the sport and she lets it be known she likes it that way. At ringside, she raises her hands to the crowd and flips them all off before slipping into the ring.
Claude: Here is the whore I was referring to.
Dollar: If only Krista was a whore, I’d be in hog heaven. Anyway, I think your just a tad upset with this woman after she gave you the Hell’s Bitch Kick at the conclusion of our pre-show last week.
Claude: No, I hold no grudges, I don’t like this woman, on the basis that she’s a scantily clad nothing, who gets over on her cleavage rather her artistic mastery of wrestling. It’s sickening.
Lewis and Sommers circle each other in the ring. Lewis looks at Rose at the commentators table and gives a small grin.
Rose: Pay attention to your match before I teach you how a lady should act. Not that I have the motivation to compete in any confrontation where money is not a motivating factor, I might just make an exception in this prostitute‘s case.
Dollar: You seem to be in a great mood today.
Rose: Oh, great. Wonderful. Wouldn’t you after getting a kick like that?
Dollar: Personally, I would have ducked and sneaked a peek. Let’s me know where to put my dollar bills.
Moore: Good job staying classy, Johnny.
Dollar: It’s what I do. First class all the way.
Rose: Please, you, this woman, everything about this company is void of class. Hence why I would gladly accept my termination should they offer it.
Dollar: Erm. How would that help your bottom line?
Rose: If I’m fired it would make things so simple. I could sit at home paying woman like Krista here to service me instead of competing in a company that lacks artistry. Don’t you people realize that if I’m fired, the IWC would still have to finish compensating me for the remainder of my contract, a mult-year deal. So they’d be paying me to sit at home drinking cheap wine and screwing cheap hookers.
The two competitors lock up in the middle of the ring. Using his superior strength, Damion pushes her back a little bit and very quickly grabs her right arm and locks in an arm wrench, then moves to a wrist lock on top of it. Using her quickness, Kirsta rolls forwards out of the arm wrench, ducks under Sommers’ arm and locks in a rear waist lock. He quickly drops to a knee while circling his opposite arm backwards and around her head before rolling her over his back and to the mat while holding onto that headlock. She is quick to position herself on he side with her top leg forward. She uses that leverage to push herself and Damion onto their knees and to their feet. While still in the headlock, she pushes Sommers to the ropes and pushes him to the other side. Damion bounces off the ropes and connects with a shoulder block. Lewis is to the ground. Damion runs to the ropes and bounces off. Lewis rolls to her belly as he passes over. She is to her feet as he bounces from the far ropes and back to her. Leapfrog over him. She positions herself and pulls her right leg back, going for the Hell’s Bitch Kick. Damion grabs the top rope to stop himself and throws himself through the top and middle ropes to leave the ring.
Dollar: Kirsta tried to hit her move. Looking to end it early. Or maybe she wants to hit it twice in the span of two weeks, like she did in the pre-show on the last Riot!
Rose: Hey.
Dollar: So, I’ve never got to ask this question. What’s it like being knocked out by a small woman?
Moore: Hey!?!?!?
Rose: Why don’t you step into the ring and find out?
Dollar: I’m a lover, not a fighter.
Rose: Thank you, M..J.
Moore: You’re a what? That’s not what I heard.
Referee Wright counts Damion Sommers’ time out of the ring as he looks walks around and thinks about what he is going to do. He jumps to the apron and steps through the ropes and back into the ring. He circles with Lewis before heading out of the ring again and restarting the count. She waits patiently in the ring, always facing him. He walks around the ring with his hands on his waist while looking at Kirsta from moment to moment.
When Referee Wright counts to 8, he jumps on the ring apron and steps through the ropes. The two competitors circle. Kirsta approaches as Damion backs into the corner and puts his body through the ropes and tells the ref to have her back off. While Wright tells Krista to back off, Damion leaves the ring yet again. She begins to argue with the ref about it, as he walks around the ring to the aisle and backs up away from the ring.
Kirsta Lewis is getting impatient as she now directs her attention to Sommers who is halfway up the aisle and looking at her. She screams some words at him that would make all mothers around the world cringe.
Rose: You watch your language. There are auto mechanics in here for goodness sake. There’s no cause for that.
Dollar: Yet, don’t you wish…
Rose: Shut up.
The fans hear those words and begin to cheer and laugh. Damion Sommers marches his way to the ring and jumps on the apron again and pulls through the ropes, except for one leg. He looks at her and when she approaches him, he pulls himself out of the ring again to a chorus of boos from the fans. He turns around and waves at the ring like he didn’t need this and began to walk away. Kirsta Lewis lost her patience. She ran at the ropes and jumped through the top and middle ropes for a suicide di…. PELE KICK!
Rose: HAHA! You see how easily she was outsmarted there? Woman….so gullible.
Dollar: I have to hand it to Damion Sommers, he outsmarted her there.
Sommers wasted no time in getting to his feet and pulling her up. He grabbed her by the head and quickly rolled her into the ring. He slid in also and covered.
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kickout. Right into a headlock. He pushed on leg into the air while on the other foot and rammed his knee into the back of her neck and shoulder blades. He did it a second time. And a third. He pushed her all the way down to the mat before jumping in the air and landing a knee to her head. He covers again.
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kickout. Not in the least bit dissuaded he is quick to his feet and pulls her up as well, Very quickly pulls her into a front face lock and into a suplex position. He kicks his leg back and snaps his feet under and past her legs for a snap suplex. He quickly twists his body and rolls on her for another cover.
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kickout again.
Dollar: It doesn’t look like he’s going for the win. I think he’s trying to get into her head.
Rose: Oh, it’s a good move. He keeps covering Kirsta so she will kick out, making her use up energy to kick out. Also, it’s making her worry that he might get a quick win.
Moore: But wouldn’t an experienced wrestler know this and not worry?
Dollar: That’s the point. He’s insulting her as she does it.
Moore: But he’s not inexperienced.
Dollar: That’s the point.
Moore: What point?
Rose: How do the two of you still have jobs?
Sommers takes his time as he begins to pull her up. He scoops her in the air and slaps her down to the mat. Drops an elbow, she rolls out of the way. Both to their feet. She is in the air very quickly and delivers a dropkick his his face. He is stunned as she is already to her feet. He flips forward and hits a senton splash, rolls to her feet and backflips to deliver a standing moonsault. He hooks a leg
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NO!! Shoulder was up. She is quick to her feet as he is only to one knee. She runs and dropkicks him in the side of the head. He is knocked away and rolls under the bottom rope and out of the ring. She follows him out. As he walks around, she runs behind him and drives a knee to the center of his back, knocking him forward and into the barricade. He turns around and leans back as she charges, jumps awkwardly, and hits a knife edged chop.
Fans: WHOOOOO!!!!
Damion grabs his chest and staggers forward. The self-proclaimed Hell Bitch grabs him by the head and slams it into the ring post. She pulls him around and slams his head on the ring apron before rolling him back into the ring, with his head still under the ropes, face down. She backs up, steps forward and rocks him with a scissors kick.
Moore: Owie owie owie!!!
Dollar: She kicked him like her leg was an Iron Maiden.
Damion Sommers lay over the edge of the ring like his was completely unconscious. The Hell Bitch rolled into the ring and pulled him by the leg into the ring and rolled him over before covering for the
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kickout.
He slowly rolled him to his feet and pushed him onto a corner. She climbed to the middle rope and began to knee him in the head.
Fans: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10
He jumped off him and whipped him to the other corner. She charged in and ran right into a boot to the head. Sommers pushed himself to a sitting position on the top rope and jumped off and drove his knee into her head. Both are on the ground, trying to get to their feet. Kirsta is the first to land a blow with a roundhouse kick to his thigh. She jumped in delivered a kick to his shoulder. She spun with a wheel kick, Sommers ducked and stepped forward. When they were face to face again, he grabbed her around the chest, under her arms, and flung her in the air with a belly to belly suplex. She was in the air for some time before crashing to the mat. She grabbed her back and tried to get to her knees. Sommers was slowly, but surly, faster than she was. He grabbed her head and put it between his legs. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, jumped and hit a piledriver. She bounced off the mat and laid still he laid over her gently for the
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kickout.
Dollar: I think he should have hooked the leg. He might have had here there.
Rose: I agree. But after what she did to him a few moments ago, I think he’s lucky to even get the cover.
Sommers slowly got back to his feet and went to a corner and outside the ropes. He slowly climbed to the top as Kirsta Lewis lay in the middle of the ring. He finally got to the top rope and raised his arms in the air. He jumped off the top rope and connected with a big elbow drop. He covered her again and hooked the leg.
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3….
NO! shoulder thrusted up. Sommers could not believe it. He looked pushed himself up to a sitting position on his knees while looking at the ref in disbelief. Wright confirms that is was a 2 count. He looked down and shook his head before going to one knee and grabbing Krista by the head and pulling her up. He pulls her to a corner and hoists her on the top rope and begins to climb to the top. He locks in a superplex position, but Lewis punched him in the gut several times before knocking him from the top rope and to the ground. She jumped in the air and hit her Frog Splash.
Moore: Ohh… The Kitty Splash.
Dollar: I think it’s called the Cat Splash.
Rose: Kitty sounds better. But another word for a cat would be better.
Moore: The two of you are horrible.
Both competitors are down and hurting but Lewis at last turns and throws an arm over Damion’s chest.
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3!
Lewis has done it…she’s pinned Damion after a grueling back and forth confrontation.
Dollar: The Hell Bitch does it…She picks up the win over Damion Sommers in a very impressive….
Rose: Spraying perform on manure doesn’t take away the stench, Dollar. You cannot polish a turd.
Susie: What? Krista just had a great match, she looked pretty impressive in my view.
Rose: I would cherish the opinion of Andy Dick over you, whore.
Susie: Wha….what!?!
Rose: I’m through squandering my precious time on the two of you. In fact, I’m through wasting my time on this company, period, but I have one last goal to complete before I get both feet out the door.
Claude throws his head-set down and steps around the announce table, insisting that Jessica give him the mic. When she does, he implies she gave it way too easily, which makes her a loose slut.
Susie: I’ll pretend for a moment he meant ’whore’ in a loving way.
Dollar: It looks like Claude has something to say.
Krista struggles to her feet as the official raises her arm aloft, gesturing to the victor. But on this occasion, it’s the victor who’s celebration is spoiled.
Claude: Pardon the interruption…
Claude moves up the steps to the apron as Damion rolls out of the ring right past him. The closer he gets the more Krista is prompted to tighten her fists, getting ready for round two.
Claude: Mrs. Hell-Whore…I know you don’t consider what you did in this ring to be WRESTLING. For wrestling is an art….and I’m a TRUE artist. You on the other hand, probably consider Farah Fawcett smearing her paint smeared tits on a canvas to be fine art. No..no…it isn’t art, and you aren’t a wrestler. I happen to excel on both fronts…but, much like any great artist, my work goes underappreciated, because of the likes of skinny, talent less sluts like yourself who have deluded all these misanthropes into lowering their standards. Because of you…true art is dead…you killed it and put a Cleveland Steamer on its chest….
Claude’s comments are not well received by the fans or Lewis.
Claude: I came into this company to create my ultimate masterpiece, but because they choose to back talents like yourself, I see that all my hard work will ultimately be in vain. Hence why I’ve requested my release from this company, and will stop at nothing until I’ve been granted a reprieve from the shackles that are my contract. But if I MUST compete this evening, before I depart, I’ll give one last lesson in true fine art, and I hope that you, Krista Lewis, will sit right there between that idiot and that whore…
Gesturing to the commentary table.
Claude: ….to watch me vanquish someone you have much in common with, a trailer park, meth smoking, welfare collecting IDIOT. Perhaps I can finally teach someone the true artistry of wrestling, though I‘m sure my attempts will ultimately be futile considering you‘re inability to appreciate anything that isn‘t uttered by Jeff Foxworthy, and doesn‘t require an obligatory set up line of ‘you might be a redneck if.’
Krista shakes her head as the microphone plummets from Claude’s clutches.
Dollar: What an invitation from Claude Judas Rose to Krista Lewis. Apparently he wants her to join us out here at ringside to watch his match against the Trailer Park Kid, which is scheduled for just a few moments from now. Scooch over, I want Krista all to myself.
Susie: Awww, thought I’d finally have someone I could have a long chat with about glitter.
As Claude leaves the ringside area, Lewis watches and wonders if she should truly take him up on his offer.
Give us some room.
EMTs are the only ones permitted to be anywhere in the vicinity of Rodriquez, fending off several IWC rubber neckers. They tend to a man who’s neck may have just been turned into actual rubber after having a loading bay door collapse right on top of it. A cervical collar is delicately wrapped around Dwayne’s throat and neck, holding it as stationary as possible before ultimately moving him onto a back-board.
Chase: Who did this, huh? WHO!?!
Adam Chase fights his way through many local competitors and staff members to get the best view of Dwayne possible.
Gavin: Get out of our way dammit!
All Gavin’s barking finally departs the crowd so that he and Chase can get to the front.
Chase: Was this the Blacklist?
He gestures to Dwayne, who is heaved into the air by the back board and loaded onto the stretcher.
Chase: I ASKED A QUESTION!
There are several shrugs and titled heads, no one giving much in the way of a definitive answer.
Gavin: Their useless Adam.
Chase: How come nobody grabbed them?
More shrugs…more tilted heads…even less answers.
Gavin: You idiots just let our only chance to take Taylor back slip right through your fingers. Have you no appreciation for the first lady of the IWC? Don’t you know she’s lying somewhere in even worse shape than this friggin idiot?
Xander: Dwayne!
Rodriquez is unresponsive, even to the shouts of his colleague, and the closest thing he has to a friend, Xander Cassius. With Arthur Magnus following behind, Xander rushes to his allies’ side, trying to get close only to be held off by the EMTS.
Xander: What the hell happened?
Concerned whispers are shared by the crowd of lookie lous…none of which gives an explanation. All Cassius can do is gaze upon the faces of the vultures…waiting…and waiting…and waiting.
Chase: It was the Blacklist…THEY did this to….ummm…uhhh…whomever this is.
Xander: Those BASTARDS!
Xander kicks over a nearby crate, knocking the half eaten sandwich and bag of chips off its surface. All the while Arthur remains surprisingly stoic, not even intervening during his client’s outburst.
Gavin: And where were you….exactly?
Gavin JERKS some of the curtain jerkers out of his way as he inches towards Cassius, who freezes like he were just dumped into a big bat of carbonite. The piercing eyes of Xander slowly turn and lock on the audacious Taylor’s throat.
Xander: What?
He questions in a tone that would turn the hair on knuckles white.
Gavin: Where were you?
Gavin hates repeating himself, especially when it comes to talking to people beneath him….far beneath him.
Gavin: If you weren’t so busy out there grab-assing with the fans after your match, you could have joined….
It’s Taylor’s turn to freeze upon gesturing to Dwayne.
Gavin:…whomever this guy is…in getting your hands on the Blacklist.
The finger of blame is unfairly pointed at Xander, who is ready to snap said finger in two and shove it right up….
Xander: Hey! Dwayne and I have been fighting the Blacklist since the word ‘go,’ while you’ve all sat on your asses and done a big fat nothing to stop them. So if you want to blame anyone for what happened to DWAYNE ROD-RIQ-UEZ…
Gavin: Who gives two shits about Dwayne Rodriquez, the guy is totally expendable. We’re talking about Taylor Chase. If you would have been here to beat the crap out of the Blacklist like a good little trooper, we could have got Aaron or Mika to tell us exactly where their keeping my sister in law.
Cassius was already upset, but now is borderline psychotic after the way Gavin just disgraced not only himself, but the injured, and incapable of defending himself against such slanders, Rodriquez.
Xander: I was headed back to help him…but….
Gavin: Excuses, excuses. Your just as useless as all these tools.
He gestures to the jobbers, who, like Dwayne, cannot speak up, but for different circumstances, their job security resting on the fact that they remain silent.
Gavin: YOU let this happen. Your responsible for what happened to your Bud, and what happens to Tay…
A slap to the cheek finally shuts Gavin up, but not for long. Instead of responding verbally, he reacts with a fist, nailing Cassius right to the jaw.
Magnus: Boys…boys…stop this!
Chase: Call off your dog, Magnus!
If only they could turn a hose on Gavin and Xander, but it probably wouldn’t even be enough to keep them under control. The two are throwing strikes into one another’s faces and into the jaws of any jobber who tries to intervene. The emergency technicians look up just a second too late to warn Xander as he spills right on top of Dwayne and the stretcher thanks to a spear from Taylor. Both….all THREE men….go twisting to the concrete, the whole stretcher with Dwayne on top falling over.
The gawkers have finally seen enough, intervening in spite of the repercussions. Even Chase has had his fill of mindless violence for one evening, grabbing Gavin by the arm and physically prying him away from Xander. Magnus, with the aid of a few stagehands, grab hold of Cassius and pull him across his seat until he’s separated from Taylor by a few feet. He throws some kicks in spite of his feet being nowhere near his target.
Magnus: That’s enough, Xander.
Chase: Cool it, Gavin.
Taylor is trying to break free before he notices the EMTs swarming around the knocked over stretcher like a bees around a hive poked by a stick. Xander at last takes notice of this as well, eyes ripping out of their sockets.
Gavin: Look at what you’ve done!
This time Cassius doesn’t react on impulse and instead glares at the EMTs desperately trying to lend assistance to Dwayne, having to start from scratch at this point.
EARLIER TONIGHT
A screen grab of Dwayne Rodriquez brawling with both Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov.
Dollar: If your just joining us, you’ve missed a lot of great one liners from Johnny Dollar, but also some of the most chaotic imagery we’ve witnessed since the rebirth of the IWC. The Blacklist struck again and Dwayne Rodriquez became their latest victim.
The whole grizzly scene that unfolded earlier in the evening is relived to the horror of all onlookers. Dwayne is seen surprisingly holding his own against Mika and Harrison until a fortuitously placed glass of water is shattered right against his eye by Kozlov. It doesn’t end there, because then a large loading dock door is slammed directly against his larynx.
Dollar: Dwayne was taking the fight to the Blacklist before the numbers game became too much, leading to a loading bay door…yes….one of those huge overhead steel doors being dropped right across his throat by Harrison.
Susie: Do you think that he’ll get to use one of those voice boxes that make his voice sound like a robot. That could totally be his new gimmick. Dwayne could be the Man-Droid!
Dollar: But if this wasn’t bad enough, mere moments later, THIS happened.
MOMENTS AGO
It looks as if EMTS have at last got Dwayne stable enough to be transported, positioning him on a stretcher with back and neck braced for stability. But the brawl that breaks out between Xander Cassius and Gavin Taylor derails all of the hard-work of the medical crew. Their fist fight carries them into Dwayne, taking the stretcher over to the concrete with the duo landing alongside them. At last Adam Chase and Arthur Magnus intervene, physically prying their respective clients apart.
Dollar: Then Xander Cassius totally went ape shit on Gavin, for absolutely no reason in a totally unprovoked assault. And if that wasn’t bad enough he then knocked his own tag team partner right off the stretcher. Emotions are running so high tonight, a night where we were supposed to witness the biggest main event in Riot history when Taylor Chase challenges Rose Savior for the gold. But again, thanks to the Blacklist, that match looks like it will NOT be happening this evening…
Transition from video to the ring where a familiar individual currently resides, mic in hand and power suit draped over slender frame.
Jacob Laymon: I might be running a little behind schedule tonight, but welcome everyone to RIOT!
There is a mixed bag of reactions, some applauding, others heckling, and some chanting the most ridiculous things imaginable. Many of their impulsive responses are fueled by the sight of security surrounding the ring, the burliest of burliest guards forming a shoulder to shoulder barrier between Laymon, and anyone who would dare interfere. For added protection, the masked Executioner lurks behind Jacob’s back.
Dollar: And now Jacob Laymon FINALLY showing up. As we understand it, he was left in control of tonight’s telecast while Orlando Cruze and Desmond Drake are away meeting with the Board of Directors.
Susie: If only they left me in charge. There wouldn’t be such brutality. Because I’d give everyone a plushie…plushies solve all the world’s problems.
Though he’s dressed to the nines, decorum is the last thing on Laymon’s mind. With microphone in palm, Jacob begins to dissect the night’s previous events, and prognosticate upon the future.
Laymon: You may asking yourselves, what am I, head of talent relations doing in this ring right now? Well how about I put things in Laymon’s terms for you…hahaha.
Dollar: Oh lord, tell me he didn’t just go there.
Susie: Did he? Ewww….what if one of the wrestlers step in it?
Jacob proceeds after his terrible play on words.
Laymon: With Orlando Cruze and Desmond Drake away, I, Jacob Laymon, have been handpicked by the Icon himself, to run this telecast in his stead. And you all had best believe that I’ve been busting my hump to make sure that the ship sails smoothly while I’m at the helm.
Dollar: Epic fail.
Laymon continues in spite of the volcanic heat he’s elicited.
Laymon: And not to toot my own horn here, but I think I’m doing a pretty proficient job thus far. I guarantee everyone is glued to those tv screens right now, that there hasn’t been a second of channel surfing. Orlando would be proud that I’m keeping the IWC the ratings darling it has been since our inception…BUT….he might not be too pleased with other aspects of tonight’s telecast.
Short comings and pratfalls are not what Laymon is used to acknowledging…and he’s not about to change that now.
Laymon: Don’t worry…keep it calm, keep it relaxed, Boss, I’ve got this. Dealing with talent happens to be my area of expertise, which makes me confident that I can handle the Blacklist tonight.
But I’m even going to step out of my comfort zone by doing a bit of on the fly booking to ensure that the fans don’t feel bait and….wait, sorry, forgot I’m not allowed to use that phrase…so the fans don’t feel as if they’ve been robbed….no…hold on….that’s probably a poor choice of words too given what happened to you last week Orlando. Ummm…
He really…really tries to think this one out before deciding that metaphors or similes are just TOO dangerous.
Laymon:…so that the fans go home happy. There we go. That was safe.
The crowd doesn’t share Laymon’s confidence, evident by their jaded responses. Much like the Saviors on last week’s telecast, they know what to expect from the authority figure, and it won’t be anything to tell their children about.
Laymon: I’ll make sure the World Title match everyone was promised DOES go down tonight. Plus I’m going to make sure that there is no more chaos…no more carnage…no more disorder….no more antics. This night will go accordingly, and Orlando will see that he made the right choice leaving me in charg….
Mr. Laymon…ooooh Mr. Laaaaaymoooon.
Attention diverts to the Cartel-Tron.
Mr. Gaunt: Hi there.
And on the big screen everyone gets a glimpse of Mr. Gaunt, flanked by his own security, Silence. Executioner growls at the sight of the lady who defeated him in the body slam challenge last week. Mr. Laymon isn’t growling, he’s hyperventilating.
Mr. Gaunt: Oh, am I interrupting something?
Laymon: You know damn well I was in the middle of a spee….
Mr. Gaunt: Because it would mortally wound me to know that I had involuntarily interrupted you in the middle of conducting business.
Laymon: I was right about to finish announc…..
Mr. Gaunt: I’m all about professionalism, Mr. Laymon, and it would be terribly unprofessional of me to impulsively cut you off.
Laymon: Would you….
Mr. Gaunt: I’m sure it’s quite aggravating and stressful to have someone undermine you.
Laymon: I have a main event to….
Mr. Gaunt:…To have someone constantly employing cheap parlor tricks to challenge your authority. Why, it could almost be frustrating enough to cause premature hair-loss. At the very least you don’t have to worry about that.
Laymon: Stop it…stop it…stop it….STOP IT!
Repeatedly he stomps the canvas in the middle of a full on nervous breakdown. Executioner is there to give him a shoulder massage, but the big man is no amateur masseuse, almost ripping the trapezius muscle.
Laymon: What the hell is wrong with you!
He turns his wrath to Executioner, who backs up with open palms no longer on shoulders, but raised defensively.
Mr. Gaunt: There’s nothing irregular about me, Laymon.
Laymon: I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to him.
Pointing to Executioner.
Mr. Gaunt: Fair enough.
Laymon: I am so sick and tired of you.
Mr. Gaunt: That’s quite depressing, Mr. Laymon, here I thought you and Executioner were chummy enough to reenact one of those slow, hand in hand skips down the beach.
Laymon: I’m speaking to you.
Mr. Gaunt: Well then, I’m equally as devastated.
Laymon: Would you deal with this bastard?
Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Laymon. Why would I follow such malicious edict? What did Executioner ever do to you?
Laymon: I was talking to Executioner dammit!
Mr. Gaunt: Hmmm, seems you need a lesson in specifics almost as badly as you need a lesson in accuracy.
Laymon: You NEED to shut your mouth.
Mr. Gaunt: But as far as I can tell, Executioner is incapable of no more than the occasional guttural growl.
Laymon: I was talking to you!
Mr. Gaunt: Oh…specifics, Mr. Laymon, specifics.
Laymon: I told you to go and deal with him.
Mr. Gaunt: Fiiine, if that will put you at ease. Silence, go body slam Executioner again.
Laymon: God dammit, I was talking to Executioner!
Dollar: Why do I feel like we’re all in the middle of an Abbot and Costello routine?
Susie: I love it when they fought Frankenstein…..And look, there’s already a mask wearing Frankenstein in the ring.
It’s clear that Laymon’s earlier anxiety was warranted, the veins in his temples doing the cha-cha-cha.
Laymon: I swear to God, I can’t take anymore of this.
To the surprise of everyone but Mr. Gaunt, a sympathetic expression befalls the face of the Black Crusade leader.
Mr. Gaunt: You look almost ill, Mr. Laymon. Executioner, you might want to grab a bucket before he purges.
Executioner begins to search for a pail only to be stopped via a palm to his chest.
Laymon: I’m fine.
Mr. Gaunt: Maybe a pillow and a blanket…that’s the least you can do, Executioner. Go on, go and fetch. Sit Ubu sit, good dog.
Once more Executioner is about to take off and grab the requested supplies.
Laymon: I said no! I’m fine!
Mr. Gaunt: Have you eaten anything today, Mr. Laymon? Taking on this amount of work on an empty stomach isn’t healthy. Go get him a sandwich, Executioner, the last thing we need is for him to faint in the middle of the ring.
Executioner is already half way through the ropes before Laymon takes him around the massive bicep, pulling him back.
Mr. Gaunt: How about a nice Rueben? Maybe a Philly Cheese Steak of some kind, the grease would do wonders to settle your tummy, Mr. Laymon.
Laymon: I said no…no…no!
The easily manipulated Executioner looks soooooo conflicted.
Mr. Gaunt: Tisk, tisk, if you can’t take care of yourself, how do you ever expect to take care of an entire roster? Alright, if you won’t accept nourishment or comfort measures, how about I agree to carry some of the weight tonight on your behalf?
Mr. Laymon’s pulse is not only through the roof, but into the stratosphere.
Mr. Laymon: What are you talkin…wait, where are you?
Mr. Gaunt: Don’t worry…wait, what did you tell Mr. Cruze a few moments ago? Keep it calm…keep it relaxed…
Oh how Jacob loathes hearing ’his’ words come out of Mr. Gaunt’s mouth.
Mr. Gaunt: Because the Black Crusade is already precisely where we’re needed this evening.
The camera zoomed in on Gaunt and Silence pulls back to reveal the production truck behind their backs. The door is swung open and Mr. Hush stands on the threshold, moments from entering.
Mr. Gaunt. Being the observant individual that I am, I noticed last week that Mr. Cruze and his Spermicidal Conduit, Taylor Chase, were quite upset with the hard workers back here in the production truck. So it dawned on me, that the best way I could be of service, is to take over the audio and visual portion of tonight’s show. Or, again, for accuracy sakes, to allow my liege, Mr. Hush to handle such operations this evening.
Jacob: I swear to God, if you so much as dare set foot in that production….
Mr. Gaunt: Don’t you pay attention, Mr. Laymon? If you were nearly as observant as I, you would have heard me say that Mr. Hush is going to be in charge of production tonight, not me. Go on…go in.
Mr. Hush, unlike Jacob, actually does pay attention, following instructions to the letter. He enters the truck and slams the door behind, the sound of the lock latching can be heard.
Jacob: God dammit, Gaunt! I’m serious. If you think your gonna get away with this, your….
Suddenly the mic cuts out right in the middle of Jacob’s tirade. A furious Laymon strikes the microphone a few times, hoping it will kick back in. He then requests the use of ANOTHER microphone, one promptly supplied by Jessica Wilde. He lifts that to his lips and begins to speak, but his words reach no one else’s ears but his own.
Dollar: I think Mr. Hush has cut Laymon’s mic.
Mr. Gaunt appears genuinely concerned.
Mr. Gaunt: Oh my, appears your stress has caused you to become mute. Or perhaps the volume needs to be increased. Mr HUSH!
He cups hands around his mouth and shouts towards the production truck.
Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Hush, Crank the volume a little would you?
Laymon is so mad he’s actually shivering. He then hears some static emanating from his microphone, letting him know that power has perhaps been restored. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words he utters are not the ones that come pouring through the PA system.
You betrayed me! Your not good. You, you’re just a chicken. Chip-chip-chip-chip-cheep-cheep.
Instead of being consumed by rage, Jacob looks as confused as his head bodyguard. He taps the microphone once again and tries to speak, only to find his voice replaced by one belonging to the infamous Tommy Wiseau.
I did not hit her! It‘s not true! It‘s bullshit! I did not! Oh hi Mark!
Laymon runs a palm down his face before giving this one last try.
You are tearing me apart, Lisa!
The straw that not only broke the camel’s back and sunk Laymon’s battleship. Must be one powerful straw. The microphone is flung to the canvas and Jacob is barking at his head of security to do something. Executioner finally does exit the ring per the orders of his benefactor. All the guards surrounding the ring follow Executioner to the back amongst a loud uproar from the crowd. Jacob is left all alone in the ring, menacingly glaring at the Cartel-Tron, which continues to showcase Mr. Gaunt and Silence.
Mr. Gaunt: I’m so glad we could take just a small amount of pressure off your shoulders tonight, Mr. Laymon.
Security continues to swarm upon the production truck while Laymon remains behind, steam shooting from his nostrils and ears.
Dollar: Things just keep getting more and more…well…downright INSANE this evening. Now the Black Crusade has taken over the production truck to the ruination of Jacob Laymon. They are doing everything in their power to cause issues for the powers that be here in the IWC.
Susie: I want more Tommy Wiseau, give me more Tommy Wiseau or we riot.
Water soars through the air but eventually stops when it meets a barrier, that barrier being the face of Lukas Montgomery. After being void of consciousness for the past thirty minutes or so, at last the shower snaps Lukas out of it. Instinctively he raises his hands to wipe his face but finds his wrists are shackled to a wheel-chair. Most people would react with…I don’t know…horror…despair….dread? Oddly enough Lukas responds with a smile.
Lohan: Hey there, blue eyes.
Lukas’ grin isn’t mirrored by Brittany, who crouches before him, getting on his level….though the two are clearly inblanaced.
Lukas: Brittany, sweetheart, it’s nice to see you, all three of you actually.
Clearly he’s suffering some double vision as a result of that electrocution earlier tonight. Attention turns from the three Lohan’s stooped before him, to the chains binding him to the chair.
Lukas: Chains? Kinky.
Lohan: Really? Is this getting you hot?
Her hand slips into Lukas’ hair.
Lukas: Of course.
Suddenly she yanks hard on that glorious head of hairs, violently wrenching back his neck.
Lohan: Then this is really going to turn you on.
From the shadows that surround Montgomery, a tray table is pulled into view, one filled with an assortment of sharp, metallic items.
Lukas: Ewww, shinny.
A pair of pliers is raised aloft.
Lukas: How did I get so lucky?
Brittany looks a tad indecisive, returning the pliers to the tray and picking up a scalpel instead.
Lohan: Lukas, do us both a favor and spare yourself.
Lukas: Oh?
Lohan: Just tell me where Taylor is, and I won’t have to add one of your baby blues to my collection.
The scalpel inches towards Lukas’ eye.
Lukas: Brittany….Brittany….Brittany….everyone knows we’re buddy, buddy, so why don’t I spare YOU?
The scalpel stops just short of cutting away flesh.
Lukas: Did you think THIS wasn’t part of the plan? That the Blacklist didn’t anticipate my capture? You don’t know us well as you think, Lohan….
He shakes his head, while extending his hand just far enough reach into the side of his wrestling gear and remove document.
Lukas: Would you be kind enough to be a good little errand girl and deliver this to Orlando Cruze?
An indignant Lohan snatches the paper out of his hand, and then opens it up, giving it a quick scan.
Lohan: Seriously?
It’s not often that Lohan is legitimately shocked, but what she sees on the paper totally surprises her.
Lukas: I’ve got nothing else to say to you, Brittany. I’m only going to talk to Orlando.
He looks away from the ever so menacing six eyes that are staring back at him.
Lohan: Hate to disappoint you, Blue Eyes, but Orlando isn’t here….
A bone chisel finds its way into her hand.
Lohan: So I’m afraid your struck with me.
Lukas: You sure about that?
Brittany is about to respond, verbally and PHYSICALLY, when her pocket begins to vibrate.
Lukas: You probably want to answer that.
Into her pocket she dives and a cell-phone emerges with Orlando Cruze’s face book image flashing upon it. Once more Lohan is surprised to find herself surprised. She rolls her eyes and drops the chisel, using her hands to answer the phone rather than answer her impulses for violence.
Lohan: Orlando?
A pause for the answer.
Lohan: You’re on your way?
She stands up and looks towards the door behind her back.
Lohan: Yeah….Lukas is still with me…..No….I don’t mind sitting on him till you get here…
Her finger tips are already slipping around the chisel.
Lohan: No…of course not….wasn’t going to touch a hair on his head.
With a sigh she hangs up the phone and lets go of the chisel.
Lukas: Awww, what a shame, was really looking forward to seeing what that’s used for.
With a tilt of his head he gestures to the surgical stapler.
Lohan: Don’t worry, you may yet find out.
Lukas flashes another smile.
Happy birthday Mr. Porno Lad….happy birthday to you…
Just after hearing Cassidy Haze TRY to sing, which sounds more like a dozen cats being drowned in a tub, an instrumental version of Trenches begins to play in the background. With the Riot theme song blaring, Cassidy continues to skip her way to the ring with….oddly enough, a present tucked under her armpit. One wrapped with Jack Skeleton themed paper.
Dollar: So much going on around here tonight it’s almost hard to keep track of it all. Apparently Haze has some kind of present for Porno Lad.
Susie: What’s in the box….what’s in the box!?! Hehehe, I just totally went Brad Pitt on your ass.
Dollar: Erm, sure. Intrigue running wild up in this hizzy!
Susie: What’s a hizzy? Some type of euphemism for the clitoris?
Dollar: Keep on believing that. And I’ll keep on believing that we get some kind of answers to what’s going on around here the longer this show progresses.
Moore: It couldn’t possibly be anymore confusing.
Mr. D….THAT Mr. D….of SCW fame and fortune….sits at the head of a long table. At one of his sides, Sasha, at the other Bob Tomlinson. A few inches away, Jason Zero’s representative is also discernable amongst the crowd of other stock holders. And of course, rounding out the group seated around the table, is a man who has an emotional investment in IWC, rather than a financial one, Desmond Drake.
Mr. D: So, what your telling us is that Orlando Cruze was called away….on business?
Desmond’s armpits must look like they pinched water balloons to the point of implosion. His brow is heavy with sweat, and his skin is so red one might mistake him for a Killer Tomato, if there are even viewers old enough to understand that reference.
Mr. D: What ‘business’ is urgent enough to call him away from this meeting?
It feels like the scalpel that Lohan was moments away from using on Montgomery is now twisting in Desmond’s intestines. Nervously he looks away from Mr. D, unable to bring himself to make eye contact with his mentor, especially when he has to lie through his teeth.
Drake: I’m sure it was a real emergency. Probably something to do with one of his kids. I mean, Mr. D, you can surely relate to Orlando on that front, if anything happened to your daughter you’d….
Mr. D: Desmond…just stop.
He waves his hand through the air.
Mr. D: Don’t try to play on my paternal responsibilities…in fact…don’t try to play me at all. I’ve been manipulating people for over a decade, Boy, it‘s an acquired skill, one you don‘t possess.
Sasha: Seriously, Desmond, your attempts at manipulation are almost as bad as your attempts to steer Orlando Cruze in the PROPER direction.
Tomlinson: We’ve been a tad disappointed in your performance, Desmond.
Drake just continues to look down at the floor, unable to tear his gaze away from the feet that dangle over the edge of his chair.
Mr. D: Look at us like a man when we talk to you, Drake.
At the demand of Mr. D, Desmond raises his head, taking his focus off his toes and to the eyes of his mentor.
Sasha: When you came to us earlier this year and told us you were the right person for this job….we admired your spunk, your determination. Normally we wouldn’t give an intern this type of opportunity, but your persistence…your boldness…it really won us over. If you could stand in front of a room full of powerful people, like us, and insist that you can do what we’ve been unable to, control Orlando Cruze, we thought surely you’d be capable of standing up against Orlando. But…that’s NOT what we’ve seen. Instead you’ve been nothing but a fan-boy….a MARK for Orlando. And you’ve allowed your admiration for Cruze to cloud your judgment.
Mr. D: You keep talking about how much you trust, Orlando….Do you think if WE trusted Orlando, that you’d even have a job?
Tomlinson: Which might not be the case after this meeting has adjourned.
Mr. D: You were given a task, one you VOLUNTEERED …no…no….PLEADED for over and over and over again until we finally broke down. And what have you done with this opportunity, you’ve squandered it. You’ve let yourself be manipulated constantly by Orlando, blindly following him even as the IWC fell into total chaos.
Sasha: Let’s look at the most recent pay-per-view. We appreciate the fact that you forced Orlando to put the World Title on the line in the tournament, but shortly thereafter, things spiraled into total lunacy.
Tomlinson: There was a wife being forced to bludgeon her husband with a Singapore Cane, a man’s knee repeatedly assaulted post match, a dancing Ninja illegally officiating matches, and a half naked man chasing chickens throughout the parking lot….
Mr. D: And where were you during all of this? Oh yeah…you ran away with your tail tucked between your legs.
Desmond: Mr. D…Board….I’m very sorry for my poor performance over the past few months…
Mr. D: And you should be.
Desmond: But I’ve been trying my best to take a stand and be the man the IWC needs me to be.
Sasha: Don’t think we didn’t notice what you did on the last Riot!
He perks up in his chair.
Sasha: Having Orlando arrested, in spite of the charges being dropped later, was a risky yet calculated move. You showed the type of boldness you won us over with, and the unflinching courage we saw you exhibit time and time again when encountering certain SCW competitors during your time interning under the old man.
Mr. D sneers at the jab directed towards his age.
Mr. D: You’re actions demonstrated poise under pressure, and reminded us why we put you in this position to begin with. You had Orlando detained by police even though you knew you would be facing swift and severe repercussions from the obviously unstable Cruze.
Tomlinson: And it looked like the arrest actually seemed to EFFECT Orlando.
Mr. D: As did your strategy of employing Cruze’s old chum, Nathan Creed, to try and talk some sense into him.
Desmond: To be fair, Nathan was pretty motivated to take a stance against Cruze WAY before I even got in his ear.
Sasha: So yeah, you’ve BEGUN to take steps in the right direction to stem the tide of chaos that Cruze has caused.
Mr. D: But, in my person opinion, it’s too little too late. The company is in a state of total disarray, and as far as I‘m concerned, your just as culpable for this FAILED experiment, as Orlando is.
Tomlinson: Though he isn’t here. I think it’s time we move on to discussing the actions of Orlando Cruze.
Mr. D: We’re gonna be here a while. Pizza anyone?
A unanimous “no” is heard from everyone gathered.
Riot! Returns with Claude Judas Rose already inside of the ring, pacing back and forth with his music blaring in the background. The tricorne is gone, and there’s no sight of his fanciful tapestry hanging from the entry way…no flash….no pizzazz…just straight up Rose…straight up violence. He paces back and forth, one eye on the stage and the other on Krista Lewis seated behind the commentator’s table. With legs crossed Krista twists back and forth in her chair, barely even paying attention to Rose’s threatening glances.
Dollar: Finally…finally the Board of Directors bringing down the hammer on the one man who truly has it coming…Desmond Drake.
Susie: I hope he doesn’t get fired before I get the chance to tussle his hair.
Dollar: Speaking of bringing down the hammer…that’s just what Krista Lewis might do, joining us here at ringside by way of Claude’s invitation moments ago.
Krista Lewis shrugs rather than verbally responding.
Dollar: We saw Claude Judas Rose, the man you fought to a double count-out last week on IWC.com’s exlusive pre-show doing commentary moments earlier…so I guess we’re going tit for tat.
Susie: Hey, that’s my nickname for my boobs. Tit-and-tat.
Krista: Thanks for continuing to reinforce the stereotype of blondes, Susie. And Johnny, I’m here because Claudia up there, had some choice phrases for me during his match. I thought it only be fair to get a few things off my chest as well.
Dollar: You could start with your bra.
Krista: Pardon?
Dollar: I just hope this doesn’t lead to a brawl. You’re not going to try and get the jump on Claude like he did to you?
Krista: Probably. Come on now Johnny, you know there’s no other way this could end.
Dollar: True.
Claude is already mumbling obscenities under his breathe towards Lewis, while also employing some crude hand gestures, such a throat slicing motion.
Krista: Keep on threatening me, Rose. I’ve yet to hit the Hell’s Bitch Kick tonight, getting a little anxious to deliver one.
With Black Magic Woman at his side, Trailer Park Kid makes his anticipated debut, stepping to the stage. Though he should be anxious about competing in his first IWC match, he seems more preoccupied with the unusual intro music ushering him forth to the ring. He looks up at the speakers, awkwardly batting his eyes before at last shaking his head. He and Black Magic Woman at last head for the squared circle, where Claude continues to anticipate the confrontation.
Dollar: Well now…it seems we didn’t have to wait long to see Mr. Hush’s influence on the audio and visual side of the show. He just swapped out TPKid’s intro theme for…whatever it was we just heard.
Susie: That may be the greatest entrance theme of all times. I’m so making that my ring-tone.
Dollar: This is not going to sit well with the powers that be. But just like I said last week, every Riot! seems to see the debut of another combatant eager to make a splash on our level. Last week, it was you, Krista Lewis, debuting in our pre-show, tonight, it’s TPKid, rising to the challenge.
Krista: Wow…how fair that I’m relegated to the pre-show, and this greasy redneck actually gets an in show introduction?
Susie: It’s because you’re a woman, Krista, and woman are treated so unfairly around here. We need to stage a protest.
Dollar: Maybe you two should remove your bras and burn them.
Krista: Excuse me?
Dollar: I said maybe you two should remove your…ummm….uhhh….bras and burn them. Yeah, I couldn’t think of a way to cleverly word my way out of that one. Just go ahead and slap me.
Krista: If we weren’t separated by this walking twig between us, maybe I would.
Susie: Twig? But I ate a whole apple two weeks ago.
Lewis goes back to watching someone else who’s words have spurred her to violence. Claude’s attention however is squarely on TPKid, who is running the ropes in front of him, limbering up.
Dollar: TPKid, who as we understand it, has made a impact around the wrestling world, is going to have a handful with Rose. A man with a serious fetish for violence and a determination to prove a point to you, Krista.
Krista: If that point was making it apparent that he’s drawn his facial hair on with magic marker…mission accomplished.
The bell chimes as Claude and TPKid size one another up. Just before the match can officially get underway, a small circle appears in the corner of the screen, one filled by the face…or mask…to be more accurate, of Mr. Hush, hitting many switches and toggles, in spite of not knowing exactly what they do. Hence why Claude and TPKid have to stop in the middle of their feeling out process to look up at the house lights which constantly change colors before settling on an obnoxious shade of lime green that is highly offensive to the eyes. The camera turns away from the Black Crusade member, and settles on the newest acquisition to their ranks…the Shakespearian actor…Al Todd-Meriweather.
Al: A FOND HELLO TO THE IWC FANDOM…AS THE VOICE OF MR. HUSH, I’M HERE TO ANNOUNCE HIS DISPLEASURE…OR MORE ACCURATELY…HIS BOREDOM WITH WHAT WE’RE SEEING.
Dollar: Does this guy have no control of his decibel level? He shouts more than Sam Kenison.
Al: ITS JUST NOT WORKING FOR HIM…NOT AT ALL…WHATSOEVER…NOPE…NUH-UH…NADDA…THEREFORE MR HUSH HAS DECIDED THAT TO GIVE THIS MATCH, AND MANY OF OUR SEGMENTS TONIGHT, JUST THE SPICE AND EVERYHTING NICE THEY REQUIRE, HE’S FOUND SOME OF THE GREATEST MEDIA CLIPS OF ALL TIMES!
SO, TO ACTUALLY MAKE THIS MATCH INTERESTING, HERE’S A CLIP OF JESSIE SPANO’S MEMORABLE FREAK OUT FROM SAVED BY THE BELL!
Hush disappears as the circle he was encased in transforms into a square. Within said square the image of the Black Crusade member has been replaced by Jessie Spano’s heart wrenching performance from Saved by the Bell.
Dollar: Oh lord, please don’t let this be a sign of things to come.
Susie: Elizabeth Berkley…I almost didn‘t recognize her without her whore uniform on.
There seems to be quite a bit of fanfare for TPKid, as the crowd tries to do anything to ignore the obnoxiously green hue cast over the ring.
Dollar: And the fans getting behind this rookie, by IWC standards at least, but then again they were always going to; such is the disdain for Rose.
Lewis: And rightly so, turning up and thinking he has the right to comment on my match. Who the hell does he think he is?
Susie: Got to admit, it seems the fans are taking to the Trailer Park Kid…maybe we have a new favorite in our midst. Then again, I tend to like anyone with oil stained clothing. Makes me feel so much cleaner by comparison.
Dollar: Until Claude makes a mess of him…well, more of a mess
Lewis: You honestly believe that? What has he ever done to justify that?
Dollar: Errrr…
Lewis: Exactly
Immediately Rose goes on the offensive, take it to the TPKid with a succession of rights and lefts which rock him back on his heels. Claude grabs a hold of the Kid’s wrist and whips him across the ring and into the ropes, lifting his knee into the face of his opponent. As TPKid hits the ground, Rose jumps in the air, dropping his knee into the chest of the Kid, before hooking his opponent into a Reverse Chin Lock
Dollar: As expected, the rookie well and truly out of his depth here, and Rose opening up and then some
Lewis: Not a bad start, I’ll give him that
TPKid gets back to his feet and drives his elbow into the guts of Claude and then again, and then a third time until he is released. He then runs the ropes, but Claude is waiting for him and scoops him up, driving him into the mat. He then measures TPKid and drops his fist into his face, before going for a pin
1…
TPKid quickly kicks out, and rolls to ringside, where he is given words of encouragement from the Black Magic Woman.
Dollar: Good idea rookie, go ask your momma for help
Susie: I’ll tell her you said that
Dollar: Don’t she has bigger arms than me.
TPKid slides back into the ring and immediately Rose is on him, and stomping down on his body. Rose the picks him up and bails him into the corner, before running in with a Body Block which crushes TPKid in the corner. He then grabs TPKid by the hair and throws him across the ring with a Hair Toss, the fans letting him know what they think of him, boos raining down from the rafters. Rose merely looks out over the crowd and laughs, making a point of laughing in the Black Magic Woman’s face as well. Claude picks the TPKid to his feet, and drills him with a Snap Suplex, his spine crashing into the canvas. He then picks him up and drills him again with the same move, TPKid unable to resist. Rose the picks him up again, and delivers the Snap Suplex for a third time, driving all the air from TPKid’s bodies, before hooking the leg
1…
2…
TPKid kicks out again to the delight of the crowd
Susie: Rose dominating this match thus far
Dollar: Of course he is, the rookie cannot cope with the onslaught.
Lewis: Could be that the TPKid is just a little out of his depth
Susie: But he is hanging in there, which is half the battle.
Dollar: Yeah great, he’s got some guts, but it won’t score you a pin fall now will it?
Rose once again picks TPKid to his feet, this time drilling him with a Neck Breaker, which once again brings the boos from the crowd
Dollar: What has he done besides be good?
Susie: It’s the arrogance of the man Johnny, its way people don’t like you
Dollar: People DO like me…and I don’t have to drop to my knees to get them to like you do
Susie: Are you implying…
Dollar: Yes I am sister…I went there. Well, no IWC fans, I haven’t been there…ewww.
TPKid is picked up to his feet once again, Rose drilling him with a perfect drop kick which once again drops TPKid to the mat. Claude drops to his knees again to attempt a pin
1…
2…
TPKid kicks out again, but this time with a little less authority, Rose nipping up to remonstrate with the referee. As he does this however TPKid reaches up, and pulls Claude into a small package
1…
2…
3…
No, Rose kicks out, the shock almost costing him the match. His anger gets the better of him however has he begins to stomp TPKid over and over again, TPKid having to cover up to avoid the punishment
Susie: See, Claude’s arrogance nearly cost him there, TPKid nearly stole this
Dollar: Yeah, well now look, all he did was piss Claude off.
Claude picks TPKid up and throws him into the corner, raising his arm
Susie: I’ve seen this
Dollar: It’s the ‘Bloody Rose’, and you’ll see why it is named such if he hits it.
Claude runs in, looking to hit the move, and jumps up onto the second rope. However, before he can grab the hair, TPKid drops him with a desperation hard right to the face which sends Claude flying backwards. TPKid turns, and springs off the ropes, into a Moonsault, crashing into Claude’s prone body. Both men lie on the mat out of it, as the referee begins to count
1…
2…
Dollar: TPKid hit the move, but he has absorbed so much punishment he can’t take advantage.
3…
4…
5…
Susie: And its Rose moving first, crawling towards the ropes.
6…
7…
Dollar: And now TPKid starting to stir, but Rose is at the turnbuckle, and is up
The referee stops the count, and Rose attempts to hooks TPKid. However, the Kid gets out of the move, and drops Claude with a Swinging Neck Breaker, the arena erupting.
Susie: He’s hung on in there, and now he’s taking control, and these fans love it
Lewis: Yes, now this is what I was looking for. Come on Kid, show him what you can do
Dollar: Rose just taking a minute, normal service will be resumed.
TPKid holds the back of his head, and walks over to Claude who has problems getting to his feet. TPKid boots him in the stomach and whilst he is bent over delivers a shocking DDT, driving his head into the mat. TPKid then starts to climb the turnbuckle, unsteadily arriving at the top.
Dollar: What the hell is he doing?
TPKid answers that question with a Flying Elbow Drop, which crashes into Claude’s unmoving body. TPKid hooks the leg and the referee drops to count
1…
2…
Claude kicks out at two, TPKid immediately jumping to his feet and grabbing the back of Claude head. He then runs across the canvas before jumping, dropping Claude with a Bulldog, driving Rose into the mat once again, before once again hooking the leg.
1…
2…
3…
No, Claude kicks out again, TPKid just missing out on the three counts. TPKid once again drags a groggy Rose to his feet, whipping him into the ropes and scooping him up, allowing the momentum to take him backwards before dropping Rose by his throat onto the strands.
Dollar: This kid is good
Susie: Changed your tune Johnny?
Lewis: It’s a fine performance from the TPKid, but the main reason he has got back into this match is Rose simply doesn’t have a clue how to compete in a company of this size and history.
Rose attempts to get to his feet, but TPKid grabs him and takes him to the mat, hooking into the Black Mamba, his version of the Peruvian Necktie, which brings every member of the crowd to their feet.
Susie: What the hell is that?
Dollar: It’s used mostly in MMA, but it’s a highly effective submission move which has got Rose in massive trouble here.
The referee asks Rose if he wants to quit, but Claude refuses, trying to drag both his and his own weight to the ropes. TPKid continues to pile on the pressure, but Rose is made of stern stuff and is now just a few inches away from the ropes. For a moment it looks like he won’t make it, but finally his hands grip the strands and the referee tells TPKid to release the move which he does. Claude rolls out the ring, holding his neck, as TPKid basks in the adulation of the fans
Susie: TPKid in control of this match up, and Claude Judas Rose doing the only thing he could and getting out of the ring
Dollar: I’ve gotta admit, I got this kid wrong
TPKid sits on the strands inviting Rose back into the ring, but he declines the invitation, preferring to use the steps and only then does he get in once TPKid has backed away
Susie: Some of the early arrogance gone, Claude knows he’s in a fight.
Dollar: He should, he very nearly lost it there to that brutal submission move.
Lewis: Come on, keep up the pressure Kid you got this
Rose is a bit more indecisive, knowing that TPKid is more than capable, but TPKid wants to keep up the momentum and charges in, taking Rose back into the corner and nailing him with a couple of knees to the gut. As Rose bends over, TPKid drops him with a Fameasser, driving Rose’s face once again into the mat. Quick as a flash he is back in him, and hooks in a single leg Boston Crab, once again leaving Claude righting for the ropes. TPKid is in the center of the ring and has it hooked in tight, leaving Claude with nowhere to go. Claude however spins, TPKid quickly turning the move into an Ankle Lock, but Rose kicks out with his spare foot, his heel connecting with the chin of the TPKid sending back towards the ropes. A stunned TPKid holds his chin, but Rose is already up and running the ropes. TPKid goes the same, but Rose leaps, hitting a flying clothesline line which nearly decapitates TPKid
Dollar: Diving Rose Line out of nowhere…that’s the difference right there. Ring experience counts for everything and TPKid just found that out.
Rose staggers over to TPKid and picks him up, forces his head into his armpit, the stale odor causing the TPKid to almost gag. Rose then whips TPKid into the corner and follows him in, jumping up on the second rope besides TPKid and placing his knees behind the Kid’s head. He then leaps forwards, TPKid’s face hitting the canvas hard, blood splattering everywhere from the impact
Susie: Ooooo what a shot from Claude Judas Rose, hitting the Bloody Rose, and leaving TPKid with a bloody nose. Did you see what I did?
Dollar: You do realize that’s why the move is called that?
Susie: What?
Dollar: Forget it, my head hurts.
Lewis: Impressive…
Back in the ring, Claude turns TPKid over, and whilst grabbing the tights hooks the leg
1…
2…
3…
The arena boos and jeers, but then erupts as the referee puts two fingers up, and points to TPKid’s hand holding onto the bottom rope. Claude rubs his eyes in frustration, again arguing with the referee and then the fans
Dollar: TPKid is busted open; he should be concentrating on him, not the fans or the referee.
Susie: And somehow TPKid is getting to his feet, his nose still pouring blood.
TPKid wipes away the blood smearing it across his arm, as Rose turns to see his opponent getting to his feet. Rose runs across the ring, but the TPKid meets him with a devastating Spear, cutting him in half. After regaining his senses, TPKid goes for the cover
1…
2…
Kick out by Rose, to the annoyance of the crowd. TPKid gets to his feet, looking to pick Claude up, but Claude rolls him up into a small package
1…
2…
TPKid kicks out, both of them rising to their feet, Rose drilling TPKid with a right hand that TPKid retaliates with one of his own. Another shot from TPKid us then responded to with one from Claude. Claude throws another which TPKid ducks, lifting up his opponent and drilling him with a Spine Buster. TPKid then nips up onto the turnbuckle, but Claude is up, and he punches TPKid in the gut, and then again, the both of them stood on the top rope. Claude hooks TPKid around the waist and then falls backwards, the both of them crashing into the canvas as Rose delivers a perfect Superplex from the top turnbuckle.
Susie: What an effort from TPKid, but this is over
Dollar: Pin him Claude, I always had faith in you
Lewis: Kick out TPKid…one more time
Claude crawls over, and with a massive effort covers his opponent
1…
2…
3…
The arena reacts negatively towards Claude who lifts his arms aloft. But the referee brings them down, signifying that TPKid once again kicked out before the three, and that this match isn’t over. Rose kicks the turnbuckle in frustration, as TPKid tries to drag himself up using the strands for assistance.
Lewis: YES!!! That’s what I’m talking about
Dollar: What a match we have watched here, TPKid putting in one hell of an effort, but Rose also showing why he is so highly rated in this company.
Susie: Both men look out on their feet, but the crowd is still behind the TPKid.
Rose psyches himself up for one last effort, as Black Magic Woman shouts encouragement to TPKid who looks really unsteady having given everything in this match. Rose hooks TPKid and drops down to one knee, taking the exhausted Kid to the canvas with him. TPKid then lifts himself up and drops onto his backside, bringing the jaw of Claude Judas Rose down on the top of his skull. TPKid then gets to his feet, and whips Claude across the ring, connecting with a Dropkick on his return, before going for the cover.
1…
2…
Kick out by Rose, TPKid immediately picking Claude to his feet. Claude breaks from him however and gouges him in the eyes. Whilst blinded, Rose drills TPKid with a Reverse DDT, covering him with his feet on the second rope
1…
2…
Nooooo, TPKid kicks out yet again, only now the referee seeing Claude’s feet on the ropes
Dollar: OMG!!! What is it going to take?
Susie: I’d say Claude going to the top…
Rose climbs to the top rope and holds his arms aloft, TPKid unable to move.
Dollar: This is it, what an effort, but this is over.
Rose leaps from the top, hitting the diving head but from the top rope
Susie: Job done
Dollar: But it took the Rose Dive…amazing effort from the TPKid
Lewis: Dammit, lucky that’s all
Rose motions that it is over, and drops to one knee, hooking the leg
1…
2…
No, No, No…kick out by the TPKid once again, somehow summoning the strength to escape. The fans are in absolute raptures having found a new favorite to get behind. Rose doesn’t like the noise however, and once again flips off the crowd, whilst once again climbing the turnbuckle.
Dollar: He’s going for it again Susie…
Susie: And TPKid doesn’t know where he is
Lewis: Come on TPKid get out of there
He leaps from the top, crashing into, NO, TPKid rolls out the way at the very last moment, Claude crashing into the canvas hard. TPKid gets to his feet, using the ropes again; Claude gets up on his knees, but is sent sprawling by a Shining Wizard. TPKid goes for the pin
1…
2…
Kick out by Rose, both men now breathless and running on empty. TPKid picks Rose to his feet and throws Rose into the ropes. As Rose comes back he ducks under a running Lariat. Rose stops, allowing TPKid to hits the ropes again
As TPKid comes back, Claude Judas Rose scoops him up, looking for a moment like he is going to hit a scoop slam, but then he thrusts him down, TPKid hitting the canvas hard on his head, his neck bending wickedly
Dollar: Oooo, what a shot from Rose
Susie: Art Attack…and just like that
The referee drops to his knees as Rose hooks the leg
1…
2…
3…
The arena erupts in boos as Rose picks up the victory. TPKid holds the back of his head as Rose celebrates.
Lewis: Dammit, he was so close
Instead of paying attention to TPKid, who is being aided by the Black Magic Woman, Claude has his sights set on another former opponent, Krista. He leans on the ropes, shouting over them at Lewis.
Claude: Have you learned? Have you?
Krista: Yeah, I learned….I learned that you’re a total jackass. Actually, let me put this in language Claude would understand.
A microphone is taken into Krista’s hand and she taps it while walking around the announce table and taking a seat upon its edge.
Dollar: Can you scoot back just a little bit further here Krista, you’re ALMOST sitting in my lap.
Krista: CLAUDE!
Her shouts into the microphone ensure she captures Claude’s attention.
Krista: I think I HAVE learned a few lessons from watching you, but the only way I can convey my message is by talking in terms YOU seem to understand. Claude, you might be a pretentious douche-bag, if you think simply wearing paint smeared overalls makes you an artist.
A deep breathe is taken in order for Claude to compose himself, considering that the joke he used earlier to insult Lewis is now being employed against him.
Krista: Claude, you might be a pretentious douche-bag, if you think growing a stubble and wearing a really stupid hat, makes you an artist.
Rose blows her off with a dismissive swipe.
Krista: Claude, you might be a pretentious douche-bag, if you go around calling everyone idiots and whores, yet secretly screw anything without chest hair, and show no intelligence by speaking in nothing but curse words.
He mumbles the word ‘bitch’ behind clinched teeth.
Krista: Got one more….Claude, you might get a Hell’s Bitch Kick, if you don’t stop running your mouth like a masochistic pretentious douche-bag…and stay out of my business.
Claude chuckles and then steps into the ropes once more, leaning over them to offer a rebuttal.
Claude: Since I don’t pay for sex, I’ll have no trouble staying out of your business.
Now Krista turns the other cheek, by sliding into the ring and causing Claude to back peddle. He and Lewis have a tense face off to a tepid response from the crowd, wondering who is going to make the first move in this chess game. Ultimately Lewis steps in and lifts her leg for the kick causing Claude to turn and dart away, but Lewis had no intention of actually delivering the Hell’s Bitch Kick, instead lowering her foot back to the canvas. Her motivation becomes clear when Claude spins around only to run right into a Canadian Destroyer from TPKid, who sprung from the top rope and caught Judas on the way down, flipping him right over before ultimately dumping him on top of his skull.
Dollar: Ohhh, Krista Lewis just set that up perfectly! It looked like she was going to nail Rose with yet another Hell’s Bitch Kick, but instead she sends him turning right into the Trailer Park Dump, the most devastating flipping piledriver I’ve ever seen.
Krista smirks at the sight of Claude getting his comeuppance, quite amused by TPKid’s connection with his high impact finisher, one that has left Rose convulsing on the canvas. Black Magic Woman then steps in and assists her bloodied boy to his feet, TPKid leaning against him as the two back away from their vanquished foe.
Lewis then steps forward and stoops down over Claude, winking at the vile sycophant.
Krista: Now that…that was art.
Duct tape has wisely been placed over the mouth of Sparkles, keeping the vulgar puppet under control, for the time being at least. Normally Greyson Lovejoy would have a hard time containing his cohort, even with duct tape, but the sight of Kathryn Pearson joining them for an interview, has put Sparkles in an absolute trance…luring him into a lull like a serpent enchanted by a flute. The puppet’s head hangs to his side, completely enthralled by the image of the breathtaking Pearson…who in spite of not being booked for the evening, is adorned in her wrestling gear.
Lovejoy: IWC fandom, standing beside me is a woman who requires little introduction…
Pearson: And I’m not about to wait for an introduction either. I’ve got something to say….
The duct tape has fallen slightly off of Sparkles’ mouth, allowing his crude comments to be heard.
Sparkles: Please let it be something about breast augmentation.
The duct tape is urgently pressed back over Sparkles’ mouth, Lovejoy desperate not to let the incredulous behavior of his colleague get them into further trouble.
Lovejoy: Carry on.
Pearson: I’m pissed, Greyson….BEYOND pissed.
Lovejoy: To be fair, Sparkles once dated a woman who had breasts the size of two Prius…so don’t be offended by his inference to your chest size.
Pearson: That’s not what I’m so steamed about. I’m upset over the actions of Orlando Cruze last week…well…Cruze AND the Blacklist. They collaborated to steal what I worked my ass off to earn.
The reference to her backside has Sparkles leaning in to get a better glimpse.
Sparkles: Looks like you’ve still got a nice badonkadonk.
The tape is pressed even tighter over his lips.
Greyson: Industrial strength my ass!
Pearson: I went through absolute hell last week to win the X-Class number one contendership, and now…now I have to defend it because the Blacklist blackmailed a spineless Orlando into reversing the referee’s decision? What…on….what planet does that make sense? In what universe is this right? The word bullshit isn’t even strong enough to describe what that corrupt, power hungry asshole did to me last week.
Greyson: I believe we have footage of what your eluding to. Let’s roll it now…
Back to the puzzled face of Greyson Lovejoy, his eyes briefly connecting with Sparkles’ before they both quickly turn back to Pearson.
Greyson: Ooookay, that was clearly NOT the footage we were…You know what, I think I’ll just fill in the gaps myself.
He tries oh so desperately to remember what happened last week between Pearson, Cruze and the Blacklist.
Greyson: Last week, you won some sort of pants off dance off against the Blacklist to win the number one contendership for the Exlax Championship, but then they stole Orlando’s personality, and threatened to not return it until….
Pearson: Stop….just stop…please. Way to follow the product, Greyson.
Greyson: Yeah, sorry, remember, Sparkles is the one supposed to be conducting these interviews, but I knew if I let him speak to you, it would either end up in a sexual harassment or paternity lawsuit, neither of which I can afford on my meager wages.
Pearson: Anyhow, bottom-line, I’m upset. I didn’t work so hard to become number one contender just to have to turn around and now defend what I EARNED in a nonsensical triple threat tag match at Upping the Ante. Plus, I show up here, already motivated for a fight, only to learn I haven’t even been booked. Which I’m assuming is punishment for standing up to Orlando at the end of last week’s show.
Greyson: I believe we have footage of that…let’s see what your talking about. Production truck, please stream the footage.
A palm isn’t even sufficient enough to hide Lovejoy’s face. He peeks out from between the cracks of his fingers to gauge Pearson’s reaction.
Greyson: Erm…yeah. That was NOT the footage in question.
Pearson: Can this be a bigger train-wreck?
Greyson: Only if the tape falls off Sparkles’ mouth again.
Pearson: Well if I get my way, the Blacklist is gonna feel like they just endured a train wreck, because I’m challenging them….or to hell with it…ANYONE….to a fight tonight. I’ve got some aggressions to work out of my system, and I’m…..
She trails off the moment a sight grabs her attention off camera. She’s totally lost interest in Greyson and Sparkles, walking off and leaving Lovejoy to breathe a sigh of relief. Deeming it safe at this point, Lovejoy pulls the tape from Sparkles’ lips.
Sparkles: Boobs-tits-boobs-tit-boobs-tit!
Pearson doesn’t hear the filer-less Sparkles, her focus entirely on the figure who just exited a room a few feet away from the interview area. Brittany Lohan turns and closes the door, before reaching into her pocket for a set of keys.
Pearson: LOHAN!
Brittany’s attention shifts from locking the door to the face of Pearson.
Lohan: What? I have no time for you.
Pearson: Better make time, sweety, cause the two of us, we have a lot to talk about.
Lohan: Like what?
Her phone rings, further derailing Brittany’s attention from locking the door. She takes it out and sees Orlando’s glorious mug smiling back at her from the screen.
Lohan: Yeah, I’m on my way.
Pearson: Oh, I don’t know, maybe we should be discussing some kind of strategy for getting back our number one contenders spots. I noticed earlier tonight you took off with Lukas Montgomery. Seems to me, he’d make a wonderful bargaining chip. We could use him to lure the Blacklist to the ring and either beat them down mercilessly, or get them to back down on their….
Lohan: The purpose of taking Lukas was to find Tay-Tay, and that’s ALL he’s going to be used for.
Pearson: WHAT!?!
Kathryn is beside herself.
Pearson: Are you letting your friendship with the Blacklist sway you or something? Can I even trust you to be my tag team partner at Upping the Ante? Where we’re SUPPOSED to fight the Blacklist, and the Champions to get our title shots.
Lohan: That’s up to you. And my allegiances are none of your business, nor is what I do with Lukas. Now I’ve got a certain Icon to talk to.
Pearson: Really? The same son of a bitch who screwed us out of the championships just so he could take back his STOLEN World Title?
Lohan: One in the same.
Pearson: How could you?
Brittany takes an oh so threatening step in Kathryn‘s direction, predictably backing her up and backing her down.
Lohan: Ask yourself. Is this really the best time to get in my face?
Surprisingly Kathryn falls quiet, vividly recalling the path of destruction that Lohan carved over in Supreme Championship Wrestling. All Lohan is going to say has been said, turning and walking off, leaving Kathryn behind, dejected and disgruntled. Yet, even with her mixed emotions, Kathryn took notice of something that Brittany failed to do….lock the room she just exited. Tentatively Pearson twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing Lukas Montgomery seated in a near pitch dark room, chained to the wheelchair with a wad of tissues stuffed in his mouth. Lukas’ eyebrow arches at the grin stretching over Pearson’s face.
Trenches plays in the background at the sight of a whistling P. Clarence Whitman III, weighed down equal parts by the X-Class Championship AND a bible. A ‘KKK’ t-shirt snuggly stretches over his torso, properly attired for his meeting with the very group holding a prayer circle behind a set of double doors. Whitman pauses inches removed from the doors reading ‘Kitty Kristian Kollective.’ He pauses only to pop a Mentos in his mouth, wink at the camera and then enter the room.
Dollar: He’s actually going through with it. P Clarence Whitman III, our X-Class Champion, instead of concentrating on his huge triple threat match tonight, is headed into Kitty Buehler’s Christian group…whathaveyounot.
Susie: I PRAY he has a good time. Hehehehehe, I just made such a funny that I almost pooped myself.
Dollar: Wonderful. As if that chair hasn’t been scrubbed enough. Well, we’ll follow this development, along with so many others as this night progresses.
The final padlock is snapped into place just as the parking lot becomes abuzz with the chatter of Jacob Laymon and his army of security guards. Executioner towers over the back of Laymon as the group descends upon Mr. Gaunt, who is in the process of chaining Silence over the door of the production truck.
Laymon: You’ve stepped in it this time, Gaunt.
Mr. Gaunt: MISTER Ga…oh forget it.
He gives a dismissive wave towards Laymon and his army.
Laymon: We’re not about to let you slip through our fingers like we did last week. This psychological warfare crap ends and ends right here tonight.
Mr. Gaunt: Psychological warfare you say? Who’s been employing such….
Laymon: Don’t even stand there PRETENDING to be stupid, Gaunt. You’ve been making my life a living hell for months now. Undermining my authority, and harassing all the talent that I personally signed. And for what gain….what gain!?!
Mr. Gaunt: My motivations are apparent to me, and that’s all that matters. Besides, I’m sure I’ve made my displeasure regarding the way you and Orlando handle my liege Legion, more than evident.
Laymon: Regardless, this comes to an end, right here, right now. And what in the….?
Before he can even finish his question or gesturing to Silence chained to the door, Mr. Gaunt gives a snappy explanation.
Mr. Gaunt: Mr. Hush will continue to fulfill his obligations one way or another. Perhaps if he aids you in properly running the audio and visual side of things, it’ll give you time to reflect on your many failures as the FORMER Head of Talent Relations, or as Orlando’s whipping boy.
Laymon: You think chaining Silence to the door is going to keep us from getting in that production truck. No…no….we’re the tank, you’re the naïve college student and this is our Tiananmen Square. The protest is about to be squashed through LETHAL force.
A grin forms on Laymon’s face.
Laymon: And it appears you’re not going to be able to do a thing about it. Looks like you’ve got no protection around. Mr. Hush is in the production truck, Silence is chained to the door, and as far as I can see there’s not a single sigil in sight. Did you think this one clearly, MISTER Gaunt. Seems you can’t summon Legion without one of your occult emblems, now does it?
Mr. Gaunt sighs, feigning defeat.
Mr. Gaunt: Looks like you’ve finally got me, Mr. Laymon.
Laymon: Was bound to happen eventually. Executioner….do your job and deal with this.
The monster steps forward to crush the throat of Mr. Gaunt with his bare hands. However, Leeland’s hand moves to his cane, ready to unsheathe his hidden blade.
Mr. Gaunt: Wait…
Laymon: Are you going to beg, Mr. Gaunt? I thought that we beneath you.
Mr. Gaunt: No. I was just going to remind you of one of Mr. Hush’s many talents. Not only is he quite proficient with audio and visual production, but he also has a knack for tattoo artistry. He showed just how talented he was last we…
Laymon: Yeah, yeah, we saw him tattoo Whitman, what the hell does it matter?
Mr. Gaunt: Actually I think his best work was done on Executioner.
Laymon’s head of security stops, as frozen as a mannequin, modeling the body language of a man truly bewildered. His masked face turns back to Jacob, who is equally as confused.
Laymon: Executioner never got a tat….
Mr. Gaunt: I think you might have been a bit too preoccupied by spider-LINGS to notice what Mr. Hush did while Executioner was sequestered to parts unknown.
Laymon: You didn’t.
Mr. Gaunt: No, Mr. Hush did, and frankly I’m surprised that neither you, nor Executioner have noticed.
Attention is squarely turned to Executioner.
Mr. Gaunt: Why don’t you raise your shirt there and allow everyone to see Mr. Hush’s artistry?
The baffled big man is reluctant to follow orders given by Gaunt, turning to his actual employer for advice. Laymon reluctantly nods, and as thus the shirt is pulled up to reveal that Executioner has been given a tramp stamp. The Black Crusade sigil has been stenciled right into the small of his back.
Laymon: You son of a bit….
He only stops in mid-tirade when the lights in the parking lot begin to flicker. One of the headlights on the production truck actually explodes, sparks dispersing through the air.
Mr. Gaunt: Oh please don’t stop…if you have something to say, then by all means get it off your chest….we still have a moment or two.
Laymon: Let’s go.
He has to tug on Executioner’s arm a few times in order to pull him away from Mr. Gaunt. The behemoth beams an intimidating gaze towards Gaunt throughout the whole process, refusing to break eye contact with the man he’d so like to leave in a pile of broken bones and busted organs.
Mr. Gaunt: Leaving so soon? What a shame.
Walking, but not to for the improvement of Christian Savior’s cardio vascular system. He steps back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, eagerly anticipating an answer to the call he just placed, cell wedged to his face with such force that it might result in instant brain tumors.
Christian: Hey, Rose….
Aggravated…all he could get was the message box of his wife, and World Heavyweight Champion, Rose Savior.
Christian: It’s me again, Babe. Just wondering if your still having those car issues you texted me about….Getting pretty late.
He pulls his wrist watch up in front of his face to determine the time.
Christian: Kind of a bad night to be running behind. First World Title defense, remember?
Who is he fooling, there’s no way he could stay angry with Rose, even if she were to bash his skull in with a Singapore cane…oh wait, been there, done that.
Christian: So get back to me if you need me to come and pick you up from the photo-shoot. No harm in admitting you let the car overheat…again….because you can’t remember to keep your coolants in check. Call me as soon as you get this message.
Call ends and Christian goes to step into his locker-room. The door opens and in he walks before finding his progression halted by the individual seated in a chair, casually flipping through the pages of a magazine. That individual being, co-number one contender, Silencer. Christian questions if he can get around Cagero without having to interact with him, but alas, Silencer has set up shop directly beside the Rising Phoenix’s locker. In spite of all his more sadistic impulses, which surprisingly seem to be triggered by Silencer’s presence, he tries to remain civil.
Christian: Simon…
Silencer: Douche-bag.
Christian takes a deep breathe and keeps on moving, not giving Silencer the slightest satisfaction. He moves right up to his locker and begins to remove his gear, ready to dress for competition. The belt from his slacks are removed before he stops and glances over his shoulder at Silencer, who is still seated right there, nose buried in the articles of the magazine.
Christian: Do you mind?
Silencer turns away from the magazine to give Christian a moment of his attention….just a moment.
Silencer: Adequacy issues?
Christian: Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for our little battle in the ring tonight?
He can’t help to take notice of the fact that Silencer is still wearing his street gear, sans long trench coat.
Silencer: Though none of your bizz…the airport misplaced my bags. So what you see, is what you get.
Christian: Fair enough, but don’t you have a runway show to put on or something?
Silencer: Meh, a little winded. Decided I’ll take it easy tonight and just settle for humiliating you in the ring.
Christian: How thoughtful of you. Now if only you’d be thoughtful enough to, I don’t know, turn your head for a moment.
Silencer: What’s wrong, can’t drop trou in front of other men? Don’t be so bashful.
Christian: Sorry, Simon, I’m not as eager to be in the buff around a bunch of dudes like you.
Silencer: I let it all hang out wherever I go and in front of whomever I want, Christian. Unlike you, I don’t hide anything.
Christian was right in the middle of unbuttoning his collared shirt when that last statement finally resonated with him.
Christian: And what was that supposed to mean? Leave it to you to be a contradiction, Cagero, you can’t exactly make a subtle statement while in the process of bragging about being entirely open.
Silencer: Oh I was getting around to the brutally honest part, Christian…give a man time to work.
Christian: Are you trying to imply that I’m hiding something?
Silencer: Ugh…
The magazine is thrown aside and he pinches the tissue between his eyes.
Silencer: Way to go and crap all over my thunder…But yeah, go ahead, do your obligatory rebuttal….And I’ll pretend that I’m listening instead of picturing your wife in a orgy with a dozen Bobs.
Christian: Nah, don’t think I’ll even bother indulging you, no point to it. Especially when it would involve defending myself against accusations I’ve already refuted a thousand times/.
He begins to mimic the smart marks with the most nasally tone he can generate.
Christian: ‘Ewww it’s Christian Savior, you just know he’s up to something, that he can’t be trusted, that he’s really not out to be a better person, to make the IWC a greater wrestling company, and that he’s only motivated by an insatiable greed for the championship’ And why would people think that? Just because I’ve backstabbed every individual who’s ever trusted me because it was all part of some dastardly scheme to get myself back into the World Title picture? Geez, talk about pigeonholding someone.
Silencer: If the shoe fits, Christian, if the shoe fits. Besides, you’ve got no reason to whine about being stereotyped when you do everything in your power to endorse said stereotypes. I on the other hand have been generalized as some loud mouth, childish, debauch rabble rouser with a fetish for paunchy loin clothe wearers smeared in ham grease, and yet I’ve done absolutely nothing to reinforce such a stigma.
Christian: Yeah…you’re a real victim, Simon.
Silencer: Glad you see it that way. And before any more of my brain-cells can be VICTIMIZED by way of listening to you, I’ve got a match to prepare myself for.
Silencer begins to rise from his chair and turns to leave, but Christian just HAS to have the parting shot.
Christian: You’re welcome by the way.
Out of some morbid intrigue, Cagero stops and turns back to the now shirtless Christian.
Silencer: And why would I be grateful for anything you’ve ever done? Unless you’re the guy who convinced Kathryn Pearson to start wearing a push-up bra I have no reason to thank you.
,font color= red>Christian: You forget already?
Silencer: Maybe. My brain is pretty rotted after repeated viewings of Taylor Chase’s camel-toe.
Christian: You forgot how I saved your ass at Awakening, how I kept you from losing that match against Orlando Cruze? And as thus guaranteed that the World Title would be defended in the tournament.
Silencer: Oh pffft.
He not only makes the farting noise, but also a masturbatory hand gesture.
Silencer: Give me a fucking break….
Christian If your not careful how you talk to me, maybe I will, Simon.
Silencer: Your intentions were about as noble as Orlando Cruze’s secret Prince Albert piercing. Everyone, even all the mnooses in all the parsely patches, recognize that you helped me not out of some noble pursuit…but to fulfill your own selfish desires of being the World Champion. I’m sure that if Orlando hadn’t beaten you to the punch with that whole Singapore Cane soap opera bullshit, you would have come up with some plot to screw your way to the World Championship. Which is exactly what Taylor is doing at the moment….
Christian: Eeeeassssy now, Simon….Why is it so hard to believe that I‘m a changed
man?
Silencer: Because no one truly changes.
Christian: Look at Orlando Cruze and tell me that.
Silencer is quick with the quips, but not this time. His eyes flicker and his mouth hangs open, no sounds emanating from it.
Silencer: Touche.
Christian: I’ve changed…I’ve grown up…now maybe you should give it a try.
Silencer: And how would a stuffy, high brow Silencer be any fun? Wouldn’t exactly be entertaining if I talked in the same robotic box head fashion as Nathan Creed. Or played things by the book….which probably doesn‘t even have nude pictures in it.
Christian: Touche.
Silencer: I’ll believe you’ve changed when I actually see it.
Christian looks himself up and down.
Christian: So your just going to stand there ogling me as I get out of my casuals and into my wrestling gear?
Silencer: Not LITERALLY change, you power hungry bag of dicks. I mean, once I face your wife for the championship….then we’ll see if you’ve REALLY turned the page. I know the lengths the two of you go to in order to hold the championship. But believe me, I‘ll go to equally as disturbing lengths in order to capture it.
Out of the room strolls Cagero, leaving Christian to think over what he just heard. That’s when the phone in his pocket begins to ring, Savior grabbing and eagerly answering.
Christian: Rose….where are you?….What?
He puts a finger in his other ear to drown any ambient noise
Christian: Are you going through a tunnel or something, I can barely hear you…The reception back here must be terrible….Rose….ROSE!?!
With a groan Christian pulls the phone away from his ear and sees that the call has been disconnected.
Christian: Damn you Apple!
He tries to strangle his I-Phone while stepping out of the room to get better reception, negligently leaving his locker wide open in the process. Attention diverts to said locker, or more accurately the shadow cast upon it. A set of gloved hands reaches out from behind said camera, slipping into the bag and removing an object.
Keys.
The fans are flummoxed regarding the odd choosing of theme music for Porno Lad, but the more it resonates with them, the more it makes sense. The Original Prankster storming to the stage, actually seems to appreciate the upgrade to his entry theme. With Katelyn Buehler at his side the two dart to the ring and the Original Prankster scales a nearby turnbuckle before throwing in a completely unnecessary back flip to bring him into the ring. Katelyn questions rather she should do the same, all amped up by the music piping in the background, finding inspiration in Mr. Hush’s version of Porno Lad’s theme music. PL implores her not to until he has the emergency room’s number on speed dial, given Katelyn’s predilection for botches.
Dollar: Some shenanigans backstage….
Susie: Not fair…how you keep getting to say that word. I love saying shenanigans.
Dollar: Then go ahead, say it, get it out of your system.
Susie: ShhhhhhenaniGANS! Te-he, I love it.
Dollar: Great…I really didn’t need those last two brain-cells anyway, so thanks for just killing them. And someone who might out to do some killing of his own, is this man, Porno Lad. The Original Prankster is being forced to team with the woman who held a knife to his girlfriend’s throat last week, and even worse, cut a piece of his hair off.
Susie: That was WRONG.
Dollar: And it was the first time we saw Porno Lad absolutely go apeshit
As a result. But now he’s got to try to forget that fact as he agreed to team with Cassidy one more time to challenge for the Tag Team Championships. I wonder why Cassidy has become so obsessed with Porno Lad.
Susie: Just look at him and tell me you’re not obsessed yourself.
With Katelyn Buehler encouraging him from ringside, staying right where Porno Lad can keep an eye on her, Porno Lad prepares for this huge opportunity, a shot to bring the Tag Team Titles back to his waist. It’s at this point that…
….sends the crowd into a conniption fit. No one quite knows how to react to either the theme music Mr. Hush handpicked for her, or the arrival of Cassidy Haze, the ever so enigmatic femme fatale, who has hazed….no pun intended…Porno Lad since her debut with the company.
But tonight it appears that she’s TRYING to smooth things over, evident by the present stretched under her forearm. She skips to the ring with the black and orange Jack Skeleton themed wrapping paper swaying from side to side. At last she hops to the apron and reveals a microphone tucked behind the present.
Susie: Is that a young Tommy Lee Jones doing her entrance theme? And awww, she brought me a present.
Dollar: I think that’s for Porno Lad, Susie.
Susie: Can I at least play with the paper and the box his gift came in?
Dollar: Depends on if you were a good girl this year. But we all know Cassidy is destined for a big old lump of coal this Christmas after everything she’s done in the short period of time she’s been here. Including holding a knife to Katelyn’s throat last week. Don’t know how she expects a present to help her win Porno Lad over after something like that.
Cassidy: Ethan…Baby-Doll….You don’t look happy to see me.
She juts out her lower lip and droops her eyes, trying to look as puppy dog as possible to little sympathy from the man who now stands directly in front of her in the ring. The only thing that keeps the two separated is the present in Cassidy’s arm.
Cassidy: I know I went and pee-peed in your cornflakes by threatening Katelyn, and by cutting off a lock of your hair last week, but I think we can get past this. I really do. I think…I KNOW I can make you love me again.
Buehler bites her lip at ringside, but her rage over Cassidy’s flirtation with Porno Lad is causing a ball of rage to slowly form in the pit of her stomach.
Cassidy: I COULD do it by offering some heart warming and meaningful apology, but after everyone witnessed Jessie Spano’s Emmy winning diatribe earlier tonight, I think their a little tired of all the drama. So I’ve decided I’ll buy your love by lavishing you with gifts, te-he.
The box is placed on the ground in front of Porno Lad, who suspiciously eyeballs it but makes no moves to open it. Wisely he plays things cautiously, having no idea what could be contained behind the decorate Nightmare Before Christmas wrapping paper.
Cassidy: What’s wrong? Awwww, you don’t trust me…lil ole me? What did I do to make you so paranoid? Was it kicking you in the head after you went for that hug a couple weeks ago, or leaving you high and dry for the most part at Awakening without a tag team partner? I promise you, Porno Lad, what I have here in the box will make up for all of that and make you see that I can be trusted. Here, if your THAT worried, I’LL open it for you.
Porno Lad makes no attempt to stop her, not trusting Cassidy as far as she can be tossed. She grabs the box, rips the paper away and then pries open the cardboard around her expensive gift. At last she removes what’s inside….
Susie: Please don’t be Gwyneth Paltrow’s head.
No bloodied blonde locks emerge from the box…but it is a head of hair that Cassidy extracts…a HUGE head of hair at that.
Cassidy: I got you a wig to cover up that train wreck on top of your head.
Not only is it a wig, but a MASSIVE black afro, with a hair pick wedged in it.
Cassidy: This will totally cover up that huge bald spot I left on your head. Here, try it on.
Porno Lad’s entire body has gone the shade of the substance he’d like to see oozing out of Haze right now. She detects his animosity but it doesn’t stop her from stepping right in and placing the wig on top of his head.
Cassidy: That does such a wonderful job of covering that rat nest you normally sport.
The crowd groans after every dig at Porno Lad’s hair, knowing that it’s his pride and joy…the source of all his happiness.
Dollar: Does Cassidy not realize just how much she’s antagonizing Porno Lad right now? His hair means more to him than the children he doesn’t have.
Susie: I like the afro. He can form a tag team with Disco Ninja. They can call themselves Those Disco Lads. My God if I were a man I’d have a total erection right now.
Porno Lad’s trembling fingers rise towards the afro, ripping it off of his head.
Cassidy: I knew you’d love it. Now come here and give me some sugar.
She stoops over and puckers her lips, but it’s not a kiss she receives. Instead it’s a spear right to the ribs, delivered by none other than Katelyn Buehler.
Dollar: Buehler has had enough! She just speared Haze right out of her boots!
Susie: I call dibs on them, their made of leather and all shiny.
The fans are going nuts at the sight of the cat fight as both Haze and Buehler roll around on the canvas throwing wild right and lefts, some not even connecting. At last they spill under the ropes to the outside of the ring, where Porno Lad pitches the afro, making sure it hits Haze in the back. Things only get more chaotic when… Mancrush Anniversary Mix plays over the PA, another Mr. Hush selection, and instantly through the curtains charges both Bash Kincaid and Hugo Magnusson.
Dollar: And here comes the tag team champions, seizing on this opportunity!
Adam Chase is following behind his clients, screeching instructions as Bash and Hugo throw down their tag team title belts on the ramp then slide into the ring. Porno Lad surprisingly charges right at them scooping the legs of Magnusson out from under him and then coming down on top of the Tag Champion, throwing rights, lefts, anything that will connect. Bash steps over Porno Lad’s back and grabs him around the jaw, pulling him up to his knees then throwing a huge forearm into the side of his skull.
Dollar: Hugo Magnusson and Bash Kincaid all over Porno Lad. They’re taking advantage, yet again, of another two on one predicament that Porno Lad finds himself trapped in.
Outside of the ring Haze has reached into her corset and reveals a switchblade. She brandishes it to the horror of Buehler, who scoots in terror away from the crazed lady, defensively holding out palms and pleading for her life. Cassidy grins and returns the knife where she got it before hopping to the apron, ignoring the non-threat that is Katelyn at this point. Referee Fitzpatrick at last intervenes and gets in front of Hugo, who was stomping at the chest of Porno Lad while Bash held his arms behind his back and insists he leaves the ring.
Magnusson threatens to pummel the official, but Fitzpatrick will not back down and instead squares up on the Tag Team Champion. At last Magnusson exit’s the ring and now it actually resembles a straight up tag title match with all parties precisely where their supposed to be. Hugo is his corner, Cassidy is in her corner and Porno Lad, from his knees is flipping Bash over his back and to the canvas.
Chase shouts from the outside of the ring at Kincaid to get back up, which is precisely what he does, lunging to his feet and charging with a right hand into Porno Lad’s face that is blocked. PL then connects with an uppercut of his own, followed by another, and then another, and then another. He then spins around and takes Bash down with a big discus lariat, fueling all his rage directed at Cassidy into the blows he delivers on Bash.
Dollar: I think Katelyn Buehler just lit a fire under Porno Lad’s ass.
Susie: I had a fire under my ass one time too, but they said it was just hemorrhoids.
Dollar: Another totally appetite suppressing comment, Susie, thank you.
Lad is up and looking for a victim…who is Hugo to deny him. Magnusson leaps the ropes and comes charging in to aid his partner only to be caught with a big Atomic drop, planting Hugo down crotch first onto Porno Lad’s raised knee. The Original Prankster then leaps into the air and dropkicks Magnusson to the chest, sending him spiraling into the turnbuckle. He hits it hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs and leave him momentarily debilitated.
All the while Porno Lad is getting back to his feet and charging in with a huge lariat to the throat. It isn’t enough to take Hugo down, he remains upright, albeit swaying from side to side, ABOUT to go down at any moment.
Flustered…Porno Lad turns and takes off across the ring to build momentum for a second lariat only to run right into Bash, who stands up and goes for a clothesline of his own. Porno Lad ducks, stands up, grabs Kincaid as he passes by around the jaw then drops into a reverse neck breaker that has the crowd screaming.
Dollar: Porno Lad REALLY taking it to TCWC…those insults directed at his hair have him homicidal.
A pumped Porno Lad leaps back to a standing base and then turns just as Hugo rushes out of the corner and almost rips his head off with a dashing European Uppercut. The blunt force trauma lifts Porno Lad up off of his feet and sends him flying back first into the turnbuckle. He hits the corner hard, arms falling over the ropes, allowing Haze to make the tag. She then leaps to the top rope above a kneeling Porno Lad, while Hugo is helping Bash stand up and dust himself off.
Porno Lad suddenly looks up and spots a cackling Haze towering above him, prompting him to react out of sheer spite and malice. He stands up, wedges hands to Cassidy’s stomach and throws her off the top rope, unintentionally pitching her into a cross body on both Bash and Hugo, taking the TCWC down to the canvas with Cassidy landing on top.
Porno Lad will not allow her to slip through his clutches that easily. He stands up and rushes right at Cassidy, who stands just in time to catch her inbound partner with a drop toe hold, causing him to plummet skull first right into Kincaid’s crotch. Bash sits up, grabbing at his swollen genitalia while the referee jumps all over Porno Lad, insisting he vacate the ring.
Porno Lad rolls free from the squared circle, a little shaken up after his head took a great deal of trauma, and will now require a thorough washing. Once outside of the ring he actually requests a towel from a fan, using it to scrub his face while inside of the ring Bash is also getting a face scrubbing, from the boots of Cassidy. She bounces off the ropes and drills him with a basement dropkick to the skull while he was still seated on the canvas. Not anymore, he’s on his back and reeling from the facial rearranging collision.
Haze then leaps to her feet before going airborne with a big double stomp right to the ribs of her opponent. Bash rolls to his side, gripping at his mid-section while Cassidy staggers forward into the ropes, a bad position for her, because it puts her in position for Hugo.
Magnusson had retaken his place in his team’s corner, but only for a moment, unable to keep from taking full advantage of his opponent’s positioning. He rushes across the apron, grabs Cassidy by the back of the head and charges her across the ring face first into the apron. She bounces off and staggers back while Porno Lad takes Hugo by the ankle, ripping his leg out from under him. Magnusson’s face takes a violent impact as well, against the apron. His head snaps back and he collapses to the mats./
Porno Lad conversely, leaps to the apron, about to re-enter the ring only to be knocked off by Haze of all people. Bash recovered long enough to reach his knees, wedge his hands against a discombobulated Cassidy and shove her right into Porno Lad. The moment her back hits his chest the Original Prankster is not only sent sailing, but twisting right into the barricade.
He turns and crashes directly against the steel sternum first. Immediately after bouncing off the apron and turning back towards the ring he falls into the clutches of Hugo. Magnusson scoops him up onto his shoulder, displaying his freakish strength and then throws him up into the air, ultimately causing the Original Prankster to crash throat first onto the barricade.
Dollar: And just like that Porno Lad taken out of the equation. I think we all know who he’s going to blame for this.
Susie: Oh no, not equations, anything but equations. They make me use my brain, which causes bad nose bleeds.
Dollar: Multiple collisions with that barricade have Porno Lad spent. But then again, longevity has apparently never been an issue for the Original Prankster.
But Porno Lad’s plight is yet at an end, Hugo grabbing his shoulder, spinning him around to take his wrist and then whipping him violently into the exposed turnbuckle post. Porno gets a taste AND a second helping of steel, the meeting of mouth to post sending him twirling to the mats.
Dollar: And ANOTHER collision with the post!
Susie: Ethan just went deep throat on the steel.
Porno Lad doesn’t fair very well outside of the ring, and his opponent isn’t doing any better within. After sending her tag team associate into the barricade, by accident (?), she rushes out of the ropes at a still kneeling Kincaid. She is just about to unload on him when Bash drives the top of his head right into her inbound ribs. He then stands up and delivers a devastating running forearm to the side of her skull. Cassidy twists to her knees and into the ropes, falling over the middle one throat first. Hugo spots this, running across the mats and grabbing Cassidy around the back of the head, dragging down on it so that her neck is being strangled against the cable.
Dollar: No tactics too low for Kincaid and Hugo, which is why I predict these two will hold the Tag Team Titles for a very…very long time to come.
Susie: I’d do nothing short of kill someone to retain a sparkly. Which would explain why I spent much of my youth in that mental facility.
Dollar: Explains a lot. I’m guessing your on weekend furlough at the morning.
When Fitzpatrick spots Hugo it’s too late. Just moments before he can intervene, Magnusson nails a lethal European Uppercut…not to the jaw…but to her forehead. The shot sends Cassidy to her feet, body not responding to the many misfiring synapses within her brain. She goes staggering right back into Kincaid, who takes her by the shoulder, spins her around and delivers a big knee to the ribs, putting her a stooped forward, very bad position.
Kincaid then runs into the ropes, bounces off and delivers a swift kick to the side of Haze’s skull. The shot sends her spiraling down to knees, and throat into the middle rope. She falls over it and Chase immediately delivers a straight right hand between her eyes, capitalizing on Fitzpatrick’s distraction as the official is still lambasting Hugo for his earlier underhanded tactics.
Dollar: Again, the TCWC employing the number’s game to their advantage, this is total McDonald’s….I’m loving it!
Susie: Wow…just wow…if I were capable of having that erection I spoke about earlier, you just killed it.
Fitzpatrick finally turns back to the ring just in time to see Cassidy stumbling backwards into the waiting clutches of her opponent. By the shoulder Haze is spun around, caught about the waist and then heaved into a belly to belly slam. Bash comes down right across Cassidy’s chest and wedges a forearm against his much smaller opponent’s face.
1
2
Physical punishment and tests of her endurance are not unaccustomed to Haze, hence why she kicks out with such gusto.
Bash takes that fight right out of her, applying a sleeper hold on Haze then heaving her right up to her feet in a sleeper hold. He then begins to spin in circles, actually lifting Cassidy’s feet from the canvas in the process of the giant swing. Instead of clutching the legs he maintains his grip around Haze’s throat though, the sleeper hold firmly applied. After making several rotations Bash releases Haze, throwing her half way across the ring.
Even after being released, Haze makes several revolutions then ultimately crashes into the canvas.
Dollar: That is nothing but strength, Susie.
Susie: He must hit the gym…I use to…until I was doing squats and farted so violently I popped my hymen.
Dollar: Disgusting on so many levels.
Bash grabs Cassidy’s legs, tucks them under his armpits and drags her towards his corner. Hugo reaches over the ropes, slapping his partner’s shoulder, setting up their big tag team move. The next step, Bash dropping back into a catapult that launches Cassidy’s face right into a punch that seemingly knocks her out.
Cassidy falls back and lands with the small of her back arched over Kindcaid’s raised knees. Hugo is now entering the ring and rushing into the ropes, bouncing off as he gets a running start for the same lethal tag move we saw the team employ several weeks ago.
Dollar: Hugo moments from double stomping and shattering Cassidy’s totally exposed ribs. This is going to be gruesome.
Chase watches on with delight…before his reaction changes to disgust at the sight of Porno Lad reaching under the ropes and catching Hugo by the ankle as he attempted to ricochet from the cables. Once again Hugo shows off his incredible strength, reaching over the ropes, grabbing Porno Lad by the HAIR and utilizing it to hoist him right up onto the apron.
The moment Porno Lad lands on the apron he swipes the hands away from his hair and turns redder than a tampon on a certain time of the month….okay…that was a totally unnecessary comparison. Anyways, Porno Lad is pissed…ROYALY POED…in fact.
Porno Lad: No one touches my hair, BITCH!
Porno Lad nails the jaw of Magnusson with a hard right hand, sending him staggering backwards towards Haze. She suddenly reaches up and catches Magnusson by the hips, dragging him down so that he lands back first right across his own tag team partner’s chest. Haze sits up off of Bash’s knees and then flips forward into a jack-knife cover. The crowd applauds the very unusual and unorthodox move they’re witnessing, Haze sretched over Hugo’s chest back first, holding down the creases of his knees, while Magnusson lies on top of his own tag team partner…his back to Bash’s chest.
Dollar: What the hell are we seeing here?
Susie: Something straight out of one of Porno Lad’s fantasies.
The official makes the count to wails from the crowd.
1
2
Hugo wraps his arms around Cassidy’s waist and begins to bridge himself AND the challenger off the canvas. He almost goes down but then Bash lifts his feet into the air, and wedges them to Hugo’s spine, giving him that added leverage necessary to finish bridging back to a standing base.
Once upright, still keeping his arms wrapped around Cassidy’s waist, Hugo spins around, putting his opponent in a very bad spot. Cassidy is stooped over in power bomb position, Magnusson lifting her up into the air and onto his shoulders. Just before Haze can be slammed with bone breaking impact against the canvas, she wedges her hands to the top of Hugo’s head and shoves herself over. She then comes down with her own double stomp right onto Bash’s chest.
Dollar: Hugo was going for the power bomb, but it ended in disaster, as he set up Cassidy perfectly for that double stomp on his own partner.
Susie: There’s so much going on, this is like an episode of Lost, where I pretend to be fascinating by what’s going on, but am really just amazed by all the flashy colors.
Cassidy bounces off the ribs of Kincaid then leaps forward, landing on her feet. She then drops back, rolling right over top of her opponent in order to extend her legs and wrap them around Hugo’s neck, the second he turned to survey the damage that he had done. The legs interlock around Hugo’s head and Haze pushes herself up into the air, swinging around into the head scissors.
The crowd goes nuts as she drags Hugo around into rotation after rotation after rotation. She is just about to snap off when a fed up Bash reaches his feet and dives into her temple with a lethal knee strike.
Her flashy moves pays off, but not as she had intended, leaving her looking concussed on the canvas.
Dollar: She just swung herself right into that devastating knee strike from Kincaid. The Tag Champions constantly watching each other’s backs and they’ve got the challengers on their heels.
Susie: But I thought the TCWC were the heels.
Dollar: When did you learn insider lingo?
Susie: Around the same time they stopped airing reruns of Boy Meets World. Forced me to start paying attention.
The crowd recites their Pavlovian response, screeching incessantly at the sight of Haze’s head almost twisting right off her neck as a result of the knee. A knee that may have just kept the tag team titles right where they are, around the trim waists of the TCWC.
Hugo falls into the cover, both legs hooked for the pinfall.
1
Porno Lad tries to get into the ring but Bash cuts him off by grabbing him via his bangs, lifting up on his head and driving an elbow into his temple. The Original Prankster spills to the outside of the ring and then reaches up, clawing at his hair. His face twists into a mask of rage when it’s revealed that one hair is missing, stuck between the fingers of Kincaid.
2
The ref’s hand doesn’t come down for the three on account of a shocking kick out by Haze.
Dollar: Cassidy keeps her team alive…But it’s almost a foregone conclusion at this point that neither she nor Porno Lad are walking out here with the belts. These two just can’t get on the same page. Besides, you know my stance on singles wrestlers grouped together trying to beat a well oiled machine.
Susie: Yeah…the TCWC do look like they put way too much baby oil on before this match. Makes them almost look slimy.
Hugo is downright deranged after the kick-out, surprisingly be the one to lose his cool. He shouts at Bash to get into position while taking Haze around the ankle, flipping her to her stomach then heaving her into the air by the waist into a wheel barrow position. Bash slaps his knee and rushes into the ropes to deliver another devastating strike only to be low bridged. He goes flipping over the top rope thanks to Porno Lad, landing on the mats feet first. The second Bash lands, Porno Lad dives off the apron and connects knee first with his opponent’s face, driving the Tag Champion down to the canvas.
Meanwhile, inside of the ring Haze reaches back with her arm, wrapping it around Hugo’s neck and trying to connect with a reversal into the bulldog out of the wheelbarrow position. However, Magnusson shoves her off, sending Haze flying forward but eventually landing on her feet. She then surprises everyone, Hugo in particular, by dropping back into a roll and extending her legs, wrapping ankles around the Champion’s neck. She pushes herself off the canvas and begins to rotate over and over again, dragging Hugo around repeatedly before eventually capping off with the head scissors take down. Magnusson flips over and crashes to his back while the fans surprisingly go crazy for a move that Haze hit.
Dollar: She nails the head scissors take down at long last. But it’s all a false glimmer of hope here. I’m telling you singles wrestlers, especially ones who don’t get along, are not going to beat a tag team that has been together for years. The TCWC has proven that over and over again.
Susie: Yeah but….
Dollar: Hold that thought…ha…forgot who I was speaking to…as if you actually have thoughts, because Porno Lad is going ballistic out here again.
Susie: I noticed that Bash took one of his hairs.
Porno Lad grabs Kincaid by the hair, pulling him up to his feet and then driving him down face first into the announce table.
Dollar: He’s going nuts right out here in front of us.
Porno Lad pulls back and drives Bash’s face against the announce table again, and again, and again. He’s obviously lost any semblance of composure. Bash is all over the place, looking like positively tipsy. He staggers around before falling right back into Porno Lad’s clutches. The Original Prankster takes the shoe off the foot of ring announcer Jessica Wilde, who shouts ‘rape’ instinctively. All Porno Lad wants is her high heel though, so he can take it ram it right against Bash’s skull, knocking him totally unconscious. He falls over the announce table, sprawled across it.
Porno Lad throws the shoe aside and crawls on top of the table, placing Bash in a side headlock as he delivers punch after punch after punch to his face. Cassidy watches from the inside of the ring, and really seems to be enjoying the show. A grin the size of Jupiter’s rings wraps around her face as she witnesses Porno Lad totally flip out.
Cassidy: I knew you had it in you my love.
Her distraction proves costly, as Hugo steps in behind her and hooks both arms. The crowd screams as Magnusson heaves Cassidy up into the air for the full nelson, the very move that bested her at the pay-per-view. At literally the last second Haze breaks an arm free and reaches back, wrapping it around Hugo’s neck and then dropping down into a bulldog counter. Magnusson’s skull bounces right off of the ring and he flips to his back, Haze crawling right into the cover.
Susie: Ewww, Hugey’s face nailed the ring. That was a major ouch-stravaganza.
Dollar: Can someone please get Porno Lad and Bash Kincaid off of our announce table already? I can’t work under these unsafe conditions.
The two are going nowhere, but are switching positions. Porno Lad ends up on his back and Bash is on top now, raining down blow after blow to the face.
Inside of the ring Magnusson is in a bad way, Haze throwing her whole body weight, which doesn’t account for much, across his chest. Fitzpatrick is out of position though, thanks in no small part to Chase, who fulfills his managerial duties by leaping to the apron and trying to get into the ring. Fitzpatrick puts up a roadblock, keeping him contained to the apron, but also missing the potential three count.
At last Haze realizes no count is being made to acknowledge her pin. She stands up and begins to alert the official before realizing that she can take full advantage of his distraction. She runs to the outside of the ring and snatches the chair right out from under Wilde, causing her to tumble to her rump.
Jessica: Seriously!?!
Wilde feels thoroughly violated as Haze walks right past both Bash and Porno Lad rolling around on the mats exchanging a wild series of punches. She then leaps to the apron and slides through the ropes with chair in hand.
Dollar: This is NOT a good idea, Cassidy…steel chairs have been instrumental in every single one of the TCWC’s victories since their debut here in the IWC.
Haze slides through the ropes but finds the steel chair in her hand snagged on something. She turns and finds herself genuinely enraged at the sight of Katelyn clutching the chair, refusing to allow her to introduce it into the match.
Katelyn: You’re NOT getting my man disqualified you zombie slut!
The chair is ripped out of Katelyn’s clutches by the stronger Haze, who then reaches through the ropes and pie faces Buehler down to the mats right alongside Jessica Wilde. The two help each other to their feet, innocent victims caught in this all out war. Haze then turns, stooped over the chair in her hands when Hugo steps in, catches her around the neck and drops back into an oh so devastating DDT. The top of Cassidy’s head slams right into the chair, causing her to flop over to her back and look absolutely spent.
Susie: Ewww, the chair turns on the hand that feeds.
Dollar: I love to say it, “told you so.” The chair aiding the TCWC to another victory.
Hugo wedges a forearm deep into Cassidy’s face, adding insult to his pin-fall. Chase finally clears dodge, allowing the referee to make the count.
1
2
The fans watch as Hugo picks up a major….blow to his ego…cause Cassidy kicks out a mere fraction of a second before the three. Hugo demands a recount, as does Chase, shouting furiously from the outside of the ring.
,Dollar: Are you….my God…Cassidy Haze kicks out.
Hugo is on his knees running his hands over his bald scalp, in total disbelief that he failed to pick up the win even after employing the chair…a weapon instrumental in many of their victories here in the IWC thus far.
Outside of the ring Porno Lad and Bash are back on their feet and the Original Prankster is being whipped right at the steel steps. But the Original Prankster does a headstand carthwheel right over top of them, his rage fueling him to do some truly remarkable things. Bash comes running in when Porno Lad dropkicks the steps, sending them flying into Kincaid’s shins, knocking his legs right out from under him. He tumbles right over the steps and collapses to his back.,
Hugo spots this, sticking his head through the ropes and shouting at Porno Lad, who quickly rushes at the top half of the stairs, steps up them and leaps off, putting just one foot on the apron in order to deliver a modification of the Epic Fail, his lethal spinning super kick. Magnusson is sent spiraling to the center of the ring, where Haze has recovered and is waiting. She spins around and cracks him to the back of the head with the Segregated Minds.
The strike knocks Hugo completely and totally out cold, sending him plummeting to the canvas on the very face that tasted the Original Prankster’s boot.
Dollar: Epic Fail followed by the Segregated Minds! Haze and Porno Lad have got it, they’ve got…the tag team titles are within their grasp…What the hell is Haze doing? Go for the pin you psycho bitch!
The crowd is screaming and pleading with Haze to cover Hugo, but instead she’s focused on one thing, crawling towards the ropes that Porno Lad is standing on opposite end of.. He has Bash up to his knees, repeatedly throwing right hands into his forehead. In the process of crawling towards her partner, Haze has picked up some of the hairs that Kincaid tore out of Ethan’s head, extending them towards the scalp of her partner.
The moment she tries to put the hairs back on Porno Lad’s head, he turns around and in a furry lifts his boot as high as it will go, nailing her between the eyes with the Epic Fail.
Dollar: Porno Lad did it again! He just hit Cassidy with the Epic Fail a second time in the midst of their tag title match!
Susie: No one touches Porno Lad’s hair, no one.
The spinning super kick nails Cassidy right between the eyes and sends her slumping to the ring. Before Porno Lad can get back in the ring to make up for his lapse in judgment, he’s grabbed around the ankle by Bash and pulled off the apron. Porno Lad then comes crashing down face first right into the top half of the stairs he employed as a weapon moments earlier. He bounces off and collapses to his side while in the ring Hugo has managed to crawl towards Haze and collapse across her chest.
Dollar: Don’t tell me…it’s gonna end like this…it’s gonna end like this AGAIN!?!
Susie: What would you rather me tell you. That they’re re-releasing Master of Disguise on Blue-Ray collector’s box-set?
Dollar: Actually go back to telling this match is going to end like this.
The referee at last drops into position and makes the count to a wave of unanimous despair.
1
2
3!
The Epic Fail has done the trick again…but to the detriment of Porno Lad and his partner, Haze.
Dollar: Hugo and Bash…they’ve retained…they hold onto the Tag Team Titles by hook or crook.
Susie: Emphasis on the crook part.
The masses are quite upset when the referee’s hand comes down and slaps the canvas a third time, cementing the fact that the TCWC have just retained the Tag Team Titles, the very belts that Chase is sliding into the ring with.
There is no time for celebration as Hugo and Chase find their attention turning towards Kincaid and Porno Lad rolling back into the ring, still throwing rights and lefts into one another’s faces. Porno Lad ends up in the mounted position, sitting on Bash’s chest and delivering a series of lethal combinations.
Dollar: Porno Lad still flipping out on Bash for ripping one of his hairs out.
Susie: You do not mess with this man’s fro.
Hugo tries to intervene, stepping in to deliver a kick only to have Porno Lad catch it before it connects. He stands up and then delivers an inside leg trip on Magnusson, bringing him down to the canvas. He then begins to deliver stomp after stomp to his chest and face. Hugo desperately tries to cover up but nothing protects him from the onslaught by a deranged and disgruntled Porno Lad. He then turns his attention to Chase, who was shouting discouraging comments at the Original Prankster right up to the point where he was finally noticed. Now his insults have been replaced by pleas for leniency. He backs towards the ropes, palms outstretched, moments form feeling the wrath of Porno Lad.
Dollar: Oh come on…nobody touches, Chase…nobody puts their hands on the manager of champions…..nobody.
PL reaches out to lock hands around Chase’s neck when Hugo and Bash interrupt the proceedings, delivering a double forearm smash to his upper back. Porno Lad is brought to his knees where the TCWC begin delivering stomps.
Dollar: Adam Chase doing what he does best, creating a distraction that puts his clients back in control.
The TCWC continue their onslaught on Porno Lad, bringing him down to his stomach before they spot Cassidy standing up in the corner with a switchblade in her hand. She opens it and approaches the two with knife drawn, causing the Tag Team Champions to vacate the ring and do so in a hurry. They land beside Chase, who shoves the titles into the chests of his clients. The three wisely back away, unwilling to suffer any further physicality.
Chase: You two are needed elsewhere tonight, we have to find Tay-Tay dammit.
He drags the Champions away from a potential fight with the blade wielding Cassidy. She turns to Porno Lad at this point, her tongue licking the tip of her trusted ally, the knife.
Cassidy: I think I’ll carve my initials in you…That way you’ll never forget your precious Cassidy.
She approaches with the most sickening intent imaginable, actually slicing her name into the flesh of Porno Lad. Once again Katelyn is forced to interfere to prevent any further mutilation. She slips into the ring and crawls right into her love, wrapping her arms around his neck, putting her body between Cassidy and the Original Prankster.
Dollar: Buehler AGAIN throwing herself in harm’s way in order to prevent a Porno Lad dissection. She’s grown a backbone, but Cassidy might carve it right out of her.
Her lips tremble in terror, tears streaming down her face as she realizes she’s going to potentially be mutilated by…wait…Cassidy stops…coming to a complete standstill. In fact, she’s now back peddling away from Buehler, who at last opens her eyes when she hears the change in the crowd’s tune. She then looks right at Haze, a smile forming on her face as she realizes that Cassidy must be afraid of her. Buehler stands up over top of a recovering Porno Lad and puts her fists up, Haze raising a palm defensively and mouthing the words “I want no part of you.” She then rolls out of the ring while Buehler nods her head.
Katelyn: That’s right, you DON’T want any part of me. I’ll tear you to….
She stops…coming to a complete standstill, In fact, she’s now turning as the hair on the back of her neck stands on edge upon feeling breath down the nape of her spine. Upon turning around she finds herself staring into the eyes of….DUCKY…SCW’s deranged, truly demented goddess of chaos.
Dollar: Holy mother of God, tell me I’m not seeing what I think I am. Tell me this ISN’T true. Tell me that DUCKY is not standing in an IWC ring.
Buehler backs up pale as a sheet at the sight of Ducky, who just watches instead of reacts. Her head tilts to such an angle one would suspect that it’s going to twist completely around in a full 360 degree circle. Buehler’s heart is beating through her chest as she backs right into one of the turnbuckles, holding a hand over her quivering lips. Porno Lad looks up and spots Ducky standing above her, prompting him to slap his cheek to make sure he’s actually awake.
Dollar: THIS is actually happening, Ducky, or one of her fifteen million split personalities is here…in the IWC…and she’s glaring down Katelyn…a woman who is absolutely TERRIFED of her.
Susie: Ducky…her name is ducky? Can I take her to the bath with me?
Dollar: Sure a lot of cameras would LOVE to film that scene.
In spite of Ducky doing absolutely nothing, save for staring emotionlessly, Katelyn’s already cowering in the corner weeping like a frightened child.
Mr. Gaunt: Mrs. Buehler…
To the stage strolls Leeland Gaunt, cane in one hand, microphone in the other.
Dollar: And as if this couldn’t get any more confusing? I swear, Gaunt better be here to give us some damned answers or I’ll totally flip my lid.
Mr. Gaunt: Allow me to introduce the opponent you agreed to face last week…I believe you know her as Nicole Kinneck…or perhaps her wrestling handle….Ducky…would be more familiar to you.
Katelyn: No….NOOOOOO….NOOOOOO!!!
Ducky smiles ever so slightly as she watches Buehler have a major league freak-out.
Mr. Gaunt: Oh, and Mrs. Buehler, before I forget to mention it. Your match against Ducky here…and yes, I will drop the necessity for a prefix, cause calling her MRS. Ducky, just sounds totally ridiculous…will be contested this evening under no disqualification rules. Enjoy ladies.
Dollar: My God, I didn’t know Mr. Gaunt was THIS cruel. He’s forcing Buehler to face the ultimate fear, battling Ducky in a match where there will be no rules, absolutely nothing to keep this demented SCW combatant in check. What’s going to happen when these two collide here tonight?
Susie: It’s gonna be messy.
Dollar: VERY messy.
Lohan: He’s right back here, Orlando…been keeping him on ice precisely as you requested.
Orlando: Good…good.
It’s not often that Orlando looks positively out of sorts, brow heavy with sweat, and pigment faded from his skin, but the plight of Taylor Chase has clearly effected him. His tie is gone, his collar in disarray and his shirt unbuttoned around the neck, feeling as if it was strangling the life out of him.
Orlando: Has he told you anything? Has he given you any clues as to where…
Lohan: He gave me this.
A document is taken from Brittany’s pocket and handed straight over to the disheveled Cruze as the pair stops right outside the door containing Montgomery. Orlando is almost shaking too bad to open the paper, slowly unfolding it.
Orlando: Seriously?
Lohan: That’s what I said.
Orlando: I’m not even….I can’t process this….just let me talk to Montgomery.
Lohan: I left some tools in the room, to help break the ice with ole blue eyes.
Orlando: Good.
The document is stuffed in Cruze’s pocket while the door at his side flies open, revealing the contents of the room….only there are NO contents…it’s completely empty….meaning there’s no wheelchair…there’s no chains…there’s no Lukas Montgomery.
Orlando: Is this some kind of trick?
The base in his voice would normally result in a crowbar being rammed up his ass by Lohan, but she realizes that this is a very emotionally turbulent time for everyone, Orlando especially. So she lets this one slide….for now.
Lohan: You better not be the second person to accuse me of working with….
Her voice trails off as she suddenly has an epiphany.
Orlando: What is it?
Lohan: Pearson.
Orlando: What?
Lohan: I’ll take care of this.
Orlando: No….I’m through depending on others….You fucked this up, Brittany. And now, because of you, Tay-Tay is laying somewhere bleeding out…and that psychopath Harrison is STILL walking around with MY Championship.
It takes every fiber of Lohan’s being to allow these continuous jabs to just slide down her back. She keeps a stiff upper lip even as Orlando rips into her verbally…opposite of the way she’d rip into someone.
Orlando: I’m going to deal with this one way or another. I’m getting back my Tay-Tay.
Off and running…yes…running…Orlando dashing to the aide of his love. All the while Brittany is left behind…both plotting and watching.
P.Clarence Whitman III watches through a pair of sunglasses as a figure sits on a small, make-shift dais, pouring his heart out to a sympathy Kitty.
One drink would lead to another, and then another…..and I thought they would make my happy. That they would fill the void in my life. But when I found myself on my knees in some back alley, I realized that all the alcohol in the world would never be enough to replace what was truly missing in my life.
Tears began to stream down his cheeks, past the shaving cuts and razor bumps.
Kitty: Thank you so much for sharing, Jack. Hopefully Jesus can help you fill that void.
In spite of the many physical abnormalities plaguing the artist formerly known as Wino-Jack’s face, Kitty still puts a hand to his cheek and pulls his head down to her shoulder, giving him a hug. Though she’ll probably need mass quantities of penicillin after said embrace. A round of applause goes up for the truly courageous older man who poured his heart and soul out…but now pours nothing but tears. Everyone seated in a circle around the stage clap, save for one man, the individual graced by the X-Class Championship. He offers a totally different response.
Whitman: ZZZZZZZ.
Everyone takes notice of Whitman’s snoring, prompting a smiling Lois Prince to nudge him hard with her elbow. Whitman snaps out of it and immediately wipes the embarrassing sliver of drool from his chin.
Whitman: Praise ALLAH.
Whitman shouts before realizing his verbal faux pas.
Whitman: I mean…ummm…that wonderful bearded chap, with the sandals and such. Yes, praise him, with chips and whine and so forth.
The incredibly embarrassed Whitman is so frantic he actually forgets the name of the lord and savior. Lois puts a palm on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. She doesn’t judge, but the same cannot be said for Kitty.
Kitty: Perhaps you’d like to take this opportunity to open up to us, Whitman…
As if he couldn’t get anymore uncomfortable.
Whitman: In….what….way?
Lois: She wants you to confess your sins.
Kitty: Indeed. There’s nothing better for the soul than confession.
Whitman: Oh…well….I’m not sure that I.
Kitty: Clarence….it’s alright for me to call you that, right?
Whitman: I thought we got past all that first name basis non-sense last week.
Kitty: If you truly want to be welcomed into God’s arms in the afterlife, and are serious about joining our cause, I…
Whitman: Alright, dear, I don’t want to be seen as some ponce, and it seems you have me by my Bell End.
From his chair rises the X-Class Champion.
Whitman: Do I need to stand…or place my hand over my heart?
Lois: That’s for the pledge of allegiance, not confession.
Whitman: Oh, so are there any customs I need adhere to.
Lois: Just be honest, Whitman.
Kitty: We’re all waiting.
He looks around at all the impatient faces staring at him, but turns away from Wino-Jack’s, which looks worse than a combination of Rhea Perlman and Pete Postlethwate.
Whitman: I’m afraid none of my tales will be nearly as interesting as Jack’s. I’ve not lived a life of drunken debauchery…as I’ve been relatively tame….and I’ve experienced little in the way of what you would call, cardinal sins…lust…greed…and so forth. And perhaps my only true source of pleasure requires nothing involving battery cables, or dousing a lit cigarette on skin…
Kitty: Okay then, do you have ANYTHING to confess?
Lois: We all have our demons. Some more than others.
She looks away from Whitman, getting increasingly uncomfortable the longer he goes without confessing any actual sins of merit. Whitman struggles to come up with something that will put everyone…namely Lois at ease, without painting him in too negative of a light.
Whitman: I did deliberately disobey my Father by way of becoming a professional grappler. He was quite knackered. Does that count as sinful?
Kitty eyes Lois, detecting that her follower is unpleased.
Kitty: It’s a start.
Whitman: Alright, I ummm, at age fifteen I harbored impure thoughts about my nanny.
Kitty: You still had a nanny at fifteen?
Whitman: I was, how would you say it? A late bloomer?
Lois: Is that…it?
She’s feeling more and more like scum when around Whitman, who desperately tries to retrace his steps to discover past misdeeds.
Whitman: In school I arranged a prank on my professor. When she turned her back I had my school chums push their books off their desks. It created quite the stir, and frightened the poor dear something awful.
Jack: So you never did drugs?
Whitman: I do enjoy the occasional brandy. And I’ve sampled this…Smirnoff….drink you have here in the states…but I much prefer the brandy.
Jack: Smirnoff!?! I once gave a man head for half a bottle of Tequila. It didn’t even have the worm left in it. Have you ever had to give a man head for half a bottle of Tequila?
Whitman: Blimey! I’ve bedded quite a few lasses in my time, but none with male genitalia.
Lois: Have you committed any sins?
Kitty: Lois, Jack, relax. Everyone has sinned in some form or fashion.
Jack: I don’t even think this guy qualifies for the freaking Baptismal you had planned for next week.
Kitty: Of course he does.
Whitman: Baptismal, you say? Will there be fairy cakes and fizzy drinks?
Kitty: Maybe. Please attend Whitman…we’d love to have you.
Lois: Yeah….
The words lack sincerity. It appears that Lois has become none too enamored with Mr. Perfect….no…not the bubble-gum hurdling Henning…but the prim and proper Whitman.
Whitman: I would be most overjoyed to attend.
Lois: Hey Whitman…didn’t you tell me you were booked tonight?
She inquired while glancing down at her watch.
Whitman: Oh…oh yes…of course. Thank you, Lois…Quite enamored with that name by the way, Lois.
Lois: Erm, yeah.
Whitman is off and jaunting towards the ring for his big triple threat match. As soon as the door closes behind his back, Kitty pretends to be directing her comments to everyone, but instead seems to focus on Lois.
Kitty: Isn’t he nice?
Lois: Yeah, too nice.
Kitty: Hmmm. Have you ever actually seen him wrestle?
Lois: No, actually.
Kitty: Maybe you should tonight. He could surprise you.
Cameras shift back to Johnny Dollar, who is neatly stacking a bunch of show notes…while Susie Moore is searching her kindle for another God only knows what.
Dollar: Ladies and gentlemen…
The notes are taken and tossed right over Johnny’s head, papers flying everywhere.
Dollar: Those were my show notes…which have been rendered completely and utterly useless after what’s went down here tonight. My stars…the Blacklist attacks Taylor Chase…Lukas Montgomery is abducted…Ducky is here in the IWC to challenge Katelyn Buehler…and we’re not even half way through the show thus far. But instead of me describing it, let’s go back and actually watch what happened moments ago when Mr. Gaunt revealed who Buehler will be facing this evening.
<img src=http://i413.photobucket.com/albums/pp220/Hurse/video.png>
Dollar is doubled over the table, pinching his eyes as if suffering from a severe migraine.
Dollar: That was NOT the video….would someone PLEASE get Mr. Hush out of the production truck?
Susie: Another Total Recall reminder, you know what that means?
Dollar: Saturated sheets this evening?
Susie: You betcha.
Pearson: You know what….that‘s enough….
There is quite a pop for those familiar with Kathryn Pearson, and even those who aren’t, react at the sight of Kathryn pushing a bound and gagged Montgomery to the stage. She successfully juggles shoving the wheelchair Lukas is seated in while also clutching a microphone.
Dollar: Lohan’s suspicions were well founded, Kathryn Pearson has hold of one of the men she’s scheduled to face in that three team High Stakes match at Upping the Ante.
Susie: I want to take a ride in the wheelchair too…can I….can I please?
The chair is led to the ring and Pearson moves around to the far end, positioning it between the squared circle AND the announce table. She ensures that no one can easily get their clutches on the chained Montgomery.
Pearson: I’ve seen way too much…and dealt with way too much….so I know I’m going to upset a few people….but someone has got to stand up and do something about this.
She doesn’t step away from Montgomery’s side, refusing to put any space between herself and her captive. Instead of being alarmed to be Kathryn’s clutches, Lukas looks like he’s bored, actually dozing off.
Pearson: I’m use to being a disappointment, to my ex-husband, to my mom, to dear old daddy….So it doesn’t bother me that I’m about to disappoint my tag team partner at Upping the Ante…I’m not even upset that I’m going to piss off the Boss. He didn’t exactly take my feelings into consideration when he robbed me of my number one contendership last week, so why should I consider HIS feelings? And Orlando, he’s GOT to learn that I’m not going to fall in line and take this garbage with a pinch of salt.
The crowd applauds Kathryn’s willingness to stand up against the President, in spite of the potential repercussions.
Pearson: I sacrificed my entire life to support my ex-husband in his rise to superstardom here in the wrestling world….but now that I’m away from him…it’s time for ME to start thinking about making myself a success and finding my own niche. Which isn’t going to happen when I’m being sabotaged around every turn. So if the Blacklist can play the blackmail game to get what they want, well, what’s good for the gander, is good for the goose.
Dollar: Hey? How come she’s allowed to say that and I’m not?
Pearson feels comfortable enough to climb up onto the apron, allowing for a small gap between herself and her prisoner.
Pearson: So here’s how it’s going to shake out. Blacklist, if you want Montgomery back, you’ll come out here and face me. If I can beat you, then that High Stakes match at Upping the Ante, is OFF, and I get my one on one match with P Whitman Clarence Junion the third…WHATEVER….for the X-Class Championship. BUT…if the Blacklist are too cowardly to show up…then Orlando, by all means come out here and TRY to take Lukas away from me….Threaten to have me arrested…threaten to fire me…you STILL won’t get Lukas back….until I get what I deserve. The only way you‘re getting Lukas back is if you give me the championship match I EARNED!
Once it becomes apparent that no one is rushing to rescue Lukas, Kathryn feels its safe to slip through the ropes and into the ring. She steadies herself for either a brawl or a bargain.
Kathryn: So what? What’s it gonna be? Am I ready for a fight, or are you going to come out here, do the right thing, Orlando, and get your bargaining chip back? You want to find Taylor Chase, here’s your opportunity…here’s your lifeline to the love of your life.
Gestures are made to the yawning Montgomery.
Kathryn: And I’d suggest you make up your mind right now, because I’ve already spent so much of my life waiting hand and foot on others…that ends tonight…my patience, it’s wearing incredibly thin. So come on…come on!
She doesn’t have to wait long before ‘Lights Out’ by Breaking Benjamin hits and the crowd goes nutty. Through the curtains emerges an individual that Pearson did NOT expect to see…Brittany Lohan…and neither lady looks very happy to gaze upon the other.
Dollar: The Blacklist NOR Orlando Cruze answering Pearson’s challenge. Instead it’s…it’s her own tag team partner at Upping the Ante, Brittany Lohan. The lady she stole Montgomery from.
Susie: Big shoulders versus big boobs. What a face off this should be.
Dollar: I don’t think Lohan is very happy that her credibility and loyalties have been questioned over and over again throughout the night, and she might just take out that frustration on….
Brittany: Kathryn…Kathryn….Kathryn…
Dollar: Way to let me finish, Lohan.
Lohan moseys on down the ramp, not allowing herself to get emotional, even given the condescending gleam in Kathryn’s eyes.
Lohan: I understand you have trust issues. You’ve pretty much been betrayed by just about everyone in your life…..
She moves up the stairs and to the apron, leaning forearms first against the top rope. Merely looking into her eyes would normally be enough to lead someone rushing to the nearest bathroom to clean out their shorts, but Kathryn does not flinch, full of conviction….resolute in her determination to see justice done.
Lohan: I can sympathize. I don’t have a very good track record with all those I THOUGHT I could trust. So yeah, I understand where your coming from.
Pearson nods her head, glad that Brittany sees things her way.
Lohan: We were both royally screwed by the Blacklist last week, and by that SPINELESS Orlando Cruze. I’m not a happy-go-lucky myself about the whole situation. But this is NOT the way to go about getting what you want. All your doing is pissing off Orlando, and more importantly, pissing me off too. And believe me, I’m the last bitch you want to piss off.
Kathryn’s resolve is weakened, especially when Lohan enters the ring and steps right up into her face, intimidating the rookie grappler.
Lohan: You’ve seen what I do to people who get on my nerves, Kathryn. You don’t want to be amongst them. So I’m here to take Lukas to Orlando, and to get Tay-Tay back…step aside.
It goes against everything Pearson personally believes, but she clears a path for Lohan, who sneers before moving towards Montgomery. She is moments from getting her clutches on Lukas, only to have her wrist snatched. The audacious Pearson has hold of Lohan, gripping her wrist just long enough for Brittany to be FORCED to tear it free and turn to acknowledge the woman bold enough to put her hands on her.
Kathryn: I don’t think you heard me, Brittany. I told the Blacklist, they weren’t getting Lukas back without a fight. And since….well…you seem to be in their close circle of friends, I’m going to consider my challenge, answered!
Pearson throws aside the microphone and backs up with arms outstretched to her sides.
Dollar: Is she serious? Kathryn Pearson is actually challenging her own tag team partner for the High Stakes match at Upping the Ante?
Susie: This is gonna get bad….real….REAL bad.
Dollar: She’s not allowing Lohan to just take Montgomery back….she’s going to have to fight her for him. And apparently, she just doesn’t trust that Lohan isn’t being swayed by her friendship with the Blacklist.
An actual smile, one of pure shock, is present across half of Lohan’s face, in total disbelief that Kathryn is actually challenging her…not to a match…but an unsanctioned FIGHT! Brittany lowers her head and shakes it before suddenly rushing right into a lariat that Kathryn ducks.
Kathryn steps under the lariat and then rushes into the ropes behind Brittany, ricocheting off the cables. She comes back in, building incredible speed as Brittany tries to behead her with a back elbow. Kathryn ducks that as well, and then turns just as Pearson ricochets from the ropes and comes back in. The Final Solution steps in to splash the fledgling wrestler, who surprisingly slides right through Lohan’s legs.
Dollar: Kathryn slipping through Lohan’s fingers like water. She just can’t her hands on the woman, who was trained by the very lady who also trained Brittany’s sister, Dawn. Don’t know why that’s relevant, just goes to show I’ve done my research.
Kathryn leaps to her feet and then into the air, delivering a dropkick between Lohan’s shoulder blades. Brittany is sent not only into the ropes, but through them to the outside of the ring. She lands on her feet and turns back towards the ring, smiling wider than ever at this point.
Lohan: Okay then…the gloves are off hon.
Dollar: Looks like Brittany is through playing around.
Susie: How can they be playing without even having a game board…Ewww…they should totally end this fight through Candy Land.
Lohan begins to slide back into the ring only to have Pearson stomp at her hands, keeping her from getting back in. Brittany backs up and then shakes her head, realizing that Kathryn has marked her territory, and will not allow any intruders on her turf. Therefore Lohan takes off AROUND the ring, rushing towards Montgomery. This does exactly what Brittany wanted, drawing Pearson out of the squared circle to stop her.
Kathryn runs around the opposite side of the ring before reaching the steps, leaping onto them and then diving right at Lohan to cut her off. Unfortunately for her, she forgot Brittany’s brute strength, being caught right on top of her adversary’s shoulder. Brittany turns and drives Kathryn spine first right into the barricade. Kathryn reaches for her kidneys, screeching out in pain after the devastating collision.
Susie: I wonder if that’s the same face Kathryn makes when she takes a pooh.
Dollar: Well…thanks for killing any trouser twinge I’ll ever get looking at Pearson again.
Lohan pulls up on Kathryn’s chin and leans her over the barrier.
Lohan: You wanted this…remember…this is what you wanted!
A forearm is driven into Kathryn’s chest, almost bursting her sternum. She then grabs the back of Pearson’s hair, charges her towards the ring and rolling her onto the apron. While most of her body ends up inside of the ring, her upper half remains extended over the apron and high above the mats. Lohan takes the back of Pearson’s head, lifts up on it and then drives her down hard chest first into the apron. She then gets a running start behind a devastating boot to the side of Pearson’s head.
Dollar: Pearson definitely earning her bones tonight. Lohan is putting this rookie through the ringer.
Lohan turns to get her clutches on Montgomery, feeling that she’s finished off the upstart only to have a handful of her hair caught in Kathryn’s clutches. Brittany appears annoyed, turning around to face Pearson, who is on her knees on the apron, throwing right hands down into her forehead. Brittany grabs hold of Kathryn’s wrist and yanks her down off of the apron right on top of one of her shoulders. She has Pearson in a running power slam position, taking off ready to obliterate her opponent with a slam on the protective mats.
The crowd squeals but not Pearson, because she slips right off of Lohan’s shoulder, lands behind her, and shoves her off into the turnbuckle post. Lohan is seconds from hitting the post but saves herself by grabbing the steel, refusing to be bludgeoned by it. She then turns around as Pearson comes rushing in, prompting the incredibly strong Lohan to bend down, catch the inner thighs of her opposition, and throw her over her head.
Pearson catches such height that she actually lands on second rope, showing remarkable grace and poise by balancing herself on the cables. She quickly spins around as does Lohan, who looks up just as Pearson flies off the turnbuckle into a HUGE cross body. She crashes down right into Brittany’s chest, taking her down to the mats with Kathryn landing on top.
Dollar: Wow….just wow…Kathryn showing she has no trouble going high risk.
Susie: She’s got tattoos, that means she’s all extreme and junk. So you shouldn’t be surprised.
Dollar: Kathryn desperate to find success in this business, and she’s not about to let anyone sabotage that.
Pearson rolls away from Lohan to her feet and realizes she’s got her opponent right where she wants her, in an opportune position that won’t last very long. She leaps to the apron and takes off across it, about to dive off when Lohan shows that recuperative ability that has made her such a threat. She leaps to her feet and then to the apron, catching the running Pearson under her arm, heaving her up into the air and dropping with a side slam that plants Kathryn right against the apron.
Dollar: JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER!
Susie: Is she dead? Does she have a pulse? Someone hold a glass under her nostrils to see if she’s still breathing. Maybe I should use my stethoscope.
Dollar: Susie…that stethoscope is just a string with a cup at the end of it.
Susie: Yep. It also doubles as my cell-phone.
Dollar: I think Lohan may have just ensured that she’s going to be in a handicap match at Upping the Ante because she might have just broke Pearson’s back with that slam on the apron.
Lohan glares from the mats at potentially crippled Pearson, who lies like a limp noodle on the apron. Not an inch of her is moving, cluing Lohan into the fact that this might be her opportunity. With one victim vanquished, Lohan sets her sights on another, her appetite for chaos insatiable. She descends upon Montgomery, grabbing his wheelchair and pushing him around the ring towards the ramp.
Dollar: And Lohan has got Montgomery back in her clutches. She’s going to find out where Tay-Tay’s mangled body is one way or another…if it’s not too late. Thank God….WAAIT!
Lohan looks up over the wheelchair as Pearson runs across the apron and dives off into a lariat, connecting right against Brittany’s throat. The two collapse to the mats with Pearson landing on her knees. She reaches for her kidneys after that disgusting side slam across the apron, really feeling the effects of this impromptu brawl. She sluggishly gets to her feet, almost falling over after it took the last vestiges of her strength to hit that lariat.
Though this fight may be short in duration, it’s been very brutal on the rookie Pearson’s body. She takes Lohan around the neck, leading her up to her feet while driving forearms over her upper back repeatedly. She then turns Lohan in a full circle before rolling her into the ring. Kathryn then slides in herself, refusing to be bested, refusing to be tested, refusing to be belittled. She approaches Lohan and then gets caught with a discus axe handle smash that almost sends Pearson flipping completely over backwards.
Kathryn lands right on top of her face then twists to the canvas amidst a loud screech from the viewing masses.
Lohan: Brutal….absolutely BRUTAL axe handle smash from Lohan, twisting Pearson completely inside out.
Normally Lohan would have a pin in mind, but there is no referee as this is a completely unsanctioned fight. Brittany settles instead for another form of victory, getting her hands on Montgomery. She approaches the ropes and begins to slide through them when her ankle is ensnared in the clutches of Pearson, who will just let up.
Lohan turns and looks down at the mangled figure clamped onto her ankle, causing Brittany to sigh.
Dollar: I think Lohan is going to walk away from this match with a whole new level of respect for Pearson. Well, after she breaks her in two and ends her career.
Brittany is so busy pummeling the upper back of Pearson, and Kathryn is so busy keeping Lohan away from Montgomery, neither lady notices the figure jumping over the barricade. A predictable eruption commences from the crowd at the sight of Nathan Creed, who takes advantage of the distraction. He grabs the handles of the wheelchair and begins push it up the ramp towards the backstage area.
Dollar: What….wait….Nathan Creed…it’s Creed…and he’s taking off with Montgomery!
Susie: They just need to line up a bunch of police cruisers backstage.
Dollar: Yes, because I think a lot of people are going to be arrested before the end of the night.
Susie: No, so I can play with the sirens.
Pearson is on her feet, shoulder wedged to Lohan’s ribs, powering her backwards into the turnbuckle. Forearm after forearm rams into Pearson’s upper back, knocking her down to her knees. She then scoops Pearson up by the armpit and switches positions with her, tossing Kathryn into the turnbuckle. She is about to pull her fist back and deliver a shot when Kathryn catches her off guard with a scream….not one pleading for mercy…but one alerting Lohan to Creed.
Pearson: Whoa…whoa…what the hell!?!
Nathan doesn’t even look back, taking no pleasure in ruining the well laid plans of Pearson, or usurping Lohan. All he cares about is getting Montgomery backstage before the Blacklist can intervene.
Dollar: Where is Creed taking Montgomery?
Susie: This the worse case of re-gifting I’ve ever seen.
The two pass through the curtains while Lohan turns and glares menacingly at the stage, realizing that Montgomery has slipped through her fingers. Kathryn remains in the corner, looking downright rabid at this point.
Dollar: Nathan Creed has Lukas Montgomery, but why? What are his plans for Lukas?
You won’t have to wait long for answers….not this time…no-no….cause cameras instantly pick up Nathan Creed in the guerilla position, shoving Montgomery into one of the backstage corridors, and doing so in a hurry.
Orlando: Nathan….Nathan…stop….STOP right now!
The chair screeches to a halt, and would kick up dust if it were traveling any quicker. Nathan grimaces as he turns to acknowledge Orlando Cruze, rushing to catch up with his best friend.
Orlando: Where are you going? What are you doing? Why are you doing this?
The questions come so quickly that Nathan doesn’t even have time to answer. Instead he just soaks it all in, the inquires and Orlando’s frazzled state. He gazes upon a man who is NOT the Icon of old, the Icon that he respected.
Orlando: Are you seriously taking off with the only man who can reunite me with Tay-Tay?
Nathan: Have you seriously become this big of a pussy whipped dick-head?
Cruze is no longer frazzled, he’s angry…..no….he’s infuriated.
Orlando: Nathan….my Brother…I would expect those types of comments out of Silencer….not out of you.
Nathan: You want to know why I’m commandeering Lukas here?
Orlando: You better have a damn good explanation.
Nathan: Because it’s the only way I could get your attention, Mate.
Orlando: What? What does that even mean?
Nathan: You and I need to have a serious chat, Lando, you’ve GOT to listen to what I have to say.
Orlando: I swear to God, I do NOT need this right now.
Nathan: What? You want sympathy? You want me to feel bad for you? Because I don’t feel bad for you, and I don’t feel bad for Tay-Tay either.
The murderous gleam in Orlando’s eyes do absolutely nothing to dissuade Creed, hell-bent on saying exactly what needs to be heard…now that he’s finally got Orlando’s attention.
Nathan: Because the two of you brought this on yourselves. You’ve let the Blacklist run around stirring shit…and you even endorsed it. This federation used to be the dog’s bollocks, but you’ve let the Blacklist turn it into a battlefield. And because you didn’t nip them in the rear from jump street, they’ve only escalated and escalated and escalated the violence, until you finally got swept into the middle of it. Did you think letting those three have free reign would work out well for you in the end? Of course not. And if you weren’t so busy with your head stuck up Tay-Tay’s wet-kipper, and so focused on keeping the World Heavyweight Title around your waist, you would have realized that long before it got to this point.
The flames in Orlando’s eyes have been doused, lowering them from Creed’s face.
Orlando: Nathan….PLEASE!
Nathan: You walked away and let me get my arse kicked last week, but I’m not going to let you fall flat on your arse, Orlando, when it comes to relaunching this company. It starts tonight, because I’m going to help you stand up to the Blacklist and stop falling for their tactics….
Lukas: Gentlemen….oh gentlemen….
The clothes have been spat from Lukas’ mouth, allowing him to speak at long last.
Montgomery: As much as I hate to ruin this little bromance, I have a little something to say.
Orlando’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he steps around in front of the chair, bending down to get into Lukas’ face.
Orlando: You better choose your words, very…very wisely.
Montgomery: And you better realize your in no position to threaten me, Boss.
Orlando: Tell me where Taylor is, right now…or….
Montgomery: You’ll what? You’ll do nothing.
Nathan: He might not, but I will.
Creed slides his hands on Lukas’ shoulders.
Montgomery: Tell your boy to get his mitts off of me, Orlando, if you ever want to see Tay-Tay, or the World Heavyweight Title again.
Nathan: Orlando is through being threaten….
Orlando: Nathan…let him go.
Nathan: What? Didn’t we just talk about this?
Orlando: I said let him go….PLEASE!
A disgruntled Creed lets go in order to throw his hands in the air.
Orlando: Now Lukas…
Lukas: Do you have that contract I gave you?
Orlando: Erm….yes…..yes I do.
Lukas: Take it out, sign it, and then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.
What is Orlando to do? He removes the document, unfolds it and stares at the fine print.
Orlando: Aaron really thinks he’s going to get the title tonight, huh?
Lukas bites his tongue and channels Harrison’s terrific ability to blatantly lie.
Lukas: Not as if there’s any other option, now sign the contract.
Orlando grabs a pen, signing his name to the contract.
Orlando: There, it’s done. Aaron will get his match. Now where’s Taylor? Where is SHE!?!
Lukas: Did you ever think to check in your office?
Orlando barely even lingers behind long enough to hear him out before taking off down the corridor. The fact that Tay-Tay’s mangled body would be left in HIS office ALMOST makes sense, as it was a plot hatched form the diseased, warped, demented minds of the Blacklist. So he runs—rushes–dashes to the aid of his beloved, hoping beyond hope that he isn’t too late.
Lukas: Hurry, Orlando, hurry.
Montgomery is chuckling to himself before he looks down at his handcuffs.
Montgomery: You can remove these now.
This time it’s Creed turn to chuckle, slapping Lukas on his shoulders.
Nathan: I don’t think so, Chap.
Lukas stops laughing.
Nathan: You and I, are about to take a ride.
MOMENTS AGO
A still frame image of Kathryn Pearson standing in the ring beside a wheelchair bound Montgomery is featured, as we begin to recap events that unfolded right before the commercial break…the twisted…demented…turn of events that is…which require quite a bit of explanation from the commentary staff, or at least the one with a functional brain.
Dollar: Wow…it actually looks like Mr. Hush is going to let us have one of the video packages to explain what went down moments ago.
Susie: Awww…why relive the past when we can relive Arnold in drag?
Dollar: Just before the break we saw Kathryn Pearson kidnap Lukas Montgomery, and demand that either the Blacklist or Orlando Cruze come out to return her number one contendership only to have Brittany Lohan of all people answer her challenge. Then this happened.
Dollar: What…in God’s name…was that?
Susie: Pure awesome caught on celluloid is what that was, Johnny.
Dollar: I feel as if my childhood was just raped. Why oh why hasn’t something been done about Mr. Hush yet?
ORLANDO CRUZE
The name of the ‘acting’ President of the IWC has been written across the door. The crowd is aware…or so they think…of what they’re about to witness next, already shielding the eyes of the younger, more impressionable viewers. If only Orlando had the same luxury, but as he storms down the corridor towards his office, he prepares himself for a sight straight out of a John Carpenter movie.
His fingers wrap around the knob of the door, his chest heaving, his breathes heavy, his forehead doused with sweat. After a deep breath he begins to twist the door and step inside to find his blood soaked love. But that sight is deprived to the Icon as the door is ripped right out of his clutches, and Orlando instead finds himself staring into the unblemished face of the perfect Taylor Chase.
Orlando: Ta–Ta–Tay Tay?
Tay-Tay: Babe, what are you doing here?
Tay-Tay looks just as confused as Orlando, but for different reasons. Though she’s perplexed simply because Orlando is present at the Manhattan Center, and not off at his meeting, Orlando is surprised to find his lover not soaked in a bucket of blood.
Tay-Tay: Aren’t….you ….supposed to be at a meeting?
Orlando: TAY-TAY!
Orlando reacts out of pure joy, unable to keep his emotions buried under sleeve. Speaking of sleeves, they wrap around Taylor’s waist, heaving her up off of the floor into a big squeeze, twisting her through the air. She unleashes a slight giggle before at last being returned to her feet.
Tay-Tay: Ummm…okay. Easy tiger.
The last thing Cruze is about to do is take it easy, wrapping his hands around Taylor’s cheeks and pulling her into a huge kiss on the lips. Tay-Tay’s toes almost curl up into the back of her feet thanks to the passionate lip-lock. Before they can pass out from asphyxiation, Chase finally pulls away, eyes batting and cheeks flushed with color.
Tay-Tay: Aren’t you feeling feisty.
She fixes the collar of his shirt and his jacket.
Orlando: You have absolutely no idea how relived I am to see that your okay.
Her eyes shift.
Tay-Tay: And wwwwhhyy wouldn’t I be?
His eyes shift.
Orlando: You don’t know what’s going on?
Both of their eyes shift.
Tay-Tay: Am I supposed to? I’ve been in your office all night, since you weren’t going to be using it anyway. Well, with the exception of like the hour that I spent in the driving to the airport.
Orlando: Why?
Allow the Brod to field this one, Baby-Girl.
Taylor Chase’s legendary father steps out of Orlando’s office and slaps him on the back, causing the paranoid…and for good reason…Icon to spin around with fists raised at the ready, on the verge of pummeling anything that moves. Broderick Chase smiles back at the Icon, chalking this up to some sort of game.
The Brod: Mr. Icon…I flew in tonight to sit front row center and watch my crown jewel win the World Heavyweight Title.
Orlando: Uh-huh.
Cruze is still trying to figure out how this explains absolutely anything.
The Brod: But when I got here to spend some time with my Pumpkin, I ran into this punk.
The elder Chase steps aside and gestures to the interior of the room, where Frankie Paradise is seated behind Orlando’s desk, making himself comfortable. He’s kicked back in the leather chair, ankles crossed on top of the desk, with cellular phone in hand. He seems to be tweeting.
Orlando: Mmmkay.
He’s still struggling to put together the pieces of this puzzle.
Tay-Tay: Yeah, Frankie thought that we all needed to have a bit of a pow-wow, hash out the issues Frankie and I have been having lately with the old man playing peace keeper.
The Brod: Old man? Pfft….You know I still have the body of an eighteen year old. I could probably out bench-press your boyfriend here.
Orlando: So wait…wait…wait…wait…you mean to tell me that the three of you have been back here all night long?
Tay-Tay: Pretty much, yep.
The Brod: Frankie had a lot to get off his chest. But I think his tirade kind of won us over in the end. Didn’t know the kid was capable of such sincerity.
Tay-Tay: Yeah, he kind of made me realize just how big of a bitch I’ve been to him the past few weeks.
Orlando: Wait….
He rubs his temples.
Orlando: Why haven’t you answered the fifteen thousand calls and text messages I sent you?
Tay-Tay: Because my stupid cell-phone got broken. Frankie was trying to download some kind of new music app on it for me and somehow he dropped it. Thing shattered into like a thousand pieces.
The Brod: That’s what cases were built for, Pumpkin.
Tay-Tay: I know Dad…I know….But not like you got much room to talk, what with forgetting to bring your charger.
The Brod: Don’t remind me. I feel so naked without my ability to send tweets.
Orlando: Wait…wait…wait…
The two finally pick up on Orlando’s anxiety and outrage.
Orlando: So you…you…you didn’t run into the Blacklist tonight?
Tay-Tay: If I ran into the Blacklist, don’t you think I’d be standing here about to return the World Title to you?
The Brod: Only for you to give it back to her later tonight, right?
Orlando looks like a deer caught in the headlight by this inference.
Orlando: Ummm….uhhhh….about that.
The Brod looks dismayed, Tay-Tay appeard distraught, and Frankie lets everyone know he’s truly disgusted.
The Brod: You’re not going to give into the Blacklist and strip my daughter of her title shot are you? We’ve still got Frankie’s mom on speed dial, she’s a powerful lawyer.
Tay-Tay: Dad…please.
Frankie: Of course he isn‘t going to strip Tay-Tay…though it be hot….
Frankie rises from the chair, at long last vacating Orlando’s seat of authority and then moving to the door where all the commotion is taking place.
Frankie: Because we all know that deep down, Orlando cares more about Tay-Tay, and keeping that beautiful smile on her face, than holding the World Title. Right? Which is why he won’t bow down to the Blacklist and WILL give Tay-Tay her title shot tonight, right?
Orlando scowls at Paradise.
Orlando: Right.
Orlando’s scowl is buried behind his hands, which slowly run down his face.
Tay-Tay: What’s wrong handsome?
Orlando: I really…really wish I had come to my office a few minutes before I signed something I shouldn’t have.
Everyone is intrigued, their eyes prompting him for further information, but Orlando remains quiet, refusing to give in and tell his close circle of allies the terrible truth. The match that he signed off for on that contract offered by the Blacklist…a match that would undoubtedly put Taylor Chase in a particularly perilous position. How he could he tell her? How?
Lohan: PEARSON!
Once again Brittany Lohan finds herself abnormally amped up, emotionally wrought after seeing Taylor….or so it appeared to be Taylor at least…left a mangled…mutilated mess at the onset of tonight’s Riot!….which was followed by constant questioning from the lady who is standing at the top of the ramp. Kathryn Pearson is exhausted after the short, but physical fight she just had with the very woman she’ll team along with at Upping the Ante.
Dollar: As we TRIED to cover via the recap a few moments ago, Kathryn Pearson and Brittany Lohan were really going at it over ownership of the captive Lukas Montgomery, believing he should be used in different ways. While Lohan wanted to use Montgomery to coax the Blacklist into giving her the location of Taylor, Pearson wanted to use him to get back her number one contendership. And apparently, now we’ve learned that Tay-Tay was NEVER in any danger…that she WASN’T assaulted by the Blacklist at all.
Susie: I’m pretty sure that Brittany doesn’t know that though.
Dollar: Yeah, she still looks pretty fired up. And Orlando didn’t know about it until he signed the contract…which I can only assume grants Aaron Harrison, Taylor Chase’s World Title match.
Lohan is taking several breaths in an attempt…an ATTEMPT to calm herself down. It becomes harder and harder the longer she looks at the stooped over Pearson, who is still feeling the effects of the physical brawl she just partook in.
Lohan: You may have just ruined the only chance we had to get Taylor back, and I CAN’T let you get off that easy for it. Get your ass back to this ring RIGHT NOW!
Pearson stands up straight on the stage and mouths the word ‘seriously?’
Lohan: You better believe I’m serious. Now either get in this ring so I can continue giving you a lesson in wrestling, or I’ll drag you down here and…
Kathryn actually starts on her towards the ring, needing no further coaxing.
Lohan: Yeah…get in here…get in here now.
Whitman: Ladies…ladies….ladies….is there really such need for this strife?
With the X-Class Title over shoulder, and a KKK t-shirt still bound to his body, P. Clarence Whitman III emerges on the stage.
Dollar: What in the freck is this idiot doing here? Why are we forced to look at his mug right now?
Susie: I think Whitman’s cute, in a John Merrick kind of way.
Dollar: Two Elephant Man references in the span of a few weeks, jeez, we are running low on material already.
The commentators may be struggling, but Whitman has plenty to say as he approaches the two women with a surprising lack of trepidation, even as Pearson watches from the apron with a none-too pleased expression and Lohan gives the type of stare that could melt a glacier.
Whitman: Normally I would remain outside of such disputes as these, as I’m no meddler, but I could no longer tolerate seeing two ravishing beauties such as yourselves, fighting all the wrong battles.
Lohan and Pearson exchange a quick glance and then look back at Whitman, who boldly slides into the ring and moves between them, employing his body as a physical barrier to keep them apart.
Whitman: Now I realize what most may be thinking. ’Are you daft Whitman?’ Why am I foolish enough to separate two of my opponents at Upping the Ante, instead of allowing them to exchange fisticuffs and potentially leave them unfit for competition? That’s not my prerogative. I don’t want weakened opponents…I want opposition that will give me a fitting challenge. I think that’s what we all want…what anyone in their mind would desire. What does beating injured opponents demonstrate? Nothing…Nothing at all. It only makes the victor look quite weak…forced to depend on the injuries of his opponents rather than his own skill.
Dollar: Did they get Whitman out of the 1980’s?
Whitman: I proudly embody principles of the ancient Brushido. I believe in honor unto death…
He pulls a bit on the collar of his t-shirt….the last word making him a bit uncomfortable.
Whitman:…amongst the many other lessons learned from the mighty Samurai. And that is why I’m here. Mrs. Pearson…Mrs. Lohan…pulverizing one another plays only into the hands of this gaggle of sycophants known as the Blacklist. If you wish to stand any chance at defeating them, put your animosity aside, allow bygones to be bygones…
Pearson’s and Lohan’s glance in one another’s directions turns into a long stare. It seems that they are actually buying into Whitman’s diatribe.
Whitman:…I think you two need to shake hands and forgive one another. Honestly, to truly reinforce the bonds of your alliance, maybe you should hug. Perhaps a little peck on the cheek would display your camaraderie. And we certainly wouldn’t fault you if you decided to take it even a step further. Nothing says I respect you like a full on open mouth kiss on the lips Yes, that would be quite appeasing.
Whitman tries to swipe the drool from his lips as Pearson and Lohan get a step closer to one another. Once they realize that they’re unintentionally acting out Whitman’s fantasies they stop and slowly turn their eyes to the voyeuristic X-Class Champion.
Dollar: You really should have stopped while you were ahead Whitman.
Susie: Now I think he’s not going to have a head.
Whitman: Please don’t let my swooning distract the affirmation of your love for one another….
Whitman notices they’ve stopped inching closer to one another.
Whitman: Ladies, please don’t fear giving me the cold shoulder. If you’re insistent however, I’ll join the two of you in a group hug.
His arms extend and Pearson proves that Whitman is indeed daft, demonstrating as much by catching him off guard via a kick to the ribs. The X-Class Champion doubles over, grabbing at his mid-section and exposing his face to right hand after right hand from Kathryn.
Lohan will not settle for sloppy seconds. She pulls Pearson out of the way and then drives a forearm into Whitman’s cheek, almost taking him down. She then grabs his wrist and whips him right into Pearson, who delivers a big lariat putting the X-Class Champion down to the canvas.
Dollar: Well I think Whitman accomplished his goal of uniting these two women, but not in the way he had planned.
Susie: They should so send him over to the middle-east, he’d make a great peace keeper.
Whitman scrambles to the escape the ring, only reaching back in true Indiana Jones fashion to grab his X-Class Title. Pearson is nipping at his heels but is only stopped when she’s grabbed by the shoulder and spun around so that she comes face to face with Lohan.
Immediately the two are back on each other’s cases, exchanging words rather fists at this point.
Dollar: So much for that alliance.
Susie: It lasted as long as my attention span….eww look at Whitman’s shimmering sparkly spark.
The X-Class Title seems excessively heavy on the shoulder of Whitman as he backs up the ramp, feeling the effects of the brief physicality he was just subjected to. Just as he is about to clear out of harm’s way…the lights in the building dim.
Dollar: Oh shit.
When they rise a sigil has been formed on the stage right beneath Clarence’s feet. Before he can so much as gulp a hand tears right through the metal mesh below and grabs Whitman’s ankle. The X-Class Champion tries to pull away but it’s in vain, as the rest of Legion emerges from sigil and now grabs his prey by the shirt, dragging him down to his knees.
Neither Brittany nor Kathryn do anything but stare, forgetting about one another in order to fixate on the behemoth who has hold of a kneeling Whitman by the collar of his shirt.
Dollar: Legion has arrived…but for what purpose?
Susie: To make me saturate my underpants?
Dollar: I think it’s more than that. He’s got hold of Whitman, who has been a victim of the Black Crusade for several weeks now. Is he at last going to make Clarence face his ultimate fear?
Just as Legion begins to drag Whitman towards the backstage area a baton slams right across the back of the N.H.B Champion’s head. The goliath staggers forward as two riot gear wearing security guards tear through the curtains, both of which wielding the same weapon, batons that inflict damage on the mask clad colossus.
Dollar: Now security is all over Legion. Their beating the stuffing out of the N.H.B Champion.
Susie: Is he literally filled with croutons?
Dollar: How should I know what a demon’s diet consists of.
Susie: I’m thinking souls and Mr. Pibb.
Whitman watches from his knees with a look of downright confusion as Legion staggers down the ramp and turns just in time to be hit between the eyes once again with a baton by the more feminine looking member of the assaulting party.
Legion is sent spiraling towards the ring and eventually collapses against the apron, trying desperately to hold himself up.
Dollar: More chaos…more carnage. Laymon presumably sending his sentinels out here to deal with Legion once and for all. Getting payback for all the problems they’ve caused in the production truck. At long last they‘ve got the drop on the monster.
With Legion taking a knee one of the security guards feels bold enough to turn and throw a baton to Whitman, who got a little closer in order to get a better glimpse of what’s happening here.
Dollar: Now these two are giving the baton to Whitman. Are they actually encouraging him to hit Legion?
Susie: Or maybe they’re encouraging him to do a Fred Astaire style dance with the baton. He does kind of look like Fred Astaire. And I say that having absolutely no idea who Fred Astaire is.
Whitman first looks down at the baton, then back up into the tinted face plates shielding the….well…faces….of the security guards.
Dollar: What’s it gonna be Whitman? Either take your chance to finally stand against the Black Crusade, OR stand by the statements you made just a few moments ago. You’re slated to face Legion, are you going to do it straight up in this triple threat, or battle a weakened man? Assuming Legion is a man.
It takes Whitman a moment but he finally comes to a decision, swinging the baton right into the skull of one of the guards. He then turns and swings the stick into the knee of the other attacker. The fans are going nuts as Whitman swings for the fences, taking out any and all frustrations on security.
Dollar: He’s actually coming to Legion’s defense! He really is THAT stupid!
Susie: Don’t you mean, honorable?
Dollar: No, I mean stupid.
Whitman keeps swinging until both of Laymon’s sentries have been sent scurrying into the crowd.
A monitor provides a perfect view of all the action, and both Kitty Buehler and Lois Prince are enjoying what they see. Well, at least Lois is, as she gets to see a different side of Clarence, his bad-ass side. Buehler looks disgusted by the actions of Whitman, but surprisingly pleased at the sight of the slight grin on Lois’ face.
Lohan and Pearson are still bickering inside of the ring while on the outside Whitman is looking between the baton in his hand and the prone Legion. At last he tosses the weapon to the ground and reaches out, nervously taking the behemoth under the arm, aiding him to his feet. Legion eyes are widened by the sight of someone actually assisting him to his feet, offering support rather than physicality. His response to this kind gesture, taking Whitman by the back of the head and slamming the X-Class Champion face first into the apron.
Dollar: Told you so. Knew PCW3’s misguided idealism would cost him dearly. Legion is compassionless, you can‘t reason with the man.
Susie: Not even if he bought him a plushie? Cause you know…
Dollar: Yes, yes, we all know your predilections about plushies and glitter.
Susie: Don’t get me started on glitter. It might be the one thing Legion’s mask is missing.
Legion cocks back his fist to unload on the prone Whitman while Lohan finally shoves Pearson down to the canvas then runs across the ring in order to drop into a baseball slide. Both boots slip under the ropes into Legion’s chest, knocking the N.H.B Champion back a few steps. Finally referee Stuart Wright comes bolting towards the ring, ready to officiating the impending carnage.
Dollar: The referee is here to get some semblance of control to all this anarchy and I suppose to start the three way preview to the High Stakes Tag Match at Upping the Ante.
Susie: I thought he was out here to do another of his impersonations….he played Porno Lad wonderfully at the last pay-per-view.
Dollar: Surprised you remember that.
Susie: What?
Dollar: Wright being dressed up as Porno Lad.
Susie: When did that happen?
Given the fact that Lohan has bigger muscles than he does, Whitman makes an exception about fighting woman this evening. He runs right at Brittany, who reaches out and catches Clarence around the waist, then drops back into a release over head belly to belly suplex. Whitman’s spine collides hard with the mats while Loahn turns her focus to Legion, taking the N.H.B Champion around the neck in a side headlock. She then charges him by the top of the skull directly into the steel turnbuckle post. He bounces off and staggers back, senses and impulses still hindered by the attack from Laymon’s security.
Brittany takes the N.H.B Champion and rolls him into the ring before climbing up onto the apron. She is just about to enter the ring when Legion rises to his feet and delivers the shuffle side kick right to Brittany’s skull. She’s sent flying, without the use of happy thoughts or magical powder, through the air before ultimately coming down right on top of the X-Class Champion.
Whitman looks up just as Lohan lands in his clutches, catching her before she hits the mats. Unfortunately, both to Clarence’s dismay and pleasure, he’s caught his opponent by the boobs. Before he can given an explanation Lohan looks down at the hands touching her endowments, then up into Whitman’s face with a look that could turn coal into diamonds.
Pearson has stepped around behind the pair, shaking her head judgmentally before a timid Whitman poses a very important question to the woman he’s unintentionally groping.
Whitman: Erm, do you want me to let go or squeeze?
Another boot is delivered by Lohan, as far south of the mid-section as possible. Clarence doubles over and puts his head in the clutches of the Final Solution of Pro Wrestling, who whips him by the back of the noggin towards the ring. He loses his footing though, and goes down head first right into the crotch of Pearson. Kathryn jumps back with Whitman’s head stuck under her lower extremities, digging his skull in like an ostrich putting its skull in the sand.
She throws her arms up into the air and glares down at Whitman before at last prying his head from her crotch.
The moment Whitman stands up he inquires as to rather they’re now betroved, only to have his inquiry go unanswered, thanks in large part to the forearm nailing him to the upper back. Lohan knocks Whitman forward into Pearson, the two spilling over the steel steps and crashing across the mats.
Dollar: God, as much as I loathe Whitman, I have to say, he’s been in a lot of positions I find quite envious.
Susie: I envy the fact that his head looks just like a testicle.
Dollar: What is it with you and testicularly shaped heads?
Susie: In the words of Sparkles…it’s a compulsion.
With Whitman and Pearosn taken out Lohan returns her attention to the ring only to instantly fall into the clutches of Legion. He reaches through the ropes and grabs her right by the throat, choking her viciously. He then heaves her up by the carotid artery to the apron and reaches over the cables, locking both hands around her larynx.
Brittany tries to pry the hands away from her neck but can’t break the grip of the incredibly storng N.H.B Champion. A forearm is thrown over the ropes into Legion’s chest, followed by another and then another. Lohan takes her opponent by the back of the head and tries to drop down off the apron to snap his throat against the top rope. However, Legion plants his feet and keeps both hands locked around Lohan’s throat as he feet dangle above the mats, kicking desperately. He then heaves her back up into the air and onto the apron before at last throwing her over the top rope.
Lohan comes down in the center of the ring onto her knees STILL being choked with both hands of Legion. The N.H.B Champion has Brittany’s face turning several different shades, settling on a bright blue hue. She’s now going purple as she slowly begins to curl to the canvas.
Dollar: This is kind of sick, Legion is just choking Lohan into unconsciousness, and there seems to be nothing she can do about it.
Susie: Who knows, maybe she’s into that type of thing.
Salvation for Brittany comes in the chivalric Whitman, who steps up behind Legion and grabs his thick bicep, trying to force him down to the canvas into the crossface, a submission that has netted the X-Class Champion quite a few victories. Yet even Whitman can’t break Legion’s grip on his opponent’s throat, unable to prey a single arm away with all of his strength. So to the shock of all onlookers, Whitman wraps his legs around Legion’s forearm and then places his hands under his chin.
Dollar: Really? Whitman has got a crossface locked in on a STANDING Legion.
Legion remains upright with Whitman suspended in mid-air, applying the submission. He wrenches back on the chin several times while keeping his legs clamped about the wrist and forearm, the crowd applauding his unique submission variant. At last Legion is forced to acknowledge his tag team partner at Upping the Ante, AND break one hand away from Brittany’s throat, throwing back his arm and sending Whitman cascading through the air.
Clarence crashes to the canvas while Lohan rises to her feet, pigment returning to her face. She wraps an arm around Legio’s forearm, finally prying the other hand away from her throat, and then hooking his other arm. She has both of the N.H.B Champion’sarms in her clutches, leaving him defenseless against the barrage of headbutts that connect against his chest.
She then takes Legion around the back of the head and drops into a sit-out jawbreaker, sending her adversary staggering back. Brittany then tries to capitalize but almost falls over due to the strangulation, Legion’s palm prints left in her throat.
Speaking of the leviathan, he bounces off the ropes and absent of thought, but not of malice, staggers into the waiting foot of Brittany, traveling right into his guy. He doubles over as Lohan places him in a front chancery, setting up for a big time vertical suplex. She tries to heave the N.H.B Champion but her back gives out. Though she possesses incredible strength she’s still unable to get the manifestation of fear over into the suplex.
Therefore, Whitman, a paragon of nobility, steps in, takes Legion by the neck and aids in the suplex attempt. But Legion is going nowhere, mostly because Brittany has given up on the suplex and is eyeballing Whitman. It doesn’t take long for her to indulge the impulse to save in his skull, nailing a right to his cheek. Whitman staggers away and Brittany turns her focus back to Legion a little too late to avoid the knee to her gut and the front chancery that is applied.
Just as he’s about to hit a vertical suplex, Whitman steps in and tries to help, placing Lohan in a front chancery as well. Now it’s Legion giving the X-Class Champion the stank-eye.
Dollar: Whitman, would you please just learn that nobody wants to work with you. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be forced to team up with you.
A vicious back elbow nails Whitman in the eye, knocking him out of the equation. One might detect a shiner forming around his eye if the lights in the arena weren’t such a dark shade of red, a technical malfunction resulting from the arrival of Legion.
Speaking of which, he goes back to Lohan, extending his palms and engulfing her throat. But wait, she drops down to her knees and drives the top of her skull into the guts of her massively proportioned opponent. She then goes for a second head butt to his ribs only to have a knee cut her off, rammed directly into her face.
The Final Solution rolls away to the center of the ring, getting to all fours as Legion steadies himself. Just at the precise moments when he stands up, Whitman comes barreling across the ring, steps off of the crawling Lohan’s back and launches himself right into Legion.
He reaches out and catches Clarence across his chest then back flips over into a moonsault fall away slam.
Dollar: WOW! We saw quite a bit of this at Awakening, Legion displaying some tremendous agility to hit that fall away moonsault slam.
Susie: The big man can fly, and he turned Whitman into a little squishie.
Legion isn’t through, he stands up still clutching the much lighter Whitman across his throat and prepares for a second moonsault fall away slam when Lohan steps in out of nowhere, delivering a dropkick to Clarence’s back.
The impact drives Whitman hard into Legion’s chest, knocking the masked man back into the ropes. He spills backwards right over top of them with Clarence still trapped across his sternum. The two flip completely over and Legion lands on his feet across the outside mats STILL holding Whitman in fallway slam position.
Dollar: Good GOD, Legion truly is a monster if he can keep hold of Whitman even after that flip over the top rope.
Before he can connect with yet another potential fall away slam, Lohan slips through the ropes and dives off the apron into a double axe handle. Legion keeps one arm in position, holding Whitman across his chest and then extends his other hand, catching Lohan as she comes in by digging his claws right into her mouth. The mandible claw is applied at the same time that he has Whitman still in position for the fall away slam.
Susie: Ewww, who knows where that hand has been.
Dollar: I shudder to think, but we know where it is now, right down Lohan’s gullet.
Suddenly Whitman begins to deliver repeated knees to the side of Legion’s head while Brittany connects with kicks to his gut. It takes a number of shots before the behemoth at last unleashes both of his opponents. Whitman lands on his feet and applies a front chancery while Lohan slaps the fingers out of her throat and also puts the N.H.B Champion in a chancery. The two snap back into a double vertical suplex, driving Legion right into the outside mats.
Dollar: Tense situations create for odd bed-fellows. Whitman and Lohan working together to at last take out Legion.
Legion remains sprawled across the mats, not flinching an inch. His opponents on the other hand are fighting their way back to their feet, or more accurately, Lohan is the one throwing forearms while Whitman just stands up. He gets forearm after forearm after forearm to the cheek and the chin, almost knocking him to the mats. But Brittany isn’t letting him go down, instead she’s taking him by the head and running him towards the ring where she can take full advantage of the X-Class Champion.
Whitman rolls across the canvas to the center while Lohan is beginning to enter herself. She turns towards Pearson, who is sitting on the steel steps with her arms crossed.
Lohan: Watch and learn.
She is just about to enter the ring but the fact that she took her eyes off the prize proves incredibly costly. Whitman rushes in and grabs Lohan by the arm as she was half way through the ropes is now trying to drag her down into the crossface. The official gets on the case of Whitman, telling him that Lohan’s leg is in the ropes and he cannot get the submission applied.
Lohan however, is not content with being saved by a scrawny official, she pushes back with her arm and sends Whitman spilling through the ropes to the apron. She then turns around as Clarence stands up on the opposite side of the cables and does the unthinkable, steals from Legion’s repertoire. He reaches over the ropes and digs his fingers right down Brittany’s throat, trying to apply his own mandible claw. But this one proves ineffective, especially when she bites down on the fingers rammed inside of her mouth.
Dollar: I don’t think Whitman thought this one out clearly. He saw it worked well for Legion, but that guy is a totally different creature than Clarence.
Susie: She’s eating his fingers. I wonder if they taste like bangers and mash.
Whitman bites his own hand, the free one, digging teeth into knuckles as he stifles a scream. Lohan spit’s the fingers out and then bends down, putting her head under Clarence’s seat. She then stands up, flipping Whitman over the top rope. As he comes down he catches Lohan around the waist, dragging her down into a sunset flip.
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Dollar: Has Whitman caught another unsuspecting victim with a roll up?
The ref is moments from hitting the canvas a third time when Lohan rolls back out of the pinning predicament and to her feet. Whitman then lifts his feet into the air and wedges them to her chest, shoving her off backwards to the center of the ring and at the same time rolling over to his feet. He then bolts straight at Lohan, who recovers in time to bend down, catch Clarence against her shoulder, heave him up and drive him down into the double A spine buster.
Bones and organs are mauled by the collision against the canvas, Whitman looking beyond spent…positively broke at this point. On the outside of the ring Legion surprises everyone when he arches his back up off of the mats in a crab walk fashion before slithering in serpentine fashion back up to his feet.
Dollar: Uh-oh, Legion didn’t stay down for long.
The N.H.B Champion slides back into the ring and stands just in time to be nailed to the throat with a big discus lariat from Lohan. The collision knocks him back into the turnbuckle while Lohan begins to deliver repeated elbows to the side of his face. Her eyes then turn towards the opposite side of the ring, where Whitman has taken position in the diagonal corner, leaning on it for support.
She rushes in and engulfs him with a big splash, then turns around and charges across the ring, slamming her body into Legion as well. The crowd is stunned to see Lohan’s impressive onslaught, crushing both of her adversaries via the big splash. She then turns back towards Whitman, who remains upright, albeit stooping out of the corner and charges in for another splash that will crush every bone in his body.
But the moment she steps forward she finds herself snagged on something, Legion grabbing her by the hair and not letting her get an inch. The No Holds Barred Champion spins Lohan around and grabs her by the head, applying the Five Finger Crawl.
Dollar: Now Legion channeling the aura of Kerry Von Erich with the claw! He’s got Lohan palmed like a basketball.
Susie: Hopefully he doesn’t try to spin her head on his finger next. And I’d hate to see his rendition of a double dribble.
Legion is squeezing Lohan’s head until it implodes and Pearson couldn’t look anymore apathetic over the plight of her tag team partner.
Pearson: So that’s how its done, huh?
Whitman now rushes out of the corner and leaps into the air, dropkicking Legion to the chest, backing him up into the turnbuckle, but he will not break the Five Finger Crawl on Lohan. Brittany drops to her knees as her skull begins to squeeze around her brain. Whitman stands up, looking stunned that Legion remains upright and still clasps hold of his opponent’s cranium. This prompts him to begin delivering a series of open hand palm strikes on the title holder.
The onslaught only ends when Legion reaches out and palms his head like a basketball as well, trying to squeeze it until all the air comes gushing out.
Dollar: That didn’t work out well for Whitman, he’s caught in the Five Finger Crawl as well. Legion is going to knock both opponents out with this submission.
Susie: That or reenact the scene from Fright Night 2 by using their heads as bowling balls.
Instead of prescribing to Dollar’s logic, Legion heaves Whitman into the air by his head and throws him into the turnbuckle. Whitman lands on the top rope, seated across it and instantly wondering how he got there. Legion then hoists Lohan up into the air and sends her twisting into the corner in the same fashion. She hit’s the turnbuckle just beneath Whitman, standing under the seated X-Class Champion.
Legion then steps to the center of the ring, turns and rushes in to deliver a big splash of his own presumably. That’s when Whitman steps off the top rope, steps off the top of Brittany’s head and launches himself into a big diving double axe-handle that actually has Legion stunned.
Dollar: Whitman FINALLY living up to the high risk, aerial dare devilry we’re supposed to see out of the X-Class Champion…though to be fair, Legion and Lohan set that up expertly.
Susie: And Lohan had to smell his foot in the process to boot.
Dollar: From what I understand, Whitman had that foot properly manicured and odorized after what Mr. Hush did to him several weeks ago on this program.
Legion looks very confused, staggering around after the double axe handle while Lohan comes barreling out of the corner, looking for a big yakuza kick on the unsuspecting X-Class Champion. Whitman side steps her though, allowing the boot to nail Legion right between the eyes. The N.H.B Champion stumbles back, swinging his arms to remain upright.
Lohan then turns around as Whitman comes barreling towards her, but now its her turn to duck whatever he had planned. She bends down and catches the inner thighs of Whitman, throwing him up into the air so that he lands right on top of Legion’s chest, finally taking the monstrosity down off of his feet. He lands on his back with Whitman seated on his chest for the pin.
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Lohan ricochets off the cables in front of Whitman and then comes barreling back in with a huge Yakuza kick connecting right to the face of her seated opponent.
The X-Class Champion’s head is almost knocked clear off his shoulders. He flips over backwards while the aggressive Lohan instantly turns her focus on Legion, delivering an elbow drop to his ribs. She rolls to her feet and hits a second elbow, then a third, then a fourth, and at last a fifth.
Dollar: Elbow after elbow after elbow right to Legion’s chest. Lohan just unloading on both opponents at this stage.
In the process of reaching her feet, Lohan turns to acknowledge the watching Pearson at ringside. A sneer forms on her face, one that finally causes Kathryn to seemingly lose her cool. She throws the tarp hanging from the apron into the air but doesn’t like what she sees beneath the ring. This prompts her to walk down the mats continuing to lift the tarp in an urgent search. Instantly her eyes light up at the sight of the perfect weapon, that for some reason was left beneath the squared circle.
She picks up a crowbar that gets a loud reaction from the crowd, slapping it against the apron.
Dollar: Pearson has hold of the very weapon that Lohan has used to cause such chaos here in the IWC…It’s what put Sebastian Knight out of commission at Awakening.
Susie: Hopefully Pearson doesn’t do what Lohan vowed she would over Twitter and ram it up someone’s rectum.
Pearson is about to slide into the ring with the crowbar in hand, mistakenly putting it in the ring first. That’s when Lohan steps right onto her forearm and reaches down, prying the crowbar out of her clutches.
Dollar: Oh no, now the RIGHTFUL number one contender for the No Holds Barred Championship has got the crowbar in her hand. This is bad for everyone in a five mile radius, especially with how fired up Lohan is tonight.
Brittany backs up slowly when Whitman is grabbed out of nowhere, but NOT by Lohan. Legion once again takes Whitman by the throat, hoisting him up to his feet and then employing his head as a human battering ram. He charges Clarence’s skull right into the lower back of Lohan, knocking her forward into the ropes. She spills through the apron, clutching at her kidneys.
The impact of his head to Legion’s spine knocks Whitman’s head out of Legion’s side headlock, spurting free and then reaching out and grabbing his massive opponent around the thigh as he goes down, TRYING to pull him down into a school boy. Legion flails his arms to keep from being dragged into yet ANOTHER roll up victory from Whitman, which have proved quite useful for the X-Class Champion thus far.
Just when it seems that Legion is on the verge of going down into the school boy, he instead goes down ass first right onto Whitman’s chest, crushing it beneath him.
The official makes the count as everyone watches Whitman go blue from all the weight crushing his chest.
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Dollar: Legion picks up a HUGE momentum builder by beating Whitman….squishing him beneath his bulk. He had those roll ups of Clarence‘s scouted.
Legion rolls to his elbows and knees after defeating Whitman in climactic fashion, pinning the very man who will be his tag team partner at Upping the Ante.
Clarence clutches at his sternum as he twists away from Legion, somehow mustering the strength to begin rising to his feet, albeit by no conscious choice of his own.
Dollar: I might not be the only one who’s stunned more by Whitman taking the fight to Legion, than by the N.H.B Champion’s victory here tonight. Instead of running away in fear, Clarence finally stood up to the masked monster.
The bell chimes repeatedly in the background as the celebration commences only to ultimately be cut short. Whitman has just reached his feet when the crowbar is swung by a vengeful Lohan right into the top of his head. Clarence collapses in a heap across the canvas.
Dollar: Lohan just BASHED Whitman right in the head with that friggin crowbar! His skull may have just been split right down the middle by this psycho.
Susie: And she doesn’t look done yet.
The N.H.B Champion has just reaches his feet when Lohan slams the crowbar between his shoulder blades. The goliath does not go down, instead turning just as Brittany slams the bar right against his jaw, almost knocking every tooth out of his mouth. Legion at last goes down to a knee but won’t stay down. He actually begins to stand up when Lohan just goes nuts, hitting every inch of his skull, chest, and shoulders with the crowbar, over and over and over again, from every angle. Legion throws some wild right hands, unconscious before his body can even catch up with him.
At last he crumbles to his seat and falls spine first against the ropes, eyes glazing over.
Dollar: And dear lord, Lohan even brought down Legion with those shots form the crowbar. This woman has absolutely lost it. But maybe that primal aggression is just what she needs against the likes of Legion.
The crowbar is more bent up and mangled than Legion’s skull, being tossed to the canvas beside the battered N.H.B Champion. She then turns towards Pearson, who watches on with shock from the outside of the ring.
Lohan: YES…that’s how it’s done.
Whitman and Legion, the champions, lie beneath the deranged Lohan, who has at last snapped after the abduction of her friend and employer Chase, as well as the repeated swipes at her loyalties.
Dollar: The Champions might not even make it to that High Stakes tag match at Upping the Ant…What the hell?
Susie: Upping the Ant? Sounds like animal porn to me.
Legion slithers across the ring towards Whitman, wrapping arms around his neck and pulling him up to his feet just as Lohan was stepping in to dish out further punishment on the X-Class Champion with the crowbar. Suddenly the lights go out, and when they return back to full power, without that eerie red tint, there’s no sight of Legion…there’s no sight of Whitman….there’s just Lohan standing there alone with the crowbar in her grip and a confused expression on her face.
Susie: Where’d they go?
Dollar: Legion employing his hocus pocus tactics again. Last week he disappeared with Christian Savior, and tonight, he does it again with Whitman before Lohan could further pulverize him. But…buy why? I thought Legion was compassionless.
The Original Prankster looks exhausted…battered…banged up…bruised…fucked six ways from Sunday. Hs leans over in his chair, a bag of ice placed to his eye, perhaps suffering a mouse under his pupil after the beat down by the TCWC. Gripped in his hand is NOT the IWC Tag Team Title belt, but the giant afro that Cassidy bought him as a present.
Katelyn: Why do you still have that?
Buehler questions while approaching the seated Porno Lad with a cup of water in hand. He leans back, pressing his spine against the wall of the long corridor they’re positioned in, and putting his legs up on a small box.
Porno Lad: Don’t know to be honest….
He examines the afro forward and back.
Porno Lad: I guess Cassidy’s got me thinking.
Katelyn: Don’t tell me you’re letting that psycho-slut get in your head.
She forks over the cup of water to Porno Lad, who can’t even stomach the thought of drinking it.
Porno Lad: Actually, she’s got me thinking about our whole relationship.
An exclamation point expressing the fact that Buehler has gone into alert mode is about to flash above her head.
Katelyn: In what way?
Porno Lad: Just realized I’ve never really gotten you anything.
She’s instantly relieved.
Katelyn: Don’t worry about it, Babe. I’m fine. Being together again, that’s gift enough.
Porno Lad: No…no…I’ve been a total dick to you over the years…and though it doesn’t make up for the way I’ve treated you….
He takes his feet off the small box and picks it up, holding it out to Katelyn.
Porno Lad: I got you a little something. Not much, just kind of picked it up at one of the souvenir stands.
The fact that someone at long last bought her a gift, one from the heart, makes Katelyn’s knees almost buckle and a tear form in the corner of her eye.
Porno Lad: Don’t get all menstrual on me…Just open the damn box…not like it’s an engagement ring or something.
He shudders at the thought that he may have just implanted a very bad thought in Katelyn’s head. The box is eagerly opened by the smitten Buehler, who finds herself even more overwhelmed.
Katelyn: Awww….awww…AWWW…you didn’t.
Porno Lad: I did, because I’m a great big sweety like that.
A plushie is removed from the box…but not just ANY plushie…it’s a PORNO LAD plushie…beautiful head of hair mimicked and everything. She looks it up and down with a cheeks blushed and massive grin on her face.
Katelyn: You are the most thoughtful man on the planet….I love it.
She squeezes the plushie, and then squeezes the real Porno Lad, pulling his head into her bosom.
Porno Lad: Alright…ALRIGHT ALREADY.
He pulls back and takers the plushie from Katelyn.
Porno Lad: What an uncanny resemblance.
The Prankster stands up continuing to admire the stuffed toy.
Porno Lad: There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about too.
Katelyn: Anything.
Porno Lad: You can’t go through with this match against Ducky tonight.
She groans and lowers her head.
Katelyn: I have to, Ethan…
He pulls her eyes back up by lifting on her jaw.
Porno Lad: No….no you don’t. Especially not to protect me. I can handle myself. The Black Crusade don’t scare me.
Katelyn: They should. You have no idea what they’re capable of.
Porno Lad: I’m not going to let you negotiate with terrorists. You’re NOT fighting Ducky tonight, understood? Let the Blacklist try to do something about it. We’ll take the fight right back to them at their precious little production….
A cane is swung right into the back of Porno Lad’s head. The sound of the collision echoes throughout the corridors of the Manhattan Center and sends Ethan tumbling to the concrete, landing face first. Katelyn clears out of the way, looking on in absolute terror at the sight of the Original Prankster and the plushie he purchased her lying on the ground. Towering above him, with Mr. Gaunt’s cane in hand….is Ducky.
Katelyn: No….no…please…leave him alone…LEAVE HIM ALONE!
Buehler drops down and tries to protect Porno Lad but can’t bring herself to get very close to Ducky, unsure what personality she would be tangling with. She doesn’t even intervene when Ducky bends down and picks up the plushie that Porno Lad dropped.
Ducky: Awww…it really is cute. I think I’ll keep it.
Katelyn: NO!
Ducky: Sorry, finders keepers, losers weepers.
He begins to playfully jaunt away.
Ducky: See you in the ring, girlfriend.
Buehler’s hands are on top of her head, going as pale as a sheet. Trying to get her jumbled thoughts. She doesn’t even stoop down to check on the love of her life, instead watching Ducky strut away with the only gift anyone has ever given her.
Cameras return to Riot!, featuring those same two pudgy police officers seen last week exiting their cruiser in the parking lot. They let the lights mounted upon their car continue to flash as they step towards the inner sanctum of the Manhattan Center.
Dollar: Why are the police here AGAIN!?!
Susie: Are you sure their not the world’s most out of shape strippers?
Dollar: Maybe they’re here to finally do something about the Black Crusade’s hijacking of the production truck.
The production truck does come into view, but only because the police are passing it without so much as a glance in its direction. Yep…they mosey right by the chains that hang from the door, no Silence in sight.
Dollar: Apparently I was mistaken, as odd as that sounds. They’re headed into the Manhattan Center, but for what purpose?
Mr. Gaunt, cane in hand, and sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose, for whatever reason, maybe a fashion statement, maybe cause he just had his pupils dilated…who cares…is seated on the steps leading to the production truck, watching the flashing lights of the police cruiser, seemingly mesmerized by them. That’s when he’s alerted by the arrival of those same two riot clad guards, stepping towards him with one brandishing a baton. The other would have a weapon in hand if it wasn’t snatched from their clutches by Whitman.
Mr. Gaunt: At last.
He rises in recognition of the duo. The crowd prepares themselves for a fight, but instead they should have been in preparation for another of Riot’s obligatory swerves.
Mr. Gaunt: I trust that all went accordingly.
The pair nods.
Mr. Gaunt: Then you should return to your post, Mr. Hush. Al doesn’t quite grasp an understanding of our goals this evening.
Both guards remove their helmets, revealing the faces of Mr. Hush and Silence, two full fledged members of Gaunt’s Black Crusade. Mr. Hush steps into the production truck, while Mr. Gaunt directs his statements to the sole female member of his collective.
Mr. Gaunt: Good thing Mr. Whitman is not a proficient striker.
Silence nods.
The arena lights dim and the video begins to play, featuring Nicole Kinneck, AKA Ducky, and her other many personalities in action. The birth canal that is the entry way, excretes the former SCW Underground Champion. Ducky comes to the stage, but not alone, toting the Porno Lad plushie she snatched from Katelyn moments ago. She heads straight to the ring and hops to the apron. She runs her free hand through her hair, snatching it at several times, on the verge of plucking some follicles straight out of her skull.
Dollar: Yeah…I’m just as shocked as everyone watching here tonight, which should never happen, considering I ALWAYS have the insider’s edge. Anyway, SCW’s Ducky summoned by the Black Crusade’s Leeland Gaunt. Let’s show everyone how this match came about.
EARLIER TONIGHT
Dollar: Dammit….dammit….DAMMIT!
Susie: Yay! More Wiseau!
Dollar: Got to do this via word of mouth then. At the pay-per-view we saw Katelyn imprisoned and then harassed while behind bars by Legion, who apparently sent the message, through I’m guessing sign language considering no one can understand a word coming from his mouth, that Buehler was to face her fear tonight, which she agreed to do under duress last week. And earlier this evening, we found out who her opponent would be, Ducky!
Susie: I love that name so much…DUCKY…And as if she couldn’t be anymore awesome, here she is with a plushie…a Porno Lad plushie!
Ducky enters an IWC ring for the very first time, swinging the plushie above her as if she were channeling the spirit of masked Golga. As her lyrics die down Ducky turns to address the entry way, eagerly…EAGERLY anticipating the arrival of her opponent…aka….her victim. Hollywood Whore overtakes the lyrics to Ducky’s entry theme, bringing a smile to Kinneck’s face.
Dollar: Is she going to show? Is Katelyn going to face the embodiment of her fear? Or run away with her head tucked up Porno Lad’s ass?
Susie: Does Porno Lad even have an ass to put her head in? He is a white guy…which means he possesses no posterior whatsoever.
Ducky lays across the perpendicular ropes intersecting in the turnbuckle, cheek resting on her fist as she waits and waits and you guessed it…waits some more. It seems Buehler is not about to take Ducky up on her challenge, that she’s perhaps hit the road. This fact begins to set in on the crowd as well, losing hope until at long last the curtains part, and through them strides Katelyn Buehler. The fans are relieved to see Porno Lad’s gal-pal, but she doesn’t look at all thrilled for the competition awaiting her, evident by her reluctant stroll to the ring and her long pause at the end of the ramp.
Dollar: Katelyn has come out but is she going to get in? Will she actually step up and fight Ducky?
Susie: She had better if she wants back that plushie.
Ducky gestures for Katelyn to enter but Buehler isn’t budging, she remains fixed to the ramp, lower lip quivering and tears streaming down her eyes.
Dollar: For God sakes, grow a back-bone woman.
Susie: Meow….that was my womanly tiger roar….
Dollar: Yes…yes…yes…we’re all well aware of your terrible femme battle cry.
Ducky sits up on the turnbuckle and slowly runs her finger around the nipple area of the Porno Lad plushie. A distraught Buehler turns away from the ring and starts up the ramp, coming to her senses. Ducky begins to pout in response before she snaps her fingers and Jessica Wilde forks over a microphone.
Ducky: Katie-Pooh….oh Kattie-Bear.
Katelyn stops, and with mascara running, turns to address the woman who is supposed to be her opponent this evening.
Ducky: I came here tonight for a wrestling match, and if you won’t face me…I guess I’ll have to wrestle your lil friend here.
To Buehler’s horror, she is forced to watch Ducky grab the head on the plushie and rip it clean off, revealing the cotton interior.
Susie: NOOO! OH MY GOD! OH MY GAWD! She just…she just….did you see?
Dollar: Stop hyperventilating, it was just a damned plushie.
Clearly the plushie didn’t have the emotional value to Dollar that it did to Buehler, who’s teary eyes transform into a scowl of pure rage. Her entire face goes blood red as the volcano within explodes. She barrels to the ring, steam shooting out of her eyes as she slides into the ring and SPEARS Ducky down to the canvas. She is right on top of Kinneck, nailing lefts and rights, lefts and rights.
Dollar: Katelyn has absolutely snapped! We saw this type of explosive anger out of her a couple weeks ago against Eddie Vines, and earlier tonight, but I’ve never seen her quite this enraged.
Susie: I want to beat the tar out of Ducky too for killing that plushie.
Hair is snatched hold of and Buehler uses it to ram the back of her head over and over and over again against the canvas. Eventually Ducky pushes her opponent aside, sending Katelyn rolling across the ring. This gives Ducky just enough time to stand up when Buehler comes rushing in with another spear in mind. But Ducky side steps this one and sends her opponent flying through the cables to the outside where she lands on her back HARD across the mats.
However, Buehler races back to her feet, as if she feels absolutely no pain, reaching beneath the ring and grabbing something. Ducky steps right across the ring and reaches through to get her hands on Katelyn, only to instead taste GLASS. Katelyn stands up and swings a fluorescent light tube right into the top of Ducky’s skull, glass shattering and dispersing through the air.
Dollar: HOLY MOTHER! Katelyn just…just NAILED Ducky with that light tube right to the cranium.
Susie: The bitch had it coming after what she did to that plushie.
Shards of glass fly everywhere and a powdery residue is left on Ducky’s scalp as she hits the canvas. Blood actually begins to dribble down her face…
Dollar: Blood? Seriously? Katelyn just busted someone open?
Susie: I’m not even going to give her one of my Hello Kitty band-aids.
Every inch of Buehler is vibrating…but not as a result of a battery operated device…it’s rage….pure unbridled RAGE that fuels her. All of the fear has slipped away as her anger oozes through every pour. A trashcan is slid out from under the ring at this point and Buehler slides it into the ring. She then slips in herself before taking hold of the weapon once again, one she puts to immediate use.
Ducky has gotten to her knees just as the trashcan is swung right into her already lacerated forehead. An indentation of her head is left in the can as Buehler lifts the weapon into the air and brings it down again over her skull. Both trash-can AND skull are damaged by the collision that leaves Ducky swaying from side to side and the masochistic Michelle Blacker, who volunteered to ref this match, salivating.
Katelyn screams as she steps in and slams the trashcan against Ducky’s skull a third time. She collapses to her back, blood really beginning to flow down her face.
Dollar: Wow…normally Ducky would be the one who’s totally and completely ape-shit crazy, but now the straight-jacket is on the other torso, because Katelyn is the one going positively bonkers.
Susie: Did you not see what Ducky did to that plushie?
Ducky’s head and upper body is slid into the trashcan while Buehler steps to the nearest set of ropes, slipping through them to the apron. She grabs the top cable and yanks herself over into a forward flipping senton, slamming her body into the trashcan. Instead of grabbing at her neck and shoulders, which should be killing her, Buehler gets straight to her feet then bolts across the ring into the opposite cables. She ricochets off, ducks into a forward roll then flips out of it into a rolling splash right on top of the trashcan, crushing Ducky inside of it.
Dollar: What in the hell? Is Katelyn actually….wrestling? This woman has been known to botch an Irish Whip….so how is she pulling off these moves so seamlessly now?
Susie: The damage to her plushie has motivated Katelyn to actually wrestle.
The rage within Buehler can no longer keep her motivated to block the pain surging through her body, finally feeling the ill effects of her repeated slams on the trash-can. She grabs at her ribs, rolling away and under the ropes. But the roll proves fortuitous as it allows her to drop to her knees and grab ANOTHER weapon from beneath the ring. A table is slid out to a warm…no…red-hot reception.
Dollar: Now she’s bringing out a damn table. This woman has totally gone off the rails.
Susie: She’s nuttier than a jar of Jiff, but for good reason…that poor…poor plushie.
Dollar: Enough about the damn plushie.
Susie: Where are the EMTs for the plushie? Huh? Huh!?! Where are they?
Dollar: Their probably still too busy trying to piece together Dwayne Rodriquez.
Surprisingly Buehler demonstrates a great deal of strength, effortlessly setting up the table and then sliding back to the apron. Up the turnbuckle she ascends, reaching the top rope and preparing for the dive of all dives onto Ducky. That’s before she gets her bell rung as a trashcan is thrown directly into the top of her head. The steel bashes right off of her skull, causing Buehler to lose her footing and ALMOST go tumbling to the outside of the ring. She would have if her leg weren’t snagged around the top rope.. She now hangs in a tree of woe, dangling above the apron and the outside of the ring.
A bloodied and disorientated Ducky takes advantage of this position. She slips through the ropes to the apron and with the trashcan in hand delivers a skateboard dropkick, can wedged beneath her feet and driven right into Katelyn’s prone body.
Dollar: Such violence…and we all know Michelle Blacker isn’t going to do anything about it, but watch and orgasm.
Indeed, that is all Michelle does, watch…well that and fan herself off as she feels feint. Buehler is convulsing as she remains hung from the apron, and Ducky is contemplating her next move. Ducky approaches the announce table, swiping blood out of her eyes in order to get a better view of Dollar, insisting that he get up out of his chair.
Dollar: Oh lord…don’t get me involved in this…I want NO part of this.
Ducky grabs Johnny by the jacket collar and pulls him up to his feet before immediately fidgeting with his belt.
Dollar: Jesus, so forward, Ducky. Normally I only get this type of treatment after I’ve taken a woman out to dinner at Red Robin.
Susie: Bow-chica-wow-wow….aaaaahh yeah.
The belt slides right off of Dollar and then is slapped on the announce table, Ducky obviously employing it as a weapon.
Dollar: Seriously? You had to take MY belt. That’s authentic leather dammit.
Susie: That’s why I don’t wear belts to the show, I just hold my slacks together with rubber bands.
With belt in hand, Ducky approaches Buehler, still hanging upside down from the turnbuckle. She now reaches under the corner ropes and wraps the belt around Katelyn’s throat. She pulls back on the strap, choking Katelyn, who swings her arms wildly as she tries to fight free from this strangulation.
Dollar: She’s using my hundred dollar belt to choke out Buehler. I didn’t think we’d get this level of violence from these two women.
Susie: What do you expect after the murder of a defenseless plushie. You know, something about this HAS to be done…HAS to.
Dollar: Susie…oh God no…where are you going you idiot?
Moore’s headset hits the table and she’s darting around the ring and up the ramp.
Dollar: You moron, get back here! Don’t leave me out here alone with these crazy bitches.
Susie disappears through the curtains just in time to miss Ducky throwing the belt into the ring and climbing to the apron. She repeatedly kicks Katelyn to the chest and the jaw as she remains hung in the tree of woe. She now sits Katelyn up on the top rope and steps under her, wrapping arms around her waist. The fans foam at the mouths as Ducky steps out of the corner, setting up to running power bomb Katelyn off of the apron and through that ringside table. Wisely Katelyn reaches down and grabs the turnbuckle, holding on for dear life.
Buehler now begins to rifle off with right hand after right hand to the bloodied face of Ducky, further lacerating her. At last Ducky drops to her knees, forced to break the power bomb attempt while Katelyn stands up on the turnbuckle, going for God only knows what. However, the moment she reaches her feet, Ducky stands up, wedges her hands to Buehler’s backside and shoves her off the top rope, sending her flying chest and chin first right into the time keeper’s stand and ring bell.
Buehler’s face bounces back off of the steel and as she collapses to the mats, clutching at his jaw, which already is beginning to spurt blood.
Dollar: From the top right into that ring bell, and now Katelyn is bleeding as a result. These two ladies truly are hardcore.
Katelyn, bleeding mouth and jaw, rolls to her elbows and knees, DESPERATELY trying to stand up. Her emotional blaze fans the flames of her intensity, compelling her to stand up, ever so slowly, even after that nasty tumble. Ducky then runs across the mats, leaps and dives through the perpendicular ropes inserting in the corner, in order to catch Katelyn around the neck and pull her around into a tornado DDT that slams her violently right across the top of her head.
Dollar: What the hell was that!?!
It appears that Ducky has not just knocked her opponent into left field, but out of the park. She takes Buehler around the neck, holding her up and pulling her head against her chest, actually cradling Buehler and rocking back and forth.
Ducky: Love ya, Katie-Bear.
She now drags Buehler around to her feet deposits her in the ring before rolling in herself. She immediately grabs the leather belt she stole from Dollar and swings it right into the lower back of a crawling Katelyn. Instantly Buehler pops up onto her knees, bridging her back and reaching for her kidneys. Ducky then whips her again with the belt, knocking her down to her elbows. She then steps over Katelyn’s mangled spine and wraps the belt around her throat, pulling back with all her strength.
This continues to happen, much to Michelle’s glee, and to the misfortune of Buehler, who is fading quickly, her skin turning bright blue. Ducky then frees her just before Buehler could pass out, wanting her to feel absolutely everything that’s done to her. The belt remains wrapped around Katelyn’s neck, but isn’t used to choke her. She leads Buehler up to her feet and then employs the belt to snap mare her opponent over to her bum.
Buehler just lands on her seat when Ducky rushes into the ropes, ricochets off and comes charging back in with a brutal knee strike landing directly between Buehler’s eyes. Katelyn collapses to her back and Ducky falls across her chest. Blacker looks almost reluctant to make the count, quite relishing in the brutality she sees these two femmes putting each other through. At last she does her job, making the count.
1
Katelyn’s fingers extend and grab hold of something.
2
As Michelle’s hand comes down for the three, Katelyn’s hand launches into the air, shards of fluorescent tubing embedded between her finger and now driving right against Ducky’s face.
Dollar: Ohhhh…Katelyn hitting Ducky with a fist full of glass!
Ducky rolls away, clutching at her face, desperately ripping the glass out of her flesh. All the while Buehler is struggling….finally getting to her feet with glass still extending through her fingers. She approaches Ducky but then takes her eye off the ball when she spots Cassidy Haze darting down the ramp.
Dollar: As if this whole situation couldn’t get anymore violent, here comes another woman with a passion for punishment, Cassidy Haze. We all saw her fight with Buehler earlier tonight, and I’d cue up a video to relive that very moment if I wasn’t sure we’d all be forced to watch another Tommy Wiseau clip…
Dollar: NO! I didn’t even….forget it…just forget it. I’m gonna keep my mouth shut instead of encouraging Mr. Hush’s shameless exploitation of Youtube.
Cassidy leaps to the apron and waves at Katelyn, who is just dying to pummel her. She swings a glass filled fist at Haze, who jumps back just in time. Buehler then turns her focus back to her original target, charging in to deliver a knock out and impaling shot only to caught with a rock bottom into a back breaker across raised knee…the Ducky’s Revenge connects!
Dollar: And the distraction proved incredibly costly, as it just led to Ducky delivering one of her potent finishing moves. Can it quell Katelyn’s intensity?
Blood is beginning to coagulate on Ducky’s forehead, but she doesn’t een let it bother her as she crawls into the cover. A forearm is wedged against Buehler’s face as Michelle doesn’t hesitate to make the count.
1
2
Suddenly Ducky breaks her own pin, rising to her knees and pulling Katelyn’s shoulders off the canvas.
Dollar: Ducky’s not through playing just yet.
Cassidy watches on with glee as Ducky begins to drag Buehler up to her knees. From the corner of her eye, Ducky becomes distracted by something, spotting Porno Lad spinning Cassidy around on the ramp and nailing her to the gut with a kick. Porno Lad grabs Cassidy by the head and the tights, running her into the barricade and throwing her over into the crowd.
Dollar: Now Porno Lad getting involved, taking out Cassidy before she could further influence this match. This is downright crazy.
The Original Prankster holds the back of his head, still feeling the aftermath of that cane shot earlier in the night. He shouts at Ducky, getting her attention just long enough for her to drop her guard when it comes to Buehler.
The woman of much violence and many personalities, screeches, through a mask of blood, at Porno Lad, actually asking him to get into the ring.
Dollar: I think for the first time in his life, Porno Lad is turning down the opportunity to participate in a three way.
Ducky sneers as her intended victim shakes his head. She then turns back to the ring where an Epic Fail drills her to the lacerated forehead, delivered by Buehler. Ducky is knocked to the canvas and Katelyn collapses on top of her. Blacker makes the count to joyous noise from the crowd.
Dollar: Buehler with her own Epic Fail delivered right on point, straight to Ducky’s face, and she’s got the pin…she’s got the pin right now!
Blacker slaps the canvas to cheers from the crowd.
1
2
Porno Lad’s heart sinks when he sees Ducky launch a shoulder from the ring, kicking out moments before the three.
Dollar: JESUS! Ducky kicks out! Only a very short list of people have ever kicked out of the Epic Fail.
Stunned…it’s the only way to describe the fans, who all remain upright as they watch this bloody brawl continue. One interested observer is forced to turn away when Porno Lad is grabbed by the shoulder, spun around by Haze and nailed with a right hand. Porno Lad responds with one of his own and then steps over the barricade, he and Cassidy continuing their escalating campaign of violence as they brawl through the crowd.
A blood drenched Ducky crawls away from Buehler, who staggers to her feet and limps towards the belt that was introduced into this match earlier. She picks it up and swings, nailing Ducky against the lower back, leading to the same body spasms that she herself suffered moments ago. Another shot to the spine nails her to the back, and then another, and another.
Ducky inches across her knees and then falls through the ropes to the apron, Buehler following with belt still in hand. She slips through the cables and wraps the belt around her fist, about to employ it cushion her punches to Ducky’s blood soaked face. She steps in to deliver another shot only to be caught with a kick to the gut, doubling her over. Ducky quickly drags the head under her seat, wraps arms around her waist then heaves her up into a piledriver off the apron and through the table sat up at ringside.
Dollar: AAAHHHH, Ducky just gave Buehler the piledriver THROUGH THE TABLE! DAMN!
Splinters have embedded themselves in Buehler’s head, lying comatose beside a blood saturated Ducky. Neither lady is moving for what seems like an eternity, while the crowd gives a rousing ‘holy shit’ chant.
Dollar: This is terrible….absolutely terrible…nothing may get the blood stains out of my belt.
It takes a while for Ducky to recover, but she at last gets to her feet, grabs the ankle of her opponent and drags her from the broken fragments of table towards the ring. The agonizing Ducky pulls Buehler to her feet and then rolls her into the ring. A trail of blood is left behind by Buehler, her scalp badly lacerated by the tumble through the table.
Dollar: And now Buehler is REALLY bleeding buckets. How much more can these two ladies do to each other?
Under the ring Ducky reaches, grabbing hold of ANOTHER fluorescent light tube. The crowd cringes at the sight of the weapon that Ducky pulls to the side of her face, rubbing her blood smattered cheek against it. She then rolls into the ring just as Buehler slowly gets to her knees, swaying from side to side. A crimson mask conceals her face as she bobs like a buoy in the ocean.
Every last vestige of strength is summoned in order to reach her feet.
Dollar: Are you kidding? How is she standing up?
The crowd is applauding, putting their hands together out of respect for Buehler, finding her upward ascent to be truly courageous. She stands up tall and Ducky pulls back the light tube only to watch as Buehler smiles and passes out, collapsing to the canvas. The light-tube is tossed and Ducky drops into the cover, hooking both legs.
1
2
3
Dollar: And it’s over…Jesus Christ it’s FINALLY over…Katelyn Buehler pinned by Ducky after a freakishly chaotic war. Ducky came in and defeated her, but Buehler finally stood up, showed a back-bone and conquered her fears.
A just deserved standing ovation is given to the absolutely BRUTAL bout these two femme fatales just participated in. Ducky crawls away from her damaged prey, blood dripping to the canvas beneath her. She slowly gets to her knees, letting the crowd get a glimpse of her crimson mask, only the whites of her eyes visible amongst the red palate. She employs the ropes to reach her feet then turns her head to see Buehler squirming. Katelyn rolls to her side, taking shallow breathes, pupils rolled into the back of her skull.
Dollar: This is…this was….pure carnage. And….well look at this…she FINALLY did something smart.
A stretcher is pushed from the backstage area by EMTS, who are currently being led by Susie Moore. The commentator waves them on urgently towards the ring, towards the individual…or individuals…in dire need of medical help. The fans are happy to see them give aide to the two women who desperately need it. BUT…their reaction changes when they realize the injured party their servicing is…the plushie. They work ever so slowly, careful to transport the beheaded plushie from the mats to the stretcher, all under the ever watchful eyes of Susie Moore.
Dollar: Oh…well…I guess Susie got the EMTS out here to aide the plushie….Am I supposed to be shocked by this? Because surprisingly, I’m not.
The EMTS go through the motions at the behest of Moore, checking the pulse rate and blood pressure of a headless plushie. While in the ring Ducky is stooped over, patting a bloodied Katelyn on top of her head, giving her hair a tussle.
The Rising Phoenix walks in circles around the locker-room, growing increasingly impatient as he stares into the cell-phone, hoping and praying that it rings. Eyes dart between the time on the phone and the clock on the wall, making sure that it’s totally accurate.
Christian: Come on Rose, traffic can’t be that damned bad. Where are you?
As if in answer to his prayers the phone jingles and vibrates, letting him know that he’s received a text message. He hits the dialogue box icon and instantly the message appears, originating from the World Heavyweight Champion. A sigh of relief escapes his lungs, a load of pressure taken off of him when he sees his wife‘s name attached to the message.
Christian: Thank God….wait…what do you mean your in Orlando’s office?
He reads the message a little closer.
Christian: Why in the hell would you be in Orlando’s office? That can’t be right.
Urgently Christian dials the number to his wife only for his call to go unanswered.
Christian: Guess Orlando and I are going to have a nice little face to face.
In spite of giving no answers Christian continues trying to dial his wife’s number before heading for….you guessed it….a meeting with the Icon.
Dollar: Oh lord no, this is NOT going to be good, Christian Savior is about to meet up with Orlando Cruze. If you thought what you just saw in the ring was explosive, just wait till you see what happens when the Icon and the Rising Phoenix cross paths. And why is Rose meeting with Orlando to begin with? I guess we’re going to find out just moments from now.
Susie: That’s too long…do we really need to see more advertisements? Especially if their not related to candy?
Dollar: We’re gonna have answers in just a few moments.
wait…I’m getting word that something ELSE is happening backstage as well. Get cameras back there pronto!
Surprisingly…not to mention oddly…Mr. Hush doesn’t cut to some goofy viral video, and instead the footage transitions straight into the sight of Nathan Creed pushing the bound Lukas Montgomery towards the ring.
Dollar: It looks like we’re about to see Lukas Montgomery again…and Nathan Creed is the one about to use him to own nefarious means. Getting his hands on the rest of the Blacklist.
Susie: The Blacklist are more in demand tonight than videos of former child-stars acting like drunken lunatics.
Dollar: Indeed, Creed leading him towards the ring, but for what reason? Guess, we‘ll find out the answer to that question as well when we come back from commercial break.
Susie: Damn you commercial breaks! You better be advertising toy…toys that are shiny and colorful.
Dollar: We’ll have to wait and see, just like we’ll have to wait and see what happens between Creed and Montgomery, plus Cruze and Christian…moments from now.
MOMENTS AGO
Much to the glee of Johnny Dollar, a still frame is featured of the conclusion to the three way match moments ago. Instead of a you tube clip, we get an image of Brittany Lohan brandishing a crowbar, and laying to waste both of her opponents…
Dollar: Oh my God…OMG….FINALLY. It looks like we’re going to get a video rehashing what just went down before the commercial break, which allows me save some of my precious oxygen. Just moments ago, THIS is what took place at the conclusion of the triple threat….
Just before we can witness the pinfall, and the vicious physical tirade of Lohan, utilizing her weapon of choice to do damage to the champions, while at the same time sending a message to her tag team partner, Kathryn Pearson watching from ringside….you guessed it…the feed is interrupted, and instead we’re taken to a close up shot of Bob’s face. He looks oh so dramatic, even with grease oozing from the corners of his mouth. Pure white seems to surround his multicolored afro and chubby cheeks, the ones on his face and the ones on his bum.
Bob: Bob ate ham, in a loinclothe, dancing with Mnooses in vain
The Mnooses fell into your parsley patch
The numbers always change
Don’t ever say Bob just rolled away
Bob will always want ham
Bob can’t ever stop living without Mnooses, counting those in your parsley patch
Bob will always want ham
The scene suddenly changes to a loinclothe clad Bob swinging around on a giant piece of ham, supported by a chain. He crashes through a parsley patch while leaning back to give the camera a seductive glare.
Bob: BOB came in like a WRECKING BOB!
Bob never had gas this bad
All Bob wanted was to break some wind
All ham ever did was give Bob a tummy ache
Yeah, Mnooses dance with Bob
The clip switches to Bob seductively lubing the side of his face with a ham, smearing it all over his lips as he sits Indian style on the floor. For some reason a Tay-Tay sheer dress wraps around only his chest, as that’s as far as he could get it down over his blubbery body.
Bob: Bob see Mnooses piled as high as the sky
And now Bob can’t stop counting all the Mnooses
But the Mnooses slowly turned, and twiggled your wiggie.
And now, the Mnooses are all over your parsley patch
Somehow Bob becomes even more scantily clad as he swings through the air on a giant ham, again smashing through the parsley patch.
Bob: BOB came in like a WRECKING BOB Bob never had gas this bad
All Bob wanted was to break soome wind
All ham ever did was give Bob a tummy ache
Yeah, Mnooses dance with Bob
At last censors intervene before we could see the predominantly nude Bob interacting with his three most favorite things, ham, mnooses, and parsley patches.
Johnny Dollar’s eyes are huge, saucer huge. Susie in the meanwhile is fanning herself off, sweat pouring down her face.
Dollar: What….in the hell…did we just see? I feel like my eyes have been raped.
Susie: Am the only one who just orgasmed?
The arena lights dim as the opening riffs of the track that Mr. Hush selected for Creed start to pump into the arena. The first person the fans see though, is NOT the returning Nathan Creed, but Lukas Montgomery, STILL positioned on the wheelchair. His head hangs slumped to his side, eyes rolled to the back of his head with a huge knot on his forehead. Finally, the real man the crowd was eager to see, Nathan Creed, steps to the stage behind him, hands gripping the handles of the chair and a half smirk present on his face.
Dollar: And here we go AGAIN! Is this show stuck on some type of perpetual loop or something?
Susie: We’re in Groundhog’s Day? Oh no…I want to be Bill Murray then, you can be Chris Elliot.
Dollar: Nobody wants to be Chris Elliot…not even Chris Elliot wants to be Chris Elliot.
The crowd is incredibly hyped at the sight of Creed, who continues on his way to the ring, shoving the wheelchair and the victim loaded upon it, all the way down to the end of the ramp. Lukas is eventually left in the very same place Kathryn put him a few moments ago, but now Montgomery isn’t unconscious from boredom, but from some type of blow delivered to his skull. To the apron Creed ascends, microphone taken from Jessica Wilde.
Nathan: I know…I know…things are getting a little redundant. Didn’t we just see someone come out here bitching, complaining, and making all kinds of demands for poor lil Lukas‘ safe return to the rest of the Blacklist nutters? Didn’t play out too well for Mrs. Pearson did it? But you know what makes this blackmail different? The fact that it’s me, Nathan Creed, the Best of Britain, making the demands.
The crowd pops predictably loud for Creed, hoping that he does get better results.
Nathan: I’m not going to settle for some steroid ripped pillock in a padded brazier….I want the Blacklist…or more accurately…what’s left of the Blacklist….to march on here, step into this ring and get what’s coming to them.
Dollar: Nathan Creed is using Lukas Montgomery to lure Aaron Harrison and Mika Kozlov to the ring. This guy is just as crazy as Kathryn Pearson….and he has worse teeth.
Susie: Don’t forget the box head.
Insane….a term to describe the Blacklist….and now to define Nathan Creed….evident by the fact that he’s about to go to war with two members of the Blacklist all by his lonesome.
Nathan: Contract or no contract, your not making it to any title match, Harrison, you git…because I’m going to do what Orlando should have from the very beginning, deal with you, right this very…
Xander: Nathan…buddy, I’m sorry…but that’s not happening…at least not tonight.
The crowd couldn’t get anymore enthusiastic as Xander Cassius moves to the stage, the very man who had a war with Lukas Montgomery earlier tonight, before being forced to watch his partner, Dwayne Rodriquez destroyed at the hands of the Blacklist. So obviously he’s motivated and then some, to get payback on Kozlov and Harrison. With Arthur Magnus behind him, the two head towards the ring but it’s only Xander who enters.
Xander: I’m not through with the Blacklist, Nathan, not by a long shot. Mika Kozlov and I, we have some unfinished business, and I hate to leave things undone. So before I vacate this ring, I have to….I NEED….to see Mika in the same state she left Dwayne in earlier tonight…But I won’t stop there, not until I’ve severed all three heads from this hydra that’s been terrorizing the IWC. Aaron Harrison, he’ll be next on the chopping block….
Nathan: Now I feel the need to apologize, Xander, because I can see the determination, the anger, the rage inside. You really want to get your hands on the Blacklist tonight…and although it would be a tremendous accolade to destroy the three of them by myself, in my first night back….I’ll sacrifice that honor and play things a little smarter. I propose that the two of us mutually work together to ensure the total annihilation of the….
Gavin: You two couldn’t find your way out of a Denny’s parking lot.
The reaction that both Creed and Cassius got, is not the one Gavin Taylor receives. He and Adam Chase are not well received, like ants at a picnic, like flies in a horse’s eye, like crabs on crotch….they are not shown any appreciation. Neither man cares about the crowd’s reaction as the All Star continues towards the ring, Adam bringing up the rear, but like Arthur, he lingers beyond the very ropes that his client slides through.
Taylor: So what makes you think you’ll be able to handle the Blacklist? You…Xander…in the very limited time I’ve spent acknowledging your existence…and believe me…it’s very brief…I’ve seen that your nothing but a mindless brawler. Sure you can fight Harrison and Kozlov and Montgomery on a physical level, but half the threat they pose is mental. Their masters of manipulation, and I’m afraid you just don’t have the brain power necessary to match wits with them. You probably couldn’t even figure out one of those mazes on a kid‘s meal place-mat, let alone challenge Kozlov or Harrison on a psychological front….and Nathan Creed…
Nathan steps back with arms crossed over chest, eager to hear what Taylor has to say about him.
Taylor: Your just a meddling snaggletooth moron.
Nathan snickers.
Taylor: You’re ancient…you’re bones probably consist of 97 percent dust. You’ll be too busy getting a prostate exam to concentrate on crushing the Blacklist. Besides, your actions last week…well…they demonstrate that you’re WAY too impulsive. If you can’t control your outbursts when around friends, like Orlando, what makes you think your gonna be capable of keeping a level head when fighting the Blacklist? Face it guys…
Cassius and Creed exchange a glance, realizing their both being insulted simultaneously at this point.
Taylor:…neither one of you can match up with the Blacklist like I can. I’m motivated after the crap they pulled on Taylor Chase tonight…I’m talented enough to fight them physically…and with the combined brain power of myself and Adam here….we’re more than capable of outwitting these three jokers. So why not go ahead, save yourselves the injuries and the embarrassment, and get the hell out of the All-Star’s way.
Nathan and Xander continue exchanging stares, wondering which one will respond. At last Xander lifts a microphone to his lips, ready to unleash a tirade before he’s grabbed by the wrist, the microphone guided down from his lips when….
Harrison: Boys…boys…boys….the testosterone levels are through the roof here…
Aaron’s voice hits the PA system, leading to an absolute uproar of sheer rage from the crowd, and for good reason, as this is a tell-tale sign that the Blacklist has arrived….or at least one third of them…Through the curtains steps Aaron Harrison, continuing to display a total and complete lack of emotion.
Dollar: And here is one of the men that everyone wants a piece of tonight, Aaron Harrison, who looks like he’s got something to say.
Xander has lost all semblance of composure, moments form slipping through the ropes before Aaron dissuades him with a simple statement delivered in normal stoic fashion.
Harrison: You all need to calm down, and give me just one second to say my peace. I think each of you will be interested in hearing what I have to say.
Just before Cassius can rush up the ramp and CRUSH Harrison, Nathan takes him by the wrist, intrigued by the Blacklist spokesmen.
Harrison: I’m not the villain here…I’m not the big-bad. No. If you really dwell upon it, you’ll see that the only monster running amok in this company is Orlando Cruze. He’s playing us all off each other in order to distract us from his corruption, to keep us from rising up to challenge him for the World Heavyweight Title. He’s truly a master manipulator….take for instance the nasty rumor I just caught wind of. I heard that Orlando Cruze signed a contract for a match….well…you know what…I think you should all find out about it when Orlando grows the hair on his testicles and comes out here to announce it himself. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen. He’s going to come out here and reveal himself for the scoundrel he truly is. Which is why I’m ducking out of the World Title match tonight…I realize that I too was just being manipulated by Cruze…that he WANTED me to take out Tay-Tay, so that he wouldn’t have to rob his ‘love’ of the Championship, so he could keep his ego maniacal mitts upon it without looking like a bad-guy in front of his gal-pal. He’s going to have to come out and show his true colors to everyone, Tay-Tay included it instead of using me to distract you fans, and the roster from the truth….from his manipulation. So no, I‘m not challenging for the championship, and I‘m not being Orlando‘s pawn, any longer.
Creed is suddenly disappointed in himself for not allowing Xander to just pummel Harrison, as now he’s left in a state of total confusion. The look of bewilderment is mirrored by both Cassius and Taylor as well. This is perhaps the first and final time all three men will ever be on the same page.
Harrison: But if you three want to play along…if you want to be Orlando’s puppets, which I’m no longer content to be…by all means, come up here, attack me, and be done with it.
He drops the mic and decides to employ gesticulations to express himself, lifting his fingers and urging the trio to bring it.. Xander is already diving through the ropes before he can finish the gesture.
Dollar: These three wanted a war, and that’s exactly what Harrison is giving them, after announcing that he’s pulling himself from the World Title bout, based on something that Orlando signed, that’s apparently going to paint him in a very negative light. But where’s Mika?
Susie: Mika…I like that name….it sounds so Russian.
Dollar: That’s because she IS Russian, Susie.
Susie: Awesome…I hope she wears one of those big fuzzy hats.
The crowd is enthused at the prospect of Harrison at long…long….long last getting what’s coming to him, especially at the hands of Rodriquez’s tag team partner. The moment he reaches the ramp though, his wrist is caught and he’s spun around by Gavin, who yanks him forward into a Real Men Use Lariats. The bicep wraps around Xander’s neck and brings him down to the ramp with Taylor landing directly beside him.
Dollar: WAAAIT! Gavin just took out Cassius with that lethal lariat.
Susie: I think Gavin wants Harrison all to himself.
Harrison watches with amusement, even as Taylor gives him the type of glare that would shrivel a man’s testicles. Nathan has slipped through the ropes, also about to pursue Harrison, but hesitates. He lingers half in and out of the ring for several moments, eyebrow arched and head tilted, realizing that something isn’t quite right. His suspicions prove accurate when he turns and spots Kozlov sneaking from the crowd and stepping to Lukas’ side, already beginning to unshackle him with the use of a lock-pick.
Dollar: Harrison was a distraction…he turned everyone’s attention away from Lukas so Mika could swoop in and unlock him…BUT….Nathan didn’t fall for it.
Susie: I guess those with box shaped heads are naturally more intelligent.
Mika has no idea that the plot has not panned out the way she had envisioned, continuing to unlatch Montgomery. Meanwhile Gavin is storming right up the ramp in the direction of Harrison, who slowly backs through the curtains. All the while Cassius, shaken up by the lariat, CRAWLS up the ramp, in total desperation to get his hands on Harrison and NOW Taylor.
Dollar: Neither Cassius NOR Taylor realize that this was all just a set up by the Blacklist. They’re just allowing Mika to rescue their one bargaining chip.
Mika has one of Lukas’ hands unshackled before Nathan comes barreling across the ring and diving through the ropes. Kozlov looks up as Nathan soars right into them with the diving head butt, colliding with both herself AND the wheelchair bound Montgomery. Lukas falls over backwards still trapped in the chair while Creed and Mika collapse right out in front of the announce table.
Dollar: Whoa now! They’re getting too close for comfort!
Susie: Jeezal Petes, this is the best 3D I’ve ever seen.
Dollar: You’re not even wearing 3D glasses you idiot.
A fired up Creed grabs Mika by the hair, dragging her to her feet and propping her back first against the announce table. He then delivers a knife edge chop across her chest, followed by another that bruises her sternum. Mika, instead of crying out in pain, actually forms a smile. This prompts Creed to be even more vicious towards the woman who assaulted him last week. A third knife edge chop threatens to shatter her clavicle. He now takes her by the hair, runs her to the ring and rolls her in under the ropes.
Referee Fitzpatrick is bolting towards the squared circle, sliding in at the same time as Britain’s Finest. The official calls for the bell while Creed steps through the ropes only to have Mika rush in and deliver a knee lift to his temple.
Dollar: And we’ve got yet another match starting in chaotic fashion. Creed and Kozlov instantly going at it. I ALMOST feel bad for the officiating staff tonight, if I had sympathy that is, they‘ve been forced to be on the ball all night long/
Susie: Serves them right, cause those zebra stripes are not flattering on them at all.
Creed has spilled to the apron but is already back on his feet when Mika springs off the ropes running perpendicular to the ones Creed is standing on the opposite side of, twists in mid-air and catches Nathan with a dropkick to the shoulder.
Nathan is launched off the apron and through the air before eventually crashing right down into the announce table.
Dollar: Why is our announce table such a focal point for all these lunatics? Where’s my protective pope bubble?
Susie: Probably the same place they’re keeping my Kindle. How am I supposed to re-watch A He-Man, She-Ra Christmas Special now that they’ve commandeered my kindle?
Creed slides down the announce table and then rolls away, gripping at his battered torso. Some obvious ring rust seems to be taking its toll as Nathan moves a bit more sluggishly, muscles not use to this type of exertion after such a long rest period. He gets to his feet just in time for Mika to leap off the apron and connect with a big lariat to his throat, knocking them both down to the mats.
The smiling Kozlov, who never loses her grin it seems, pulls Creed to his feet before taking his wrist and whipping him towards the steel barricade. But wait, Creed perhaps lulled Mika into a false sense of security. He turns and reverses the whip, sending Mika right into the barrier. She turns and slams forcefully against the barricade with Nathan leaping to the apron, and re-entering the ring to break the official’s count.
He rolls back out and rushes right at Mika, who steps forward to take him down with a lariat. Creed ducks just in time though, slipping around behind Kozlov, wrapping his arms around her waist and setting up for a German suplex on the thin protective mats.
Dollar: This might finally take that smile off Kozlov’s face, Creed’s about to drop her right on her neck.
The point of Kozlov’s elbow catches Nathan right to the orbital socket, causing him to break the rear waist-lock. She then reaches back and takes Creed around the neck, rushing at the ring. She steps up the exterior of the turnbuckle post and then spins around, going for a springboard bulldog that connects, driving Nathan’s face directly into the mats.
Dollar: And just like that, Mika is right back in control, nailing a bulldog that may have rearranged Creed’s good looks…sorry, I tried to say that with a straight face.
Susie: Why? It wouldn’t matching Nathan’s face right now.
Nathan rolls to his back, grabbing at his face while Mika slides into the ring and then back out to the apron. She steps to the edge of the apron and then dives off into a big splash that connects right across the exposed Nathan’s chest and rib-cage.
Dollar: What a SPLASH!
Susie: But Mika only weighs like 25 pounds, how could it be that BIG of a splash?
Kozlov rolls away from the splash, hurting herself in the process of hurting Creed, but doing much greater damage to her opponent. Surprisingly Nathan absorbs the punishment and comes back for more, crawling in the direction of the ring and desperately dragging himself up with the aid of the apron. Just as he gets to his feet Mika steps around to stand on the opposite side of the turnbuckle post he was employing to reach his feet. Kozlov reaches around the post and takes both of Nathan’s wrists, pulling him forward nose first right into the turnbuckle. His head bashes off of the steel and he goes twisting into the ring, rolling in under the ropes.
He puts a palm to his swelling nose and slowly starts to stand up when Mika steps up the turnbuckle that has proved such an effective weapon for her thus far. She steps over the top rope and waits for Creed to get up, and the moment he does, she reaches down grabbing his wrists. His arms are outstretched towards her and she’s diving off, planting a knee to his chest. As Nathan collapses onto his back, Mika comes down knee first into his sternum.
Dollar: Almost a curb-stomp variation from Kozlov off that top rope using her knee instead of her foot.
Kozlov tucks into a forward roll after hitting the move, ending up on her feet before dashing into the ropes. She springs from the middle cable, flipping completely over backwards into the moonsault that connects across Creed’s banged up ribs and bruised chest. She then falls into the lateral press.
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Creed kicks out, resulting in a wave of enthusiasm from the crowd. The kick-out does not upset Mika, who stands up and leaps into the air, dropping at last knee first right against Nathan’s face. Creed clutches at his skull and sits up, putting him in a very unenviable position, Mika swooping in behind him. She takes both of Nathan’s arms and puts him in a full nelson…but instead of using her arms to apply the hold, she employs her legs.
Nathan almost immediately toys with the notion of tapping out due to the pain coursing through his arms. Somehow he’s tolerating it though, trying to fight his way through.
Susie: Mika must use a thigh-master.
Dollar: Kozloz utilizing a unique variation of the full nelson, by applying the hold with her legs rather than her arms.
Mika’s ankles are crossed behind Creed’s head, and will not be pried apart, no matter how many times Nathan twists from one side to the other. He’s doing absolutely everything in his power to stave off defeat, but too much damage has been done, and submission might be his only counter to this hold.
Just when he begins to fade, just when he starts to fall to his side Creed pushes back with his own legs, causing Mika to fall onto her shoulders with Creed bridging back in an unorthodox pinning predicament.
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Kozlov is forced to break the submission as Nathan now turns, and begins to step through the very legs that were locked around his shoulders. He tries to apply a sharpshooter variation perhaps when Mika twists her body and drop toe holds him down to the canvas. Nathan lands on his elbows and knees while Kozlov leaps over his upper back and pulls up on his arms, applying a traditional full nelson from a camel clutch variation.
Dollar: That didn’t last long for Creed….he’s back on the defensive all over again.
The crowd is losing hope, as is Nathan, who’s time away from the ring seems to have cost him dearly. He tries to get up, prompting Kozlov to release one of his arms and reach down, digging her fingers into Nathan’s nostril and cheek, fish hooking the Underdog. The official starts a five count before Kozlov reapplies the FULL full nelson. She then begins to deliver head butts to the back of Creed’s neck, doing even greater damage.
She even begins to bite his ear at this point, threatening to rip it right off and spit it across the arena. The official chastises her until she stops gnawing on the flesh. That last move was enough for Nathan, turning him downright primal. He forces himself up unto his knees and with a roar drops his head forward, flipping Mika right over top of him.
She rolls across the canvas to her feet while Creed gets to a standing base just in time to catch the inbound Kozlov under his arm. He heaves her up into a Canadian Back breaker only to have Mika flip upand over his shoulder, landing behind him and then leaping into the air. She wraps her arms around his neck, applying a sleeper hold.
Dollar: AGAIN…Mika is tackling this match in a more methodical, technical style. She is just wearing Creed down with submission after submission after submission.
Susie: Now she’s riding him like he’s a mechanical bull. Can she hold on for eight seconds?
She could probably hang on for double that time span as Nathan is falling to a knee, wearing down and wearing down rapidly. Sweat cascades down his face, which turns a bright shade of red, and now blue due to oxygen deprivation.
Dollar: Creed is gonna pass out…There may no other alternative at this point.
Or so Nathan made it appear. At the last seconds, moments from quitting, Creed stands, reaches back with his free arm and wraps it around the neck of Kozlov. He then leaps into the air and comes down with almost a stunner variation while Mika was still wrapped around him. Kozlov’s head snaps back and she collapses to her back with Nathan turning over, hooking both of her legs.
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Kozlov gets a shoulder up, staving off defeat. Nathan sits on the canvas, appearing frustrated by the kick-out, especially after this very physical encounter. He gets to his feet, sweating profusely, Mika’s wear down tactics working quite effectively. She is already rising to her feet when Nathan steps in and takes her around the waist, hoisting her up into a big Canadian Back breaker. Once again Mika flips up and over his shoulder though, landing right behind him. She then goes back to the same well, leaping into the air in order to apply the sleeper and body vice with her legs.
It doesn’t work out quite so well this time, Nathan spinning around, catching the interior of her thighs and throwing her up onto his shoulders. He then drops down and delivers a power bomb back breaker.
Dollar:Ohhhh….SNAP…probably the sound Mika’s back just made.
Kozlov flips off of his knee and lands on her feet, reaching for his kidneys. She isn’t allowed to stay there for long though, as Nathan stands up, takes her around the waist and hoists her up into a Canadian Back-breaker directly across his raised knee.
Dollar: And ANOTHER back-breaker for equal measure. Two high impact moves and Creed is RIGHT back in this.
Nathan is TOO winded to go for the pin, utilizing his last bits of energy to deliver those two back-breaker variations. In spite of his exhaustion, Creed gets to his feet, takes the legs of his opponent, wraps them around his own and then rolls her over to her stomach. He leans right back into the sharpshooter on Kozlov, who pushes herself up onto her elbows, instantly telling the referee that she has no intention of submitting. Though, secretly she does toy with the idea, as the pain coursing through her back is downright indescribable.
Dollar: Would be a great moment for Creed if he marks his return with a submission victory.
Just when it seems that this may very well be in the realm of possibilities for Creed, Kozlov summons what little reserves of strength she has left. She drags herself towards the ropes and reaches out, grabbing the bottom cable. Official Fitzpatrick gets in Nathan’s face, commencing with the five count before Creed at last breaks the submission.
He steps forward and bends in the center of the ring, huffing and puffing for air. He then turns towards Mika and steps back in to get the advantage when Kozlov jabs him right in the eye with a well placed thumb. Fitzpatrick is all over Kozlov for the blatant eye gouge, but she shows no respect for any semblance of rules, even tossing the official aside as she descends upon her opponent. However, Creed catches her around the waist and drops back, throwing Mika over head with a belly to belly suplex. Half way across the ring Mika is thrown, crashing into the canvas across her back and reaching for her kidneys.
Dollar: Good lord, what a belly to belly suplex. Nathan just tossed Mika the length of the ring with that move, it was like she was launched out of a catapult.
Mika desperately drags herself up to her feet with the use of the turnbuckle as Nathan gathers himself and then comes barreling in. However, he’s caught with a leaping knee directly to the jaw. The full force of the impact causes Creed to go stumbling back, clutching at his mouth while Mika springs to the middle rope, then leaps off, twisting into a lariat. Creed side steps it though and catches Kozlov coming down with a crossface. She lands on the canvas with Nathan sitting up beside her, leaning back with hands interlocked under her jaw.
Dollar: Creed’s got the crossface latched on….he’s got it…he’s got it….he’s got it! He might just get that submission after-all.
Susie: Yeah, I hope he does win, as long as he doesn’t smile. If I see anymore of his teeth I might upchuck.
Dollar: Didn’t you just do that backstage after eating a cracker?
Susie: Would you stop with the bulimia jokes?
Kozlov at last gasps in pain, reaching out with her hand and preparing to slap the canvas.
Dollar: Is she going to submit? Is she going to tap out?
Susie: Quit asking me the hard questions.
Just before tapping out Kozlov ducks her head, rolls forward across the canvas and thinks she’s escaped the hold. Unfortunately for her, Nathan has rolled right along with Kozlov, breaking the crossface and ending up on his feet with his opponent sprawled across her back. He quickly transitions around her legs, stepping through them and then rolling her over to her stomach, applying a sharpshooter to the mother of all pops from the crowd.
Dollar: She tried to roll through but ended up right back in the sharpshooter…I don’t know what’s worse, crossface or this?
Susie: If you ask me one more question I swear my head’s gonna explode.
Mika pushes herself up onto her elbows, frantically shaking her head at the persistence of the referee that she submit. No…she won’t do it…she won’t give in to Fitzpatrick’s demands. She digs her claws into the canvas, pulling herself desperately across the ring in the direction of the cables…but there so far away…so incredibly far. The official turns away from Mika momentarily to make sure all his kosher with Creed’s submission. But while his back is turned he doesn’t notice that Montgomery, has used the lock pick that was dropped earlier to unshackle himself, and is now reaching under the ropes, taking hold of Mika’s wrists. He pulls on them, dragging Kozlov into the cables so that she can grab hold of them.
Dollar: Lukas has freed himself from the wheelchair and now…now he’s helping Kozlov get to the ropes, which unsurprisingly, the referee has totally failed to notice. Can any of these refs grow half a brain?
Susie: Yeah, idiots get on my nerves.
Dollar: I know the feeling.
Kozlov clutches the bottom rope desperately, even wrapping her arms around it as well. Nathan looked up towards the Cartel-tron to see the positioning of his opponent, but before he could drag her to the center of the ring he witnessed Montgomery’s treacherous act. So when the official steps around and implores him to break the sharpshooter, he’s none too eager to follow orders. In fact, he outright refuses to break the hold on the basis of the Blacklist’s cheating.
Fitzpatrick starts a five count, but the closer Fitzpatrick gets to issuing the disqualification, the more aggressive Creed becomes with the submission. He pulls as far back on the hold as possible, almost shattering her lower back even as the official finally reaches five. It pains Fitzpatrick to do it but he’s forced to turn and call for the bell, disqualifying Creed on the basis that he would NOT break the hold.
Dollar: Nathan is disqualified…but something tells me that doesn’t matter…He’s out for a little thing we in the business call…retribution.
Susie: He’s angrier than me that time I spent two hours watching Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai, and didn’t realize to the credits that it wasn’t about a spectral crime fighting canine. I was so mad I tried to rip the DVD box apart, and if it wasn’t made of such tough plastic I totally would of. Instead all I got was blisters on my hands.
Dollar: Why are you still talking?
Susie: Probably the same reason Creed hasn’t broke this hold…enjoyment.
Nathan leans back on the submission in spite of the bell chiming and Fitzpatrick’s demands. It takes a physical approach to finally encourage Creed to release Mika from her trauma. Montgomery slides into the ring and rushes right up behind Creed, throwing alariat at the back of his head when Nathan breaks the sharpshooter and catches his inbound arm. Before Lukas can put the kabosh on it, or even realize what’s going on, he’s FORCED down to the canvas and trapped in the crossface.
Dollar: Now the crossface is locked in again, this time on Montgomery! Nathan is a one person demolition crew…he’s taking out the Blacklist just like he swore that he would.
Lukas grimaces in pain, reaching his hand into the air on the cusp of tapping out to the submission when Kozlov returns the favor of her partner in crime. She reaches under the ropes, grabs Lukas’ ankle and drags him to the outside of the ring, prying him out of the clutches of Creed.
Dollar: And Mika now the one forced to save her tag team partner before any further punishment could be inflicted. As if Montgomery hasn’t been through enough already tonight.
Susie: And why should he have any right to complain? He got to ride around in a wheelchair all night long. If only I were so lucky.
Lukas slides to the outside of the ring, landing right beside Mika, the two propping one another up after this very physical onslaught from Britain’s Finest, who stands triumphant in the ring even though he lost the bout. Victory was achieved, not via pinfall or submission, but through the punishment Creed inflicted on the pair who are wisely walking away from the fight.
Dollar: And the Blacklist is actually…leaving. I guess fighting with Creed didn’t factor into their plans.
Creed stomps around the ring like a caged beast, desperate to gnaw on the first piece of meat that enters his domain. However, Mika and Montgomery are climbing over the barricade and escaping before any more members of the roster come looking for their blood. Nathan snarls as he watches the pair disappear in the crowd, not through with the Blacklist by a long shot.
Hands continue to engulf the face of Orlando Cruze, elbows perched on the edge of his desk. He leans forward into his hands, at a total and complete loss for words. Instead of sitting in the office of the Board of Directors, desperately defending his actions of late, here he sits in his own office, desperately trying to figure out how he could be so easily tricked by the Blacklist, and grappling what an annoying scratching noise that pesters him so. His thoughts are interspersed between feelings of regret, really wishing he hadn’t signed the contract a few moments ago, and that he could tell the impatient Taylor Chase about it. But he can’t…in spite of all the prodding questions, posed by the Chase family seated in chairs on the opposite side of the desk.
Tay-Tay: Talk to us handsome. What…what did you do?
Like daughter like father….the two hound Orlando to his breaking point.
The Brod: My girl needs an explanation, Orlando.
Frankie: Yeah, BOSS, why don’t you spill the beans already?
Implores Frankie as he steps in and takes a seat on the edge of the desk. He’s still sending out some crucial tweets while wearing a giant smirk on his face.
The Brod: Hey Kid, don’t you have a match to be getting yourself ready for? One that’s crucial to the success of my Pumpkin here tonight?
Frankie: Yeah, maybe I should be moving on along here….
Orlando: No-no, I actually need to talk to you Franklin.
In spite of the use of his formal name, much to Paradise’s annoyance, he bites his tongue….almost chewing it off actually.
Frankie: Erm…okay then…kind of had some stuff to do but I can hold off on that for a few minutes.
Orlando: Babe…
Frankie: Aww. Thanks, Lando, to hear that coming from you….
Orlando: I’m talking to Tay-Tay.
Frankie: Oh.
Cruze turns to address Taylor, interrupting a brief aside she was having with her father.
Orlando: Maybe you should start getting geared up for your match. And Brod.
The Brod is ripped away from his conversation with his Daughter.
Orlando: I’ll have security PERSONALLY escort you to your chair….front row center to watch your daughter’s crowning achievement.
The Brod: Pfft, no need for security, you think anyone’s going to tangle with these guns?
He flexes his biceps AGAIN.
Tay-Tay: Would you please stop flexing, Dad?
She gently nudges his arm down to his side.
Tay-Tay: And maybe it would be wise to let security escort you. I mean, with the Blacklist running around here and everything.
The Brod: Fine…
Frankie: Don’t think Brod needs to worry about the Blacklist.
Tay-Tay appears confused regarding why Frankie would make such an insinuation.
Tay-Tay: We should get going. Seems Lando wants to talk things out with Frankie here.
The two get up to leave but not before Tay-Tay steps around the desk and gives Orlando a little sugar, kissing him on the cheek. He seems so preoccupied he barely even acknowledges the love-peck.
Tay-Tay: See you out there, okay?
Orlando: I wouldn’t miss it.
Though he should make this comment with extreme enthusiasm, he almost seems reluctant…distressed even. Tay-Tay picks up on this but doesn’t want to rock the boat, especially not in front of her father. As the two leave, Frankie slides into the chair across from Cruze and whips out his cell-phone, providing some more last minute tweets before his match.
Frankie: Can we make this quick? I need a wardrobe change before my match.
Like walking on eggshells Orlando treads lightly. He tries his best to pick just the right words…words he never thought would be coming from his mouth.
Orlando: About tonight….
Frankie: Yeah….yeah…yeah, do what’s best for Tay-Tay, yadda, yadda, yadda, we’ve heard this all before.
Orlando:…well…that’s just it though, we might have different ideas of what’s best for Tay-Tay.
Frankie: How do you….figure?
His face finally emerges from behind his cell-phone and designer shades.
Orlando: I don’t know how else to say this…but….when you win the opportunity to special referee Taylor’s match tonight…you need to make sure Tay-Tay…..doesn‘t win.
Paradise drops his glasses and pantomimes a time out with his hands.
Frankie: Hold on….
Orlando: I know how this sounds, Frankie, but it’s truly what’s best for her in the long run….
Frankie: No.
This time Orlando’s the one calling for a time out.
Orlando: What did you just say to me?
Frankie: I said…NO.
Orlando: Listen to me, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t want to spare Tay-Tay the predicament winning the World Title would put her in.
Frankie: I’m not doing it, Cruze, forget it.
Orlando: Frankie, I don’t think your grasping this…
Frankie: No way, Cruze, NO WAY!
He tips over his chair upon flying out of it.
Frankie: I’m not going out there to screw Tay-Tay…though I would really like to figurative….
Orlando: Don’t even.
Frankie: Anyway, I’m not going to rob her of her life’s ambition simply because you want to hold onto the championship, just because you still want to walk around like you’ve got the biggest swinging dick in the yard…
Cruze is coming dangerously close to losing it.
Orlando: Frankie…
Frankie: Tay-Tay deserves better than this…she deserves better than you.,
Orlando: FRANKIE!
Both fists swing down yet again into the surface of his desk, which proves to be particularly pliable after all the damage Orlando has done to it as a result of his many tantrums.
Orlando: Tay-Tay can’t win the Championship tonight, she just…she just….can’t. God, I’m going to kill Desmond for even putting this match together.
Frankie: You know what, Orlando, I’m glad to disappoint you. I’m not going to cost her the World Title just so YOU won’t look like the bad-guy.
He steps towards the door, standing on the threshold.
Frankie: I’ll never do anything to hurt Tay-Tay.
Out of the room Frankie stomps, leaving Orlando behind to stew in thought. He rubs his fingers against his temples, looking to be at a loss for what to do regarding the Title predicament tonight. Suddenly he has a brainstorm…kinda…removing a phone from his pocket and dialing a number.
Chase: Wait…wait…you want us to do WHAT!?!
Adam is still following right behind Gavin Taylor, who looks side to side, front to back, up and down, searching every space, every nook and cranny for Aaron Harrison. Unfortunately he’s hid himself quite well, and won’t be discovered by peaking around the catering tables and loosely stacked boxes off to Gavin’s sides. But his search won’t be disrupted, even by Adam shouting into his cell-phone.
Chase: Ummmm…we’re kind of busy at the moment, with you know, trying to track down Harrison…
He pauses as Orlando barks directly into his ear.
Chase: I understand that he gave up that matc….alright, fine…fine…Cruze, we’ll do it.
The I-Phone is stuffed back in his pocket.
Chase: Gavin my boy.
Taylor stops looking behind boxes and starts looking over his shoulder.
Gavin: Busy at the moment.
Chase: Afraid Aaron is going to have to wait. I’ve got another mission for you at the moment.
Gavin: Mission?
Chase: Yeah…yeah…I know you don’t take very well to directives from Orlando….but he promises that this will really be in Taylor’s best interest.
Gavin: Fiiiinnnnee. What does his needy ass want now?
Chase: It’s a procurement assignment. We’ve got to take something from a certain…someone.
Gavin: Could you possibly be anymore vague?
Chase: If I really applied myself.
Blood continues to seep, dripping down Katelyn Buehler’s face as SHE’S now the one holding an ice bag to her forehead. In spite of a losing effort, Buehler looks overwhelmed with pride, sitting with a straight back for once, upon the cot in the trainer’s room. At last there’s actual confidence radiating from the woman who has been treated like trash her entire life. But tonight she stood…and she stood tall against the epitome of her fears, Ducky. Two sets of hands make her feel all the more confident, slipping unto her shoulders and giving them a reassuring rub.
Katelyn: Oh Ethan, that feels so good.
The massage proceeds until she reaches down to kiss his fingers and realizes that she’s smooching a pair of leather gloves. She pulls back and winces from the vile taste, her eyes instantly turning, panic stricken to the man standing behind her, Mr. Gaunt.
Katelyn: What the hell do you want!?!
She lunges to her feet and puts up both fists, refusing to be intimidated by the captain at the helm of the Black Crusade’s ship.
Mr. Gaunt: Your spunk pleases me, Mrs. Buehler. It’s nice to see that you’ve grown a spine. In forcing you to face your fears, you’ve grown…and your career will undoubtedly blossom as a result. For now that you’ve stared down the person who has terrified you the most, and stand here a survivor of her brutality, you have nothing left to fear.
With that simple and straight forward message, Mr. Gaunt turns to leave, but surprisingly, Katelyn doesn’t let him get very far.
Buehler: Mr. Gaunt.
Mr. Gaunt: My Dear?
Katelyn lowers her head, wondering why she’s about to say the words she feels obliged to get off her chest.
Buehler: Thank you.
Somehow Desmond Drake has managed to shrink even further. It’s almost like he’s Alice in Wonderland, ingesting copious amounts of vile liquid in order to reduce him to a more manageable size. But it isn’t some unique drink that makes him appear shorter in stature, it’s the intimidating gazes of the Board of Directors, Mr. D in particular. His gaze persists, while every other set of eyes wavers to the monitor set up in the back of the room, playing images of Orlando Cruze forcing Christian Savior to compete with his wrists shackled together against the ever so vicious Legion.
Mr. D: And all this….all this happened on YOUR watch?
A simple shake of Mr. D’s head makes it feel like Desmond has an ice pick haphazardly giving him a spinal tap.
Mr. D: Desmond…honestly….this is the pinnacle of FAIL if I’ve ever seen it.
Tomlinson: It’s clear that Orlando has not grown as an individual since his SCW days.
Mr. D: I hate to tell you guys I told you so….wait….actually…I love it…I’m going to quite enjoy rubbing your noses in this botched attempt at IWC’s resurrection.
: Dad, we’re not entirely convinced that the IWC should be thrown under the bus.
Mr. D: No, but Orlando Cruze clearly should be. It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that the man cannot be trusted to run a wrestling company. His ego is totally and completely out of control.
Sasha: You would know something about egos.
Mr. D: Yes…yes I would, and Orlando’s is even bigger than my own….ego that is. I screamed as loud as I could, as long as I could, to anyone that would hear me, that Orlando couldn’t be trusted…
Tomlinson: Which is why he put Drake in this position as a safeguard.
Mr. D: And we can all agree that he’s been totally inefficient in that capacity. I think it’s time that you all get on board with my train of thought….
Sasha: Oh lord…here we go.
She throws her arms up in the air and Tomlinson pinches the tissue between his eyes.
Mr. D: What, it’s the only practical solution to this problem. We make Orlando step down as President, put him in a more suitable role for a man of his mentality, as a silent partner, and we announce MYSELF as the in show figurehead for the IWC.
Sasha: You have WAY too much on your plate already.
Mr. D: I can pull this off…Just look at what’s happened in SCW since I returned. For the first time in ages there’s actually been law and some semblance of order. Stability was restored, and it was all because you people had confidence in me. My return to SCW has worked wonders for the company…I can do the same in IWC.
Drake: Mr. D….
Everyone is stunned to hear Drake speaking up.
Desmond: If anyone could do it, it would be you.
This vote of confidence puts a grin on Mr. D’s face.
Desmond: But you, above all else, know what power can do to people.
Indeed, Mr. D has faced the perils of corruption in his past, on more than one occasion, hence why his grin borders on the brink of fading.
Desmond: Orlando is under a lot of pressure….something else yourself and Sasha know so much about. And this pressure, it’s got to him….it’s twisted him…it’s warped his mind….but in spite of his twisted logic, I truly believe he THINKS everything he’s doing is for the greater good of the company. He’s not out to intentionally destroy the product. With every fiber of his being he’s fighting to restore the company’s honor, and bring it back to its glory years. How could you possibly want to replace a man who to his inner-most core wants to make the product, you invested so much money in, all it can be?
Sasha opens her mouth to respond before being cut off, shockingly, by Drake, who is actually on his feet, stepping around the table. He stops beside Sasha, patting her on the forearm to put her at ease over the interruption.
Desmond: And you guys certainly can’t argue with how the product has been performing from a profit standpoint. We were the highest rated show on the ME Network. Our buyrates for Awakening, were great. The place is turning out to be a cash-cow for you guys. So financially speaking, isn’t it a good idea to keep Orlando on his throne if he’s filling your pockets?
Mr. D: Jerry Springer had great ratings too, but it wasn‘t quality programming. Do we really want our names associated with a place that endorses chaos? And let’s not even get started on how Orlando allows wrestlers to compete against medical advice. With concussions! It‘s opening us up to a major…MAJOR lawsuit. You all just saw what happened with the NFL and the billions of dollars they‘ll have to pump into concussion based legal issues….Do we want to open ourselves up to that?
Desmond: I truly believe Orlando didn’t grasp the severity of Jackson’s concussion syndrome. He’s been extremely taxed as it is, guys…and girl….and he’s still fitting into his new role, learning as he goes. Besides, you all saw how he suspended Axl Evermore the moment it was even insinuated that he was suffering some nagging injuries. I think he really does have the best interest of not only the company, but the wrestlers in mind…
Mr. D: Which is why he brutalized Simon Cagero with a Singapore Cane, and FORCED a man to compete while shackled?
Desmond: Yeah, on the surface, that makes Orlando look like a total ass…and a masochist. But dig a bit deeper, try to see it from Cruze’s perspective. Christian and Silencer, in the past were both parts of stables that went out of their way to destroy the IWC. Remember, they were founding members of the Conspiracy.
Tomlinson: No need to remind us of that.
Desmond: So naturally he’s not going to trust them, or anyone who worked with Dan Douglas, who truly was a cancer to this company, and was almost entirely responsible for the IWC closing its doors three years ago. He’s just trying to take out anyone he thinks will hurt his product…YOUR product. He just wants to defend the company….YOUR investment…and will not tolerate anyone standing in the way of the IWC becoming the federation it once was…..So you know what I say? I say you guys give Orlando time…and with time he’ll learn to trust Christian and Silence again, to coexist with them. Give him the opportunity to grow into his role…to transform into the President we all know he can be. Just…just…trust Orlando….and I swear you guys…and girl…will not regret it.
Orlando: Aaron Harrison’s head….on a pike….right along side Silencer’s…and Christian Savior’s….
Laymon: That’s grim.
Orlando: Well, you asked me what I wanted.
The Icon is pretty much at the end of his rope, one that now seems to be wrapped around his throat. A nervous Laymon sits across from him in the Icon‘s office, desperate not to say the wrong thing and increasingly thankful for the desk that separates them.
Laymon: I’m guessing you called me back here not to discuss decapitating half the roster.
Orlando: You guessed right.
Laymon: I promise you, Boss, I’m doing everything in my power to take care of the Black Crusade….I’ll deal with them….
Orlando: Does it look like I give two shits about the Black Crusade?
Laymon: Well, not to speak out of turn, but maybe you should take an active role in dealing with the Black Crusade.
Orlando: I’ve got enough to worry about, Jacob. And that’s part of the reason you’re here. I need you to do a job for me….
Laymon: Okay…this time I WILL do exactly as you request. It won’t end up like last week.
Orlando: Your better off NOT reminding me of your failures.
Laymon: Okie dokie.
Orlando: In a few minutes Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase are going to bring you something.
Laymon looks increasingly concerned, his eyebrow arching and his skin squirming, especially when he detects an annoying scratching noise emanating from somewhere in the room. Before he can address it, Orlando continues feeding him information, and he tries his best to remain focused on every syllable.
Orlando: As soon as you get it, go to the ring and…well….this will explain everything. Thought it be safer to write it down rather than expect you to JUST remember.
A piece of paper is slid across the table to Laymon, who eagerly snatches it up and begins to read it.
Orlando: Now go.
Jacob looks confused by all the information he’s absorbing from the blueprint of forthcoming events, leading him to be hesitant in his response.
Laymon: Okay, are you sure about this?
Orlando: Of course not, but it’s the only fix I could think of on the fly.
Laymon: Why not just talk to Tay-Tay? Get her match postponed instead of potentially antagonizing her like this?
Orlando: I couldn’t tell her with her father sitting right there. We’ll hash this all out after the show ends tonight though. I’ll take her aside and explain why it HAD to happen this way.
Laymon: Okay, Boss…I’m on it.
He exits, leaving Orlando to at last sit alone for some much needed introspection. He sits in quiet at last, hands interlocked and falling against his forehead. He continues to question if he’s made the right decision. Just when it seems he’s starting to come to his senses, his thoughts turn to that scratching noise.
Orlando: Come on now!
He’s aggravated enough without this incessant noise hassling him. He rises from his desk, determined to put an end to whatever this noise is that’s plaguing him. Therefore he follows the scratching right to a door, one leading to his closet.
Orlando: If it’s a fucking rat, I swear to God….
When the door opens its not a rodent that spills out and causes Orlando to jump back in horror. It’s a blood soaked Rose Savior. With shackled hands the World Heavyweight Champion collapses at Orlando’s feet, a puddle of blood masking her face. But that’s NOT what Orlando’s eyes are drawn to, instead it’s the fake dragon tattoo drawn across her lower back, one reminiscent of Taylor Chase’s.
Orlando: What? How did you? Why are you!?!
Instinctively, in spite of his issues with the Savior’s, he drops to his knees and takes Rose’s bloodied head into his hands. Turning her so that her face is looking up into his. The little bit of valor he has left shines as he looks up and cries for help.
Orlando: Somebody get in here…someone call the….
Before he can even finish requesting help, that’s just what arrives, but not in the form of EMTS. Instead standing in his doorway are the two police officers who arrested him last week.
Orlando: Oh thank God you’re here, call for an ambulance…
Officer: Mr. Cruze, please step away from her.
Their hands move to the revolvers in their holsters, leading to a double take from the Icon. His head snaps back, eyes opening wide. They are also in the process of speaking into their shoulder mounted radios, summoning emergency aide for the bludgeoned and bloodied World Champion.
Orlando: What….wait….hold on….you can’t think…
Officer: I said step away from the girl….NOW!
These two officers in particular are well aware of Orlando’s attitude towards the Savior’s, and to see him stooped over Rose, with her blood all over his hands…well…it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.
Orlando: I’m telling you, I had nothing to….
Christian: Where is she, Orlando?
Savior steps into the room without so much as a pause to knock, but he does stop when his eyes lock upon Rose’s bloodied body in Cruze’s clutches.
Christian: You MOTHER FUCKER!
Before the officers can cut him off, Christian barrels across the room and spears the now upright Orlando to the ribs, knocking both men back over the desk. They take the whole table over and end up on the ground, exchanging shots between one another. The police interfere at long last, grabbing Christian and summoning all their strength to drag him back off of Orlando.
Christian: Let me go…let me go God dammit!
Officer: Don’t make us cuff you, Christian.
Christian: I’m gonna kill him…I’m gonna fucking KILL HIM!
Orlando climbs up from behind his knocked over table, finally getting his feet under him.
Orlando: I didn’t do this…I didn’t put so much as a finger on her head.
He lifts his fists in the direction of Christian only to have a pair of cuffs slapped around his wrists. An insulted Cruze turns towards the police officer, wide eyed and outraged.
Orlando: You can’t be serious.
Officer: Orlando Cruze, you’re under arrest for the assault of Rose Savior.
Orlando: You’ve got no evidence.
Officer: The blood on your shirt says otherwise.
Christian is no longer obsessed with getting his hands on Orlando, and is instead focused on wrapping his arms around Rose’s head, dragging her bloodied skull up to his chest. He doesn’t even watch as Orlando is dragged out of the office in handcuffs.
Orlando: I’m innocent…I’m INNOCENT!
Officer: How original, never heard that one before.
Savior is shaking, his face almost as red as Rose’s, as he clutches the World Champion in his arms.
The show returns to the ring where the Disco Ball is lowered and That Disco Ninja!, exclamation point and all, is shaking his money maker beneath it.
Dollar: WOW! Okay, time out. How can we possibly just transition back to wrestling after what we just saw?
Susie: Hey, if I can carry on after seeing an innocent plushie torn to pieces, you can get past what just happened to our World Champion.
Dollar: I could give a flying pig fart about what happened to Rose…I’m outraged because Orlando AGAIN is being led out of the building in handcuffs! The police heard him, he said he’s innocent….INNOCENT. He was set up.
Susie: It wasn’t him…it was the one armed man.
Dollar: This isn’t funny, you idiot! Orlando was set-up, and yeah, Rose Savior was apparently the one who was mangled by the Blacklist at the beginning of our show. I guess to lure Orlando back to the building so he’d sign that contract…a contract for God only knows what because Aaron Harrison has apparently backed out of participating in the World Title match.. Jesus, I’m so damned confused.
Susie: Welcome to the club, we’ll have a glittery pendant waiting for you.
Disco Ninja is still dancing around the ring, totally oblivious to what happened backstage to one of his associates.
Dollar: I guess I’ll TRY to get my mind focused here…That Disco Ninja is about to compete against Tiami Tyler….Yeah,, I just can’t get that image out of my head…I’ll always be effected by the sight of Orlando Cruze being led out of the building in handcuffs.
Tiami is not the next person to enter the ring, because instead that Disco Ninja is requesting that a few lucky fans climb into the ring in order to dance with him. But members of the fan base are not who climb into the ring with Disco, instead it’s Gavin Taylor and Adam Chase.
Dollar: It’s Taylor…at last someone who can snap me out of my funk.
Before Disco can figure out why the fans aren’t obliged to take him up on his offer to dance, he’s blasted to the upper back with a devastating forearm from Gavin. He goes down flat on his face and instantly is subjected to a barrage of boots from Gavin.
Dollar: I guess Gavin just wasn’t through with that Disco Ninja…wasn’t satisfied with the brutality he inflicted on him last week.
Susie: He really needs to start employing his decoys to get him out of these situations.
Adam proves to be a hands on manager, dragging Disco over to his seat and putting him in perfect position for Gavin’s brutal shining wizard, connecting with enough force to break the bones in his rival’s face. The crowd watches, and that’s all they can do, observe the brutality in horror. One person who can do more than just watch, is the very soul who just tore through the entry way. With brief-case in hand, considering it might serve a useful purpose, Axl Evermore darts to the ring amidst a monumental reaction from his hometown fans.
Dollar; Evermore on his way to the ring! He was too late to stop the assault on Disco Ninja last week, he’s not about to make the same mistake…YOUCH!
A double axe handle smashes the upper back of Evermore, knocking him down hard to the stage. Standing above him is a man Axl is not unfamiliar with, Isaac Saine.
Dollar: Isaac just attacked Axl…but….but…why?
Susie: Cause he doesn’t like Axl….I don’t know why. I thought everyone loved his stubble and his pony tail.
The collision has sent Evermore rolling down the ramp to the mats, really clutching at the back of his neck. Isaac storms towards him, but instead of putting his hands on Axl, he bends down and grabs the briefcase. He slowly begins to pick it up when Axl stands up and swipes the case right out of his hands. He then turns the attaché into a weapon, ramming it into Isaac’s ribs and doubling him over. He then lifts the case and slams it over the back of his skull, bringing Isaac down to a knee.
Just when he’s about to lift the case and deliver ANOTHER shot to his long time nemesis, Gavin sneaks up behind him and grabs the make-shift weapon right out of his hands. Axl turns around and has the case slammed against his forehead, dropping Axl to the ramp.
Dollar: And now Axl’s head caved in with the briefcase! And we all know what’s inside of it…The Evolution Championship that Evermore refused to give to Desmond Drake last week.
Susie: What?
Dollar: Evermore’s company is responsible for making all of the IWC’s championship belts, and apparently he still had the ORIGINAL Evolution Title in his possession, and the one thrown in the ocean several weeks ago, was just a duplicate.
Susie: Why did you TRY to explain that to me? You know I’m just visualizing what happened to that plushie, right?
Instead of doing further damage to Evermore, Gavin rushes up the ramp with the briefcase in hand, taking off with the original Evolution Championship belt. All the while Adam stops beside the kneeling Isaac, who sits on his knees in an emotionless state.
Chase: Either finish him off, or I post your maskless face on the net for the whole world to see.
The threat proves effective, Isaac instantly rising to his feet, grabbing Evermore by his pony tail and using it to drag him towards the ring.
Dollar: And now Chase using that picture he took of Isaac without a mask on to FORCE Saine into doing his bidding. Though I doubt it takes much coercion to get Saine to beat down Evermore. They’ve been doing that to each other for years.
Axl is rolled into the ring and Saine follows him in. He then steps forward and reaches down, picking up right where he left off in the original IWC, by literally picking up Axl, dragging him up to his feet. He then spins Evermore around into a cobra clutch, setting for the Psychotic Episode. He starts to lift him up before he realizes his leg is caught. Isaac looks down at Disco Ninja, wrapped around his tree trunk thick leg and refusing to let go. Saine takes an arm away from the cobra clutch to swat at Disco, and that’s just the opening Evermore needs to reach back, take his long time rival around the neck and drop into the Fully Loaded stunner.
Saine’s head bounces back and he goes staggering into the ropes, leaning on them for support. Just then Disco and Evermore interlock hands and rush across the ring, delivering a stereo lariat that takes Isaac up and over the ropes.
Dollar: Disco and Evermore have just cleared the ring! They’ve taken the brute out before he could tear Evermore apart.
Susie: Just like that poor plushie.
Dollar: But they fell right into Gavin Taylor’s plot. He lured Evermore out here by attacking Disco Ninja, just so he could steal the Evolution Championship. I guess we know now what Chase and Taylor were tasked with procuring.
Evermore and Ninja stand side by side, watching as Isaac backs up the ramp, holding his throat. But instead of mumbling threats or obscenities, he remains completely silent, still in a state of pure petrify.
EMTS have Rose loaded on a stretcher, pushing aside the stitched together plushie in order to get the bloodied Savior in position for transportation. Though she’s lost a lot of blood, and has endured a tremendous amount of punishment at the hands of a three on one mugging from the Blacklist, she’s surprisingly cogent…well…enough to address the man standing beside her…hand gripping her own tightly….trying to keep up with the stretcher as it’s pushed down the corridor.
Rose: Where…where…where am I? What’s….going on? Christian?<
Christian: Try not to talk, try to conserve your energy.
Christian runs his hand through Rose’s blood drenched bangs, pushing it aside so she can bend down and plant a kiss.
Christian: Just stay calm, okay. Their taking you to the hospital.
Rose: The…the hospital? No….no…
Without being aware of what she’s doing, Rose tries to sit up and get off the stretcher only to be pushed back by EMTS and her husband.
Christian: Remain still, Rose, you could have some internal injuries.
Rose: I don’t care…I’m not leaving. I have a title to defend.
Christian: For crying out loud, don’t worry about the God damned title…it’s not worth risking your life over.
Rose: Did YOU let injuries keep you from defending your championship? NO!
Again she’s surprisingly coherent for a woman who just suffered mass blood loss and injuries both superficial and internal.
Rose: Now let me off of here…
Christian: Can you guys strap her down or something? She’s not with it. Afraid she’s gonna hurt herself in this state.
Straps are employed per Christian’s request, EMTS throwing them over Rose’s body, who is too weak to fend them off.
Rose: No…Christian PLEASE!
Christian: I’m not going to let you go out there and compete…NO WAY! But don’t worry, I’m going to make sure Orlando gets what’s coming to him next week for what he did to you.
Rose: Or….Or…ORLANDO!?!
Christian: Please try to stay calm…
The moment the straps are buckled, keeping Rose from being able to move a Singapore cane is swung right into the back of Christian’s knee. Rose screams at the sight of her husband going down to all fours, grabbing at his leg and unleashing his own screech, not of fear or surprise, but pure pain.
Rose: No…Christian…CHRISTIAN!
The EMTS don’t even look back, too eager to get Rose to the hospital, so they keep on pushing her along on the stretcher, keeping her from being able to come to her husband’s aid, though in her present state she would probably wouldn’t be of much help.
No….she’d be incapable of assisting the love of her life against the very man who stands above him with cane in hand…Silencer. Though he seems to be cut off at the knees, looking quite shorter than normal. But it MUST be him, because he’s wearing identical make-up, has his hair done up in the same way, and is wearing all the traditional Cagero garb, including the long trench coat, which he now reaches into the pocket of for God only knows what. A cell-phone is then revealed, a bright pink one…which clues viewers into the fact that it’s clearly not his. A giant ‘ROSE’ has been drawn on the back of the phone…which now clues viewers into the fact that it belongs to Rose Savior.
Meaning…if you’re capable of connecting all the dots…that SILENCER must have been the one sending all the text messages and broken phone calls to Christian…meaning he had to be a co-collaborator in the vicious assault on the World Champion. An assault that would no doubt weaken Rose for her eventual bout with Silencer.
This piece of very incriminating evidence is thrown down right on top of Christian, who is still rolling around reeling from both pain and shock after that NASTY shot from the cane to his knee.
Dollar: Oh lord, was Christian…was he just…was he just attacked by Silencer of all people? And was Silencer carrying Rose’s cell-phone to boot? Is he the one who set up Orlando Cruze? I have to admit, that is smart, if Silencer is playing his rivals off of one another. If he‘s been working with the Blacklist all along.
Susie: Not only does he apply a mean mascara, but he’s a master manipulator too.
Dollar: How is this going to effect the four way we’re scheduled to see in just a few minutes?
Christian sits up clutching his knee, but takes his focus off his injury long enough to spot the phone lying on the ground beside him. The image of Rose’s cell causes him to take his attention completely off his damaged limb. Every inch of his skin turns a very dark crimson shade.
Orlando: This is starting to get a little redundant guys.
For the second week in a row, Orlando Cruze is being led through the backstage area not of his own accord, but by the police officers standing at his sides, gripping his forearms tightly. They provide extra support to the shackles that keep his wrists bound behind his back, ensuring that the particularly burly Orlando can’t break free. But he doesn’t fight, not wanting to further antagonize the officers, at least not physically.
Orlando: You both know there’s no point to this. I’ll be out before you can even finish your jelly donut and coffee back at the station.
Officer: I’d advice you not to say anything else without your lawyer present.
Orlando: And I’d advice you to cut back on the pastries Mr. Spare-Tire.
The officer subconsciously glances at his roll of belly fat, but then turns his focus to the police cruiser a few inches away. The back door is opened and Orlando is on the cusp of being guided through it. He stops to offer one last word of warning to those about to incarcerate him.
Orlando: You two realize your wasting your time with me, right? That the real sons of bitches who attacked Rose are still out there. I’m telling you guys the Blacklist is responsible for this……
Officer: Mr. Cruze, you can discuss this with the detectives who will be investigating your case.
Orlando: Can you at least give me like five minutes to talk to Jacob Laymon? Just five minutes. I need to tell him he can just call off the World Title match. WATCH OUT!
Orlando dives backwards into the police cruiser as the officers leap over the trunk and hood of their car. All their Dukes of Hazard inspired lunges come as a direct result of the car that comes speeding through the parking lot, just inches from clipping them. The police stand back up fixing their shirts and trying not to look too panic stricken. One of them grabs their radio and begins to bark into it.
Officer: I need back-up here now! I’m reporting an attempted hit and run…license plate number….did either of you catch the number?
An annoyed Orlando sits up and peaks his head out of the backseat.
Orlando: CS0911. Do you guys want me to tie your shoes next?
Officer: Get in the car.
Orlando is shoved back into the vehicle.
Orlando: Wait…wait…can one of you get word to Laymon? Tell him to cancel the title match….Rose can’t compete.
The door is slammed shut, cutting him off and trapping him inside. The cops then exchange a long and tense look.
Officer: Darryl…I know who’s car that is.<
The Officer’s heart sinks.
Darryl: Yeah, so do I Frank, so do I.
P Clarence Whitman III eyes flutter.
Lois: Clarence….Clarence….yoo-hoo.
Fingers snap in front of Whitman’s face before he at last comes through.. He looks up slowly into the smirk of Lois Prince, stooped before him.
Whitman: How in the blue moon did I get here?
Clearly the X-Class Champion is suffering lost time, sitting up from the table he was spread across. Almost taking over the stale cookies and the old coffee situated around him.
Lois: Not sure. I just came in to pick up the left over cookies from our group meeting and found you laying here.
Whitman: Did I get laggard or something?
Lois: Don’t smell any alcohol on your breath.
Desperately Whitman tries to retrace his steps as he looks around the conference room. The last thing he can remember is turning into a shot from the crowbar by Lohan, hence why his fingers instantly dash to the huge knot on his forehead, one crudely covered by a few bandaids.
Whitman: Who?
Lois: Don’t know. You were all bandaged up before I got here.
Whitman: Odd.
She busies herself collecting the left over goodies off of the table, desperately trying to resist the urge to do it. But at last she just can’t help herself. Against better judgment she leans in and kisses Whitman on the cheek. The X-Class Champion perks up, instantly forgetting the migraine and the lost time.
Whitman: What was that for?
Lois: Took a lot of courage to stand up to your Bosses like that. I almost didn‘t think you had it in you.
Whitman: Neither did I.
He could barely even recall assaulting Laymon’s security with the baton..
Whitman: I meant to say there is much more about me than meets your eyes, Lois. Perhaps you’ll learn more about me if say, we were to meet for dinner, outside of our place of employment perhaps.
Lois: Sure. Could be fun.
Whitman: Cheers.
Lois: We can discuss it later though. Got to get this room cleared out before the higher ups jump all over us.
Whitman: Bastards.
Lois: Want to help me pick up the rest of the chairs?
Whitman: Of course…
The smitten British import begins to slip off the edge of the table before he looks down and feigns alarm.
Whitman: Um, can you give me a moment? To…uhhh…collect myself, yes.
Whitman nervously crosses his legs while Lois carries the tray towards the doors.
Lois: Okay. Don’t take too long though.
She departs, leaving Whitman to take a long breathe as he looks down at the table beneath him. At the Black Crusade sigil drawn under his body..
MOMENTS AGO
Dollar: See, I didn’t fall for it this time. Didn’t waste my breathe at all. I refuse to be undone by yet another The Room clip played by that bastard Mr. Hush.
Susie: That may have been the best sex face EVER!
Dollar: This is totally distracting us from what really went down right before the break. We saw Orlando Cruze arrested AGAIN…but then he was almost run over by some crazed driver.
Moore: It was probably one of those old people who refuse to fork over their keys before their cataracts start flaring up.
Dollar: Hopefully the cops start doing their damn job and arresting people who actually do need to detained.
No “Go Ahead…” no “Silence Me…” nuttin….nothing but this odd intro theme ushering forth Silencer to the ring. The painted Cagero steps through the curtains and looks around at the sound speakers, wondering why Mr. Hush selected this theme on his behalf, mostly because it’s just way too awesome. He shrugs and embraces it before stepping down the ramp, still wearing his street attire based on the loss of the duffle bag apparently holding his gear tonight. He slips through the ropes and prepares for yet a match which gives him yet another opportunity to screw with Orlando and his circle of allies.
Dollar: Can’t believe Silencer would even show his face here after he proved himself to be a total hypocrite by abandoning his morals, his principles, any semblance of standards he had, when he partnered up with the Blacklist tonight.
Susie: I can’t believe he has the audacity to show his face with that head of hair sitting on top of it.
Dollar: But Silencer now has the chance to cause even greater chaos should he win this match and perhaps influence the outcome of the World Title match tonight…if there’s even going to be a World Title match that is. I mean, Rose was just escorted from the building on a stretcher, so it doesn’t look like she’s going to compete, and Aaron Harrison has already stated that he will NOT be competing against Tay-Tay after all. Who knows what to expect from our main event this evening.
Silencer paces in anticipation of his bout, still wearing a huge protective knee brace after the repeated assaults on his leg the past few weeks. Though he moves much more gingerly upon it than in recent weeks.
The fans cover their ears as the offensive tune filters in. As Christian Savior emerges through the curtains he doesn’t even pay attention to the music Mr. Hush selected for him. He doesn’t even focus on his gimp leg after that shot from the cane moments ago. The only thing he’s focused on is Silencer, who acts totally aloof to the rage seeping from every orifice of the Rising Phoenix.
Dollar: I’m surprised that Savior is even competing tonight. He got hit pretty hard with that cane, and I would think he’d be right at Rose’s side….WHOA!
Silencer turns to Christian with a smug grin only to be nailed with the Bloodline Spear before the match could even begin. Cagero goes down hard and Christian crawls right up beside him, applying a headlock while delivering repeated rapid fire right hands into his forehead.
Dollar: Payback is a bitch by the name of Christian Savior….he’s all over this co-conspirator…this bastard who helped maul Rose and set up Orlando Cruze.
Susie: How can you punch a man in make-up? That’s just wrong.
Punch after punch after punch is delivered with fury…with rage…with vengeance…with fire. Referee Ingelson is shouting at the two to break this up as the match hasn’t even started as of yet. Christian doesn’t care, he just wants retribution, evident as he sinks his fingers into Silencer’s hair, and leads him up to his feet. The air has been knocked from his body by that full impact spear that he never saw coming, leaving him defenseless against the punches to his forehead that send him twisting into the turnbuckle.
Silencer falls against it as Christian steps in and delivers repeated stomps against his ribs. He then wedges a forearm to Silencer’s throat and leans in to shout at the number one contender.
Christian: I’m the one who can’t be trusted? I’m the bad guy huh? HUH!?!
A truly vengeful Christian takes Silencer around the neck and rushes out of the corner, diving into the diamond cutter. At the last second Silencer shoves him off though and then goes twisting through the ropes, desperate to create some separation.. He leans against the apron and looks into the ring where Savior is limping back towards him.
Silencer: Whoa…whoa…what bug crawled up your ass!?!
Savior rolls to the outside of the ring and goes storming right at Silencer only to be caught with a knife edge chop across the chest. Christian is staggered by the blow as Silencer begins to deliver rights to his forehead in order to avail himself of this situation, to fend off the vengeful Phoenix. But Christian’s rage and need for payback is an all too motivating factor, prompting him to overcome these strikes and to grab his painted prey by the back of the head, charging him across the mats face first off of the ring post. Silencer’s cranium cracks against the steel and he goes twisting into the barricade.
Silencer falls against the barrier, leaning on it for support as Christian comes charging in, looking for yet another spear. Somehow he’s able to side step this attempt, pushing Savior along head first into the barricade. Christian crashes against the steel with enough force to send him flipping up and over into the crowd.
All the while Silencer staggers towards the ring, rolling to his elbows and knees. He clutches at his cranium and his ribs, feeling the effects of the spear and the multiple punches to his head.
The curtains part and through them emerges the self proclaimed, monster, Aaron Harrison. He shows no trepidation, and pays no attention to the theme music blaring in the background, much like Savior he’s totally focused.
Dollar: And Aaron Harrison has made a huge impact on tonight’s telecast as well…working with Silencer in order to take out the World Heavyweight Champion. What further influence will he have on tonight’s show though, should he win this match and go on to referee our main event…Again…if there will even be one.
Into the ring slides, not Harrison, but Christian, with a steel chair in hand. He swings it right down into the upper back of a still kneeling Silencer, catching him completely off guard. Silencer twists to the canvas as Christian steps over and lifts the steel into the air, driving the top edge right down into his rival’s ribcage.
Cagero curls into a fetal position, grabbing at his battered mid-section. Christian lifts the chair again when Aaron slides into the ring and sees to be coming to the aid of his co-conspirator. Savior turns and is about to hit him with the chair but Harrison ducks it, taking off into the ropes behind him.
He bounces off and comes back in at Christian, who turns, throws the chair aside and dives into another Bloodline Spear, it connects with enough force to send Harrison almost flipping over backwards. Christian doesn’t go for the pin though, considering that the match has yet to even begin. The truly vengeful former World Champion crawls on top of Harrison’s chest and begins rifling off punches with both fists to Aaron’s face.
Dollar: And now Christian is all over Harrison, just pummeling the man…and for good cause…considering Aaron left his wife in a pool of blood.
Susie: Nothing a couple tampons couldn’t fix.
This level of aggression has never been seen out of Christian, channeling so much primal aggression into his blows. They only stop when a side kick nails him to the cheek, Silencer delivering it with enough force to finally phase the vengeful spirit. Christian drops to his back, and in spite of taking the spear, Aaron begins to climb to his feet. He quickly takes Savior’s arms into his clutches, lifting Christian up and pinning his biceps behind him, trapping him in almost a standing version of the double chicken wing. This leaves Savior defenseless against the recovered Cagero, who leans upon the ropes to maintain his stability.
Aaron: Come on Simon, take him out…Do it already!
The chair Christian was using is kicked by Harrison, sending it sliding right into Silencer’s toes. Cagero looks at the weapon that mangled him then back up into the blood red face of Savior, who is screaming obscenities as he desperately tries to fight free.
Dollar: And the two are going to continue working as a team to take out ANOTHER member of the Savior clan. They may leave Christian in even worse shape than his wife.
For the first time in a long…long time…Silencer shows legitimate confusion. He’s tepid….cautious as he reaches down and picks up the chair, looking at his reflection in the gleam of the steel.
Aaron: Finish this….partner.
Aaron winks at Silencer, which seems to send him into a rage, prompting him to lift the chair and rush in only to receive a boot to the ribs. The weapon is dropped, along with Cagero’s guard, bending forward and clutching at his ribs. Christian then throws a back elbow, nailing Harrison in the jaw. Silencer steadies himself and rushes right at Savior, who drops into a forward roll, ducking the arm. As a result Silencer’s bicep travels right into Aaron’s throat, taking him up and over the cables to the outside of the ring.
Silencer sneers as he watches Harrison hit the mats, totally unsympathetic to his ‘partner’s’ misfortune. He then turns just as Savior caves in his skull with the steel chair. Silencer collapses to his back and begins to flop around like a fish thrown out of water. Both palms engulf the knot forming on the bridge of his scalp, and the only thing that takes his focus away from his skull is the pain coursing through his knee as Christian drives the chair into it. He then lifts the steel into the air and slams it down over the injured leg a second time, and then a third.
Christian: How does it feel? How does it feel!?! Huh? HUH!?!
The chair slams viciously against his kneecap a third, a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh…eighth…ninth…again and and again against Silencer’s leg as he flops around, desperately trying to protect his injured limb. Christian then steps to the center of the ring and sets up the chair, positioning it in the center of the ring. He then reaches down and takes Silencer around the neck, leading him up to his feet and placing him in position for the diamond cutter.
Dollar: He’s gonna hit this move one way or another. He’s bound and determined to destroy Silencer.
Christian rushes across the ring and begins to leap towards the chair when he spots Harrison sliding into the ring in front of him. Aaron has just reaches his feet when Christian breaks up the cutter attempt and instead steps off the chair, launching himself at Harrison, who side steps him jus in time to send the Phoenix flying into the top rope.
Christian bounces off the cables chest first, staggering back into the waiting clutches of Harrison, who wedges a shoulder to his spine and heaves him up into the back drop on the chair. But Christian floats over, landing right behind Harrison, who spins around, gets a kick to the gut and then is ultimately dropped with a DDT into the chair. Harrison’s head snaps back as his body goes limp, falling across the mats. In the meanwhile Christian is racing to his feet and turning to acknowledge that Silencer has reached a foot, unable to put pressure on his other leg.
Dollar: DDT right into the chair! Christian is somehow countering this two on one scenario to fend off these plotting bastards.
Susie: I thought two on ones were right up Silencer’s alley.
Dollar: Not this type.
Savior rushes across the ring, hobbling slightly and then steps off the steel chair he just employed as a weapon against Harrison, launching himself into a lariat that connects against Silencer’s throat. Both men are taken over the cables, flipping to the outside and hitting with a splat across the mats.
Dollar: And the fight goes back to the outside once again. Christian determined to tear Silencer apart.
Silencer crawls across the mats and employs the steps to reach his feet, leaning against them for support. That’s when Christian comes barreling in and eats a back elbow to his lips. Savior staggers back, clutching at his teeth, and then gets another running start only to have Silencer catch him around the waist then snap back into a belly to belly suplex. Christian flips over completely and crashes upside down against the steps, his lower back taking a great deal of punishment as it collides with the steel.
Dollar: Did I really just see that? Christian flipping over completely and crashing against the steel stairs with a friggin belly to belly.
Susie: I think you saw it…Sorry…wasn’t paying attention. My focus was on that sex face we saw a few moments ago. Why did it look like that dude had a really bad kanker sore in the corner of his mouth he was trying to touch with his tongue.
A banged up Silencer struggles to his feet, leaning against the apron and trying his best to put pressure on his knee, though it won’t support him. His attention is then drawn to Harrison, who is on his knees in the ring, scooping up the chair. Silencer slides back into the ring and staggers towards Aaron, who lifts the chair into the air, actually holding it out to his co-conspirator.
Aaron: It’s all yours, Bud.
Silencer snatches the chair right out of the hands of Harrison and looks down at it’s steel surface, at the multiple dents left it in by his knee. He grimaces but then raises the chair high above his head, about to bring it down on the skull of Harrison.
Dollar: Wait, why is he doing this for? Why is he about to attack his teammate?
Before he can drive the chair into Aaron’s head, his ankles are grabbed and his legs ripped right out from under him. He collapses onto his face and Christian drags him back out to the mats. Silencer lands on one foot, still unable to put weight on the other. But that doesn’t stop him from throwing the chair to Christian, who catches it in front of his face and then ducks when Silencer goes to roundhouse kick the steel against his skull.
Savior rolls across the mats, dropping the chair in the process, ultimately ending up on his feet then turning just in time to catch the inbound Silencer around his neck. He drops him with the diamond cutter, planting the painted mug of his rival right against the chair at long last.
Dollar: He finally nailed it, he finally delivers the cutter on the chair and gets but a small measure of revenge against Silencer. But I don’t think he’s through by a long shot, not after what Cagero and Harrison did to his wife.
The rage inspired Savior gets to his feet, menacingly glaring at Silencer, who lies in a near vegetative condition on the mats. Christian is just about to get his hands on him when he’s blindsided from behind by Frankie Paradise. The lariat to the back of his neck, knocks Christian into the apron, while Paradise rushes around him and slides into the ring.
Dollar: And Paradise at last shows up, letting Christian and Silencer take one another out before he….wait…what the hell am I looking at right now?
Susie: That’s not Frankie…it’s Silencer’s evil twin.
Though the trench coat has been thrown aside, Frankie is still wearing the face-paint of Cagero, and has his hair styled in similar fashion. The addled Savior looks up and spots Frankie staring down at him from the ring, wearing a huge grin while also encouraging him to TRY and get in the ring.
Dollar: Paradise is wearing Silencer’s gear, AND his make-up. Whoa….I just…I just realized what happened here. Frankie assumed Silencer’s identity….
Susie: To buy a bunch of stuff with his Visa card?
Dollar: No…HE was the man who attacked Savior backstage, and had Rose’s cell-phone. This must…this must…wait a minute…that means Frankie and the Blacklist were working together this whole time?
Susie: They should so form their own Dungeon of Doom. I’ll play the part of Kevin Sullivan.
Christian looks down at what he’s done to Silencer, and then back up into the face of Paradise, suddenly realizing that he was played, completely tricked by Frankie.
Dollar: Paradise played Silencer like a flute.
Susie: Are you implying that he blew him?
Now that the fix is in, Christian turns his wrath on Paradise, stepping up onto the apron just when Harrison moves in behind Frankie, patting him on the shoulder and gesturing over Christian’s back. Savior doesn’t bother to turn around, totally obsessed with mangling the pair before him. The only thing that derails him are the arms that wrap around his legs, dragging him down to his feet, before his arms are pulled behind his back and shackled by steel cuffs. Darryl and Frank clutch a shocked Christian by his arms, eyes darting back and forth between their faces.
Christian: What the hell are you guys doing?
Darryl: Christian, your under arrest for attempted vehicular manslaughter. Anything you say can and will be held against you….
The Miranda rights are read but this time Christian isn’t going to listen, tearing free from the cops and rushing into the ring. He slides in and immediately goes after Paradise, driving his shoulder into his ribs. A stunned Frankie goes down with Christian on top of him, employing his head as a battering ram, driving it over and over again into Paradise’s chest.
Frankie throws punches into Christian’s body while Aaron just stands back, watching all of this violence with a grin. He appears particularly amused as the cops slide into the ring and desperately try to grab hold of Christian, prying him off of Frankie, who is kicking at Savior even as he’s dragged away.
Dollar: Now the police are arresting Christian too? Holy crap, this is so friggin twisted. Apparently he was the one who tried to run down Orlando earlier tonight….you know what though, something tells me it might have been Savior’s car, but he wasn’t the one behind the wheel.
Susie: How do you figure?
Dollar: Cause we all saw someone take Christian’s car keys earlier tonight, and this keeps Savior from interfering in whatever goes down throughout the rest of the night…involving the World Heavyweight Championship.
It takes all their combined strength, but the police force Savior out of the ring and begin to pull him up the ramp. He fights with them tooth and nail, absolutely resolute and determined to get his hands on the two men who bamboozled him throughout the night. In spite of his rage, the thought actually crosses his mind that he might be looking at the very two souls responsible for what happened to Rose as well.
Dollar: Christian being dragged away by police, which changes the entire format of this four way. Is this now a triple threat? Who’s going to referee our main event? So much more to come. Find out what happens…NEXT!
The show takes a poorly timed commercial break in the midst of so much insanity, consisting of Christian being dragged kicking and flailing to the backstage area by police, Silencer desperately trying to put weight on his legs and Harrison actually helping Frankie back to his feet. The two men then lock eyes on Silencer, who realizes that he’s in the very same boat as last week, about to compete in a two on one predicament.
The show returns live with Silencer staggering around the ring with the chair in hand, glaring at Harrison, who is stooped forward, gesturing methodically for him to enter. Frankie is doing his very best Karate Kid impersonation, employing the crane stance on one foot. His smile can be seen beneath the layers of Silencer’s face paint that he employed this evening to trick Christian.
Dollar: We are back live on Riot!, and Silencer is in quite the pickle.
Susie: I hope it’s a baby kosher dill.
Dollar: Silencer forced to take two men on at the same time, but this match can’t get started until he drops that chair. And if you‘re just tuning, Christian Savior was taken away by police after it was revealed that it was his car that almost ran down Orlando Cruze backstage.
Official Fitzpatrick adamantly demands he puts the weapon down, but Silencer isn’t about to follow these orders. He climbs to the apron and begins to enter with the chair in hand only to have Fitzpatrick grab hold of it, trying to take the chair out of his clutches. The distraction allows Harrison to come charging in just as the chair is pulled out of Silencer’s hands.
Silencer grabs the referee’s belt, pulls on it to spin him around and then shoves the referee right into the inbound Harrison, driving the chair the official is holding directly into Aaron’s face. The Blacklist member collapses to his back after taking a hard face first collision with the steel.
Susie: Did the referee just hit Harrison with the chair!
Dollar: Thanks to Silencer…and there’s no way he can be disqualified for that technically since he never touched Aaron with the chair himself.
Silencer enters the ring when Frankie comes charging in. Just like last week Silencer remains incredibly elusive, wedging a shoulder to Paradise’s knees and back dropping him over the ropes. Like the week prior, Frankie floats over and lands on the apron though, he then drops into a baseball slide right between Silencer’s legs when his opponent turned to acknowledge the counter. Frankie then reaches up and wraps his hands around Silencer’s waist, trying to drag him down into the sunset flip.
In desperation Cagero holds onto the top rope, refusing to be pulled down into the pinning predicament. So Frankie instead bridges himself up to his feet and turns around, wrapping his arms around Silencer’s waist. He now drops into a backwards roll, attempting to bring him down that way. However, the former World Champion grabs hold of and clings to the top rope, refusing to be pulled into the pinning predicament.
As a result Frankie rolls back to the center of the ring, standing up and then instantly charging at Silencer, who turns around, stands on one foot and delivers a Karate Kid style crane kick to Paradise’s face. The fans go nuts as Silencer channeled the teachings of Mr. Myiagi to deliver the strike that may have put Frankie down and out.
Into the cover Silencer falls on his evil doppelganger.
Dollar: Are you fucking with me right now? Don’t tell me that Silencer’s gonna win after a damned crane kick!
Susie: Best finishing move of all times.
The referee slaps the canvas to a huge ovation from the crowd.
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The moment the referee’s hand comes down for the three, Paradise’s shoulder goes up from the canvas, staving off defeat.
Silencer sits up running his hands through his cracking paint. That’s when Harrison steps in and devastates his opponent with a big kick right to the forehead. Silencer collapses to his back and Harrison stumbles into one of the corners, leaning on it for support, still feeling the effects of that shot with the steel chair. All the while Frankie is fighting his way back to his feet and demanding that the two work as a team. He grabs Silencer by the injured leg and lifts it, using it to roll him over backwards into the waiting arms of Harrison.
Aaron catches Silencer around the waist the moment he gets to his feet. Before Aaron can deliver any moves, Frankie delivers a leaping back heel kick right to Silencer’s forehead. Right after the strike connects, Harrison snaps back into a release German suplex.
Silencer lands on the back of his skull and flips over to his knees, looking totally and completely out of it. That’s when Paradise rushes across the ring, bouncing off the ropes, and when he passes by Harrison, Aaron shoves him along to put greater momentum into a lethal front dropkick. Both boots nail Silencer to his skull, at last putting him to the canvas. Frankie then stands up, grabs Silencer’s legs and flips forward into the jack-knife cover.
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Silencer gets his shoulder up, resulting in an uproar of approval from the riveted fans.
Dollar: I thought Frankie for sure had the pinfall after that….but he came up just short…which NO, was not a crack at his height.
Susie: Hehe, he’s just a couple inches taller than Desmond Drake.
To his feet the lamb is led to the slaughter. A boot to Silencer’s gut doubles him over before he’s whipped into Harrison, who catches him around the neck on his way end. He pulls Silencer’s head under his seat and then lifts him into the air before finishing it off with a pulling piledriver.
Even dumping his opponent on his head is not enough for Harrison, who HAS to dish out more punishment on the controversial Cagero. He grabs Silencer around the neck and rolls him to his stomach before straddling his back. He sits on his kidneys and wraps arms around Silencer’s neck, lifting up on his head and applying a sleeper hold. Frankie then steps in and begins to kick at Silencer’s face over and over again. He even drops down and begins to grind his wrist tape against his rival’s eyes considering that he’s entirely exposed and defenseless against this onslaught.
Official Fitzpatrick insists that Harrison break the hold as a result of this blatant cheating on Frankie’s part. The submission is released and Aaron leaps into the air before ultimately stomping down at the back of his opponent’s head. Silencer tries to cover up but it’s futile. Aaron grabs him by his hair and leads him up to his knees, shouting into his ear.
Harrison: You brought this on yourself my boy. You brought this on yourself.
Frankie steps in and snatches Silencer’s head out of Aaron’s clutches, placing it in a front chancery before Paradise sweeps his leg down to the canvas in order to deliver a DDT with greater force and impact. The slam of Silencer’s head to the ring sends him flipping over to his back where he’s pinned by Frankie.
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2
Nope….not enough to get the job done…Super Silencer kicks out again. The second his arm launches form the ring, Harrison grabs him by the wrist, using it to pull him over to his knees, apply a double underhook and drop him with a double arm DDT. Silencer’s skull grinds against the canvas and he flips over to his back. Aaron sits up and shouts at Paradise.
Harrison: NOW go for the cover.
Frankie scrambles into the lateral press once again.
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2
STILL not enough, Silencer gets a shoulder up.
Dollar: What does it take…what does it take to put Silencer away? It’s like this man is immune to pain or something.
Susie: And why isn’t Aaron making any pin attempts?
Dollar: I haven’t a clue and I’m not even going to TRY and get into Harrison’s head. It’s a very scary place.
Already Frankie has gotten frustrated, standing up and immediately putting the boots repeatedly to Silencer’s body and primarily targeting the knee.
Frankie: Time to finish what I started, Bitch.
Obviously Paradise is eluding to the numerous assaults on the knee throughout the knee that commenced at Awakening and have continued up until this point. He lifts the leg into the air and steps around it, beginning to apply a spinning toe hold when Silencer lifts his other foot and wedges it to Frankie’s bum. He then kicks him off and in the process sends Frankie charging with the top of his head directly into a rising Harrison’s crotch. The impact knocks Aaron off his feet and sends him flying back, instantly grabbing at his crotch while Pasradise staggers back into the waiting clutches of Silencer, bringing him down into a backslide.
Dollar: Oh God…NOT AGAIN! Tell me he hasn’t caught Frankie again!
The referee slides into position making the count with every fan upright, realizing that Silencer has just overcome the odds once again.
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2
Fitzpatrick’s hand stops just short of the canvas when Frankie kicks out, dropping over to his knees in the process.
Dollar: No, Frankie kicks out…thank God he kicks out.
Just as Frankie falls over to his knees Silencer steps in and takes him around the neck, snapping back into a modified version of the downward spiral, or at least that was his intention. Frankie counters by catching the crease of Silencer’s knee and plucking his leg right out from under him.. Silencer collapses to his back and then Paradise stands up, still clutching the knee. He now rolls his rival to his stomach and steps over the crease of the knee, lifting it up into a Boston Crab.
Dollar: Though Silencer is no stranger to crabs beneath his belt-line, this submission is a lot worse than any simple parasite. Though some might compare Paradise to a parasite.
Susie: I like to compare him to Ronald Weasley.
Dollar: Why?
Susie: Cause I compare EVERYONE to Ronald Weasley.
Silencer is already tempted by the idea of tapping out. His palm extends, ready to slap the canvas due to the excruciating pain inflicted on his knee…but he just can’t bring himself to do it…to have two submissions loses on his record. Therefore he buries his fingers deep into the canvas and begins to drag not only himself, but Frankie across the ring in the direction of the cables.
Dollar: I can’t believe this crap…does someone have some kryptonite to finally kill this guy?
Susie: I do…I always carry kryptonite with me.
Dollar: Susie, that’s a booger.
The fingers of Cagero are close…so close to the ropes, just inches away from catching the bottom one and escaping this horrible plight. But it doesn’t happen…nope…thanks to Harrison, who stomps down hard on Silencer’s fist. He then stands on top of BOTH of Silencer’s hands, keeping them pressed to the canvas while he bends down to smack the back of Silencer’s head.
Harrison: Say the words Silencer….just two words…come on, you can do it….just those two words.
Aaron cups a hand around his ear and stoops down to amplify his hearing. It seems at long last that Silencer is left with no other alternative, looking up at Harrison and shouting into his ear.
Silencer: FUCK YOU!
Harrison closes his eyes and shakes his head.
Harrison: Those weren’t the words we wanted to hear, Simon.
Frankie lifts his foot and stomps the back of Silencer’s head, over and over again until Fitzpatrick is forced to intervene. He pushes Aaron back and then Frankie drags Silencer to the center of the ring, sitting down on the crease of the knee, putting even more pressure on the Boston Crab.
Dollar: Just give up Silencer…what are you really fighting for here? The chance to screw with Tay-Tay? Does it really matter that much to you?
Susie: Me thinks he’ll do anything to get into Orlando’s head, vicariously through messing with his main squeeze.
Silencer employs a primal roar of aggression in order to push himself off the canvas with his palms and begin dragging himself back towards the ropes. Harrison and the official are still bickering, Aaron calmly threatening the referee not to lay a finger on him while the official furiously barks back at him to adhere to the rules, something Harrison has never done.
As a result of this distraction, Harrison doesn’t realize that Silencer is crawling past and reaching out for the ropes once more. His hand falls just short and his palm now lingers above the canvas as he falls to his chest.
Dollar: He’s gonna tap…Silencer is going to submit for the second time in his career.
All those in attendance are imploring Silencer not to do it, begging him, pleading with him, almost dropping to their knees in prayer that he doesn’t give Paradise the honor of submitting him. Which he DOESN’T do. Silencer reaches out, grabs the bottom rope and the crowd goes nuts. But the argument between the referee and Harrison proves to be a double edged sword, as not only does it keep Harrison from interfering, but it keeps Fitzpatrick from spotting Silencer holding the ropes.
Therefore a grinning Paradise drags Silencer back to the center of the ring and then sits back down on the knee, keeping the Boston Crab synched in.. There is truly no other option left for Silencer, raising a hand into the air and bringing it down to the canvas for the submission….no…he doesn’t….he balls up his fist and rams it against the canvas to instead push himself up until his knuckles.
Dollar: God…just give up already. Doesn’t Silencer realize this is a total lost cause?
Susie: I don’t think so, Johnny. He’s pretty pig headed, and by that, I mean he has total pig nostrils.
Silencer has withstood a lot and come back from it, and on this occasion it doesn’t appear to be any different. He twists so that he comes down on his shoulder and begins to throw fist after fist into the ankle of Paradise.
Before Silencer can fight free Harrison intervenes, at last pushing past the referee in order to get his hands on Cagero. A knee is planted right to Silencer’s temple, the collision causing the leg to fall out of Frankie’s clutches as a result. Aaron looks up at Frankie and motions to Silencer with outstretched palms.
Harrison: Now finish him, Lover-Boy.
Frankie winces at Aaron’s demands, but turns around and sets, putting palms on his knees and eagerly anticipating the rising of Cagero.. Aaron isn’t about to sit around and wait for Silencer to stand up, not having the patience for it whatsoever. He steps in, grabs the chin of Silencer and leads him up to his feet, then spins him around just as Frankie leaps into the air for the Snap-Shot. But Silencer bends down at the last second, catching the inner thighs of Paradise and throwing him over his head.
Harrison looks up just in time to spot Frankie crashing into his chest, both men collapsing to the canvas with Paradise coming down on top of his new partner in crime. The two hit the ring and Frankie rolls away to his feet, looking stunned by what he just did. He then turns around and rushes at Silencer, who quickly reaches down grabbing Aaron’s wrist and log rolls him into the inbound legs of Paradise. Frankie is forced to jump over Aaron in the process, and while in mid-air Silencer catches him with a high impact dorpkick to the chest, swatting him down out of the air like he were a pest.
Paradise collapses to the canvas and goes rolling across it before ultimately spilling to the outside of the ring.
Dollar: How does this man just keep on doing this? Silencer again coming back against odds that should be insurmountable. Now he’s caught Frankie with the mother of all dropkicks.
Susie: Spinach…I’m guessing Silencer eats lots of it.
As Paradise rolls to the outside of the ring Silencer scrambles into action, approaching Aaron, who suddenly rises to his knees and delivers a forearm against the ribs of his inbound opponent. The former World Champion bends down, clutching at his mid-section while Aaron stands up in front of him and spins around into a roaring elbow that nails his adversary to the temple.
Silencer is sent twisting into the cables, falling against them while Frankie leaps to the apron behind him, reaching over and hooking both of his arms. He keeps them pinned to Silencer’s side, leaving him defenseless against Harrison, who comes rushing in and dropping down into a spear to the ribs. But Silencer back elbows Frankie and steps out of the way, causing Harrison to drive his shoulder through the ropes into Frankie’s….no…Paradise won’t allow this to happen for a second week in a row. Instead he leaps Harrison and the top rope, flipping forward and landing on his feet just as Silencer catches him to the jaw with a super kick.
Susie: Major boo-boo!
Dollar: And now the super kick out of nowhere connecting on Paradise. This guy just has no luck against Silencer.
Frankie collapses to his back and flip flops around like he were just hit with a thousand bolts of electricity to the chest. Silencer falls to his knees, unable to capitalize on the kick after the damage inflicted on his knee. Harrison would prevent it even if Silencer could make the pin, evident as he steps in and takes his opponent’s head into his arms. Just as Silencer is led to his feet he slaps the arms of his opponent aside and delivers a knife edge chop across Aaron’s chest, followed by another, and then another, and then another,
Aaron steps back with his chest welting from the chops, which don’t stop until his opponent is at last off his feet and on the canvas. Silencer then turns back to his other adversary, but finds that Paradise has rolled to the outside of the apron. This doesn’t stop Cagero, who reaches through the ropes, takes Frankie by the jaw and leads him up to his feet, stretching him back first over the top rope and exposing his sternum to a number of clubbing blows.
Silencer is using everything in his arsenal to keep his opponents at bay, but it can only hold up for so long. Harrison steps in behind Silencer and stops his onslaught upon Frankie, taking his shoulder and spinning him around only to receive another chop across his chest, followed by another, and then another that has him back peddling. Just before his chest can start spurting blood, Harrison stops Silencer’s momentum via the knee to the ribs,.
The former Champion stoops over, coughing up a lung while Harrison takes him around the head, dragging it under his seat then lifting him up for the cradle piledriver. But somehow Silencer is able to twist his body just before he can be dropped on top of his head once again by Aaron. He shifts his weight to the side and falls on his feet, flipping over onto them and taking Harrison by the wrist. He pulls him forward and catches Aaron around the neck, bridging him over backwards in preparation for the Break the Silence.
Dollar: Not the Break the Silence, if he delivers this move I swear I’ll vomit.
Susie: You’ll get better results the deeper you can get finger down your throat.
The crowd jumps up just as Silencer is about to put Aaron down, but instead it’s Simon who hits the canvas when Harrison twists his body out of position for the Break the Silence, hooks up his opponent’s leg, heaves him into the air and drops him with a shin breaker across his raised knee. Silencer begins to limp just as Frankie rushes in out of nowhere, leaps into the air, catches him around the neck and drops back into the Snap-Shot. Silencer’s face collides with enough force against the canvas to knock him totally and completely unconscious. He flops over to his back and Frankie quickly grabs his legs, flipping forward into the jackknife cover.
Dollar: SNAP-SHOT! SNAP-SHOT out of nowhere!
Silencer is out like a light and Frankie has him primed for the pin as Fitzpatrick falls into position to make the count, Harrison not doing a thing to break it up.
1
2
3!
The whole crowd is unanimous in their expression of disgust at the sight of Frankie Paradise picking up a pinfall over Silencer, who kicks out just a second too late.
Dollar: Frankie has done it, he’s got the monkey off his back…
Susie: Where the hell did he get a monkey? So not fair.
Dollar: He caught Silencer with his pants down, nailing the Snap-Shot when the number one contender was distracted with Harrison. In the end the number’s game in combination with Christian’s pre-match attack was just too much for Silencer.
A banged up Frankie rises to his feet and has his arm raised in the air triumphantly, but not by Fitzpatrick. Instead he looks up and realizes that Harrison is the one lifting his wrist aloft, prompting Paradise to quickly pull away before rolling out of the ring, wisely putting some distance between himself and the sociopath. As Aaron watches his reaction, a grin forms across his face.
Dollar: I’m still stunned by this. Frankie and Aaron worked so well as a team, not only in this match, but throughout this entire night apparently. Setting up Orlando Cruze, Christian Savior and Silencer., not to mention crippling Rose Savior But it looks like that relationship is tenuous at best, lasting just long enough for Frankie to reserve the position of special referee for our main event…if we even have a main event tonight.
Susie: We could always just air more clips from The Room.
Dollar: Heaven help me, I’d probably take that over the train wreck we may be on the verge of seeing.
Frankie backs up the ramp, grimacing towards the smile on Harrison’s face. Silencer turns to his side, eyes batting as he tries to regain some semblance of consciousness. Ever so slowly, with the aid of the referee he starts to stand up, Fitzpatrick allowing Cagero to put some weight on his thin shoulders.
It takes all of Silencer’s strength, but he finally gets to his feet…..or his foot to be more precise. Clearly he’s going to be in need of some serious medical assistance after everything that he’s been put through this evening, leaving him incapable of being a factor throughout the rest of the night.
Taylor Chase elicits quite the reaction, none of it positive, when her face appears on screen. She’s in the process of doing some last minute warm ups, squatting and then doing some side to side twists in order to get her abdominals in prime shape for the bout she’s moments form participating in. Clearly she has no idea what happened to Rose Savior…completely oblivious to everything considering that Frankie ‘conveniently’ shattered her cell-phone earlier tonight.
The Brod: This is it…Pumpkin.
Tay-Tay looks up at last to acknowledge her father, who steps into her dressing room and puts a palm on her shoulder.
Tay-Tay: Thanks Daddy.
Arms wrap around The Brod’s neck, Father and Daughter already embracing in a celebratory hug.
The Brod: I don’t need to tell you how long you’ve been waiting for this.
Tay-Tay: No, no you don’t.
She steps away only to sit on the bench a few inches away and pull the straps on her knee-pad, tightening the protective steel brace around it. The Brod takes a seat beside her and pats his girl on the knee..
The Brod: And you also know I’m going to be proud of you no matter what happens out there.
A slight tear appears in the corner of her eye.
The Brod: Rather you walk out of there with the title tonight or not, your always going to be a champion in my heart.
Tay-Tay: Wow…thanks Daddy.
The Brod: You’re welcome Pumpkin. I got the speech from that Susan Sarandon movie I was watching last night.
Tay-Tay: Oh well…it’s the thought that counts.
The incredibly fidgeting Tay-Tay stands up and paces across the room, head lowered.
Tay-Tay: But Daddy, I’m not leaving tonight as anything short of World Champion. I know it might piss Orlando off…but frankly, I just don’t care anymore….actually I haven’t cared about anything for a long time…except for fixing my tarnished image in this company. And the only way to do that, after tapping to Silencer last week, after being hit with that cutter from Rose at the pay-per-view, is to win the World Championship tonight.
The Brod: Haven’t seen you this fired up in a long…long time.
Tay-Tay: I’m fed up with it all…and the only way to fix things…is to…is to win the Title.
The Brod: And that’s what your going to do tonight, with me sitting right there, front row center to see it all go down…my Pumpkin’s proudest moment.
Another hug between the two, The Brod patting his girl on the back. Another knock disturbs this tender moment of bonding.
Tay-Tay: What now?
The door opens and Executioner, head of security peeks in.
The Brod: I guess my escort is here.
He takes one last moment to hold his daughter’s hands in his own.
The Brod: You make me so proud.
Tay-Tay: I know.
The Brod steps away, security surrounding him for protection purposes as he’s led towards the ring. Tay-Tay is left alone in the room, continuing to prepare herself rot eh World Title match.
Dollar: Clearly Taylor Chase has no idea what happened to Orlando Cruze AND Rose Savior. She’s still gearing up for her World Title match, which is supposed to happen, NEXT!
The camera slowly zooms in on the very intense eyes of Tay-Tay, her biggest match since arriving in IWC coming up in just minutes.
Rose: Let me go….Take these damn straps off of me!
The demands of Rose Savior gets her absolutely nowhere. The EMTS aren’t letting her go anywhere but the hospital. They have her right at the precipice of the ambulance, the backdoors wide open and ready to accept her into the metaphorical womb, which is only fitting, considering that she’s covered in so much blood that she looks like she was just spat from a uterus.
Rose: God dammit…Christian needs me….he NEEDS ME!
The EMTS are still as silent as Marlene Matlin, deeming Rose unfit to gauge the extent of her injuries considering her severe blood loss and possible cranial injuries, even if she does speak clearly and is able to fight against the straps holding her down.
Rose: If you guys don’t let me go….
Mika: Allow us to finish that threat for you, Comrade.
Rose’s face changes eight different shades all at once when Mika Kozlov and Lukas Montgomery rush around the ambulance and blindside the EMTS. They never see it coming, though they probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight even if they hadn’t. Lukas effortlessly throws one of them into the wall while Mika throws another into the back of the ambulance and slams the doors, trapping them inside.
Rose: You bastards! You BASTARDS! I swear to God I’m gonna…I’m gonna…
Lukas: Do nothing but sit there, piss, moan, and BLEED!
He feels the straps to make sure their tight enough.
Lukas: Heh….so this is what it feels like. Now I know why everyone was having so much fun holding yours truly in bondage tonight.
Mika: You’ve got a date, Missy. Don’t think your gonna skip out on your World Title obligations.
The stretcher is pushed down the corridor with Rose spitting venom at the two shoving her along.
Rose: When you let me out of these straps your going to be very…VERY sorry.
Lukas: Save it for your opponent.
Cameras have returned to the interior of the Manhattan Center just in time to catch Frankie Paradise stepping through the curtains. He’s far too preoccupied flicking paint chips off his cheeks and making sure none of them get on his referee shirt to pay attention to the mutilation of his theme music at the hands of Mr. Hush. He just keeps on keeping on, stepping to the ring and using the towel around his neck to wash away the remnants of the Silencer face pain the was forced to put on to complete the elaborate ruse we witnessed moments ago.
Dollar: The stage is now set ladies and gentlemen, we have our special referee, Frankie Paradise, who…I have to say…pulled off a plot here tonight I never thought he’d be capable of….
Susie: He does better impersonations than Dana Carvey.
Dollar: Do you realize the amount of work he and the Blacklist had to put into everything that went down tonight? They brutalized the World Champion, Rose Savior, they took out Orlando Cruze, Silencer AND Christian Savior. Their plotting was almost…almost….Machiavellian.
Susie: So it was like something a Ninja Turtle would dream up.
Dollar: I said Machiavellian…not Michaelango, you dunce.
Before entering the ring Frankie just can’t help sucking up to Tay-Tay’s Pops, The Brod seated exactly where he promised he would be, front row center. He stands up and high fives Frankie as the special referee passes before at last rolling into the ring.
Taylor Chase is equally as focused on the match at hand as Paradise, so much so in fact that she also ignores the otherwise awesome play on her entry theme. She moves down the ramp to the unfamiliar tunes, but stops when spotting her Daddy at ringside, not settling for a high five with the patriarch of the Chase wrestling dynasty. She reaches over the barricade and the two hug one last time before she steps up the ramp, up the turnbuckle and pauses to soak in the waves upon waves of hatred.
Dollar: Tay-Tay not letting anything take her down tonight, no crowd reaction, no Frankie Paradise, nothing…she’s focused on finally accomplishing her life-time goal of becoming the World Heavyweight Champion, and doing so right here in front of her father.
Susie: This is HUGE for Tay-Tay, and the only thing that could make it even bigger is…
Dollar: Don’t you dare say glitter.
Susie: Okay then….I’ll shut up.
Dollar: But Tay-Tay might not be stepping into this match with such confidence if she knew what happened to Rose earlier tonight, or what happened to Orlando moments ago. Does she even have a clue what Frankie and the Blacklist have been up to all night long?
Tay-Tay drops to the ring and suspiciously eyes the man who hasn’t exactly been the most effective of allies. Nevertheless she opts to look past Frankie, in spite of the fact that he‘s now in her face insisting that he has to frisk her for weapons.. She then turns towards the stage, anxiously waiting for Rose, ready to face the woman who bested her at Awakening and get a small measure of revenge for the first person who’s caused her to taste defeat….
Laymon: Hold on…hold on…
The last person anyone expected…or WANTED…to see is Jacob Laymon…DEAL with it…because he steps right to the stage before rushing down the ramp with the briefcase in hand stolen from Axl Evermore moments earlier.
Dollar: Why? Why is Jacob Laymon…Orlando’s FORMER Head of Talent Relations on his way to the ring?
Susie: Cause he’s bald…and bald people are naturally untamed and un-house broken. He’ll probably pee all over our announce table to mark his territory.
Dollar: Laymon has managed to fuck up over and over again the past few weeks, so please don’t tell me he’s being trusted with yet ANOTHER vital task.
Clearly that’s EXACTLY what Laymon was sent out here for, hence why the briefcase presumably containing the original Evolution Championship is in hand. It swings to his side as he slips through the ropes, microphone gripped in his other palm.
Laymon: Tay-Tay…I’m here to at long last put your mind at ease.
She looks anything but eased by the presence of Laymon, instantly not taking a liking to this interruption.
Laymon: You worry that Orlando puts title ambitions ahead of his love for you? Well I’m here now to prove otherwise. Because instead of forcing you to risk injury and overexertion, he sent me out here to give you THIS!
The briefcase is outstretched.
Laymon: Orlando Cruze is proud to announce that you, Taylor Chase, are the BRAND NEW Evolution Champion. Congratulations, Doll-Face, you’ve earned it.
The case continues to be extended towards Tay-Tay, over and over again, Laymon absolutely clueless to her complete disregard of the Championship contained inside.
Laymon: Obviously Orlando wouldn’t do this for just anyone, Tay-Tay. The Evolution Championship is HIS brain-child…it’s his baby….and he wants you to bring that baby into the world….Wait…that was probably a poor choice in words.
Tay-Tay: I’ll say.
Laymon: Anyway, this should prove to you at long last, that Orlando adores and cherishes you.. He’s GIVING you the Evolution Title so you don’t even have to compete tonight. You get gold without even breaking a sweat. So you know what? Let‘s call off the World Title match…it‘s not necessary anymore. You‘ve got gold, be happy with it.
Finally Tay-Tay does touch the briefcase, in order to push it away instead of pull it to her chest.
Laymon: Tay-Tay? What gives?
The case isn’t taken, but the microphone is, snatched right out of Jacob’s hand.
Tay-Tay: I don’t want to be handed anything! This title match tonight is about showing the world I can get things done on my own. That I’m not a joke. That I’m not to be trifled with. And Orlando, he knows this…I….I…can’t believe he would pull this type of crap on me.
First there’s anger, then there’s sadness, and ultimately depression.
Tay-Tay: All this proves….the fact that he’s keeping me from winning the World Title tonight…is that he really does care more about HIS Championship, than he does about me.
Frankie: You’re right, Sugar-Ti….Sugar-Tay…you’re absolutely right.
Frankie at last speaks up, and actually chooses his words wisely as with microphone in hand, given to him by Jessica Wilde, he steps in between Tay-Tay and Laymon.
Frankie: Drop the case and get to steppin’ Laymon.
Jacob doesn’t have to be told twice, putting the briefcase at Taylor’s feet then departing the ring in a hurry.
Frankie: Tay-Tay…my girl…I didn’t want to be the one who does this…because I’ve lived by my promise to never intentionally hurt you. But I’ve got something you need to hear.
From the chest pocket of his referee shirt, a cell-phone is withdrawn, and the play button on the video recorder is hit. He holds the microphone up to his cell so that Taylor can hear loud and clear what he secretly recorded earlier in the night.
Orlando: I don’t know how else to say this…but….when you win the opportunity to special referee Taylor’s match tonight…you need to make sure Tay-Tay…..doesn‘t win.
The phone shuts off after Tay-Tay hears the message, forced to pick her jaw up off of the floor. In spite of this piece of highly incriminating evidence, Taylor shakes her head, still refusing to believe that the man she loves would try to cost her everything…..EVERYTHING…..her title ambitions…her credibility…her trust…her love…all to fulfill his own selfish ambitions.
Frankie: I hate being the one who has to burst your love bubble, Tay-Tay, but I couldn’t let you go around any longer looking at Orlando through beer goggles, unable to see him for the calculating, cold and uncaring son of a bitch I knew him to be from day one. He’s not like me, Tay-Tay, he doesn’t appreciate you, he isn’t willing to sacrifice for you.
He steps in and puts a palm on her shoulder.
Frankie: I sacrificed my World Title shot last week so you could step into this ring and win the championship. Orlando would NEVER do that for you, and he just proved it. He’s trying to buy you off with the Evolution gold. He’s treating you like an idiot. He’s treating you like Christian Savior. He’s been manipulating you since the very beginning. He only put you in that number one contenders match last week because he thought you’d come out here and lie down for him….though you’d probably have a lot more fun lying down for me…
The emotional turbulence running through Tay-Tay shields her from the sexual innuendoes made by Paradise, who gets right back on point.
Frankie: He thought he could play you, that you would be nothing more than his loyal little lap dog and let him keep the World Championship by accepting the Evolution Title instead. I would never try to manipulate you like that, Tay-Tay. I would never play you like that…never….because I appreciate you. And I know just how much that World Title means to you.
He brushes hair back off of Chase’s shoulders.
Frankie: Which is why I’ve made sure that you’ll be walking out of here tonight, with that World Title sitting right here…
He uses this as an excuse to pat Chase on her shoulder, the pat turns to a rub, then a caress.
Rose: I swear I’m going to kill you…kill you both…
Her screams are a prelude to her arrival as the stretcher is pushed through the curtains by Mika and Lukas. Savior is still strapped to the cot, desperately trying to get free and lash out at the pair who lead her mangled, blood deprived body towards the ring. Aaron Harrison is the last person to step through the curtains, pausing on the stage with his arms crossed over his chest and an attentive eye focused on the struggling World Champion.
Dollar: Wait…the Blacklist has Rose…And they’re bringing her mangled body out on that stretcher. Are they actually going to…going to…FORCE her to face Taylor for the title? She can’t be in any condition for a fight.
Susie: Are you sure? Look at her. She’s pretty fired up.
Dollar: The woman has lost like a gallon of blood, plus who knows how many internal injuries were inflicted on her.
Susie: Superman. He’d know, cause he’s got X-Ray vision. That’s why I always wear led panties.
Dollar: And here I thought we’d reach our quota on craziness.
Rose fights the straps, unwisely using up all her remaining strength. The Blacklist stops at ringside and then lifts the backboard that Rose is mounted upon for stability sakes, sliding it under the ropes with Rose tied down to it.
Frankie steps in and kneels down at Rose’s side, slowly brushing her hair back out of her face only to have him pull his hand back when she bites at his fingers.
Frankie: Tay-Tay…look at this…look at all of this? I did it…I did it for you.
Chase doesn’t know what to think of what she’s seeing, so confused…so emotionally wrought after the revelation that Orlando was out to screw her over from the get-go…’apparently’….A tear rolls down her cheek as she looks from the creepy Paradise to her father, the Brod simply shaking his head, at a total loss for words.
Frankie: Why? Because the only thing I’ve ever worried about is making you happy.
The straps on the backboard are unlatched as instantly Rose reaches up once her arms are free, locking them in another position, around Frankie’s throat. He begins to gasp for air, his face going as red as the crimson trickling from the open wounds in Paradise’s scalp. He collapses to his back with Rose climbing on top, continuing to choke the very life out of his body. His eyes are bulging from their sockets and locking on Tay-Tay, who is still too shaken to do anything but stand there, unflinching.
Frankie: Tay-Tay…please….I love…y…
Rose squeezes tighter every time she hears a single syllable exit Frankie’s neck, until he’s now incapable of speech. His esophagus is seconds from imploding in her palms when Tay-Tay dashes across the ring, dives into the air and bashes Rose right in the temple with the steel brace wrapped around her temple. Savior collapses to the canvas, taking a shot even her great…great…great…grandmother could probably feel.
Dollar: THE TKO! THE TKO! Chase just cracked the World Champion in her skull with the frackin TKO!
Susie: And it doesn’t look like she can take anymore shots like that either.
Dollar: You aren’t kidding.
Tay-Tay turns and glares down at the motionless Rose, eyes darting to her Father once more. She waits until The Brod finally gives a nod. He now watches as his Pumpkin drops down across the chest of Savior. As quickly as possible, Frankie darts to his feet, drops to the canvas and makes the count to wails from the fans.
1
Dollar: It can’t happen this way…is it really gonna happen this way?
2
Dollar: Is Tay-Tay gonna become champion!?!
3!
Dollar’s question is instantly answered when Frankie leaps to his feet, one hand gripping his bruised throat, and the other raising Tay-Tay’s arm up high in victory. Chase has tears streaming down her cheeks, but it’s unclear rather their tears of joy, or tears of sadness, for in winning the World Championship, reaching the pinnacle of her career, her personal life, everything she built with Orlando may have just come crumbling down.
Dollar: It’s over…she’s done it….Taylor Chase has just become the NEW IWC World Heavyweight Champion!
Susie: But where’s her sparkly?
Dollar: Tay-Tay has just done what no one…no one thought she was going to pull off here tonight. She has just ascended to the very top of the IWC….she is your…OUR….World Champ.
The fans may be standing, but they are absolutely floored at the sight of Tay-Tay rising to her feet, the celebration continuing. Harrison is gesturing for someone at this point, urging, surprisingly, Damion Sommers to emerge from the backstage area with the World Heavyweight Title in his possession. The man who was hiding the World Title on the behalf the Blacklist, the very one they mistakenly held hostage in the trunk of their car last week, forks over the Championship to Harrison. He throws the gold over his arms for only a moment before letting it dangle from his hand as he approaches the ring. It doesn’t even bother him as he tosses the Championship over the ropes and into the clutches of Paradise.
Dollar: Damion Sommers? He was the one holding the title for the Blacklist this whole time? Aaron Harrison was right when he swore no one would be able to find the gold if they went looking for it. Who would have suspected that Sommers was the one holding it?
Susie: I have, because if Ronald McDonald has taught us anything, it’s that clowns can never be trusted.
Frankie approaches Tay-Tay and bends down, placing the World Title on the very spot he cleared of hair earlier. Chase finally snaps out of it as she looks over at the gold weighing down her shoulder, the World Heavyweight Championship. She then turns back to Rose, who is still lying comatose on the canvas, blood oozing from the large cracks in her forehead, widened after that shot with the knee brace.
Dollar: Tonight…and God was it ever a crazy night…we have just crowned a NEW World Heavyweight Champion. Taylor Chase has done the unthinkable…she’s defeated Rose Savior.
Mika, Aaron and Lukas stand shoulder to shoulder to shoulder on the stage, watching the proceedings while Kozlov and Montgomery laugh and Harrison views the spectacle with dead eyes.
Tay-Tay looks just as dead as she glances at the Championship, and then slowly turns her attention to her Father.
Tay-Tay: Da…Da…Daddy….I DID IT!
All of a sudden she leaps to her feet and begins to hop around with incredible excitement, swinging the World Title belt above her head. She turns to Frankie and gives him a big wet one on the lips before dashing to the outside. Paradise is left behind as pale as a sheet, before grabbing his heart and falling over. Tay-Tay leaps over the barricade right into her Father’s arms. He gives her a big squeeze to commemorate the moment. Chase then turns and leaps over the barricade before hoping up and down, up and down with the gold thrust out to her side.
Tay-Tay: I did it…I did it…I did it! I am truly the BEST! The BEST! The BEST!
Tay-Tay continues to hoop and holler to the absolute disgust of the crowd.
Dollar: I…I…literally have NOTHING to say.
The camera pulls in close, or more accurately Taylor grabs it drags it around to zoom upon her face.
Tay-Tay: I AM THE CHAMPION! I did it!!
A lipstick smudge is left on the camera lens as she gives it a huge kiss.
Darryl: Get in the car Christian.
By the top of his head Savior is forced down into the backseat of the police car, the camera filming from the dashboard. He sits down with a disgruntled expression on his face, his pleas falling on deaf ears as the door is slammed shut in his face.
Christian: I’m telling you guys it wasn’t me…it wasn’t me! I didn’t try to run over anyone. My keys were stolen! Don’t you have to do some type of investigation?
The cops are too busy talking outside of the car to hear Savior out, or are just plain ignoring the man they believe to have almost ran them down earlier tonight.
You’re wasting your breathe.
Every hair on the back of Christian’s neck stands up as he slowly turns his eyes to the man seated in the cruiser beside him. The Icon returns the Rising Phoenix’s menacing glare, Orlando and Christian coming eye to eye. Clearly the cops would rather the two take care of each other and save the court quite a bit of time.
Orlando: I think the two of us need to have a talk.
Christian: For once…I agree with you.
….Boys…
Orlando and Savior quickly turn their attention to the front driver’s seat of the police car where they find themselves perplexed to be staring at Silencer. He’s kicked back and has a bag of ice wedged to his swollen knee with one hand, while swinging a pair of keys around his opposite finger.
Silencer: Can you believe these idiots just left the keys in the ignition…and oh yeah…I think all three of us need to have a fucking pow-wow.
Cruze and Christian exchange another awkward, tense stare before cameras shift to the exterior of the police cruiser where Darrly and Frank are busy talking to each other. Suddenly the police siren wails, causing them to jump out of their skin. They then turn just in time to see their own car screeching out of the building, Silencer behind the wheel, and both Orlando and Christian in the back-seat.
Darryl: Ah shit…do we call this one in?
Frank: Are you kidding me? This is the second car I’ve lost this week. No fucking way do we call this in. I‘m not going to lose my job on account of these idiots.
Darryl: And you just know they‘ll ask us to take a piss in a cup…which is a test I‘ll never pass.
Desmond appears taller than ten men standing upon one another’s shoulders, metaphorically towering over all the others gathered around the table. He’s pleased with himself in spite of the Board’s decision, having stood up for what he believed was right and made his point. Sasha renders the verdict on behalf of her cohorts, while Tomlinson stands in the back of the room, grabbing a glass of water and looking suspiciously at the fax machine, which is printing some unknown document.
Sasha: Desmond…the Board has reached a decision concerning how t handle things moving forward.
The confidence is momentarily shaken by fear, Desmond feeling the dagger digging through his gut once again.
Mr. D: And though I don’t entirely endorse their decision….
Sasha: DAAAD.
Mr. D: WHAT!?! I still think I’m perfectly suited…the ONLY person suited for bringing order to the IWC.
Sasha: That’s NOT going to happen, because Desmond…
Drake takes a deep breathe.
Sasha: We’re going to give yourself and Orlando Cruze one more opportunity to prove you can handle the responsibilities of running the Independent….
Tomlinson: Hold on…
The grin Drake was starting to grow attached to, slowly fizzles.
With a document in hand, freshly printed from the fax, Tomlinson approaches Mr. D and Sasha, handing over the thin, but very incriminating piece of paper. Both sets of eyes read simultaneously before raising to stare not at words, but at each other. They then turn their focus to Drake.
Mr. D: Did you know about this?
Drake: About…what?
Sasha: So you have no idea what we’re holding here?
Drake: How could I?
Tomlinson: Desmond…we just received a contract signed by Orlando Cruze…
Drake: Oh?
Tomlinson: A contract for a World Title match at Upping the Ante.
Drake: Okay.
Clearly he’s not getting it.
Tomlinson: In which whomever emerged champion from tonight’s edition of Riot!, will face….one on one for the World Heavyweight Championship….Orlando Cruze.
That smile that fizzled, has gone totally and completely flat.
Mr. D: Told ya so.
FADE TO BLACK
IWC 